warnings: smut, dom h and sub reader, use of pet names (baby, bunny, sweet girl, good girl), finger sucking, p in v, kinda exhibitionism ?? if u squint ?? not really
summary: some headcannons for kissco harry on tour and how he’d take care of you before shows :)
a/n: i kinda hate this and i feel like i could’ve done better. i think i got carried away and ended up writing this as if it were a fic. i’m sorry! THANK YOU ANON for requesting. ily. i love getting requests sm. by the way i just wanted to say thank you for all the love on my last post, which also happened to be my first… i can’t believe it seriously. sorry if this is horrible !!! ♡
Y/N was absolutely ecstatic to go on tour with harry.
the idea of being apart for so long, only seeing him the days he didn’t have shows between different countries, was an excruciating thought for both of them.
so they decided against it.
the internet wasn’t the nicest to her when they found out about her age; she was in her early twenties while harry’s 32.
but harry’s never felt this way for anyone like he does with her. he needs her on this tour.
squeezing in time for intimacy has been a little more difficult with his busy schedule, but he always finds the time for his girl.
his personal favorite is before the show starts.
“come on, baby. you know how fast i can make you cum.” he had said with that smirk.
and of course you folded.
which was how you ended up bent over a sofa in his dressing room being pounded into from behind.
“fuck… doin’ so good for me,” he praised, leaned forward, chest pressed to your back. “stay nice and quiet, yeah?”
how could he sound so sweet and soft when his hips were feeding you the meanest thrusts ever?
one hand was pressed firmly over your mouth while the other gripped your hip.
“oh god—” you cried out against his hand.
he punished that with one deep, rough thrust, pinning himself as far inside of you as possible and going still.
“what did i say?” he warned.
you whimpered. he was gonna be the end of you.
“quiet, or i give you nothing.” his voice was firm and low and too fucking sexy. “be a good girl f’me. you’re okay.”
he felt your thighs tremble, trying not to smirk.
at another stadium, harry thought it’d be a good idea to have sex in the bathroom. and not the one in his dressing room.
the door was locked, but the chances of someone knocking on the door was much higher because this was the public bathroom his team used.
yet he still managed to soothe her into saying yes.
her back was pressed against the door, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into her.
his neck stayed buried in her neck, kissing with the occasional nip.
“harry, m’gonna cum,” you whispered, way too whiney for the quietness of the room.
his head lifted along with his hand, sliding two fingers inside of your mouth. not too deep, but just enough to silence you.
“suck.”
you clenched around him. tight.
“my sweet girl’s gonna cum?” he prodded, going faster. “i dunno if i should let you. you think you can stay quiet?”
you nodded desperately.
he sighed. the look on his face told you he was in a teasing mood.
“don’t mean to doubt you, bunny, but i don’t think y’can.”
your doe eyes flickered up to his, full of despair and need.
“okay. just gotta stay quiet, yeah?” he murmured, low and raspy. “cum for me, bunny. let go.”
your eyes squeezed shut as you finally came, giving your greatest efforts to stay as quiet as possible. god, it was hard. it had been so long since you were able to be loud during sex
harry let out a quiet, restrained grunt, thrusting deep as he spilled himself inside you, hot and warm and absolutely blissful.
when he pulled back to look at you, still deep inside of your tightness, he smiled a little, removing his fingers and pressing a kiss to you lips.
“y’look wrecked, baby. so pretty.” he murmured. “let me get you all cleaned up, then we’ll figure out if you can walk before i go out so you can watch the show, yeah?”
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Smut: * | Fluff: ! | Angst: •
One Shots
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Blurbs (Works under 3k + Fics Blurbs)
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Masterlist of my oneshots written between 2018 and 2020, contains works about Shawn Mendes, Grayson Dolan, Tom Holland/Peter Parker, Harry Styles, Nick Jonas, Ben Solo/Kylo Ren and Adam
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⚪️ SERIES
Masterlist of my series.
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Y/N, an assistant to Anne Twist, forms an unexpected connection with her son, Harry, when he comes home for the holidays.
Word Count: 9,464
Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, kissing.
Mostly fluff.
Part one of two.
The light filtered through the blinds, casting faint stripes of gold across the room. I blinked against the brightness, my eyes slowly adjusting as I stretched my arms out, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. A deep yawn escaped me, filling the quiet morning air. The world outside seemed to hum faintly, the distant chirping of birds blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.
I sat up, letting the covers slide off my shoulders. The room was still, yet alive with the promise of a new day. The faint aroma of coffee from the kitchen teased my senses, nudging me toward the day ahead. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I let my toes press against the cool floor, a gentle reminder that today was mine to shape.
As I stood, a faint shadow danced across the wall—a tree branch swaying outside the window. Something about the movement caught my attention, a quiet insistence that the day held more than routine.
After finishing my coffee, I carried the empty mug to the sink, rinsing it absentmindedly as my thoughts drifted to the day ahead. The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, filling the space with a soft, golden glow. I grabbed my phone from the counter and headed upstairs, each step creaking faintly underfoot.
Back in my room, I opened the closet door, revealing a neatly arranged array of clothes. My fingers brushed over the hangers as I flipped through the options—crisp blouses, tailored trousers, and a few statement pieces that Anne had complimented in the past. Getting dressed in the morning was never a struggle. My wardrobe was curated with care, blending professionalism with a touch of personality and casualness, just as my job required.
Working as a personal assistant to Anne Twist, a celebrated children's author based in the UK and mother to global superstar Harry Styles, came with its own unique blend of charm and challenge. Anne’s world was a whirlwind of creative projects, book signings, and interviews, and I was the one ensuring every detail went off without a hitch. It wasn’t just about organizing her calendar or prepping her notes—it was about anticipating her needs, often before she voiced them.
I finally settled on a simple navy blue dress with a subtle floral pattern, pairing it with a cardigan and comfortable flats. Anne had a penchant for warm, approachable styles herself, and I liked to reflect that in my own appearance. As I slipped on the outfit, I glanced at the framed photo on my dresser—a candid shot of Anne and me at a book launch, her arm draped over my shoulder, both of us laughing.
Today’s agenda was packed. A meeting with Anne's publisher, a conference call with a charity she supported, and later, a brainstorming session for her next book.I grabbed my bag and took one last look in the mirror. Polished yet approachable—that was the goal. Taking a deep breath, I smiled to myself.
The drive to Anne’s house was peaceful, the winding country roads lined with lush greenery and dappled sunlight. I rolled the window down just enough to let the cool morning air fill the car, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Anne’s home always felt like a retreat from the bustling world—a charming cottage with ivy climbing the walls and a garden that looked like it had been plucked straight from a fairytale.
As I pulled into the driveway, Anne was already at the door, her warm smile radiating the same comforting energy as her home. She waved enthusiastically, her auburn hair catching the sunlight.
“Y/N!” she called out, stepping onto the porch. “You’re right on time, as always. Come in, come in! I’ve just put the kettle on.”
I climbed out of the car, grabbing my bag from the passenger seat. “Morning, Anne!” I replied, smiling as I approached. Her energy was infectious, and it was impossible not to feel instantly at ease in her presence.
Anne pulled me into a quick hug as I reached the door. “It’s so good to see you. I hope the drive wasn’t too long. You know how these roads can be,” she said, ushering me inside.
The familiar scent of lavender and lemon greeted me as I stepped into the house. The kitchen table was already covered in papers—manuscript drafts, notes, and a plate of freshly baked scones. Anne was nothing if not prepared.
“I’ve got a lot to go over with you today,” she said, her tone cheerful but purposeful. “But first, tea. You can’t work properly without tea.”
I laughed, setting my bag down on a chair. “You know me too well, Anne. What’s on the agenda today?”
She poured steaming tea into two mismatched mugs, handing one to me. “Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a wink. “We’ve got that call with the publisher at ten, and later I want to brainstorm ideas for the next book. Oh, and Harry might pop by later—he said he had something he wanted to drop off.”
