Guardian Angel Harry: unfinished (Patreon)

Listen, I was definitely going to post some of my old 2013 writing but not ever I can do that yet its freaking embarrassing! However, I did find the guardian angel harry fic I started writing! 

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i.

The night air was cold despite the earlier onslaught from the sun, enough so to riddle Y/N’s skin with goose pimples and pebble her nipples to stone. A near icy feeling bench isn’t the best spot for a college student at midnight on a Saturday, but she was trying to catch the last bus to her apartment after closing at work, so her seating options were limited. It was either this bench or take her chances sitting next to a suspicious looking puddle on the ground, and she’d much rather her bum freeze off than get anywhere near it.

See, the thing is, Y/N needs to start saying no to people. Truly, it is probably her worst attribute – a lack of  a backbone when it comes to sweet old women who waddle about and run bakeries. Miss. Mandolin is just as saccharine as any cupcake, and gave her a raise last week, so declining was not an option, especially finding out that if she didn’t then Miss. Mandolin herself would be the one closing. However, while that same sweet old woman is tucked away cozy and warm in her bed, and Y/N has become a distant relative of an icicle, she is mad regretting being so softhearted.

Her day hadn’t been all too hard, just some bread baking and cake icing, but she feels proper dog walked. She’d been there since 9AM, working two shifts because she agreed to it last week and past her really hates present her, apparently, because she’d even agreed to come back tomorrow night as well. It’s fine though, she does need the money, and when she gets to work it’s not so terrible, it’s just the thought of working that taunts her mercilessly.

So all she wanted to do with the rest of her night is to eat the muffins she took with her and pretend not to smell the copious amounts of pot they’re undoubtedly smoking next door. Then maybe watch TV with her laptop on her belly and pass out like that, or flop down on the floor and sleep for a few years, or even just digging into her sheets not bothering to adorn herself in pajamas, just stark naked in her bed because she couldn’t be arsed to put anything back on. The thought of sleep is just so lovely, really, all nestled in the covers with the whir of her fan going and the steady thump of the cat who lives above her freaking out and running back and forth and back and forth all throughout the night. She’d like to cuddle her stuffed bear tonight as elementary as it sounds, but his fur was soft and nice to rest on, and Y/N had no human to cuddle so he was the second best thing.

These pleasant thoughts are cut short when the lamp post above her begins to flicker in the most ominous fashion; first only slightly, like a hint that the bulb is about to give out soon before it’s light drops out to nothing but a dim glow, then comes back, then repeats, and makes a terrible horror movie esque buzzing noise with it. It’s then her brain processes that the street she was on was basically deserted, no sign of people or cars anywhere, not even with the strip of clubs and bars just a few blocks away. The wind picks up only to ruffle the trees leaves and make things even creepier, and Y/N’s now hesitantly looking down each street to see if there were any headlights coming her way.

“Well, this stinks.” She says it to herself, only to have some noise other than all the eerie one’s surrounding her. Now that she’s hearing all these noises though, even spookier ones start manifesting in the once quiet air and she’s proper spooked, tucking her arms further around herself. Just a little while longer right? It’s only…only 12:15, and the bus should’ve been here at 12:00 but that’s fine, maybe it’s a little late.

If it could be a little less later that would sure be fantastic, but beggars can’t be choosers, and a bummy light plus some weird wind are just every night occurrences that Y/N shouldn’t be scared of.

What Y/N should be scared of, however, is the black blobby mass materializing in front of her, hissing like a snake, glooping into a human form with beady eyes and a sickening grin. That’s something to be proper frightened of, surely, like total horror movie material that she was not expecting and Y/N squeals like an old school Damsel before scurrying up. “What the – what the hell?” She gasp as it slithers a hand in her direction and she dodges it, stumbling a little ways away from it even if it meant leaving the little light that was left.

“Say, you can see me?” It’s voice is distorted and sounds like there’s mush in it’s mouth, but she can make out the words, nodding slow, her face screwed up and a gross, slimy tongue falls out to lick around it’s faux lips, “That makes this even better! So much tastier when you’re scared.”

Did she just hear him right? Tastier?

