Hello! My name is Nicki, and this is the list of 'one-shots' that I've created. They are arranged from the Oldest to the Newest creations.
If you have any questions go ahead and ask!
(please don't judge the dated Tumblr feed I made this when I was in grade school for nostalgia's sake I won't change anything)
...
Tethered together (Harry x Designer Reader)
Y/N and Harry’s bond was effortless yet deep, built on understanding and unwavering support. He made Y/N feel cherished, while Y/N grounded him in ways he never expected. Together, they were a perfect balance—fire and calm, adventure and comfort—an extraordinary yet beautifully simple love.
Sorry to bother you but I read a fic about artistHarry, he owns an art studio where the reader (plus size) with her best friend attended his class. He has collections of art with plus size women, he had a gf who was sick I believe and she was a plus size woman as well he showed reader his sculptures. I thought you wrote them and now I couldn’t find it.
This is the first time I heard about this, nope not me. I hope you find it (send it my way if you do).
Pairing: Gardener Harry x Teacher reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)
Word Count: 900
Warnings: A little smutty
✨masterlist✨ read the rest of my fanfics here
It had been weeks since Harry and Y/N had a proper fuck—as crudely as they would put it. Summer had only just begun, and between work, parenting, and everything else life threw at them, neither of them had been mentally in the mood for intimacy.
But now, there was laundry to catch up on.
You were tossing another pile of clothes into the washing machine when Harry walked in from behind, carrying a full hamper.
“I found more in Clover’s room,” he said, lifting it slightly.
“Damn, really?”
“Yep. We seriously have to teach her not to hide her clothes behind her bed.”
“Duly noted, sir,” you laughed, separating her shorts from her little jeans.
Just as you reached for another shirt, you felt Harry gently nudge your foot.
“Excuse me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey, Mumma,” he said with a grin. “Want to do some extracurricular activities?”
“And what exactly would those be, Dadda?” you teased, finishing your task. As you stood up, he stepped closer, making his intentions perfectly clear.
“Well… that kind of activity.”
You smiled despite yourself.
“That sounds lovely. However, we do have one very rambunctious toddler. How exactly do you plan on fitting that into our schedule?”
Instead of answering, Harry simply reached behind him and quietly closed the laundry room door.p
“Our love and joy is currently very busy entertaining the Queen of Fairy Land,” he said matter-of-factly. “Apparently, today’s tea party has been planned since last week.”
You bit your bottom lip as his hands settled on your hips. Instinctively, you glanced at your watch. Harry did the same.
“Alright…” you murmured. “We’ve got a little time to play hooky.”
“You know me, Mumma,” he replied with a smug smile. “I’ve got the magic touch… and I’m very efficient.”
Before you could roll your eyes, he effortlessly lifted you onto the dryer.
“Just shut up and fuck me, Harry.”
He happily obliged, closing the distance between you as your lips met, spreading your legs open to wrap them around his waist.
Meanwhile, Clover was hosting the most important tea party in Fairy Land.
Tiny cups were carefully arranged around her stuffed animals as she poured everyone sweet tea and served the biscuits Harry had prepared for the occasion.
“Here you go, Mister Sniffles,” she said proudly, slightly overfilling his cup. “I know how much you love tea.”
A little spilled onto the floor.
“Oops…” she frowned. “Looks like we’re out of tea.”
She grabbed the toy teapot and hurried toward the kitchen.
“Dadda? I need more tea!”
Silence.
“Dadda?”
The kitchen was empty.
“Where are you, Dadda? Are we playing hide-and-seek? I don’t like it when you hide!”
Just then, the washing machine chimed.
Curious, she wandered over to the laundry room and turned the doorknob.
Locked.
She tried again.
“Mumma? Dadda?”
Inside the laundry room, you and Harry froze, heavily breathing.
The two of you exchanged panicked looks while silently arguing over who should answer first.
"You say something, she's looking for you”, you whispered urgently to Harry.
“She called for you first,” he whispered back, refusing to take the blame.
You shot him an exasperated look before finally giving in.
“Clovebug,” you finally called, trying very hard to sound normal, “Mumma’s just busy doing the laundry. Do you need something?”
“I don’t have any more tea for my party. I need Dadda to make me some.”
“Can you give Mumma just one minute? I’ll help you in a second.”
Harry chose that exact moment to make you lose your train of thought, feeling him hit that spot in you as you gasped.
You slapped his sweaty chest.
“I’m going to kill you,” you whispered through gritted teeth, grabbing the back of his neck.
He only smirked, obviously riling you up. He loved it when you got a little angry at him.
Outside, Clover tugged on the doorknob again.
“Can you please open the door?”
“Clover,” you improvised quickly, “I can’t right now. There’s a really big cockroach in here, and Mumma has to deal with it first.”
“Really?”
The memory of the cockroach that had landed on her arm at the park still haunted her. It was fucked up, but that was the only excuse, so your daughter wouldn't be too suspicious.
