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tpwkwriter · 5 months

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☃️❄️Tpwkwriters December fic recs 🎄💫

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!! And these fics will certainly most make you feel more festive and cosy! All credit goes to these writers and accounts, as normal my DMs are always open, if anybody wants to be added/removed from this completion let me know!

As usual lots of love and stay safe this winter ❄️🩵

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Gingerbread kisses- @finelinevogue

Christmassy kisses- @finelinevogue

Holidays with Harry- @harrysfolklore

Wife material- @harrysfolklore

Let it settle- @twostepstyless

We’re matching- @twostepstyless

Christmas cookies- @jarofstyles

The perfect tree- @storiesforallfandoms

Gifts- @tinydestinybear

Christmas Eve- @fictionalwh0ree

Baby it’s cold outside- @watermelonlovershigh

This Christmas- @leveller-75

Matilda- @goldenbuckyyy

That’s my apron- @glitteredrry

Christmas dance- @astranva

Christmas in Holmes chapel- @nationalharryleague

I gave you my heart- @suchalonelysunflower

Baby it’s cold outside- @watermelonlovershigh

New home for the holidays- @1025cherrystreet

This- @sapphicgarlic

This- @kissme-hs

The Christmas gift- @hesmygolden

Christmas spirit- @crowdedimagines

Christmas morning- @afeb

Winter flakes- @oghoneytryst

A dad!harry Christmas!- @lovecanyon

Snow plow- @lovemepleaase

Holiday wishes, mistletoe kisses- @berrynarrybanana

Baking made easy- @harrysgloves

Frosty the snowman- @gucciwins

25 days of Christmas- @emotionally-imbruised

Underneath the tree- @all-things-fic

It’s not Christmas ‘til you come home- @tobesolonely

Christmas lights and love bites- @mouthfulloftoothpasterry

Santas grotto- @musicforastylesrestaurant

One year- @watchmegetobsessed

12 days of ficmas by @watermelonlovershigh

25 day advent calendar by @twostepstyless

Christmas Thyme- @ihearthes

Part 2- @ihearthes

———-☃️❄️Happy holidays to you all 🎄✨————

~💚~

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lovemepleaase · 5 years

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i. twenty-five.

this is soooo short, but if i hadn’t posted something, i never would have forgiven myself.

happy birthday to my ray of sunshine, my pumpkin pie, my muse. i can’t wait to see how you make twenty-five even more radiant than twenty-four. love you, hazza. happy birthday. <3

read the rest of my writing here.

...

She felt her brow furrow as her conscious dragged her from the peaceful sleep she’d been in, Harry’s fingertips barely skimming at the skin of her waist where her tee shirt had hiked up, their owner still snoring away peacefully even after he’d rolled over so fitfully in his sleep.

She has half a mind to grumble at him for it, to disturb his rest the same as he’d disturbed hers, but she loves him too much to do anything so cruel, half-asleep or otherwise.

She feels her lips tug upwards into a soft smile as she turns her head to look at him, resting her cheek against the soft fabric of her well worn pillowcase to study his features. He always seemed to age down when he slept, adopting a childish expression, with his brow furrowed and his lips in a pout, especially if he was having a particularly exciting dream, one he’d tell her about the second she met him downstairs in the morning for his post-run coffee. Harry always slept with two pillows— one to support his head, and the other for him to curl around like a cat, his back arched and his arms tucked around the plushy cushion, one of his knees up around his waist to really ensure the pillow wasn’t going anywhere.

(Sometimes, she’d manage to worm her way in instead, convincing him to trade out his usual cuddle buddy for her, even if she was less malleable. Comfortable it was not, but worth it? Always.)

There’s a loose curl hanging down and brushing against his brow— his nose twitches and she has half a mind to cut the damn thing off for daring to disturb him, but it seems rather rash and she can already feel herself starting to be pulled back under; getting up to get the scissors would take a lot of effort, and besides, his hair’s nearly long enough to put up into a bun again. No sense in cutting off all his hard work when they were so close to her desired end goal.

They’d only been in bed a couple hours, she reasons. They’d been out late, after Mitch and Sarah convinced them just one, two, three more rounds. They wanted to treat— tomorrow was Harry’s birthday after all.

She blinks, pausing before reaching over to the nightstand, feeling around aimlessly for where Harry had set his phone down after plugging it in and flopping into bed however long ago. The uncased metal is cold against her hand, and the brightness of the screen is even more shocking when she unlocks the phone, but she’s only looking for the time— 3:06AM.

She turns her head to look back over at Harry, unknowingly another year older, with the same curl flopped over his forehead as he’d had at twenty-four.

She can feel her heart squeeze as she traces over the shadowed lines of his face, setting his phone back down— twenty-five didn’t seem right for him, not at all. He was too wise, too kind, too thoughtful to be so young. Too successful.

It’s hard to fight the urge to wake him up, to kiss him senseless and and whisper breathlessly about how she admires him and loves him and adores him at twenty-five and thirty-five and a hundred and five, every single inch of him, for the rest of her years, too. Even the gray eyebrow hair they’d plucked last week (from stress, probably, but the timing was impeccable.)

Twenty-five. Not a big number at all, really, not when dealing with such a big person. Not for someone like Harry.

And yet, at the same time, it struck her as unfair that he had to age at all. That he had to get wrinkly and weak and lose that incredible voice; that she couldn’t trade in a lock of hair for his immortality like some sort of fairytale or bargain with a fae for his youth or paint him into staying just as he was.

But, she supposes, twenty-five would have to do. Harry would make twenty-five just as beautiful as he made twenty-four, and twenty-three, and all the others, undoubtably. He’d make it a year to be desired, gray eyebrow hairs, receding hairline and all.

Harry shifted in his sleep— maybe he felt it, too, the weight that came with the feeling of knowing you were yet another year older.

She took a deep breath and leaned over ever so carefully, pressing the lightest of kisses to his temple and brushing that stray piece of hair off his forehead before making her way down the bed and gently tugging the pillow from his arms, nuzzling her way into his hold.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-five and so admirable, so generous, so kind. So unlike any other twenty-something she’d ever known.

She inhaled deeply, picking up notes of the cologne he’d sprayed on hours and hours ago that still lingered on his bare skin. That was still there, and the tattoos, too, she was sure. He was still intact— older, but still intact.

She feels herself slipping away as she relaxes against his chest, exhaling deeply, nudging one of her legs between his and resting her head on his pillow.

Twenty-five looked beautiful on him, she reasoned. Better than twenty-four even, maybe.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” she whispers into his skin, just barely an exhale. She’d tell him again in the morning, when he was conscious.

She loves him, somehow just slightly more than she had at twenty-four.

She’d tell him that in the morning, too, and at twenty-six, and twenty-seven, and every year after.

But maybe she’d start with twenty-five.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #i'm ridiculously emo #i love him so fucking much #and since none of you wanted to help me this is what you're getting #my heart hurts #i love my baby so much #he does so much for me #and is really my sunshine #and i love him #i need to sleep now #have a good harrymas everyone <3 #ppp hopefullt coming sooner than later?#my writing

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