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The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi! Welcome to my new series The Space Between Us! This is a Harry Styles x OC fanfiction, where Harry plays himself—a global superstar—and the story explores his reunion with Sophie Pearson, his childhood best friend (and maybe more…). Expect moments filled with angst, tension, and heartwarming memories as they navigate the challenges of reconnection.

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Triggers: None - this chapter is light :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,112 Words

Enjoy the first chapter, and let me know what you think!

Chapter One: A Familiar Face

“Sophie! Where’s the seating chart?”

Her brother’s voice boomed from the dining room, sending a ripple of urgency through the already chaotic house. Sophie Pearson was halfway up the stairs, one hand clutching a clipboard and the other holding a pen precariously between her teeth.

“It’s on the table, next to the candles!” she yelled back, spinning around to double-check her mental checklist.

The house was a hive of activity. Family members, caterers, and a few overenthusiastic friends buzzed around, each consumed by their own tasks. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner fought against the soundtrack of wedding prep chaos: doors slamming, hurried footsteps, and someone playing music too loudly in the kitchen.

Sophie reached the landing and poked her head into the guest room, where the bride’s dress hung like a masterpiece in a gallery. Everything seemed fine here. She exhaled a small breath of relief and moved on.

Downstairs, her brother Anthony appeared in the foyer, adjusting his tie.

“You’re too calm for someone getting married in three hours,” Sophie teased, her tone sharp but fond.

“Someone in this family has to be,” Anthony shot back, grinning. “Besides, I have you to keep everything on track.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, flipping through her clipboard.

————————

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

As Sophie rushed from room to room, the house seemed to breathe with memories. Every corner held whispers of the past—of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and endless summers spent with the boy who used to be her best friend.

Harry Styles.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Their lives had once been so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their mothers had been inseparable, which meant Sophie and Harry had been inseparable too. Sleepovers turned into late-night talks, and holidays together became their little tradition.

But that was a lifetime ago. Before The X Factor. Before the world knew his name.

Sophie tried to shove the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. She could still remember the last time she had seen him.

It had been an unusually cold night. They stood at the edge of their favorite park, the one where they’d shared so many childhood adventures.

“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she had said, her voice breaking as she hugged herself against the chill.

“That’s not true,” Harry had insisted, his eyes wide with something like guilt.

“Then prove it,” she’d snapped, hating herself for how desperate she sounded. “Because I’m not just some fan waiting for your attention, Harry. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he’d said, his voice soft but resolute. But even then, they both knew the promise was an impossible one.

————————

“Sophie!”

Her cousin Lizzie’s voice snapped her back to the present. “The florist needs to know where to put the centerpieces!”

Sophie blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Tell them to arrange them on the dining table for now. I’ll figure it out.”

The clock was ticking. The bride would be arriving in less than an hour, and Sophie was determined to make sure everything was perfect for her brother’s big day. She adjusted her clipboard, smoothing down her blouse as she made her way back downstairs.

Outside, the January air was crisp and cold. Guests began arriving, filling the house with a mix of excitement and chatter. Sophie was so focused on coordinating the details that she didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

She was checking on the catering setup when the front door creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught a glimpse of movement.

“Finally, the photographer,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She turned to greet them, her lips already forming a polite smile. But the words died on her tongue.

It wasn’t the photographer.

It was Harry.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft winter sunlight. He looked older but still impossibly familiar—like a piece of her past brought to life. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of nervousness and amusement.

“Hi, Sophie,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her clipboard slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.

For a moment, the chaos of the wedding melted away. All she could see was him—the boy she had grown up with, the man who had become a stranger.

Her vision swam.

“Sophie?”

Harry’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

As Sophie sank into unconsciousness, her mind conjured an old memory—their last conversation before he left for good.

“You’re leaving again?” she had asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

“I have to,” Harry had said, running a hand through his curls. “This is my dream, Soph. You of all people should understand that.”

“I do,” she’d whispered. “But it feels like you’re choosing your dream over me.”

He’d reached for her then, his hand brushing against hers, but she’d stepped back.

“Good luck, Harry,” she had said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I hope it’s everything you want.”

And then she had turned and walked away.

————————

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

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The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi 🩷 Welcome to Chapter Two of The Space Between Us. I’m so excited for this series that I just couldn’t wait any longer to post the next chapter. Also let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

CHAPTER ONE: HERE

CHAPTER THREE: HERE

Triggers: Brief mentions of fainting, unspoken feelings, and emotional tension.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,522 Words

I hope you enjoy this chapter! 🩷

tag list: @lizsogolden

Chapter Two: The One I Could Never Tell

It was a summer evening, the kind where the sun lingered lazily on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. Sophie sat cross-legged on the back porch of the Styles’ family home, a melting popsicle in her hand. Harry was lying on the grass, staring up at the sky, humming softly to himself.

The faint tune was familiar—it was the melody of a song he had been working on for weeks, scribbling lyrics into his notebook whenever inspiration struck.

“What do you think of this line?” he had asked earlier, holding up the notebook for her to see. The page was filled with messy scrawls, words crossed out and rewritten.

“It’s good,” she had said, though her mind was barely focused on the lyrics.

Because for the first time, Sophie wasn’t just looking at Harry. She was seeing him.

The boyish grin that seemed to light up every room. The way his curls fell messily over his forehead. The faint dusting of freckles across his nose.

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but something had shifted.

Her chest felt tight, and her stomach flipped as she watched him laugh at something she didn’t even hear.

“Oh no,” she whispered to herself, realizing what it was.

She had a crush on her best friend.

————————

Sophie’s eyelids fluttered open, and the world slowly came back into focus. Her head throbbed, and she could feel the scratchy fabric of the couch beneath her.

