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Admiration

I had an idea and it spiraled! It was meant to be a blurb but it turned into a one shot, and it's smutty <3 I know I've been light on that lately but more is coming.

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WC- 3.2k

warnings- oral (f receiving), squirting, soft Dom!Harry, slightly feral Harry tbh, kinda filthy

Y/N and her newly established boyfriend had yet to be properly intimate.

Harry was a gentleman on all counts. He paid for their outings without question, he walked her to her door every single time, held every door open- car and building alike. The man knew the sidewalk rule and abided by it every time, he had his impeccable manners while talking to her, pulled out her chair when they went out to eat, he didn’t call her after midnight, and most of all- he hadn’t pushed for anything sexual.

♡ December Favorites ♡

Here’s what I loved this month:

@gurugirl: Bestie Guru has the best Patreon hands down !!!!!!!!!! The quality of content we get every single week is out of this world !!!!! I cannot stress enough how much I recommend it👏We got a lovely Christmas check-in with Uncle Harry this week🥹🥹and part 4 of The Widow and the Outlaw with a final part coming this week too eeeeee!!!! AND COMING VERY SOON ON PATREON IS THE FIRST CHAPTER OF VIKING!HARRY !!!!!! I’M SO EXCITED !!!🤩🤩🤩

@1d1195: WE WERE SO BACK THIS MONTH🤩🤩!!!! We got a sextra with HOV - Extra l 😍Then the fluffiest Christmas fluff in Chances - Extra l 🥰AND THEN SHE RIPPED MY HEART OUT AND PUT IT BACK TOGETHER IN Merry Christmas, I Miss You 🥺🥹😭!!!! Here is your monthly reminder to read more of Sam’s work🤩 Masterlist🤩

@harrywavycurly: Sarah’s Festive Fics!!!!🎄☃️ She really made my month👏!! We got to meet Snowmanrry in Wish Upon a Snowflake, a check-in with everyone’s favorite killer Loving a Killer, a swampy baby check-in Bright and Cozy, naughty lister Harry in Checking it Twice, soulmate action in The Secret Ingredient, and a lovely Sunday Softy !!!! I really appreciate you, Sarah🥰🥰

@maudie-duan: STRANGERS!!! We got Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 and Part 6 completing the series!! Such a beautiful and powerful story. Some of the best writing on here👏👏👏👏

@this-is-tiny-mia: My dear friend gave us Part 3 and Part 4 of The Luminary✨✨✨!!!!! I highlyyyy recommend !!!!🤩

@maladaptivescorpio: MY QUICKIES ICON😍😍!!!!!! Some of the smuttiest smut this month with Morning Ride and Home Video 🫠😵‍💫😮‍💨🤤

@jarofstyles: Lots of lovely blurbs this month (most are festive!). blurb, blurb, blurb, blurb, blurb. I also LOVED this one shot so much The Best Gift 🥹😍And of course we have The Teacher that has been updated weekly! This is such a captivating story!!😍👀

@ellewritesx: I love her !!!!!! We got focus on me which is a really beautiful piece of work. AND THEN PART 2 TO VELVET & VICE !!!!😍😍I LOVE ME SOME MAFIARRY!!!!😍😍

@grapejuicenharry: Ahhhhhh!!!! They gave us this fun and smutty one shot !!!!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

@narrycherries: We got Part 2 and Part 3 of Stained !!!! And loving her Patreon as always !!! Hoping to read part 4 on Patreon today🤭🤭

@harrysbabycherry: Eeeeee!! We got the last part to lovesick and this story is a must read !!!!😍😭🤩👏

@ghstyles: YAY for Scrub in part 4 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↕️

@swiftmendeshoran: Some fun Christmas smut😍😍

@watchmegetobsessed: In the same room. In the same bed. Enough said !!!!! HEARTEYES was sooooo good !!!😍😍😍

@harryngtonkiwi: If you’re in the mood for yearning you must read rock, paper, scissors !!!!! Also my latest obsession tutor 🤭🤭

@cloudyluun: A very sweet blurb A Quarter Before Nine !!!!😌

@purplecoffee13: PART 8 OF NFWMB AHHHHHH BOXER!HARRY MY BELOVED !!!!😍😍😮‍💨😮‍💨

Here’s a list of fics I’ve read in the past but want to give them a shout out:

