Can we get a Styles-Swift reader! imagine in honor of Liam Payne?
Steady Hands in the Storm
Pairing: Harry Styles x daughter!reader
Genre: slight angst into fluff
Warnings: kinda a heavy one but it has a happy ending
A/N YALL IM BACK Word Count: 7,243
The house was unusually quiet. The kind of silence that feels heavy, pressing down on every surface. You sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly stirring a spoon through your cup of tea. It had gone cold a while ago, but you hadn’t noticed. Not really. All your focus was on your father, who was sitting across from you.
He was hunched over, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. His curls looked messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame them today. You’d noticed the little things over the past few days—the way he moved slower, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. Even the way his voice sounded softer, like the energy had drained out of him.
You knew why, of course. The news had hit everyone hard. Liam Payne, your dad’s former bandmate, had passed away unexpectedly. And even though it had been years since One Direction had been a band, those boys were still family to him. Losing Liam felt like losing a part of himself.
“Dad,” you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.
He didn’t look up, but you saw his shoulders tense slightly.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
You sighed, setting your spoon down with a soft clink. You knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t trying to shut you out. He just didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words.
So, you decided to try a different approach.
“Do you remember that time Liam came over for Christmas when I was, like, six?” you said, leaning back in your chair. “He spent the whole day teaching me how to do a handstand in the living room. Mum was furious because we kept knocking over the decorations.”
That got a small huff of a laugh out of your dad, though he still didn’t lift his head.
“I thought she was going to banish him from the house forever,” you added with a grin.
“He kept apologizing every five minutes,” your dad muttered, finally looking up. His green eyes were red-rimmed, and you could tell he hadn’t slept much. “But then he’d just… try again. Said you were getting better every time.”
You smiled softly, nodding. “I did get better. All because of him.”
The room fell quiet again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. You could see your dad’s shoulders relax a little, his hands falling to rest on the table.
“He was so good with you,” Harry said after a moment. “Always patient. Always kind.”
You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. “He loved you, Dad. All of you. I think you meant as much to him as he did to you.”
Your dad swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to keep his emotions in check.
“It just… it doesn’t feel real,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up and… and he’ll call or text, and it’ll all have been some kind of awful dream.”
You squeezed his hand gently. “I know. But he wouldn’t want you to carry this alone. You’ve always told me that grief is lighter when you share it.”
He gave you a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was a start.
“Why are you so wise for a teenager?” he asked, his voice tinged with warmth.
You shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. “I get it from Mum. Obviously.”
That earned you a soft chuckle, and for a moment, it felt like the cloud hanging over the room lifted just a little.
Over the next few days, you made it your mission to help your dad through his grief, even if he didn’t realize it. It was little things at first—making sure he ate, suggesting you watch one of Liam’s favorite movies together, or putting on some music to fill the silence.
But as time went on, you noticed that your dad seemed to be retreating into himself more. He’d spend hours in his studio, not working on anything, just sitting there with his guitar in his lap. You’d find him staring out the window, lost in thought, or holding his phone like he was waiting for a call that would never come.
It broke your heart to see him like this, so you decided to take a more direct approach.
One evening, you found him in the living room, staring at an old photo album. You sat down next to him without a word, leaning against his shoulder as you looked at the pictures. Most of them were from his One Direction days—grainy selfies, group shots from concerts, and candids of the boys goofing around backstage.
“Did you ever think those days would end?” you asked softly.
He shook his head. “Not really. We were so young, so caught up in it all. It felt like it would last forever.”
“But you’re still close,” you pointed out. “You and Louis talk all the time. And Niall sends those ridiculous videos that make you laugh so hard you cry.”
He smiled faintly at that. “Yeah. And Zayn… well, we’ve reconnected a bit over the years. It’s not the same as it was, but there’s still love there.”
You nodded, flipping the page to a picture of Liam holding a microphone, his face lit up with a big, toothy grin. “He’d be proud of you, you know. For everything you’ve done. For the way you’ve been there for everyone else, even when it’s hard for you.”
Your dad’s eyes filled with tears, and he quickly wiped them away, his hand trembling slightly.
“I just… I feel like I should’ve done more,” he admitted. “Checked in more often, made more of an effort to keep in touch. Maybe if I had, things would’ve been different.”
You shook your head firmly. “No, Dad. You can’t think like that. You loved him, and he knew that. Sometimes, life just… happens. It’s not anyone’s fault.”
He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance. “How’d you get so good at this?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
“Years of listening to your music,” you teased, earning a watery laugh from him.
A few weeks later, your dad had a concert scheduled—a big one, with thousands of fans waiting to see him. You weren’t sure if he was ready to perform, but he insisted that the show must go on.
That night, as you stood backstage, you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He kept pacing, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself.
“Dad,” you said, stepping in front of him to stop his pacing. “You’ve got this.”
He looked down at you, his green eyes wide and uncertain. “What if I break down in the middle of it? What if I can’t do it?”
“You will,” you said confidently. “Because you’re doing this for him. And because he’d want you to.”
He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into cheers, your dad turned to you one last time. “Stay close, yeah?”
“Always,” you promised.
The concert started off strong, with your dad pouring his heart into every song. The crowd loved him, cheering and singing along to every word. But it wasn’t until halfway through the set that he finally addressed the elephant in the room.
“This next one…” he began, his voice shaking slightly. “This next one is for someone very special to me. Someone who’s no longer with us, but who will always be a part of my heart.”
The stadium fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.
“I miss you, mate,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “This one’s for you.”
He started to play, his voice raw with emotion as he sang a song he’d written just for Liam. The lyrics were beautiful, filled with love and pain and memories of the friendship they’d shared. By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house—including yours.
When he walked off stage, you were there waiting for him, your arms open wide. He pulled you into a tight hug, holding on like you were his lifeline.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For everything.”
You smiled against his shoulder, tears streaming down your face. “Always, Dad. Always.”
In that moment, you knew that while the pain of losing Liam would never fully go away, your dad would be okay. Because he wasn’t alone. He had you, and he had the love and memories of a bond that could never be broken.
And that was enough.
The End.