you sunshine, you temptress

I have no idea how to use tumblr :) But I'm going to try to post my book here as well as some one shots and drabbles. ummmm. A little bit about me? My name is Emily, I'm European. One Direction saved my life

[harryslittlefreak6]

Hi!

There is something wrong with this blog. So i made a new one. It's called @foolforharrry

I put a few of my oneshots and pretty much just copied my masterlist and put it there if you still wanna look what i do and stuff. I'm probably going to have a new oneshot out there tomorrow :)

[harryslittlefreak6]

If you guys have any suggestions or requests for me please give them to me and I'll do my best to write them

[harryslittlefreak6]

posting two days in a row? who even am I?

[foolforharrry]

Shopping Shenanigans

Word count: 2.3k

A little bit of shopping and some feeling with my two favourite characters.

These two characters are very personal to me so please be kind to them. I would recommend reading my other two oneshots with Harry and Julia. They're both on my masterlist.

I hope you like it 🫶🏻

One thing Julia has noticed about Harry in the month she’s been staying with him is that he has a passion for fashion.

Lounging around the house, it’s comfort before appearance. Out of the house? That’s where he likes to show off.

Whether he goes for the more professional, put-together look he does whenever he can’t work from home or it’s his more laid-back, experimental way of dressing he chooses when he doesn’t have anywhere important to be.

So there’s really no surprise that when Harry had been over the moon at the chance to share his passion with her when she, after a month, finally admitted that she might need some new clothes as the ones she owned were pretty much tearing at the seams.

This reluctant admission of defeat as she had put it occurred when Harry had asked her what was bothering her.

“How are you feeling about-”

Harry was stopped in his tracks as he witnessed the girl throw her worn-down, grey t-shirt on the floor in frustration. Her shoulders slumped in defeat without even noticing that he had come up to her room, leaning against the doorframe.

He observed as she sat down on the floor next to the discarded piece of fabric with a huff.

Did he know that it was probably not a good thing to hope for? Yes. But he still had a sliver of hope for Julia to let him get her some new clothes.

Sentimental value he could understand. All he wished was that the girl would own at least one set of clothes that doesn’t try to tear itself apart.

It’s the light tap against the white wood that had Julia’s attention turned towards Harry, a smile had immediately tried to cover up any negative emotions that had previously been written all over her face; “Hi, H. What’s up?”

“I was gonna ask you how you’re feeling about tomorrow.”, Harry started. “But instead, I’m gonna ask you what all this huffing and puffing is about.”

“So are you gonna ask?”

Harry laughed at the cheek of the girl, loving her personality that he was slowly starting to learn, “What’s all this huffing and puffing about, sugar plum?”

“My clothes are all shit, Santa Claus.” Her eyebrows pinched together in a frown, an attempt to seem more upset at the nickname than what was originally bothering her.

The gleeful smile that practically stretched from ear to ear made Julia want to bolt, already knowing what he was gonna say next.

“Wanna go shopping, then?”

And shop they did.

Harry hadn’t wasted a second to get their day in full gear, ushering her to get dressed and ready for breakfast. Where he double-checked with her that she was still down for the day Harry chose to refer to as his second biggest accomplishment in life.

Seeing how excited he seemed by the whole idea of renewing her closet a little, Julia can’t deny that it wasn’t rubbing off on her.

Enough of the guilt and fear that had made her so adamant about not letting Harry spoil her if she could prevent it had subsided enough to let her share in the excitement.

If Julia had the words and courage to articulate it to Harry, she would.

But until that day comes, she hopes that he can somehow still sense it.

“This one-”, Harry holds up a pink and blue Hawaiian shirt with little yellow dolphins along the bottom in one hand. “Or this one.” Bright orange and covered in shapes of pale green leaves.

After a short, internal deliberation, Julia nods to the second option. “Orange is a great colour on you.”

Harry snorts, but still lays it in his yes-pile, “Thought you said it made me look like Donald Trump with dyed hair.” While sorting through and making sure that her own piles are sorted the way they’d decided, through a round of which is better, she shrugs her shoulders. “It does.”

“And that’s a good look how?” He tried his best to sound offended. But there was really no hiding that he was still buzzing that he got her to agree to this.

“Trump was president, no?”

Curious to see where she’s going with this, Harry hesitantly agrees. “By some miracle, yes.”

Separating her no-pile into categories of tops, bottoms, etc, she explains; “So if you look like Trump two miracles could happen to you. You could become the president of the United States of America. Or someone would think that you were and give you your coffee at Starbucks for free.”

“Am I allowed to comment?”, Harry bites down his laughter as he goes through the same sorting grouping of his pile. “Go crazy.”

“I personally think I could become president without abandoning my morals and my good looks, thank you very-”

Harry doesn’t get to finish the first part of his conclusion before Julia bursts out laughing. A sound that warms Harry from his heart and out. Infectious, her laugh sets him off too until they’ve both forgotten what they were laughing about in the first place and an employee is asking them to wrap it up because there are other customers in the store who might want to try on stuff.

To be fair, they’ve been hogging two out of the three fitting rooms for far too long.

“Ok, let’s go before you get us kicked out.”, Julia says as she scoops up the clothes they decided on buying. Ushering Harry out with her as he scurries to get the ones they’re not getting onto the designated stand.

“It’s not my fault.”, Harry hisses after giving the employee an apology over his shoulder on their way to the register.

“Whatever you say, Santa.”, Julia hums, her smirk only growing when Harry playfully nudges her shoulder, making her nearly drop everything on the floor. She only laughs at the grumbled, “That was one time.”, knowing by his tone that he isn’t actually mad about anything.

Ever since the day they had been putting up the decorations in her room and Julia had walked in on Harry wrapped up like a Christmas tree, Santa Claus has seemed like a really fitting nickname. Especially since Harry insisted on giving her the most horrible nicknames all the time.

Two hours later, they’re both pleased with their shopping shenanigans.

Julia is trying her best to keep her emotions at bay, Harry’s playlist floating from the car speakers and soothing her enough to keep her waterline dry. But the lump lodged in her throat is serving as a constant reminder of the overwhelming emotions swarming through her mind.

The storm is still there when they get home. Still thundering between her ears as she helps Harry carry all their bags inside, feeling the deceiving smile ebb away the longer she keeps it.

A tap on her shoulder makes it dawn on her that she hadn’t picked up a word Harry had said, too in her head for it to be any more than noise.

“Where’d you go, tiny?”, he asks with a laugh and a headshake.

Swallowing hard, Julia gives him a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I was asking if you wanted to help cook dinner or not.” Harry repeats himself, his expression falling into a more serious one. His concern grows as he takes in her demeanour. “Are you alright, darling?”

“Would it be alright if I just went to my room for a bit?”, Julia asks hesitantly, avoiding answering the last question. Her voice broke at the last word.

