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musicforastylesrestaurant · 4 days ago

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A Broken Ankle, Karma Rules.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

blurb masterlist is here.

authors note - another random idea that popped into my head… enjoy!!

word count - 1.4k

in which, going on a run with your fiancé of two years means harmless flirting and teasing, that is until an incident occurs and he has to carry you back to the car.

As you sat in the passenger seat of your fiancé's sleek Tesla, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. The anticipation of going on a run together at the park was palpable, as you both waited for the perfect moment to step out of the car and immerse yourselves in the fresh air and lush greenery.

You glanced over at Harry, your heart swelling with love and excitement. His curly hair framed his face in a charming disarray, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. He wore a mischievous grin, as if he knew a secret that only the two of you shared.

"Ready for our run, m’love?" Harry asked, his voice filled with eagerness.

You nodded, smiling back at him. "Definitely! Although, I have to say, you're lucky I agreed to this. Dragging me out of bed at this hour is no easy feat."

Harry knew for a fact that you weren’t a morning person.

Harry chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oh, come on now. You know I couldn't resist spending this time with you. Besides, it's good for us to get our blood pumping early in the morning."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Well, I hope you appreciate the effort I'm putting in here. I'm not exactly a morning person, you know."

He leaned in, his voice turning husky. "I'll make it worth your while, darling. I promise."

Feeling a surge of anticipation, you reached for your water bottles and grabbed the car keys. "Alright, let's do this! Time to step out and conquer that park."

You both hopped out of the car, the cool breeze enveloping you. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a single AirPod, holding it up to you.

"Shall we share the music?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You grinned and took the AirPod, placing it delicately in your ear, the familiar chords of ‘eye of the river’ rang through your ears, that was enough to get you motivated for the run.

As the music started to play, you noticed that Harry had already started moving, his athletic figure bounding ahead.

His back was bare seeing as the weather was insanely hot currently and he was wearing a pair of blue running shorts, and his pink Calvin kelvin’s were on display.

You could feel yourself getting slightly worked up, the cheeky git always did then when the two of you were in public.

"Hey, wait up!" you called after him, a mix of laughter and exhilaration in your voice.

He slowed down, turning back to you with a playful grin. "You better catch up, love. We've got a run to conquer together."

As you jogged side by side with your fiancé Harry, the rhythmic sound of your footsteps echoed through the crisp morning air. The park was alive with activity, but your focus remained on the playful banter and connection between you.

As you chatted about your plans for the day, Harry couldn't resist a mischievous grin. With a sudden motion, he playfully reached out and tickled your hips, causing you to let out a surprised giggle and slow down.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, swatting his hand away. "That's not fair! You're distracting me!"

Harry laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I couldn't resist. You were just too tempting. But now, I'm afraid you'll have to catch up to me.”

A competitive fire ignited within you, and you shot him a determined glance. "Challenge accepted, slowpoke. Get ready to eat my dust."

With a burst of energy, you picked up the pace and raced past Harry, your feet pounding against the pavement. The wind rushed through your hair as you surged forward, leaving him momentarily in your wake.

Glancing over your shoulder, you called out with a triumphant smile, "Come on, Harry! I thought you said you were a professional runner!"

Harry laughed, his voice filled with mock protest. "Oh, you're in for it now! Just you wait, I'll catch up!"

You continued to push yourself, feeling the thrill of the friendly competition fueling your every stride. The playful taunts and laughter added a layer of joy to the run, reminding you of the deep connection you shared.

Soon enough, Harry's footsteps grew louder behind you as he closed the gap. With a final burst of determination, he ran alongside you, matching your pace.

"There you are," Harry said, a playful grin on his face. "I told you I'd catch up."

You grinned back, the exhilaration of the run shining in your eyes. "Well, I had to give you a head start, didn't I? Just to make it a fair race."

Harry's laughter echoed through the park as you both continued to run side by side, the competitive spirit subsiding to be replaced by a shared sense of joy and camaraderie.

You know, Harry," you said with a playful smirk, "I think I might have to start calling you 'Slowpoke' as your official nickname."

Harry chuckled, his competitive spirit ignited. "Oh, really? We'll see about that. Prepare to eat my dust, love."

With a wink, you took off, your feet hitting the pavement with purpose. You could hear Harry's footsteps behind you, gradually fading as you increase your pace.

