Enjoyed This So Much. A Must Read.

Love it

LIBERATION I.

A/N: i couldn't hold myself back and just HAD TO post this😂😂 bot now yall need to send me feedback so i know i made the right decision of posting this now👀

PAIRING: guard!Harry X royal!Reader

WARNINGS: adult content, arranged marriage

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

masterlist

The exceptional silk nightgown slips down your body, the featherlike, cold touch of the expensive fabric sending a shiver down your spine as you stare back at your reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, the room thick with the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut, your favorite shower gel you get imported all the way from France. Drained eyes look back at you, almost lifeless and you wonder who this person could be you’re seeing as your reflection because you can’t recognize yourself anymore.

Wrapping yourself up in your bathrobe, you make your way out of the bathroom into your bedroom, two of your maids already waiting for you by your vanity. As you sit into the plush chair, they get to work instantly, without a word, taking care of your hair so it’s in the best condition for the big day tomorrow. They brush through your locks, using the finest essential oils and products, turning your hair into silk, just like the kind that’s hugging your body. Reaching up your fingers tap on the bags under your eyes, the makeup artist will have a lot to work on in the morning if she wants to turn you into the perfect princess, soon queen, everyone knows and loves. If only they knew the dirt and the pain hiding underneath the glamorous surface.

You’re getting married in the morning. As a kid, you always dreamt of your prince charming, a man you fall for the second you lay your eyes on and you get to have your own fairytale. It was silly of you to think you have the privilege of marrying someone you love.

Andrew Jacoby Coventry is a gentleman. He is well-mannered, intelligent, fluent in six languages and he can beat your father in chess. He is undeniably handsome and any woman would be thrilled to marry such a wonderful bachelor, but not you.

Because you’re not in love with him. Yet, you’ve known you’d have to marry him since you were sixteen.

You still remember the day your mother sat you down and told you that Andrew is going to visit the palace that week to discuss matters of a possible union between the two families, the Coventry’s have been highly respected for hundreds of years and they’ve been always alliances to the royals. Your father chose them to help you fulfill your destiny of becoming a queen.

“You cannot take the throne without a man by your side, Y/N,” your mother told you, but it was nothing new. You didn’t quite put the picture together yet just then. “Your father might be in good health now, but we can’t know what the future holds. We have to make sure you’re eligible to become queen when the time comes.”

“What… are you trying to say, mom?” you asked, slowly realizing where the conversation is heading.

“Andrew is a nice boy. You’ll get around to like him, I’m sure.”

You saw the pain in her eyes, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to make her daughter marry someone just for the sake of the throne, but she didn’t have any other choice and neither did you.

When you met Andrew just a few days later, you swallowed your tears as you introduced yourself to your future husband.

Now five years later the time has officially come, you’re marrying him tomorrow and going to take the throne next year, once your father resigns. His health won’t let him travel around and fulfill his duties for too long, he has made the decision not to wait until he is forced to step back, he would rather do it on his own terms.

“Thank you Kristin, thank you Mary. This is all for tonight,” you nod at them once they are finished with your hair. They say their goodbye and leave you alone in the room, trapped with your racing thoughts.

You’ve thought about running away at least a dozen times this month. Just getting on a plane and forgetting about the wedding, but you know you could never actually do it. Your family counts on you, the palace counts on you and the whole country counts on you. You’re their future queen and you owe them.

But what exactly do you owe them? Your whole life? Giving up the chance of marrying someone you love? Is that really what you have to do?

Standing by the window you stare out to the flower garden, a place you often like to go to when you want to have some peace of mind. It’s breathtaking in the spring, the colors, the scent, you can easily wander around for hours and not even notice how long it’s been. Behind that, on top of the hill the greenhouse is almost hidden in the dark, already decorated for tomorrow. You’re going to have your photos taken in there, just like your mother, your grandmother and every other women in your family had on their wedding day. You’ll have to pose for hours with faked happiness on your face just to get a handful of pictures that will be released to the press the next day, millions of little girls dreaming about being just like you when you’d give an arm to have their normal life.

You always want what you can’t have, right?

Your eyes wander over to the West wind of the palace, only seeing one window lit and though it’s too far to see anything from inside the room, you know exactly who is in there. Before you could even give it a second thought you wrap your robe tighter around you, walking out of your bedroom and heading over to the room you’ve come to know all too well these past years. You know the hallways leading to Harry’s room like the back of your hand and not just because you grew up in this place, but because it’s been a habit of yours to sneak out and see him when everyone else went to sleep.

The day you met Harry Styles was a turning point in your life. Introduced to you as head of security three years ago, you didn’t know you met your best friend and the man you’ll fall for and experience what it’s like to love and be loved.

It was a forbidden love from the start and not just because you were already set to marry Andrew, but because you knew your family would never approve of your relationship with him, no matter what. You had royal blood in your veins and Harry was the son of a teacher and barber, worked at a bakery as a teenager and joined the military for three years before he was brought to the palace.