I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of the tea. “Harry’s stopping by? Should I be preparing for something out of the ordinary?”
Anne laughed, her eyes twinkling. “You never know with him, do you? But for now, let’s get through these notes. Come on, take a seat.”
I settled into the chair opposite her, notebook in hand, ready to dive into the day’s work.
As Anne and I worked through her notes, my mind kept drifting back to what she had said earlier. Harry might pop by. I hadn’t met him yet—despite working with Anne for nearly a year now. He was always away, either on tour or traveling, and our paths had never crossed. But today might change that.
“Anne,” I said hesitantly, setting down my pen, “so… about Harry. I guess I’m a little nervous to meet him.”
Anne looked up from her notes, her expression warm and understanding. “Nervous? Oh, Y/N, you’ve nothing to be nervous about! He’s a sweetheart. Truly.”
“I’m sure he is,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “But, I mean, he’s Harry Styles. He’s this global superstar, and I’m just… me. What if I say something awkward? Or trip over my words?”
Anne chuckled, setting her glasses on the table and leaning back in her chair. “Y/N, you have nothing to worry about. Harry’s as down-to-earth as they come. He’s more likely to be the one tripping over his words than you are.”
Her reassurance made me smile, but there was something in her tone—something playful—that piqued my curiosity. Before I could dwell on it, Anne leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Actually,” she said, a little more thoughtfully, “I think it’s good you two are finally meeting. I’ve always thought you and Harry would get along wonderfully.”
I raised an eyebrow, my cheeks warming slightly. “You do?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, nodding with certainty. “You both have such similar energies—kind, thoughtful, creative. And you both love to laugh. I can already picture the two of you chatting away like old friends.”
I laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Well, I guess we’ll see. No pressure, right?”
Anne smiled knowingly, taking a sip of her tea. “No pressure at all, my dear. But sometimes, the best connections happen when you least expect them.”
Her words lingered in the air as we returned to our work, but my mind couldn’t help wandering.
The day passed in a flurry of productivity. Anne and I tackled everything on the agenda—the publisher’s call went smoothly, the brainstorming session brought to life some fantastic ideas for her next book, and even the smallest tasks seemed to fall perfectly into place. By late afternoon, the papers on the kitchen table were neatly stacked, the mugs washed, and the scones just a crumb-filled memory.
As I started gathering my things to leave, Anne stopped me, her warm smile ever-present. “Y/N, don’t rush off just yet.”
I glanced at her, surprised. “Oh, I thought we were done for the day?”
“We are,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, her tone gentle and inviting. “But Harry should be here soon, and I think it would be lovely if you stayed for dinner. I’ve already got everything prepped, and I promise it’s nothing fancy—just a good, home-cooked meal. Besides, you’ve worked so hard today, and I’d love the company.”
I hesitated, glancing at the time. “Are you sure, Anne? I don’t want to intrude.”
Anne shook her head firmly, her expression softening in a way that reminded me of my own mother. “Y/N, you’re not intruding. You’re family—more than just an assistant to me. I don’t say that lightly.” She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Now, stay. Let me spoil you a little.”
Her words warmed my heart, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Anne had always treated me with such kindness, but hearing her say it so plainly made me feel truly appreciated. “Okay,” I said, smiling. “I’d love to stay.”
“Good,” Anne said, beaming. “You can help me set the table. And don’t worry, you’ll love Harry. He’s just like me, only taller and a bit scruffier.”
I laughed, the nervous flutter in my stomach returning. The idea of meeting Harry still felt slightly surreal, but Anne’s confidence that we’d get along eased my nerves—at least a little.
Together, we walked back to the house, chatting about everything from her garden to potential titles for her next book. Anne’s warmth and humor made the transition from work mode to relaxation seamless, and by the time we reached the cottage, I was already feeling at home.
As we stepped inside, Anne gestured toward the dining table. “You start on the plates, and I’ll grab the drinks. Harry should be here any minute now.”
I nodded, moving to set the table as instructed, but I couldn’t help the little flicker of excitement—and anxiety—that danced in my chest.
Moments later, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice calling out.
Anne, busy at the counter pouring drinks, shouted back, “In the kitchen, love!”
I froze mid-step, clutching a plate in my hands. My pulse quickened as the reality of meeting Harry—Anne’s son and global superstar—hit me square in the chest. A part of me wanted to disappear into the background, but before I could even think to move, the sound of footsteps approached.
Then, there he was. Harry walked into the kitchen, his casual stride and easy grin instantly lighting up the room. He was dressed simply—jeans, a T-shirt, and a beanie pulled snugly over his brown curls—but his presence was anything but ordinary. His green eyes scanned the room before landing on me.
He stopped, his smile widening with playful confusion. “Well, you’re definitely not my mum.”
I blinked, caught off guard, before laughing nervously. “No, no, definitely not.”
Anne turned from the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Y/N, meet my son, Harry. Harry, this is Y/N—my assistant, though I prefer to call her my second daughter.”
Harry’s expression softened, and he stepped forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Mum’s told me loads about you.”
I set the plate down carefully before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too. She’s told me a lot about you as well.”
He raised an eyebrow, a glint of humor in his eyes. “All good things, I hope?”
“Of course,” I replied, feeling my nerves ease slightly under the weight of his charm. “She’s very proud of you.”
Harry shot Anne a look, his smile turning fond. “She’s not bad herself, is she?” Turning back to me, he added, “So, you’re the one keeping her so organized. Must be a full-time job.”
“It is,” I said with a small laugh. “But I love it.”
Anne interjected, carrying the drinks to the table. “All right, enough chatter. Harry, help Y/N finish setting the table. And no teasing—you’ll scare her off.”
Harry chuckled, grabbing a stack of silverware. “Scare her off? I’m charming, Mum.”
Anne gave him a knowing look but didn’t argue. As Harry handed me the silverware, his smile was soft, his teasing replaced by genuine warmth.
“Don’t let her boss you around too much,” he joked quietly, leaning in just enough for only me to hear. “But I’ll warn you, she’s usually right.”
As we worked together to set the table, Harry struck up a conversation, his natural curiosity evident in the way he asked questions.
“So, Y/N,” he began, placing the silverware neatly beside the plates, “Mum says you’ve been working with her for about a year now. But I’m curious—how’d you end up here? Not many people just casually relocate to the middle of England.”
I smiled, stacking the napkins as I spoke. “Well, I’m originally from New York, but I came to England a few years ago to study abroad. It was supposed to be temporary, but I ended up falling in love with the country. Anne and I met while I was finishing up my studies, and things just kind of fell into place.”
“New York to England, huh?” he said, his tone thoughtful. “That’s quite a leap. What made you want to stay? Was it the tea, the rain, or Mum’s scones?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely not the rain. But honestly, I think it was the pace of life here. It’s different from New York—slower, in a good way. Plus, I felt like I’d found a second home when I started working with Anne. She’s been amazing.”
Harry glanced over at his mum, who was busy fiddling with the oven, her back turned to us. His expression softened. “Yeah, she has a way of making people feel that way, doesn’t she?”
“She really does,” I agreed, my voice warm. “She’s been more than a boss to me—more like family.”
Harry smiled, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “That sounds like her. She’s always taking people under her wing. So, what were you studying before you decided to make the big move?”
“English literature,” I said, straightening one of the forks. “I’ve always loved books and writing, so it just felt like the right path. Meeting Anne was kind of serendipitous. She needed an assistant around the same time I was trying to figure out what to do next, and the rest is history.”
Harry nodded, his interest clearly genuine. “That’s brilliant. Sounds like it was meant to be. And now you’re here, working with Mum, dealing with her endless sticky notes and brainstorm sessions. She ever drag you out to the garden for ‘creative inspiration’?”