When Harry says yes, a bit taken aback by how her mood had shifted, she’s out of the living room as fast as her legs can carry her. He can hear her footsteps fade after she’s out of sight.

Sighing, Harry gets started on the cooking.

And activity he usually finds relaxing and a great tool to unwind if needed, but right now it’s doing nothing for him. He can’t stop going over the events of the day in his head to try and pinpoint where it went wrong.

Forty minutes and a finished lasagne later he’s still none the wiser about what happened.

Julia still hasn’t come downstairs. Instead of just sending her a text that dinner is finished, Harry chooses to go knock on her door and tell her instead.

When he doesn’t get a response or hear a sound from her bedroom his concern peaks. Nothing on the fourth time has him cursing and opening the door. If she really didn’t want him to be disturbed, she would’ve locked the door. Which she has done in the past. “You alive in-”

Harry stops in his tracks when his eyes land on her. The sad sight he’s met with is one she hasn’t shown him. Not once.

Unsure of what Julia needs in moments like these, he carefully approaches her.

Julia is curled up on top of her bedsheets. Back to the door and shoulders shaking. The only sound coming from her are tiny sniffles and chopped breaths.

It’s really no secret that she is crying, and it breaks his heart that she’s been up here all by herself.

She doesn’t even seem to register that he is in the room with her until he sits down at the foot end of her bed, the mattress dipping with her weight. The shift has Julia sitting up straight as if a gunshot had just woken her up in the middle of the night. Her bloodshot, glassy eyes are wide and the moment they land on Harry they fill with more salty tears.

Opening and closing her mouth, she is struggling to either find or get out her words as she furiously wipes the tear streaks off her reddened face, she comes up short and her shoulders slump even further in defeat.

“Do you want me to stay or leave you alone?” Harry selfishly hopes she’ll let him be there for her. Just the thought of leaving her alone again like this makes his stomach feel heavy.

“Stay, please.” It’s broken and he barely catches it, but it’s something. He twists his body so he’s facing her completely, sitting cross-legged with his hands in his lap. “Do you wanna talk about it?”, Harry offers, voice softer than Julia thinks she’s ever heard it.

Despite that, she shakes her head no, picking at her nails with a sniffle as more silent tears roll down her cheeks.

“Do you need a hug?”

Holding his breath, he can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she debates with herself whether or not it’s a good idea, her eyes searching his as if she isn’t really sure if he means it or not.

Looking away, she nods, “I do.”

Without wasting a second, Harry slides off the mattress and rounds the bed, plopping down right next to Julia instead. The moment she’s got his arms wrapped around her frame a sob wracks through her whole body. The first of many.

Her tears soak Harry’s shirt, but not a cell in his body cares as he rubs her back and tries his best to soothe him. “You’re gonna be ok, darling. I’m right here.” He kisses the top of her head, his heart breaking for her.

Harry knew he had come to care for Julia way more than he thought he could care about another human being in the short span she’s been in his life. But it’s not until now that it dawns on him just how deep that love runs.

Deep enough to make him wish he could take all that pain and hurt that this girl has had to, and still has to endure in her young life and take it all for himself.

And he would. In a heartbeat.

They didn’t talk about it.

Julia cried until she couldn’t and Harry, as he said, was there for her the whole time.

Once she was all cried out, she asked him if he was up for playing some UNO after dinner, voice scratchy. Harry knew that meant that she wasn’t ready to tell him what had happened, and he respected it.

“Thank you.”

Harry looks up from his cards, Julia’s suddenly small voice confusing him as well as what she’s thanking him for. “Are you thanking me to distract me from winning?”

Rolling her eyes, she puts her yellow three on the stack. “That’s UNO for me, Santa. I’m the one who’s winning here.” She ignores Harry’s huff. “And no, I was thanking you for everything.”

The sincerity and gratitude written all over her face, nearly have Harry wanting to tear up.

“There is absolutely no need to thank me, ok? I know it’s hard to believe given everything you’ve been through, but you deserve everything good in life, darling. Love, safety and anything else you want. It’s my privilege to be allowed to provide it for you. I only wish it would’ve happened way sooner.”

Now it’s Julia’s turn to tear up. She doesn’t believe half of it, but the fact that the words came out of his mouth gives her a sense of security she can’t really remember having felt in her life.

“Who’s trying to distract who from winning now?”, she changes the topic, not really prepared for all the heavy feelings that surround the topic they were inching their way towards.

Harry catches on and goes with it. Allowing her to take the lead on when and how much they talk about the hard things is something he decided on the day he met her. The last thing he wants to do is force her to feel or talk about things that she doesn’t want to or isn’t ready for yet.

“I’m going to crush you. Just you wait.”

-

I love them so damn much, you guys don't understand.

[foolforharrry]

Aches

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: April comes home to find Harry asleep and not feeling the greatest.

Sickrry

To be fully honest this is like 90% fluff

I really hope you like it. And if you do. If you wanna check out more of my writings, my masterlist is here

No matter how much shit I talk about living in Los Angeles, the one thing that I’m never going to even entertain badmouthing is the ocean.

Even though my favourite colour is green, there isn’t much that beats being able to sit outside with a glass of wine as company to admire the masses of blue that stretch over the horizon.

My adoration for the view had been a fairly big selling point in Harry’s speech when he listed all the reasons why my moving in with him would be a no-brainer.

The speech had honestly been completely unnecessary. I would have said yes to moving into a hole in the ground right next to an airport if that mean living with him.

Lucky for me, I get to live with the love of my life and a view of the sea that sucks the air out of my lungs.

Taking a deep breath, I tear my eyes away from the water. The mesmerizing reflection of the afternoon sun riding the higher points of the waves had me in a spell the same way it always does.

After a rather stressful day, I somehow always end up wandering around the house instead of through the front door when I get home, needing some of that calming blue before I do anything else.

Today had been one of those days. Job interviews will do that do you.

Before Harry had gone to the studio, he had sat me down to have a ‘serious conversation’ with him. He needed to make sure I knew that he was expecting a full report on how the interview goes.

A full report is what I’m prepared to give him as I finally step into our shared home, giddy with pride. Harry had called me to tell me that he would be there when I got home while I was getting a well-needed manicure to destress after the interview.

Home he is.

The first thing I notice when I get into the living room is that the TV is on. An episode of friends filling the silence.

Second thing is that the back of a head of curls is rested on the back of the couch, face out of view.

“Hi, love. How was your day?”, I ask as I put my purse down by the bottom of the staircase before padding across the light wooden floors.

Realisation dawns on me when Harry doesn’t even lift his head at the sound of my voice, but it stays in the exact same position. He’s asleep.

