𐙚 hellooo welcome to my little blog, i hope you like it here 🩷 reblog my works if you want to make me happy and tell me your thoughts! I love feedback!
ONE SHOTS: (*=smut)
Back from tour*
Y/n welcomes Harry who has just returned from his latest tour
Little girl * (professor!harry au)
Harry is stressed from too many papers to grade and Y/n thinks he has worked hard enough
Harry in pleasure*
The title speaks for itself
Passion in Tokyo*
Harry decides to crown your love in your favorite city with a proposal that you can't say no to
From the dining table
For years it has always been you and Harry but now something is coming that will change your lives forever
Fragments of happiness
Y/n and Harry celebrate the arrival of their baby girl with a walk in the park
Meant to be (college au)
Y/N never expected a college party to change anything—until she met Harry. What starts as a quiet connection over books and movies slowly turns into something deeper, proving that some things are simply meant to be
Extra - Sick Day: where Y/N is sick and Harry is the softest, most caring boyfriend ever
Extra - The first fight: Harry and Y/N experience their first real argument, but even in the midst of frustration, love has a way of shining through
Just stay
Request: Y/n knows their love isn’t enough anymore, but Harry refuses to let go. He begs her to stay, plead for another chance—but she’s already made up her mind. Some goodbyes are final
I always kinda knew you’d be the death of me
Based on this request: a love so toxic, it was always destined to end in blood (contains dark themes including a toxic relationship, drug use, manipulation and graphic violence. Please read with caution)
Toothpaste kisses
Just a sleepy morning, a toothbrush and the kind of love that feels like home
You Just Have to Catch Up (ex!harry, second chance)
Running into your ex in a crowded club is awkward. Running into Harry Styles years after he broke your heart is worse. Especially when he’s still wearing the promise ring you thought meant nothing.
SERIES
Between the lines (grumpy!harry x sunshine!y/n)
A grumpy stare, a sunshine smile, and a love story that unfolded like the pages of a well-loved book
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Summary: Running into your ex in a crowded club is awkward. Running into Harry Styles years after he broke your heart is worse. Especially when he’s still wearing the promise ring you thought meant nothing.
Word count: 2k+
A/n: I haven’t written in such a long time, so please be nice 😅 but with Harry being back and releasing a new album, the inspiration hit me again. I actually saw a TikTok with this kind of plot and I immediately made me want to write something like it. I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m happy to be back. Hope you enjoy!🤍
Masterlist
———
The neon lights of the Manchester club pulsed like a heartbeat, casting electric blues and pinks across the crowded dance floor.
It was one of those underground spots in the Northern Quarter, hidden behind a nondescript door but alive with the thrum of bass-heavy music and the scent of spilled cocktails.
Y/N had needed this night out. Desperately.
After a grueling week at her graphic design job, she’d let her best friend, Mia, drag her here with a few other girls from their circle.
“Come on, babe,” Mia had said, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they piled into the Uber. “We’re celebrating you being single and fabulous. No thinking about exes or drama tonight.”
Y/N laughed it off, but deep down, she knew Mia was right.
It had been years since her whirlwind romance with Harry Styles had crashed and burned, but the scars lingered like faint tattoos under her skin.
She’d buried herself in work, in friends, in the quiet life she’d built here in Manchester.
Tonight, she was determined to let loose.
Her black dress hugged her curves just right, her hair falling in loose waves, and her heels clicked confidently against the sticky floor as she moved to the rhythm of the latest pop remix blasting through the speakers.
The girls formed a loose circle on the dance floor, giggling and swaying, clinking glasses of colorful drinks.
Y/N threw her head back, laughing as she spun, the music vibrating through her bones.
For the first time in ages, she felt free,untethered from the past, alive in the moment.
Mia grabbed her hands, pulling her into a silly twirl, and Y/N’s smile widened.
This was what she needed: sweat on her skin, the burn in her muscles, the anonymity of the crowd.
But then Mia’s eyes flicked toward the bar, and her expression shifted. She leaned in close to Y/N’s ear, shouting over the music.
“Uhm, isn’t that Harry?”
Y/N froze mid-sway, her heart stuttering.
“My ex? No way. He doesn’t even live here. It can’t be him.”
Harry had always been a London boy through and through, even back when they were together. And besides, she’d heard through the grapevine, okay fine, through endless social media scrolls, that he’d just done that massive one-night-only show at the Manchester Arena last night.
Some Netflix special where he’d debuted his entire new album, Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. The city had been buzzing about it all day, fans spilling out into the streets, but Harry? Sticking around in Manchester?