@fkinavocado: Wattpad needs to find a new hobby instead of removing fics from their site !!!!! So here is everyone's reminder to read Daddy Issues and if you’ve already read it, READ IT AGAIN !!!😍🤩

@heartateasee: TELL ME WHY I JUST REALIZED I’VE NEVER REBLOGGED Attention BUT I HAVE READ IT NO JOKE 75 TIMES? LIKE ONCE A MONTH AT LEAST ! Oh my god. A must read.😍🤭🫠

@erodasfishtacos: Another classic for me is Cheating!Harry !! One Shots and Concepts !! I reread this regularly😊😊😊

@ifancyharry: I love Bad Habit, part 2 and part 3 !!! Love me some dadrry😌🥰

@finelinefae: I love this Tattoo artist!Harry Part 1, Part 2 and blurb masterlist !!!!🤭🤭🤭

🩷🩷

The Burden of Proof:

By day, Y/N and Harry Styles are the most formidable enemies in the city’s legal circuit—a ruthless prosecutor and a silver-tongued defense attorney locked in a high-stakes war of words and logic. To the press and the jury, they are fire and ice, two titans who would gladly dismantle one another's careers for a guilty verdict or an acquittal.

But when the gavels fall and the courtroom doors lock, the hostility melts into a desperate, forbidden hunger. Behind the closed doors of a rain-slicked penthouse, the "Ice Queen" and the "Velvet Blade" shed their professional armor to reveal a love so deep it’s dangerous. In a world where one public slip-up could ruin them both, they navigate a treacherous dance of secret glances and midnight rendezvous, proving that the only thing more powerful than the law is the truth of what they feel for each other.

**************

The air in the mahogany-clad courtroom was thick with the scent of old paper and the electric charge of two titans clashing. Outside, the world knew them as the "Ice Queen" and the "Velvet Blade"—Y/N, the relentless prosecutor who never let a witness breathe, and Harry, the defense attorney who could dismantle a legal mountain with a crooked smile and a single, devastating question.

The prosecution rested, but Y/N wasn’t finished. She stood at the lectern, her posture a masterpiece of rigid elegance. Her suit was charcoal, sharp enough to cut, and her eyes were fixed on the jury with a fervor that bordered on the religious.

“The defense would have you believe in ghosts,” she began, her voice a low, melodic chime that carried to the very back of the gallery. “They would have you believe that shadows committed this crime, that my client’s fingerprints are merely a cosmic coincidence. But the law, members of the jury, does not deal in specters. It deals in blood, in steel, and in the undeniable truth.”

She turned then, her gaze sweeping past the judge to land on Harry. In the public eye, this was the moment everyone waited for—the friction.

Harry sat back in his chair, the picture of practiced nonchalance. He looked down at his notes, a stray curl falling over his forehead, before looking up to meet her eyes. To the gallery, his look was one of condescending amusement. To Y/N, it was a challenge that set her nerves on fire.

“Mr. Styles,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, “seems to find the suffering of the victim… quaint. He weaves a tapestry of doubt because he cannot face the tapestry of facts.”

Harry rose slowly, buttoning his blazer with a rhythmic precision that Y/N knew was a calculated distraction. He moved toward the center of the floor, encroaching on her space until they were only a few feet apart—a distance that, in any other setting, would have been scandalous.

“My learned colleague speaks of tapestries,” Harry countered, his voice like gravel and silk. He didn’t look at the jury; he looked only at her. “But she forgets that if you pull on a single loose thread, the entire image unravels. She wants to talk about blood? Let’s talk about the contaminated samples. She wants to talk about steel? Let’s talk about the lack of a murder weapon.”

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. The courtroom held its breath. They were fighting ruthlessly, their words like rapier strikes.

“You’re grasping at straws, Mr. Styles,” Y/N snapped, her eyes flashing.

“And you’re building a cage out of paper, Counselor,” he shot back.

For a heartbeat, the professional mask slipped—not into kindness, but into a raw, competitive heat that the public mistook for genuine loathing. It was a high-stakes game of chess where the winner took the verdict, but the losers were the only ones who knew the real score. By the time the judge hammered the gavel for the evening recess, the tension in the room was so taut it felt as though the windows might shatter.

