Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

Where a one night stand with a famous singer turns into a bundle of joy and an eighteen year commitment

sunflower vol. 6 in which a guitarist meets a singer

I fall in love easily. I fall in love everywhere - on the tube, in interviews, stopped at a red light, during concerts, while I'm working and while I'm relaxing. It's a sensation that comes over me very easily. I almost never fall in love with looks, although I used to do that quite a lot when I was younger. I reckon it was the teenage rockstar stereotype that led me to such behaviours... I was it - young, popular, cool, attractive and everybody wanted to meet me and be around me. I'd escaped that self-prejudicial mindset, though, and I started falling in love with beings. When I first met Essie, I hadn't even seen her face and I'd already managed to fall a little in love with her. She stood in the middle of that huge set, fixing umbrella lights and dancing along to Bowie. I noticed her entire body moving subtly, along with the rhythm of 'Rebel Rebel', even her blonde curls boobed along as he sang. As the shoot moved along, I fell for her mannerisms, her way of being which was so bohemian but so stiff and firm at the same time. She released such small bits of information out into the universe that it was often hard to catch them.

Where Nina texts her number neighbour and applies as Harry Styles' new photographer. [ real life x oc ] [ social media x oc ] disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story except for Nina and the characters that will be introduced later in the story. I do not own the photographs nor music unless stated otherwise.

Don't you call him "baby" We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me Sequel to Golden Hour

For the last four years, Sophie has been a loyal assistant to the famous Harry Styles. The relationship is strictly professional, up until they are forced to share a hotel room on tour and Sophie wakes up in Harry's arms. #1 in #love 23/4/23 #1 in #fanfiction 12/4/23 #1 in #harrystyles 25/1/21 #1 in #onedirection 1/11/20 #1 in #niallhoran 9/10/20 #1 in #liampayne 30/10/20 #1 in #louistomlinson 19/12/20 #1 in #harryedwardstyles 31/10/20 #1 in #concert 22/11/20

"I had to water them." She says. "They were dying." In which a girl breaks into her neighbor, Harry Styles' Malibu home, to water his dead sunflowers. - contains mature content and language

• Sequel to TOUR • "You know what you remind me of Harry?" "You are like the sun. So bright and golden,the biggest fucking star i've ever seen.And i'm just so out of touch because you're right up there and i'm down here just watching you from the distance. You fade away for awhile and then you come back,just shining."

As we kept walking down the hallway,the first thing I noticed were the bricked walls... It was beautiful. The pride flags hung loosely all over the walls with the words "Treat People With Kindness"painted onto them in an effortless way.Instantly feeling a rush of serotonin in my body.A smile forming on my face as i analysed the pretty colours of the rainbow displayed all over the walls.My moment disrupted when i heard the sound of a woman clearing her throat. "Are you ready to discuss the tour with Harry?" . . . //𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲,𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮.// Thank you for coming on tour. I love you with every part of me,mi amor. Love,H.