You fought it for a long time. Even thought about asking for a replacement, because it was getting hard to be even in the same room with all the tension and desire lingering around the two of you and you knew he was just as conflicted as you were. The turning point came one particularly terrible night when you got into a fight with your father. You found peace in Harry’s arms and you let your guards down, making the first move to cross the line from where there’s no returning.

You haven’t looked back since then, sneaking around in the darkness, seeking every chance you can get to be with him without anyone finding out about it, though you couldn’t fool your mother.

“I know what a woman in love looks like, Y/N,” she told you when she called you to her one day. Your blood froze, because you knew she won’t believe that it was just your feelings for Andrew.

“Mom, I…”

“He is a sight for the sore eyes, I must admit. But I thought you’re smarter than this.”

Her words felt like a slap across your face each. Tears stung your eyes as you stood there and listened to your mother tell you how disappointed she was in you and she made you promise that you’d end it right away.

And you tried, you really tried. But you couldn’t keep yourself away from him and he felt the same way. Since then, you’ve been extra cautious and you feel like your mother believed that it was all in the past.

Part of you believed you could go on like this forever, but the closer the wedding was getting, the more you realized that it was doomed from the beginning and the moment you say I do to another man… you’re saying goodbye to Harry.

You can’t expect him to sneak around with you forever, he wants a family, a normal life and you can’t give him any of those, not while being married to Andrew and taking the throne once your father steps down.

Last night you got into a screaming match. The fight escalated fast, mean things were thrown around, everything that’s been building up in the both of you because of the wedding just lashed out until there was nothing else to say. You both knew that was the end, you couldn’t continue it once you married Andrew. You would have never put him through the pain of watching you walk down the aisle when the two of you were still a thing. When you returned to your bedroom last night you were convinced this was the end of it, the heartbreak pulling you into the darkness you’ve been edging for a while now, cutting out the last thing that brought you happiness.

Yet, here you are, padding down the endless hallways of the palace to see him again. You have to be with him, look into his eyes and touch him one last time to remind yourself that there are still good things in life.

When you reach his door you take a few minutes, just standing there, wondering if he even wants to see you after what happened last night and what’s going to happen tomorrow. You never wanted to hurt him, you love him way too much, but the impossible situation you were put into brought it out of you.

Tears dwell in your eyes as you think about a time when he won’t be near you. You can’t imagine a life where he is not there to ease your mind, to keep you safe and not just as his job, but as your lover. Before you could stop yourself you’re sobbing. He can’t see you like this, you won’t cause him even more pain than you already did, so turning around you are just about to run back to your room when the door opens.

“Y/N?” his soft voice calls out and you freeze, a shiver running down your spine as you close your eyes for a moment. You can feel his stare poke through your back as he waits for you to say or do something, probably confused about why you’re here.

Slowly, you turn around, your tear-filled eyes falling upon his tall frame dressed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his bare, inked chest falling and rising rhythmically as he stands just a few feet away from you. When he sees the state you’re in, he moves in your direction just when you throw yourself into his arms.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright. Come on, we can’t be out here,” he murmurs as you sob into his neck, his strong arms curling around you, pulling you into his room and shutting the door before anyone could see you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sob uncontrollably as Harry pulls you to his bed, making you sit on his lap on the edge of it, keeping you tight to him as he tries to soothe you.

“I know, baby. I know. It’s alright.”

“It’s not!” you choke out, vision completely blurry as you try to catch your breath, but you can’t stop. “I can’t do this, Harry. I don’t want this!”

He exhales sharply, brushing his nose against the side of your head as he presses a kiss to your temple. He lets you cry for as long as you want, the tears slowly stopping and drying up until you're breathing somewhat normally.

"Hey, look at me," he pleads softly and pulls back so his beautiful green eyes meet your red and puffy ones. "I know you feel like it's the end of the world, but you're strong, Y/N. The strongest woman I've ever met."

"I don't want to be strong, not anymore. I want to be selfish and do what I want for once in life," you breathe out shakily.

"I'm sorry you were put in this position, you deserve so much more than this pain. You deserve all the good things in life and I wish I could give it all to you."

"I only want one good thing in my life. You."

Reaching up you cup his face in your hands and pull him down until your salty, tear soaked lips meet his in a painful but fierce kiss.

He tries to hold himself back for a few excruciating moments but then his lips finally open and he returns the kiss with so much passion and emotion that you gasp against his mouth.

If your life ends tomorrow, and it surely feels like that, you want to spend your last free night with the only man you've ever loved.

You move around until you're straddling his lap, his hands keeping you close to him, fingers digging into your flesh through the layers. Shrugging the robe off you reveal your silky nightgown that doesn't leave much to the imagination, your hardened nipples poking through the fabric already, aching to get Harry's attention finally.

