#dadarry

HAPPY WOMEN’S DAY, MUMMY || Harry x OC

one shoot special for women’s day 🩷🌷

based on my bot

summary: your son saved allowance Harry gave him to buy you flowers for women’s day.

words count: 808

masterlist

Harry’s POV:

The first thing I noticed that morning was the jar.

It was supposed to be empty.

A little glass jar that used to hold honey, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fruit bowl. I’d washed it weeks ago when my son asked if he could “use it for something important.” I didn’t ask what. Kids deserve their secrets.

But today it wasn’t empty.

It was full of coins. Not just a few. Full.

I lean against the counter, arms folded, watching him from the doorway of the kitchen.

He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, tongue peeking out slightly in concentration as he counts the coins into tiny piles.

“One… two… three… four…”

His hair sticks up in the back from sleep, still wearing dinosaur pajamas.

I clear my throat.

He jumps. “Dad!”

I grin. “Morning, mate.”

He immediately tries to slide his hands over the coins like he can hide them from me.

Too late.

I walk in slowly, pouring myself coffee. “What’s the bank doing on my kitchen floor?”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re not allowed to look.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

He huffs dramatically, the way kids do when adults ruin their plans. “It’s important.”

“Alright,” I say, lifting my hands in surrender. “Secret business.”

He studies me for a second, deciding if I’m trustworthy.

Then he sighs. “Fine.”

He scoots closer and whispers like we’re discussing state secrets. “It’s for Mum.”

My eyebrows lift. “Oh yeah?”

He nods very seriously. “For Women’s Day.”

I blink. “You’ve been saving… all your pocket money?”

He nods again. “For flowers.”

And suddenly the jar makes sense.

Every week when I’d handed him his little allowance, he never spent it on sweets or toy cars like usual. I thought maybe he was planning some big Lego set.

Nope.

My son apparently has more romantic sense than half the men I know.

I crouch down beside him. “How long have you been saving?”

“Since Christmas.”

I stare at him. “Since Christmas?”

“That’s when I saw a sign in the flower shop,” he explains matter-of-factly. “It said Women’s Day.”

“And you remembered it for three months?”

He nods proudly. “Mum likes flowers.”

He’s not wrong.

You always do that little smile when I bring them home. The one that makes me feel like I’ve done something right.

I glance back at the jar. “That’s… a lot of coins, mate.”

He puffs up. “I know.” Then his face scrunches slightly with worry. “But I don’t know if it’s enough.”

My chest tightens a little. “Enough for what?”

“For the big bouquet.” He stretches his arms out wide. “The red ones.”

Roses.

Of course.

I rub my chin like I’m thinking very hard.

“Well… lucky for you,” I say slowly, “I happen to know the owner of a flower shop.”

His eyes go huge. “You do??”

“Very powerful man,” I nod gravely. “Very handsome too.”

He squints at me. “That’s you.”

“Correct.”

He beams.

“So… what do you say we go pick the flowers together?”

He grabs the jar immediately. “YES.”

The flower shop smells like spring. Buckets of roses, tulips, peonies everywhere.

My son walks in like a tiny businessman, clutching his jar with both hands.

The florist smiles at him. “Can I help you?”

He carefully places the jar on the counter with a loud clink. “I want flowers for my mum.”

She melts instantly. “Well that’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all day.”

He points dramatically to the biggest bouquet of red roses. “That one.”

I nearly laugh.

The florist glances at me.

I give her a small nod.

She wraps the bouquet in paper almost as big as he is.

My son counts the coins onto the counter with absolute seriousness.

The florist pretends to count them like they’re millions. Then she slides the bouquet toward him. “Perfect amount.”

His face lights up like Christmas morning. He hugs the bouquet carefully. “Thank you.”

When we get home, you’re still asleep. He tiptoes through the hallway like a spy.

I crouch beside him and whisper, “Ready?”

He nods.

We push open the bedroom door.

You stir slightly when he climbs onto the bed.

“Mum…”

Your eyes blink open slowly. “What’s going on—”

And then he holds the flowers out.

“Happy Women’s Day.”

You freeze.

Your face softens immediately.

“Oh my god…”

You sit up, taking the bouquet.

“These are for me?”

He nods proudly. “I bought them.”

You look at me over the flowers, confused.

I just shrug. “All him.”

Your eyes shine a little as you pull him into a hug. “These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever gotten.”

He giggles into your shoulder. “Dad helped carry them.”

