She stirred her tea slowly. "I'm not your babysitter, you know." "Says the girl hired to keep me from combusting." "I was told 'companion with boundaries.'" Harry narrowed his eyes, then grinned like the cat that found a string to pull. "That's adorable." "Don't flirt with me before I've had caffeine." "Wasn't flirting." He stepped closer, walking past her toward the fridge, close enough that his arm brushed hers - possibly by accident, possibly not. "If I flirted, you'd know." She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt her forehead. "What are we even doing here?" Harry paused, hand on the fridge handle, then looked over his shoulder with that look - the one she couldn't read yet. "Trying not to kill each other, apparently." © 2025 . All rights reserved.

Time is a strange thing when you're running from it at three hundred kilometers per hour. It stretches. It blurs. It pretends to heal things it only teaches you how to live around. And I think, somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of crashing. And started being afraid of what would happen if I didn't. Because the truth is - You can outrun a lot of things. But not the person who changed the way your heart learned to exist.

Yield. The word haunted me long before I even understood why. It wasn't about surrender, exactly. Not the kind that made you weak. It was more like... permission. Permission to feel, permission to let someone else in without detonating everything around you. But what happens when you yield, and the person you let in disappoints you? Betrays you? When yielding turns into exposure, and every vulnerability you offered becomes a weapon pointed back at you? Let me tell you: that's when yield stops feeling like permission and starts feeling like punishment.

Harry's chicken is in her garden again. For the third time this week. "Styles!" she shout over the fence. "Your demon bird is attacking my sunflowers again!" He appears, slow and unbothered, leaning against the fencepost like he's got all the time in the world. "She's not attacking. She's exploring." "She's murdering." He grins. "Guess she's got taste." She crosses her arms. "I'll make stew." "Touch her," he says, "and I'll plow your garden flat." "Threats from a man who can't even keep a chicken home?" He looks at her, amused. "Wouldn't call her the only one sneaking over lately." And just like that, she's the one blushing redder than her poor, dying sunflowers.

[a harry styles fanfiction] - werewolf!harry ▪︎ ▪︎ The man put every other man she'd ever known to shame. None of them even came close to comparing to her husband. And from the soft expression on her face, he could tell she was thinking that he was being sweet again. He sighed, but she just kissed him on the lips. "You're so--" "Ferocious. Protective. Smart." He interrupted on purpose. "All that." She grinned. "But you're also sweet, handsome, sexy--" His loud groan cut her off. "Don't go around describing me as 'sweet'. No one--with the exception of my mother--thinks I'm sweet." "I do." She assured him. And he truly was the sweetest Alpha male in the world. He was her sweet Alpha. ▪︎ ▪︎ [not my original story]

a BURNING love story ❤️🔥

You scarred my mind, more then I ever scarred my body.

"For the longest time, I've felt as though I'm drowning." (boxer!harry) *smut warning*

I didn't plan on falling in love with Harry Styles. I planned on surviving. Behind a bar, my life makes sense. Drinks in, drinks out. Keep moving. Don't get too close to anyone who might leave. Harry ruins that system the moment he walks in. He's patient in a way that's dangerous. Gentle in a way that makes it hard to keep my distance. He doesn't try to fix me, doesn't ask me to explain the parts of my life I'd rather keep buried. He just... stays. What starts as late-night conversations and quiet companionship slowly becomes something neither of us expected. Something steady. Something terrifying. Something that might actually be love. And when you've spent your entire life learning how to do everything alone, letting someone stay might be the hardest thing of all. UPDATES 9 AM & 9PM EST DAILY!!!! #1 in harrystyles

The year is 1851. Times were different then. Simpler. And though life was indeed simpler, the people most certainly were not. Injustice, deception, abuse. All of these things were just as present in the nineteenth century as they are today. The only difference: people then rarely got caught.