Six hours later, the world was different. The sharp fluorescent lights of the courthouse were replaced by the amber glow of 'The Rusty Nail,' a dive bar tucked into an alleyway that smelled of rain and cheap bourbon.

Y/N sat in the furthest booth, her hair undone and cascading over her shoulders. She wore a trench coat over her court attire, trying to blend into the shadows. When the bell above the door chimed, she didn't look up, but her heart stuttered. She knew his gait—the heavy, rhythmic step of a man who owned the ground he walked on.

Harry slid into the booth opposite her. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his top button undone, exposing the faint edge of a tattoo on his collarbone.

“You were a nightmare today,” he whispered, his voice stripped of its courtroom bravado. It was soft, intimate, and thick with a longing he only allowed her to see.

“And you were an arrogant prick,” she replied, though her hand reached across the sticky table to find his.

Their fingers entwined, a desperate lock of skin against skin. The transition from enemies to lovers was a violent, beautiful whiplash. Harry leaned forward, his eyes roaming her face with a hunger that the law could never satisfy.

“I hate that we have to do this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the pulse point on her wrist. “I hate seeing you across that aisle and not being able to walk over and kiss the anger right out of your mouth.”

Y/N felt a shiver race down her spine. The sensory details of the bar—the low hum of the jukebox playing a bluesy soul track, the smell of Harry’s expensive cologne mixed with the scent of rain—became a backdrop to the intensity of his gaze.

“The trial is getting too close, Harry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “The press is watching. If they see us, it’s not just our careers. It’s the cases. Everything we’ve built.”

“I’ll give you a ride, don’t worry about it.” He lifted his keys from his pocket, the metal clinking softly in the quiet bar. “I’m not going to let you walk.”

A moment of silence passed as she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the vinyl of the booth. He had no idea what it was doing to her—the way his voice anchored her, the way the mere offer of protection made her want to strip away every defense she possessed. It took everything she had to keep herself in check, to not climb across the table and lose herself in him right there.

“I have to worry about it. You know we shouldn’t be seen together.” Her words were weaker than she wanted them to be, a mere ghost of her courtroom persona. She opened her eyes and saw the flash of hurt on his face, a brief crack in his armor that made her heart ache.

“Harry,” she breathed, reaching out to cup his cheek. His stubble grazed her palm, a tactile reminder of the man beneath the suit. “Didn’t you know this was for your benefit, too? If they find out, they’ll say you compromised the defense. They’ll ruin you.”

“Let them,” he growled, leaning into her touch. He caught her hand and pressed a lingering, fervent kiss to the center of her palm. “I’d rather be ruined with you than be a success without you.”

He stood up, pulling her with him. In the dark corner of the bar, hidden by a stack of beer crates, he pinned her gently against the wall. His mouth was inches from hers, his breath warm and smelling of mint and whiskey.

“One day,” he promised, his voice a low vibration against her lips, “we won't have to hide. I’ll hold your hand in that courtroom and let the whole world watch us win together.”

He kissed her then—a deep, soul-searing connection that tasted of suppressed desire and a love so profound it was frightening. It was a secret they carried like a burden and a treasure, a fire that burned brightest in the dark.

The drive to the penthouse was a study in tortured restraint. Harry’s black SUV was a sanctuary of darkened glass and leather, the city lights blurring into streaks of neon gold and silver against the rain-slicked windows. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripped tightly over Y/N’s thigh, his thumb digging into the fabric of her slacks with a rhythmic, subconscious pressure. Neither spoke. The air in the car was heavy, charged with the ionizing friction of two souls who had spent ten hours pretending to despise one another.

When the elevator doors to his penthouse slid open, the silence of the high-rise swallowed them. Harry didn’t even turn on the overhead lights; the floor-to-ceiling windows offered enough of a glow from the city below to cast their silhouettes in long, dramatic shadows.

"Whiskey," Harry muttered, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. It wasn't a question. He moved to the bar, the ice clinking against the crystal with a sharp, frantic clarity.

Y/N leaned against the cold marble of the kitchen island, watching him. She kicked off her heels, the sound of them hitting the hardwood punctuating the tension. She felt raw. The courtroom had drained her, but the sight of Harry—undone, his hair a wild halo of curls, his movements fueled by a desperate kind of grace—filled her back up with a volatile energy.