“What happened?” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

“You fainted,” came a voice from beside her. Sophie turned her head to see her cousin Lizzie perched on the armrest, concern etched across her face.

“I… fainted?” Sophie repeated, frowning.

“Yep. One minute you were standing there, clipboard in hand, and the next you were out cold.” Lizzie tilted her head, studying Sophie carefully. “What’s going on with you? You’re usually unshakable.”

Sophie hesitated, sitting up slowly. The room spun for a moment before settling.

“I thought I saw…” She trailed off, the memory rushing back. The doorway. The suit. The dimples.

“No,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It couldn’t have been.”

“What?” Lizzie pressed, leaning closer.

“I thought I saw Harry,” Sophie said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lizzie blinked, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, Soph,” she said between giggles. “It’s not your imagination. That was Harry.”

Sophie froze. “What?”

“Harry. Styles. The Harry. He’s here,” Lizzie said, enunciating each word like Sophie was a child. “Apparently, he’s been keeping in touch with Anthony all these years. He’s even staying for the wedding.”

Sophie’s mind reeled. “He’s here?”

“Yeah, but don’t freak out. He’s with Anthony right now. Something about catching up and looking at the venue.”

Sophie pressed a hand to her forehead. “This can’t be happening.”

Lizzie leaned back, crossing her arms. “Why are you so worked up about this? I thought you guys were childhood besties.”

“We were,” Sophie emphasized. “But that was a long time ago. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since…” She trailed off, unwilling to revisit that last argument.

“Not since what?” Lizzie prompted, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sophie said quickly, standing up. Her legs felt unsteady, but she forced herself to focus. “I need to check on the seating chart.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Lizzie said, grabbing her arm. “You’re not avoiding this. What happened between you two?”

“Lizzie, I swear to God—”

Whatever threat Sophie was about to issue was cut short by the sound of footsteps.

Both women turned toward the doorway just as Harry stepped into the room.

He was still dressed in his suit, though his tie was loosened now, giving him a more relaxed appearance. His hair was slightly mussed, as if he had run his hands through it one too many times.

Harry’s green eyes locked onto Sophie’s, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

“Sophie,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“You’re awake,” he continued, stepping closer. “Are you okay? You gave us all a bit of a scare.”

“I… I’m fine,” Sophie stammered, her cheeks burning.

Lizzie looked between them, clearly enjoying the awkward tension. “I think I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she said, slipping out of the room before Sophie could stop her.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Sophie fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, while Harry shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Harry said eventually, his voice low and sincere.

“You didn’t,” Sophie lied.

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because fainting isn’t exactly a typical reaction.”

She sighed, dropping her gaze. “I wasn’t expecting to see you, that’s all.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me,” he admitted, his tone hesitant.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Harry hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Because I left. And I didn’t come back.”

Sophie’s heart clenched at the words, but she forced a smile. “It’s been a long time, Harry. We’ve both moved on.”

“Have we?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a laugh. “You’re here for Anthony’s wedding. Let’s focus on that.”

Harry didn’t press the issue, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.

Before either of them could say anything else, Anthony’s voice called from outside.

“Harry! Come on, mate, we’re gonna be late for the rehearsal!”

Harry glanced toward the door, then back at Sophie. “I guess I should go.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah. You should.”

He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but instead he gave her a small nod and walked out.

Sophie sank back onto the couch, her heart pounding. She had a feeling that this wedding was going to be far more complicated than she had anticipated.

————————

CHAPTER THREE: HERE

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

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The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

You voted for chapter three of The Space Between Us - so here we go! ✨

Triggers: Subtle angst.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,712 Words

As always, thank you for your support!

tag list: @lizsogolden @fangirl509east @sassamanda77 @wheredidmyeyesgo @triski73 @hopeyoustaythenight

If anyone would like to be added to the tag list - lemme know in the comments 🩷

CHAPTER ONE: HERE

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Chapter three: Crossing the Line

Sophie stood at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly arranging and rearranging the hors d’oeuvres. It was a task she’d already completed twice, but she needed something—anything—to keep her hands busy.

Her encounter with Harry had left her rattled. Seeing him after all these years, hearing his voice, being so close she could catch the faint scent of his cologne—it had dredged up feelings she thought she’d buried long ago.

She leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath.

“It’s fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine. Just focus on the wedding.”

But her pep talk was cut short when her brother Anthony appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.

“Sophie!” he called, startling her.

“What?” she snapped, turning to face him.

Anthony held up a roll of ribbon. “We’re short on this for the chairs. Can you handle it?”

“Sure,” she said, grabbing the ribbon.

“And one more thing,” Anthony added, rubbing the back of his neck. “Harry’s supposed to help with the table settings, but he doesn’t know what’s what. Can you explain it to him?”

Sophie froze. “What?”

“You’re the only one who knows the layout,” Anthony said, completely oblivious to her hesitation. “Just go over it with him, yeah?”

“Anthony—”

“Please, Soph,” he interrupted, giving her a pleading look. “I need to go check on something else, and I’m running out of time.”

Before Sophie could argue, Anthony disappeared, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

Sophie found Harry in the dining room, standing awkwardly by the long table that had been set up for the reception. He had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the tattoos on his forearms, and was holding a small stack of plates.

He looked up as she entered, his expression shifting from curiosity to something softer.

“Hey,” he said.

Sophie forced a smile. “Hi.”

Anthony’s request echoed in her mind, and she sighed, stepping closer. “I hear you need some help.”

Harry chuckled, setting the plates down. “Apparently, I’m terrible at table settings. Thought I’d be better at it, considering how many fancy dinners I’ve been to.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “How are you bad at this?”

“Do you want the long list of reasons or just the highlights?” he teased, his dimples making an appearance.

