#hazzashouse

[hazzashouse]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[tinyhrry]

Harry Styles Fic Recs

FLUFF

I'll be by your side (@tpwkwriter)

love on tour, forever (@harrysfolklore)

social media au: harry and y/n are besties. (@meetmymouth)

sharing a bed (@daaydreamy)

love in secret (@mydearesthrry)

jealous baby boy (@onlygrapejuice)

love in photos (@finelinevogue)

I just called to say I love you (@harrywritingsbyme)

leave the door open... (@meetmymouth)

I belong with you (@hazzashouse)

fruity (@watchmegetobsessed)

lost n found (@finelinevogue)

melted ice cream (@0oolookitsme)

birthday wishes (@mydearesthrry)

shower prank (@finelinevogue)

yearly styles' family awards (@valuunit)

sliding down the bed (@harryrryrry)

long live (@missmielyhoran)

trinkets on tour (@mydearesthrry)

sharing is caring (@justmystyles)

ring shopping (@finelinevogue)

smart girl (@bunnyteetharry)

a little too much styles charm (@maddie7writes)

love language (@alonetimelover)

black and white film camera (@justmeinatree)

assistant!reader (@ifancyharry)

the edge of all we've ever known (@stylesharrys)

when I look at you (^)

hayday, braids, and chocolate (@mydearesthrry)

unofficial (@watchmegetobsessed)

hot summer nights (@finelinevogue)

ANGST

Business or pleasure? (@justmystyles)

paparazzi nerves (@finelinevogue)

fight for you (@secret-rendezvous1d)

life goes on (@finelinevogue)

oreos and pickles (@missmielyhoran)

separation anxiety (@comfort-person)

the best thing (@finelinevogue)

saccharine expressions (@musicforastylesrestaurant)

hawaiian party (@skullsuited)

love me please? (@havethetimeofyourstyles)

we're not who we used to be (@coucouatoi)

a house isn't a home without you (@stylesharrys)

trepidation (@justlemmeadoreyou)

bestfriend's ex boyfriend (@harrysbabycherry)

series

one summer (@watchmegetobsessed)

[kaylasficrecs]

harry styles recs

wardrobe malfunction | imagine, fluff | @watchmegetobsessed

intimacy | one shot, trifecta | @goldengalore

people pleaser⟢pt 2 | two shot, fluff | @grapejuicestyless

shy | one shot, flangst | @moonchildstyles

friends before fans | imagine, flangst | @finelinevogue

tuesday | one shot, flangst | @1d1195

happy surprise | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

could we not?⟢pt 2 | two shot, flangst | @be-with-me-so-happily

lunch time | imagine, fluff | @harrysmimi

i'm dating your boss, surprise | au, imagine, flangst | @harryscherrypie

destiny | imagine, angst | @freedomfireflies

something new | one shot, fluff | @gucciwins

celebrating harry's birthday | series’s imagine, fluff | @avatar-anna

birthday girl | drabble, fluff | @justmystyles

perfect harmony | imagine, flangst | @justmystyles

rosemary | au, series | @moonchildstyles

i want forever | imagine, flangst | @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

false god | one shot, trifecta | @sleepyhollands

paparazzi nerves | imagine, flangst | @finelinevogue

love in secret | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @mydearesthrry

love and tour | one shot, fluff | @watchmegetobsessed

the final show | imagine, fluff (little angst) | @watchmegetobsessed

sweet nothing | imagine, fluff | @mydearesthrry

wild geese⟢pt 2 | two shot, angst | @meetmymouth

stopped feeling it | drabble, smut, angst, comfort | @meetmymouth

beautiful baker boy | au, imagine, fluff | @knowiloveyoubabe

infatuation on a mutual level | au, one shot, smut, fluff | @harrygoeswest

saying yes | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

afterparty | au, imagine, smutish, fluff | @chaoticloving

black ice | one shot, flangst | @theonewiththefanfics

wake up call | au, imagine, smut | @harryistheonlyoneforme

no guarantee | au, one shot, fluff, smut | deactivated blog

the best thing | au, one shot, flangst | @finelinevogue (tw)

you're sick, but he's playing wembley | one shot, fluff | @ifancyharry

hockey player!harry | au, series | @avatar-anna

dog love | imagine, fluff | @harrysfolklore

rings and nervous things | imagine, fluff, comfort | @trulyonlygrapejuice

sunshine | au, series | @stylesloveclub

firsts | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

gingerbread men | imagine, fluff | @finelinevogue

love me like you do | imagine, fluff, comfort | deactivated blog

knockout | au, series | @freedomfireflies

i belong with you | drabble, fluff | @hazzashouse

life goes on | imagine, flangst | @finelinevogue

dwindling away | imagine, flangst | @shawnxstyles

it's hard when we argue | imagine, flangst | @avatar-anna

do you still love me? | one shot, flangst | @musicforastylesrestaurant

birthday blues | one shot, fluff (some angst) | @gucciwins

full throttle | au, imagine, flangst | @bunnyteetharry

[hazzashouse]

