maincharactermuse

[maincharactermuse]

The one where there is a question… and a dinner party. (12)

(Find my masterlist here.)

The early morning sun filtered through the curtains in soft, lazy stripes. Y/N stirred just enough to hear the faint sound of socks being pulled on and shoes squeaking faintly against the floorboards. She cracked one eye open, barely.

Harry was at the edge of the bed, crouching to tie his laces, already dressed in a faded hoodie and running shorts, short hair still a little mussed from sleep.

“You’re going for a run?” she mumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling softly as he crossed back over to the bed. “Just a quick one.”

She stretched under the covers, groaning as she flopped dramatically onto her stomach. “Can’t believe you’d choose a run over morning sex.”

Harry grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead, then her lips. “Don’t guilt me with morning sex. I’ve gotta run off the three slices of your cake I inhaled last night.”

She smirked as she buried her face into the pillow again. “Your loss. But… be safe.”

That made him pause. He smoothed his hand briefly over her hair. “Always.”

The door clicked shut gently behind him, and she let herself drift back to sleep.

The sound of keys and the front door opening stirred her a second time. She could hear him shuffling through the hallway, the usual thud of his shoes being kicked off and the stretch-sigh he always did after a run.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Harry called out, voice warm as he padded back into the bedroom. His hoodie was off now, shirt clinging damply to him, cheeks pink from the morning chill.

She squinted up at him. “How was it?”

“Brutal,” he said, bending to peel off his socks. “But I feel like a proper person again.”

She watched him move toward the ensuite and yawned into the duvet. “Still can’t believe you chose cardio over me.”

He turned in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “Well, I’m about to shower…”

Her head lifted slightly. “Are you suggesting we multitask?”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, trying to play it cool and failing. “Just saying. Efficient time management.”

That got her moving.

The bathroom was steamy by the time they’d finished multitasking. Her hair was damp from the mist, skin warm, lips kiss-swollen and still curved in a satisfied smile as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him towel off with that lazy grin on his face.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured, stepping into his t-shirt, the same one he’d worn to bed the night before and padding barefoot out to the kitchen.

“I’m charming,” he called after her.

“Debatable,” she called back.

By the time he joined her, she’d already started opening cupboards. “What do you want for breakfast?” she asked, half to herself, peeking into the pantry. “Eggs? Pancakes? I could-”

Harry was immediately behind her, gently closing the cupboard door with a firm hand. “Absolutely not. You baked for about thirty people yesterday. You’re sitting.”

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to cook for you?”

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I want you to relax while I cook for you. Fair trade.”

She pretended to consider it. “Only if I get to control the music.”

“Done.”

Ten minutes later, she was perched on the counter with her legs swinging, his shirt hitched a little high on her thighs, a cup of tea in her hands and Fleetwood Mac playing softly from her phone. Harry moved with practiced ease around the kitchen, flipping eggs, slicing avocado, putting bread in the toaster without burning it. Her café skills may have been stellar, but he was no slouch either.

At one point, she started humming along to the music and he joined in, quietly at first, then more confidently. It turned into them singing through a chorus together and cracking up halfway through.

By the time breakfast was plated and set on the table, she looked at him with open affection.

“So,” he said, sitting across from her and stealing a bite off her plate like it was his right, “what’s the plan today?”

“I want to go for a long walk,” she said, sipping her tea. “I also need to pop into the café, check on a delivery. Might take a look at the books too.”

He nodded. “I’ll come with you. To the café and the walk.”

“Yeah?” She looked up, surprised but pleased.

“Yeah. I like seeing you in your world. Plus, Ryan’s dramatic texts when you’re gone are deeply entertaining.”

She laughed. “He lives for chaos. And good lighting.”

When they stepped outside a little while later, the air was cool but bright. It was one of those rare London days, where the sun played peekaboo with the clouds, trees lush and green, Hampstead Heath buzzing gently in the distance. They walked close, but not quite touching. His hands were in his jacket pockets. Hers swung freely at her sides.

She noticed it. The not-touching. And she got it. People took pictures. They always did.

Still, it made her a little quieter than usual. And then, out of nowhere:

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

She stopped.

“What?”

He was still walking and turned to face her when he realized she wasn’t beside him anymore. “I mean it,” he said, walking backward a few paces before stopping too. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She blinked, caught off guard. Her heart did that stupid, fluttering thing. “Wait, is this because of what I said last night? Because you don’t have to-like, if you’re not ready, I get it. I know we’re still figuring this out and I know I’ve been cr-crazy lately with the “what are we?” Also this is how you’re asking? Listen I-”

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping back toward her. “I’m asking you because I want to. Not because you said something last night, or because of any pressure. I just… I know. I’ve known for a bit. And yes… this is how I’m asking.”

She pressed her lips together, flustered. Her voice was soft when she said, “Okay. Yeah. I want that too.”

“Good,” he said, a little breathless now, and smiling like an idiot. “So we’re official.”

She looked down at their sides. “Does that mean I’m allowed to hold your hand?”

His expression shifted - still smiling, but a flicker of something careful passed through his eyes. She didn’t need him to explain. She already knew.

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly, reassuring him. “I get it. The pictures, the headlines. I just…” She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, her shoulders rising in a small shrug. “I really want to.”

He looked at her for a long moment, the kind of look that meant he was weighing something important. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and took her hand, threading his fingers through hers.

“I really want to, too.”

For a moment, the world around them seemed to pause, the silence after her “yes” hung there, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt full, like the air had shifted, letting in something warm and bright.

They began walking again, their steps falling into a quiet rhythm. Their fingers brushed briefly, hesitant, then his hand found hers once more, firmer now - like he needed to feel her close, tethered to him in the calm. Their palms pressed together, fingers interlacing with a natural ease, like muscle memory.

He glanced down at their joined hands, then over at her. “You know what this means now, don’t you?” he said lightly.

She raised an eyebrow, playful. “That you’re mine now?”

“‘M all yours, love. But no, I meant more like… now we have to get couple tattoos. Maybe start matching outfits.”

“Oh, good,” she said dryly. “I’ve been dying to coordinate linen suits with you.”

“Please. You’d look hot in a linen suit.”

She grinned, nudging his shoulder. “I already do.”

He laughed, and the sound of it felt like summer. But it softened a second later, like the joy cracked open something real underneath.

“I meant it,” he said, after a pause. “Asking you. Wasn’t just some whim.”

She looked over at him and saw the shift - the vulnerability peeking through the easy charm. She squeezed his hand.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“I don’t do this often,” he added. “I mean, I haven’t really… done this in a while. Not like this.”

She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant without needing every word spelled out.

“I didn’t say yes because of the moment,” she offered. “I said yes because I’ve felt like this for awhile too. The label’s just… catching up.”

He looked at her then, eyes a little glossy, but his smile was slow and sure.

“Christ,” he muttered. “You’re good.”

“I know,” she teased, bumping his hip again.

They passed a pair of dog walkers, a jogger, a woman on her phone pushing a pram - all of them oblivious, and for once, Harry didn’t seem on edge about it. She noticed that. Noticed how he held her hand tighter the longer they walked.

“Okay but,” she added suddenly, a mischievous glint in her eye, “now that I’m officially your girlfriend, does that mean I get dibs on this hand-holding stuff?”

He gave her a mock-serious look. “You want exclusivity on my hands now?”

“Well, yeah. Obviously. I’m not out here being someone’s part-time palm warmer.”

He snorted. “Part-time palm warmer?”

“It’s in the girlfriend contract,” she said solemnly. “Right between ‘sends memes at 2am’ and ‘tries your skincare without asking.’”

He laughed again, head tilting back slightly, and then looked over at her with this impossibly tender expression that made her stomach flip.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not making this feel like something I have to be scared of.”

Her smile faltered - not out of sadness, but surprise. He wasn’t someone who handed out soft admissions like that very often. But he did with her. And she knew how much that meant.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she said. “You just have to be here.”

“I am.”

Their hands stayed joined as they rounded the corner onto the quieter street where her café sat tucked between a little gallery and a florist, ivy curling around the sign, windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.

“Still weird seeing you here,” he admitted, eyes on the storefront.

“Why? Because it’s mine?”

He shook his head. “Because you’re so normal here. And it makes all the other stuff feel less… loud.”

She opened the door for them both, the familiar chime ringing out as they stepped into the scent of espresso and cinnamon. The place was calm, late morning lull, just a couple of regulars hunched over laptops, and Ryan behind the counter, fully mid-eyeroll at a group chat on his phone.

The moment he spotted them holding hands, he gasped; full-body dramatic gasp. Y/N let go, gave a hesitant glance in Harry’s direction and left for the back room.

“Oh finally,” he declared. “Jesus Christ, I was starting to think I hallucinated the sexual tension.”

Harry blinked. “That’s… direct.”

“I had a bet with Jules that you two would be official by the end of the month,” Ryan continued, sauntering over to start their usual orders. “And I intend to spend my winnings on those Margiela boots I don’t need but absolutely deserve.”

Y/N appeared from the back room, clipboard in hand. “What are you talking about?”

Ryan straightened, innocent. “Just telling your extremely attractive boyfriend here that love is in the air.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m gone for five minutes and you go full rom-com.”

“I contain multitudes,” Ryan said. “Your coffee will be ready in a sec, lovebirds.”

She turned to Harry, suspicious. “What did he say?”

Harry sipped his coffee like it was a shield. “Absolutely nothing I wouldn’t say myself.”

She rolled her eyes and handed Ryan the clipboard. “Don’t let the power go to your head.”

“Too late,” Ryan muttered, already scrawling something across the order sheet.

When they stepped back outside, the breeze had picked up slightly, but the sun was still warm on their backs. She tucked her hand into his again without asking. He didn’t flinch this time.

They walked in easy silence toward the Heath, coffee cups in hand. A dog barked in the distance, a kid zipped past on a scooter. The world was still moving, but for once, they weren’t rushing to catch up.

She looked down at their hands and then up at him, smiling.

“So… do I get a badge now?”

He arched a brow. “A badge?”

“For being a girlfriend. Or like… a sash, maybe. Something glittery.”

He laughed under his breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They reached the edge of the park, gravel crunching beneath their feet as they followed a winding path shaded by old trees.

“Is it weird that this feels… normal already?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Not weird.”

“Good weird,” she amended.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes on her, soft and certain. “The best kind.”

———————————————————————————

The table was already half-covered in mismatched little bowls and ceramic dishes by the time Harry walked in with the second bottle of wine. Y/N’s kitchen smelled like olive oil, garlic, and roasted peppers - her apron still tied loosely around her waist as she moved between the stove and the counter.

“You’re making enough for ten,” Harry teased, setting the wine down beside the sink.

“There are five of us,” she replied, stirring a pan without looking up. “I’m being reasonable.”

He smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. “You’re being impressive.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she added a final touch of parsley to the potatoes.

By the time the doorbell rang, she was trying not to show how nervous she actually was.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” she asked quickly, glancing at him.

Harry looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Course I am.”

“I just- I’ve met some of your family. I’ve met your people. And I want you to meet mine. These are… they’ve been my constants for years.”

“I’d love to,” he said softly. “You could’ve told me this weeks ago and I’d have been there.”

She gave a small shrug. “I think I needed to feel sure, you know? Not about you. About me. About how this all fits.”

He stepped closer and took her hand, kissed her knuckles lightly. “Let’s go meet your people.”

Ryan was first through the door, grinning and dramatic as ever.

“Smells like someone’s showing off,” he said, sweeping past her into the kitchen. “You know you’ve already locked down the popstar, right?”

“Don’t start,” she warned.

Then came Grace, tall and chatty and a little bit loud, with shiny earrings and a thick London accent. They’d met in university halls - been inseparable since. She hugged Y/N so tightly she nearly knocked the spoon from her hand.

“Right, so you’re the boyfriend.”

“I am,” Harry smiled. “And you must be Grace.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she winked, before disappearing into the living room.

Then came Noor - small, thoughtful, precise. She’d flown in from Scotland that morning, and was carrying a little bag of Turkish delights for Y/N’s “hostess nerves.” She’d known her since she was thirteen, both of them impossibly shy and bookish until they found each other in the chaos of secondary school.

“Thank you for being here,” Y/N said, hugging her tightly.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this,” Noor replied, eyes soft.

Dinner was chaos in the best way. The food was perfect - grilled halloumi, spicy potatoes, charred courgette, chickpea salad, toasted bread in stacks - and everyone had something to say.

“You’ve been drawing a very specific crowd lately,” Ryan said at one point, pouring himself another splash of wine. “Every time a man with floppy curls walks in, we brace.”

Grace grinned. “I’m actually really embarrassed to admit this, but… I was, like, fully obsessed with One Direction growing up.”

Harry laughed. “Embarrassed?”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t even my favourite.”

He raised his eyebrows, feigning deep offence. “I’m wounded.”

Noor grinned over her glass. “Who was?”

“Zayn, obviously.”

Harry clutched his chest. “My own bandmate.”

“What was your favourite song, then?” he asked, grinning.

“Oh god,” Grace said. “It’s gotta be ‘What Makes You Beautiful’. It’s a classic.”

Harry leaned back, arms out. “Absolutely. The best one. Peak songwriting.”

Y/N reached under the table and gave his thigh a squeeze, her face glowing.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispered, and he looked at her with that quiet smile that always made her chest tighten.

———————————————————————————

After dinner, people drifted into the kitchen, half-heartedly helping to clear plates. Harry rolled up his sleeves and joined her at the sink while Noor dried dishes behind them.

When they were finally alone for a moment, the hum of laughter from the other room drifting through, Harry leaned on the counter.

“I’ve got to be honest,” he said, voice low. She glanced up at him.

“I’ve been shitting myself all night.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I was so nervous to meet your friends,” he admitted. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it all day. What if they hated me? What if I said the wrong thing?”

She stared at him, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t show it at all.”

“Good,” he said, exhaling. “But yeah. I was sweating it.”

“You should’ve told me.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want to put it on you. You were already stressing over the food.”

She stepped closer and leaned against him, her arms wrapping around his waist.

“They love you,” she said quietly. “I love that they love you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I love that I’m getting to know your world.”

They stood like that for a second - her apron still tied, him with dish soap on his hands, the clink of glasses still coming from the other room.

“I really like this life,” she said softly, pulling back to look at him.

He smiled. “Me too.”

She went to hand him another plate, but not before letting her fingers linger along his arm for a second longer than necessary.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Grace

I’m just gonna say it. Your boyfriend is HOT. Like… unfairly hot.

Noor

I wasn’t gonna say anything but since we’re here: same.

And THEN he had to go and be charming too?? That’s when I knew I was finished.

You

OKAY. Relax. Both of you.

He’s MY man 😤

Grace

Yes but we’re just appreciating. From a respectful distance.

Like art. Or fire.

Noor

Honestly it was really lovely though

I know you were nervous but the way he looked at you all night… yeah

That’s love, babe.

You

We haven’t said it yet 🫠

But I think I feel it.

It’s in the room when he’s with me, you know?

Grace

Oh I KNOW. The way he was helping with the washing up like he’s been in your kitchen forever??

Noor

Also I caught that thigh rub. 👀

Subtle. But effective.

You

Alright. I’m muting this chat now before you both start planning the wedding.

But I love you both. Thank you for loving him.

Grace

We love you. And he’s a very lovely bonus.

Noor

Can’t wait to see you again soon.

Tell my boyfriend goodnight 😂

Back at home, the flat was dark except for the soft yellow glow from her bedside lamp. She was curled up in bed, phone in hand, lips pressed into a smile that wouldn’t quite leave her face.

Harry came out of the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, and slid into bed beside her. His hand found her thigh beneath the duvet automatically.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, nudging her gently with his shoulder.

“Nothing,” she said too quickly, tucking her phone under the pillow. “Just texting the girls.”

“Mm.” He looked over at her. “Do I get the stamp of approval then?”

She turned her head, grinning.

“I think you got more than the stamp of approval. I think Noor fell in love with you and Grace nearly proposed.”

Harry laughed, dropping his head back against the pillow. “You know, I did feel someone staring at me over the couscous.”

She giggled and leaned into him, tucking her hand under his t-shirt where his skin was still warm.

“They liked you. Like… really liked you.”

He brushed a bit of hair back from her cheek. “But you’re the one I was trying to impress.”

She met his eyes and smiled. “You did.”

He kissed her softly, then reached for the light.

“Night, baby.”

“Night,” she whispered, letting herself settle into the quiet and the warmth, still smiling into the dark.

[maincharactermuse]

Come Back To Me.

(Find my masterlist - here)

Synopsis: In a quiet town, firefighter Harry Styles and schoolteacher Amelia Lockwood share a deep, established love, built on everyday moments and quiet strength. Their world is shaken when a devastating fire breaks out at Amelia’s school, leaving her injured. As Harry races against time, battling smoke and fear, he must confront the possibility of losing the woman he wants to spend forever with. Amidst hospital rooms and whispered promises, their bond is tested and strengthened, reminding them both what it means to come home - to each other.

Trigger Warnings: Fire and smoke inhalation injury, physical injury/burns, hospitalisation, trauma, anxiety and fear of losing a loved one.

———————————————————————————

The alarm was cruel. It always was.

Harry reached out with one arm, silencing it before it could shriek a second time. The other arm stayed firmly around Amelia, who made a low, tired sound of protest and tucked her face into his chest. Her hair smelled like lavender and something sugary, probably her students had made cookies again. She always brought them home, half-wrapped in foil, like treasures too small to leave behind.

“We should get up,” she mumbled against his skin.

“We should,” Harry agreed, making no effort to move.

A minute passed. Maybe two. Eventually, she sighed and wiggled out from under his arm, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder as she sat up. He watched her in the morning light - her profile soft and familiar, hair piled on top of her head in a messy twist. She tugged on the hem of his T-shirt, the one she’d stolen, and stood, stretching as she padded into the bathroom.

He followed a beat later, toothbrush in hand. The mirror was a little foggy from the old radiator that ran too hot, even in June. She was already dabbing concealer under her eyes, squinting with professional focus. Their elbows bumped once, then twice.

“You’re crowding me,” she said, without looking.

Harry bumped her again, on purpose this time. “This is my sink.”

“Your sink,” she repeated, deadpan. “That’s interesting… since I’m the one who keeps the toothpaste stocked.”

“Debatable,” he said through his toothbrush foam.

They danced around each other in the practiced rhythm of people who’d shared mornings a hundred times. He stepped back so she could grab her eyeliner; she shifted so he could spit. No announcements, no requests. Just movement. Trust.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine sputtered to life on its own, because one of them had prepped it last night. They always did. It had become a quiet competition: who could remember first, who could care better. She poured his mug without asking - one sugar, splash of oat milk, and he passed her hers the second it finished - black, hot, no room for error.

“You know me too well,” he said, lifting the mug in salute.

“You’re easy,” Amelia replied, wrapping her fingers around the warmth of hers. “Predictable.”

“Steady,” he countered, leaning against the counter. He bumped her hip again. “You love that about me.”

“I love that you don’t make me say it every morning,” she said, and took a sip.

He watched her over the rim of his cup, half-smiling. She was dressed for the classroom already - soft cream blouse, her favourite navy trousers, hair tucked neatly back. Her ID badge was already clipped to her lanyard, which was covered in stickers her students had given her. She hadn’t noticed the smudge of coffee on the back of her hand.

“You’ve got…” he reached over, wiping it gently with his thumb. “There.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked to his, and for a moment, the kitchen was still. Just light and warmth and two people who’d made a life around each other without ever really having to say, this is permanent.

Harry thought about the little velvet box in the sock drawer. He hadn’t told anyone about it yet, not even parents, who would’ve gone nuclear with excitement. But it had been there for weeks now, tucked between the things he wore the least. Waiting for the right moment.

Maybe this morning. Or maybe…

“Babe?”

Amelia was at the door now, slinging her tote over her shoulder and trying to juggle her keys. He blinked. Shook the thought off.

“Yeah,” he said, catching her water bottle before it tipped off the counter. “Coming.”

They met by the door like always. It was habit, but it was more than that, too.

She looked up at him and stepped in close. Their foreheads met, just for a second. Breath to breath.

“Come back to me,” she murmured. She always said it like it wasn’t dramatic, like it was just a thing they said. Just something small and soft to hold onto while the world spun on.

Harry closed his eyes and let it settle in his chest.

“Always,” he said.

And then she was out the door, walking briskly toward her car with a hand raised behind her in goodbye. He waited until the taillights disappeared before he grabbed his own jacket and headed out.

The air was bright already, just past seven. The fire station was only five minutes away. He climbed into the driver’s seat and leaned back for a moment, coffee in one hand, her words still echoing in his head.

He hadn’t proposed. Not yet. But he would. Soon. Maybe even tonight. He just had to make it through today.

———————————————————————————

Amelia Lockwood’s classroom always smelled faintly of Crayola markers and hand sanitiser - equal parts chaos and care. The walls were alive with colour: student art pinned in lopsided rows, laminated posters reminding kids to “use kind words” and “be brave when it’s hard,” and one slightly crooked banner above the whiteboard that read: Room 3B: The Brightest Stars in the School.

It was the kind of space you didn’t grow out of easily. Even the older kids peeked in sometimes during lunch, just to see if Beans, the class guinea pig, was out of his enclosure.

“Miss Lockwood! Beans pooped on the spelling sheets!” Lila Singh shrieked, halfway between horror and laughter.

“He what?” Amelia spun from the whiteboard, marker still in hand.

“Look!” Lila held up a sheet of paper spotted with tiny, unmistakable evidence. Diya, beside her, dissolved into a fit of giggles so dramatic her glasses nearly fell off her nose.

Amelia sighed, pressing her lips together to hide the smile. “Lila, Diya - new rule. No rodents on paper, even if they look like they’re proofreading.”

Ellie, quiet and observant in the back corner, raised her hand. “Can we still let him sit on the class plant during silent reading?”

Amelia considered this with mock seriousness. “Only if he promises to stop reading out loud.”

The class erupted into laughter, exactly the way it always did - high-pitched, chaotic, unfiltered joy. She loved it. She loved them. Every scraped knee, every oddly folded paper swan they brought her, every misspelled “you’re the best teecher” on her birthday cards.

It was just after ten, and they were working through their morning literacy block. Today’s focus: sequencing events in stories.

Amelia had written three sentences on the board:

• The dragon roared.

• The knight raised his sword.

• The sky turned black.

“Now,” she said, turning back to them. “Your job is to put those in the right order and then write your own ending. No laser swords, please, Milo.”

“Not even if it’s a space dragon?” Milo shot back instantly, pencil poised in rebellion.

Amelia gave him a look, the one that meant you’re lucky I like you. “You can write about space dragons during free writing this afternoon.”

He groaned, dramatically collapsing into his worksheet like the weight of his imagination was too much to bear.

Jayden, at the front, was frowning at his page. He’d been quiet today, more than usual. Amelia crouched beside him and gently tapped the eraser end of his pencil.

“You stuck?” she asked.

He nodded, lips pressed tight. Jayden was a thinker, not a talker. Ever since his parents separated, he’d become even quieter, especially when stories had fighting or yelling in them.

“Don’t worry about the dragon,” Amelia said softly. “Tell me what the knight is feeling. What’s it like to stand there, sword in hand, knowing something big is about to happen?”

Jayden’s eyes flicked to hers, and something eased in his shoulders. He started to write.

The room settled. Scratching pencils, low murmurs, and the occasional rustle from Beans’s enclosure were the only sounds. Amelia walked between desks, glancing over shoulders, offering quiet praise. Diya had drawn an entire dragon family in the margins of her paper. Lila, predictably, was writing a love story between the knight and the dragon.

“Tragic,” Lila explained. “They’re not supposed to be in love, but they are.”

“You’re eight,” Amelia said, eyebrows raised.

“I have older cousins,” Lila said matter-of-factly.

Amelia smiled again, despite herself.

Her phone buzzed gently on her desk. She crossed to check it—just a text from Harry.

Hope today’s a quiet one. x

Coffee’s still in my veins, so I’m surviving.

She leaned against her desk for a second, thumbs hovering.

Kids have staged a rodent uprising. We’re losing the war.

She was halfway through typing “Come back to me later for mop-up duty,” when the fire alarm chirped.

Just once. Short. High. Then silence.

The class barely reacted - most of them didn’t even glance up. They were used to drills. Amelia, however, froze for half a second, her eyes lifting instinctively to the blinking red sensor near the door. Nothing else followed. No siren. No flashing lights. Just that one chirp, like a warning trying to decide if it meant anything.

Probably nothing. Faulty sensor again. It happened twice last month.

Still, she didn’t finish the message to Harry. Instead, she tucked her phone back into her desk drawer and moved to open the window a crack. The air outside was bright and warm already, but it felt heavier than usual, like something pressing just slightly on the edges.

Behind her, Lila and Diya were giggling again, heads bent over the same paper.

Amelia smiled faintly and turned back to the board.

———————————————————————————

The bay doors were open to let in the June air, and Harry was halfway through checking the hose pressure valve on the back of Engine 2 when Callum barked across the station floor.

“Dev, if you’re not through that door in thirty seconds, I’m sending your paperwork to your mum.”

“I’m literally here!” Dev shouted, jogging in with a protein bar in his mouth. “Traffic was-”

“Lies,” Callum said, not even looking up from the clipboard in his hand. “You live four minutes away.”

Harry chuckled under his breath and closed the valve with a satisfying click. “Callum, you know he needs a dramatic entrance.”

Dev tossed his jacket onto the bench and pointed at Harry. “Exactly. Someone appreciates the flair.”

“Go check the tools,” Callum muttered. “Before I flair you.”

Harry moved to the driver’s side compartment, methodically scanning through the equipment - thermal imaging camera, pry tools, med kit. Everything in its place. Gear checks were daily routine, but he never did them on autopilot. It was muscle memory by now, sure, but he knew what happened when someone forgot even one thing. Missed gloves, jammed latch, bad batteries - any one of them could be the difference between clean rescue and disaster.

Max walked by, coffee in hand, offering him a quiet nod. “Slow morning so far.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Harry replied, wiping his hands on his uniform trousers.

His phone buzzed once in his back pocket, he figured it was Amelia. He hadn’t heard from her since that text earlier. Probably wrangling the class. He was tempted to send another message.

Don’t let beans overthrow the curriculum.

But he didn’t. Then the speaker crackled.

“All units, stand by. Report of smoke seen issuing from roof, possible structure fire - Ridley Avenue. Standby for full dispatch.”

Harry looked up, heart tightening reflexively.

Callum was already moving, clicking his pen once before tossing it to the desk. “Mount up.”

The team snapped into motion. Harry grabbed his jacket, gloves stuffed into one sleeve. Jayne was already climbing into the cab. The station’s tone shifted like a flipped switch, calm became command.

As they rolled out, the dispatcher’s voice came through again, clearer this time over the radio.

“Confirmed fire. Educational facility. Ridley Avenue Primary School. Repeat, Ridley Avenue Primary.”

Harry blinked.

What?

The engine’s siren kicked in, wailing through the air, but it barely registered over the sudden thunder in his chest.

“Did they just say-” he started, breath catching.

Jayne and Dev twisted in the seat ahead of him, reading from the dispatch tablet. “Ridley Avenue Primary. Looks like it started in the back building. Kitchen or staffroom maybe. One side’s fully engulfed.”

Harry’s stomach dropped.

“That’s-” He sat forward hard, nearly knocking his helmet off the bench. “That’s Mills’ school.”

Max turned his head slightly, eyes flicking up to the rearview.

“Amelia?” Callum asked from the passenger side, voice clipped.

“Yeah,” Harry said, already pulling out his radio. “That’s her school. That’s her fucking school-”

His hand was shaking as he pressed the call button, and he knew it.

“Control, Engine Two en route. ETA four minutes,” Callum said into the comm, calm and efficient.

Harry sat back, jaw clenched tight, fists white-knuckled in his lap. The sirens screamed, but they were nothing compared to the noise in his head.

He tried to focus on the checklist - gear, harness, breather - but all he could see was Amelia’s car in the lot, Amelia standing by the whiteboard with her soft voice and her classroom of tiny kids, Amelia laughing as she told him about the happenings of Lila and Diya.

And then smoke. Flames. Chaos.

He didn’t know how to breathe.

Max glanced at him in the mirror. “You okay, mate?”

“No.” Harry swallowed hard. “Not even close.”

There was a pause.

Then Dev - serious for once - said, “We’ll get there fast.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

The fire was real now. Not just a callout. Not just someone else’s emergency.

It was her.

———————————————————————————

The smoke was a living thing - writhing through corridors, clawing at every open space with hot, invisible fingers.

Harry hit the ground running, pulling on his mask as soon as he jumped down from the truck. Three engines had already lined the curb, lights strobing across the playground equipment like a nightmare kaleidoscope. Water sprayed in high arcs from the roofline, steam rising in bursts. The fire had eaten through half the back wing already - classrooms gone, windows shattered.

“East side!” Callum shouted over the roar. “Check for remaining personnel. We’ve got kids accounted for but a teacher went back in!”

Harry froze.

“A teacher?” he said sharply, already sprinting toward the double doors.

Jayne caught up beside him. “We don’t know who - could be anyone.”

But Harry knew. It was Amelia.

Because of course it was. Of course she went back.

He charged through the entrance, boots slamming against soaked linoleum. The hallway was nearly opaque with smoke. Flashing strobes overhead pulsed red through the haze like a heartbeat. His flashlight beam cut a narrow path through the gloom.

“Room 3B, Room 3B,” he muttered into his mask, turning left. His oxygen hissed steadily in his ears. It was too hot in here. Too thick. He knew the signs. They were already past the safe burn point. Structure was getting unstable.

“Harry!” Dev’s voice barked through comms. “Watch your time - backup’s clearing the northwest-”

“I know where she is,” Harry snapped, pushing through the corridor.

Room 3B’s door was warped from heat, but not burned through yet. He kicked at it once, twice, shoulder slamming into it on the third hit. It burst open with a crack of splintered wood.

The classroom was almost unrecognizable. Tables overturned. Artwork curling on the walls. The air was so thick he couldn’t see five feet in front of him.

“Amelia?” he shouted into the smoke, voice muffled.

Nothing. He swept the flashlight low.

Then he saw the pale shape - just inside the door, slumped on her side.

“Shit. No, no- Mills-”

He dropped beside her, grabbing her shoulders, rolling her gently onto her back. Her face was covered in soot, lashes blackened with smoke, and her skin - he could see red welts, burns along her arms and collarbone where her shirt had torn. One of her hands was still curled, like she’d been reaching for something.

“Breathe, come on, breathe-”

He ripped off his own mask and pressed it over her mouth instead, sealing it as best he could. She didn’t respond.

“Control, this is FF Styles. I have an unconscious civilian- female, burns, heavy smoke inhalation, I’m bringing her out now-”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He hooked one arm under her legs, the other behind her shoulders, and lifted her into his arms.

She wasn’t heavy. She never was. But right now, she felt like the weight of his entire world.

“Hang on, baby, please,” he whispered against her hair as he turned back toward the corridor.

The smoke fought him with every step. His mask dangled uselessly from his neck. His lungs burned raw. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear anything but the roar.

But then-

A voice on comms. “We see you, Harry - north hall! Straight ahead, twenty feet!”

Light broke through the grey.

He stumbled forward. Max and Dev burst through the fog and grabbed his arms, steadying him as he half-ran, half-collapsed through the last doorway.

They pulled Amelia from his grip as medics swarmed.

“Got her! She’s breathing, shallow pulse!”

Harry hit the pavement outside and coughed so hard he tasted blood. But she was there. She was alive.

Someone was putting an oxygen mask on her. Someone else was cutting open her sleeve to assess the burns. The world narrowed to that tiny circle around her face, her chest rising just barely under the medic’s hands.

“Mills,” he rasped, crawling forward, not caring who tried to stop him. “Mills, baby, can you hear me?”

Her head lolled to the side, eyes closed.

“Come on, Amelia, come on, don’t do this… don’t you dare-”

“Pulse steadying,” one of the paramedics said. “We need to move now!”

Harry moved with them. He didn’t let go of her hand.

———————————————————————————

The siren wailed again, louder inside the cramped ambulance than it ever had in the fire engine. The smell of antiseptic mixed with burnt fabric, thick and suffocating.

Harry sat beside Amelia, her body limp against the stretcher’s straps, her skin pale under the harsh fluorescent light. The medics worked silently but quickly, checking vitals and sliding an oxygen mask over her soot-smudged face.

“Her lungs sound really congested,” one of them murmured, voice clipped but steady. “Smoke inhalation’s bad. We might need to intubate.”

Harry nodded, his throat tight. He gripped her hand as if sheer force could bring her back.

“Stay with me, Mills. Please. Just breathe. You hear me?”

There was no response. No flutter of eyelids, no tightening of fingers.

