#harry styles x ill reader

[s-brant]

Over Again

As a socialite in Manhattan, Y/N had the perfect life— wealthy parents, a tight-knit group of friends, and talent as a world renowned figure skater. But, everything changed when she decided to end her life after witnessing a traumatic event. Someone pulled her back when she tried to jump in front of an oncoming train. Newly released from inpatient psychiatric care, Y/N gets more than she bargained for when the man who saved her life reappears. (or the fake dating figure skating au)

22k (18+)

Warnings: strong language, suggestive themes, mental illness, depictions of obsessive compulsive disorder, described suicide attempt, described murder, described anxiety-induced starvation, and substance use.

-

June was the month of suffering.

The open, fresh air—well, as fresh as it could be in the city that never sleeps nor picks up garbage—was a shock to her system. Two weeks passed since she last got the chance to be outside and breathe fresh air, and it was even more overwhelming than she imagined it to be.

The facility is two miles from her apartment building, so she didn't let them call her a cab on her way out of the door. No, she walked out onto the street with pap bags filled with her personal belongings hugged to her chest and refused to look back. That proud bravery quickly dwindled the closer she came to her apartment, and now...

She stands frozen at the front steps of her building.

No one prepared her for how hard this would be. Not truly. Simply being able told, "The adjustment back to being home may cause some breakthrough anxiety," was not enough. Even as she forces her feet to take one step after next to the front door, she doesn't know if she'll ever be ready.

Familiar faces pass in her periphery with polite smiles pasted onto them on the trip up to the apartment that has been paid for by her parents in the time since she ditched her job a month ago. A month. Such a short span of time yet an eternity in the prison of her fractured mind. June was the month of suffering. July, however, has yet to reveal the full extent of its plans for her.

The unlocked door to the two-bedroom apartment slams shut with a kick of her foot against it, and she is instantly hit with a heart-clenching wave of pain at the sight of the home that is little more than a tomb to her in June's aftermath.

"In and out," she reminds herself.

All she needs to do is drop her clothes off on her bed, change, and leave to go to the pharmacy in a matter of moments. Knowing how brief her time here is might be the only thing keeping her from turning right back around and going back to the facility she just left.

So, she makes it quick.

She doesn't even bother with putting away the old clothes her father brought to her. She cannot resist the urge to toss them in the trash.

Ruined, ruined, everything is ruined—The wastefulness brings a grimace to her face, but it's not like she can help it. What happened in here, in these rooms, and these clothes...wastefulness be damned, she'll do what she wants.

Her hair, still damp from her earlier shower, is quickly swept from her face in a clip to keep the summer heat from consuming her when she leaves for the local pharmacy whose address she gave the doctor for her prescriptions. She paused for a second before the mirror to consider her appearance, but what she finds is almost unrecognizable.

Her skin has paled in the weeks she spent in purgatory, starving and half-wild with madness as well as sleep deprivation. It leaves the dark circles beneath her eyes far more visible to the naked eye. Those lovely, once full cheeks of hers have gone gaunt, likely from the weight loss, and she can hardly stand to look at herself long enough to dot some concealer under her eyes and turn to go to her dresser.

These clothes, she thinks as she dresses in a simple pair of navy shorts and a white eyelet top, are good. They're safe, not ruined by her wearing them in the four weeks she suffered like so many of her pajamas and other comfortable clothes are.

With that, she slips into her sneakers, picks up her purse, grabs her sunglasses, and flees the rotting tomb before she can allow it to spread its deadly touch to her again.

-

CVS is surprisingly packed with people for a Friday morning when most of the population is either working or sleeping off the night shift.

She walks between the aisles, picking up random objects and setting them back down on her way to the pharmacy in the back of the shop. The small cart cradled to her side is filled with all manners of things—little trinkets, stuffed animals, face masks, and snacks that she doesn't need but desperately wants to provide herself with a much-needed dopamine rush.

She secretly prays for a long line, but once she turns the corner at the last aisle, she is only met with disappointment and anxiety.

No line.

Her chest sinks with a sigh as she steps up to the counter and unloads her cart. The worker behind the register doesn't greet her, he simply asks, "Are you here to pick up any medications?"

"Um, yeah," she says. "Full name is Y/N L/N. Date of birth-"

There's a lull of quiet during which she stands and watches him type her information into the computer. The sound of his fingertips tapping the keys is all there is to fill the silence back here.

"So, it looks like you have Prozac, forty milligrams, Seroquel, fifty milligrams, and Vistaril, fifty milligrams. Is that correct?"

Shame curls in the pit of her belly like a wriggling eel. Her eyes turn down to watch the carpeted floor, not wanting to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, sounds right."

"Copay is five bucks," he says in answer.

The small black Prada bag slips from her shoulder and into her waiting hands to allow her to search for her wallet inside, but the sight of her right wrist halts her in her tracks. There it is, that blue and white plastic bracelet with her name, birthday, and further personal information inscribed on it.

Oh.

She forgot to take it off. After having it stuck to her wrist for two weeks, she didn't notice its presence upon exiting the threshold of the facility that became her home and salvation. It's ripped off and stuffed into the pocket of her shorts in a matter of seconds.

"You said five bucks?" she asks, hoping to distract the employee from her fumbling embarrassment.

He hums, which she takes as a yes and holds out a crinkled five-dollar bill plucked from her wallet.

"Here you go."

As soon as the rest of her items are ringed up separately, Evan, whose name she noted from the tag on his shirt, scurries off to the back presumably to search for the various medications waiting for her. With him out of view, she reaches into her right pocket for the wristband she stashed there a moment ago and tosses it at the trash bin behind the counter. Except, right when she throws it, Evan is coming back around the corner with three paper bags stapled together with side effect pamphlets. The plastic wristband hits the dead center of his chest. His eyes follow from where it rolls onto the ground up to the woman who threw it at him.

All she can do is shut her eyes for a long two seconds as if not seeing his perplexed expression will somehow remedy the conflict and stop her from flinging herself from the top of the nearest tall building.

Her eyes flutter open, and she says softly, "I was aiming for your trash can."

He deadpans at her.

"Sure."

Taking the medications from him and putting them in the bag with the rest of her purchases, she offers a quick, "Sorry," and practically runs out of the store.

The people walking the streets of the Upper East Side of Manhattan are, mercifully, uninterested with her frantic face and swiftly moving feet. They're far too engrossed in their conversations, walks, and work phone calls to spare any energy for a frazzled young woman such as herself.

She makes it all of ten steps before her phone's shrill ringtone interrupts the symphony of passing cars, mindless chatter, and chirping birds. With one hand, she unzipped her purse and fishes the device out, but, of course, it slips out of her hand and clatters on the sidewalk before she can answer it. Her head tilts back to face the vibrant cerulean sky, decorated sparsely with clouds, and a heavy sigh falls from her.

There's a second or so where she considers letting it go to voicemail and finding herself a nice, tall building, but the name on the screen indicating who's calling is too alluring to ignore.

She crouches down and picks it up, sliding her thumb across to accept the call.

"Ella," she says by way of greeting. "How'd you know I got out already?"

The sound of her best friend's giggle makes the smile on her face a little less fake. Ella is the only one of her friends that she told about where she went for the past two weeks, if not because she trusts her with her life, then because she would've gone insane without a friend to call amidst the boredom.

Y/N spent a half hour on the phone with her once she was on the better half of her recovery and stifled a giggle when one of the nurses scolded her for staying on the line for more than ten minutes. Needless to say, she didn't hang up. She just pressed her back closer into the wall of the alcove where the phones were mounted to beige cinderblock walls quite reminiscent of a college dorm.

"Your dad texted me," Ella says as though it's obvious.

This causes Y/N to take a second of pause.

"Wait," she says, brows furrowing even though her friend cannot see her expression shift. "Did he put you up to something?"

The silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes.

"Ella!"

She can practically see the bright smile splitting open Ella's face by the specific sound of her deep belly laughter, finding it much harder to fake annoyance in the wake of it. This is always how it's been—Ella and her dad conspiring together to find a way to brighten her darkest nights.

"We may or may not be going to a male strip club with Anna and Rosemary to celebrate your freedom tonight," Ella whispers as if she fears her best friend jumping through the phone to chase her around her apartment.

She asks, incredulous, "My dad told you to take me to a strip club?"

The following gasp almost makes her face crack into a smile much like the one that crossed Ella's face seconds ago. God, she missed her so much. Just the sound of her voice erases the bad June memories that haunted her on the way out of her building.

"Absolutely not." There's the sound of her husky barking for attention in the background. "He just told me to host a girl's night to welcome you back to society." To answer the question Y/N is sure to ask, she says, "Don't worry, they don't know. I told them you went on a long vacation."

"Long vacation, my ass"—this draws out another boisterous laugh—"more like I went fucking crazy."

"Eh, they don't need to know that."

The trees planted in the small, iron-wrought cages along the sidewalk are lush with hues of green, in full vivid bloom in the mid-July climate, and she can't help but notice how the heat makes her throat close up. Fall, spring, and winter are far more preferable in her opinion. All that the sweltering summer heat does is keep her trapped and nervous, looking over both shoulders in search of the phantom hands that hold her hostage. Then, there's the new, open wound that was June, and it provided her the ultimate negative association with her least favorite season.

On one hand, going out with her friends sounds inviting. On the other, she has to be back on the ice training with Coach Godnev and Chris, her partner, in two days. Perhaps it wouldn't be the best idea to spend what little time she has partying.

"Okay, I'll go," she says, "on one condition."

"And what is that?"

"You let me sleep over tonight."

-

Needless to say, Ella has managed to drag Y/N, complaining and yawning due to her nighttime dose of meds, out to meet their other friends at a hole-in-the-wall male strip club. It's ten at night, and she pulls at the short hem of the dress her best friend picked out on her behalf in hopes to potentially "entice a hot stripper for the night." All that was given in response was a scoff.

The club opened thirty minutes ago, so, as far as the crowd filing into the front door goes, it's rather small. Which, she supposes, could also be a result of it not being a popular strip club. Part of her wonders how Ella even found this place.

To its credit, it's quite clean, the staff has been friendly, and the virgin jalapeño "margarita" clasped in her hand wasn't too pricey. Not that it matters much to her. Having lived her whole life in this city, even staying behind when her parents retired to Charleston, South Carolina to live a quieter life without their freak daughter, she is accustomed to outrageous prices for cocktails. Although, now she doesn't have to worry about it seeing that she cannot drink on her meds. Some people at the facility said they do so anyway, but her stubborn brain takes anything it's given as a hard rule, so she ordered herself a virgin cocktail instead.

Fluorescent purple lighting bathes her hot pink mini dress in its bright tones, leading everyone's eyes down the length of her legs.

That's another thing about her—she has never had issues with getting men to hit on her. It's not as if she ever truly invited them to do so. She, much to her parents and Ella's dismay, has never had nor wanted a boyfriend. Sure, she's made out with and done a little over-the-clothes touching with men before, but it has never crossed that line into sex or a real relationship.

A high-pitched squeal rips her from her thoughts to notice Rosemary running at her, full speed, with her arms out while Anna trails behind her, smiling. Her bottle blonde hair bounces effortlessly around her gorgeous face on the rush over, and Y/N is nearly tackled with the force of her embrace once Rosemary reaches her.

"I was gone for two weeks," she exclaims through a giggle, "not two years!"

Rosemary, most affectionately called "Rosie" by Y/N, pulls back and cups her face between her hands, plump lips pulling back to reveal her straight teeth in a wide grin that could warm the coldest people to the bone. The cool texture of the gold rings decorating her fingers is a stark contrast to the summer heat that chased them inside.

"And it was still too long! You know me, I'm a clinger. You can't leave me for that long."

Rosie stands at a height significantly shorter than most and stands up on her tip-toes to press a kiss to her cheek. It leaves behind a lipstick mark that she doesn't dare wipe away within her bubbly friend's line of sight. No one would ever dare to shun a lovely woman like Rosie's public display of affection, especially not her.

A long arm curls around the shorter woman's shoulders and tugs with a gentle force that brings Rosie's full cheek to Y/N's breast, and her willing captive makes no attempts to escape from the loving half-embrace.

She reassured her, a lump forming in the base of her throat, "I'll make sure my next vacation is just a week long."

This earns a hum of approval from Rosie, who slips out of her arm at the insistence of a pair of prying hands belonging to none other than Anna Romanus. And where Rosie and Ella come from new money of their parents' own hard work and making, Anna, much like Y/N, comes from a family whose fortune runs a century deep. But with Y/N's ancestors having founded an upscale department store chain, Anna's were oil tycoons, so her wealth is practically bottomless when compared to that of her friends. She fits the title "socialite" far more than the rest of them, and she knows it too.

She takes pride in her parents making lists in Forbes magazine and breaking barriers in businesses long owned and gate-kept by upper-class white men and, more recently in history, women.

Y/N's smile is radiant as she extends her arms to beckon her other friend into a hug, saying, "Come on, bring it in."

Ever the portrait of class and poise, Anna doesn't tackle her in an embrace as Rosie had, but she would not judge their friend for it. That is something she adores about her—her open, kind heart that doesn't pass judgment on others the way many others with her class and social status would. Her lips, coated in lip gloss rather than lipstick, kiss one cheek at a time as they wrap their arms around one another. A lingering sigh of her mother's French heritage, perhaps.

"I missed you so much," Anna pulls back to look her in the eyes as she says it.

"And I missed you. Remind me to call more the next time I leave the country."

This causes Anna, Ella, and Rosie's matching grins to widen, and the latter of the three takes her hands in her well-manicured one to drag her in the direction of their reserved table with their friends walking by their sides.

Rosie squeezes her hand and says, "I need to see pictures! I wanna help you plan your photo dump."

Her stomach drops into the pit of her abdomen.

Fuck. How had she not thought that out? Who goes on a vacation, even a solo one, and doesn't take a single picture of where they went? Her thoughts begin to race as she searches for something, anything, to say as an explanation for why she didn't take a million photographs as she always does no matter where she goes. They're going to know. They're going to put two and two together and figure out about her illness, about what happened two weeks ago when she—

"It was a spa retreat, actually," Ella swoops in to offer an explanation with unwavering confidence. "They take your phones and computers. It's supposed to connect you with nature and increase productivity or some shit like that."

The weight of the entire world is lifted off of her shoulders at this. Thank God for Ella. Who knows where she'd be without her quick wit and warm disposition? All she can do is nod along with a stupid smile on her face and pray that it's convincing enough to fool the people who know her best in this world. It feels slightly wrong, like not telling them about such an important event in her life is somehow a great betrayal they may never forgive her for should they discover it.

Once again, shame threatens to eat her alive.

"Come on," she says, jerking her head in the direction of the reserved table. "Let's go have fun, ladies."

That's all that needs to be said for Rosie to continue dragging her along, weaving in between the tables near the front of the small stage. The girls urge her to take the seat directly in front of where the men will dance once the lights dim down more and the show begins. Once they're seated, the three of them catch Y/N up on everything she missed on her "no technology allowed retreat", most of it consisting of petty family drama and someone who went to their private school that announced their pregnancy online. And, of course, she does her best to listen and nod along as though any of it matters to her, but she can't bring herself to truly care.

Before what happened, she loved going out and gossiping over drinks with her friends, but, now, she feels removed from it. Despite hearing and responding to everything being said, she could quite easily fade away from existence and disappear into the night without putting up much of a fight. But what else can she do except sit and allow it to occur? It's not like she can do anything to help it at this point. Her intake appointment for outpatient care is scheduled for two days from now, so she'll be at the mercy of her swaying moods until then.

She does pick up on the tail end of Rosie's story, though.

"...and I told him I didn't do that kind of thing. Like, I'm not a side piece, and if you're gonna disrespect me by assuming I'd be down with that, then fuck you," she says, shaking her head and raising her drink to take a sip. "Why the fuck would I take part in you cheating on your girlfriend? Who raised these men?"

Y/N offers a quiet, "That's fucked up," at the same time Ella says, "Not their dads," which makes Anna laugh so hard, she needs to stop drinking her Cosmopolitan.

"Oh, you're right. They were technically raised by mommy who thinks they're a perfect little angel who can do no wrong, but they're actually raised by the nanny who tries their best to teach him to be a good person, but all the money and privilege gets to his head and makes him think he can do whatever the fuck he wants—"

Rosie's rant on pampered, upper-class men is abruptly cut short by the music that turns louder from the DJ booth across the room. The lights dim so the only lighting is that of the fluorescent purple LEDs, and there's a chorus of high-pitched cheers from every table in the building, including the table they sit at. For the sake of entertaining it and pretending to be having a good time, Y/N cheers alongside them enough to convince them before settling back down into her seat and taking a swig of her virgin cocktail to soothe her as though it's an alcoholic one.

Another thing about the past month that has sucked: her sex drive is non-existent. Coming to a place like this or even watching pornography does nothing for her. Her mind is far too concerned with its various fixations and anxieties to allow her to feel something as trivial as lust right now, but, for tonight, she doesn't mind pretending for the sake of making Ella feel better about her current state of mind.

Behind the curtains hiding backstage from the patrons of the club, she sees the movement of multiple feet scuffling on the floor, then, a second later, a man comes through. For a split-second, the cheering and clapping from her friends almost makes her smile as he walks down the stage to where they're seated, but she can't. Her face goes still, frozen in time, when she sees him up close.

She'd remember that face anywhere.

The curve of his nose, his pink lips, and sea-foam irises that were burned into her memory when she first saw them two weeks ago. Not just his face either but the tattoos; patchwork style down the length of his bare arm, the arm that reached out and—

Those familiar eyes meet her gaze, and she can sense the recognition in them. Oh, God, he remembers. He remembers, and it's going to ruin the whole night if she doesn't

"Bathroom," she blurts out and stands from the table with a shy, placating smile to keep Ella from following her.

Somehow, she doesn't know why, it works. It works well enough that Ella gives her a single nod and allows her to turn on her heels to walk off toward the restrooms that, conveniently, are placed beside the front entrance to the club. She pretends to be the calm, confident woman she once was before her little death, meeting the eyes of everyone who looks her way, until she turns around the corner and allows herself to break down. The expression on her face falls the second she is out of view of her friends, and she doesn't bother to answer the bouncer who asks her what's wrong on her way out. At this point, everything else around her has collapsed and turned to debris that clutters her mind to an extent that prevents her from thinking clearly.

The fresh air hardly even helps because it's too hot. It's stifling. It wraps around her throat and puts pressure on her windpipe, sucking the air from her lungs until she's sobbing and heaving in front of the innocent passerby's that stare in horror at her freakish display. One hand braces against the brick wall, not even caring in the midst of her panic that it is very likely dirty, to keep herself from slumping over into it as her balance begins to waver.

Anxiety is as much a physical thing as it is an emotional one for her. Her chest muscles tighten up involuntarily and feign the feeling of not being able to breathe, her body flushes with heat, and her stomach churns with discomfort. It opens its bloody maw and tries to swallow her down, bones and all, but she has refused to let it. Other than the one time she tried to surrender to it, she has been steadfast in maintaining her resistance to it and will do anything to escape. She'll claw her way out until she has fangs and talons suitable enough for the job, and it won't destroy the feeling, but it surely will abate it.

She hasn't a clue how many minutes have passed by the time she begins to breathe deeply, purposefully making them last three seconds on each inhale, pause, and exhale as she'd been taught at the facility. Whether it has been ten minutes or ten hours, she isn't sure, but it had to have been some decent length of time because of whose hand reaches out to tap her shoulder.

Y/N whirls around, stumbling a little, and finds the man on stage looking at her through furrowed brows and concerned eyes. Fully clothed.

"I—"he falters on what to say at first, then offers, "M'sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, and I know I'm probably the last person you wanna see right now. I just wanted to know if you're okay. We have water inside. I can take you in through the back so your friends don't see if that's what you're worried about."

Her head is spinning. She doesn't even know what may come out of her mouth, but all she knows is that he's right.

He is the last person she wants to see right now. Every glance she makes at him brings memories rushing back; the sound of the train's whistle, the toes of her sneakers hanging off the edge of the platform, people too far away to stop her screaming in shock, and, at the last second, a pair of strong arms wrapping around her waist and hauling her to safety. The body to which those strong arms belonged was so warm against the frail frame of her body that often shivered from the extent of her malnourishment. And only once the train passed had he loosened his grip and allowed her to turn to see him, to take in the unforgettable face and tattoos that identified him tonight.

Right when most people would've screamed or swung at him for ruining everything, she just stared. She started with wide, watering eyes until her knees gave out beneath her and sent her body forward into his to seek shelter. His hand cradled the back of her head, rested on his shoulder, as she sobbed hard enough that both of their bodies shook from the sheer force of it. And he didn't only allow it to happen, he made an effort to soothe her. The hand holding her head to his chest stroked her hair as he murmured soft words she can no longer remember.

There's a lightning strike of anger within her sparked by the sight of his face, but her words don't match her feelings. The need for safety, for the same security she found in his arms two weeks ago, outweighs her will to be stubborn by far. Humans are programmed for self-preservation above all, so when she sees him standing there, she can't do anything but nod. He holds his hand out to her the second she does.

And she takes it.

-

The man who saved her life guided her around the back of the strip club with his hand in hers. Harry—he told her his name—asked before he took her hand, but the contact was still as jarring to her as it would've been had he not. The reason he was holding her hand, he explained, was to get her into the employee area without security stopping her, assuming she was following him inside. Which, he said matter of factly, had happened to workers here before.

At first, when she allowed him to lead her down the dark alley between the two buildings, she almost began to question her judgment based on her mom and dad's teachings for her to be vigilant and always prepared for men to take advantage of her, but, she figured, he saved her life. If he wanted her dead or worse, he probably would've done it already. It was proven by the time that he opened the back door to the club and held it open for her that he wasn't, in fact, an axe murderer.

Nobody stared, either. When he walked by hand in hand with her, none of the other men getting ready or resting between dances looked at her tear-stained face or make faces at the sound of her panting breaths. They simply kept doing what they were doing without paying them any mind, providing them with privacy as he led her to a more secluded part of the room.

It's an alcove with a comfortable lounging chair fitting perfectly into it, and she sighs in relief as she sinks onto the cushion, taking the bottle of cold water he procured from thin air in the short time it took her to sit down.

"Take small sips and keep breathing. The cold helps a lot, I've found," he says as he pulls a stool up in front of her chair and settles down onto it. Those unforgettable eyes remain fixed on her, watching the rise and fall of her chest even out. Watching her take a tentative sip from the chilled breath plastic bottle that soothes her nerves to hold, let alone drink from. "Good. Just like that."

She doesn't know if it's because of what happened the last time they were together or not, but the sound of his voice relaxes her tense body. It crawls along the muscles of her chest and wills them to stop contracting, and they do. They listen to his request, providing her with a sense of relief now that the worst of the panic has been overcome. Still, Y/N slips her bag off her shoulder and finds the pill she dropped inside, just in case, to take with the water given to her.

There's a beat of silence, then—

"Um. Y'can stay here as long as it takes to feel better. I have to get back out there in ten minutes, but I can leave you alone now if you'd like."

Despite how badly she wishes to respond with words that will chase him to the other side of the room, her mouth will not cooperate. She cannot bring herself to banish him when he's being so kind. Not to mention, even though her mind urges her to isolate, his presence alone is calming, so it couldn't hurt to keep him around for a little while.

"It's okay," she says, "You can stay. Thank you..."

From his perspective, she doesn't look much different than she had two weeks ago. Her hair frames her face with a beauty that verges on being otherworldly. A weeping angel, he thinks to himself before it can be helped. It's the same thought he had when she sobbed in his arms on the subway platform, wondering how the poor girl ended up in a situation like that. Right now, she hugs her knees to her chest like she had once hugged him, trembling like a leaf in the wind and using him as her lifeline. Her sole remaining connection to the universe she once thought had forsaken her.

