CHECKMATE 𝔉𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔇𝔯 — ONE !
HARRY STYLES — 𝔚𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 . 𝔖𝔪𝔞𝔲
SMAU | Harry Styles X Ex!Famous!SingerActress
IN WHICH — The news has broken Hollywood: global superstar Harry Styles is confirmed as the new Christian Grey in a gritty film retelling of Fifty Shades of Grey, and in a stunning, career-making announcement, you have been chosen to play the female lead. This unprecedented casting decision thrusts you into an immediate, intense spotlight, meaning your days are now filled with high-profile script readings opposite Styles, luxury wardrobe fittings, and the constant, overwhelming attention of the paparazzi and global media, all as you prepare for your role in what is already guaranteed to be one of the year's biggest and most talked-about films. Not to mention the fact that it’s your ex.
contains — angst, use of language, dark humor, some sexual references, spice, profanity, and other things.
started 10/2/25 completed tbd
Liked by dakotajohnson, mia_goth and 298,982 others
yourusername currently reading and no im not ok. will be back with a review.
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user1 lol the fact yn has talked about the fact she loves the movies, but has never ready the books.
replied ↬ ynslove I was just about to comment this exact thing.
dakotajohnson let me know your thoughts 😂.
author replied ↬ definitely.
harryxyn4eva now we need a remake!
user4 yn is definitely kate coded
author replied ↬ spent 5 minutes giggling at this.
Liked by LiamPayne, Neilt and 2M others
hstyels So thankful for all the love I have received during tour. Extremely sad that tour has come to end, I love all my supporters and send a strong message to everyone who has been there since the beginning Thank you to my team and my family because I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you guys. More music and projects coming. Stay tuned!
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loger7 crazy both yn and harry finishing tour around the same time, what a coincidence.
fan2 GOOD JOB! Feels like we’ve seen you grow sm! 🫡
hsxyn can’t be only one who thinks yn should be apart of this.. ugh 😞😞
user9 so proud of you!! wishing you more successes.
theshaderoom rumor has it you’ll be in something soon.
replied ↬ user WHATTTTT IS IT ????
replied ↬ user3 spill the tea sis
Liked by harryxyn, ynsourced and 72,882 others
harry.ynarchived currently missing yn and harry Japan in Paris. NEED THEM BACKKK UGH 😩😩
ynsourced you’re not the only oneeeee
♥︎ by author
harrybwb miss the lover squared era
♥︎ by author
hsxyn till this day we don’t know why they ended.
user9 harry literally still makes songs for her I scream as they drag me into the asylum.
♥︎ by author
You sat in your manager's office, waiting. She'd texted you to come in urgently, and you were already annoyed by the sixteen minutes you'd spent sitting there in silence—well, not full silence, since you had your AirPods in, but still.
The book Fifty Shades rested casually on your forearm, a surprisingly tolerable read despite the glaringly inaccurate portrayals of BDSM practices—a department in which you were, admittedly, quite experienced.You took a slow sip of your iced coffee.
The door finally opened, and in walked Stacy, your manager. Her hair was slicked back, and her pencil skirt and button-up blouse were impeccable. Put together as always, you thought with a sigh.
“Well, what’s the emergency?” you asked, your breath slightly exasperated.
“They want you for a movie.”
Her response was so unexpected that the shock must have registered clearly on your face. Stacy laughed, waiting a few seconds for a reaction that didn't come.
“A movie?” you finally managed.
“Fifty Shades is getting a remake—a retelling, if you will,” she elaborated.
You narrowed your eyes. “And why, exactly, do they want me?” You were genuinely confused. Your catalog of films consisted almost exclusively of thriller and horror projects.
Sure, your music was heavily focused on love and romance, but that feeling was a relic of the past for you. "You know I don't typically do romance," you pressed.
Stacy walked around her desk and leaned back against it, crossing her arms.
"They're not looking for a traditional romance lead, sweetie. They're looking for an edge. Someone who can project that cool, detached mystery and handle the physical side with complete confidence. They want someone who can make the role believable."
She gestured toward the book on your arm. "The director said, 'We need someone who already looks like they can cry on the spot, and have some type depth.' And let's be real—your music videos alone are a better audition than any screen test."
You glanced down at the book, a new wave of conflicting emotions washing over you. A blockbuster retelling of Fifty Shades? It was absolutely insane, completely off-brand... and potentially the biggest career move you could make.