Coming Home to You (Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: Damn, it’s been a long time… I know. But I’m planning on coming back here so if any of you have a request for a one shot - hmu!

Summary: Harry comes home late from the studio, guilt-ridden after missing a planned movie night with Y/N.

Triggers: none, just fluff

The faint sound of Harry’s key turning in the lock echoed through the quiet apartment. He stepped inside, pulling the door closed softly behind him. The lights were dim, just the soft golden glow of the lamp on the side table casting shadows across the living room. Harry set his bag down, brushing a hand through his tousled curls, and sighed.

It had been another long day in the studio, and while he loved making music, he hated how much time it took him away from you. Especially tonight.

He glanced at the couch and stopped in his tracks. There you were, curled up in one corner, wrapped in the blanket you always brought out when the weather turned chilly. Your head rested on a throw pillow, and your hand dangled over the side of the couch, still loosely clutching the remote. On the coffee table in front of you was an untouched bowl of popcorn and two empty glasses of water, condensation gathering at the rims.

Harry’s heart clenched as he took in the scene.

You had waited for him.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how excited you’d been when you suggested having a movie night earlier that week. You’d texted him earlier in the day, confirming your plans, and he’d sworn up and down he’d be home in time. But recording ran late—again—and now, here you were, fast asleep, the movie you’d both planned to watch long forgotten.

He knelt down by the couch, careful not to wake you. Your face was soft and serene in the glow of the lamp, and he couldn’t help but reach out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent as you snuggled deeper into the blanket.

“God, I’m so sorry, love,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to miss it.”

He stayed there for a moment, just watching you, his heart swelling with a mix of love and guilt. It amazed him how patient you were with him, how understanding. He knew it wasn’t easy being with someone whose schedule was as unpredictable as his, yet you never complained. You always found ways to make him feel loved, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Determined to make it up to you, Harry slid his arms beneath you—one under your knees and the other supporting your back. He lifted you gently, holding his breath when you stirred again.

“Harry?” you mumbled, barely awake, your voice soft and heavy with sleep.

“Shh, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

You relaxed in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest, and he felt his heart melt. The small, sleepy gesture reminded him of just how much he adored you. He carried you down the hallway to your shared bedroom, using his foot to push open the door.

Once there, he laid you down on the bed as carefully as he could, pulling the blanket up over you. He lingered for a moment, tucking it around your shoulders and brushing another kiss across your temple.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

He slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You sighed contentedly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning into him, and Harry smiled.

Tomorrow, he’d wake up early and surprise you with breakfast in bed. He’d let you pick the cheesiest rom-com you wanted to watch, and he’d sit through every second of it without a single complaint.

But for now, he held you close, grateful for the small, quiet moment of simply being with you.

[hazzashouse]

The Weight of a Name: Part II

Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist writing the second part of “The Weight of a Name”. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Triggers: Angst, emotional conflict, unresolved tension.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader (You)

Word Count: 2.4k

PART ONE: here

Reader’s POV

The days following your confrontation with Anthony Bridgerton left you unsettled. You had told him exactly how you felt, had made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with his charm or his arrogance. You should have felt relief—vindication, even.

Instead, all you felt was irritation.

You told yourself it was because he had been so dismissive, storming off without so much as a second glance. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Anthony had done exactly what you asked—he’d left you alone.

When you crossed paths on the promenade days later, he barely spared you a glance. You had expected at least some reaction, but his indifference left you with a strange, sour taste in your mouth. You watched as he conversed with his siblings, perfectly at ease, as if the confrontation had never happened.

At the next ball, the pattern repeated itself. Anthony danced, laughed, and mingled with the crowd, his demeanor effortlessly charming. But he didn’t look at you. Not once.

It was infuriating.