His lips move down to the column of your throat, the dip of your neck, trying his hardest not to mark you up the way he truly wants. Your fingers dig into his hair, tugging on the roots enough to make him grunt against your heated skin, his hands moving down to grope your ass and you can't help yourself from grinding against him.

Suddenly, he pulls back, eyes foggy from the desire and lust as his chest heaves.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he breathes out, a torturous grimace plastered across his face.

"Please, I need you!" you beg him, fighting your tears back.

He stares up at you, pink lips slightly swollen from your kisses, his glistening eyes taking in every detail on your face, every blemish and freckle that adorns your features.

"I wish it was all different," he whispers barely audible, you're convinced it wasn't even meant to be heard by you.

Before you could speak up, he kisses you again, pulling you down to the bed, rolling around until he is on top of you, lips traveling down your neck and chest again as his hands bunch up your nightgown. With an arch of your back you help him take it off, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lacy underwear. His hips settle between your legs, crotch pressing against your heated core, a pleasant moan slips through your lips at the feeling of his erection between your folds as he moves his hips gently a few times to rile you up. He kisses the valley between your breasts, down through your stomach, placing a chaste kiss to your hips on both sides as his fingers hook into your underwear and he looks up at you for your consent before he goes any further.

"Yes! Please!" you nod eagerly and he is quick to rid you from it, leaving you completely naked and spread out in front of his greedy eyes.

"I will never forget how you taste. So sweet on my tongue and lips," he hums, teasing you with a few kisses placed onto your inner thighs before his lips finally meet your throbbing clit, sucking on it gently at first before stepping it up a notch.

"Harry!" you whimper, bunching the sheets in your hands to somehow keep you grounded as Harry's mouth does wonders to you. However as much as you love having his face between your legs, you need it somewhere else now.

Pulling him up you make him climb up over your body, lips eagerly meeting as you work on getting him naked too.

"You're my everything," he breathes out against your lips, hips coming to rest between your thighs once again and you whimper at his words, the aching pain in your chest rising.

"I love you, I will always love you," you whisper looking into his eyes as you hook a leg around his waist, his cock lining up with you finally.

"I love you, Y/N. More than anything," he confesses just as he pushes into you and just like that, you feel like you've become one again, for the last time.

You keep him close as he starts moving, whispering I love you over and over again, his lips nipping on your mouth that's agape from the building relief inside you, a single tear rolling down your cheek as the painful thought snakes into your mind that you will never feel like this ever in your life.

The pleasure reaches you first and Harry chases right after you, tangled in each other's arms as you keep calling out for the other even though you're as close as possible in that moment.

Wrapped up in each other's embrace you lie in bed, the afterwaves of your relief already long gone. You're drawing little patterns onto his bare chest, fingers following the inks on his soft skin as his hand is gently stroking your back and arm, kissing the top of your head from time to time.

"We should just pack up and leave. Never look back," he hums, breaking the comfortable yet heavy silence that took over the room.

You suck on your breath because it's the first time Harry ever mentions the option of running away. It was always you who toyed with the thought as he just nodded along but never really said a word about it. Lifting your head your eyes meet his as a small, sad smile tugs his lips.

"You would do that?"

"I would do anything for you, Y/N," he simply answers and your heart flutters at his words.

"If we actually did it, out life could easily be completely ruined," you say the hard truth. "I could get disowned from my family and denied to have access to any of my heritage. People would judge the both of us everywhere we went, we probably even should leave the country. We would always be the ones who ruined the royal family."

"But we would have each other. Going to another country is actually a good start, I wouldn't mind it."

"I would never be allowed to see my family ever again."

"You mean the people who put you up for living your life in misery?" he retorts without a second thought, so he must have already thought about it before.

"I was born here. No one chose it for me."

"But they are the ones who made you marry someone just for the sake of the country."

"It's a tradition and it's in the law. I can't become queen without a husband."

"And have you ever thought about how it doesn't work the other way around? Your father was already king for almost a decade before he married your mother. So then why should you be forced to have a man by your side before you take the throne? And the council could easily erase the whole law, it was just never proposed because 90 percent of it is men and the handful of women who have the right to change something don't care about the toxic patriarchy that's been around here for hundreds of years."

You knew Harry had doubts about the system and how power is being held and used in the country, but he was always so cautious to keep it to himself, serving your family with nothing but loyalty. You would have never guessed this would be the moment that breaks his silence.

"I could only do something against it if I'm already queen," you speak up. "And for that I need to be married. If I want a better future for the women following me on the throne, I need to make this sacrifice."

"You'll be an amazing queen, Y/N," he softly tells you. "It's a shame you don't get to have the happiness you deserve."

You don't talk about running away after or the wedding. Just bring up your favorite memories from the past years, the first time you met, the time you spent in London and managed to squeeze in a dinner with his mother or the endless nights you talked through, tangled in each other, sharing your dreams and fears, knowing they will always be safe with the other.

You fall asleep in each other's arms, savoring the very last moments you get to spend together before you give up the last bit of your free will.

