*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 make an exciting decision that may just change their relationship, but Harry's rockstar lifestyle seems to follow him home - in the worst ways. And family problems arise for Harry and reader.
Note: grammar and spelling errors. welcome to an angstier chapter... but future chapters will get angstier than this... this is just the tip of the iceberg (; SO DONT LET THE GIF AT THE BEGINNING FOOL YOU
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Warning: language, smut, mentions of smut, usage of drugs & mentions of drugs, drinking & mentions of drinking, mentions of death
Words: 4.5k+
***May 31, 1976***
"If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. If you're going to San Francisco, you're gonna meet some gentle people there. For those who come to San Francisco, summertime will be a love-in there," you sang along to Scott Mckenzie's "San Francisco" on the record player, standing at the vanity mirror of your bedroom as you placed a daisy behind your ear.
Wearing nothing but Harry's colorful cardigan as you danced around for him.
If Harry didn't wake up with his head between your legs, then he woke up to you dancing to some soft tune.
This morning, you happened to be dancing for Harry.
Harry's eyes watched you move around as he rested against the bed's headboard, arms crossed against his bare chest.
"There's a whole generation with a new explanation," you sang, grabbing a flower crown and a large sunflower before tiptoeing over to Harry, straddling your legs around his waist.
"For those who come to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair," you softly chimed, placing the flower crown onto Harry's long locks of hair. "There," you smiled. "Now you look just like me."
Harry smiled up at you, moving your hair back to get a better look at the daisy in your ear.
"You've always got flowers in your hair," Harry rasped, his thumb tiredly falling down your bottom lip and down the crease of your breasts before his hands grasped onto your sides, bringing you in close to place soft kisses against your stomach. Light, gentle pecks. Warm kisses. Your fingers feeling his thick waves of hair.
"Harry..." you whispered against his hair, kissing him softly as your finger looped around a curl.
"Yes, love?" Harry murmured through kisses, trailing all the way down to where you were most sensitive. His lips finding themselves between your legs.