I lean against the doorframe, watching the two of you.

And I swear to God…

I’ve never been more proud of anything in my life.

FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader

characters count: 11553

summary: paparazzi take pictures of your son, while you try to protect him

masterlist || part 1:

Harry’s POV:

“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.

“Happy?” he mutters.

“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.”

He swallows. Good.

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 didn’t even stir.”

“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.”

I laugh quietly. “Deal.”

“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.”

“I contain multitudes.”

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.

“Together, right?”

“Always.” You smile.

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.”

“We do,” I say simply.

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.

“We already are.”

And outside, the city keeps moving. But here, in this little pocket of stillness, we’re exactly where we need to be.

just thinking about harry x hawaiian!y/n, living a quiet lifestyle in kailua kona with their little baby :’) 🥥🌺

Zero hugs and kisses:

Today was just a regular morning where I was rushing River to preschool. I took some coffee to go with me so I could get him there on time. We listened to 80s music on the way in the car. River was really excited to show the class and his teacher a new toy he got. "Especially Robbie. He tries to act grown up but he's not." He said. I playfully rolled my eyes. "Well he shouldn't be in too much of a rush to grow up."

We pulled up to the preschool and I escorted River inside. "Do you have everything you need?" River looked through his backpack and nodded. "Yep." "Good. Now let daddy give a goodbye huggie and kiss kiss." I said in my baby voice. River smiled for a moment before looking over at his classmate I'm assuming to be Robbie. But before he could react, I pressed a big kiss to his cheek and hugged him super tight.

"You have a wonderful day at school little dino, I love you bye bye." River waved and then ran to his cubby. His cheeks were red from obvious blushing and I saw Robbie go over to him but I ignored it because I had to rush to work. After work, I went to River's preschool to go get him. He came out and his face looked self conscious. A couple of boys were laughing at him it seemed and I grew concerned. "Hey River how was preschool? Did you get to show off your toy?"

"Yeah." He said simply. He kept looking down and wouldn't look up once. "Rivie is something wrong?" I asked sympathetically. He nodded but I could tell something was bothering him. I didn't wanna continue pestering him with questions, so I left it alone. River eventually became more energetic throughout the evening, but at bedtime that's when he became quiet again. "The end." I said finishing the story. "That was a good book. Okay rivie time to get under the covers. Let's see you brushed your teeth, put on clean pajamas, read a bedtime story. Now there's one more thing....your goodnight kiss!"

I puckered my lips to River's forehead before he stopped me. "No daddy no more kisses or hugs. I'm too big for them." I was taken aback a little. "Who says?" "Robbie. He said kisses and hugs are for babies." I nodded. "Well River, Robbie just said that to sound cool, but there's nothing wrong with getting hugs and kisses. Their for everyone. And besides, are you gonna let one person change your whole view of them?"

River shook his head. "I just thought about it during school and I figured he was right after all. I'm a big boy now." I rubbed his head. "Well if you're sure..." He nodded. "Yep. But high fives are just as good!" I gave River a high five like he wanted and he laid down in bed. "If you're sure you don't want a goodnight kiss, then that's fine. But I still love you no matter what. Does rexie still want a kiss." River looked over at rexie and put his ear to his mouth like he was whispering something. "Yep rexie still wants you to kiss him."

"Then a kiss he shall receive." I picked up rexie and gave him a big kiss on his head. "Muah! Nightie night sleepy head." I tucked him back in with River and turned off the light before leaving the room. I knew River was just going through a stage where he wanted to be a big boy I reassured myself. It's not me because he allowed me to kiss rexie. I knew that boy Robbie got to him but I really wanted him to learn that people will always judge you no matter what.

I went to bed and fell asleep thinking about my next move. The next morning when we drove to River's preschool, I wanted to see if River would let me kiss and hug him. But no, he still didn't want any kisses or hugs. I was sad because I liked being affectionate with River. When I went back to the car, I discovered that River had left his lunch behind. I grabbed it and ran inside to give it to him. He was in the middle of circle time with his teacher and classmates. "Rivie you forgot your lunch baby. Have a good day." By habit forgetting River's requests, I smooched him on the cheek and left.

River looked horrified as laughter erupted from the room. "Baby, Baby, Baby!" Some of his classmates chanted. "Haha kissy, kissy, kissy." River was so embarrassed that he looked like he was gonna cry. "Stop it!" he said with a quivering lip. He ran and put his lunch in his cubby while the teacher calmed them down. "River's a big baby because his daddy still gives him kisses! My dad shakes my hand like a big boy!" River sunk down as the teacher tried to correct Robbie.