“Really, baby. I’ll be done in just a minute.”
“Okay, Mumma! Be careful!”
Her little footsteps hurried away from the door.
The moment they disappeared, you let out a long breath.
“You are unbelievably naughty,” you muttered, your hand briefly wrapping around his throat.
“You really need to behave.”
Harry only smiled, entirely unrepentant.
“Can I please continue?” Harry asked, barely able to hide the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Yes, absolutely,” you whispered with a quiet laugh. “While our daughter is still distracted.”
You leaned in and captured his lips in a lingering kiss, leaving no room for another smug remark.
Pairing: Gardener Harry x Teacher reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)
Summary: Harry the gardener, his teacher wife, and their spirited daughter Clover discover that the sweetest moments of life grow slowly, like blossoms under the sun.
Word Count: 4.2K
Warnings: None. Fluff
✨masterlist✨ read the rest of my fanfics here
It was early in the morning Harry's spot in the bed was empty, missing the warm body next to her. Y/n knew full well that Harry had a myriad of chores and exercises he wanted to do first thing in the morning, so he had his full attention on his little family afterwards.
The sleep was knocked out of you when the bedroom door suddenly opened. Your sleepy little girl walked in like she owned the place and tugged on the side of your blanket.
"Mumma?" A big yawn followed, indicating that she had just woken up and had to find you.
"Good morning, my cloverbug," you greeted her softly,
"Mumma help me," she fisted the blanket to lift herself up. Helping her as she tried to climb into your bed, a little frustrated.
When she landed in the middle, her hair was going in all directions, pink nose and cheeks from the cold draft in the room. A replica of her Dadda sleeping in. She immediately cuddled up to you, closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.
"Did you sleep well?" you whispered into her ear.
"Yes, Mumma." Her answer was so soft that you immediately melted.
"Remember when I told you it's Dadda's Day today?" you asked, trying to wake her up.
"And that you made a card for him?" Her eyes fluttered open as she remembered the pretty card she had made for him yesterday.
"Is today?" she asked, her voice full of sleepy excitement.
You nodded, sitting up in bed. She immediately followed, pushing herself upright and placing her little hands on your cheeks.
Harry almost always made breakfast. She did plan to make breakfast in bed, but Harry was already gone. So, brunch at a new cafe that they've been curious to try was the new plan.
When Harry's sweaty figure came into the room. "Dadda!" Clover's excitement not contained ran to him to the edge of the bed. You and Harry reached for her, and he caught her before she toppled off.
"Be careful, Clover, you haven't grown your wings yet." kissing her cheek and tickled her sides. Making her laugh out loud.
"Dadda's Day!" she screamed. Harry let her sit on his hip, a smile on his face. "Thank you, my Cloverbug," Attacking her with many kisses and then blowing bubbles to her belly.
“Hmm.” Harry dramatically sniffed the air as Clover cuddled against him. “Smells like someone needs a diaper change.” Harry narrowed his eyes playfully.
"Definitely a stinkbug," He excessively sniffed her neck. Clover gasped so loudly you nearly laughed. “I not stink!”
"What, are you sure about that?" teasing her
“That you, Dadda!” She pointed an accusing finger at him. He did have grass stains on his shirt and sweat dripping from his brow.
“Me?” Harry placed a hand dramatically over his heart.
“Yup! You stinky.” Clover nodded firmly.
“That's very rude, young lady.” Before she could argue further, Harry suddenly scooped her up and lifted her high into the air.
“DAADDAAA!” Clover squealed instantly.
“Dadda will help you change.” He brought her down just enough to tickle her sides.
“NOOOO!” Tiny giggles erupted from her.
“Timeout. Dadda, let the baby breathe,” you warned Harry, trying not to laugh yourself.
Harry immediately stopped tickling her and waited while Clover caught her breath, still hiccuping through her giggles.
Once her laughter settled into little snorts, Harry narrowed his eyes at her.
“You sure you're not the stinky one?”
“Noooo!”
Harry poked her tummy.
“Who needs a diaper change?”
“Not me!”
He poked her neck this time, making her squeal.
“Who?”
“DADDA!”
“She keeps saying it's me.” Harry looked over at you in disbelief.
“Maybe she's onto something,” you teased.
“Traitor.”
Clover was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, kicking her little legs while Harry peppered her cheeks with kisses.
“Right,” Harry announced, throwing her over his shoulder. “Diaper first. Then Dadda will take a shower,"
Harry adjusted Clover over his shoulder, one hand securely holding her legs while the other rubbed her back.
The movement made Clover dissolve into another fit of giggles.
“Daddaaa!”
“That's me.”
Clover kicked her feet happily against his chest. Harry carried her down the hallway toward her room, listening to her endless stream of baby noise and chatter. When they reached her room, Harry nudged the door open with his foot. The morning sun spilt through the curtains, illuminating the toys scattered across the floor from yesterday's adventures.
