“For publicity purposes only”Harry Styles one shot.
Y/N and her costar Harry styles agree to fake a relationship to promote their new film. But as staged dates and rehearsed touches begin to feel real, neither of them knows where the act ends.
The email had arrived at 7:19 on a Tuesday morning.
MANDATORY PUBLICITY MEETING — 11:00 A.M.
No explanation. No agenda. Just Y/N’s name, Harry Styles name, and enough senior executives copied into the thread to make her immediately assume she was about to be fired.
By 10:58, she was sitting at the end of a glass conference table, mentally reviewing every questionable decision she had made during the production.
There had been the time she accidentally broke a prop lamp that was apparently an original from the seventies.
The time she swore directly beside a microphone she had not realised was live.
And, admittedly, there had been the incident with the golf cart.
But nobody had been hurt.
Y/N looked up as Harry slipped into the chair beside her.
He wore a faded black T-shirt, dark trousers and a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. He had brought coffee for himself and nothing for her, which felt particularly offensive considering they were apparently about to be professionally executed together.
“I’m deciding which mistake they’ve finally discovered.”
Her head snapped towards him. “You said we would never speak of that again.”
“I told you to turn left.”
“That sounds like a comprehension issue on your part.”
Harry grinned into his coffee.
It was irritating how charming he could be when he was actively betraying her.
Before she could defend herself further, the door opened and three members of the publicity team entered. Behind them came Vanessa Cole, the studio’s head of marketing, carrying a tablet and the expression of a woman who had never once been late for anything.
“Thank you both for coming.”
“We had a choice?” Y/N asked.
Harry nudged her foot beneath the table.
Vanessa either did not notice or had already decided not to engage.
“As you know, the first trailer performed extremely well.”
A presentation appeared on the screen behind her. It contained a selection of social media posts, video thumbnails and photographs of Y/N and Harry standing suspiciously close together.
Y/N recognised one from outside the studio. Harry had been leaning down to hear her over the crowd. From the angle of the photograph, it looked as though he was whispering something intimate into her ear.
In reality, he had been telling her that the back of her dress was caught in her underwear.
“People are responding particularly well to the chemistry between your characters,” Vanessa continued.
“That’s good,” Harry said.
“It is. They’re also responding to the chemistry between the two of you.”
Y/N stared at the screen.
A fan edit began playing without sound. It featured slowed down clips of Harry looking at her during interviews, set to what was undoubtedly an emotional love song.
Harry leaned forward. “That’s a good edit.”
“They’ve made my jaw look fantastic.”
“Your jaw had nothing to do with it.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
Vanessa cleared her throat.
“As the film releases in six weeks, we would like to capitalise on the interest.”
Y/N’s unease sharpened. “Capitalise how?”
“We’re not asking either of you to lie.”
“That is always what people say immediately before asking someone to lie.”
“We’d simply like you to lean into the speculation.”
Silence settled over the room.
Vanessa smiled as though she had suggested they post an additional photograph from set.
“What does ‘lean into it’ mean?” Y/N asked carefully.
“Arrive at a few events together. Sit beside one another during interviews. Allow yourselves to be photographed in public occasionally.”
“Having dinner. Getting coffee. Normal things.”
“We already do normal things.” Harry argues.
“Yes, but until now you haven’t done them while holding hands.”
Her smile slowly disappeared.
“It would only be for six weeks,” Vanessa said. “You wouldn’t confirm a relationship. You wouldn’t deny one. You would simply give the public something to talk about.”
“We pretend to date ambiguously.”
Beside her, Harry leaned back in his chair.
Y/N turned towards him, expecting him to look as horrified as she felt.
Instead, he appeared to be thinking.
That somehow irritated her more.
Vanessa folded her hands on the table. “There would be boundaries. Everything would be agreed upon in advance. Nothing happens unless you’re both comfortable.”
“I’ll do whatever Y/N is comfortable with,” Harry said.
Every person in the room looked at her.
Of course he had said the perfect thing.
Now he looked respectful and considerate while she looked like the difficult actress refusing to help promote the film.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
His mouth twitched. “That seems excessive.”
Vanessa tapped the tablet. “Should I take that as a yes?”
Y/N looked again at the screen.
At the comments beneath them.
At Harry, who was watching her with an expression she could not quite read.
“And I can say no to anything?”
Y/N pointed at him. “Do not look so pleased.”
“I’m excited to create ambiguity with you.”
Their first official rehearsal was on Thursday.
Apparently, fake dating required rehearsal.
Y/N arrived at an empty photography studio to find Harry talking with a woman named Claire, who had introduced herself during the meeting as their publicity coordinator.
There were marks taped onto the floor, a camera set up in front of them and several outfit options hanging from a rail.