You told yourself you didn’t care—that you had no reason to care. You were the one who had rejected him, after all. He had simply accepted your wishes, just as you’d demanded.

So why did you feel this gnawing sense of unease? Why did your chest tighten every time you caught sight of him across the room, acting as though you didn’t exist?

It was maddening.

Anthony’s POV

Anthony couldn’t sleep.

Since that night on the balcony, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of you. He had replayed your words over and over, searching for some way to make sense of it all.

He had done everything right—or at least, everything he thought was right. He had pursued you with every ounce of charm and determination he could muster, had shown you the respect and admiration you deserved. But none of it had been enough.

You had turned him away, your words cutting sharper than he’d expected. He had been rejected before, of course—but not like this. Never like this.

He thought ignoring you might help. If he distanced himself, perhaps he could regain some control over his emotions. Perhaps he could convince himself that you didn’t matter as much as you did.

But it wasn’t working.

Every time he saw you at a ball, his resolve wavered. You were beautiful, poised, and maddeningly out of reach. The way you carried yourself, so composed and confident, only deepened his frustration.

He hated how much he wanted you.

And he hated himself for not being able to stop.

Reader’s POV

By the time Lady Danbury’s ball arrived, your patience had worn thin.

Anthony’s indifference had become impossible to ignore. You told yourself it shouldn’t matter, that you should be glad he had finally backed off. But the truth gnawed at you in the quiet moments between dances, leaving you restless and unsettled.

Wasn’t this what you had wanted? For him to stop pursuing you? To finally leave you alone?

Then why did it feel like a punishment?

You couldn’t stop your gaze from drifting across the ballroom, searching for him. When you found him, your breath hitched in spite of yourself. He was talking with Lady Delaford, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.

You hated the way your chest tightened at the sight of him.

You hated it even more when he turned slightly and your eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was no recognition, no spark of acknowledgment. He simply looked away, as if you were nothing more than another guest in the crowded room.

The audacity of it left you fuming.

You had spent weeks avoiding him, pushing him away, trying to convince yourself that his attention was unwanted. But now that he was ignoring you, you couldn’t stand it.

Why?

Why did it bother you so much?

The thought haunted you throughout the evening, building until you couldn’t take it anymore.

As the waltz ended, you finally made your move. Anthony was standing near the edge of the ballroom, his attention seemingly focused on the glass of champagne in his hand.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you said, your voice steady but laced with irritation.

He turned to you, his expression calm but distant. “My lady,” he replied, inclining his head politely.

His detachment only fueled your frustration.

“Are you truly going to pretend I don’t exist?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Anthony’s brows lifted, a flicker of something—surprise? Amusement?—passing across his face. “I wasn’t aware that I was pretending anything,” he said evenly.

Your fingers clenched at your sides. “You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused. “You haven’t said a word to me in days.”

“I was under the impression that was what you wanted,” Anthony countered, his voice cool but not unkind. “Have I misunderstood?”

His words struck a nerve. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

Anthony stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You rejected me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. “You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. So tell me, my lady—why does it matter if I give you exactly what you asked for?

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under his scrutiny.

“I—” you began, but he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Forgive me,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “But I was just about to take my leave.”

You stared at him, stunned, as he turned and walked away.

As Anthony reached the doors of the ballroom, he hesitated, his hand resting on the gilded handle. For a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours across the sea of dancers.

And then he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the ballroom with your heart in your throat and a question you couldn’t answer:

Would you let him go? Or would you follow?

———

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[hazzashouse]

The Unattainable Princess (Prince!Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: I had this one in my drafts for a while and I’m not sure I still like it but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Enjoy!

Summary: Prince Harry is captivated by Princess Y/N, but when she coolly declines his invitation to dance, he interrupts her dance with another prince to claim her attention.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and polished shoes, a world of grandeur Harry had long since grown accustomed to. He moved through it with the same ease and confidence, a Prince who had spent years perfecting the art of royal events. But tonight—tonight was different.

Princess Y/N.

The rumors of her beauty and indifference were not exaggerated. She stood across the room, surrounded by eager courtiers and noblemen, yet it was clear she was untouched by it all. She held herself with such grace, an air of self-assuredness that was impossible to ignore. Her icy calm had only intrigued Harry more. He liked a challenge.

He watched her, as always, a faint smirk curling on his lips. No one had ever resisted his charms for long. Why would she be any different?