I left for work feeling so bad for River. I didn't intend for him to get picked on. It was never a problem before so I just assumed....oh poor River. I drove to work and once I got there, I took my spot and started painting. Mitch didn't get there til later and he started telling me about how his girlfriend Sarah was pressing him about getting a new Tv for their house. "Harry you listening? You seem distracted about something?"

I turned and looked at Mitch. "Oh sorry Mitch! My mind was just thinking about something." Mitch sat down next to me per usual. "Come on, talk to uncle Mitch." I giggled. "Okay well it's about River. He's going through that stage where he doesn't want his dad to show him public affection especially in front of his class."

"Well no wonder why, you've probably got the cooties!" Mitch joked. I gave him "seriously" look with a smirk. "Mitch, River doesn't like my kisses or hugs anymore so you could be right." I tried to fake cry. Mitch laughed but then stopped. "Look he's just going through that stage that little kiddies go through. I went through it, you went through it. Don't worry, the minute he falls off a slide or has a nightmare he'll be running to you expecting your 'special' hugs and kisses."

I smiled and thanked Mitch for his words of comfort. I went to pick River up from school after work and he was the first one to run out with a bunch of boys running behind him taunting him almost. They were making kiss noises with their mouths and River was on the verge of tears. "Haha you're daddy's gonna kiss you again!" they laughed. I felt so bad and wanted to say something but I didn't wanna embarrass him further. "It's okay River, I know someone who still really likes you."

"Really who?" River said with so much hope. "You're dad!" I was already out of the car ready to take River away from those boys when he fell down straight on his face from tripping over a stick. "Oh Rivie it's okay daddy's got you." I said in my baby voice. I picked him up and asked if he was okay. He nodded but was crying a little. I held his hand and walked back to the car ignoring those boys. "Kiddo, it's okay they're just jealous-"

"I don't want kisses!" He said out of frustration. "Oh...okay." I said quietly. River was embarrassed and when we got home he ran upstairs to his room and stayed there until dinner. "River dinner's ready!" I called from downstairs. River came down holding rexie and he took a seat at the table. He looked like he had been crying. My heart went out to him because River was such a sweet kid and he didn't deserve to be bullied like this. If it continued then I would have to speak to the teacher about this. But before that happened, I had a better idea.

At bedtime when it was time to read River a bedtime story, I found one about kisses. "Hey River this story is called, zero kisses for little dino. And the dinosaur looks like rexie doesn't he?" River nodded and leaned against me becoming intrigued with the book. I read the book to River making funny voices which made River laugh. "The end." I closed the book and turned to River.

"I saw the boys laughing at you today, and it made daddy very sad. Because he loves you, and one way I show it is by giving you hugs and kisses. You're very cuddly and I love you very much, and getting kisses and hugs doesn't make you a baby. Robbie is just trying to sound bigger because he could be jealous. I don't see his daddy kissing him or hugging him, or maybe he does just at house. But that doesn't have anything to do with you okay rivie?"

River sniffled before holding his arms out for me and then he started crying. "Make them stop daddy! They pick on me because they saw you kiss me in class yesterday. And Robbie started the whole thing." I engulfed River in a hug and then I kissed his head. "It'll be okay sweetie I promise. We'll show em that kisses and hugs are for everyone." After I pulled away, I waited to see River's response because I just kissed and hugged him. "Daddy? Can I have another kiss and hug please? Only because you said big boys can too-"

I picked River up and kissed his face all over and squeezed him tightly for a while. "Goodnight my little t-rex. Oh I forgot to give rexie his kiss!" I set River down and tucked him in and kissed rexie's face all over. I set him next to River and wished them both a good-nights sleep. The next morning River seemed better as he had more of an appetite seeing how he raced through his cereal and orange juice. "Slow down little guy we don't have to be there until 8."

I was a little nervous when we got there because I didn't know if River still wanted me to kiss and hug in public just yet. When we got to his cubicle, Robbie was already at his seat watching and River grew nervous again. "Remember River hugs and kisses are for everyone." I held out my arms for River and he hesitantly hugged back. "Muah!" I kissed his cheek. "Now have a great day daddy loves you." River smiled and gave me another hug too. I stuck around for a little to see River walking confidently to his table. He ignored Robbie's laughs which became short lived because they no longer had affect on River.

