Harry Styles: A Collection of One Shots

Willpower (dad!Harry)

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: childbirth

Harry loved the idea of a home birth. He loved the thought of welcoming his firstborn within the confines of his own warm walls. There'd be no paparazzi, no cameras desperate to sneak a peek at the three of them for click bait, no privacy violations. With a home birth, they were free to do as they pleased, to act as they pleased, to love as they pleased. It's what Harry wanted in terms of how his first child should be brought into this world, kicking their red little legs and screaming with all of the might that their little lungs could give. It's what they wanted

But this is not what Harry meant by a home birth.

Y/N had experienced tons of false contractions throughout her pregnancy, and only being in her eighth month with no complications whatsoever, she had believed that the ones she'd been having for the past several hours were nothing but that. False contractions. But she couldn't have been more wrong. She was, in fact, in actual labor and had been for hours now without realizing, which had brought her to where she was right now: naked, screaming, and crying in her own bathtub with just enough water to cover her waist with Harry's arms wrapped tightly around her as she mustered all of her rapidly declining strength that she could to push her tiny human out of her.

"Harry," the voice on the other end of the phone that was perched on the lip of the tub spoke calmly, "How is she doing?"

"Not really sure how t' answer that." He responded through gritted teeth.

Their doula, the woman hired to coach the two of them through her pregnancy and then through childbirth was currently stuck in traffic over half of an hour away from the Styles residence, hence why she was currently giving them remote instructions on how to properly birth a child. The doula had insisted that Y/N refrain from pushing until the very last second to mitigate any complications that would occur without her presence, but baby Styles had other plans. Judging from what the doula would make out over Y/N's screaming and Harry's horrible attempts at explaining to her what was happening, she guessed the baby would be making it's arrival any second now.

"Listen, if you're in distress, you two need to just call for a lift to the hospital. I'm about twenty minutes away but if you don't think you can handle it, then please take Y/N to a doctor."

"I can't get up," Y/N cried, squeezing Harry's biceps as hard as she possibly could when another contraction ripped through her abdomen.

Her hair was soaked with sweat and she felt like her chest and body were on fire. She had imagined for nine whole months about what it would feel like to birth hers and Harry's child, but none of what she'd conjured up compared to the agony she was in right now. Even though she'd only been in the tub that Harry frantically ran for her via the doula's instructions for 45 minutes, it might has well have been hours. The only thing that had been keeping her body from giving out completely on her was knowing that in the aftermath of all this pain, she'd be left with the beautiful baby that her and Harry had been growing in her tummy all this time.

"'ts ok, Y/N. We're gonna be fine," Harry brushed her matted hair off of her neck with his hand that was wet from the bathtub water where he had been holding her legs open.

"I don't think we're gonna make it to a hospital," he called out sternly to the phone.

He was trying his hardest not to panic for Y/N's sake, but his voice still shook and his body still vibrated with anxiety every time their doula gave him another instruction or Y/N's condition changed.

"Alright," the doula answered, "I need you to check on Y/N for me and tell me if you can see the baby's head crowning."

As he got up to check on the progress of the baby from where he was sat behind her, she squeezed him once more, begging him not to move.