Impossible.
He was probably already on a private jet back to his glamorous life in London or LA or wherever the hell celebrities like him escaped to.
Curiosity got the better of her, though. Y/N turned, her eyes scanning the dimly lit bar area. And there he was.
Harry Styles, leaning casually against the polished wooden bar, perched on a high stool like he owned the place.
His legs were crossed at the ankles, one boot tapping lightly to the beat.
He held a tumbler of scotch in one hand, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it.
His hair was longer now, tousled in that effortless way that screamed “I just performed for thousands but look how chill I am.”
A simple black button-up shirt clung to his broad shoulders, a few buttons undone to reveal the familiar tattoos peeking out.
And he was smirking. That infuriating, dimpled smirk that used to make her knees weak.
His green eyes locked onto hers across the room, unblinking, like he’d been waiting for her to notice him all along.
Y/N’s stomach dropped.
It was him. Undeniably, unmistakably him.
The boy who’d stolen her heart at nineteen, when she was just a wide-eyed art student and he was on the cusp of solo stardom after One Direction’s hiatus.
They’d met at a mutual friend’s party in London, back when everything felt possible. Late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises under starry skies, a promise ring he’d slipped onto her finger one rainy afternoon in Hyde Park.
“This is forever, love” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion.
But then the offers came. Solo deals. Tours. The world at his feet.
He’d chosen it all, leaving her with a broken heart and a ring she eventually tucked away in a drawer.
She turned back to Mia, forcing a casual shrug even as her pulse raced.
“Ugh, I’m gonna leave. I’m not doing this tonight.”
But Mia grabbed her arm, eyes wide with mischief.
“No way! You deserve to have a good night. Let him be the uncomfortable one for once. Dance like he’s not even here.”
Y/N hesitated, glancing back at the bar. Harry hadn’t moved, but his gaze was still fixed on her, intense and unwavering.
Something rebellious sparked in her chest.
Why should she run?
This was her city, her night.
He could sit there and stew in whatever nostalgia had brought him here.
“You’re right,” she said, nodding firmly. “Screw it. Let’s dance.”
And so she did.
Y/N threw herself back into the music, her hips swaying, arms raised as she lost herself in the crowd. She laughed with her friends, clinked more glasses, even let a group of strangers pull her into their circle for an impromptu dance-off.
She didn’t look at him again. Not once.
But she could feel it: the weight of his stare burning into her skin, like a spotlight she couldn’t escape.
It sent shivers down her spine, a mix of annoyance and something dangerously close to thrill.
Every twist of her body, every flip of her hair, she knew he was watching.
The night wore on, the club growing hotter, sweatier.
Y/N was mid-laugh, spinning with Mia, when a guy approached. Tall, with a cocky grin and too much cologne.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he slurred, stepping too close. “Dance with me?”
She smiled politely, shaking her head. “No thanks, just here with my girls.”
But he didn’t back off. His hand grazed her waist, pulling her toward him as he started moving to the beat. “Come on, one dance won’t hurt.”
“I said no.”
Y/N stepped back, but he followed, his grip tightening just enough to make her uncomfortable.
The music drowned out her protests, and the crowd pressed in, making it hard to escape.
In a moment of frustration, she turned her head and locked eyes with Harry again.
He was no longer smirking.
His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed into daggers aimed straight at the guy. The scotch glass was gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white.
Something snapped in Y/N.
Without a word, she extricated herself from the guy’s hold and marched toward the bar, her heels clicking sharply. Harry’s gaze shifted to her, surprise flickering in his eyes as she approached.
She didn’t speak. She just tapped the heel of her shoe against his boot, a silent demand.
He raised an eyebrow, but there was a spark of understanding in his expression. Slowly, deliberately, he uncrossed his legs, opening them just enough.
Y/N turned her back to him, stepping between his thighs and leaning against his chest.
The warmth of his body seeped through her dress, his scent, familiar, like citrus and vanilla, wrapping around her like a memory she couldn’t shake.
She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge the way his arm casually draped over the bar behind her, but she felt protected. Claimed, almost.
The guy on the dance floor stared for a moment, then got the hint. With a muttered curse, he melted back into the crowd.
Y/N exhaled, relief washing over her. But as she went to step away, Harry’s foot hooked around her ankle, gently but firmly buckling her in place. She couldn’t move without tripping.
“Let me go,” she said through gritted teeth, still facing away.
He didn’t respond at first, but after a beat, his foot released her.
Y/N spun around, meeting his gaze head-on.
Up close, he looked older, wiser maybe, with faint lines around his eyes from years of tours and spotlights. But those eyes were the same: deep, searching, pulling her in.
