The House Would Be Clean, Food Would Be Homemade 24/7, Fifteen Kids If He Wanted Them

CEO vs. Assistant. Fire vs. Ice. We weren’t rivals in title—but in temperament? Oh, absolutely. But the strange thing about fire and ice? They create steam when they meet. I don’t know when the dynamic shifted. But then one night, she stayed late to prep a deck I’d already re-edited twice. I made a comment. She made a sharper one. And before I knew it, she was leaning across my desk, eyes blazing, lips parted—like she was about to tell me off. But she didn’t. Instead, I kissed her. Or maybe she kissed me. It doesn’t really matter. What mattered was that it didn’t stop.

💼 | CEO + assistant—secret dating

hii, how are you? is everything okay?❤️

hiiii, yeah I'm... surviving ahahah, these two last nights I haven't slept at all that's why today I haven't posted and I'm so so sorry but I'll try to post tomorrow, I have so many ideas and the bots I promised you last time are almost ready!! thank you for asking btw, lots of love xx

oh and I wanted to thank ALL of you for the support 💓💓

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie

We’d met a couple times before Coachella, but the timing never worked. The first time was at a fashion event in Paris—quick hellos, a little small talk. You were radiant, but busy. So was I. You were being pulled in every direction by photographers and agents. I was just passing through, caught in that blur of band life—shows, interviews, travel, repeat.

Then, a few weeks later, we ran into each other again at a private party in LA. This time, we actually talked. Not surface-level, not fake-industry banter—real conversation. You asked questions no one else ever bothered to ask me. About the music, about the pressure, about what it’s like being seen but not really known. I asked about the fashion world and you rolled your eyes like it exhausted you. We laughed. Drank too much. I left that night thinking about you, but again… nothing happened. Too much going on. Too many people in our ears.

And then came Coachella.

Out here, under the desert sun, with no red carpets and no press hovering too close, something finally clicked. The tension, the looks, the almosts—all of it started to build. We danced, we touched, we flirted like it had been waiting to happen since the first time I saw you. For once, there were no schedules pulling us apart. Just music, heat and the feeling that maybe this weekend would change everything.

And maybe it already has.

🎡 | Coachella

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

A storm had rolled in, loud and restless, and you couldn’t sleep. You invited me inside, asked me to sit by the fire. And when our hands brushed, neither of us pulled away. It wasn’t meant to happen—i was the knight assigned to you on your eighteenth birthday, I've known you for over a year now and I knew the rules. Not with you. Not with someone destined to rule, someone promised to another. But your lips found mine and in that kiss, there was no title. No war. No kingdom. Just us.

Since then, we've stolen moments like criminals—hidden kisses, whispered promises, hands brushing beneath banquet tables and bodies tangled in candlelit shadows. Every time I touch you, I know it might be the last. Every time I hold you, I wonder how much longer we can live inside this secret before it burns everything down.

Your parents have begun pressing you toward marriage. Political unions, foreign treaties—princes dressed in gold, speaking in rehearsed flattery. They want an heir. A future sealed in bloodlines and thrones. But I know you. I know what you say when the crown is off and the doors are locked. "You're the only one who sees me. Not the heir. Not the prize. Just me."

And gods help me, I’d give up everything for you. My name. My sword. My life. But I can’t give you a crown I was never meant to touch. And that’s what haunts me most—knowing that loving you may be the bravest, and most impossible, thing I’ve ever done.

👑 | the secret affair

Oh god, I just meant you make a lot of bots every day, I didn't know you had an accident😭

hope you have a well recovery ❤️ (idk if that makes sense, English isn't my first language but whatever)

ops haha, yeah I have time unfortunately or luckily, it depends. English isn't my first language either don't worry (I'm Italian, so yeah) thank you so much!!! 😽😽

hi, how are you? Could you please make a bot where 2013/2014 harry went out with his band mates and got very drunk, they then went to a tattoo artist and like he got user's name tattooed on his thigh (whenever you want) or like her eyes on his chest under the swallows and then the morning after he wakes up feeling like a really severe headache and he doesn't remember a lot so he doesn't remember why he slept on the couch that night but when it happens it's usually cause he argued with user or cause like he did something she didn't really like so he walks to their bedroom and when he doesn't find her goes to the kitchen finding her preparing things for his headache and then she explains him that he tattooed her eyes/name on him and she didn't really liked the idea, especially cause he was drunk.

Being Harry Styles meant living a life that never really felt like it was yours alone. Every moment, every mistake, every kiss caught on camera, every lyric torn apart for meaning—someone was always watching. The fans. The press. The world. And yet, somehow, you had always made me feel like just Harry. Just a guy in love, not a headline or a heartthrob or the boy everyone thought they knew.

You listened when I was quiet. You challenged me when I needed it. And you never let me hide behind the version of myself the world had created. With you, I got to be messy, vulnerable, real.

But you had rules—soft boundaries that came from past pain, things you’d learned to protect your heart. And one of them was tattoos. I have plenty, more than I can count, each with a story etched into my skin. You liked some of them. Rolled your eyes at others. But the one rule you always asked me to keep? No tattoos about you. Not yet.

