Hi!! I know requests are closed and that this might not happen for awhile but I got the idea and want to send it to you because you're honestly an amazing writer!! Could you do one where y/n goes into labor and is in the hospital and is having contractions and is in a lot of pain and is just squeezing Harry's hand and yell at him but he knows it's jus the pain and once the baby's out she's upset that she said those things to him
So I kindaaa did a little something similar to this at one point, so this focuses much more on the after of it all. Hope that’s ok! This is a double-dipper, too, meaning: it’s just Harry as a dad, but those of you who read Snowbound should be reading it as Dad Harold. You’ll see where it is in the timeline as you read on. ;)
Reminder: requests are closed! Seriously. At the moment, please no more “I know they’re closed but” messages, cause I really want to work through these and get my inbox number lower. xx
063. Please Don’t Cry
“What’d I do now?”
He’s frazzled, and his hair is in a bun, and he doesn’t think it’s been washed in… how long?
How long has he even been here?
Five small fingers are peeking out of the fold of a blanket that swaddles the body and miniature person they belong to. They are wrinkled, and new, and they look long already, even with the baby fat that pads them, and you’d just been stroking them and saying how much they look like his.
Then you’d started crying.
You’d cried on and off through the duration of labor as contractions ripped through your body. You’d sworn blindly at Harry and about Harry, and he’d taken every word.
And now your beautiful new baby, hardly an hour old, is cuddled on your chest with tightly closed eyes and long fingers that look just like Daddy’s, and you suddenly had a flooding rush of everything you’d said to him during labor.
“Please don’t cry,” Harry begs you and you peer up at him. His eyes are puffy and drained from a lack of sleep, and he looks, frankly, like he could be blown over if somebody breathed on him the wrong way. “Please?” he tries again, pushing your hair back. He’d helped to wipe you down earlier with hot water, some soap, and a cloth so you’d feel cleaner, but there’s still a damp quality on the very roots of your hair from the sweat of labor. “I’ll do anything.”