“No,” she said firmly, before he could speak. “I’m not doing this. Have a good night, Harry.”
She turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd, the cool night air hitting her face as she burst out of the club doors.
The Manchester streets were alive with late-night revelers, the distant hum of traffic mixing with laughter from nearby pubs. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, hailing a cab in her mind as she started walking.
Footsteps echoed behind her. Quick,. Purposeful.
A hand grabbed hers, spinning her around.
Harry.
“What the—”
He didn’t let her finish. With a gentle but insistent tug, he pulled her into a narrow alley beside the club, the shadows swallowing them whole.
Her back hit the brick wall, cool and rough against her skin.
Harry crowded in close, one hand braced beside her head, the other still holding hers.
“You’re gonna leave? Just like that? Not even gonna talk to me?”
His voice was low, rough with emotion, his breath warm against her cheek.
Y/N’s heart hammered.
“Um, yeah. I’m gonna leave. Just like you did.”
He winced, but didn’t back away.
“Come on, Y/N. I was 22, barely 23. I wanted that solo career; it was my whole life back then. I had to take that offer. I’m sorry I made a mistake, but—”
“It’s not the offer,” she cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. “It’s fine, whatever. I was nothing more than a cutesy little first love to you.”
Harry’s eyes darkened.
“Come on, that’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? I know you told me you loved me, that you were gonna marry me. You bought that promise ring like it meant something.”
She swallowed.
“But it’s fine. It’s in the past. Let’s just move on. I wanna go home.”
He stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
Then, slowly, he reached under his shirt, pulling out a thin silver chain.
Dangling from it was a ring. Simple, with a tiny diamond that caught the faint alley light.
Y/N’s breath caught.
“Is that… my promise ring?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, holding it up. “It is.”
“Why are you wearing it? Today, of all days?”
“It’s not just today.”
His voice was steady, but there was a vulnerability in it that hit her like a punch.
“I wear it every day. All day. Every concert, every interview. It’s always there.”
“Why?” she whispered, her eyes locked on the ring, memories flooding back, the way he’d knelt dramatically in the park, slipping it on her finger with a grin.
Harry let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, stepping even closer until his body pinned hers gently against the wall.
His free hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “Here’s the thing, Y/N.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“You were my first love.”
He leaned closer.
“And you’re gonna be my last love.”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“You just… have to catch up.”
Her mind reeled.
“What are you saying?”
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, lips inches away.
“Tell me your heart isn’t racing. Tell me your fingers aren’t trembling.”
His hand slid down to intertwine with hers, feeling the slight shake.
“Tell me you want me to go, and I’ll go.”
Y/N’s breath hitched.
She laughed, a shaky, incredulous sound, as she looked up at him, then down at the ring, then back to his eyes.
Those damn eyes, full of everything they’d lost and everything they could still have.
“I don’t know if I could tell you that.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his dimple flashing in a small smile. “Exactly.”
And then he kissed her.
It was slow at first, tentative. Like testing if the spark was still there.
But it ignited, fierce and consuming.
His hands framing her face as she melted into him.
The alley faded.
The city noise dulled, and for a moment, it was just them.
Summary: Running into your ex in a crowded club is awkward. Running into Harry Styles years after he broke your heart is worse. Especially when he’s still wearing the promise ring you thought meant nothing.
Word count: 2k+
A/n: I haven’t written in such a long time, so please be nice 😅 but with Harry being back and releasing a new album, the inspiration hit me again. I actually saw a TikTok with this kind of plot and I immediately made me want to write something like it. I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m happy to be back. Hope you enjoy!🤍
Masterlist
———
The neon lights of the Manchester club pulsed like a heartbeat, casting electric blues and pinks across the crowded dance floor.
It was one of those underground spots in the Northern Quarter, hidden behind a nondescript door but alive with the thrum of bass-heavy music and the scent of spilled cocktails.
Y/N had needed this night out. Desperately.
After a grueling week at her graphic design job, she’d let her best friend, Mia, drag her here with a few other girls from their circle.
“Come on, babe,” Mia had said, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they piled into the Uber. “We’re celebrating you being single and fabulous. No thinking about exes or drama tonight.”
Y/N laughed it off, but deep down, she knew Mia was right.
It had been years since her whirlwind romance with Harry Styles had crashed and burned, but the scars lingered like faint tattoos under her skin.
She’d buried herself in work, in friends, in the quiet life she’d built here in Manchester.
Tonight, she was determined to let loose.