When Harry wakes in the morning he is alone, only the wrinkled sheets and the empty space next to him reminding him that last night wasn't just a dream, but it will soon turn into one as he is forced to watch you walk down the aisle and marry another man.

Read the sequel here!

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

Harry’s face lol😂😂😂😂

it was doomed from the start guys ☠️🤣

---

I really like this.

could you write something about harry flirting with y/n whose a fan during one of his shows. like maybe she had a sign that caught his attention (like a pick up line or a joke) and then for the rest of the concert he kept staring at her and making little jokes/comments to her.

mint to be

wc: 2.6k

warnings: mild language and really cheesy jokes.

pairing: harry styles x female reader

today is the day.

finally, you’re going to see him.

it won’t be like the pictures viewed from the bright screen of your phone, it’s going to be in person.

you never wake up this early for anything- unless their name begins with harry and ends in styles. it’s exactly 4 am on the dot when you roll up to the venue and the bags under your eyes can prove it.

lining up was a confusing but once the workers started to hand out the wristbands it began to make more sense. according to the first people lined up everyone got a number, and thankfully you got a pretty good one.

once you got back to the hotel, you made sure to take a nap beforehand since it’s going to be a long night. the alarm you set wakes wake you up just in time to be able to get readying eat something without rushing. you shuffle your playlist named ‘my faves’ as you start doing your makeup.

canyon moon begins to play.

your nerves bubble with excitement, and a wide smile breaks out on your face. you truly can’t believe in a mere four hours you’ll be seeing the harry styles sing live tonight.

the outfit you elaborately picked out consists of a matching lilac trouser and blazer set with a matching lace bodysuit peeking out from underneath. you also couldn’t forget the iconic feather boa trend. the black feathery fabric hangs from the back of your neck and softly covers your décolletage. you tug your white hightop converse on your feet (such a y/n thing to do) knowing you wouldn’t survive the night in heels. especially in the pit.

the way you did your makeup makes you skin dewy and glow- the rhinestones that are glued onto your lower lash line shimmer. everything is going according to plan, and you look pretty hot- you can’t lie to yourself.

thankfully, you packed your bag yesterday. hand sanitizer, a few disposable masks, some feminine products, money, gum. anything that would be helpful for you or others around you.

and finally, your sign. not too big that it’ll cover other peoples view from behind you and not too small harry wouldn’t be able to read it.

it was something so cheesy. hopefully he will get a kick out of it and other people will too. you smile as you tuck it under your arm and walk outside to your car.

once the parking is paid for, you line up with the wristband sitting heavily on your wrist.

“this will stay on me until i die.” you think to yourself with a soft laugh.

some other fans in line make small talk with you, which you’re grateful for since you’re by yourself in a city you’re unfamiliar with.

finally, the general admission line begins to move. slowly but surely. the employees in the front are checking for your vaccination status or negative covid test. you get your information ready so you’re not fumbling around for it.

they briefly look over it before scanning the ticket your phone and looking at your wristband. quickly, they send you on your way to follow the rest of the long line down to the pit.

the arena is huge. you stare up at the ceiling, the eight ginormous screens hanging from the ceiling face the crowd in all directions. paranoid thoughts wander into your mind, “oh god, what if they fall?” but you knew they had to be secure.

the line stops as another venue employee directs people into their spots. they point to the barricade for everyone to line up.

no way. you’re getting barricade. your hand grips the metal so tight that your knuckles turn white. obviously, you were going to get it because you have lane one tickets and you woke up so fucking early, but reality is setting in and you’re so nervous.

the venue begins filling up pretty quickly, you watch people scramble into their seats from lower bowl all the way to the nosebleeds. jenny lewis plays a few songs before she tangos with a person dressed as a dog off the stage.

the music starts to play. it’s like a giant room full of old and new friends. everyone sings along to david bowie, olivia by one direction, bohemian rhapsody, and countless of other classic songs on the playlist harry must’ve curated.

the energy is so positive, everyone is so happy to be here. you couldn’t be more excited.

the iconic, but nerve wracking guitar strings begin to strum loudly over your head; sweet thang by shuggie otis.

the whole room roars with screams as the lights dim. spotlights fly around, almost blinding you as it hits a certain angle toward your face.

no way. no way. no fucking way. the band is walking on stage.

your eyes widen as this moment truly sets in. niji, sarah, ny oh, elin, pauli, and last but not least mitchell rowland.

golden starts briefly. the bunnies flash on the screen. you scream so loud and jump along with the people beside you.

“to do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without it.”

the girl next to you is completely sobbing, her tears soaking her mask, practically drowning herself with the wet fabric.

the chime starts again and the bunnies flash.

“to do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art.”

your eyes dart around as you struggle to hear what the man is saying next.

suddenly you see something rising from the center of the stage. the screams become louder than ever.

