#harrystylesxoc

"He's taking care of the body downstairs," she added, a subtle revelation conveyed to Harry. His sharp gaze turned towards the Italian woman.

"No one was talking to you. Mind your own fucking business," Charlie snapped at Y/N, an unspoken tension filling the room. Unfazed, Y/N merely shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the hostility directed her way. The stage was set for a collision of personalities within the intricate web of the English mafia.

"Go find Silas," Harry commanded Charlie.

"Where is he?"

"How would I know, Charlie?! Go find him. He is probably doing nothing as always," Harry retorted, his frustration evident. The presence of Y/N in the estate irked him; it meant he had to be more discreet about his activities. Her moving in seemed to symbolize a level of commitment he wasn't ready for.

"Who is Silas?" Y/N inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. "Also, can I get a room? Just to leave all of my stuff and shit?"

"Do you know that you ask too many questions?" Harry responded, fingers flying over his phone as he texted Lex, attempting to bring him into his immediate service. There were tasks at hand, and Lex was the only one capable of assisting him.

"You called?" Silas appeared, extricating himself from Charlie's grasp. She had essentially pulled him away from his haven, where he spent his days immersed in books, avoiding the inevitable clashes with Harry.

"Find Y/N a room and keep her out of the way," Harry ordered Silas. The strained atmosphere between the brothers had lingered since their father's funeral, the bitter taste of disappointment for Silas, who felt that Arthur's will had unequivocally favored Harry. Silas turned to glance at Y/N, sizing her up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.

"Who do you think I am? Her fucking babysitter?" Silas spat, disdain dripping from his words. "I've got better things to do than to be at your beck and call." He pivoted on his heel, ready to leave, but Harry had other plans. Something had snapped within him—perhaps it was the insubordination in front of Y/N and his men or the lingering discomfort from Silas's entrance at their father's funeral. Whatever it was, Harry saw red.

Without warning, Harry reached out and seized Silas by the back of his shirt, forcefully bringing him back. A swift punch connected with Silas's nose, and the onslaught continued. The sounds of bones crunching and blood splattering filled the air, and Y/N, horrified, shouted, "STOP! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" Desperation colored her voice as she tried to pull the enraged Harry away from his battered brother.

Y/N surveyed the room, taking in the unsettling sight of men passively observing Harry disfigure Silas's face. A chilling stillness gripped the air; none of them made a move, objected, or attempted to intervene. They knew the unwritten rule: interfering would redirect Harry's wrath onto themselves, and none dared to challenge the boss. The ominous tableau unfolded, a tableau of silent submission.

Harry eventually halted his assault, his knuckles worn and Silas's body limp beneath him. The room bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a crime documentary, with Harry rising from his knees to his feet. Specks of blood adorned the collar and sleeves of his button-down shirt, and his hands were stained, knuckles split open. Unfazed, he pushed his hair back, presenting a picture of calculated violence.

Without a word to Y/N or anyone else, Harry retrieved a cigarette from his pocket. As he walked past Y/N, a cold and sinister look lingered on his face, leaving an indelible impression on the room's atmosphere.

Y/N waited until Harry left the room and knelt beside Silas. His face bore the evidence of the brutal assault—cuts, a fractured nose, bruised and purple skin, busted lip, and injured eyebrows.

“Don’t touch him or move him,” Charlie warned, already dialing his phone.

“He needs help,” she argued, the memories of her father's similar actions resurfacing, though never with such hatred and never directed at his own brother.

“I know,” Charlie nodded, “What do you think I am doing?” Within ten minutes, the medic and nurse living on the grounds arrived. Silas was carefully transferred upstairs. Y/N could only hope he would recover.

Charlie guided her to a room, noticeably smaller and darker than what she was accustomed to.

“I'm sure this will be enough for you,” Charlie stated. “Dinner will be at eight,” he added before leaving the bedroom. The bed, though not as grand as her usual one, boasted a beautiful canopy, casting a shadow over the somber atmosphere of the English manor.

The bedroom held an air of antiquity, its walls adorned with dark, polished wood paneling that seemed to absorb the ambient light. Heavy drapes, drawn tightly shut, further dimmed the space, casting an almost melancholic aura. The canopy over the bed boasted intricate patterns, a testament to craftsmanship from a bygone era. Despite the opulence of the bed, the room's overall atmosphere felt cold and unwelcoming. An ornate vanity mirror stood in the corner, reflecting the somber scene within the room. The furniture, though well-maintained, bore signs of wear, hinting at the passage of time and the weight of secrets held within the walls of the English manor.

Y/N immersed herself in the task of unfolding and hanging the clothes that had been packed for her, all the while dialing her best friend, Giana. Their friendship had withstood the test of time, enduring since the tender age of five. However, Giana now lived in the clutches of an Italian marriage, leaving Y/N feeling the void of her absence.

"Hi," Giana whispered, orchestrating her escape from the bedroom into the bathroom, where the sound of running water provided a disguise for her voice. The last thing Giana needed was to be overheard by her husband, Augusto. “How is everything?”