Her black dress hugged her curves just right, her hair falling in loose waves, and her heels clicked confidently against the sticky floor as she moved to the rhythm of the latest pop remix blasting through the speakers.
The girls formed a loose circle on the dance floor, giggling and swaying, clinking glasses of colorful drinks.
Y/N threw her head back, laughing as she spun, the music vibrating through her bones.
For the first time in ages, she felt free,untethered from the past, alive in the moment.
Mia grabbed her hands, pulling her into a silly twirl, and Y/N’s smile widened.
This was what she needed: sweat on her skin, the burn in her muscles, the anonymity of the crowd.
But then Mia’s eyes flicked toward the bar, and her expression shifted. She leaned in close to Y/N’s ear, shouting over the music.
“Uhm, isn’t that Harry?”
Y/N froze mid-sway, her heart stuttering.
“My ex? No way. He doesn’t even live here. It can’t be him.”
Harry had always been a London boy through and through, even back when they were together. And besides, she’d heard through the grapevine, okay fine, through endless social media scrolls, that he’d just done that massive one-night-only show at the Manchester Arena last night.
Some Netflix special where he’d debuted his entire new album, Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally. The city had been buzzing about it all day, fans spilling out into the streets, but Harry? Sticking around in Manchester?
Impossible.
He was probably already on a private jet back to his glamorous life in London or LA or wherever the hell celebrities like him escaped to.
Curiosity got the better of her, though. Y/N turned, her eyes scanning the dimly lit bar area. And there he was.
Harry Styles, leaning casually against the polished wooden bar, perched on a high stool like he owned the place.
His legs were crossed at the ankles, one boot tapping lightly to the beat.
He held a tumbler of scotch in one hand, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it.
His hair was longer now, tousled in that effortless way that screamed “I just performed for thousands but look how chill I am.”
A simple black button-up shirt clung to his broad shoulders, a few buttons undone to reveal the familiar tattoos peeking out.
And he was smirking. That infuriating, dimpled smirk that used to make her knees weak.
His green eyes locked onto hers across the room, unblinking, like he’d been waiting for her to notice him all along.
Y/N’s stomach dropped.
It was him. Undeniably, unmistakably him.
The boy who’d stolen her heart at nineteen, when she was just a wide-eyed art student and he was on the cusp of solo stardom after One Direction’s hiatus.
They’d met at a mutual friend’s party in London, back when everything felt possible. Late nights tangled in sheets, whispered promises under starry skies, a promise ring he’d slipped onto her finger one rainy afternoon in Hyde Park.
“This is forever, love” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion.
But then the offers came. Solo deals. Tours. The world at his feet.
He’d chosen it all, leaving her with a broken heart and a ring she eventually tucked away in a drawer.
She turned back to Mia, forcing a casual shrug even as her pulse raced.
“Ugh, I’m gonna leave. I’m not doing this tonight.”
But Mia grabbed her arm, eyes wide with mischief.
“No way! You deserve to have a good night. Let him be the uncomfortable one for once. Dance like he’s not even here.”
Y/N hesitated, glancing back at the bar. Harry hadn’t moved, but his gaze was still fixed on her, intense and unwavering.
Something rebellious sparked in her chest.
Why should she run?
This was her city, her night.
He could sit there and stew in whatever nostalgia had brought him here.
“You’re right,” she said, nodding firmly. “Screw it. Let’s dance.”
And so she did.
Y/N threw herself back into the music, her hips swaying, arms raised as she lost herself in the crowd. She laughed with her friends, clinked more glasses, even let a group of strangers pull her into their circle for an impromptu dance-off.
She didn’t look at him again. Not once.
But she could feel it: the weight of his stare burning into her skin, like a spotlight she couldn’t escape.
It sent shivers down her spine, a mix of annoyance and something dangerously close to thrill.
Every twist of her body, every flip of her hair, she knew he was watching.
The night wore on, the club growing hotter, sweatier.
Y/N was mid-laugh, spinning with Mia, when a guy approached. Tall, with a cocky grin and too much cologne.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he slurred, stepping too close. “Dance with me?”
She smiled politely, shaking her head. “No thanks, just here with my girls.”
But he didn’t back off. His hand grazed her waist, pulling her toward him as he started moving to the beat. “Come on, one dance won’t hurt.”
“I said no.”
Y/N stepped back, but he followed, his grip tightening just enough to make her uncomfortable.
The music drowned out her protests, and the crowd pressed in, making it hard to escape.
In a moment of frustration, she turned her head and locked eyes with Harry again.
He was no longer smirking.
His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed into daggers aimed straight at the guy. The scotch glass was gripped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white.