His body lays horizontally across the comfy, grey furniture, his upper back and head propped up with the edge of the sofa and an arrangement of colourful throw pillows. His laptop is open in his lap, but the screen is black, one of his hands splayed over the keyboard and the other one draped across his stomach.

His eyes are closed and his pillowy, pink lips are barely parted. Mocha brown, curly strands of hair fall across his forehead so delicately.

Trying to be as careful as possible so I don’t wake him from his slumber, I reach for the TV remote on the coffee table to shut it off, silence replacing the noise.

Just as I start to retrace my steps back to the stairs to let him sleep in peace, a groggy, “Hi.”, has me stopping in my tracks completely and twisting my head.

Great job, April.

“Am I still dreaming? Or is an angel standing in my living room?”

My eyes widen in surprise momentarily before I burst out laughing. “That’s horrible, H.”, I tell him through tears of laughter, hand over my heart to calm my breathing down again.

“Meanie.” Even though Harry offers me a sad pout at the insult to his horrible attempt at a pickup line, he’s still got that bright glint in his eyes I love so much.

Setting his laptop on the coffee table next to the remote, Harry throws his legs off the sofa and pats the space on his left as a silent request for me to sit down next to him. That’s something I do happily, giving Harry a peck on the lips as I make myself comfortable.

Tucking my legs up on the sofa, I lean into Harry, basking in the feeling of being close to him again. The familiar scent of him has a warm and fuzzy feeling wrapping around my heart as he curves his arm around my back. His fingertips brush comfortingly up and down my side, allowing me to relax further into him.

I take his free hand between mine, absentmindedly playing with his rings as we sit in comfortable silence. Hands in his jean-clad lap. My head rested on his shoulder, the side of his face against the top of my head.

He’s probably got a nose full of hair by now.

“How did it go today?”, Harry asks, his voice courser than normal. “Did she have common sense and realise what a genius my fiancé is?”

A small smile decorates my face when I take my attention away from the hole that’s ripped through the course material of his dark jeans, exposing the tanned skin of his knees and a small part of his thigh.

“Yeah. She’s gonna call me back in to discuss some further details next week.”, I tell him bashfully.

There’s a beat of silence. And then before I even realise what’s happened Harry’s manoeuvred me so I’m fully on my back. A knee planted firmly on either side of my body as Harry peppers my face with kisses, mumbling praises in between them.

His silly, playful mood is infectious, and I can’t help the laughter that falls from my lips as he reaffirms every kind word with a kiss.

After peppering another round of adorable kisses on my flushed skin, I return one to each of his soft cheeks. “Thank you, pretty boy.”

Harry shakes his head, “No need for that. You know I’m always proud of you, right?” His words have a cheesy smile crinkling the corners of my eyes. “And I you”, I return with a tap on his nose. He matches my expression, stars in his eyes as he kisses the tip of my finger.

“Now go get changed before you start complaining about your jeans being uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, I lie through my teeth as Harry removes his body from mine completely. He hums, seeing right through my lie, “Whatever you say.”

Striding away from him and the sofa and up the stairs, I refuse to acknowledge the shit-eating grin I know that Harry is probably sporting right now from being right. For whatever reason, he’s comfortable lounging around in jeans. How the man does it, I genuinely have no idea. I however am the kind of person who can’t get them off quickly enough.

He knows me too well

Once I’m rid of the uncomfortable jeans, I slide a pair of grey sweats up my legs before trading the top I’ve worn all day for one of Harry’s graphic tees.

“So. I was thinking we could watch a movie while we eat?”, is what I hear when I descend the stairs again. Much more comfortable than I was two minutes ago.

My heart swells in my chest as I spot Harry in the kitchen, looking at me expectantly with a plate in his hand and the sound of the microwave telling me what he’s up to. “Are we doing Me Before You or I Feel Pretty?”

Harry takes a moment to ponder over our two options before he shares his decision. “Me Before You.”

Nodding in approval, I take a seat at the kitchen island, resting my chin on my hands folded on the countertop. “How did it go at the studio today? Did you guys figure out that song you told me about the other day?”

“It actually went really well. I think we’re set on pretty much everything. All that was left really when I left was recording the guitar solo. Mitch and Tyler were about to get started on it when i went home. It’s gonna be good.” The pride is obvious in his smile as he switches out the plates in the microwave, crossing his arms above his chest and leaning against the fridge.

I hum approvingly. “You land on a title yet?”

Having a habit of keeping me on my toes and never spilling anything about his new projects, I’m taken by surprise when Harry smirks at me and gives me the answer I was looking for, “She.”

From what he has told me about She, and now the title, I’m fairly certain that this might end up being the death of me. Much like everything else the man does.

“I can’t wait to hear it.”, I tell him seriously. Harry’s cheeks gain a pinker shade, a sheepish smile as he thanks me.

Tutting and shuffling over to him, I tilt my head back to keep eye contact with him to make sure he knows I’m serious. “You are freaking amazing, H. You inspire me every day by just being yourself. I know you’ve been a little bit anxious about experimenting more with your sound and everything. And I am so fucking proud of you for not letting your fears dim your light.”

Seeming at a loss for words, eyes glossy with emotion, Harry wordlessly wraps me up in his tight embrace, burying his face in my neck. I hug him back just as tightly. He doesn't need to say anything and neither do I.

It’s the beep signalling that the food is finished heating that makes us break apart, a soft kiss exchanged before we take one plate of leftover lasagnes each and make ourselves comfortable on the sofa again.

Harry is in the chaise, legs stretched out while I sit cross-legged next to him. We balance our food in our laps, he uses my thigh and knee as a second armrest.

Pressing play on the movie, we make quick work of our meal. I hadn’t even realised just how hungry I was until the first piece of lasagne touches my tongue.

It’s fucking delicious is what it is.

Once we’re done with our dinner, Harry tugs me towards him, letting me cuddle into him.

It’s not really a secret that movie night is a favourite for both Harry and me. We have a rather long list of movies we want to watch, even though more often than not, we circle back to our favourites.

Whenever we’re watching one of our usuals, Harry can never seem to keep from reciting the lines along with the characters with the same emotion and conviction the actor playing has.

No matter what’s on the TV, he’s always needing to have some part of his body touch mine. Whether it’s just a simple hand on a thigh or tangled together the way my hair gets if I don’t brush it out the second I get out of the shower.

There is no need to even have a conversation about what his love language is. Touch.

So who am I to deny him?

I’m shaken out of my thoughts when I feel Harry remove his cheek from the top of my head, tapping my hip to get my attention.

“I’ve gotta get up for a minute, love.”, he explains when he’s got it. I nod, frowning when I notice how pale he looks. Maybe it’s just the reflection from the television that’s making his complexion sickly. “Sure. You feeling ok, Dimples?”