The medic prepared the tube, and Harry looked away for a moment, swallowing hard to keep down the panic clawing up his throat. When they gently slipped the breathing tube down her throat, he gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

Minutes crawled by in the shaking ambulance. Every bump felt like a hammer blow to his chest.

He whispered her name again, over and over, though he knew she couldn’t hear it.

The paramedic adjusted her oxygen, checking monitors as the city lights blurred past the window.

“Almost there,” the other medic said from the driver’s seat, voice steady but low.

When they pulled up to the hospital’s emergency entrance, the ambulance screeched to a halt.

“Move her inside. Fast,” the lead medic barked.

Harry followed, heart pounding like a drum in his ears.

Inside, the ER was a cold, harsh place. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, nurses and doctors rushing past with clipped orders and wheels squeaking.One doctor approached quickly, a woman with sharp eyes and a calm but urgent voice.

“Sir, we need you to step back. We’re going to take over now.”

Harry’s breath hitched, his hands twitching toward Amelia’s stretcher.

“Wait- she’s my girlfriend- please, I need to be with her,” he said, voice cracking.

The doctor softened fractionally but remained firm. “I understand. But we need space to work. She’s in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

Harry swallowed, feeling like the ground had slipped beneath him. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, fighting the urge to panic.

He stepped back reluctantly, eyes locked on her pale face, the breathing tube, the monitors beeping steadily but without promise.

“Please, Mills,” he whispered. “Come back to me.”

———————————————————————————

The sterile smell of the hospital lobby was nothing like the acrid smoke choking Ridley Avenue. But it clung to Harry now, invisible and suffocating.

He sat in the stiff plastic chair outside the ICU waiting room, hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt, heart pounding with every passing second.

Anger bubbled beneath the surface, raw and jagged.

Why did she go back in? he thought, eyes closed tight. Why Amelia? Always the one to run toward danger, never away from it.

But beneath that anger was something fiercer - something he couldn’t name but felt in every nerve ending.

Love. Damn near blinding love.

She wasn’t just a teacher. She was a fighter. A protector. And maybe that was why he’d fallen so hard for her - the way she’d put herself on the line without hesitation.

The thought of losing her tore at him like acid.

His phone vibrated. He ignored it. The minutes stretched into an hour, each one a small eternity.

And then the door opened.

A woman in scrubs stepped inside, her expression serious but gentle.

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry stood instantly, heart hammering.

“I’m Dr. Reyes. I’m overseeing Ms. Lockwood’s care.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly.

“She’s stable at the moment,” Dr. Reyes said carefully. “We had to intubate her because of the smoke inhalation - it caused severe swelling in her airways. We’re monitoring her closely.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, tension unraveling with every word.

“Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor hesitated.

“She’s unconscious, and the burns will need treatment, but the biggest risk right now is the swelling in her lungs. We’re doing everything to reduce it. She’s on a ventilator, so she’s breathing with assistance.”

Harry’s breath hitched. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Reyes nodded. “Yes. But only for a few minutes.”

He followed her down the hall, heart pounding louder than his footsteps.

Outside Amelia’s room, he paused.

Through the glass, she lay still - pale, tubes running from her mouth and arms, machines beeping softly.

He felt every ache in his chest, every tear threatening to fall, and swallowed it back.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You scared the hell out of me.”

His fingers pressed against the glass, barely able to reach her.

“I hate that you went back in. But I love you so much for it.”

He stayed there a moment longer, drawing strength from her quiet presence.

Then, as the nurse came to gently usher him out, he promised silently, I’m here, Mills. I’m not going anywhere.

———————————————————————————

He hadn’t called.

That was the first sign.

It was a habit - after every shift, even the slow ones, Harry would send her a quick voice note or a sleepy “off to bed, love you” text. Nothing came through by dinner. And Amelia tried not to spiral, but the longer the silence dragged, the more her hands fidgeted and her mind filled in the blanks.

Then, just past nine, her phone buzzed.

Harry: Can I come over?

No emoji. No kiss at the end. Just five words, sent almost an hour ago.

She was already pulling on a hoodie and unlocking the door when she heard the knock.

When she opened it, Harry stood in the hallway, half-slung out of his uniform jacket, eyes tired and skin pale beneath the ash on his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” she breathed, reaching for him. “Harry.”

“I’m okay,” he rasped, raising a hand. “Just- can I come in?”

She stepped aside wordlessly, watching as he walked in like he was made of glass.

When the door closed behind him, she turned on the light and only then, saw the bandages wrapped around his forearm, the wince as he moved his ribs.

“You’re hurt.”

“I know,” he said softly.

Amelia’s voice trembled as she crossed the room. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, that didn’t work.”

He cracked a tired smile. “Fair point.”

She took his jacket, then his shirt - carefully, slowly, wincing every time he did. His undershirt was sweat-soaked and torn near the side where a purpling bruise was forming beneath his ribs.

“Jesus, Harry.”

“Some old boiler exploded during a call-out,” he said, settling into her kitchen chair like his bones had turned to dust. “Caught part of the wall. Nothing major.”

“This is not nothing major.”

“I’ve had worse,” he said, with a lopsided grin.

“Don’t say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better.”

Her hands were gentle as she grabbed the first aid kit, unscrewing a jar of cooling cream and lightly dabbing it over the exposed burns on his arm. He winced, teeth gritting, but didn’t pull away.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she said quietly.

“I don’t like being like this,” he muttered.

Amelia met his eyes. “You could’ve stayed at the station. Or gone home. Why here?”

He hesitated.

Then he said, “Because this is where I feel safe.”

That undid her.

She didn’t say anything - just set the jar down and gently cupped his cheek, brushing soot from beneath his eye with her thumb.

“I thought I could handle this job, and the danger, and all the unpredictability,” she whispered, voice cracking. “But it’s so much harder when it’s you.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to quit,” she added quickly. “I love what you do. I’m just… scared.”

“I know,” he repeated, leaning forward, forehead pressing softly to hers.

It was the same way they always grounded each other. Not a kiss. Not words.

Just breath. Skin to skin. A shared silence that said I’m still here.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he murmured after a beat.

“You did.”

“But I also wanted to be where you were.”

Her hands stayed on him as his shoulders finally relaxed. As if her presence alone made the bruises sting less.

She made him tea that night and sat with him on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, gently tracing the bandage on his arm while he drifted between exhaustion and comfort.

And even though they still lived in separate homes, that was the night she left a spare toothbrush in her bathroom drawer for him.

———————————————————————————

The hospital room had settled into a dull rhythm. Beeping monitors. The low hum of filtered air. The soft hiss of oxygen.

Harry sat slouched in the chair beside her bed, head tipped forward against his forearm, her hand still tucked in his. He hadn’t left in three days - not really. A quick rinse in the staff showers, a bite of hospital coffee and toast - but always back before she could notice he was gone.

Not that she had noticed. Not yet.

The steady rise and fall of the machine breathing for her was both comfort and torment. Keeping her alive - but also keeping her distant. Somewhere he couldn’t reach.

He didn’t cry often. But he had. Quietly. Late at night. When the nurse shut the door softly behind her and he was left with nothing but time and what-ifs.

What if she hadn’t made it?

What if he hadn’t found her in time?

What if the last thing she ever did was run back into a burning building… and never come out?

He blinked hard, rubbed his jaw, and looked up at her again.

Still. Too still.

Then-

A twitch.

A shift beneath her eyelids.

Harry straightened instantly, the chair screeching softly beneath him. “Amelia?”

Another twitch. This time her fingers moved - slight, uncertain - but enough to light something in his chest. He stood fast, eyes wide, panic and hope crashing over him in equal measure.

“Hey- Mills?” He stepped closer, touching her wrist. “Can you hear me?”

Her head shifted slightly, brows drawing in - and then her whole body jerked, a choking, gagging sound escaping her throat.

The breathing tube.

“Shit- hey! I need help in here!” Harry’s voice cracked as he reached for the call button and slammed it with his palm. “She’s waking up- she’s choking- please!”

The door burst open seconds later. A nurse swept in with calm urgency, already pressing the intercom for assistance. “She’s gagging on the ET tube - we’ve got a gag reflex, she’s coming out of sedation.”

Another nurse entered as Harry stepped back, hands clenched uselessly by his sides.

They moved fast - one stabilizing her head, the other adjusting the monitor, then gently, carefully sliding the tube from her throat as she gasped and coughed, her body curling instinctively with the force of breath returning.

The sound of it, her first real breath, nearly brought him to his knees.

“Easy now, Amelia. You’re okay,” the nurse said, soothingly. “That’s it. Breathe slowly for me.”

She was crying - not full sobs, just tears, silent and hot down her cheeks, confusion and pain flickering in her half-lidded eyes.

Harry was beside her before they gave the all-clear.

“I’m here,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’m right here.”

Her eyes finally landed on him, dazed and glassy, but hers.

He reached for her hand again. She didn’t speak — couldn’t, not yet - but her fingers squeezed his.

That was enough to wreck him.

A soft sob escaped him as he pressed his forehead to her hand. “You scared the absolute hell out of me, Mills. Jesus.”

She blinked, slowly, trying to form a word. Her lips moved - sorry - but the sound didn’t come.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Don’t try. Just rest. You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

The nurses monitored her a bit longer, adjusting her oxygen mask, checking her levels. One of them touched Harry’s arm as they left.

“She’s tough. Give her a minute.”

He nodded but didn’t look away from Amelia’s face.

When they were alone again, he sat down, still holding her hand. She was watching him now, really watching - her brows furrowed slightly as if she could already sense the weight he’d been carrying.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Just… so you know.”

Her mouth trembled. She blinked once. A tear slid sideways across her temple.

Harry smiled - watery and crooked. “Yeah. You don’t have to say it. You already did.”

———————————————————————————

It was the first time in three days that Harry sat in silence without feeling like the world was collapsing around him.

The monitors still beeped. The oxygen mask still hissed. Machines still blinked their coded reassurance. But Amelia… Amelia was sleeping again. Not the kind of unconscious sleep that left his chest hollow and terrified, but real sleep.

Natural. Breathing on her own.

She’d drifted off after the doctor finished his checks. The breathing tube had come out hours earlier, and her vitals had stabilized. They were still watching her closely, but the worst, they said, was over.

Harry didn’t move from his chair.

He just sat there, one arm on the edge of her bed, his hand wrapped gently around hers like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. He hadn’t dared let go since she first woke that morning and choked on the tube - the sound of her body fighting for breath again still haunted the corners of his mind.

She’d cried. He hadn’t expected that.

She hadn’t spoken then, not really, but the look in her eyes had said everything. Confusion, pain, apology. Guilt.

And he’d just kept saying the same thing: You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.

He looked at her now - pale, bruised, her hair a tangled halo against the stark hospital pillow - and his chest ached with something sharp and enormous.

God, he loved her. And he’d almost lost her.

He hadn’t even known where they were going when the call came in. Just a structure fire, mid-morning, downtown - and then in the truck, someone said the name of the school and everything inside him snapped.

He could still hear his own voice - panicked, wild - “Tell me it’s not the school. Not her school.”

And it was.

It had taken everything in him to do the job and not just tear through the smoke yelling her name. He didn’t even know he’d found her until he was cradling her in his arms, her body limp and streaked with soot, smoke curling off her hair, her fingers still curled like she’d been trying to protect something.

The image had burned itself into his brain. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.

A quiet rustle pulled him out of the thought - the soft sound of sheets shifting, then the faintest cough, dry and strained.

His head snapped up.

“Amelia?”

Her face twitched, then again. Eyes fluttered beneath lashes. He stood quickly, hand tightening gently around hers. “Hey, Mills? You with me?”

She blinked slowly, then again - eyes unfocused, adjusting - and finally locked onto his.

A tired, fragile kind of recognition passed over her face. Her lips parted.

“Harry…” Her voice was barely more than air - hoarse, dry, painful - but it was her.

“Hey,” he said, swallowing hard. “You’re awake.”

She nodded weakly, brows pulling together like she was trying to remember how her body worked.

He pushed a few strands of hair back from her forehead, thumb brushing her temple. “You’re okay, alright? You’re safe.”

Her eyes filled almost instantly.

“Kids,” she whispered, each letter rough like it scraped her throat to form. “Are they-?”

He nodded quickly. “They’re okay. All of them. Your whole class made it out. No major injuries. Everyone at the school is okay.”

She sagged back into the pillow with a shaky exhale, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks.

“I went… back…” Her voice broke on the word. “Ethan-he tripped- he was scared-”

Harry leaned in closer, heart in his throat, but he stopped her with a gentle touch to her wrist.

“Hey. No. You don’t have to explain.”

She shook her head faintly. “I couldn’t leave them. I-I told them I’d always keep them safe.”

“And you did,” Harry said, his voice cracking. “You did, Mills.”

She closed her eyes as more tears escaped. He watched her struggle to breathe steadily, to keep control, and he hated that he couldn’t take the pain from her. The guilt. The memory.

“You’re okay,” he said again, gently but firmly. “That’s what matters. The rest- just let it go for now, yeah?”

Her fingers curled weakly around his.

“I thought… I wasn’t gonna make it out.”

He bowed his head, forehead brushing the back of her hand. “Me too,” he admitted. “But you did. You came back.”

She didn’t speak for a long moment. Just looked at him, really looked, and then whispered, “You found me.”

He smiled, a soft, watery thing. “Always.”

He felt her fingers shift, trying to bring his hand closer. He gave in easily, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m so tired,” she murmured.

“You can rest,” he said, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She exhaled, soft and uneven, and her eyes drifted closed again - but this time, he wasn’t afraid.

This time, her breathing was steady. This time, he knew she’d wake up again.

———————————————————————————

The room was quiet again, morning light soft through the blinds, filtered and gentle. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and the paper-cup coffee Harry had been nursing for hours. Amelia blinked slowly, her throat dry but not on fire anymore. Her chest ached when she breathed too deeply, but it was manageable now - like her body had stopped screaming and settled into a dull, exhausted whisper.

She turned her head carefully. He was there. Still.

Slumped awkwardly in the chair beside her bed, arms folded, chin resting in one hand. His curls were a mess. His shirt was wrinkled. He hadn’t shaved - not that she minded - but his eyes looked heavier than she’d ever seen them.

“Harry…” Her voice cracked, low and raspy.

His head snapped up instantly. “Hey.” He was already leaning forward, eyes wide, like he thought she might vanish if he looked away. “You’re awake again.”

She gave a small nod, grimacing a little. “Still here?”

“‘Course I’m still here.” He smiled, but it was tight, cautious. “Where else would I be?”

Amelia tried to shift a little in the bed. Her muscles protested, but not as loudly as before. “You look… awful.”

He let out a quiet laugh and reached for the water cup on her tray. “Thanks, baby. That’s the reassurance I needed this morning.”

She smiled too, just barely, and took a slow sip as he held the straw for her. The water felt like heaven on her throat, even if every swallow still came with effort.

“You haven’t left,” she rasped, voice thin but steadier than yesterday. “Have you?”

Harry tilted his head. “Nope.”

“Not even to shower?”

“Nope.”

She sighed and let her eyes close briefly. “You smell like smoke and stress.”

“Perfect. That’s exactly the scent I was going for.”

When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her - not smiling this time. Just looking, like he needed to memorize every freckle, every blink, to believe she was really in front of him.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly.

Her heart twisted. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just… I couldn’t find you. I didn’t know where you were at first. And then when I did—when I saw you—”

He stopped. She saw his throat work around the rest of the sentence like it was too heavy to speak.

“I thought you were gone,” he finished, barely above a whisper.

Amelia reached out slowly, touching his fingers. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

“You ran back in for a student,” he said. “They told me. You could’ve died.”

She didn’t deny it. There was no point.

“I didn’t think. I just…” Her voice caught. “I saw Ethan fall. I told them I’d get them out. I had to.”

Harry shook his head, but not in frustration - just in something close to heartbreak. “Of course you did. That’s who you are.”

A silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Just full of everything that didn’t need to be said.

“You should go home,” she murmured eventually. “Shower. Sleep in a bed that doesn’t beep.”

He raised a brow. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He leaned forward again, closer this time. “I’ll go when you’re home. Not before.”

Amelia exhaled, weak but affectionate. “Stubborn firefighter.”

Harry grinned. “Stubborn teacher.”

She smiled back, though it faded when she studied him. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red from lack of sleep, and something deeper. Something she couldn’t quite reach.

“Talk to me,” she said softly.

He looked down, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “It made everything real. You know?”

“What did?”

“All of it.” He swallowed. “How fast things can change. How close I came to losing you. I kept thinking - what if that had been it? What if I’d never gotten to say the things I wanted to say?”

Amelia’s fingers squeezed his.

“You’ve always said them,” she whispered. “Every morning when you make my coffee. Every time you fold my laundry even though I ask you not to. Every time you kiss me on the forehead when you think I’m asleep.”

His jaw tightened.

“I love you,” she said, voice raw. “I don’t need anything else.”

“I do.” His voice cracked. “I need a future with you. Not just mornings and maybes. I need to know you’re mine - properly.”

She blinked slowly. “Harry…”

He didn’t reach for his pocket - not yet. There was no box. No grand gesture. Just him, exhausted and open, sitting in a shitty hospital chair, holding her hand like it was sacred.

“Not asking you right now,” he said gently. “You’re still on morphine. I want your full faculties when I ask you to marry me.”

A laugh broke from her throat, hoarse and surprised. It turned into a cough, and he was instantly on his feet, adjusting the oxygen.

When she settled again, still smiling despite the pain, she whispered, “You’re not subtle, you know that?”

He leaned down, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Didn’t plan to be.”

———————————————————————————

The hospital doors slid shut behind them, and the sharp antiseptic smell gave way to the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun. Amelia leaned against Harry’s hand, holding on like it was a lifeline after days that felt unreal.

“My legs are fine,” she murmured, voice scratchy but steady. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”

Harry grinned, fingers tightening around hers. “Humour me, will you? You look like you might collapse any second.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. “Maybe I want to collapse. On my terms.”

He laughed softly. “You’re impossible.”

The car hummed along slowly, Harry’s hand warm and steady in hers. The ache of exhaustion settled deep in her bones, but the thought of home pressed a soft ache in her chest.

When the front door swung open, the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla wrapped around her. Safe. Warm. Real.

She made for the couch, muscles weak but determined.

“Let me help,” Harry said gently.

“No,” she said, voice firm though her legs wobbled. “I’m fine.”

He settled beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “You sure? You don’t have to be a hero all the time.”

“I’m not trying to be,” she whispered.

They sat quietly for a moment, the weight of everything settled between them. Then Harry’s shoulders shook with a soft, sudden sob.

Amelia’s arms wrapped around him instinctively. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

He buried his face in her shoulder. “I was so scared,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if you’d make it.”

“You’re here now,” she said softly. “That’s what matters.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes red but fierce. “I love you so much. I don’t think I ever realized how much until now.”

She reached up, cupping his cheek. “Me too.”

Harry swallowed hard, then laughed shakily. “You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

She smiled, tired but warm. “Takes one to know one.”

They stayed like that, tangled up in each other, the quiet comfort of home healing what the fire had nearly taken.

———————————————————————————

The apartment was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt fragile and precious after the storm they’d weathered. Sunlight sifted softly through the curtains, falling in warm patches on the worn couch where Amelia sat, wrapped in one of his old shirts. She looked small and fierce all at once - her skin still tender and raw in places, the burns stubborn reminders of how close everything had come to falling apart.

He set the tray of supplies down gently on the coffee table and knelt beside her, careful not to jostle her. Changing the dressings was a delicate dance - steady hands, soothing words, and more patience than he ever thought he had. But every time he peeled back the bandages and saw the pink, healing skin beneath, it felt like a new kind of closeness, a way of saying, without words, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, steady.

Amelia nodded, biting her lip as he slowly and carefully cleaned the wounds with sterile cloths. He hated how vulnerable she looked, but there was something fierce in the way she met his gaze, a stubborn courage that made his chest ache. She was everything he ever wanted to protect.

He reached for the burn cream, the familiar coolness a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from her skin. As he spread it gently over her neck, a sudden urgency gripped him - a raw, aching need to stop just caring for her and start making it official. To stop spending any more time in that limbo of what ifs and maybes.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, almost afraid to break the fragile peace. “About us. About the future.”

Amelia let out a breath, eyes half-closed as the ointment settled on her skin. “Don’t say that while you’re putting goo on my neck,” she teased, voice hoarse but light.

Harry chuckled, the sound soft but full of meaning. “Fair enough. But I mean it. I want to marry you. I want all of it… the good, the messy, the forever.”

She looked up, her tired eyes shining with something raw and real. “I want that too,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “Just… not while you’re smearing goo all over me and I feel gross.”

He smiled, brushing a stray curl back from her face. “Promise me you’ll say yes?”

Amelia traced her fingers over the tender skin, still raw from the burns but healing. “Only if you promise to keep doing this - keep being here.”

His throat tightened. “I promise. Always.”

As he finished with the dressing, Harry felt a fierce protectiveness rise up. Not just for her body, but for their life together. Every minute he’d spent waiting, every second he hadn’t called her fiancée, felt like time stolen from what was meant to be.

He couldn’t stand the thought of another day passing without making it official. Without giving her the certainty she deserved.

He swallowed hard, words catching in his throat, but the look she gave him - soft, unwavering - gave him strength.

“This-” he gestured between them, “this is everything to me. And I don’t want to spend one more minute not being your fiancé.”

Her lips quirked into a tired smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Well, you’d better hurry up then.”

Harry laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in days. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath his lips.

They sat like that for a long moment - two people stitched together by love, healing, and the messy, beautiful reality of being human.

The burn cream had been applied. The dressings fresh. But it was the quiet promises between them that truly sealed the healing.

———————————————————————————

The door creaked open, and the familiar creak of the old wooden floor greeted her like a whisper from home. Amelia stood in the hallway, shoulders slumped, the weight of the day pressing down hard enough to make her knees ache.

“Harry?” Her voice was hoarse from talking all day, but she tried to sound lighter than she felt. “Do we have ice cream? Because I’m gonna need it. I had the worst fucking day.”

She rounded the corner, expecting the usual quiet living room or the clutter of Harry’s guitar case tossed carelessly near the couch.

Instead, her breath caught.

Candles flickered softly, casting a golden glow over the space. A handful of wildflowers - her favorites - were arranged carefully on the coffee table. And there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was Harry. His hair was a little messier than usual, but his smile was wide, hopeful, and completely, utterly hers.

In his hand was a small box - not big, but heavy with meaning.

“Amelia,” he said softly, voice steady even though his eyes were shining. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Her heart hammered so loud it was almost deafening. The exhaustion, the weight of the day, it all melted away, leaving only this moment, perfect and terrifying and beautiful.

Harry opened the box to reveal a simple, elegant ring - a thin band with a tiny cluster of diamonds catching the candlelight like stars.

“You’re my person,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “The woman who makes every day better, who’s fearless in the face of anything, who I want to grow old with.”

Amelia’s throat tightened. She dropped her bag with a soft thud and took a cautious step closer.

“I want to be your fiancé, and then your husband,” he said, as if the words were both a promise and a question.

Her lips curved into a smile that was a mix of relief and overwhelming love. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Harry’s grin widened as he slipped the ring onto her finger. She marveled at the way it sparkled, but even more, the way his eyes lit up just looking at her.

The moment hung between them for a beat longer, before Amelia’s practical side, that teacher’s voice in her head, nudged forward.

“You know,” she began, voice playful, “there’s something else you need to do to be considered a fiancé.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face. “Oh? And what’s that?”

She grinned, stepping closer, her hand still in his. “Get a dog.”

Harry blinked, surprised and amused. “You teach kids with that logic?”

She shrugged, mock serious. “Hey, it’s a well-known fiancé requirement. If you want to seal the deal, you’ve got to prove you can handle puppy chaos.”

He laughed, deep and full, the sound wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Then he leaned in and kissed her silly, like it was the only thing that mattered.

“I guess we’d better start looking at puppies, then.”

Amelia’s eyes sparkled with tears and laughter. For the first time in weeks, all the fear, all the uncertainty, felt miles away. All that mattered was here. Now. Them.

[maincharactermuse]

The one where there is a party. (11)

(Find my masterlist here)

The party was already in full swing when Y/N stepped into the garden, holding a large wooden tray of desserts like a shield. The sun hung low, golden through the trees, and the sound of people laughing - Harry’s people - rolled over her in waves.

She’d arranged the desserts herself, of course. Tiny pistachio tiramisu cups, lemon cakes with olive oil glaze, strawberry galette. All perfectly imperfect, rustic but elegant. The kind of desserts that said: I’m relaxed and effortlessly cool, even though I stress-baked until 2 a.m.

This was her contribution to the evening. It felt easier to lead with “I’m the one who made the desserts” than “I’m sort of dating Harry Styles but we haven’t defined it”.

She adjusted one of the cups unnecessarily, giving her hands something to do.

“Hi there. Y/N, yeah? I’m Gemma.”

She turned and met a pair of kind, sharp eyes, Harry’s sister. Immediately warm but carrying that clever, knowing energy.

“Yeah. Hi. Sorry. I’m Y/N.” She offered a slightly flustered smile, trying to look breezy and not like she was having a small existential crisis. “Nice to meet you.”

Gemma looked at the dessert table, then back at her. “You made all of this? He wasn’t lying.”

Y/N smiled, still unsure how to plant herself in this social terrain. “Yeah. It’s kind of my job. I own a café in Hampstead.”

“Oh my god! Is it Toast? The one with the tiny glass lemon tarts and mismatched chairs? Harry said it’s his new favorite place.” Gemma tilted her head, amused. “He also said the owner was bossy about her espresso machine.”

Y/N blushed. “That’s… accurate.”

Gemma grinned, sipping her drink. “So… how do you two know each other?”

Y/N hesitated, grasping for a tone somewhere between “your brother makes great coffee chat” and “I’ve seen your brother naked… A lot.”

“Uh, we met through the café. He came in a few times. Then… we talked. And… now I’m here.” She cleared her throat, smiling awkwardly.

“Relax,” Gemma said warmly. “You’re clearly not just here for the tiramisu.”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but Harry’s voice suddenly floated in from just behind her. “You alright?”

She turned and there he was, all linen shirt and flushed cheeks, probably from a beer or just being loved by several people at once.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just… chatting.”

Gemma opened her mouth to say something else, but someone else called her name across the lawn and she gave Y/N a cheeky wink before turning to go.

“You alright?” he asked again.

She nodded once. “Yeah. I mean, define ‘alright.’”

He looked at her a beat longer, reading her.

“Wanna take a break?”

“God, yes.”

He guided her gently away from the crowd, his hand brushing her back like it belonged there. They stepped around a corner of the garden, where vines tangled overhead and the fairy lights gave everything a soft amber glow.

“You didn’t have to bring desserts and have a nervous breakdown,” he said gently.

She gave a short, dry laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Harry.”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… your mum’s here. Your sister. Your friends from when you were twelve, old tour friends. These people know you. I’m still trying to figure out if you’re- you‘re left or right-handed.”

“Right,” he said automatically. “Almost ambidextrous on guitar. Continue.”

She shook her head, trying to laugh it off. “I just… feel like I’m supposed to have some title or explanation. Like, when people ask how I know you, am I supposed to say ‘baker’? ‘Frequent acquaintance’? ‘Girl who made the tiramisu and has seen you naked’?”

Harry tilted his head at her. “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“That, and the fact that I got the idea for the tiramisu during sex.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Wait- during sex?”

“I know. It’s awful.”

“No, no, it’s kind of impressive.”

She buried her face in her hands.

“You were thinking about me,” he said, “and tiramisu at the same time. That’s passion. That’s dual focus.”

“I wasn’t thinking about tiramisu instead of you. It was the sheets! They reminded me of ladyfingers and then my brain just… went.”

He grinned. “You’re so weird.”

“I’m aware.”

A beat passed.

“I like it,” he added softly.

She peeked up at him, skeptical.

“I do.” His voice gentled again. “You’re not crashing this. You’re not a question mark. You’re not on the outside. You’re just… at the beginning.”

Her chest fluttered. And for a moment, she couldn’t say anything. So she nodded.

They stood there quietly, the sounds of the party muffled by the ivy and summer dusk. She watched the way his fingers gently tugged at a leaf on the trellis beside them, nervous energy barely disguised.

Then he looked back at her. “You okay now?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I mean, the part where I confessed to thinking about dessert mid-sex will probably haunt me forever, but… yeah.”

He smiled. That slow, crooked one that always got to her. And then, without fanfare, he leaned in and kissed her. It was warm and soft and quick - not hidden exactly, but careful. The kind of kiss you steal when you think you might not get another quiet second for the rest of the night.

Her hand brushed his chest on instinct, resting over the open part of his shirt, her thumb catching the edge of a button. When they pulled apart, neither of them said anything right away. They didn’t need to.

Then she smirked. “If anyone saw that, I’m blaming you.”

“I’ll take it,” he said. “Gladly.”

She stepped back, smoothing her dress with a breath. “Okay. I should go pretend I’m social again.”

“You’re doing great,” he said. “Only one panic tiramisu confession so far.”

She gave him a look. “Let’s not make that a thing.”

“No promises.”

———————————————————————————

Later, the sun was dipping low, casting that perfect Instagram light over the garden. Y/N stood near the drinks table, finally starting to breathe normally again, sipping a sparkling elderflower something she wasn’t sure she actually liked.

Out of the corner of her eye, someone approached - tall, longish hair, low-key vintage tee.

Guitar man, her brain supplied before she could stop it. She’d seen him in one of those blurry tour photos Harry had shown her - the kind where they were all sweaty, laughing, post-show, with instruments slung over their backs. She remembered because she’d stared too long at it once, trying to piece together who was who in his life.

“Dessert girl.”

She blinked, brought back to the present, and turned.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“You’re the one who made the pistachio tiramisu, yeah?”

“I am,” she said carefully. “Should I be flattered or slightly alarmed that that’s my title tonight?”

He grinned. “Flattered. It was unreal. I’m Mitch, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “And thank you. I stress-baked at 1 a.m., so I’ll pretend this is validation and not enabling.”

He laughed at that, full and unexpected. “It’s definitely validation.”

There was a pause, a kind of friendly ease settling in.

“You and Harry,” Mitch said casually, nodding toward the far end of the garden, where Harry was deep in a conversation with two guys and Anne. “You’re cute.”

“Oh.”

“He’s talked about you,” Mitch added. “More than he usually talks about anyone, really.”

That caught her off guard. She looked down - her fingers were gripping the back of the wooden chair again like it might float her away.

“You can stop holding onto that thing like it’s a flotation device,” Mitch said with a smirk.

She snorted. “Listen, dessert girl’s had a day.”

“Clearly.”

He lifted his glass toward her. “You’re doing fine. Promise.”

She smiled. “You’re nicer than you look in that tour photo.”

His eyes lit up. “You Googled me?”

“No comment.”

He gave her a mock suspicious squint, then chuckled again and walked off.

She looked back toward the garden.

Harry was still in conversation, but - like always - his eyes found hers.

He smiled. Then winked.

She smiled back, and this time… didn’t need the chair at all.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven🔮

Y/N

Currently hiding behind a hedge

I need someone to tell me I’m not imagining things

Noor

Oh god

Where are you??

Grace

Did you get locked in a closet again

Y/N

I’m at his birthday thing

Still happening

There are too many people and like three different types of wine and his mum is here

I’ve had one olive and I am spiraling

Noor

Wait wait wait

You met Anne??

Grace

Was it warm? Was it terrifying? Did she hug you like a goddess or did she judge your soul

Y/N

No I avoided Anne

I made a sharp left when I saw her talking to someone in a floral blouse

I’m not meeting my maybe-boyfriend’s mum while I have boob sweat and flaky galette crust stuck to my forearm

Noor

A wise woman

Grace

Honestly I respect it

Y/N

But I met Gemma

She said I wasn’t just here for the tiramisu

Which felt like a compliment but also like she knows everything

Noor

She definitely does

Grace

So wait

Are you guys like… couple-y? At the party??

Y/N

No labels

Still

Still no “this is my girlfriend Y/N”

Still just… “this is Y/N”

But he invited me

And he kissed me in a secluded corner and said something nice

And then walked away like my entire nervous system wasn’t short-circuiting

Noor

He kissed you in front of people??

Grace

This is not a drill

Y/N

It wasn’t like, makeout

It was like… soft

Still kind of private

But not secret

Grace

Soft is worse I’m going to die

Noor

He’s into you. Like into into

Y/N

Apparently he’s talked about me to his work friends

Mitch called me “dessert girl”

Grace

WAS HE FLIRTING

Y/N

I don’t think so??