After making his rounds through the guests, Harry decided it was time to approach her. The orchestra played a soft waltz, and the crowd swirled around them like a dream. He made his way over with ease, his confident stride unwavering. When he reached her, he bowed low, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, flashing a smile that usually sent hearts fluttering. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

For a moment, she studied him with those cool, unreadable eyes. Harry leaned in slightly, basking in the way she seemed to take her time. But when she spoke, her tone was nothing like the adoration he’d expected.

“I’m afraid I must decline, Prince Harry,” she said, her voice polite but firm. “I’m already engaged for this dance.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he masked it with a chuckle. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “How fortunate for your partner.” He lingered for a moment, waiting for her to soften, to relent. But Y/N remained poised, unbothered, her gaze now drifting away from him, returning to the conversation she’d been having before.

Harry stood there for a heartbeat longer, his mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and irritation. He had never been turned down like this—not once in his life. He was used to women falling at his feet, charmed by a smile, a word, the magic of his presence. But Y/N? She wasn’t like anyone else.

As if to punctuate the distance between them, Y/N turned to a tall, dark-haired Prince who had been waiting nearby. With a polite nod, she placed her hand in his, and the two of them began to glide across the dance floor together.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. It was like a slap to the face. The audacity—she was dancing with him, with him. A man he knew was nothing more than a glorified title, a prince with no real power or purpose. But she had chosen him. And not Harry.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he crossed the ballroom, his steps deliberate, almost predatory. He approached the couple mid-dance, catching the eye of the Prince and offering a nod. But it was Y/N who held his attention. She didn’t even glance his way when he arrived—she was lost in the music, in the sway of the dance.

Harry’s voice was low but deliberate as he interrupted. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an edge. “I do believe this is my dance.”

The Prince gave him a tight smile, but Harry barely acknowledged him, his eyes fixed on Y/N. She blinked in surprise, looking up at him for the first time since he’d approached. Her expression was unreadable, but Harry could see the faintest flicker of annoyance in her gaze.

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “I’m afraid I’ve already accepted this dance.”

Harry leaned in slightly, his words deliberately casual as he gave her an amused smile. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now, would we?” he said, his eyes twinkling with that familiar arrogance.

Y/N’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t speak at first. The orchestra swelled around them, and the Prince she had been dancing with stepped back, a hint of confusion crossing his features as Harry took his place beside Y/N.

“I’m not here to make a scene, Princess,” Harry said, his hand coming to rest at her waist, pulling her gently into the dance. “Just to dance with the woman who’s managed to make me feel… thoroughly intrigued.”

Y/N said nothing for a moment, her fingers stiff against his. But Harry could feel the tension in her. She was resisting, resisting him in a way no one ever had before, and it drove him mad.

“You must think very highly of yourself, don’t you?” she said at last, her voice dripping with cool detachment. “I’ve danced with countless men, Prince, but none of them have ever interrupted another’s dance as you have.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with a hint of challenge. “And yet, here we are,” he replied smoothly, his thumb brushing over her hand as they moved across the floor. “You haven’t pushed me away yet.”

She glanced up at him then, and Harry was struck by the hardness in her gaze, the way she seemed entirely unaffected by his presence. She was different—so different—and it was both maddening and magnetic.

“Don’t mistake my courtesy for interest,” Y/N said, her voice steady but cutting. “You’ve made your point, Prince Harry. But I don’t need to be won. I’m not a prize for you to claim.”

For the first time, Harry faltered. There was no charm to be used here, no clever line that could break through her reserve. She wasn’t falling for him, and it unnerved him. She didn’t care for his title, his charm, his reputation. She wasn’t impressed.

And somehow, that made him want her even more.

[hazzashouse]

First Christmas as a couple (Harry Styles one-shot)

A/N: Merry Christmas 🎄! I hope this little Harry one-shot warms your hearts this holiday season. Thank you for reading and supporting my writing—it means the world to me! Stay tuned because I’ll be sharing more festive one-shots in the coming days to keep the holiday spirit alive. Wishing you all a cozy and magical Christmas!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a comment, liking, or reblogging—it truly means so much and helps support my work.

Summary: Spending their first Christmas together, Harry and the reader savor quiet moments filled with warmth and laughter.

Triggers: None—this is a soft, fluffy Christmas story with no heavy content.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader

The snow fell softly outside the window, flakes swirling under the glow of twinkling fairy lights Harry had insisted on hanging everywhere. The small, cozy living room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree in the corner twinkling with mismatched ornaments. Harry was kneeling by the fire, poking at the logs with careful concentration, his pink lips pursed in focus.

