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satellite-evans · 2 days ago

Text

you bring me home

Pairing: Harry Styles x wife!reader

Summary: wherever Harry goes, his family brings him home.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: fluff, little angst, insecure Harry

A/N:

AAAAAAA happy birthday Harry, my favorite babygirl ilysm <3

I can't believe harry is 31 🥹🥹🥹

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

As a person who loved sleeping in, waking up early was one of the things you disliked the most, but for Harry, you would do anything. The air was tinged with the scent of fresh pancakes and vanilla as you carefully balanced a breakfast tray, ensuring nothing spilled. Your twin children, Lily and Theo, stood beside you, their little bodies quivering with excitement as they whispered and giggled, barely containing their enthusiasm.

The tray was a masterpiece of love and effort: a tall stack of fluffy pancakes, perfectly golden, drizzled with maple syrup and a dollop of whipped cream on top. A steaming cup of his favorite tea sat beside it, sending up comforting swirls of steam, and a small vase held a single daisy, freshly plucked from the garden, its petals still glistening with morning dew.

“Be extra quiet,” you whispered conspiratorially, nudging Theo, who was practically vibrating with anticipation. “We don’t want to wake him before we surprise him.”

Lily nodded solemnly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief as she reached up to steady the crown she had crafted the night before, made from construction paper, glitter, and tiny stickers. She had insisted he wear it the entire day.

With one final glance at your giggling children, you took a deep breath and gently pushed open the bedroom door, stepping inside to wake the man you all adored.

“Shhh, you two,” you whispered, pushing the door open with your hip. The sight before you warmed your heart—Harry, still deep in sleep, his curls unruly against the pillow, soft breaths escaping his slightly parted lips.

“Daddy! Wake up!” Theo cheered, scrambling onto the bed with little restraint, while Lily giggled and climbed up more gently. Harry groaned playfully, stretching his arms as he cracked open his eyes, a slow, sleepy smile forming at the sight of his family.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Happy birthday, Daddy!” the twins chorused excitedly.

Harry sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Well, this is quite the welcome committee.”

“We made you breakfast!” Theo announced proudly, gesturing toward the tray still balanced in your hands. “Mummy helped, but we did most of it.”

Harry chuckled. “That so? Did you two make sure it wasn’t just extra syrup?”

Lily gasped, feigning offense. “No! We made pancakes all fancy. You have to eat it all.”

She carefully placed a handmade birthday crown on his head, adorned with colorful stickers and a glittery ‘31’ in the center. “And you have to wear this all day,” she added with a very serious nod.

Harry laughed, adjusting the crown slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

As he reached for a bite of his pancake, Theo held up a forkful and grinned. “Nope! We get to feed you first.”

You laughed as Harry playfully groaned. “Ah, so that’s the deal? I just sit here and get spoiled?”

Lily nodded, already scooping up another bite for him. “Yup! It’s the rule.”

Breakfast in bed was filled with laughter and syrupy fingers. The kids eagerly took turns feeding him, their giggles filling the room, while you sat beside him, sipping your tea. You watched him carefully, taking in the quiet joy in his expression.

“You okay, birthday boy?” you asked softly, nudging his thigh with your own.

Harry turned to you, a teasing glint in his eye. “M’being pampered, got my favorite people in the world around me, and I’ve been force-fed pancakes—what’s not to love?”

You raised a brow. “Force-fed?”

Lily gasped, feigning offense. “Daddy, we made those for you!”

Harry chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “And they were the best pancakes I’ve ever had, promise.”

Theo giggled. “Even better than Mum’s?”

Harry hesitated dramatically, looking between you and Theo before sighing. “Don’t make me answer that, mate. I still need to sleep in this bed tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sight of his dimples softened you instantly. “Smart man.”

After breakfast, the day unfolded exactly as Harry would have wanted, filled with his favorite activities and the people he loved most.

The first adventure took them to the beach, where the sun glistened off the gentle waves, and the salty breeze tousled their hair. Theo, always a burst of energy, ran ahead, leaving tiny footprints in the damp sand before the waves erased them.

“Daddy, look how fast I can run!” he called over his shoulder before sprinting toward the water, only to yelp and scamper back when the foamy tide licked at his ankles.

Harry chuckled, adjusting the birthday crown still perched on his head. “Not fast enough to outrun the ocean, mate.”

Lily, ever the meticulous collector, was crouched down nearby, carefully selecting seashells. She held up a small, smooth one, its pinkish hue catching the light. “This one’s perfect,” she murmured, before tucking it into the pocket of her dress.

Harry walked beside you, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours. You glanced up at him, noting the way he gazed at the horizon—thoughtful, almost distant. You nudged him gently. “You okay?”

He turned to you with a soft smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

You wanted to ask what was on his mind, but before you could, Theo ran back, dragging Harry toward a tide pool where tiny fish darted beneath the surface. You let the moment slip away, telling yourself there would be time later.