Noor

Okay but also that means Harry’s definitely talked about you in group settings

You’re real to him

Grace

That’s like ten emotional points

Y/N

Okay but like

Still no definition

No status

No “my person” label

And I feel like I’m trying to be chill and mysterious but also I think my deodorant’s failing

Noor

Babe you brought homemade desserts

You’re not mysterious

You’re irresistibly competent

Y/N

Anyway I should go back out before someone thinks I’ve passed out in the lemon glaze

Grace

If he doesn’t introduce you to his mum tonight, that’s fine

But if he does

We expect a play-by-play

Noor

We’ll be emotionally holding your hand from this chat

Y/N

God bless this coven

Okay

Wish me luck

Grace

Ladyfingers and courage

Noor

Go get ‘im, tiramisu queen

———————————————————————————

The house had settled into that quiet hum that follows a party - plastic cups half-filled with forgotten soda water, napkins hanging off plates, the soft thump of bass still in the walls like an echo. Y/N stacked dessert plates with practiced ease, barefoot in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up.

It felt oddly like closing down the café after a long rush, except here, she was a guest. Sort of. A ghost of one, maybe.

Harry had disappeared somewhere around the sparkler moment, off talking to someone’s cousin or bandmate or friend of a friend. She’d excused herself to the kitchen because cleaning gave her purpose, a way to quiet the hum in her chest that came from hours of smiling, introducing herself with vague answers, and pretending to feel rooted in a space that wasn’t quite hers.

She rinsed a bowl and set it in the drying rack.

“Are you always this sneaky?”

She jumped and spun around.

Harry stood in the doorway, half-smiling, sleeves still rolled up, barefoot now too.

“I thought you left,” she said, breath catching.

“Why would I leave my own house?” he asked, walking in slowly. “Wait - did you think I went out to…?”

She shrugged, sheepish. “You just… disappeared.”

He tilted his head. “I was in the garage with Jeff. He needed help carrying amps. Also, I found a raccoon.”

She blinked. “No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, no. But wouldn’t that be a more exciting reason?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I missed you too,” he said, reaching for a bottle of water and then leaning casually against the counter.

She shook her head, loading cutlery into the dishwasher. “I’ve been pretending to be chill and mysterious for several hours, Harry. I need at least twenty-four hours of not being perceived.”

“Understood.” He took a sip of water. “Operation ‘leave Y/N alone unless she looks cute with a sponge’ has been activated.”

She side-eyed him. “You really gonna flirt with someone holding a lemon wedge?”

“Yes.”

That made her smile, even though her shoulders still held the day’s weight. He watched her for a second, then softened.

“Stay over.”

She looked up. “Yeah?”

“Please,” he said. “I’ll bribe you with tea and foot rubs and exaggerated praise for your dessert-based genius.”

She gave a small, tired smile. “Fine. But I get first pick of pajamas.”

“Deal. But if you pick my ‘Treat People With Kindness’ pair, I will make a dramatic speech about it.”

Later, they curled into the couch - lights low, shoes kicked off, one of his enormous sweaters swallowed her whole. He sat sideways, one leg folded up, thumb tracing the rim of his glass.

He was talking through the night in that way he did, stream-of-consciousness, bouncing from Gemma gossip to someone spilling wine to Anne loving the lemon glaze.

Y/N listened with her head tilted, watching the way he talked with his hands even when he was tired.

“You’re very good at this,” she said eventually.

“At what?”

“This. All of this. Making people feel seen.”

He blinked at that. Like he hadn’t expected something soft.

She smiled, then nudged her knee against his. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

He laughed. “It’s not for two days.”

“I know. But I’m giving you your present now.”

“You brought a present?”

She reached behind the cushion and pulled out a small, flat box wrapped in recycled sheet music.

He raised an eyebrow and carefully opened it.

Inside was a vintage leather guitar strap, worn but beautifully kept. The stitching matched the one he’d described in passing - an old one he used to have on tour that had gone missing years ago. This one wasn’t exact, but it was damn close.

He stared at it for a beat too long.

“You remembered that?”

She shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’d had a glass of wine and went on about it for twenty minutes. How the leather had softened in all the right places, how it didn’t dig into your shoulder.”

He still didn’t speak. Just ran his thumb along the edge.

“You said it smelled like your favorite gig,” she added, suddenly nervous. “Not like… sweat. Like warm wood and something electric.”

He looked up. “This is perfect.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“I love it,” he said.

Something twisted sweetly in her stomach at that. Not the word itself - love - but the ease of it, and the way he said it without looking for a reaction. She smiled down at her hands.

Upstairs, their getting-ready-for-bed routine passed in quiet, familiar rhythm. No awkwardness. Just the low hum of running water, exchanged towels, muted laughter as she tugged on one of his soft old shirts that still smelled like him and the faint trace of cedar soap. It felt bizarrely like something they’d done a hundred times already. Like they’d slipped into a rhythm neither had expected to feel so natural, so soon.

They got into bed with ease, bodies syncing under the sheets like magnets finding their way back.

Harry shifted onto his side to face her. One hand tucked under his cheek, the other trailing lightly across her waist beneath the blanket. His touch was gentle, almost thoughtful, like he was still working something out.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly.

She blinked at the ceiling before turning to look at him.

“Yeah. Just… socially wiped.”

He nodded, thumb rubbing a slow circle over her hip. “From people?”

“From… holding things in,” she said. He stayed quiet, letting her sleep.

“I just didn’t know how to be there tonight. Like, when someone asked how I knew you, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say ‘I’m the caterer’ because that felt like lying, and I couldn’t say ‘I’m Harry’s girlfriend’ because-” she stopped, pressing her lips together. “Because we haven’t really said what this is. And that’s fine. I get it. But it made it… hard.”

Harry was quiet for a beat. Not tense. Just taking it in.

“I’m not trying to rush anything,” she added quickly. “I wasn’t sitting in the kitchen crying into the lemon glaze or anything. I just felt like I couldn’t be honest. And that’s a strange way to be at someone’s birthday.”

He shifted closer, his nose brushing hers gently.

“I invited you,” he said. “Because I wanted you there. Not to test you or make things weird. Just… because I like you being around. You don’t have to prove anything or know the right label to wear while passing Gemma a napkin.”

She smiled a little. “She’s very cool, by the way. Intimidatingly so.”

“She said she likes you.”

“She told me I smelled like buttercream.”

“High praise in our family.”

Y/N laughed softly, relaxing more into him. “Sorry if I made anything weird.”

“You didn’t,” he said. Then, leaning in a little closer: “Except when you made a tiramisu that was suspiciously horny.”

She groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying, if I’m ever mid-thrust and you mutter something about flavor profiles, I’ll be deeply conflicted.”

“I will literally leave this bed.”

Harry laughed, pulling her closer. “Please don’t. I quite like you here.”

She met his eyes - warm, green, safe.

And then he kissed her. Long and slow, his hand on her back beneath the shirt, anchoring her. She kissed him like she meant it. Like she needed him to feel it too.

The joke lingered, but the moment softened.

Their limbs tangled, bodies pressing together in that unspoken rhythm they were still learning but somehow already knew. He kissed her again, deeper now, hand sliding along her waist, pulling her into him like gravity had finally had enough of the teasing.

Clothes melted away in quiet, breathless touches. There was no rush. No performance. Just skin against skin, the creak of the mattress, the catch of her breath as he murmured her name like a promise.

And when they moved together, it felt like a song they’d been humming in their heads for weeks without knowing.

After, when the silence had stretched out long enough to soften everything, she curled into his side with her cheek on his chest.

“Better than tiramisu?” she whispered.

He laughed low in his throat, curling an arm around her waist. “God, yes.”

[maincharactermuse]

The one where she’s… spiralling. (10)

(Find my masterlist here)

Marylebone always felt like a film set on Sunday. But not the glossy Hollywood kind - the charming, well-dressed, everyone-drinks-out-of-a-ceramic-mug kind. Everything here was curated but casual: ivy-covered cafés, sleepy bookstores, expensive antique stores that pretended to be quirky.

Y/N liked it here. Normally. Today, though, she couldn’t tell if the buzzing in her chest was excitement or unease.

They strolled past Daunt Books and turned onto a quieter street, one where trees lined the road and small dogs tugged at their owners like tiny engines. Harry walked beside her, close but never quite touching. That was always the case. They were careful in public - no handholding, no wandering arms around shoulders, no stolen kisses between aisles. She wasn’t mad about it. Not really. It made sense, with who he was.

But sometimes she forgot. Like when they turned a corner too tightly and their arms brushed. Or when he reached over without thinking and tucked a curl behind her ear, and then immediately looked around like he’d done something scandalous.

They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about a lot of things.

“You’d make a terrible detective,” she said suddenly.

He looked over, amused. “Alright. Bold opening. Elaborate.”

“You don’t notice anyone. You walk like someone who’s too famous to be worried.”

“I am worried. All the time.”

“Could’ve fooled me. That man nearly tripped over your shoes back there and you didn’t even flinch.”

He grinned. “Maybe I’m just desensitised.”

“Maybe you’re just emotionally reckless.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

She smiled. “I’m extremely emotionally cautious, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure. Which is why you tried to adopt a stray cat on a second date.”

“Okay, he followed me!”

Harry laughed, adjusting the tote bag on his shoulder - hers, really, but he was carrying it like it was second nature. Inside: a new book, two lavender croissants, and an absurdly large punnet of blackberries she swore she didn’t mean to buy.

It was easy. Being with him. Until it wasn’t. Until her brain reminded her, again, that none of this had a name.

They were halfway through a slow loop around Paddington Street Gardens when it happened. A voice behind them, low and clear.

“Harry?”

They both turned.

Y/N saw her before she fully registered what was happening and immediately felt something tighten in her chest. She was beautiful, of course. Not in the try-hard way, but in that French pharmacy skin, breezy hair, perfect cuff on her trousers kind of way. Like she’d just floated into Marylebone from a soft-focus magazine ad.

Her gaze flicked between them quickly, pausing on Y/N with the kind of polite assessment that came with confidence - not territorial, just… aware.

“Margot,” Harry said, a little breathless, surprised. “Hi.”

Margot smiled, warm and restrained, with just the faintest touch of something unreadable behind her eyes. “It’s been a while,” she said.

Harry scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tell, Y/N had learned. “Yeah. It has.”

Margot looked between them again. Then, delicately, “And this is…?”

There was a beat. One half-second too long. Y/N felt it.

Harry glanced at her. “This is… Y/N,” he said simply, with a small smile. “Y/N, this is Margot.”

She offered a quiet hello.

Margot smiled. “Lovely to meet you.” Her accent curled around the words, delicate and faintly French - enough to make Y/N immediately regret every time she’d butchered the pronunciation of du jour.

They all stood there for a beat too long. The way you do when something unsaid hovers between people. Harry rocked back on his heels, then forward again.

Margot broke the silence with a polite, “I should let you both go. Just wanted to say hi. And it’s good to see you,” she added to Harry. “You look well.”

“You too,” he said, quiet but kind.

Another smile. Then Margot gave a graceful nod toward Y/N - not cold, but not exactly warm either - and turned, slipping back into the London crowd like someone who’d been summoned just to disrupt the weather.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Then Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Well. That was unexpected.”

Y/N didn’t look at him right away. “She’s pretty.”

“She is,” he admitted.

They kept walking. Slowly now. The city around them moved as usual - impatient drivers, street musicians, the waft of something buttery from a nearby café - but she felt oddly still.

After a few beats, she asked, “Was she… is she the one the album was about?”

He hesitated. “Some of the songs. Yeah.”

That was all he said. Y/N nodded like that was fine. Like her lungs hadn’t suddenly decided to hold their breath.

“She seemed very composed,” she said lightly.

“She always is.”

“She smelled like bergamot and backstory.”

He laughed, surprised. “She used to wear some kind of fancy rose oil. She’d make her own perfume.”

“Of course she did.”

He looked over at her, sensing something shift. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she said too quickly. “Totally.”

But as they crossed the next street, her mind started unraveling a little. Not in a dramatic way - just a slow, creeping doubt that settled behind her ribs like fog.

Margot was the kind of woman people wrote poetry about - literally, in Harry’s case. Y/N was the kind of woman who cried at old Bake Off reruns and got flour in her hair at work and sometimes said things too loudly in restaurants.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was charming… or just ordinary.

———————————————————————————

The night was quiet in Harry’s house, lit by the warm flicker of a single lamp and the muted glow from the street outside. They were curled on the sofa, a half-eaten container of Thai food balanced between them, the TV playing some old film neither of them were really watching.

She’d barely spoken all evening. Harry paused the screen and turned toward her. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Y/N blinked, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been quiet. All day. I know you and this isn’t just tired quiet. It’s something else.”

She hesitated, trying to shape the chaos of her thoughts into something that wouldn’t sound petty or insecure. She picked up a spring roll, set it back down again.

“Is this because you met Margot?”

There it was. Clean, simple, no judgment in his voice - just the question hanging there.

Y/N sighed. “I mean… maybe?” She didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s not about her. It’s just… meeting someone who used to know you like that, it makes you think about all the things you don’t know. About each other.”

Harry was quiet for a beat, watching her.

“I’m not asking for your full dating resume,” she added quickly. “I just… I don’t know, I guess I want to know what I’m walking into. What I’m… next to.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then set his drink down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That sort of thing… how many people, who they were, why - it just invites comparison. And spiraling.”

She gave a small, sad smile. “Well, newsflash, I’m already spiraling.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m not trying to ruin the mood. I just… I want to understand you. And the stuff that’s shaped you. Even if I won’t love all of it.”

There was a silence between them. Not tense, just weighty. He exhaled. “Alright. I’ve dated around a lot. Especially when I was younger. Some serious, some not. Some were mistakes. Some taught me a lot.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m not proud of all of it, but I’m not ashamed either. It’s just… history.”

Y/N looked down at her hands. “I’ve only been in two relationships.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then, gently, “You didn’t need to share that.”

“I know. I just… wanted to.”

He watched her, something unreadable in his expression. Not judgment. Something softer. Understanding.

She hesitated. “Were you serious with Margot?”

He leaned back slightly, the question settling in the air.

“Yeah,” he said. “For a time.”

“What happened?”

Harry was quiet. Then: “We stopped hearing each other. I think we started off wanting the same thing. But the version of me she loved… I outgrew him. Or maybe he was never real. And she couldn’t adjust.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “And now?”

“Now… I think we’re both grateful it ended when it did.”

She swallowed. “I’m not trying to be this crazy person. I’m just-”

“You’re not crazy,” he interrupted, voice low. “You’re allowed to want to understand the person you’re… with. Or trying to be with.”

She smiled faintly. “Trying to be with. That’s the weird bit, isn’t it?”

He didn’t flinch. “What’s going on here, Y/N?”

The question wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even pressure. It was a genuine reach - a hand held out in the dark.

She blinked. “I don’t know. I- I’m falling for you. Which is terrifying.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “I’m not planning to ruin this.”

They were quiet for a while after that. The film still paused. The food gone cold. They ended up in bed later, backs turned, not out of distance but because it was easier to think that way. But their legs were still tangled — like their bodies hadn’t gotten the memo about space.

———————————————————————————

She stirred at the faint click of the front door. The sheets were tangled around her legs, warm in the spot where he’d been. His scent still clung to the pillow next to hers, sharp and sleep-heavy and familiar.

He was gone.

She sat up slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. It was quiet, too quiet. No kettle boiling. No music playing from the Bluetooth speaker. Just the hush of a London morning and the echo of last night still caught in the corners of the room.

It wasn’t a fight, she reminded herself. But it also wasn’t nothing.

She pulled on his hoodie, sleeves too long, the fabric soft with wear, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Her phone was still on the charger. No new messages. The indecision twisted in her stomach like a knot.

Should she leave?

Make herself coffee?

Say something, or say nothing at all?

There was too much unsaid and it wasn’t about Margot or numbers or past lives. It was about now. About how easy it was to fall into him and still feel like she wasn’t on solid ground.

The front door opened.

She turned sharply and there he was. Sweaty. Breathless. Hair damp at the edges, a flush across his cheeks from the run. His t-shirt clung to him, his chest rising and falling fast.

He looked at her like he hadn’t been sure she’d still be there. She looked at him like she didn’t know what they were anymore.

“Morning,” he said softly, walking in. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she replied. “I… didn’t know if I should stay.”

Harry’s face twitched - just slightly. A little crease near his brow. “I want you to.”

She nodded, unsure how to reply. She watched him unlace his trainers, watched the flicker of tension still in his shoulders. Her throat felt dry.

“I didn’t sleep much,” she admitted.

He glanced up. “Me neither.”

A pause stretched between them.

She shifted her weight. “Last night, I wasn’t trying to-”

“You were just trying to understand,” he finished. “I get it.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything, I just…” She sighed. “I don’t want to guess what you feel. I don’t want to pretend we’re strangers when we’re not.”

His expression softened, tired and open. “We’re not strangers. You’re in all my quiet thoughts.”

She blinked, not expecting that.

“I just don’t know how to do this slowly with you,” he added, stepping closer. “And I’m trying. I am. But you’re in my head all the time.”

She felt her chest hitch, breath catching behind her ribs.

And then, gently, she reached for the hem of his t-shirt. “Shower. You stink.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Fair.”

She led him by the wrist this time. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just hers.

The water hit them like heat and clarity. His hands on her waist. Her back against the tile. They didn’t talk much, mouths too busy learning skin again, relearning what closeness meant when emotions had been raw the night before.

“God, you…” he breathed into her neck. “You make me greedy.”

She exhaled, shaky. “For what?”

“For all of it.” He looked at her, wet lashes, rain in his voice. “For mornings and fights and every version of you.”

Her throat burned. She kissed him hard, no space between them.

Later, they didn’t towel off right away. Just stood there, water dripping off them, foreheads pressed together.

———————————————————————————

The coffee had gone lukewarm beside them. They hadn’t moved much - just quiet, slow touches under the covers, the kind that weren’t about anything but being near. His thumb traced a lazy line up her spine; her fingers rested just beneath his collarbone, counting the soft rhythm of his breathing.

It wasn’t awkward now. It wasn’t heavy. But it wasn’t feather-light either.

Harry cleared his throat. “So… I’ve been meaning to ask.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “Hmm?”

“My birthday’s in a couple weeks. I’m doing something small at mine. Nothing dramatic - just friends, some work people. My mum and Gemma’ll be there. My dad might pop in. That sort of thing.”

Her body stiffened slightly. Not obviously. Just a fractional pause. He caught it.

“You don’t have to come,” he said gently. “It’s not pressure. I just… want you there.”

She looked at him for a long second. “All of them will be there?”

“Not all at once,” he smiled, soft. “But yeah. A good few.”

“And they’ll know who I am?”

“I hope so,” he said, more honest than cheeky. “Or at least, I want them to.”

Her brows lifted slightly, but she said nothing at first. Instead, she shifted, pulling the duvet tighter around her. He nudged her knee with his. “You’re allowed to think about it.”

“I’m not saying no,” she said quickly. “It’s just-”

“A lot,” he finished.

She nodded. “A bit, yeah.”

They sat in it. The space between casual dating and real introductions. The invisible line that marks the point of this means something.

“Okay,” she said quietly after a beat. “But only if I can make the desserts.”

Harry’s face lit up, like it hadn’t occurred to him she’d offer. “You want to?”

“I’m not turning up empty-handed, Styles. And if I’m meeting your mum, I might as well win her over with sugar.”

He grinned. “She’ll love you. Even without the sugar.”

“Don’t be so sure. My caramel tart has sealed many deals.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “I’m really glad you’ll be there.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Just curled closer into his chest, her voice muffled by his t-shirt.

“Me too,” she murmured. “Even if I’m absolutely going to overthink what to wear.”

He smiled against her hair. “It won’t matter.”

They stayed like that for a while - still a little tangled, still figuring it out -but there was a shift in the air. Not a label. Not a big declaration. Just the quiet promise of showing up.

And for now, that was enough.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

Morning

So I did that thing where I spiral

Wondering what Harry and I were but now

I think I agreed to meet his entire family in two weeks???

Noor

Wait. HOLD ON

Grace

Back up.

Noor

You mean THE family?

Grace

Like… family FAMILY

Y/N

Well his friends too

But yes 😬

Noor

Oh my god oh my god

Grace

Okay but also like

This is big

Y/N

He’s doing a birthday thing at his

Friends. Work people. Gemma. His mum

Grace

Breathe babe

You own a lemon tart recipe that makes grown men cry

Noor

You’re gonna be fine

You’ll wear something unreasonably hot and make small talk with people who already love you

Grace

You’re gonna bake something right?

Y/N

Yes

Obviously

I panicked and offered

Noor

That’s your love language

Grace

Honestly if a man invited me to a family thing and I wasn’t allowed to bring baked goods I’d feel deeply unsafe

Y/N

I’m excited

Just also

Mildly unwell

Noor

Yeah that tracks

Grace

We’re proud of you

Noor

And also watching closely 👁️

Grace

And you’ll have to report back immediately post-party

Noor

And send outfit pics. Moodboard. Full Pinterest board.

Y/N

You lot are gremlins

Grace

We love you too ❤️

[maincharactermuse]

So nice to be added onto this! Check out some amazing one shots from other writers as well! 🥰

ＦＬＵＦＦ

Harry Styles

stuff that’s lovely to read before bed

holiday wishes,mistletoe kisses - @berrynarrybanana

Drs Style - @talesofstyles (i put it here cause it’s so cute but it does have smut at the end just to warn you!)

good omens - @enthusiasticharry (put this one here cause it has a bit of everything but is mainly cute

rain-kissed - @justlemmeadoreyou (it’s in angst aswell)

winning an argument - @avatar-anna

two negatives - @1d1195

my boss’s son - @ijustmissyouraccenths

tiktok series - @astranva (put it here because it just mainly fluff)

polished in love - @cloudyluun

silver springs - @cloudyluun

we know where we belong - @merrybloomwrites

summer was ours - @maudie-duan

Monday blurb - @maudie-duan

patient - @sushirrrry (this is so stinking cute it’s got me giggling and kicking my feet)

moment of peace - @musicforastylesrestaurant

birthday girl - @ghstyles

festival - @rrysbabydoll (this is so realistic cute and just ugh awh)

father’s day and every day - @maincharactermuse

[maincharactermuse]

At the debut of Alessandro Michele’s Valentino Collection in Paris, 29September2024 (via 10Magazine)

[maincharactermuse]

Father’s Day, and Every Day.

(Find my master list here.)

Trigger Warning:

This story includes sensitive themes related to pregnancy, loss, and family dynamics. Please take care of yourself while reading!

First Father’s Day.

The sunlight is soft, spilling across polished floorboards and linen curtains. It’s Sunday. It’s Father’s Day. Nora is sitting on the toilet lid in their en suite bathroom, her knees drawn up, Harry’s old T-shirt hanging loose over her body, and her whole world has just shifted direction.

The test sits on the edge of the sink. Two pink lines.

Positive.

It’s the third test she’s taken… one after the other, all with the same result. She doesn’t cry. Not yet. She just sits - phone in her lap, thumb hovering over a message to her friends: Haadiyah, Alex, and Caitlyn.

Guys. I think I’m-

No. Delete.

She tries her dad next. Cliff. Her rock. She could tell him anything. But this? This is different. Not because he’d be disappointed - he wouldn’t. He’d be soft and warm and probably go silent with shock and joy, then ask if she’s okay. But still. Not yet.

Carrie, her stepmum, too. She types and retypes:

Are you around later?

I need to talk to someone.

No. She knows who this belongs to first. Harry.

Of course it’s him. It has to be him.

She hears the front door downstairs - keys jingling, footsteps, the soft rustle of a paper bag. He’s home.

He’s been out for a run and stopped to grab her favourite pastry from the café on the corner - the one with the cinnamon sugar that always sticks to the paper bag. He’s humming something - maybe a Fleetwood Mac song, off-key and sweet.

“Babe?” he calls up, his voice echoing gently through the house. “You still asleep?”

She exhales once, deeply, and forces herself to stand. Her legs feel like they’re made of air. She scoops the test into her palm, holding it face-down - like it might shout its secret too soon - and steps quietly into the hallway.

He’s halfway up the stairs, flushed from his run, curls damp around his temples, a smile pulling at his mouth.

Then he sees her face. The smile falters, but not with panic, with concern.

“Hey. You alright?” he says softly.

She swallows once. Then again.

“So…” she tries, voice tight but dry, “turns out Father’s Day is going to be a bit more literal this year.”

There’s a beat of silence. He just stares at her. His eyes flick down to her hand. She slowly turns over the test in her palm and holds it out.

“Wait… what?” he asks, stepping forward, taking it gently. He stares. Blinks. “That’s… that’s what I think it is, right?”

“Yeah,” she nods softly.

Another pause. He’s still, like he doesn’t want to breathe too loudly and break whatever spell they’ve just stepped into.

Then he looks up at her again, eyes wide and impossibly soft.

“We’re having a baby?” he breathes.

“Looks like it.”

“Jesus.” He doesn’t move immediately. Just stands there, holding the test like it might shatter. Then, finally, he breathes out - a deep, shaky breath - and steps forward. His free hand cups the back of her neck, gentle, grounding.

“How long have you known?” he asks.

“About twenty minutes. I took three. You know… for scientific accuracy,” she says, half-smiling.

He lets out a small laugh, then pulls her in, wrapping both arms around her now. She sinks into him, her cheek against his shoulder, the test still between them, caught in the hug like a weird paper crane.

They stand like that for a long time. No one talks. Just breath and heartbeat and shock.

Then, quietly, muffled into his shirt, she asks, “How do you feel about this?”

He pulls back slightly to look at her, his hands still on her arms.

“Honestly?” he says. She nods.

“Scared. In that… this-is-enormous kind of way. But… not bad scared. Just… holy shit, you know? It’s us. A baby. That’s wild.”

She watches him carefully, trying to read the space behind his eyes. He sees it, of course he does.

“How do you feel about it?” he asks softer now.

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. Then lets out a slow breath.

“I’m overwhelmed. And terrified. And kind of… guilty? Because there’s this tiny part of me that feels like I should be happier right away, but my brain’s just spinning.”

“Hey. That’s okay. That’s normal.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it. I think I do. But it’s a lot. Like, a lot a lot. And I keep thinking about my mum. And how she never even got to-” Her voice breaks a little, but she swallows it down.

He wraps her tighter.

“You don’t have to be okay right away. We’ll get there. Together.”

Another beat of quiet.

Then-

“Can I ask… how?”

She snorts slightly. “I mean, I hope you know the basics.”

He smiles.

“I meant… I thought you were still on the pill.”

“I am… I was. I switched brands a few weeks ago. Didn’t think twice about it. Took everything when I was supposed to. But I guess… I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t check if I needed to use backup or something. God, I edit romance books for a living. You’d think I’d be a bit better at reading fine print.”

“Hey. Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault.”

“I know. It just… it wasn’t the plan.”

“No. But sometimes the best things aren’t.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to see her face again. One of his hands goes instinctively to her waist, the other still warm on her shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out. However you want to go forward. I’m with you. Fully.”

After a long pause, she says, “I think… I want to keep it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I want our weird little baby with your curls and my anxiety.”

“That sounds like a hell of a kid.”

They stand there again, forehead to forehead.

“Happy Father’s Day, to me.”

“Don’t push it.”

They end up in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, knees bumping. The test lies somewhere on the nightstand, forgotten for now. The pastry Harry bought her is still in its bag, the warmth long gone — neither of them has touched it.

For a while, they just sit. She lets her head fall gently against his shoulder, and he rests his chin on top of her head like he always does when he doesn’t know what to say, but wants her to feel him anyway. The weight of him is a comfort. Familiar. The one thing that doesn’t feel like it’s changing.

She speaks first.

“I keep thinking I should feel more… I don’t know, elated. But it’s more like my brain’s short-circuiting.” Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. “I want this, but I’m scared that if I let myself want it too much, something will go wrong.”

Harry shifts, just enough to see her face. “Yeah,” he says gently. “I get that.”

She pulls at a loose thread in the duvet. “I’ve spent so long building this life that feels safe and balanced. Then you came in and everything expanded in this messy, brilliant way. And now this… this is a whole new thing. I just - I don’t want to screw it up.”

He nudges her knee with his. “You won’t. You won’t screw it up, Nora.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he says simply. “Because it’s you.”

He doesn’t rush her. Doesn’t try to give her some neat little pep talk or solution. He just says it like it’s obvious - because to him, it is. That’s what steadies her more than anything.

“I think I want to tell my dad,” she says after a beat.

Harry smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Carrie, too. And eventually my friends. But I want to keep it quiet for now. Just for us. For a bit.”

He nods. “I’d like that.”

“And we’re not calling it ‘the bean’ or ‘peanut’ or anything weird, by the way.”

“Oh come on,” he grins. “Not even just for a little while?”

“Absolutely not.”

He kisses the side of her head. “Alright. But I’m telling you now — if it’s a girl and she wants to wear a dinosaur costume to school, I’m letting her.”

“And if it’s a boy and he wants to wear glitter and fairy wings?”

“Then I’ll buy him glitter and fairy wings in every colour.”

She leans her forehead against his. “We’re going to be tired all the time.”

“I’m already tired all the time,” he murmurs, lips brushing hers. “But yeah. We’re going to be exhausted.”

“But kind of amazing too, right?”

His eyes meet hers. “Yeah,” he says. “Kind of amazing.”

They spend the rest of the morning in bed, legs tangled under the duvet, talking. Not everything — some things they’re still too raw for — but the edges of it. Whether they’ll want to find out the gender. Whether they’ll stay in London full-time or split time somewhere quieter once the baby comes. How they’ll make space in their lives for this.

Eventually, he pads down to the kitchen and comes back with the now-cold cinnamon bun and two mugs of tea. She smiles and tears a piece off, even though it tastes a little stale already. He eats the rest, because of course he does, crumbs catching on the stubble along his jaw. They sit by the window, watching the slow movement of clouds through the trees outside their bedroom.

They sit by the window, mugs of lukewarm tea cupped in their hands, the breeze nudging the curtain like it’s trying to come in and hear the news too. Outside, the trees sway softly in the garden, casting shadows across the grass. Neither of them speaks for a minute. There’s too much in the air already - words trying to find their way to the surface.

Nora’s phone buzzes against the side table, a message from Caitlyn in the group chat:

Caitlyn

Happy Father’s Day to all the father figures out there 💙 love you Nor, give Cliff a squeeze from me today x

Nora picks it up, staring at the screen for a beat. Then looks at Harry.

“I feel like I should call him.”

Harry glances over. “Your dad?”

She nods, thumb hovering over the contact in her favourites. “We always speak on Father’s Day, even if it’s just for five minutes.”

“You don’t have to tell him now,” he says gently.

She hesitates. “Yeah. I know. But… it’s always been me and him. Every year since I was a kid. He’s the one who made everything okay after Mum died. He always tried to make sure this day wasn’t heavy for me. And now…”

She trails off, the emotion catching in her throat. Harry watches her with that soft, steady look - the one he gives her when he’s holding space for everything she can’t quite say aloud.

He reaches out, covering her hand with his. “Then tell him.”

“But we haven’t even been to the doctor yet. What if we’re rushing this? Don’t people wait? Until the scan at twelve weeks or something?”

Harry shrugs gently. “Yeah. A lot of people do. But this isn’t a press release, Nor. It’s your dad. It’s not about getting the timing ‘right’. It’s about what feels real for you.”

She doesn’t reply straight away, just leans her head against the window frame, looking out at the leaves fluttering against the sky.

He nudges her knee with his. “We can still go tomorrow. First thing. Make sure everything’s okay. We’ll do all the steps. But this part, this moment, it’s just for us. You get to choose how you hold it.”

She looks at him, eyes flickering between his. “What if I tell him and he cries?”

“Then you’ll cry. And it’ll be beautiful.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “You always say the exact thing I need to hear and I don’t know whether it’s lovely or just irritating.”

He grins. “Bit of both, probably.”

She stares down at her phone again. “If I tell him… we’d have to tell Anne too. Feels weird not to.”

“We can FaceTime her after. Say it together, if you want.”

There’s a quiet moment between them, warm and suspended. Then-

Nora sighs and stands up. “Alright. I’m calling him.”

She paces into the other room, barefoot and wrapped in Harry’s hoodie. He stays in the window seat, giving her space, but he can hear the soft swell of her voice as the call connects. Her laugh, then the pause. Her voice dipping into that hushed, almost childlike register she only uses with her dad.

And then: “Yeah. It’s good. Actually… I’ve got some news.”

Silence.

Then a quiet, watery, stunned: “You’re going to be a grandad.”

She’s gone a while. When she comes back, her eyes are a little pink but glowing.

“He cried,” she says simply. “Well, kind of laughed-cried. You know his thing.”

Harry smiles, pushing back a curl from her face as she folds herself back beside him.