I stood there smiling proudly at my little boy who was becoming big boy.

SECRET THAT WE KEEP | Harry x OC

words count: 847

summary: Harry’s secret wife and son are accidentally exposed, sending internet into a meltdown.

masterlist || part 1

Harry’s POV:

I notice the backpack before I notice the cameras.

It’s muscle memory—hand reaching back, checking the zipper, feeling the familiar weight settle between my shoulders. It’s light today. Too light. Dorian insisted on carrying it himself until he got tired halfway down the jet bridge and handed it to me with that solemn little nod like he was passing on responsibility, not a bag with snacks and a spare cardigan.

I don’t think about the name stitched into the fabric.

I never do.

The air in the airport is colder than it should be. Different country, different rules, same routine. We planned it like we always do: separate exits, different rows, a few minutes between us so nothing lines up too neatly. She goes first with Dorian, her head slightly bowed, one hand resting between his shoulder blades. I follow later, baseball cap low, passport already in my hand.

Normal. Careful. Practiced.

I’m almost through when I hear the sound.

The sharp, unmistakable beep of the metal detector.

I don’t even look up at first. I know that sound the way I know his cry in the middle of the night, the way I know the creak of the third stair at home. It’s never me. It’s always—

“His metal pin,” I say automatically.

The words are out of my mouth before I remember where we are.

Before I remember the glass walls, the phones, the way people watch without seeming to.

She doesn’t turn around.

She never does.

She crouches in front of Dorian, fingers already at the buttons of his cardigan, already reaching for the little silver star pinned to the inside seam. The one he insists on wearing because I told him once it was lucky. She slips it off, tucks it into a pocket of her bag, smooths the fabric back into place.

Dorian looks bored. Like this is the fifth time it’s happened this month.

The gate stays silent when they walk through again.

That’s when I feel it.

Not panic. Not yet.

Something colder. Heavier.

Because no one had to explain anything. Because nothing was discussed. Because it was a conversation we’ve had a hundred times without ever saying a word—and strangers don’t move like that. They don’t know. They don’t anticipate. They don’t finish each other’s thoughts mid-sentence.

They don’t raise a child together.

I keep my head down. I always do. I tell myself it’s fine, that it will blur into the usual noise, that by tomorrow the internet will be distracted by something louder, shinier, easier.

But when I step outside, I hear my name before I see the lenses.

And when I shift the backpack on my shoulder, I feel it, the slight tug as the fabric stretches, the embroidery catching the light.

Dorian.

It takes less than an hour.

The photos hit first. Grainy, zoomed, circled in red. A thousand opinions layered over a single moment frozen in time.

“Why does Harry Styles have a child’s backpack?”

“Who is Dorian?”

“Is this a charity thing? A gift? A nephew?”

By nightfall, the videos surface.

The metal detector.

My voice.

Her hands.

Slowed down. Paused. Analyzed like a crime scene.

People start noticing the things we never thought mattered.

Someone posts an old picture of me at an airport years ago, holding two passports. One of them blue. One of them with a barely visible letter on the corner.

D.

Another thread pulls up a photo Gemma posted ages back. There’s a baby bottle on the counter behind her. Someone points out her kid would’ve been too old then. Someone else remembers I was visiting that week.

Then comes the clip I hate the most.

Me outside a venue, laughing about something stupid, pulling an empty packet of baby wipes from my jacket pocket and tossing it into a bin. It was nothing. It was always nothing.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it was everything.

I sit on the edge of the hotel bed, phone face down, listening to the quiet hum of the city outside the window. In the other room, Dorian is asleep already. He went out the moment his head hit the pillow, clutching the cardigan like it’s armor. She’s lying beside him, one hand curled around his wrist, breathing slow and even.

She knew this day might come.

I did too.

We just hoped it wouldn’t come like this—piecemeal, scavenged from moments that were never meant to be evidence.

I don’t regret it.

That’s the strangest part.

I regret the fear. I regret the noise that’s about to reach our door. I regret that he’ll grow up in a world that thinks it owns parts of him just because it knows my name.

But the years we stole? The mornings, the bedtime stories, the tiny metal pin that sets off detectors?

I’d steal them again.

Tomorrow, the secret will be gone.

Tonight, I slip the backpack off my shoulders and set it gently by the door, the embroidered name facing the wall like it always has.

Not hidden.

Just private.

For as long as it was allowed to be.