“I’m good. Don’t worry.” He kisses the space between my eyebrow I know is creased right now before he makes a move to get up. But it doesn’t do much to ease the concern as I take over the spot Harry just left.

He shuffles his feet to the drawer next to the sink where we keep our medicine. Observing as he places not just one but two pills from the Advil bottle on his tongue before chugging it down with water. He rubs the side of his temple as he puts the medicine back in its rightful place.

When it comes to Advil, harry barely ever takes two at a time, hating the drowsiness that comes from the pain reliever enough with just one. So the fact that he chooses to swallow two and has kept rubbing his temple, tells me that he’s got a headache worse than he can deal with on his own.

Not that he would admit to it voluntarily.

Opening my arms as an invitation, Harry lays down on his side, putting his head in my lap. The light from the TV highlights the closest points of his face, long eyelashes fanning across the tops of his cheeks as he lets his eyes fall shut.

Just as I redirect my attention back to the movie I had nearly forgotten was playing, Harry nudges the top of my thigh with his nose, “Play with my hair, please.” His eyes are still closed as he lays completely still, arms tucked into his chest.

And so I do. But not before taking the blanket that was folded across the arm of the sofa and draping it over his body. As well as I can, seeing that I can’t do much more than throw the end.

The satisfied hum Harry lets out once I run my freshly manicured fingers through his curls has me suppressing a giggle.

I bet all that I own that having his hair played with is very high on the list of his favourite things from the way he always seems to turn to putty when I do just that.

Before I know it the end credits are rolling along with the tears. My hands are still absentmindedly making little braids only to undo them in his growing hair.

His breathing is deep and even, his body completely relaxed and his nose is buried in the fabric of my sweats as if my lap was a pillow. I don’t even want to try to wake him up. The thought had crossed my mind when I’d first noticed him starting to fall asleep. Just shut the TV off and get his ass in bed. But I decided to just let him doze off completely since it was obvious that he needs it.

Knowing Harry, if he sleeps on the sofa through the night, he’ll be bothered by his neck the whole day.

I take a minute to admire him in awe. He looks so peaceful like this. Like there isn’t a thing in the world that could ever interrupt him and his peace.

Apart from me apparently.

Being as careful as I possibly can, I slide myself further away from him while lowering his head to the cushion, freeing myself so I can get up. After shutting off the TV, the living room now nearly pitch black from the lack of light, I rid Harry of the blanket and fold back over the sofa arm.

“Darling, you gotta wake up.” I caress his cheek tenderly, watching as his eyelids slowly but surely flutter open. “There he is.”

“I wanna sleep.” His pout thankfully melts into a small smile when I kiss his nose.

Before he actually does let himself fall asleep, I take his hand in mine as I get off my knees, a reluctant Harry actually sitting up in the process. His fingers are back to soothing his table and it has an instant feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach.

Pulling him the rest of the way up, I don’t even question it when Harry leans most of his weight on me, arms looping around my waist and his face settling in the crook of my neck.

“Would it make you feel better if I pamper your face how you like?”, I offer. He hums and nods but makes no move to take a step in any direction.

So I remove his arms for him, slinging the closest one around my shoulders as I wrap my own around his waist so he can keep using me as his own personal crutch. Which he does all the way up the stairs, down the hallway, through our bedroom and into our bathroom where he lets go and seats himself on top of the closed toilet seat.

Thankfully the lights were already dimmed, and it doesn’t look like he’s too bothered by them either.

As I’m setting up the products I know are his favourites, I glance over at him every few seconds. He looks like he could sleep for a week and still not be fully rested.

Dark circles and heavy under eyebags are more visible from how dull and pale his skin is. It’s lacking that glow and shine of life that’s always adorned his features as if he was an angel sent from heaven.

I wash my hands before getting his hair out of his face with the use of his fluffy, baby-blue headband.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s bothering you?”, I ask him as I start to cleanse his dampened skin, taking my time to get all that funk out of his pores, careful to keep the product out of his closed eyes. The way he has his head slightly tilted back makes it a lot easier.

“Head hurts.”

It actually feels like someone just took a tug at my heart. And not in a good way. “I’m so sorry, my love.”, I murmur, kissing the top of his head.

Keeping his hands comfortably at my hips as I stand between his legs, Harry just shrugs his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal. “S’fine.”

He’s full of shit and we both know it.

But knowing him I don’t try to argue and just continue with the task at hand in silence. With the exception of the hums of appreciation every now and then.

Doing his skincare routine for him isn’t going to magically take away his troubles. But if it can put a little bit of pleasure and comfort into the mix, I would happily stand and pamper him for hours on end.

Once he’s all done, I take his headband off for him and with a giggle, I give him the kiss he’s silently asking for by puckering his lips.

Harry watches me with tired eyes and his toothbrush slowly cleaning his teeth as I make quick work of my own nighttime routine.

Even though it’s way earlier than we normally even think about going to sleep, Harry is obviously about ready to throw in the towel where he sits judging by how slowly he’s brushing his teeth. The events and stress of the day have tired me out as well, to be honest.

His mumbled, “I love you”, through a mouthful of toothpaste had me giggling as I returned the sentiment.

Harry tries to help me put everything in its rightful place again, pouting when I tell him to sit his pretty little sick ass right back down again and let me take care of it. If he’d been his usual, not sick, self, he never would’ve listened.

“C’mon, Dimples. Time for bed.” “Yes, ma’am.”

I shake my head at the poor attempt at a smirk the man makes that quickly morphs into a grimace from his headache as I help him back onto his feet.

As if his body knew how close he was to finally be able to lie down and sleep again, the second his eyes lands on his final destination for today, he releases a yawn that makes his eyes all but disappear.

He plops down on top of the duvet, getting to work on shedding off his pink mickey mouse sweater as I slide my sweatpants off my legs and drop all the decorative pillows on the floor with them. Since neither of us bothered with turning on the light when we entered the room, there’s no need to make the short walk to the switch by the door.

“Do you need anything else?”, I ask as I fold back the duvet. I jump in surprise when I feel something hard meet my back the second I stand up only to realise that it’s just Harry when he hugs me to his chest and kisses the top of my head.

Swaying us slowly from side to side, he murmurs against my hair, “All I need is you.”

The butterflies that are going crazy from just how much I love this man in my stomach, stay there.

They keep buzzing around long after the warmth of the duvet envelops our bodies. The kiss goodnight Harry laid on my lips didn’t make them go away. They only increase when Harry nestles his face into my chest with his arm slung across my stomach. As if those little creatures could feel just how close he was.

I’m pretty sure they kept floating around long after I drifted off to sleep.

-

[foolforharrry]

Sneak Peak

just a sneak peek of a little something I'm working on atm. it's a little bit different from the last few things I've posted here, but I'm excited about it

-

“Ivy!”