"My dad basically kicked me out of the house. I am now staying con gli inglesi," Y/N shared, her voice reflecting a mix of frustration and sadness.

"How is Harry treating you?" Giana inquired, sensing an underlying distress in her friend's response. Y/N couldn't hold back tears as she recounted the distressing scene she had just witnessed. "Quello che è successo?" Giana asked, concerned and probing for details.

"He beat his brother almost to death. It was horrible," Y/N admitted between soft sobs. The realization of the kind of man Harry was had unsettled her deeply. "I don’t know if I can take all of this. I want to leave already. Maybe it is time to put our plan in action."

Giana glanced nervously at the locked bathroom door, a barrier between her and the turmoil of her own married life.

"I don’t know, Y/N," she hesitantly responded. "What if we get caught? The repercussions can be worse."

"But what if we succeed, G? What if we can finally get away from all this shit and live a tranquil life, running that little cafe that you have always wanted to open in a very secluded town? Far and far away from our fathers and nightmares?" Y/N proposed, yearning for an escape from the suffocating grip of their current lives.

Before Giana could respond, and while she contemplated her life, the door began to be pounded by Augusto as he screamed for her to come out.

“I- I can’t, Y/N,” she nervously said, attempting to stay focused on their conversation rather than her husband's escalating shouts. “He won’t let me. He'll search until he finds me.”

“We can do it. You deserve a better life, G. Remember how miserably our mothers were and how young they died,” Y/N urged, able to hear the escalating shouts and the incessant banging on the door.

“Bene, but it must happen tonight,” Giana clarified. Her husband had some business to attend to, which only meant that she would have time to devise a plan to escape the premises.

“Okay. Stasera. Call me when you are able,” Y/N finally said before hanging up. The urgency in Giana's situation only fueled their determination to break free from the shackles of their oppressive lives.

She couldn’t wait. Y/N had to leave before dinner. At dinner all the men would be gather and waiting for her appereance. She had to escape before. That was the only way that she wuld have a chance.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, her mind racing as she contemplated the escape plan. She glanced around the room, looking for any potential obstacles or challenges. The window seemed like her best bet; it was a risk, but she had to take it. The room's dim lighting and heavy drapes provided some cover, and she knew Harry would be too occupied with whatever he had happening to go check on her.

First, she quietly opened the window, praying it wouldn't creak and give her away. The chilly night air swept into the room, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She gathered a few essentials into a small bag – some clothes, her passport, and a bit of money she had managed to save over the years.

Y/N could still hear Harry’s muffled shouts from the other side of the house, giving her a sense of urgency. She looked back at the bed, debating whether to leave a note, but to who? None cared enough for her to want to know.

She experimented with various drapes and bed sheets from her room, carefully easing them down the window. Surveying the scene from her vantage point, she concluded that the space below was empty, ensuring her descent would go unnoticed.

With a quick glance around the room to make sure she had packed all the essentials in her bag, Y/N took a deep breath, summoning the courage to execute her plan. She wrapped the makeshift rope around her hands, securing it tightly, and then began her descent, cautiously lowering herself from the window.

The night air brushed against her face as she descended, and each inch brought her closer to freedom. The silence of the estate enveloped her, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. The ground neared, and with a soft landing, she released the makeshift rope.

Swiftly making her way to the edge of the property, Y/N took cover in the shadows, avoiding any security cameras or patrolling guards.

Waiting until the echoes of footsteps and voices faded into the night, Y/N swiftly darted into the dense woods. The moonlight filtered through the branches, casting an ethereal glow on her determined face. Each step carried her farther away from the imposing estate and the looming fate of an arranged marriage to Harry.

Navigating the shadows and weaving through the trees, Y/N pressed on with a sense of urgency. The forest concealed her movements as she sought a path that would lead her to a road, a lifeline to escape the impending union. The rustling leaves beneath her hurried steps seemed to echo the beats of her racing heart.

In the silence of the woods, Y/N contemplated the enormity of her decision. Yet, the prospect of freedom, away from the suffocating expectations and uncertainties, fueled her resolve. The night air carried both the weight of her familial ties and the promise of a new beginning, and she pressed on, guided by the hope of a life of her own choosing.

➡️ chapter 6

Your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was running towards you with wide eyes. "You won't believe what just happened!"

"What? What happened?" You asked, standing up and approaching him, what can you say, your curiosity had piqued.

"I just got scouted by Manchester City!"

He was barely able to contain his excitement as he showed you the piece of paper that he was holding in his hands.

Your eyes widened in surprise, chancing a look down at the letter and letting your eyes skim over it briefly before looking back at him. "What? Are you serious?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I went to this football camp yesterday, and one of the coaches was from Man City. He saw me play, and he said he was impressed with my skills and wanted me to try out for their academy."

His dream was finally coming true.

This was all he had wanted since you had known him, and now he had finally got it, you couldn't be any more prouder than you were right now.

You felt proud of Harry's achievement and leaned forward to hug him tightly. "That's amazing, H! I always knew you had it in you."

He grinned widely. "Thanks, babe! I couldn't have done it without your support."