He handed her a glass. Their fingers brushed, and the contact was electric. Y/N took a long swallow, the liquid burning a trail down her throat that matched the heat rising under her skin.

"You were so cruel today," she whispered, stepping into his space. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she undid the silk tie that had been a noose around his neck all day. "The way you looked at me when I brought up the forensics... I wanted to scream."

"I wanted you to scream," Harry countered, his eyes darkening to the color of a stormy sea. He set his glass down with a heavy thud and took hers, placing it aside. He trapped her waist, pulling her flush against him. "I wanted to break that professional composure of yours until you remembered exactly who you belong to when the sun goes down."

He didn't wait for a response. His hands moved to the buttons of her dress shirt—the starch-white symbol of her authority. He unfastened them with a frantic precision, his breathing hitching every time a new inch of her skin was revealed to the cool air. When the fabric fell away, draping off her shoulders, he let out a jagged breath.

He didn't go for her skin immediately. He looked at her, truly looked at her, with a reverence that was almost painful. This was their private language: the stripping away of the armor, the shedding of the "Prosecutor" and the "Defense" until only the man and the woman remained.

"Beautiful," he breathed, his large hands sliding up her ribcage, his palms warm and slightly rough.

Y/N reached for his shirt, her movements becoming more urgent. She lacked his patience. She needed the friction. She pulled the buttons of his shirt apart, a few of them snapping and skittering across the floor like tiny plastic heartbeats. She shoved the fabric off his broad shoulders, her nails tracing the intricate ink on his chest—the butterfly, the ships—each one a map she knew by heart.

The roughness began there, in the transition. It was a physical manifestation of the frustration they felt in the courtroom—the need to reclaim one another after a day of forced distance. Harry’s hands weren't gentle now; they were possessive. He gripped her hips, hoisting her up onto the marble island. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into the cradle of her thighs, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull his head down.

Their mouths met in a collision of teeth and tongue. It wasn't a soft kiss; it was an extraction. They were tasting the secrets they’d kept all day, the words they’d swallowed, the "I love yous" that had been disguised as "Objection."

Harry broke the kiss to trail his lips down her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over her jugular. He moved with a sudden, powerful surge of energy, lifting her into his arms. He didn't stop to pick up the discarded clothes; they left a trail of silk and cotton across the hardwood, a path leading to the sanctum of his bedroom.

He lowered her onto the charcoal-colored sheets, the fabric cool against her heated skin. The room smelled of him—sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and that clean, sharp scent of the rain outside.

"Harry," she gasped, her voice breaking as he stripped away the last of their barriers.

He hovered over her, his muscles taut, his eyes searching hers. In this light, he wasn't the cutthroat lawyer the world feared; he was a man vulnerable to the woman beneath him. "I've got you," he whispered, a promise that echoed through the vastness of the room. "No one is watching, Y/N. Just me. Just us."

The love they shared was a complex machinery of intellect and instinct. As they merged, the rhythm was a fierce, relentless pulse. It was rough—a desperate scramble for closeness that left bruises on the soul and marks on the skin. Every thrust was an argument won, every gasp an admission of guilt.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his voice a low, melodic moan as he called her name. It wasn't just sex; it was a reclamation. They were two stars colliding in a vacuum, creating a light so bright it blinded them to the complications of their lives.

Y/N arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her world narrowing down to the friction of his skin against hers and the sound of their synchronized breathing. The pleasure was a sharp, jagged thing that tore through her, leaving her breathless and shattered.

In the aftermath, as the adrenaline began to ebb into a soft, glowing warmth, Harry pulled the duvet over them. He held her against his chest, his heart beating a frantic staccato against her ear.

"We're going back in there tomorrow," she whispered into the dark, her voice thick with exhaustion and love.

"I know," Harry replied, kissing the top of her head. "And I'll fight you for every inch of that courtroom. But tonight..." He tightened his hold, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. "Tonight, the verdict is already in. You’re mine."

(I hope you all like this! I worked on this all night nearly lol) :))

@jarofstyles for part of her challenge!!! :)))

Angel (part 2)

In which Harry and Y/N go on their first date- as a couple. (3k words)

warnings: smut 18+, fingering, fluff, kissing, soft h

Part 3

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

Harry had been thinking a lot. Ever since he and Y/N made it official, he’s been meaning to take her on a real date—their first date as boyfriend and girlfriend. These last few days had been a whirlwind for Harry. That night when they made their relationship official still felt surreal to him.