A sweat builds on her neck despite what had previously been such a frosty feeling night, and as it’s gloopy, gloppy hand is trying to reach out for her again Y/N tosses her heavy plate of muffins right at it’s face before pivoting on her heel and taking off in the other direction. This was 100% not how she expected nor wanted her night to go – this was something for story books and movies only, and she didn’t want to be the opening scene because that character always gets written off early on. If her life wanted to start being blockbuster worthy why couldn’t it have been a proper romantic comedy or something? Why a gross looking creature that she’s running away from with her springy cupcake ended headband on?

Her flats bound against the ground with sharp clicks that echo in the streets, and she doesn’t need to look back to know the thing is just about nipping at her heels. It has to be a dream, doesn’t it? It feels so real but not real all in the same breath, mostly how the cool air is hitting at her cheeks. So refreshing and enlivening, it’s confusing her greatly, and she isn’t quite sure what to do. If this is a dream, she could stop running right now and she would probably be consumed by black matter but wake up all sweaty necked in her bed. If it isn’t a dream, then she gets consumed and that’s it, done-zo, outta here, no more Y/N for anyone. And let it be noted, if she dies because of some weird, drooly, droppy skinned creature she’s going to be so fucking pissed off.

“Slow down, Sweetheart, let’s have a little fun.” It growls and Y/N presses herself onward, holding the strap of her purse tightly to her and feeling it bump on her thigh.

“Shut up you creep!” She yells at it, before a slimy hand is wrapping around her ankle and tripping her up, sending her to the ground.

The next few moments were in slow motion.

First there was a burst of wind that nearly knocked her over, like a car might have zipped past them but she knows no car was in sight nor heard beyond very distant noise of the highway. Second an arm wraps around her waist just before she smashes her face into the concrete, warm and firm, making a small ‘umph’ come out of her unintentionally. Then suddenly with a bright flash of white light Y/N sees from behind her eyelids, the hand at her ankle is gone and she’s dangling in midair around this arm of an unknown assailant. She doesn’t know if his is good or if this is bad, but she feels her consciousness slowly fading in little fizzling bubbles that disperse quickly and she’s sinking into nothingness, almost, it feels like falling asleep but also something completely different.

“Pain in my arse.” She hears someone grumble, and then she’s out like a light. ’

                                                                         .                      .                     .

“A woman obtaining beauty at such a high degree as yourself deserves this pastry for free,” Y/N rolls her eyes listening to her Charlie (her coworker) try is hand in wooing someone while she sweeps up crumbs and the paper from straws up into the dustpan, “Make sure you come back soon.” She doesn’t have to watch to know he sends her off with a wink and Y/N waits for the door bells to jingle before starting up.

“Why do you keep trying to court girls using free goodies?” She asks for what might be the hundredth time, standing up with a huff and tilting the dustpan into the bin, “They’ll see you as nothing more than a sweet mouthed push over.”

He pouts at her, leaning over the counter with his face lying in his palms, “Don’t be like that cutie, I know your jealous over all these girls swooning over me but there is little I can do. I’m a hot commodity don’t you know?”

“Hot commodity my butt,” she grumbles, “Maybe in a crypt.”

Y/N’s just being a grump and he knows that – Charlie has never once doubted his looks, even when Y/N’s tries to bring him down a few pegs, so he doesn’t take her all to seriously. Instead chuckling before reaching out as far as he could and whisking the broom from her hand, “What’s got you in such a temper today, Pet? Your roommates keep you up all night with their music?”

If only it were that simple, she thought to herself. Truth be told, Y/N doesn’t know why she’s in such a mood. When she woke up this morning she was in pajamas and a few face wipes were scattered on her bedside table like she used them because she was too lazy to wash her face. Her head was pounding, her stomach growling, and a throb in her ankle that was so unbearable she stuck in bed most of the morning until she could coax herself out to get a pain pill. Bits and pieces of the dream she had the night before come to her in confusing, fuzzy bursts and memories of how she got home are lost to her in a doughy mess. Somehow she’d gotten to her bed, she just wishes she could remember the steps it took to get there.