Despite herself, Sophie felt a small smile tug at her lips. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

She moved to the table, explaining the arrangement in a brisk, professional tone. Harry listened intently, nodding along and occasionally asking a question.

“Got it,” he said after a while, picking up a napkin and folding it into a neat triangle.

Sophie arched an eyebrow. “Not bad.”

“See? I’m not completely hopeless,” he said, grinning.

As they worked side by side, the silence grew heavier. Sophie could feel Harry glancing at her occasionally, but she refused to meet his gaze.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“Sophie,” he said softly.

She paused, her hands stilling on a stack of cutlery. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice earnest.

She frowned, turning to look at him. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said. “For leaving. For not staying in touch. For… all of it.”

Sophie’s chest tightened. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I know I let you down,” Harry continued, his green eyes filled with regret. “And I hate that. You meant so much to me, and I just—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair.

“Harry,” Sophie said, her voice quieter than she intended. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I’ve been carrying this guilt for years. I need you to know that I didn’t forget about you. I couldn’t. You were always there, in the back of my mind.”

Sophie stared at him, her heart pounding. She wanted to believe him, but the hurt from their past still lingered.

“It’s not that simple,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I know,” Harry said, his gaze steady. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

Before Sophie could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Lizzie appeared in the doorway, her eyes flicking between them with barely concealed curiosity.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t sorry at all. “Anthony needs you both outside. Something about the seating arrangements.”

Harry stepped back, giving Sophie a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice gentle.

Sophie nodded, following him out of the room.

As they stepped into the crisp afternoon air, Sophie couldn’t shake the feeling that this day was far from over. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and Harry’s presence only made it harder to keep everything in check.

And when Harry glanced at her, his expression filled with something she couldn’t quite name, Sophie knew one thing for sure:

This wasn’t the end of their story.

It was only the beginning.

————————

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The Weight of a Name: Part II

Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist writing the second part of “The Weight of a Name”. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Triggers: Angst, emotional conflict, unresolved tension.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader (You)

Word Count: 2.4k

PART ONE: here

Reader’s POV

The days following your confrontation with Anthony Bridgerton left you unsettled. You had told him exactly how you felt, had made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with his charm or his arrogance. You should have felt relief—vindication, even.

Instead, all you felt was irritation.

You told yourself it was because he had been so dismissive, storming off without so much as a second glance. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, Anthony had done exactly what you asked—he’d left you alone.

When you crossed paths on the promenade days later, he barely spared you a glance. You had expected at least some reaction, but his indifference left you with a strange, sour taste in your mouth. You watched as he conversed with his siblings, perfectly at ease, as if the confrontation had never happened.

At the next ball, the pattern repeated itself. Anthony danced, laughed, and mingled with the crowd, his demeanor effortlessly charming. But he didn’t look at you. Not once.

It was infuriating.

You told yourself you didn’t care—that you had no reason to care. You were the one who had rejected him, after all. He had simply accepted your wishes, just as you’d demanded.

So why did you feel this gnawing sense of unease? Why did your chest tighten every time you caught sight of him across the room, acting as though you didn’t exist?

It was maddening.

Anthony’s POV

Anthony couldn’t sleep.

Since that night on the balcony, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of you. He had replayed your words over and over, searching for some way to make sense of it all.

He had done everything right—or at least, everything he thought was right. He had pursued you with every ounce of charm and determination he could muster, had shown you the respect and admiration you deserved. But none of it had been enough.

You had turned him away, your words cutting sharper than he’d expected. He had been rejected before, of course—but not like this. Never like this.

He thought ignoring you might help. If he distanced himself, perhaps he could regain some control over his emotions. Perhaps he could convince himself that you didn’t matter as much as you did.

But it wasn’t working.

Every time he saw you at a ball, his resolve wavered. You were beautiful, poised, and maddeningly out of reach. The way you carried yourself, so composed and confident, only deepened his frustration.

He hated how much he wanted you.

And he hated himself for not being able to stop.

Reader’s POV

By the time Lady Danbury’s ball arrived, your patience had worn thin.

Anthony’s indifference had become impossible to ignore. You told yourself it shouldn’t matter, that you should be glad he had finally backed off. But the truth gnawed at you in the quiet moments between dances, leaving you restless and unsettled.

Wasn’t this what you had wanted? For him to stop pursuing you? To finally leave you alone?

Then why did it feel like a punishment?

You couldn’t stop your gaze from drifting across the ballroom, searching for him. When you found him, your breath hitched in spite of yourself. He was talking with Lady Delaford, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.

You hated the way your chest tightened at the sight of him.

You hated it even more when he turned slightly and your eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was no recognition, no spark of acknowledgment. He simply looked away, as if you were nothing more than another guest in the crowded room.

The audacity of it left you fuming.

You had spent weeks avoiding him, pushing him away, trying to convince yourself that his attention was unwanted. But now that he was ignoring you, you couldn’t stand it.

Why?

Why did it bother you so much?

The thought haunted you throughout the evening, building until you couldn’t take it anymore.

As the waltz ended, you finally made your move. Anthony was standing near the edge of the ballroom, his attention seemingly focused on the glass of champagne in his hand.

“Lord Bridgerton,” you said, your voice steady but laced with irritation.

He turned to you, his expression calm but distant. “My lady,” he replied, inclining his head politely.

His detachment only fueled your frustration.

“Are you truly going to pretend I don’t exist?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Anthony’s brows lifted, a flicker of something—surprise? Amusement?—passing across his face. “I wasn’t aware that I was pretending anything,” he said evenly.

Your fingers clenched at your sides. “You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused. “You haven’t said a word to me in days.”

“I was under the impression that was what you wanted,” Anthony countered, his voice cool but not unkind. “Have I misunderstood?”