SECRET THAT WE KEEP | Harry x OC

masterlist || part 2

🧵 r/Fauxmoi — “Okay I think Harry Styles might have a secret child and I’m not joking”

Posted by u/throwaway_gateB12 · 18.4k upvotes · 6.2k comments

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I need everyone to stay calm and put your detective hats on.

I was at the airport today and something… didn’t add up. I didn’t think much of it at first, but the paparazzi pics just dropped and now I feel like I watched a puzzle piece snap into place in real time.

I’m going to lay this out step by step.

1️⃣ The backpack

Harry exits the plane separately from a woman and a small child.

Normal. Celebrities do this all the time.

But he’s carrying a small backpack. Not weird by itself.

Weird part: zoomed pap photos clearly show embroidery.

“DORIAN.”

Not a brand.

Not a logo.

A child’s name.

Why would a grown man carry a toddler backpack with a specific name on it unless that kid is… his?

At this point I thought: nephew, godson, whatever.

Then the video dropped.

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2️⃣ The metal detector moment (this is where it gets bad)

The woman and child go through passport control first.

Metal detector beeps.

Harry is still a few steps behind.

He says, casually:

“His metal pin.”

Not “maybe he has something”

Not “check his pockets.”

He knew exactly what it was.

The woman immediately removes the kid’s cardigan, reaches inside, takes off a small metal pin, and puts it in her pocket.

She doesn’t turn to Harry.

She doesn’t ask what he means.

She just… knows.

Tell me how a stranger would know what’s under a random child’s cardigan without being told.

You can’t.

That’s muscle memory.

That’s parenting.

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3️⃣ Old photos suddenly make sense

This is where the internet went feral.

People started digging.

📸 Photo from 2023

Harry holding two passports.

One clearly his.

One smaller blue one with a visible “D” sticker/tab.

At the time: people assumed assistant stuff. Now… why would he personally carry a child’s passport?

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📸 Gemma’s kitchen post (2022)

There’s a baby bottle on the counter behind her.

Fans checked timelines. Her kid would’ve been too old for that type of bottle.

People brushed it off back then.

Now… maybe it wasn’t hers.

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📸 Concert night clip

Video of Harry outside a venue pulling baby wipes from his pocket and tossing them.

Everyone joked:

“Dad behavior lol”

We laughed.

Maybe we shouldn’t have.

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4️⃣ The timeline theory

Putting it all together:

• Private relationship

• Quiet travel patterns

• Random baby items over the years

• The backpack

• The metal detector instinct

If this is true, he didn’t just have a kid. He’s had one for years.

And they’ve been protecting him.

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5️⃣ Why this doesn’t feel scandalous

Honestly? If anything this makes me respect him more.

No staged reveals. No monetized family content.

Just… normal life, kept private.

The woman in the video never looks at the cameras. She doesn’t perform. She just handles the kid and keeps walking.

If she is his wife, they’ve been doing this quietly for a long time.

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6️⃣ Final thought

If we’re right, this wasn’t meant to be public.

It slipped.

And now the internet is doing what it does best—

turning ordinary moments into evidence.

But the metal detector clip? That’s the one I can’t unsee.

You don’t say “his metal pin” unless you’ve said it a hundred times before.

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EDIT: Mods please don’t delete, all images are from public paparazzi sources.

EDIT 2: I’m not trying to invade privacy, just documenting what’s already circulating.

EDIT 3: If this is real, I hope the kid stays protected.

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Top comments

u/mod_team (MOD) · pinned comment

Reminder: speculation is allowed but do not attempt to identify or harass private individuals. Any doxxing will result in bans.

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u/parentof2 · 14.2k upvotes

I’m a parent. The “his metal pin” thing is what convinced me. You don’t guess that. You know because it’s happened before. A lot.

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u/defnotaharrie · 9.8k upvotes

The backpack alone could’ve been for a niece. The coordinated security moment? That’s a family.

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u/airportlurker92 · 7.4k upvotes

I work airport security. The way she removed the pin without turning around means this is routine. Couples who travel with kids together do this all the time. Strangers don’t.

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u/thisisnotdrama · 6.2k upvotes

If this is real, he kept that kid out of the public eye for YEARS. Honestly? Respect.

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u/harryfan2013 · 5.9k upvotes

I’m having an existential crisis because how did we miss this?? We were analyzing nail polish colors meanwhile he had a whole CHILD 😭

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u/throwaway_evidence · 5.1k upvotes

Okay but the two passports photo?? Why was he personally holding a second passport with a “D” tab? Assistants don’t give you a random kid’s passport to carry.