She just felt weird today, really, and maybe that was making her a little harsher, so she shrugs at Charlie before mumbling, “M'sleepy.” And he coos at her.

“You’re just adorable when you’re all grumpy-like, Cutie.” Charlie had always been a flirty little bugger, but his cool façade had crumbled to Y/N when she witnessed him cry over a TV show, so his charms fell useless on her. That doesn’t stop him from going at it, however, because he’s her best friend and likes to tease and Charlie’s form of teasing gets mushed with his flirting a lot, including drenching her in pet names until she resembles something of a river soaked rat, “How about I close tonight and you and skedaddle on home?”

Y/N shakes her head, sighing heavily, “Not a chance. Last time you closed we got robbed –”

“Oi, you make one mistake and nobody lets you live it down!”

“And besides,” she continues, swinging through the door to get behind the counter so she could hook the broom and dust pan up and grab for the mop, “You’ve got your Econ exam you need to study for.”

With a hearty huff, he flops into his arms,  "I don’t want to!“ His whines come out muffled by his skin, "It’s like a foreign language, honestly, and the professor is shit. Plus the –” there’s a jingle of the bell at the door and his head snatches towards the side, a big grin tugging at his lips as he straightens himself out, “Well what brings a beauty like you in here?”

Y/N scoffs lowly – damn playboy can’t even keep his mind on his work for a second.

As she tunes out Charlie’s wooing of the customer, Y/N tries to make sense of last night again. Even though it’s muddled and puddled, she still would like to know how she got home but between leaving here and waking up this morning, she remembers nothing. Eight hours just lost…that’s never happened to her before. She walked out of the store, locked the door, got to he bus stop…what happened after the bus stop then? She remembers being cold…was the bus late? Did she end up walking home? The latter wouldn’t be so surprising seeing as her legs burn like she took part in some sort of physical exertion last night. There was…if she pushes past the fog in her head there was something – something scaring her? Or was that a part of her nightmare last night?

Agh, this is too much!

“You come back now!” Charlie calls and it brings Y/N back down to the present, watching him flop back over himself and moan sadly, “Who cares about Monopoly and Cartels anyways?”

Y/N guesses it can’t be helped now. She got home safe, was all that counted, and besides the pain in her ankle there was nothing out of the ordinary when she woke, so really she should be able to let it go. What does it matter how she got there, she got there which is the important thing. She just needs to live in the present and not think about last night. Like – last night? Who is she? Never heard of her – like that.

So instead she turns her attention back to Charlie, “You need to care because I’m booking on mooching off of you for the rest of our lives, so I need you to be a hot shot business man. Got it?”

Charlie peeks up to her, grinning, “Got it, Cutie.”

                                                                              .                     .                  .

Y/N is getting a mad sense of Deja vu, as she sits shivering on the park bench again.

The light above her begins to flicker, and Y/N feels uneasy.

The bus still hasn’t shown up and it’s fifteen minutes past midnight.

This is a horror movie waiting to happen, isn’t it?

She’s terribly tired, and now she’s all snuffled from the air. Holding herself in her arms as if to gain some warmth from it, but it doesn’t help as much as she would like. So she shakes and shivers and curses the damn bus driver who is taking their good ol’ time making it to her stop. Granted she usually isn’t the one who closes so she doesn’t normally have to take this bus and she’s not sure how the times work here, but the bulletin board posted says it should be here by 12 like all the other busses around town.

Huffing, she slouches more in the bench. This freaking stinks – honest to goodness she doesn’t even think the money is worth it at this point; freezing her bits off by herself on a dark, empty street with a crummy light post light. At least she’s gotten to take some goodies home, so they sit in her lap on a plate and her stomach grumbles to remind her the last time she ate was before her shift, which started around two this afternoon. She swears as soon as she gets home she’s going to get all cozied up in her bed, steam something online and shove these Muffins down her throat. Her only class tomorrow is at 4PM, so she should be fine to just do as she pleases for a little while tonight.

A sigh of content is about to leave her lips when she hears something like a hissing sound, and her brows furrow. That couldn’t be a snake, could it? They never really show themselves anywhere apart from untouched fields and in the thick of he woods, so it wouldn’t make much sense for it to just be hanging around. With brows furrowed, she looks around for it – where could it be? She stands up so she can bend down, looking beneath the bench and into the tufts of grass.