“He said,” she continues, voice softer now, “that Mum would’ve loved the timing. And that he can’t believe I’m going to be someone’s mum. That it makes sense though. That I’ve always had the heart for it.”

She lets her head fall to his shoulder again.

“You did the right thing,” he murmurs.

She nods. “We’re going to have to call Anne now.”

“I’ll make the tea.”

Before he can get up, she lifts her head and gives him a look - part affection, part amusement.

“Do you think,” she asks, lips twitching, “we can figure out the exact time it happened?”

He laughs. “What, like… scientifically?”

“I mean, we’ve had sex more than once lately, Styles, but I distinctly remember one afternoon where you said, and I quote, ‘it’s irresponsible how good this feels.’”

He chokes on a laugh, eyes scrunching shut. “Okay, yeah. That was… yeah. That one might’ve been it.”

She grins. “Reckless, honestly.”

“We’re a cautionary tale.”

“I’m going to tell the kid that story when they’re sixteen and trying to sneak off to someone’s house.”

Harry leans in and kisses her cheek. “You’re evil.”

“I’m pregnant. It’s different.”

He pulls her in again, tighter this time, their laughter dissolving into something quieter - something still buzzing with joy, but softer now, a hum that lives under the skin.

“You’re going to be such a good mum, Nor.”

She wraps her arms around him, her mouth tucked near his collarbone. “And you’re going to be the kind of dad that wears a tutu to a school recital because they asked nicely.”

“Damn right I will.”

They sit like that until the light begins to fade, wrapped in the strangeness and the sweetness of it all. Just them. Their quiet life, suddenly more full than it was yesterday.

And still - somehow - perfectly theirs.

They’re still tangled up in each other when Harry glances at the clock and shifts slightly beneath her.

“You up for FaceTiming my Mum?”

Nora blinks up at him, face pressed against his chest. “We don’t have to do it today.”

“She’ll want to hear from us. I always call her on Sunday… and if we wait, she’ll know something’s up.” His hand curls gently around her side. “You okay if we tell her?”

Nora nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He pulls his phone from the side table and taps into FaceTime. Anne answers quickly, her warm face appearing in that too-close way that parents always manage on video.

“Hi, love,” she says brightly, seeing Harry. Then she spots Nora beside him and her expression softens into something deeply fond. “Oh, hello you two. What have you been up to this morning?”

Harry grins. “I got Nora a cinnamon bun and we have life-altering news.”

Anne squints. “Life-altering?”

Nora doesn’t say anything. Instead, with the smallest of smiles, she reaches out and lifts the pregnancy test into the frame, holding it just below her chin.

For a second, Anne blinks in confusion — then suddenly gasps, clapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh! Oh my God. Oh my God! Are you—?”

Nora nods.

Anne’s voice breaks instantly into a loud, choked squeal, laughter and tears tangled up in the same breath. “You’re pregnant? Is this real? Is this real?!”

Harry is laughing now too, and Nora’s laughing through her tears, and Anne is crying so hard she has to angle the phone away while she grabs a tissue.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Anne says once she can speak again. “This is the best news. The best news. You two - oh my God, you two are going to be incredible parents.”

“We haven’t even gone to the doctor yet,” Nora manages. “But… yeah. It’s real.”

Anne dabs her eyes again. “I’m already knitting. I don’t even know what I’m knitting yet, but I am.”

They talk a little more - about nothing and everything. About due dates they haven’t calculated, names they haven’t thought of, how to keep it private for a little while. Anne promises she won’t breathe a word, and you can hear her joy down to the bones.

When they hang up, the room is quiet again.

Harry sets his phone down slowly and rubs a hand over his face. He stays quiet longer than usual. Nora watches him closely, waiting for the usual afterglow grin or one of his dorky, overjoyed one-liners. But it doesn’t come.

He just sits there. Breathing unevenly. His eyes glassy.

Nora shifts, pulling her legs beneath her as she turns to him. “Hey,” she says gently. “What’s going on?”

He looks at her, really looks at her, and then lets out a shaky laugh, one that folds into a quiet sob at the edges.

“I’m just-” He shakes his head, wiping at his eyes again, clearly frustrated with himself for crying but unable to stop. “I didn’t think I’d ever have this. Not really.”

Her face softens instantly. She reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together.

Harry breathes through it, his voice low and a little broken. “Touring all the time… hotel rooms and airplanes, not knowing what country I was in some weeks. And then when we went through that rough patch early on - I thought I lost you. I thought I blew it. After the other relationships, I kind of assumed maybe this kind of thing just… wasn’t in the cards for me.”

He swallows thickly.

“And now I’ve got this house. You. A baby on the way. I just… I don’t know how I got here, but I don’t want to mess any of it up.”

Nora’s throat is tight. She squeezes his hand, tugging him closer so his forehead leans into hers.

“You won’t,” she whispers. “You’re not messing it up. You’re here. You’re present. And we’ve got each other.”

He closes his eyes and nods, a tear slipping down his cheek that she gently brushes away.

“You’ve built this life with me,” she continues. “And it’s ours, Harry. Not some accident, not a detour. Ours. You belong here. You are here.”

He breathes out, steadier now, and leans forward to press a kiss to her temple. His arms wrap around her completely, like he needs to feel every inch of her to believe this is real.

They stay that way for a long time - no urgency, no more decisions tonight. Just warmth. Stillness. Everything quiet except the rhythm of their breathing, the occasional deep sigh as the weight of the day settles around them.

Eventually, she murmurs, “If this kid gets your dimples and my sarcasm, the world’s in trouble.”

He chuckles, kissing her cheek. “And if they get your brain and my… modesty, we’re really doomed.”

She smiles, nestled against his chest. “You know what’s wild?”

“What?”

“I actually think we’re going to be really good at this.”

He brushes a thumb along her shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, quiet and certain. “I think we are.”

———————————————————————————

Second Father’s Day.

The pram is packed but unused. Instead, Remy is fast asleep, warm and snug against Harry’s chest in a soft charcoal-grey baby carrier that makes him look like the world’s most stylish kangaroo, and the most stylish DILF.

She’s all cheeks and peach fuzz, her tiny fist curled around one of his necklaces like it belongs to her now. Nora thinks it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever seen -this man, this moment, this ridiculous contrast of soft baby snores and tattoos and tousled hair.

They’re walking through Hampstead Heath - Nora nursing a takeaway coffee, Harry balancing a water bottle between his arm and Remy’s padded leg. It’s sunny but not hot, dappled light playing between the trees.

“Do you remember,” Nora begins, smiling without looking up, “when you tried to swaddle her for the first time and she immediately Houdini’d one arm out?”

Harry laughs, the sound deep and tired and full of adoration. “It was like she knew I was being cocky about it. I genuinely thought I’d nailed it.”

“You said, and I quote, ‘Look at this masterpiece.’”

“And then” he flicks his free hand out in a magician’s reveal, “a little rogue fist pops up like she’s starting a revolution.”

Nora chuckles, bumping her shoulder lightly into his. “She’s a born rebel. I blame you.”

“You should,” he grins, adjusting the carrier gently as Remy snuffles in her sleep. “She’s got that ‘no shoes ever’ look in her eyes already.”

They walk in silence for a moment, not awkward — just soaking it in. The quiet buzz of insects. A dog barking somewhere. The faint squeak of the baby carrier strap when Harry shifts his weight.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Nora says softly.

He hums, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with the weight of those words. “Isn’t it mad that this time last year…”

“You were crying next to me on the bed,” she finishes. “I’ll never forget your face. You looked… like you’d just realized you’d found your entire future and didn’t know how to hold it all at once.”

Harry’s quiet for a second. He presses a kiss to Remy’s head without even thinking. “I still feel like that, some mornings.”

“Which is wild because you’re actually really good at this.”

“Are we?” he asks, half-joking but not really.

She stops, reaching for his hand. “Yeah. We are.”

The room is too bright. The overhead fluorescents buzz faintly, the white of the walls almost clinical in their indifference. Machines beep steadily, and nurses move with quiet urgency. Nora grips the edge of the bed hard, her knuckles blanched, breath coming in ragged bursts.

Harry is at her side - disheveled, calm-eyed, sleeves pushed up, voice soft. His hand cups the back of her head as another contraction grips her from the inside out.

“I need- I need a second,” she pants, voice edged with panic. “I… Harry, I d-don’t-I don’t want to do this.”

He crouches next to the bed in one fluid motion, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Nora,” he says, steady and low. “Hey. Hey. You’re okay. You’re doing amazing.”

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“No, you don’t get it,” her voice cracks. “My mum… she died doing this. What if I don’t get to meet her? What if she’s born and I don’t-”

Harry stops her with a kiss - not urgent, not panicked - just anchoring. He presses his forehead to hers afterward, his hands cradling either side of her face.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t say that, please. You’re not her. This is not then. And you’re not leaving us. Do you hear me?”

She blinks, eyes glassy but focused. Breath trembling. Still clutching his hand like a lifeline.

“I’m scared,” she murmurs.

“I know, baby. But I’m right here.” His thumb brushes her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They kiss again - a longer one, full of fear and love and the surreal stillness in the eye of a storm. She hugs him tight, belly stretched between them, and he doesn’t let go.

The room is finally still.

There’s no screaming now. No counting, no alarms. The machines beep in soft, steady rhythm. The lights above have been dimmed. A nurse moves quietly in the corner, typing into a chart.

And Nora’s holding her. This warm, soft, blinking little person - cheeks flushed from the sheer effort of existing, lips puckering in sleep, curled against Nora’s chest like she’s always belonged there. Their baby.

She’s wearing a hat far too big for her head. Harry has one hand spread protectively over her back, and the other is curled around Nora’s wrist, grounding himself.

“I don’t even know what to say,” he says quietly. “You just brought a whole person into the world. You’re unbelievable.”

Nora exhales a laugh, exhausted and raw and somehow still sarcastic. “You should’ve seen the view from my angle.”

Harry lets out a laugh, his eyes shining. He leans in and kisses her temple. “You’re magic.”

“Yeah, well,” she murmurs, “remind me of that next time I’m crying because we’re out of oat milk.”

He laughs again, quieter this time, like he’s afraid to wake the baby. His hand strokes softly down her arm. “I mean it, though. I’ve never… I’ve never seen anything like that. What you did. What she did.”

They both look down. Their daughter sighs in her sleep, fingers twitching.

“She’s perfect,” Harry says, voice breaking slightly.

Nora just nods, tears already slipping down her cheeks again, but these are different. These are the kind that fall when there are no words.

“Alright,” she says, after a pause. “We’ve put it off long enough. What are we calling this tiny dictator?”

Harry shifts slightly, rubbing his thumb over the baby’s back.

“So, our short list,” he says. “Marnie, Thea, or Remy.”

Nora nods slowly. “She doesn’t look like a Thea.”

“I know,” Harry says. “And Marnie’s lovely but-”

“But Remy feels like her,” Nora finishes.

They sit in silence for a few more heartbeats. Then Harry clears his throat, his voice gentler now. “There was one other name I thought of. I didn’t want to spring it on you, but…”

He meets her eyes. “Maeve.”

Nora freezes for a beat. The name lands like a slow ache in her chest.

“That was your mum’s name, right?”

She nods, eyes filling.

Harry watches her carefully. “I just thought… if you wanted a way to honour her.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. The baby shifts slightly, nose scrunching, but doesn’t wake.

“You’re… I love you even more for saying that,” Nora finally says, her voice catching. “But I can’t. I’ve lived longer without her than I ever lived with her. And I don’t want that to be the start of our daughter’s story… grief.”

Harry nods. No argument, no question. Just complete understanding.

“I want her to be her own person,” Nora continues. “Not tethered to someone she’ll never know. I’ve carried the weight of that loss my whole life. I don’t want her to have to carry it, too.”

Harry kisses her softly. “Okay.”

They look back down at the baby. Nora touches her tiny hand with one finger.

“Remy,” she whispers. “She’s Remy.”

Harry smiles. “Remy Styles. She already sounds like trouble.”

“Remy Anne Styles,” Nora adds, glancing at him with a soft grin.

Harry blinks. “Anne?”

Nora nods. “After your mum. If anyone’s name deserves to be carried forward… it’s hers.”

His eyes go glassy in an instant.

“I love you,” he says thickly, kissing her forehead again, then brushing his fingers over Remy’s tiny shoulder. “She’s going to be so proud.”

There’s a knock, and then the door opens slowly. Cliff, Carrie, and Anne step in - eyes puffy, hands full of bags and gifts and caffeine.

They stop when they see them - Harry sitting beside Nora, who’s propped up on pillows, their baby curled against her chest.

“Oh, my god,” Carrie whispers, already crying.

Cliff doesn’t speak. He just walks over and wraps his daughter in a careful, reverent hug. Then he leans down and kisses Remy’s head like it’s holy.

Anne holds Nora’s hand tightly, her voice shaking. “She’s beautiful.”

Harry glances at Nora. She nods.

“We wanted to tell you her name,” he says.

Everyone goes quiet.

“Remy Anne Styles.”

Anne chokes out a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Cliff wipes his eyes. Carrie clasps her hands together over her chest. It’s a blur of hugs and soft exclamations, kisses and hand squeezes and murmured congratulations.

The baby stirs. The nurse, a kind-eyed woman named Marsha, helps Nora adjust her top as Remy tries to latch.

“It’s okay,” Marsha says gently, guiding her. “Just relax. She knows what to do.”

Harry stands beside the bed, watching in stunned silence as his daughter begins to feed. He looks like he’s witnessing a miracle.

“She’s… she’s actually doing it,” he says softly, brushing a finger over Remy’s tiny foot.

Nora smiles, tired and amazed and aching in every part of her body.

A minute later, Harry slips out of the room. When he comes back, he’s holding his phone.

“I have some people who want to say hello,” he says, and turns the screen around.

On FaceTime: Haadiyah, Alex, and Caitlyn, all crammed onto a couch, faces beaming, hands over mouths.

“OH MY GOD,” Haadiyah shrieks.

“NORA, YOU’RE A MOTHER,” Alex cries.

“She’s breastfeeding and still looks hotter than I do on a normal day,” Caitlyn says. “What the hell.”

Nora laughs, blinking back new tears. “Say hello to Remy, guys.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people who love them, tired beyond belief, Remy nestled against her chest, Nora thinks - This. This is what safe feels like.

Remy is fast asleep in her bassinet by the window, one hand curled near her cheek like she’s mid-thought in a dream. Outside, the late afternoon sun slants through the trees, golden and soft.

Nora and Harry are curled up on the sofa, legs tangled, each with one arm looped around the other, a film playing quietly on the TV. Neither is really watching.

Harry’s thumb is brushing lightly over the inside of her wrist. Nora’s head is tucked against his shoulder. There’s a blanket over both of their legs, and a half-finished cup of tea on the table in front of them.

They’re quiet for a long moment, both half-lost in the stillness.

“I got you something,” Harry says.

Nora blinks, straightening just slightly. “You got me a present? Why?”

Harry gives her a look, amused. “It’s Father’s Day.”

“Exactly,” she says, sitting up more now. “You’re the father.”

“And I wouldn’t be,” he says simply, “if it weren’t for you.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She doesn’t have a counter for that.

“Well,” she mutters, “now I feel like an arse.”

Harry grins. “Good. My plan is working.”

Nora narrows her eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me,” he says, leaning in, brushing his nose against hers.

“Unfortunately,” she says, deadpan, but her lips are already twitching. There’s a pause, then she exhales.

“Alright,” she says. “Fine. But I’m going first.”

Harry leans back. “Okay. Hit me.”

She stands and walks toward the bookshelf, pulling out a slim package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon.

“I have… a theme,” she says, handing it to him. “And no, it’s not socks.”

Harry grins and unties the ribbon. The paper falls away, revealing a hardback book. Hand-bound, cream-coloured linen cover, a title embossed in gold foil:

“Little Light: A Story About You.”

He stares at it, frowning in confusion, until he opens it and sees her name.

Written by Nora Elwood.

He blinks hard. “Wait.”

“I wrote it,” she says, sitting beside him again, voice quiet. “Started when I was pregnant. About a little girl and her dad who makes the world feel safe.”

He’s already turning pages. Gentle watercolor illustrations fill each one - a father and daughter in little moments: tying shoes, dancing in the kitchen, looking at stars.

He turns to the dedication page.

For H, who taught me that home can have a heartbeat. And for Remy, who made us into a family.

Harry covers his mouth with one hand. His eyes are glassy. He doesn’t speak for a long time.

Then, just, “Nora…”

“I wanted you to know that she’ll always know who you are,” she says, brushing her fingers down his arm. “Even though she’s too little to understand it right now.”

Harry looks at her like he’s never loved anything more.

“Okay,” she says, clearing her throat, trying not to cry too. “Second present.”

She reaches for a tiny box and hands it over. He opens it to find a delicate silver charm — a small, brushed disc engraved with a single R.

“I thought maybe… for your chain,” she says, gesturing at the necklace always around his neck. “So she’s always with you, even when you’re off doing something wild like headlining Glastonbury or whatever.”

He leans forward, kisses her slow and grateful. “I’m obsessed with you,” he says into her mouth.

“I know,” she says smugly.

“And the third one?”

She smirks. “Already given.”

“What?”

She points toward the stairs. Harry follows her gaze. Mounted on the wall, halfway up the staircase, is a framed photo - one of those unposed, caught-in-a-moment ones. He’s holding Remy against his chest, shirtless, early morning light coming in behind him. His head is bowed to kiss her temple, her hand gripping his necklace. Nora’s not even sure who took it -maybe Carrie, maybe one of their friends - but it’s her favorite. Nora also knows it’s Harry’s favourite.

Harry stares at it.

“That’s my favorite photo,” he says softly.

“I know,” she murmurs.

He kisses her cheek, then her shoulder. “Alright,” she says, smiling. “What on earth did you get me, Mr. Styles?”

He grins and reaches behind the couch cushion. “Okay. Don’t laugh.”

Nora lifts a brow. “Immediately nervous.”

He hands her a small, unevenly wrapped parcel. She tears it open and finds a tiny, rectangular silver keyring. Engraved with a quote.

You are my wild calm.

Her breath catches.

“I know you hate stuff that’s too shiny or overdone,” Harry says quietly. “But… it made me think of you. You’ve always been the calm. Even when everything’s loud.”

She doesn’t speak - just reaches out and pulls him in, hand at the back of his neck, and kisses him long and soft. They breathe into each other, mouths warm, bodies curled close. One of those slow, grounding kisses that say thank you and I love you and I still can’t believe it’s us.

They pull apart just a little, foreheads resting.

“Maybe this is cheesy,” she murmurs, “but today’s been one of the good ones.”

“It’s us,” Harry says. “Even the worst ones feel okay.”

They’re kissing again when-

Remy lets out a startled little cry from her bassinet, a hiccuping wail that makes them both freeze.

Harry groans and drops his head to Nora’s shoulder.

“I’ll get her,” she says.

“No, no, let me-”

They both move at once, untangling from the couch, bumping into each other in the scramble.

Nora’s laughing as she reaches the bassinet. “Happy Father’s Day, H.”

“Best one yet,” he says, scooping Remy into his arms.

She blinks up at him sleepily, one hand curling around the edge of his shirt. He kisses her head, then looks over at Nora - his girl, his love, his anchor - and smiles.

“Although, next year… maybe a lie-in?”

———————————————————————————

Third Father’s Day.

The cabin is tucked into the trees like it’s been waiting for them all year - sloped roof, ivy climbing one side, wind brushing softly through tall grass just beyond the fence. It’s late morning, the kind where everyone’s still in pyjamas and socks and no one knows where their phone is. A long wooden veranda stretches across the back of the cabin, looking out on a patchy yard where a very determined toddler is toddling, a pink stuffed strawberry clutched in one hand, and Harry, soft-voiced and shoeless, crouched in the grass, arms open, matching her wobble with exaggerated cheer.

From the wicker loveseat near the railing, Nora watches the two of them like she always does when she thinks no one’s looking. A mug of tea rests warm in her hands, bare feet tucked under her. Cliff, her dad, sits beside her, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, relaxed in a way only he seems to be when surrounded by his girls.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Nora murmurs. “It’s so nice just… being.”

Cliff glances sideways at her. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“I do,” she says, then after a beat, “Happy Father’s Day.”

He smiles, quiet, and tilts his chin out toward the yard. “Think I might be sharing the title with someone new.”

They both watch as Remy collapses into Harry’s lap in a fit of toddler giggles. He topples backward dramatically, falling onto the grass with a gasp and an “Oh nooo!” that makes Remy clutch her strawberry tighter and squeal with delight. She clambers over him and smushes her face into his chest with a happy hum.

“I always knew he’d be good,” Nora says, voice low, “but I didn’t know he’d be this good.”

Cliff hums. “That’s the kind of dad you become when you’ve done the work on yourself. He’s soft where it matters. But he shows up.”

She nods. “He makes it feel… easy. Like we’re a team. Even on the hard days.”

Cliff’s voice turns even gentler. “And you - you’re a hell of a mum, Nora.”

Her throat tightens at that, even though it’s not the first time he’s said it. But something about it, today, with Remy giggling and Harry throwing himself around in the grass like a Muppet, it hits a little differently.

“I didn’t know if I would be,” she says, and Cliff says nothing, just rests a hand briefly over hers on the mug.

From below, Remy suddenly lets out a wobbly, high-pitched “Noooo!” and stamps her foot once before she topples - a soft tumble forward, strawberry still in hand, catching herself with a little thump on her knees.

There’s a pause. That toddler silence. That one beat between are they fine and are they about to scream.

And then:

“Mamaaaa!”

It’s not even a cry at first - just a wail of where are you?, rising in pitch as her face crumples and fat tears brim in her eyes.

Nora’s already halfway across the porch before Harry can even sit up. His hands are out, ready to comfort, but Remy bypasses him completely, little hands reaching toward her mum like nothing else will do.

“Oh, bug, come here-” Nora scoops her up and sinks to her knees in the grass, holding Remy close as she sniffles and sobs into her shoulder.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, looking a little apologetic. “She tripped on the strawberry again. Bit of a hazard.”

Cliff chuckles from the porch. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that sentence before.”

“She okay?” Carrie calls from inside, where she’s chopping something loudly and happily to music.

“She’s fine!” Nora calls back, brushing her fingers through Remy’s hair. “Just got startled.”

Remy hiccups into her collarbone and murmurs something muffled and soft. Nora kisses the top of her head.

“She’s such a Daddy’s girl,” Nora says with a smile as she shifts Remy onto her hip. “Until something hurts.”

Harry stands beside her now, hand brushing lightly across her back.

“That’s when she needs the CEO of Comfort,” he says. “You’re irreplaceable.”

“Obviously,” she replies dryly. “You’re just the comic relief.”

He leans in and kisses her temple, then Remy’s. “She gets her drama from you.”

“She gets her tantrums from you.”

“She gets her face from me,” he says proudly.

They both laugh, and Remy, comforted and calmed, leans back just enough to study them, cheeks still blotchy but smile starting to creep back.

“Dada,” she says with a sleepy grin.

Nora grins. “Traitor.”

“Say Mama,” Harry prompts gently.

Remy holds up the stuffed strawberry like it’s a prize and yells, “BAH!”

Nora sighs. “Close enough.”

Back on the porch, Cliff lifts his tea to toast. “To the weirdest, cutest little family.”

The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains as Nora quietly set the scene in their cozy bedroom. A small, delicate “Happy Birthday” banner, pastel colors with tiny gold stars, was strung gently across the headboard. Nothing over the top, but just enough to make the morning feel special.

Harry was still half asleep when Nora nudged him gently. “Happy birthday,” she whispered, smiling as she handed him a neatly wrapped little box.

He peeled off the paper with sleepy excitement, revealing a slim leather-bound journal - something she knew he’d wanted for a while. “You remembered,” he said, grinning, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

Then, with a quiet laugh, Nora reached over and lifted Remy, still in her pajamas, into his arms. “And here’s one for you too,” she said, holding out a tiny velvet pouch.

Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a small charm engraved with an “H” and an “N” - their initials intertwined. “It’s just a little something for Remy’s first birthday,” Nora said softly.

Harry’s eyes softened as he clasped it gently around her tiny wrist. “She’s going to love this,” he murmured, kissing the baby’s head.

They settled back into the bed, Remy squirming and cooing, clutching her favorite stuffed strawberry. Harry smiled, brushing a stray hair from Nora’s face. “Best birthday morning ever.”

The room was buzzing with laughter and chatter, fairy lights casting a warm glow over the gathering of friends - Harry’s close crew from London, Nora’s friends sprinkled in, and the clinking of glasses filled the air. It was a celebration in full swing, with music drifting softly beneath the conversations and the occasional cheer for Harry.

Harry, holding a glass of wine, leaned close to Nora as the noise swirled around them. “You really pulled off something incredible here,” he said, genuine gratitude in his eyes. “I didn’t even know you were planning all this. I mean, I’ve got a one-year-old at home, and you’re out here being a superwoman.”

Nora smirked, nudging him playfully. “Well, I do try,” she said, her voice warm. “But honestly, watching you as a dad - it’s been amazing. You’ve been so involved, changing nappies, staying up late, making her laugh. I’ve heard so many horror stories where dads do the bare minimum, but you? You’re the best partner and dad I could’ve hoped for.”

Harry’s smile softened, touched by her words. “I just want to celebrate you tonight too,” she continued, “because you deserve it. I’d celebrate you every day if I could. I love you so much.”

He chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “When we get home, you’re going to have to show me just how much you love me,” he teased.

Nora laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, I will.”

As the moment settled between them, Nora glanced toward the corner where Anne and Gemma were chatting with friends. “Do you think Remy’s okay with my dad and Carrie?” she asked quietly.

Harry nodded confidently. “She loves them. She’s such a good baby. I think she knows how lucky she is.”

Nora smiled, heart full, as the night continued around them - a perfect blend of friendship, family, and love.

The air is golden and still upstairs, curtains swaying gently in the open window, the soft hum of summer birdsong just audible beyond the breeze. The rest of the house is quieter now - Carrie has shushed Cliff after he nearly dropped a stack of plates, and downstairs is all muffled laughter and the click of a kettle boiling.

Up here, it’s nap time.

Harry sits cross-legged on the floor beside the crib, Remy tucked against his chest in her little sleep suit, one chubby fist curled around his shirt, the other gently holding the plastic cap of her milk bottle. Her head rests on his shoulder, curls tickling his jaw. Her breathing is quick but slowing. She’s resisting sleep with determination, blinking dramatically between sips like the very idea of closing her eyes is an injustice.

Nora stands just outside the cracked door, unnoticed, holding her breath in that reverent way you do when the moment feels sacred. She’s still, leaning lightly against the frame, arms folded across her chest, one foot crossed over the other, eyes soft and quiet.

Harry gently rocks back and forth, humming something low and familiar - not quite a song, more like a melody you hum without realizing. It sounds like something he might’ve sung to her when she was brand new. He kisses her temple.

“Okay, little bug,” he whispers, “story time. But only one. It’s nap rules.”

Remy makes a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sleepy groan.

Harry smiles against her hair. “Wanna hear about the first time I met your mum?”

Nora’s lips quirk.

“She wore this jumper that kept falling off one shoulder. It was this cream thing. Looked like something you’d wear now if you could pick your own clothes.”

Another slow rock.

“She was drinking peppermint tea, which I judged - silently, of course - because I was drinking an oat flat white and I felt very superior. Until she said she hated coffee. And then I panicked and ordered peppermint tea the next time we went out. Which was the next day, by the way.”

Remy lets out a soft, rhythmic breath, finally starting to settle.

“She had these boots on - big, chunky ones. And I remember thinking, she’s either going to be the most intimidating person I’ve ever met or the love of my life. And lucky me…”

He trails off as Remy’s breathing evens, her bottle slowly slipping from her grasp. He takes it gently, placing it on the rug, then leans down to kiss her cheek.

“Night, Rem,” he whispers. “Best decision we ever made.”

He slowly, slowly, eases her down into the crib. She stirs once - he freezes - then she sighs, curls onto her side, strawberry tucked under one arm, and stays asleep.

Harry tiptoes out of the room, easing the door nearly closed, and turns, jumping slightly when he sees Nora leaning against the wall in the hallway.

“Christ, Nor,” he mutters with a grin, hand over his heart. “Were you just standing there?”

She lifts a shoulder, not hiding the smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. That was… really nice.”

He flushes a little, looking suddenly shy. “She wouldn’t go down. Thought I’d bore her into unconsciousness.”

Nora steps forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. “You’re the most amazing dad. Honestly. I can’t even express it. Watching you love her like that… Happy Father’s Day, H.”

He bends his head and presses a kiss into her hair. “I wouldn’t be a dad without you. Or at least, not one with that specific sassy baby in there.”

She pulls back slightly, eyes bright. “Well. I do pride myself on creating premium-grade humans.”

Harry laughs. “You really do.”

She smirks, voice lowering slightly as she tugs at the collar of his shirt. “And maybe later… if you’re lucky, the premium-grade human maker is feeling generous.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, a smirk curling slow at the corner of his mouth. “Nora. Your parents are literally downstairs.”

She leans in, lips brushing his ear. “You love it.”

He looks at her, long and slow, like he still can’t believe she’s his, even after years and a child and a million quiet Tuesday mornings.

“I really, really do.”

Downstairs, Carrie calls, “Lunch is ready!” like it’s a celebration, and a second later Cliff yells, “Harry, come carve something!”

They pull apart, just slightly, and Harry sighs.

“Duty calls.”

Nora kisses him, a soft little thing. “We’ll pick up this conversation later.

He looks hopeful. “Soon?”

“Very,” she grins.

And they head downstairs - laughing, brushing fingers, stepping into a kitchen full of toast crumbs and family, and the smell of something roasting in the oven.

The late afternoon sun spilled through the canopy, casting soft golden patches on the veranda where Harry and Nora lounged together, limbs intertwined like they belonged to each other. The gentle hum of birds and the faint rustle of leaves filled the air, blending with the soft patter of Remy’s tiny footsteps as she played nearby, absorbed in her pile of pinecones and twigs.

Harry watched Nora’s profile, the way the sunlight caught the curve of her cheek, the subtle smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she glanced down at Remy. The sound of their daughter’s delighted babbles made his chest swell with something fierce and tender all at once.

“I still can’t believe this is our life,” Nora murmured, her voice soft but steady, “You, me, Remy, this little wild thing with her strawberry. It’s… everything I didn’t know I was waiting for.”

Harry’s fingers tightened around hers. “Remember that first Father’s Day? You telling me you were pregnant? I was scared, terrified, honestly. But I also knew then that everything was about to change, for the better.”

Nora chuckled, shaking her head. “You were so worried I’d get mad at you.”

“I was,” he admitted with a grin. “But mostly because I was worried about you.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching Remy wobble unsteadily toward them, her little face scrunched in concentration as she tried to balance on two feet.

“I never imagined I’d be good at this,” Harry said quietly, “Being a dad. But with you… watching you with Remy, how strong you’ve been. I feel like we make a pretty good team.”

Nora’s eyes shimmered, her hand finding the curve of his jaw. “You make me braver. Better.”

Harry’s gaze softened, and he shifted closer. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate ring that caught the light and sparkled like a secret promise.

Nora’s breath hitched, her heart pounding loud in her ears.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, voice steady but full of hope.

For a moment, time slowed - the birdsong, the whispering leaves, even Remy’s distant giggle all faded into the background.

Tears pricked at Nora’s eyes as she laughed through them, the pure joy and disbelief swirling together like sunlight and rain.

“Yes,” she whispered, sliding the ring onto her finger. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Just then, little Remy toddled over, eyes wide and curious.

“Mama?” she called out, reaching up.

Nora scooped her up, holding her close, the three of them wrapped in a quiet bubble of love and new beginnings.

Minutes later, Cliff and Carrie returned from their walk, laughter and warmth spilling into the space.

Cliff’s eyes twinkled as he looked at the trio on the love seat. “Looks like I walked into something special.

Harry just smiled, pulling Nora and Remy closer.

That evening, over dinner filled with congratulations and gentle teasing, they talked about the future - dreams, hopes, and the beautiful chaos of family life.

Later, in the quiet of their room, with Remy asleep nearby, Harry brushed a loose strand of hair from Nora’s face.

“Are you happy with how I asked?”

Nora smiled, her hand resting on the ring. “More than happy. You, Remy - you’re my everything. It’s always been us two, and now it’s us three.”

Harry leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Here’s to forever.”

———————————————————————————

Fourth Father’s Day.

The dressing room buzzed with the low hum of last-minute preparations. Harry’s friends and Nora’s close pals Haadiyah and Caitlyn filled the space with laughter and chatter. Anne and Gemma sat quietly, soaking in the lively atmosphere, while Cliff and Carrie were nestled in a corner, chatting softly.

