FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader
summary: paparazzi take pictures of your son, while you try to protect him
“Then maybe we could just grab takeout,” 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 life—a 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 “no pictures.” There wasn’t 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 eyes—a 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.
“Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Dorian loves their pasta, so we…” You don’t 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 Dorian’s head with your palm, hiding his face.
“What the fuck did you just do?” I dart to the paparazzo across the street, and you don’t 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.
“Delete them or I will fuck you up and you’ll have to deal with my whole legal team,” I practically bark at him.
The man lowers his camera slightly, startled but not apologetic. He’s 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.
“I said delete them.” My voice is low now, deadly. Controlled in that way I only get when I’m past the point of losing it.
He smirks. “It’s just a photo, mate. You’re in public. You of all people should know that.”
“That’s my son you photographed.” I jab a finger toward his chest. “He’s two. He didn’t sign up for this shit. You take pictures of me, fine. But him? That’s off-limits. Always.”
He shrugs, eyes flicking down to his camera screen. “Could’ve blurred his face later—”
“I don’t care what you could do. Delete it. Now. You don’t fucking understand that one picture of him online—face blurred or not—can put him in danger?”
There’s a shift in his expression, the faintest flicker of discomfort, of realizing maybe this wasn’t worth it. Then, a few taps on his camera. I watch the screen. He deletes not just the photo, but the whole damn set.
“No. But that’s a start.” I step closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Next time you even think about pointing a lens at my family, I will make sure you can’t sell a picture to a tabloid ever again.”
I turn away, my pulse still pounding, and jog back across the street.
You’re standing where I left you, arms wrapped protectively around Dorian, your cheek resting on his head. You don’t say anything when I reach you, but your eyes are darker than usual—with fury. The kind of fury that comes from watching someone threaten the peace we fought so hard to build.
“He deleted them,” I say, breath still ragged.
“I’ll have the lawyers put pressure on the outlet he works for. Just in case.” I reach out, brushing a hand down Dorian’s back as he shifts slightly, still asleep.
“He trusts us,” you murmur. “He knows he’s safe.”
And he is. Because we made damn sure of it.
We start walking again, slower now, and my hand finds your side.
“Still up for takeout?” I ask, trying to soften the weight between us.
You glance up at me, a faint smile forming. “Only if we eat it in bed.”
“You ever think about just… vanishing? Not permanently. Just… renting a cabin in Iceland or something,” you say after a long pause.
“Every time someone points a lens at you or him,” I sigh.
“You’ve always been the one to protect us. But I’ve never asked—who protects you?”
“You do. When you make things simple again. When you look at me like I’m not some headline.”
You stop in your tracks. “You’re not. You’re just—ours.”
I reach for your hand, threading our fingers together. “And that’s more than enough.”
“I hate that we have to think like this,” you say finally. “Always ten steps ahead. Always defensive. Even here, in a random corner of London, just walking with our kid.”
I don’t answer right away. You’re not asking for solutions—you’re naming the truth, the life we carved out and the cost that comes with being visible.
“I know,” I say quietly. “And I hate it too. But we knew this wasn’t forever. Italy was… a pause. A beautiful one. But we always said we’d come back when it felt right.”
You nod slowly. “Do you still think it was the right time?”
I look at you—really look. The way your free hand rests over Dorian’s back. The way your jaw is tight, but your shoulders are starting to ease.
“I think the right time doesn’t mean the easy time,” I say. “It means when we’re strong enough to face it again. And we are. You are.”
That earns me a sideways glance and a faint, skeptical smile. “You’re getting very philosophical for someone who was threatening legal apocalypse three minutes ago.”
You snort, but your smile softens. I can feel you letting go of the tension, piece by piece.
“I’m glad he slept through this,” you sigh softly, stroking his back gently.
“Me too. He’s too young to understand it.” I brush the curls away from his face. “Are you okay?” My eyes meet yours.
“It’ll take some time for the anger to wear off, but I’m glad he’s safe.”
I wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”
We walk in silence for a bit, the tension from the encounter still clinging to us. Finally, I speak again.