His words struck a nerve. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

Anthony stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You rejected me,” he said softly, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. “You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing to do with me. So tell me, my lady—why does it matter if I give you exactly what you asked for?

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening under his scrutiny.

“I—” you began, but he held up a hand, silencing you.

“Forgive me,” he said, his tone suddenly distant. “But I was just about to take my leave.”

You stared at him, stunned, as he turned and walked away.

As Anthony reached the doors of the ballroom, he hesitated, his hand resting on the gilded handle. For a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours across the sea of dancers.

And then he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the ballroom with your heart in your throat and a question you couldn’t answer:

Would you let him go? Or would you follow?

———

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

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The Weight of a Name PART I

Author’s Note: This was my first attempt at writing for Anthony Bridgerton, and I loved delving into his intensity and passion. I’m considering writing a part two—let me know if you’d like to see where this story goes!

Triggers: Emotional confrontation, feelings of rejection, societal pressure

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,703

Summary: When Anthony Bridgerton’s relentless pursuit of you reaches its breaking point, a fiery confrontation reveals the depths of his feelings.

PART TWO: here

The soft hum of violins and lilting laughter echoed throughout the ballroom. It was a scene of perfection, one carefully orchestrated by the host to impress even the most critical members of the ton. You moved with grace, your every step measured and deliberate, but your mind was far from composed.

Anthony Bridgerton was watching you.

You had felt his eyes on you all evening, and no matter how hard you tried to shake the weight of his gaze, it lingered. It wasn’t just that he watched—it was the way he looked at you. As if he already had you. As if his claim was inevitable.

But Anthony Bridgerton wasn’t the kind of man you trusted easily. His reputation was whispered about behind fans and through veiled glances. He was handsome, yes, and powerful, but he was also dangerous. The stories of his past were enough to make even the boldest debutantes wary.

You had no intention of falling for a man like him.

————————

Later that evening, you had sought refuge on the balcony, eager for a moment of quiet. The cool air kissed your skin as you inhaled deeply, savoring the temporary escape. But your peace was short-lived.

“You’re avoiding me.”

The low, irritated voice made you stiffen. You turned to find Anthony standing just beyond the balcony doors, his jaw set and his dark eyes locked on you.

“I wasn’t aware I was obligated to seek you out,” you replied evenly, though your voice betrayed a hint of exasperation.

Anthony stepped closer, his movements deliberate. “You know precisely what I mean,” he said, his tone clipped. “I’ve been trying to speak with you all evening, but you’ve been too busy entertaining every other man in this room.”

Your temper flared, and you straightened your spine. “Perhaps that’s because every other man in this room doesn’t believe he has some divine right to my attention.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed, and he took another step closer. “Is that truly what you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but seething.

“What else am I to think?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You stride into every room as if the world should bow at your feet, as if no one could possibly resist the great Viscount Bridgerton. Well, I’m not one of your conquests, my lord, and I won’t be treated as such.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. But then he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “You think I’m trying to conquer you? That this is some sort of game to me? I have been chasing you for months. I’ve ignored every other debutante, turned down every match my mother has pushed my way, and still, you look at me as if I’m nothing more than a rogue.”

Your chest heaved as his words hit their mark. “And why shouldn’t I?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. “Do you deny it? Do you deny the countless women, the scandalous liaisons, the reputation you’ve so carefully crafted? How am I to believe you would ever honor a vow made to me when you’ve broken so many others?”

Anthony flinched, and for a moment, his mask slipped. There was pain in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. “I am not proud of my past,” he said quietly. “But you—you’ve made me want to be better. To be more than what they say I am.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to believe that? Because you’ve paid me a few compliments and danced with me a handful of times? Forgive me, my lord, but I’ve seen how easily you charm others. I won’t be another name on your list.”

Anthony’s temper snapped, and he grabbed your wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop you from walking away. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice rough and urgent. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t think of anything but you. Every time I see you with another man, it feels like a knife to my chest. And yet, you look at me as if I’m nothing, as if I’m unworthy of even your consideration.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His grip on your wrist softened, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he continued, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “To feel so completely undone by someone. To want them so desperately, so utterly, and to know they see you as nothing more than a mistake waiting to happen.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Do you think this is easy for me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Do you think I enjoy rejecting you, knowing I might be giving up on something—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “But I can’t ignore the part of me that’s terrified you’ll hurt me. That I’ll wake up one day and realize I was nothing more than a passing infatuation to you.”

Anthony stared at you, his chest heaving. “You think I would hurt you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “After everything I’ve done to prove myself to you?”

“What have you done, Anthony?” you demanded, your voice rising again. “You’ve watched me from across ballrooms and interrupted my dances, but have you ever truly shown me who you are? Or are you still hiding behind the charm and arrogance that the ton has come to expect from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Anthony’s jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re right,” he said finally, his voice trembling with restraint. “You don’t know who I am. But that’s because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

Your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Perhaps I would have, if I believed you were capable of being the man I need.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he stepped back, his expression hardening into one of cold resolve. “You’ll regret this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both pain and anger. “You’ll regret not taking the chance when you had it.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the balcony with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

As you stared after him, a single thought echoed in your mind.

Had you made a mistake?

————————

PART TWO: here

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

Coming Home to You (Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: Damn, it’s been a long time… I know. But I’m planning on coming back here so if any of you have a request for a one shot - hmu!

Summary: Harry comes home late from the studio, guilt-ridden after missing a planned movie night with Y/N.

Triggers: none, just fluff

The faint sound of Harry’s key turning in the lock echoed through the quiet apartment. He stepped inside, pulling the door closed softly behind him. The lights were dim, just the soft golden glow of the lamp on the side table casting shadows across the living room. Harry set his bag down, brushing a hand through his tousled curls, and sighed.