I chuckled, nodding. “Oh, plenty of times. But I don’t mind—it’s always an adventure with her.”
Harry’s grin widened. “I can imagine. And do you still write yourself, or is it all Mum’s projects now?”
The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated for a moment. “I try to write when I can, but it’s mostly little things—nothing serious.”
“Well,” he said, his tone encouraging, “maybe one day I’ll get to read something of yours. If Mum’s spoken this highly of you, I bet it’s brilliant.”
His compliment made my cheeks flush slightly, but I managed a smile. “Maybe. But for now, I’m happy helping her bring her stories to life.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But don’t forget about your own stories, yeah? Something tells me they’re worth sharing.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, but before I could respond, Anne interrupted, calling us to the table.
“All right, you two, enough chatter! Dinner’s ready. Harry, stop hogging Y/N’s attention and help me bring the dishes out.”
Harry smirked but obeyed, shooting me a quick wink as he moved to help his mum. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, grabbing the serving tray. “But I’m not done with my questions, Y/N. Consider this round one.”
I laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement as I took my seat at the table. Round one, huh? This evening was shaping up to be much more interesting than I’d anticipated.
As Harry walked toward the kitchen to help his mom, I began fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of me, still processing our earlier conversation. His natural charm and easygoing nature made him surprisingly approachable, and yet I couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in my stomach.
I was just settling into my seat when I heard his voice drift from the kitchen. It wasn’t loud, but the playful tone caught my attention.
“Mum,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for me to overhear, “you forgot to mention how pretty she is.”
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My heart began to race as I tried to process what I’d just heard. Was he talking about me? It was hard to mistake the sincerity in his tone, even laced as it was with a hint of teasing.
Anne chuckled in response, her reply warm but matter-of-fact. “I didn’t think I needed to, love. I figured you’d see that for yourself.”
The sound of clinking dishes followed, but I couldn’t focus on anything else. My cheeks grew hot as I stared at the table, trying to act like I hadn’t heard a word.
What did that even mean? Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to his comment? The idea made my chest tighten, equal parts flattered and overwhelmed.
Moments later, Harry and Anne returned to the dining room, each carrying a dish. His expression was as casual and easy as ever, as if he hadn’t just said something that was now on a loop in my head. He caught my gaze briefly as he set down a bowl of roasted vegetables, flashing me a small, almost knowing smile before turning back to his mom.
“Right, all set?” Anne asked cheerfully, glancing between the two of us as she placed the final dish on the table. “Let’s dig in!”
I forced myself to smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “Smells amazing, Anne. Thank you.”
As dinner began, Harry struck up conversation again, his questions lighthearted and easy, but I couldn’t help noticing the occasional glance he sent my way. Maybe it was nothing—or maybe Anne had been right all along. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: this evening was turning out to be far more eventful than I had expected.
After everyone had eaten their fill and the plates were cleared, I stood to help Anne gather the dishes, but she waved me off with a smile.
“Sit and relax, Y/N. You’ve done enough today,” she said warmly. “But if Harry’s volunteering, I won’t say no to an extra pair of hands.”
“I’ll help too,” I insisted, ignoring her gentle protest as I followed Harry to the kitchen with a stack of plates.
Harry grabbed a dish towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he started rinsing the dishes. He glanced at me with a grin. “Looks like it’s just us now. I’ll try not to scare you off with my terrible washing-up skills.”
I laughed, rolling up my sleeves. “Don’t worry—I’m no professional either.”
As we worked side by side, the atmosphere felt lighter, more relaxed. Harry, ever curious, turned to me with a playful tilt of his head. “So, Y/N, I feel like I barely scratched the surface earlier. Let’s dig a little deeper. Do you have any pets?”
I smiled, handing him a clean plate to dry. “No pets, unfortunately. Growing up in New York, we didn’t really have the space for them. But I’ve always wanted a dog. What about you?”
He nodded, his grin widening. “Mum’s got a cat—Dusty. Though I think she likes Dusty more than me most days.”
I laughed at his self-deprecating humor. “I doubt that. Anne talks about you like you’re her pride and joy.”
“Good to know I’m still in her good books,” he teased, then shifted gears. “Okay, next question. Favorite movie?”
I bit my lip, thinking it over. “That’s a tough one. Probably Pride and Prejudice—the Keira Knightley version. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and it still makes me swoon. What about you?”
Harry pretended to look thoughtful. “Hmm, Pride and Prejudice is solid, but I might have to go with The Notebook. Classic romantic drama.”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re full of surprises.”
“Am I?” he said with a playful wink, taking another dish from my hands. “Okay, next one: Favorite bar in London?”
“That’s easy,” I said, sliding another plate toward him. “The Churchill Arms. It’s so cozy and covered in flowers—it’s like stepping into a storybook. What about you?”
“Great choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “For me, it’s The Spaniards Inn. Proper old-school vibe and great music.”
“I’ll have to check it out sometime,” I said, filing the recommendation away.
He paused, glancing over at me with a curious glint in his eye. “I could show you, if you’re up for it. You know, give you the full Harry Styles bar tour.”
The suggestion caught me off guard, but his smile was so genuine, it was impossible not to mirror it. “Maybe,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the warmth spreading in my chest. “If I can keep up.”
“Oh, I think you’ll manage,” he replied, his voice light and teasing as he placed the last clean plate on the rack. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. I’ve got plenty more questions.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Something tells me you’re not going to run out anytime soon.”
“Not a chance,” he said, his smile widening as he grabbed the dish towel to dry his hands. “You’re far too interesting for that.”
As the evening wound down, the cozy energy of Anne’s home lingered in the air. Harry leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, chatting with his mom while I finished drying the last of the dishes. His laugh filled the kitchen, warm and effortless, and I couldn’t help but glance his way more often than necessary.
But soon, it was time to leave. Harry had to fly out the next morning to start recording for his next project, and I knew my days ahead would be busy helping Anne finalize the manuscript for her latest book. It felt bittersweet—our paths had just crossed, and yet, they were already diverging.
As I grabbed my coat from the hook near the door, Harry walked over, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So,” he began, his voice casual but his eyes searching mine, “looks like it’ll be a bit before we see each other again.”
I nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, sounds like you’ll be busy.”
“Same for you,” he said, tilting his head. “Mum keeps you running around, doesn’t she?”
I chuckled. “She does, but I don’t mind. She’s worth it.”
Harry’s smile turned a little softer at that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Well, seeing as I’m about to disappear for a while, how about we exchange numbers? Just in case Mum ‘accidentally’ forgets to pass along messages.”
The suggestion caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered, pulling out my phone. “Sure,” I said, feeling a flutter of nerves as we traded numbers. His fingers brushed mine briefly as he handed my phone back, and I wondered if he felt the same quiet spark.
“Now you’ve got no excuse not to check out The Spaniards Inn,” he joked, his voice light but his eyes holding something a little more serious.
“Guess I don’t,” I said, smiling.
Anne appeared then, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “All right, you two, no plotting mischief without me,” she teased. “Harry, don’t keep Y/N standing here all night—she’s got work in the morning.”
Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “All right, all right. I’ll let her go. For now.”
We said our goodbyes, and as I walked out to my car, I couldn’t help but glance back. Harry stood in the doorway with Anne, waving, his easy smile still lingering even as I pulled away.
Weeks turned into months, and the holiday season crept closer. Between Anne’s projects and the quiet hum of my own life, I found myself thinking of Harry more than I cared to admit. We’d exchanged a few texts here and there—mostly casual check-ins or jokes—but nothing too deep. Still, every time my phone lit up with his name, it brought a smile to my face.
Then came Anne’s annual Christmas party. The cottage was aglow with warm lights, garlands, and a massive tree Anne had insisted on decorating herself. Guests milled about with glasses of mulled wine, laughter and conversation filling every corner.
I was in the kitchen, helping Anne plate some hors d'oeuvres, when a familiar voice made my heart skip.