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u/please_be_serious · 4.7k upvotes

Everyone saying “godson” — be serious. Godparents don’t say “his metal pin” with that level of calm confidence.

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u/itsgivingdad · 4.3k upvotes

The baby wipes clip aged like milk. We all joked “dad energy” and he was literally… a dad.

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u/neutralobserver · 3.8k upvotes

The woman didn’t look at the cameras once. That’s the biggest sign this isn’t a PR setup.

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u/late_night_scroll · 3.4k upvotes

Going back through old pap photos and suddenly everything looks different. He always traveled with that same backpack. We just never zoomed in.

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u/itsnotascan · 3.1k upvotes

If he wanted attention for it, he would’ve revealed it himself. This feels like a privacy thing, not a scandal.

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u/fbi_directioner · 2.9k upvotes

I just checked Gemma’s 2022 kitchen post and yeah… that bottle doesn’t match her kid’s age timeline. I’m spiraling.

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u/realisticallytho · 2.6k upvotes

We need to consider the possibility he has a wife too. Because that airport interaction was NOT co-parenting friends energy.

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u/denialstage · 2.3k upvotes

I refuse to believe this until he confirms. But also… I can’t unsee it.

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u/chronicallyonline · 2.1k upvotes

This post is 3 hours old and already at 18k upvotes. We are witnessing internet history.

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u/softforharry · 1.9k upvotes

Imagine being that kid and finding out the world just discovered you because of a backpack. I hope he’s okay.

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u/itwasrightthere · 1.7k upvotes

The craziest part is none of these were leaks. They were normal life moments. We just didn’t know what we were looking at.

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u/conspiracycorner · 1.5k upvotes

Next step: someone finds a birthday cake in the background of a 2021 photo and the timeline gets confirmed.

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u/sleeplessintheuk · 1.3k upvotes

If this turns out true, this is the most successful celebrity privacy operation I’ve ever seen.

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u/lastcommentbeforelock · 1.1k upvotes

Mods are going to lock this soon. Calling it now.

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SECRET THAT WE KEEP || Harry x OC

masterlist || part 3

🌐 Internet Meltdown Phase

When Twitter + Instagram find the Reddit thread

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🐦 TWITTER / X

@popcultureinsider

🚨 RUMOR: Fans believe Harry Styles may have a secret child after airport photos show him carrying a backpack embroidered with the name “Dorian.”

Thread 👇

128k likes · 34k retweets

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@directionerarchive

I’m sorry WHAT do you mean he might have a CHILD??

WE WERE ANALYZING OUTFITS.

92k likes

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@itsjustanalys1s

The way he said “his metal pin” and she immediately removed it without looking back…

that’s not strangers. that’s not friends.

that’s family.

75k likes

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@defendharrypls

If this is true and he managed to keep his kid out of the public eye for years, that’s actually impressive and kind of admirable.

61k likes

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@chronically.online

We went from “new album when?” to “he has a whole wife and child” in 4 hours.

58k likes

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@airportvids

*Posting the slowed-down clip.*

Listen closely at 0:07.

You can literally hear him say “his metal pin.”

47k likes · 19k retweets

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@itsabackpack

Not to be dramatic but that’s a TODDLER BACKPACK with a NAME.

You don’t casually carry that unless you’re the parent.

44k likes

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@media.watcher

Major outlets haven’t picked it up yet but it’s trending worldwide.

This is going to explode by morning.

39k likes

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@softfanaccount

I don’t feel betrayed.

I feel like… we accidentally walked into someone’s private life.

33k likes

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@conspiracythread

Okay timeline:

• 2022 baby bottle photo

• 2023 double passport

• today’s airport video

We missed EVERYTHING.

29k likes

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@thisis.wild

The internet is doing forensic analysis on a toddler’s backpack.

We need to go outside.

27k likes

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📸 INSTAGRAM COMMENTS (under paparazzi post)

popdailynews

“Harry Styles spotted at airport with mystery child?”

1.2M likes

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top comment:

user827

That is NOT a mystery child. That is a son.

89k likes

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harryfan_since2012

Everyone calm down. Could be a nephew.

24k likes

reply:

parenthere

No nephew interaction looks like that. Sorry.

41k likes

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softaestheticgirl

The woman removing the pin without him explaining… yeah.

They’ve done that before.

37k likes

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someonewithsense

If he wanted publicity from this, he would’ve announced it.

