#the swimming pool 1969 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

baby honey

summary - it’s the summer of ‘69 and you meet international rockstar harry styles on your summer holiday

warnings: swearing, assault, violence, kissing, shitty parents, self deprecation

pairing: rockstar!harry x reader

word count: +5.1k

California was fucking hot.

The sun was a burdening heat on the back of your neck, whilst the humidity ran you dry. For someone who came from a cold country, the sunny West Coast certainly was a place unlike anything you’d experienced before. It was here that you felt like permanent summer. Every day was sunshine and colour.

It was mid-summer of 1969 and it was about to be the best summer of your life. School had finished and you had already spent one year as a journalist just as you’d always wanted. You were lucky that your dad was already into the journalism industry, otherwise it would have been very difficult to get in to. As a celebration for a successful year and a 19th birthday treat, your family were treating you to a holiday in California like you’d dreamt of since you were little.

The resort you were staying in was in Malibu - your dad having connections made sure you could stay in a knock-out complex for your first time in Cali. There was a huge, blue, swimming pool that you couldn’t wait to use and cool you down. The view from the villas was breathtaking - the ocean only a hundred metres away, crashing against the coastline with a roar. The sunset ran perfectly down upon the villa, making the outside hammock the perfect place to cosy up and read your favourite romance books.

Everything was perfect. Especially when you met him.

It was in the evening that you first saw him. You knew him, of course you did, from the endless repeats that he played on your car radio. You had seen his face plastered on some of the biggest billboards in the country. He had sold more records than The Beatles. He was a fucking legend and you couldn’t quite get over that he was in your holiday resort.

Your eyes followed his figure as he walked towards the pool bar. He was wearing short yellow swim trunks and had an open white shirt on top. A cigarette in his hand whilst he ordered some drink, alcohol filled no doubt. His figure was incredible, not too muscly but nowhere near skinny. He was perfect and he was making you blush just by getting to eye at him.

A tall, blonde, woman with legs as long as a giraffes neck walked next to him and leant over the bar slightly to show off her cleavage. You tutted at how obvious and flirtatious she was. It was gross that women literally threw themselves at men like him, just because of how successful and beautiful they were. He then requested the bartender to buy his lady friend a drink, curling a hand around her waist as he leant into her ear to whisper something.

Even though he was 26 years old, you were still completely infatuated by him. He was an absolute God in your eyes, rivalled by no-one. But, he was Harry Styles and Harry Styles was only infatuated with one person; himself.

•••••

“Y/N!”

Your dad called from within the villa. It was two days later and you hadn’t seen Harry anymore, not that you were actively looking for him or anything.

Putting on an oversized yellow shirt, you buttoned up the top two buttons to cover yourself and your floral-orange swimsuit a bit better. Today you were going down to the pool again, your dad having to meet someone for business in the bar area. Your mum was going to sunbathe and you were going to swim to cool yourself down from this exhausting summer heat.

“Yeah?”

“Come on! We’re leaving now!”

You groaned, grumbling that this was supposed to be a relaxed holiday and not just some rushed vacation. Grabbing your pool bag you threw in your favourite Austen novel and other necessities, before catching up to your parents.

The pool was quite busy, but quiet enough to grab an excellent spot on the sun loungers. Due to the resort being fairly pricey, it was mainly adults staying here and so there were no rowdy children running around. It made the atmosphere relaxing and almost spa-like. This is exactly what you envisioned when someone asked you what your ideal summer looked like. The pool was quiet, with only a few people swimming lengths. Your mum and you set up on some sun-beds, whilst your dad wandered to the bar to meet his client.

“Did you put on son lotion?” Your mum asked.

“Yes mum.”

“Don’t want to get wrinkles, Y/N.” She added, even though you told her that you’d put it on already. Your mum was all about looks and how your portray yourself to the public. She was overbearing about it, setting stupid standards for a 19 year old to abide by.

“I know mum.” You sighed, taking off your shirt and tucking it into your bag.

Your mum laid down and got to tanning immediately, making sure that she was angled perfectly so there were no flaws on her body. Your mum was very healthy and on a very strict exercise diet, which you didn’t care anything for because you loved yourself for who you were. Unfortunately, your mum could be sharp with her words and cut you like a knife if she wanted. Often she commented on your wider hips and larger boobs, but mostly on your little muffin top on your stomach. They were all parts of you that you had gotten to love and it was annoying that your mum couldn’t just do the same.

“Where are you going?”

“To the pool.” You said, sliding on your sandals so not to walk on the scolding pavement around the pool.

“Take your cover up.” Her words pinched you, making it seem like you in a swimsuit was something you should be embarrassed by.