You didn't think that you played a massive part in his journey, you hadn't known him when his football journey started, you had only come into his life recently so really, the ones supporting him where his family.

"I promise to come watch you play," You enthused, smiling at your boyfriend. "I'll be cheering you on from the side lines."

That was a promise.

Harry smiled back at you, leaning forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head. "Thank you, (Y/N). You're the best girlfriend ever."

As you opened your eyes on the Tenth of June, 2023, a sense of warmth encased your body, as you turned on your side and slid your arm around your fiancé's waist, snuggling in closer to him like you did every morning.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, as you lifted your head up slightly to see that your fiancé was fast asleep, eyes closed and face relaxed, breathing steady.

Today was the day, today was the day of the Champions League Final, and your fiancé, Harry was playing in it.

The final was taking place in Istanbul, Turkey and you had flown out to support him seeing as you absolutely wouldn’t miss it for the world. This was his day and his day only.

You knew for a fact how nervous he was feeling, it was one of the biggest games of his career and he had been explaining to you all along that he couldn't mess today up, too many people were relying on him to perform well.

Knowing that he had to get up soon, you gently shook his shoulder and run another hand through his curls (that desperately needed a trim) so that he would flutter his eyes open. "Wake up, sleepy head."

You watched as the man you loved groaned slightly before opening his eyes up and letting his green orbs land on your figure that was resting next to him. He ran a hand through his own hair before sitting up in the bed and entwining your fingers together liked you usually did in the mornings.

"Morning," His raspy voice murmured, as he pressed a kiss to your lips, not caring about the morning breath you both had. "Today's the day...I can't believe it."

You sat up a tiny bit more, and offered him a reassuring smile. "Stop thinking what I know your thinking and just listen to me for a second, your going to do great, you always do, stop worrying and just think positive."

Thinking back to ten years ago when Harry surprised you with the news that he had been scouted by his boy hood team, you knew that he would be going places one day, and he had.

Over the course of his ten year career, he had scored important goals, but not once had he played in a Champions League Final, the last time Manchester City were in the final back in 2021, (where they were beaten by Chelsea.) your fiancé was injured with an ACL injury and couldn't play. It was agonising seeing him in so much pain.

You found him sat on the sofa, head in his hands, as his leg was outstretched on the coffee table, crutches resting next to him, the tv was playing in the background, but you could only focus on him.

Harry had recently torn his ACL in the last game he played, the game right before the 2021 Champions League Final, he had been looking forward to the game all season and now, he had nothing to look forward to.

He was devastated that he wouldn't be able to play for at least nine months.

"H," you gained his attention, taking a seat next to him and placing a hand on his thigh. "Talk to me, what's going on inside that head of yours?"

"I just can't believe that this happened," He spoke, voice laced with emotion. "I've been working so hard for this, and now it's all for nothing."

You were in the crowd when you saw him get tackled by a Liverpool player. He went straight down onto the floor, holding his knee, and soon had to be stretchered off the pitch by the medics, your heart broke in half for him.

He had to be rushed straight to the hospital for a surgery and that was when the doctors confirmed that he would be out for the rest of the season and would just be back in time for the world cup.

"I know, sweet boy," You nodded your head, resting your head on his shoulder and inhaling his familiar scent. "But you have to remember that they're will be other games, you'll have plenty of opportunities to score in the FA cup final, I've got faith in you, we all do."

"But this was the Champions League Final," He lifted his head and let out a small sniffle as he wiped at his under eyes. "It's like the biggest game of the season...I wanted to be out there with my team."

"I know you did," You sympathised. "And everyone on that team knows just how hard you have been working, you've been working harder then anyone else, but you have to understand that they'll want you to take care of yourself, that's all they'll want."

He then leaned his head slightly against your shoulder and heard him let out a small sigh, another tear falling down his cheeks." I just hate feeling like I let everyone down."

"H, listen to me, you did not let a single person down," You informed him firmly, making him smile slightly at your tone of voice, despite the ache his leg was currently feeling. "You got hurt, and that is no ones fault except that pricky Liverpool player, your still an important part of the team even if your not out there with them in the dug out."

He looked up at you with red rimmed eyes. "Thank you."

You kissed his forehead. "Anytime, baby, anytime."

“Today is the day,” You nodded, placing a reassuring smile, “— are you feeling okay?”

You knew for a fact that he would be feeling a multitude of emotions today, every time he played in an important game, he always got too caught up in his thoughts and feelings.

“I just can’t seem to shake my nerves,” He let out a deep breath, turning to look at your face with solace as he confessed what was going on in his head. “The pressure is just so overwhelming sometimes, all I can think about is what if I make a mistake? What if I let the team down?”

“Listen to me for a second, sweet boy,” You slid closer to him, wrapping an arm even tighter around his waist, trying to ground him for a moment. “You are talented, dedicated and even stronger than you think you are. You’ve been training for this moment for as long as I can remember.”

You heard him take in a small breath as you continued to speak. “Trust in yourself, believe in your ability just like I do, just like all your fans do.”