"So," you said, closing the book with a soft thud. "Who would I be playing? Ana or Christian?"
Stacy grinned. "Well Ana of course.They just know they want you."
“Who’s the male lead?” That made Stacy pursed her lips, a sign you weren’t about to like what she was about to say. You weren’t expecting what she said next tho.
“Harry.”
The air left your lungs in a rush, stinging your throat as your iced coffee suddenly seemed like a ridiculous prop. You stared at Stacy, waiting for the punchline, but her face was deadly serious, the earlier amusement entirely gone.
“Harry Styles?” you managed, the name feeling foreign and sharp on your tongue.
Stacy pushed off the desk, her expression shifting to one of protective severity. “They haven’t announced it yet. It’s supposed to be a colossal reveal when they announce the two of you together. He’s confirmed as the new Christian Grey.”
The book, the emergency text, the whole improbable pitch suddenly snapped into focus.
This wasn't just a film; it was a media spectacle tailor-made to break the internet. Harry Styles—global superstar, fashion icon, and your ex-boyfriend—was stepping into the role of the damaged, controlling billionaire.
And you, the actress who'd successfully buried the past and redefined yourself, were his female lead.
Fifty Shades of Grey was getting a gritty, high-stakes retelling, and you had been chosen to play opposite the one person guaranteed to dredge up every public memory and private pain you’d worked so hard to silence.
“Stacy, you know I can’t—”
“You can’t or you won’t?” she cut in, her voice firm.
“Look at the logistics. This is the biggest film of the year, guaranteed. It means Oscar buzz, multi-picture deals, and a paycheck that lets you buy your own fleet of helicopters. The director doesn’t just want two pretty faces; they want tension. They want the kind of complicated history that will make every on-screen glance feel real. And honey, your history with Harry is practically a screenplay already.”
You ran a hand over your face, pushing your hair back. This wasn't just about a film role anymore; this was about the sudden, unavoidable collision of your personal and professional lives.
Your days weren't just going to be filled with script readings and luxury wardrobe fittings; they were going to be a gauntlet of intense, high-profile interactions with the man you hadn't spoken to in years, all played out under the harsh, constant spotlight of the paparazzi and global media.
“I’m going to need a very large martini,” you finally said, pushing the iced coffee aside.
“And I’m going to need the contract. Every single clause.”
Stacy smiled slowly, a flash of victory in her eyes.
“That’s my girl. Welcome to the show.”
The crisp, official paper felt heavy, carrying the weight of not just a major film deal but the entire, complicated history of his last serious relationship. He didn't need to read the tiny print; his eyes were glued to one specific section of the casting list, where the names of the two principal actors were laid out.
YOURNAME blazed in bold font under the role of Anastasia Steele.
His heart didn't just skip a beat; it hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a sudden, sharp shock to his system that made the blood rush to his ears. It was the name he heard every day in passing, always on social media, in the comments, under old photos, or attached to a new music release.
He was accustomed to the constant, ambient noise of your continued fame, a distant, manageable drone. Seeing your name here, on a contract—on his contract, directly across from his own—made it suddenly, terrifyingly real.
He had known the female lead was officially cast, of course. His manager, Jeffrey, had given him the heads-up—a casual, carefully managed text that said something like, "Got your Ana. Huge name. Big news. Let's talk Monday."
Harry hadn't pressed, assuming it would be one of the usual suspects: a rising indie star, a seasoned Oscar nominee looking for a blockbuster paycheck, or maybe a supermodel making a pivot. Never you.
You were the one person he had successfully managed to keep in the "archived" folder of his mind—a beautiful, agonizing chapter of his life he had professionally closed.
He leaned back in the plush, high-backed chair in his London office, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The silence in the room, usually a comfort, was now oppressive, filled with the echo of your laughter and the ghost of your hands.
The sheer audacity of the universe to orchestrate this felt like a practical joke played by a malicious god. A gritty, dark retelling of Fifty Shades of Grey—a movie about an intense, all-consuming, and frankly unhealthy dominant-submissive dynamic—and he was going to be starring opposite his ex-girlfriend. His own submissive.
The woman whose departure had inspired the most aching, successful album of his career. The woman whose lingering presence still defined the melancholy edge of his public persona.
He picked up the expensive, fountain pen resting beside the document but didn't sign. He just tapped the heavy gold cap against the leather desk blotter, a rhythmic, nervous sound.
