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...
Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. All credits go to ©️ Velvetoscar.
"It's hard letting go. I'm finally at peace but it feels wrong." {Under going editing. It's being rewritten from the beginning, grammatical errors are being fixed. Should be completely edited and polished by December}
❝What are your dreams, young man?❞ ❝I- I don't know, sir..❞ He answered, stuttering a bit. ❝I don't know..❞ Harry never expected that such a question would throw him off as much as it did. He didn't expect that he'd be thinking about that same question until three am, or that he would come up with something as cr...
"Smoking is bad, you know." The placid voice speaks up from the distant dark corner, nothing to see but a tall silhouette and an orange glow of a cigarette cherry. "It's the least of my problems," I murmur with my own between my lips, proceeding to feel the stagnant debris valley my throat when I suck delicately. He...
It all started with the headaches. Harry's fine, he thought just so so tired. My own rendition of the iconic Cold Blue Water fic.
Louis Tomlinson is the most popular guy in high school. Everyone worships him and the fact that he is the captain of the football team doesn't make matters worse. He's cocky and knows all too well that every student at school adores him. Well, except for one person that is; Harry Styles. Harry is quite the opposite of...
Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. WARNING: all rights go to velvetoscar on ao3 Cov...
"you're so small." as if to prove his point, louis squeezed harry tightly in his arms, and harry just scrunched up a little bit, snuggling his head impossibly farther into louis' chest. "my pretty paper doll." and when louis squeezed him again, placing a shaky, yet warm kiss on harry's cold forehead, harry felt his he...