Remy was everywhere at once - a tiny whirlwind in a tutu, her curly hair bouncing as she darted between legs, clutching her beloved stuffed strawberry. Her bright eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, but the lack of a nap was making her a bit restless.

“Remy, please don’t climb on the equipment,” Harry said gently but firmly as she reached for the cables. Before she could even register, she’d tugged a cable loose, sending a brief jolt through the room.

“Remy!” Harry’s voice was calm but serious. “That’s not safe.”

Remy’s face crumpled. She scampered over to Nora, tears spilling down her cheeks as she buried her head against Nora’s side.

“Mama!”

Nora knelt down, brushing strawberry-blond curls off her daughter’s damp forehead. “Hey, I know you’re upset, baby. You got in trouble because climbing on things can be dangerous. We have to keep you safe, okay? It’s okay to cry.”

Remy sniffled, her tears falling freely, but Nora didn’t pull her into a full hug - just kept a steady hand on her back. She wanted Remy to understand that it was safe to feel upset, but that the rules were still important.

Harry watched the scene quietly from the side, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Nora caught his eye and mouthed, “She’s just tired.”

He nodded, then crouched down beside Remy, voice softer now. “Hey, Remy, can you say sorry for climbing on the stuff?”

Remy nodded, hiccupping between words, “Sowwy, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” Harry said, giving a gentle high-five.

Nora stood, smoothing her dress, and glanced around at the room, where everyone was quietly watching the little family moment. Anne smiled warmly; Gemma whispered something to Carrie with a knowing grin.

Harry took Nora’s hand briefly, squeezing it. “Ready to go sing some songs, yeah?”

Harry laughed softly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The soft hum of the arena buzzed faintly through the backstage corridors. Harry and Nora moved slowly down the narrow hallway, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. Nora’s free hand gently held Remy’s, who toddled beside them, clutching her stuffed strawberry tightly. The tiny pink dummy bobbed in her mouth, and her oversized toddler headphones muffled the distant sounds of the crowd.

Remy’s wide eyes scanned everything - backstage lights, crew members bustling past, cables snaking along the floor. Her energy was waning; she was quieter than usual, the lack of a nap catching up. Yet the wonder of the moment still gleamed in her gaze.

Harry bent slightly, brushing a loose curl from Nora’s temple. “Ready for this?”

Nora smiled, leaning into his warmth. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Happy Father’s Day, Harry.”

He smiled back, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He dipped his head, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Thank you, love. And happy Father’s Day to you too. Couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

They walked a few steps more, and Remy suddenly tugged at Nora’s hand, her face scrunching as little tears welled up. A small, uncertain whimper escaped her lips.

Harry crouched down to meet her eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t cry, bug. Daddy’s just gonna sing a few songs, yeah? You like when Daddy sings, don’t you?”

Remy blinked, her voice muffled by the dummy, but she managed a hopeful, “Daddy sing?”

“You got it,” Harry chuckled softly. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

With a gentle hand, Harry passed Remy to Nora, who wrapped the little girl in a soft hug. Remy rested her head on Nora’s shoulder, the tears ebbing as she felt the comfort of her mother’s arms.

Harry stood, straightened his jacket, and gave Nora one last, lingering smile before turning towards the stage entrance. Nora watched him go, then shifted her gaze to Remy, who was now curiously peeking around the corner.

Together, Nora and Remy headed towards the family area set up in the stadium, where Cliff, Carrie, Anne, Gemma, and the others were waiting, ready to welcome them for the show.

The soft Italian morning light filtered through the shutters of the villa’s bedroom, casting a gentle glow over Harry and Nora. The villa was quiet, still holding onto the calm before the joyful storm of the day ahead.

Harry stirred first, carefully shifting so as not to disturb Remy. He smiled down at Nora, tracing a lazy circle on her arm. “Morning,” he whispered.

Nora blinked awake, a sleepy smile spreading across her face. “Morning,” she murmured back, her fingers brushing his.

Their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Remy, was still asleep between them, nestled under a light cotton blanket. The room smelled faintly of the sea and fresh linen, a perfect Italian spring morning.

Minutes later, Remy’s soft coos turned into sleepy babbles, and her small voice broke the quiet: “Mama? Daddy? Go swim?”

Nora chuckled softly, pulling Remy closer. “Not today, Remy. It’s a very special day. Today Daddy and Mama are getting married.”

Remy’s eyes widened with innocent curiosity. “Weddin’?”

Harry kissed the top of Remy’s head, feeling the weight of the moment settle warmly around them. “That’s right, bug. You’re so smart. Lots of people we love will be here, and we’re going to have a big celebration.”

Downstairs, the villa buzzed with gentle activity. Friends and family gathered in the large kitchen and sunlit dining room, filling the air with laughter and the scent of fresh bread, pastries, and strong coffee. Nora’s closest friends helped with last-minute preparations, while Harry’s family quietly reminisced in corners, sharing smiles and stories.

Breakfast was simple but heartfelt - fresh fruit, cheeses, warm croissants, and homemade jams. Plates clinked, voices mingled, and glasses clinked softly as everyone toasted the beautiful day ahead.

Harry glanced across the table at Nora, noticing she was picking at her food more than eating. Her fingers toyed nervously with a piece of toast.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “You okay? You haven’t eaten much.“

Nora shook her head but smiled faintly. “I’m just a bit nervous. I guess… it’s the big day.”

Harry squeezed her hand gently. “You’re going to be amazing. And it’s not about perfection or tradition - it’s about us. Our family. Our love.”

Nora looked into his eyes, feeling grounded by his calm. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Us.”

They shared a quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of family and friends, the soft murmur of the sea just beyond the villa walls.

Nora’s wedding dress was a vision of modern elegance. The gown was a strapless, corseted silk dress that hugged her figure gracefully. Its sleek silhouette was complemented by a dramatic circular train that added a touch of grandeur without overwhelming the simplicity of the design. The dress featured delicate French Chantilly lace detailing, adding a vintage charm to the otherwise contemporary piece. To complete the look, Nora wore sheer opera gloves, adding a layer of sophistication and timelessness to her ensemble.

Her hair was styled in a sleek, middle-parted updo, with soft tendrils framing her face, and a long veil trailing behind her, creating a romantic and ethereal appearance.

Remy’s dress mirrored Nora’s in design, tailored for a toddler’s frame and coloured in dusty pink. The miniature gown featured the same lace detailing, with a shorter skirt that allowed for movement and playfulness. A tiny pair of opera gloves completed her ensemble, making her the perfect sidekick.

In the villa’s sunlit room, Nora stood before the mirror, adjusting her dress. The soft rustle of fabric filled the space as she admired the gown’s delicate details. Remy, in her miniature version, twirled around, her laughter echoing through the room.

Anne, Carrie, and Nora’s best friends - Alex, Haadiyah, and Caitlyn - bustled around, offering assistance and sharing in the excitement. Anne helped fix Remy’s hair, while Carrie ensured the flower arrangements were perfect. Alex and Haadiyah chatted animatedly, Caitlyn capturing candid moments on her camera.

Remy tugged at Nora’s sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Mama, pretty,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Nora knelt down, pulling Remy into a hug. “Thank you, my beautiful girl,” she replied, her heart swelling with love.

Anne appeared quietly at the door, holding up a phone. “Nora, love, this is for you,” she said softly.

Nora took the phone with a small smile as Anne handed it over. The screen lit up with Harry’s name.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice came through, warm and calm.

“Hey yourself,” Nora replied, her voice catching just a little.

“I just wanted to hear your voice before everything kicks off,” Harry said gently. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Nora smiled, feeling a flutter in her chest. “Thanks, baby. I’m a bit nervous, not gonna lie.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Harry reassured. “And Remy’s going to steal everyone’s hearts.”

The sound of Remy laughing in the background made them both smile.

They chatted quietly for a moment longer before Nora handed the phone back to Anne, feeling a little more grounded.

The late afternoon sun filtered gently through the olive trees that framed the ceremony space at the villa. Pale florals lined the aisle, their soft fragrance carried in the warm breeze. Guests were seated in two neat rows of chairs on the lawn, a quiet hum of excitement in the air.

At the top of the aisle, Harry stood waiting. His hands were clasped in front of him, his jaw tight with nerves, but his eyes - soft and wide - were fixed on the villa door, waiting.

Then the soft instrumental began. The crowd rose to their feet.

From the villa’s garden gate, Nora stepped into view, but all eyes weren’t just on her. Because walking beside her, tiny hand tucked into hers, was Remy - in her own miniature version of Nora’s dress. She held her stuffed strawberry in the other hand, beaming with glee, clearly aware that something special was happening, even if she didn’t fully understand what.

The guests melted into quiet awe.

Halfway down, Remy lost her rhythm and started skipping a little - making Nora laugh gently before steadying her again. By the time they reached the end of the aisle, Cliff stepped forward.

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to Remy’s curls, then turned to Nora. His voice caught as he whispered, “You look just like your mum.”

Nora’s eyes shimmered. She smiled as she took Cliff’s hand briefly, then placed hers into Harry’s, standing beside the man she loved, their daughter already between them.

As the officiant welcomed everyone and began the ceremony, Remy - ever her own person - looked up at the quiet crowd and asked, clear as anything:

“Weddin’?”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Harry and Nora couldn’t help it either - they both leaned down and kissed Remy on the cheek.

Harry whispered, “That’s right, bug. Mama and Daddy are getting married.”

Remy nodded, very serious. “Okay. That okay.”

Cliff scooped Remy gently into his arms, whispering something into her ear as she snuggled against his shoulder, satisfied.

The ceremony continued, full of heartfelt vows and quiet tears. Nora promised honesty and home. Harry promised laughter and light. When the officiant declared them husband and wife, the guests erupted into applause, and their kiss - sweet and full of years of love - sealed it all.

They turned, hand in hand, and walked down the aisle, the sun sinking behind them in a wash of golden pink.

Just before they reached the end, a little voice called out — “Mama! Dada! Wait me!”

Everyone turned in time to see Remy break free from Cliff’s arms and run, arms flapping, strawberry stuffie trailing behind her.

Harry turned just in time to scoop her up and spin her once in his arms. She giggled in delight.

Nora leaned in and wrapped them both in her arms.

A tangle of silk and curls and laughter. A family. Married now, but already whole.

The roar of the crowd was electric as the lights dimmed, and the spotlight snapped on, illuminating Harry as he strode confidently onto the stage.

From the family area, Nora held Remy close in her arms, gently bouncing her to the rhythm of the opening beat. Remy’s tiny fingers curled tightly around the edge of Nora’s top, her wide eyes flickering between the bright lights and the familiar figure on stage.

Nora caught Harry’s eye and smiled, noticing the gleam of his wedding ring catching the stage lights. She nudged Remy gently, murmuring, “There’s daddy. Do you see him?”

Remy’s brow furrowed for a moment, curious and a bit confused by the booming music and the vast crowd, but then she nodded slowly, her toddler mind processing the love and magic filling the stadium.

Remy’s brow furrowed for a moment -curious and a bit confused by the booming music and the vast crowd - but then she nodded slowly, her toddler mind processing the love and magic filling the arena.

As the show moved halfway through, Anne gently took Remy’s hand, whispering, “Let’s get you back to the dressing room, sweetheart,” and they slipped away together, leaving Nora to enjoy the moment.

Nora, now surrounded by her friends - Haadiyah, Caitlyn, Carrie, and Gemma - was dancing and singing along, her laughter mixing with the music. The energy was contagious, and the group was clearly having a blast.

Suddenly, Harry appeared by Nora’s section. The crowd’s roar shifted as screams erupted from fans spotting him up close. Yet, between Nora and Harry, the world seemed to pause - his eyes locked on hers as he reached her side.

With a mischievous grin, Harry grabbed the mic and shouted, “And hey - shout out to all the dads tonight! Especially mine… and my amazing wife!” The crowd exploded in cheers, the fans sensing the special moment.

Nora’s friends and Harry’s crew gave playful cheers and chants. “That’s her! That’s wifey!” one shouted, another clapped and laughed, soaking in the celebration.

As the final song neared, Nora glanced at her watch and murmured, “I better get backstage before the end…”

When Harry finally walked off stage, Nora didn’t hesitate - she rushed into his arms, hugging him tight. “I’m so proud of you. That was incredible. Watching you up there… wow.”

Harry smiled, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Thank you, love. You and Remy were my lucky charm tonight.”

He pulled back slightly, a curious look crossing his face. “Where’s our little star?”

Nora smiled softly. “Your mum took her to the dressing room to put her to bed. We’ll probably head back to the house soon, maybe after the crowd clears.”

Harry chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Sounds perfect. Let’s go, Mrs. Styles.”

Nora blinked, still catching her breath. “It’s been two weeks, but I still can’t believe I’m your wife.”

Harry squeezed her hand. “Happy Father’s Day, Nora. We’re really doing this.”

They shared a quiet smile, standing together in the glow of the fading stage lights - just a family, wrapped in love and celebration.

———————————————————————————

Fifth Father’s Day.

The house was quiet now, the gentle hum of the oven long since faded. Nora sat on the soft couch, fingers nervously twisting a cushion, her mind swirling with the secret she hadn’t yet shared. The late afternoon light cast long shadows through the windows, filling the room with a warm, golden glow.

Footsteps came down the stairs - slow, careful. Harry appeared, brushing his hands together as he crossed the living room. Nora looked up and smiled shyly.

“Thanks for making the roast,” Harry said, settling beside her. “It was delicious. Remy’s already asleep upstairs.” He reached out, fingers brushing hers before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Nora sighed softly. “Always. Happy Father’s Day, Harry. We love you so much.”

He looked at her, concern flickering in his eyes. “You okay? You seem a little… off lately.”

She bit her lip. “Just tired, I guess.”

Harry’s brow furrowed playfully. “What is it? Did you crash my car? Are you pregnant? Did you break my favourite photo frame?” He grinned, but the sparkle in his eye softened when he said ‘pregnant.’

Nora twitched. His grin faltered. “Wait — are you pregnant?”

She groaned, hiding her face behind the pillow. “Why did you have to ruin it? This was your Father’s Day present.”

Before he could say anything more, Nora pulled the pillow aside and reached behind it, pulling out a small, carefully wrapped box.

Harry’s fingers trembled slightly as he opened it. Inside lay a little pregnancy test, the faint second line barely visible.

“No way,” he breathed, eyes wide. “Another Remy?”

Nora laughed softly. “I don’t know if I can handle another Remy. That girl is crazy — but in the best way.”

Harry shook his head, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled her close. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this from me.”

She smiled into his chest.

He teased, pulling back just enough to look at her. “So, is this going to be a pattern now? You tell me you’re pregnant every Father’s Day?”

Nora chuckled. “Maybe.”

They shared a laugh, the house full of quiet joy, kisses, and hugs - a perfect moment sealed in the calm before their family grew again.

The warm afternoon sun spilled through the windows as Nora and Harry put the final touches on the nursery. Soft pastel curtains fluttered slightly in the breeze, a mobile with tiny stars and moons hung gently above the crib, and shelves were lined with a few carefully chosen books and stuffed animals.

Nora adjusted a framed photo of the two of them, smiling nervously. “It’s almost real, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded, stepping back to admire their work. “Feels like we’re ready for her. Feels like home.”

Nora smiled, rubbing her belly. “I just want her to be safe and happy.”

Later that evening, they curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV illuminating the room. Nora rested her head against Harry’s shoulder, her hand gently resting on her belly. Remy’s little nursery was just down the hall, waiting.

Harry smiled down at her. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, voice low and tender. “We’re almost ready for you. Can’t wait to meet you.”

Nora smiled, her eyes soft with anticipation. Harry’s fingers traced small circles on her bump as the movie played quietly.

“Your mama’s doing amazing,” Harry said softly. “We’ve got so much love ready for you. You’re already so lucky.”

Nora sighed happily, feeling the tiny kicks and movements inside her. “She’s going to be so loved.”

They sat there for a long while, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence, dreaming of the family soon to come.

The front door creaked open softly as Harry and Nora stepped inside, carefully carrying their tiny bundle wrapped in a pastel blanket. The house felt different - quiet but warm, filled with the promise of new beginnings.

Remy fussed softly, little whimpers breaking the silence. Harry adjusted his hold, gently rocking her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, little one,” he whispered, voice full of wonder.

Nora moved quietly to the living room, settling into the armchair. She cradled Remy close, soothing her with gentle strokes as she began to breastfeed. The soft sounds of her lullabies mingled with Remy’s quiet suckling.

Harry watched them for a moment, a smile spreading across his face. He picked up his vintage camera from the side table and captured the scene: Nora’s gentle profile, Remy nestled against her, and the love glowing between them.

After the shutter clicked, Harry lowered the camera and whispered, “Perfect.”

Nora smiled, eyes meeting his. “Our whole world right here.”

The three of them settled into a tender silence, the house now truly a home.

Back in the present, Harry sank into the couch beside Nora, their hands naturally finding each other’s. The soft afternoon light spilled across the room as they sat close, the quiet hum of the house around them.

Harry brushed a stray lock of hair from Nora’s face, his eyes warm. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this again,” he said, voice low but full of awe. “Another little one on the way.”

Nora smiled, a mix of excitement and nerves flickering behind her eyes. “Me too. It’s… a lot. But I can’t picture doing it with anyone else but you.”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “We’re in this together — every messy, wonderful moment.”

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m scared, but mostly I’m just so happy. For us. For Remy. For this little one.”

Harry smiled, holding her tight. “We’ve got this.”

And in that quiet embrace, they shared a promise, to face everything as a family.

Harry pulled back just enough to grin at her. “So… do you think this kid’s going to have your stubbornness or my charm?”

Nora laughed, nudging him gently. “Definitely mine. But you better bring your A-game because they’ll need someone to balance me out.”

He raised an eyebrow, mock serious. “Challenge accepted. But I’m warning you, if this one turns out half as wild as Remy, we’re going to need a bigger house.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m counting on wild. Life would be boring without it.”

Harry’s grin softened. “Wild, loving, stubborn… sounds like the perfect family.”

Nora leaned in, whispering, “And just think - in a few years, you’ll be chasing two of them around, trying to keep up.”

He groaned dramatically. “Already tired just thinking about it.”

They both laughed, tangled together on the couch - nerves eased, love stronger than ever.

Harry shifted slightly, looking thoughtful. “You know, we never really talked about how many kids we want. I mean, we’ve always said we want kids… but, like, the plan?”

Nora smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I was thinking about that too. I guess I never felt the need to put a number on it. I just knew I wanted a family with you.”

Harry nodded, his voice steady but gentle. “I get that. And, obviously, now you’re pregnant again - congrats, by the way - but what’s the plan? Or is there even a plan?”

She looked down for a moment, then met his eyes. Harry reached out, taking her hand. “Whatever you want, I’m with you. I want you to be healthy and happy - that’s what matters most.”

Nora squeezed his hand. “I’ve been thinking… maybe three. I don’t want them to ever feel lonely. I want Remy to have siblings, someone to grow up with, to share everything with.”

Harry smiled, a warmth spreading across his face. “Three sounds perfect. And I’m sure we’ll make it work, together.”

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Me too.”

Just as Harry and Nora were sinking into the quiet of the moment, they heard the familiar patter of little feet upstairs - followed by the soft call of:

“Mummy?”

Nora smiled, pushing up to her feet. “Guess naptime’s over.”

A moment later, Remy was nestled in Nora’s arms as she walked down the stairs, sleepy-eyed and warm with post-nap cuddles, her plush strawberry clutched tightly in one hand.

“Hey, bug,” Harry said gently, brushing back her curls. “We’ve got something special to tell you.”

Remy blinked at him, then looked up at Nora.

“There’s a baby in Mummy’s tummy,” Nora said softly, watching her daughter’s expression carefully.

Remy stared at her mum’s belly for a beat, then furrowed her brow and looked back up at them. “A baby?”

“That’s right,” Harry said, smiling. “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

Remy gasped, then grinned. “Oh a baby!!”

Nora laughed, pulling her in close for a kiss. “You’re happy?”

Remy nodded excitedly, then squinted again at Nora’s stomach, tapping it lightly with one little finger. “It’s a strawberry?”

Both Harry and Nora burst into laughter.

“No, love,” Nora said, grinning, “it’s a baby, not a strawberry.”

Remy clutched her plushie tighter and giggled, clearly unconvinced. “It’s a strawberry.”

Harry kissed the top of her head. “You’re not wrong. You were our little blueberry once - now this one’s a strawberry, huh?”

Remy nodded with complete confidence, content with her interpretation.

Nora looked at Harry over Remy’s head, their eyes meeting with a soft joy - the kind only found in a messy, beautiful, growing little family.

The following week…

The room was dim, quiet except for the soft hum of the machine and the gentle voice of the technician as she moved the wand slowly across Nora’s belly. Nora was lying back on the exam table, one hand resting over her bump, the other gripping Harry’s, their fingers laced. Remy sat on Harry’s lap, her feet swinging, her eyes wide with quiet curiosity.

She clutched her plush strawberry tight against her chest, unusually still for a three-and-a-half-year-old, watching the screen as blurry black-and-white images flickered to life.

“There’s baby,” the sonographer smiled gently, turning the monitor slightly so they could all see. “There’s the head… the little arms and legs…”

Remy gasped softly, her voice no louder than a whisper.

“Baby…”

Nora turned to look at her daughter, her heart full. “That’s right, Rem. That’s your little brother or sister.”

Harry’s thumb rubbed gently over Nora’s hand. “It’s mad, isn’t it? Seeing them like this.”

The technician paused, adjusted something on the machine, then offered a small, knowing smile. “Actually… it looks like you’re a little further along than you thought. About eighteen weeks.”

Nora’s eyes widened, turning to Harry. “Seriously? I counted and everything.”

He blinked. “How did we miss four weeks?”

“You’ve both got a toddler,” the sonographer laughed gently. “You’d be surprised how often it happens.”

“And…” she continued, her smile growing just a touch more playful, “if you’d like to know — we can already tell the sex.”

Nora looked over at Harry, who nodded once, eyes soft. “Yeah… we’d love to know.”

There was a short moment as the wand moved again.

“It’s a boy.”

Nora exhaled softly, a watery smile pulling at her lips. Harry let out a quiet, breathy laugh, like it hit him all at once.

“A boy…” he echoed, as if saying it aloud would help him believe it. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Nora’s temple.

Then, a tiny voice from the stool:

“My strawberry baby boy.”

Harry and Nora both looked at Remy, who had one hand resting gently on Nora’s thigh, her eyes locked on the screen.

Harry smiled, crouching next to her. “That’s right, bug. Your baby brother. Your strawberry baby.”

Remy’s brows drew together thoughtfully, then she nodded, as if she’d made a decision. “I will share my strawberry.” She held her plushie up solemnly.

Nora let out a laugh through her tears. “That’s very kind of you.”

The technician printed out a few images for them and left them in the room to gather themselves. Harry pulled Nora gently into a side hug as she sat up, resting his hand over the warm curve of her belly.

“A boy,” he murmured again. “We’ve got a Remy and now…”

Nora glanced at him, teasing. “Don’t start throwing names out yet. We’ll argue for weeks.”

He grinned. “As long as we’re not naming him Strawberry Styles, I think we’ll be fine.”

From the stool, Remy perked up. “Strawberry Styles!!”

They all laughed - a perfect moment, frozen in that soft, echoing room.

[maincharactermuse]

The one where there is overthinking. (9)

(Find my masterlist here)

Y/N woke to the smell of espresso that wasn’t hers. Which was odd, because she lived alone.

Her mind blinked awake slowly - just the sounds of the city through her open window, the dull ache in her shoulders from too much time hunched over a baking bench yesterday. No stranger brewing in the kitchen. Just muscle memory: a phantom scent, a thought that had wandered in from a dream of Harry’s house - warm wood, colder marble, and that stupidly beautiful La Marzocco machine that probably cost more than her rent.

She sat up slowly, duvet tangled at her waist, and blinked toward the light slanting through the curtains.

At what point does someone become your boyfriend?

Was it something you earned? Asked for? Grew into like a new pair of jeans - slow, unnoticed, until one day someone says that fits you? Or was there a moment, a spark, a declaration? A knock on the door, maybe. Hi there. Just here to let you know: congratulations, you have a boyfriend now. Terms and conditions apply.

She snorted softly at herself and padded into the kitchen. Turned on the kettle. Stirred honey into her yogurt with more intensity than was probably necessary.

It wasn’t that she needed the label, exactly. It was just… she liked knowing where she stood. Always had. In a relationship, in her work, in a bakery queue. And lately, things with Harry felt like standing on one of those moving walkways at the airport - things were going forward whether she walked or not. She just wasn’t sure where they were headed.

The kettle screamed. She poured the water, let the tea steep, and grabbed her phone.

Harry

Farmer’s Market at 11?

Will trade you peaches for my company.

She stared at it for a second. Smiled. And then, because she couldn’t help herself, copied and pasted the message straight into her group chat.

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

He just texted

“Farmer’s market at 10? Will trade you peaches for your company.”

Is that a date or… a produce-related errand with benefits?

Noor

It’s a fruit-forward soft launch 💅

Go. Wear something vaguely effortless and make him carry everything.

Grace

That’s at least a date-adjacent activity.

Did he use a peach emoji tho

That would push it into horny territory.

Y/N

No peach. No winky face.

Just… sincerity.

Noor

Omg the intimacy 😭

Grace

You realise you’re already dating, right?

You’re just too emotionally stunted to say it out loud 😇

Y/N

OK rude but not inaccurate

Do people still have like… “the talk”?

Like when does it become a thing? Is there a ceremony?

Noor

The Ceremony of the Boyfriending™

A council appears. Rings are exchanged. You delete Hinge.

Grace

He seems like the “acts like your boyfriend for 6 months before saying it out loud” type tbh

Good hair. Terrible communication.

Y/N

Wow

Seen

Attacked

Buying jam anyway.

She laughed into her tea. But underneath it - underneath the ease, the teasing - there was still that quiet hum in her chest.

Do you see me like that?

Is this where we’re going?

Would you say yes if I asked?

———————————————————————————

Parliament Hill Markets were already buzzing when she spotted him. Gray shirt, dark trousers, sunglasses, carrying two canvas bags like he did this every weekend.

He hadn’t seen her yet. She stood still for a second and just… watched.

This was becoming a pattern - her life folding into his, quietly, one scene at a time. Not big, sweeping gestures. Just stolen mornings. Coffee that tasted like something else. Late-night texts about nothing and everything. Peach invites.

“Hi,” she said, stepping beside him.

He looked up. Smiled that slow, slightly surprised smile - like he wasn’t quite used to her showing up yet, but liked it every time.

“You came,” he said.

“I wanted peaches.”

He handed her one of the bags. “And good company?”

She shrugged. “Jury’s still out.”

They walked side by side, easy rhythm. But there was no contact - not even a brush of shoulders. Too many eyes. She understood. Still, she felt it - that space between them, measured and deliberate. Not unfriendly. Just… intentional.

They wandered between stalls, weaving through crowds. He picked out nectarines while she haggled over berries. Argued passionately over jam flavours ��� he said raspberry was king; she called it a coward’s choice.

“Strawberry’s basic,” he insisted. “Raspberry’s got edge.”

“Raspberry seeds are a war crime,” she muttered.

He grinned, handing her a sample from a vendor. “Here. Try this and tell me I’m wrong.”

She tasted it. Paused. Licked her lip.

“I hate that you’re right.”

He beamed. “Victory is sweet.”

At one point, a woman at a flower stall called out, “You again! Where’s your mum this time?”

Harry smiled politely, then gestured to Y/N. “She’s back up north. This is Y/N.”

Just that. This is Y/N. No qualifier.

The woman looked at her and smiled. “He always buys tulips for someone. You must be lucky.”

“Oh-” she started, but Harry jumped in, buying the flowers quickly, nudging her away.

Y/N walked quietly for a minute, tulips dangling from her fingers.

No qualifier.Just Y/N.

She hated how much she noticed.

———————————————————————————

“Okay, random question,” she said instead, tugging the tote higher on her shoulder. “What’s your most controversial food opinion?”

Harry’s brow lifted. “Besides the strawberry-thyme jam being elite?”

She gave him a dry look. “Besides that.”

He thought for a second. “Alright. I don’t think avocados are that good.”

She stopped walking and turned to stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Harry.”

“They’re bland. Weird texture. And you all act like they’re some kind of edible gold.”

“Okay, wow. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“You just accused me of jam treason. Let’s not pretend we’re not both food criminals.”

She narrowed her eyes, pretending to be deeply offended. “I can’t believe I’m possibly not-dating someone who slanders avocados.”

His lips twitched. “Possibly not-dating?”

Shit. That slipped out.

“Hypothetically,” she amended quickly, brushing a bit of hair behind her ear. “If I were not not-dating you. I’d be concerned.”

He didn’t say anything for a beat. Just looked at her - really looked - and she could feel the air shift slightly. That thrum of something unnamed between them, hovering.

Then he smiled. “Well, hypothetically. I’ll allow it.”

They started walking again, side by side, his hand swinging just close enough to hers to make her fingers ache with wanting to reach for him.

But they didn’t. Not yet.

They reached the edge of the canal, where the path split off toward the little cafés and vintage shops. Boats bobbed gently nearby, flowers spilling from their windows like they belonged in a painting.

Harry slowed. “Wanna grab a coffee?”

Y/N opened her mouth to say yes. She wanted to. She wanted to spend more time with him, to sit across from him and pretend they were just a normal couple doing normal couple things.

But something tightened in her chest. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t anything he’d done. It was just… the weight of not knowing. Of feeling so much and not knowing where to put it. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Actually… I might head home. I’ve got some stuff to do before tomorrow.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded once. “Alright. You sure you’re okay?”

She smiled. It wasn’t a lie. Just a version of the truth. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He looked at her like he could see through it, but didn’t say anything. “Text me when you get back?”

“Of course.”

They stood there a beat longer, and she felt that pull again. The one that made her want to reach for his hand, to kiss him, to say what are we, actually?

Instead, she just smiled.

He leaned in like he might kiss her, but pulled back at the last second—his gaze flicking toward the people nearby. Cameras or not, there was always someone looking.

So he just squeezed her shoulder gently. “Later, then.”

“Later.”

She turned and walked away, the tote bag still heavy on her shoulder, heart heavier. She didn’t look back, but she could feel him watching her go.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

Okay. I think I’m not NOT dating Harry. I’m also dating him.

Idk what I’m saying

Noor

men just assume you’re dating them when you remember how they take their coffee

Grace

Lmfaooo Noor

Y/N seriously though, what happened?

Y/N

Nothing. I mean, we hung out. It was nice.

We walked. Argued about jam.

He looked really good in a stupid cardigan

I almost said something but then I got in my head and left like I had a dentist appointment

Noor

Noooo babe 😂

Jam walk cardigan angst???

Grace

The rarest kind of emotional spiral

Y/N

I just… I really like him

And I don’t want to ruin it by being like “sooo are you my boyfriend?”

But I also don’t want to accidentally become a situationship because I was trying to be chill

I’m not chill. I’m warm. I’m room temperature. I bake things when I’m anxious

Grace

Okay but he likes warm

He literally goes to your café just to look at you over banana bread

Noor

You don’t have to figure it all out today

You can just… tell him when it feels right

You’re allowed to want clarity, babe. That’s not needy

Y/N

God you’re both so emotionally stable it’s disgusting

Okay

Okay. I’ll chill. For now.

But if he pulls out that jam again I’m walking into the Thames

Grace

Pls do

We’ll come with prosecco

———————————————————————————

Nana

Hi, baby. Just checking in — how’s your heart today?

Y/N

A bit noisy

I’m fine

Just… wondering when you’re supposed to say something

Like… how do you ask someone what this is without sounding like you’re trying to trap them in a net?

Nana

What happened?

Y/N

Nothing, really

Harry and I had a nice day

But I left early because I was overthinking every second of it

I want to seem cool and calm and unbothered but also like…

Can someone just tell me what’s going on 😭

Nana

You want to know if you are safe to hope

That’s not silly. That’s human.

Y/N

Yes exactly

That!!

Like how do I know it’s going somewhere

Do I need to wait until he says something? Or am I allowed to go first?

Nana

Labels are lovely, but they don’t build the relationship.

The daily kindness does. The showing up. . The way you feel when he looks at you.

If you still need clarity after that, you’re in your right to ask for it, lovie

Y/N

God why are you the wise one

I thought I was supposed to be the modern one here

Nana

I’ve just lived longer.

And made more of a mess of things 😌

Y/N

Nan.

You literally got married after two weeks

Nana

Exactly.

That’s why I know it’s okay to ask the questions

Y/N

You’re ridiculous

Thank you

Love you

Nana

Always.

Now go drink water and stop overwatering your thoughts

———————————————————————————

Harry

Hey

Don’t wanna overthink it but

Felt like you left a bit fast today

Everything alright?