Y/N stopped in the doorway.
“This feels humiliating already.”
“It gets worse,” Harry said.
Claire clapped her hands together. “Great. You’re both here.”
“I could still leave,” Y/N said.
“You signed the agreement.”
“I could leave dramatically.”
“You’d still have to come back.”
Y/N reluctantly crossed the room.
Claire positioned them side by side.
“The key is looking comfortable together.”
“We are comfortable together,” Harry said.
Y/N looked at him. “Are we?”
“You broke into my trailer last week and ate half my lunch.”
“I thought it was my trailer.”
“You stayed after you realised it wasn’t.”
“The chips were already open.”
Claire pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Let’s begin with something simple. Hold hands.”
Y/N looked down at Harry’s hand.
Harry looked down at hers.
“This should not be difficult,” Claire said.
“I’ve never held hands professionally,” Y/N replied.
Harry offered his palm. “I’ll guide you through it.”
She placed her hand in his.
Their fingers remained stiff and awkward, palms barely touching.
Claire’s expression fell.
“That looks like you’re helping your elderly relative to the bathroom.”
Harry glanced at Y/N. “You heard her, Grandma. Loosen up.”
She dug her nails into his palm.
Claire stepped closer and physically rearranged their hands until their fingers were linked.
Y/N tried not to think about the warmth of his skin.
Or the way his thumb rested against the side of hers.
She had known him for nearly seven months. She had watched him spit coffee across a table after laughing too hard. She had seen him walk into a closed glass door. She had once held a bag of frozen peas against his head after he fell backwards out of a director’s chair.
There was no reason holding his hand should feel strange.
“Now walk towards the camera,” Claire instructed.
Their arms pulled painfully between them.
“You’re supposed to follow me,” he said.
“Our current direction of travel.”
“You’re travelling the wrong way.”
“We’re walking in a straight line.”
Claire interrupted before they could begin physically fighting.
They returned to the marks.
This time Harry placed his other hand lightly against Y/N’s lower back.
Her entire body went still.
His hand immediately disappeared.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
His hand returned, gentler than before.
For once, there was no teasing in his expression.
Harry adjusted his pace to match hers. His thumb moved once across the back of her hand, almost absentmindedly, and Y/N forgot about the camera entirely.
“There,” Claire said. “That. Whatever you just did, keep doing that.”
Neither of them let go immediately.
She pulled her hand away and brushed it against her clothes.
Claire gave them a knowing look that Y/N chose to ignore.
“Physical familiarity. Fix his jacket.”
Y/N straightened the collar of his overshirt.
“You’ve done this before,” he said.
“You dress like a confused teenager. I’m constantly resisting the urge.”
“You wore my jumper home last month.”
“That is an allegation you cannot prove.”
Claire took several photographs while Y/N adjusted his collar.
Y/N continued smoothing the fabric, suddenly too aware of his eyes on her face.
“Like you like her,” Claire added.
“He struggles with that,” Y/N said.
Harry’s gaze remained fixed on her.
“No,” he said softly. “I don’t.”
Her fingers stopped against his chest.
For one dangerous second, neither of them made a joke.
Claire lowered it with a satisfied smile.
Their first public appearance happened three days later.
Harry would collect her from her hotel. They would arrive at a private screening together. He would hold her hand while they walked past the photographers, and they would sit together inside.
She was wearing a black dress that had been selected by a stylist who apparently believed breathing was optional. Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. Diamond earrings caught the light whenever she moved.
There was a knock at the door.
When she opened it, Harry was standing in the hallway.
For once, he had abandoned the baseball cap. His dark suit fit him unfairly well, and the top buttons of his shirt were left undone.
Then continued looking at her.
Y/N leaned against the doorframe.
“Have you forgotten why you’re here?”
“Have you forgotten how to speak?”
She smiled despite herself. “That convincing, am I?”
It did not sound rehearsed.
Y/N looked down, pretending to adjust her bracelet.
“You clean up all right too.”
The car journey was filled with nervous jokes and repeated instructions from Claire.
Do not rush. Stay close together. Do not stare directly into the flashes.
Hold hands before exiting the car.
“Anything else?” Y/N asked.
Claire looked up from her phone. “Try to look like you enjoy each other’s company.”
“That’s asking a lot,” Y/N said.
Harry placed a hand over his heart.
Y/N caught glimpses of cameras, barriers and fans pressing forward with their phones held above their heads.
“You’re twisting your ring.”
She looked down. She was.
Claire reached for the door handle, but Harry quietly spoke first.
He held out his hand between them.
“So pretend it’s empty.” He gently smiles
“There are approximately two hundred people outside.”
Noise crashed into the car.
Harry stepped out first. He turned back immediately, offering his hand.