“Harry, you’re going to set the whole house on fire,” you teased from the couch, wrapping your blanket tighter around you.

He turned, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, dimples deepening. “I’m a man of many talents, love, but burning down our first Christmas isn’t one of them.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at the way he said “our first Christmas,” like it was something to be cherished, something important.

Harry got up and dusted his hands off, his emerald green sweater slightly askew, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. He crossed the room and sat beside you, his arm snaking around your shoulders as he tugged you against him.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Maybe because someone made me wait outside in the snow for fifteen minutes while he picked out the perfect tree,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It had to be just right,” he said, faux-serious. “Our first tree should be special.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to look at him. His curls were messy, catching the light from the fire, and his eyes seemed to glow.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “And yet, here you are,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek gently. The kiss was warm, unhurried, and it felt like everything a first Christmas kiss should feel like—comforting, sweet, and full of promise.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name but felt all the same.

“Harry,” you began, but he cut you off, reaching into his pocket.

“I wanted to give you this,” he said, pulling out a small velvet box. Your breath hitched as he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a ring,” he said quickly, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, not yet.”

You opened the box to find a delicate gold necklace with a small charm—a tiny snowflake encrusted with a single diamond.

“Harry…”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he said softly. “Unique, beautiful… and maybe just a little too perfect for me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you set the box down and hugged him tightly. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Well, now you’re stuck with me. At least until the tree comes down.”

You laughed, leaning into him as the fire crackled softly. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and bright, just as Christmas was meant to be.

[hazzashouse]

I love your writing! Can you do one about y/n in labor and H cooing/comforting her? Thank you!!

The First Day of Forever (Harry Styles)

A/N: okay so it’s my first time writing sth like this so please bear with me 😅

Triggers: mentions of pain, labour

Summary: As Y/N endures the stress and pain of labor, Harry remains by her side, comforting her with unwavering love and support, despite his own heart aching to see her in pain.

Pairing: Harry Styles!dad x y/n pregnant wife

The room was filled with soft murmurs and the occasional rush of footsteps, but Harry couldn’t hear any of it. His entire world was focused on you. You were gripping his hand tightly, your head resting against his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling as another wave of pain coursed through you.

Harry’s heart shattered at the sound of your distress. He crouched down beside you, his free hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. “Yes, you can, love,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pride and worry. “You’re the strongest person I know. I promise, you’re doing so well.”

The words seemed to steady you for a moment, but another contraction made you squeeze his hand tighter, and a sob escaped your lips. Seeing you in pain like this made Harry feel utterly helpless, a feeling he wasn’t used to. If he could, he would have taken every bit of it away in an instant.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he urged gently, his voice full of love. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and he smiled softly, despite the lump in his throat. “You’re not alone. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Remember what we talked about? How we’ve waited for this moment? It’s our little girl, love. She’s almost here.”

A tear slipped from your eye, but you nodded, clinging to his words as tightly as you clung to his hand.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hand. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “But you’re doing this for her, for us. She’s going to be perfect, just like her mum.”

The memory of when you’d first told him you were pregnant flashed through his mind. He’d come home late from a tour meeting, exhausted but eager to see you, and you’d greeted him with a nervous smile and a tiny pair of baby shoes in your hands. It had taken a moment for him to process, but when he did, he’d dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms as tears streamed down his face.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you’d told him through your tears. And now, as he sat here with you, helping you through one of the hardest moments of your life, he realized you were right. But only because you were the best partner he could have ever hoped for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N,” he repeated now, his voice firm but loving. “She’s going to be so lucky to have you as her mum. Just a little longer, and we’ll be holding her, yeah? You and me, together.”

Another sob escaped your lips, but this time it wasn’t just from pain. There was something else there—determination. You nodded again, leaning into him, drawing strength from his words and his presence.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I love you more,” Harry replied without hesitation, his lips brushing your temple. “And I love her already, too. She’s got the most incredible mum in the world.”

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but Harry never let go of your hand, never wavered in his support. When your cries turned into gasps of relief, the first tiny, indignant cry of your baby girl filled the room.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it almost knocked him over.

“She’s here,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. “Our little girl, love. She’s here.”