His gaze appeared to soften as he took in your words, finding comfort in what you had to say.

“It’s such a significant game,”Your fiancé began to explain, voice small. “— sometimes I can’t help but feel this immense pressure, I want to give my all to the team and our supporters.”

You nodded understandingly and sat up in the bed so that you were the same level, the hotel duvet pooling your waists, his bare torso on display whilst you had on an oversized shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts.

You rested your head on his shoulder, not before pressing a kiss to it. “You’ve come so far my love, remember the strength and resilience that you have shown time and time again, no matter the challenges that you have faced, remember that this is your time to shine.”

“Your right,” He spoke, the lines of worry that were etched on his face slowly disappearing as he seemed to acknowledge what you were saying to him. “— I’ve worked so hard to be here, nothings going to be holding me back out here on the pitch.”

A soft sound broke out through the Turkish hotel room, a gentle stirring if you must erupting from the foot of the bed you and your husband were currently resting in.

That indicated that your two year old was awake.

“Mama…dada…” Your little one cried out, voice filled to the brim with innocence and affection upon setting his sights on the two of us.

A smile appeared on your face and Harry’s eyes filled with delight.

“He’s awake.” You murmured as you stood up from the bed and made your way towards the crib that your son was standing up in.

Hunter Robin Styles.

Born four weeks after the 2021 champions league final, the perfect addition to your lives.

He was his father’s replica, brown curls settled onto his head, green eyes that resembled the colour of emeralds and dimples indented in his cheeks.

As you scooped him up into your arms, he rested his head against your shoulder, thumb instinctively entering his mouth.

The two of you returned back to bed to join your husband, Hunter scurrying over to his father like the total daddies boy he is and you moved closer to cuddle into Harry, wanting to feel his warmth once again.

The conversation shifted now that your son was on the bed, weaving in and out of words exchanged between the two of you and the laughter of little Hunter. It was a symphony of love, a reminder of the family that anchored your husband's heart amidst the chaos of the final. As a family, you spoke of dreams and hopes, fears and aspirations, all while your little one basked in the warmth of Harry’s embrace.

The conversation once again drifted, this time the past made its way into our thoughts as Harry’s voice began to tremble ever so slightly as he spoke.

“I couldn’t play last time due to my injury,” He spoke in a voice so soft that you almost didn’t hear it. “— it’s been haunting me since forever, but now this opportunity is presented to me again, I’m going to make every second count, there’s no doubt about it.”

“You’ve already won battles no one ever thought you could overcome.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly, reminding him of his bravery and resilience, as Hunter played with the cross necklace dangling around his neck. “— you need to remember that your worth is not defined by an injury, your an incredible footballer and I’m not just saying that because I’m entitled to, me and Hunter love you, we’re insanely proud of you, we always will be.”

Little Hunter looked between the two of you with sparkling eyes filled with admiration, and that when was Harry realised the he had a family that loved him unconditionally.

The hotel restaurant emanated an atmosphere you could only describe as tranquil as you sat at a table eating lunch with Hunter, Anne and Gemma.

Other family members from the team were also in the restaurant, when you were entering you had waved to Jack Grealish’s mum and dad, had a small conversation with Erling Haaland girlfriend and ruffled Phil Foden’s son's hair.

Little Hunter sat comfortable in his stroller after he refused to sit in a high chair, he was staring at his surroundings with curiosity filled eyes.

As your eyes glanced down at the menu, the three of us women engaged in a delightful conversation, halfway through, you spotted your son reaching towards the table where the basket of bread was located.

“Are you getting hungry, sweet boy?” You asked, leaning forward in your seat slightly so that you could meet his gaze. “— our food is going to be here soon, don’t worry, angel baby.”

Hunter’s face scrunched up slightly and he threw his head back with a small whine, his toddler babble mixed with his gestures, making it clear that he wanted to be part of the dining experience.

Harry’s sister, Gemma, chuckled, her eyes showing clear signs of amusement. “He seems to be quite the food enthusiast, takes after H.”

“Oh one hundred percent,” Anne, Harry’s mother, agreed, letting out a small chuckle. “He’s certainly inherited his fathers love for good food.”

Understanding your son's eagerness to join the table, you unfastened the stroller straps and carefully lifted him out. He squirmed with excitement, his chubby legs kicking in anticipation as he settled into a high chair beside you.

"Now you can see all the delicious dishes, just like us!" You exclaimed, placing a colourful bib around your son's neck. "You're officially part of the lunchtime feast."

Our son's face lit up with glee, his wide eyes scanning the table, eagerly awaiting the culinary delights. He pointed at the plates, naming the different foods as best he could, his baby gibberish filling the air.

As your meals arrived, a symphony of mouth watering aromas filled the air, and your taste buds tingled with anticipation. The three of you savoured each bite, sharing anecdotes and laughter, while Hunter observed intently, his eyes fixed on the delectable dishes.

"I think he wants to try everything," Anne said, chuckling as she noticed her grandson's animated gestures.

Gemma reached over and playfully offered a spoonful of mashed potatoes to her nephew.