While she expected to find a snake, instead she sees a sickly face staring back at her, with eyes two red slits and it’s skin slimy, dropping around him.

Oh yeah.

Before she could buckle down to scream, an arm slips beneath her stomach and heaves her up easily, “For fuck sake,” the mysterious person utters, “Two nights in a row with this?”

Y/N doesn’t know if he’s talking to her or to the thing, just dangling off his arm and watching the gross guy seep from beneath the bench and build himself up back to a human form before them. So this wasn’t a dream? This was what she forgot happening last night wasn’t it? Or was this just a reoccurring dream she’s destined to have forever?

“If you’d stayed out of it, it would’ve only been one night.” The creature has mush mouth again, but it’s still easy enough to make out it’s words and it’s intentions of doing away with her.

Brows furrowing, she shoves her head up, “Hey, I resent that –”

“You,” the person holding her utters, and his voice sounds awful familiar, giving her a squeeze, “Keep quiet. This bus stop doesn’t even run anymore, and who goes to the same spot where something tried to kill her?”

“Oi, I thought that was a dream in my defense! Honestly, I didn’t even know most of it happened – hey wait a minute, who are you?”

“Just be quiet for a mo’ yeah? Close your eyes.” Y/N doesn’t know why she feels compelled to listen, but she shuts her eyes as she’s told – skewers them shut so she doesn’t have to see that gross thing again, and once more, with a bright flash of light that dazzles beneath her closed eyelids and a grunt from her savior the hissing sound is gone. When she opens her eyes again, the gloopy gloppy guy is also absent, which is good, and the arm around her loosens so her feet hit the ground again and she straightens herself out.

Finally she goes to take a look at him, and he’s got a hoodie on and he’s facing away from her, “Ya’ aren’t allowed to know who I am.” He answers her before she can ask again, which makes her frown.

“Says who?”

“Says me,” he rejoins, “Go home now, and be quick about – hey!”

Y/N had snuck behind him and tugged his hood down because there was no way she was just going to let him mosey on off without having some inkling of an idea of who he was. When she’s met with the makings of curls her brows furrow, because theirs only one head like that she knows of and there was absolutely no way it was him. He’s like famous and whatnot – has better things to do than save wimpy college students who keep running into monsters.

But when she swings around to confirm that it definitely isn’t him, she gasps, mouth falling open wide and eyes bulging from her head. Y/N doesn’t mean to squeak, but she does, and it’s very well about to turn into a shout in shock because oh my fucking god!

His hand – Harry Styles’ hand – smacks over her mouth, muting whatever could have come from her, “Shush, shush, shush!”

“You!” Her grumps are muffled by his palm, “You’re –”

“I know who I am, Love, you haven’t got to say it.” He sighs, eyes shutting, “Christ, this is just great innit?”

They stay like that for a moment, Y/N only blinking owlishly at him while he mutters angrily to himself. This is Harry Styles – a guy she’s idolized since she was just a wee lil middle schooler, in eighth grade with a terrible fashion sense and poofy hair – standing in front of her with his hand on her face, after saving her from some weird thing. What was he doing out here so late? How did he know what to do with that creature? Why was he being so short and tetchy like she’d done something wrong?

This was all so weird and she had so many questions, but he didn’t seem to want to answer any of them and she’s trying not to give him heart eyes as they sit, but if she is she really can’t help it. It was too dark to make out all his features, but the lamp post gave just enough light to shadow his jawline and the curve of his nose. Surely he was sculpted for the gods, and it was a little hard to stand in his presence, especially when he had this smoldering gaze looking past her. As untouchable as he looked in pictures, he looks even more untouchable now – feels even more untouchable, despite them clearly touching.

His eyes flicker to her own and somehow hers feel as if they grew even wider, “You will go home, and forget of this, yeah? Pretend tonight didn’t happen.” Gently, he releases her but Y/N stays put, brows furrowed greatly.

“Well I can tell you that that isn’t going to happen at all. I have so many questions –”

“And I can answer none of them right now, so please listen to me. It’s not safe for you out here.”

