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the-man-in-the-suit-official · 1 year

Text

Scott Street.

Summary: You’ve risen to new found stardom, but an old flame from the past insists on winning you back. A continuation of You’ve Become My Ceiling.

A/N: Genuinely sorry for the infrequent posting! I’ll get around soon. Formatting was also getting on my nerves.

Taglist: @reveriehs @belovedcherry

Reader Pronouns: Any

Length: Long? 5,667 Words.

Celebrities: Harry E. Styles

TW: Angst, Cheating

Song(s) To Listen To:

Your hands gripped the slick phone, eyebrows furrowed and heart feeling frozen and still. The phone was attempting to tell you that you’d missed a call, but your eyes were out of focus as you gathered your thoughts.

It was Harry.

Part of you wished it to be a dream, but the other part was curious, yet cautious. Your life had been a little bland the past few years, though you’d never admit it, you missed the adventures and midnight memories.You missed your best friend. That’s who you were still grieving, not the cheating liar who broke your heart over six times.

It had been a week and you’d failed to notice the call, only now discovering it while cleaning out your phone. There was a voicemail, but your hands were far too shaky to play it. You gave yourself a moment to calm down and played it slowly.

A small chuckle came from the recording, “Heh. Um, hey, (Y/N). I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but…You know I’m proud of you. And also…I’m sorry. So, so sorry.”

His voice broke a little, “I know how much pain I caused now. I was stupid and young and it’s not an excuse, but I’m just really sorry. I wish I could do it all back again. I still can’t find the answer to why I did the things I did to you, either. You were the one thing that had loved me since before I was famous. I was an idiot to have let that go.”

There was sniffing on the other end, “You’re such a good person. And I…I really hollowed you out. I never even gave you a true apology. I miss my best friend. I became someone I didn’t know or want - someone I’d be repulsed by now. Someone I’d never want around you. I’m sorry.”

Harry cleared his throat, “But I’m proud of you, is all. You left and did greater things for yourself.”

It was silent for a moment again, “I never knew you could sing so beautifully. I’d like to hear it in person, if I could. You took a big part of me when you left, (Y/N). I still…I still feel the same way. Always have. But, um…Get back to me when you can- I mean, if you want. Alright. Bye.”

Taking a deep breath, you waited until the longing finally brushed itself off of you and was replaced by neutrality. The old memories resurfaced. Finding Harry in bed with another. On a date with someone you’d seen with him before.

You put your phone down and walked away, trying to collect yourself.

As for Harry, four and a half years changed him just as they did then. When you left, the guilt destroyed a piece of his heart, and he made his best attempt to be what he couldn’t be for you. He hadn’t dated since then, hadn’t felt he was worthy enough, really. He’d dedicated the entirety of Harry Styles - his debut album - to you, though he was sure you had no idea. Even now, his journal was filled to the brim with songs about you, most prevalent, some variation of a song he’s called, “Falling.” It was a heavy song, but the lyrics stuck with him.

They told the story of his departure from you, cheating and all, though the public wasn’t aware that it even happened.

His apartment smelt of lavender and poppies, even as he made his breakfast and did their daily duties. His album had released about a year ago, maybe a little less, and he hit stardom like he had never expected it. Taking a break from touring for even a week was well worth it. He loved his fans, sure, but it was draining to be a musician. Nonetheless, he was grateful.

Harry didn’t even expect you to make a call back. He just wanted to say sorry, truly, from the bottom of his heart, because he was different then. Fame changes you. And he should have never let that happen to him.

He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness.

So it was a surprise to him when a message appeared on his phone two months after the initial voicemail.

Y/N: Hey, Haz.

Jack was a tall man who was more legs than anything. He was stern, always looked at you with a taut expression, and would put you in your place, but oh, how he was completely soft for you. You’d met through his grandparents, who he took care of in his nice, spacious house. He and his grandparents were your neighbors, but you’d met his grandparents at a park years prior, engaging in small chat very often.

They’d loved Harry, though you were both sure they had positively no idea who he was aside from your boyfriend. Lily, the woman, would never hesitate to pinch his cheeks and comment on how amazing the two of you looked. You’d both expressed hope in wanting to be like them, growing old together, but here you were without your other half.

After your breakup, you’d rented a cozy apartment right next to Jack and his family’s house (though it was unbeknownst to you), and found that the park was relatively close to it. But as you walked on the trail, you came to find that everything seemed to have lost its shine. No longer did the water glisten so bright, or did the roses avoid withering like they simply couldn’t die, but everything was so undeniably…normal. Harry had shaken your life, only to disappear later, leaving you back in something that should have been comfortable, but was instead foreign. Normalcy was foreign.

“Oh, my dear!” The familiar voice, loaded with a beautiful French accent, slipped its way into your ears, and you tore your eyes away from the pond, behind you and finding the couple, holding something up to you, “You’ve dropped this.”

Lily brought the small item to you, showing you that in her gloved hands lay a necklace, a mother of pearl inside the locket. Harry had gifted it to you for your one year anniversary.

You furrowed your brows at the memory before she noticed it.

“Where is the handsome boy?” She tried to get her point across, even with the language barrier, “The one with the curly head? Tall? Le Britannique ?”

You felt the winter air nip at you more than it already had in your light jacket, “No, no, he is not here.”

She tilted her head in confusion, her husband watching over her, knowing even less English than she did. Harry had always been the translator for you, so speaking without him made it frustratingly harder.

“He has been gone for quite some time.”

