THE HARRY CAPTIONS 😩😩

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harry's home

a/n: inspired by the beginning of 'As it Was': "Come on, Harry, we wanna say “Goodnight” to you".

Summary: Harry arrives home late, now he has to deal with the wrath of his 3 year old.

Warnings: none! domestic fluff?

Pairings: Dad!Harry x black!reader (doesn't mean the exception can't read)

-

It’s 10:05pm when Harry finally walks through the door of his home. He knew everyone would be asleep by now, so he’ll have to settle with giving a kiss on the head to a sleeping Mara, his three year old. And a cuddle with his sleeping wife. Once she knocks out, she knocks out.

The light in the living-room is left on by her, but other than that it’s as silent as a mouse.

He’s just ecstatic to be home. Any time he walks through the door, it's like his soul can take a deep breath, breathing in how tranquil it’ll always be. He hangs his keys on the key rack; his coat goes in the small closet, and shoes on the shelf there.

Once he’s finished, he sighs contentedly, dropping his hands to sit on his hips. Smiling as he looks around at the place — leaving his suitcase on the floor— that was created home alongside his loving, tactful wife, as a result of giving them Mara.

The never-ending photos on the wall in the living-room make him naturally smile.

Their wedding day: where Harry holds both their hands up in cheer as they walk down the aisle, eyes never breaking contact. Mara’s first birthday: her face covered to the rim with icing as she smiles, her father’s smile, and holds up both hands trying to get a hand on the camera in curiosity. A very, very old, blurry picture of y/n and Harry at his first concert. They were 16 and always took the time to cringe at their choices of wardrobe.

Mara’s knickknacks are all over the floor.

When he yawns, he knows it’s time to hurry up, get ready for bed before he drops dead on the floor. That is definitely not how he’d like his family to see him first thing in the morning after not being here for a week.

He grabs his suitcase by the handle and heads upstairs.

When he hits the first step, he looks up, realizing something is off. His three-year-old sits on the top step, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Baby, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she answers, clipped.

Her plump lips form duck lips with how upset she is, causing her cheeks to puff out even more than they do. Eyes glared at her father. He can also see the glisten on her skin, knowing her mother has dipped her in a bottle of Aquaphor. She’s dressed in her new Encanto sleep dress. Her new obsession. Her curls are braided down in two plait braids. He assumes, but her lavender, silk bonnet blocks him from seeing.

He has no idea how long she’s been waiting on the step for him. But he knows her sneaky little self waited until her mother fell asleep to do so.

“Why is my bunny upset with daddy?” He asks, he so terribly wants to climb up those stairs and throw her into his arms. But she’s upset and doesn’t like physical affection while being so.

“Daddy, you said a week. It’s been years!” She squalls, her eyes go wide at her admission.

“It’s been exactly seven days, what calendar are you looking at?”

“You were 'upposed to be home with the sun!”

“I know, but there were many mess ups today.”

“Mara is upset with daddy,” she parrots, standing up. Sweeping over his reasoning, it didn’t matter what happened, when Mara expected her father home; she expected to see him then.

“Daddy is sorry and he hasn’t seen Mara in a week, and he would really, really love it if he could give you a hug and kiss.”

She considers it, her forefinger bouncing off her chin and her right foot tapping on the floor. It feels like forever, but within thirty seconds she nods her head, yes, stands up, and leaves her arms open and out.

No matter what Harry thought, his two girls would always run him.

He gleams as he shifts up those stairs at lightning speed, and growls lightly when he picks her up and sits her in his arms, like a swing. The front of her legs against his chest, bum sat on his arms, and her arms hook around his neck.

She laughs at the tickles he sends to her side.

“Daddy missed you so much, sweet pea” he kisses all over her face. It’s been a week since he’s seen her cherub face in person; he doesn’t know how he’ll do months at a time.

“How much?”

“Oh, that’s a tough question,” he murmurs. “Hmm… is a penny big?”

“No,” she laughs.

“You’re right, how about a button?”

“Daddy, you’re silly,” she laughs harder.

He snaps his finger, eyes going wide like a daffy scientist. “You wanna know how much I missed you?” He knows she wants to know oh so badly.

She nods eagerly.

“The size… of the… moon!” He throws her in the air once, catches her, before he tickles, watching her charged body squirm around. Her tiny hands try with her all might to push his hands away.

“Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” She laughs, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

They both laugh once he stops and she rests herself against his chest. Her glare, pouty mouth, and crossed demeanor are long gone. Mara holds onto her father tightly; some fingers in her right hand playing with his ear lobe-- her finger rattles his drop earring-- something she’s picked up from her mother.

“Daddy’s sorry he’s been gone a lot lately.” he whispers, rocking her softly and kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s okay, Daddy here now.” she slurs.

“I love you so much, bigger than the galaxy.”

“Infinity” the word comes out garbled, a tough one for her, but he understands it perfectly.

“Even that” he hums, his free hand running up and down her back.