The fact it leaked like this makes me sad for them.

32k likes

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detectiveera

Zoom into the backpack.

It literally says DORIAN.

28k likes

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nostalgicfan

We’ve been fans for over a decade and he still managed to keep this private.

That’s kind of incredible.

25k likes

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chaoticcommenter

Imagine finding out your fave is married with a kid because of airport security footage 😭

22k likes

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realisticone

Media is going to pick this up in the morning.

Enjoy the calm before the storm.

19k likes

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TRENDING SEARCHES

• “Harry Styles child”

• “Dorian Harry Styles”

• “airport video Harry”

• “secret family rumor”

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🕒 2 HOURS LATER — TWITTER TRENDING #1

HARRY HAS A SON

2.3M tweets

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@late_night_radio

No confirmation from his team yet.

But the internet has decided.

88k likes

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@softforharry

If this is real, I hope people remember there’s a kid involved and not just gossip.

72k likes

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@chaosupdate

This went from Reddit to global trending in under 6 hours.

That might be a record.

64k likes

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FAMILY FIRST || Harry x Reader

characters count: 9110

summary: protecting your son from celebrity life while trying to give him a normal childhood

masterlist || part 2:

Harry’s POV:

“Hey buddy, if you fidget too much you won’t be able to stop,” I try to hold Dorian in my arms as he’s already reaching out to you. “Mummy’s gotta work, bud.” I softly kiss his head, but that answer doesn’t satisfy him. Even in the middle of your photoshoot for Vogue, he needs to be around.

You look at the creative director. “Is it okay?”

“It could be a good representation of the balance of motherhood and career,” she nods.

“Just make sure you don’t get his face,” you say to the photographer, picking up Dorian from my arms.

Your last book that came out recently has been a huge success, probably the only reason we’re back in England right now. You have signings and interviews to do, and I just get to be a regular dad supporting his wife and dealing with a ruthless toddler. We knew there would be a time when we’d have to bring him back to London, to socialize with other kids, get used to the city life. Well… we can’t shelter him forever. But it was always hard to determine when the right time was. I guess your work decided for us, and maybe it’s for the better, because we’d be debating it for at least five years.

I know what the creative director meant now. You’re in your designer outfit, makeup and hair perfectly done, at this glamorous magazine photoshoot holding a toddler dressed in jeans and a shirt that already has a stain from a chocolate chip cookie he devoured in a couple of seconds while you were getting your hair done. You’re here, doing your job, while still not being able to escape mum duties, because this is not something you can turn off. I love this contrast. I love that you don’t always find balance between life and work, but you always put him first. Even when there’s a deadline to turn in pages, and someone’s been stung by a bee and needs to go to the emergency room.

You set an example for modern women. You’ve shown them that you don’t need to sacrifice your career to have a child, and that it sometimes gets messy, ugly, and nasty, but that’s the beauty of parenthood. Hell, you’ve even set an example for me. Every time it gets too hard, you’re the one I look up to.

I look at the screen where the pictures change every second and lean to the creative director. “Can I get the originals?”

Next came the interview section, and of course you would never pass up the opportunity to do a “What’s in my bag?” Every single time we watched one of those, you always complained how sponsored and unrealistic they were, and that if you ever got a chance, you’d bring your actual day-to-day bag with the products you actually use inside.

So naturally, you brought your actual bag — the one Dorian calls “Mummy’s bag,” the one you use every day, the one that has everything a toddler needs.

“Here’s my trusty Chanel bag.” You pull out a designer bag that was once a sign of luxury, but now it’s more a symbol of your motherhood.

Now I sit behind the camera with Dorian on my lap, watching you.

“I have a little keychain here, this one is custom-made from one of the drawings Dorian did of me,” you proudly show off the keychain to the camera. “I have a little bunny, because Dorian adores bunnies, and a little teddy bear. They’re both made of plush and are pretty soft. So when I don’t have any toys for Dorian to play with, I like to give him one of those.”

You open your bag and take out various snacks. “All Dorian’s favorites.” I chuckle softly as Dorian extends his arms on my lap, and you lean over the table, handing me a pack of salted walnuts. As I open it, he immediately starts munching on them, letting out a small, “Thank you, Mummy.”

You smile at him. “You’re welcome, my love.”

“A little sippy cup and water bottle — Dorian is really serious about his hydration. He always keeps asking, ‘Mummy, did you drink water?’” You chuckle softly. “Um, bath bombs. We’re a little bougie — the bath needs to be filled with bubbles and bath bombs.”