You looked down, and in this, they seemed to both understand you. Paulie, her husband, took his coat off, placing it over your shoulders. The weight seemed comforting now.

“Aw, mon chou, come have a cup of tea with us,” Lily held your shoulders, slipping the necklace into your hands.

Despite your protest, you found yourself in their lovely home, surprised to see that they were a direct neighbor, “Jack, nous avons amené un chien errant !”

Lily smiled back at you before turning back and looking down at someone in the next room. You entered it, never really breaking away from her vibrant blue eyes, before you saw what she was looking at. Or rather, who. He was young, maybe just a bit older than you, and had eyes more alluring than hers. He had a slim figure and face, with a longer nose that matched, and tousled, short brown hair. His slender fingers were placed on the piano keys as he sat. He was breathtakingly handsome, really, and despite you not finding any sort of attraction in him, seeing as you just met, there was no doubt about his conventional attractiveness.

“Bonjour ?” He’d asked, his right eye squinting as if he were trying to scan every detail about you.

His expression softened into a smile shortly after, his eyes half-lidded when he got no response, “Hi. I see you’ve met my grandparents. Eager, aren’t they?”

You smiled back, chuckling, “You could say that.”

And it all started there. You’d started to take piano and French lessons from Jack, who after hearing about your still unnamed ex, wanted to help the best he could. You’d taken up piano for your career, and French, well, simply to prove to yourself that you really didn’t need Harry. Not for French, and not for life.

You and Jack had been good friends for a year now, knowing each other for about three before you’d really connected, so it felt right to turn to him and spill your gossip all over his fancy blue canopy bed during a hangout.

“Wait…” He started, surprised and clutching his elbows, arms crossed, “Your ex is Harry Styles?!”

You stuffed your face into a pillow, “That’s what you take away, Jack?! Everyone knows that!”

“Well, I didn’t! You know I can’t handle all the social media stuff, I avoid it like the plague!” Defensively and rather playfully, he rested a hand on his chest. He was wearing a brown and green sweater vest with brown dress pants and a white shirt, a nice green bowtie to tie his look together for his last day shadowing a French professor.

“The point is,” You giggled at the older man who seemed more like a best friend to you now, “I’m really not sure what to do here. He sounds so sincere, and maybe I fell out of love with the person he became a long time ago, but if he’s the same person I grew up with…Well…”

“No way. You can’t go back,” He paced, a hand on his chin, a habit of his you’d always loved.

You whined, “But can’t I? If I just want to rekindle the friendship we had before-“

“What are you going to do when you find him in bed with someone else again?”

Your heart stopped. He was right, of course.

“I’ll be respectful,” You responded sternly, “He isn’t mine.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Well, I can’t change your mind. I know you. Just be careful. It could be good for you, who knows? I just…don’t want you to get hurt again, (Y/N).”

Smiling with excitement, you thanked him countless times for listening to you and your rambles. You left shortly thereafter, and his smile fell as soon as the door shut behind you.

It was then you texted Harry, just a simple text, though it took you hours to finally hit the send button. He responded not a minute later, and you jumped at the sound.

HAZ: (Y/N), hi.

The name you never bothered to change in your contacts.

The two of you texted on and off casually, before deciding that maybe it would be better to catch up in a coffee shop. You were nervous, admittedly, but nonetheless stunned when you were escorted to your private booth at the Beachwood Café.

All you wore was a jumper and jeans, nothing too fancy, but you couldn’t help trying to style your hair in a way he would like.

He had been the first to arrive, you’d seen him in the window, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. God, did he look good as ever. His hair had grown out a bit more than the last time you saw him, and he’d dressed in clothes more personal to him, a shirt with small puppies printed on it under a knitted cardigan, baggy jeans and rings. He was definitely richer than the last you saw him, but the thing was, he was still your Haz, that much was noticeable.

The waiter led you to your table and you gently sat your bag down on the floor, sitting across from him. He’d been waiting for you, not even ordering yet.

“You look amazing,” He spoke, seemingly subconsciously.

“You’re not so bad yourself, H.”

And it was true. He looked cleaner, happier. Like he was taking care of himself. Everything was going well, and to be honest, it made you beyond happy. It was as if you were friends again, and nothing bad ever happened. Eventually, the topic reached Gemma somehow.

“So, I heard Gemma finally graduated,” You continued, “That’s wonderful! I always knew she could do it. She’s rather smart.”

“She’s great! She’s married now, you know. He’s wonderful, just feels a bit…weird. That she has someone now and I don’t.”

“Recent breakup?” You’d asked, a genuine question.

“No,” He chuckled, “Not at all. I worked on myself. Haven’t dated since you.”

A small gust of wind came through the window beside you, and you blamed the shivers on that. There was a gentle pause, but you shook your head and continued, “Oh, I see.”

There was obviously still a spark there, you’d noticed. Your heart still beat wildly to the tune of his.

“But, erm,” You continued, and he cleared his throat, “That makes me feel old.”

He scoffed playfully, his arms crossed, “What does that make me, then?”

You giggled. The two of you weren’t so far off, really. Just a couple of months, but he always managed to mention it.

“An old man,” You joked, and even the humor was still there.

His chuckle sent butterflies throughout your stomach.

“So, how’s the band?” You tilted your head.

You hadn’t really noticed that breaking things off with him would essentially alienate them, too.

“Well, Mitch and Sarah are getting married,” You did a bit of a double take.

“Wow, I mean, I knew it was going to happen, I just had no idea.