"Here you go, little food critic," she said, grinning. "Tell us what you think."

Hunter’s eyes widened, and he eagerly accepted the spoon, tasting the creamy potatoes. His face lit up with delight, and he clapped his hands, a clear sign of his approval.

"He definitely has his father's discerning palate," You mused, exchanging knowing glances with the two women you called family.

As you continued your feast, your son became an active participant in the lunchtime conversation. His babbling intermingled with your dialogue, adding an innocent charm to the atmosphere.

Gemma once again leaned closer to your son, her voice filled with affection. "Tell us, little one, what do you think of this restaurant? Is it worthy of a future family gathering?"

Hunter responded with an enthusiastic nod, his face beaming with joy. His tiny hands clapped, as if applauding the notion of future family celebrations in this very place.

“So how’s Harry feeling about the final tonight?” Anne asked, regarding her son as she leaned forward ever so slightly.

A small smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you contemplated her question and thought about an answer. “— he’s definitely feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement.”

“He’s been training diligently for this moment his whole life,” Gemma added, a touch of pride evident in the way she spoke about her younger brother. “It’s such a significant match for him, for the whole team even.”

“He’s eager to get on the pitch and give it his all,” You nodded in agreement, your heart swelling with admiration. “But the weight of the final definitely comes with its fair share of pressure.”

“Tell him that we’re going to be in the crowd and supporting him.” Anne told you.

You knew for a fact when you had a chance to tell this to Harry he would feel a lot better then he would be, knowing his mother and sister were backing him was all he really wanted.

“Of course,” A warm smile spread across your face, you were touched by her words. “I'll definitely tell him his biggest fans are rooting for him.”

Leaning down to look at your son who was sitting in his high chair with mashed up avocado lingering on his hands, you spoke to him, wanting to involve him in the conversation. “—Daddy has a very important football match tonight, he’s going to make us all proud, isn't he?”

Elijah’s face lit up with a radiant smile, his tiny hands clapping together in excitement.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with adoration for the father he idolised.

Anne chuckled warmly, her eyes gleaming with affection. "He knows, doesn't he? Even at his young age, he understands the significance."

You nodded, a sense of pride swelling within your chest. "Children have an incredible intuition, They can sense the love and anticipation that surrounds them."

As the early evening settled in Turkey, you led Hunter to the en-suite bathroom located in your hotel room, his hand holding onto yours as he held his light blue baby blanket in his hand.

His blanket was a present that Anne had knitted him when he was first born and he still to this day went everywhere with it.

Bath time was definitely one of Hunter’s favourite times of the day. He liked it even more when Harry would be the one bathing him, but he was often at training so he never really got the chance to.

The bath was already filled up, bubbles resting on the top of it and a few rubber duckies and other bath toys floating in the water.

"Are you ready for a fun bath, angel baby?" You asked, lifting him into the tub filled with warm, bubbly water. "We need to get all squeaky clean before the game!"

Your son giggled, splashing the water with delight, his tiny hands reaching out for his favourite bath toys. As you gently washed him, the two of you engaged in playful banter, his infectious laughter filling the room.

His laugh sounded so much like his fathers.

“Mama,” Hunter gained your attention. “— quack, quack!”

You nodded in encouragement as he presented you with the rubber duck he was holding. “Yeah a ducky does go quack quack, you're such a clever little boy.”

About thirty seconds later, the two year old seemed to get bored of the duck he was playing with and threw it back down in the water, and that was when you got the perfect opportunity to put some bath wash on a sponge and clean over his petite body.

Hunter squirmed a little bit and tried to wiggle away from you but you were quicker and knew his movements like the back of your hand and held him softly in place.

Once he was out of the bath and dried off, you decided to take him into the main area of the hotel room where you grabbed a miniature sized jersey out of his suitcase.

“Alright, arms up, angel baby.” You held the shirt in your hands and slipped the shirt over his head smoothly.

Once the shirt was situated on his body, you smoothed down his brown curls that had become slightly dishevelled due to the friction of the shirt.

He was clad in a Manchester City shirt with the shirts, socks and toddler football boots.

Instead of having his name on the back, he had ‘𝙳𝙰𝙳𝙳𝚈’ and number ‘𝟷𝟽’ on the back of it.

Once you had gotten Hunter ready, you decided to take a shower yourself, the two year old followed you into the bathroom.

As the warm water cascaded over your body, you took a moment to relax, the sound of rushing water creating a serene backdrop. Your son, perched on the bathroom floor, watched with curiosity as you applied a gentle face cleanser and let the steam envelop you.

With the shower complete, you stepped out onto the bath mat, a towel wrapped around your body. Your son clapped his hands in approval, appreciating the simplicity of the post-shower routine.

"Now it's time for mommy to get ready," You explained, brushing your damp hair and reaching for your makeup bag. "We want to look our best when we cheer for Daddy!"

Hunter observed attentively, his big eyes studying your every move.

"What's that, Mommy?" he asked, pointing to the makeup brushes.

You chuckled softly, giving him a gentle explanation.