“Right then,” Harry said. “Pit stop.”
“No pit stop.”
“Yes, pit stop.”
“Noooo.”
“Unfortunately, Miss Clover, your opinion has been noted and ignored. We need to change your diaper”
He carefully lowered her onto the changing table. The second her back touched the mat, she threw her head back laughing.
“You funny, Dadda.” Harry smiled despite himself.
“Yeah?”
“Yup.”
His heart squeezed immediately.
Children had a way of saying things so simply.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Well, I think you're pretty funny too, bug.”
Clover beamed at him, tiny hands reaching up to cup his cheeks.
Harry paused for a moment, letting her hold his face.
Just one of those ordinary little moments.
The kind he'd remember years from now.
“Love you, Dadda.”
The words were so casual, spoken as if they were the most obvious thing in the world.
Harry felt his chest ache.
“Love you too, Cloverbug.”
And judging by the grin that immediately spread across her face, that was exactly the answer she'd been hoping for.
You had popped your head into the Clovers' bedroom. After Harry had already finished cleaning Clover. He let her roam around her room, distracted by her building blocks.
"Go ahead and shower harry, wear something cute for brunch," Kissing his cheek. "I'll deal with Miss Clover's outfit," walking towards her closet, choosing a baby pink jean jacket, a puffy white linen top, and a pair of linen pants, reaching for a pair of sandals.
"I want these, Mumma," grabbing her red Converse shoes. You let her pick them up and sit in front of you. She agrees with the outfit but not the shoes. Y/n bit her lip to stop her laugh from coming out.
"You don't need to use the potty?" you asked her "No, Mumma," she said quickly, antsy to get ready to wear the shoes she picked out.
She raised her arms, letting you put on her puffy linen top. When her face popped through the neckline, you gasped dramatically. "Waah! There's my girl." Kissing her nose as she let out a squeal.
"Okay, now give me your leg," tickling her foot. She giggled and kicked her legs, letting you put on her pants.
"You like your outfit, Clover?" Clover immediately ran around her room, delighted with herself. Then stopped in front of her mirror, posing side to side.
“I so pretty,” She declares.
"I’m so pretty," you corrected gently.
"I'm so pretty," she repeated proudly.
When Harry appeared again, "Oh my pretty girl! We're matching babygirl," he wore a loose button up shirt with a cream jean jacket on. He threw her into the air and caught her. She hugged his neck, giggling.
"Mumma's turn to dress up," Harry then helped you stand to your feet. Clover settled on his hip. "I want to match with you both," you pout to him. "No one's stopping you, Mumma," Kissing your temple.
"Yay! Just help her wear her shoes." You walked straight to your bathroom to freshen up and change.
"Grab your shoes, Clover," letting her down, and Harry picked up her cute little socks. "Follow Dadda, Clover!" He led her into the living room and sat her on the couch.
"It's Dadda's Day!" Clover sang as she swung her feet while Harry slipped on her socks.
"Dadda?"
"Yes, Clover?"
"What's Dadda's Day?" Clover tilted her head.
Harry paused for a second before laughing.
Of course.
The two of you had completely forgotten to explain what Father's Day actually was.
He could already imagine you realizing your mistake halfway through getting dressed.
“Right,” Harry chuckled. “Mumma forgot that part, didn't she?”
Clover blinked at him.
“Forgot what?”
“What Dadda's Day means.”
“Oh.” She nodded as if she understood.
She absolutely did not.
Harry finished tying her shoes before patting her feet.
“Well, Dadda's Day is called Father's Day.”
“Fadder Day?”
“Father's Day.”
“Fadder Day.” Her little lisp betrayed her.
“Close enough,” Harry grinned.
Clover smiled proudly. Harry held both of her hands, kissing them.
“It's a special day where people celebrate their daddies.”
Clover's eyes widened.
“Celebrate?”
“Yeah. They say thank you and tell their daddies they love them.”
“Oh.” She thought about that very seriously.
“Like birthday?”
“A little bit.”
“Oh.” Another pause.
“Why celebrate daddies?”
Harry nearly laughed. The genuine confusion on her face was adorable.
“Well, because daddies help take care of their babies.”
“Like changing diapers?”
“Exactly like changing diapers.”
“Making milk?”
“I think that's mumma's job, but yes, I do warm your milk,” trying so hard not to laugh.
“Reading books?”
“Yep.”
“Snuggles?"
“Especially snuggles.” Harry kissed her cheek.
Clover wrapped her arms around his neck.
“So we celebrate because Dadda loves snuggling me?”
“That sounds like a pretty good reason.”
She hummed thoughtfully, “Good job, Dadda,” before patting his cheek.
“Thank you, bug.” Harry burst out laughing.
"I'm ready!" You walked in, purse and baby bag in tow. You were wearing a knee-length linen dress paired with one of Harry's brown leather jackets.
"Are we ready for brunch clover?" Harry grabs the baby bag from you, quietly admiring his girls as Clover holds onto your dress. pulling you to the front door.