The sound of my name has me whipping my head around in search of the source. Relief instantly has my shoulders sagging when I spot Phoebe shouldering her way through the tight crowd. Her wild, dark curls are falling freely over her shoulders. Much like my own.

It has a genuine smile breaking out on my face. The first real one tonight.

“Beebs!”, I exclaim back to her, my level of enthusiasm matching hers as she only grins harder at the nickname.

Waiting patiently for her to make her way to me, I take another sip of the red plastic cup I’ve kept tucked to my chest since I came here as if it was made of gold. Considering the slight buzz that’s starting to settle in my body from the alcoholic drink, it should be protected as such.

The second she’s within reach, she holds onto my shoulder, a cup of her own in her other hand. “I didn’t think you’d come.”, Phoebe tells me, her hips swinging along to the music that’s almost drowning out the chatter of the strangers around us. There is no judgement in her words. She just sounds over the moon at the fact that I didn’t get cold feet.

My tendency is to drop out at the last minute when it comes to these kinds of gatherings so I don’t blame her.

Instead of telling her that, I instead throw my hands out to the side, the words at the tip of my tongue dying when a small portion of my drink splatters across a guy’s back. The sparkly, silver material of the shirt is visibly darker in the blue lighting.

Phoebe and I look from his back to each other with jaws dropped in shock and anticipation. But when the outburst never comes, the man not even seeming to notice, we break into a fit of laughter that has us holding onto each other for balance.

“This is why I shouldn’t have.”

Quick to shake her head, she takes my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her eye. “This is exactly why I’m happy you came here, diva.” Phoebe ignores my eye roll at the nickname she won’t let go. “He didn’t even bat an eye. You’re fine. Plus. He probably got the shirt from his mum or something and is only wearing it to say he did it at least once.”

Despite not understanding exactly where she was going with that, I still give her an appreciative kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, beebs. And you promised you’d help me get myself a New Year’s kiss, didn’t you?”

“Even if it’s the last thing I do.”, Phoebe nods curtly, turning her head to the side as she takes a large sip of her tequila, her eyes settling on something as I take another sip of my own drink. The crisp taste of my vodka sprite slides down my throat as I swallow.

Phoebe then turns her attention back to me, her eyes falling to my body. It’s with a proud look that she returns her gaze to my face, “And with that dress.”, she whistles. “You’re not even gonna need the two hours that’s left until midnight.”

-

[foolforharrry]

So Good

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Harry and y/n's lazy Christmas morning where they're disgustingly in love

Warnings: There is a little smut in here

I hope you all have had an amazing holiday!! And that you enjoy this lil oneshot.

If you wanna check out more of my writings, my masterlist is here

Christmas has never been y/n’s favourite holiday. In fact, it’s been her least favourite holiday.

Growing up, she would hear her classmates talk about how their Christmas had been magical. Filled with love and laughter. Presents and someone dressing up as Santa Claus.

Even as they got older and realised that Santa wasn’t real, the magic of Christmas had then gone from a mysterious man delivering them presents in the dark of night to the love and laughter of all their loved ones gathered in one place.

Y/n didn’t understand why everyone else got so lucky when her holiday was filled with screaming and yelling at the top of her family’s lungs. Glasses and plates smashed against the walls. There was never a tree that they’d decorate together. Never any pretty lights hung up around the house.

The only thing that separated Christmas time in her family’s house from the rest of the year was that the fighting got worse from the alcohol the adults would consume to get through.

When y/n had opened up to Harry about why she doesn’t like the holiday that he adores so much he had vowed to do his absolute best to replace all the bad memories with happy ones.

And waking up slowly cuddled in bed with her boyfriend on Christmas morning is yet another happy memory y/n knows she’s going to cherish as she reflects on the day and evening before, face nuzzled into Harry’s warm chest.

They had spent the whole day at Anne’s. Anne has grown very fond of y/n in the almost three years she’s been with her son. So when she heard that she would finally be joining them to celebrate Christmas Eve, Anne had been over the moon with joy and hugged the girl as long as she let her when y/n and Harry had knocked on her door just before 12 o’clock.

Christmas Eve had been laughter and board games. Exchanging gifts and the small talk that louder as the day bled into the night and everyone was buzzing with the wine that was served.

It was the polar opposite of any Christmas Eve y/n had ever had in her life.

Y/n had tried to find a moment to thank Anne for opening her home to her, but every time she’d tried, Anne had waved her off saying that “My door is always open for family, dear.”

Right now, y/n feels at peace. As if she and Harry are in their own little, impenetrable bubble that she doesn’t ever want to leave. Feeling his chest rise and fall with every sleeping breath of air going in and out of his lungs as she traces the art inked into his skin exposed to the warm sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

It’s a type of serenity that she used to dream of having.

His skin has paled significantly from the Italian tan he had gotten over their long vacation in the summer, but still held a golden hue left to it.

The change in his breathing pattern is what alerts her that Harry is slowly waking up after however long she’s been in her own little world. Then a shift in his fingers splayed over the curve of her waist as she feels the vibrations in his chest before she hears his groggy morning voice rasp, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

The voice of the person she loves most in this world has a wide smile immediately forming on y/n’s face as she shifts her body so she’s laying on her stomach with her left cheek pillowed on Harry’s chest so she can look admire the beauty of a human being she’s sharing her bed with.

“Morning handsome.” Y/n smiles tiredly at him, humming in satisfaction when Harry starts drawing soft circles on the small of her back.

Harry had been planning on waking up at the ass crack of dawn today so that he could make her favourite breakfast, French toast and berries, and hot chocolate. Wake her up with loving kisses and one of her presents as they ate their meal cuddled in bed with Grey’s Anatomy, their favourite show at the time.

But when he had come to consciousness to the heavenly feeling of y/n nuzzled against his side, soft caressing touches where he knows his tattoos are, he couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed that his plan hadn’t worked out.

Both their faces are puffy from a night’s sleep and a soft blush is spread across their cheeks from the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Without saying a word, Harry pouts his pink lips for a kiss, expectant eyes watching hers as y/n connects the dots. Y/n is happy to oblige, shifting so she is lazily straddling his waist. Hands cupping his face tenderly as she connects their lips.

Harry hums into the kiss, squeezing her sides lovingly as he sits up fully, y/n’s butt now planted firmly on his lap.

Y/n pulls away momentarily, giggling at the disgruntled downturn of his lips when Harry realises that she’s no longer kissing him. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because.”, y/n pushes him back just enough to look him in the eye when Harry dips down to kiss her again. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

He nods for her to continue.

“Did you have a good dream or are you just happy to see me?”

A coy smirk takes over the frown that was etched on Harry’s face at her question, dropping his hands to her hips. “Always happy to see my girl.”

Satisfied with her answer, y/n picks up where they left off. Almost.

