FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader
summary: paparazzi take pictures of your son, while you try to protect him
βThen maybe we could just grab takeout,β I say softly, not to wake up our two-year-old son who is safely sleeping on your shoulder, his little fingers gripping your shirt. I keep my hand on the small of your back as we walk. We just got back from Italy, where our son spent most of his lifeβa decision we made together.
Our house in Italy was practically in the middle of nowhere, which gave us privacy and security. Who wants to deal with paparazzi, stalkers, and thousands of fans while taking care of a newborn? I also recognized that you needed time to heal and rest, away from all the buzz, so that decision was really a no-brainer. When we would go out in Rome or Florence, my fans were surprisingly understanding when I said βno pictures.β There wasnβt even one sneaky photo of Dorian, and for the first time in my life, I felt like I could actually breathe.
Today, we were taking a stroll around London, enjoying the sunny weather. Dorian perhaps had too much fun on the playground. You picked him up when you noticed how he was rubbing his eyesβa sign that he was sleepy. The warmth of your body and the familiar scent of your perfume lulled our little one to sleep pretty fast. He was resting safely in your arms.
βYeah, I think itβs a good idea. Dorian loves their pasta, so weβ¦β You donβt even get to finish your sentence as we both snap our heads at the sound of a camera shutter going off along with a flash. I can feel your body tense as you cover Dorianβs head with your palm, hiding his face.
βWhat the fuck did you just do?β I dart to the paparazzo across the street, and you donβt even attempt to stop me. Usually, you would be the one to calm me down, but this time I know we both need those pictures deleted.
βDelete them or I will fuck you up and youβll have to deal with my whole legal team,β I practically bark at him.
The man lowers his camera slightly, startled but not apologetic. Heβs one of the cocky ones, the kind who think a public sidewalk gives him the right to anything. I can feel the rage blooming hot under my skin as I close the distance.
βI said delete them.β My voice is low now, deadly. Controlled in that way I only get when Iβm past the point of losing it.
He smirks. βItβs just a photo, mate. Youβre in public. You of all people should know that.β
βThatβs my son you photographed.β I jab a finger toward his chest. βHeβs two. He didnβt sign up for this shit. You take pictures of me, fine. But him? Thatβs off-limits. Always.β
He shrugs, eyes flicking down to his camera screen. βCouldβve blurred his face laterββ
βI donβt care what you could do. Delete it. Now. You donβt fucking understand that one picture of him onlineβface blurred or notβcan put him in danger?β
Thereβs a shift in his expression, the faintest flicker of discomfort, of realizing maybe this wasnβt worth it. Then, a few taps on his camera. I watch the screen. He deletes not just the photo, but the whole damn set.
βNo. But thatβs a start.β I step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. βNext time you even think about pointing a lens at my family, I will make sure you canβt sell a picture to a tabloid ever again.β
I turn away, my pulse still pounding, and jog back across the street.
Youβre standing where I left you, arms wrapped protectively around Dorian, your cheek resting on his head. You donβt say anything when I reach you, but your eyes are darker than usualβwith fury. The kind of fury that comes from watching someone threaten the peace we fought so hard to build.
βHe deleted them,β I say, breath still ragged.
βIβll have the lawyers put pressure on the outlet he works for. Just in case.β I reach out, brushing a hand down Dorianβs back as he shifts slightly, still asleep.
βHe didnβt even stir.β
βHe trusts us,β you murmur. βHe knows heβs safe.β
And he is. Because we made damn sure of it.
We start walking again, slower now, and my hand finds your side.
βStill up for takeout?β I ask, trying to soften the weight between us.
You glance up at me, a faint smile forming. βOnly if we eat it in bed.β
I laugh quietly. βDeal.β
βYou ever think about justβ¦ vanishing? Not permanently. Justβ¦ renting a cabin in Iceland or something,β you say after a long pause.
βEvery time someone points a lens at you or him,β I sigh.
βYouβve always been the one to protect us. But Iβve never askedβwho protects you?β
βYou do. When you make things simple again. When you look at me like Iβm not some headline.β
You stop in your tracks. βYouβre not. Youβre justβours.β
I reach for your hand, threading our fingers together. βAnd thatβs more than enough.β
βI hate that we have to think like this,β you say finally. βAlways ten steps ahead. Always defensive. Even here, in a random corner of London, just walking with our kid.β
I donβt answer right away. Youβre not asking for solutionsβyouβre naming the truth, the life we carved out and the cost that comes with being visible.
βI know,β I say quietly. βAnd I hate it too. But we knew this wasnβt forever. Italy wasβ¦ a pause. A beautiful one. But we always said weβd come back when it felt right.β
You nod slowly. βDo you still think it was the right time?β
I look at youβreally look. The way your free hand rests over Dorianβs back. The way your jaw is tight, but your shoulders are starting to ease.
βI think the right time doesnβt mean the easy time,β I say. βIt means when weβre strong enough to face it again. And we are. You are.β
That earns me a sideways glance and a faint, skeptical smile. βYouβre getting very philosophical for someone who was threatening legal apocalypse three minutes ago.β
βI contain multitudes.β
You snort, but your smile softens. I can feel you letting go of the tension, piece by piece.