"Yes, Mumma, let's go. We have to celebrate Dadda."
That made both you and Harry giggle as you headed outside.
Harry tossed the baby bag into the car before lifting Clover into her seat and buckling her in.
Harry immediately leaned down and kissed her.
"All good? Can I close the door now?"
"No."
"No?"
"One more kissy."
Harry wore the dopiest smile. His little girl was completely enamoured with him.
"Okay, one more, Clover. But we have to go. I know you're hungry for waffles."
Harry cupped her cheeks and covered her face in kisses while she squealed with delight.
"Mumma's turn."
You leaned in and kissed her rosy cheeks too.
"There."
You smiled.
"Now we're ready."
"Ready!" Clover cheered, throwing both hands into the air.
Harry closed the car door and walked around to the driver's side, unable to stop smiling.
Father's Day was already off to a pretty perfect start.
After parking the car, Clover’s shoelaces had come undone from all the tugging during the ride.
She took exaggerated, careful steps out of the car when you placed her down on the sidewalk, completely fascinated by the way the loose laces swayed and flopped with every movement. Each step made her pause, watch them swing, then step again, as if it were the most entertaining thing in the world.
Harry noticed immediately and crouched slightly beside her.
“Oi, look at you,” he chuckled. “Very stylish. Very dangerous shoelace situation we’ve got here.”
Clover looked down at her feet, then back at him with wide eyes.
“They dancing,” she said seriously.
“They are definitely not supposed to be dancing,” Harry replied, gently taking her hand so she wouldn’t trip.
“I remember tying those in knots,” he added, eyeing the loose laces suspiciously.
You came around from the other side of the car, noticing her focused little march.
“Someone’s enjoying the runway,” you teased.
Clover beamed, still lifting her feet a little too high.
“I walking, Mumma!”
“I can see that,” you smiled. “You look so strong.”
Harry reached down and carefully gathered her loose shoelaces.
“Right, Cloverbug. Emergency shoelace mission.”
“Nooo,” she protested softly, watching him.
“It’s okay,” he said, already tying them with practiced ease. “We just don’t want you tripping before waffles.”
“Waffles!” she perked up immediately.
“That’s the energy I was waiting for,” Harry laughed crouching down to her level.
Clover immediately reached up and patted Harry’s hair.
“Hi Dadda,” she whispered into his ear.
“Hi, baby,” Harry replied, absolutely giddy with her cuteness.
He finished tying her shoes, gave the laces a little tug to check them.
“Good job, Dadda,” she said, giving him two proud thumbs-up.
Harry smiled as he finished double-checking his knots.
“Sorted.”
Clover tested her shoes again with a proud stomp.
No more dancing laces.
She looked briefly betrayed.
Walking toward the small café, a blue banner swayed gently above the entrance. People chatted outside, and the smell of fresh pastries and coffee spilled out onto the sidewalk, drawing all of you in.
“Mumma, up please!” Clover said eagerly, reaching her arms up so she could see inside.
You lifted her, letting her cling to you as she immediately pointed at the pastry display through the glass.
A croissant caught her attention first, then her eyes widened when she spotted the waffles.
“I want that, Mumma,” she said, tapping the glass decisively.
Harry leaned in beside you, glancing over the menu posted.
“Let’s get a breakfast plate with waffles? Does that sound good to you, Clover?” you asked gently.
“Yeah,” she nodded quickly, already locked onto her target.
Harry stepped forward to the counter. “Alright—two breakfast plates, three waffles, two matcha lattes, and—”
He paused, glancing down at Clover.
“Clover love, orange juice or warm milk?”
She made a very serious thinking face, brows furrowed in concentration.
The cashier smiled, clearly entertained by her expression.
Clover thought between both drinks as if this were a life-changing decision.
Finally, she pointed with full confidence.
“Orange juice,” she declared proudly.
A little later, after everything was paid for and ordered, you spotted the couple outside finishing up and leaving their table. Without hesitation, you all moved to take the open spot, settling into the warm sunlight.
Clover, still standing on her chair since there was no booster seat, swayed slightly as she watched people pass by, fully entertained while waiting for food.
Then yn suddenly remembered something important.
“Cloverbug,” you said gently, leaning closer, “remember your gift for Dadda?”
“Oh yah!” she perked up immediately.
Luckily, you had brought it from her room.
You handed her the small card she had made the day before.
Clover turned toward Harry, holding it carefully with both hands.
“Here, Dadda!” she said proudly. “Thank you for the snuggles you give to me and Mumma.”
Harry’s expression softened instantly. He reached for the card carefully, it was precious to him.
“My sweet girl,” he said quietly, kissing her cheek, “Thank you for making me your Dadda.”
He opened the card slowly.
Inside were uneven scribbles, little heart stickers, and Clover’s rough, enthusiastic handwriting scattered across the page—messy, bright, and full of effort. Harry traced it with his thumb for a moment, smiling to himself as he took it all in.
