Harry in glasses is super super hot can you imagine him in a loose shorts in his waist shirtless with his hair a little messy skin tanned and a baby in his arms and you are in the kitchen and see him there like oh gosh I want Harry to be my husband and walking shirtless with our baby in his arms such a daddy with his glasses on
And he’s just chatting to his little newborn daughter, about anything and everything that comes to mind as he feeds her her bottle, when she steps into the room.
“Yeh know, mummy doesn’t even get me up this early, little love. Yeh had me up at four this morning. Four,” he gasps playfully, staring down at his daughter, through the lenses of his glasses, as she looks back at him with her similar green eyes, a smile on his dry lips. Feeling the pull and swiping his tongue across his pink flesh. His frames slipping down his nose. “Only did it once but we won’t go into detail because daddy’s stomach can’t quite handle the re-telling. Lots of sick because you didn’t make mummy feel so good when you were in her tummy. But, if she did it again, kicked me awake or summink, I wouldn’t mind. You’re the two of the most important ladies in my life. Nana and Auntie Gem are also up there. Surrounded by the most beautiful women, I am, eh? Little bit of all of them in you. Aren’t I lucky?” He chuckles softly and gently dabs his thumb against the corner of her mouth, collecting the milk that had dribbled down her skin. “Little bit of a messer, aren’t yeh? Not just in your nappy.”
The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence as he listens to his surroundings.
The distant sound of cars starting up and crunching the gravel of the neighbours’ driveways as people left for work. The whirring of the fridge in the far corner that was decorated with sonogram photos and magnets that Harry had brought home from his travels during the second leg of his Live On Tour tour that had happened just a few months prior. The constant dripping of the water coming from the faucet by the sink. The rustle of the wind catching in the leaves of the trees in the garden and the gentle tapping of rain hitting the window as it fit the mood of the dreary London weather outside. But his favourite sound, and one that he had started off feeling panicked by, was the snuffles and the delicious sounds that escaped his little girl. The softest grunts coming from within her, her gentle breathing making him feel much more relaxed.
“Are we finished yet? Been eatin’ for twenty minutes, haven’t yeh? Definitely got yeh mummy’s appetite,” he hums softly, and as if on cue, Persephone pulled away from the teat of the bottle and gave hm a grumpy frown upon her features, “oh, now. Don’t you look at daddy like that, little love. That’s not a good face,” he sets the bottle down upon the counter of the breakfast island in the middle of the room, “promise me, you won’t vomit down my back again? I know you find it funny when you do that, you cheeky little thing, but daddy’s not wearing a shirt this time around,” he drapes the spit-up blanket over his shoulder before he stands to his feet, “but, I will tell you what I wish I put on; some socks. S’alright for you. Yours tuck nicely underneath my arm. But, daddy’s feet, well, they could be ice blocks by the time m’done with yeh.”
His hand comes up to cup the back of daughter’s head. Her hair, smelling of baby shampoo and still giving off the new-baby smell that she’d been graced with from birth, soft beneath his touch as his other cupped her bum. Fingers rubbing and patting at her back as he chose to bob up and down and sway his hips with his steps.
“Are we gon’a have a nice cuddle with mummy when she wakes up?”
“Mummy’s already awake,” he hears from behind him, carefully spinning around on his heels as he sends his wife a smile, “it’s hard to fall asleep when my personal heater leaves the bed so early in the morning.”
He chuckles lightly and watches as she steps across the tiles. Warm socks on her feet and stepping upon his cold toes to warm them up.
“Thank you,” he smiles, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead, “think my toes were about to turn into ice.”
“I keep telling you the kitchen gets cold,” she tuts, cupping his cheek in her palm and running her thumb across his upper lip, his stubble catching the pad, “you’re looking for daddy today, aren’t you? Why’ve you cracked these glasses out? Not that I hate them or have anything bad to say,” she snickers, “just, didn’t think you’d be wearing them often.”
She pushes the frame up his nose and sends him a warm grin.
“Fancied a change today,” his lips brush over his daughter’s ear as he hums softly, swaying his hips and patting her back. His eyes widening when he heard the rather loud burp escape her lips, “bleedin’ hell, little love, where’d that come from, huh? Such a big sound for someone so tiny. That was impressive.” xx