The sound of her voice speaking again so soon stuns him to silence.

"I can't believe it's you." She looks at him without balking from his gaze this time, head tilted to the side a little, and he can feel himself surrendering to her in response to the commanding presence that emanates from her. What he doesn't know is that she too is shocked by her honesty. "I don't even know how to thank you for it. Sometimes, I don't even want to." Her head shakes at this as if the action will clear the negative thought she voiced. "Sorry, that was dark. You're not my therapist. You don't need to hear these things."

He's already shaking his head.

"No," Harry says, eyes softened with a sympathy she interprets as pity, "I mean, I almost saw you do it already. Hearing about it doesn't bother me." A pause. "And y'dont need to thank me."

To this, she scoffs.

"You literally saved my life, how could I not thank you for that?"

His response stuns her to silence this time.

"And y'said yourself that didn't want me to, so you don't have to thank me. I don't need you to. If you wanna hate me for it, that's fine too."

Y/N shrugs.

"Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I haven't really decided yet, but I guess I must wanna be here if I haven't done anything like that again," she says softly, then glances up from the floor to look at him.

"Good."

There's a strange, built-in sense of honesty and vulnerability already established between them due to the nature of how they met, and neither of them knows how to feel about it. There's a level of comfortability that shouldn't exist between total strangers, yet here they are, bonded together by the trauma she inflicted on the both of them, and he can't seem to blame her for any of it. Nor can she blame him for deciding to stop her from jumping. It's not something you blame or thank someone for, it's a moral responsibility.

The sounds of the other men talking around the corner bring her out of the haze the eye contact with Harry has put her under, and she realizes, after everything they've said to one another, that she never formally introduced herself to him.

Her arm extends to offer him her hand.

"Y/N L/N."

For the first time since they've met, his lips curl into a smile at her. His hand is warm in hers when he takes it in his larger one, fingers wrapping around the side of her palm to give it a shake.

"Harry Styles."

Their hands go up and down even as she tilts her head in curiosity. It hasn't even clicked with her that he's succeeded in distracting her from the overwhelming panic she initially felt when seeing his face. No, she's far too caught up in analyzing him to pick up on it.

"Interesting name," she says, then corrects the hypocrisy before he has the chance to do so himself. "Although, I don't know any other Y/N's. The same could be said about me."

Still shaking her hand, he says dryly, "We could start a club."

"We could, couldn't we?"

At last, their hands drop back to their laps, and they're stuck this way for another few seconds before snapping out of it again.

He stands from the stool and picks it up in one hand to move it to the side, out of the way of her path should she get up to leave in his absence. Her eyes track every movement. They pick up everything from the subtle flexing of his biceps when he moves the chair to the way he fiddles with his rings once his hands are free again. His foot taps to the beat of the song thumping in the front of the club too, and she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind before she can stop herself.

"Do I make you nervous, Harry?"

Based on the expression he makes alone, she guesses he didn't expect her to notice. Or, at least, he hadn't expected her to comment on it even if she had. His brows are raised enough to bring a crease to the middle of his forehead as he looks down at where she sits, perched on the chair with one leg now crossed over the other. That stare lingers a touch too long on her legs, but she pretends not to notice. That is something she will let him get away with. That is something she doesn't want to get into because she will lose the upper hand if she does.

He laughs nervously, shaking his head. A tendril of wavy brunette hair falls onto his forehead with the jerking movement.

"No, you don't."

A lie. They both know it. He knows she knows he knows it.

Y/N then stands from the chair, smiling at him, and squares her shoulders as if in preparation. Their height difference when she stands shifts the power dynamic that lived between them while he stood and she sat. He's one inch taller, so with her standing, neither of them truly has the advantage, and with how she's put him on the spot, he can't deny how intimidating she is. It's intriguing, to say the least.

"Well, good," she says. "Cause I need you to walk me back to my table and pretend to be into me so my friends don't suspect anything." In response his brows raising after he'd just relaxed his face, she explains in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "Only one of them knows."

The bold request catches him off guard, so much so that he cannot do anything other than nod and lead the way to an entrance that isn't the one to the stage.

As they pass through the door, he takes her hand in his not only to guide her but to play into the facade she wants to put on for her friends. It causes her stomach to flutter with butterflies even though she knows it's all pretend. She's human, after all, and he's an amalgamation of every lovely trait and feature human beings can have. She knows, due to her celibate and secluded nature, that her friends will be too excited to see past their careful performance.

He feels her hand squeeze harder with every step they take toward her table and turns his head to say to her, "Relax. Just go with it."

And, somehow, that works.

The walk to where her friends sit is shorter than she expected, so when he steps her a few feet away, she's too overwhelmed to do anything but follow his lead.

Harry drops her hand to cup her flushed face in his, and her breath hitches in her throat at the cold feeling of his rings digging into her cheeks. Their faces are close enough that she can feel the heat of his exhales, their noses almost brushing as she instinctively leans into the warm, solid body in front of her, and he's kissing her before she can get a single thought in.

The music goes in time with the thunderous beat of her heart that is pushed into a swift pace the second their lips meet. His mouth tastes of mint, gin, and citrus, likely from the drink he was indulging in backstage before he left to check on her. Beyond the pleasant flavor coating his lips, as well as the tip of the tongue that pokes out to prod teasingly at her full bottom lip, it's one hell of a kiss. The only other time she's been kissed was with a boy from school, and she didn't quite like that, so Harry is the defacto winner without having to try.

Y/N chases his mouth without meaning to when he pulls away, and he is quick to offer another peck to her lips before pulling back from her entirely, holding her at a distance with a casual strength that pleases her more than she'd like to admit. Her eyes open to see his face a few inches from hers, and he smiles. It's a sensual smile. The kind she's never gotten from a man and taken pleasure in rather than resented until this very moment. Looking into his eyes, she doesn't even remember that her friends are sitting at the table nearby. Her blood echoes the feeling of the kiss with each pump of her heart that brings it flowing around her body. She feels it everywhere.

His thumb brushes over her lips in a calculated move that aims to show a certain degree of intimacy to their audience, and he says, "I'll see you Wednesday."

She nods along like the dumb, hopeless fool she is and tries not to regret asking him to do this for her. It seemed a great idea backstage, but with a kiss like that and a face like his, her friends will never stop hounding her about the handsome stripper who broke through her previously impenetrable heart in less than fifteen minutes.

Blind to the three women gawking at them behind her back, she waves him goodbye and says, oblivious to the fact that she has now lost the upper hand, "See you Wednesday."

-

"Tell me!"

Y/N groaned at the sound of Rosie's voice, begging her for what must've been the thousandth time, to relay every detail of what happened between her and Harry.

Shortly after she sat down, they all pounced on her and asked millions of questions that she said they could talk about later. Well, later arrived and she still didn't know what to say. How would she explain to them how she went to the "bathroom" and ended up going backstage with him somehow? The story made no sense as she thought it over, but they bought it nonetheless. She forced herself to wield the confidence she felt in every other aspect of her life to spin a lie that wouldn't unravel under the slightest bit of pressure.

"I was coming out of the bathroom and almost got run over by him," she said. "He helped me up and let me sit backstage for a few minutes 'cause he felt so bad about it."

Anna leaned forward with her pillow clutched to her chest, anticipating some great rom-com moment. And she gave her one.

"We hit it off, and he asked me out on Wednesday." It's said that lies are most believable when there's a hint of truth to them, so she tested that theory out. "I definitely didn't see that kiss coming but I'm not complaining about it."

The thing is, she hadn't expected the kiss at all, nor was she feeling the urge to complain about it.

But one thing was clear to her as she tried to fall asleep beside her friends in Ella's bed: she needed to keep up the facade she created with Harry to have a cover for why she isn't working or skating full time, yet has a busy schedule every week. The intensive outpatient program she had her virtual appointment with this morning is going to be three days a week from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon, so she needs an excuse, and a new boy toy is the perfect one to distract them.

With her therapy program beginning soon, she needed to get to work at securing her alibi quickly. It needed to be believable, so she made a list of things that needed to be done in her head, and the first thing on that list was to find Harry again.

After leaving Ella's place, she took an Uber and arrived at the front entrance to the strip club. Not wanting to be caught she walked around through the small alleyway between buildings and found the back door he escorted her in through the other night, and, now, she's summoning the nerve to knock.

The wind blows her hair gently from her shoulders, a cool kiss brushing against her skin to combat the summer heat that closes in on her. It provides the push she needs to raise her clenched fist and pound on the metal door hard enough to alert anyone inside of her presence. Her hand keeps banging on it for another twenty seconds before it swings open into the hallway to reveal a tall, muscular man with a scowl worn on his face.

His arm props the heavy door open as he asks, "Who are you?"

She smiles.

"Y/N. I'm just here to talk to Harry. We have a date that I need to reschedule."

The door slams in her face.

Her feet automatically shuffle back a few steps at the sound of it hitting the door frame. It's a booming sound that seems to echo despite the fact that she's presently outside, camped out waiting for a man she hardly knows in the alley behind his place of work. And though she has no right to feel such a way, disappointment floods her at the rejection. Why was she being so stupid? Of course, none of them would let her in. It's not as if they know her, and even if they do recognize her face from last night, they don't know whether Harry wants to see her again or not.

The sun beats down on her from overhead, and, while she turns to walk away, she pulls her hair away from where it crowds her face and ties it up with the scrunchie on her wrist. Much better. At least it won't stick to the back of her neck with sweat like this.

She makes it all of five steps before the sound of the heavy door opening halts her in her tracks, and when she hears his voice coming from behind her back, her lips twitch into a slight smile.

"Don said y'were asking for me?"

When she turns to look at him, she is struck by memories from that day on the train platform. His arms around her, his body pressed to hers, the sound of him yelling at her to stop before he intervened—she shakes her head as if it'll help dispel the sinking feeling that comes along with her recollection of that day. Instead of making this internal distress apparent to him, she plasters a polite smile on her face and walks back to the opened door he holds open with one tattooed arm.

She steps up as close as she can without invading his personal space, head nodding in confirmation of what he was told by his friend/coworker/whatever. Stray strands of hair dangle down to frame her face. In the sunlight, he notices how her hair seems to glow.

Her hand holds tighter onto the strap of her purse for support as if it'll do anything to aid her in navigating this odd situation.

"Yeah, I was. I wanted to talk to you about something..."

Harry's brows furrow just enough to form a crease in his forehead between them.

It takes a lot longer than she expected to work up the courage to purpose her plan to him. Not only is it an audacious idea, but he also intimidates her a little bit now. She'd never tell him that or allow him to pick up on it, but there's no denying that the man who saw her at her lowest point and deemed her worth saving is someone she wants to like her. How could she not? Even if he hadn't been the one to save her, she imagines he'd be overwhelming all the same. It's something about him—the persistent eye contact, the easy-going flow of his voice from one word to the next, or the type of work he does. It requires a confidence and thick skin very few people have.

She avoids his gaze for a second by looking down the alleyway, then to her feet, then back up at his face. Rip the bandaid off, she thinks. That's the only way to have these potentially awkward, embarrassing conversations. When she locks eyes with him again, she forces herself not to look away again.

"I wanted to thank you, actually," she says. "You really helped me last night, and I couldn't have made it believable without you. My friends won't shut up about it, so good job."

The confusion on his face regarding what she came here to discuss melts away at her appreciative words, but when he opens his mouth to tell her there is no need to thank him, she strikes again and sends him reeling.

"That's why I came here to ask you to come out with us on Thursday night. As my date."

Immediately, his head begins to shake as he tries to comprehend what's happening. He steps out into the alley completely, leaving the door to slam into its frame and offer them privacy from his coworkers listening inside. The metal is scorching hot against his back. Enough so that he can feel his skin tingle from the burning sensation before he steps away from it.

"Listen," he starts, eyes softened in a way they only are when delivering bad news. "It's not that y'aren't gorgeous, and cool from what I've seen of you, but I didn't mean the date thing literally. I have someone." Upon seeing her raised brows, assuming he cheated when he kissed her, he corrects the miscommunication. "Well, no, not someone someone. Just someone I like, and it's complicated, so, no I can't."

At first, she simply stares at him.

Here he is rambling and being apologetic while trying to let her down easily, and she stares as though she can see right through his body. What's going through her mind should be evident to him based on her face alone, but he's too wrapped up in his thoughts about Lola now that she's been mentioned to notice. Ever since he can remember from the time he met her to now, Harry has pined for her. It never mattered that she was always in another relationship with a guy completely different from him. No, all that mattered was that he loved her, and, sometimes, in the rare instances when she was single, she would do or say something that'd give him hope that she'd reciprocate that love.

Almost every girlfriend he had became jealous of her, not because he did anything to betray them, but because of how he looked at her whenever they were in the same room. And, just like clockwork, they would break up with him and cite their reason as his obvious infatuation with his friend. It was that infuriating type of repressed feeling that was strong enough for his girlfriends to sense it but not to outright accuse him of any wrongdoing. So, he hasn't had a girlfriend in months because of this. Every woman who has tried has failed to rip his attention away from her, and he has begun to suspect that he'll never feel this way about anyone but her.

Breaking him out of his daze, Y/N scoffs and makes a strange expression at his attempted rejection.

Her arms cross over her chest, head tilting to the side, and she asks, incredulous, "You think I wanna date you? I hardly even know you."

All of it—his thoughts of Lola, the memories of the day he saved Y/N, and the awkwardness felt in the wake of having to reject a beautiful woman for no reason other than his stupid, persistent crush on his friend—stops. He can't help but offer her the same strange, confused expression she gave him now that he's had a few seconds to process what she said. Harry is silent, looking at her like he'll be magically granted the ability to read her thoughts if he does it long enough, then speaks.

"Y'just asked me out..."

To this, she just shakes her head.

"No, I didn't ask you out for real," she says, almost sounding offended that he'd think she's desperate enough to track him down and beg him to give her a chance. "I don't date. It makes things too messy."

"Messy?"

"Yes, messy. Someone always loves the other person more, and it creates this weird power dynamic thing that keeps the other person trapped. Not to mention, all relationships end. Who would willingly put themselves through that just for the person to leave them in the end?"

He cannot keep himself from showing how appalled he is by her take on love and relationships. Being a romantic at heart who has believed he is destined for the one woman he's never been able to stop thinking about, he refuses to allow this to pass without debate. He simply shakes his head at her the way she had at him and leans back against the brick building, careful to avoid the metal door.

"That's bullshit," he counters. "All love ends 'cause we end. Some people stay together until they die. And, even if they don't, that doesn't mean the whole thing is pointless. It's better to have felt it at all."

She lets her head fall to avoid his gaze, and when she lifts it again, there's an amused smile spread across her face. It enrages him. To have his thoughts on love treated like they're childish or naive, like she somehow knows better than him despite never opening her heart to the experience. Those arms crossed over her breasts, clad in a thin, cropped shirt for the sake of keeping cool in the heat. Her hands smooth down the shorts she wears the second they leave her chest.

"Well, okay, we can just disagree, but let's get back to the point. I don't wanna date you because I don't date and you don't wanna date me because you have feelings for someone else. That's great!"

He stares at her with an utter loss for words.

"M'so confused..."

Her head tips back with a frustrated groan, and she steps up close to him in order to grab him by the shoulders to force him to keep his eyes on her.

"I want you to pretend to be with me."

Before he can open his mouth to ask why, she begins speaking again.

"Only one of my friends knows what happened to me this summer," Y/N, her voice quieting when she speaks of the incident that caused their paths to cross. "None of them but her know, and now I have to attend this therapy thing three days a week when I'm not busy training, so I need an alibi. Last night, you kissing me stopped all their questions about where I've been lately, so we should keep up the act."

Part of him wants to retort something snarky at her for just assuming he'll be willing to drop everything to be her fake boyfriend whenever she goes out with her friends or goes to therapy, but the kinder side of him hesitates. This woman is the same person he held on the train platform, who refused to let go of him when the paramedics arrived to the point where he had to tag along in the ambulance upon their request to keep their patient as calm as possible. In the end, the petty urge to talk back wins.

"That arrangement sounds perfect for you, but what do I get out of this? Some of us have to work for a living, and I have actual important things to do other than being at your beck and call. Just 'caused we kissed doesn't mean y'have to get attached. Find someone else."

His harsh words strike her where it hurts, but, more importantly, at the current moment, they set her blood on fire with fury. How dare he insinuate that she has grown attached to him, like she's a pathetic little girl with a crush, from what happened last night? The ego of this man needs to be studied by psychologists and neuroscientists.

She drops her hands from his shoulders and takes a few steps back to create a comfortable distance between them.

"First of all, I'm not attached to you. I know you're a romantic, but one kiss didn't make me fall in love with you. Secondly, I wasn't going to offer you nothing in return." Her eyes flicker back and forth between the entrance to the alleyway and him as though she is plotting her escape already. "If you have to work every day, I can pay your bills in exchange for your time. I have money, I won't pretend that isn't true, so I can cover your expenses while we keep up the ruse, okay? It's an economic proposition, not a relationship."

Right when she expects him to calm down, he surges ahead at full throttle, looking like he's ready to punch a wall if he were the type of man to do that. His cheeks are flushed with color as he shakes his head and turns to knock on the back door to be let in again. Before any of his coworkers can answer, he meets her gaze and speaks the words that damn her to find another excuse, another lie to push onto her friends to prevent them from knowing the truth of what happened this summer.

"I'm not a product. You can't buy me, Y/N, and I'm honestly offended that y'think you can." The door swings open behind him, and he walks through, only stopping to say over his shoulder, "Don't come back."

-

The brutal rejection she faced when trying to enact her fake boyfriend plan with Harry left her in a sour mood all night. No matter how many times Ella tried to cheer her up, she wouldn't budge. It took her best friend putting on her favorite movie, bribing her with snacks, and offering to let her rant about it to bring her down a few notches. Eventually, after talking it out and spending the night laughing alongside her best friend, what Harry said to her held little power over her mood. Her friend had been quick to say that he had a point, which he did, that she wouldn't deny, but she couldn't shake the feeling of unease.

This morning, however, she didn't think of him much at all.

Executing her typical morning routine before a day of practicing on the ice helped soothe her nerves, making her return to it feel less like an event. It didn't feel the same as it used to, however, and, as she made herself protein pancakes for breakfast and listened to Ella rambling about her latest workplace drama, she began to fear that it never would.

This strange headspace she was pushed into by what she witnessed in early June feels permanent. It feels like her life could be divided into two distinct categories—before and after. It has been difficult as of late to grapple with the knowledge that nothing may be the same again. Grieving for an old version of yourself is nasty work, and it's lonely as well. Sometimes, she feels like she's standing alone on the edge of the universe, teetering there to see how far she can push it before she goes over.

The rink's low temperature soothes her now as she bends over to lace up her skates. Her throat can't help but tighten up at the familiar feeling, and she feels like an imposter as she goes through the motions of what her life used to be. Coach Godnev is already on the ice waiting for her with Chris standing with his back to Y/N, gesturing with his hands as he speaks, likely regaling the two-week break they've been forced to take due to her hospitalization.

She stands up and enters the rink through the propped-open door.

It feels strange. That's a fact she cannot deny as she floats across the ice in the direction of Godnev and Chris as though she never left in the first place. Outwardly, no one would ever think she took time off, but, on the inside, she could never let herself forget it. That voice in the back of her head, the one that is always nagging and scolding over the smallest things, whispers to her that she isn't worth it. That if she's not better now, she never will be. But, she tries to ignore that voice. It's a little bit easier knowing that she has hours of focused exercise to do as well as people to talk to. Where most people pry and ask questions, Godnev allows her space to breathe.

Being a stoic, strict ex-figure skater from the era of the Soviet Union, she tends to keep personal questions and details of their lives out of things. She focuses with tunnel vision on the work, on the artistry, and Y/N has never been more thankful for that than right now. The only time she ever showed emotion toward her was when she was sick during a competition as a child, sniffling and suppressing coughs every other moment. When asked if she was okay, Y/N nodded and refused to let the illness get her down, and she could tell how proud her coach was of her resilience.

That is why Y/N doesn't worry about what the older woman may ask. While her parents, therapists, and Ella may treat her like a delicate glass vase that will break under the slightest pressure, Talia Godnev has unwavering faith in her ability to overcome whatever obstacle is thrown her way. And that feels good. It feels nice to know that someone in this world has faith in her. God knows she doesn't.

"Sorry," she says, projecting her voice at where her two collaborators stand without her. The cool air blows against her face, yet it doesn't disrupt the hair she meticulously styled into a bun with gel and pins. The last thing she needs is to have her hair come out when she's doing jumps. "I didn't mean to be late. I missed the subway and had to wait like ten minutes."

Coach is the first to greet her. The smile on her face is wide enough to create wrinkles around the edges of her eyes, and she opens her arms in an invitation to hug her—a rare display of affection on her part—so Y/N wastes no time skating into her embrace. Thin but toned arms curl around her shoulders, squeezing tight for a good five seconds before releasing as a silent way of telling her to pull away.

"I'm so glad you're back," Godnev says.

They both pull back from each other enough to maintain their typical areas of personal space, and it isn't until she detached herself from her that she realizes she skated right past Chris without greeting him.

"Oh shit, Chris, I'm so sorry," she says, turning around, "I blew right past you—"

Her heart drops into her stomach at the sight of the man standing before her.

"Oh."

The word leaves her before she can stop it. Her body freezes, her chest tightening involuntarily in panic and her shoulders tensing up.

The first thought she has is that this shouldn't be happening.

It feels inherently wrong, like whoever controls her universe has played a sick joke on her by taking a person from one, separate area of her life and dropping him off into another. Why would she have expected to see Harry here instead of Chris? Chris has been her partner for years. They were paired when she was eighteen, so why would someone else be here in his place? And, more importantly, why would the man who stopped her from jumping in front of a train be his replacement?

Despite this internal debate waging war within her, she is stunned to silence and cannot do anything but stare at him in awe. At least, she thinks with some semblance of relief, he looks equally as shocked as she is.

Godnev, likely sensing the energy shift but not wanting to acknowledge it, puts a hand on the small of her back to comfort her, rubbing up and down like her mother once did to her as a child when she became nervous about competing in front of people. It's the type of thing only she could get away with doing to Y/N. Not because she holds any special power over her but because she has always been a secondary mother figure to her since they first began working together.

While she and Harry stare at one another in abject horror, Godnev decides to explain what everyone other than Y/N must already be aware of.

"I wanted to tell you before today, but Chris thought it would be best to let you settle in once you got home..."

Y/N's arms, raised with goosebumps both from the chill and situation at hand beneath the sleeves of her Lululemon jacket, cross over her chest. It takes less than two seconds for her to look back and forth between the two people in betrayal. Because, to her, it is betrayal. Even though her coach couldn't possibly have brought Harry here on purpose, the reminder of what happened to her, what she's always trying to flee from, hits her like a punch to the gut.

"What is this?"

There's a certain look in Harry's eyes when their gazes meet, almost as though he's trying to communicate with her through it somehow, but she is quick to look away.

She asks again, this time more demanding, "What the hell is this? Where's Chris?"

The mere mentioning of his name seems to rattle Godnev, and she has to take a breath to steady herself before answering either of her questions. That's the odd thing about having a breakdown and going into inpatient psychiatric care. To her, the world stopped spinning. Everything became confined to the limited space she was allowed to traverse in the hospital, and, without her phone, she had no connection to the outside world. But the world didn't stop spinning for everyone. Just her.

Those deep brown eyes soften at the mixture of emotions smeared across Y/N's face, and she says, gently, "Chris is back with his family in Norway. His mother is sick, and he said he didn't want to waste his time here...he wanted to be the one to take care of her."

They both pause to carefully monitor her face for a reaction.

"So what does that have to do with him?" she asks. The news about Chris saddens her beyond belief, but it's impossible to ingest the information without questioning Harry's presence. Deep down, a part of her recognizes where this is headed, but she doesn't want to believe it. Not truly. "I"—she shakes her head—"And, I mean, how am I gonna compete without a partner?"