Instead of listening to her, you laughed and walked off without your coverup. You turned around to see her shake her head before returning her head onto the lounger for her nap. Turning back around you-

“Hey, watch ou-.”

Before you knew it you’d slipped on a pool of water and used the person in front of you as support. Unfortunately they weren’t as stable as you thought and therefore instead of remaining upright, you both went flying sideways and splashing into the cool pool below. The water went all your nose and your eyes had closed two seconds too late. Your body stayed tangled against the other persons, before they kicked off you, into your ribs, and pushed themselves back to the surface.

Pushing yourself up the surface next you let out a deep gasp, coughing as you expelled all the chlorinated water from your nose and throat.

“Fucking hell.” The person gasped, gaining their own air back.

“You just kicked me in the ribs, fuck!” You groaned, knowing that was going to leave a nice purple bruise. That was going to be flattering.

“Oh I’m sorry. It’s not like you were the one that fucking pulled me into this shittin’ pool.”

Turning around and ready to slap this guy in the face, your words got stuck in your throat as you realised who you had pulled into the pool with you. His hair now stuck to his face instead of nestled with curls on top of his head. His sunglasses now floating in the pool next to him instead of laying on his head. And if he were to get out of the pool, no doubt the black t-shirt he wore would stick to his muscles like hot glue.

“You.” You gasped, actually appalled that the first and only conversation you’d have with your only ever crush was this. You suddenly understood the asshole rockstar personality everyone talked about him having that you stubbornly dismissed.

“Yeah, me.”

“Dickhead, is what you are.” You said, which he looked slightly taken aback by.

“Me? Dickhead? Honey, you were the one that pulled me into the pool.” He argued back, kicking his legs to stay afloat.

“Could’ve warned me there was a puddle though, no?”

“Honey, I’m not your fucking daddy. Learn to walk yourself.”

Okay, that was not supposed to send tingles throughout your entire your body but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t. Jesus fuck, why did the asshole have to be hot?

“Yeah well-.”

“Styles. Thought we said we were meeting at the bar, not in the pool.” Your dad said as he stood by the waters edge.

Your faced dropped its colour, even the sunburn leaching away from the pigment of your skin. You turned your head between your dad and the very attractive rockstar floating in the pool next to you, trying to understand if what was happening was what you thought was happening.

“Dad? You know Harry Styles?”

“Actually, it’s just Harry.” Harry interrupted.

“And I don’t give a shit.” You sneered.

“Language Y/N.” Your dad scolded you, making you embarrassed that this was even happening. “Styles, let’s go.”

You were too stunned to speak, not actually believing that anything that had just happened actually happened. Harry Styles had fallen into a pool because of you and now you learn he’s partners with your dad in some way. This was both the most exciting and most humiliating day of your existence.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N.” Harry spoke.

The way he said your name was the last thing on your mind that night.

•••••

“So let me get this straight. Your dad is in partnership with the Harry Styles and you found out because you pulled him into a swimming pool?”

“How bad is it?” You asked your best-friend Tiff, knowing she would know how to do damage control.

“Well I mean not everyone gets to push Harry Styles into a pool. I mean, to be honest, I would love to do that. Like imagine how muscles would all-.”

“Tiff! Not helping.” You shouted down the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible since you were using the phone in the hotel lobby.

“Right, sorry.” She cleared her throat. “So? Is he dreamy?”

“He’s so dreamy.” You sighed, leaning back against the wall.

“Who’s dreamy?” You turned around quickly and was met with Harry right beside you. Your tongue got stuck in your throat as you tried to come up with reasonable answer to his question, seeing as you were definitely not about to inflate his ego by saying him.

He looked handsome, wearing a pair of high waisted brown trousers and a white wife-beater tucked in. A cigarette was held in his hand and his hair was gelled back now, unlike before in the pool. He had obviously freshened up because you could smell that divine aftershave every interviewer raves about. It was weird to think you were experiencing seeing and smelling him like this. No complaints, apart from the fact he was a giant, self-absorbed, ego-inflaming, prick.

“Y/N?” Tiff sounded on the other side of the line.

“O-Oh I gotta go Tiff. I’ll call you later okay?” You hung up before you could even hear her answer, too flushed with Harry in front of you to properly concentrate.

“Tiff? Is she single?” Harry asked, taking a puff of his cig and blowing it out in the perfect cloud. It was so hot watching him do that and you’d watch it on repeat every single day if technology allowed it.

“Ugh.” You scoffed, him ruining the moment for himself. “You’re such a man-whore.” You started walking away, no clue as to where. You didn’t realise Harry was following you until his voice sounded from over your shoulder.