Feeling mischievous, you decided to test the limits. You picked up even more speed, savouring the thrill of the wind rushing past you. Unbeknownst to you, Harry slowed down, taking a short water break to quench his thirst.

As you continued to jog ahead, revelling in the playfulness of the moment, your foot caught on an uneven patch of ground, causing you to lose your balance. Pain shot through your ankle, and you let out a cry of distress.

Hearing your scream, Harry's heart skipped a beat. Without a second thought, he abandoned his water bottle and sprinted in the direction of your voice. Fear and concern propelled him forward, his mind focused on reaching you as quickly as possible.

When he finally caught sight of you, lying on the ground and cradling your injured ankle, his heart sank. Kneeling down beside you, he gently cupped your face with his hands.

"Love, are you okay? What happened?" Harry asked, his voice filled with worry.

You winced, tears welling up in your eyes. "I... I think I’ve broken… my ankle. It hurts so much, H..Harry."

Concern etched across his face, Harry carefully examined your ankle. "Let me help you up. We'll get you to the hospital, alright?"

As Harry saw the pain etched on your face, he made a firm decision. "Lovie, I'm going to carry you to the car. I don't want you putting any weight on that ankle."

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks. "O-okay, H…. Thank you."

Gently, Harry scooped you up in his arms, his strength enveloping you. Despite his efforts to be careful, each step caused a jolt of pain to shoot through your ankle. Whimpers escaped your lips, and you clung tightly to him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The sobs that wracked your body echoed in the air, and Harry's heart ached at the sound. He tightened his hold on you, his voice filled with soothing reassurance. "Shh, love. I'm here. I've got you. Just hold on, we're almost back at the car."

His comforting words offered a glimmer of solace amidst the pain. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and his steady heartbeat served as a calming rhythm. He continued to carry you, navigating the path with careful steps, determined to get you to safety as quickly as possible.

With each passing moment, his tender support and unwavering presence began to ease the anguish. You clung to him, seeking solace in his embrace, knowing that you were not alone in this moment of vulnerability.

Finally, you reached the car, and Harry gently settled you in the passenger seat. He quickly moved around to the driver's side, his eyes filled with concern as he started the engine.

"You're doing so well, love," he murmured, his voice filled with tenderness. "We'll get you to the hospital, it’s bruising really quickly, m'love, and I'll take care of you."

As the car pulled away from the park, you let out another sob, the emotions overwhelming you. Harry reached over, taking your hand in his, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of your pain.

He glanced at you, his eyes filled with compassion. "It's alright to cry, love. Let it out. I'm here for you."

That was the last time you were going to be narcissistic ever again if this is what it led to.

But you know what they say:

Broken Ankle, Karma Rules.

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 6 days ago

Note

Hey! How about an imagine where Harry’s little daughter has a cold and only wants to be with her dad? He cancels everything to take care of her—singing, telling stories, and showering her with love. In the end, she falls asleep on his chest, and he smiles, feeling how much he loves being a dad.

Kisses And Cuddles.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!!

authors note - writing this whilst currently suffering from a cough and a cold lol, the change in weather always does this to me. 😭 what i would do to have a cuddle from harry. 😮‍💨

word count - 2.2k

in which, your at work (much to your dismay) and harrys at home looking after your poorly two year old, who got sent home from nursery the other day with a temperature, and harry goes into full on nurse mode, giving loads of kisses and cuddles, and nursing her back to full health.

It was a quiet Wednesday morning, and whilst you’re at work—much to your dismay—your husband Harry is home with your daughter.

She’s not feeling well, her little body weighed down by a stubborn cough and cold, and though you hate being away, you know she’s exactly where she wants to be. She’s always been a daddy’s girl, but when she’s sick, there’s no question—she only wants him.

It’s endearing, really, the way she melts into his arms, the way he instinctively knows how to soothe her in a way no one else can.

Downstairs, Harry moves through the kitchen, making himself a coffee, and a bottle of warm milk simultaneously, the soft hum of the machine filling the quiet space.

The baby monitor rests on the breakfast bar, the screen black for now, but he keeps it close, his ears always tuned in. He doesn’t need it, though—not really. He’d know the moment she needed him, like it’s something built into his bones.

It was yesterday when the phone rang, you and Harry were watching re-runs of The Only Way Is Essex, when your phone rang.

You frowned, glancing at the screen.

It was The nursery.

Your stomach tightened as you quickly answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, It’s Jenny from Little Moments, I’m just calling regarding your little girl.” a gentle voice spoke on the other end.