It had been another long day in the studio, and while he loved making music, he hated how much time it took him away from you. Especially tonight.

He glanced at the couch and stopped in his tracks. There you were, curled up in one corner, wrapped in the blanket you always brought out when the weather turned chilly. Your head rested on a throw pillow, and your hand dangled over the side of the couch, still loosely clutching the remote. On the coffee table in front of you was an untouched bowl of popcorn and two empty glasses of water, condensation gathering at the rims.

Harry’s heart clenched as he took in the scene.

You had waited for him.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how excited you’d been when you suggested having a movie night earlier that week. You’d texted him earlier in the day, confirming your plans, and he’d sworn up and down he’d be home in time. But recording ran late—again—and now, here you were, fast asleep, the movie you’d both planned to watch long forgotten.

He knelt down by the couch, careful not to wake you. Your face was soft and serene in the glow of the lamp, and he couldn’t help but reach out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent as you snuggled deeper into the blanket.

“God, I’m so sorry, love,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to miss it.”

He stayed there for a moment, just watching you, his heart swelling with a mix of love and guilt. It amazed him how patient you were with him, how understanding. He knew it wasn’t easy being with someone whose schedule was as unpredictable as his, yet you never complained. You always found ways to make him feel loved, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Determined to make it up to you, Harry slid his arms beneath you—one under your knees and the other supporting your back. He lifted you gently, holding his breath when you stirred again.

“Harry?” you mumbled, barely awake, your voice soft and heavy with sleep.

“Shh, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

You relaxed in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest, and he felt his heart melt. The small, sleepy gesture reminded him of just how much he adored you. He carried you down the hallway to your shared bedroom, using his foot to push open the door.

Once there, he laid you down on the bed as carefully as he could, pulling the blanket up over you. He lingered for a moment, tucking it around your shoulders and brushing another kiss across your temple.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

He slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You sighed contentedly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning into him, and Harry smiled.

Tomorrow, he’d wake up early and surprise you with breakfast in bed. He’d let you pick the cheesiest rom-com you wanted to watch, and he’d sit through every second of it without a single complaint.

But for now, he held you close, grateful for the small, quiet moment of simply being with you.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

The Unattainable Princess (Prince!Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: I had this one in my drafts for a while and I’m not sure I still like it but I’ll let you be the judge of that. Enjoy!

Summary: Prince Harry is captivated by Princess Y/N, but when she coolly declines his invitation to dance, he interrupts her dance with another prince to claim her attention.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and polished shoes, a world of grandeur Harry had long since grown accustomed to. He moved through it with the same ease and confidence, a Prince who had spent years perfecting the art of royal events. But tonight—tonight was different.

Princess Y/N.

The rumors of her beauty and indifference were not exaggerated. She stood across the room, surrounded by eager courtiers and noblemen, yet it was clear she was untouched by it all. She held herself with such grace, an air of self-assuredness that was impossible to ignore. Her icy calm had only intrigued Harry more. He liked a challenge.

He watched her, as always, a faint smirk curling on his lips. No one had ever resisted his charms for long. Why would she be any different?

After making his rounds through the guests, Harry decided it was time to approach her. The orchestra played a soft waltz, and the crowd swirled around them like a dream. He made his way over with ease, his confident stride unwavering. When he reached her, he bowed low, his voice as smooth as ever.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, flashing a smile that usually sent hearts fluttering. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

For a moment, she studied him with those cool, unreadable eyes. Harry leaned in slightly, basking in the way she seemed to take her time. But when she spoke, her tone was nothing like the adoration he’d expected.

“I’m afraid I must decline, Prince Harry,” she said, her voice polite but firm. “I’m already engaged for this dance.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he masked it with a chuckle. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “How fortunate for your partner.” He lingered for a moment, waiting for her to soften, to relent. But Y/N remained poised, unbothered, her gaze now drifting away from him, returning to the conversation she’d been having before.

Harry stood there for a heartbeat longer, his mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and irritation. He had never been turned down like this—not once in his life. He was used to women falling at his feet, charmed by a smile, a word, the magic of his presence. But Y/N? She wasn’t like anyone else.

As if to punctuate the distance between them, Y/N turned to a tall, dark-haired Prince who had been waiting nearby. With a polite nod, she placed her hand in his, and the two of them began to glide across the dance floor together.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. It was like a slap to the face. The audacity—she was dancing with him, with him. A man he knew was nothing more than a glorified title, a prince with no real power or purpose. But she had chosen him. And not Harry.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could stop himself, he crossed the ballroom, his steps deliberate, almost predatory. He approached the couple mid-dance, catching the eye of the Prince and offering a nod. But it was Y/N who held his attention. She didn’t even glance his way when he arrived—she was lost in the music, in the sway of the dance.

Harry’s voice was low but deliberate as he interrupted. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an edge. “I do believe this is my dance.”

The Prince gave him a tight smile, but Harry barely acknowledged him, his eyes fixed on Y/N. She blinked in surprise, looking up at him for the first time since he’d approached. Her expression was unreadable, but Harry could see the faintest flicker of annoyance in her gaze.

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she said, her voice soft but sharp. “I’m afraid I’ve already accepted this dance.”

Harry leaned in slightly, his words deliberately casual as he gave her an amused smile. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now, would we?” he said, his eyes twinkling with that familiar arrogance.

Y/N’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t speak at first. The orchestra swelled around them, and the Prince she had been dancing with stepped back, a hint of confusion crossing his features as Harry took his place beside Y/N.

“I’m not here to make a scene, Princess,” Harry said, his hand coming to rest at her waist, pulling her gently into the dance. “Just to dance with the woman who’s managed to make me feel… thoroughly intrigued.”

