"She was not for everyone, but she was for me."

"In order for this to work...you have to be open." Harry laughed...condescendingly? I set my coffee down and folded my arms on top of the table. "What's the problem?" He took another sip of his coffee, set it to the side, and clasped his naked hands together, setting them on the table in front of him. "The problem is that you, like every other reporter, say these nice things but then the second I walk away from the conversation, I'm made out to be a womanizer and a diva." I raised my eyebrows at that and leaned forward. "Well...are you a womanizer and a diva Mr. Styles?" I watched as something that I couldn't quite define flashed through his green eyes. "No. I am not." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ What happens when Harry Styles, the one who swore he'd never open up, becomes the vulnerable one? What happens when he pushes back against the mysterious journalist, Rue Kline, and forces her to open up as well? "I don't wanna be alone when it ends..."

Blue jean baby LA lady Seamstress for the band ... Harry's eyes lingered over my lips for a moment, before meeting my gaze, and his face broke out into a wicked grin. "Oh, my little sunflower, this will be so much more fun that I ever expected." I felt frozen beneath his stare, and the only response I could manage was, "What will?" in a weak voice. His response was immediate. "Playing with you, sunny girl." ... It's the summer of 1978. Harry Styles is looking for a new stylist for his first world tour as a rising rockstar. Lennon is searching for a way to create a name for herself as a celebrity stylist. When the rockstar with a God complex meets the bright eyed stylist with a love for live music, the stars seemed to have aligned. But the two know, more than most, that things are not always as they seem. ... Mature Content warning//This story contains adult themes and explicit sexual content.

"So, what possessed you to spend your evening at this shitty party?" I asked, releasing the taste of my cigarette with my words. His gaze decidedly landed on my lips that were wrapped around my burning cigarette as he finally spoke. "I guess I'm a bit of a masochist." He shrugged and a sharp laugh escaped my throat at his words. "What's your excuse?" "Oh, I'm the one throwing this shitty party, so I guess I'm a bit of a sadist," I replied with a shrug of my own and his laugh was just as sharp as mine had been. All humor left his voice, however, when he said, "Yeah? Fuck, that's hot." //After a fateful meeting at a house party, Stevie never thought she would see Harry Styles again. However, a year later when a mutual friend tells her Harry's band is looking for a new bassist, she jumps at the opportunity. Much to Stevie's disappointment, Harry doesn't seem to remember her, or the night they shared, and he certainly has a darker side when he isn't trying to get into her pants.// Mature content warning// This story contains adult themes and explicit sexual content.