"This is madness, Jeffrey," he muttered, speaking more to the document than to his manager, who was seated across from him looking annoyingly calm.
Jeffrey didn't flinch. "It's genius, Harry. Pure, unadulterated marketing genius. Look at the numbers. The announcement of your casting alone broke Twitter.
The casting of YOUR NAME is going to obliterate the internet. It guarantees us the biggest opening weekend of the year."
"I'm not talking about the numbers! I'm talking about the work," Harry insisted, his voice rising. "The script, Jeffrey. You read the script. This isn't a cute rom-com. It's intense. It's physical. It's... bondage and emotional trauma. And I have to do all of that with someone I haven't seen in a room alone since 2021!"
Jeffrey finally sighed, dropping the veneer of the detached business mogul. "I know, mate. It’s rough. I won’t pretend it’s not. But professionally, you cannot walk away from this. This isn't just about money; it's about the kind of legacy work you said you wanted. This director, this script—it elevates the whole franchise. And they were absolutely ruthless about casting. They wanted the perfect chemistry, the perfect tension. And they decided the perfect tension is real tension."
Harry picked up the contract again, running his thumb over the embossed title. Fifty Shades Retold: Red Room Rising. The production company wasn't subtle.
He remembered a casual conversation with you years ago, early in your relationship, when the original Fifty Shades movies were still a huge topic of debate.
You had laughed, holding up a glass of wine. "If I ever have to act in a movie like that, please fire my entire team. It's utterly unconvincing."
Now, here you were.
He had followed your career, of course. Not actively, but how could he not? Every time he opened a music magazine, there was your face, more defined, colder, more stunning than he remembered. Your pivot into those stylized, dark horror had been brilliant. You mastered the art of playing the detached, powerful woman—the one who was in charge, who understood the violence and control she was facing.
That was the key. You weren't the timid, clumsy Ana Steele of the books. You were now the sophisticated, experienced actress they needed for the "retelling."
And knowing you had seen the same flaws in the BDSM portrayal in the book, knowing you had already mentally corrected the lack of authenticity, somehow made the whole thing worse. It meant you were taking this role seriously. It meant you would be bringing that same intensity and mastery to the set.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. He could handle the cameras. He could handle the paparazzi that would inevitably descend like vultures the moment the news broke. He could even handle the script's nudity clauses and complex choreography.
What he couldn't handle was the rehearsal room. The moment of eye contact across the script table. The mandatory intimacy workshops. The director, no doubt, encouraging them to 'tap into their history' for the scenes.
Their history. A passionate, volatile three years that had ended with a slammed door, an unreturned ring, and a global news frenzy. A history that contained the very raw, dark themes of control, pain, and ultimate surrender—themes this movie was trying to exploit.
He stood and walked over to the panoramic window overlooking the city.
"What does she say about it?"
Jeffrey knew exactly who 'she' was. "She signed. Her team is framing it as the ultimate career challenge—a bold choice after her run of darker, art-house films. She's going to crush it, Harry. And frankly, so are you. This is the ultimate proof that you two can be professionals."
"Professionals," Harry scoffed.
The word tasted like ash. They were professionals, yes.
But they were also two people who once knew exactly how the other person breathed when they were asleep, exactly how to make the other person laugh until they cried, and exactly how to inflict the most exquisite, silent pain.
He turned back to the desk, his decision already made, not by logic or desire, but by the immovable force of his professional obligations and his own deeply competitive nature. He was Harry Style.
He didn't back down. Especially not from something you had already agreed to.
He picked up the pen again.
“I want the non-disclosure agreements for the rehearsal space ironclad. And I want a mandate that no personal history will be discussed on set outside of what is required for scene analysis. We are not method acting our breakup, Jeffrey.”
“Done,” Jeffrey said, already reaching for his phone.
Harry looked down at the contract one last time. YOUR NAME. Anastasia Steele. He pressed the pen to the paper, signing his famous, looping signature, committing himself to being Christian Grey—and committing himself to the agonizing, unavoidable reality of spending the next six months in intense, intimate proximity with the only person who had ever truly seen him stripped bare.
He was in. The game was officially on. And somehow, he knew this movie wasn't going to be about the script at all. It was going to be about the electric, unresolved tension that had just been sealed between those two bolded names on a piece of paper.
SO SHOULD I KEEP GOING?
CONTINUE
Yes
No