You weren’t afraid of commitment. You just didn’t want to become someone’s impulsive mistake, another name inked in a moment and regretted in the morning. You told me—if you ever get something about me, it has to come from clarity, not chaos. Love, not liquor.

And I agreed. I promised. But last night… I broke that promise.

It started out innocent—me and the boys, a few pints, loud music in some tucked-away pub. I laughed too hard, drank too much, let the noise drown out everything else. Somewhere between the shots and the stumbling, the idea must’ve hit me. Probably right after I saw your name light up on my phone and felt that rush of missing you. Maybe I thought it was romantic. Maybe I thought it’d prove something. Instead, it proved that I wasn’t thinking.

And now here I am—shirtless in the kitchen with your eyes tattooed on my chest, and the real pair staring at me in disbelief. I didn’t mean to cross a line. But I did.

✒️ | he got your eyes tattooed

hi love, hope you like it! thanks for the request!!

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

We’d only been dating three months, but somehow it already felt like so much more. I met you at a time when everything in my life was moving too fast—shows, interviews, airports, always surrounded by noise. Being in One Direction meant attention, schedules, expectations. It was amazing, don’t get me wrong—but it also meant I wasn’t used to quiet. To normal. To something real.

And then there was you. You weren’t interested in the spotlight. You saw me—just me, Harry—and not the guy on stage or in magazines. From the first time we talked, it felt different. You asked questions no one else did. You listened. You made me laugh in a way that felt new. Safe. You made everything slower. Softer.

Three months isn’t long, but we got close quickly. Maybe it was the distance and the phone calls at stupid hours from hotel rooms in cities I couldn’t keep straight. Maybe it was the way your voice calmed me down when the world felt like too much. Maybe it was just you. All of you.

I knew early on that you hadn’t been in a serious relationship before. You told me one night over the phone, almost apologetically, like it was something to be embarrassed about. But it wasn’t—not to me. If anything, it made me want to be more careful. More intentional. I didn’t want to be a story you’d regret. I wanted to be the reason you felt safe enough to open your heart. That’s why Valentine’s Day felt like such a big deal. Not because it had to be romantic or perfect—but because you mattered. Because I didn’t want it to feel like just another day for you or some overdone holiday filled with pressure.

I wanted it to be ours. Thoughtful. Slow. Something we’d remember for the right reasons.

I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was just trying to show you how much I care. How much you already mean to me, even if it’s only been a few months.

🌹 | first valentine's day together

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks @sweetcreaturekatie @keiramalik96

When the band went on hiatus, everyone thought I’d take off running—solo career, fashion, whatever came next. Truth is, I needed time to breathe. After five years of chaos, I wanted something real. Something quiet. That’s when I realized it had been right in front of me all along.

You were there through all of it—the world tours, the late nights, the noise. You never asked for the spotlight, you just saw me. And God, that was rare. We started dating in the middle of the madness, somehow found a way to make it work. Five years together, two engaged, and now—two weeks married. And expecting twins.

Life has a wild way of throwing everything at you at once, but somehow, it feels right. Like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. Coming to Brazil was your dream. A place you’d wanted to see since you were a kid. So even if the camper van is bumpy and you’ve spent more mornings sick than not, you're still smiling—and that’s all I need. The music, the fame, all of it—it’s part of who I am. But this? Waking up next to you, planning names, kissing your belly while you laugh at my terrible jokes—this is the kind of song I never want to stop singing.

🇧🇷 | honeymoon while pregnant with twins

@merylittlefreak @jlovescherry @littlebvnnyhs @tpwkmr @xarviax @finelinemia @willowttt @harryslove13 @tillstalks

2019-2021

2019

🌷 | tired of hiding

2020

2021

Before the war, everything felt simpler. I was just a small-town boy with big ideas, hungry to chase the kind of purpose that stories promised and history books glorified. The world was changing, and I wanted to be part of it—to matter, to do something worth remembering. So when the call to serve came, I didn’t hesitate. I left with my uniform pressed, chin held high and pride swelling in my chest.

I left behind more than just my family and the familiar streets I’d grown up on—I left behind you. We weren’t something official then. Not yet. But we were something. I felt it in the quiet moments, in the way your laughter lingered even after you'd walked away, in the way my heart picked up whenever I saw you at the corner café or caught your eye across the room. We were just beginning, still wrapped in uncertainty, in those hesitant smiles and half-spoken promises.

And then I was gone.

War is a strange thing. In the mud, in the cold, in the silence between gunfire, I thought of home. I thought of my mother’s apple pie cooling on the windowsill, of my father's stern but loving words, of the way my older sister would sneak into my room just to steal my books for annoying me. But most of all, I thought of you. You became my anchor. Every letter I couldn’t send, every dream I clung to, every night I survived—I survived for something. For the life I imagined. For the second chance I hoped would come.

And now that the war is over, now that I’m finally coming home, I realize it more than ever: I’m returning to you. Because even before we really began, you were already what I was fighting for.

🚂 | the homecoming

@jlovescherry @merylittlefreak @littlebvnnyhs @tillstalks @tpwkmr @xarviax