The looks Godnev and Harry respectively give her confirm the suspicion that was lying in wait in the back of her mind like an asp readying to strike.

No.

"Harry's partner quit a few weeks ago for personal reasons, similarly to Chris, so when his coach reached out to me for advice, I offered to make him your new partner," she says. A second later she goes on, "He's very good. You know that I wouldn't waste your talent on someone who isn't."

"We have to compete in a month to qualify for nationals...I'm sorry, but this is crazy. After all these years, all this work and trust built with Chris, how am I supposed to just let it go?"

And although Chris would have quit anyway to care for his mother, she blames herself. If she hadn't taken time off to recuperate from what happened to her, from what she saw June 1st that sent her down this road, perhaps none of this would've happened. No amount of logic can stop her from blaming the chaos of last month for this as well as everything else that has gone wrong since then.

"I know it's a big adjustment, but I've already begun training with him. You two just need to practice and work through the routine." Before she has the opportunity to interject, Godnev pushes further. "Now, let's go. We have a lot of work to do."

-

Having to pretend that she's never met Harry before today's practice has been unbelievably difficult. It's not like their coach would pry, but she'd likely make a comment on it if they seemed familiar with one another already, so they came to a wordless agreement to pretend they'd never met when formally introduced to one another. They shook hands and exchanged polite smiles like they hadn't kissed days before. And now that they're working together, they haven't said a word to one another. Not with Godnev lingering within earshot.

Thankfully for Y/N, their coach had been training with Harry for a few weeks, and he already knew the basic choreography of the free dance she practiced with Chris all year. So, they ran through the program countless times, excluding the lifts, to get a rough idea of what skating together would be like. The song she chose for it, (I've Had) The Time Of My Life by Bill Medley, has been played enough times with the paired movements of the dance that it didn't take long for her body to snap back into it, give or take a few mistakes.

It's a passionate dance. A romance based on one of her favorite movies.

Due to the nature of being someone's partner, she and Chris spent all of their time together, and even though he hated Dirty Dancing, he gladly let her make it the inspiration for their free dance for the sake of seeing her excitement. With him, the dance was fun and carefree. Although they didn't have feelings for one another, they were able to lose themselves in the routine and feign undying love for the duration of it.

Oftentimes, they'd have a difficult time not smiling ear to ear at one another and giggling throughout the whole thing, especially the part at the end where they end with their lips a hairs-width apart to symbolize that happy ending of the lovers they portrayed. The thought of them kissing had been hysterical, and it took Godnev scolding them countless times for them to take it seriously.

With Harry, it couldn't be more different.

For one, they hardly know each other and have never skated together, so the first few times they ran through the routine were fumbling and awkward in a way she hasn't been since she was a teenager. Then, of course, there's the history between them. Having to pretend to fall in love with the man who fought with her in the alley behind a strip club the day before is an impossible feat.

No amount of pretending can hide that they are uncomfortable touching each other and almost kissing at the end of the program, but they try because they have no other option. Both of their partners quit on them around the same time. The fact that their coaches managed to pair two people of equal training and talent was a miracle in and of itself. Neither of them wants to be the first to complain about what would otherwise be a gift from the universe if it weren't them specifically.

In the middle of the song, Godnev pauses the music, and they're both sent reeling, trying to stop turning for long enough to look to the older woman for guidance as to what went wrong. When Y/N meets eyes with her, she already knows what she is going to say.

"You will have to get more comfortable together." She shakes her head. "Take a five-minute break. You dance with her like you're dancing with your grandmother."

That's all she leaves them with before she spins around and skates toward the propped-open door to the rink, disappearing somewhere to get a quick drink of water or snack before the break is done. With her gone, neither of them says a word.

It's funny. The entire time they practiced up until now, she wished their coach would leave for a moment to allow her to say everything she's imagined since yesterday, but now that they're alone, they're terrified to break the silence. They feel that if they do, they'll be forced to confront reality and accept that this is real. That their lives will be intrinsically entwined as a result of this partnership from here going forward.

In the end, it's he who ends up speaking first.

"I didn't know it was you," he says after a moment.

It almost sounds like he's going to continue after that by the deep breath he takes at the end, but he doesn't. Instead, she is left to find the words on her own and find a way to make this the slightest bit professional despite, well, everything. When it comes out, it ends up sounding the polar opposite.

"Neither did I. I mean, I thought you were a stripper who moonlights as an undercover suicide prevention worker," she says with a shrug, "so I never expected to see you here."

To her surprise, despite the bad start they got off on yesterday with her offering to pay him to be her fake boyfriend, he laughs, and it's a beautiful sound. It's a sound that makes her lips twitch up with the urge to smile, which is far too rare for her as of late.

He stands a foot away, his hand on his hip, and doesn't balk from her stare as he ceases his laughter to continue speaking.

"I strip to pay rent and for this." A knowing look is cast in her direction before he turns to the direction of the door Godnev left out of. "It's an expensive sport, and not all of us are living off daddy's money."

She scoffs.

Soon, she's approaching him from behind and following him off the ice to where his water bottle is stashed alongside his tote bag, watching as he takes a sip. From his peripheral vision, he can see her sizing him up like prey, and he wonders briefly if anyone has ever spoken to her like this before. It wouldn't surprise him if they hadn't. A beautiful, rich ice dancer. Not many people would want to get on her bad side if they could help it. With people of her social and financial status, he has noticed that most people who leech off of them never say the word no.

The instant he swallows the mouthful of water, she's retorting, "Okay, first of all, the wealth is from my mother's side of the family, you sexist prick"—he laughs at this too, knowing that she is only joking to get back at him—"Second of all, I'm not ashamed of being privileged in terms of wealth. We donate every year to charities, and I'm not the kind of trust fund kid who pretends they came up the hard way."

Harry flicks a bit of water at her much like a little boy teasing girls on the playground, tilting his head in analysis of her as she leans back against the boards.

"And by we, you mean your parents, who get a nice tax write-off for all of their philanthropy, right?"

"Oh, at least play fair," she hits back in the same, childlike way he had. "So giving back to my community doesn't count cause I get tax write-offs?" Her brows raise at him in question. "I volunteer at a shelter for LGBT kids who are on the street because of their shitty ass parents. All of the prize money I get when I win goes to them, so get off your fucking soapbox and give me a break."

There's a stretch of heavy silence, then—

"You're right, I don't know you," he says softly, then meets her gaze again, "M'sorry."

This makes her pause for a second. It makes her mindful of what happened yesterday now that she has time to reflect...

"I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

She hadn't expected him to concede. Most men she's met and argued with, albeit playfully, refuse to back down no matter how backed into a corner they are. They are correct no matter what. Even Chris was like that sometimes, but, she must admit, there's something admirable about someone who will admit when they're wrong. It's a behavior she could practice more than she currently does lest her pride not get in the way.

"For trying to pay you to be my fake boyfriend. You were right. I didn't think about how insulting that must come across since I met you at your club," she says, then tries not to shudder at how she misspoke. Technically, she didn't meet him at the club, and they both know that, but he'll never correct her for avoiding such a painful memory. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just desperate."

The entire room is quiet save for their conversation. With Godnev off doing God knows what, there's no one here at the private rink to eavesdrop on their conversation. It suddenly hits her as she looks at him, struck by how he smiles with his two front bunny teeth, that being alone with him doesn't make her nervous like it does with other guys. Every guy she's met on Hinge, or who has hit on her on a night out, has made her viscerally uncomfortable, but he doesn't. It could have something to do with how they broke the ice the first time they met. Or it could be him. Maybe he's the type of person who sets others at ease without ever trying to.

It's easy to tell that he's about to say something in response, but the sound of their coach coming back into the room silences him. It causes his mouth to open and close like a fish, then open again to say to her at a low volume, "I'll do it."

This time, it's her turn to act confused.

"Do what?"

He watches for Godnev out of the corner of his eye to make sure she isn't watching, then leans against the boards beside her to allow them to talk in secrecy. They don't have much time before they're back on the ice, so he doesn't waste it.

"Date you," Harry says, and she thinks he's fighting back another smile when her eyes widen. "Your friends will know I'm your partner soon anyway." He shrugs. "Might as well."

It takes him and Godnev calling out her name to get her back on the ice and out of her trance after he leaves her there, speechless, on the side of the rink.

-

Balancing hours of therapy with hours of practice with Harry has been a challenge, not only because of the physical exhaustion she feels when she comes home and falls into bed beside Ella every night but because of the emotional exhaustion too. Every time she leaves the building where she spends most of her day listening to clinicians teaching skills and trying to work up the courage to talk about what happened to her in process groups to no avail, she feels as though she just ran a half marathon. But she can never rest. No, instead, she has to spend the rest of her day with Harry on the ice, pick up dinner on the way home, and try not to wake Ella when she enters the apartment.

Her leg bounces up and down incessantly as she waits for her clinician to come back from the bathroom for their one-on-one session while the rest of the patients are in an art group.

She busies herself by inspecting the small office. Framed photos line the walls, and on top of the desk are a multitude of fidget toys and plastic eggs of kinetic sand for patients to borrow. By the time the clinician, Tara, comes back to the room, Y/N is already paying with a pocket-sized container of putty.

"Sorry about that," Tara says with a smile, "I just wanted to make sure I didn't have to get up in the middle of the session."

Her high-pitched, lilting voice with a concerning about of vocal fry helps to soothe her nerves, coaxing her bouncing left leg into a slower pace as she watches her take a seat in the rolling chair. Blonde hair, highlights, perhaps, falls to the curves of her waist. It's the first time she's seen her with her hair down rather than the usual bun. Considering the brutal summer heat and humidity, it's not like Y/N can blame her for not wanting a blanket of hair running down her back.

"It's fine."

Tara's long nails tap away at the keyboard of the desktop computer, quickly documenting that they are meeting like they're supposed to.

"So, I know we've talked a bit, but I'm just gonna ask how your first week home has been so far?"

Those soft blue eyes never stray from her face now that their full attention is on each other. Eye contact like this would typically freak her out, but not this time. Not with her. They have talked once or twice, that's true, but they have yet to sit down and work through everything that haunts her. Until now.

Y/N shifts in her seat, crossing her legs to get as comfortable as possible while trying to do the unthinkable—open up to someone. It isn't by coincidence that Ella is the only one she told about this, or that she has never been able to have a romantic relationship. Every time someone she likes too much gets too close, her mind defaults to panic. The idea of someone knowing her, truly knowing her, the way she knows herself, is her biggest fear. It's so primal, rooted deeply in her system, that the urge to isolate herself and ghost anyone new who tries to care for her is something she acts on unconsciously.

But, with Tara, she has no other choice but to sit with that visceral discomfort rather than flee. If she ever ghosts her and skips program, they'll do a wellness check on her and send the police to her apartment, which is the very last thing she wants.

Not having a choice, Y/N says, "It's been a lot. I can't stand being in my apartment because all I feel when I'm in there is fear. You know, that was my prison. That was where my body shut down, and I stopped eating and sleeping."

The whole time she speaks, Tara nods along, only looking away to jot down a note. Her white and gold pencil gleams in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the window as it glides across the blank page. Once the note is taken, she allows it to slip out of her hand and onto the notebook, rolling until it becomes wedged in the divot between pages.

"Do you think it would help to go in there with someone you trust and try to tolerate the fear?"

She shrugs.

"Maybe. I don't know. I went back once to get my stuff and have been staying at my friend Ella's place."

"And is Ella a big part of your support system?"

"Oh, a huge part. She's the only one other than Harry who knows."

Tara's head tilts in curiosity at the mention of Harry, someone she nor any of the other clinicians heard her mention in the few groups she speaks in. Obviously, if he's one of the only people who knows about her breakdown, he must be someone of significance, and that isn't wrong. Although they hardly know each other, he may be the most important person in her life. She wouldn't be here without him, and whether she loves or hates him for it, she doesn't know.

"Who's Harry?"

A heavy sigh escapes her in the wake of that question. In preparation for what she's about to tell her, Y/N focuses on the putty being kneaded in her hands to avoid eye contact. She fears that if she looks at her when she says it, the words may evade her.

"He's the one who stopped me from jumping," she says, then shakes her head through a nervous laugh. "And now that my ice dance partner quit, he's my new partner. Isn't that so fucked up? Like, if there's a God, I wanna bare-knuckle box that fucker for doing this to me!"

For the sake of making her feel at ease, Tara chuckles softly at that last comment, and she's thankful for it. It's precisely what she needed to avoid allowing the discomfort to consume her. No more being treated like she's made of glass. Like she's broken. That's the best part of being here, she thinks. The staff and patients have all heard and lived through hellish things, so nothing can surprise them anymore.

Her leg begins to bounce at the same speed and intensity it had before. It's all she can do to release the anxiety bubbling up within as she is brought closer and closer to revealing the parts of herself she can't even share with Ella.

"Do you mind if I ask what triggered this whole situation to begin with?" Tara asks with the pencil back in hand. "It's okay if you aren't ready to, though. We can do it next time."

The following silence seems to echo in her head.

June 1st. The second-worst day in her twenty-four-year existence.

As a melodramatic teenager, she couldn't imagine anything being worse than the day she and her high school best friend ended their years-long friendship. At the time, that felt like the greatest tragedy she would experience, but, now, she would relive that day twenty times over rather than relive a single day of June. The most persistent obsessive thought she has relates to that. It wouldn't matter what the circumstances were. If she had to endure it again, she would make sure there would be no one to stop her from jumping from the train platform this time. And that terrifies her. The power these memories hold over her is immeasurable.

​​Y/N's head drops to let her stare at her lap as she tries to work up the nerve to say it out loud for the first time since being discharged from the hospital. The faint sound of screams, buried deep into the recesses of her mind, resurfaces more quickly than she is comfortable with. She had never seen a panic like she had that day in the bodega when she stopped in to purchase a bottle of water and found herself saddled with a lifetime of trauma.

"I was walking to catch the subway to the rink where I train, and it was hot, so I wanted a water bottle," she explains. At first, it sounds steady. Strong. Then, her voice can't help but soften once she gets to the hard part. "Someone was arguing with the clerk, but I didn't think anything of it. None of us in there knew what was gonna happen until it did, and, unfortunately, I turned around just in time to see him pull his gun." Her eyes glaze over with the imminent threat of tears. "He killed him. Shot him in the head two times, and I hid behind one of the fridges before he could see me. But, he didn't want any of the customers. He just shot the guy a few more times to make sure he was dead, took the money, and ran out."

The expression on Tara's face, torn between shock and secondhand heartache, tells her that she hadn't expected that to be the story told today. People's minds and bodies can shut down like hers had for many reasons, whether they appear big or small, but this was serious. This was something that she'll never be able to forget witnessing, and they both know that. Their only hope is that maybe, once time has passed, it'll be easier for her to live with. It already is to an extent. Now that she has been put on medication and attends therapy for the illness she ignored her whole life, she can eat and sleep again. Not exactly as she had before but close.

She sniffles and wipes her nose on her hand to avoid having anything drip out of it in the presence of another person. Most of her crying over this has been violent in its vehemence. Snot-oozing, head-pounding, full-body sobs that left her shaking where she lay with her legs curled up to her chest.

"At first, I thought I was okay, and I was for the first night. I went to practice after that, but I don't even remember being there. It was the next day that it all started. I wasn't able to leave the house, and I became so anxious, so obsessed with the idea that I wasn't safe, that I stopped eating. I went to the ER because I thought there was something wrong with me." She takes a deep breath, trying not to let her bottom lip quiver as much as it wants to when pausing between words. "I suffered in that room, starving so much that it hurt, for two days." A tear slides down her cheek, and she has to wipe it away with her fingertips. "The people treating me told me there was nothing physically wrong with me. They told me it was psychosomatic and sent me home."

It's a period of time she couldn't forget if she tried, and she did try. She tried so hard, but whenever she lay in her bed or tried to eat something, anything, her mind took her back to those two days. It was the reason why she stopped sleeping. Whenever she would jolt awake to the darkness of her bedroom, she wasn't awake enough to know where or when she was.

"For the next two weeks, which felt like a month, I had to force myself to learn to eat again, and, at first, I was sleeping. But it was because my friend let me have some of her Xanax to take to help me at night. What I didn't realize was that my body would get used to taking it, and once it did, I couldn't relax. I couldn't let my guard down long enough to fall asleep," she says. "So, I started doing things, I guess compulsions, not knowing why I was doing them."

This time, Tara nods and writes something down on the page of the notebook with her lip bitten between her teeth in thought.

"What were your compulsions?"

Her mind flashes in a supercut of memories from June—her hands wiping down the kitchen counters, bottles of nail polish on her kitchen counter, and the sight of her hollow face staring back at her in the mirror every day. She's almost too ashamed to tell her, to go into what she was doing and why she thought it may help, but that's why she's here. The whole reason for being here is to work through it, so she does.

"Um." Her voice wavers. "Well, I started to clean my kitchen from top to bottom every morning. I didn't have a specific reason, but I think it was because I needed something to do to pass the time since I was too weak to skate." The eye contact she makes with the floor has yet to break, and she tries not to focus on Tara's purposefully subdued reactions in her peripheral vision.

Pretending like she isn't there, like she's telling this story to the empty room, makes it bearable. "When I was little, my mom used to put my hair in two braids on each side of my head when I was sick. It was just a simple style to keep it out of my face when I blew my nose and coughed, but she always did it. So, I started keeping my hair like that. I had to braid it like that every day, or else the day was going to end badly. I know that makes no sense, but it did to me."

The other woman is quick to shake her head.

"No, I understand," she says softly. "Every time you were sick, your mom braided your hair, and when you get sick, you always get better, so you did it to self-soothe."

It nearly makes her cry to hear her say that.

Most people without in-depth education about these illnesses would think her crazy for believing that braiding her hair could prevent things from going badly, but she gets it. The staff at the hospital, as well as the other patients she bonded with over countless card games, all got it. It makes her feel a little less crazy when people react like this. It's not as if she expected a mental health professional to act any other way, but she feared it nonetheless.

"I also felt like I needed to change my nail polish whenever something bad happened." She holds up her newly manicured fingers sporting almond-shaped acrylics. "That's why I went and got these. So I wouldn't be able to keep doing that now that I'm out. Also to stop me from picking at my skin."

The sound of Tara humming in agreement with the decision brings a sense of warmth to her chest. There's something about the clinician that disarms her entirely, bringing her down enough to lay herself bare before her with less difficulty than she would have with others. Part of it, she thinks, is that she knows no one else will hear what's said here. It isn't Rosie, Anna, or anyone she doesn't want to see her in a different light. It's someone meant to hear these things without any emotional labor given in return.

She goes on.

"The last thing I did, or I guess it's what I didn't do, was avoid the bracelet I was wearing the day of the shooting. I almost wanted to burn it."

Finally, she looks up and meets Tara's kind eyes.

"Why did you want to burn your bracelet?" she asks despite already having an idea of the reasoning behind it.

The softness in how the question was asked, paired with the unspoken understanding and never-ending compassion beneath it, makes Y/N break down at long last. Her shoulders shake with the cries she tries to stifle, wiping her nose and her wet cheeks as she shrinks into the seat like a scared little girl.

Her voice is so soft, so ashamed of the truth being spoken, that she barely hears it over the sound of her cries.

"Because I thought it was cursed..."

No one but the psychiatrist at the hospital, not Ella or Harry or her parents, has been told of this part. Because it's this that she is the most embarrassed of. If her mother were here, she'd tell her how illogical it is, and she knows that. It doesn't make any sense and never had, but she believed it regardless. Every time she passed by where it sat on top of her dresser, her face twisted into a grimace. On June 1st, hiding behind the refrigerator stocked with water, she remembers how she clutched the edge of it with her right hand to keep herself from falling to the floor, and she didn't look out at the killer or the deceased clerk again. Instead, she kept her eyes locked onto the bracelet given to her for her twenty-fourth birthday days prior and never looked away until the door to the bodega opened and closed again. When she wore it home, it sat heavy around her wrist, and when she laid in bed those two days, starving, she felt it brush up against the bottom of her pillow whenever she moved her hand.

The second she got home from the emergency room, she ripped it off and threw it on her dresser in a rage.

Y/N whispers, "I just felt so stupid."

She rubs her eyes with her hand as if that will do anything to stop the tears from falling, and when her hand falls back to her side, she notices that a box of tissues has been placed on the end of the desk closest to her. With a quiet, "Thank you," she takes a few to blow her nose, then two more to wipe her eyes before discarding the handful in the garbage bin.

"I know you already know this," Tara says propping her chin up on the palm of her hand, "but what you did is normal for people with OCD. Especially when you're undiagnosed and unmedicated."

Her face softens at the new tears falling from her eyes, now smudged with runny mascara that ruins the look she painstakingly crafted in the bathroom with Ella before practice for the sake of passing time.

"You weren't stupid, Y/N. You were just sick."

And, for once, it feels good to hear that coming from someone other than the people who have every reason to be biased toward her. If she were to tell Ella or her parents, they would shake their heads and tell her to stop being so hard on herself, but she has trouble believing them. When you love someone, you'll do anything to take the burden of pain off of their shoulders and onto yours. Hearing it from someone whose job is to be as objective and tactfully honest as possible is far different.

The sound of her sniffling as she begins to calm down, no longer wanting to take tissue after tissue to wipe her runny nose, is the only thing to be heard in the room surrounding them. No footsteps in the hallway, no group conversation getting loud and excited the next room over, and no judgments. Just sniffling and heavy breathing that soon evens out into a steady rise and fall of her chest.

It's ten minutes later that she finishes up with Tara and exits the room to see the rest of the patients leaving. A glance at her watch shows that it's three o'clock, meaning everyone but the clinicians who work until five documenting and talking to the others about treatment plans for their patients is free to go home and do as they please for the rest of the afternoon.

Y/N is the last person out of the building, and when she steps out into the sun, she feels a little bit lighter than she had before. The emotional weight of what happened to her was cumbersome to bear alone, and even though one conversation would never cure her, it does make her feel less alone.

Before she can overthink any of it, she's going through her contacts and presses Harry's number. They exchanged information on their first day of practicing together, both for the sake of their work as well as the ruse.

After three rings, he picks up.

"Hello?"

-

The subway is her least favorite part about living in the city.

Not only is it annoying to stand shoulder to shoulder with strangers, packed in like sardines, but it's unbearably hot down here, especially in the summer, and the heat worsens the anxiety she feels surrounding what's to come tonight. But with the anxiety medication she took before leaving Ella's place to meet up with Harry before the time they're supposed to arrive at the bar with her friends, it's easier to cope with. Rather than it being an overstimulating nightmare of panting breaths and frantic, racing thoughts, it's slowed down. The anxiety is still present, yet it doesn't hinder her ability to function.

Part of what she enjoys about this city, though, is that no one pays attention to her. There are too many people and too many things going on for anyone to bat an eye at what she is saying or doing, or if she appears to be anxious or not. It allows her to have a certain freedom within herself to dress however she wants and talk loudly, taking up space without fearing the reaction of others.

The bottoms of her thighs stick to the seat with sweat where they're exposed by her mini dress, and she keeps squirming around every few seconds in discomfort, trying to wipe the perspiration away to no avail. Beside her, Harry is messaging someone on his phone, so she tries not to look over his shoulder and gives him privacy until he's finished.

Once he is, she shifts in her seat to face him with one long leg crossed over the other.

"We need to make some ground rules."

He looks up from his phone with raised brows, his thumb pressing down on the button on the side to shut the screen off. The white shirt he wears is unbuttoned just enough for his chest tattoos to peek out from beneath the edges of the fabric, and she already knows that her friends will lose their minds when they see them together.

