*this is a 70s!rockstar!Harry Styles au fanfic... i mean... he just radiates 70s!rockstar*
The 70s. A time of free love and music. And that's exactly what reader gets into when meeting the newly famous rockstar Harry Styles: love and music.
Along w...
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Summary: harry and reader are back in malibu where he begins to record his second album. as they settle down in malibu and "expand their family," harry reveals exciting news to reader and gives her a special gift...
Note: grammar and spelling errors.
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Warning: language, smut
Words: 3.4k+
***May 3, 1976***
It was the first morning you woke up in months feeling at home, because you were home. No hanging feeling over your head that the bed you were sleeping in would just be temporary.
Because you were back in Malibu. In your own bed. Morning sunlight peeking through the window. The gentle sound of beach waves moving back and forth.
And the sound of Harry singing a soft tune in the shower.
Waking up next to Harry was always a good feeling, but hearing him first thing in the morning was something different. Singing in the shower, just softly to not wake you up.
It was always a great start to the day.
***
"Smells good in here," Harry complimented, stepping into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face, noticing the freshly cooked bacon and pancakes.
"You shaved!" you beamed, your eyes widening at the new man standing in front of you in his blue Hawaiian shirt.
"Yeh," Harry laughed.
"So soft now," you smiled, gliding your fingers over his smooth skin before returning to the strawberries.
Harry stood next to you, messing with the radio. Changing the volume and station.
"Oh, I love this song!" Harry chimed, raising the volume as high as possible. "Love is good, love can be strong. We gotta get right back to where we started from," Harry sang, clapping his hands to the beat.
"Right Back Where We Started From" by Maxine Nightingale. A song Harry had grown a strong love for. Played it at all his parties. Sang it at the top of his lungs, especially when drunk.
"C'mon, (Y/N)," Harry nagged, pulling at your arm.
"I'm busy cutting strawberries, Har," you rejected.
"I don't care. You're dancing with me, and I know you love to dance," Harry reasoned, sneakily moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, rocking back and forth to the song and pecking your neck.