His fingers closed securely around hers.
For the first few seconds, she saw nothing but white camera flashes. Voices shouted their names from every direction.
Harry moved closer until his shoulder brushed hers.
His hand settled against the small of her back.
“Still with me?” he murmured.
They walked towards the entrance.
Halfway down the carpet, someone shouted, “Harry, kiss her!”
His hand tightened around hers, but he did not turn towards the cameras. Instead, he leaned down and whispered beside her ear.
“If I pretend to fix your dress, they’ll lose their minds.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
The following morning, photographs of the moment appeared everywhere.
In every image, Harry’s mouth was near her ear and Y/N was smiling up at him.
The headlines were unbearable.
HARRY STYLES AND Y/N FUEL ROMANCE RUMOURS
CO-STARS OR SOMETHING MORE?
THE LOOK THAT HAS EVERYONE TALKING
Y/N sent him a screenshot of the final headline.
Y/N: You look constipated.
His reply arrived immediately.
Harry: You noticed the desire though.
Mostly because she could not think of anything that did not sound defensive.
The photographs became easier after that.
The interviews where Harry’s knee pressed against hers beneath small studio tables.
Sometimes she forgot which moments had been arranged.
A photographer caught Harry draping his jacket around her shoulders outside a restaurant.
That had not been planned.
He had simply noticed she was cold.
Another photographed Y/N wiping a mark from his cheek after a television appearance.
That had not been planned either.
Neither was the afternoon he arrived at her hotel room with soup because she had mentioned feeling ill.
Or the evening she fell asleep against his shoulder during a flight and woke beneath his coat.
Or the fact that Harry had started texting her every night.
The publicity team loved it.
The public loved it more.
The trouble was that Y/N was beginning to love it too.
She loved the private smile Harry gave her before opening a car door.
She loved the way he always checked where she was when they entered a crowded room.
She loved that he had learned exactly how she took her coffee, despite claiming the order was “an insult to coffee.”
She loved the way his hand had become a familiar weight at her waist.
None of it belonged to her.
Every touch had an expiration date.
Every photograph was part of a campaign.
Every soft moment existed beneath the shadow of an agreement ending in six weeks.
She had watched him cry on command fourteen times in a single afternoon.
She could not trust a look simply because it felt real.
The interview that ruined everything took place during the fifth week.
Y/N and Harry sat together on a velvet sofa beneath bright studio lights while the host asked questions about the film.
Favourite scenes and their funniest moments on set. Who forgot their lines most often?
“Harry,” Y/N answered immediately.
“That is completely false,” he said.
“You once replaced an entire monologue with the lyrics to a birthday song.”
“It fit the emotion of the scene.”
“You were informing me that my father had died.”
“Which made the birthday song unexpected.”
Y/N looked at him and found him already smiling at her.
The host waited for the laughter to settle.
“You two obviously get along incredibly well.”
“We tolerate each other,” Y/N said.
The host smiled. “There has been quite a lot of speculation about whether that chemistry continues when the cameras stop rolling.”
The question they had prepared for.
Y/N straightened slightly.
Their approved response was easy.
They enjoyed spending time together.
They understood the curiosity but wanted the work to remain the focus.
The host turned towards Harry.
“So, are the rumours true?”
A slow smile appeared on his face.
“She’s my favourite person.”
The audience reacted instantly.
Y/N barely heard them - She stared at him.
That was not the response.
It was not even close to the response.
The host leaned forward, delighted. “That sounds like confirmation to me.”
Harry finally looked away.
“It’s confirmation that I have excellent taste in people.”
Y/N answered questions automatically.
She smiled when she was supposed to smile. She laughed when the audience laughed. She kept her posture relaxed despite the thoughts colliding inside her head.
Afterward, she followed him into the corridor behind the studio.
Claire walked past them while speaking urgently into her phone, likely trying to manage the headlines that were already appearing online.
“Pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
His expression softened. “The favourite person comment?”
“Yes, the favourite person comment.”
“The point is that we had an agreed response.”
Harry glanced towards the crew members moving through the corridor.
“No. You don’t get to say something like that in front of an audience and then become private.”
“I said it because I meant it.”
“As part of the promotion?”
Her chest felt uncomfortably tight.
“You’re making this confusing.”
“Then stop saying things you aren’t supposed to say.”
“What exactly am I supposed to say, Y/N?”
“The lines we were given.”
“I’m tired of the lines we were given.”
The corridor seemed suddenly too quiet.
She lowered her voice. “This ends next week.”
For the first time since she had met him, Harry looked uncertain.
Or perhaps it was simply the answer she had been most afraid of.
She walked away before he could see how much it had hurt.
They did not speak properly for four days.
