FINE LINE (Harry styles comfort imagines)

TWENTY THREE

WE'LL BE ALRIGHT

Requested: yes.

Synopsis: reader is struggling to get out of an abusive relationship, what happens when the two find themselves at a Harry styles concert and are surprisingly interrupted by someone concerned for y/n's safety.

Trigger warnings: neglect, abuse, bruising, toxic relationships, abusive boyfriend. Please don't read if you're sensitive to such topics, take care of yourselves lovelies.

"Tom. Not now" you spoke exhaling. The sound of Harry's voice rang out around the arena— voice loud and clear "yes now." He spat out before firmly grabbing onto your wrist practically dragging you out, barging past people dancing and past security who really should've done something but they barely noticed. Harry's voice got fainter and fainter— kiwi being blasted, one of your favourite songs, but that soon became the least of your worries your boyfriend of two years dragging you until eventually stopping in an alleyway many cars parked in the alleyway but you didn't focus on that

"What was that?" Tom growled out and you stared at him confused "what was what?" "You dancing with those pricks! What are you now? A fucking slut? Is that who you've turned into? A slut looking for men to fuck huh?" His words were cruel and unnecessary your brows arching "how dare you!" You spoke angrily to him and he shoved you abruptly "how dare I? Y/n how dare you! You're a slut and a wasteful bitch." Your eyes searched his face knowing he meant every word but you wished he didn't. What had changed him? Why had he changed? Why wasn't he the same loving man you knew before? Kiwi was still playing, the screaming of fans continued echoing around but all you could hear was Tom's aggressive words "you're a joke and a slut! No wonder you won't let me touch you anymore! Too fucking scared because you sleep with too many men!" And before you could even react he had you pinned against the wall, his breath fanning against your face making you squirm "you're a waste of space y/n. A fucking waste of space. You hear me? You drag me to this stupid fucking concert to stare at yet another man you clearly want to fuck!" "Tom you're being cra-" "I am not being crazy y/n! Shut the fuck up!" His voice echoed down the alleyway, angry and abrupt— voice loud enough for members of the public to take notice but they didn't dare to get involved. "Oh screw you!" You attempted to pull away only for him to abruptly slap you across the face "you're going to regret that you little b—"

"hey!" A firm voice suddenly spoke toms head moving to look at the stranger who was emerging from the darkness "take a damn walk, man." The shadowed man spat out Tom glaring right at him. "Or what, man." He spoke sarcastically "this ain't none of your business! You take a fucking walk! Let me handle my shit!" Suddenly Tom was gripping onto your hair, but that didn't last long, the burning on your scalp disappearing— your attention flying to the man who had your boyfriends wrist gripped in his hand, bent slightly at the elbow glaring right at him "want me to call the police or do you want to take a walk?" His voice now that you focused on it was oddly familiar. Scarily familiar... your breath hitched slightly. You watched your boyfriend rip out of the man's hold before storming off out of the alleyway. You remained tucked in the corner, back pressed tightly against the cold brick wall the darkness surrounding you scared you— but before you could've even question anything the familiar stranger could be heard shuffling before a bright torch flashed in your eyes making you squint, realising he had pulled his phone out and was creating light either to bring some form of comfort to you.. or to make sure you didn't need medical attention. "Are you okay?"

You refused to look at him feeling all shaky and nervous. You knew who it was and to be quite honest you were embarrassed. "I'm so sorry." Was all your could muster up before finally you looked at him and low and behold it was who you thought it was. Harry fucking styles. The man who had saved your life with his music at the age of 15 and here you were at the age of 20 being saved yet again but in a whole another way. "Don't apologise." Was all he said before he glanced around eyes taking a quick look at your outfit which practically screamed 'love on tour' and he sighed knowing it was a risk but it was more of a risk leaving you in the hands of a monster,