“She’s not feeling well—she’s got a temperature of 39.4 and refused her lunch and was coughing a lot. She’s been l quite unsettled. We think it’d be best if someone could collect her as soon as possible.”

Your heart sank.

“Oh, poor baby,” you murmured, already pushing your chair back. “I’ll be there soon.”

Harry’s brows knitted together as you hung up. “What is it?”

You sighed, grabbing your coat. “The nursery. She’s got a temperature, they want us to pick her up.”

Harry was on his feet in an instant, already slipping on his shoes. “I’ll drive.”

Harry twists the lid onto the bottle of warm milk, giving it a gentle shake to make sure it’s properly sealed.

The kitchen is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge, but just as he sets the bottle down on the counter, a soft whimper crackles through the baby monitor, followed by a round of raspy coughing.

His heart clenches. Without a second thought, he abandons the bottle and takes the stairs two at a time, pushing the bedroom door open as soon as he reaches the top.

There she is, curled up in the middle of your shared bed, her little body dwarfed by the duvet she’d burrowed into last night. Her cheeks are flushed, her curls sticking slightly to her damp forehead, and her big, teary eyes blink up at him, glassy and tired.

“Hey, m’little lady,” Harry murmurs, crossing the room in an instant. He sits on the edge of the bed, brushing her curls back with a gentle hand. “Did I wake you up, bub?”

She sniffles, rubbing a tiny fist against her eye.

“Dadaaa…” she croaks, her voice small and hoarse.

“I know, baby, m’here,” he soothes, leaning down to press a kiss to her warm forehead. “You’re not feelin’ very good, huh?”

She shakes her head weakly.

“Nooo…” Then her bottom lip wobbles, and she reaches for him with grabby hands. “Up, pease.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. He scoops her up and settles her against his chest, rubbing slow circles on her back as she tucks her head under his chin.

She’s so warm, her little body still heavy with sleep, but as soon as she’s in his arms, she relaxes with a shuddery sigh.

“I was just makin’ you some milk, bub,” he tells her softly, rocking her gently. “Nice and warm, just how you like it.”

She hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t say anything else, just clings to him tighter. Harry sighs, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

“Y’just want cuddles, don’t you?” he murmurs, smiling when she nods against his chest.

Harry makes his way down the stairs carefully, one arm curled securely around his daughter as she snuggles into him, her little fingers gripping weakly at his t-shirt.

She’s warm—too warm—and he presses a gentle kiss to her temple as he steps into the living room.

Settling down onto the floor, he leans back against the sofa, adjusting her so she’s cradled in his arms, her tiny body tucked against his chest.

“Alright, little lady,” he murmurs, reaching for the bottle he’d left on the coffee table. “Got your bot-bot, yeah?”

She barely nods, her heavy eyes fluttering shut before blinking open again. She’s so tired. Too tired to even try to hold the bottle herself, and Harry knows it, so he doesn’t let her.

Instead, he holds it for her, guiding the teat to her lips and watching as she latches on with a soft hum.

For a moment, all he hears is her quiet sucking, the occasional sniffle, the soft rustle of the blanket he’s draped over the both of them. But then, after every few mouthfuls, she stops—her tiny frame tensing just before another harsh, rattling cough shakes through her.

Harry winces, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he rubs slow, soothing circles into her back.

“Oh, baby…” he murmurs, his heart aching as she whimpers, her little body curling into his even more.

Her cheeks are raw, flushed from the fever, and every time she coughs, she lets out the saddest little sound, like even she’s exhausted by it. Harry presses his lips to her forehead, lingering there as if he can will the heat away.

“You’re okay, m’love,” he soothes, adjusting her slightly so she’s more upright, helping her breathe a little easier. “Daddy’s got you, yeah? Just take your time.”

She blinks up at him, bleary-eyed, her tiny fingers curling weakly around his thumb.

“No wike it,” she mumbles, voice hoarse and wobbly.

Harry’s chest tightens. “I know, bub. I know. I don’t like it either.”

He brushes his knuckles softly over her warm cheek. “But you’re bein’ so brave, yeah? Daddy’s so proud of you.”

She doesn’t respond, just nestles her head deeper into his chest, her breathing uneven and tired. Harry sighs, tightening his arms around her.

If he could take it all away and be sick instead of her, he would. A thousand times over.