“Daddy” Mara sits up from her position.

“Hm?”

Her hands rest on his scruffy cheeks. “I’m sorry for being upset at you. ‘Didn’t mean it.” Her eyes look up into his as her bottom lip pops out. “I just wanted to say ‘night”

“Hey, there’s no need for that, alright.” He kisses her nose. “If that’s how you feel then that’s fine, I’m proud you talked to me about it”

She smiles at his assurance, before she rests back against him.

“Night, night”

“Goodnight, baby”

He rocks her to sleep, in the dimly lit hallway, just them two in the middle of the night. It’s things like this that he cherishes.

Before he grasps it, she snores lightly. Mouth hung slightly open. He walks into her lavender room: sets her in her big girl Princess bed, tucks her in, fixes her bonnet, and kisses her cheek, then her nose before he whispers a good night.

He checks his watch to see it’s 10:35. Yep, she’ll definitely be Oscar the Grouch in the morning.

He looks at her one more time before he retreats into his shared bedroom. His first stop is his bed. Where, peacefully, his other half sleeps. The blanket covered her nose. Her arms lay under her head, and from the small peek he can see of her shoulder, she’s wearing his favorite nightie.

He was meant to be here mid-afternoon but problem after problem arose, delaying his trip home.

He walks towards her figure and kisses her cheek; Goes in the closet to gather his sleeping clothes (a pair of sweats) and heads to the bathroom to wash up.

Once he’s out of the shower, smelling like vanilla. He walks out and shimmies behind your body. Of course, you’re still out like a light.

His tattooed arm rests over your torso and his leg fits right in between yours. He breathes in your hair through your bonnet. Manuka honey has become his favorite thing since you’ve used it.

It reminds him of home. You remind him of home. His little one reminds him of home.

-

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i feel like an old maiden in dating culture. girls, don’t settle <3 do what makes you happiest!

YESSSS I NEEDED THIS— best val's day gift❣️

and harry is a great muse (that precious man) 😣

please you write beautiful, so I have to ask you to make a imagine of harry and the reader where she and he write together sweet nothing like taylor and joe, thanks 🥺

sweet nothing

something lovey dovey for valentine’s day, i love you <3

MY PATREON | MASTERLIST

Your relationship was still a secret to the world.

They knew about you and Harry working together for his album, Harry's House, but they didn't know about the feelings that sparkled between the two of you, the shared kisses and intimate moments. They didn't know about your sweet nothings.

Sitting by the piano, with your writing journal and pen in hand, you reflected about you and Harry, about how last July you escaped from the busy life and the spotlights, and went away to your cottage in Wicklow, where you spend every second together, falling more and more for each other. You thought about how one night as you stargazed, he told you that your eyes reminded him of the tiny fireflies he used to watch growing up, and how you both promised that whenever life got overwhelming you'd always find home in each other.

I spy with my little tired eye Tiny as a firefly A pebble that we picked up last July Down deep inside your pocket We almost forgot it Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

The words came to your mind smoothly as you scribbled them down in your journal, during the last few months, you've found out that writing about Harry was the easiest thing in the world.

You were in love, and your songs reflected it.

"Busy there?" his soft voice made you turn you head towards the door, he was leaning against the frame with a relaxed smile and a fond look on his eyes, you couldn't help but melt at the sight, everything about him radiated comfort.

"Just writing songs," you said as you made room for him next to you on the piano's bench, he kissed the side of your face tenderly once he sat next to you before speaking again, "Love songs about me?" his cheeky remark made you let out a breathy laugh, he was right.

"What makes you think you're any good of a muse, Styles?" you decided to tease him, even though he had been your only muse for the last few months, just as you have been his.

"Baby, I'm a great muse! Stevie Nicks said it herself!" his words made you laugh again and you moved your hands to brush away a loose curl from his forehead, taking the opportunity to press your lips to his for a moment. You could never get enough of the other, and you cherished these moments when it was just you and him wrapped up in your little love bubble.

"Remember that poem I wrote on our way home from Wicklow?" you said after a few minutes of silence, with your head against his shoulder, "I do, you never showed it to me tho." his voice was soft and quiet, as if he didn't want to break the tender ambiance around you.

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "what a mind" This happens all the time

"It is about how I find safe heaven by your side whenever life gets hard" you let yourself be vulnerable, at the end of the day, Harry was the one who taught you that being vulnerable was part of being human.

And Harry could only look at you in pure love and adoration, he felt so lucky that he found someone so honest and real, someone he was willing to protect and take care of.

"You're my safe heaven too, baby. Nothing else matters if I get to come home to you and your sweet nothings" he confessed, every single one of his words touching every fiber of your heart.

You stayed like that for a while, your head against his shoulder and his hand softly caressing your back, scribbling lyrics on your journal and playing soft melodies in the piano. The world outside was full of pushing and shoving, but as long as you got each other you would be alright.

They said the end is comin' Everyone's up to somethin' I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shovin' You're in the kitchen hummin' All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

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