“I was merely asking a question, Y/N.”

“Well I’m not answering it,” You told him, walking a little faster to try and loose him, “and don’t call me Y/N as if you know me.”

“Baby honey I can do whatever I want to, but you already know that.” His comment was said to get under your skin, which is exactly what it did.

You stopped abruptly, turning around so quickly that you bumped right into his solid chest. Your chest was heaving with frustration, trying to act more grown up than you were so size him up and knock him down. His smell was nearly too intoxicating to think, but you had to get around it in order to make your peace.

“No. What I know is that you’re a selfish and prudish asshole who parades his dick around for any woman or man that wants to sit on it.”

Your eyes kept locked with his, not wanting to be the one to back down first. Stupidly, your eyes drifted down to his lips just to see how perfect they were up close and it made your heart melt at how luscious they looked. The colour was the most pretty of pinks and the heart-shape to them really made you want to kiss them so badly. You held your restraint though and moved your eyes back to his, only to realise his eyes were looking at your lips. You licked your lips subtly, teasing him with what he couldn’t have.

The tension was thick between you both, but it was easily cut when the blonde woman from the other day came up beside him.

“Ready to go to my room?” She giggled in the most annoying and high pitched voice you’d ever heard. She also stank of weed, which made you part your gaze from Harrys’ and take a step back.

Your chest was still trying to come back down from the high of your confrontation with Harry. You stood by, not daring to move. Looking up, you noticed Harry still looking towards you and it made you want to melt like an ice-cream on a hot summers day.

“Y’know what, Stephanie, I think I’ll pass.” He says, untangling her arm from his body.

“It’s Stella.”

You had to laugh at how he had basically just solidified the point you were making earlier about him sleeping with anyone. You shook your head, actually feeling bad that he felt like his had to maintain his image in this way, before walking away.

Far away from him.

•••••

It was later in the evening and you found yourself at a nearby club.

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to go by yourself, but you were so intrigued to see how freeing a night out by yourself would be. Your parents were unaware that you had snuck out and you weren’t even sure how you’d been granted entry into a place like that, but you were on your holiday and you didn’t care too much to overthink.

The club was loud and smoky. The air was filled with nicotine and weed, making it hard to breathe any oxygen in. The dance-floor was filled with people grinding and passing joints between one another. You recognised the music as Harry’s blasting through the speakers, making you chuckle at how you just couldn’t escape him.

Even though he was a complete arse, there was something so magnetic about him. He had this pull towards him that you’d never felt before for anyone else and you were enamoured. It helped that he was ridiculously pretty too.

The bar was packed but you managed to squeeze in a spot, between two men. Their bodies pressed against you and they smelt grossly of sweat, but what else did you expect from a night rave.

“What can I get for you flower?” The bartender asked you, noticing you in the sea of weirdly big men.

“Vodka cranberry please.”

“That all?” You nodded to him. “That’s 4.50 please.” He handed out his hand for you to hand over the money.

“I’ve got it.” Someone beat you to it and it turned out it was one of the men from beside you.

“Oh, thank you!” You smiled gratefully.

After getting your drink, you made your way to the dance-floor and started dancing to the music. It was a slow song to start off with, making you sip your drink and float around to the melody, before it changed to more upbeat and you were jumping up and down with no idea where the energy was coming from. You took a few puffs from a blunt rotation that was happening on the dance-floor, but after you’d finished your drink you were out of there in need of a rest.

The toilets were down a few corridors out the back, so you made your way down there. Stumbling was the word you’d rather use than walking, since the alcohol and weed were hitting you all at once. Lightweight.

“Looking for the toilets?”

You spun around and noticed the man that had bought your drink from before. He was a lot more sober than you, you could tell, which made his large frame intimidate you more than you would’ve liked.

“Yeah, they’re just this way I think.” You pointed down the hallway where a few girls were heading off to, because other than that your brain had no other intuition.

“No, there this way.” He pointed down a much darker hallway with no one else around.

“But they’re going that way.” You pointed to the girls, before looking back at him. You noticed that he had gotten a lot closer towards you.

“Well they’re going the wrong way.”

“Oh, okay.” You smiled, thinking he was being kind with his helpfulness.

He waved his arm as if to guide you down the corridor and you thanked him before ‘stumbling’ off again. Your heels on the ground and the constant buzzing sound inside your head left you unaware to the man following close behind. You kept walking down the corridor, becoming more and more confused as you didn’t see any doors or any toilet signs down here.