“Surprise,” Harry said, leaning casually against the doorway, his signature grin firmly in place.
I turned, my breath catching slightly. He looked effortlessly stylish, dressed in a festive green sweater and black trousers, his hair tousled as though he hadn’t tried at all. “Harry,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Neither did I,” he admitted, stepping further into the kitchen. “But I couldn’t miss Mum’s party—or the chance to see you again.”
Anne smirked knowingly, handing me the last platter before excusing herself with a suspiciously cheerful “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”
I rolled my eyes at her retreating figure but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading through me. “So,” I said, turning back to Harry, “how’s recording going?”
“It’s good,” he said, his voice softening. “Busy, but good. Though I’ll admit, I’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Because of the mulled wine?”
He grinned, his eyes meeting mine. “Something like that. But mostly because I knew you’d be here.”
The sincerity in his tone made my heart flip. I wasn’t sure what to say, but before I could respond, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we? I think Mum would kill me if I didn’t mingle.”
The party buzzed around us, but Harry and I had found a quieter corner of the living room, where the lights from the Christmas tree cast a soft glow. He handed me a glass of red wine, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and leaned casually against the wall beside me.
“So,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass, “tell me—what’s been the highlight of your year? And if you say one of Mum’s scone-baking experiments, I’ll know you’re lying.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, those have been a journey, but I think meeting her in the first place takes the top spot. It’s been a whirlwind, but a good one.”
He smiled, his gaze warm. “That’s a solid choice. I’d say meeting you is up there on my list too.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the subtle sincerity in his voice, but before I could respond, Gemma’s voice rang out across the room.
“Oi, Harry!” she called, her tone dripping with playful mischief. “Do you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe?”
My eyes shot upward instinctively, and sure enough, the little sprig of green was hanging above us, tied neatly with a red ribbon. My cheeks flushed as laughter rippled through the room. I turned back to Harry, who had the audacity to look completely shocked.
“Mistletoe?” he said, feigning innocence as his eyes darted upward. “Would you look at that? What a coincidence.”
I narrowed my eyes, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his expression. “Coincidence, huh?” I asked, my tone skeptical.
Gemma smirked from across the room. “Well, rules are rules!”
The guests around us were clearly entertained, their chatter fading into encouraging murmurs. Harry turned back to me, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
“Guess we’ve got to follow tradition,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze steady. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint everyone.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, my heart pounding as he leaned closer. His lips brushed mine softly, the warmth of the moment washing over me despite the playful shouts and applause in the background. It was sweet, unhurried, and—dare I say—perfect.
When he pulled back, his grin was back in full force, but there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.
“Merry Christmas,” I managed, my cheeks still flushed as the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Gemma gave us a knowing look, and Anne, from the kitchen, was clearly trying not to look too pleased with herself.
As the night went on, the party blurred into a haze of warmth and laughter, but that moment under the mistletoe stayed crystal clear in my mind.
The party continued, the festive atmosphere filling every corner of Anne’s home, but I couldn’t shake the giddy feeling in my chest. Every so often, I’d catch Harry glancing my way, and each time, his warm smile made my heart skip a beat. It felt as if the mistletoe moment had shifted something between us—something unspoken but undeniably present.
After the laughter and teasing died down, Harry and I found ourselves back in the cozy corner of the living room, wine glasses in hand. This time, the conversation felt lighter, more natural, as if the small barrier of formality had finally fallen away.
“So,” I teased, swirling my glass, “did you actually plan that mistletoe stunt, or was it pure luck?”
Harry smirked, not even bothering to deny it. “What can I say? I might have noticed where Mum hung it earlier and thought it’d be a good spot to stand. But in my defense,” he added, leaning in slightly, “I wasn’t sure you’d go along with it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I’ve been told,” he said with a wink, his grin softening as he studied me. “But honestly, I’m glad it happened. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”
His words caught me off guard, and I found myself searching his expression for any sign of teasing, but there was none—just quiet sincerity. “You have?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“Of course,” he said, his tone genuine. “You’re… well, you’re amazing. Mum’s always going on about how much she adores you, and honestly, I get it. You’ve got this way about you—calm, funny, kind. It’s refreshing.”
I felt my cheeks heat under his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Harry, that’s… really sweet of you to say.”
He shrugged, his smile turning a little sheepish. “Just being honest. And, well, I guess I should probably thank Mum for hiring you and convincing you to stay in England.”
I laughed softly, the nerves I’d felt earlier slowly fading. “She is very persuasive.”
“Isn’t she?” he said, laughing along. “So, what about you? Are you glad you stayed?”
I took a moment to think about his question, the warmth of the room and the sound of soft music in the background making the moment feel surreal. “I am,” I said finally, meeting his eyes. “I’ve built a life here I never expected, and it’s been… wonderful.”
Harry’s gaze softened, his smile easy but full of something deeper. “I’m glad to hear that. And, for what it’s worth, I hope I can be part of what makes it even better.”
Before I could respond, Anne appeared, beaming as she handed us a tray of leftover mince pies. “You two look cozy,” she said with a knowing smile, clearly pleased with herself. “Don’t let me interrupt, but someone has to make sure these don’t go uneaten.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Harry said, chuckling as he took the tray. As Anne walked away, he turned back to me, his smile lingering. “What do you say? Mince pie and more conversation?”
I nodded, feeling my heart flutter again. “I’d like that.”
And as the night wore on, surrounded by laughter and the glow of Christmas lights, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something special.
Guests filtered out one by one, their laughter and goodbyes echoing softly through Anne’s cozy home. I slipped into the hallway to grab my coat, the frosty chill of the night visible through the windows. Snow was falling in gentle flurries, blanketing the ground in a soft, sparkling white.
“Thanks for everything, Anne,” I said, hugging her tightly. “The party was wonderful, as always.”
Anne smiled, her arms warm and motherly around me. “It’s not the same without you, my dear. Stay safe getting home, all right?”
“I will,” I promised. “I’ll call an Uber.”
Before I could pull out my phone, Harry appeared, shrugging on his own coat. “Don’t bother with an Uber,” he said, his voice casual but insistent. “I’ll drive you.”
“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s late, and it’s snowing—”
“All the more reason not to let you sit around waiting for a car,” he cut in, flashing me that easy smile. “Come on. Let me play chauffeur.”
Anne smirked knowingly from the doorway, but she said nothing, simply waving us off with a cheerful “Drive safe, you two!”
The snowflakes danced in the headlights as we drove through the quiet streets. The world outside felt still, the kind of calm that only came with late winter nights. Harry hummed softly along to the radio, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.
“So,” he said after a moment, glancing over at me, “did you have fun tonight?”
“I did,” I admitted, smiling. “Your mum really knows how to throw a party.”
“She does,” he agreed, grinning. “But I think the mistletoe was her favorite part.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m sure it was.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. Then, as we turned a corner, Harry suddenly slowed the car, his eyes lighting up with recognition.
“That’s it,” he said, pointing to a warmly lit building just ahead. “That’s the bar I told you about—the one I wanted to take you to.”
I followed his gaze, taking in the charming old-fashioned pub with its twinkling lights and ivy-covered sign. “It looks amazing.”
“Good,” he said, shifting the car into park. “Because we’re making a pit stop.”
I blinked in surprise. “What? Now?”
“Now,” he said firmly, already unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned to me with a playful grin. “Come on. You’re not getting out of this one.”
Before I could protest, he was out of the car, circling around to my side to open the door. The cold air rushed in, but his outstretched hand and infectious enthusiasm warmed me more than my coat ever could. Smiling, I took his hand, letting him help me out of the car.
The snow crunched softly beneath our feet as Harry led me to the pub’s entrance. The wooden door creaked open, revealing a cozy interior filled with warm lighting, laughter, and the soft hum of music. He held the door for me, his eyes sparkling as he followed me inside.