As the bottle runs empty, Harry gently pulls it from his daughter’s lips, setting it aside. She barely reacts, just lets out a sleepy sigh and burrows closer into his chest, her tiny hand still wrapped loosely around his thumb. He rocks her gently, his palm running soothingly up and down her back, hoping the warmth of the milk will help settle her.

Then, his phone vibrates against the coffee table. He shifts slightly, careful not to jostle the little girl in his arms as he reaches for it. It’s a message from you.

From: My love. ❤️

How’s my baby?

Harry smiles softly, typing back with one hand.

To: My Love. ❤️

We’re just having a cuddle. She finished her milk but still feels rotten. Gonna try and get her back off to sleep—want her to get as much rest as she can. She’s bound to be up all night again.

Almost instantly, his phone buzzes again.

From: My Love. ❤️

My boss is letting me come home early—I’ll be back in half an hour.

Relief washes over him. He knows you’ve been worried sick all morning, and he also knows that as much as your daughter wants only him when she’s ill, the second she sees you, she’ll melt right into your arms.

To: My Love. ❤️

That’s good, love. Drive safe, yeah? We’ll be right here waiting.

Setting his phone back down, he glances at the sleepy little girl in his arms, her breathing uneven from congestion, her fingers twitching slightly in her half-sleep.

He presses another kiss to her forehead, whispering softly, “Mummy’s comin’ home soon, bub. Just hold on a little longer.”

He brushes a strand of hair away from her head. “— let’s go upstairs baby, have a cuddle in mommy and daddy’s bed.”

Harry carefully pushes himself up from the sofa, adjusting his grip on his daughter as he heads upstairs. She’s gone quiet against his chest, her breaths still uneven but slow, her tiny body warm and limp with exhaustion.

He knows she’s barely holding on, just teetering on the edge of sleep, and he hopes—prays—he can get her down without too much trouble.

Stepping into the bedroom, he moves toward the bed, gently lowering her down onto the mattress. But the second she feels the absence of his warmth, she lets out a broken, desperate cry, her little arms flailing as she immediately reaches for him.

“Dadaaa, no!” she sobs, her voice hoarse and weak, but still full of panic.

Harry’s heart shatters.

“Oh, baby, baby, shhh,” he soothes, instantly scooping her back up. “It’s alright, Daddy’s here, m’right here.”

But it’s too late. She’s inconsolable now, her cries turning frantic, her little hands clutching onto his shirt like she’s terrified he’ll disappear.

The crying quickly turns into a fit of coughing, her tiny body wracked with it, and it physically hurts Harry to watch.

“Shhh, love, I know, I know,” he murmurs, rubbing her back in slow, steady circles. “M’not goin’ anywhere, yeah? Daddy’s got you, always.”

She gasps between sobs, struggling to catch her breath, her face pressed into his chest.

“No, no, no…” she whimpers, her voice barely there.

Harry sighs, his heart aching as he shifts onto the bed himself, leaning back against the pillows with her still curled against him.

His hand never stops moving up and down her back, grounding her, soothing her. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise.”

Her cries don’t stop right away, her body still trembling from the effort, but Harry knows what to do. Knows exactly what always calms her down.

So he starts to sing.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine… you make me happy when skies are gray…”

His voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the effect is immediate. She hiccups through her tears, her grip on his shirt slowly loosening as she listens.

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you… please don’t take my sunshine away…”

She lets out a shaky sigh, her body growing heavier, her breathing evening out little by little. Harry keeps singing, his voice gentle, his lips brushing the top of her warm head between lines.

By the time he reaches the end, she’s out. Completely still, her tiny fingers resting loosely against his chest, her breaths deep and slow.

Harry exhales, his body finally relaxing as he rests his head back against the pillows. He should probably move, lay her down properly—but he can’t. Not when she’s finally peaceful. Not when she needs him.

So instead, he tightens his arms around her just a little, presses one last lingering kiss to her forehead, and lets himself drift off too.

The house is quiet when you step inside, the warmth instantly wrapping around you as you shut the door behind you. You let out a slow breath, toeing off your shoes and slipping into your Ugg slippers, the soft lining comforting after a long morning.

Your keys make a familiar clink as you drop them into the bowl by the door, and for a moment, you just stand there, taking in the stillness.

You expected to hear something—maybe the faint hum of the TV, Harry moving around in the kitchen, or the soft murmur of your daughter’s voice. But there’s nothing.