“A lot changes in our lives,” He spoke smoothly as the waiter came.

“Hey guys, my name is Carson, I’ll be your server this morning! What can I get for you?” He was younger, bright-eyed.

“I’ll just have an Americano and the strawberry crepes,” Harry didn’t even have to look at his menu, and yet you were scrambling to know what you wanted before he got to you.

“Alright,” The waiter wrote it down before turning back to you, “And for the spouse?”

Your face flushed red, “Oh, no, I’m not!”

Harry only chuckled and watched in amusement as the waiter became embarrassed, too.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry, then what can I get for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you giggled once more.

“Hazelnut hot latte and almond croissant, please, Carson.”

He nodded and left soon after.

“I listened to your songs, by the way,” Harry began slowly, “How’s that?”

“Well, one thing they don’t prepare you for as a strictly-solo show is how heavy the equipment is, like the drums? Jeez, don’t get me started.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “You’ve always took on way more than you could carry.”

“Yeah, well, suppose that’s me,” A smile found its way to your face, “But being alone is good. I needed that.”

He nodded again, “Yeah, I think I did, too.”

There was the beginning of a pause, but you still refused to let it linger, “I live on Scott Street now.”

“Oh, by the rose park?” He perked up, “I love that place.”

“I know,” You said bashfully, “Harry, our first date was there.”

“Wasn’t sure you’d remember,” He smiled back.

“But how could I forget?”

It had been magical, with swans skimming the water, almost as in love as you and Harry were. Had been. Are.

“Oh, but remember that old French couple we ran into? I know it’s quite random, but I ran into them again while I was having a bad day. They noticed we weren’t together anymore, and next thing I knew, I was at their house drinking a cup of tea. They’re quite nice. Their grandson, he lives with them, showed me a bit of piano.”

He remembered it well, you had said that you wanted the two of you to last even longer than they, and you had even hoped they’d be your spitting metaphorical image in decades.

“Anyway, I’m learning French now, I guess. And I found out we’re neighbors, isn’t that weird?” Carson set everything down on your table as you talked.

“Anything else for now?”

“No, thank you,” Harry didn’t even look up at him, listening intently. He didn’t even notice when Carson had left.

“So, now I take piano lessons on Fridays, and French lessons on Tuesday and Thursday. But his grandparents have been acting a bit odd - think they want me to stick around for more than just lessons,” You chuckled and sipped your latte.

You could’ve sworn Harry’s eye twitched, but you dismissed it, “That’s…great. I’m glad. You always wanted to learn French.”

“Right? You should come with sometime, you’d like him,” You hadn’t even noticed you were now arranging a second hangout. But he did. He always noticed.

“I’d love to,” It was oddly fast.

“Well, he’s invited me to a dinner party for his work - he’s a French professor. But he’s only been out of college a couple of months. Got his PhD. He’s nice, I think you’d like him!”

You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, “But if you’re busy that’s totally fine! I just don’t wanna stick out like a sore thumb, is all. And it was always more fun when we stuck out together.”

He blushed, and in that moment, he would have done anything in the world you’d ask of him.

“Consider my plans all clear that day, alright?” He held your hands, “It's about time we did something as friends again.”

You nodded with a smile, “Okay, you’re right.”

You two split ways shortly after, Harry having insisted on paying the bill. He was happy to be talking to you, sure, but there was still a sinking feeling he felt when you were mentioned.

Shame.

You had piano lessons that night, and you wore the same outfit, feeling exhausted just from the interaction. Jack had greeted you happily.

“Mon cherie! (Y/N), come in!” He stepped aside, “Nana and Papa are out, so it’s just us today.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Jack reached for the cupboard, “Nana just got this new wine, and I think it’s quite lovely.”

“Sure!” You agreed, sitting at their small dining table, “Oh, Jack, I hope you don’t mind! I invited a friend of mine to come to the meeting with me. Both of us have always been interested in French, so I figured it would be perfect!”

Jack, in all truthfulness, assumed it would be a woman, and thus, agreed.

“Not a problem, cherie,” He handed you a glass, full with dark red liquid, and he drank from his cup slowly.

You watched him aimlessly, his Adam’s Apple defined, bobbing up and down. Like he hadn’t had anything to drink all day. Jack was like that, he’d forget to eat, sleep, drink. He was always so busy with work. You admired him for it.

“You know, you should remember to drink more often. Have you eaten at all today?” Tilting your head, he shook his and set his cup down.

“How could you tell?”

You chuckled and stood up, holding one of his cheeks in your hands, examining his lips, “You drink way too desperately.”

He was a little stunned, to say the least, and gripped the counter, his stomach in knots.

“But,” You wiped his upper lip with your thumb, ridding the excess wine off before moving to the stove, “I’ll make you something. I owe you after all these free lessons, anyways.”

He slumped, disappointed, but continued onward, “I could never ask that of you, but…that sounds very nice.”

“Then consider it done, Cherie.” You mimicked him, getting to work.

Afterward, your lessons continued as normal, and you were actually getting pretty far along.

“So, (Y/N),” Jack finally looked up from his paperwork, having left you with some French worksheets, “Nana and Papa wanted me to invite you to The French Riviera with us. Figured it would be a good learning experience. I agree, what do you think?”

You thought hard before answering the question on the worksheet and looking back up at him, shrugging, “Sure! That sounds lovely. When?”

“Well, they plan to order the tickets this weekend. We were just waiting on your oh-so-busy schedule,” He smiled, his dimples showing rather lovely.