They attended the same events. They sat beside each other during press interviews. They smiled for photographs.
But everything was careful again.
Their hands touched only when required.
His palm no longer rested at her back once they were out of sight of the cameras.
The nightly messages stopped.
Y/N told herself it was better.
This was what she had wanted.
No mistaking publicity for something personal.
Their final event was the film premiere.
Six weeks after the meeting, they stood together beneath an enormous poster displaying their faces.
The crowd screamed when Harry took her hand.
Y/N smiled for the cameras.
His thumb moved once against her skin.
The familiar gesture made her heart ache.
“You look beautiful,” he said quietly.
“You said that at the first screening.”
She looked ahead. “We should move.”
Inside, they were separated bu interviews and studio executives. By the time the film began, Harry was seated three chairs away from her.
Y/N watched herself fall in love with him on screen.
Their characters had been written to resist their feelings. They misunderstood one another. They argued. They wasted time pretending they did not care.
The audience sighed when they finally kissed.
Y/N stared at the screen and wished she could disappear into her seat.
At the party afterward, she drank half a glass of champagne and escaped onto a quiet balcony. The noise from inside faded when the door closed behind her.The city stretched below, bright and distant.
She rested her hands against the railing.
“It’s freezing out here.”
Harry came to stand beside her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
“The agreement ends tonight. You don’t have to give me your jacket anymore.”
“That wasn’t in the agreement.”
“Neither was bringing you soup,” he continued. “Or calling you when you couldn’t sleep. Or learning your ridiculous coffee order.”
“It has three different syrups.”
Harry placed his jacket over the railing rather than around her shoulders.
“The agreement ended an hour ago,” he said.
“So why does it feel like you’re still waiting for someone to tell you what’s real?”
She laughed once, though there was no humour in it.
“Because I don’t know what’s real.”
Her heart began beating harder.
“Was the interview real?”
“The way you looked at me?”
His eyes did not leave hers.
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you agreed to six weeks of pretending, and I didn’t know whether you would believe me if I told you I wasn’t pretending anymore.”
Harry gave a quiet, nervous laugh.
“I thought I had more time.”
“You had six weeks Harry.”
“I spent the first two being annoying.”
“You’ve spent the entire production being annoying.” Y/N corrected him.
“Exactly. I had a lot of damage to undo.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
“I know this started as publicity. the timing is terrible and half the world already thinks we’re together. But none of that changes the fact that somewhere between teaching you how to hold hands and watching you steal food from my trailer, I fell in love with you.”
“You can’t just say that. You don’t joke about things like that Harry.”
“You’re supposed to work up to it.”
“I tried. You shouted at me in a corridor.”
“I panicked.” He excused himself.
“You told millions of people I was your favourite person.”
Harry stepped closer until barely any space remained between them.
“I don’t want to stop opening doors for you,” he said. “I don’t want to stop checking that you got home. I don’t want to sit beside someone else during interviews and pretend I’m not looking for you.”
Y/N looked down at the front of his shirt.
His hand lifted, then hesitated before touching her waist.
Even now, he was waiting for permission.
“Then why are you still acting like my boyfriend?”
His mouth curved slightly.
“Because nobody told me I had to stop wanting to be one.”
Y/N stared at him for one second. Then two.
Harry looked wounded. “That was supposed to be romantic.”
“It would’ve been, if you hadn’t clearly rehearsed it.”
“I rehearsed several versions.”
“That is concerning. Makes sense why you’re an actor, not a writer.”
This time, Harry smiled with her.
She reached up and adjusted his collar, though it did not need fixing.His eyes dropped briefly to her mouth.
“This part feels familiar,” he murmured.
“For publicity purposes only.”
She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
“Are there cameras out here?”
“So nobody would know if we kissed?”
The kiss was gentle at first. Careful.
Nothing like the staged kisses they had performed for the film, surrounded by cameras and crew members and people calling directions.
There was no audience this time.
Harry held her as though he had wanted to for weeks. Perhaps he had.
When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers.
“That was significantly better than rehearsal,” he said.
“You still need practice.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I’m willing to put in the work.”
“I take the role seriously.”
Inside, music continued and glasses clinked and their names were likely being discussed by people who believed they knew every part of the story.
Tomorrow, there would be more photographs and headlines.
For the first time, Y/N did not care what answer they gave.
Harry picked up his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You know you don’t have to do that anymore,” she said.
Their fingers linked easily.
“No photographers,” she reminded him.
“And the agreement is finished.”
Harry brought her hand to his lips.
Y/N smiled as he led her back towards the party.
This time, neither of them was pretending.
A/N: A fun fact: this was the original idea for the fine print, but I thought the idea of PR relationships was overdone. So have the original idea as a one shot 😌
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