Your brows furrow as you peek into the front room. Empty. The lounge, too.

A small smile tugs at your lips.

Upstairs.

You make your way up, careful to keep your footsteps light. Peeking into your daughter’s room, you see that her bed is still untouched, the blankets thrown to the side exactly how they were left this morning.

Which means there’s only one place they could be.

Your heart swells as you push open the door to your bedroom, and the sight before you nearly takes your breath away.

Harry is lying on his back, his head slightly tilted toward your daughter, who is curled up on his chest, her tiny hand resting near his collarbone. They’re both fast asleep, their breathing slow and steady, their bodies rising and falling in perfect sync.

Your little girl looks so small in his arms, her fever-flushed cheeks pressed against his t-shirt, her lashes fanned out against her delicate skin. Harry’s arm is wrapped securely around her, his other hand resting just over her back, as if even in sleep, he refuses to let her go.

Something in your chest tightens at the sight. The exhaustion on Harry’s face, the way he must have fought to get her to rest, the way he still holds her so protectively even now.

You step closer, moving as quietly as possible, unable to resist reaching out to brush a stray curl from your daughter’s damp forehead. Her skin is still warm, but she doesn’t stir—too deep in the sleep she so desperately needed.

You turn your gaze to Harry, taking in the way his lips are slightly parted, his face soft, peaceful. You know how tired he must be. How long he must have fought to get her to this point.

And in this quiet little moment, you can’t imagine loving either of them more.

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 8 days ago

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I want to write something angsty lol 😭

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 9 days ago

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Missing You.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

please remember to like and comment!!

in which, your fiancé’s off touring europe for the last leg of his tour, and you’ve had to stay at home because work wouldn’t give you the time off, so a nice face time call makes you feel just that much better about not being in his arms.

You were missing him.

As you were sat in yours and his house in Los Angeles, you couldn’t help but miss your fiancé, the man who owned your heart and the man that would forever own your heart.

You were feeling a little bit lonely, even though your shared dog Max was cuddled up at your feet.

Harry was touring around Europe, performing the last leg of his three year tour, and as much as you would have loved to have toured with him, work simply wouldn’t let you have the designated time off.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly resentful, not at the fact he was touring, but the fact that you couldn’t go with him.

You missed his touch, his jokes and most importantly his love.

As you sat on yours and his double bed, laying on his side just to feel they little bit more closer to him, scrolling through Harry Florals instagram page and seeing what your fiancé was up to, your dog licking its paws below you, the thought of him having the time of his life was enough for you to throw your phone down on the mattress, and decided to try and watch some TV.

Catching up on the soaps, Coronation Street, Emmerdale and your and Harry’s personal favourite Eastenders.

The sound of a notification emitting from your phone was enough to make your heart skip a beat, hoping and praying that it was the man you loved.

Maybe it was him, calling to say goodnight even though there was a clear time difference in Europe to the states.

You grabbed a hold of your phone, flipped it over and saw a FaceTime call from him appearing on the front of your phone, a picture you took of him cuddled with Max, his contact photo.

You answered the phone with eagerness seeping from your veins, holding the phone in your hand as his face appeared on the screen.

“Hey, love,”Harry greeted, running a hand through his hair. “— how’re you?”

Instead of saying how you really were, all you could mutter out were the two words littering the end of your tongue.

“I miss you,”You told him, feeling your eyes gaining a little bit of moisture. “God, I miss you so much, baby.”

Harry explained that he missed you as well, and that things weren’t the same without you by his side. He felt sick at the end of every show knowing that you weren’t waiting for him backstage, or back at the hotel.

He missed falling asleep in your arms.

“Are you sure everything’s okay, m’love?”Harry asked, head tilted to the side as he looked at you through the screen.

What were you meant to say to him?

Your emotions were all over the place.

“I’m not sure,”You told him, stroking a hand through Max’s fur who was now sitting at your side, panting softly at the sound of his daddy’s voice. “— works just been long, there’s loads of new people and I’m starting to feel as though I don’t belong there anymore. Like I’m not good enough to be working there anymore”

That and you felt completely alone.

Like this was a one way relationship.

“That’s not true,”Harry told you firmly, head shaking. “You're amazing at your job, don’t let other people drag you down and certainly don’t let people tell you otherwise.”

It felt nice to hear him say that.

But it would feel even nice if he was saying it straight to your face and not through a phone screen.