“Oh, I can do it anytime! The glory of being a musician with no tour dates. Your meeting is in a month, yes?” You finished your worksheet and turned to him.

He nodded, causing a single strand of hair to fall in his eyes, “Oui, mais la réunion sera courte .”

You exhaled a chuckle at his quiz, “Okay, then how about next weekend?”

“You’re getting good, Chérie,” It gave you a proud smile.

“Then it’s settled. Send me the details,” You checked your clock, “Jeez, it’s already 8PM. I was supposed to write another song for the debut album.”

“Well, feel free to use me as a muse,” He smiled again, and it was a joke, but something struck you quite suddenly.

He had been there for you for years, and the thought of thanking him never even crossed your damned mind, distracted by your old lover. As you entered your house, you walked straight to your desk, completely in a trance as you thought about him. He was amazing, someone everyone should have in their lives, so how come you’d never noticed?

Daydreamer.

With eyes that make you melt,

He lends his coat for shelter,

Plus he’s there for you when he shouldn’t be,

Waits for you, then sees you through.

You smiled softly, hearing a guitar strum in your head, and suddenly your heart felt warmer than it originally had. The night really hits you, and next thing you know, you’ve got a demo at 2.56 AM.

You smiled wide now, your heart running rampant over a daydreamy thought you had of your neighbor. It’s not like you actually feel this way about him, but imagining yourself in something so plausible seems lighthearted and warm. Reaching for your phone, you bite your lip, wanting another opinion on the song, but not knowing if your relationship with Harry has evolved enough yet. It’s soon, but he still feels like your closest friend. You decide to go through with it anyway and text him.

ME: Haz! Want to hear something new I’ve just come up with over the course of seven straight hours?

It was actually very, very surprising when he responded a few minutes later.

HAZ: Yeah! FaceTime?

You smiled wide, feeling your heart skip a beat before agreeing. His phone call came in shortly after, and you were met with a very groggy Harry, his hair messy and in his face.

“Harry,” You looked at him suspiciously, “Why are you even up this late?”

He grew rather embarrassed, you could tell by the way he hid his face from the camera subtly, “Never bothered to change the ringtone you set.”

You could have died of embarrassment right then and there. The old ringtone you chose for your beloved boyfriend at the time, mind you, a very, very famous celebrity, was, in fact, a loud rooster. How much more embarrassing could you get? Laughing instead, you smiled wide. Things were going back to your normal, after all.

“Anyways, you let me know if this is good, okay? And be brutally honest.” Harry raised a brow in suspicion but quickly settled down as you began to play the guitar, strumming it gently.

“Daydreamer,” You began, and he felt his body go cold, in shock and in amazement. Hearing it semi-live, and completely personal was extremely different than the borderline music stalking of your singles he’d done recently.

“Sittin’ on the sea, soaking up the sun,” You changed the hit a higher note at, “He is a real lover, of making up the past and feelin’ up his girl like he’s never felt her figure before.”

You strummed gently for a few seconds, tying the calmness of the song together, “A jaw dropper, looks good when he walks, is the subject of their talk. He would be hard to chase, but to catch and he could change the world with his hands behind his back, oh.”

You strummed on some more, too nervous to look Harry in the eyes, despite him on the screen, and with a higher voice, began to sing more, “You can find him sittin’ on your doorstep, waiting for a surprise. And he will feel like he’s been there for hours, and you can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

This verse had been completely different, with you dragging on words and indulging in the beautiful memory, “Daydreamer, with eyes that make you melt, he lends his cost for shelter, Plus he’s there for you when he shouldn’t be, waits for you, then sees you through.”

Harry felt completely inferior in your presence, your voice sounding like he’d never heard it before. Instead of low and emotional, it was high and nostalgic, and for a moment, the thought that the song was about him struck him. Higher, you continued, “There’s no way I could describe him. What I’ve said is just what I’m hoping for, but I will find him, sittin’ on my doorstep waiting for a surprise. And he will feel like he’s been there for hours, and I can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

You slowed the guitar down, “And I can tell that he’ll be there for life.”

There was a moment of silence as you set the guitar off the bed, your face completely red after realizing the complete feeling of the song.

“(Y/N)…” Harry began, obviously now waking up completely, “That was amazing.”

“You mean it? It’s not too cheesy?”

He shook his head fast, “No. I don’t even know who it’s about, but you’ve got me falling in love with him, too.”

You smiled softly, happy to hear that he enjoyed it, “You sure? I don’t want it to sound creepy if I tell someone it’s for him. I just wanted to write something about someone who’s helped me so much.”

Continuing on, you fiddled with your sleeve, “Jack’s just so great.”

His heart dropped, and he furrowed his brows in jealousy, his stomach in knots as the idea of a love song for someone else hit him.

“He’ll love it,” He responded, not really thinking much as he did so, spaced out.

“Oh, just so you know, I’m going to France soon! Jack’s grandparents invited me, and I think it would be good to learn.”

Harry nodded, biting his lip as he snapped back into it, “You’re right. Be safe, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me! I’ll be completely safe. It’s you I’m worried about, Haz. You’re quite the klutz.”

He chuckled, and from there, the conversation continued. It was like nothing had changed from your old years, and the night was talked away by two silly teenagers in love. When you woke up, a smile found itself on your face as you quickly noticed Harry’s sleeping face displayed on the camera. You’d fallen asleep before him, but he’d stayed.