Y/N

Yeah 😅

Sorry

I was just… in my head a bit

But I’m okay

I always like hanging out with you

Harry

Okay

Wasn’t trying to push, just wanted to check

You sure?

Y/N

Yeah

I mean, I like hanging out with you

Like kissing you

Love doing… other things with you 🍆🔥

Harry

Oh my god

You’re unhinged

Can we ever have a serious conversation

Y/N

You started it by asking if I was okay!!

I’m trying to answer in a mature and deeply honest way

Harry

Mature and deeply honest

With an aubergine moji

Y/N

Balance is key 🤷‍♀️

Harry

You’re ridiculous

But

I like all that too

(Especially the other things)

Y/N

I figured

Sorry again about today

Just got in my own way for a second

Harry

It happens

I’m glad you told me

Y/N

I’m free tomorrow after work

If you want company

I could bring over dinner

And by dinner I mean just me and maybe half a chocolate cake that’s been left over from the café

Harry

Perfect

You and half a cake is all I need

Text me when you’re close?

Y/N

Will do x

[maincharactermuse]

UNDONE I.

A/N: i've started like 3 wips these past weeks but finally finished one! so here is some boss!harry for you, let me know if you want more of it, bc i feel like i could def add to this story!

WORD COUNT: 8.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with Y/N. The only problem is that he is her boss, so he keeps this obsession to himself. But everything changes after one drunken night.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has a love-hate relationship with the glass-walled meeting rooms in the office. Aesthetically they are bringing that well-known, usual vibe of every corporate office, nothing new, nothing unusual. Often, he is irritated that people tend to peek inside as they walk past towards the coffee machine or the restroom. He knows it’s second nature, they don’t necessarily try to intrude, but it tends to frustrate him when he is in the middle of a meeting and a random guy is just staring him down from outside. He tried to get the glass covered, but HR declined, they said something about transparency that just pissed Harry off even more, then he just gave up.

But lately, there’s been an advantage of those see-through dividers, because if people from outside can see in, that means Harry can see everything and everyone outside.

Like right now, as he is sitting by the oval table, laptop in front of him while the lawyers are talking about all the legal documents that are needed for their next deal, it’s an important step and Harry is usually great at focusing on what matters, but today his attention is somewhere else.

Outside of the meeting room, right by Y/N’s desk. 

She is the latest addition in the department, a talented analyst who joined a little over three months ago. Harry knows she is great, because he was there at her interview. He is usually not one to attend interviews, but the hiring manager got sick and they needed someone from management to be there as well and Harry had a spare hour he wanted to use to get a little ahead on that tender he’d been working on, but that got thrown right out the window. 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, listen to some random analyst who probably never even saw a DWH system, they always think they are qualified to deal with anything, but then they see just how much data they need to work with and then freak out. Harry was convinced it would happen that time too, but he was wrong.

Y/N walked in there, seemingly nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan, looking like a frightened little rabbit, so innocent, so sweet, something surprising happened. 

Harry was in awe. 

He found himself being drawn towards her, interested in how she’d perform at the interview. He kept a straight face as the recruiter beside him asked her some basic questions and then he took over for the professional part. 

He gave her his hardest questions, things even seniors might not know, he quizzed her about topics that are way too specific to work around and… she excelled. She couldn’t answer every question, but she worked up a logic she would use to at least try to tackle the matter and Harry knew she would succeed if she had the right materials. 

She blew his mind away. Once she left, he turned to the recruiter and said:

“I want her. Get her to start next week.”

And she did. Next monday, she was holding her onboarding package, eyes bright as she got seated at her desk, ready to start working. 

Now she is sitting at the same spot, wearing her blue light glasses, her eyebrows slightly furrowed behind them as she is working on something on her computer. She is wearing a long sundress today with a yellow cardigan to cover her shoulders. Harry has noted her colorful outfits every morning when she strolled into the office, brightening the otherwise dull atmosphere. It’s a whole floor full of developers, analysts and other IT professionals, they are not known for their exquisite fashion taste, but Y/N is different. Her wardrobe is full of colors and pieces others wouldn’t consider as business casual, but somehow she always makes it work. 

She is the kind of person that has a nice word for everyone, she often brings coffee to Linda, whose desk is across from hers and they usually have lunch together, Harry has noted. She is always happy to help others, she is great at seeing problems differently and quick to come up with solutions. She is definitely a favorite among her colleagues.

Unlike Harry.

Not that he wants to be liked, he is head of IT, he needs to lead, keep everything under control and make hard decisions. He is not stupid, Harry knows most people in the department fear him, he is not known for being friendly and chatty. He usually has so much work he doesn’t have time left to get a coffee with anyone, not that he would have anyone to invite. He is the gruff boss who is always busy and people try not to cross paths with. 

He doesn’t mind it. He likes to be focused on his work and most people don’t realize how hard it is to be the one to decide about budget cuts, downsizing and restructuring, because they don’t see what goes down behind these decisions, they just want to blame someone and that’s usually him. They don’t want to be friends with the big boss who fired their work bestie, even if it was a known fact they never did their job.

It was never an issue for him how his employees saw him. Until her. 

Someone stops by Y/N’s desk and he watches her face light up as she gives them her attention. He can’t hear what she is saying, but when she laughs, it rings in his ears. He loves hearing her laugh.

“So what do you think?” one of the lawyers asks him and he snaps back, realizing he has no idea what they were talking about in the last five minutes. He quickly looks down at his notes so far, but there’s no use. 

“Uh, I’ll leave it to you. I have to go now, do you think you can have everything set by the end of next week? We need it for the next sprint.”

“Sure,” the guy nods, his name is something with a J, but Harry can’t remember what it is. 

He is relieved that he could dodge admitting he has no idea what was talked about, shutting his laptop he murmurs a thank you for the group and he is the first one to walk out of the room, heading towards his office. 

Y/N is not at her desk when he walks past and he looks for her, hoping he is not too obvious, but he sees no trace of her. Is she having coffee with that guy who walked up to her desk? Are they planning something outside of work? Does he want to date her?

Harry’s thoughts are racing as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the general buzz of the open office outside. With a sigh, he sits down in his chair, places his laptop onto the desk, but leaves it unopened for a bit as he rubs his face with his hands. 

He always has control. He plans and keeps himself to his plan, he gathers data, analyses and then makes a new plan. Easy as it is. This is why he likes his job, IT is usually exact, the problem might be deeply hidden, but it’s always exact, he just needs to find the data.

But he’s been feeling chaotic lately. He is disoriented, can’t focus at meetings and finds himself thinking about her when he is supposed to be working. He just can’t help it. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, then rolls his head, his neck cracks and he lets out a groan before opening his laptop and trying his best to get back to working. The code opens in front of him and he focuses on the lines he’s been trying to rewrite, but right when he is about to start typing, there’s a knock on his door. For a second, he feels irritated that he was interrupted again, but then he looks past the screen and sees her.

Harry nods and Y/N walks through the glass door, holding her laptop to her chest, smiling shyly. Harry likes to think that this smile is for him only, that he is the reason to bring it to her lips, though he doubts he has such an effect on her. But still, it’s a nice thought. 

“Hey,” he greets her as she crosses the room and sits across from him. 

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I finished those tables you asked for yesterday, but I wanted to run a few things with you.”

“You… finished?” he asks as Y/N unfolds her laptop, nodding. 

“Yeah.” She places the laptop onto his desk and he leans closer, focusing on the screen as Y/N explains what she found unclear, but Harry is still stunned when she is done talking.

“Is it… Is it bad? Not what you thought of?” she asks, seeing his face.

“No, it’s… Y/N, you did this all by yourself?”

“Yes?” Her answer sounds unsure and panic settles in her visibly. “I-I’m sorry if it’s–”

“Y/N, this is brilliant.”

She is taken aback by his compliment, it wasn’t the first time, but it feels like a gift every time for her. 

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t doubt you could do it, but I didn’t think it would turn out this great and you also finished so fast, I thought it would take you the entire week at least.”

“Well… I did stay in a little longer last night,” she admits with a soft chuckle and it tugs on his chest right away. He looks at her over the desk, their eyes meet and for a second, warmth spreads through his veins as he fights the urge to reach out and touch her. 

Clearing his throat he leans back in his chair.

“Send it over, I’ll leave comments on those sections and then you can start the migration.”

“Thank you,” she nods, taking her laptop and heading to the door.

“And well done, Y/N,” he calls after her. She just nods and smiles at him before walking out. 

Harry watches her return to her desk, takes some deep breaths and forces himself to return to the code on his own computer. 

***

Linda wiggles her eyebrows at Y/N once she is sat at her desk. 

“Did you two eye-fuck again?” she asks and Y/N gapes at her, quickly looking around to see if anyone heard her, but luckily, everyone is too busy.

“Linda! That’s–We don’t do that.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, twirling her pen around between her fingers. 

“We just went over the tables. He said I did a good job.” She shrugs, but Linda doesn’t miss how the corners of her mouth curl up, though she tries to hide it. 

“You do realize you’re the only one in this whole department he has ever complimented, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Zach go the best reaction from him last spring, when he spent two weeks refactoring a fucked up code, Harry said it was acceptable. That’s all. The fact that he said you did a good job is just another proof that he is into you.”

“Would you stop talking about the head of IT being into me?” Y/N hisses. “Come on, let’s get a coffee before you start screaming it.”

They go down a floor where the coffee station has better options and once they both have a mug full of coffee, they settle by a high table in the common area. 

“I have a confession to make,” Y/N admits, but avoids looking her in the eyes. “Okay, go for it.”

“I’m meeting Archer today.”

“Y/N! Not your fucking ex! Why?!” Linda gasps. “Do you really hate yourself that much?”

“I don’t hate myself,” she gives her a look, before returning her gaze to her mug. “He texted me the other day.”

“And you texted him back?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Boo! You should have blocked his number a long time ago!”

Y/N has thought about that. A lot. Her asshole ex has come back a couple of times since they broke up about a year ago, they shared one or two nights, but it always ended with him disappearing and leaving her shattered. His comebacks slowed down the process of getting over him a lot and though she feels like she is finally okay, she couldn’t just ignore his text.

“That’s not like me,” she shrugs, ignoring the thought that she knows Linda is right. 

“Hun, what do you think will happen today that hasn’t happened before?”

The question stings, right in her chest, because she knows it’s true. Her logical side knows Archer won’t just magically apologize for the way he treated her, even though it’s the only thing she wants from him at this point. To admit that he was in the wrong. 

“We’ll talk. That’s it.”

“Please don’t sleep with him,” Linda sighs desperately. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

“I won’t,” she says, though she is not entirely certain it’s the truth. 

“Uh-huh, okay.” Linda checks the time on her phone. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in ten.”

“I’m coming too, I have a lot to do.”

Grabbing their mugs they head out of the common area, back to the upper floor. 

***

Harry didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He is the last person to be interested in anyone’s private life in the office. 

But when he heard Y/N’s voice as he was about to walk into the room, he stopped and hid behind the wall, listening to a conversation that was truly not meant for his ears. 

Hearing the two women talk about Y/N’s ex has ignited something new in him, especially when it became clear that he has hurt her in the past. Harry is not one to become violent, he channels all his tendencies in the gym while boxing, but from what he heard of the guy, he would have gladly punched him in the face. A few times.

Maybe more than a few.

The short conversation tickled his curiosity about what happened, but when he heard that they were about to leave, he quickly walked away so they didn’t see him. 

Now as he is back by his desk he can’t focus on the code in front of him at all, his thoughts are only about this mysterious ex Y/N is apparently meeting today. At one point, he even considers giving her some extra work to keep her in late and preferably miss the meeting, but that would be too petty even for him. Instead, he spends the next hour pretending to work while he just keeps fantasizing about different scenarios of what happened between Y/N and the guy. 

Slowly, the office starts to empty out as the end of the day nears. Desks get abandoned, lights are turned off and Harry is still there, since he barely got anything done that day. 

He sees when Y/N packs up her stuff and leaves and his jaw almost breaks as he holds himself still and just watches her walk out. 

“I’m fucking insane,” he mumbles under his breath, willing himself to do some work now that he can’t get distracted by Y/N every time she leaves her desk. 

It’s all new to him. This obsession he’s been feeling since the moment he saw Y/N at the interview. An invisible string has been pulling him towards her and it’s unlike anything he has felt with his exes before. 

He wasn’t obsessed. He didn’t think of them all the time. He didn’t lose focus when he was seeing someone. But with Y/N, he is losing his precious control and it’s almost scary. 

He finally manages to lock in for some work and time flies by. Next time he looks up from his screen the whole office is empty, only his desk lamp giving light and the green haze of the exit signs. It’s past nine and he can hear the cleaner vacuuming somewhere on the floor, so with a tired smile he shuts his computer off, gathers his things and heads out. 

He moved less than a year ago and the place he bought is within walking distance of the office. He knows it might have been a stupid idea to get a place just because it’s close to his working place, he probably won’t work there his whole life, but he doesn’t see himself switching for a long time, so it’s convenient. 

With his backpack hanging off one shoulder he steps out into the warm evening, the afternoon rush is over, now the nearby bars and restaurants are full of workers desperately needing to let some steam off before heading home. 

There’s a small park he walks through before reaching his street and it has always been dear to him, a nice change in the scenery of concrete and glass in the middle of the city. There’s even a small pond along the path that takes him across the park with benches and a handful of ducks are usually circling in the water peacefully. 

Older people from around like to come here and sit or take a short walk and they are the only people Harry likes to watch. He admires their slow pace, no rush, just enjoying what they have, a state he dreams of reaching too. 

Tonight, as he passes by the pond his eyes spot a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. He stops in his tracks, questioning if his sight is right, because the person sitting there with her head hanging low looks just like Y/N. As he slowly approaches he notices the soft shaking of her shoulders.

She’s crying. 

***

Y/N has been sitting on that bench for… God knows how long. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. She was planning to cry her eyes out at once, then move on by the time she gets home, but apparently, she needs more time to get herself over than she estimated. This spot seemed like a great one, it’s far enough from the lights so people don’t notice she is crying, but she definitely did not expect to be noticed by her boss.

“Y/N?”

Harry’s voice makes her jump and as her head snaps up, she finds herself staring up at the person she least expected to see. His eyebrows are furrowed, concern is written all over his face as he stands a few feet away from the bench, as if he can’t tell if it’s a good idea for him to get closer. 

“Oh, hi!” She quickly forces a smile on her face, but she knows she is fooling no one. She wipes her tear-soaked cheeks with the back of her hand and prays her mascara is not smudged all around her eyes in panda style. “What–What are you doing here?”

“I live nearby, I’m on my way home. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I was just taking a walk and now I’m… not.”

Her brain does not function. She knows what she said didn’t make any sense, but she can’t think of something else to say. She is way too busy thinking about how Harry is standing right there just after her ex made her wait for him for an hour before texting her he is not coming and when she called him to confront, a woman answered his phone.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to draw the conclusions: Archer was only trying to hook up with her tonight, but apparently found someone else and ditched her. A classic move from an asshole like him, but that doesn’t make her feel less like shit. Mostly because she should have known better and not believe he would do anything other than hurting her. 

Harry just stands there for a few moments and Y/N is expecting him to walk away and pretend like he didn’t even see her, but he surprises her when he walks over to the bench and sits beside her. 

“Do you want to… talk about what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she answers right away, but when she looks at him, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her. With a sigh, she turns her gaze back towards the pond. She is hesitating between keeping it all to herself or just dumping it on Harry and then deal with the consequences later, but right when she is about to make up her mind, he speaks up.

“Is this about… your ex-boyfriend?”

She turns to him with wide eyes. 

“How do you…”

A guilty look takes over his face before he shrugs.

“I heard you talking about him earlier. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I shouldn’t talk so freely with Linda in the office,” she chuckles, shaking her head. They sit in silence, when Harry peeks at her she seems deep in her thoughts and he is desperate to get her to talk, but doesn’t want to push her too much. 

As a last resort, he says:

“Do you want to have a drink?”

***

The tequila is burning her throat, she can’t help the frown as she bites into the lemon. When she looks at Harry, she is not even surprised he has the same, unbothered look on his face he had after the previous two shots. 

“Uh, how are you taking it so well?” she coughs and then takes a sip from her beer. They were lucky enough to find a table at a bar nearby and she was quick to accept that maybe getting drunk is what she needs right now, even if the alarms are still going off somewhere in the back of her mind, because doing it with Harry might not be her brightest idea. 

“I guess I still have some left of my college years,” he shrugs and she starts laughing. 

“Don’t tell me you were a party animal in college,” she snorts. The three shots and half a beer has definitely set her tongue free and took away her sense of embarrassment after saying everything that’s on her mind. She will surely regret it in the morning, but right now she couldn’t care less.

Harry likes this version of her. She is always bubbly and talkative, but in his presence he often senses her nervousness. Now there’s no trace of that and he is sinking in every moment of it.

“What do you think I was like in college?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, the words slurring a bit on her tongue. “Like a… hot nerd?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she realizes only then that she just called him hot. 

“I-I mean… I don’t–What I meant is–”

“I was a nerd,” he says, saving her from her rambling. “I was in the robotics club, spent a lot of time in the library, trying to hack their system so I didn’t have to return some books I wanted to keep.”

She can’t help, but laugh as Harry is smiling at the memory as well.

“Did you succeed?”

“What do you think?”

“For sure.”

“Correct,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “But I went to parties. I had this friend group from highschool, some of them were friends with the popular kids so we were always invited.”

“I can’t picture you with a red solo cup, filled with cheap booze.”

“But it happened,” he chuckles. “Luckily, photos have been deleted from social media.”

“Did you wipe the internet?” she asks, leaning closer as if she was asking him about a secret.

“No, but I did message those who had the photos posted when I was getting higher in my career.”

“Clever,” she nods and grabbing her beer, she takes a few swigs. Then her smile fades. “Maybe I should tell you what happened, right?”

“Only if you want to.”

Sighing she leans back, pursing her lips as she squints her eyes, looking back at him. She can’t think straight. Her thoughts are jumping, one moment she is thinking about Archer, the next all her attention is on how plump his lips look when they are wet from the beer, or the way his top two buttons of his shirt have come undone and she is seeing fucking tattoos, along his collarbones. 

She wants to kiss them. 

“I was stupid enough to think that I matter to him and he wouldn’t… hurt me. But he did. That’s it, lesson learned.”

She would love to look unbothered, like it doesn’t affect her, but she can’t. Her throat is closing up and when Harry calls out her name softly, she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and wobbling lips. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, I know. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize,” Harry shakes his head, but it’s like she didn’t even hear him.

“I know it’s stupid, but I just thought it might be different this time, that he might apologize and I can finally… I don’t know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not. You’re allowed to hope, to want to be treated the right way.”

“But I should have learned my lesson before!”

“You could have, but it’s okay. You will now. You’re smart, smarter than you think. You’ll get over it, doesn’t matter how long it takes, you will get there. I know it.”

“How?” she asks in a whisper, unable to break the eye-contact. 

“I don’t know how you’ll do it, but–”

“No,” she shakes her head. “How do you know it?”

He slowly runs his tongue over his lips, thinking his words through before speaking them.

“I just do. Do you believe me?”

Without hesitation she nods.

“I do.”

***

“If someone said one day I would be waiting for an Uber with my boss, drunk out of my ass at two am, I would have laughed them in the face.”

Y/N is holding onto a lamp post with one hand, twirling around it like a little kid as Harry stands by the curb, one hand in his pocket, the other one holding his phone, tracking the Uber that’s supposed to pick Y/N up and take her home. He is watching her with a tiny smile, it’s great to see her so carefree after her breakdown earlier. 

“Which part is so unbelievable?” 

She stops and steps closer to him. She can’t stand still, keeps shifting her weight between her feet and Harry is on alert in case she loses her balance. 

“All of it,” she grins up at him, blinking lazily. “Except the drunk out of my ass. That happens sometimes.”

“Really?” 

“Ooh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I in trouble?”

“Because you get drunk sometimes? You’re an adult, you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but… you’re my boss,” she giggles, then starts swaying as if she could hear some music. “It’s not professional to get drunk.”

“Not when you’re working. But you’re not at work right now.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I’m on the street, with Harry Styles, after drinking with Harry Styles! And now I’m gonna go home in an Uber that Harry Styles ordered for me!”

“Are you enjoying saying my name?” he chuckles, glancing at his phone again, The car is five minutes away. He is already dreading the moment it arrives, because that means the night ends. But he knows she has to get home and sleep it off.

“I do,” she sings. “It has a nice ring to it. It’s a cool name for a cool guy.”

“Oh, so I’m cool?” He knows he shouldn’t take advantage of her drunken state and keep her talking, but he just can’t get himself to stop.

“Yeah. You’re cool and smart and scary sometimes and mysterious, but not tonight,” she giggles as she keeps swaying around, while Harry can’t take his eyes off her, not when she is talking about him. “People at the office are scared of you, but I think you’re great.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re amazing, I always look forward to seeing you. Sometimes I…” She giggles at whatever she is thinking about, completely oblivious at how intently Harry is listening to her. “Sometimes I ask you about things I know just so we can talk.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, but it’s enough for her to lose balance.

She gasps when she starts falling, but he is quick to grab her by her arms, yanking her towards him to keep her from smashing against the concrete. She is not laughing anymore, especially when she realizes that her chest is pressed against his, hands still holding her arms firmly. And his eyes are piercing into her gaze in a way that takes her breath away. 

“I love when you come asking questions,” he admits. “That’s usually my favorite part of the day.”

Her eyes widen at his words and when his gaze shifts down to her lips, they part as she gasps for air. Her chest presses even more against his as she fills her lungs and she feels even more dizzy now than before. 

“I want to kiss you.”

The words blurt out of her before she could think them through, unaware of the effect they have on Harry. His gaze darkens and it moves down at her lips again. But before he could say or do anything, the Uber pulls up beside them. 

Harry lets go of her, then opens the door.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

She blinks at him a few times as he just stands there, waiting for her to get inside. She is confused. Drunk and tired and the longer she stays there the more awkward she feels, so she finally gets into the car, then Harry shuts the door and the car starts moving. 

Y/N turns around and sees him still standing there, hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. Then she slides down in the seat, closes her eyes and then replays those couple of moments when she was pressed up against him over and over again until the car stops at her apartment building. 

***

Sunday evening Y/N contemplates calling in sick. Preferably with something that keeps her away from the office… forever. 

Once she woke in the afternoon of Saturday, sobered up, with a killer headache, memories from last night came crashing down on her and the embarrassment took over instantly. She spent the rest of the weekend in agony, cursing herself out for being so stupid. 

Did she really tell her boss she wanted to kiss him?

Yes, she in fact did. After getting drunk with him, crying about her ex and telling him all kinds of stuff she never planned on admitting to him. Like that she finds him cool and smart and sometimes scary. 

But the kissing part is obviously the worst.

No matter how badly she dreads Monday morning, time doesn’t stop or slows down, the week starts and she has to go to work and face the consequences of her actions. 

Maybe Harry won’t be there. But he is always there. 

Maybe she can hide all day and avoid him… until the rest of her life or until she finds a new job. Very unlikely, but whatever. 

Her palms are sweating as she swipes her card at the gates and heads up to her floor. She’s getting paranoid, thinking that everyone in the elevator knows what happened on Friday, even though no one even bats an eye in her direction. 

Luckily, as she logs into her computer at her desk, work swamps her and provides enough distraction to stop her from throwing up when she sees Harry for the first time.

It seems like he is having a busy day too, he is in and out of meetings for the most part of the noon, she only sees him passing by or sitting in his office with his AirPods in, a sign that he is in an online meeting. But even when he is free for a short time, Y/N makes sure she avoids facing him. She even considers moving to another floor’s common room with her laptop for the day if it means she can survive without running into him and God forbid, talking to him. 

But then comes an email. 

It’s a bit after lunch time when it pops up in her inbox and her stomach drops to the floor right away when she sees it’s from Harry. Then another wave of anxiety washes over her when she reads it.

FROM: Harry Styles

Come to my office at your earliest convenience. -H

“Oh shit,” she mumbles under her breath and it catches Linda’s ears across from her, who gives her a questioning look. “Nothing.” She just shakes her head, grabs her laptop and then heads to Harry’s office with shaking knees. 

Is this the part where he tells her behavior was unacceptable? Did he maybe report her to HR for what she said?

She knocks on the door with a sweaty hand, Harry looks up from his screen with a blank face and nods at her to go inside. 

“Hey. I got your email.” She sounds like a frightened little girl as she closes the door behind her and stills, hugging her laptop to her chest. 

“Thanks for coming right away.”

Harry pushes his chair back lazily, stands and rounds the desk before leaning against it leisurely, his eyes glued to Y/N who is still standing by the door, too scared to go further. He doesn’t like the distance.

“Come, sit,” he nods towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

Obediently, she walks over and takes a seat, blinking up at him with wide eyes while he looks unbothered and almost… bored. He squints his eyes at her, tilting his head to the side a bit before finally speaking up. 

“Is there a specific reason why you’re avoiding me all day?”

Her lips part at his question and her first instinct is to deny.

“I-I’m not–”

“Y/N, you are. Normally, you would have already asked me at least two questions, but instead you walk out of the office every time I step out of mine. You are avoiding me.”

She shuts her mouth, trying to come up with something to say that could save her, but nothing comes to her mind. 

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze drops to the floor, his stare is too intense for her. “I’m so ashamed about… everything I said on Friday, I didn’t know how to face you. I said all that… inappropriate stuff you definitely shouldn’t have heard. like… ever. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” he softly says, but her gaze remains on her shoes. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

Finally, she dares to move her eyes back to meet his and then he continues… in the most surprising way.

“What I’m about to say, it’s going to be fully unrelated to work. Can you treat it as something outside of this setting?” Y/N nods. “Use your words, I need to hear you say it. Do you understand that this conversation is outside of work?”

“I understand,” she answers weakly, her mouth running dry. 

“Good.” He nods and then continues. “Do not feel sorry for anything you said. I’m glad I know all of that. The only downside of it is that now I need every ounce of self-control not to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

This time her mouth hangs open. For a moment she is not entirely convinced she hasn’t just imagined it all. That it wasn’t just her sick mind playing tricks on her. But then he speaks again.

“Did you hear what I said? That I want to fuck you into oblivion on this desk?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, trembling. 

“Good. Now I want you to go back to your desk and think it through whether you want that too or not. If you decide that you feel the same way, stay late and come back here when everyone is gone. Understood?”

“Yes.”

She feels dizzy, but not the same kind she felt on Friday, this is entirely different. Turning around she walks out of the room, but she’s on auto pilot as she returns to her desk. She leans back in her chair and slowly looks around.

No one in the room knows what just happened. Everyone is just minding their own business while Y/N is on the verge of fainting.

“You alright?” Linda peeks out from behind her screen with a concerned look on her face. “What did he want?”

If only she knew! Y/N thinks. She is dying to share, to take the whole conversation apart and analyze every bit, but she can’t. Instead, she forces a smile to her face.

“Just checked in with me about the migration.”

Linda examines her suspiciously for a second, but then her phone rings and she returns to her work while Y/N opens her laptop as well, but as she stares at the document in front of her she was working on before Harry’s email, she can’t even make out a word. 

Instead, she is busy thinking about what happens when the office empties out. 

***

Harry was dragged into some urgent issue sometime in the afternoon and it gave him enough work to take his attention away from prying outside, impatiently waiting for everyone to leave while making sure Y/N is still there. 

He answers one call after the other while emails keep popping into his inbox and he loses track of Y/N. When he finally drags his gaze away from the screen he looks up and finds the whole floor empty. All of it.

Meaning that Y/N left as well. Groaning he stands from his desk and walks over to the window, staring out into the night that has slowly creeped up on him. He truly thought she would stay. That she felt the same desire and thirst as him and she wants to explore whatever it could be, but maybe he read it all wrong. 

How will this affect their work? He should have thought of that before telling her he wants to fuck her on his desk. Who even does that? He is supposed to be her boss, her mentor, this was so incredibly inappropriate, he is thinking about reporting himself to HR and–

There’s a knock on his door. 

Turning around he freezes when he sees Y/N standing there with doe-like eyes and with just one look she is already making his pulse jump. He nods, barely noticeably, but she sees it and lets herself inside, closing the door behind her even though it’s truly just the two of them now. 

“Hey,” she sheepishly says, stopping exactly where she did earlier when he wrote her that email. This time however, Harry is the one to cross the room and then stop just inches away from her. She wonders if he could hear the wild hammering of her heart in her chest, the dizziness is back and she hides her hands behind her back so he doesn’t notice them shaking. 

“Did you think about what I said?”

Harry talks slowly and clearly and she couldn’t tell just moments ago he was freaking out too. But now that she’s there, every racing thought is gone from his mind, all he is thinking about is… her. 

“Yes.”

“And what’s your conclusion?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a tiny bit of sassiness in her tone, just enough to start a fire in him. 

She catches the way one corner of his lips curls up as he takes another small step towards her, his hands come up to cup her jaw on either side and he gently tilts her head back, angling it perfectly. Then slowly, he leans closer until his lips are almost touching hers, but then stops. As if he is giving one last chance for her to change her mind, but she is still there, waiting for him to finally break down the wall between them and he gives in. 

He lets his hunger take over instantly. There’s no testing the waters, feeling each other up, he kisses her in a demanding, needy way that takes her breath away at first, but she is quick to react the same way. 

Her hands move to his shirt, grabbing the fabric at his stomach while his hands are still holding onto her face, but then they slide down her sides, settle on the back of her thighs and she knows exactly what he wants her to do. So without breaking them apart, she jumps up, he catches her with ease as she wraps her legs around his waist and he blindly carries her to the small sofa by the wall. 

He sinks into the cushion and she straddles him, giving her a bit of advantage in height this way, so now he is the one to crane his neck while she is leaning down to meet him. 

It’s a mess, lip biting, tongues crashing, soft moans and grunts, his palms wander over his thighs and ass and then he sneakily peels her soft pink shirt out of her tight jeans so his hands can slip under the fabric and feel her heated skin. 

She is desperate to feel more, to ease the aching throbbing between her legs, so when she starts rolling her hips and grinding against his rapidly growing bulge, he can’t help the moan that slips out of his mouth, right into hers. 

His head drops to the back of the sofa and she takes the chance to kiss her way down the column of his neck. After dozens of fantasies doing the same thing during meetings, now she is finally tasting his skin, gently nibbling on a spot that has his hands grab onto her ass, pushing her even more into him. 

When their lips meet again her fingers dance down his chest, feeling up his abdomen through his shirt and then settle on his belt, she starts undoing it, but he is quick to stop her, which breaks her out of her trance., scared that she did something wrong. 

Reading her from just one look, Harry shakes his head softly.

“I know I said I want to bend you over my desk, but I don’t want the first time I’m inside you to be here. So we are gonna do it differently for now.”

As he speaks, his fingers work the buttons of her shirt, one after the other until the white, lacy bra is revealed underneath. 

“Is it fucking Christmas?” he breathes out, hooking a finger into one of the cups and tugging it down so your breast spills out of it. An airy chuckle slips out of her, but it quickly turns into a gasp when he sucks her pebbled nipple into his mouth, even gently biting and tugging on it. Her fingers comb through his hair, his fingertips massaging his scalp as her grinding continues. 

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” he murmurs against her chest, one hand freeing her other breast from the bra as well, so he can pay equal attention to them both. “You’re gonna grind that needy cunt of yours against me until you come, just so you can see what it is like when you’re not even undressed and imagine what will happen once I get to unwrap you.” He smacks her ass gently, a moan slipping out through her parted lips. “And I’m gonna leave marks all over tits and suck your nipples until they are so tender you can barely touch them, so when you go home and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember every moment of what’s happening right now.”

His hands grab her hips and make her roll them harder, his erection and the seam of her jeans rubbing into her soaking wet cunt. She eagerly takes the pace he dictated, desperate to chase her release that’s building in the pit of her stomach rapidly. 

“Do you like that? Do you like my plan?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nipple, teasing her with his touch just enough to make her whine and ache for more. 

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, hands clasping the back of his head to pull him closer to her chest and feel his lips on her heated skin again and he complies happily. 

“Then let me feel how badly you want to come.”

If someone told Y/N in the morning, that tonight she would be dry humping her boss like a horny teenager, she would have checked that person into a mental hospital. Yet here she is, grinding against Harry’s massive bulge, shamelessly rubbing her cunt against his erection while his mouth is full of her breast. 

He has already left a few marks on her and she knows she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next 2 weeks, but she couldn’t care less. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she cries out when she finds just the right angle where the seam of her jeans and the tip of his restrained cock rub her clit perfectly, sending sparks through her nerves. 