“I hate that we can’t just enjoy a simple walk without worrying about a paparazzo. It’s not fair.”
“I’m okay with them sneaking a picture of us, but he’s just a child. He should be able to have a normal childhood.” You lean into me, softly stroking Dorian’s back.
I sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders melt away a bit as you lean into me. “You’re right. He deserves a normal life, not one where we have to constantly look over our shoulders.”
I look down at Dorian, his little face still peaceful in sleep. “I don’t want him growing up feeling like he’s under constant scrutiny. It’s not right.”
We reach a quiet spot, away from any crowds, and I stop, turning to face you.
“Promise me something?” I cup your face in my hand, looking into your eyes. “Promise me that, no matter what happens, we keep fighting for our family. Promise me that nothing will break us or come between us.”
I lean in closer, my voice softening. “I love you. And I love that little boy more than anything. We won’t let anything shatter this.”
Your expression softens as you lean into my touch. “Baby, I know that none of this is your fault. It’s a part of your job, and it’s something I knew came with you. I would never let them win.”
I exhale, the weight on my shoulders lightening a bit at your understanding.
“I know you get it. But sometimes it feels like I’m not doing enough to protect you and Dorian. Like I’m failing you both.” I run a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt mixing in my words. “It’s just… I hate feeling so powerless.”
“Hey.” You reach to gently stroke my cheek. “I feel safe and protected when you’re around. So does Dorian. Remember, cats don’t sleep with their bellies up if they don’t feel safe.”
I smile weakly at the metaphor. “Always with the animal facts.” I look down at the little one in your arms. “You and Dorian are everything to me. I just… I wish I could shield you from everything.”
“You are, love. You are our shield and our rock.” Your eyes hold nothing but sincerity in them.
“Promise me you’ll never doubt that. No matter what storms come our way.”
“I’m planning to grow old with you and watch him get married, together.” You smile softly.
I chuckle, picturing our future together. The thought warms my heart, though there’s a hint of worry too.
“Sounds like an ideal plan to me. But growing old together requires us to stay sane through all this chaos.”
I place a tender kiss on your forehead, holding you close.
I return your smile, feeling a bit lighter. “Good, because I can’t imagine going through any of this without you.”
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. “Let’s get that takeout and go home.”
I nod, reluctantly letting go of you. “Yeah, let’s go.”
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.
“How’s our little sleepyhead doing?” I ask, peeking over to look at Dorian.
“Still sleeping,” you smile softly.
I smile at the sight, my heart swelling with love. “He looks so peaceful.”
We grab pasta for Dorian from one of those fancy Italian restaurants and finally reach the Chinese takeout place—a little hole in the wall that we’ve 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.
“Haven’t seen you two in a while.”
“We took a little vacation in Italy to grow this one,” you chuckle softly. “We did miss your cooking.”
Mrs. Liu beams at you. “Italy, eh? Sounds romantic.”
I nod, grinning. “It was. But nothing quite compares to your kung pao chicken.”
She chuckles, handing us our order in a brown paper bag. “You young folks and your lovey-dovey vacations. You’re making me miss my younger years.” She looks at Dorian with admiration in her eyes. “Ah, they grow up so fast. One day you’re changing diapers, and the next they’re off to university.”
I smile softly. “That’s why we try to cherish every moment with him.”
Mrs. Liu smiles. “Smart. I’m sure you two are great parents for a little one.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Liu,” your voice is soft. “We’ll be coming more often.”
“You’re always welcome here, my dear, you know that,” she beams. “And the little one too—he’s too adorable to say no to.”
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.
You’re picking at your food, quiet again—but this time, it’s the good kind of quiet. The kind that feels full.
I glance over. “You still thinking about it? The photo?”
You nod. “Not because of what he saw. But because he didn’t. He just slept through it all. Like he knew we had him.”
You look over at me, eyes soft now, almost shimmering. “Can we keep doing this? Building something real, even in the middle of all the chaos?”
I lean over and press a kiss to your lips—slow and certain.
And outside, the city keeps moving. But here, in this little pocket of stillness, we’re exactly where we need to be.
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