“Best Dadda in the World!”
Harry’s smile widened as he read it aloud.
“Such a wonderful card, Clover. Did Mumma help you write this down?”
You laughed softly, rubbing her back as you steadied the chair so it wouldn’t wobble while she stood on it.
“Of course, baby,” you said warmly.
Clover leaned into your touch, still watching Harry expectantly as he continued looking at her card.
Before he could say anything else, a waiter arrived at your table carrying trays of food.
“Two breakfast plates and three waffles,” she said kindly as she set everything down. “I got a separate plate for you guys. Your drinks will come momentarily. Enjoy.”
The warm plates filled the table almost instantly, the smell of waffles and syrup making Clover perk up at once.
“Hold on, Clover,” you said gently, preparing her plate.
Harry then reached into the baby bag to grab her bib to wear around her.
You cut up a sausage, portioned her scrambled eggs, and sliced her waffle into easy pieces before sliding everything neatly together.
“Try to finish everything on your plate, Clover,” you added, handing her a fork.
“Okay, Mumma,” she said obediently.
She immediately picked up one of the sausage pieces you cut for her and took a proud little bite, munching away happily as if she had just been given the most important task in the world.
“Mmmm yum.” Harry expressed as he took a bite from his plate. Which clover copied Harry.
“Mmmm, yummy, Dadda.” The waiter came back with their drinks, placing Clover’s orange juice in front of her. Clover grabbed it with two hands, harry help hold it for her, seeing it was too big for her to hold.
She drank two sips of it. “Ahhh”
“Refreshing?”
She only hummed in agreement too busy eating her food.
“Mumma, I want that, please,” pointing to the cherry tomato on your plate.
“Sure, it’s a little sour.” cutting it in half for her to chew on. When she finished it, you quickly wiped her hands before she cleans it with her white shirt. You almost forgot that any white top she wears is bound to get stains on it.
Sipping on your matcha clover started eyeing it too. "You want a sip of my drink, clover?"
She puckers her lips and nods her head slowly.
Harry chuckles a little at her
"Clover, you can only have three sips, though. This is a grown-up drink."
That made her eyes sparkle because it was a grown-up's drink. You were about to give her your straw when she stopped you.
"No, I want Dadda's," pointing to his matcha.
"We have the same drink, Clover,"
"Dadda's drink looks better," staring at it.
"Okay, Cloverbug, get your sips in." When she did drink.
Clover immediately wrapped both hands around the cup. Harry supported the cup for her.
One sip.
Then another.
Then a third.
"Can I have more than three sips, Dadda?"
"Sorry, Clover, when you're older, you can get your own cup."
That made Clover furrow her brow immediately.
"That's not fair," She sat herself down on her chair and crossed her arms dramatically to show her displeasure.
"Too much of this is bad for little girls your size,"
Clearly weighing her options.
“But I'm big.”
“No, you're little.”
“BIG.”
Harry leaned forward slightly.
“Do you want the warm milk instead of orange juice?”
“No.” Clover shook her head stubbornly. “I wan— I want the green drink you have.”
A big pout immediately appeared on her face, and within seconds, the waterworks started.
“I want the green drink!” she cried, reaching toward Harry's cup but he beat her to it and calmly moved the drink out of reach.
You and Harry exchanged a quick glance but stayed calm, letting her work through her frustration without giving too much of a reaction. You both knew that if you fed into it, Clover would only become more upset.
“I want the green drink!” she repeated between sobs.
After a moment, she turned toward you with teary eyes, her little chest rising and falling as she tried to regulate her breathing.
“Mumma—AAAHH!” She reached over and pinched your arm.
You gently moved her hand away.
Harry's expression softened, but his voice remained firm.
“Clover, I know you're frustrated, bug, but you shouldn't hurt Mumma or anyone else.”
Clover's lip trembled.
“You can be upset or cry,” Harry continued, “but we use gentle hands.”
She looked down at her lap, still sniffling, her tiny fists clenched with leftover frustration.
When she finally started to calm down, her cries softened into hiccups and sniffles.
“Take a sip of water, Clover,” you said gently, sliding her cup toward her.
After a moment of hesitation, she gave in and took a small sip.
You brushed her hair back and wiped away the tears and snot from her face with a napkin.
Clover's breathing gradually evened out, though her eyes were still watery from the good cry she'd had.
“Clover,” you said softly, waiting until she looked at you, “I know you want Dadda's drink, but it's not good for you to drink too much of it.”
She sniffled.
“I know it feels unfair.”
Harry reached over and rubbed her back.
“But Mumma and Dadda's job is to keep you safe and healthy,” he added gently. “Sometimes that means saying no, even when you really want something.”
Clover looked down at her water cup, tracing her finger around the rim, her fingertip dipping into it as she played absentmindedly while she listened.
Harry waited a moment before speaking.