Y/N was coming over to his apartment today to hang out and have dinner together. They had planned to watch The Notebook since it was both his and Y/N’s favorite film, and eat the Chinese takeout that Harry had ordered. This had been their routine for the past few days—hanging out every day after college at each other's places, ordering takeout or cooking together, simply enjoying each other's company, sleeping next to one another, and soaking in the bliss of their relationship.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry suddenly blurts. They were both sitting on couch while the movie was playing, Y/N was too engrossed in the film, while shoving popcorn in her mouth, legs resting on harry’s lap when she hears him. It took her few seconds to register what he was saying. "I want to take you on a real date. Since we’re already dating, I thought we should," he adds nervously, fidgeting with his glasses.

Chapter Four. The Wedding.

They locked the past behind them. But tonight, one glance is all it takes to break it open.

Word Count: 5.8k

(Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3)

Kinda Perfect

Summary: It's a girls' night out and Harry shows up, but you decide not to let your new friend Tiffany know that Harry is your boyfriend.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1230

A/N: Real Harry x y/n, written in 2017. Originally an oc, edited to be a reader fic. Thanks for voting for me to repost all these silly little fics lol. I used to refer to these as blurbs or drabbles, but I think the definitions have changed over the years. They will still be listed under one shots on my masterlist, but they are shorter than most of my other one shots, around 1200-1600 words.

"Oh my God!" Tiffany shouted before immediately covering her mouth with her hand.

"What is it?" you asked, swirling your straw around your glass.

"Is that..." she leaned closer to you in the booth and whispered loudly, "Harry Styles?"

Your eyes followed her gaze across the room where indeed you spotted the tall, handsome man.

"Oh. Yeah," you smirked.

"Wow. Have you seen him here before?"

You nodded. "A few times."

Tiffany sighed, sitting back. "He's so..."

You raised a brow. "So what?"

"Gorgeous."

You jutted out your bottom lip as you pretended to consider her comment. "You think?"

This is the teacher that kids either love or hate, there’s no in between. Mr. Styles has his quirks, and according to your niece, you either get him or you don’t. The annoying thing is, Mr. Styles teaches all of the science electives like astronomy, astrophysics, forensic science, marine science, zoology, and meteorology. These aren’t required courses, but they’re only a semester long. After completing biology, students can either take a full year of chemistry and a full year of physics, or they can do a full year of chemistry or physics, and two science electives. Or they can do four science electives.

Mr. Styles also is the only AP Chemistry and AP Physics teacher. There’s really no avoiding him. Some students accept this, and others continue to live in denial.

Many students know their strengths and passions. They were made to be scientists. Your niece, who loves science, is taking as many courses as possible to help herself out for college later on. She’s in AP Chemistry with Mr. Styles, as well as forensic science. Your niece loved Mr. Styles until he gave her an F for missing an exam. She had been out sick. She had a note from her doctor and everything! Your niece blubbered to you about it.

You know Mr. Styles. You work at the same school as Mr. Styles. You’re the music teacher. You typically avoid Mr. Styles. You’re in a completely different area of the school. Many students complain about him, but just as many praise him. But this time it’s personal. He made your niece cry, at school! You told her she could stay in your office for a bit to calm down. You were marching your way to Mr. Styles’ classroom. You didn’t care if he was teaching. You were going to barge in.

When you get to his door, you see him sitting at his desk through the little window. It’s a prep period. When you giggle the handle of the door, it doesn’t turn. So, you pound on the door with your fist while Mr. Styles takes his sweet time coming to open it.

“Miss-“

“Don’t even address me right now, I’m too mad.”

“I don’t think I know you well enough for you to be venting to me about something.” He says as he closes the door. “But I guess I can listen since I have time.”

“I’m here because you’re being an asshole to my niece. She missed school because she was sick and you wouldn’t let her makeup a test. That’s against school policy.”

“Not with AP courses.” He crosses his arms over his chest. You can’t help but feel frazzled at his attire. The dichotomy of him wearing a Disney shirt about love while he’s scowling is is almost comical. “If a student is sick on the day of the exam, then that’s it. They fail. They don’t get to try again.”