“This,” he said as we found a quiet corner table, “is one of my favorite spots in the city. Figured it was about time I shared it with you.”
I smiled, taking in the quaint charm of the bar. “I’m glad you did.”
Harry leaned back, his grin softening as he looked at me. “So am I. Now, what are we drinking?”
I glanced at the menu briefly before setting it down with a grin. “I’ll start with a shot of Fireball,” I said, glancing at Harry for his reaction.
He raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Straight to Fireball, huh? You’re full of surprises.”
“What can I say? It’s festive,” I replied with a shrug. “What about you?”
“I’ll take a whiskey neat,” he said, flagging down the bartender.
As our drinks arrived, I picked up the small glass, holding it up in a toast. “To impromptu pit stops and good company.”
Harry clinked his glass against mine, his smile warm. “To that.”
I knocked back the shot, the cinnamon burn spreading warmly through my chest. Harry watched, clearly amused, before sipping his own drink. The atmosphere in the bar was cozy and alive, the soft murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter adding to the charm.
After a few moments of quiet, Harry set his glass down, his fingers fidgeting with the rim. “Y/N,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I owe you an apology.”
I tilted my head, surprised. “For what?”
“For not texting much while I was recording,” he said, meeting my gaze. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Quite the opposite, actually.”
I stayed silent, giving him space to continue.
“It’s just… I felt drawn to you, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admitted, his voice softer. “I didn’t want to make things harder for either of us if I couldn’t be around, or if our schedules didn’t line up. It felt unfair to pull you into something when I couldn’t guarantee how often we’d see each other.”
His honesty caught me off guard, but in the best way. I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on the table. “Harry, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and it’s not like I expect constant texts or updates. But… I appreciate you telling me that.”
He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested. Because I am. Very much.”
My cheeks warmed, and I took another sip of my drink to buy myself a moment. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought about you too. A lot.”
His smile returned, soft and genuine, as he leaned forward. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing softly. “I just didn’t know if it was mutual or if I was imagining things.”
“You weren’t,” he said, his voice steady. “Not even for a second.”
The weight of his words settled between us, the unspoken feelings finally taking shape. The noise of the bar faded into the background as we held each other’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Good,” I said finally, breaking the silence with a small smile. “Because I’m not imagining this either—this pit stop? Definitely worth it.”
He chuckled, raising his glass to me again. “Here’s to more pit stops, then.”
I clinked my glass against his, the warmth of the moment spreading through me.
Harry waved down the bartender and ordered himself one more drink, a smile playing on his lips as he looked over at me. “You go ahead, though—order another if you want. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”
His words, coupled with the warmth in his voice, made me feel completely at ease. I grinned, raising my hand to flag the bartender. “All right, two more for me, then.”
As we chatted and finished our drinks, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Harry’s wit and charm kept me laughing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so at ease with someone. When the bartender cleared away the empty glasses, Harry glanced at me with a teasing grin.
“Ready to call it a night, or do you want to take over the jukebox and turn this into a dance party?” he joked.
I laughed, shaking my head. “As tempting as that is, I think I’m ready to head home.”
He stood, offering his hand to help me up. “Then let’s get you back.”
The snow had lightened as we drove through the quiet streets, but it still sparkled in the streetlights, blanketing everything in a serene white glow. I leaned back in my seat, the warmth of the car lulling me into a calm state as I watched Harry. He looked focused yet relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested casually on his lap.
After a moment, as if sensing my gaze, he reached over and placed a hand on my thigh. The gesture was simple, but it sent a warm jolt through me, grounding me in the moment. His touch was light, reassuring, and yet it carried a weight that made my heart race.
I looked at him, smiling softly. “You know, you’re really beautiful.”
He turned to glance at me briefly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Beautiful, huh? Don’t let the lads hear you say that—they’ll never let me live it down.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m serious. You are. Inside and out.”
He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my leg in an almost absentminded motion. “Thanks, love. But you should know—it’s not every day I get called ‘beautiful.’ Pretty, maybe. Gorgeous, occasionally. But beautiful? That’s new.”
I laughed again, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, you should hear it more often.”
He glanced at me again, his eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “I think I like hearing it from you the most.”
The car fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the faint crackle of snow beneath the tires. I found myself wishing the drive could stretch on forever, the intimacy of the moment something I didn’t want to let go of.
When Harry pulled the car into the small lot outside my flat, he turned off the engine and stepped out, circling around to open my door before I could even reach for the handle. His gentlemanly gesture brought a small smile to my lips as I stepped out, the cold night air brushing against my cheeks.
“I’ll walk you up,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“You really don’t have to,” I started, but he shook his head, giving me a pointed look.
“Not up for debate,” he said, his grin softening any potential protest. “Come on.”
We walked together toward the building, the snow crunching softly beneath our feet. The tipsy warmth in my chest made everything feel slightly dreamlike—the glow of the streetlights, the way Harry’s shoulder brushed against mine, the sound of his laugh when I nearly slipped on a patch of ice but caught myself.
When we reached my door, I turned to thank him, but he stepped closer, his expression both amused and fond. “You’ve got a little something,” he said, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, his touch soft and deliberate.
The simple gesture made my heart flutter, and he noticed. His grin turned playful. “Still feeling a little tipsy, are we?”
“A little,” I admitted with a laugh, leaning back against the door for balance. “But I’m good. Thanks for making sure I got home.”
“Well, someone had to,” he teased, his voice light but his gaze steady. Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “I’m really glad we did this tonight.”
“Me too,” I said, my voice quieter now.
Harry stepped just a fraction closer, his hands resting lightly in his pockets. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, “I’ve been thinking about that kiss earlier. I’d really like to kiss you again.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and without even stopping to think, I reached for his jacket, pulling him toward me. His hands instinctively found my waist, steadying me as I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.
This kiss wasn’t like the one under the mistletoe—this one was deeper, more purposeful. His lips moved with mine, warm and unhurried, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The cold air, the snow, the late hour—none of it mattered.
When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested lightly against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and something deeper.
I smiled, my cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. “Goodnight, Harry,” I whispered, unlocking my door.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his tone soft and lingering.
When I woke up the next morning, the soft light of a snowy winter day filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. My head felt light—not from drinking too much, but from the events of the night before. As I stretched and reached for my phone on the bedside table, a small smile spread across my face when I saw a text from Harry.
Harry: Morning, love. What are you doing for Christmas? Are you seeing your family?
I stared at the screen for a moment, my chest tightening slightly. My family was back in the States, and with everything going on, traveling wasn’t an option this year. I had already come to terms with spending Christmas alone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine—I’d planned a quiet day at home.
I typed out a response, my fingers hesitating briefly before hitting send.
Y/N: Good morning ☺️ No big plans—just staying home this year. My family’s in America, so it’ll be a solo Christmas. But I don’t mind.
Setting the phone down, I shuffled out of bed to start my morning routine. By the time I returned, Harry had replied.
Harry: Home alone? That doesn’t sit right with me. Come to ours—Mum would love to have you, and so would I.
The offer tugged at something in me, his kindness shining through even in a text. But as much as the idea of being surrounded by his family sounded wonderful, I didn’t want to intrude. Christmas was their time to be together, and I didn’t want to take away from that.
Y/N: That’s really sweet of you, but you should spend Christmas with your family. It’s their day with you, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I’ll be okay, I promise.
His response came quickly, and I could almost hear the concern in his tone.
Harry: You wouldn’t be interrupting. You’re part of the family now, you know.
I smiled at his words, warmth spreading through me, but I stayed firm in my decision.
Y/N: You’re lovely, but I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though—it means a lot.
Harry: If you’re sure… but I’m still not entirely convinced you’re okay with it.
His care made my chest tighten, but I knew this was the right choice.
Y/N: I promise, I’m okay. Have a wonderful Christmas with your family.