When they placed her in your arms, you let out a choked sob, every bit of pain and stress melting away as you gazed at the tiny, perfect life you and Harry had created together. Harry leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he stared at your daughter in awe.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with exhaustion and pure joy. “We did it,” you murmured.

Harry kissed you softly, his hand coming up to gently touch the little bundle in your arms. “No, you did it,” he said, his voice filled with reverence. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I’ll never forget this moment. Ever.”

And as he held his family close, Harry knew that this—this love, this little girl, this life you had built together—was the greatest thing he’d ever be a part of.

[hazzashouse]

The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi! Welcome to my new series The Space Between Us! This is a Harry Styles x OC fanfiction, where Harry plays himself—a global superstar—and the story explores his reunion with Sophie Pearson, his childhood best friend (and maybe more…). Expect moments filled with angst, tension, and heartwarming memories as they navigate the challenges of reconnection.

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Triggers: None - this chapter is light :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,112 Words

Enjoy the first chapter, and let me know what you think!

Chapter One: A Familiar Face

“Sophie! Where’s the seating chart?”

Her brother’s voice boomed from the dining room, sending a ripple of urgency through the already chaotic house. Sophie Pearson was halfway up the stairs, one hand clutching a clipboard and the other holding a pen precariously between her teeth.

“It’s on the table, next to the candles!” she yelled back, spinning around to double-check her mental checklist.

The house was a hive of activity. Family members, caterers, and a few overenthusiastic friends buzzed around, each consumed by their own tasks. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner fought against the soundtrack of wedding prep chaos: doors slamming, hurried footsteps, and someone playing music too loudly in the kitchen.

Sophie reached the landing and poked her head into the guest room, where the bride’s dress hung like a masterpiece in a gallery. Everything seemed fine here. She exhaled a small breath of relief and moved on.

Downstairs, her brother Anthony appeared in the foyer, adjusting his tie.

“You’re too calm for someone getting married in three hours,” Sophie teased, her tone sharp but fond.

“Someone in this family has to be,” Anthony shot back, grinning. “Besides, I have you to keep everything on track.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, flipping through her clipboard.

————————

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

As Sophie rushed from room to room, the house seemed to breathe with memories. Every corner held whispers of the past—of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and endless summers spent with the boy who used to be her best friend.

Harry Styles.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Their lives had once been so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their mothers had been inseparable, which meant Sophie and Harry had been inseparable too. Sleepovers turned into late-night talks, and holidays together became their little tradition.

But that was a lifetime ago. Before The X Factor. Before the world knew his name.

Sophie tried to shove the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. She could still remember the last time she had seen him.

It had been an unusually cold night. They stood at the edge of their favorite park, the one where they’d shared so many childhood adventures.

“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she had said, her voice breaking as she hugged herself against the chill.

“That’s not true,” Harry had insisted, his eyes wide with something like guilt.

“Then prove it,” she’d snapped, hating herself for how desperate she sounded. “Because I’m not just some fan waiting for your attention, Harry. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he’d said, his voice soft but resolute. But even then, they both knew the promise was an impossible one.

————————

“Sophie!”

Her cousin Lizzie’s voice snapped her back to the present. “The florist needs to know where to put the centerpieces!”

Sophie blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Tell them to arrange them on the dining table for now. I’ll figure it out.”

The clock was ticking. The bride would be arriving in less than an hour, and Sophie was determined to make sure everything was perfect for her brother’s big day. She adjusted her clipboard, smoothing down her blouse as she made her way back downstairs.

Outside, the January air was crisp and cold. Guests began arriving, filling the house with a mix of excitement and chatter. Sophie was so focused on coordinating the details that she didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

She was checking on the catering setup when the front door creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught a glimpse of movement.

“Finally, the photographer,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She turned to greet them, her lips already forming a polite smile. But the words died on her tongue.

It wasn’t the photographer.

It was Harry.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft winter sunlight. He looked older but still impossibly familiar—like a piece of her past brought to life. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of nervousness and amusement.

“Hi, Sophie,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her clipboard slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.

For a moment, the chaos of the wedding melted away. All she could see was him—the boy she had grown up with, the man who had become a stranger.

Her vision swam.

“Sophie?”

Harry’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

As Sophie sank into unconsciousness, her mind conjured an old memory—their last conversation before he left for good.

“You’re leaving again?” she had asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

“I have to,” Harry had said, running a hand through his curls. “This is my dream, Soph. You of all people should understand that.”