They were already told in the group chat on Instagram, titled dream blunt rotation with numerous celebrities that will never accept the chat invite, about her going out with the stripper they met over the weekend. She and Ella played it off well. They played into the shock felt by Rosie and Anna at the fact that Harry is her new partner. It's a small world, they all said. But Y/N knows that if they knew everything, it would appear even smaller.

"Like what?" he asks.

His legs are pushed together by the person next to him being careless with their personal space, stretching out as though they own the place, and he scoots a little closer to her as a result of it. Her bare thigh presses into the side of his clothed one.

"Well, I feel like the first rule should be that neither of us can talk about how we actually met."

He nods.

"Obviously."

Her arms hug her purse to her chest to free up some space beside her for him, giving him the room to comfortably relax his right arm without having to fold himself in to fit into the seat between her and the other man. When their hands brush, her breath hitches in her throat, and she prays that he doesn't notice. She may not be one to date people, but she isn't blind. Every woman sitting or standing near them steals glances at him, likely wishing they were the one pressed up against his side. Like it or not, there is a part of her that takes pleasure in being seen with him.

"Second rule..." she trails off, tapping her fingers against her knee. "We have to figure out what kind of PDA we're okay with."

He goes quiet for a second, then says, "I'm fine with anything."

Anything, her mind echoes in equal parts excitement and fear. What does he mean by anything? Apparently, it must be written on her face, because he is quick to explain himself.

Laughing, he says, "Calm down. M'not saying we have to go fuck in the bathroom or something, I meant holding hands and a kiss maybe."

This causes her to giggle nervously at first, but once the words are fully taken in, the smile on her face begins to soften. Kissing, holding hands, and touching are all things she can hardly stand the thought of doing. The first and only time she kissed a boy was in front of their school in the seventh grade. He had a crush on her and asked her out. Not being able to say no because she didn't want to upset him, she said yes and they were "dating" for a few weeks. One day before she had to walk home, she kissed him, and the moment their lips touched, she became overwhelmed with discomfort. All she could hear in the back of her mind was her parents saying she was too young, that boys will only want one thing from her, and she ran off without another word. Later that night, she texted him to end the relationship.

But, she realizes, this isn't real. If they're simply pretending to be doing these things because they have feelings for each other that don't truly exist, there is no reason to feel like she's doing something wrong. No one is taking advantage of the other in this situation, and she'll never have to introduce him to her parents as her boyfriend and endure the awkward tension with her overprotective father.

Y/N worries her lip between her teeth as she turns over the thought in her mind.

"That might not be a bad idea."

His head whips around to look at her again, his eyes widened in disbelief at what she's implying. It isn't until he's been staring at her for a good five seconds that she realizes the miscommunication.

"Oh, no, not like that," she says, "I mean we could pretend to go to the bathroom and make it look like we did something."

An elderly woman sitting across from them pauses what she's doing on her phone to side-eye them, but they don't pay her any mind. The rest of the people around them don't make it known if they're eavesdropping but, honestly, even if they are, she doesn't care. These people are strangers who are owed nothing by them, and if they want to judge them for the web of lies they're weaving for her friends, then so be it.

Harry runs his hand through his hair to push it back into place. The jolting movement of the subway knocked a few strands onto his face, so he takes the time to fix it for the sake of looking good when he meets her friends. Well, technically he already has met her friends, but this time will be different. It won't be a fleeting moment in which he kisses her to distract them, it'll be his formal introduction into her life as her "boyfriend". Even though he knows it's not real, he doesn't want to let her down. After all, he's her partner on the ice now, and that's reason enough to want her friends to like him.

Before he can respond, the sound of the next stop being announced brings their attention away from one another, and they both stand with one hand holding the pole for support.

From what little she knows about him, Harry was born and raised in northern England with his mom, but he came here to train with one of the best pairs ice dancing coaches the world had to offer and has lived in the city for four years. His previous partner was an up-and-coming favorite of many, but she quit the same week of the bodega shooting due to a career-ending injury sustained in a biking accident.

Once they ascend the stairway onto the street the bar is located on, he asks, "If these are your friends, why are you going this far to keep it a secret from them?"

Her heels click on the sidewalk as they walk, hand in hand in case her friends are walking in at the same time, down the block together.

The suddenness of the question, as well as the brutality of it, catches her off guard and silences her for the next minute or so. Truth be told, the decision not to tell Rosie and Anna about what happened wasn't intentional. After the shooting, she went to Ella for support, and she was far too distressed in the following weeks to reach out to the others beyond basic greetings and posts shared on social media. Now, it seems foolish to tell them. No matter how she explains it, she's certain it will hurt their feelings that she didn't go to them in her time of strife.

"Um, I honestly don't know," she says, staring ahead at the family walking before them. Anything to avoid the judgment she anticipates from him. "I didn't mean to lie, but I didn't tell them, and once I went into the hospital it felt like it was too late. It all just...happened."

Although distracted by watching the people around them, she can feel his eyes on her. It's hard to act casual when someone like him—someone so gorgeous and simultaneously critical in her recent life—is staring. And even though she knows this isn't real, that they aren't dating and everything is fake, she can't help how her heart races faster the longer he stares.

For the rest of the walk to the bar, both of them remain silent. The sole thing to steady her is the warm feeling of his hand in hers, and, even then, there's a degree of discomfort mixed into it as well. Her friends have teased her about her commitment-phobia and fear surrounding dating, so she expects the worst interrogation of her life upon arrival.

The bar Rosie chose for their first official outing as a "couple" is an exclusive rooftop one that her new boy of the month frequents. Her status alone would get her in, but with him at her side, there was no question as to whether or not she belonged among the rich and famous. It's this same exclusivity that causes Harry's eyebrows to raise as they're guided into an elevator with the bald bouncer.

He whispers to her on the way up, "I know I was taking shots at you for being rich, but I didn't know you were this kind of rich."

A soft huff of laughter leaves her, and she thinks she may see his cheeks flushing a deep pink color at the sound of it.

"My parents are this kind of rich, actually. But I get what you mean," she says and leans against the back wall of the moving elevator. "My family has always been wealthy, but I was an introverted kid growing up. When Ella and Rosie first met me and took me out, seeing places like this for the first time was pretty overwhelming."

The tidbit of information about her childhood makes him smile to himself at the thought of her all those years ago, content with standing on the sidelines and daydreaming about being on the ice while her peers played outside. It's strangely endearing. His first impression of her at the club was that she was an entitled, rich party girl who was used to getting everything she wants, and while part of that may be true, there are other qualities of hers that shine brighter.

Her hand squeezes his tighter when the elevator comes to a gentle stop at the top floor of the tall building.

This is it. Soon, they will be hanging out with her friends and lying to them, having to touch and flirt and maybe even kiss as though they're together. A small amount of dread rises within her at the thought of it. The concept of a man touching her and kissing her is both nerve-wracking and thrilling. She thinks that if it were another man, she wouldn't be able to stomach it, but it's Harry. Even though he's little more than an acquaintance, there's a sense of safety felt when she's around him. It could be a result of how they met that day on the train platform, but, either way, she's thankful to have him by her side.

The elevator doors open with a ding, and she's already shifted into friend mode. Her hand holds onto his tightly as she feigns confidence and drags him through the groups of people to the place Rosie told her to go. They enjoy hanging out by the edge of the building to the left of the bar where you can look out at the skyline.

He can tell by the looks on their faces that they hadn't truly believed they'd seen him here.

One of the friends he recognizes from the club, the one with pretty brown eyes and bottle-blonde hair, is the first to greet them. Rather than tackle her in an embrace as per usual, she gives them space seeing that they're holding onto each other already.

"Y/N, you look radiant! I love that dress," the woman says, then looks at him. "And you must be Harry?" He nods, and she holds out her hand to shake his free one. "Rosie. It's nice to meet the guy who's stealing allll of her free time from us!"

His throat bobs with a thick swallow as he remembers the true reason he's here. To give her an alibi for the time she spends at therapy during the week when she would otherwise be hanging with them.

He takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.

"Guilty as charged," Harry says.

The next friend comes up and offers her a hug with one arm, bringing her in close to cradle her head on her shoulder like a mother would to a child. Ella, he thinks without room for doubt. This woman is the only one who knows about Y/N's breakdown as well as their ruse. She doesn't feel the need to say anything. Words aren't needed with them. All they need is a quick hug to convey their feelings and thoughts to each other before pulling away to allow their last friend a turn with them.

Anna stops in front of them and reaches out for Y/N's free hand. Giving it a few squeezes, she can't help but smile and say, "I've missed you too much."

Her gaze then shifts to him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she says and looks back and forth between the two of them. "I never thought our sweet Fi would find a guy she'd go crazy for."

He was briefed on this too—the shock that'd be a common theme among the group of girls due to her never having shown an interest in dating before. It would mean they'd be protective too, he realized earlier today, so he tries to be as friendly and nonchalant as possible. The last thing he wants is to give them a reason to dislike him.

"It's nice to meet you too. She's told me so much about you guys," he says.

This seems to please them enough. From behind Anna's back, Rosie makes eye contact with Y/N and raises her brows in pretend shock at how much they like him. The sight of it makes him breathe a little easier as the seconds go by, knowing that the hardest part is over now that they've been introduced. All of them stare expectantly at them for the next few seconds, then Y/N breaks the silence.

"We're gonna go get drinks. Be right back!"

He's being dragged around again before he has the chance to wave goodbye to Rosie, who was waving excitedly at him like a puppy faced with a potential new friend. People move out of her way without anything having to be said, and he finds that quite intriguing. The power she wields without ever saying a word is wild to him. All it takes is a smile and a confident stride for everyone to make a path for the gorgeous woman in a little strapless dress. Its shade of midnight blue shimmers under the dim lighting of the bar, bringing out the subtle aspect of the glitter mixed into the fabric.

The line at the bar is merely a few people long, so it doesn't take more than a couple moments for them to reach it. Her fingers curl around the edge of the bar to steady herself against it as she leans forward to tell the bartender what she wants over the volume of people chatting throughout the room. Music plays over loudspeakers on the other side of the room, a DJ positioned behind a computer, and the song is decent. At least it doesn't make him want to rip out his eardrums.

Once she's finished ordering her virgin cocktail, a tap on his shoulder brings him out of his people-watching trance and back to her face. The coral blush brushed over her cheeks gives her a demure, coquettish look, and though his heart beats for another, not even he can resist the gravitational pull she has on everyone around her.

"Want anything?"

He shrugs.

This causes her to turn back around to face the man behind the bar and ask, "A Jack and Coke for my friend here, please?"

The second the bartender turns to make it, she leans back against the bar to face him and holds his hand in both of hers for the sake of appearing as couple-y as possible for her friends watching across the room.

"How'd I do?" she asks. "Was I even a little close to guessing what you drink? You kinda seem like a Jack and Coke guy."

He shakes his head.

"I don't mind Jack and Coke, but I'm more of a tequila man."

"Neat or on the rocks?"

"Neat."

She nods in approval, toying with the rings decorating the hand connected with hers. The softness of her touch is something he never expected to enjoy, but he does. Even if it isn't real, it feels nice after years of loving Lola from afar with nothing in return.

Without looking over his shoulder to check if the girls are looking in their direction, he steps forward to invade her space, one arm sliding around her waist to pull her body flush against his. He can tell by how she stiffens against him that she hadn't expected it, but she adjusts rather quickly and throws her arms around his broad shoulders like she would with someone she's actually dating. Their lips are inches apart, so close that they can feel the heat of each other's exhales.

Harry brushes his nose against hers affectionately, and it's such an intimate, tender gesture, she doesn't know what to do other than savor the thrill it sends down her spine.

"You're good at this," she whispers after a second. "I guess I should just follow your lead since I don't do this a lot."

Ever, actually. The correct thing to say would be that she doesn't do this ever, but it's far too embarrassing to admit it aloud. It's hard not to feel like a failure of sorts regarding her pathetic attempts at finding a romantic partner. At one point, she did try. She downloaded dating apps and met a few guys, but every time she wanted something real with them, she heard her mom scolding her in the back of her head. She heard her dad accusing her of being pregnant when she was fifteen because he caught her holding hands with her middle school boyfriend.

The differences between how she and her brother were treated regarding relationships and sex growing up affected her more than she thought it had, and it wasn't until she began talking about it in group therapy at the hospital that she realized there was a reason behind her discomfort with intimacy.

Sensing some sort of conflict in her, he says softly, "I won't kiss you unless you ask me to, Y/N. Don't worry." A pause, then a slight chuckle. "You don't seem like the making out in public type anyway."

The smile drops from her face.

"Is that a challenge?"

And, with that, the confidence evident in his expression slowly fades at the pressure of being put on the spot. Suddenly, he doesn't feel like the experienced one between the two of them. Y/N has a way of doing that, of making him flustered and bashful like a touch-starved virgin. He rationalizes it, though. He reasons with himself and thinks that it's merely a physical reaction to an attractive person, not anything real. It's nothing to feel guilty over. It's not like you can betray someone who isn't even dating you, so it's nothing to lose sleep over regarding his love for Lola. He's slept with plenty of people despite having feelings for her, so what's a little kissing?

Slowly, they begin to inch their faces closer and closer until she can almost feel his lips brushing hers. He's about to close the remaining distance between them and kiss her like he had at the club on Sunday, but the bartender taps her on the shoulder before he can.

"Okay, one virgin Pina Colada and a Jack and Coke," the man says, setting the two glasses down on the bar top. "Your total is forty dollars even."

Y/N turns around in Harry's embrace to face him, giddy at how his arms remain around her waist and his chin rests on her shoulder. Her friends don't stand a chance at all. He's laying it on quite thick, and it's a wonder she doesn't bust out laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

If this is how Harry behaves around someone he's dating, his eventual partner is a lucky person. She has come to find through her friends' adventures in dating that so few guys are so open with their affection unless it's in a sexual connotation like dancing or grabbing a handful of their asses. He, however, doesn't grope her anywhere or push at the limits of what's decent. He just holds her, and she knows Rosie will never let her hear the end of it.

She holds out her credit card between her index and middle finger for the bartender to take with a polite, "Thank you."

They take their drinks and sip from them as Trent, if the name tag on his shirt is to be believed, swipes her card and slides it back across the countertop to her with the receipt folded around it. It's stuffed back into her small shoulder bag before she's too enamored with her drink to forget it.

The sweet flavor of the mocktail is heavenly on her taste buds, and she has to let her head roll back onto Harry's shoulder in overdramatic appreciation of it. Pina Coladas used to be her drink of choice when she indulged in substances. Anna would tease her for never switching up her order or trying something new, but she paid it no mind. She sat at whatever table or bar they went to and sipped it happily until she was giggling from being tipsy.

"I'm assuming it's good?" Harry asks sarcastically. "You're literally moaning."

She turns her head to look at him with furrowed brows, saying, "Yes, it is amazing, and you can't blame me. My love affair with this drink has been long and passionate. You wouldn't understand 'cause you go for straight tequila and don't like fun drinks like me."

The burning stares of her friends watching them from the corner of the room are felt by them both, and it suddenly hits her what they're doing. Is she a terrible person? Lying to them like this, keeping them in the dark, and bringing Harry into it too—does this make her morally unjust? It's hard for her to distinguish the line between self-hatred and criticism, so as she thinks it over, she can't help but batter herself bloody for doing something wrong.

From the feeling of her body tensing up in his grasp alone, he can tell that something is wrong, and without having the insight of knowing her thoughts, he fears that he's taken things too far. Maybe he should've eased up on the physical contact, maybe she hadn't fully thought it through. After all, she did say she doesn't date. What if this is making her uncomfortable?

He murmurs to her, "Are you okay?"

There's a heavy sigh sinking her chest.

"I guess," she says, "I just—Do you think I'm a terrible person?"

Everything—his train of thought, the hammering of his heart in his chest as he wondered what he did wrong, and how he sips on his drink—stops short.

"What are you talking about?"

The way she asked it snapped his heart in two. It doesn't matter that he barely knows her, or that he did, in fact, initially think she was a bad person after their interaction in the alleyway, the guilt present in her voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, he feels the strange need to look after her. Not for any reason other than the fact that he can see how broken she is, and there's only one other person in her life who knows what's happening with her. She needs him, he realizes. She needs someone to talk her out of hating herself. Because if she continues on like this, if she keeps berating herself to the extent where everything becomes her fault, she'll revert right back into the state of mind that made her want to jump in the first place.

She ignored him for a second in favor of taking another sip of Pina Colada before saying, "I don't know. I wasn't just thinking about how I'm lying to them, and I don't know if that makes me a bad person."

Y/N takes this as her chance to wriggle out of his grasp to walk back to her friends, but he stops her. His arm around her waist tugs her back, and he doesn't let her leave until she hears what he has to say. If she asked for his opinion, then let her have it.

"Look at me," he says, and she does. Now that he knows he has her attention, he has no issues speaking his mind. "Don't do that to yourself. I know I don't know much about you or them, but it's not your fault that you were put in this situation. If they love you, they'll forgive you, even if you are a stuck-up rich girl."

This stuns her to silence.

It's hard for her to think, let alone speak, a response to this because of the unashamed honesty in the statement. It's the type of honesty only someone new in your life can have when speaking to you, and she's surprised to find that she likes it. He's not treating her any differently than someone unaware of her situation would, and she could kiss him for it.

She smiles softly.

"I may be a stuck-up rich girl, but I'm your favorite stuck-up rich girl, so I feel kinda accomplished there."

The sound of him letting out a huff of laughter widens the smile on her face, and he slides his arm out from around her waist to take her hand in his.

"Would my favorite stuck-up rich girl like to dance with me?" he asks, then his voice quiets for a second, a touch more serious. "Not because your friends are watching. Just 'cause we're friends and I want to dance with you."

The words echo in her mind on repeat. I want to dance with you. I want to dance with you. I want to dance with you—

Downing the rest of the Pina Colada in a few big mouthfuls, she sets the empty glass back onto the bar top and gestures for him to chug the rest of his drink as well. He does so without protest and tries to ignore the fact that he's not savoring the twenty-dollar drink. Although, it's not like she loses any sleep over spending twenty dollars at the bar. As she starts to pull him off in the direction of where people dance together, the empty glass is placed beside hers and left for the bartender less than a few minutes after he served them.

He follows her through the small clusters of people, and his eyes follow from their connected hands up the length of her arm, admiring the beauty of the bare skin exposed by her strapless dress. The song switches once they're midway to the area where a few couples and groups of friends are dancing, and the second Y/N hears the new song, she stops and faces her friends with a slack jaw.

She calls out to them from across the room and lures them over with her arms making grand, sweeping gestures begging them to come over. Rosie, as expected, is the first to follow them out to the middle of the room, and it doesn't take long before her other friends follow suit.

Madonna's voice croons at them over the speakers as the girls, with Harry standing behind Y/N's back, sing along and dance together. It almost makes him smile. To see her having fun and laughing with her friends is a gift. It's a long way from where she was when they met, if only for the moment. Tomorrow, she could easily revert to the state she was in a moment ago, but not right now.

"I close my eyessss," Rosie sings to Anna, face cupped in her hands, "Heaven help me!"

Anna sings the next lyric back to her, "When you call my name, it's like a little prayer! I'm down on my knees"—she sinks to her knees dramatically for the sake of making the girls giggle—"I wanna take you there!"

Ella holds Y/N's hands and raises them above their heads as they swirl their hips to the rhythm of the song, and he can't do much other than watch from behind her back. He reaches to grab onto her hips with his hands, but, before he can, someone reaches between them to tap her shoulder.

She whirls around to see who it is, and as soon as she sets eyes on the man standing there, Harry has a bad feeling. That wasn't a warm, inviting look. It was more of an, "Oh shit, I didn't expect to see you," type of thing. When Harry first sees him, he isn't intimidated. The man looks younger than him, as well as shorter, and has the overall demeanor of a high schooler with an overinflated sense of self-importance.

"Owen," she says with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. "It's so funny running into you."

The other girls continue to dance, but they both can feel them eyeing him up out of the corners of their eyes. If the way they regard him has anything to say about it, Harry would wager a lot of money on everyone hating Owen. Those beady little eyes of his are locked onto Y/N's cleavage, and it becomes all too clear to him what the issue is without needing anyone to say it aloud.

If this isn't the perfect opportunity to prove himself as her fake boyfriend, he doesn't know what is.

His arm curls back around her waist and sits comfortably, his hand resting on the southernmost point of her back to the point where he's almost grabbing her ass. It's a gesture he saw many times with Lola and her ex-boyfriends whenever someone came over to check her out, so he figures it'll work in this scenario.

"S'nice to meet you," Harry says with a smile and extends his hand for the man to shake. "I'm Harry."

In her eyes, he can see the relief and the gratitude she has for him saving her from this. It tells him that she'll explain later, but thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The other man doesn't even take the hand he offers, so he lets his fall back to his side without another word.

Owen says, "You're really going out with this dude? C'mon, you can't just lead a guy on and then ghost him."

On the tip of her tongue are the words she doesn't say, words telling him that the reason he was ghosted was due to that traumatic day in June. She wants to throw it in his face so badly, but she doesn't. Anna and Rosie are too close for her to do it without them hearing and asking questions, so she simply stares daggers at him for a second or so before deciding what she's going to do.

"Actually, I can."

She turns her back on him.

Two soft hands flatten against Harry's chest to push him away from where the other man stands until they're on the other side of her friends, who're all quick to build a wall between them and him. It makes him laugh when she ignores him so bluntly, not even deigning to offer anything more than those three words. But he doesn't get the chance to look at Owen's face for a reaction. His face is behind turned away by the guidance of a smaller hand grasping him by the chin, and he has little time to think before her lips are on his.

This time, he is the one who stands there in shock for a second before kissing back. Perhaps it's payback for the unexpected kiss at the strip club, but, even if it is, he enjoys it. He likes this form of payback more than she'll ever know, not because he loves her the way he loves Lola but because of what it's doing to Owen. Putting men like that in their place is always a delight no matter how the job is done.

The bridge of the song explodes into the joyous sound of a choir parroting the lyrics sung earlier during the chorus, and he quickly goes from standing still in shock to kissing her back. Fervently. His hands squeeze her hips hard enough to bruise the soft skin beneath the fabric and uses them to bring their bodies closer together. If she thought that the kiss at the club where he worked was dizzying, then she was in for a shock. That was the least of his capabilities.

She hears her friends, likely all of them if she has to guess, whooping and cheering as they kiss one another as though they'll die if they don't. His tongue brushes against her lower lip in a request for permission, and, just like that, her lips fall open for him. The flavor of the Jack and Coke lingering on his tongue as it invades her mouth is pleasant. It makes her kiss him harder and push her tongue into his mouth for a better taste, using it to pretend like she's desperate and needy for him.

They keep kissing, blind to everything around them, until long after Owen has left. Feeling her body pressed up against his stirs the sensation of arousal in between her thighs that she has never felt so strongly when seeking pleasure by herself. This is what inevitably causes her to force herself off of him, hands braced on his shoulders, to look over at the empty spot where Owen once stood.

As soon as they part, Ella and Rosie are grabbing them by the wrists and pulling them into the group to dance. Anna shouts over the thumping music to tell Harry how amazing it was to see someone put "the stalker" in his place for once, but he doesn't respond with anything other than a laugh she hardly hears. The other girls are too busy trying to dance with them to allow them a spare second to speak.

His hands never leave Y/N's hips as they sway and sing along together. Ella is in front of her, as per usual, and her arms are draped over her shoulders to dance with her from the front while he moves behind her. Smushed between Harry and Ella's bodies, she grinds her ass against him and matches her friend's movements flawlessly, which, she thinks, is one perk of being an ice dancer. She never fumbles when it comes to dancing with her friends on nights out.

She throws her hands up in the air as she chants to the song with the rest of them, "Just like a prayer, I'll take you there!" and allows her arms to then fall back around his neck. It keeps him from pulling away, not that he wants to, and he guides her hips to move similarly to how he's supposed to for the salacious choreography of their free dance.