“oh my god!” you exclaim so loud as his fluffy brown head of hair is highlighted by a spotlight.

the girl next to you grips your arm out of pure excitement and you grab her hand for moral support. “oh my god! it’s really him!” you screech as he starts to sing along to golden. “i know! oh my god! it’s him!” she repeats over a few times.

you jump in unison with the people around you, screaming and throwing your hands in the air. he smiles as his eyes dart around, his lips pressing into his microphone. you can see his dimples from where you’re at.

he sings through golden as he walks around the stage, waving to fans and completely making everyone lose their sanity.

the song ends and he transitions into carolina.

this can’t be real.

as you dance like no one is watching, you raise and wave your hands as he comes around to your side of the stage.

shit, the sign!

you quickly pick it up to raise it in the air, his eyes immediately catch it. his eyebrows knit together in the middle, and he chuckles during his line and shakes his head. harry LAUGHED at your sign.

he finishes his verse, the music still playing behind him. “i’ll be back.” he says to you, loud enough so you could barely hear his voice over the music.

shock runs through your veins and you nod your head vigorously at him. he continues to dance and perform around the diamond shaped stage.

you let the sign hang over the front of the barricade so it wouldn’t get stomped on, one hand holds it in place as the other pumps your fist into the air while you dance.

he skips around the stage, blowing kisses to people and then carolina ends.

“thank you so much! our job for the next ninety-something minutes is to entertain you. i promise i will do my very best, but you also have one job and that is to have as much fun as you possibly can have.“ he continues his speech, but it’s so hard to hear over the screams.

he makes his way with his mic to your side of the stage again, “but before we continue, i would love to acknowledge this sign.” he stops in front of you, and your whole body heats up. “may i read it?”

“yes!” you shout at him and nod again to make sure he knows it’s okay.

he chuckles again as he raises the mic to his mouth, his laugh reverberates throughout the whole venue. he shakes his head as he rests his hand on his hip, “if you were a vegetable, you’d be a ‘cute-cumber’.” the crowd screams and laughs along with him.

you can’t help but laugh too, realizing how bad it really is. “wow that’s bad. that’s a real bugger.” he laughs again, making everyone scream.

“but i like it. thank you. what’s your name?” he bows his head toward you, his infamous smirk curving its way onto his lips. “y/n!” you scream out.

it seems as if he’s about to walk away, but he slyly turns around to face you again, “then y/n, you must be a banana, because i find you very a-peeling.” he winks in your direction, making all the air seize in your lungs. he walks away from your side of the stage with a cocky grin on his face.

the person behind you grips your shoulders as you stare up at harry. “oh my god.” you wheeze out in astonishment. the people around you are shouting in your face. you’re hoping someone got it on camera.

adore you then picks up right after that, he does his little shimmy right in front of you. is he favoring this side of the stage?

his eyes catch yours again, a small subtle smile forms on his lips as he sings. a rush of confidence burns through you as you blow him a kiss.

his eyes widen with theatrical surprise as he grabs the kiss from the air and shoves it in his back pocket. this man is going to be the death of you.

you watch as he glides from one side of the catwalk all the way down to the other side. you can’t help but feel crazy as he continuously glances at you while he’s running around.

then you see anthony pham, he’s clicking away as he’s taking pictures of harry in action. the photographer stops in front of you as harry comes around to your side once more, singing directly to you, or maybe he’s singing to anthony. it feels like the few seconds of him singing is passing by in slow motion.

everyone around you has their phone up, videoing and taking pictures of the scene unfolding in front of you. there is no way you’d hold up your phone and let it ruin this moment. you’ll be able to rewatch it somewhere tonight.

everything is so real about him. the green in eyes, the way his cheeks are flushed pink, the little brown curl hanging in his eyes as he bends slightly at the waist toward the pit.

then suddenly, he’s gone once again as he happily skips around the stage to entertain the rest of his fans.

you let out a breath you weren’t aware of holding. the people around you are screaming in disbelief,

“i can’t believe he just did that!”

“you are so lucky!”

“holy f&$!ing sh*t!”

harry must’ve known he stirred everyone up with his little charming display for you. throughout the concert, he innocently glances over at you but hasn’t interacted with you in a while. you can’t help but feel a bit bummed. even though you know you shouldn’t since you just had the best experience of your life.

the concert passes by so quickly, almost like every song is two seconds long. you beam at the angelic man singing on the stage.

the way he bounces around like he drank five energy drinks before performing makes you smile.

he speeds through the songs on his album, as well as the banana song and takes a break to go under the stage.

you make sure to record and snap pictures whenever he’s close to your side again. you hope you caught a picture of him staring at you again. just so you can reminisce later on, and also for bragging rights (and probably for your lock screen too).

during watermelon sugar, he jogs up to your side of the stage again. it makes your heart skip a beat as he stops at the mic stand directly in front of you.

he looks out into the crowd, waving as he sings and smiling. he’s so happy. his eyes follow the crowd in the pit down to you in the front, his hand reaches out to wiggle his fingers to wave.