There’s more intent in the way Harry swipes his tongue over her bottom lip for access and the quick pull y/n gives the curls at the back of Harry’s neck.

It quickly turns more heated. Roaming hands and a small whimper from y/n when Harry guides her hips to grind down on him, the only thing separating them being the thin cotton of their underwear.

“I need you.”, Harry breathes against her lips, his body hot all over and pupils blown from the lust rushing through his system.

Y/n can feel how hard he is and it’s only making her more aroused as she nods, going to kiss him again.

But he stops her, waiting until she is looking at him with a pout on her lips before he speaks, “Words, baby.”

“I need you too. Please.”

With that Harry rolls her off him so he’s hovering over her, y/n on her back with her head on the soft pillows, not wasting a second to pull Harry’s face down to hers, needing to taste him as she tangles her fingers in his messy curls.

After kissing like that for a bit longer, Harry moves on from her mouth and starts trailing kisses down her neck, relishing in the small whimpers and shaky breaths he pulls out from her when he leaves love bites at the spots he knows she’s extra sensitive.

He keeps sucking and licking her skin until she’s squirming and begging him to give her more.

Who is he to deny her that?

Helping her to sit up just enough, he is quick to pull her t-shirt over her head, chucking it to the side without a care about where it lands. His breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on her.

Almost completely naked and all his. Her breasts full and the soft rolls of her stomach he would worship every second of the day if she let him. The small, white scar just below her left collarbone. Faded enough that the only reason he knows where it is, is all the hours he’s spent admiring her.

If it had been any other person just looking at her as intensely as Harry does, y/n would’ve tried covering herself up. And at the beginning of their relationship, she had. Until she realised that there wasn’t one hint of judgement or ill-intended thought behind those green eyes she loves so much. It was pure love and adoration.

“Beautiful.”, Harry whispers. Low enough to make y/n wonder if he even meant for her to hear it.

Not that she gets a long time to when he starts kissing down the length of her torso, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses in his wake that has a shiver going down her spine. He hooks his fingers underneath the band of her panties before he drags them down her legs and throws them in a similar manner to the shirt.

Harry lays down on his stomach between her legs as he kisses the inside of her thighs teasingly, knowing that the attention to the soft, flesh would make her even more impatient than she already is.

“Stop teasing.”, y/n whines, not caring how desperate she sounds. Or about the smug curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry darling. I’ll take care of you.”

And with that he puts y/n out of her misery, attaching his mouth to her pussy and eating her out in the way he knows will have her back arching.

Harry can’t lie and say that the fact that y/n was wet to the point where he could see the arousal leaking from her vagina without having even touched her, wasn’t a very nice stroke to his ego.

The attention to her clit already has y/n squirming, Harry’s arms wrapping around the thick of her thighs to keep her still as he hums at her taste. The vibrations intensify everything she’s already feeling, not able to keep the moans from falling anymore. And Harry definitely doesn’t mind.

All his senses are taken over by her. The taste, smell and feel of her is all there is and he would happily drown in it all.

Dizzy with pleasure, y/n’s eyelids fall heavy as she feels herself getting closer and closer to her high, vice-like grip on Harry’s hair to keep herself from flying into outer space.

Harry notices all the tell-tale signs. Her muscles tensed. Breath shallowing. Thighs squeezing the sides of his head like she’s afraid he’ll stop. That’s the last thing he wants to do. And he gets exactly what they both want.

Her high racks through her body, her whole body locking up as she comes, Harry helping her through it as she slowly but surely sinks into the mattress. Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, a shine of sweat covering her flushed skin as Harry detaches himself from her centre, pressing loving, delicate kisses along the skin. Murmured whispers of praise fill the silence as he works his way up her body.

“How’d I do?”, Harry asks her, nudging his nose against hers, a wide smile breaking out on his face when his favourite colour comes into view.

Y/n smiles lazily back at him, “So good, my love.”

Being the sucker for praise he is, Harry’s smile gets impossibly wider when she continues; “Always treat me so well. Don’t know what I’d do without my sunshine. I love you so much.” Her eyes are hazy and voice dreamy as she speaks, her head still in the clouds.

“You sure you don’t just love my tongue?”, he teases, unable to help himself.

Y/n rolls her eyes at him, pushing him off her body in fake offence, teeth digging into her bottom lip to keep from smiling too hard. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Only for you.”, Harry quips with a kiss to her bare shoulder, relishing in the new blush coating her cheeks.

He’ll never get sick of making his girl blush.

He’s about to say something else when her smile drops, a look of guilt rises in its wake. Confusion replacing Harry’s. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You didn’t finish.”, she states, that look still there.

Relief has Harry letting out a laugh that it wasn’t anything serious. Y/n doesn’t understand why he’s laughing though. No matter how many times Harry has assured her that he’s always ok and that he just loves pleasing the woman he loves, she always wants him to feel good too.

Her question about what’s so funny to him is quickly answered when his laughter dies down and he looks at her sheepishly. “I did finish.” Cheeks red as a tomato at the confession that fell from his lips.

Stunned to silence, her eyes dart from his face to his crotch. When it fully dawns on her what he’s saying and she’s seeing, y/n can’t help the giggles bubbling in her stomach. The giggles quickly escalated to full-out cackling that earns her a playful shove when she can’t stop.

The sweet sound of her loud, bright laughter makes it extremely difficult for Harry to even be embarrassed about it anymore. It instead has him joining her. He knows it’s never ill-intended.

Once they’ve calmed down, y/n makes sure she understood him right, “You really just came in your pants eating me out?”

“Like a fucking teenager.”, Harry nods before he’s pulling her body back to his, missing the feeling of her skin on his. Y/n happily obliges, tangling her legs with his again.

They fall back into a comfortable silence as they enjoy the other’s presence and warmth for a few minutes. No words were exchanged. Just affectionate touches and hearts full and content, beating to the same rhythm.

They might not be perfect. But for each other, they’re just right.

Rain doesn’t exist without the sun. The tide wouldn’t be without the magnetic forces from the moon. The ocean wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be so lively and free. So rich with life.

It might have been perfect without the chaos. But it would never have been so beautiful.

At least that’s the conclusion y/n makes wrapped up in the comfort of Harry’s embrace. Harry is her sun, her moon. He’s her calm and her storm. He’s her shelter and her sunshine. He’s everything she’s ever wanted and more than she thinks she deserves.

Harry feels the exact same way about her. Never has he ever met someone who can keep her warmth and light through her darkest days without letting them go dim and cold. In the fog, she’s his lighthouse. Always there to guide him back to safety. Home.

Before her, his world was grey and dull. Then she came along and brought all the colour and life he didn’t even know existed with her.

The love they have for each other is one that’s so painfully obvious they couldn’t even hide it if they tried.