His eyes were closed, revealing his long eyelashes. Were they always that curled? His lips parted for a moment and he heaved a great sigh, mumbling something before brushing hair out of his face. He was ethereal.

The trip came sooner than you’d noticed, and you didn’t want Daydreamer to be the last single released. It was so out of place from the rest of the album, but if you didn’t use it, then you wouldn’t have another single. There was one song you’d half-written, but it felt too personal, and besides, you’d already released a song about Harry. It felt like overkill. But it also just felt right, as a final goodbye to the situation.

Jack looked down at you as you sat with your guitar, “So, you want me to preview the song, yeah? Then we can go to France?”

He was teasing you, wanting to seem agitated, but you’d never heard him so much as raise his voice or seen him even furrow his eyebrows with a mean stare.

“Yes,” You chuckled, “I just don’t know if this song is too much. I had breakfast with Harry the other day and it came to my mind a week or so later.”

“Go on, then,” He sat down across from you, “I’m sure I’ll love it either way.”

But in his heart, he hated the fact that he was listening to a song you wrote about another man.

“Okay,” You took a deep breath, strumming.

“Walkin’ Scott Street feelin’ like a stranger, with an open heart, open container. I got a stack of mail and a tall can. It’s a shower beer, it’s a payment plan,” You recalled the first few weeks of moving out and how harsh it was. All you wanted was to be happy with him, but instead there were constant reminders that he was no longer there. Stacked up bills and inquiries about single-household payments, and the liquor which he hardly ever let you drink in fear you’d succumb to its temptation.

“There’s helicopters over my head every night when I go to bed. Spending money and I earned it, when I’m lonely, that’s when I’ll burn it,” You had complete control over yourself, sure, but at what cost? As you strummed, you felt tears pricking your eyes.

“Do you feel ashamed,” Singing clearly, it surprised Jack, who was already stunned silent, “When you hear my name?”

“I asked you, ‘How is your sister? I heard she got her degree.’” You detailed a conversation.

“And I said, ‘That makes me feel old.’

You said, ‘What does that make me?’

You asked me, ‘How is playing drums?

I said, ‘It's too much shit to carry. And what about the band?’

You said, ‘They’re all getting married.’”

You continued on, “Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?”

You began strumming a tune for a long time, tapping your foot to the sound of the beat. Maybe you went a little overboard, but it didn’t matter. You could tell Jack was glued to you.

“Anyway, don’t be a stranger,” More strumming, “Anyway, don’t be a stranger.”

And on a quieter note, you continued to the final line, “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, you know you’re talented, don’t you?” Was all your friend managed the day as you set the hollow instrument down, completely taken away.

“Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean it!” He didn’t hesitate as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Jack,” You smiled softly, “And you should be pleased to know that I’ve written something dedicated to you, too.”

His heart was almost definitely leaping, “You did? Can I hear it?”

“Mmm, maybe in France,” You teased.

You found France to be quite lovely, filled with beautifully blue clear water, and lovely locals that had a tendency to mistake you and Jack as a couple. Despite the mishaps, you’d gone to see various things. The art galleries, cafés, bars and lounges, they were all magical, and today you’d be seeing the ocean for the first time ever.

Harry was not so amused by the photos you’d sent him. He was glad you were having fun, yes, but he hated that it wasn’t with him. He was the one who promised you he’d take you to see the ocean, and he was the one who was supposed to take you to see it for the first time. Not some idiot with a PhD who didn’t know half of the things he knew about you. He was angry, not at you or Jack, but with himself. It hurt so much to see you with another, and you weren’t even his. How must you have felt during your relationship with him?

And now, he was drinking whiskey in his bedroom, strumming notes mindlessly. His phone rang once, but he didn’t really notice it, the volume being off. That was until he felt he was finished with his guitar and set it to the side of his bed, finding that he’d dropped his phone. The screen showed brightly that he had missed a call from you, and soon later, after he’d turned his sound on, the rooster notification sounded throughout the room. He chuckled and turned it down, already slightly tipsy before he began to play the voicemail on speaker.

It was you, practicing your French.

“Coucou! Tu dors ? Oh, j'suis désolée…(Hey! Are you asleep? Oh, I’m sorry…)” You sounded lovely in French, like the language was made for you.

“Bah (Well…),” You began but decided to take it back, “Non... Nan, c'est pas important… (No, it’s not important.)”

“Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on— (Yes, we went to the beach and now we—)” You were telling him about your day, just as you had been for the past few days as you kept in touch. He was smiling as he heard you, but then he picked up on a voice in the back, assuming it was your friend.

He heard something about the dinner, but then the words hit him. Mon cherie. My dear. My darling. My love. Had something already happened?

“Parfait ! (Perfect!)” You answered Jack, “Allez ! (Let’s go!)”

The voicemail ended abruptly, leaving him cold, staring at the wall in his bedroom, utterly dumbfounded. His strongest coping mechanism was always songwriting, and maybe that was a habit you’d picked up, but he sighed and pulled his laptop onto his lap.

Mon cherie. Cherry.

He’d use your voicemail in it, he was sure, and he chewed on his necklace as he looked down upon the lyrics later.

Don’t you call him baby.

#Spotify #harrystyles #harrys house #angst fanfic #angst fic #breakup #harry styles #harry styles x reader #one direction #songfic #x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #France #phoebe bridgers #adele #fine line era

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the-man-in-the-suit-official · 1 year

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Are we getting a part two of a flicker of hunger?

I hope we do D: it was so great!

