Stockholm Syndrome [Harry Styles X Reader]

Torn Between Us

I woke up to the scent of Harry's cologne, his warm arms wrapped around me, and his soft breath against my neck. It felt like a dream, like the world outside didn't matter. I never thought I'd feel safe here, but in his arms, in this moment, I felt like maybe everything was going to be okay.

"Morning, baby," Harry whispered, his voice low and soothing. "You sleep well?"

I nodded, my heart fluttering, as a small smile tugged at my lips. "Yeah. I didn't even realize I fell asleep."

"I like you here, with me." he murmured, brushing his lips against my temple.

"I like being here." I whispered, as his fingers traced the delicate curve of my back, as though he was trying to memorize every inch of me. I loved these little moments with Harry—feeling wanted, needed, loved—and it was all because of him.

I felt him pull me closer, burying his face into my neck. "So, my friends are coming over today. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling a little. "I'd love to meet them."

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth, I didn't want to meet them, I didn't want to have to share Harry, but I wanted to be good, I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to fit into whatever world Harry had created for us, even if I had no idea what that really meant.

Harry seemed pleased, his eyes lit up as his lips curled into a small smile, before placing a kiss on my forehead. "I think you'll like them."

I tried to smile back, but there was a lingering unease in my chest. Meeting his friends? It felt like a step I wasn't quite ready to take. But I couldn't back out now, not with Harry looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

I felt Harry's lips brush softly against my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, leaving a trail of warmth that made my heart flutter. His hand cradled my face as he kissed the tip of my nose, his eyes crinkling with a tender smile.

"We should get ready," he murmured, as he placed one more lingering kiss on my forehead before pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. "They'll be here soon."

I nodded, my chest tightening at the thought of sharing him with anyone else, but the way he looked at me in that moment made it feel like nothing could break the little world we'd created together.

***

They showed up not long after—a group of guys who seemed like they'd wandered out of a bad dream. Loud, obnoxious, crude, with confidence oozing from them like the smoke of a fire you couldn't quite put out. They strolled into the room as if they owned it, their laughter bouncing off the walls before they fully stepped inside.

The moment they saw me, their grins widened, transforming into exaggerated smirks that sent an uneasy chill down my spine. It wasn't admiration; it was something sharper, something that made my skin prickle.

"So, you're the one," one of them said, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "Harry's girl."

I froze, my smile faltering before I forced it back into place, tight and unsure. "Yeah, that's me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Harry's girl," another repeated, drawing the words out with a whistle as he elbowed his friend. "Wow, what a pretty little thing. Who would've thought? You sure you got the right Harry?"

The group erupted into laughter, a jarring mix of mockery and disbelief. I chuckled nervously, my laugh feeling too forced, but it was all I could muster.

"Come on, mate," the tallest one said, smirking as he turned to Harry. "How'd you manage this? Did you bribe her or something?"

"I didn't—" Harry started, his voice low and strained, but he didn't get far.

"Wait, wait," another cut him off, holding up a hand. "Let me guess. You tripped over your own feet, landed on her, and she felt so bad she decided to stick around."

Their laughter hit a new peak, jagged and unkind. My stomach churned, my gaze darting to Harry, silently pleading for him to say something, to put an end to this. But he just stood there, his jaw clenched tight, his fists flexing at his sides.

"Don't be mean," one of the guys' girlfriends chimed in, though her smirk didn't quite match her words. "Harry has his charm. Deep, deep down."

"Yeah, buried under that permanent scowl," Another quipped, earning another round of laughter.

"Seriously though," the tall one pressed, his gaze shifting back to me, sharp and invasive. "What's the deal? Is he secretly loaded or something? No offense, Harry, but you're punching way above your weight here."

I forced another laugh, hollow and thin. "I don't know," I said, though the words felt like ash in my mouth.

"Harry, you'd better hang onto this one," another guy said, grinning wickedly. "She's a ten. You're, what? A five on a really good day?"

Another half-hearted laugh escaped me, though it sounded more like a sigh. I didn't want to cause a scene, didn't want to make things worse, so I just smiled along, pretending I couldn't feel the sting of their words or the suffocating weight of Harry's silence.

The words stung like salt rubbed into an open wound. My nervous smile remained glued to my face as I glanced at Harry again. His expression hadn't softened. If anything, it had hardened—his eyes dark and unreadable, his body radiating tension.

"Don't mind us, sweetheart," one of them added, leaning back lazily. "We're just trying to figure out how a guy like Harry landed someone like you. It's a mystery, honestly."

"Maybe she's got a thing for brooding loners," another joked, prompting exaggerated nods and laughter.

"Or maybe," the tall one said, leaning in with a smirk that made my stomach turn, "you just haven't realized you can do better yet."

I glanced at Harry, hoping for something—anything—but his face was a mask, his jaw set, his fists still clenched. I took a small step toward him, instinctively seeking comfort, leaning slightly into his side.

But he didn't move. Didn't even acknowledge me.

And in that moment, I realized the shift between us. It wasn't just the mockery in their words or the discomfort in the air. It was something darker, something unspoken—a warning that settled heavy in my chest.

***

When they finally left, the silence was deafening.

I watched Harry, waiting for him to say something—anything. But his eyes were cold, fixed on the door where his friends had just exited. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides. I could see the anger building inside him. "Why were you laughing with them so much?" he shouted, his voice like ice. "Do you want them? Do you want them more than you want me?"

His words hit me like a slap, and I jumped back, confused and scared. "What? No, Harry, I'm just—"

"Just what? Just enjoying their fucking compliments?" He snapped,  "They think you're some kind of trophy, Y/N. Something they can admire and pass around. I can fucking see how much you think they're better than me! How you want them, want to leave me for them!  But you're mine, Y/n. Mine, and you're not supposed to be smiling like that at anyone else but me!"

I stepped back, panic rising in my chest as I realized how mad he truly was. "No, Harry, I don't want anyone else! I swear! I wasn't—I wasn't doing anything wrong, Harry. They were just being nice."