βIβm glad he slept through this,β you sigh softly, stroking his back gently.
βMe too. Heβs too young to understand it.β I brush the curls away from his face. βAre you okay?β My eyes meet yours.
βItβll take some time for the anger to wear off, but Iβm glad heβs safe.β
I wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. βIβll make sure nothing like this happens again.β
We walk in silence for a bit, the tension from the encounter still clinging to us. Finally, I speak again.
βI hate that we canβt just enjoy a simple walk without worrying about a paparazzo. Itβs not fair.β
βIβm okay with them sneaking a picture of us, but heβs just a child. He should be able to have a normal childhood.β You lean into me, softly stroking Dorianβs back.
I sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders melt away a bit as you lean into me. βYouβre right. He deserves a normal life, not one where we have to constantly look over our shoulders.β
I look down at Dorian, his little face still peaceful in sleep. βI donβt want him growing up feeling like heβs under constant scrutiny. Itβs not right.β
We reach a quiet spot, away from any crowds, and I stop, turning to face you.
βPromise me something?β I cup your face in my hand, looking into your eyes. βPromise me that, no matter what happens, we keep fighting for our family. Promise me that nothing will break us or come between us.β
I lean in closer, my voice softening. βI love you. And I love that little boy more than anything. We wonβt let anything shatter this.β
Your expression softens as you lean into my touch. βBaby, I know that none of this is your fault. Itβs a part of your job, and itβs something I knew came with you. I would never let them win.β
I exhale, the weight on my shoulders lightening a bit at your understanding.
βI know you get it. But sometimes it feels like Iβm not doing enough to protect you and Dorian. Like Iβm failing you both.β I run a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt mixing in my words. βItβs justβ¦ I hate feeling so powerless.β
βHey.β You reach to gently stroke my cheek. βI feel safe and protected when youβre around. So does Dorian. Remember, cats donβt sleep with their bellies up if they donβt feel safe.β
I smile weakly at the metaphor. βAlways with the animal facts.β I look down at the little one in your arms. βYou and Dorian are everything to me. I justβ¦ I wish I could shield you from everything.β
βYou are, love. You are our shield and our rock.β Your eyes hold nothing but sincerity in them.
βPromise me youβll never doubt that. No matter what storms come our way.β
βIβm planning to grow old with you and watch him get married, together.β You smile softly.
I chuckle, picturing our future together. The thought warms my heart, though thereβs a hint of worry too.
βSounds like an ideal plan to me. But growing old together requires us to stay sane through all this chaos.β
I place a tender kiss on your forehead, holding you close.
I return your smile, feeling a bit lighter. βGood, because I canβt imagine going through any of this without you.β
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other in quiet solidarity. The city around us keeps buzzing, and the paparazzi incident is still on my mind. But right now, all I care about is you and our little family.
Dorian shifts a little in your arms. βLetβs get that takeout and go home.β
I nod, reluctantly letting go of you. βYeah, letβs go.β
I take your hand, and we start walking again, this time a little quicker. I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of paparazzi, though it seems like the incident outside the playground has scared them off for now.
βHowβs our little sleepyhead doing?β I ask, peeking over to look at Dorian.
βStill sleeping,β you smile softly.
I smile at the sight, my heart swelling with love. βHe looks so peaceful.β
We grab pasta for Dorian from one of those fancy Italian restaurants and finally reach the Chinese takeout placeβa little hole in the wall that weβve grown to love. The smell of sizzling kung pao chicken and fried rice fills the air as we step inside.
I order our usual: a couple of beef teriyaki dishes and some crab rangoons. The owner, an old lady named Mrs. Liu, smiles warmly at us.
βHavenβt seen you two in a while.β
βWe took a little vacation in Italy to grow this one,β you chuckle softly. βWe did miss your cooking.β
Mrs. Liu beams at you. βItaly, eh? Sounds romantic.β
I nod, grinning. βIt was. But nothing quite compares to your kung pao chicken.β
She chuckles, handing us our order in a brown paper bag. βYou young folks and your lovey-dovey vacations. Youβre making me miss my younger years.β She looks at Dorian with admiration in her eyes. βAh, they grow up so fast. One day youβre changing diapers, and the next theyβre off to university.β
I smile softly. βThatβs why we try to cherish every moment with him.β
Mrs. Liu smiles. βSmart. Iβm sure you two are great parents for a little one.β
βThank you, Mrs. Liu,β your voice is soft. βWeβll be coming more often.β
βYouβre always welcome here, my dear, you know that,β she beams. βAnd the little one tooβheβs too adorable to say no to.β
Our house is dimly lit, takeout spread out on the bed, Dorian nestled safely between both of us, fast asleep, some movie playing in the background.
Youβre picking at your food, quiet againβbut this time, itβs the good kind of quiet. The kind that feels full.
I glance over. βYou still thinking about it? The photo?β
You nod. βNot because of what he saw. But because he didnβt. He just slept through it all. Like he knew we had him.β
βWe do,β I say simply.
You look over at me, eyes soft now, almost shimmering. βCan we keep doing this? Building something real, even in the middle of all the chaos?β
I lean over and press a kiss to your lipsβslow and certain.
And outside, the city keeps moving. But here, in this little pocket of stillness, weβre exactly where we need to be.
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