At this moment, she smiles—a genuine, true smile—for the first time in weeks, and it's all because of tonight's success. Because of Harry and how well he's doing with her friends. So, she lets herself be happy for now.

Even if it is a lie.

-

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you enjoyed this :)

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #fanfiction #one direction #tw suicide #tw mental illness

[watermelonsugacry]

Fans sure did fanart of marcel and Mademoiselle Marie-Thérèse (some are thirsty for sure)

YOOO STOP GATE KEEPING THIS FANART AND LEMME SEE IT 👀

FROM THIS BLURB

#ill write yn and h reacting to it if someone makes some #harry x 1dbandmember!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles #1dbandmember!yn #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #since 2010 series #one direction

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he's been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He's determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

A/N: famous pop star!harry x normie artist plus size !reader - This is a commissioned request by @cinnamonone and is based on Harry as a famous singer who falls for a normal (non famous) woman. I've never written anything based off of our real Harry before but had fun doing this. And please note that any and all suppositions made and claimed in this story are made up and have nothing to do with actual real Harry. I do not claim to know him or his preferences nor do I know the details of his love life or relationships he's had (but boy was it fun adding some of the references herein). This is fiction even if it is based on many things Harry Styles has done.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of death and illness, smut, dom/sub dynamics (with use of instruments), DD/lg, angst

Total Word Count: 52k

Fan Art by @cinnamonone

Read on Wattpad

|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|

Ch. 1 Sneak Peek

Chapter 1: Room #1900 & the Painting (18k words)

Ch. 2 Teaser

Chapter 2: Latin America & the Wedding Photo (9.7k words)

Ch. 3 Sneak Peek

Chapter 3: Pat's Disappointed & New Things to Try (12k words)

Ch. 4 Teaser

Chapter 4: European Tour & A Little Distance (12.5k words)

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

#firstpost #harry styles smut #famous!harry #plus size!reader #artist!reader #harry styles #dom!harry #sub!reader #harry styles fanfic #ko fi commissions #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles writing #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #harry styles one shot #harry fan fiction #harry styles request #harry styles fiction #pop star!harry #harry #harry styles concept

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hello i don’t know if your request are open or closed ignore me if it’s the case but can you make a Jason grace x reader when he know she is love with him and it’s reciprocated but she don’t want to make the move because Jason grace is a golden boy perfect etc.. and she is just normal thank you 🤩

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Oh, That Golden Light - Its Blinding Me

content: jason grace x unclaimed! reader fic warning: kinda angsty, ig??? sort of??? i dunno??? author's note: taking a break from the smau bc i miss writing lmao- also i feel so big brain for making the reader unclaimed for legit no reason. this is HEAVILY influenced by golden by harry styles. im not like a huge mega fan but satellite did things to me bc i thought of my father while listening to it and i had to pull over i was crying so hard in my car oop- anyways, i hope yall enjoy me coming out of my writing disappearance frfr WERE BACK BABYYYYYYYY

jason grace was like something out of some shiny hollywood movie. perfect. flawless. stunning. blinding.

it was hard not to fall in love with zeus' golden boy. he was just so sweet and caring to every person he met. you wouldn't even know this boy was a harden solider from the way he fawned over trampled patches of grass or new campers. he was just that kind of person, the one who drew people in with his comforting aura.

and you were just another victim of jason grace's warm vibes.

you, one of the few campers who continued to break percy's promise with the gods. 'claim them by thirteen,' he'd said and they agreed, but apparently your name must have been in the fine print. every summer and winter solstice, your name was brought up as a betrayal of their promise and every summer and winter solstice it was brushed under the rug. you tried to not let it affected, that your parent was so ashamed of you that they were willing to risk the wrath of percy jackson to avoid claiming you. but whatever, it's cool, it's totally fine, and not something you think about late at night.

but it did affect you. your self worth was in the dumps, you'd never felt so undesirable in your entire life. which is why you left your dreams of being jason's girlfriend just that; dreams. he'd find some other girl, some girl who was wanted, and you'd just have to live with that. but, boy, he didn't make it easy.

"good morning, yn. sleep well?" he asked, just like every morning, a book under his arm and his hair still fluffed from his pillows as he jogged to catch up with you. breakfast had been called and, just like every morning, jason made sure to walk with you and grab his breakfast with you.

"gave up my bed to little jamie here last night. those floorboards aren't too bad though," you replied easily, distracting yourself by ruffling jamie's spikey ginger hair. he was one of the new campers, still unclaimed like you, but you were sure that was bound to change soon as he was twleve. you glanced up and noticed jason's frown but pretended like you didnt.

"yn-"

"do you hear that? i think connor needs me. ill see you around, grace," you cut off what would surely be words of concern, scampering off towards connor, who definitely didn't call for you. being with jason was hard, it burned to be within feet of that boy. he was just so dazzling and bright and sometimes you just couldn't do it. you couldn't stand to block his light. to tarnish it in the way only you could.

"you try archery? maybe you're an apollo kid?" travis offered as you guys walked back from breakfast, but he knew the answer. you gave him a pointed look and he shrugged with a roll of his eyes.

"or maybe im not even an halfblood. maybe someone screwed up. maybe im destined to be unwanted, to rot away inside cabin eleven until i look like the oracle," you rambled, only stopping to take a calming breath.

"i can think of someone who wants you," connor hummed from you other side, a cheeky smile and sly look shared between the boys who could be twins but weren't. you squinted at both of them, your head darting around like you were watching an intense tennis match.

"what are you two even yapping on about?" you hissed and they just continued to smirk in the way only they could.

"we're just suggesting that a certain golden boy has his eyes on you. his heart eyes," travis gushed, wiggling his fingers at you as connor pretended to swoon. you scoffed and shoved the two away, hoping the distance would blur their vision of your growing blush.

"you two tease too much. cruel boys is what you are," you huffed and continued to march away from their laughing forms, clear evidence that they had seen your blush.

you spent your day the way you always spent your days at camp half blood; trying everything in hopes of getting recognized, in hopes of impressing your parent enough for them to dangle a glowing light over your head, to claim you as their child. you covered yourself with soot inside the forges with leo but all you ever managed to produce was a broken spring that even had leo wincing in shame as he plucked it from your hands and threw it away. you tried every weapon in the arena, letting clarisee pummel you with swords, spears, and shield alike. you even tried hanging out with nico and percy, trying to dig up bones and talk to horses but it never worked. none of it ever worked. which is how you ended up at the dock, your legs crossed under you and your fist shoved into your cheek to hold your head up. apollo's sun was starting to set, coating the whole of camp in a golden hue that had you thinking of one boy who was comparable to the color.

"go away, travvy. im not hungry," you muttered as you heard footsteps approached, picking up another rock and plopping it into the lake, watching the naiads follow it down before bringing it back up to you.

"not travis," a familar voice mused as he stopped behind you, causing your spine to straighten and you to look over your shoulder with a mildly panicked look, being met with the very golden boy who invaded your mind.

"oh, hey, jason," you replied, returning your attention to the naiads as jason sat down next you, leaning back against one of the poles as he watched you. you stiffened under his view, feeling it to be more interrogating than anything. you went to open your mouth and run away with lies about needing to make your bed but jason beat you to it.

"you look so pretty in this light."

"huh?" you asked, stupidly, turning to look at him with what surely was a dumb look on your face. jason's lips just continued to twitched upwards, the setting sun's light getting caught on his scar. you had the fading thoughts that jason might have seen it as an imperfection, which would have made you laugh; the golden boy, flawed? no, surely not.

"i said; you look beautiful in this light. just gorgeous," he continued, leaving you gaping like a fish before swallowing down your embarrassment as you hung your head.

"look, if the stolls put you up to this for some stupid prank, it's okay-"

"nope. ever hear of free will, yn?" jason mused, his eyes unwillingly drifting from you towards the golden setting sun. your eyes stayed on him, brows furrowed as you tried to figure out his angle.

"jason," you said, not entirely sure what you wanted to say after you drew his attention back to you. his blue eyes instantly darted back to you, gleaming with a fondness that you've seen in the way percy looks at annabeth, the way nico looks at will, and the way charles used to look at silena. with a love that you never thought would be directed towards you. let alone from him.

"yn," he teased back with a bright smile, shifting to lean closer to you. you wanted to lean away, give him space to think over his decisions but your gut wouldn't let you, feeling his breath fan across your redden cheeks.

"what are you doing?" you whispered out, not needing to speak louder due to the closeness.

"something i should have done a long time ago. im confessing to a girl that i like her, like, a lot. im telling this pretty girl that i know she's scared, but i can't get her out of my mind," jason rambled and out of the corner of your eye, you could his hand reach out before landing against your bicep. it then ran upwards, slowly gliding over your skin towards your neck and face.

"jason. we- we can't. youre- gods, youre so golden and perfect and youre just- youre too bright for me. we can't," you breathed out, rapidly, but unable to lean away from his warm touch. his hand which was now cupping your cheek while his other landed somewhere near your hip.

"yn, youre the perfect girl for me. utter perfection. and i'll spend the rest of my life ensuring that you know that. you'll never go another day going unwanted with me, i swear on my life," jason replied, firmly, the roman praetor tone strong in his voice. and, not wanting to give you time to argue, jason pulled your lips to his.

and you'd be lying if you said you didn't lean in a little too.

kissing jason grace was like something out of some shiny hollywood movie. perfect. flawless. stunning. dazzling.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo fandom #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader

[81folklore]

new years day - HS

pairings: harry styles x gn!reader (fc: none)

summary: harrys partner reminisces on instagram over the past 2 years of love on tour before the final show

authors note: i was listening to my sleepy taylor playlist and this song started playing and it took me back to all the love on tour edits so i had to create a smau for it.. i promise im working on the drafts i put on that poll!!

authors note 2: i used they/them pronouns when writing because nothing ever really specified readers gender so please imagine as you will!!

masterlist

yourusername has added to their story

*text on first photo reads: a couple of my favorite love on tour fits over the years💙*

seen by harrystyles, gemmastyles and 637,572 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, harry_lambert and 826,891 others

its going to be impossible to not miss this☹️

view comments

harrystyles: ❤️❤️

user7: oh i love them so much

user18: the support you show for harry is so lovely :’)

user73: im going to miss guessing what the styles will be wearing every night☹️

harry_lambert: so many outfits! so many fun nights!

yourusername: ahh ill miss seeing what youve put together for h

annetwist: ill miss seeing you so often darling!!

yourusername: you wont be able to get rid of us, promise🤍

yourusername added to their story

*text on first photo reads: and with that my final love on tour outfit is done💗* *text on second photo reads: bring on the finale🥹*

seen by harrystyles, annetwist and 752,174 others

yourusername

liked by harrystyles, lloyddddddddddddddddd and 1,118,592 others

tagged: harrystyles

theres glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…

i have never been as sad as i am right now writing that love on tour is officially over! this has honestly been one of the craziest experiences for everyone; myself, the fans and for you harry. being able to watch you grow as an artist and an individual on and off stage for the past two years has been an honor and i cannot thank you enough for bringing me on this incredible journey with you

the love i feel for you is one i struggle to describe, its a feeling of joy when i see you on stage, its a feeling of hurt when i see you at your lows, its a feeling of pure happiness when i see you being who you are. loving you is something so genuinely special and i cannot believe i am the one who gets to witness all of you, all of your life

love on tour is truly something that is one of a kind and the family you were able to create with it will be something that lasts forever along with the memories created these past years

i dont think i will ever get over being the one to see you achieve everything you have ever wanted, getting to be the one you come to after a show and just hug until your hearts content, getting to be the person you cry on after a show like slane or wembley where you just felt so overwhelmed by the love and support you received

i will thank you everyday for choosing me to be that person, to be the person you love, to be the person you have join you in this life youve created for yourself

thank you love on tour and thank you harry

i will love you both forever and ever❤️‍🩹

view comments

capitalofficial: im not crying you are🥲

harryflorals: we love you both💐

gemmastyles: 😭😭😭🤍🤍

harrystyles: 💗💗

user6: i need harry to learn how to use instagram properly i NEED to see his response😭

user89: sobbing and screaming

user35: they love him so much😭😭

harrystyles: baby the love i have for you is endless, thank you for coming with me on this journey and thank you for letting me love you. i love you so so much

user35: and HE LOVES THEM SO MUCH😭😭

user62: i feel sick they love eachother so much❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

yourusername added to their story

seen by user56, user77 and 916,473 others

*first story has the song ‘new years day’ by taylor swift attached* *second story text reads: 🏠*

#harry styles x reader #social media au #harry styles social media au #harry styles social media #harry styles fake instagram #smau #harry styles smau #harry styles instagram #harry styles instagram au #harry styles x male reader #harry styles x fem reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington series #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

[alonetimelover]

pairing: Harry Styles x equestrian!reader

fc: Jessica Springsteen

summary: in which harry needed to learn how to ride a horse for his daylight music video

a/n: thank you to the anon that requested equestrian!reader

masterlist

——————————————————————————————

harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 42 101 others

harryupdates HARRY SPOTTED FILMING SOMETHING IN ATLANTA!!!!!!!!

view all 4 201 comments

hArrysbtch NO FUCKING WAY

hArrysbtch WHAT IS HAPPENING

harrysmoustache STOP whatever you're doing, just STOP

harrysmylife King is back

harryshoee this is for daylight, i'm telling you!

⤷ stylesbabie didn't he film sth with james?

⤷ harryshoee i think it was only for the show and not the original music video. at least I hope so!!!

harrybestie phoebe is that you?

harryno1fan he has a strange mind...

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yourinstagram

liked by harryupdates and 24 301 others

yourinstagram Olympics are no more for us, so Don Juan joined a circus!

view all 1 301 comments

hArrysbtch ill recognise that bitch anywhere!!!!

harryshoee ariana what are you doing here?????

harryupdates 👀

user49 hello, why are "Olympics no more"?

⤷ yourinstagram hiii! jumping has been removed from Olympics because of an incident that happened during one of the competitions.

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, stylesbabie and 33 201 others

harrysupdates HARRY FOLLOWED YN YSN ON IG AND TWITTER! he liked all of her photos and commented on the last 10!

view all 4 201 comments

harryupdates YN YSN is equestrian that won silver medal at the 2020 Olympics! she also is rumoured to be involved in harry's daylight music video!!

hArrysbtch nah, that bitch is gone!

harrysmoustache he's taken?!

harrysmylife maaaaan, he in love

stylesbabie oh she so posted a picture of harry on her ig then

harryshoee we're the same. I've done the same to her profile. I love her too

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harrylisbon

liked by harryupdates, hArrysbtch and 67 208 others

harrylisbon WTHAJDKOW GUYS!!!! HARRY JUST PLAYED THIS DURING DAYLIGHT!!!!!

view all 10 401 comments

harryupdates what is going on?????

hArrysbtch what if he drops ot during the final show????

harryshoee im losing my shit rn

stylesbabie im seeing him in Rome, he better played it in the background!!!!

harrysmoustache screaming crying throwing up

harrysfan82 I died dead

harrysfan03 i lost the idgaf war....

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harryupdates

liked by yourinstagram, harryshoee and 58 401 others

harryupdates DAYLIGHT MV 19th JULY 5PM UK

view all 6 402 others

harryupdates guess what? im not sleeping again tonight!

hArrysbtch excuse me, i have heart problems

harrysmoustache yellow bird supremacy!!!!!

yourinstagram 🏇🏻🏇🏻🏇🏻

⤷ hArrysbtch what you mean???????

⤷ harrysmylife yn, tell me you're involved!

⤷ yourinstagram 🤫

harrysmylife he's in his taylor era

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harrystyles

liked by harryupdates, yourinstagram and 8 301 031 others

harrystyles DAYLIGHT MV just for you, H xx yourinstagram

view all 491 301 comments

yourinstagram Don Juan looks magnificent!

⤷ harrystyles what about me?

⤷ yourinstagram we still need to work on your posture

⤷ harrystyles yes, ma'am

⤷ hArrysbtch WTF, he knows how to comment?????

harryupdates that's your best video to date

harrysmylife he can ride??? what can't he do??

annetwist Proud ❤️

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch and 49 302 others

harryupdates "She was the first choice from the moment the idea popped in my head. I couldn't be happier about it. She's the best." HARRY ON WORKING WITH YN IN DAYLIGHT MUSIC VIDEO BTS

view all 5 302 comments

hArrysbtch he in love

harrysmoustache HE BLUSHED SO HARD!!!!!

harryshoee the clips of the laughing together??????

harrysmylife and and and the way he looks at her

harrysfan94 but the clip when yn's doing all the jumping and all??? she's sooo good. couldn't harry just have her starring in the mv?

⤷ yourinstagram yeah, harrystyles?

⤷ harrystyles there is this version...

⤷ hArrysbtch WHAT

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, stylesbabie and 492 301 others

yourinstagram THE Don Juan and some indie singer on their first lesson

view all 49 302 comments

harrystyles the star 🐎

harryupdates the shade???

stylesbabie uhhh, they so together

harryshoee do you give lessons to ordinary people?

⤷ yourinstagram during the summer when there's no competition I'm holding a camp. you can enrol with the link in my bio!

⤷ user92 be careful, it's expensive as hell!

⤷ yourinstagram well, we do not take any money from our pupils. we ask for food or money (however much you want) donation! hope that helps, x

harrysmoustache oh, I'm so in love with them

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harryupdates

liked by harrysmoustache and 49 301 others

harryupdates YN AND HARRY SPOTTED HORSE RIDING OUTSIDE OF LONDON!

view all 7 492 others

hArrysbtch oh so we know what he's going to do during the break

harrysmylife 😭that's😭so😭sweet😭

stylesbabie he looks so cute in his little outfit

harryshoee SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY

harrysmyman unholy thought, unholy

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, hArrysbtch and 830 201 others

yourinstagram ❤️❤️❤️

view all 49 201 comments

harrystyles congratulations, darling.

commemt liked by yourinstagram and 68 302 others

harryupdates the support

hArrysbtch we haven't heard from him in months

⤷ harrysmoustache and we've got a prize today for waiting patiently

stylesbabie everyone say: THANK YOU, YN

harrysmylife and everything started because this man has a mind strange enough to start a circus...

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles instagram #harry styles fake ig #harry styles #equestrian!reader

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around. 

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 

“Hello,” Y/n began. 

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 

"My nephew does too!" 

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 

Left, right, left again, right again. 

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 

Damn! 

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 

He seceded first! HA! She won! 

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

#regency!harry #regency!harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles enemies to lovers #regency!harry enemies to lovers #by bug

[chrisevansonly]

Block Out the Noise

pairing: harry styles x female reader

summary: sometimes you just need to listen to your song and love on your boyfriend to make the negative thoughts go away

warnings: mention of past abuse, talks of depression and suicidal thoughts, potentially triggering(?!) very soft and caring harry&lt;3

a/n: i wanted to write something about matilda because it’s a song that I hold so close to my heart. from growing up in an abusive home and needing to take care of my brother from age 6 and up, when i heard matilda i knew it would be a song i’d cherish forever. this is a fic i hold close to my heart because i was that scared and small little girl who didn’t understand why i got anger taken out on me and why i had bruises when other kids didn’t. you’re not alone, you’ve got me in your corner and your stronger than you know, i hope my inner child knows that too<3

No one asks to be born into a world of chaos and fear, especially not when you’re a child. Wondering why your parents fought, the screaming matches, the subtle bruises you somehow ended up with because you ‘stood in the way.’ As a child you never knew what went wrong or what you did to be treated this way but you still tried your hardest regardless of the war zone you once called home.

you were riding your bike to the sound of its no big deal, and you’re trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels..

You taught yourself to read, to cook, to take care of yourself and your siblings. Going as far as to teach yourself to ride a bike and even drive, you raised yourself in a world where you wished you hadn’t needed to do that. When you got to high school the insults from your father got worse, the insecurity creeped in and you struggled with self worth and self harm.

nothing about the way that you were treated ever seemed especially alarming til now..

Then came college where you worked three jobs to pay your tuition and fought tooth and nail to get the best grades and work your absolute hardest to get your degree which you did all on your own. Mental illness and recovery was never linear and you battled some of your darkest days throughout college and even towards graduation when you met Harry.

so you tie up your hair and you smile like it’s no big deal

Harry was your world, he was the calm through the storm, the light that helped guide you through the tough times, he truly was your best friend. You’d been together now going on 5 years with no plans of ever separating from one another. He always told you that you provided just as much safety and comfort to him as he could to you.

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

-

Now you were 26 and worked at your dream job, your life was filled with so much love and so much joy sometimes you found yourself needing to take a step back and just breathe, reminding yourself your life was real. Of course you had your rough days, and after the meeting and scolding you’d gotten today, all you wanted was to get home and see Harry.

matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright, but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside

When Harry had started working on the album, he’d told you he was writing one very special song he couldn’t wait to share with you. So on the day that he sat you down and let you listen to Matilda, by the second line you were looking over at him with tears in your eyes, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly and he was quick to pull you into his chest.

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days

When you arrived home you dropped your work things by the front closet, kicking your heels off and dropping your shoulders in exhaustion. Harry wasn’t home yet so you allowed yourself a few minutes to get some water, your headphones and settle on the couch with a fluffy blanket.

it’s none of my business but it’s just been on my mind

On natural instinct almost, you allowed the soft melody of matilda to play through your headphones, eyes closing as you sunk into the cushions. It wasn’t as if you were trying to cower from the overwhelming feelings you had in this moment, but more or less trying to let them flow and escape from your mind

you can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love, you don't have to be sorry for leaving and growing up

You hadn’t even noticed the tears steadily falling down your cheeks, your breathing picking up slightly as you pulled the blanket up further, attempting to wrap yourself in more warmth. It wasn’t until you felt gentle fingertips dancing across your face that you opened your eyes, Harry looking at you in concern. Pausing the song you pulled your headphones off and sent him a soft smile

“Hey m’love…”

“Hi”

Lifting the blanket up you let him cuddle in next to you, the instant comfort you felt just from being wrapped up in his arms was enough to blow the stress and pain from the day away

“You okay y/n?”

Nodding you leaned further into him

“Just had a really bad day…got yelled at and it just made me think of old stuff and I don’t know…f-felt a bit sad”

Harry placed a soft kiss against your temple

“I’m sorry today was so tough, I know it was probably hard to remember what it was like growing up too..can’t blame you for feeling upset”

His hands ran up and down your arm softly, the constant touch helping to keep you grounded and in the present moment.

“You know what I think?”

Looking up at him you furrowed your brows

“What?”

Placing a kiss on your lips he smiled

“I think you are the most beautiful soul, inside and out. Despite everything you’re still here, fighting and working hard day in and day out. You don’t ever have to feel sorry or feel bad about doing everything you’ve done on your own, and allowing yourself to love and experience love despite it all”

“H…”

He was quick to swipe a tear from your cheek before continuing

“I love you so much, you’re my now and my future. Seeing you grow and flourish into the woman you are today has been a privilege to witness and support you through. I admire you so much m’baby, you’ve never let anyone dim your light and m’so lucky to get to love you”

Anything you would have said to him in this moment was caught in your throat, so wrapping your arms around him and holding him tight was enough for him in the moment. Harry was the moon and the stars to you, he was your whole universe and he’d been helping you heal since you’d been together. You’d done the hardest work on this journey, he had just been there to support and love you through it so he says.

“I love you so much H, thank you for letting me start a new family”

“I’ll always be your family, you’re safe with me my darling, always”

Matilda was a song that would forever have its hold on you, and it was even more special knowing Harry had wrote it thinking of you, including you in his album and one of his projects he really loved. The love he’d shown you and continues to show you had only helped you come out of your shell and finally feel as if you’d found your place and purpose in this world.

Harry was your home, just as you were his.

a/n if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse please reach out to someone you know, whether it be a friend, family member or adult you trust. I’d only wished i’d done so earlier, i’m here to help and support you guys in anyway I can. You are loved, you are cherished and you are worth it.