Y/N said nothing for a moment, her fingers stiff against his. But Harry could feel the tension in her. She was resisting, resisting him in a way no one ever had before, and it drove him mad.

“You must think very highly of yourself, don’t you?” she said at last, her voice dripping with cool detachment. “I’ve danced with countless men, Prince, but none of them have ever interrupted another’s dance as you have.”

Harry’s eyes flashed with a hint of challenge. “And yet, here we are,” he replied smoothly, his thumb brushing over her hand as they moved across the floor. “You haven’t pushed me away yet.”

She glanced up at him then, and Harry was struck by the hardness in her gaze, the way she seemed entirely unaffected by his presence. She was different—so different—and it was both maddening and magnetic.

“Don’t mistake my courtesy for interest,” Y/N said, her voice steady but cutting. “You’ve made your point, Prince Harry. But I don’t need to be won. I’m not a prize for you to claim.”

For the first time, Harry faltered. There was no charm to be used here, no clever line that could break through her reserve. She wasn’t falling for him, and it unnerved him. She didn’t care for his title, his charm, his reputation. She wasn’t impressed.

And somehow, that made him want her even more.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

I love your writing! Can you do one about y/n in labor and H cooing/comforting her? Thank you!!

The First Day of Forever (Harry Styles)

A/N: okay so it’s my first time writing sth like this so please bear with me 😅

Triggers: mentions of pain, labour

Summary: As Y/N endures the stress and pain of labor, Harry remains by her side, comforting her with unwavering love and support, despite his own heart aching to see her in pain.

Pairing: Harry Styles!dad x y/n pregnant wife

The room was filled with soft murmurs and the occasional rush of footsteps, but Harry couldn’t hear any of it. His entire world was focused on you. You were gripping his hand tightly, your head resting against his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling as another wave of pain coursed through you.

Harry’s heart shattered at the sound of your distress. He crouched down beside you, his free hand brushing the damp strands of hair from your face. “Yes, you can, love,” he murmured, his voice steady but soft, his green eyes filled with a mixture of pride and worry. “You’re the strongest person I know. I promise, you’re doing so well.”

The words seemed to steady you for a moment, but another contraction made you squeeze his hand tighter, and a sob escaped your lips. Seeing you in pain like this made Harry feel utterly helpless, a feeling he wasn’t used to. If he could, he would have taken every bit of it away in an instant.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he urged gently, his voice full of love. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and he smiled softly, despite the lump in his throat. “You’re not alone. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Remember what we talked about? How we’ve waited for this moment? It’s our little girl, love. She’s almost here.”

A tear slipped from your eye, but you nodded, clinging to his words as tightly as you clung to his hand.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your hand. “I know it’s hard,” he whispered. “But you’re doing this for her, for us. She’s going to be perfect, just like her mum.”

The memory of when you’d first told him you were pregnant flashed through his mind. He’d come home late from a tour meeting, exhausted but eager to see you, and you’d greeted him with a nervous smile and a tiny pair of baby shoes in your hands. It had taken a moment for him to process, but when he did, he’d dropped to his knees, pulling you into his arms as tears streamed down his face.

“You’re going to be the best dad,” you’d told him through your tears. And now, as he sat here with you, helping you through one of the hardest moments of your life, he realized you were right. But only because you were the best partner he could have ever hoped for.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N,” he repeated now, his voice firm but loving. “She’s going to be so lucky to have you as her mum. Just a little longer, and we’ll be holding her, yeah? You and me, together.”

Another sob escaped your lips, but this time it wasn’t just from pain. There was something else there—determination. You nodded again, leaning into him, drawing strength from his words and his presence.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“I love you more,” Harry replied without hesitation, his lips brushing your temple. “And I love her already, too. She’s got the most incredible mum in the world.”

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, but Harry never let go of your hand, never wavered in his support. When your cries turned into gasps of relief, the first tiny, indignant cry of your baby girl filled the room.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, his heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it almost knocked him over.

“She’s here,” he whispered, his voice breaking as tears filled his eyes. “Our little girl, love. She’s here.”

When they placed her in your arms, you let out a choked sob, every bit of pain and stress melting away as you gazed at the tiny, perfect life you and Harry had created together. Harry leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as he stared at your daughter in awe.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with exhaustion and pure joy. “We did it,” you murmured.

Harry kissed you softly, his hand coming up to gently touch the little bundle in your arms. “No, you did it,” he said, his voice filled with reverence. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I’ll never forget this moment. Ever.”

And as he held his family close, Harry knew that this—this love, this little girl, this life you had built together—was the greatest thing he’d ever be a part of.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

Hii, I hope you are doing great !

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if you could write something about y/n not being famous and she is not accepted and treated badly by Harry’s celebrity group of friends which will put to test her relationship with Harry.

Thank you so much, and happy holidays !! 💕

A/N: This was such a fun request to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together. It’s a mix of angst, fluff, and a lot of emotion. Thank you for trusting me with this idea, and I hope it resonates with you!

Triggers: Emotional manipulation, unkind behavior, insecurity

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,167

You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

Being with Harry meant stepping into a world so far removed from your own that at times, it felt like you’d fallen through the looking glass. It wasn’t that you doubted your love for him or his love for you—it was undeniable, unshakable. But you weren’t naïve. You knew his fame came with its challenges, and the hardest one wasn’t the paparazzi or the scrutiny from strangers on the internet. It was his friends.

They weren’t all bad, of course. There were a few who made an effort to get to know you, to see you for who you were beyond the label of “Harry’s girlfriend.” But most of them… most of them didn’t.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The party was at one of Harry’s favorite spots in Los Angeles, a sleek, exclusive venue where everyone seemed to glitter with a level of confidence and beauty you couldn’t help but envy. You’d been nervous from the start, clinging to Harry’s hand as he introduced you to people whose names you struggled to remember.