Don’t fret! I really plan on it, along with You’ve Become My Ceiling (which I recommend you read if you liked A Flicker of Hunger). I can’t say when, but in the next week or so. Maybe sooner!

Thank you so much! I love writing an hearing feedback 🤎

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the-man-in-the-suit-official · 1 year

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Thank you so much! Your support means a lot to me! 🤎

Strange Mercy.

Summary: After hooking up with Harry occasionally, you fall pregnant. The real problem starts when he begins touring, and no matter what, you can never seem to make it past fans - or even the guards in order to tell him.

A/N: (D/N) = Daughter’s Name

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

Length: Medium

TW: Cheating, Single Pregnancy, Violence While Pregnant (Slight), Hookup, Angst (Fluff at the end)

Celebrities: Harry E. Styles

Song(s) To Listen To: Strange Mercy - St. Vincent

You met him at a party. You had been a groupie of some lowly band, really just because you liked their music, but since then, their guitarist had taken a liking to you. You had hoped this meant you were his girlfriend, and yeah, he’d sleep with you and take you on ‘dates,’ but he’d do this with other women, too.

Truthfully, Harry wasn’t even supposed to be there. The party was in New York, close to the building that happened to be throwing an after party for an awards ceremony. So when he saw you smoking a cigarette outside the building, watching the dirty guitarist flirt with a few girls to the left of you, he approached you.

“Erm,” He began, shifting your attention.

He was dressed rather lavishly, but casual for the party. He wore a floral Gucci button up shirt and dress pants with Gucci shoes. The Apple Watch against his wrist read, “You’ve Arrived!”

“Is this The Louvat? It doesn’t really look like it…” His accent was thick, rolling off his tongue slowly.

Taking another drag, you chuckled a bit, “No, this is Lamar, the bar a bunch of shitty bands play at? You must have mistyped it.”

You looked back at your ‘boyfriend,’ watching as he slid a hand up one of the girls’ waist. You settled into your fluffy coat a bit more.

“Here,” You took his phone and typed in the right thing, “So you don’t miss it.”

Harry blinked. It was odd not to be noticed, but he wasn’t complaining, and eased into it, “Thank you.”

“The Louvat, how’d you miss that?” Another chuckle escaped your lips, “Hasn’t it got paparazzi littering the place?”

Furrowing your brows, squinting and pressing your lips into a thin line, you asked, “Are you famous?”

This time, it was his turn to chuckle nervously, “Eh,” He shrugged.

You softened your face a bit, glancing at Luke, the guitarist, who now was caught up wrestling tongues with a different girl. You looked down, “Well, you should probably get going, huh?”

You flicked your cigarette to the side, and he noticed the man you were looking at.

Dipping his eyebrows in worry, something came over him, “Would you like to come with me? Completely free. You just, I don’t think you really belong here, is all.”

A pink dusted your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but blame it on the cold Fall air.

“I…” You looked toward Luke, but the stranger stepped closer, gently turning your head toward him by the chin.

“Think of yourself, alright?”

Those sea green eyes could have controlled you. Suddenly, it wasn’t chilly. It was warm, stemming from your heart.

“Aright,” You responded softly, “I’d love to go.”

To be honest, he could have been a kidnapper or a killer, but could one have such sweet eyes? And to be fair, you’d rather be anywhere but here.

He smiled at you softly, “Well, I’m quite early since I had a feeling I’d get lost. Let’s get you something to wear, yeah?”

You’d been dressed the opposite of him - wearing a sleazy coat lined with faux fur zipped right as low as it could be without showing too much cleavage, Daisy Dukes, and a pair of tennis shoes. All to impress some boy that didn’t seem to want you anyway.

You’d felt hot earlier, but in the presence of this stranger and his enchanting eyes, you melted with embarrassment.

“That would be great,” You sighed with a smile, “Someone told me to wear this here, and now he’s off flirting with someone else.”

“I see,” Harry began, “Then you need to choose what you like…” He trailed off.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N),” You took a hand out of your pocket and held it out, but he kissed it instead.

“Harry Styles. Nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Luke caught a glimpse of you leaving with your handsome stranger, angrily shouting after you, but you flipped him off and laughed as the car strolled on, turning back to Harry soon after.

Harry had found himself enchanted by your laugh. You were gorgeous in the face of revenge.

And that’s where it began. You’d become good friends since then, and when you made your ‘debut’ accompanying him, you’d been dressed in lavish branded clothes, from your dress to your heels to your accessories.

You owed him a lot, really, but working as a waitress really sucked. You didn’t get paid much, unless some guy had taken a liking to you and you flirted back a bit.

But now, every attractive guy seemed less and less so, even when your coworker, Emma, seemed to gleam the handsome men. Harry, though, seemed more beautiful by the minute.

“I still can’t believe your friends with him,” Emma sighed, obviously envious, “And that you didn’t know who he was!”

She had begged you so many times to get him to meet her, and you refused, knowing her and her…tendencies. Not that you disapproved, you just wanted to keep Harry safe. Safe. What a weird way to put it.

Your shift had just ended and Emma was on break, though you weren’t even listening as you fixed your makeup and waited for your ride.

He came strolling in soon after, curls gorgeously bouncing with his steps, smiling from ear to ear when he caught a look at you.

“(Y/N)!”

The diner was nearly empty now, so he noted he could make a quick entrance and exit.

“H!” You smiled and ran toward him, hugging the taller man, “You all packed up?”

He nodded, hugging you back, “Yeah, but you call me if that Luke is giving you anymore trouble, alright?”