“I know,”You sighed, blinking back the tears. “—it’s just really hard sometimes.”

“I understand that, love,”He assured you. “But just remember that you’re stronger than you think you are, you’ll always have me defending your corner.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.”You told him, feeling even more emotional.

“No, I’m the lucky one,”His voice was warm and comforting, something you had missed. “I can’t wait to come home and see you.”

“I love you.” His voice was one full of love.

A tear fell down your cheek. “— I love you, too.”

“G’night, darling.”

“Goodnight baby.”

The screen went dark and you placed your phone down on your nightstand with a bated breath, Max was now cuddled even more into your side, head laying on your stomach.

You felt a little more centred now that you had had that conversation with your fiancé, knowing that he missed you just as much as you missed him.

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 days ago

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What’s everyone up to tonight? x

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 days ago

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I have a couple days off work so hoping to get some writing done for y’all. 🫶

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 11 days ago

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 11 days ago

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By Order Of The Crimson Brotherhood.

(peaky blinder!harry)

masterlist || ask me anything

in which, the year is 1921, and the city of manchester is under the control of the ruthless gang the crimson brotherhood, so when there leaders wife gets mobbed in the streets on her way home from the farmers market, the styles brothers make sure they know she is one of there own.

word count - 2.6k

authors note - ik this isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but i have 100% been in my peaky blinders era as of the beginning of the month, im already on season four 🙈🙈 and thought it would be kind of cute to join the two worlds together, don’t know if this will turn out any good but who knows?? anywho enjoy angels 💗💞

January, 1921.

Harry Edward Styles, a man born and raised in the city of Manchester, a man known for his ruthlessness, his strong will and his dangerous antics.

Him aswell as his brothers roamed the streets of Holmes Chapel, with razor blades down into the flat caps which ultimately led to fear seeping into the bones of there enemies.

Which they had a lot of.

The Styles Brothers were well renown around those ends, the family always had been, there father wasn’t present and there mother died when the youngest brother was barely a year old.

Harry met you, his gorgeous girl at the age of nineteen, the two of you were childhood sweethearts, destined to be together no matter the circumstances.

You were wandering around the streets, when you bumped into him and his elder brothers Charlie and George. You were about to fall to the floor but your wrist was captured in the hands of the leader, who caught you and raised you back to your feet carefully.

You asked how you could return the favour and he muttered something along the lines of ‘you could let me take you out for a night on the town’

And the rest was history.

When the war broke out, Harry knew for a fact that he would be getting called up to represent his country, and at the point the two of you were already engaged, but he demanded that the two of you be husband and wife before he was shipped off, explaining that if he was to die, he wanted to die as your husband.

So, the two of you had a small ceremony and you officially became Mr and Mrs. Styles.

When he returned home from war, he demeanour was slightly colder due to everything that he had seen and been through, he was colder to everyone around him, except for you.

He could never be angry, harsh, callous or aggravated around you.

People feared him before he went to war, but when he returned it was like he was a ticking time bomb, one wrong move and heads would be blown.

He ruled Manchester.

And that would never, ever change.

In the heart of Manchester, you move with the grace of a queen, your every step echoing the legacy of the Crimson Brotherhood, the notorious gang led by your husband, Harry Styles.

Despite the weight of your marital ties, you refuse to be confined by the expectations placed upon you.

Alone at the market, you weave through the stalls with purpose, selecting the finest ingredients for the dinner you plan to prepare for your husband, and his brothers.

Determination fuels your steps as you pick out fresh produce, savory meats, and delicate spices, each item chosen with care to create a meal worthy of the Crimson Brotherhood.

You approach the butcher's stall with a slightly sense of innocence, the scent of freshly cut meat mingling with the bustling atmosphere of the market. As you exchange pleasantries with the butcher, you can't help but admire the array of cuts on display, each one a testament to the skill and expertise of the person behind the counter.

"Good afternoon, love. What can I get for you today?"

Returning the smile, you reply, "I'm looking for four round beef steaks, please."

One for you, one for Harry, one for Charlie and one for George.

The butcher nods, already reaching for the desired cuts. "Ah, excellent choice. Coming right up."

As they expertly select the steaks, you engage in friendly banter. "Busy day at the market?"

The butcher chuckles, their hands deftly working the meat. "Always is, especially with the sun shining like this. But I can't complain, keeps me on my toes."

You nod in agreement, admiring their skill. "I can imagine. Thank you for always providing such quality cuts."