As I set my phone down, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, knowing someone cared enough to ask. While Christmas would be quiet this year, the warmth from Harry’s offer lingered, making me feel less alone than I’d expected.
The day passed slowly, but pleasantly. I spent the morning baking cookies, letting the warm, sweet scent fill my flat. It was cozy, and for a while, I didn’t mind being alone. After tasting one (or three) cookies to make sure they turned out right, I curled up on the couch for a nap, letting the peaceful quiet of the day lull me to sleep.
When I woke, the snow outside had thickened, blanketing the world in a soft white hush. I made myself a cup of hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket, and put on a Christmas movie, letting the cheerful music and festive scenes brighten my evening.
I was halfway through the film, laughing softly at the antics on screen, when a sudden knock at the door startled me. My brow furrowed in confusion. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my neighbors rarely stopped by unannounced.
I set down my mug, tightened the blanket around me, and went to the door. When I opened it, my mouth fell open in surprise. There, standing on my snowy doorstep, was Harry, grinning mischievously, a bag slung over his shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, love,” he said, his tone light. “Santa’s here, and he’s traded in the sleigh for a Mini Cooper.”
I blinked, too stunned to respond at first. Finally, I laughed, shaking my head. “Harry, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending the day with your family.”
He shrugged, his grin softening into something warmer. “I was. But it didn’t feel quite right, knowing you were here alone. So, I figured Santa could make one more stop.”
My heart swelled at his words, and I stepped aside to let him in, the cold air rushing in briefly before I closed the door behind him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I said, smiling.
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he teased, slipping off his coat and placing the bag on the counter. “I brought some things—thought we could make Christmas a little less solo.”
I glanced at the bag, curious. “What’s in there?”
“Just a few essentials,” he said with mock seriousness, pulling out a bottle of wine, a small box wrapped in festive paper, and a Tupperware container. “Cookies from Mum. She insisted.”
I laughed, shaking my head as I watched him. “You really didn’t have to do this, Harry.”
“I know,” he said, meeting my eyes. “But I wanted to.”
The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the cookies or the hot chocolate. Christmas, it seemed, had just gotten a whole lot better.
As Harry set the bag down on the counter, he pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box and handed it to me. The paper was simple but elegant, with a festive bow on top, and it made my heart flutter.
“What’s this?” I asked, looking between the gift and him, my brow furrowing in surprise. “Harry, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
He grinned, leaning casually against the counter. “I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. Go on—open it.”
I hesitated for a moment, my fingers brushing over the smooth wrapping paper. With a small smile, I carefully tore it open, revealing a beautiful hardback book with an embossed cover. My breath caught as I realized what it was.
A special edition of The Great Gatsby.
The gilded details on the cover shimmered in the soft light, and the pages had the kind of crispness that only came with a brand-new book. I traced the cover with my fingertips, momentarily speechless.
“You… remembered,” I said softly, looking up at him. “This is incredible, Harry.”
He smiled, his eyes warm and slightly amused. “Of course, I remembered. You told me it was your favorite. Plus, you lit up when you talked about it that night at Mum’s party. I figured it might be something you’d like.”
“Like?” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I love it. This is… it’s perfect.”
Harry shrugged, though the grin on his face told me he was pleased. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you already had this edition, but I figured even if you did, a backup wouldn’t hurt.”
I hugged the book to my chest, still marveling at the thoughtfulness behind the gift. “Thank you, Harry. Really. This means so much.”
He stepped closer, his expression softening. “You’re welcome, love. Merry Christmas.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the cozy warmth of the room and the quiet snowfall outside wrapping around us like a blanket. I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, this was exactly where I was meant to be.
I clutched The Great Gatsby to my chest, still basking in the warmth of Harry’s thoughtful gift, but a pang of guilt crept in as I realized I hadn’t gotten him anything in return.
“Harry,” I said, biting my lip. “This is so thoughtful, and I feel terrible—I didn’t get you anything.”
He shook his head, his grin easy and reassuring. “You don’t have to give me anything, Y/N. Seeing you smile like that is enough.”
Still, I wanted to do something for him, no matter how small. My eyes lit up as I remembered the cookies I’d made earlier. “Wait! I do have something.” I rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the plate of freshly baked cookies. “Okay, maybe it’s not as fancy as a special edition book, but these are homemade, and I promise they’re pretty good.”
Harry’s eyes lit up as he took one from the plate. “Homemade cookies? Now, this is a proper Christmas gift.”
He bit into one, his expression immediately shifting into mock seriousness before he let out a low, exaggerated moan. “Oh, my God,” he said around the bite. “Y/N, this is… ridiculous. These are so good.”
I laughed, watching his dramatic reaction. “Are you being serious, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”
He swallowed the bite and held up the cookie like it was a rare treasure. “Dead serious. These are unreal. You’ve been hiding this talent from me? What else are you secretly amazing at?”
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop smiling. “They’re just cookies, Harry.”
“No, no,” he said, grabbing another one. “These aren’t just cookies. These are a masterpiece. Like, I’m calling Mum tomorrow and telling her to step up her game.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again, his infectious humor and over-the-top enthusiasm making the moment feel so much lighter. “Well, I’m glad you like them,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll have to bake more if it means getting this kind of reaction out of you.”
Harry grinned, crumbs on his lips as he reached for yet another cookie. “Deal. But fair warning—I might show up at your door every time I get a craving now.”
“Good,” I said, surprising myself with the ease of my response. “You’re welcome anytime.”
He paused, his grin softening into something more genuine as he looked at me. “I might just take you up on that.”
The way he said it made my chest tighten in the best way, and as we stood there, sharing cookies and laughter, I couldn’t help but think that this Christmas, though unexpected, was quickly becoming one of my favorites.
As we stood there, the room cozy and filled with the faint smell of cookies, my eyes wandered to Harry. His sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, leaving his tattoos exposed, a striking contrast to the softness of the moment. The intricate designs on his arms seemed even more captivating in the warm light of the flat, and I couldn’t help but notice the way they moved slightly as he reached for another cookie.
I felt a wave of warmth rush through me, one that had nothing to do with the heat of the oven still lingering in the air. My gaze flicked to his face, his lips curved into an easy smile as he chewed, oblivious to the way he had completely stolen my attention. Something about him—the way he looked at me, the way he was simply here—felt too perfect to ignore.
Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward, lightly pressing my lips to his. It was soft, almost tentative, but enough to make my heart race.
Harry froze for just a moment, clearly caught off guard, before he set the cookie down and reached for me, his hands resting gently on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that made my knees feel weak. His lips moved with mine, slow yet deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second.
When we finally broke apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting lightly against his. His green eyes searched mine, his expression soft but tinged with a flicker of something playful.
“What are your plans for New Year’s?” he asked, his voice low and warm, his breath still mingling with mine.
The question caught me off guard, but I managed a small smile. “Nothing planned yet,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”
He grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against my sides. “Because I think we should make some cookies. Together.”
I felt my heart skip a beat, the thought of spending New Year’s with him lighting up something inside me I hadn’t expected. “I think I’d like that,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement building in my chest.
His grin softened, turning into something more sincere. “Good. Then it’s settled.”
A tale of tea, poetry, and stolen moments, where Y/N and Harry turn chance encounters into a love story full of wit, warmth, and a dash of i
OkaY i know this is super long overdue but I’ve finally sat down and done the much requested masterlist of my writing (how it is set up is the link of the story first and then a small little preview of it below it) (and the most recent ones are at the top). I’m only going to do the oneshots for now, I’ll save the blurbs for a rainy day, but here it is and I hope this is of use to y’all!
The features of his face soften even more (if that was even possible) and Y/N feels her heart kick up in her chest as she finally realizes how close he really is to her right now. Barely a few centimeters away from their hips touching; she hates how young and naïve it makes her feel, for her feelings towards him to bristle because he sat beside her. However, she does decide to blame it partly on the fact that she is sick and her mind is a bit of a mess right now (even though she’s certain that had she been healthy she would still have thrown herself in a puddle of mushy feelings.