"This is called makeup, sweetheart. It helps enhance our natural beauty," You replied, dabbing a bit of foundation onto your skin.

As you continued applying makeup, your son's curiosity grew. He mimicked your actions, using his fingers to pretend to apply his own makeup, a charming sight that filled your heart with warmth.

After finishing your makeup, you turned to your suitcase, selecting a Manchester City shirt of your own with ‘𝚂𝚃𝚈𝙻𝙴𝚂 𝟷𝟽’ on the back of its.

Tour son toddled over, his eyes bright with anticipation.

"We’re matching, Mommy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with innocence and adoration.

You scooped him up into your arms, holding him close.

"Thank you, my love. Now we're both ready to cheer for Daddy," you replied, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

As you sat in the stands of the Atatürk Olympic Stadium, surrounded by fellow Manchester City supporters and in a box with the family members for the team members, your heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Harry was about to showcase his skills on the grand stage.

Beside you were his mother, Anne, and his sister, Gemma, both filled with anticipation and pride.

Your two-year-old son was perched on your lap, his wide eyes filled with wonder as he took in the electric atmosphere. The noise from the roaring crowd seemed to mesmerise him, but as the game kicked off, it wasn't long before the excitement overwhelmed his little body. Hunter's eyelids grew heavy, and he soon succumbed to the exhaustion of the day, drifting into a peaceful slumber.

"He's out like a light," Anne chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "It's quite a spectacle, isn't it? I can hardly believe our Harry is here, playing in the final."

Gemma nodded, her eyes shining with pride. "He's worked so hard for this moment. It's incredible to see him on this stage. I'm so proud of him."

The match unfolded with breathtaking speed and intensity.

Manchester City displayed their trademark attacking prowess, weaving intricate passes and creating scoring opportunities. The crowd's excitement was infectious, and the chants of "City! City!" reverberated throughout the stadium.

Anne leaned closer, her voice filled with excitement. "Do you remember when Daniel used to kick a ball around in the backyard? He always dreamed of playing on a big stage like this. And now, here he is!"

That was true, when you first met Harry, he used to invite you to the park all the time and you would always be kicking a ball about with him, now he got to teach his son the same things he taught you.

A roar erupted from the crowd as Manchester City came close to scoring.

Gemma jumped to her feet, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "Come on! Score that goal!"

As the game progressed, the tension mounted. The opposing team proved to be a formidable adversary, putting up a strong defence and launching swift counterattacks.

The match seemed like a true battle of titans, with both teams leaving everything on the field.

"He's playing brilliantly, isn't he?" You whispered to Anne, nodding toward your fiancé , who was skillfully manoeuvring through defenders.

Anne beamed, her eyes shimmering with pride. "He's always had that talent, that special something. It's as if he was born to play football. Look at him out there, giving it his all."

Suddenly, the referee blew the whistle for halftime. As the players retreated to the dressing room, you gently shifted Hunter's weight on your lap, careful not to wake him.

The buzz of excitement filled the air as we joined the other Manchester City family members near the tunnel, eager to offer our support and encouragement.

You watched as the man you loved emerged, sweat dripping down his face, but a determined glint in his eyes.

He approached were the four of you were standing, pressing a short kiss to your lips and mustering how much he loved you, you and him exchanged brief words of encouragement, his gratitude shining through.

He kissed Hunter's forehead gently, whispering, "Daddy's going to bring that trophy home for you, little man."

Back in your seats, the second half kicked off with renewed intensity.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as Manchester City pushed forward, relentlessly seeking that winning goal. The opposition fought back, with bone-crunching tackles and acrobatic saves from their goalkeeper.

With each near-miss and near-goal, your emotions soared and plummeted. You all held your breath with every shot, every corner, and every daring run. The tension was palpable, but you remained hopeful.

Suddenly, a collective gasp swept through the crowd as Manchester City was awarded a penalty.

Gemma grabbed your arm, her voice trembling with excitement. "This is it! H, can do this!"

There was no doubt within the squad that your Harry was the designated penalty taker for the team, he was a forward and The Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola had given Harry the responsibility for them.

This was his moment.

This was his time to shine.

The stadium fell into a hushed silence as Harry stepped up to take the penalty. His focus was unwavering as he placed the ball on the spot, the weight of the entire season resting on his shoulders. The opposing goalkeeper eyed him intently, trying to psych him out.

"Come on, Haz! You've got this!" You whispered, your voice filled with hope.

Gemma and Anne joined in, their voices merging with your own. "You've trained for this moment, Harry ! Show them what you're made of!"

You watched with bated breath as Harry took a deep breath, blocking out the noise around him.

He began his run-up, his strides purposeful and determined. The moment his foot made contact with the ball, it soared towards the goal, driven by the sheer force of his will.

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the ball sail through the air, evading the outstretched hands of the goalkeeper. The net rippled as the ball found its rightful place, and the stadium erupted into a chorus of cheers, applause, and chants of victory.

"He did it! He scored!" I exclaimed, my voice filled with elation. Hunter stirred in my arms, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing the surge of joy around him.

