The picture of Harry in the GNS where he has his arms crossed,looks like he is mad af,can you imagine him telling toddler P to pick up her toy mess,and she doesn't do it,and starts to misbehave,and Harry give her that look
Are we talking about this one?
Because, oh my Christ, I see it too, haha. He looks so god damn sexy and the little freckle/mole on his jaw makes him so cute… It’s like a cute-sexy.
It’s “The Look”.
The missus would be heavily pregnant with Alfie, a few weeks away from her due date, and she wouldn’t be able to bend down and pick up the mess of toys that Persephone would leave behind when Harry puts her to bed. He’d be sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone to answer any unanswered text messages that sat in his folder, as his little girl sat on the floor. Playing with any toy that she could get her hands on, squeezing in a little play time before she went to sleep, ready for school the following morning.
“Poppet, d’you wan’a put away your toys now? Let’s go and brush our teeth and go to sleep,” Harry would say as he sat up and leant closer to Persephone, “c’mon, baby. I’ll read you another story.”
“Wan’a play some more,” she’d lisp, “please, daddy?”
“Sweetheart, we’ve already let you stay up past your bedtime, haven’t we?” He’d remind her, reaching for a toy that sat on the carpet, frowning when she snatched it from his hand and held it tightly in her own grasp, “Persephone, we don’t snatch. Now, come on. It’s bedtime.”
“Poppet, stop misbehaving and put your toys away. It’s bedtime,” he’d fold his arms over his chest and give her a stern stare, “put your toys away. Because mummy can’t do it herself, can she?”
“Then you do it, daddy,” she’d frown, a pout on her face as she’d throw the toy in her hand towards him, the object landing by his feet after it hit his knee, “don’t wan’a put them away.”
“Persephone Anne Styles, do you want me to take away your toys so you can’t play with them after school? Because naughty girls get their toys taken away,” he’d warn her, her eyes widening as she shook her head and let tears pool in her eyes, “are you going to be a good girl and put your toys away for mummy? Or are we going to go story-less tonight?”
“Fine,” she’d cry out, her bottom lip wobbling as she stood to her feet, grabbing at the toys littering the floor and pushing them into the box set in the corner of the living room, “don’t like it when you angry at me, daddy.”
He’d sigh softly and fall to his knees on the floor, shuffling over to her, “daddy wouldn’t angry if you listened to what daddy said, would he? But, it’s all okay now.”
“Do I still get a story at bedtime?”
“Of course you do, Poppet,” he’d smile, kissing her forehead, “shall we go brush our teeth?” xx