“D'ya want me to take Teddy t–” he begins but she shakes her head, reaching up to knuckle at her eyes.
“He’s warm,” she rasps, nose scrunching up from the pain of it, “Could I – could I cuddle with him for a little longer?”
A smile pulls at the corner of Harry’s mouth and he nods.
or
Y/N’s still good at babysitting and Harry just thinks she’s lovely
DO NOT REPOST THIS STORY ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME
Warning, this contains graphic sex, rough sex(choking, bondage) daddy kink and dirty talk and if you’re not comfortable with either one you shouldn’t read this.
Harry Styles has agreed to let Savannah interview him for her final project and journalist class. He’s intimidating and suddenly the conversation takes a turn as he reveals to Savannah that he’s previously killed someone.
-you’d be up and awake and drinking your coffee in the morning and he’d still be in bed sleeping on his stomach and you’d like hop on top of him and kiss across his back and whisper in his ear “hey, come shower with me” and he’d grumble and be like “mmmhmm, two seconds”
-so you’d go get in the shower and he’d come in yawning and stretching a minute or two later with a towel in hand
-or he’d get back from the gym and you’d still be asleep and you’re like in bed on your side and he comes in and leans one knee on the bed and playfully slaps your ass and says “you coming?” and you turn and squint at him and it takes you a second to realize what he’s talking about but then you stretch and smile and murmur “yep” and get up and follow him into the bathroom
-you like your showers burning hot and tom tries to put up with it but always ends up turning it a little bit cooler
-so you guys wash your hair and do your thing and you take way longer than him since you have way more hair so he of course starts getting handsy
-he starts playing with your boobs a lil and kissing your neck and shit
-he kisses a straight line down your stomach and kneels and you’re like “um you’re gonna get soap in your eye if you do that right now” half joking and he’s like “I’ll survive” and puts one of your legs over his shoulder and you move so your back’s against the wall bc the first time he did this you totally slipped and you learned your lesson
-so you have one hand on the wall for balance and the other in his hair while he starts working his tongue on your clit
-he would squeeze your thighs until you looked at him because he loves eye contact when he’s making you feel good
-after a bit of him alternating between pushing his tongue inside you and sucking on your clit you would moan really loud and your knee would buckle a little and that’s when he knew to stop
-he’d be ready to take you then and there but you would wanna take him in your mouth a lil first and he obvi wouldnt refuse
-so you’d be on your knees in the shower and he’d be holding your wet hair back and groaning while you sucked on the head of his cock
-once he accidentally bucked his hips while this was happening and basically thrusted into your mouth and sort of choked you and you gagged and he was like “sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry” he felt so bad
-but eventually he’d tug on your hair gently and tell you to stop or else he was gonna come
-so he’d turn you to face the wall and be behind you and he’d reach down between the two of you and pump his fingers inside you a few times to make sure you were still nice and wet
-and then he’d push inside you really slowly and carefully because the shower is precarious
-and as he picked up the pace he’d keep one hand on the wall to steady himself and the other would be around your waist pulling you back into him with each thrust
-and you would also have one hand on the wall but the other would reach over your shoulder and into his hair, pulling his mouth to your neck
-every so often as he thrusted into you, your nipples would hit the cold wall of the shower and you’d take in a sharp breath at the sensation
-when he was close he’d slip his fingers between your legs to help you out
-your legs would start to shake as you came around him and he’d hold you tight against him, both of you moaning as your muscles clenched and your orgasms made it hard for you to stay upright
-he’d slip out of you and just kiss the back of your neck until you caught your breath and turned around to face him, kissing him sloppily on the mouth as water continued to wash over your bodies
-you’d stand there in the hot water for a minute before grabbing the soap off the little counter and squirting a bunch into your hand and rubbing it over his back and shoulders, your bodies still pressed together
-he’d do the same, running his hands all over your body, squeezing your ass cheekily when he got there
-once you were both all rinsed you’d get out and continue your day like normal people do! lol
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we wrote this sitting next to our parents in a hospital waiting room, that’s dedication for ya
Summary: Harry is a twenty-five year old Co-CEO, and Y/N is his nineteen year old secretary at his multimillionaire company. They try to keep their work relationship professional, but neither of them can help it when they’re the only ones left in the office at closing time.
Word Count: < 7k
Warnings: Daddy kink towards the end, rough office sex, just good ol’ smut in general.
So I really really wanted to do a Sugar!Daddy/Daddy!Dom Harry for the longest time. But I also wanted to make it different, because you guys have read the same theme in different forms. So, this came to mind. Again I hope you guys are enjoying my stories, I wouldn’t even bother if it weren’t for y’all! Oh, this is going to have multiple parts as well!
*Out of Love - A chance encounter with Harry means the possibility of rekindling a relationship that should’ve been. (10.4k)
¬Belonging - Harry feels guilty, and you miss him. (2k)
¬Genie In A Bottle - Part of @always-jackedup‘s 25 Days of Summer event - You and Harry are spending the day on the beach, and find a bottle with a message inside… but the night ends with a twist. (10.1k)
¬One Night In Nashville - *Two Nights In New York - *Three Nights In London - You’re called in to do a concert review when your friend falls ill. The artist you’re reviewing might just be your old flame… (40.4k)
Cheating Wednesdays - You and Harry have been divorced for five years, and you’ve suddenly found yourself back in his arms. (1.6k)
¬Together - A personal journey written through the eyes of YN and Harry (11.1k)
~¬*The Cottage - Sarah is your best friend and invites Harry to be the temporary resident for your vacant spare room. (14.4k)
~¬*A Piano In St. Lucia - A little something about a honeymoon with Harry. (2.8k)
By the Seaside - A blurb about your vacation to the Isle of Wight with Harry. (1.9k)
¬Always You - You host Harry and a few others at your lake house to avoid being lonely at a certain time of year. (6.5k)
Alleged Masterplan (collab!) - Harry gives you something of his that you weren’t expecting. (2k)
¬Private Universe Part I - Part II - *Part III - *Part IV - Harry visits a children’s hospital and meets you. (32.3k)
~*Guinea Pig - Your dad starts dating again after your mum passes, but his new beau is not someone you’d expected. (10k+)
Selfish - Harry moves back home with his son newly single to reconnect with you. (3.5k)
~Miss Fortune - A woman on Harry’s flight convinces him to finally confess his feelings. (5.5k)
Aisle Seat - Harry is intrigued by the girl sat across from him on his flight home. (1k)
¬Peas. - A stupid blurb about Harry’s obsession with garden peas. (1k)
¬~*Subtitles - You’re deaf and Harry is besotted with you. (5k+)
An Entire Week - You’ve been struggling with insomnia and forget a very important date. (1k)
~*Tell Him To Fuck Off - Your quiet Sunday morning is interrupted by a work call and you take a certain thing into your own hands. (1k)
We Despise Each Other Part I - Part II - Part III - *Part IV - *Part V - You’ve known Harry for years and he’s always been an arse - plus bestfriend!Liam (21k)
*Car. Now. - You and Harry are at a family party and you let loose. (2k)
¬A Probability - You’re feeling a little off and it’s almost Harry’s birthday. (2k)
~*Let Me See You - Harry is your housemate and he comes home early to find you helping yourself. (3k+)
¬Nippers Part I - Part II - Part III - You’re married with kids but Harry isn’t your husband. (20k)
¬~Sit Down - Lie With Me (Part II) - Your relationship with Harry has grown distant and you argue over a bowl of soup and a blender. (4.5k)
Harry likes kissing you; the feeling of puckering his lips and pressing them to anything that’s of you makes his day, a noticeable smile on his face each time.