you can’t help but grin so wide. he can’t see your smile from behind your mask but he can read your eyes.

your hand reaches out toward his, knowing it won’t reach but it’s the thought that counts.

the shutters of a camera catch your attention as you whip your head toward the sound. anthony pham back at it once again. this time with a mischievous smile on his face. you wonder if this moment will be posted on his social media later.

the rest of the concert flashes by and soon it’s time to say goodbye. before the last few songs, harry says his long speech about how grateful he is and how he loves to perform for his fans.

you can’t help but let your eyes fill up with tears from how proud you are of him. you practically grew up with him, following him since his early one direction days.

the insanity of kiwi begins. the flashing white and red lights and the amount of people jumping in the stadium makes the floor shake.

an insane idea pops into your head as you push your way out of the crowd to the back of the pit. you grip your sign as you weave and bob through the scattered people.

you watch as he does a smooth spin and then runs down the catwalk waving goodbye to everyone and blowing kisses. he trots down the stairs toward his bodyguards below, swiftly grabbing his black mask to put on his face and then running with them to the exit.

you grip the metal barrier that separates you from walking backstage with him.

he catches your eyes one last time as he runs past, then screeches to a halt in the hallway leading to the VIP area, almost getting toppled over by the large men around him. he reaches into his back pocket to grab your invisible kiss and press it to his cheek with a cheeky grin.

“you’re going to give me a heart attack, harry!” you scream so loud that your voice cracks.

he just chuckles and shakes his head, “i’m sorry!” he shouts back with a shrug as he jogs backward before spinning back around and disappearing down the corridor.

the band quickly exits a few minutes after him and some fans are already leaving to make sure they beat traffic.

your sign hangs limply in your hand, pure exhaustion is finally hitting you as you slump to the feather ridden sticky floor. all this preparation and it felt like it was over in a few minutes.

“psst.” something sounds from above your head. you let your head fall back to look up.

the photographer again? “hey. do you mind standing up for me really quick?”

you slowly rise to your feet, gripping the rail tightly so your wobbly legs wouldn’t give out.

anthony hands you a sharpie, “write your number on your sign and give it to me.”

your eyes widen like a deer in headlights. you go completely still. “what? why?” you question, but you've already turned your sign over and began to scribble it down.

“just for business purposes.” but there’s a hidden sound in his voice. almost sarcasm or a stretch of the truth.

you hand over the sign with a confused look, but before you could say anything else he thanks you and jogs backstage with everyone else. what just happened?

before you could ponder on that thought some more, you force your body to gain enough energy to shuffle out to your car, the feeling of cool night air on your face makes you feel a little bit more awake. you shuffle your sad music playlist as you drive back to the hotel, knowing you’re going to crash as soon as you make it through the door.

the soft bed envelopes your worn out body and you blindly reach for your makeup wipes on the nightstand. suddenly, a ding sounds from your phone and you wildly scramble for the device plugged into the wall.

it’s an unsaved number. is it anthony, maybe? your thumb swipes up on your screen to unlock it, typing in your passcode faster than you ever had before. your heart drops into your stomach, your gut wrenches and twists from the familiar writing. 

unknown sender: Hi, guess who.

-

A/N: hi!! hope you liked this bc i honestly really enjoyed writing it. sorry for the little cliff hanger, just let your mind wander a bit heheh.

---

So so happy to see him performing with one of his idols

A music icon. A fashion icon. And a true friend. ❤️

---

Absolutely love this❤️❤️❤️

MY BRANDDDD

---

I don’t hike. But I would if he asked me to

---

I love this interview.

BBCR1: 'As It Was' is a masterpiece 😭 Welcome back H 💛

---

I found this very helpful to writers. Thank you 🙏

Words for Skin Tone | How to Describe Skin Color

We discussed the issues describing People of Color by means of food in Part I of this guide, which brought rise to even more questions, mostly along the lines of “So, if food’s not an option, what can I use?” Well, I was just getting to that!

This final portion focuses on describing skin tone, with photo and passage examples provided throughout. I hope to cover everything from the use of straight-forward description to the more creatively-inclined, keeping in mind the questions we’ve received on this topic.

Standard Description

Basic Colors

Pictured above: Black, Brown, Beige, White, Pink.

“She had brown skin.”

This is a perfectly fine description that, while not providing the most detail, works well and will never become cliché.

Describing characters’ skin as simply brown or beige works on its own, though it’s not particularly telling just from the range in brown alone.

Complex Colors

These are more rarely used words that actually “mean” their color. Some of these have multiple meanings, so you’ll want to look into those to determine what other associations a word might have.

Pictured above: Umber, Sepia, Ochre, Russet, Terra-cotta, Gold, Tawny, Taupe, Khaki, Fawn.

Complex colors work well alone, though often pair well with a basic color in regards to narrowing down shade/tone.

