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He leans across the gear stick and sponges an indulgent kiss on her rosy lips. "Alright, I'm going," he says when he tries to prolong the affectionate gesture but she gives a playful shove. His thumb touches the corner of her mouth lovingly. "Let chaos reign," he murmurs as he exits the sturdy Range Rover.
She watches as Harry jogs across the street to the nursery. His yellow jacket billows in the breeze and raindrops stain his jeans in dots. He steps out of the London drizzle and into the confines of the nursery.
Minutes later when he emerges, two little toddlers accompany him. Their thirty-month-old son is bounced on his hip while their four-year-old daughter is scampering ahead of him, tugging on her dad's hand that isn't supporting her brother's back. The girl is undoubtedly regaling Harry with a tale that is the nonsense ramblings of a toddler. He engages anyway.
As they near the edge of the pavement, Harry calls a firm but equally gentle; "Careful! Wait for Daddy!", and the green-eyed girl with two pigtails halts. She mimics her dad, looking two times north and south. No car must splash them. No car must drive too near their shadows.
They cross the street, still talking animatedly. The kids get strapped in, both squealing and droning on about the dreams they claim to have had during downtime. Harry smothers them in kisses, blowing raspberries on their cheeks as they bash him away, giggling.
She observes this gleeful exchange of everyday love from the passenger seat and feels a bigger crush of love for her husband than she did a day ago. It seems her love for Harry is expanding daily.
He feels her ogling. As their gazes meet, his lopsided smile widens. He gives her a quizzical look. She shakes her head, mouthing, "Nothing. Just love you."
"Love you too, love," he parrots, a private smile playing on his cherry lips.
He turns back his attention to his son, double-checking that the straps aren't too tight around his brittle body. He pokes his side, "I also love you," he says. He then bobs his daughter's nose, "And I love you too."
He gets behind the wheel, revs the engine. He twists his body to look at his kids once more and asks theatrically, "But most importantly, who loves Daddy?" The car erupts.
Pickup is always a good chortle.
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Harry Styles one shots
Fanfictionin which i evoke harry in an abundance of different situations expect lots of mushy, fluffy stuff