“Can you give Mumma a kiss and say you're sorry?”
Clover's lip wobbled again.
She slowly slid off her chair and shuffled over to you.
“Sorry, Mumma,” she mumbled, climbing onto your lap.
You opened your arms immediately.
She pressed a wet little kiss to your cheek and buried her face against your shoulder.
“Thank you for apologizing, baby,” you said, rubbing circles on her back. “Mumma loves you.”
“Love you, Mumma,” Clover whispered, her voice still thick from crying.
You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile forming on your face looking at Harry as you gently swayed Clover's little body against yours. Her cheeks were still flushed from crying, her eyelashes damp with tears, but she had melted completely into your embrace.
“Want to finish your food?” you asked gently.
“No more,” she said, pouting, her face still a little red from crying.
Harry and you exchanged a quiet look, letting her settle without pressure.
“How about you help Mumma finish my plate?” you offered softly. “We can share the waffle you wanted to eat.”
Clover hesitated for a moment, then gave a shy little nod.
She opened her mouth, already ready to be fed, as if the idea of sharing made everything better again.
“Want a little egg?” you asked softly, scooping a bit up with your spoon.
Clover sniffled, gave a small nod and you offered her the bite carefully.
“Okay,” you added gently, breaking off a piece of waffle and handing it to her. “How about you hold onto the waffle and take small bites?”
Clover wrapped both hands around the piece like it was something very important.
“Okay, Mumma,” she murmured wiping her runny nose.
Harry watched the two of you quietly, his expression softening as the tension from a moment ago faded.
She was just a baby learning how to feel everything all at once. Just a little girl holding a waffle twice the size of her hands, trying her best.
“Yeah…” he murmured more to himself than anyone. “She’s just a baby, isn’t she? Our Baby.” stroking her cheek.
After finishing your plates, Clover’s eyes were drooping. Her head kept dipping as she fought sleep, little nods slipping in between slow blinks.
“I see you, sleepy Miss Clover,” you murmured softly.
She gave a tiny hum and nuzzled her face into your neck, warm and heavy with tiredness.
“Why don’t you snuggle with Dadda?” you whispered. “I know he gives the best ones.”
That was enough.
Clover slowly lifted her head, carefully climbed down from your lap, and padded over to Harry.
Harry immediately opened his arms, inviting her in.
She settled against his chest, and he began gently bouncing in place, just enough movement to soothe her while rubbing her back in slow circles.
“Let’s go and walk,” Harry said softly.
He adjusted her gently against his chest, one hand supporting her back while the other steadied her legs as she curled into him.
Clover gave a tiny sleepy sound, already half-asleep in his hold. You stood up, gathering your things and slinging the baby bag over your shoulder. Harry glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his mouth.
The sunlight was gentler now, warm but soft against Clover’s sleepy face. She shifted slightly in Harry’s arms, one hand loosely gripping the edge of his shirt.
He bounced her once more, steady and rhythmic, like second nature.
“There you go, bug,” he murmured. “Just rest.”
Clover’s eyes finally gave in.
Her breathing slowed, small and even, as she melted fully into him.
You watched for a moment longer, then reached out to brush a stray strand of hair off her forehead.
At the corner near the café was a small flower stand—simple, a bit unassuming, but full of bright, fresh blooms. You paused there, scanning the buckets until something caught your eye.
A bouquet of flowers. Nothing overly grand. Just warm, thoughtful, a little messy in the most intentional way.
“You don’t have to,” he said quietly, shifting Clover slightly higher in his arms.
“I know,” you replied, already picking them up.
You paid quickly, adjusting the ribbon around the stems, then turned back to him.
Harry looked mildly helpless now, like he didn’t know what to do with himself other than smile.
“For you,” you said simply. “Happy Dadda’s Day,” you said softly.
He just looked at the flowers… then at you… then down at Clover asleep on his chest.
His expression softened in a way that made everything feel quieter around you.
“You already gave me the best part,” he said finally, voice low.
You smiled. “Still counts.”
Harry let out a small breath of laughter, shaking his head as he adjusted Clover carefully so he could hold you both without dropping anything.
Harry looked at you, then back at her, already smiling in that quiet, overwhelmed way he always got when it hit him just how much he had.
“Best one I’ve ever had,” he replied.
And with that, the three of you walked back into the sunlit street—one half asleep, one pretending not to be emotional about it, and one just quietly happy to be right in the middle of both.
fucked that you can’t fix other people especially when you really care about them. Oh so im just supposed to be there for you while you suffer. like a useless cunt gargoyle
you don’t realize how important lunch is until you’re wandering around thinking about how unloveable and untalented and uniquely cursed you are and then it’s 4pm and you finally eat lunch and you go Oh. oh right.
lot of people commenting on this post like "who eats lunch at 4pm that's a terrible time to eat lunch" yes. that is the point. 4pm lunch is inadvisable. 4pm lunch is not the ideal. 4pm lunch makes the mind demons real.
Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size, whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)
Summary: Dating Harry Styles accidentally turns shy designer Y/N into the internet’s favourite new girl after fans fall in love with her awkward charm, trinket-covered bags, and passionate restaurant reviews.
Word Count: 1.7K
Warnings: None. Fluff.
✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there
...
Being in the spotlight was something Y/N had spent most of her life avoiding.
She liked quiet success.
The kind earned in conference rooms during polished presentations with carefully arranged mockups and mood boards spread across a table. The kind where people listened because of her ideas, not because they wanted a glimpse into her personal life. She thrived in spaces where creativity mattered more than visibility — where she could disappear behind good design, good work, and a strong concept.
Fame had never interested her.
Which was ironic considering she was now somehow attached to one of the most recognisable men in the world.
The first headline appeared less than twelve hours after she was photographed with Harry Styles outside a bookstore in London.
WHO IS HARRY STYLES’ MYSTERY GIRL?
The wording alone made her want to crawl into bed and stay there permanently.
By the second day, paparazzi photos had multiplied. Her face was suddenly everywhere — blurry screenshots, cropped photos from fan accounts, side-by-side comparisons dissecting what she wore, what bag she carried, whether Harry looked “serious” around her.
She hated how strange it felt to see herself spoken about like fiction.
As if she’d stopped being a real person the moment the internet realised Harry had been seen holding her hand.
The comments came in waves.
Some cruel.
Some invasive.
Most unexpectedly… kind.
That was the part she hadn’t prepared for.
Because yes, people found her portfolio website within hours — which was horrifying in itself — but instead of mocking it, they actually looked through her work. Fans reposted her typography projects and packaging concepts like they were art exhibits. Old interviews from university design features resurfaced online. Her abandoned art account suddenly gained thousands of followers overnight.
Thankfully, her Instagram had already been private long before any of this happened.
“Thank god you’re paranoid,” her best friend Sam had texted.
Y/N had stared at the message while curled on Harry’s couch and muttered, “For once, my anxiety wins.”
Harry laughed from the kitchen. “What won?”
“My need to keep everything private.”
“That’s healthy, not paranoid.”
“You say that because your entire life’s been public since you were sixteen.”
He walked into the living room holding two mugs of tea, sleeves pushed up his forearms, hair messy from sleep. Even dressed casually, he still looked unfairly beautiful in a way Y/N would probably never get used to.
Harry handed her a mug before sitting beside her. “You doing okay?”
The question was soft. Genuine.
That was another thing she hadn’t expected about him — how observant he was. Harry noticed every subtle shift in her mood before she even understood it herself.
“I think so,” she admitted quietly. “It’s just weird.”
“Weird how?”
She hesitated before turning her phone toward him.
On the screen was a TikTok edit of her walking beside him from two nights ago. Slow-motion clips. Romantic music. Zoom-ins on the tiny trinkets hanging from her bag.
Harry blinked once. “Well. They’re quick.”
“Someone commented that I smell like books and iced coffee.’”
A grin immediately spread across his face. “That’s adorable.”
“Thank god they think I'm a librarian.”
“Yeah, an attractive librarian.”
She groaned dramatically, dropping her head against the sofa cushion. “I hate the internet.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I specifically hate strangers psychoanalysing me based on my keychains.”
Harry laughed softly. “To be fair, your bag does look like a travelling memory box.”
She glanced down at it, sitting near the coffee table. A tiny teddy bear charm hung from one side beside an omamori she’d bought years ago. Another trinket was a handmade ceramic from a local artist she loved. Every piece meant something.
“I know, I create sound pollution wherever I go,” she muttered.
“You’re charming,” he corrected.
That word stayed with her longer than it should have.
Because Harry said things so casually sometimes, completely unaware of the effect they had on her.
Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing.
—
The next evening, Harry made dinner reservations.
Nothing overly exclusive or flashy — just a small restaurant tucked away from the busier streets, warm and understated with amber lighting and quiet music humming through the walls.
Y/N appreciated that about him, too.
Despite his fame, Harry seemed to crave normalcy whenever he could have it.
She wore a simple linen dress and brought her usual bag, the charms softly clinking together every time she moved. Harry noticed immediately when they stepped out of the car.
“You always sound like wind chimes,” he said.
She looked down at the bag. “That’s slightly insulting.”
“I meant it affectionately.”
“Hmm.”
Harry smiled while opening the restaurant door for her. “You’re very suspicious of compliments.”
“That’s because you flirt like it’s a professional skill.”
“It is a professional skill.”
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop smiling as she walked inside.
Dinner was easy in the way conversations rarely are with new people.
There were no awkward silences, no pressure to impress each other. Harry asked questions and actually listened to the answers. Y/N talked more than she normally did, animated whenever the topic shifted toward design, food, travel, or the strange little observations she collected about the world.
And Harry watched her as every word mattered.
The ceviche arrived halfway through dinner.