With a satisfied grin, the butcher presents the four round beef steaks, neatly packaged and ready for you. "There you go, love. These should do the trick."

"Thank you so much," you reply gratefully, accepting the package. "I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure," the butcher says warmly. "Enjoy your meal."

With the package of steaks safely tucked into your basket, you bid farewell to the lively atmosphere of the farmers market. The sun's warm rays still linger, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets of Manchester.

As you walk, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having secured the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

Reaching into your basket, you retrieve a pair of gloves, slipping them onto your hands with practiced ease.

Just as you're about to slip the second glove onto your hand, a sudden grip tightens around your arm, pulling you forcefully backward.

Startled, you gasp as you're dragged into the dimly lit entrance of a secluded alleyway, the bustling sounds of the market fading into the distance behind you.

Heart pounding, you struggle against your assailant, your fingers instinctively tightening around the basket's handle, the package of steaks forgotten in your grip.

Panic surges through you as you're dragged deeper into the darkness, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

As the man's grip tightens around your arm, you're suddenly face to face with a stranger whose features are etched with menace. His blonde hair falls haphazardly across his scarred face, the jagged line drawing your attention to the intensity in his eyes.

The overpowering stench of rotten egg fills your nostrils, sending a shiver down your spine as he speaks.

"Just the girl I've been looking for," he growls, his words sending a chill through your trembling body. Tears blur your vision as you stare back at him, unable to comprehend the terror unfolding before you.

He was Irish.

In a voice thick with malice, he continues, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "Your husband and his brothers owe me, and I aim to collect. And what better way to send a message than through his darling wife?"

You try to speak, to plead for mercy, but fear has stolen your voice. Before you can utter a word, his fist connects with your jaw, sending you sprawling to the ground.

Gasping for breath, you curl into yourself, the pain radiating through your body like fire.

The man's laughter echoes off the walls, cold and cruel. "They crossed me, and now it's time to pay the price. And you, my dear, are the perfect pawn in this little game of ours."

As he delivers blow after brutal blow, each impact driving the air from your lungs, you cling to the faint hope that someone will come to your rescue.

But as the darkness closes in around you, you realize that you are utterly alone, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty knows no bounds.

With aching limbs, you muster the strength to push yourself upright, the world spinning around you as you struggle to focus through the haze of pain and fear.

Casting a wary glance over your shoulder, you retrieve the basket of food that had fallen to the ground during the attack.

With trembling hands, you wipe the dried blood from the corner of your mouth, the metallic taste lingering on your tongue as a grim reminder of the violence you've endured.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you force yourself to take a step forward, the basket clutched tightly to your chest. Your movements are slow and unsteady, each step sending waves of agony rippling through your battered body.

As you reach the end of the alleyway, you pause, casting a furtive glance around to ensure that no one is watching. The last thing you need is for someone to see you in this state, vulnerable and exposed.

With a silent prayer for strength, you begin the agonizing journey home, every step a testament to your resilience in the face of unspeakable cruelty. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline, but you refuse to let them fall, determined to maintain a facade of strength until you reach the safety of your own four walls.

With each agonizing step, you inch closer to the familiar sight of 24 Spring Lane, your sanctuary from the horrors of the outside world.

The journey that once felt like a mere stroll now stretches out before you like an eternity, every movement a testament to the relentless ache that pulses through your battered body.

Finally, you reach the doorstep, the key trembling in your hand as you struggle to insert it into the lock. Your fingers fumble with the familiar motion, the simple act of unlocking the door now a monumental task in your weakened state.

As you push open the door and step inside, relief washes over you, tempered only by the searing pain that courses through your body with each labored breath.

The injuries inflicted upon you by your assailant are beginning to take their toll, the dull throb in your ribs now accompanied by a sharp sting at the top of your eyebrow.

Unaware of your husband's presence, you stagger into the living room, your focus consumed by the overwhelming need to seek refuge from the torment of the outside world. But as you drop the basket to the floor and collapse onto the ground, a cry of pain escapes your lips, the weight of your injuries too much to bear alone.

In the dim light of the room, you catch a glimpse of Harry sitting in the corner, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

His expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond your line of sight.

As you collapse onto the floor, your body wracked with pain, Harry's instinct kicks in, propelling him across the room in a blur of motion. With a sense of urgency, he drops his cigarette and rushes to your side, his hands reaching out to catch you before your skull can meet the unforgiving wooden floor.