Kisses for hello were always exciting, just beyond giddy to the point he’d be having his feet almost trip because of their pace to just get to you.
“Missed you so much, lovie.”
Harry would squeal, his excitement coursing through his veins that he doesn’t realize he’s lifting you off of your feet, grinning too much that he’s barely kissing you now, and he couldn’t help himself to just bury his head to your neck, laughing and kissing down on it and whatnot.
Kisses at morning where he’s still sleepy but his rest’s all good so he just takes it out on his early cuddles and pecks, instead of squeezing and pinching your for the tenth time in that minute.
He would be all eager to just press his lips to yours, not knowing whether he should put giggling or kissing first and by then he’d be a mess, not having enough of either so he just pleads you to let him have his way in exchange with him cooking breakfast.
“Please — c’mon, bub. One more? Just one more fo’ me and I swear we could go anywhere later.”
He’d be lying on your tum pulling out on all the stops because he felt the most needy in mornings too, fluttering his puppy-like eyes that’s all wide and pleading to just let him have one more, and he’s never been tired of doing it because you always cave with how soft and warm he looks.
Kisses in sleepiness where Harry’s fighting to stay awake and so are you for something either rational or extremely irrational where he’d just sit you down on his lap, bundling the both of you in covers and whatever that’s closest that’ll make the both of you warm and it always ended with the comforter in the master’s — happened too many times that he just resorted to buying the same exact one to be put in the living room.
He’d press sloppy and noisy kisses to your cheek trying not to yawn, nose just brushing against your cheek as he breathes in slowly, hands fiddling with the back of your shirt that he believes is his.
“Until what time are we gonna stay awake, love?”
He’d be pouting a little, lips puckered as he continues his pecks until he has his eyes closed. Then he’d be falling asleep with his head buried to your neck, just unconsciously humming for a bit because his mind’s still trained that he was still doing it.
Harry would mumble in the lowest of volumes but enough for you to hear, still knackered but his thoughts weren’t, feeling the outlines of his lips curve up against your neck.
“Kissy.”
Kisses at night were always a bit more intimate, sometimes being the one to reserve all that he was feeling that day be let out at night and it was therapeutic in a way for him that it always felt odd when he doesn’t do it.
“Just had a bad day.”
He’d be saying in between kisses and in times like these, he’d let you be the one to maneuver and control it, probably just melting with how one hand would be on his nape just relieving some pressure on it, with the other raking against his curls that he feels he’s in heaven and some sort.
They’d be gentle and rough in some days, him the one to let out some little grunts and sometimes whines when he’s frustrated, little moans and giggles when he’s happy.
“Can y’hold me tonight?”
Kisses in jealousy where he’s gonna be rough and irritated and he’d be gripping your jaw gently just taking out his frustrations with the prick in your mouth, becoming all handsy and he’d slow down when he feels like you’re running out of breath, only pouting and barely running his thumb through his lips as you regain your breath.
Doesn’t care when and where he’s gonna do it because for all he knows, the both of you are still in the party surrounded by people he doesn’t mostly know except for a few and some faces, and it would be so evident he’d be unfazed if he’s given a shocked look by the guy that sparked his jealousy alive.
“Can’t take your breath away like that, can he?”
“Jealous tonight, are we?”
A teasing and an even more knowing look would be given to him that just makes Harry roll his eyes, tapping his foot impatiently against the hardwood floors.
He looks intimidating and brooding this way because of the rage that’s bubbling in his stomach, and the fact that it feels more powerful than ever because he hasn’t been jealous for quite a while after having not seen you so long adds up to it.
His arms would be tightly crossed across his chest and his eyes would be all hooded, lips just unimpressedly drawn tight that makes the guy look away almost instantly.
“You know what m’talking about.”
Kisses in the places either of you don’t like were always soft and caring, just hands brushing over briefly before the softest of pecks would be pressed on it.
Would be done out of habit too and it doesn’t feel like an obligation at all because the both of you like doing it, the fact that it makes you love the other more along with the fact too that seeing the other have a cute soft grin on their face being two of the reasons amongst many more on why it’s always a favorite.
Kisses for good luck when he’s feeling nervous and jittery that he’s at the edge of his nerves, knee erratically bouncing up and down that you think it would only take one last repeat of it that you’re gonna tape Harry’s leg down against one of the chair’s legs.
“You could do it, bub. I believe in you.”
“Y’really think so?”
He’s gonna have to ask you to repeat to say it again, just so that he could have it sink deeper into that thick skull of his right now and he’d be glad he brought you along, not because of the hesitation to not bring you since he’s in fear that he’s gonna fuck up — but because he knows you always make it better.
Good luck kisses were always quick and repetitive, him being the one to ask for just one more so he’d be sure of it.
“Give me another when m’all done, okay? Celebratory kiss, right?”
Kisses while cuddling where soft and lazy ones are given to the neck, just having his head buried to the spot near your jaw and his nose pointing upwards, his little scruff adding in to the feeling of sleepiness and eagerness at the same time.
“Fuckin’ — stay still, woman.”
Harry’s gonna scold and he’d normally be clingy, arms just tightly around your waist as he wants to sleep yet in the same time chat with you, humming softly as he tells about his day without having you interrupt him with an abrupt giggle.
Kisses as goodbyes where you’re wiping off each other’s tears, sadly chuckling at the other to try and help relieve the pain in your chests — and it was always a little too hard.
He’d have to remind himself that he’s doing this for the sake of himself, the both of you and everyone else’s and that a couple of months wouldn’t hurt (he thinks) as long as he gets to continue his craft.
Always longing and each time they were craved and begged to last a little more, but they held finality for the meantime so Harry would have to savor every last bit of it, hands on the sides of your face as he manages to smile a little.
“Few more months and m’all yours again.”
That’s nine amongst a whole lot more but no matter how much Harry does love kisses; he hates them.
Hates them when he can’t give any.
Literally feels sadness and desperation crawl through his veins up until his throat, seeing you on the other side of the couch watching your show peacefully with no regard for him on the other because you’re mad at him — mad at him (he deserves it, really) because he didn’t give you the sheet of paper that contained his first-ever song for his second album, which you asked for and had him approve, even if you reminded him a few more times; but only to know he’s given it to someone else even if he’s promised not to.
“Y/N, lovie — m’sorry, alright? Please? Can y’just please look at me?”
Harry frowns and no matter how much he wants to adjust himself so that he’d be closer to you on the couch, he knows you’d leave the area because at this point, he’s actually lucky that you let him be in the same vicinity as you.
It’s nearing midnight and he’s all sad, fiddling with his rings just looking at you desperately and he’s in the verge of crying.
The affection, and most especially the kisses, were lacking and he feels so unaccomplished and incomplete this day because of this wrong thing he did, just looking up at you pleadingly yet to no use because you weren’t budging to even spare a glance.
“Let me just kiss you, please? Was wrong of me to do that and I can’t — fuck, I can’t be still, love! Let me kiss you, bub. Just one a-and I swear I won’t ask for anything more. Would even sleep on the couch!”
His voice cracks and you have to shut your eyes, considering that a couple hours have passed now and that your anger has been diminishing slowly but surely since, reluctantly sighing as you turn to face him.
His face is all teary now with his serious frustration, your finger just motioning for him to go and he couldn’t have moved to you any faster than that.
Harry wastes no time and just presses his lips to yours deeply, the taste of you enough to make him realize that the hours he’s been begging were all worth it, having to resist the urge to grin with his hands on the sides of your face just savoring every second that passes.
He’s all soft and warm now, knowing not all’s forgiven yet but he takes the risk, just sinking down on you so that his head’s on your chest and his arms are all around your waist, a little hopeful question arising in his throat as he fiddles with your shirt.
Harry gathers his courage and breaks down his pride, voice coming down to something that’s all velvety, soft, and warm.
“Does this mean I can kiss you and m’off the hook now?”