For example: Golden brown, russet brown, tawny beige…

As some of these are on the “rare” side, sliding in a definition of the word within the sentence itself may help readers who are unfamiliar with the term visualize the color without seeking a dictionary.

“He was tall and slim, his skin a russet, reddish-brown.”

Comparisons to familiar colors or visuals are also helpful:

“His skin was an ochre color, much like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest.”

Modifiers

Modifiers, often adjectives, make partial changes to a word.The following words are descriptors in reference to skin tone.

Dark - Deep - Rich - Cool

Warm - Medium - Tan

Fair - Light - Pale

Rich Black, Dark brown, Warm beige, Pale pink…

If you’re looking to get more specific than “brown,” modifiers narrow down shade further.

Keep in mind that these modifiers are not exactly colors.

As an already brown-skinned person, I get tan from a lot of sun and resultingly become a darker, deeper brown. I turn a pale, more yellow-brown in the winter.

While best used in combination with a color, I suppose words like “tan” “fair” and “light” do work alone; just note that tan is less likely to be taken for “naturally tan” and much more likely a tanned White person.

Calling someone “dark” as description on its own is offensive to some and also ambiguous. (See: Describing Skin as Dark)

Undertones

Undertones are the colors beneath the skin, seeing as skin isn’t just one even color but has more subdued tones within the dominating palette.

pictured above: warm / earth undertones: yellow, golden, copper, olive, bronze, orange, orange-red, coral | cool / jewel undertones: pink, red, blue, blue-red, rose, magenta, sapphire, silver. 

Mentioning the undertones within a character’s skin is an even more precise way to denote skin tone.

As shown, there’s a difference between say, brown skin with warm orange-red undertones (Kelly Rowland) and brown skin with cool, jewel undertones (Rutina Wesley).

“A dazzling smile revealed the bronze glow at her cheeks.”

“He always looked as if he’d ran a mile, a constant tinge of pink under his tawny skin.”

Standard Description Passage

“Farah’s skin, always fawn, had burned and freckled under the summer’s sun. Even at the cusp of autumn, an uneven tan clung to her skin like burrs. So unlike the smooth, red-brown ochre of her mother, which the sun had richened to a blessing.”

-From my story “Where Summer Ends” featured in Strange Little Girls

Here the state of skin also gives insight on character.

Note my use of “fawn” in regards to multiple meaning and association. While fawn is a color, it’s also a small, timid deer, which describes this very traumatized character of mine perfectly.

Though I use standard descriptions of skin tone more in my writing, at the same time I’m no stranger to creative descriptions, and do enjoy the occasional artsy detail of a character.

Creative Description

Whether compared to night-cast rivers or day’s first light…I actually enjoy seeing Characters of Colors dressed in artful detail.

I’ve read loads of descriptions in my day of white characters and their “smooth rose-tinged ivory skin”, while the PoC, if there, are reduced to something from a candy bowl or a Starbucks drink, so to actually read of PoC described in lavish detail can be somewhat of a treat.

Still, be mindful when you get creative with your character descriptions. Too many frills can become purple-prose-like, so do what feels right for your writing when and where. Not every character or scene warrants a creative description, either. Especially if they’re not even a secondary character.

Using a combination of color descriptions from standard to creative is probably a better method than straight creative. But again, do what’s good for your tale.

Natural Settings - Sky

Pictured above: Harvest Moon -Twilight, Fall/Autumn Leaves, Clay, Desert/Sahara, Sunlight - Sunrise - Sunset - Afterglow - Dawn- Day- Daybreak, Field - Prairie - Wheat, Mountain/Cliff, Beach/Sand/Straw/Hay.

Now before you run off to compare your heroine’s skin to the harvest moon or a cliff side, think about the associations to your words.

When I think cliff, I think of jagged, perilous, rough. I hear sand and picture grainy, yet smooth. Calm. mellow.

So consider your character and what you see fit to compare them to.

Also consider whose perspective you’re describing them from. Someone describing a person they revere or admire may have a more pleasant, loftier description than someone who can’t stand the person.

“Her face was like the fire-gold glow of dawn, lifting my gaze, drawing me in.”

“She had a sandy complexion, smooth and tawny.”

Even creative descriptions tend to draw help from your standard words.

Flowers

Pictured above: Calla lilies, Western Coneflower, Hazel Fay, Hibiscus, Freesia, Rose

It was a bit difficult to find flowers to my liking that didn’t have a 20 character name or wasn’t called something like “chocolate silk” so these are the finalists. 

You’ll definitely want to avoid purple-prose here.

Also be aware of flowers that most might’ve never heard of. Roses are easy, as most know the look and coloring(s) of this plant. But Western coneflowers? Calla lilies? Maybe not so much.

“He entered the cottage in a huff, cheeks a blushing brown like the flowers Nana planted right under my window. Hazel Fay she called them, was it?”

