Daddy!
Harry: "Babe! Can you come here for a minute, please?" Confused, you follow the sound of his voice down the hall and into your bedroom. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands held out in front of him with his eyebrows furrowed. "Did you do this?" he asks and as you close the distance between the two of you, you now notice that his nails have been painted a lovely shade of red. "Why would I paint your nails?" you choke, trying to stifle a laugh. "I don't know, a joke?" he insists, still bewildered. As if on cue, giggles begin to fill the room and his eyes narrow. "Sweetheart?" he says quite loudly. More giggles. In an instant, he's down on his hands and knees, lifting the bed skirt up to stick his head beneath the bed frame. "Got'cha!" he shouts, tugging a tiny arm out gently. "Daddy!" she screams as his fingers dance along her rib cage. "Did you paint my nails?" he asks, his own dimpled-smile appearing. "Maybe!" she laughs. "You little sneak; I was napping!" he laughs himself. "I'm sorry!" she giggles as he stops, bringing her up into his lap.
Niall: "Sweetheart, please be still," he says as the small girl wriggles in his arms, fits of tiny giggles exploding from her lips as she tries to free herself from Niall's strong arms; he knows, however, if she gets free, there's no stopping her little legs from carrying her halfway across the park. "I thought you wanted to meet Cinderella! Look, we're almost there!" Her tiny fists pound against his chest as he tries to keep her calm, but after all, it is his fault for giving a four year old cotton candy. "Daddy! Put me down!" she squeals, but he only shakes his head, bringing his forehead to rest against her small one. "No, baby, you can't get down. You might get lost and what would happen if daddy and mummy couldn't find you?" She pouts, her little blue eyes, the exact shade of his, staring into his own as you watch from the side. "It'd be bad," she mumbles. "Yes, very bad," you chime in, looping your arm through one of Niall's. "Now are you ready for Cinderella's tea party, princess?" you ask, poking her tummy as she nods her head.
Liam: "Daddy, NO!" little, shrill squeals echo down the hall, followed by the patter of your daughter's little feet on the hardwood. You turn in the kitchen just as she comes sprinting down the hall, Liam just behind her with a giant, sloppy grin on his face. "I'm gonna get you, doodlebug!" She screams as his hands come in contact with her sides. He hoists her over his left shoulder with ease, smiling at you like he'd just accomplished something major. "Mummy, help me!" she cries out but the only sound eluding you is laughter. You live for the precious father/daughter moments like these; they're something Liam takes pride in. That little girl has him wrapped around her finger, but he loves every minute of it.
Louis: Your eyes open slightly, the red numerals of your alarm clock blinding you somewhat before alerting you it's just past midnight. Turning over, you expect to drape your arm over Louis' waist but he's gone, his side of the bed barely warm at all. With a yawn, you crawl out of bed, feet lightly tapping the cold hardwood as you exit your bedroom. "Daddy, no! I wanna sleep with you and mummy, pleaaaase!" your son's voice fills your ears and you turn in the direction of his room. Stopping at his door, you lean against the door frame as you watch Louis cuddle him up in his arms, sighing loudly. "Be a big boy and try to sleep in your bed for daddy? Please? You can't always run to mummy and daddy's room when you have a bad dream." Your son pouts; you think he's on the verge of tears at because of Louis telling him no, but he manages a nod. "Okay, I'll try." Louis runs his fingers through the brunet locks atop his head, "That's my little man."
Zayn: "Daddy!" your son shrieks, making even you jump. "What is it, buddy?" Zayn asks as he takes a seat next to the small, raven-haired boy. "Play with me!" he grins up at his father, handing him a toy truck. It's nothing you haven't seen before, but the smile on your face still appears nonetheless. On the outside, Zayn's appearance would have never told you the stories of how sweet, and charming he could be, or just how great of a parent he made. The little boy now running a toy car up his father's tattooed arm was his world, his everything. That kid looked up to Zayn more than anyone else. "Mummy! Do you wanna play, too?" he asks, his smile beaming up at you. "No, no, mummy's gotta cook dinner. Just keep playing with daddy, okay?" He nods, attempting to make a noise that sounds like a car with his mouth as he runs the toy over Zayn's arm once more.
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