#harry styles #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x girlfriend reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fanfiction #rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #ruesfriends💙

[daaydreamy]

i know it’s unconventional, but a blurb about sounding?

strange bliss

summary: harry and y/n experiment with sounding for the first time. 

warnings: coarse language, smut, sounding

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

•••

“Fuck, that looks so fucking crazy.” Harry laughed breathlessly as he looked down at himself, feeling embarrassment crawling up the back of his neck, causing heat to flow all over his body even stronger. He was leaning back against the headboard of the bed, one of his hands on his thighs with his nails digging into his skin a little, the blush on his cheeks seen all the way down to his chest. He was already a little worked up, thanks to all the teasing they had initially started with to get Harry more relaxed, his pretty little head swirling with all sorts of things. 

“You okay?” Y/N smiled, sitting back against her calves beside Harry. She was wearing one of Harry’s shirts that she managed to snag out of his closet without him noticing and just a pair of panties, one of her hands drawing patterns against his soft thigh mindlessly. 

“Yeah—yeah, just,” He gulped, “jus’ give me a sec.” He said breathily and let his head fall back while he closed his eyes, a sudden, shocked gasp being ripped out from his throat when he felt the rod get pushed down just a centimeter further, feeling like sparks of electricity were striking against his skin all over. 

“What?” She asked nonchalantly when he opened his eyes again to look at her, her hands tucked in between her thighs to make it appear like she didn’t do anything. 

“You’re trying to k-ill me.” He choked on his words when she wrapped her hand around his base gently, her thumb rubbing up and down softly, causing his muscles to tense and he instinctively tried to close his legs, tried to bring his knees up to his chest, but Y/N stopped him gently, letting him get used to this intensely strange feeling.

“I was just trying something.” She murmured, smiling. “Wanted to see how you’d react.”

“Well, are you happy now?”

🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-luvsfics, @gorlsinmultifandoms, @littlenatilda, @straightontilmornin

#sub!harry #subrry #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #sub!harry x dom!reader #dom!reader #dom!y/n #sub!harry x soft dom!reader #soft dom!reader #soft dom!y/n #writing

[chaoticloving]

can you do a little blurb about clingy harry :))) maybe one where he's sick and just wants you??

just one smooch

harry styles x actress!reader

summary: Harry is feeling sick and there is only one person who can make him feel better. masterlist

warnings: sickness, one kinda sex joke

word count: 1.3k

a/n: this is technically part of the SOH universe but it can be read as a stand alone

January, 2015

Standing in the freezing rain for that god-damn music video scene that didn't even make it into the final video really made Harry's cold feel so much worse.

Last time Harry was sick was when he got food poisoning for eating one too many airplane meals—and that was 3 years ago. Harry's had years of traveling under his belt and now knows how to get good food to avoid the upset stomach, but he has no idea why he feels so groggy.

It didn't help that Harry woke up alone, which always put a damper on his mood. He found that his king size bed feels almost too big when he rolled over again, and again, to try to feel her presence.

This morning, and late into yesterday, Y/n had a call back for another un-named project—she would never tell him what movie or role she would audition for, and then inevitably get of course. She liked seeing the surprise on his face when it was publicly announced.

But now this all means that Harry will be alone for the next hour.

He sighed and rolled over to his side. He reached over to his bedside table to get his phone, but got his phone and a little stickie note attached.

Miss you, love! I'll be back soon enough and then we can spend the whole day together! I'll pick up some take-out from that place you like too!

Keep the bed warm xo

Harry smiled and thought about how he should really get up to fix himself up for Y/n; the sight she saw when she got up must not of been that pretty, Harry thought, he better make himself presentable before she came back.

He rose up and immediately collapsed back down to the comfort of his pillows. His head did not feel like that two seconds ago, and when did he get all cold all of a sudden?

He groaned and withered away in the bed for much longer then what he should of. But he did make the genius idea to keep his sickness on the down low.

He sneezed as he got on his clothes and brushed his teeth. He soon moved onto doing his hair, then finding some of the stage makeup he uses for interviews to give a hint of color back to his face so he wouldn't look too deathly ill.

Soon enough, he heard the front door to his apartment and a cheery sound ring out. Harry got one last sneeze out before he came out of the bathroom and put on a happy smile.

"Hey! How'd it go?" Harry asked, taking her bag and the take out from her hands and putting it on the counter.

She smiled, sly, and a little shy too. "I think it went really well-"

Harry couldn't cover the sneeze. It was loud, obnoxious, and too middle-aged-man for Harry's taste. It made him feel worse then before, it almost felt this sickness was aging him a little too quickly.

“You were saying, love.” He smiled, asking her to continue. He tried to stand as nonchalantly as he possibly could, but it didn’t matter.

Y/n didn’t look all that impressed. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That earthquake of a sneeze.” She put the back of her hand on his forehead, getting a feel of how hot it was.

“Stop worrying, just a sneeze.”

“You’ve got to of have a fever if you think that was just a sneeze.” She removed her hand. “And I think you do, babe.”

She moved around him and went to the bathroom, Harry following right behind, to get the thermometer. Harry liked how Y/n new where to go in his flat, made it feel almost more home-like.

Harry sat on the counter, liking the way Y/n scoffed and mumbled big baby under her breath. Sometimes the couple would take turns sitting on the counter, doing each other’s skin care and leaving little kisses all over. But in this case it was to get his temperature.

Harry had a dopey smile on his face, although she knew all too well that he must be feeling really under the weather. But she appreciated how calm he was when he was sick, it made Y/n feel better about taking care of him since it wasn't too much work.

She put the gadget on Harry’s forehead, and then read the temperature. “37.3.” She sighed. “Not a fever fever, but a little worrying.”

“What does that mean, doctor?”

“It means that you are on bed rest.” Harry groaned which resulted in a smile from Y/n. “Come on.”

“But the take out—“

“But you need fluids, not a brown rice bowl with enough beans to make you gassy.”

“I do not get gassy.” Harry sternly said as he collapsed back onto the bed. Y/n’s footsteps wandered off then quickly came back with some water.

“Drink, big baby.”

“M’ your big baby.”

“That’s right.” Y/n mumbled, hand through his hair and a kiss on the forehead. “Lemme get you a damp cloth.”

“Mm k.” Harry sleepily said. His head on the pillow and the softness of his loves voice, soothing him to sleep.

“Hey don’t fall asleep on me just yet.” She placed the cold damp cloth on his head., holding his hand with her free one. “You need some food in you.”

“Bed ‘s comfy though.” He rebutted. “Get in ‘ere with me. I can show you a good time.”

“I don’t want your mouth anywhere on me.” She deadpanned.

Harry gasped, acting as if he was now physically hurt. “Never say those words again.”

“Mhm.”

“I have never felt more betrayed.”

“Mhm.”

“When I’m feeling better you’re going to feel so good.”

“Mhm.” She let go of his hand—pout ensured—and got up. “I’m going to make soup alright? No falling asleep.”

“Okay.” Harry reluctantly agreed, hating to watch her leave. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She left Harry to his own devices as she entered his kitchen. It was neat and tidy, just like Harry always kept it. Out of the duo, Harry was defiantly the cleaner, which always worked well in comparison to Y/n stress baking.

Y/n got to work right away, making a soup with a recipe Anne had given to her as a cure all medicine, which, she thought, would do the trick. Harry had all of the ingredients in the fridge, so it took a quick few minutes of chopping, brewing, and seasoning to get it just right.

She dished some up in a bowl, and another for her, then carefully walked back to the room. “Eat up.”

“Thanks.” Harry sat up right away, taking the bowl and spoon and practically inhaling the soup. “Fuck that’s so good.” Harry practically moaned.

“Oh I thought you hated it.” She mumbled, chucking under her breath.

“‘Ey! What’s so funny?” Harry asked, a little dribble of soup trailing down his face.

“Nothing. Just love you.”

“Awe babe, you’re making me blush.” Harry smiled. “Give me a kiss.” Harry pouted his lips and leaned in, causing her to arch her back to get away.

“No. I don’t want any of your germs.” She shooed him back, the pout coming back.

“Please, I’ll feel a hundred times better.” Harry begged. “Just one little smooch.”

Y/n seemed to consider this. She did really want a kiss from him, the last one she got was last night and that was too long ago.

“Fine, but you better not get me sick—“

His lips were on her’s. His lips were dry and his face was burning, but it was a much needed kiss.

“Thanks for taking care of me.” Harry sighed, resting his forehead on hers. “You know I would do the same for you, right.”

“Of course babe.” Y/n kissed him on the nose then patted his cheek. “You need some rest.”

Harry nodded, sleep hitting him quick. She took his bowl and placed it on the side table; Harry knew he’d have a nice dream. One where they're together, under one roof, under one house, one home.

Tag list: send ask to be added/removed. strikethrough can’t be tagged for some reason.

@uhuhuh @sucker4angstt @b-reads-things @augustfaultline @bxtchboy69 @japanchrry @lilbredsticc @daydreamingofmatilda @springholland @fullofsourgrapes @cacapeepee @yourgoldengirls

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x actress!reader #bf!harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles concept #harry styles oneshot

[harrysfinelinevol1]

here for you

harry styles x reader

summary: harry is your husband and you are following him on his europe tour. halfway through you get quite sick which causes harry to get very worried about you especially because you're carrying a little secret

word count: 5k

warnings: none

Berlin was always one of your favourite places to visit. You found the city to be fascinating and the people there were always lovely. However this time around, you hadn't been able to really see it at all.

At his previous show in Poland, you had begun to feel a bit achy and tired but you had just put it down to poor sleep and always being on the move. However, after the day after the show, you had woken up to an excruciating headache, a chesty cough and you felt like you had a fever. During that day as you travelled from Poland to Germany, you had tried to play down how sick you were, not wanting to stress out your husband or distract him from his tour and so he remained mostly unaware of how awful you felt during that day. You arrived in Berlin late at night and went straight to the hotel. But at this point, you were starting to feel dizzy and you knew you needed to see a doctor. You knew you had the flu and in most normal circumstances you would just power through but not everything about your current circumstances was normal.

You were pregnant with Harry's baby. You had found out just before the Wembley show in London and you had been over the moon. You and Harry had been trying so luckily it wasn't a bad shock for you when the result came through as positive. You had told Harry and he had cried happy tears as he scooped you up into his arms, telling you how excited he was and how you would be the best mum. Since then he had become very protective of you, making sure you were always comfortable and trying the very best for you and your unborn baby. It had made you fall in love with him all over again. However, now that you were sick, you knew if you told him how ill you felt, he would panic and probably end up doing something rash, like cancel the show so he could be with you and you really didn't want him to do that.

So as you arrived at the hotel, and you knew you needed to see someone to check everything was ok, you sought out Sarah. Sarah and Mitch were some of the few people on the tour with you who you had told about the baby. Sarah had been really helpful during your first trimester as you struggled with morning sickness and the exhaustion you had felt.

You knocked on her hotel room door and it was quickly opened by Mitch who stared at you in confusion.

"Could I speak to Sarah?" you rasped, throat beginning to hurt now as well. Mitch quickly realised something wasn't right and let you in, helping you over to an armchair in the room and calling for Sarah, who was in the bathroom. She rushed out and came over to you, kneeling by your side.

"Oh love, what's up," she asked worried as you coughed, holding your hand against your head.

"I'm really ill. I think I need to see a doctor," you managed to get out and Sarah was quickly gesturing at Mitch to get her a phone.

"Ok, how long have you been feeling like this?" she questioned as Mitch handed her her phone and she scrolled to try and find the number for the doctor they had on tour with them.

"Probably since the last show," you mumbled, closing your eyes to try and lessen the thumping pain in your head. You heard the dial tone of Sarah's phone and her begin to explain to the doctor that he needed to come and see you. She explained your symptoms and also that you were pregnant and he said he would be right up. She put down the phone and held onto your hand as you waited.

"Does Harry know?" she whispered tentatively and you slowly shook your head.

"Y/N. You should tell him," Sarah told you but you shook your head again.

"He'll worry too much. He's already spending way too much time fretting about me and I just want him to focus on doing the best shows he can," you explained, sniffling slightly and Sarah just sighed but said nothing more. She knew you should have told him, but she respected your reasons for not doing so.

The doctor arrived quickly and gave you an examination to make sure everything was still ok with the baby, as well as prescribing you some medication to help with the flu. He told you that it was very important that you got some rest over the next couple of days and didn't push yourself at all. You agreed nervously, knowing it would be hard to explain to Harry why you were spending all day in bed. But you needed to do it for the health of your baby so you nodded along to whatever the doctor was saying.

After he left, you trudged back to your hotel room, still feeling horrible but the doctor had given you some pills so your symptoms were slightly less intense. You opened the door and chuckled slightly at the sight in front of you. Harry was fully clothed and face down on the bed, snoring slightly. You knew he was exhausted, it often happened halfway into the tour. You went about getting ready for bed, leaving him to sleep for a bit longer before you slowly shuffled round to his side of the bed, pushing the hair out of his face and giving him a small kiss on the head. His eyes fluttered open and he smiled softly when he saw you above him.

"Hi love," he mumbled sleepily.

"Let's get you to bed," you whispered, half to keep quiet and half because your throat was so sore that talking was quite difficult at the moment. He nodded as he pushed himself off the bed and padded into the bathroom. You went around the bed and clambered in, tucking yourself under the covers as the fever was making you shiver slightly, even though you knew you were hot to touch. You could feel yourself falling in and out of consciousness as Harry moved quietly around the room getting ready for bed. Eventually, he got into the bed beside you, frowning slightly when he noticed how hot you felt to touch and how you couldn't really focus on him.

"You ok love?" he wondered, scared that something might be wrong with the baby. You hummed back in response, too tired and ill to even be able to speak. Harry could tell he wasn't going to be able to get anything out of you as you were too tired but he couldn't help but worry. You had been strangely quiet all day, barely even saying a word and you had slept for the majority of it but you seemed exhausted now.

He had a fitful sleep, consumed by anxiety over whether you were ok. He kept waking up to check that you were still ok and he wished he could check that the baby was ok as well. He woke up in the morning, not feeling rested at all and frowned when he turned over and found that you were not lying next to him. Usually, he would wake up first and then wake you up with gentle kisses and touches but today that was not the case. He could see the light from the bathroom was on and guessed you were in there. He could hear retching and he cursed himself for not being there to help you through your morning sickness.

"Babe?!" he called out, quickly throwing off the covers and rushing into the bathroom where you were leaning on the toilet, face pale and clammy, dark circle under your eyes and you were trembling slightly. You looked horrible, worse than you usually looked when you had morning sickness. Harry's heart dropped when he saw you, it killed him to see the love of his life looking so unwell. He dropped down beside you, gathering your hair up in his hands and slowly rubbing your back as you retched and gagged.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled as you collapsed back against him. You had never felt worse in your life, the morning sickness combined with your flu had you feeling like you might not actually survive this.

"Baby, why are you apologising?" Harry questioned, stunned you'd try and apologise for being unwell.

"Because I can't imagine this is nice to deal with," you explained but he shook his head.

"Y/N, you are everything to me. I will always be there for you when you're feeling gross and sick because I love you so much. M' your husband love, I will look after you for the rest of my life," he professed and tears pricked your eyes. You felt so guilty for not telling him you were sick now because you could hear in his voice how worried he was about you.

"C'mon, let's get you back into bed," he said as he lifted you into his arms, letting you rest your weary head on his shoulder. He knew there was something going on other than your morning sickness, you looked too unwell. He gently placed you down on the bed, kneeling down beside you.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" he whispered to you and you sighed, knowing you needed to come clean.

"I'm not feeling very well. At all. I have the flu," you admitted. Harry ran his hands over his face before settling one hand on yours, giving it a squeeze.

"How long have you felt like this?" he inquired, knowing you would have tried to pretend like it was fine for as long as possible.

"Not very long," you tried but Harry shook his head.

"C'mon love, don't pretend to be ok. Let me help you," he pleaded.

"Haven't been feeling great since the last show."

"Ok, do we need to go see a doctor? Do you think the baby is ok?" he asked, eyes full of worry for his unborn child and you. You shook your head.

"I... um... well I saw the doctor last night," you told him and you felt horrible when you saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Baby, why didn't you tell me? I just came here and fell asleep like an idiot when I should have been there for you," he said, placing a hand on your forehead and flinching when he felt how hot you were. You shrugged slightly, squeezing your eyes shut so the tears that were threatening to fall down your cheeks wouldn't slip out. You had become a lot more emotional since getting pregnant and would cry at the smallest things.

Deep down, Harry knew exactly why you hadn't told him. You had always been very selfless and would only complain about something if it was really bad. He knew you didn't like to distract him from his work and he knew you hated it when he was overly worried about you. You always wanted him to be comfortable and happy on tour and focused on the fans and his music and not be concerned about you.

"Love, when will you realise that I will always worry about you. You're my love, my wife and the mother of my child. You are my first priority always," he insisted and you sniffled slightly.

"I know," you whimpered, feeling so bad for not telling Harry you were sick.

"Oh my love, please don't cry, it's ok," he tried to soothe you. "I just want you to be ok, yeah, so let me look after you."

"But your tour? You have a really busy day H," you pointed out and he scoffed.

"Fuck the tour. You're more important," he declared but you shook your head, sighing.

"Harry, you can't cancel your show over me. You just can't. I won't let you. It will make me feel worse if you do," you told him, your fears of him trying to do something rash because of your sickness coming true. He groaned slightly, knowing that you wouldn't back down over this and also that you were right. He couldn't just cancel a show but he didn't want to go to work and not be able to look after you. But he had an idea.

"Ok, listen I won't cancel the show, but you need to let me look after you. Come with me today, I'll make sure you have a place you can rest for the whole day. If you're too sick, that's fine, you can stay here and rest love, but if you can, please come with me. I wanna make sure you and the little one are alright," he begged. You could tell he was really going to struggle to leave you here on your own, and secretly you wanted to come and have him look after you although you would never admit it. So you nodded and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, love. If at any point you need to come back here, just let me know and we will. Now, let me get you some clean clothes and we'll go from there."

He helped you up, getting you out of your pyjamas, which your skin was sticking to due to your fever although you just felt cold. You whimpered loudly when you sat naked in the bed, intensely shivering and Harry ran around quickly getting you some new clothes, his heart breaking to see you so ill. He grabbed a big hoodie of his and some of your leggings out of the closet, as well as some underwear. Weakly, you let him dress you, your body using his for support as he pulled the jumper over your head. Once he had got you into clean clothes, he pulled you into his lap, holding you and rocking you to try and soothe you. It worked slightly, you found yourself relaxing in the arms of your love and it relieved some of the aches you felt in your body.

"Have you got some medicine?" he inquired and you nodded, telling him it was in your washbag in the bathroom. He found the medicine the doctor had prescribed you and got you some water so you could take it.

"Can I get you some breakfast?" he asked and you groaned at the thought of food. Nausea from the morning sickness and the fact you had lost your appetite made food sound very unappealing.

"Love you need to eat something. For the baby," he urged you and you knew he was right. The baby needed sustenance, so you needed to eat.

"Nothing too heavy," you conceded and he nodded. He tucked you back into bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and promised he'd be back soon and went off in search of some breakfast. When he returned with a range of items, he found you asleep, snoring slightly as your body tried to fight off your illness. He smiled softly, glad you were getting some much-needed rest, before settling himself in the adjoining room, which had a sofa and table in it and started eating some breakfast he had acquired for himself.

You slept for most of the morning, until about 11am, when Harry woke you up, quietly telling you that he was needed in about an hour at the venue to rehearse. Your heart swelled when you saw what he had got you for breakfast. He had bought you a range of options as he had apparently gone to Sarah to ask her what he should get you to make sure he got it right. He had bought you some yoghurt and bananas as well as different types of cereal so you could choose the one you wanted. He had also got you some ginger tea because he had read somewhere that ginger helped with morning sickness. You felt so lucky at that moment to have such a caring and sweet husband who would do anything for you.

You slowly ate breakfast, to try and keep everything down and the ginger tea really did help. Harry helped you shower and get ready for the day before packing a bag for you full of blankets, your medicine, some water and things to get you through the day. You set off for the venue around 12, you slumped against Harry in the car while he rubbed your back, pressing small gentle kisses all over your face. When you arrived, Harry found two couches in the dressing room which he pushed together to make a bed for you. He covered it in blankets and cushions and helped you get settled. As sick as you were you wanted to smother him with love for what he was doing for you. You were so thankful.

Eventually, he had to leave to go to rehearsals but it took a lot of convincing on your part to get him to leave you. Jeff basically had to drag him away and he looked very grumpy as he sulked off towards the stage. You settled down and began to drift off again, the distant sound of Harry's voice calming you down as you listened to him playing.

You rested all afternoon, Harry periodically coming into check on you. Whenever he had a spare moment, he would immediately rush to be by your side, making sure you were getting enough liquids and rest and helping you eat something here and there. As the afternoon turned into the evening, Harry became busier and busier and was finding it hard to get back to you and make sure you were ok. He was getting frustrated with people as they kept pulling him in different places and he was getting snappy. Jeff sighed as he noticed Harry getting irritable, knowing he only needed to see his wife but they were running late already and he couldn't really pull him away yet. Selfishly, Jeff needed Harry to stay where he was so he could make sure everything went to plan.

You remained unaware of this, as you were snoozing away in the dressing room, listening to a podcast on your phone, your hand absentmindedly rubbing your belly. You had started doing it when you got pregnant and it always relaxed you now. Harry was always rubbing it as well as if he was in awe that a tiny person was growing inside you. You could tell he was already going to be an amazing father, especially after how he treated you today.

You slept right through into the evening, your body craving rest as it fought off the illness, but it did mean you had slept right through dinner and Harry hadn't been there to make sure you'd eaten. Therefore you woke up at around 8:30, half an hour before Harry was due to go on stage, feeling groggy and weak due to the lack of food. You groaned as you stretched out your muscles, mumbling out Harry's name but soon realised he wasn't there. No one was, the dressing room was completely empty. You sighed slightly as you realised you would have to get up to find some food, but you knew you had to eat so you pushed your sore body off the couch and shuffled to the door. You wandered through the corridors slowly, trying not to move too fast to aggravate your already sore head. You began to get frustrated as you failed to find any food or someone you could ask to get you something as everyone was running about looking very busy. Not wanting to cause a fuss, you sadly began making your way back to the dressing room. Halfway back, you heard someone yell out your name and turned around to see Harry running towards you, a concerned look plastered on his face.

"Baby, what are you doing out here?" he asked as he pulled you into his arms.

"Just trying to get some dinner," you muttered pulling back from Harry who frowned.

"You haven't eaten?" You shook your head in response and he swore under his breath. "I fucking told Jeff to get you some food like an hour ago, are you shitting me?!"

"Harry it's ok, don't worry, I'll find some food," you insisted but he was too angry now.

"No, you should be getting some rest not wandering around trying to get food! I want you to be better love and Jeff should have bought you something. He knows you're pregnant as well," Harry continued, clenching his fists as he looked around trying to find Jeff so he could chew him out.

"Harry please, I don't want to cause any trouble," you tried again.

"Love, you really arent so please stop saying that. You're ill and you're carrying m'baby in there and I need to make sure you're ok and fed and that the little bubba is too," he said firmly and your gaze softened because you knew he was just getting angry because he was worried about the baby. You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and cupped his cheek with your hand.

"I love you H. And I love that you care so much about me. About us," you began as you cupped your stomach. "But right now, you've got a show to put on and I want you to go out there and give it your all. I will be ok and I will find some food and after the show, we can go home right away and you can look after me as much as you want, yeah," you proposed and his demeanour softened, the anger fading from his eyes. He nodded slowly, pulling you into his arms as you swayed back and forth. Eventually, he pulled back and pressed another kiss to your lips.