You nodded, starry-eyed and so obviously enamored, “Thank you.”

It was Harry’s yacht party when it happened. The both of you were as sober as can be. You had admitted (hesitantly, of course) that you were afraid of the water, and Harry, without the bat of an eye, decided that he would watch over you and drink nothing for the night.

Ultimately, you felt bad, but noted that he seemed to be having as much fun at his going-away party as he would under the influence.

“(Y/N),” He started, once he managed to come away from the crowd of celebrities you still couldn’t process were actually there, “I rented the yacht out for the night. After the party, you wanna take it around?”

Your heart leaped at the opportunity to have Harry alone, and you nodded, “That sounds great!”

And when the time finally came and the last person left, he turned to you with a huge smile.

Who would have thought that you’d be here, with the most handsome man you’d ever seen? He had a goofy smile and eyes that glittered, the ocean reflecting on them.

He was perfect.

“There are some pretty things out here,” He had spoken, excitement bleeding into his voice, “I wanted to show you.”

You were quite surprised that he even knew how to drive a boat, but you felt safe with him either way as he steered it through the night.

And there you sat together, staring at the stars that seemed so much clearer out in the open. His hand found the small of your back quickly but softly, and he smiled into the night sky.

“All of those guys forget that we’re just humans. We’re nothing compared to the stars,” He spoke, not even turning to you.

You hummed happily, not even noticing when he did face you, “Except you, (Y/N).”

You met his eyes in confusion, raising a brow before he continued, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

You smiled bashfully, looking down, “Ah…I’m not that special, H.”

“But you are,” He scooted closer, “I…I knew from the moment we met that there was something different about you.”

Your eyes glimmered when they met with his again, your heart skipping a beat as the salty ocean air nipped your cheeks, “That means the world to me.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he inched your faces closer, “(Y/N)…would you let me love you this once? Before the tour starts again.”

Your face flushed red. And suddenly it made sense. Harry had felt something for you since you met, only he decided not to pursue anything after your breakup, and when you explained to him just how much relationships scared you since Luke. He figured that if dating a minor celebrity hurt you that much, then dating him would only be worse.

But he’d be leaving soon. And you’d miss him so, so much.

You nodded softly, lips parted before his met yours.

The butterflies began to fight their way out of your stomach, even as the kiss grew in intensity, and when he hoisted your legs around his waist, carrying you to the bed downstairs.

There wasn’t much thought for either of you, as he looked down at you, straddling you, “And you’re sure…you want to do this?”

“Yes,” You replied quicker than you meant to, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He was going to say something, but was only surprised when you pulled him by his collar and kissed him deeply.

The gentle beams of bright ocean light woke you, and you found yourself covered from your chest down to your thighs in a thick white comforter that felt like the softest thing in the world.

When you turned, you were met with an empty bed, making your heart sink. You’d trusted Harry dearly, would he just leave like Luke would?

You felt your mood begin to sour, that was, until you heard soft singing from above, and smelt blueberry pancakes, your favorite from the diner.

It was Harry, you would come to recognize, and your frown morphed into a wide smile. Once you were able to find the complimentary robe, you slipped it on, noticing it said, ‘Mrs.’

You giggled, figuring Harry had the matching one.

“Good morning, my sweet creature,” He set a plate down on the bar table for you, and another for himself, “How’d you sleep?”

You sat down and began to eat, thanking him before doing so, “Quite lovely, prince of pop.”

He exhaled a laugh, tying the robe around him once more, seeing as it was coming loose.

Part of you hurt, because you knew that you still weren’t quite ready - Like had messed you up terribly, and though Harry made you feel safe, there was still a block.

“Hey,” Harry’s hand met yours as you chewed your food, “I promise this doesn’t change anything. We can remain friends until you’re ready to decide, alright?”

You smiled sentimentally, overwhelmed with his understanding of you, “Thank you, H.”

He kissed your hand gently, and the two of you finished breakfast in peace.

He left less than a week later, taking your source of light with him. You wouldn’t be able to have him back at your house for almost a year, and though you could still visit, it would be hard.

It started with small things. About a month after he left, you began to wake up in the middle of the night more often, restless. Your chest became sore, no matter what, scaring you since your mind jumped straight to the idea of cancer.

It wasn’t until you sat on the toilet after spilling up last night’s dinner that you realized.

You were late.

And the theory became fact as you held onto the two pregnancy tests later that day, hand shaking in fear.

You were happy, of course, but you were anything but ready. Neither of you were.

The rest of the night, you were pacing, trying hard not to freak out in your small, bummy apartment, to no avail.

That night was more restless than the ones before it, and at 4:36 in the morning, you finally decided to tell Harry.

ME: We need to talk. Call me.

And just as quickly as it was sent, there was a reply.

HARRY: Due to insufficient funds, your service has been shut off until further notice. If you think that this is a mistake, or you would like to make a payment, please click the link below.

What awful timing.

It had come between either the phone bill or the rent this month, and you’d decided that you quite enjoyed shelter, but now you regretted it.

There was your friends you could meet in the morning, but Harry would never answer a message from an unknown number, especially one claiming such shocking things.

And who could you even talk to about this? Your family hardly spoke to you, ever since they found out you’d dated Luke, and this would only drive them away further, using their religion as a scapegoat for their pushing you away.

So you’d have to track him down. How hard could it be?

You saved for about three months, finally getting enough money for a plane ticket to meet Harry again, and though you couldn’t afford the concert ticket, you did your best efforts to come up with a plan.