“I do,” she’d whispered. “But it feels like you’re choosing your dream over me.”

He’d reached for her then, his hand brushing against hers, but she’d stepped back.

“Good luck, Harry,” she had said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I hope it’s everything you want.”

And then she had turned and walked away.

————————

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[hazzashouse]

CHRISTMAS WITH HARRY

A/N: it’s only a short blurb but I couldn’t help myself from writing it after seeing this AI pic!

triggers: none

pairing: husband!harry x y/n (female)

Harry sat cross-legged by the Christmas tree, his daughter beside him, her little hand carefully handing him a gold ornament. The warm glow of the fairy lights lit up the room, and the sight of his little girl’s awe-filled eyes as she decorated the tree melted his heart.

From the couch, Y/N watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, cradling a mug of cocoa in her hands. Harry glanced back at her, catching her gaze, and his lips curved into that familiar grin that still made her heart flutter. “Look, love,” he said softly, turning back to their daughter, “this one’s perfect, just like you.”

In that moment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by how lucky she was to have Harry—not just as her husband, but as the loving, doting father she always knew he’d be.

[hazzashouse]

The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

You voted for chapter three of The Space Between Us - so here we go! ✨

Triggers: Subtle angst.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,712 Words

As always, thank you for your support!

tag list: @lizsogolden @fangirl509east @sassamanda77 @wheredidmyeyesgo @triski73 @hopeyoustaythenight

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list - lemme know in the comments 🩷

CHAPTER ONE: HERE

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Chapter three: Crossing the Line

Sophie stood at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly arranging and rearranging the hors d’oeuvres. It was a task she’d already completed twice, but she needed something—anything—to keep her hands busy.

Her encounter with Harry had left her rattled. Seeing him after all these years, hearing his voice, being so close she could catch the faint scent of his cologne—it had dredged up feelings she thought she’d buried long ago.

She leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine. Just focus on the wedding.”

But her pep talk was cut short when her brother Anthony appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

“Sophie!” he called, startling her.

“What?” she snapped, turning to face him.

Anthony held up a roll of ribbon. “We’re short on this for the chairs. Can you handle it?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the ribbon.

“And one more thing,” Anthony added, rubbing the back of his neck. “Harry’s supposed to help with the table settings, but he doesn’t know what’s what. Can you explain it to him?”

Sophie froze. “What?”

“You’re the only one who knows the layout,” Anthony said, completely oblivious to her hesitation. “Just go over it with him, yeah?”

“Anthony—”

“Please, Soph,” he interrupted, giving her a pleading look. “I need to go check on something else, and I’m running out of time.”

Before Sophie could argue, Anthony disappeared, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Sophie found Harry in the dining room, standing awkwardly by the long table that had been set up for the reception. He had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the tattoos on his forearms, and was holding a small stack of plates.

He looked up as she entered, his expression shifting from curiosity to something softer.

“Hey,” he said.

Sophie forced a smile. “Hi.”

Anthony’s request echoed in her mind, and she sighed, stepping closer. “I hear you need some help.”

Harry chuckled, setting the plates down. “Apparently, I’m terrible at table settings. Thought I’d be better at it, considering how many fancy dinners I’ve been to.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “How are you bad at this?”

“Do you want the long list of reasons or just the highlights?” he teased, his dimples making an appearance.

Despite herself, Sophie felt a small smile tug at her lips. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

She moved to the table, explaining the arrangement in a brisk, professional tone. Harry listened intently, nodding along and occasionally asking a question.

“Got it,” he said after a while, picking up a napkin and folding it into a neat triangle.

Sophie arched an eyebrow. “Not bad.”

“See? I’m not completely hopeless,” he said, grinning.

As they worked side by side, the silence grew heavier. Sophie could feel Harry glancing at her occasionally, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Sophie,” he said softly.

She paused, her hands stilling on a stack of cutlery. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice earnest.

She frowned, turning to look at him. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said. “For leaving. For not staying in touch. For… all of it.”

Sophie’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I know I let you down,” Harry continued, his green eyes filled with regret. “And I hate that. You meant so much to me, and I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair.

“Harry,” Sophie said, her voice quieter than she intended. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I’ve been carrying this guilt for years. I need you to know that I didn’t forget about you. I couldn’t. You were always there, in the back of my mind.”

Sophie stared at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to believe him, but the hurt from their past still lingered.