"I love you. So much," he professed and you smiled into the kiss, feeling overwhelmingly in love with the man that stood before you.

"I love you too. Sorry I can't watch the show," you apologised and he shook his head.

"Don't apologise. Just need you to get better for me love," he told you.

He pulled away slowly, and begun to walk you back to your dressing room. You pretended like you couldn't see him angrily texting Jeff to get you some food. You could see him violently typing in the corner of your eye and you rolled your eyes at your husband's antics. He got you settled back onto the sofa and glared at Jeff as he sheepishly arrived with food for you. You sent Jeff an apologetic look which didn't get missed by Harry.

"Doesn't deserve your apology," he mumbled into your skin as he was sitting underneath you, with you curled up on his lap and his face pressed into your neck. You rolled your eyes as you tentatively spooned soup into your mouth and chewed on some bread.

"H, you need to go," you pushed as he continued to cling onto you, his arms wrapped around your waist under your jumper, softly holding your belly with his large hands.

"Don't wanna."

"Harry," you warned and he huffed as he let you go and you clambered off him so he could move.

"Stay here love and get some rest. I'll be back before you know it," he said before kneeling down in front of you to kiss your belly, lifting the jumper you were wearing so a sliver of your skin was exposed.

"Be nice for Mum," he muttered as he pressed a kiss to your skin and you gazed down adoringly at him. You couldn't wait to have this baby with him, it was like he was destined to be a dad. He stood up and gave you a quick kiss.

"Eat all your soup love," he reminded you as you sat back down on the sofa, smiling as he grabbed a blanket and pulled it over you.

"You got this," you encouraged as he turned towards the door.

"Always love," he replied grinning as he left and you snuggled back down onto the sofa, enjoying your soup. You smiled as you heard the roar of the crowd, always so proud of your husband whenever you saw how many people would turn up just to see him play. He deserved every success in your eyes.

Harry returned an hour later. After making his way off stage, a couple of people tried to pull him in different directions but he was insistent on getting back to his wife. Jeff, having learnt his lesson, helped Harry get away from them and therefore all was forgiven between the two of them.

"I think Y/N's seeing the doctor right now," Jeff mentioned and Harry whirled his head around.

"Is she ok?! Is the baby ok?!" he rushed out but before Jeff had time to say yes, it was just a routine check-up, Harry was already sprinting down the corridor towards the dressing room. Jeff shook his head at Harry but he was happy to finally see the man so in love.

Your eyes grew wide as Harry crashed through the door of the dressing room where you were lying on the couch as the doctor listened to the baby's heartbeat.

"Is everything ok?" he asked urgently as he ran his hands through his hair in stress. You chuckled.

"Everything is fine H, he's just giving me a check-up," you explained as Harry sighed in relief, coming over to your side where he knelt down beside you, holding your hand. He watched as the doctor felt your stomach and checked your general health and relaxed when the doctor said he was happy with how things were progressing and that your bout of illness hadn't impacted the baby in any way. He also said you were improving generally and a couple more days of rest and you would be much better.

"Any questions?" the doctor said as he began to pack away his stuff and you sighed. Whenever any doctor asked Harry if he had any questions regarding you and your baby, he usually had about 100. You gave the doctor an apologetic look as he began to answer all of Harry's questions as unsurprisingly he had a lot. Eventually, you managed to pull Harry away and the doctor looked a bit relieved as he exited the room. You chuckled seeing Harry looking all grumpy because somehow he still had more questions.

"Babe, you can google it later or find the answer in one of those books you have," you told him, pulling off his top so he could get changed back into his normal clothes. He turned bright red at the mention of the books. He thought you hadn't noticed, but the day after you told him you were pregnant, he had bought every single book on pregnancy that he could find. You had found them stashed in his tote bag a few nights ago and you found it really sweet.

"What books?" he pretended as he grabbed his jumper that you were holding and pulled it over to his bed. You giggled as he hid his face in the hood, pulling the strings tight so only his nose was visible in the little gap. You pressed a soft kiss to it and he began to loosen the strings.

"It's cute babe," you reassured him and he shrugged, a bit embarrassed he'd been caught. Harry finished getting dressed and he made sure you were all ready to go. He looped an arm around your shoulders as he guided you out of the venue and towards the car.

Once you got back to the hotel, Harry sat you on the counter as he readied a bath for you. You were already beginning to feel a lot better, the day of rest having done wonders for you. You knew it was going to mean you would be behind on work but you didn't really care. You needed rest and seeing as your husband was technically your boss, as you worked alongside Jeff in organising Harry's tours, you thought you could probably get away with it. You watched him as he went about making sure the water temperature was right and your heart melted. He was so sweet to you.

He carefully undressed you and placed you in the bath before settling in behind you. He carefully washed you, massaging your shoulders and your head as he did. It felt incredible.

"M'so lucky to have you," you mumbled sleepily and he pressed a kiss to your head.

"You are everything to me," he responded lovingly as he got out of the bath from behind you and helped you out, still whispering the sweetest things in your ear. You both got ready for bed, settling down in the cool sheets. Harry had pushed up your top, so it was just resting beneath your chest and he was pressing slow, loving kisses to your stomach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

"Sing to us?" you asked quietly. Harry had gotten into the habit of singing to you and the baby since you got pregnant. You had joked that the baby was going to come out already knowing all the lyrics to his songs, but you loved it when he did sing. You never would get tired of hearing your husband sing.

"Course love," he complied as he began to sing the opening verse of As It Was. He sang it slowly and much calmer than he usually would. You could feel yourself drifting off to the sound of his deep voice, his breath hot against the skin of your stomach.

'in this world, it's just us' he sang and you smiled softly. That was your favourite line of the song because it was true. Despite the chaos of it all, despite the millions of fans, the hundreds of shows and everything that came along with it, as long as you just had Harry and your baby it would be fine.

It was just the three of you, and that's all that mattered.

-

little one shot while i work on pt.2 of the flatshare in london, which is coming along nicely but is very time consuming and i was away at the weekend so i couldn't really write anything. sorry :(

sloane xx

#harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles reader insert #harry styles request #harry styles and reader

[islesnucks]

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Mat Barzal x Singer!Reader - Pt1 - Pt2 - Pt3

enews

13,529 likes

enews Singer Y/N Y/L/N and hockey player May Barzal seen hanging out last night, it seems after she finished her tour last week she went straight to New York where he plays. The pair haven’t made it official yet but they seemed pretty cozy with each other. What do we think? Couple or just friends?

View all 3,249 comments

y/nmyqueen the way she looks at him, honestly same

islesterritory we didn't even had to do the anna kendrick thing this time

y/ndaily guess we'll have to learn about hockey now

y/nnation

302,945 likes

y/nnation Y/N was a surprice guest at Harry Style's conert last night. She played an acustic version of her song State of Grace, sounded beautifully. After it she said a "friend" had helped her learn it on the guitar, many speculate she's talking about Mat Barzal since they've been hanging out a lot and he plays guitar.

By the way she was smiling the whole song 🥰

Swipe left to see the videos some fans took.

View all 61,002 comments

_y/l/n_ i was there!! she was so into the song really felt every lyric it was magical 💕💕💕

lovelyy/n if shes happy we're happy and she looks really happy

barzal97

Liked by ny_islanders, yourusername and 209,582 others

Apparently im a good teacher

View all 53,497 comments

laurenrodycheberle showed this to J, he said 'the student has become the master' ... he said more things but they are not instagram appropiet

barzal97 oh i bet he did

titobeavu91 guess we’re not that close of friends because ive never gotten a guitar lesson

rpulock me neither al_rom26 me neither n_dobson me neither zeekerr me neither owahstrom97 me neither mattymarts17 me neither pagertrain me neither josty17 me neither barzal97 im blocking all of you

barzyy/n he's in a music studio?

y/nmyqueen yes!! and im almost sure thats the studio y/n records when shes in ny

y/ndaily

Liked by yourusername and 203,471 liked

y/ndaily Y/N was seen leaving the studio yesterday. She just finished her tour 3 months ago, but could it be new music already?

View all 65,090 comments

y/n382 OMG SHE LIKED ITS SO HAPPENING

sparksfly its gonna be full of balands I can feel it

stateofy/n pun on the detective hats guys is that the studio the hockey player was in??

y/nmyqueen it is!!!!! i knew it looked familiar

yourusername

Liked by barzal97, harrystyles and 4,002,185 other

Something’s cooking

View all 330,285 comments

zendaya already my favorite album

owahlstrom97 need backing vocals?

n_dobson i can play a mean triangle yourusername ill keep you boys in mind

tmz_tv

190,875 likes

After months of rumors, secret outings and hints on their social medias Y/N and Mat have been caught smooching at the singers sound check before her appearance at tonight’s VMAs. Head to the link in our bio to read the full timeline of their love story.

View all 49,067 comments

y/nn1fan this is a huge invasion of their privacy tho

spacestar true but also they look so cute

islanders27 way to go barzy!!!!!

nhlwags official wag now

-

that's it for now, sorry it took so long!! already working on pt3, hope you liked it <3

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal one shot #mathew barzal fic #mathew barzal x reader #mathew barzal fluff #mat barzal fluff #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #mat barzal social media au #mat barzal instagram au #social media au #instagram au #nhl social media au #hockey social media au

[purpleyoonn]

The Line Between Love and War 5

C H A P T E R  5:  

CONCERTS AND NOISE CANCELLING HEADPHONES

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut,

Chapter Warnings: some anxious feelings, bonding, sensory issues with touch,  protective bangtan, noise sensory issues, protective joonie, relationship firsts, insecurities, again not much,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx​​  @yuzon3​​ @hannahdinse8​​ @quirkybtsarmy​​ @mageprincess7​​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​ @suckerforv​​ @chaoticthingpizza​​ @drissteele​​ @carolinexkpop​​ @avadakadabra93​​ @lachimolala22019​​  @justaweird0​​ @singukieee​​  @welcometomyworld13​​ @toughbook​​ @kimana122​​ @kpopmultistantrashsstuff​​ @0funsite0​ @joyless-living​

Beta Reader: @crushedblackroses

Happy Holidays to all those who observe them! This is my gift to you all❤️

Masterlist // Chapter 4 // Chapter 6

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

“I got these for you. I know how loud noises bother you so I figured these would help. Maybe you could try them out at the concert?” Yoongi talked as slowly opened the gift bag and wrapping to see a pair of over the hear headphones. They looked nice and you could tell that the earpieces would be comfy on your ears.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” Your voice was calm as you chewed on your bottom lip, thinking if you should go with them or not. You wanted to, wanted to go and have this new experience with your soulmates. You had liked Harry Styles, loving him in One Direction and liked some of his solo music. You knew you would have them with you while there and felt comfortable now that you might have some headphones that would help with your sensory issues.

“So, baby? Do you wanna go with them?” Namjoon’s voice breaks through your thoughts, making you look up from your gift and to the maknae line and their leader, who all looked at you with pleading looks and hands locked in front of their chests.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Yes!” The maknae’s shout as they jump into each other’s arms and chant.

You had no clue they had wanted you to go with them that badly and now you were kind of excited to go. It would be your first concert, and while it wasn’t a BTS one like you had wanted, you were still excited.

“Alright baby! Let’s go get you ready for your date with the boys!” Wait, what?

Namjoon’s words had another bout of nervousness jolting through your body. You didn’t know this was going to be a date. You’ve never been on a date before.

“A date?” You mutter out, Namjoon’s arm entwined in your own as he practically drags you over to your luggage and the packed clothing you had just spent an hour organizing. 

Grabbing it in his hands, he almost trips over his feet, a loud “Watch out Joon!” being heard in the background followed by laughter as you move down the hallway and into his shared room with Jungkook and Hobi.

Once he has the door closed, he places himself on the floor, patting the bed for you to sit as he moves your luggage onto the floor in front of him.

“This is a date?” You ask yourself again, this time loud enough for Namjoon to hear you.

“Of course, baby. What did you think this would be?” You can tell he wasn’t trying to be mean, that he was genuinely curious, but your brain shot to all the times you asked a question only to be looked at like you were stupid.

“I don’t know what I thought. I’ve never been on a date before so I wouldn’t know.” Your answer wasn’t snappy like you thought it would be, instead, it sounded defeated and Namjoon couldn’t help but to pause in his search for an appropriate outfit for you.

He looked at you, sitting with your legs at an angle and your hands pressed together in your lap. Your head was down, probably looking at your wringing hands with the wide eyes you got when you were nervous or overwhelmed.

It never crossed his mind that you hadn’t experienced any firsts before. But he was determined to make all of your firsts amazing. They all were.

“Baby, look at me please.” He whispered, eyes flashing with hope as you blinked down at him. 

He put down the clothes in his hand and moved to grab your clasped hands in his. You looked down again, making Namjoon release one hand and cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone, tilting your head to look back at him.

“I know that your past is not something you would like to relive, we’ve all caught glimpses of things we know you don’t want to think about.” He continued to rub circles into your cheek as you tried hard not to look away.

“But believe me when I tell you, we love you and want nothing more than to help bring you happiness and love. These boys are so excited to give you the best first date ever and I just want you to enjoy yourself. Sing along to the songs you know. Dance like no one is watching. Be happy and stim to your hearts content.”

You never imagined you would be having this conversation with Namjoon, but you are glad that you did. His words struck a huge cord with you, and had you shedding a small tear that you he was quick to wipe away. He could tell that he helped, even the smallest bit.

“Now, let me dress my beautiful soulmate so that she can go with our other soulmates and have the best first date of her life.”

He gave you an outfit that almost matched with what Taehyung was wearing. He gave you a pair of leggings, which was about all you wore at the moment, and a t-shirt that you didn’t even realize you had in your bag. A Harry Styles shirt. Your quirked an eyebrow at that, only for him to shrug his shoulders and reply with the most obvious answer you’re mad you didn’t think of.

“Jin.”

You just rolled your eyes before grabbing the clothes and moving to the bathroom that resided on the other side of the room.

Once Namjoon saw you close the bathroom door, he moved into the living room.

“Okay, I’m only going to say this once. You make this the best first date our soulmate has ever had or I will be giving every single one of you the worst punishment I can muster.” The six soulmates all looked to their leader, wide eyed and now panicking a little.

“This is Y/n’s first date. Oh my...” Jimin brought his hands to his hair, moving his fingers through his hair as he turned around and looked at Taehyung and Hobi who stood behind him.

“Hyung, we would make this great even if it wasn’t her first date.” Taehyung was the only one seemingly not freaked out. He was calm and still smiling, excited to just spend time with you.

He was also the first one to notice you walking into the living room area, bouncing on your feet and excited. You had your hair done, making it flow nicely as you walked, well, more like bounced on your feet.

“I’m ready to go when everyone else is.” You say into the room, not aiming your words at anyone in particular. Yoongi, again, was the one to move forward. He had your bag in his hand and gave it to you.

“Alright baby. I made sure you weren’t missing anything in here. And I put your new headphones in their carrying case and put them in here too. Jin put an extra mask in here, just in case.” Once he let go of the bag, he pulled you in for a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you and kissing your cheek as he pulled away.

“Have fun with the boys, baby. And let me know if they try and pull anything. I’ll set them straight.” He smirked at you once Jimin and Jungkook protested his words. Hobi moved forward and began to bring you to the door, laughing at the others as Jin started talking over everyone.

“Now, I want my princess home before midnight. I’m not risking her losing her shoes as she runs from you guys.” Everyone rolled their eyes at the eldest, but you just smiled and took the leap, kissing his cheek.

Jin’s eyes widened in shock as he watched you pull back.

“Thank you Jinnie.”

Jin’s eyes were still wide as you walked out the door with Hobi, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook, the latter two giving their older soulmate suggestive eyebrows as they leave.

You were quiet the entire car ride, not because you were nervous or scared, but because you were excited. Sometimes, when your mask was gone, you had trouble with expressing your emotions physically. Most of the time, this resulted in you just being quiet, observing, eyes wide as you watched everything trying to take in what you could.

You were sitting next to Taehyung, his hand in yours as you looked out the window and tried to see if you could tell which direction you were going. When you arrived, you could see the crowds of people waiting to enter the stadium, banners and posters moving over the hordes of people. But you didn’t go through the front, instead, the driver drove around back to the private entrance.

“We have to go through the artist entrance due to the crowds.” Taehyung whispered in your ear, noticing the quizzical look on your face. You just nodded, Taehyung squeezing your hand as the car pulled to a stop.  

When the door opens, the boys get out first before Jimin helps you out of the car, a large grin on his face as he does so. You notice the security guards, Seungho and two others as you get out.

“Are you ready to have fun Miss?” Seungho greets you with a nod and a grin.

“Please, just call me Y/n and yes, I think I’m ready.” You smiled widely at the large and intimidating man, seeing him as nothing more than a protective puppy.

All of the boys grin at your visible excitement, exchanging looks of promise with each other as they begin to move inside the building. It took many hallways and staircases before you were moving inside the already crowded concert. It hadn’t started yet but you were already being escorted into your seat. They were located in the front row of the upper floor, right behind the floor seats.

You could see over the floor and almost directly eye to eye with the stage. It was exciting to you; the entire environment was buzzing with energy and you found yourself bouncing on your feet once you were placed in between Jimin and Jungkook. Hobi was on the left of Jimin, then you, then Jungkook and lastly Taehyung. You had a feeling this arrangement would change and continue to change as the concert went on.

You placed you bag on the floor in front of you and sat down as one of the security with you offered to go and get drinks for you all. While you declined, the boys accepted. You patted your hands on your thighs, tapping your legs in a pattern as you looked all over the room, amazed by what it looks like before the concert.

There were so many people dressed up in varying themes based on different Harry Styles’ songs. You could see a couple of people dancing to the song playing in the background. Everyone was just... having fun and enjoying themselves, something you needed to remind yourself to do.

It was hard for you to enjoy yourself, always getting caught up in your own head you sometimes forgot you didn’t live there. But this was different. You weren’t home where the thought of enjoying yourself came with the anxious thoughts that you would be snapped at for stimming or told that you were being weird for getting so excited over something “stupid”.

Here, and now, you had four of your soulmates, with you and wanting you as the final member in your soul cluster. You felt loved and comfortable with your soulmates, which is something you haven’t felt in a very long time.

“Hey, baby. Do you want to try your headphones yet?” Jimin took his seat next to you, placing his arm on the back of your chair and placing his hand affectionately on your shoulder.

His touch was enough to ground you, and make you do an internal check on how you were feeling. You could feel some overstimulation, your ears hurting a little bit in particular as you realize how noisy and loud it was. You wouldn’t let that stop you though and figured you should try the headphones before you get too bad.

Jimin could even see how you were starting to get overstimulated, your fingers rubbing together being the indication he recognized.

“Yeah.” You nod, moving to grab them and remove them from their case. They looked so nice, and Jimin helped explain how they worked, apparently having a pair of his own. “The boys get too loud sometimes.” He winked at you before placing the headphones gently on your head, moving some of your hair out of the way.

When you turned on the noise cancelling feature, it was like an additional wave of calm hit you, doubling the calm you felt when Taehyung decided to hug you form behind, his hands resting on your stomach as he talked to Hobi who was behind Jimin. Jungkook and the security were talking, about what, you didn’t know.

When Jungkook was done, he turned to face you, seeing the headphones on your head already. He looks to Jimin who just smiles in reassurance, letting him know that you were fine. He couldn’t help but worry a little bit, knowing how you got with sound, but trusted his mates. He knew Yoongi wanted this to be a trial run for when you sat with security in the front of the stage for their own concerts, wanted them to take notes of what helps and doesn’t during this “test”.

Jungkook just wanted you to be okay. To have fun and be yourself. If the headphones helped, then he would be forever grateful for the pieces of plastic and metal.

He took his seat on the other side of you, after seeing Taehyung move to his seat for the start of the concert. Once he sat down, he heard laughter coming from Hobi. Turning to see him talking to Lizzo, one of the many artists the group loves to listen to.

“These are my soulmates!” Hobi spoke up as he introduced you to Lizzo, your body in shock as you were meeting another celebrity you never thought you would even see in the first place. The lights dimmed as the concert started, everyone around you clapping as Harry took the stage.

“It’s nice to meet you! I saw the announcement on twitter and I just wanted to say that I’m happy for you guys!” Lizzo was loud and boisterous and you loved every second of it. She was unapologetically herself. She shook your hand with a lot of movement and a large smile. You were afraid for a couple seconds that she would question you about your headphones but she didn’t even glance at them.

“I-It’s nice to meet you too! I love your music!” You tell her back, Jimin’s hand on your waist squeezing a little in reassurance, catching your little stutter.

“Why don’t we get a couple pictures?” Hobi questioned aloud, Lizzo right on track as she motions for one of her friends to take her phone and take Hobi’s phone. You hold your phone in your hand while her manager takes the photos, an excited smile on your lips as you stand between Lizzo and Taehyung, his hand on your waist as you all look at the camera.

Once the little photo session was done, you turn to Lizzo and hold your phone even tighter in your hand.

“Would it be okay if I took a picture with you?” You don’t even have a second before she pulls you into a hug, all four of your mates have their hands up, about to gently let the woman know how you feel about touching. But she pulls away quickly, only the boys noticing your slight flinch.

“Of course! As long as I can get one with you too!” She hands Taehyung your phone and hers so you can get pictures.

You have a picture with Lizzo on your phone…you didn’t know how you were still breathing.

As everyone turns to the front and begins to enjoy the show, you were still trying to catch your breath from being introduced to Lizzo. You were overwhelmed meeting the boys, yeah, but this was Lizzo. It was different. The boys were your soulmates and the bond made you naturally feel safe and comfortable with them.

Lizzo was Lizzo.

“So, you get nervous and breathless meeting Lizzo but we were no problem? I see how it is…” Jungkook chuckles as he raises an eyebrow at you, his nose scrunched up as you splutter to defend yourself.

“Don’t worry, baby.” He moved his hand to wrap around your shoulder and pulled you in so he could kiss your cheek, a loud smacking sound as he pulled away. “We still love you.” You stared at your mate in shock, wondering where your bold soulmate came from as he kept an arm wrapped around you, dancing in place to the song Harry was currently singing.

You followed his actions, having fun and dancing along to the song, copying Jungkook and Taehyung’s sway as you all danced and sang to the songs.

You were actually the first to notice the army in front of your section on the floor, her army bomb on and waving in the air as they danced. You couldn’t help but to point her out to the boys, your grin bright as you jumped up and down.

“Look guys! An army!” Each of the boys grew excited, happy to see their army bomb in use outside of their concert. Hobi and Jimin took pictures, sending them to the group chat with an update on how everything was going.

It took another maybe five minutes before you were noticed though, you could see someone taking a video of the girl, look at her phone, and then glance up at your group, their eyes wide and mouth opened in shock before turning to the army bomb girl and telling her something. You watched her turn around and wave her army bomb frantically, as if trying to get the boys’ attention.

“I think we’ve been made.” You turn to Jimin and whisper in his ear, his body leaning down to hear you as he faces forward. He was looking at the new scene in front of him, a group of people now turning towards them and pointing their phones in his mates’ direction.

Jimin sighs a little, wishing they weren’t noticed, but knowing there was nothing he could do besides continue to enjoy his night. He wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, protective instincts kicking in as he continues to sway and dance to the music.

“Please, baby, don’t worry. Just focus on us and the music, okay?” he squeezes your waist in reassurance and hope, taking in the way your eyes are locked on the crowd below. Jimin turns his head to Hobi on his other side, conversing with Lizzo and talking about music.

“Hey babe. We’ve been made. I can tell Y/n’s getting a little uncomfortable.” Hobi turns to face you, seeing your eyes still locked on the floor and does what he does best, distract.

“Hey pretty girl.” Hobi moves in front of you, grabbing your hands in his as he pulls you in, starting to dance with you in the little space you have between the chairs behind you and the barriers in front of you.