By the time they returned home, the afternoon had warmed considerably. The backyard transformed into an impromptu soccer field, with two overturned garden chairs serving as goalposts.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you teased, tossing Harry a soccer ball. “Let’s see if you still have it.”

Theo, already buzzing with excitement, bounced on his toes. “I’m gonna win this time, Daddy!”

Harry smirked, rolling his shoulders. “We’ll see about that, little man.”

The game was a whirlwind of laughter and determination. Theo had grown quicker, and his footwork had improved, but Harry still had the advantage of skill. He weaved past Theo, kicking the ball toward the goal.

“Noooo!” Theo shouted dramatically, diving to stop it, but the ball rolled past him, bumping against the chair leg.

Harry threw his arms up. “And that’s how it’s done!”

Theo flopped onto his back in the grass. “That’s not fair! You’re too big!”

Lily, sitting cross-legged nearby, shook her head. “You’ll have to train harder, Theo.”

Theo groaned but quickly sat up, determination sparking in his eyes. “Next time, Daddy. Next time, I’ll win.”

After soccer, everyone was covered in grass stains and sweat, so you all retreated indoors, for a bath. The kids requested that Harry washed them, wanting to bond with their dad a little more on his birthday, and who’s he to say no to that? After the bath everyone went straight to the kitchen, where Lily had declared herself head chef.

“Okay,” she announced, tying her apron. “We are making the best chocolate cake ever.”

Theo raised his hand. “Can I lick the spoon?”

Lily sighed. “Only if you actually help.”

Harry chuckled, washing his hands. “What’s my job, Chef Lily?”

She tapped her chin in thought before handing him a whisk. “You mix, but don’t overdo it! We want the cake fluffy.”

With everyone assigned a role, the kitchen soon became a delightful mess. Flour dusted the countertops (and somehow Theo’s nose), chocolate smudged fingers, and laughter filled the air.

When it came time to pour the batter into the pan, Harry carefully smoothed the top, though the uneven distribution almost guaranteed a lopsided result.

“It’s not about how it looks,” Lily said wisely. “It’s about how it tastes.”

After the cake was safely in the oven, Theo tugged at Harry’s sleeve. “Daddy, can we play one more round of soccer while it bakes?”

Harry hesitated, rubbing his neck. “Maybe later, buddy.”

Theo frowned. “But it’s your birthday. You love soccer.”

“I do,” Harry said softly, ruffling Theo’s hair. “I just need a little break.”

The quiet moment didn’t go unnoticed. You exchanged a glance with Lily, who, despite her young age, seemed to sense it too.

Dinner was next—every dish carefully chosen to make Harry’s birthday meal special. The scent of garlic filled the air as you stirred the pasta sauce, the rich aroma blending with the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

Harry stood beside you, sipping a glass of wine, watching as you worked. “You know, you spoil me,” he murmured.

You smirked. “That’s the point, birthday boy.”

The meal was a feast. Pasta twirled around forks, laughter bounced between conversations, and the tiramisu at the end was met with eager, chocolate-covered smiles.

Then came the cake—imperfectly shaped, slightly uneven, but undeniably made with love. Candles flickered, their glow reflecting in Harry’s thoughtful eyes.

“Make a wish, Daddy!” Theo urged.

Harry hesitated for just a second before closing his eyes and exhaling, sending the flames dancing away.

Cheers erupted, and as slices were passed around, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Harry was happy—there was no doubt about that—but his smiles, though present, didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a quiet hesitance to his laughter, a weight behind his usually bright gaze. After the kids went upstairs to play before bed, you thought it was the perfect time to ask him before it started to eat you alive.

“Alright,” you said softly, settling beside him, tucking your legs under you, feeling the warmth of the couch seep into your bones. You glanced at Harry, his posture tense, his gaze unfocused. “What’s going on?”

He sighed, a long, drawn-out breath that seemed to carry the weight of the world. He ran a hand through his curls, the dark strands falling messily around his face, but there was no playful energy behind the movement. It was a motion you’d seen him do a thousand times, but now it felt heavy, like he was trying to push away something too big to ignore.

“Finished the album,” he murmured, his voice almost flat, like it was an announcement he was struggling to fully accept.

Your heart leaped, a surge of pride filling your chest. “Harry, that’s amazing!” The words felt like they should be the end of a conversation, the punctuation at the end of a happy story. But the air between you both still felt thick, unspoken words hanging just beyond reach.

He nodded, but his eyes never met yours. Instead, he looked down at his hands, those same hands that had made magic in the studio, that had written lyrics that touched the deepest parts of people’s hearts. But now, they looked tired. “It means the next part is coming. The interviews, the promo, the tour…” His voice wavered, breaking ever so slightly as if just saying it made it real. “I’ll be away a lot, more than I am away now.”