“For me?” Dorian pipes up again.

“Of course, only for you, Bunny,” you smile and continue, taking out a jar of pickles as I burst out laughing. “We visited my parents yesterday, my mum made these. Thank you, Mum,” you say proudly.

“Sunscreen — I have one for the face and one for the body. I’m definitely that mum and wife who runs around reapplying sunscreen on my husband and son,” you chuckle softly, putting the products on the table. “I have a small makeup bag with a few essential makeup products, band-aids, antiseptic, and painkillers. You always have to be ready.”

I smile. You are. You’re always ready. And if I ever thought it would be impossible to love you more every day, since we had Dorian, you prove me wrong. Even now, during your glamorous magazine shoot, you manage to include him in every little thing. You take care of him and show your love, even now.

You look up from the bag for a moment, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as the camera zooms in slightly. There’s a glow in your eyes, not the studio lights, not the highlighter, but something warmer. Real.

“And,” you say, reaching into one of the inner pockets, “this little guy.” You pull out a crumpled, well-loved scrap of paper folded neatly, soft at the edges. “This is one of Dorian’s first little ‘I love you’ notes. He made it with crayons and stuck a sticker of a dinosaur on it. It’s… honestly falling apart, but I can’t not have it with me.”

Dorian perks up again, his mouth still full of walnuts. “Rawr!” he giggles, making his best dino roar. The entire room chuckles softly with him, even the camera crew melting a little at the sound.

You smile down at the note for a second before carefully placing it on the table. “This bag may not be the prettiest Chanel anymore, but I think it’s my favorite version of it. It’s been spit-up on, rained on, and dragged through every stage of motherhood so far.”

From behind the lens, I watch you: not the celebrity, not even the woman the world sees on covers, but you. The one who packs her luxury handbag with granola bars, bath bombs, and emergency band-aids because your heart is bigger than your schedule.

You glance at the camera, your expression soft but proud. “I think every woman has that one item that changes with them, for me, it’s this bag. It used to be something I bought for appearances. Now, it’s what gets me through the day.”

The interviewer chuckles. “It feels like it carries your whole life.”

You nod. “It really does. And half of Dorian’s.”

The next question is more serious, the kind they save for the end, when people are watching closely and ready to feel something.

“How has becoming a mother changed your creative process?”

You pause, glancing toward me and Dorian. Your gaze lingers on him, chocolate-stained lips, soft curls, tiny hands playing with the plush bunny keychain you just put aside.

“I think… it’s made me more patient. Less obsessed with perfection. When you become a parent, you start understanding that some things are beautiful because they’re messy. You learn to create even when you’re tired, interrupted, or doubting yourself. In a weird way, I think I write more honestly now. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to connect. And maybe that’s why the book is doing so well.”

You shift slightly in your seat. “And also, it’s made me unapologetically emotional. Before, I would hold back. Now, I cry while writing. I cry while editing. I cry when I see people relate to the stories. And I let myself. I let that be okay.”

Behind the camera, Dorian leans against me and I whisper, “She’s talking about you, you know.”

He whispers back, barely loud enough for me to hear, “I know, Daddy.”

You catch us, that knowing smile tugging at your lips again, and you continue, voice calm and clear.

“I used to be afraid I’d have to pick between motherhood and my career. I was terrified, actually. But the truth is, becoming a mum didn’t take anything from me. It just… made everything deeper. It gave me more to say.”

The room is quiet for a second. The kind of quiet that says: everyone felt that.

The photographer breaks it gently. “I think we’ve got everything we need.”

But as the lights start to dim and the assistants begin packing up, you reach out for Dorian again. He scrambles down from my lap and into your arms like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. You hold him against your hip: your hair now slightly tousled, your lipstick fading, his cheek pressed against yours, and the camera clicks one last time, catching a moment that wasn’t planned.

It won’t go in the magazine. You already said no to that.

But I’ll ask for that photo too, just for us.

You look over your shoulder at me, smile soft and tired and whole.

“We’re going to the park after this, right?” you ask, bouncing Dorian lightly.

“Yeah,” I say, grabbing the bag, slinging it over my shoulder like I’ve seen you do a hundred times. “We promised him the swings.”

And just like that, the heels come off, you slip on sneakers, and we head back into the real world: no spotlights, no script, just us, raising a little boy in a big city.

And somehow, making it all feel like home.