Harry Styles One Shots

Mirror Mornings

The sun peeked through the sheer curtains of their bedroom, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The faint chirping of birds outside mixed with the occasional hum of passing cars, signaling the world was already awake. Inside the cozy flat, though, everything was still and peaceful—until Harry shifted, his arm slinging lazily over Y/N's waist as he groaned softly into his pillow.

"Morning already?" he mumbled, his voice groggy and muffled.

Y/N stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips as she glanced over at him. His hair was a mess of curls, flattened in some spots from sleep, and the faintest shadow of stubble dusted his jaw.

"Mm-hmm," she replied, her voice soft. "Unless you want to sleep through it."

Harry cracked one eye open, a mischievous grin forming. "Tempting."

But Y/N rolled onto her side to face him, poking his chest lightly. "Nope. No lazy mornings today. You promised we'd get breakfast at that cute café."

He groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. "Alright, alright. But first—teeth."

"You're so romantic," she teased, giggling as she slipped out of bed, grabbing his hand to tug him along.

The two stumbled into the bathroom, still half-asleep but already grinning. Their shared morning routine was one of Y/N's favorite parts of living with Harry. The bathroom was cozy, with pale blue walls, fluffy white towels, and a small shelf crowded with skincare products, candles, and Harry's ever-growing collection of rings.

Harry leaned against the sink, yawning as Y/N grabbed their toothbrushes from the holder. She handed his over, then reached for the toothpaste. She squeezed a generous dollop onto her brush before holding it out for him to do the same.

"Too much," he muttered, watching the glob she'd squeezed onto her own toothbrush.

"No such thing," she quipped, applying the toothpaste to his brush before he could protest further.

Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing, sticking the toothbrush into his mouth. As they began brushing in unison, Y/N glanced at him in the mirror. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and he was brushing lazily, his head tilted slightly as he worked.

"You're so slow," she teased through a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

Harry arched an eyebrow, turning to her. "I'm thorough. You're the one rushing like it's a race."

"It is a race. You're losing."

He grinned, toothpaste foam dotting the corner of his mouth. "We'll see about that."

Suddenly, he started brushing more dramatically, his hand moving in exaggerated motions that made her laugh. The sound came out garbled, her mouth still full of foam. She shook her head, nearly choking on the laughter.

"Careful," Harry said, his words muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. "Wouldn't want you to choke on your victory."

"You're ridiculous," she said, finally spitting into the sink. She turned to rinse her mouth, grabbing the cup they kept by the sink.

Harry joined her, leaning down to spit as well. Their elbows bumped, and Y/N shot him a playful glare.

"Plenty of sink for both of us, you know," she teased.

"Yeah, but this side's warmer," he replied with a cheeky grin.

"Oh, is that so?" She nudged him with her hip, and he nudged back, their lighthearted shoving match ending when Y/N nearly dropped the cup.

"Alright, alright, truce," she said, laughing as she set the cup down. "Let me rinse in peace."

They both straightened up afterward, standing side by side as they wiped their faces with the hand towels. In the mirror, their reflections looked comfortably domestic—Harry in his wrinkled T-shirt and striped pajama pants, Y/N in an oversized sweatshirt and fuzzy socks.

He turned his head slightly, catching her gaze in the mirror. "You've got toothpaste," he said, gesturing vaguely to his own cheek to indicate where.

"Where?" she asked, leaning closer to the mirror to inspect.

"Right here." He reached out, his thumb swiping gently at the corner of her mouth. His touch lingered just a second too long, and when she turned to look at him, her heart did a little flip at the softness in his eyes.

"Got it," he said, his voice quieter now.

"Thanks," she murmured, suddenly very aware of how close they were.

Harry's gaze flicked to her lips briefly before he stepped back, grabbing the hair tie she'd left on the counter. "Here," he said, holding it out to her. "You might want this."

Y/N blinked, shaking off her daze. "Oh, right. Thanks."

She took the tie, quickly pulling her hair into a messy bun. Harry watched her in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" she asked, catching his expression.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. "Just... you're cute."

Her cheeks flushed, and she threw the nearest hand towel at him. "Stop it."

Harry caught the towel, laughing. "What? It's true."

Y/N tried to hide her smile as she turned away, grabbing the bottle of face cleanser. Harry moved to his side of the sink, lathering up his own. They worked side by side, their movements synchronized in a way that only came from months of sharing these little moments.

As Harry rinsed his face, droplets of water clung to his curls, and Y/N couldn't resist reaching over to flick one off. "You missed a spot," she said with a grin.

"Where?" he asked, pretending to look around.

"Right—" She flicked another droplet at him before he could finish, giggling as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he said, reaching for the sink sprayer.

"Harry, don't you dare—"

Before she could finish, he turned it on, sending a light spray of water in her direction. She squealed, dodging out of the way, but not before a few drops landed on her sweatshirt.

"You're the worst!" she said, laughing as she grabbed her own weapon—a bottle of hand soap.

"Truce, truce!" Harry said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender.

Y/N eyed him suspiciously before lowering the soap. "Alright. But no more funny business."

"Scout's honor," he said, crossing his heart dramatically.

They finished up their morning routine without any further incidents, though Harry couldn't resist making faces at her in the mirror while she applied her moisturizer. By the time they left the bathroom, their faces were clean, their hair somewhat tamed, and their hearts a little lighter from the shared silliness.

As they moved into the kitchen, Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "You know," he said softly, "mornings like this... they're my favorite."

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes warm. "Mine too."