The excitement that had been bubbling in your chest froze, replaced by a quiet realization. “Oh.”

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand over his face in frustration, like he was trying to rub away the feeling that had settled there. “It’s the first time I’ll be gone for so long since the twins were born.It kills me to go to long meeting or writing sessions how can I bear to be without them or you for months? I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, raw and unguarded. “Knowing you won’t be there either makes it even harder.”

Your heart ached for him. You knew this day would come—the day when the album would be finished, the day when he’d have to step into the spotlight again, but the reality of it hit hard. You reached for his hand, the familiar warmth of his skin grounding you, and intertwined your fingers. You squeezed gently, offering him all the comfort you could muster in that moment. “Harry, we’re always with you. No matter where you are. You could be halfway across the world, and we’d still be right here.”

You lifted his hand and placed it over your chest, where your heartbeat thrummed steady and sure beneath the palm of his hand. “The kids will miss you, yeah, but they’ll also see their dad doing what he loves. You’re showing them that dreams are worth chasing, that it’s okay to follow your passion, even when it’s hard. You’re showing them what courage looks like.”

He exhaled shakily, nodding, but the sadness still lingered in his eyes. “But what if they feel like I’m leaving them?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, like the fear was too big to hold in.

You smiled gently, the curve of your lips soft, but with an undeniable certainty. “They won’t. Because they know you always come back. And no matter how far you go, you’ll always find your way back to us.” You nudged him playfully, a small glint of mischief in your eyes, trying to lighten the heavy mood. “Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and we all know you love a dramatic reunion.”

He gave a small chuckle, but it was like the weight on his shoulders had lightened just a little. He shook his head, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“But I’m right.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, a soft press of your lips that spoke volumes. “And we’ll be cheering you on every step of the way. You’re not alone in this.”

Before he could respond, a light patter of tiny feet interrupted the moment, drawing both of your attention. The soft click of the door opening made you look up, and there stood Lily, clutching a piece of paper in her hands, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement. “Daddy, I almost forgot! Your last present.”

Harry’s brows lifted in surprise, his lips parting in an unspoken question as Lily climbed onto his lap, settling herself with a quiet, determined air. She handed him the drawing with both hands, her little face so proud of her creation. It was a colorful portrait of their family, but something about it felt different from the usual drawings she’d given him. “Daddy” was written inside of her chest, as though enclosed within her heart, surrounded by bright, crayon hues, as if she was keeping him close no matter the distance.

Harry’s breath hitched, and his eyes stung with the kind of emotion that hit you right in the chest. His throat bobbed as he stared at the drawing, blinking rapidly as if to ward off the lump that had formed there. He looked down at his daughter, trying to steady himself, but the love in his gaze was so fierce it took your breath away. It was like she knew her father was going trough a tough time and needed a reminder.

“What’s this, darling?” His voice was thick, strained with the emotion he couldn’t seem to hold back.

Lily beamed, the innocence and purity in her smile lighting up the room. “Well, You go away sometimes daddy and work, but it doesn’t matter because you’re always in here.” She tapped her own chest, and your heart swelled as she looked up at him with all the love in the world. “You are always with me, wherever I go. I love you all the time, no matter where you are.”

Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around her, and he buried his face in her curls, pressing his lips to the top of her head, his hands shaking slightly as he held her. He whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “I love you so much, my little love.”

“ I love you more daddy,” she whispered slightly, like she understood how important this moment for him was, even though she would probably forget it in a few years, it was engraved in Harry’s mind. “ I am happy that you are born.”

You felt a sharp breath catch in your own throat, your eyes welling with tears as you watched the tender, raw moment unfold before you. It was as if time had stopped, the only sound in the room the steady rhythm of their breathing, the warmth of their bond. It was a quiet reminder that love, no matter the miles, would always find a way to endure.

He held her just a little longer, his heart grounding itself in the softness of her presence, as if trying to memorize the feel of her before the world pulled him away. The weight on his shoulders, just moments before so heavy, seemed a little lighter now, a little more manageable. The tenderness in his eyes as he pulled back to look at you spoke volumes. There was no perfect answer, no flawless solution, but for this moment, at least, he was at peace.

“Alright monkey, it’s time for bed.”

As the night drew to a close, and you both lay in bed, the soft hum of the house around you, you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He let out a soft sigh, a sound of both exhaustion and relief. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmured into the quiet, his voice full of tenderness.

You smirked, the warmth of his skin beneath your lips so familiar, so comforting. “I usually am.”

A soft laugh escaped him, but this time it felt real, a sound full of ease. The kind of laughter that held both love and acceptance, the kind that made the weight of the world feel just a little bit lighter.

And as he drifted off to sleep, his breath evening out beneath the soft cover of night, you closed your eyes too, knowing, with all certainty, that no matter where the music took him, no matter how far the road stretched ahead, he would always find his way home.

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