Anne wiped away tears of joy, her voice trembling with pride. "That's our boy! He's done it!"

Gemma wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace, joining in the celebration. "I knew he had it in him. What a moment!"

Manchester City we’re one nil up.

Not only that, but your Harry had scored.

He had scored in a final.

After all the heartbreak that he endured in the last final back in 2021, he had scored and put his team one point ahead.

You were beyond proud of him.

As the game continued, Manchester City pressed on with newfound confidence. The energy of Harry’s goal had ignited the team, fueling their determination to secure the trophy.

They fought fiercely, defending against the opposing team's attacks and launching their own relentless assault.

With every minute that ticked by, your anticipation grew. The final whistle drew nearer, and the realisation that victory was within reach became palpable.

The stadium buzzed with excitement, as if the crowd could taste the impending triumph.

And then, as the final whistle pierced the air, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar. Manchester City had emerged as the victors of the Champions League final. Ecstasy washed over you as you witnessed Harry and his teammates embrace, their joy overflowing.

Hunter clapped his tiny hands, mirroring the celebration around him.

“Yay, Daddy!" he squealed, his eyes filled with innocent delight.

The three of you joined Hunter's applause, your voices joining the chorus of cheers reverberating throughout the stadium.

Tears of joy streamed down your faces as you reveled in this extraordinary moment, a memory etched in our hearts forever.

You Harry had won the Champions League for his team.

With tears of elation streaming down your face, the three of you including little Hunter joined the chorus of chants, shouting, "City! City!"

Your eyes never left the pitch once as you anxiously waited for the moment when your lover and his teammates would lift the trophy high above their heads.

You all watched as the opposing team collected there runners up medals before it was time for the winners.

On the field, the players formed a jubilant huddle, their faces beaming with triumph. Moments later, they made their way towards the presentation stage.

You and the family quickly descended the stairs, Hunter clinging onto your hip with his thumb in his mouth, eager to get as close as possible to the historic moment that was about to unfold.

The crowd surged forward, a sea of blue and white, as you found a spot near the front. Beside you, other family members and friends of the Manchester City players beamed with anticipation, their voices filled with excitement.

Anne squeezed my hand tightly. "This is it, dear. We're about to witness something incredible."

Gemma nodded with a wide grin. "I can't believe it's happening! Our brother, lifting the Champions League trophy!"

The roar of the crowd grew deafening as the players ascended the stage one by one.

Finally, Harry stepped forward, his face radiant with a mixture of pride and disbelief. The trophy glistened in the spotlight, a symbol of their hard-fought victory.

A hush fell over the stadium as the captain of Manchester City, wearing the armband proudly, lifted the trophy high into the air.

A surge of emotions coursed through your body, and you let out a cheer that blended with the cheers of thousands of fans around.

Anne leaned in, her voice filled with admiration. "Look at him, my boy, holding that trophy. It's a moment I'll cherish forever."

Gemma wiped away tears of joy, her voice filled with pride. "He did it! Haz did it! I couldn't be prouder!"

As the players celebrated, their triumphant shouts and laughter filled the air.

Harry turned towards the direction you were sitting in, his eyes finding yours in the sea of cheering faces.

A smile spread across his face, and you could see the overwhelming happiness in his eyes. With a wave, he acknowledged his family's presence, and your heart swelled with love for this incredible man.

"He did it, Mum! Harry did it!" You exclaimed, your voice choked with emotion.

Anne pulled you into a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, he did, dear. My son is a champion!"

Gemma joined our embrace, forming a circle of love and pride. "We always believed in him, didn't we? This is just the beginning of his greatness."

Carefully making your way through the jubilant crowd, you reached the edge of the field, where security personnel guided you towards a designated area for family members. Anne and Gemma were already there, their smiles as bright as the stadium lights.

Harry spotted the four of you from a distance, his eyes lighting up with delight.

Covered in sweat and mud, he hurried towards you, a mix of exhaustion and elation on his face. You gently put Hunter down, allowing him to take his first steps on the hallowed ground of the pitch.

"Daddy!" Hunter exclaimed, his little arms outstretched, his voice filled with excitement.

Harry scooped him up, holding him close. "There's my little champion! Daddy did it!"

Anne embraced you, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Look at them, dear. Our son and grandson, basking in this incredible moment."

Gemma joined in the embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so proud of him, sis. He's worked so hard for this."

As the celebrations continued around you, Harry held Hunter high in the air, their joyous laughter blending with the cheers of the crowd. The energy of the stadium seemed to infuse their bond, a testament to the incredible journey they had embarked on together.

"He's so proud of you, Harry," you whispered, your voice filled with love and admiration.

Harry nodded, his eyes shimmering with tears of happiness. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter by my side. You're my biggest supporters, my inspiration."

Hunter reached out, his tiny fingers brushing against his fathers cheek. "Daddy strong!"

Harry kissed Hunter's forehead, his voice filled with tenderness. "Yes, my little champion, Daddy is strong because of you."

At that moment, time seemed to stand still.