Assorted Plants & Nature

Pictured above: Cattails, Seashell, Driftwood, Pinecone, Acorn, Amber

These ones are kinda odd. Perhaps because I’ve never seen these in comparison to skin tone, With the exception of amber.

At least they’re common enough that most may have an idea what you’re talking about at the mention of “pinecone." 

I suggest reading out your sentences aloud to get a better feel of how it’ll sounds.

"Auburn hair swept past pointed ears, set around a face like an acorn both in shape and shade.”

I pictured some tree-dwelling being or person from a fantasy world in this example, which makes the comparison more appropriate.

I don’t suggest using a comparison just “cuz you can” but actually being thoughtful about what you’re comparing your character to and how it applies to your character and/or setting.

Wood

Pictured above: Mahogany, Walnut, Chestnut, Golden Oak, Ash

Wood can be an iffy description for skin tone. Not only due to several of them having “foody” terminology within their names, but again, associations.

Some people would prefer not to compare/be compared to wood at all, so get opinions, try it aloud, and make sure it’s appropriate to the character if you do use it.

“The old warlock’s skin was a deep shade of mahogany, his stare serious and firm as it held mine.”

Metals

Pictured above: Platinum, Copper, Brass, Gold, Bronze

Copper skin, brass-colored skin, golden skin…

I’ve even heard variations of these used before by comparison to an object of the same properties/coloring, such as penny for copper.

These also work well with modifiers.

“The dress of fine white silks popped against the deep bronze of her skin.”

Gemstones - Minerals

Pictured above: Onyx, Obsidian, Sard, Topaz, Carnelian, Smoky Quartz, Rutile, Pyrite, Citrine, Gypsum

These are trickier to use. As with some complex colors, the writer will have to get us to understand what most of these look like.

If you use these, or any more rare description, consider if it actually “fits” the book or scene.

Even if you’re able to get us to picture what “rutile” looks like, why are you using this description as opposed to something else? Have that answer for yourself.

“His skin reminded her of the topaz ring her father wore at his finger, a gleaming stone of brown, mellow facades.” 

Physical Description

Physical character description can be more than skin tone.

Show us hair, eyes, noses, mouth, hands…body posture, body shape, skin texture… though not necessarily all of those nor at once.

Describing features also helps indicate race, especially if your character has some traits common within the race they are, such as afro hair to a Black character.

How comprehensive you decide to get is up to you. I wouldn’t overdo it and get specific to every mole and birthmark. Noting defining characteristics is good, though, like slightly spaced front teeth, curls that stay flopping in their face, hands freckled with sunspots…

General Tips

Indicate Race Early: I suggest indicators of race be made at the earliest convenience within the writing, with more hints threaded throughout here and there.

Get Creative On Your Own: Obviously, I couldn’t cover every proper color or comparison in which has been “approved” to use for your characters’ skin color, so it’s up to you to use discretion when seeking other ways and shades to describe skin tone.

Skin Color May Not Be Enough: Describing skin tone isn’t always enough to indicate someone’s ethnicity. As timeless cases with readers equating brown to “dark white” or something, more indicators of race may be needed.

Describe White characters and PoC Alike: You should describe the race and/or skin tone of your white characters just as you do your Characters of Color. If you don’t, you risk implying that White is the default human being and PoC are the “Other”).

PSA: Don’t use “Colored.” Based on some asks we’ve received using this word, I’d like to say that unless you or your character is a racist grandmama from the 1960s, do not call People of Color “colored” please. 

Not Sure Where to Start? You really can’t go wrong using basic colors for your skin descriptions. It’s actually what many people prefer and works best for most writing. Personally, I tend to describe my characters using a combo of basic colors + modifiers, with mentions of undertones at times. I do like to veer into more creative descriptions on occasion.

Want some alternatives to “skin” or “skin color”? Try: Appearance, blend, blush, cast, coloring, complexion, flush, glow, hue, overtone, palette, pigmentation, rinse, shade, sheen, spectrum, tinge, tint, tone, undertone, value, wash.

Skin Tone Resources

List of Color Names

The Color Thesaurus

Skin Undertone & Color Matching

Tips and Words on Describing Skin

Photos: Undertones Described (Modifiers included)

Online Thesaurus (try colors, such as “red” & “brown”)

Don’t Call me Pastries: Creative Skin Tones w/ pics I 

Writing & Description Guides

WWC Featured Description Posts

WWC Guide: Words to Describe Hair

Writing with Color: Description & Skin Color Tags

7 Offensive Mistakes Well-intentioned Writers Make

I tried to be as comprehensive as possible with this guide, but if you have a question regarding describing skin color that hasn’t been answered within part I or II of this guide, or have more questions after reading this post, feel free to ask!

~ Mod Colette

---

Interesting

srilankansunshine: Happy Birthday to one of the coolest person ever!! Sooo blessed to have you in my life!! Love you H @harrystyles

---

Wow 🤩. I like this.

OH MY GOD

---