Something snapped in Y/N.
Without a word, she extricated herself from the guy’s hold and marched toward the bar, her heels clicking sharply. Harry’s gaze shifted to her, surprise flickering in his eyes as she approached.
She didn’t speak. She just tapped the heel of her shoe against his boot, a silent demand.
He raised an eyebrow, but there was a spark of understanding in his expression. Slowly, deliberately, he uncrossed his legs, opening them just enough.
Y/N turned her back to him, stepping between his thighs and leaning against his chest.
The warmth of his body seeped through her dress, his scent, familiar, like citrus and vanilla, wrapping around her like a memory she couldn’t shake.
She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge the way his arm casually draped over the bar behind her, but she felt protected. Claimed, almost.
The guy on the dance floor stared for a moment, then got the hint. With a muttered curse, he melted back into the crowd.
Y/N exhaled, relief washing over her. But as she went to step away, Harry’s foot hooked around her ankle, gently but firmly buckling her in place. She couldn’t move without tripping.
“Let me go,” she said through gritted teeth, still facing away.
He didn’t respond at first, but after a beat, his foot released her.
Y/N spun around, meeting his gaze head-on.
Up close, he looked older, wiser maybe, with faint lines around his eyes from years of tours and spotlights. But those eyes were the same: deep, searching, pulling her in.
“No,” she said firmly, before he could speak. “I’m not doing this. Have a good night, Harry.”
She turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd, the cool night air hitting her face as she burst out of the club doors.
The Manchester streets were alive with late-night revelers, the distant hum of traffic mixing with laughter from nearby pubs. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, hailing a cab in her mind as she started walking.
Footsteps echoed behind her. Quick,. Purposeful.
A hand grabbed hers, spinning her around.
Harry.
“What the—”
He didn’t let her finish. With a gentle but insistent tug, he pulled her into a narrow alley beside the club, the shadows swallowing them whole.
Her back hit the brick wall, cool and rough against her skin.
Harry crowded in close, one hand braced beside her head, the other still holding hers.
“You’re gonna leave? Just like that? Not even gonna talk to me?”
His voice was low, rough with emotion, his breath warm against her cheek.
Y/N’s heart hammered.
“Um, yeah. I’m gonna leave. Just like you did.”
He winced, but didn’t back away.
“Come on, Y/N. I was 22, barely 23. I wanted that solo career; it was my whole life back then. I had to take that offer. I’m sorry I made a mistake, but—”
“It’s not the offer,” she cut in, her voice sharper than she intended. “It’s fine, whatever. I was nothing more than a cutesy little first love to you.”
Harry’s eyes darkened.
“Come on, that’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? I know you told me you loved me, that you were gonna marry me. You bought that promise ring like it meant something.”
She swallowed.
“But it’s fine. It’s in the past. Let’s just move on. I wanna go home.”
He stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.
Then, slowly, he reached under his shirt, pulling out a thin silver chain.
Dangling from it was a ring. Simple, with a tiny diamond that caught the faint alley light.
Y/N’s breath caught.
“Is that… my promise ring?”
“Yeah,” he said softly, holding it up. “It is.”
“Why are you wearing it? Today, of all days?”
“It’s not just today.”
His voice was steady, but there was a vulnerability in it that hit her like a punch.
“I wear it every day. All day. Every concert, every interview. It’s always there.”
“Why?” she whispered, her eyes locked on the ring, memories flooding back, the way he’d knelt dramatically in the park, slipping it on her finger with a grin.
Harry let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, stepping even closer until his body pinned hers gently against the wall.
His free hand came up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. “Here’s the thing, Y/N.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“You were my first love.”
He leaned closer.
“And you’re gonna be my last love.”
A small smile tugged at his lips.
“You just… have to catch up.”
Her mind reeled.
“What are you saying?”
He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, lips inches away.
“Tell me your heart isn’t racing. Tell me your fingers aren’t trembling.”
His hand slid down to intertwine with hers, feeling the slight shake.
“Tell me you want me to go, and I’ll go.”
Y/N’s breath hitched.
She laughed, a shaky, incredulous sound, as she looked up at him, then down at the ring, then back to his eyes.
Those damn eyes, full of everything they’d lost and everything they could still have.
“I don’t know if I could tell you that.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his dimple flashing in a small smile. “Exactly.”
And then he kissed her.
It was slow at first, tentative. Like testing if the spark was still there.
But it ignited, fierce and consuming.
His hands framing her face as she melted into him.
The alley faded.
The city noise dulled, and for a moment, it was just them.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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