It’s Harry who breaks the silence, a light tap on her hip to get her attention, “Wanna go get cleaned up, love?”

Without moving a muscle, she hums her agreement. “Not comfortable to lay here with your underwear soaked in cum, is it?”

“Shut up.”, Harry whines, pinching the chub of her waist, making her jolt and laugh. “Couldn’t help it. Not when you looked and sounded so incredibly sexy.” The words are spoken in a tone that has a shiver running down y/n’s spine.

Before they get too occupied again, y/n reluctantly rolls off Harry. But not before giving Harry a quick peck on the lips.

She’ll never get tired of his lips.

Harry is quick to trail after her, smiling fondly when she nearly trips over her own two feet on their journey to their shared bathroom.

While they stand under the warm stream of water together, Harry’s shower playlist echoing off the tiled walls, y/n decides that if this is how Christmas morning is going to be from now on, there’s a possibility that Christmas could become a holiday she enjoys. And it would all be thanks to him.

And she tells him just that, looking into the sea of green she loves so much as the water cascades around them. The comforting scent of the shampoo she’s used since she was a teenager. Only it didn’t make her feel any type of way until Harry started using hers, saying that it makes his hair feel soft. So now the fresh smell of coconut belongs to him.

Harry turns her around so he can lather conditioner through her hair, giving the top of her head a kiss that had y/n’s tummy swarming with butterflies. “You know.”, he starts. “I’ve always been a sucker for the holidays. But you’ve made this one a hundred times better than I thought it could ever be.”

Y/n turns back around with a bashful pull to her lips, “Ditto.” 

-

If you guys want me to write the rest of their Christmas day, please let me know.

[foolforharrry]

Darling - Harry Styles Oneshot

Summary: Harry has always felt like something was missing in his life despite the vast fortunes he possessed. Julia has been through hell and back in her young life and all she needs is love and safety. Maybe they're exactly what they need in order to live the lives they were meant to

If you want to check out more of my works, this is my masterlist

I hope you like this 🫶🏻

Harry has always been a level-headed guy.

Never been one to crack under pressure or let his nerves and anxieties affect his work. It’s always impeccable. He wouldn’t be the man that he is today, wouldn’t have the career he does, if he let his fears control him.

And god has he had a lot of times where he’s wanted to let them take the reins. But he can’t recall a time when he’s been shitting his pants the way he is at this very moment.

And it’s all a result of the night he decided he was truly done waiting on life to be perfect.

-

“Are you sure about this, mate?”

Harry looks up from the marked spot on the page to meet his best friend of 14 years' eyes. His own confidence contrasts the cautiousness written all over the otherwise fearless man.

Without letting himself ponder over the decision for a second longer, Harry lets the pen glide over the paper, his name now drying in ink as he exhales through pursed lips.

Will laughed in disbelief, “Well shit. Now it’s done.”

At that moment Harry was convinced that he was making the right decision. No matter how many times he’d been asked if he wasn’t just getting impatient and acting irrational. If he needed help getting laid to get his head back in the game. If he had thought this true.

The truth was that Harry had been thinking about this through and through for a year before he even brought it up to Will.

“Let’s just hope I’m lucky and they don’t give me a little serial killer.”, Harry jokes.

Will smirks knowingly at him, “What would you do if it ended up being one?”

It takes Harry all of one second to reply with; “I guess I would just have to rewatch ‘How to get away with murder’, now wouldn’t I?”

-

Family.

When harry was younger, he saw himself living in a cosy house with a wife that would always make fun of the way he can’t physically bring himself to watch a horror movie without a pillow on hand for when it gets too scary.

Little children. The perfect combination of him and who would’ve been the love of his life running around the house. Their shared laughter and giggles are what would’ve made it at home.

However, as he grew up and started living the life he is with the job he has, that fantasy seemed more and more like just that.

A fantasy.

It had taken Harry quite some time to truly accept that and give up on his fantasy. After countless, failed dates that ended with him spending all night working to keep himself from truly feeling the loneliness fuelled by the hollow space in his heart.

The one thing his empty house and longing house seemed to be craving was the one thing he was being denied time and time again.

Love.

And man did Harry have love to give.

It wasn’t until he was talking to his client about the floorplan they wanted for their new lake house that it clicked for Harry.

And now here he is. Shitting his pants with nerves as he sits in the middle of his large, grey sofa, feet planted on the floor and fingers being twisted by his long fingers. His socked feet are tapping impatiently, the thuds muffled by the soft, pastel-coloured rug that anyone but Harry finds ugly.

His eyes are trained on the clock as if time would move faster if he did.

He really does wish that time would move faster right now.

Maybe he shouldn’t have rushed so much with getting the house ready at such short notice.

Harry had gotten the phone call just as he was about to leave work two days ago. He didn’t even have to think before he was saying yes. The next day the social worker, Ophelia, came over for a short visit to make sure that everything is the way it was supposed to be and talk to Harry.

Ophelia gave him all the information she deemed necessary for now but made it clear that he could call her if he had any more questions.

Is calling Ophelia to ask her favourite colour something the social worker deemed necessary? Probably not. And even though she didn’t know the answer he was looking for, she assured him that all that stuff would work out with time.

Realising that the room he had designated for her would have walls covered in granny wallpaper had made him question whether or not he should try to change his office into a bedroom instead. He’d only put the wallpaper there to piss off Will when he was renovating his home.

Now it’s really come back to bite him in the ass.

Wallpaper might be a weird thing to fret about 10 minutes before your life is going to be permanently changed forever. But that still doesn’t stop Harry from going looking for a prettier one on his phone as if his life depends on it knowing damn well that it’s in vain.

It keeps his mind occupied. And for right now, that’s what he needs the most. Or he might have just lost his mind if he looked at the clock for one more second.

It would’ve been the clock and definitely not by reading about all the worst-case scenarios while running around his house looking for anything he can make look better that would’ve driven him crazy.

“Fuck.”, Harry mutters, his body tenses slightly at the sharp sting of pain from chewing too hard on the inside of his cheek. The sound of his doorbell ringing had nearly given him a heart attack as it is.

On his route through the house, he stops to peek at himself in the mirror, feeling the need to make sure that he is happy with his outfit and that everything looks right.

He went with something simple. A striped brown and white t-shirt tucked into his favourite pair of dark, flared jeans. Black belt to keep the trousers from sagging.

A quick hand through his barely gelled curls and he deems himself good.

It’s with a shaking hand that he’s unlocking his front door before pulling it open. The nerves and excitement feel like they’re about to make him fucking levitate.

Harry is met first by Ophelia. Her face is warm as she greets him with an excited hello. Returning the greeting, he goes to shake her hand when he notices that they’re both occupied. One by a pink suitcase and the other clutched around the straps of a blue children’s backpack.

