Harry Styles Oneshots

The space between

Y/N had never been one to believe in coincidences, but the way her life had collided with Harry Styles' made her reconsider everything she thought she knew about fate. It started in the most mundane of places—an indie music café in East London, tucked away on a quiet street where the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air and the low hum of conversation created a sense of calm.

She was sitting in a corner booth, her laptop open and an untouched latte cooling beside her, working through a half-written article about her favorite underground bands. Y/N was always immersed in her work—anything that could take her mind off the chaos in her life. That was until he walked in.

Harry Styles. The Harry Styles. She had always admired him from afar, a distant figure whose music had touched her in ways words couldn't describe. But seeing him in person, dressed in a simple t-shirt and vintage jeans, looking impossibly casual and effortlessly cool, was a different story. He had this aura about him—something magnetic and warm, like a pull you couldn't escape.

She almost didn't notice him at first, her gaze flicking from her screen to the door as the bell rang. But the moment her eyes landed on him, something in her chest tightened. He smiled at the barista, his dimples appearing just slightly as he ordered his coffee, his voice smooth and melodic. He was just a person, she reminded herself, though that reminder didn't make the butterflies any less insistent.

It was when he glanced over at her table, his eyes lingering for a moment too long, that she realized he had seen her. A quick wave, a polite nod, and a smile. It wasn't anything major, but it was enough to make her heart skip a beat.

"Not bad," she muttered to herself, mentally slapping herself for getting caught staring. But Harry, ever the observant one, caught the mumble and raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" His voice was warm, and when he spoke, it was like the world around her softened. She blinked, unsure whether she'd heard correctly.

"Sorry, I... wasn't talking to you," she managed, laughing nervously.

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Ah, no worries. I just thought I heard a compliment. Not often I get those in here."

Y/N flushed, embarrassed. "Oh, no, I wasn't—" she paused, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. "I mean, you seem like you'd be used to compliments."

Harry tilted his head and leaned against the back of the booth across from her. "I don't take them for granted, you know." His expression softened. "Especially when they come from someone who seems like they'd rather be left alone."

Her smile faded slightly. It was true—Y/N was more of an introvert, someone who often sought solitude, and sometimes, she had a tendency to pull away from even the most friendly gestures. But there was something about him. Something about the way he looked at her like he saw more than just the surface.

"I'm Harry," he said after a beat, extending his hand across the table. "And you are?"

She hesitated for just a moment before shaking his hand. "Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N," he said, his tone casual but his eyes holding a depth that intrigued her. "Do you come here often?"

"Yeah, I do," she answered, her nerves beginning to ease. There was something comforting about Harry's presence, something familiar even though they were strangers. "It's quiet. Good for writing."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. Sometimes the loudest places are the best for thinking. But not always." His eyes twinkled, and she noticed the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his coffee cup. "So, what are you writing?"

"Just an article on new music. Some up-and-coming bands that haven't hit mainstream yet. Nothing too exciting."

Harry's eyes lit up. "That sounds really interesting actually. I love discovering new artists. Always feels like a hidden treasure, you know?"

"Exactly," she replied, suddenly feeling a connection. "It's like you're uncovering something no one else knows about. But I guess when you're in a band like you, you get that all the time."

"Touché," he said with a smile, but his tone shifted slightly. "I do get to see a lot of new talent. But it's different when you're just an ordinary person, hearing it for the first time. The rawness of it."

Y/N nodded, captivated by the way he spoke. "Yeah, there's something special about hearing music before anyone else does."

They spent the next few hours talking—about music, writing, books, and life in general. It felt so natural, so easy. Like they'd known each other for much longer than just a few hours.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow across the café, Y/N realized she was more relaxed than she'd been in a long time. Harry was... different. Not in the way she expected, not like the celebrity persona she'd seen in interviews and headlines. He was genuine, kind, and disarmingly open.

"Hey," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them, "I know this might sound a bit forward, but would you want to grab a drink sometime? Like, a proper one? I'm curious to hear more about these hidden bands of yours."

Her heart fluttered at the invitation, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Sure," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies. "I'd like that."

As they exchanged numbers and plans for the future, Y/N couldn't help but think that this was the beginning of something unexpected. Something that felt right, even though it was entirely uncharted territory.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind. Harry and Y/N texted frequently, sharing music recommendations, sending memes, and talking about everything and nothing. Their initial meeting had sparked something between them—something neither of them could quite define, but both of them knew it was there.

Their first official date was at a small bar in Soho, where Harry had insisted on buying her drinks even though she had insisted she'd pay for her own. He was persistent, and she found it oddly endearing.

"Tell me again why you like indie music so much?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair, his green eyes searching hers with that familiar curiosity.

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of her gin and tonic. "It's the authenticity. The way the music feels unfiltered. The lyrics are more raw, more personal. It's like you're getting a piece of someone's soul."

"That's what I like about your writing, actually," Harry said, surprising her. "It's like you don't just report on things, you capture the heart of them."

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Thanks," she replied, ducking her head. "I've always wanted to do that. Make people feel something."

Harry's gaze softened, and there was a moment of silence between them, charged with something unspoken. She noticed how close they were sitting now, how his knee brushed against hers. It was subtle but enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Before she could say anything else, Harry leaned forward, his voice low and earnest. "Y/N, I think... I think you're incredible."

Her heart skipped. The chemistry between them was undeniable. But she wasn't sure where it was going. Could this really work? Could something so spontaneous last?

"I think you're incredible too," she said, her voice quieter now. "But... this is all so sudden."

Harry smiled gently, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand. "Sometimes the best things are."

The touch, the sincerity in his eyes, it made her heart race. Y/N wasn't sure where this would lead. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn't afraid to find out.