“Go on, want to see you come undone.” He bites the side of her left breast and she hisses, but it feels so good, so fucking great she moans loudly, her head falling back at the sensation.

“Harry, I–Ah!”

His hands grab her ass and he pulls her in, making her fall forward, her chest pressing up against his as she buries her face into his neck, fastening her movements as her orgasm is nearing. 

“Come on, Y/N. Let me see you come undone.”

“Wanna feel you inside,” she whines, but keeps moving.

“I know and you will. Just not now.”

She whines again in a disapproving manner, but doesn’t stop and Harry’s hips start moving as well. He encourages her a few more times, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine and right when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, the bubble pops. 

She gasps and moans, her movements get dragged out and Harry forces her to look him in the eyes as she rides out her joy. She loses track of time, can’t tell if it lasts for seconds or hours. But when it’s over she collapses into his arms. 

“You did so good. So fucking good,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing the side of her face wherever he can reach. When she finally catches her breath she sits up straight and looking down she sees that he’s still hard underneath her. 

Instantly, she reaches down, ready to take him out and take care of him, but he stops her again. 

“Not now.”

“But you… didn’t–”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “But if we go further now, I won’t be able to stop and I told you, I want the first time I’m inside you in a different setting.”

She understands and it’s flattering knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself if they continued, but it feels unbalanced now that only she came. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, hands flattening on his stomach. 

Smiling, he nods. “Very sure.”

She thinks to herself for a bit and reaching up Harry brushes a lock of hair behind her ear as a smile stretches slowly across her face.

“What is it?”

“So… this means there will be a next time?”

The playful glint in her eyes amuses him. She is sitting on his lap, her chest still exposed, lips swollen from his kisses while his erection is still straining against his pants and she asks if there will be a next time. 

“Oh yeah. I will watch you come undone over and over again in every possible way. If you let me.”

She bites into her bottom lip, sheepishly blinking down at him, but her answer surprises him for a moment.

“I’m not letting you.” His face falls and his heart drops into his stomach, but she is quick to continue: “I’m begging you.”

“Oh baby, for that, now I’m adding  spanking to when I’m bending you over my desk and fuck you.”

Her smile only grows wider.

“Please, Boss!”

PART II.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[maincharactermuse]

MASTERLIST

—please reblog and comment! you’re reading these stories for free, so it's the least you can do

—links with bullet points are extensions or flashbacks related to the original story/series

—some stories contain nsfw content, so read at your own risk

—do NOT plagiarize or post these on any other platform; these stay on tumblr and wattpad only

DAD HARRY

*highly recommend reading in order*

part one | part two | part three

california dusk

skin

you make it feel like christmas

milestones

the first day home

mother's day

third time’s the charm

rendezvous

winds of change

blurbs

——

HARRY & SAWYER

southpaw

fruitcake

pitcher's promise

sunstruck

summerboy

roses

devotion

him

her

——

GOLD RUSH SERIES

part one | part two | part three | epilogue

• auld lang syne

——

MULTIPLE-PART STORIES

foxtail | deux cadeaux

• beauty

• blurb

home is a feeling | come home to my heart

pink velvet | cloud nine

bullseye part one | part two

rewind part one | part two | part three

——

STAND-ALONE STORIES

crystal shop boy

orange slices & pocket lemons

the way of love

get mine, get yours

facade

joyride

silent treatment

get over here

[maincharactermuse]

The one where there is a third date (and a morning after.) (8)

(Find my masterlist here)

The kitchen smelled incredible - rich, warm, something tomato-based simmering low on the stove. She sat perched on the edge of the marble counter, legs swinging slightly, a glass of red wine balanced in one hand.

Harry stood at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, focused on stirring the pot like his life depended on it.

She dipped the spoon into the sauce when he wasn’t looking, tasting a little mouthful with a mischievous grin.

“Oi,” he said, turning just in time to catch her in the act. “There’s gonna be nothing left by the time it hits the plate.”

She grinned, licking her lip. “If it’s that good, you should be flattered.”

“I am flattered,” he said, mock-defensive. “But also deeply stressed. You set the bar unfairly high last week.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop. That tart you made for dessert was, like, Michelin star level. I almost proposed.”

He smirked and moved closer, still holding the spoon, resting it carefully on a dish beside the stove. “Dangerous words,” he said under his breath, voice low as he came to stand between her knees.

Her breath caught slightly as he gently nudged her legs open and stepped into the space, hands coming to rest softly on her thighs. She instinctively set the wine glass down beside her and leaned in just as he did, and their mouths met in a slow, easy kiss.

She sighed into it, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as his hands slid up her waist, the warmth of him so close it made her pulse skip.

The kiss deepened naturally, languid and warm, their bodies pulling closer without thought. His fingers curled slightly at her sides, thumbs tracing soft circles beneath the hem of her sweater.

But after a moment, he broke the kiss with a small, reluctant groan, resting his forehead against hers.

“I could do this forever,” he murmured, breath fanning over her skin. “But I’m really trying to make a good meal here.”

She laughed, head tilting back a little. “Okay, okay. Duty calls.”

“Damn right,” he said, stealing one more peck before slipping out from between her legs and returning to the stove. “But just so we’re clear, I’m counting on dessert being a joint effort.”

She hopped down from the counter, brushing against his side as she moved. “That depends,” she said, her tone teasing, “on how well you do with the entrée.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her with a smirk. “Pressure’s on, then.”

And though she laughed, something about the way he looked at her - warm, soft, just a little wanting - told her he was reading the space between their words just as clearly as she was.

By the time they made it to the table, the kitchen was heavy with the scent of roasted garlic, simmered tomatoes, fresh basil, and just the right amount of char on the crusty bread Harry had insisted on warming up “the proper way.”

She settled into her chair, tucking one leg beneath her, still glowing from the kitchen kiss - and maybe from the wine, but mostly from how easy everything felt with him.

He came around with two plates, carefully setting one in front of her, then his own. “There,” he said, straightening up with a small satisfied grin. “A very humble attempt at recreating the masterpiece we had at that place in Hackney.”

She looked down at the bowl - the same type of hand-cut pappardelle, ribbons curled delicately in a slow-simmered tomato ragu, finished with a generous dusting of parmesan. A sprig of basil nestled on top.

“You remembered,” she said, smile growing as she reached for her fork.

“‘Course I remembered,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “You were basically glowing the whole time you were eating it. I knew I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t try to match it.”

She forked up a bite and tasted it with a quiet, thoughtful hum.

“Well?” he asked, eyebrows lifted in anticipation.

Her lips twitched. “Might actually be better.”

He gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Now that is dangerous talk.”

“I mean it,” she said between bites. “You nailed the sauce. It’s got that… richness but without being too heavy. And the pasta’s got a bite- did you make it from scratch?”

“I did,” he said proudly. “Even used the fancy semolina flour.”

“Look at you,” she said, impressed. “Musician, actor, chef… anything you can’t do?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said smoothly, then immediately chuckled at his own cheesiness, holding a hand up. “Sorry. That was a terrible line. I take it back.”

She laughed, covering her mouth with her napkin. “No, no. Keep it. That one’s going in the quote vault.”

“Oh, brilliant. Now I’ll be haunted by it.”

Their plates steadily emptied between easy conversation, their voices dipping into that soft, familiar tone that always seemed to find them when it was just the two of them. They talked about food and work, travel dreams and odd habits - like how she secretly loved reorganizing bookshelves when no one was watching.

At one point, he reached across to wipe a smear of sauce off her cheek with his thumb, completely without thinking. She froze for a second - not out of discomfort, but from the intimacy of it. The casualness. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her tonight, not even close, but something about the gentleness of that moment made her heart tighten.

She leaned her chin into her palm and watched him for a second as he refilled both their wine glasses.

“What?” he asked, catching her gaze.

“Nothing,” she said softly. “Just… I really like this.”

His expression softened. “Me too.”

They lingered at the table long after the plates had been cleared. At some point, she’d padded into the kitchen to help with dishes, and he’d wrapped his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder, hands fitting naturally over hers as she rinsed a bowl.

Now, with the lights low and music playing faintly from a speaker in the corner, they’d made their way to the couch, wine glasses back in hand.

She sat cross-legged, curled up beside him, her shoulder brushing his with every laugh. At one point, she laughed so hard she knocked into his side, and he took the opportunity to pull her closer, his arm draping around her with easy affection.

She leaned into it, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“You’re really comfortable,” she murmured.

He arched a brow. “Is that… a compliment?”

“It is,” she said with a small nod. “Third date, and I don’t feel like I have to pretend to be anything else. It’s nice.”

His smile dimmed to something more thoughtful - not serious, just weighted in the way he looked at her.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said quietly. “I like who you are.”

A silence fell between them then, not awkward, just dense with that familiar energy they’d been circling since the first time their hands had brushed.

She shifted slightly, lifting a hand to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear. “I feel like I’ve known you longer than I have.”

He turned toward her then, shifting just enough so that their knees knocked gently, so that he could fully see her face. His hand moved to her cheek, thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he said, almost a whisper.

Her breath caught just slightly, and for a moment, she just looked at him, as if waiting for something to pass between them - confirmation, courage, certainty.

And then she leaned forward, closing the space.

The kiss started slow — soft and sure. But it deepened quickly, familiarity and newness folding together in the way her hands moved to his shoulders, the way his settled at her waist, anchoring her.

She shifted closer, until she was practically in his lap, and his hands slid up her back, one finding the base of her neck. Their mouths moved in sync, tongues tasting gently, reverently - heat curling low in her belly at how careful and intentional he was, never rushed, never assuming.

When they finally pulled apart, she was a little breathless, eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile spreading across her lips.

“I could kiss you all night,” she murmured.

“Funny,” he said, voice low and a little rasped, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

His thumb brushed along her jaw again, eyes locked on hers like she was the only thing in the room. “Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his voice lower now, more grounded. “You want to keep going?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’m so sure.”

Then, with a soft, amused tilt to her head, she glanced downward - the heat of her body nestled into his lap making the situation pretty undeniable. Her brows lifted slightly, lips curving with a teasing smile.

“I think you’re sure too.”

He groaned, half-embarrassed, half-laughing. “That’s… yeah. Okay. Embarrassing.”

She leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It’s not. I’m not offended.” She shifted in his lap, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt at his back, skin meeting skin. Her voice dropped, quieter now, but steady. “I’d really like to go to your bedroom.”

His breath caught. That was all it took.

He stood slowly, guiding her up with him, hands gentle but sure. They didn’t rush - not yet. He took her hand and led her down the hallway, the two of them half-laughing at how her socked feet slipped on the wooden floor, how she clung to his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

———————————————————————————

His bedroom was quiet, warm. The kind of soft lighting that fell across walls like moonlight. As they stepped inside, there was a charged stillness - a shared breath.

Then he kissed her again. This time slower. Deeper. More like promise than invitation.

Clothes were discarded between soft laughter and quiet gasps, pieces falling like leaves behind them. He treated her like something sacred, fingertips memorizing, not claiming. Her hands in his hair, her knees pressed to the edge of the bed, his lips everywhere she needed them to be.

The rhythm of their bodies came naturally - no awkward stumbles, only pauses to look at each other like they were still surprised this was real. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about connection - warmth and want and vulnerability all wrapped into one moment where they chose each other again and again.

And when they finally stilled - breaths tangled, limbs loose and tangled, hearts beating in sync - there was silence for just a moment.

Then, both at once:

“Wow.”

They looked at each other, blinking, and broke into laughter, limbs shaking gently with it.

She tucked herself into the crook of his arm, letting the weight of the moment settle.

His fingers threaded through her hair, slow and absent, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I really, really like you.”

She tilted her head up slightly. “You’re okay.”

He gasped, overly dramatic. “Wow. Geez. Just absolutely hitting me where it hurts.”

She giggled into his chest. “I’m joking.”

“Better be.”

She nudged her nose into his collarbone, voice softening. “I really like you too. I’m so happy you came into the café that first time.”

He smiled against her temple. “And I’m so happy you flirted with me.”

Her head popped up. “I did not flirt.”

He raised an eyebrow.

She groaned. “Why does everyone keep saying I flirted?”

“Because,” he said, lips curving again, “you totally did.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. And he just kept looking at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was really here.

Wrapped in each other, they drifted - not just into sleep, but into something more settled. The kind of quiet that only comes when things feel exactly right.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

currently hiding in his bathroom

…to say I may have just had the best sex of my entire life

that is all

send thoughts and electrolytes

Noor

OH MY GOD

how many stars??

scale of 1 to rebirth?

Grace

Bathroom texting = serious

Was it soft?? Was it hot?? Was there music playing??

WAS THERE AFTERCARE?? 👀

Y/N

all of the above

Noor

Hello?? That’s it

You are never allowed to ghost us like this again.

Grace

Y/N

You can’t end it there

Y/N!

Noor

She’s gone

live your dream, queen 💅

———————————————————————————

The morning light bled in through the bedroom blinds in pale strokes, catching dust in golden halos. The sheets were warm, tangled. Her cheek was smushed into the pillow, the scent of him still clinging to the fabric. She stirred slightly as something - someone - pressed a kiss to the top of her head, warm and gentle. But she was still somewhere between dreams and waking, and all she did was murmur something incoherent and bury her face deeper.

Harry paused there a moment longer, standing by the bed. The blanket had slipped down her back in the night, and the morning light kissed across the top of her bare shoulder, her collarbone, the elegant slope of her spine. His hoodie was draped over a chair nearby, discarded during some late-night laughter. He nearly grabbed it, but didn’t. Not yet.

She looked beautiful. Like… achingly so. Sleep-soft and peaceful. Her lips slightly parted, hair a mess, one hand curled into the pillow like she was still holding onto something.

He sighed, reluctant, but habit tugged at him. Mornings were his thing - movement, fresh air, head cleared. So he leaned down once more, another brush of lips to her forehead, this time softer, like a silent promise. Then he forced himself to go.

By the time her eyes blinked open, the sun was higher and the room had shifted from golden to warm white. She stretched slowly, turning onto her back and immediately noticed the bed was empty. Her brows drew together faintly. She reached out to the other side. Cold.

Frowning slightly, she sat up and scanned the room. No sound of the shower running. No footsteps from downstairs. Her heart didn’t exactly leap into panic, but… it did twist a little.

Was it too much? Did he wake up and think differently about everything?

She got up slowly, grabbing the first thing she saw: his hoodie. It swallowed her as she pulled it on, the hem brushing her bare thighs, sleeves covering her hands. She padded out to the hallway quietly, peeking into the living space. Still no sign of him.

She told herself not to overthink it. But her fingers nervously twisted the cuffs of his sleeves anyway.

That’s when the front door opened.

She startled slightly, backing up instinctively a step - and then there he was, stepping in, cheeks a little flushed from the cool morning, hair tucked under a beanie, holding a tray of coffee cups and a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like heaven.

“Hey,” he said, pausing when he saw her. She looked… soft. Rumpled and still half-asleep, his hoodie swamping her, legs bare. Her eyes were wide, uncertain.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Yeah. I just… woke up and you weren’t here, and-” She trailed off, clearly unsure if she was allowed to say what she was really feeling. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know where you were.”

His face softened as he crossed the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” He held up the coffee tray. “Went for a jog. Stopped by the café. Ryan and Lucia said this one’s your favourite.”

He offered the bag toward her. She took it slowly, fingers brushing his. She didn’t say anything for a second - just looked at him with a slightly shy, sleepy expression that made his chest feel warm.

His hand found her waist, the fabric of the hoodie bunching slightly under his touch. “You sure you’re okay?”

She looked up at him, eyes a little clearer now. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He dipped down to kiss her softly - slow, a little lingering, as if to reassure her all over again.

They moved to the couch with their pastries and coffee, legs brushing under the blanket she pulled over them. Her body slowly eased, the nerves falling away as the warmth settled in again.

“So,” he said after a few quiet bites, “we’ve officially passed the third date milestone.”

“Oh?” she said, raising a brow, sipping from her coffee. “And what does that mean?”

“It means,” he said seriously, “I’m now contractually obligated to always bring you baked goods when I disappear in the morning.”

She smirked. “Mmm. Noted.”

“Also,” he added, “you looked beautiful sleeping.”

She blushed, ducking her head. “Don’t say that. I probably had, like, pillow lines and drool-”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Just perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and her foot nudged his under the blanket.

The morning unfolded softly from there. No pressure. No rush. Just two people easing into something real, something that felt more and more like home.

———————————————————————————

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked softly, crouching in front of her with one hand braced on the armrest. His curls were damp from the shower he’d taken post-run, a few tendrils clinging to his forehead, and she noticed how he still hadn’t caught his breath completely.

“I’m fine,” she nodded, then grinned, tilting her head slightly. “Though, it’s kind of a shame you weren’t there when I woke up.”

Harry blinked, caught a little off guard. “What do you mean?”

She bit her lip, eyes dancing. “Oh, nothing. Just thought maybe… you might’ve preferred a different form of cardio this morning.”

He stared at her for a beat, lips parting just slightly. Then his eyebrows shot up, and he let out a sharp laugh. “Miss L/N,” he said, exaggerating his poshest tone. “The profanity at this hour.”

She sipped from the coffee he’d brought her, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just saying, that pasta last night wasn’t the only thing that blew my mind.”

He choked on his own coffee and narrowed his eyes at her, grinning despite himself. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, dragging a bite from the pastry. “You’re just slow.”

Harry stood back up and leaned over the back of the couch, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Slow, but sweet,” he said into her hair, his voice lower now, tender. “Wouldn’t want to rush a good thing.”

They sat like that for a moment - him hovering over her, her leaning back just slightly into his warmth - before she reached out, fingers catching the hem of his shirt, tugging him toward the bathroom.

“Shower?” she asked casually, like it wasn’t anything new, even though both their stomachs fluttered with the newness of it all.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled, and let her lead.

———————————————————————————

The bathroom filled with steam as the shower hummed to life. She leaned against the sink, still in his hoodie, fingers absently tracing the edge of the porcelain while Harry adjusted the temperature behind the curtain of fog.

He turned, lifting an eyebrow at her. “You planning on standing there all morning looking that smug, or…?”

She grinned and stepped forward, peeling the hoodie over her head in one slow motion. His gaze dropped, just briefly, and then returned to her face - reverent, not ravenous. Like he was still surprised she was real.

“You’re staring,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he replied, no apology in it.

They stepped in together - careful, close, steam curling around their shoulders. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about lust. Not anymore. It was him reaching for her shampoo without asking. Her tipping her head back, trusting him to rinse the soap from her hair. Quiet laughs when water ran into her eyes. The curve of her back pressed to his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

And when she turned to face him, her fingers tracing the water dripping from his jaw, he kissed her like he had all the time in the world.

Later, wrapped in towels and warm skin, they padded back into the bedroom. Her wet hair left little crescent moons of damp on his T-shirt, now draped over her shoulders. He tossed his beanie at the laundry basket and missed by about two metres.

She raised a brow. “Athlete of the year.”

He flopped onto the bed, arms behind his head. “You’re just jealous of my form.”

She climbed in beside him, curling one leg over his and resting her chin on his chest. “So what’s next?”

His fingers found the small of her back. “Next?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes curious. “Is there, like… a post-third-date itinerary I should know about? Fourth date protocol? Do we go apple picking now or get matching tattoos or something?”

Harry laughed. “God, you’re chaotic in the morning.”

She smiled, then softened. “But really. What happens now?”

He looked at her for a long moment - not in a heavy way, but with a kind of stillness. His hand slid up, fingers brushing her damp hair back behind her ear. “We keep going,” he said simply. “If you want to.”

She searched his face for any flicker of doubt, and found none.

“I do,” she said, voice quiet.

His thumb brushed her cheek. “Good. Because I’m not ready for this to be a one-off.”

She leaned forward and kissed him - soft and sure.

When they finally rolled out of bed again, hair half-dried and faces glowing with that slightly smug look of two people who’d had a very good night, she found her phone buzzing on the nightstand. Two missed messages.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Grace

Are you alive or did you actually dissolve into a puddle of orgasm and steam???

Noor

Blink twice if you’re being held hostage in a man’s hoodie.

(We approve either way.)

Y/N

still alive

hydrated

recently shampooed

will report back in full detail later

xo

Grace

Ffs I have work and you’re out here living my dream.

Noor

I’d be mad but also

🕯️ blessings to your loins 🕯️

———————————————————————————

Nana

Hi baby

Just checking in.

Is that boy still being good to you?

Y/N

Hi Nana 💛

He brought me coffee this morning.

And a cinnamon pastry.

Still good.

Nana

Good man!

Don’t let him get lazy

They all get lazy if you let them.

Y/N

😂 I won’t.

Promise!

Nana

Okay - im glad he’s treating you well.

Text me if he gets lazy. I’ll sort him out.

[maincharactermuse]

Harry Styles London, June 2025.

[maincharactermuse]

The one where they recap the date. (7)

(Find my masterlist here)

Her phone buzzed gently on the bedside table. She picked it up, still half in sleep, and smiled at the message from Harry.

Harry

Hey, morning

Hope you survived the pasta and lime bike apocalypse.

I really enjoyed last night. I hope you did too.

Y/N

Morning! ☺️

Definitely loved the date

Not sure if the bike ride was more fun or mild torture but I’m still here

———————————————————————————

Later, while she was working, Ryan leaned over the counter, smirking.

“Ooh, looks like someone’s got a serious post-date glow.”

Lucía joined in, drying a cup. “Yeah, don’t forget us when you’re off on your next romantic adventure!”

She laughed, shaking her head, fingers flying over the phone. Then Harry’s name popped up again.

“Lunch? I promise no lime bikes this time.”

Her heart skipped as she accepted. Later, she stepped outside the cafe, scanning the street, nerves bubbling. There he was, leaning casually against a lamppost, looking just like he did yesterday — only somehow better.

“Hey,” he said softly, as she approached.

She paused, unsure — hug or handshake? She decided on a quick, warm hug. His arms felt steady, familiar.

“Got you a coffee,” she said, pulling a small takeaway cup from her bag and handing it over.

He smiled, taking it gratefully. “You’re spoiling me.”

They found a quiet bench at the edge of Hampstead Heath, the city humming around them.

“So,” she said, glancing sideways, “how do you feel about a second date?”

He smiled, thoughtful. “Depends. What did you have in mind?”

She grinned, cheeks warming. “I was thinking… maybe I could cook for you? Bake something even?”

Harry’s face softened into a smile. “I’m happy to go on that date. Sounds perfect.”

They lingered there, joking about everything and nothing, the afternoon sun filtering softly through the trees.

She sighed. “I don’t want to go back to work.”

He raised an eyebrow, teasing. “How else are you going to perfect your coffees for me?”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, you love my coffees? I thought you said nothing would ever be better than Ryan’s.”

Harry laughed lightly. “I’m just joking. But actually, I’ve got a meeting in town soon. I’ll walk you back.”

They strolled toward the cafe, the quiet buzz of the city around them. Outside, she hesitated again—hug or no hug? They shared a shy, lingering glance before she turned and pushed open the door, leaving him standing there with a soft smile.

Inside, Ryan was already at the counter, giving her a cheeky grin.

“So, spill it—what’s the secret love story of Harry Styles?”

She shushed him, lowering her voice. “Shh, there are customers.”

Ryan grinned wider. “I’m sure they’d love to know.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not what this is for me.”

“No, I know,” Ryan said, smirking. “But it’s good to see you so happy—even if he prefers your coffees over mine.”

She shot him a mock glare. “When are you gonna let that go?”

He laughed. “When I’m dead.”

She shook her head, then turned back toward her office. Her phone buzzed. A text from Harry.

“Had a nice, quick lunch with you. Can’t wait for date number two.”

She smiled, heart light as she slipped the phone into her pocket and got back to work.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

(pinging relentlessly after Y/N posts a subtle mirror selfie captioned “Monday, but make it post-date glow.”)

Grace

OKAY SPILL???

What did he wear.

What did you wear.

How did it end.

Is he in love with you yet??

Noor

Was it actually a date-date? Like romantic or more flirty-friends-I-might-kiss-you-type?

Y/N

omg 😭

it was a real actual date. he picked the spot. he told me I was beautiful.

i brought him a coffee the next day

we sat in the park and talked about second dates and he smiled like A LOT

Grace

I’m crying and I wasn’t even there

Noor

Did he kiss you?? You’re not allowed to avoid this question

Y/N

👀 👀

Grace

OMG OMG STOP DONT TELL ME

Tell me!! ‼️

Y/N

Ok so unlike me but last night

We were at his place talking

And I was just like “when are you going to kiss me”

Noor

Ok why is this a movie! 🥹

Y/N

Stop

And so there were lots of kisses but today it was just a hug

but like… you know when you leave someone and you’re already thinking about seeing them again?? it was like that

Grace

And what are we rating the kiss out of 10?

1 being… get this man away from me and 10 being I want to wear an I love Harry Styles t shirt to work

Y/N

I would we be wearing the whole merch collection

And putting a banner across the Café of his face

Noor

OMG STOP 🥵

Does he have a brother?

Y/N

Just him 🥰

Grace

I hate that I’m a lesbian right now

But I would still marry him

Noor

Okay next steps:

1. Cook for him.

2. Look effortlessly stunning.

3. Be emotionally available but mysterious.

4. Let him fall wildly in love.

We’re almost there.

Y/N

i hate how much i love this list

also i invited him over so… cook date pending 🫣

Grace

I volunteer as outfit stylist and playlist consultant.

———————————————————————————

Y/N

Hi Nana 🤍 just wanted to say I miss you!! Hope Spain is treating you well as always!

Nana

Mi sol ☀️! I was just thinking about you. How is your work? How is your heart?

Y/N

Work is busy and good! And my heart… maybe full? I went on a date last night. With a very, very kind man. He’s funny and sweet. I like him a lot.

Nana

You always give your heart with both hands. Just make sure he knows how special that is.

What does he do?

Y/N

He’s a musician. It’s early still… but he makes me feel really safe.

Nana

Then he’s lucky. You always see the best in people. You must send me a photo when you feel ready.

Y/N

Promise 🫶 te quiero mucho

Nana

Te quiero más. Always!

———————————————————————————

group chat: toast 🍞 hampstead crew

Etienne

Priya’s gone ONE WEEK and we’re already running low on basil. I’m just saying.

Ryan

You’re saying you miss her. Own it.

Lucía

Wait more importantly…

Y/N.

Date update???

Toby

👀👀👀👀

Jules

I require a timeline. And a beverage. But mostly a timeline.

Y/N

Ugh you’re all nosy

Also how do you all know?!

RYAN!

Fine. We went to that little place in Hackney. Pasta. Chaos on lime bikes. Plans for a second date.

Etienne

LIME BIKES? This is why I stay in the kitchen.

Lucía

This is giving romantic indie montage energy.

Toby

What are you cooking for him?

Can I help?? I love romantic menus.

Y/N

He said he’d eat anything I made 🥹

So maybe something with homemade pasta?? And those chocolate lava cakes we used to do?

Jules

Alright, romantic dinner bootcamp. Friday night.

Team Toast, assemble.

Ryan

I call wine duty.

Also I’m not sorry that I told everyone

We were all worried for a second that you’d turn out to be a nun.

Y/N

RYAN!

Lucía

I’ll light a candle in the back kitchen and pray for your love life.

———————————————————————————

Harry

Still thinking about that coffee. And the woman who brought it to me.

Y/N

Wow. That’s very smooth for someone who almost fell off a lime bike yesterday.

Harry

In my defense, I was distracted by your laugh. Dangerous.

Y/N

You’re impossible.

But also… thank you 🫣

Harry

Hey, full honesty now. What’s your go-to karaoke song?

This is crucial.

Y/N

Oh no. Don’t judge me…

But “Since U Been Gone” by Kelly Clarkson. No one survives it when I hit the bridge

I don’t think I even fully survive it tbh

Harry

Oh my god.

Absolutely iconic.

Marry me immediately.

Y/N

😂 Please. I haven’t even baked for you yet.

Harry

Right. Okay. Holding off on the proposal until dessert.

Y/N

Smart man.

Okay, your turn. Karaoke song. Be honest.

Harry

Bit cliché but… “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.”

I do both parts. Naturally.

Y/N

I knew you’d be the type to go full Diana Ross and Marvin Gaye.

Harry

What can I say. Range.

Y/N

Okay okay — what’s your comfort movie?

Harry

The Notebook.

No shame. It gets me every time.

Y/N

Okay I think I’m in love with you now.

Harry

Fast mover. I like it.

I feel like we just unlocked a soulmate level.

What’s your biggest ick?

Just so I don’t accidentally do it.

Y/N

Okay…

People who clap when the plane lands.

Also people who say “let’s circle back.”

Harry

Well shit. Gonna delete some emails real quick.

Y/N

YOU DON’T SAY THAT DO YOU

Harry

Only ironically… mostly.

Okay, last question for now:

What’s something I wouldn’t guess about you?

Y/N

Hmmm

I learned British Sign Language in uni for two years.

Harry

That’s incredible.

That’s also… really hot. In a deeply respectful way.

Y/N

😂😂 noted.

Your turn

Harry

I can make a full roast dinner. With gravy. Like, actual good gravy.

Y/N

…this feels like something I need to fact-check in person.

———————————————————————————

Y/N

Can I ask you something random?

I was just thinking about it

Harry

You can ask me anything. What’s on your mind?

Y/N

What did you want to be when you were little?

Before you became… you.

Harry

Oof.

Okay don’t laugh but… a florist.

I was obsessed with this little shop in my town. I used to make “bouquets” out of weeds in my backyard.

Y/N

That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

I feel like that actually says a lot about you.

Harry

What does it say?

Y/N

That you care about beauty. Softness.

And that you liked making things for other people.

Also… flower boy energy. Obvs.

Harry

You’re gonna make me blush in my hotel bed.

Y/N

As you should.

Your turn. Ask me one.

Harry

Okay…

What’s a smell that instantly makes you feel safe?

Y/N

Mmm. Cinnamon. And rain on concrete. And vanilla candles.

And honestly… clean laundry? Like warm t-shirts?

Harry

Noted. I’ll wear clean shirts around you, just in case.

Y/N

What’s yours?

Harry

Old books. Peppermint tea. My mum’s perfume.

And now maybe… the inside of your cafe.

Y/N

…you really know how to make someone melt, huh?

Harry

Only when it’s you.

Y/N

Stop. I’m literally smiling under my duvet like I’m 16.

Okay… what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?

Harry

That sometimes I get so caught up in “doing well” that I forget to feel things.

But I don’t want to be like that anymore.

And you make that easier.

Y/N

Wow.

Thank you for telling me. That’s… I’m honoured.

Harry

I meant it.

You feel really safe to talk to.

Y/N

Same.

Okay. Last one before sleep.

What’s something you’re scared of — but trying not to be?

Harry

Letting someone really see all of me. The messy, imperfect, overthinking parts.

But I’m trying.

Y/N

I think those are the best parts.

The real ones.

Harry

You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?

Y/N

Only in the softest way possible.

Harry

Can I call you tomorrow night?

Y/N

I’d like that.

Goodnight, H. Sweet dreams.

Harry

Goodnight, love. Sleep well.

[maincharactermuse]

Same girl ….. same

[maincharactermuse]

Maincharactermuse Masterlist

THE ONE

HARRY STYLES & Y/N // A soft love story - from first meeting to life together.

Part 1: The one where she flirted

Part 2: The one where she flirted... again

Part 3: The one where they talk

Part 4: The one where she's not there

Part 5: The one where Harry gets her number

Part 6: The one where they go on a date

Part 7: The one where they recap the date

Part 8: The one where there is a third date (and a morning after)

Part 9: The one where there is overthinking

Part 10: The one where she's... spiralling

Part 11: The one where there is a party

Part 12: The one where there is a question… and a dinner party

ONE SHOTS

Father's Day, and Every Day (Dad Harry x OC)

This story follows Harry and Nora through moments around Father's Day - from family life and milestones, to unexpected news and quiet reflections. It's about what it means to be family.

Come Back To Me (Firefighter Harry x OC)

When a fire at Amelia’s school turns their ordinary morning upside down, Harry is reminded how quickly everything can change, and how much he doesn’t want to face a future without her.

[maincharactermuse]

The one where they go on a date. (6)

(Find my masterlist here)

Harry steps up to the counter and catches Ryan’s eye.

“I’ll have the usual, please,” Harry says with a smile.

Ryan starts making the coffee, and Harry leans forward, lowering his voice slightly.

“So, any advice for this first date thing? I don’t want to mess it up.”

Ryan smirks, handing over the cup. “Honestly? Just do whatever you normally do on a date. But one thing—don’t bring her roses. She hates roses.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “No roses. Got it.”

“Oh, and definitely no fancy-schmancy restaurants. She’s not into that. Keep it simple.”

Harry chuckles. “Okay, no roses and keep it casual. Easy enough.”

