THE HARRY STYLES MAGAZINE

Harry would immediately descend into Ultimate Dad Mode™.

He drops whatever he’s doing, jumping up from his seat and rushing over to your daughter as she lays on the floor, tiny hand over the area on her forehead where the wall had knocked her onto the ground.

“Baby, are you okay?!” He grabs her frail shoulders gently with his fingers– hands being too big and heavy– as his eyes flit over her face to check for any other bumps or bruises. Then he scoops her up into his arms, eyes softening with pain as she slowly starts to blubber with sobs.

She tucks her tiny head into the crook of his neck, her back shaking with the effort of her tears, small fists crumpling the material of his new sweater.

“Oh, sweetie, what happened? You were playing so nice with all the kids…” Harry gently pries her from his neck, wanting to get a look at the damage.

His eyes lock on a light purple and green bruise just above her eyebrow, a deep frown settling across his lips as he sees it starting to swell. “God’s sake, princess…Nearly knocked yourself into next week.”

Harry kisses softly at her wet cheeks and eyelids, allowing her to hide back into the curve of his neck, her legs clamping around his upper waist as he cradles her head against his shoulder. He bounces her lightly as she quivers with cracked sobs, murmuring quiet words of comfort as he waits for you to come back with a bag of frozen peas.

𝐈𝐈. Ode to a sunflower

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 18k+ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: smoking, mentions of infidelity, explicit language

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“Hey.”

She realises he’s gotten closer to her, just so he can make his voice heard, and he now has a glass of champagne in hand.  

She looks him over, trying to make her disdain known.

“Yes?” She says curtly, and she wants to laugh because she feels proud of herself, of the certainty and condescension in her voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he swallows, “Let me put it this way… I don’t think I’ve introduced myself, at least, properly,” he takes the glass in his left hand and sticks out the right one for a handshake. “I’m Harry.”

Say what now?

Talulah thinks whoever’s above, they must be trying her. They’re either taking the piss or trying to test her patience. Which is why she does nothing but roll her eyes, tsort of, and give him a nod before turning her head the other way so she can include herself in Ben and Ariel’s conversation. But before that, she has a good look at him from up close.

She notices how his shirt is unbuttoned further compared to when he first arrived and she can now see the weird looking tattoos to be some type of bird from the way the beaks are peeking out of the shirt. His face, it looks oily, mostly his forehead, and his eyes look a bit hazy probably due to the champagne he’s been consuming throughout the night. She notices how large but smooth his nose is and there’s a bit of stubble going on on his face, then a dip where she remembers a dimple had been. A brief, very brief look at his thin lips, she knows he’s a lip biter. There’s no way his lips can be that pink.

Oh – well, she really hadn’t seen that working out this well, “Okay,” she blinked at him, “I promise.” 

Harry holds out his pinky to her, “I’m serious, Y/N, nobody can know. Not Malene, not anyone. Just you and Blueberry.” 

“Yeah, of course, Harry really, who am I going to tell?” Malene already knows, “Even if I did, who would believe me? You’ve got more friends there than I have.” 

or

Y/N knows something she shouldn’t and Harry does what on Fridays?