As you idly watched the clock tick by, you prepared yourself for what was to come. Fan girls. Guards. Flashing lights. Nauseating smells.

And then you packed your bag and were on your way. Sneaking in was pretty easy, actually, especially when you recognized one of the guards as the one who drove the two of you to the party that fateful night.

The hard part was getting backstage during his intermission.

You had made it through, but now here was this giant man hassling you. He was buff, standing at at least 6’4”, and looking down at you through his sunglasses. You couldn’t have been farther apart.

“Hey, miss. You’re not allowed back here,” He raised a brow, stepping in front of you again, “I won’t say it again.”

You shook your head, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m a friend of Harry’s, and I really, really need to tell him something important!”

You pushed forward, trying to reach the bright vanity, but the man pushed back with his hands. Instinctively, you grabbed your belly as you fell, landing on your side, a forearm holding you up.

“Hey! I’m fucking pregnant! What the hell?!”

He didn’t seem to care, hoisting you up by the arm on your belly, to your feet. The grip hurt, and you closed your eyes tightly, “I don’t care. I’m doing my job. It’s your fault if the baby dies because of you, you sick whore.”

He had obviously been frustrated, you’d noticed, and maybe he was right. Who were you to sleep around with Harry? Or with Luke? With anyone? What good did it do you but bring you here?

Tears started to sting your eyes, but all you could mutter was, “You’re stupid.”

He tossed you on the ground again, and you landed like before, not even meeting his eyes.

“Very bold of you to s-“ He began, but suddenly froze cold at a voice.

“(Y/N)? Bryan? What the hell are you doing?!” It was the fastest you’d ever heard him speak.

Bryan, you guessed, turned, his mouth agape, “A trespasser.”

“That’s my friend, you idiot! And any man who treats anyone like that shouldn’t be here in the first place!” Harry was now in his face, not even noticing your bump, “You’re fired!”

He looked over to you and his eyes widened in a second, “Oh my god. (Y/N)…you’re pregnant.”

“Really?” You chuckled sarcastically, a bit annoyed at the man as Harry helped you up, “I almost wasn’t when he kept rag-dolling me everywhere.

“Fucking leave,” He turned to the man, venom seething through his words, and when he did so, escorted by other guards, Harry turned back to you.

“I’m so sorry, love. I’ll make sure he’ll never be near us again,” He looked down at the bump, a bittersweet smile on his face, “Was it Luke?”

You felt safe with him, like usual, and you felt butterflies begin to swarm your insides.

“God, no,” You paused, looking down before meeting his eyes, “It’s yours.”

He froze completely, and you panicked, “But…I don’t mind raising it on my own, Harry. You’re a pop star and I knew what I was getting into, plus you’ll be busy. We can keep it a secret a-“

“No,” He spoke sternly yet softly, his hands holding yours as he smiled down at you, “No.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else I’d want to have my kid,” He chuckled, “I would tell you you have pregnancy glow, but you always look that good.”

He was practically beaming, “God, I’m going to be a father! I can’t believe it! Thank you, thank you,” He hugged you tightly before pulling away, looking as if he realized something grim, “But, erm…if you want to raise it separately and as friends, that’s okay.”

You smiled solemnly, admiring just how stupid this boy was, quickly pulling him by his collar and smashing your lips on his.

When you pulled away, he blinked for a few seconds, “Did I get my point across?”

He nodded, smiling like an idiot.

“Then go out there and focus on your fans, okay? I’ll be in the private booths.”

The night, you thought, couldn’t have ended more wonderfully, but that’s when you were proven wrong. He stood on stage, finishing the previous song, Grapejuice, when he abruptly paused the show.

“Before I continue, I want everyone to know something,” Your heart skipped a beat, “I would like to dedicate this next song, Matilda, to everyone.”

The sentence brought your anxieties back down, “But most of all, (Y/N).”

And the tears began to fall for you, a hand over your mouth in surprise.

“She’s a wonderful girl, a long-time friend of mine who was never treated how she deserved to be treated. The kindest person I know, and the strongest,” He continued on, “And I’m honored to be the father of our baby.”

The crowd erupted into screams and cheers, and tears began to fall from him as well. Shifting his weight on his other leg, he gave his signature air kisses before the music began to play.

“You were riding your bike to the sound of ‘It’s No Big Deal.’”

When she, (D/N), finally arrived, it was the best thing to ever happen to either of you. Harry would have sworn by it, despite his very fortunate life, and even as she grew to a toddler, she looked just like him.

It made you smile as you held onto your husband of two years, “God, she looks just like you. From her eyes to her nose to her jaw.”

She was playing with the Golden Retriever puppy you’d gotten to grow up with her. She giggled even as she fell onto her bottom and was covered in kisses.

“She reminds me of you, most of all, love,” He looked at her lovingly, “I’m just worried she’ll be lonely growing up. I can’t imagine not having Gemma with me. I know we rushed into it a bit for her sake, but it’s the best thing we’ve ever done. Well, aside from (D/N).”

You bit your lip slyly, “Don’t worry, H. She won’t have that problem in about seven months.”

His heart stopped, and he practically leaped up in joy, pulling you in by the waist and spinning you.

“You could have destroyed me and refused to be with me. You could have never told me she was mine or worse. When I met you, I knew you were going to be in my life forever. Thank you for taking mercy in the stupid pop star who knocked you up,” Harry met your eyes, speaking softly, “You’re my blessing, my strange mercy.”

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