Ryan grins. “See? You’re set.”

Y/N steps out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She pauses, surprised to see Harry already at the counter, chatting casually with Ryan.

“Oh, you’re here early,” she says, trying to sound casual but feeling a flutter in her chest.

Harry grins, leaning against the counter. “What, you think I need like twelve hours to get ready for our date?” His voice is playful, but there’s a spark in his eyes.

Y/N’s breath hitches—part excitement, part nerves. “Maybe not twelve, but close enough.”

Harry laughs softly, then glances at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to go, but I’ll be seeing you later.” He shoots her a lingering look before heading for the door.

As the door closes behind him, Ryan nudges Y/N with a knowing smile.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Y/N exhales, trying to steady herself. “Maybe a little.”

Ryan folds his arms. “Relax. Just be yourself. That’s all you need.”

Y/N bites her lip, then nods slowly. “Thanks, Ryan. I hope I don’t mess it up.”

Ryan smirks. “You won’t. And if you do, well, there’s always the next date.”

They share a brief laugh, and Y/N feels a bit more at ease.

Y/N leans against the counter, still processing Ryan’s words when Jules walks out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She pauses mid-step, clearly having overheard part of the conversation.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I may have been eavesdropping,” Jules says with a small, warm smile.

Y/N chuckles nervously. “It’s okay, Jules. I’m just… nervous.”

Jules nods knowingly and steps closer, her tone softening. “Honestly, just be yourself. You two already have a good thing going. He’s going to love you just like we all do here.”

Y/N feels a lump in her throat, touched by the sincerity. Jules gives her a gentle hug, and for a moment, everything feels a little less scary.

Pulling back with a wink, Jules grins, “Now, let’s get back to it, yeah? I’ll be making salads, not crying.”

Y/N laughs, feeling lighter than before. “Right. No crying.”

The three share a quiet moment of camaraderie before Y/N heads back to the chalkboard outside, the nerves now mixed with a hopeful excitement for what’s to come.

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

which outfit do we like?

[Three photos sent]

Grace

omg today is the day 🥹

they grow up so fast

Noor

it seems like yesterday

they were flirting over coffee

Y/N

i hate you both

but please help me

which one

Noor

ok ok sorry

hmmmm outfit 3 is giving Nun

Grace

omg yes I was wondering what it reminded me of

Y/N

ok I’m not going on this date anymore 💀

Grace

relaxxxxx let us cook

i don’t like outfit 1

that’s a daytime date outfit

Noor

agreed

outfit 2

you just need to add that cute brown western belt you have and he won’t take his eyes off of you

Grace

yessss #1 is gonna make him 😩🚨🍆

Y/N

ok I don’t know what that means

I’m going now and will be deleting both you numbers

Noor

we love you y/n xx

you’ll do great

———————————————————————————

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in her flat, smoothing down her flowy midi skirt, paired with her simple tank, western belt and heeled boots. Simple yet striking. She’d gone for minimal makeup, just enough to highlight her features, and her hair was loosely pulled back, with a few strands softly framing her face.

She smiled, slipped on a light jacket, and grabbed her bag. When the doorbell rang, she took a deep breath and opened it.

Harry stood there, eyes wide as if caught off guard. “Wow. You look amazing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “Well, one of us has to look good tonight.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy, and she felt some of her nerves melt away.

As they stepped outside, Harry said, “Okay, so I’ve got two options for our date. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about riding a Lime bike to dinner.”

Y/N smirked, raising a brow. “Is this like a chariot situation? Should I expect a royal procession or just some dingy rental bikes?”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Definitely dingy Lime bikes. But I promise the destination makes up for it.”

She laughed. “Well, if I survive the ride, I expect a five-star Italian meal.”

They coasted along the quiet Hackney streets, the soft glow of streetlights casting gentle shadows as they rode side by side. At a red traffic light, Harry slowed and glanced over, his voice low and easy.

“You good on the bike? Need me to slow down?”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said softly. “Actually… this is starting to be a great date.”

Harry’s eyes flickered with surprise, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Starting?”

She laughed, shaking her head quickly. “No, no. Not just the biking part - I mean, I know we’ve only been riding bikes, but I’m really enjoying tonight.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before pulling back just as the light turned green.

With the easy rhythm of two people settling into the moment, they pedaled through Hackney toward the tucked-away little Italian place - cozy, low-key, and perfect. The kind of spot where the world felt just a little quieter, just for them.

The restaurant was warm and dimly lit, the faint scent of garlic and fresh herbs filling the air. As they settled into their seats, the initial adrenaline from the bike ride began to ebb away, leaving Y/N with a flutter of nerves she hadn’t quite expected.

Harry’s eyes met hers across the table, calm and steady. “Everything okay?”

Y/N forced a smile, but the tension lingered. “Yeah… I’m just a bit nervous.”

He tilted his head, watching her closely. “Nervous?”

Y/N gave a shaky smile but words started tumbling out faster than she could stop them.

“I mean, it’s just… I don’t know. It’s been ages since I’ve actually been on a proper date, you know? Like, not just grabbing coffee or whatever, but this kind of… real thing. And I’m just thinking maybe I’m going to say something stupid or spill my drink or just… I don’t know.” She laughed nervously, cheeks flushing.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

She looked up at him, breathing a little easier. “Yeah, just you.” The words were soft, but steady.

He smiled, quick to ease the mood, “So… what’s good here? I’m thinking pasta, but I’m open to suggestions.”

Y/N glanced at the menu, brow furrowed. “Well, you’re the Italian expert. What would you pick?”

Before he could answer, the waiter arrived, and Harry switched seamlessly into Italian, his words flowing smoothly. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, then she teased with a playful grin, “Wow, you speaking Italian? That’s really hot.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he scratched the back of his neck, shy but pleased.

As the waiter left, Y/N slipped her foot around Harry’s ankle under the table. He let out a small, surprised cough, half-choke, caught off guard by her forwardness but clearly enjoying the connection.

They fell into easy conversation, the hum of the quiet Italian restaurant wrapping around them like a cozy blanket.

“So… tell me more about you,” Y/N said, leaning in a little, curious. “Not the superstar part, but the real you.”

Harry chuckled softly. “The real me? I don’t know where to start. It’s weird - sometimes it feels like I live two lives. One under these bright lights and cameras, and one just trying to have a normal day.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “That must be exhausting.”

“Yeah. And sometimes it means… people recognize me everywhere. Which is nice, but also kinda strange on a date. Like, I’m trying to focus on the person in front of me, not the crowd behind them.”

Just then, a woman at the next table glanced their way and pulled out her phone. Harry noticed immediately.

“Sorry,” he said, politely but firmly. “Not tonight.”

The woman gave a small, understanding nod and put her phone away.

Harry looked apologetic. “Sorry about that. It’s always weird. You know, going on a first date and having to say, ‘Hey, people might want photos of me.’ It’s not exactly how you want to start.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to put her hand on his. He hesitated, then gently pulled his hand away. The quick movement stung more than she expected.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes sincere. “It’s just… a knee-jerk reaction. I don’t want anyone to make assumptions - or, well, to take photos and then subject you to that spotlight, too.”

She looked down, pulling her hands quietly into her lap. “I get it,” she whispered. Still, the small sting lingered.

They settled back into the conversation, the moment gently passing.

“So,” Y/N said, voice soft but curious, “it must be hard, balancing… this,” she gestured around the restaurant, “with a relationship. How do you manage it?”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s tough. But when it’s right, it’s worth it. You have to trust, communicate, and sometimes just hold on through the crazy.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes thoughtful. “I get it, more than you might think. I mean, maybe not with the spotlight, but… when things get hard or complicated, sometimes people just want the real, quiet moments without all the noise. And that can be rare to find.”

Harry looked at her, impressed and a little surprised. “How do you do that? Just know what to say?”

She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve had to learn it the hard way.”

He grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s kind of rare.”

Just then, the waiter arrived with their food, placing the plates in front of them. The moment shifted as they both smiled, ready to eat.

They dug into their food, the warm glow of the restaurant making everything feel cozy. Y/N tasted a forkful of Harry’s pasta and raised an eyebrow. “Want to try some of mine? I promise it’s better than it looks.”

Harry chuckled, leaning over to take a bite. “I’ll take your word for it.”

She poured herself another glass of wine, the buzz calming her nerves. Her leg brushed against his under the table, still curled lightly around his ankle. Harry was keenly aware of the contact, his attention flickering between her and the food.

As the waiter returned, Harry smoothly switched into Italian, placing the dessert order with casual charm. Y/N watched, amused.

“You’re really something,” she teased. “Speaking Italian like that - seriously, it’s kind of hot.”

Harry gave a small, shy smile. “You’re the only one who gets that kind of reaction.”

When dessert arrived, Harry glanced at her. “Do you want any?”

Y/N shook her head, patting her stomach. “I’m full, but I don’t want this date to end just yet.”

“Me neither,” Harry said softly.

There was a pause, then Harry blurted out, almost reflexively, “Do you want to come to my place?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Wow. Feed the girl pasta, and you already want to jump to third base, huh?”

Harry coughed, laughing nervously. “No! That’s not what I meant. I just thought… maybe we could have a more private place to talk. I really love talking to you.”

She softened. “I’d love that, but just to be clear - I’m not ready for anything else on this date.”

Harry nodded, understanding clear in his eyes. “Absolutely. No pressure.”

———————————————————————————

Later, in the taxi, their hands rested near each other but didn’t touch. Y/N noticed the space and, remembering the earlier sting from when he’d pulled away, she slipped her hands into her lap, quietly hiding the vulnerability.

When they stepped inside Harry’s house, Y/N couldn’t help but take a slow, admiring breath. The space was warm and inviting - tastefully decorated with a mix of modern comfort and personal touches that felt genuine, not flashy.

Harry gave her a small smile. “Make yourself at home.”

As she wandered into the living room, her eyes caught the shelf filled with awards and framed photos. She reached out, gently touching one of the plaques.

“You should really be proud of yourself, Harry,” she said quietly, looking back at him. “You’ve made such a life for yourself. And not in that ‘Look at me, I’m Harry Styles’ way, but, like… human to human. It’s impressive.”

Harry’s smile softened. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Her gaze drifted to a framed photograph of a beautiful woman, warm eyes full of kindness.

“That must be your mum,” Y/N said softly.

Harry looked over, surprised. “How did you know?”

“You can just tell. It’s in her eyes. You can also tell how much she loves you,” she said.

Harry’s face grew tender as he sat down on the couch and started to talk. “Yeah, she’s incredible. Growing up, my parents were divorced, but she’s always been my rock… so strong, so loving. I don’t know where I’d be without her.”

Y/N smiled, sitting down beside him. “She raised an amazing man.”

Harry looked at her, warmth filling his eyes. “Thank you. That means everything.”

They settled into the couch, the soft hum of the house around them. Harry began sharing a story from one of his trips to Italy—the time Jeff, his friend and manager, completely misunderstood directions and went the wrong way.

“No way! That actually happened?” she gasped, eyes wide.

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, and Jeff was completely lost for hours. We couldn’t stop laughing.”

As he kept going, weaving more stories, Y/N suddenly interrupted, her voice softer but steady.

“I know I said I wasn’t ready for anything more… but, um… when are you gonna kiss me?”

Harry blinked, clearly caught off guard, his eyes searching hers.

Harry looked a little lost for words, his gaze soft but unsure. She caught it immediately.

“Oh no,” she blurted, voice rushing like a stream. “Maybe I read this completely wrong. Maybe you don’t want to kiss me. Maybe this date isn’t as good as I thought it was. Maybe it’s because I grabbed your hand at the restaurant and I shouldn’t have done that…”

He quickly reached out, stopping her with a quiet laugh. “No. No, it’s the opposite. I want to do everything with you. Just… only if you’re sure.”

She took a breath, heart pounding. “I’m sure. I’m sure about the kiss.”

Slowly, he leaned in, his hands sliding gently to her waist, pulling her closer but with care. She felt the warmth of his palms resting lightly, steadying her as their faces drew nearer. His other hand rose, fingers tracing softly along her jaw, tilting her face up.

Their lips met — soft at first, testing the waters. Then deeper, more urgent, as she felt the press of his mouth and the tentative brush of his tongue, sliding gently against hers. It was electric and tender all at once.

Her hands found his wrists, fingers curling, grounding herself in the moment. The world around them melted away — just the two of them, tangled in this new, perfect closeness.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingled, she grinned, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Feed a girl pasta, and suddenly you want to skip to the good part, huh?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head, eyes shining. “Unbelievable.”

[maincharactermuse]

The one where Harry gets her number. (5)

(Find my masterlist here)

Y/N stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She spotted Harry chatting with Lucía by the counter and grinned.

“Oi, what’s all this then? Plotting how to survive the next wave of caffeine addicts?” she teased.

Harry smiled, eyes lighting up when they met hers. “Just getting some survival tips from the pros.”

Lucía laughed. “Yeah, Y/N’s basically the queen of this chaos.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, walking over to update the chalkboard specials outside. The morning air was cool and quiet; the street almost empty.

Harry stepped outside, coffee in hand, and found Y/N updating the chalkboard in the soft morning light. The street was quiet, almost peaceful.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her chalk neat letters with focused care.

“You know,” he said, voice low enough to be almost private, “I was thinking… it’s not just the coffee that keeps me coming back.”

Y/N glanced up, arching an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling her lips. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

Harry shrugged, smiling gently. “Company, I guess. You make this place feel… different.”

She laughed softly. “Well, it’s not just me. Ryan keeps things lively, and Toby’s the calm in the storm.”

He nodded, then after a brief pause, added, “So, if I needed some emergency caffeine advice-”

Y/N turned fully to him, playfully waiting for the catch.

“-Would it be okay if I had your number?” he finished, voice a little quieter, more vulnerable.

She grinned, heart skipping. “Emergency consultations, huh? I could be persuaded.”

She quickly scribbled her number on a napkin and handed it to him. “Don’t lose it.”

Harry smiled warmly, tucking it away. “Never.”

Later, Y/N stepped back inside, humming to herself as “Watermelon Sugar” played from the speakers. She caught sight of Ryan leaning casually on the counter, coffee in hand, smirking.

“So, you give the guy your number and you’re already singing his songs?”

Y/N blinked, confused. “What are you on about?”

Ryan chuckled, leaning on the counter. “Honey, you’ve been chatting with Harry Styles. THAT Harry Styles.”

Her face drained color. “Wait, what? No. No, that can’t be right. I didn’t realize.”

Ryan laughed harder. “Welcome to the club. You’ve been flirting with a superstar, and you had no clue.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, mortified but trying to laugh it off. “Does he know that I don’t know? Does he think I know? Why didn’t I connect the dots? Should I know? Should I not know? I’m not online enough!”

Ryan grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. “Well, you’re in deep now, love.”

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

guys. emergency. please respond immediately. 🚨

Noor

oh no

what happened

did a customer yell or did you finally burn the sourdough 😅

Grace

is this a real emergency or a “I made eye contact with a man and now I live in a Regency novel” emergency

Y/N

NO THIS IS REAL

okay

remember Harry?? the 56/10 guy??

who always comes in for coffee ???

Noor

yes?

obviously.

have you eloped 😘

Grace

did he finally ask for your number??

wait you didn’t send a pic you criminal

Y/N

yes he did ask for my number

AND I GAVE IT TO HIM

AND THEN

RYAN

decides to let me know AFTER he left

that he is

harry. styles.

Grace

wait what

WHAT

Noor

wait

like THE harry styles?

like watermelon sugar, silk shirts, arena tour, that harry styles??

Y/N

YES

I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH HARRY STYLES

AND I HAD NO IDEA 💀

I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST A REALLY HOT MAN WHO LIKED FLAT WHITES AND SPOKE POLITELY

Grace

OH MY GOD

YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND

I’M SO PROUD 🥹

Noor

wait wait wait

do you feel differently now?

or just like

holy shit how did I not see it?

Y/N

I feel exactly the same about him

I just feel like a moron

how did I not realise??

he literally smiled and I was like “wow you have such kind eyes” LIKE HE’S NOT BEEN FAMOUS FOR TEN YEARS

Grace

you liked him before you connected the dots

which is actually kind of amazing

no one gets to do that with someone like him

Noor

yeah?? and you weren’t weird about it or starstruck

you were just you

and he clearly liked that!

Y/N

I’m not like

worried about him

I just

I don’t want him to think I’m pretending

like, oh nooo I didn’t knooow

I genuinely had no clue

I work 50 hours a week and don’t have time to go down Instagram rabbit holes

Grace

babe

that’s literally why he likes you

he probably finds it refreshing

also hilarious

and slightly chaotic, which is on brand for you

Noor

so what now???

has he texted yet?? 👀

Y/N

not yet

but like

what do I even say??

“hi sorry for not knowing who you are, your coffee’s still mid but you’re cute”?

Grace

I mean… honestly? not a bad draft

Noor

just be honest

you liked him without the name

he clearly liked you right back

you’re not changing now

Y/N

ugh. okay

if he texts

you’ll both get the live play-by-play

but if I die of embarrassment

you are not allowed to put “she gave Harry Styles her number and then combusted” on my tombstone

Grace

no promises

love you x

Noor

this is already my favorite romcom and it’s only act one 🥰

———————————————————————————

Later that evening, Y/N’s phone buzzed with a simple message:

“Hey, it’s Harry.”

Y/N stared at the message.

Just “Hey, it’s Harry.”

Simple. Chill. Like he wasn’t Harry Styles. Like he wasn’t someone who’d just rocked her entire sense of reality that afternoon.

After a few seconds (okay, minutes), she replied:

Y/N

hey, barista’s emergency caffeine consultant. what’s the situation? milk frother down again?

A pause. Then:

Harry

No frother emergencies. Just thought I’d say hi.

Also, wanted to thank you. For the coffee. And… everything else.

She smiled, rolling over onto her stomach on the couch, kicking her feet a little like a teenager.

Y/N

well, anytime. i mean, not anytime, we close at six most days lol.

but you know. mostly.

Another bubble appeared.

Harry

You’re something else, you know that?

Her stomach flipped. She bit her lip and hesitated, then typed quickly:

Y/N

so, um. i kind of figured out who you are.

not that it matters, just. fyi.

but that’s not why i gave you my number or anything.

i actually like you.

as in, you you.

shit.

Her eyes widened as the last message sent. Panic set in.

Y/N

oh my god. how do you delete a message.

i can’t believe i just told you that. i’m crawling into a bin right now goodbye. 👋🏼

Three dots.

Then they disappeared.

Then reappeared.

Then, her phone rang.

She answered without thinking. “Hello?”

His voice, warm and amused, “A bin? Really?”

Y/N buried her face in her pillow and groaned. “Yes. I’m never showing my face in that café again. Please send my apologies to Ryan and Jules.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m glad you sent it. The message, not the bin part.”

She peeked out from under the pillow, cheeks burning. “You are?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Because I like you you, too. The one who makes really good coffee and has chalk on her jeans and didn’t recognise me for weeks.”

She let out a soft laugh, heart thudding in her chest. “Well, mystery solved. You’re charming and famous. Bit unfair, don’t you think?”

He teased, “Would it help if I admitted I’ve had a bit of food on my face all day and no one told me?”

“Maybe,” she grinned. “A little.”

They kept talking. About nothing and everything. Her favourite coffee blend. His terrible attempt at banana bread once. Her plans to repaint the chairs at the café. His upcoming travels.

When they finally hung up, over thirty minutes had passed, and Y/N’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

As she plugged in her phone to charge, another text came through:

Harry

sweet dreams.

She stared at it for a moment, hugged her pillow, and whispered to the dark room, “fuck.”

_________________________________________________

Y/N

hey, it’s me

(y/n)

from the café

not like, a different me. just. me.

wow this is going well already

Harry

Hi, you

I know it’s you

Y/N

ok good

wasn’t sure if I needed to clarify

you probably know a lot of “me’s”

Harry

Only one who hands me coffee with that look on her face when I ask for an extra shot

bit judgy. bit fond.

memorable.

Y/N

it’s called responsible caffeine guidance

i’m basically a public service

Harry

I feel very taken care of

even if you did roll your eyes at my pastry order

Y/N

you ordered lemon tart with an americano

that’s unhinged behavior

Harry

And yet, here you are texting me

what does that say about you?

Y/N

that I have poor judgment?

or impeccable taste?

jury’s out

Harry

I’m leaning toward impeccable

Y/N

hm

dangerous answer

might encourage me

Harry

I was hoping it would

———————————————————————————

Y/N

[sends meme of a cartoon character dramatically collapsing with a caption that says:

“me after 1 (one) mildly stressful thing”]

this felt too real today.

i’m currently horizontal and emotionally unavailable to my inbox.

Harry

That’s a very dramatic cartoon collapse

are you okay?

Y/N

lol yes

just tired. café was chaos. ryan broke the till, lucia spilled oat milk, i almost cried over biscotti

you know. normal day

Harry

Sounds intense

I came in just after the storm then?

Y/N

you were the eye of the storm, probably

quiet. oddly calm.

nice shoes

Harry

Thank you

You looked…

busy

focused

like you were keeping ten things in your head but still remembered mine was a flat white with an extra shot

and you smiled

tiny, but it was there

Y/N

…

okay now i’m blushing and it’s your fault

Harry

that’s a good look on you

(not that I saw it)

(just imagining)

Y/N

dangerous

Harry

encouraging

———————————————————————————

Y/N

made a coffee this morning that actually tasted decent

miracles do happen apparently

Harry

was it missing your usual signature flair?

you know, the cinnamon and mild chaos

Y/N

excuse me, my chaos is artisanal

Harry

I stand corrected. hand-whipped and sustainably sourced, I’m sure

Y/N

exactly

i’m basically a walking small batch

Harry

figured as much

you looked very small-batch this morning, by the way

Y/N

…thanks?

Harry

it’s a compliment

you were glowing

Y/N

that was sweat

but i appreciate the poetry

Harry

sweat and charm, clearly

dangerous combo

Y/N

lol noted

next time i’ll try to tone down the threat level

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

[photo screenshot of texts with Harry]

ok can someone tell me what this means before i overanalyze it for the next six hours

Noor

girl. GIRL.

Grace

you’re joking right???

“you were glowing”??

he is FLIRTING.

Noor

capital F

like actually

like he LIKES you

Y/N

okay but what if he’s just like

polite

Grace

polite??? BABY

he called you a dangerous combo

that’s not manners

that’s interest

Noor

just admit he’s got a crush

and maybe let yourself have a little crush back

we’ve SEEN the man

Y/N

okay fine

maybe

a small crush

very small

microbatch

Grace

shut up omg

———————————————————————————

Harry

Did I scare you off?

Too much artisanal chaos talk?

[delivered: 2:08 PM]

[read: 4:42 PM]

Harry

I promise I don’t always flirt that badly

only on Tuesdays apparently

Y/N

omg sorry I didn’t mean to ghost you

got sucked into the café vortex

someone spilled oat milk into the pastry display 😩

Harry

yikes

milk-soaked muffins are a crime against humanity

Y/N

agreed. justice for the almond croissants

Harry

I’ll light a candle

maybe bring flowers to the case tomorrow

Y/N

make sure they’re ethically sourced and gluten-free please

Harry

obviously

I know your type

Y/N

my type???

Harry

yeah

the kind that gets chalk on her jeans and doesn’t realise people are flirting with her

Y/N

wait

are you flirting with me?

Harry

finally

she catches on

———————————————————————————

group chat : the coven 🔮

Y/N

okay tell me if i’m being dramatic but

he hasn’t texted me in a few days

like at all

and i sent a couple things that normally he’d respond to

and now? tumbleweeds

Noor

ooof

that sucks

have you double texted yet

Y/N

…yes

twice actually

i feel like a pest 🥲

Grace

okay but you’re not

he was super into you like… a week ago??

what changed?

Y/N

idk

it’s just weird to go from 100 to 0 like that

like if you’re busy, okay, but say something?

Noor

agreed

you deserve clarity, not mystery

Grace

you should send one more

and if he doesn’t answer that… that tells you what you need to know

(also i will egg his house)

———————————————————————————

Y/N

hey

hope you’re okay x

———————————————————————————

Harry

hey, i’m really sorry for the silence

things got unexpectedly hectic

not proud of going quiet — just got overwhelmed

didn’t mean to make you feel anything bad x

Y/N

hey

i get it

life happens

we all get pulled in different directions

———————————————————————————

Y/N

can i be honest about something?

Harry

yeah, of course

Y/N

i don’t need a lot

like, i’m not expecting updates every hour or anything

but if things get busy or overwhelming, just… say that

disappearing without a word?

it puts me in my head a bit

and that’s not the kind of energy i want in a relationship

or even something new

Harry

you’re right

you’re completely right

i should’ve said something

i didn’t mean to go quiet — but that doesn’t make it okay

i’ll do better

you deserve better

Y/N

thanks

i wasn’t trying to have a whole thing about it

just… felt like it was better to say

Harry

i’m really glad you did

———————————————————————————

Harry

how’s your wednesday going? have you yelled at any coffee machines yet today?

Y/N

only once. and it was justified.

(ryan sided with the machine though, traitor.)

Harry

unbelievable. he’s always been a bit of a corporate sympathiser.

Y/N

exactly. I think the espresso machine has him in its pocket.

…also I may have overworked the steamer and made it scream. so.

Harry

poor thing. the machine, I mean. not you.

Y/N

wow. rude.

Harry

you can handle it. you’re terrifying before 10am.

in an oddly charming way.

Y/N

stop flirting with me or I’ll start thinking you like me or something

Harry

what if I do?

Y/N

then you should probably keep flirting

There was a short pause, then a follow-up message.

Harry

can I ask something kind of random?

y/n

only if I can too.

harry

deal.

what do you do when your brain won’t switch off? like it’s 1am and it’s just… spiralling?

Y/N

oh

yeah, I know that one

I make lists. or rewatch something I’ve already seen a hundred times

sometimes I bake in the middle of the night. like a little pastry goblin

why?

Harry

just… one of those nights last night.

too much noise upstairs.

Y/N

yeah. I get that

sometimes mine’s not even spiraling with bad stuff, just… too much.

like, it’s loud even when things are okay

Harry

that’s exactly it.

like things are good, but your head’s still running laps.

nice to know someone else gets it.

Y/N

always

what would your 1am list look like?

Harry

last night?

1. things I forgot to reply to

2. upcoming interviews

3. whether or not I said something dumb last week

4. the smell of your café when I walk in

5. if I’m doing any of this right

a long pause before she replies:

Y/N

you’re not the only one wondering that last bit

no one really knows if they’re doing it “right”

but the café one was sweet

Harry

it’s true.

it smells like cinnamon and calm and you.

Y/N

you’re going to make me smile at my phone like a loser in front of ryan

he’s going to roast me

Harry

tell him I said hi

and thanks for listening

Y/N

no thanks needed

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Grace

okay so. I may or may not have signed up for a pottery class

and immediately regretted it because the instructor is 80% moustache and 20% condescension

Noor

wait wait wait

is this the same guy from the art fair?? moustache man????

Grace

THE VERY SAME

except now he has opinions on my clay work and my posture

Noor

grace babe this is what you get for signing up for “mindful clay evenings”

what even is that 😭

Grace

i just wanted to be zen and creative not emotionally dismantled by a man in linen trousers

Y/N

that’s what we’re all getting from men in 2025 apparently

Grace

LMAOOO

ok but enough about me

how are things going with your coffee customer boyfriend

Noor

yeah don’t think we didn’t notice you dropped nothing in the chat yesterday 👀

Y/N

he’s not my boyfriend omg

we’re just like

getting to know each other?

Noor

mmhmm

so when’s he asking you out?

Y/N

idk

probably soon? maybe?

we’ve just been texting a lot

like, real stuff sometimes, not just dumb flirting (although there is that too lol)

Grace

okay but you like him?

Y/N

…yeah

i do

but i like where we are too, like

just figuring each other out?

feels nice. calm. not rushed

Noor

that makes sense

especially after… y’know

Y/N

yeah

i don’t want to fall into something fast just because it feels good

i want to know who he actually is

and i want him to know me

not just like, the curated bits

Grace

so you’re guarding your heart but also letting someone see it

that’s huge, babe

Y/N

i think i’m just scared that like

he’s charming and fun and Harry Styles

and maybe it’s just a game for him, i don’t know

Noor

but does it feel like a game?

Y/N

no

it doesn’t

that’s the thing. it feels real

and i think he’s being honest with me

i’m just not used to someone actually being good to me without it turning

Grace

and he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him yet

so maybe let yourself enjoy it a little more 💛

Y/N

i’m trying

i really am

and i think he’ll ask me soon

and when he does

i’ll say yes

Noor

you better

and then immediately give us outfit details because we are going to STYLE you for this date

Grace

and then make us promise not to show up at the restaurant pretending to be waitresses

Y/N

please i beg you do not ruin this for me 😭

Noor

we’d only watch from a respectful distance

Y/N

i’m muting this chat

Grace

muting us won’t save you from the love you deserve 😌

———————————————————————————

Y/N

hey

you still up?

Harry

barely

but for you, always.

what’s on your mind?

Y/N

nothing dramatic

just been thinking a bit

Harry

thinking’s dangerous this late

should I be worried?

Y/N

lol no

not worried

just wondering where your head’s at

with us, I guess?

Harry

…okay

i’m listening

Y/N

i’m not trying to be THAT Person

like “what are we” after 3 weeks of texting

but alsoi think I just want to know that this isn’t like a passing thing for you

Harry

it’s not.

not for me.

Y/N

okay

i just

i like talking to you

and I like who you are

and I think I’d really like to go on a date with you

but only if we’re not playing around

Harry

i’m not playing

i wouldn’t waste your time like that

you matter too much already

Y/N

yeah?

even with me rambling at midnight and overthinking everything?

Harry

especially then.

and you’re not overthinking

you’re just brave enough to say what you mean

i admire that

Y/N

idk if it’s brave

feels more like anxiety in a cute outfit tbh

Harry

still cute

still honest

still you

and i like all of that

Y/N

okay

that makes me feel a lot better

thank you

Harry

you don’t have to thank me for being sure about you

but

maybe you can repay me in coffee and letting me take you out soon?

Y/N

soon sounds good

as long as it involves pastries

Harry

it will

and maybe a walk

and me pretending not to stare at you too much

Y/N

you’re bad at pretending

i’ve noticed

Harry

yeah well

i like looking at you

sue me

Y/N

i’ll allow it

but only if you keep being this honest with me

Harry

deal

no disappearing

no guessing games

just… me and you, figuring it out

Y/N

figuring it out sounds good

sleep now?

Harry

sweet dreams

i’ll text you in the morning x

Y/N

night, h

x

__——————————————————————————

Harry

okay, so you said yes

i just wanted to double check i didn’t imagine that

Y/N

lol nope

you asked me out

and i said yes

you were very charming about it, in fact

Harry

i was sweating a little, not gonna lie

Y/N

you were not

you were cute

like in that “i make music and wear rings but still get nervous asking girls out” kinda way

Harry

that’s a very specific category and it’s slander

but fair

Y/N

[reacts to “but fair” with laughing emoji]

Harry

any requests for our date?

favourite food? allergies? places that make you irrationally happy?

Y/N

surprise me

but i like anywhere with fairy lights

or pasta

or both

but also, like, i’m not fancy

i’d be happy with takeaway

Harry

you make this way too easy

how do i impress you??

Y/N

just be you

but maybe on time 😌

Harry

low blow

deserved

i’ll be early

Y/N

now you’re showing off

Harry

only because i really like you

Y/N

🫠

———————————————————————————

group chat: the coven 🔮

Y/N

🚨 this is not a drill 🚨

he asked me out

like. on an actual date

a real date.

Grace

OMGGGGG

OMGOMGOMG

I NEED A MINUTE

Noor

wait WHAT

as in asked asked??

WHEN???

Y/N

this morning

at the café

he just… walked in all cute and nervous and said he wanted to take me out 😭

i said yes obviously

but now i’m spiralling a little

Grace

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE THE FLAT WHITE INCIDENT

Noor

you’re spiralling because… he likes you?

and you like him?

and this has been building for weeks?

Y/N

yeah but like…

first date in a long time

real feelings

he’s just so kind and clever and easy to talk to and hot, let’s not forget hot

and I don’t know how to be chill 😭

Grace

babe

it’s not a TED Talk

you’re literally just going to hang out with someone who likes you back

you’ve had more emotionally intimate conversations over text than most couples do in six months

Noor

plus, you’re not doing this with some random

you’ve got this

Grace

girl you’ve got this 💪🏼

Y/N

ok yeah

i can do this

what’s the worst that could happen

just about everything

Noor

lol y/n stop

regroup. focus

Grace

ok but like

what are you going to wear? 👀

Y/N

omg OMGGGG

WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR

Noor

that’ll do it.