His eyes widen in shock and concern as he takes in the extent of your injuries, his heart clenching at the sight of blood staining your face and clothes. Gently, he cradles the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent as he ensures your safety in the midst of the chaos.

"M’Love, what happened?" Harry's voice is thick with worry, his usually steady demeanor shaken by the sight of you in such distress.

He carefully brushes the hair from your face, his touch feather-light against your bruised skin.

You struggle to find the words to answer him, the pain making it difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak. But as you meet his gaze, the unspoken understanding that passes between you is enough to convey the depths of your suffering.

Without hesitation, Harry gathers you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with a fierce protectiveness that belies the tenderness in his touch. As he holds you close, you feel a sense of safety wash over you, a comforting reminder that no matter the trials you may face, you will always find refuge in his embrace.

As Harry holds you close, his voice filled with concern, he gently urges you to tell him who is responsible for your injuries. But fear grips you tightly, paralyzing your voice as you shake your head vehemently, unable to form the words to convey the terror that still grips your heart.

"Please, love," Harry implores, his eyes searching yours for any sign of reassurance. "Y’need to tell me who did this. I won't let ‘em hurt you again, I promise."

But the memory of the man's cruel laughter and the violence he inflicted upon you looms large in your mind, filling you with a sense of dread at the thought of facing him again. How can you trust that Harry's promise will hold against such ruthless brutality?

Tears stream down your face as you cling to Harry, your body trembling with the weight of your fear and pain. You long to confide in him, to share the burden of your suffering, but the words remain trapped within you, a silent scream of anguish and despair.

In response to your silent plea, Harry's grip tightens around you, his arms a shield against the darkness that threatens to consume you.

"I swear to you, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within you. "Whoever did this won't ever be able to hurt you again. I'll make sure of it."

"I... I don't know his name," you manage to say, your voice trembling with fear and pain. "But he... he had blonde hair and... and a scar."

Harry's expression darkens as he processes your words. "Patrick McDonald," he mutters, his voice laced with anger and recognition. "Bloody hell."

Another wave of pain radiates from your ribs, causing you to instinctively turn your head into your husband's chest, seeking comfort in his embrace.

As you lean against him, Harry's arms tighten around you, a silent vow of protection against the threat that looms on the horizon.

"I'll deal with him," he promises, his voice a low growl. "No one hurts my wife and gets away with it."

“George, Charlie!”

You hadn't even realized they were in the house, lost in the chaos of your own pain and fear, but now they appear, their presence a welcome relief amidst the turmoil.

With wide eyes, George and Charlie rush into the room, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as they take in the sight of you battered and bruised on the floor.

"What happened to ‘er?" George demands, his voice edged with worry as he kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your injuries.

Harry's jaw clenches with barely contained fury as he speaks the name that has haunted your nightmares since the attack.

"Patrick McDonald," he growls, his voice thick with anger and determination.

Charley lets out a harsh breath, his expression darkening with recognition.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, his fists clenching at his sides.

As the gravity of the situation sinks in, George's gaze flickers between you and his brothers, his features set in a steely resolve.

"We need to find him," he declares, his voice firm with determination.

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes burning with a fierce determination.

"And when we do, he'll wish he'd never laid a hand on her," he vows, his voice a low growl.

With trembling hands, you grip tight onto your husband's waistcoat, your eyes pleading with him not to leave your side.

"Please, H," you beg, your voice wavering with fear and desperation. "Don't leave me."

Harry's gaze softens as he looks down at you, his heart aching at the sight of your pain.

"I have to, m’love," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "That bastard deserves hell f’what he did to you, and he's going to get what's coming to him."

You shake your head frantically, tears streaming down your bruised cheeks.

"But I need you here," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos of the room. "I'm scared, H. Please don't leave me alone."

For a moment, Harry's resolve wavers, his love for you outweighing the thirst for vengeance burning within him. But then, with a heavy heart, he gently extricates himself from your grasp, his eyes filled with determination as he rises to his feet.

"I promise, (Y/N)," he says, his voice firm with resolve. "When we find him, he's going to hurt just like he hurt you, s’a promise, and I never, ever break promises. He’ll get what’s coming to him one way or another.”

“By order of the Crimson Brotherhood."

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 12 days ago

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EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU HAIM 🙂‍↔️

had to go chew some dry wall after this omfg

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