“How is she going to get into a good school if she has an F on her transcript?!”

“She’s not going to fail the class. She knew I had a strict policy. Also, I put out exam dates well in advance. She knew what day it was going to be.”

“She was sick!”

“Was she vomiting uncontrollably? Was she coughing up blood? Was she bed ridden? If the answer is no to any of those, then she could have come in to take the exam.”

“Right, so then she could get all of the other kids sick?”

“Masks are a thing. Plenty of students still wear them in the classroom. She could have come in for the exam and then left afterwards. Why do you care so much? You’re not her legal guardian. Her parents haven’t emailed or called to complain. At the mandatory parents meeting I run at the beginning of the school, I make it clear to the parents that I am strict for a reason.”

“My sister and brother-in-law haven’t called to complain because they don’t know about any of this. She came crying to me because she has no idea how to tell them because she knows she’s going to be asked if she knew it was an exam day. Which she completely forgot because she was sick and her brain was foggy.”

“She’ll have opportunities to make up her grade. Her participation counts for a lot and she’s always participating.”

“You don’t understand mental instability these overachievers have. I’ve seen that girl cry over an A-. Shooting her in the stomach would hurt less than getting a bad grade. Do you get off on being a dick?”

“You know what? This is my prep period, and I was busy.”

“Yeah, your door was locked.” You scoff.

“I always lock it. I don’t like when people filter in and out during my prep.”

“What if a student had an emergency and needed you?! Why are you even a teacher if you don’t care about students?! Do you have any idea how hard these kids have it? They don’t even teach them how to use computers anymore! No one knows how to touch type! Everyone assumes they have it easy, but they don’t. A lot of kids come to school because it’s better than being at home. You making it worse for them is a real turn off. I know you have students that adore you, but you also have students that would love the opportunity to spit in your food.”

“Are you done?”

“That depends, do you understand the points I’ve made?”

“Yes. You were very clear.”

“Are you going to take what I said into consideration as you’re teaching?”

“No.”

“You’re a fucking prick.”

“And you’re…” His eyes go up and down, checking her out. “It’s a good thing your room is on the other side of the school.” He shakes his head.

“Why? Afraid I’ll spit in your food?”

“No, in fact, I’d welcome your spit. I’d like it preferably in my mouth, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He shrugs and sits down at his desk.

Your mouth is agape. Did he really just say that to you?

“Are you serious?”

“Very.” He stands back up and saunters over to her. “If you’d like to cuss me out some more, could we do it over dinner?”

“I…”

“You never gave me a chance to take you out a few years ago. Remember that night we were both at that bar?”

“I do.” You nod as you blush. “But that was a mistake. I had a boyfriend…”

“Do you still?”

“No.”

“Alright, well, I would love to be in your presence again while you’re all fired up. Are you free Saturday night?”

“Pick me up at seven.”

“I’ll make a reservation somewhere I know we’ll be secluded so you can yell at me some more.”

“Stop talking before I change my mind.” You say and storm out of his classroom.

While you were teaching your sixth period choral class, Harry was teaching his forensic science class. Your niece got there a few minutes early to talk to Mr. Styles as he stood outside the class to greet the other students coming in.

“So…did it work?” She asked quietly.

“Like a charm.”

“She said yes?!”

“Mhm.” He grinned. “You must have put on quite the performance. She was really angry.”

“If you thought that made her angry, wait until she inevitably finds out that we worked together to trick her.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #teacher!harry #blurb #drabble #harry blurb #harry drabble

Hey!! Was wondering if you could do a dadrry blurb?? With H and y/n doing tummy time with the bubs on their playmat? 🥺 or just anything cute 🥰

something cute with dad harry as requested 🫶 enjoy, my love

Becoming a parent is something Harry always dreamed about. He looked forward to helping his baby eat, rock them to sleep, and even looking forward to changing their nappy.

He was ready for everything but wasn’t prepared to see his son grow quickly every day. It seemed as if every time he blinked his son, Elio was onto the next milestone.

Even the hard days were easy because of Y/N.

His wife of four years seemed to have the answer for everything. Sometimes, she made it seem too easy being able to recognize the distinct cries of their child, but she reassured Harry that they were learning together.