Harry Styles Imagines

#68 Accidents Happen

* This is au Harry *

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN

Harry's POV

Darcy's eyes are as wide as saucers as she leads me to Y/N's sink. Not only was makeup smeared and spilled on the counter, but brushes were dirty as well. The whole scene looked as if an overly expressive artist has just had her way. Everything from eyeshadow, eyeliner pencils, and concealer had been utilized by her tiny hands.

"Pumpkin," I pause, still shocked. "How in the world did you manage to do all of this?" Of course, her answer is a shrug. Y/N and I have told her countless times before that using makeup was for big girls.

This was an act of disobedience.

Punishments aren't my thing, but she's definitely not getting away with this. If it's one thing you hear about parenting, it's that your kids won't learn if you knowingly allow them to make the same mistakes. Matter of fact, nobody learns that way. In the end, mistakes are what build us into better versions of ourselves.

Even as young as she may be, scolding her will end up doing more good than bad. It won't scare her necessarily—it never has—, but it will encourage her not to do it again because she doesn't like me being in her face. Like Y/N, she'd much rather you save it when she knows she's done something wrong/unacceptable.

She turns around and murmurs a soft, "Daddy, I promise I didn't mean to." Surprising me, a few tears slip from her guilt filled eyes. They slowly roll down her cheeks and dissolve into her purple shirt, which happens to be new and extremely dirty now.

Proving my age, my knees ache a little when I squat down to her level. Using the pads of my thumbs, I wipe her warm tears away. "Listen, you can't go in mommy's stuff like that, okay? We've told you that before, Darcy Anne. You just brushed our words off like they didn't hold any importance. How do you think that makes us feel, huh?" I question.

A breathy whimper escapes her mouth. "Upset?" She utters, knowingly.

Pretty much. "Exactly. You don't like it when you ask people to do things and they don't. Why would you want your own parents to feel that same way?" My eyes don't dare leave hers, wanting her to sense how serious I was. When her head begins to tilt towards the floor, I lift it back up with my index finger.

More tears begin to run down her cheeks. This time, I don't wipe them. Instead, I put my hands on my knees and stand to my full heigh. Her eyes curiously follow me.

I look back down at her. "You're not going to Eva's house until we clean this mess up," I tell her firmly.

Eva and her family live next door. Y/N and I have known them for quite some time now. Even before either of us had kids, we had attended the same college and somehow found residency in the same neighborhood.

Darcy's mouth falls open. "But, daddy, it's going to take a long time," she complains, face contorting in shock and irritation. "I really wanna see Eva." She stomps her foot, only creating a small vibration through the floor.

I raise a brow. "We can not go at all. It's your choice, really." I shrug as if I could care less about her friend.

"No, no, no! I do wanna go!" She desperately responds.