“It’s not that simple,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I know,” Harry said, his gaze steady. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Before Sophie could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Lizzie appeared in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them with barely concealed curiosity.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “Anthony needs you both outside. Something about the seating arrangements.”

Harry stepped back, giving Sophie a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gentle.

Sophie nodded, following him out of the room.

As they stepped into the crisp afternoon air, Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was far from over. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and Harry’s presence only made it harder to keep everything in check.

And when Harry glanced at her, his expression filled with something she couldn’t quite name, Sophie knew one thing for sure:

This wasn’t the end of their story.

It was only the beginning.

————————

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[hazzashouse]

yaaaay, I just posted a second chapter of my new series about Harry 🥹🩷 I’m nervous, excited and everything in between ⭐️

[hazzashouse]

2025, please be kind.

[hazzashouse]

I saw that other writers here create a tag list? But I’m not sure anyone would even want to be tagged whenever I post a ff 🥺

[hazzashouse]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

just a quick reminder that rn I have a lot of free time so if anyone has a request for a blurb or one-shot or fanfic/series idea with Harry Styles - hit me up!

or if you have any questions - you’re also welcome to ask them 😊

[hazzashouse]

Wet Summer

a/n: don’t blame me 🫣 I’ve spent the whole day on the beach and I couldn’t help but imagine this scene in my head

summary: you’re by the seaside, trying to enjoy the sun but Harry has other plans

warnings: a bit of a dirty talk lmao

The weather is extremely generous today. For the past few days, the only thing you could see outside your hotel window was rain, and rain only. You spent most of those days enjoying different museums, cafés, and of course, in bed with your boyfriend Harry.

Summer holiday. Something you had been looking for for months and when it finally came, the universe decided to make fun of you and greet you with drops of rain falling down the sky.

“It’s okay, we don’t need to go to the beach,” Harry spoke from behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, your back pressed to his torso. “We have other things to do here,” he started leaving trails of kisses onto one of his favourite places on our body, your neck. He kept you occupied, making all the intrusive, sad thoughts vanish with every kiss.

Now, you are finally on the beach, no clouds, no signs of upcoming rain. Everything is just perfect.

You props yourself on your elbows, gazing ahead when you spot your boyfriend walking in your direction.

The water dripping down his gorgeously sculptured body, making you lick your lips as your eyes wandered down to the butterfly tattooed on his stomach. Of course you aren’t the only one looking at him but he doesn’t seem to care. His eyes are focused solely on you.

“Hi handsome,” you welcome him as he plops down on the blanket next to you. His hands reach for your face but you move away leaving him with a puzzled look. “You’re wet,” you say and with those words you can see the mischievous smirk slowly start to form.

“What if I want you to also be wet?” his voice low, sending shivers down your spine as he continues to try get closer to you. He wiggles his eyebrows, incredibly proud for his use of words and the impact they clearly have on you.

“Harry!” you smack his chest playfully. “There are people around,” you reminded him but Harry just shrugs.

“And?”

“And someone can hear you saying those words Harold,” you say his full name only to see him chuckle at the sound of it.

“Okay, okay,” he raises his hands in surrender. “But just so you know,” he places his hand on your thigh despite your earlier protests about the water. He leans to your ear. His hot breath tickling your skin, making you hold your breath. “But just so you know, you will be getting wet tonight,” and just like that he pecks your cheek before pulling away to lie down. He then unabashedly smiles so wide that you can see his flawless teeth. What a tease.

“I hate you,” you frown but he knows you’re not angry. Oh no. Quite the opposite. He knows well what he does to you, he can see it the way you take a few deeper breaths before joining him on the blanket.

You’re trying to get rid of all the wild thought Harry put into your mind, but to no avail.

You just can’t.

You groan in frustration and get up. Harry opens his eyes and raises his eyebrow in a question.

“Let’s go,” you say simply and start packing your stuff. “We’re going to our hotel room,” now it’s you who shrug as if it was the most normal thing ever. Because for you it was. After being in a relationship for such a long time the spark still hasn’t faded away. The desire, the lust was still strong, burning inside both of you.

Harry nods understandably and joins you, pulling you closer to him abruptly, kissing you so hard. If it wasn’t for his arms holding you, you’re sure that you’d end up falling onto the sand at some point.

“Can’t wait m’love,” he winks at you and quickly helps you fold the blanket and gather all the remain stuff.

like and reblog if you liked it! follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.