You were surrounded by a sea of jubilant supporters, but it felt as though it was just the five of you, locked in an embrace of love and pride. The Champions League trophy glimmered in the distance, a symbol of their collective victory.

As the team gathered for a celebratory photo, Harry held Hunter on his hip, their smiles mirroring one another.

You captured the moment with your phone, knowing that it would forever be etched in the family's history.

Lying in bed, the weight of the day finally beginning to lift from your tired bodies, your fiancé and you basked in the quiet afterglow of his triumphant victory in the Champions League. The room was dimly lit, and a soft sense of contentment enveloped us.

Harry propped himself up on his elbow, his eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and elation.

"What a game, love," he whispered, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

What a game indeed.

You reached out, gently brushing your fingers through his hair. "You were incredible, Harry. I'm so proud of you."

Proud was an understatement.

A small smile graced his lips as he turned to face you in the hotel bed. "I couldn't have done it without you and Hunter. You're my rocks, my biggest supporters."

You shifted closer, resting your head against his chest. "We'll always be here for you, Harry. You worked so hard for this moment."

He sighed, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. "You know, love, after the final whistle, I wanted to celebrate with just you and Hunter. It's moments like these that I cherish the most."

So that explains why he decided not to celebrate with his team mates.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love. "I understand, Harry. It's about those intimate moments, the ones that remind you of what truly matters."

His gaze softened, his voice filled with vulnerability. "That penalty... I was so nervous, love. It felt like everything was riding on that one moment. But when the ball hit the back of the net, it was pure relief and joy."

You placed a gentle kiss on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your lips. "You did it, Harry. You seized the opportunity and made it count. It was a testament to your skill, your determination, and your unwavering belief in yourself."

He wrapped his arms around your body, drawing you closer. "Thank you, love. Your belief in me has always meant the world. You and Hunter are my greatest motivation.”

You snuggled in closer, finding comfort in his embrace. "We'll always be there, Harry. Through the highs and the lows, celebrating every victory and lifting you up in moments of doubt. You're our champion, on and off the pitch."

His voice grew softer as he spoke, his words carrying a sense of gratitude and reflection. "You know, love, throughout the game, when I looked up into the stands, seeing you and Hunter, your faces filled with love and support, it gave me an extra boost. It reminded me why I play this beautiful game, why I give it my all. It's for you and our little boy."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Harry's heartfelt words. "We'll always be your biggest fans, Harry. Seeing you out there, chasing your dreams, it fills our hearts with pride and joy."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you so much, my beautiful fiancé . And our little Hunter, he's growing up surrounded by so much love and inspiration."

You nestled deeper into his embrace, feeling a surge of warmth and love envelop the two of you. "We're creating memories, Harry. Memories that Hunter will carry with him throughout his life. He'll look back on this moment, knowing that his dad is a champion, a man who followed his dreams and achieved greatness."

Harry's voice grew soft, his tone filled with a sense of wonder. "I never want to forget this feeling, lying here with you, relishing in our love and celebrating a victory. It's a moment frozen in time, one that I'll cherish forever."

You intertwined your fingers with his, savouring the connection you seemed to share. "We'll always have these moments, Harry.”

You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the little bundle of joy nestled between you and your lover,. Hunter had fallen asleep during the celebration, his small body curled up against Harry's side.

Such a daddies boy.

Harry's eyes softened as he looked down at your sleeping son. "Look at him, love. Our little champion, exhausted from all the excitement."

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from Hunter's forehead. "He's been cheering for you the whole game. I think he used up all his energy celebrating your victory."

Harry chuckled softly, his hand gently stroking Hunter's back. "I'm glad he got to witness this. One day, he'll look back and know that he was here, part of this unforgettable moment."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside of your chest. "He's so lucky to have you as his role model, Harry. You're showing him what it means to work hard, to chase your dreams, and to never give up."

Harry's gaze met your own, his eyes filled with love and gratitude. "And you, love, you're the anchor that keeps us grounded. Your unwavering support and belief in me, in us, it means everything."

The two of you sat in silence for a while, enveloped in the warmth of your shared love. The room was filled with a sense of peacefulness and fulfillment, a testament to the journey you had traveled together.

As Hunter stirred in his sleep, Harry's voice broke the stillness. "You know, love, scoring that penalty... It was like a release of all the pressure, all the hard work coming to fruition. But what mattered most in that moment was knowing I had my family by my side."

You kissed Hunter's forehead, then leaned over to place a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "We'll always be by your side, Harry, through every triumph and every challenge. You make us proud every single day."

Harry's arms tightened around you and Hunter, pulling you into an embrace that felt like home. "I love you both more than words can express. Thank you for being my everything."

The room filled with a sense of love and gratitude, as the three of you lay there, a family united in celebration, reflection, and profound connection.

In that quiet moment, the two of you knew that this victory was not just Harry's, but your families as well, and together, you would continue to write the pages of your story, one filled with love, resilience, and the shared joy of chasing dreams and achieving greatness, as a family united on and off the pitch.

As you drifted off into a blissful slumber one thought lingered in your brain.

The love of your life was a Champions League Winner.

Your Harry, Your Winner.