“Just stick with me, love,” he’d said earlier that evening, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’ll be fine.”

And for a while, it was. Harry stayed close, his arm around your waist as he guided you through the room. But then he was whisked away by someone wanting to discuss music, and you were left standing near the bar, nursing a drink and feeling utterly out of place.

That’s when the whispers started.

At first, you tried to ignore them, telling yourself you were imagining things. But the pointed glances, the half-smirks, and the subtle head tilts in your direction were impossible to miss.

“Does she even know who she’s talking to?”

“She’s cute, but… I don’t get it. Harry could do so much better.”

“She looks so uncomfortable. It’s kind of painful to watch.”

The words stung, each one landing like a small, sharp jab. You kept your head high, determined not to let it show. But when one of Harry’s friends—a model you’d met once before—approached you with a patronizing smile, your resolve began to crack.

“So,” she said, swirling her cocktail as she looked you up and down, “how’s it going, Y/N? Adjusting to all… this?”

“It’s fine,” you replied, forcing a polite smile.

“Must be overwhelming,” she continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “I mean, it’s not really your world, is it?”

You clenched your jaw, searching for a way out of the conversation. But before you could respond, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said, her smile sharp. “It’s just… we’ve all known Harry for years. We’ve seen him with people who… well, let’s just say they were a better fit.”

Her words hit you like a slap, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of hurt and anger. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much she’d gotten under your skin, so you excused yourself, heading for the nearest exit.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stepped outside, leaning against the railing and taking deep breaths. You tried to shake off her words, to remind yourself that they didn’t matter. But they did.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides, his hand coming to rest gently on your arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but urgent. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. “Nothing,” you said eventually, though the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. “I just… needed some air.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see the gears turning in his head. “Y/N,” he said, his tone firmer now. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”

For a moment, you considered brushing it off, pretending everything was fine. But then the hurt bubbled up to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out.

“I don’t belong here, Harry,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve tried, but your friends… they don’t want me here. They think I’m not good enough for you.”

Harry’s expression shifted from concern to something darker—anger, though not directed at you. His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to rein in his emotions.

“Who said that?” he asked finally, his voice low and controlled.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “It’s not just one person. It’s the way they look at me, the things they say when they think I’m not listening. They don’t think I’m… enough.”

Harry’s hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re everything. And if they can’t see that, then that’s their problem, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into his touch. “But what if they’re right?” you whispered. “What if I’m just… not the kind of person who fits into your world?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Y/N, my world is wherever you are. None of this”—he gestured toward the party inside—“means anything without you. And if anyone thinks they can make you feel unwelcome or unworthy, they’ll have to answer to me.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the weight on your chest easing slightly. “You can’t fight all your friends for me, Harry.”

He smiled then, his expression softening. “I won’t have to. Because once I’m done having a word with them, they’ll know better than to treat you like this again.”

Before you could respond, Harry pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the tension begin to melt away as you rested your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair. “And nothing—no one—is going to change that.”

—————

True to his word, Harry didn’t let the matter drop. When the two of you returned to the party, he made a point of staying by your side, his presence a clear signal to anyone who dared to question your place in his life.

Later, you found yourself sitting on the couch in his dressing room as he paced back and forth, recounting the conversations he’d had with a few of his more tactless friends.

“They’re idiots,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I told them that if they can’t respect you, they can’t call themselves my friends.”

You watched him, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. “Harry,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. “You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, as if to remind you of everything you shared. And in that moment, you knew that no amount of judgment or criticism could ever come between you.

Because what you had with Harry was real. And nothing else mattered.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

🩷🩷

The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi! Welcome to my new series The Space Between Us! This is a Harry Styles x OC fanfiction, where Harry plays himself—a global superstar—and the story explores his reunion with Sophie Pearson, his childhood best friend (and maybe more…). Expect moments filled with angst, tension, and heartwarming memories as they navigate the challenges of reconnection.

Triggers: None - this chapter is light :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,112 Words

Enjoy the first chapter, and let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: A Familiar Face

“Sophie! Where’s the seating chart?”

Her brother’s voice boomed from the dining room, sending a ripple of urgency through the already chaotic house. Sophie Pearson was halfway up the stairs, one hand clutching a clipboard and the other holding a pen precariously between her teeth.

“It’s on the table, next to the candles!” she yelled back, spinning around to double-check her mental checklist.

The house was a hive of activity. Family members, caterers, and a few overenthusiastic friends buzzed around, each consumed by their own tasks. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner fought against the soundtrack of wedding prep chaos: doors slamming, hurried footsteps, and someone playing music too loudly in the kitchen.

Sophie reached the landing and poked her head into the guest room, where the bride’s dress hung like a masterpiece in a gallery. Everything seemed fine here. She exhaled a small breath of relief and moved on.

Downstairs, her brother Anthony appeared in the foyer, adjusting his tie.

“You’re too calm for someone getting married in three hours,” Sophie teased, her tone sharp but fond.

“Someone in this family has to be,” Anthony shot back, grinning. “Besides, I have you to keep everything on track.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, flipping through her clipboard.

————————

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

As Sophie rushed from room to room, the house seemed to breathe with memories. Every corner held whispers of the past—of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and endless summers spent with the boy who used to be her best friend.

Harry Styles.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Their lives had once been so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their mothers had been inseparable, which meant Sophie and Harry had been inseparable too. Sleepovers turned into late-night talks, and holidays together became their little tradition.

But that was a lifetime ago. Before The X Factor. Before the world knew his name.

Sophie tried to shove the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. She could still remember the last time she had seen him.

It had been an unusually cold night. They stood at the edge of their favorite park, the one where they’d shared so many childhood adventures.

“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she had said, her voice breaking as she hugged herself against the chill.