Y/N would fight it again – really she would, if not for the thumping of her heart and a voice in the back of her head pleading with her to listen to him. He looks so tired, like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks and for some reason she feels like it might be her fault. The least she could do was just go home, be safe like he apparently wanted. And when she gets home she would try and sort this out in her head, maybe do a panicked gleeful squeal into her pillow, and sit on her hands to keep from texting Charlie immediately.

So with a sigh, Y/N peels back the saran wrap on her plate of goodies and reaches for an iced lemon cookie in the shape of a butterfly, holding it out to him. Harry looks at her suspiciously, eyes squinting, “Take it,” she urges him, “As a thank you for saving me.”

“I save your life and you give me a cookie?”

She grabs his hand with a huff and shoves the cookie into it, “Don’t be a jerk and eat the cookie, I made it myself.”

With this she pivots on her heel, taking a deep breath before starting on her way home while keeping her freaking out to a minimum.

“Oi,” he calls from behind her and she pauses, “You’re walking the wrong way.”

                                                                 .                                .                               .

It’d been two weeks since it had happened and within those two weeks Y/N has successfully not made any sense of it. She’d been over the main points again and again and again, but this was harder than analyzing Shakespeare her freshmen year of high school. Nothing connected in any sort of way: a scary blobby man, Y/N, and Harry Styles was just not a trio easily explained apparently, and it was annoying the fresh hell out of her. Y/N liked having answers to things. Mysteries and fantasy were only fun in tv shows, movies, and books, but when it comes to real life and her life she liked definitive proof and explanation, but this current happening was null of any clarification.

She’d not told Charlie about it, because knowing Charlie he would brush it off as a dream just as she had at the beginning. There was no way this could be a dream though – not when a bruise is formed around her ankle, the yellow icing butterfly cookie was missing on her platter of sweets, and the buzzing warmth inside of her from meeting Harry Styles in the flesh. Despite his snappy tone with her, she still felt all muddled and tender on he inside. Those weren’t feelings you could just make up.  . .meeting your idol was something you remember, and she remembered that.

Even though it made not a lick of sense, she remembered. The first night too, had even come back to her in blurry splotches of someone lugging her along and up the steps. Bleary eyes opening for a moment at the feeling of someone swiping her face with a cleansing wipe and shushing at her to close her eyes again, “S'fine, Moppet, go to sleep.” Blankets being tucked around her body, the pillow being repositioned, and though she had listened and closed her eyes as requested, she could feel a tender gaze peering at her.

Though that really doesn’t help her case in the slightest, about not understanding what was going on. How he could show up so suddenly, when she could’ve sworn she read he was in London. How he got rid of that thing…that completely not human thing, and how he did it with one arm occupied by her. It was driving her batty, not having answers and he hadn’t seemed so open about giving any to her.

And I can answer none of them right now, so please listen to me. It’s not safe for you out here. 

He’d looked so tired when he said it, and she felt genuinely bad. That’s why she let it go and skipped on…it felt like she was at fault for him being so worn out, but how could she be? Sure, two late nights was rough, but she didn’t look half as sleepy as he did and she had been on her feet for more than seven hours each time.

It was annoying – so freaking annoying!

Y/N huffs through her nose, stepping up to the same bus stop she’d been those two nights. The sky was painted an orangey pink, navy seeping in through the East threatening the town with darkness. She knows it’s pretty dumb to go to the same spot where she had previously been in danger, but she figured that maybe Harry would show up again and she could get him to explain some stuff. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and the past week has just proved she was on something of a psychotic break, but she was shooting for the first scenario.

So she toes at a patch of grass near the bench, taking a look at the street she was on. People here were sparse and the street didn’t look any less creepy than it did at midnight, but she felt a little better than she did that night given that she wasn’t half awake and she had hid pepper spray in her bag in case things got rough. Plus there was the small comfort knowing that if the creature showed up again then maybe Harry would show up too to save her, which would be nice, because that’s why she’s doing this in the first place.

With a hearty sigh, she plops down on the bench and leans back into it.

She’ll wait for a while.