“You guys are mean!” Your son suddenly yells. You transfer her to his arms and instead take a hold of your sons hand as your daughters crying gets louder. You and Harry exchange worried glances before he reaches out for her. “Mommy.” She cries, gripping at your neck as she burst into tears. Harry keeps a tight hold of his son as you keep your daughter gripped tight in your arms, hiding her face in your shoulder and with your hand as the camera flashes blinded you. The security tried to keep a barrier between the paparazzi and your small family but they swarm around you anyway. He takes your sons shoulders and begins to guide him in the direction of Harry’s Range Rover. “Let’s go.” Harry says, glaring in the direction of the swarming paparazzi. Your two security guys move around you, blocking their view as you grab your daughter from her seat. Harry follows your line of sight just as a dozen paparazzi climb out of their cars and head in your direction, already snapping pictures and video of you. “Harry.” You mutter, stopping in your swinging of your daughter as you frown. Just then is when you noticed the numerous cars show up in the parking lot and on the street. “I will kiss your mum however I well please!” Harry counters, getting a narrow eyed glare in response. “Daddy, that’s gross!” Your son exclaims. “Don’t kiss mommy like that!” Harry laughs, shaking his head. He smiles and presses a soft kiss to your lips.
“I love being able to do this.” He murmurs. “Being out here, together as a family is what I love the most.” You look up at him, both of you exchanging smiles. He wraps an arm around your waist, kissing at the side of your head. “I can do it now, daddy.” Your son says, waving his tiny hand at his father who laughs and nods, stepping away from the swing and coming to stand beside you. She giggles, gripping at the chains as she goes. Harry grins at you as you put your daughter in the child swing and begin to push her gently back and forth. “Sure, baby.” You stand up and pick her up, swinging her up into your arms before heading over to join your husband and son. “Swing?” Your two year old daughter asks from beside you, tilting her head to the side, her long curls that matched her fathers falling in her face. Your son laughs all the while, loving it so much.
You watch from your place on the bench as Harry pushes the small boy back and forth. “Of course, buddy.” Harry stands and follows his son towards the swings. “Will you push me on the swing, daddy?” Your 6 year old son asks his father, tugging at Harry’s hand to pull him off the bench the two of you sat on.
They sometimes did but security was usually good at keeping them away from you. You always tried to switch up what park you went to, hoping to throw the paparazzi off so they wouldn’t know where to find you. It was always a risk taking your two children to the park or somewhere as equally public but they deserved to get out of the house and play just like any other kid so occasionally you and Harry braved it. Harry Styles - Paparazzi Make Your Daughter Cry Imagine
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