Harry Styles became the fastest selling record artist with sold-out concerts and an award winning actor. He proved to everyone that he could make it to the top without his bandmates. He was happy. Was he? Louis Tomlinson had not been seen and visible in the limelight. No paparazzi, no cameras, no pressure. He lived a simple and life with his son, Freddie. He was happy. Was he? Both of their wishes came true. Both live in different world. But what happens when blue meets green, green meets blue? After 10 long years. Best Status of the Story (so far...) #1 Larry #1 Stylinson #1 OneDirection #1 manxman #1 Liam #1 LouisTomlinson #1 Styles #3 HarryStyles #14 LarryStylinson

"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 heart feel that way again, he felt love. a soft flutter, that even the most self control in the world couldn't stop. he loved louis. he loved him even though he didn't want to, he really didn't. okay, maybe a little. *** 1ST PLACE IN THE HOLIDAY 2014 BROMANCE AWARDS FOR FAMOUS LARRY STORIES. #2 in Fanfiction #1 in One Direction

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

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.*