You stopped in the hallway near the end, coming to the realisation there were no toilets down here. You didn’t expect anyone to come up right behind you, so when you felt a man’s dick press hard into your back you let out a loud scream. The man grabbed one hand around your body to stop you from fleeing and the other hand went around your mouth to keep you from screaming anymore.

Once he had pressed your body up against the wall with a harsh push, you began to slowly sober up and realise the man had had bad intentions all along. Your head hit the wall with such force it was almost like the sobriety was knocked right back into you.

“Ssh, ssh. I’m just getting you to pay me back for that drink. You left without me letting you know that it wasn’t entirely for free.” He spoke as you struggled against his hold.

You moved your head to the side to see if there was anyone down the corridor that you could try and get the attention of. But there was no one. It was just you and this man that was most likely going to assault you. Did he know that you were under 21? Or did he not even care? Did he not have any human decency?

“Let me go.” You tried to scream as loud as you could, but it was muffled by his hand. It only made him hold you harder, with the grip on your hip so painful.

“I don’t think so. Now shut up and be a slut for me.”

He kept his hand over your mouth, not trusting you enough, before moving his other hand to push up your leg and underneath your dress. You kicked your legs as you tried to escape his hold, pushing with all the force you could, but he just kept on going.

You bit down on his hand, not even caring the taste of blood on your lips from how hard you’d bitten and although it made his hand leave your mouth his hands on your body remained hard enough for you to impossibly escape.

“Help! Please someone! Please!” You shouted down the hallway as loud as you could, before the man slapped you across the face and went back to holding his sore hand over your mouth. This time he pressed jaw-crushingly harder, so much so that it was difficult to breathe.

The tears running down your face stung from the running mascara and your cheek now throbbed from where he had backhanded you. You closed your eyes, continuously crying, when the realisation sunk in that no one was coming and you were going to become broken here. It was clear now that you were not meant for this kind of lifestyle, and possibly this world. If you were treated like this by one sober man, imagine what the next one would do. Your heart hurt as much as your face and hips did as you began thinking of all the reasons for why you deserved this.

As you’d gotten to reason number three you no longer felt the mans harsh body against yours. You opened your eyes instead to see him being pinned up against the wall on the opposite side, getting punched in the face. You recognised the back of his head from anywhere.

Harry.

The relief that sunk into your system was overwhelming. So much so that your legs lost their ability to hold you up and the next thing you knew, they collapsed from underneath you and you sunk to the floor. You didn’t care as to what Harry was doing to the man, too much in a state of shock and pain to do anything other than breathe.

It was a minute later that Harry knelt down in front of you. His face found yours, eyes meeting eyes. He held out his hands to show you that he was asking for your permission to touch you with your consent. You moved your shaky hand into his, not speaking a word. You were worried that if you said the wrong thing then something equally as terrible as before might happen.

“Y/N, honey, look at me. Hey.” He made sure that you were looking at him. Your watery eyes met his soft and heartbroken looking ones. The grip on his hands was hard enough for you to know he wasn’t leaving, but soft enough so it didn’t hurt.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered, feeling like you had to apologise.

“Don’t do that. Do not apologise. You hear me?” He spoke angrily, not willing to accept you apology on behalf of anybody.

“Sor--”

“No.” He shook his head. “This is not your fault, okay? Y/N, look at me. Look at me and tell me that this is not your fault.”

“T-this is not my f-ault.” You said shakily, finding it hard to believe your own words.

“No, it’s not.” He agreed with you. “I am going to help you up and we’re going to go someplace safer and quieter okay? Is that alright?”

You nodded, but Harry didn’t let you up until he had verbal confirmation. “Yes! Please Harry. I want to go home.” Your eyes welled up and you began to cry again.

“Okay. It’ll be okay.” He promised.

Before he picked you up, he took off his leather jacket and swung it over your shoulders for a bit more coverage of your body. After he was satisfied, he used his arms to hold you underneath your legs and your upper body so he could carry your bridle-style. Your head instantly went to rest on his chest, closing your eyes to eradicate the bad thoughts from your vision. Your tears were silent but Harry was aware how upset you were. He shouted at people to get out of his way as he brought you outside and into his car.

Some time later you found yourself awakening from the comfort of a king-size bed. You were confused and scared at the same time.

You immediately touched your fingers to your cheek to feel for a bruise and it was painfully there. You hands started to shake at the thought that all of that had happened and now you were in a strangers bed. Looking down at your clothes you were in a basic black t-shirt and black jogging pants. Your heartbeat started to increase over what had happened after you’d blacked out last night. When had you even blacked out?

As if to answer your questions the door to the bedroom suddenly opened and you curled yourself in a ball and pulled the covers higher. Your eyes softened though when you met Harry’s gaze. He was carrying a tray of something, but he stayed on the other side of the bedroom when he realised you were awake.