One bite in, Y/N nearly stopped functioning.
“Oh, my god.”
Harry looked up immediately. “That good?”
“This is ridiculous.” She leaned forward for another bite before even fully finishing the first. “The acidity is perfect.”
Harry laughed quietly. “You sound offended.”
“I am offended. Why is this so good?”
He tasted it himself before raising his brows. “Okay, wow.”
“And the fried green tomatoes?” she continued passionately. “That crunch is insane.”
“You’re genuinely emotional right now.”
“You don’t understand the balance happening here.”
Harry stared at her for a second before smiling into his glass.
“What?” she asked suspiciously.
“You’re cute when you care about things.”
Her entire face warmed instantly.
“That was smooth,” she muttered.
“Wasn’t trying to be.”
Which somehow made it worse.
—
By the time dinner ended, the city outside had grown quieter.
They walked back toward Harry’s car side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally. Y/N had just started rambling about how difficult it was to find restaurants that balanced acidity properly when a startled voice interrupted them.
“Oh my god— Harry?”
A small group standing near the sidewalk froze completely upon recognising him.
Y/N instinctively paused beside him.
The fans looked shocked more than anything, clearly not expecting to casually run into Harry Styles outside a restaurant on a random Thursday night.
Harry immediately smiled warmly. “Hi.”
The tension eased almost instantly.
One girl greeted him excitedly before noticing Y/N beside him. “Oh! Hi!”
Y/N gave a shy wave and soft smile. “Hello.”
Another fan hesitated before lifting her phone slightly. “Could we maybe get a photo?”
Harry shook his head gently. “Sorry, guys, no photos tonight.” His voice stayed kind. “Really nice meeting you though.”
To Y/N’s surprise, they understood immediately.
“That’s okay!” one of them said quickly. “We don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering us,” Harry assured.
Y/N relaxed slightly then, enough to shake a few hands when they introduced themselves. The interaction felt oddly normal after that — less celebrity encounter, more accidental conversation between strangers.
“We just had dinner,” Harry mentioned casually.
“Oh! Was it good?” someone asked.
Y/N lit up immediately.
“The ceviche was incredible,” she said without hesitation. “Like genuinely one of the best things I’ve had in ages.”
Harry visibly fought a smile beside her.
“The acidity and sweetness were balanced perfectly,” she continued seriously. “And they added fried green tomatoes for texture, which sounds strange but works so well.”
The fans listened attentively, as if she were delivering important news.
“And it’s not even overpriced,” she added. “The portion sizes are actually great too.”
Harry laughed softly. “She’s been talking about that ceviche for the last hour.”
“Because it deserves recognition.”
One of the fans burst into laughter. “Wait, you’re adorable.”
Y/N immediately looked embarrassed. “Oh no.”
The entire interaction lasted maybe five minutes before they said goodbye and finally headed toward the car.
Once inside, Y/N let out a long breath.
“That wasn’t terrifying.”
Harry glanced at her while starting the engine. “Told you most people are lovely.”
She looked out the window, where the fans were now visibly freaking out amongst themselves.
“I think they cared more about the ceviche than seeing you.”
“As they should.”
—
The videos hit the internet the next morning.
Small shaky clips filmed under warm streetlights. Harry smiled politely. Y/N passionately explaining ceviche like a food critic defending her thesis.
And somehow, the internet became obsessed.
Tweets spread first.
Harry was lovely, but the girl he was with was adorable 😭 She recommended ceviche like her life depended on it.
No, because she genuinely influenced me to go there.
“The acidity and sweetness were balanced perfectly” WHO TALKS LIKE THIS I LOVE HER.
Then TikTok found the clips.
Edits appeared almost immediately. Slow-motion zoom-ins of Y/N smiling shyly. Compilations of Harry staring at her while she talked. Comment sections filled with people calling her “the ceviche girl.”
The funniest part?
People actually started going to the restaurant because of her.
The place became fully booked for the next three nights. Fans posted videos trying the ceviche themselves.
Update: she was right.
I fear Harry Styles’ girlfriend changed my life through seafood.
The fried green tomatoes are insane, actually.
Y/N stared at her phone in horror while Harry laughed beside her so hard he nearly spilt his tea.
“This is humiliating.”
“This is iconic,” Harry corrected.
“They’re calling me the ceviche girl.”
“That’s honestly a brilliant title. For your love of seafood, love.”
She dropped her face into her hands while Harry continued grinning at her openly.
But beneath the embarrassment, something softer settled quietly in her chest.
Because for the first time since being thrown into Harry’s world, the attention didn’t feel entirely cruel.
People weren’t reducing her to a scandal or spectacle.
They saw her as a person. Slightly awkward. Passionate. Genuine.
A girl who got more excited over well-balanced ceviche than celebrity culture.
And somehow, that version of herself surviving online felt a little less frightening.
...
I have a rotation of bags. The one in the photo collage is what I brought during my business trip. <3