“That’s not true,” Harry had insisted, his eyes wide with something like guilt.

“Then prove it,” she’d snapped, hating herself for how desperate she sounded. “Because I’m not just some fan waiting for your attention, Harry. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he’d said, his voice soft but resolute. But even then, they both knew the promise was an impossible one.

————————

“Sophie!”

Her cousin Lizzie’s voice snapped her back to the present. “The florist needs to know where to put the centerpieces!”

Sophie blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Tell them to arrange them on the dining table for now. I’ll figure it out.”

The clock was ticking. The bride would be arriving in less than an hour, and Sophie was determined to make sure everything was perfect for her brother’s big day. She adjusted her clipboard, smoothing down her blouse as she made her way back downstairs.

Outside, the January air was crisp and cold. Guests began arriving, filling the house with a mix of excitement and chatter. Sophie was so focused on coordinating the details that she didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

She was checking on the catering setup when the front door creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught a glimpse of movement.

“Finally, the photographer,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She turned to greet them, her lips already forming a polite smile. But the words died on her tongue.

It wasn’t the photographer.

It was Harry.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft winter sunlight. He looked older but still impossibly familiar—like a piece of her past brought to life. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of nervousness and amusement.

“Hi, Sophie,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her clipboard slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.

For a moment, the chaos of the wedding melted away. All she could see was him—the boy she had grown up with, the man who had become a stranger.

Her vision swam.

“Sophie?”

Harry’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

As Sophie sank into unconsciousness, her mind conjured an old memory—their last conversation before he left for good.

“You’re leaving again?” she had asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

“I have to,” Harry had said, running a hand through his curls. “This is my dream, Soph. You of all people should understand that.”

“I do,” she’d whispered. “But it feels like you’re choosing your dream over me.”

He’d reached for her then, his hand brushing against hers, but she’d stepped back.

“Good luck, Harry,” she had said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I hope it’s everything you want.”

And then she had turned and walked away.

————————

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

I rewatched Purple Hearts 💜 and I’m dying to do a plot based on that story! Something like:

Determined to break away from the family business and stand on her own, she found starting a career in a big city more challenging than she expected. Financial problems soon followed. Though she could have asked her family for help, she wanted to be independent. Then he appeared. They met through mutual friends, and she didn't like him at first due to their differences. But he turned out to be the solution to her problems, or rather, marriage to him. He also had issues that forced him into marriage. They can't tell anyone the truth and must keep pretending. There's plenty of angst, arguments, and drama, but also moments when they start to realize they care about each other.

Give me text message threads, letters, phone calls between characters… I love sending gifs, playlists, pics - just everything that will keep our muse going! I also value OOC! 💜

A few things:

I roleplay solely on discord (and I use tupper!)

I prefer to be a female in this plot (currently I don’t double up - I’m sorry) + bonus points if your OC will have Nicholas Galitzine’s fc

I’m female, she/her, 25+ so please be 18+ (I don’t roleplay with minors)

Disclaimer! Do not interact if you’re looking for smut - I prefer to focus on character development especially in this story and not smut.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

I rewatched Purple Hearts 💜 and I’m dying to do a plot based on that story! Something like:

Determined to break away from the family business and stand on her own, she found starting a career in a big city more challenging than she expected. Financial problems soon followed. Though she could have asked her family for help, she wanted to be independent. Then he appeared. They met through mutual friends, and she didn't like him at first due to their differences. But he turned out to be the solution to her problems, or rather, marriage to him. He also had issues that forced him into marriage. They can't tell anyone the truth and must keep pretending. There's plenty of angst, arguments, and drama, but also moments when they start to realize they care about each other.

Give me text message threads, letters, phone calls between characters… I love sending gifs, playlists, pics - just everything that will keep our muse going! I also value OOC! 💜

A few things:

I roleplay solely on discord (and I use tupper!)

I prefer to be a female in this plot (currently I don’t double up - I’m sorry) + bonus points if your OC will have Nicholas Galitzine’s fc

I’m female, she/her, 25+ so please be 18+ (I don’t roleplay with minors)

Disclaimer! Do not interact if you’re looking for smut - I prefer to focus on character development especially in this story and not smut.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

I rewatched Purple Hearts and I’m dying to do a plot based on that story! Give me angst! (I prefer to write female in mxf)

Please read my pinned post to know a lil bit more about me.

Please be 18+.

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

Looking for a roleplay partner!

A few things I need to put out there - I want to try something different and I’m interested in text messages threads for our roleplay. I am online most of the time but recently I’ve found writing paras more and more exhausting so I’d rather focus on a smooth texts and head canons. Perhaps sometimes paras but not all the time.

I’d prefer to take on a female character as I’m currently burned out when it comes to playing males.

The FCs I’d love to write against:

Jonathan Bailey, Nicholas Galitzine, Harry Styles, Theo James, Sam Claflin, Henry Cavil, Sebastian Stan, Regé-Jean Page, Paul Wesley, Daniel Gillies, Joseph Morgan and many more.

We can discuss plot ideas and everything over dms.

I’m female, she/her, 27, GMT+1

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

— ☆ gimme a plot where muse a and muse b have been broken up for a little while, but one day muse a asks to meet up and confesses that they never told their parents that they broke up and they need muse b to pretend they're still together and go to some family event with muse a. cue pretending to still be in love, arguing about why they broke up in the first place, fake kisses that turn hungry, all the yearning and pining, one of them still being in the love with the other !! the possibilities are endless

[lookingforrppartnersblog]

Interest check!

Would anyone be interested in a small group rp hosted on Discord that follows the events and day-to-day life of a fire station and its crew? Think 911, 911: LS, Chicago Fire.

DM if interested, I'm still figuring out the logistics 👌