“Oh sorry. I thought you’d still be asleep.”

“I j-just woke up.”

“Well I made pancakes if you want any?”

“I’m not hungry.” You smiled kindly, wanting him to know you appreciated the effort anyways.

“That’s okay.” He smiled, placing the tray on the coffee table across the room from the bed.

“Did last night actually happen? A-and what happened to the man? How am I here in this bed and w-here even are we--”

“Y/N, woah woah.” He calmed you down, walking around the edge of the bed until he sat down at the foot of it. He made sure he kept his distance from you. “What do you remember?”

“Honestly, not much. Just pieces. I-I think he nearly touched me. He definitely slapped me and maybe he grabbed my hips.” You lifted the shirt to find finger print marks on your hipbone. They were intense and purple and it made your eyes water at the disgusting marks to your skin. “And you were there. You saved me.”

“I didn’t.”

“Wha... Harry, I remember you coming and pulling that... that man off of me and beating him to shit.” You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to think if maybe it hadn’t been Harry then who else it would’ve been.

“I was there. It was me. But I didn’t save you. If I did then you wouldn’t have any of those marks to your skin.” He said sadly, standing up and pacing intensely.

“Harry you can’t blame yourself for--”

“Well neither can you!” He shouted, running his hands through his hair.

“What?”

“Last night when we were driving home, you kept saying how you deserved what that man was doing to you. That you weren’t as perfect as your mum wanted you to be and that was the reason he went after you.” Harry let out a shakily breathe, before continuing to speak with a crack in his voice. “If I had gotten there two minutes later...”

“Stop Harry.” You shook your head, not wanting to thinking about the ‘if’s’. “Come here.” You patted the space of bed in front of you.

He was apprehensive at first, but when he sat down in front of you it was clear that he instantly relaxed. You sat up and reached for his hands in his lap, twisting your fingers around his until they were comfortably intertwined. You smiled when you caught his smile, knowing he felt exactly the same sparks ignite from your touch as you did his. His hands were so soft and yet so masculine at the same time, like he’d worked a lifetime and yet they were still so new.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

He let out a heavy breathe of air. “I should be asking you that.”

“Well too bad. I asked you first.” You bit your lip, stopping you from smiling like you had a high-school crush.

“You’re trouble you.” He shook his head. “I’m okay if you are, though.”

“That’s not what I was asking.”

“Well that’s how I’m answering.” He argues back and you admire how he’s returned to his stubborn self. It actually suits him.

He made you smile though, making you crash forwards and land your head on his lap. His hands quickly stabilise your body so that you can’t fall of his body or the bed. He liked the feeling of you so warm and comfortable around him. You felt like you were made just to fit beside him, at his side. His hands were hesitant to touch you at first, but you could see that he wanted to so you brought one of your hands to guide his to your neck. He found comfort there, caressing the soft skin.

“Thank you, for last night.” You said, thinking about how you hadn’t said it yet.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry if I ruined your night.”

“Will you stop apologising? I chose to help you. I chose to spend my night with you.”

“Why, though?” You asked, confused.

“Because believe it or not, I like you.” He sighed, as if the relief of keeping that a secret from you was finally free.

“Like me?”

“Like a lot.” He admitted, turning his pale cheeks pink.

“Me?”

“I feel like you’re missing the point here.” He laughed, stroking his thumb over your bruised cheek carefully as if his thumb was just going to magically wipe away the hurt.

“I feel like you are. Harry. You’re choosing to like me over... well like anyone else?” You sat up slightly, your face only inches from his.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Well, because... because-”

“If anything derogatory towards yourself leaves your lips then I’m going to have to kiss you just to prove my point.” He challenges and you take his bait.

“Because I’m quite literally a nobod-”

He kisses you hard. Hard enough for it to hurt your cheek, but also lovely enough for you not to care about your cheek. You let him kiss you because it had been the only thing on your mind since he had sat down next to you. His lips tasted just like his personality, hot but sweet. He was a good kisser, being extra slow, careful and tentative in case he caused anymore damage to you. His hand cupped your bruised cheek with so much care that you melted in a pool of love for him right then and there.

The kiss kept going until you both had to pull away to catch your breathes. It was hard to leave his lips, going back for a secondary peck because you couldn’t resist, but the smile on his face and the glisten in his eyes was worth it.

“Never thought I would say this but, thank you for saying something derogatory towards yourself!” He laughed breathlessly, still cradling your face like you were the most precious thing to behold.

Before you could say anything worse about yourself, he pre-empted that you were about to and instead found his lips straight back onto yours.

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