He does all kinds of dance moves, twisting and turning you every which way causing bouts of laughter to erupt from your lips as you start to follow his moves. All thoughts of the people with cameras leaving your mind as you begin to focus on your soulmates, now taking turns dancing with you.

The concert continues like this, your soulmates dancing and swaying with you as each songs turns new. Even Lizzo gets in on the dancing, Hobi spinning her around as Taehyung tries to ballroom dance with you.

You were disappointed when the concert ended, having the most fun you’ve ever experienced. Your noise canceling headphones did wonders for your sensory issues, almost completely forgetting you were wearing them at one point. 

You had wanted to stay to experience the full concert but was sad to find Seungho coming up to where you were seated to try and escort you out early before the concert ends. A safety precaution Jungkook explained to you as you pouted in the car.

When you get back to the hotel, it was to Jin, Yoongi and Namjoon waiting up for you, a movie playing on the large tv. They had blankets covering their laps and each of their hands were intertwined, making you smile as you jumped onto the couch, your bottom landing on Yoongi’s lap as you begin to excitedly explain your night to them.

“And then, Jungkook dipped me back making me bump my head into Jimin’s belly, causing him to laugh! We even saw a girl with an army bomb! She was dancing and having fun. After taking a few pictures of us, she turned and managed to get a couple of the other people taking pictures to turn around and pay attention to the concert. She seemed nice.” Taking a deep breathe, you looked towards Namjoon, confused by the heart eyes he was giving you.

Each of the boys sat and listened the entire time, large grins on their lips as they watched how you excited you were, taking in every upturn to your lip and the glint in your eyes. You still had your headphones on, which made Yoongi happy.

They were all happy that you had so much fun, that you were comfortable to stim right in front of them without a second thought. Your happiness gave them the hope that you would be fine at their own concert the following week, and the three after if you were up for it. 

You were currently happy dancing on Yoongi’s lap, something Jin didn’t think you realized, and that Yoongi hoped you would stop before you felt his slightly uncomfortable situation.

Jin managed to squeeze you in between him and Namjoon while Yoongi said he would go to bed early, dragging along Taehyung who seemed to notice the bulge growing in his mate’s grey sweats.

Wrapping his arm around you, Jin moved your headphones off of your scalp and into the case while Namjoon nudged your head under his chin, effectively encasing you between the leader and eldest soulmate. It wasn’t surprising to them when you crashed, the excitement a lot for the day as you fell asleep in Namjoon’s arms.

It was a puddle day, Jungkook thought, as the group of singers made a large blanket bed on the floor, pushing away the large coffee table and the couches as everyone grabbed a spot close to you once Namjoon placed you in the middle of the large nest.

Everyone falling asleep holding onto each other, smiles gracing their lips as they realized they had they newest mate in their grasp, happy and comfortable with them. Something they thought would never happen.

Something they always wished for.

Next Chapter

#bts #bts au #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts idol #bts idol au #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly! #bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts x autistic!mc #bts x autistic!reader #autistic!mc #autistic reader #the line between love and war #bts hurt/comfort #bts comfort #purpleyoonn #soul bonds #soulmate au #soulmates

[jqhotchner]

jqhotchner masterlist

about me

name: justice but just call me j

age: 24

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: queer

faves: zayn malik, harry styles, thomas gibson, joseph quinn

insight: i started writing zarry on wattpad due to me being a huge zarry back then. i still write for them on wattpad because thats where my fanbase align with. i wanted to try something new and gain a new audience so i came to tumblr!

i will almost ALWAYS write black fem!reader. i feel like theirs barely any representation for us in general. when i read xreader stories, i enjoy them, i do! but seeing things like ‘long black hair’ when i have short kinky hair sometimes makes me feel a bit lost.

i write plus size reader as well! as someone who’s been skinny and plus size before, i think we all should be included in stories as well.

please do not get discourage with my writing! i will rarely mention a skin tone, hair color, hair textures, and more. most times you’d only see representation when i post instagram fics. if i do get into specifics, doesn’t mean you can’t read! no matter your skin tone, hair, or weight, everyone is welcome to read my stories!

if you like my writing, and you ever wanna be added to taglist, do not hesitate to ask. just comment below on chapter/story or message me privately. ill add you instantly!

if you have any story requests you can also comment or message me privately!

- aaron hotchner x reader

- eddie munson x reader

- zayn x reader

- harry styles x reader

#zayn malik #aaron hotchner #eddie munson #harry styles #joseph quinn #thomas gibson #steddie #zarry #heid #criminal minds #stranger things #fem!reader #black!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #zayn x fem!reader #harry styles x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #zayn x black fem!reader #harry styles x black!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #aaron hotchner x black!reader #jqhotchner masterlist

[alonetimelover]

Action! - part 5 - Social Media

Pairings: Director!Reader x Joseph Quinn (+ ex!Harry Styles)

Warnings: swearing, privacy invasion, victim blaming (two comments)

Summary: Privacy has been breached. More songs and albums were written. Halloween happened. Italy. Drama.

Side note: The villain in this fictional story is fictional.

check out the previous parts! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

series masterlist

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ynupdates

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynshands, harryupdates and 12 818 others

ynupdates the reviews are here! 'Don't Worry Darling' critic's score is 38% right now, and 'Bones And All' is at 87%! Overall, critics say that DWD lacks good pace and contains lots of plot holes. They do praise Florence for her performance and say Harry's accent changing is crucial to the plot - his acting although wavers from quite good to acceptable. 'Bones And All' however is gaining praise all over the world. YN is applauded for her directing, but even more for her acting. People call her 'the new sensation'. Timothée as always played beautifully.

im so happy for our yn being appreciated all over 💓

view all 3 818 comments

harryupdates i had the opportunity to watch DWD on its premiere in NYC and i do agree with critics. what's more IT IS NOT a film about female pleasure. literally there are two sex scenes and that's it.

ynsmybestie i feel like a proud mother 🤧

ynshands i smell two oscars for yn

harrysmoustache kinda disappointed that the dwd script was changed after yn's fiasco. it must have been decent if she considered it

⤷ harrysmylife nick kroll said the script changed almost entirely and that's when the confusion happened

joeandynfann yn is THE ARTIST of the 20s, im making rules

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harrysnonefan

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by harrysmylife, user451 and others

harrysnonefan Harry's phone got hacked! pictures mostly of him and yn are all over the internet. this is the most appropriate one i could post.

view all 6 188 comments

harryupdates please delete the post, they got enough privacy invasion for months today. stop.

ynupdates delete it!

harrysmoustache i understand it's all over twitter, tiktok and ig, but you don't need to post about it. their privacy was invaded, those are VERY PRIVATE photos.

ynsmybestie i feel sorry for yn. she's getting so much hate for photos that clearly were taken by the two of them, not only her. point at the couple that has never taken any quite intimate photo, ill wait.

joemyman i hope yn has people close to her helping her deal with it healthy.

harrysmoustache i feel sorry for harry as well. lets not forget his privacy was invaded too.

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text messages between YN and Harry

Harry Styles

hello, yn. i just wanted to let you know that i have nothing to do with the leak that happened. the team is already working on solving it as soon as possible. im so sorry you need to deal with it, H.

yn🌻

why haven't you deleted them?

Harry Styles

I don't know, truly. i think i just forgot about them being on my icloud.

yn🌻

it's too late now, but please delete them anyway.

my manager will contact you soon about the statement that should be made and all that. goodbye, harry.

Harry Styles

i really am sorry, yn. i hope it didn't affect your relationship too much.

yn🌻

thank you for your concern, we'll manage.

Harry Styles

i'm sorry. i really am, YN.

read 10:24

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text messages between YN and Jeff

Jeffrey

i couldn't wait for your move forever, yn. i hope you appreciate the work those photos will do. they have the potential, don't they?

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celebrityupdates

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, harryupdates, ynshands, harrysmoustache and 716 918 others

celebrityupdates !BREAKING NEWS! YN YSN is sueing Harry Styles' manager, Jeffrey A. for drastic invasion of privacy. Lawsuit was brought against Jeffrey this morning at the Los Angeles County Superior Court. At the moment the case is open to the public with YN's direct enquiry to stay this way. For more information head to our website.

view all 124 928 comments

ynupdates it was jeff's fault? oh my god. the situation got even sadder and more twisted now. I'm wondering if harry had anything to do with it... I hope not

harryupdates if he's responsible, i hope yn'll get all the money and justice

harrysmoustache he's sick. selling your friends and his girlfriends body for promotion??? #cancelljeff

ynsmybestie i feel so sorry for yn. i hope she'll get her justice. that's the least she can get after all the drama.

user617 i didn't need to know that

hater168 shouldn't have taken photos like that in the first place, could save ger money for the trial

⤷ ynshands she can do whatever she wants with her body. she can be photographed by someone if she wants. her body, her choice. if someone else is placing their hands on it, it's her right to sue them.

hater718 hope she's losing it

joemyman hopefully its going to be a quick trial. she went through enough the last couple of years.

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yourinstagram and harrystyles

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by josephquinn, taylorswift, annetwist, beyonce, rihanna, tchalamet, florencepugh, ronniecoleman and 21 382 716 others

yourinstagram In the last few days you saw my previous partner's and my body without our permission. You also learned that I filled the lawsuit against my former manager, Jeffrey, because I believe and am ready to proof he is responsible for this invasion of privacy.

This lawsuit isn't only for us. It's for every person that got their body being used. For every person that had their photos leaked, being taken without permission, sold or used for promotion.

I believe in your story.

What is private should stay private.

YN and Harry

view all 615 939 comments

josephquinn You are the strongest woman I know. ❤️

florencepugh privacy isn't a choice, it's your right. you cannot take it away from us. my body my choice. #istandwithynandharry

tchalamet your bodies shouldn't be used against your will or without your permission #istandwithynandharry

taylorswift much love and strength for you both #istandwithynandharry

beyonce take what's yours, yn. 🤍

rihanna your body, your choice. 🤍

joekeery you deserve justice. #istandwithynandharry

annetwist 🤍

ronniecoleman #istandwithynandharry

ynupdates thank you for speaking up about something that people are quiet about! i hope you'll get justice #istandwithynandharry

harryupdates justice is yours. #istandwithynandharry

harrysmoustache joined post? couldn't predict that in my wildest dreams. #istandwithynandharry

ynshands take your money, girl! sue his ass! #istandwithynandharry

hater182 boring

hater168 shouldn't have taken photos like that in the first place, could save her money for the trial

⤷ yourinstagram Your concern about the way I'm using my money is astonishing. This case is worth every penny, if it can bring people like you to acknowledge the problem that invasion of privacy is.

⤷ yourinstagram I can photograph myself in every shape or form I want, it is not your body to decide. And it's my right to sue people that decides to use my body without permission.

⤷ ynshands and that's how you put haters in their place

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harryupdates

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache, ynsmybestie, hArrysbtch and 56 283 others

harryupdates Harry leaving the courthouse with his lawyer. YN and Joe were walking right behind him. THEY WON THE LAWSUIT!!!! Jeff is obligated to pay 3,6 mln $ in total for direct invasion of privacy. He is also not Harry's manager anymore, it is unknown who took his place.

I'm so happy it is over. I hope they, especially YN, will catch a breath to enjoy life without all this fuss.

view all 8 182 comments

ynupdates the way they needed just one hearing in the court. jeff really started something with a wrong person

ynshands im so happy for yn and harry. i hope that them winning the case will allow people in the similar situation to sue anyone that invaded their privacy

harrysmoustache thank god its over

ynsmybestie im so happy for them

joemyman i love how Joseph didn't leave yn even for a moment

⤷ ynshands right? also she was grasping his hand so tight, poor baby was soo nervous 😓

⤷ harryupdates did you see how harry was trying to discreetly observe them?

⤷ ynshands I did! but it was so obvious. he was literally glaring at them. the sad smile said it all

⤷ harryupdates he really is still in love with her

user383 only if all the cases were solved this quickly...

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ynshands

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, harrysmoustache and 12 829 others

ynshands Matty Healy said that Harry wrote a few songs for 'the 1975' newest album. Those songs are: About You, Human Too, Happiness and All I Need To Hear. 'One day I got a message from the number I've never thought I would hear from. Harry fuckin' Styles was it, saying he had some songs that could work for us. We used every single one.' said Matty in the interview. Similar situation happened to Lewis Capaldi, 'Well I was drunk and sent Harry - I mean Harry Styles a DM, a video of something. (..) All in all, he screenshotted it and then randomly asked if I was interested in hearing a song he wrote. Forget Me is all written by him, I just changed the melody because Elton John told me to.'

harry wrote five songs about yn and decided to give them away instead of using in the next album???

view all 3 292 comments

ynupdates she is the muse

ynsmybestie i imagine it's nice having songs being written about you, but if it's your ex? i don't know.

⤷ harrysmoustache well, he's writing about her beautifully

⤷ harrysmoustache 'there was something 'bout you that now I can't remember; it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender' in About You made me ugly cry

⤷ ynsmymama what about 'I don't care if your insincere; just tell me what I want to hear; you know where to find me; the place where we lived all those years' in All I Need To Hear? even writing this made me cry. the whole song is just heartbreaking 💔

⤷ harrysbtch and in Happiness there are a few like: 'she showed me what a love is' and 'I would go blind just to see you' and 'I'd go too far just to have you near' and 'her body's like a modern art; take it out in front of me' and 'I'm never gonna love again' .... like im dancing but my cheeks are wet

⤷ ynsmymama i just relistened to the album and Human Too is like his apology and at the same time his excuse of what he did in their relationship... he's not going to stop writing about her, that's for sure.

harryupdtaes the lewis' story??? he's so funny

⤷ harrysbtch but the song? heartbreak anthem once again

harrysbtch the whole chorus to Forget Me has me in tears

harrysgrammy songwriter harry has entered the chat

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taylorswift

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by yourinstagram, josephquinn, ynupdates, harrysupdates and 10 292 193 others

taylorswift Midnights, the stories of 13 sleepless nights scattered throughout YN's and my life, will be out October 21. Meet us at midnight.

view all 217 293 comments

yourinstagram it was an honour working with you. thank you for putting my words into this astonishing album. 🌃

⤷ taylorswift are you kidding me? you're the star here.

josephquinn 💜

ynupdates yn singing??? name one thing she cannot do

ynshands she directs, acts, writes, sings, what's next?? she's fucking amazing, I love her

ynsmybestie apple music released the song titles and writing credits and im sorry but yn wrote lavender haze, sweet nothing, vigilante shit and mastermind BY HERSELF? with having credits on each song??? songwriter yn era is here, and im so ready for it

⤷ ynsmymama i haven's heard the album but i know, I KNOW it's gonna be my favourite just because yn wrote most of it

harrysmoustache maybe she wrote a track about harry?? we could possibly get her point of view for the whole relationship or drama

⤷ taylors22 if you want songs about yn and harry then listen to evermore. willow, champagne problems, gold rush, 'tis the damn season, tolerate it, happiness, coney Island, closure, evermore, it's time to go. they all are rumoured to be about yn and harry. someone did a video on it, you should look it up on yt. it's worth it.

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harrysmoustache

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, harryshoee, harryupdates, ynsmybestie and 9 292 others

harrysmoustache FIRST LOOK AT HARRY AS DANNY ZUKO FOR THIS YEAR'S HARRYWEEN!!

YN AND JOE RECREATED THIS SCENE FROM DIRTY DANCING AS JONNY AND BABY via YN's IG story.

that video made me really 🥵

view all 1 293 comments

ynupdates harry really said 'im gonna make her my whole personality'

ynupdates yn and joe are looking divine 🔥

harryupdates he sang hopelessly devoted to you

⤷ ynshands isn't that yn's favourite song from grease?

⤷ ynsmybestie nope! she loves 'you're the one that I want'

joemyman they are the perfect couple. they won this year.

harrysbtch i worry for harry. everything he does is somehow, more or less, connected to yn. it's getting unhealthy

⤷ ynshands i hope he'll find someone to make him happy again. its sad watching him be so attached to yn.

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2023

joemyman

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdates, ynshands, harrysmoustache and 9 282 others

joemyman OMGHSJEDJKD guys!!!! I met Joseph and YN in Italy tonight!!! look how good this man looks

view all 3 399 comments

ynshands spill the tea, lola!

⤷ joemyman I was at the restaurant for my birthday and when the waiter brought the cake my friends started singing. In the middle of the song I saw YN and Joe walking past our table, holding hands and being all cute. Immediately we stopped singing and stared at them with amazement.

⤷ joemyman If that wasn't enough, YN turned around and walked up to us, with Joe right after her (hand on her waist and shoulder) and wished me a happy birthday in italian! Joe then did the same. Later she sent our table the poshest dessert available on the menu.

⤷ ynshands OMG! that's so sweet of them

⤷ joemyman yes! and also after we finished celebrating, yn and joe finished their diner. i found a courage to walk up to them, thank them and ask for a photo. they were super chill but kindly refused a join photo (what was totally fine, YN looked super tired). we took a video of joseph speaking italian with yn laughing in the background, and that's a screenshot of it

ynupdates so good to see them again. it's been a minute since we saw them last

⤷ harrysbtch there wasn't anything after the halloween last year

⤷ ynupdates i mean yn won two oscars earlier this year, but didn't show up at the ceremony

⤷ ynandjoeforever i'm a new fan, can you tell me what she won the oscars for?

⤷ ynupdates sure! last year she directed and starred in a movie called 'Bones And All' with Timothée Chalamet. She won the Best Leading Actress and the Best Director. Timothée also won the Best Actor.

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celebritygossip

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by ynupdtaes, ynsmybestie, harryupdates, harrysmoustache and 384 927 others

celebritygossip EXCLUSIVE photos of YN YSN pregnant on the beach in Italy. For the last six months YN and her boyfriend, actor Joseph Quinn has been living in Italy, staying away from Hollywood gossip. Last January YN won two academy awards for directing and starring in a movie 'Bones And All' but didn't accept them in person. Was being pregnant a reason to skip the gala? For more photos head to our website, link in bio.

view all 47 938 comments

ynupdates 'YN and Joseph on the private beach in Italy' says the caption under this photo on your page. If it's a private beach then it means you broke the law by having taken those photos, invading their privacy. Once again...

ynsmybestie oh man, you're next to be sued by YN for invasion of privacy. hope you have enough money for that 💰

harryupdates they went away to have some peace and quiet and here you are with those photos... smh

user382 how long have they been together?

⤷ joemyman almost 2 years

⤷ user829 so she was with styles more years and couldn't be pregnant?

⤷ joemyman it's not your business.

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yourinstagram

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by josephquinn, florencepugh, tchalamet, taylorswift, joekeery, milliebobbybrown and 47 738 728 others

yourinstagram baby quinn says hi

view all 340 489 comments

josephquinn what a beautiful baby mama 🤰

florencepugh hi baby quinn! 👶 auntie florence's gonna spoil you rotten

⤷ yourinstagram joseph just put the crib together. you outdid yourself, flo ❤️

tchalamet my godchild has the best parents in the world

⤷ ynshands stop... timothée is going to be a godfather???

ynsmybestie timothée knows he's got no chance anymore

⤷ tchalamet she's gonna be my crush forever, ain't no other way

⤷ yourinstagram stop it, timmy

⤷ josephquinn yeah, stop it, TiMmY

taylorswift i'm writing you lullabies, baby

⤷ yourinstagram please record 'em. baby already loves your voice.

joekerry hello, baby joe

⤷ yourinstagram i'm not naming my baby after you

⤷ josephquinn that's my name too...

⤷ yourinstagram your name is dada, i don't know what you're talking about, mate

annetwist Congratulations to you two, darling! ❤️

⤷ yourinstagram thank you, Annie!

milliebobbybrown see you soon, baby quinn! 🤴

ynupdates congratulations darlings!

harryupdates so so so happy for you both!

ynshands she probably wouldn't have posted the photo if that gossip page hadn't invaded their privacy... yn can't get a break from paps

comment liked by yourinstagram and 4 484 others

joemyman a baby with genes from yn and joe??

⤷ ynsmybestie imagine the baby has joe's big eyes and yn's hair

⤷ joemyman the most beautiful baby in the world

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text messages between YN and Harry

Harry Styles

Congratulations on your pregnancy, YN. Hoping the baby and you are healthy, H.

yn🌻

thank you, Harry. we're feeling great, baby's healthy.

annie's said you took a break, how is it going?

Harry Styles

You don't need to talk to me if you don't want. I understand. Just wanted to congratulate you after mum told me about your pregnancy

yn🌻

i think i'm mature enough to put the past in the past. also anne is seemingly worried about you, harry.

but if you don't feel comfortable yet, then it's okay. thank you again for the message. hope you are well.

read 4:67 pm

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vogue

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by yourinstagram, josephquinn, florencepugh, ynshands, harryupdates and 2 938 028 others

vogue 'I was always infatuated with motherhood and the beauty that mother love is. Being pregnant just deepened my understanding of those emotions,' says our August cover star, YN YSN. To get to know YN more, her past and future, and her anticipating projects - head to your local stores and buy VogueMagazine August issue.

The sneak peak of the article is available on our website, link in bio.

photography: josephquinn styling, hair and makeup: yourinstagram

view all 182 384 comments

yourinstagram thank you katiesmith for this interview!

ynupdates 'Joseph is everything I could ask for in a partner. He's caring and loving, a good cook which is crucial while being pregnant. He's also very patient with me from the very beginning of our relationship.' the way she describes him is just so lovely

ynshands 'He's a kind hearted, tender man. He thought me a lot, and I'm grateful for having shared a part of my life with him. I only could wish him the best, he just deserves it.' YN talking about Harry. she has nothing but good things to say, despite everything she went through because of that relationship.

harrysmoustache 'It's part of a process, I understand it. Harry's an artist and that's how he deals with live, by writing about it. I found it therapeutic too, and somehow Taylor [Swift] put my rubbish on her album Evermore' she confirmed evermore guys, SHE CONFIRMED IT. also it's not rubbish, babes. its a masterpiece.

florencepugh sexy mama 🔥

joemyman 'I wasn't planning on announcing my pregnancy and that's why we moved to Italy earlier this year. I wanted something to be just my partner's and mine. Joseph was doing everything he could to protect us, and I am so grateful for him and his involvement. If not that one photographer, we'd still be in Italy, having pasta for breakfast.' we were right girlies, she didn't want people to know

⤷ ynsmybestie what about the next part?? 'No, I didn't sue them. I had had enough the last time I was in court. The stress it caused then would be bad for a baby, which is my first priority right now. Joseph, however did report that incident. I remember hearing him say 'I won't allow them to put you through it again, there's no way' and that felt like the quiet 'I love you' he whispers to me every night.' im- 😭

⤷ joemyman i know, man. joseph is just perfect, so protective and loving, couldn't ask more for our yn

⤷ ynsmymama i love how we simply adopted yn, even though she's probably older than all of us

harrysbtch but did you guys see that shade she threw on WB???💀 'I heard about Henry returning as SuperMan, yes. Am I going to direct him? No. I'm keeping my distance from WB. And also the only superhero film I see myself directing is The Amazing Spiderman 3 with Andrew Garfield.' her crush on Andrew is still there

⤷ ynshands i respect her decision. WB did her dirty with DWD and it really started all the drama she's been through

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josephquinn

♥️ 💬 ➤

liked by yourinstagram, florencepugh, tchalamet, taylorswift, joekeery, ynupdates and 17 820 028 others

josephquinn You made me the happiest man alive - a father of our beautiful daughter and your husband. Thank you, lovie.

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yourinstagram and I am the happiest woman with you by my side. I love you.

florencepugh cheers to the best couple in the world!

tchalamet i loved being your flower boy 💐

taylorswift so so so happy for you guys

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text messages between Harry and Joseph

unknown number

Please cherish her. She deserves the world.

read 5:29 am

#action!universe #director!reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #harry styles fake ig #harry styles