Ophelia must see the confusion on Harry’s face and the way his eyes are scanning from left to right for the person he was so excited to meet because she is chuckling with a shake of her head. “She’s coming, don’t worry. I think she’s making sure she got all her things from the car.”

“Phew.”, Harry pretends to wipe the sweat off his forehead, finally letting his eyes land on the run-down, grey Toyota parked just outside his gate. It has his brows furrowing. “How come you didn’t just park here?” He gestures to the spot next to his car.

“She insisted on parking as far away from your car as possible.”, Ophelia explains with humour evident in her tone, “According to her I would break a car probably worth more than I make in half a year.”

Harry pretends like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “Yeah. Totally. Women these days. Can’t drive.” The extra sigh he added for effect makes it harder for him to keep a straight face than it already was with the whirlwind of emotions that’s been coursing through him like a whirlwind for the past two days.

Ophelia just shakes her head at him, having learnt pretty early on not to take his jokes too seriously.

Just as he’s about to offer to take one of the bags from Ophelia, he spots her half running down the cobblestone driveway.

Harry takes the time it takes her to reach the bottom of the steps to straighten up his posture and wipe the sweat off his increasingly clammy hands against the rough fabric of his jeans.

After reading book after book, Harry thought he would know what it was going to feel like. Going through what felt like a million different blogs where people shared their experiences with the world. All their little tips and tricks. How it was for them.

But boy was he wrong.

Nothing could have prepared him for the rush of emotions going through his entire body when his eyes meets hers. It feels as if the air got sucked right out of his lungs for a second before he can gather himself.

“Hi, darling. I’m Harry.”, he manages to fumble out, hoping this girl doesn’t think he’s a complete idiot.

He’s taking in her features as she replies shyly, “Julia.”

Julia has black, slightly wavy hair that nearly reaches her elbows. Her small face is sprinkled with warm freckles, more noticeable around her nose and below her pale, green eyes.

“Let me take these for you.”, he offers with a kind smile on his face, gesturing to the duffel bag slung over Julia’s shoulder. She thanks him, a faint smile gracing her lips without meeting his eyes. Hers don’t stay still for a second, seeming to be taking in everything around her.

“Do you want me to come inside with you, sweetie?”, Ophelia grabs her attention, her tone almost motherly as she speaks to the young girl. She wraps her up in a short hug when Julia shakes her head no. “You have my number if you need anything.”

“And so do you.”, she points at Harry before she sets the backpack down on the ground. “If there’s anything at all.”

Then she is saying goodbye to the two of them, trotting down the driveway after giving Julia one last hug.

It was obvious to Harry that they were close.

“Do you want me to show you your room?”, Harry asks her, picking up the backpack left on the ground, sliding one strap over his shoulder next to the duffel bag’s.

He takes her small nod as a yes to his question, dragging the suitcase with him inside.

The way she is trailing after him quietly with her eyes trained on the floor has a new kind of anxiousness making his hands clammy again.

“What’s your favourite colour?”, Harry asks her.

Much to his joy, she seems eager to answer, her eyes lighting up and her voice no longer a quiet mumble. “I don’t really have one. Or I do. But it changes all the time. Right now, it’s green. But not like grass green. It’s more like the inside of an avocado kind of green. What’s yours?”

“Last couple of years I’ve loved a deep purple.”, Harry answers with zero hesitation.

Julia stops, tilting her head at him with a thoughtful crease between her full eyebrows. Confused, Harry stops as well, copying her as he waits for her to say what’s on her mind.

Harry didn’t know what he expected to come from her mouth. But what he didn’t expect was for her to simply say, “That makes sense, actually.”

It catches him off guard a bit, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask what she means when she changes the topic. “What do you do?”

“For work.”, she clarifies when he just looks more confused.

Harry doesn’t even bother trying to suppress his smile. “I’m an architect.” He truly loves his job.

“I didn’t know architects made this much money.” Julia says. “I should rethink my career ambitions.”

“C’mon.” He continues their journey through his house, shaking his head with a laugh at her bluntness. “As much as I love being an architect, the majority of it comes from my company.”

Her eyes widen in surprise, “Really?”

“Yup.”, he nods, stopping in front of a plain, white door, “I’ll tell you more about that later if you’d like.”

Julia almost looks disappointed. But that’s quickly replaced by what looks to Harry like shock when he opens the door, “For now, this is your room.”

She slips past him with her mouth slightly ajar as she takes in the room.

“Sorry about the wallpaper.”, Harry starts, staying put at the entrance to give her some space. “I was gonna have my friend, Will come over and take it off before you got here. He didn’t have time but if it’s alright with you, he said he could come by tomorrow to help?”

Gently, she’s feeling the comforter on her bed before she sits down at the foot end of the bed. “That would be cool.”

Harry lights up at that, excited to introduce her to his best friend. “And since this is your room.” He sets the bags and suitcase by the door before he plops down on the small sofa by the window. “We’ll do our best to make it whatever you want it to be, yeah?”

“You don’t have to change anything, Harry. It’s great the way it is.”, Julia insists. Not very convincingly.

He feels his smile falter momentarily. Not because he’s hurt by anything she said. But because he was 99% sure she was lying about it being what she wants to please him.

Instead of taking her at her words, he tells her as sincerely as he can; “We don’t need to change anything if you truly don’t want to. We’ll do it at your speed. As I said, this is your room. However you want it is great. And it’s completely up to you. Even if you’d want it to look like a freaking haunted house, we’d find a way.”

As a final word to assure her, he points to the horrid wallpaper, “To be honest with you? I only used this shit because my friend that I told you about absolutely hated it.”

“Why?”

“He’s an interior designer.”, he says simply. Julia seems to get understand it though because she rolls her bottom lip into her mouth as she nods slowly with a hum. She has an abrupt laugh erupting from Harry when she looks him right in the eye with the most serious expression on her face, “I’ll pray for you. Because this?” The wallpaper. “It’s a crime against humanity.”

They make small talk for a few more minutes before Harry notices her seeming more and more distracted. So he gets up from the chair, “I’ll leave you to get settled a bit, yeah?”

Julia nods. It’s when he’s at the door he hears her ask him to stop, turning around to see her walking towards him.

He’s about to ask her what she needs but he doesn’t get to it as she wraps her arms around his middle, hugging him tightly.

It takes his brain a few moments to comprehend what’s going on, but when it does, he hugs her back happily. His heart might as well swell in size when she says thank you without specifying for what, the side of her face is smushed into his chest.

He just says, “No need.”, and waits for her to let go of him first, pressing a protective kiss to the top of her head without thinking. Already feeling a need to keep this girl safe that he can’t really explain.

Once he’s back in the same spot he sat just 30 minutes ago shitting himself with nerves.

Harry is instead bursting with joy. He was nearly sick to his stomach with the sheer amount of emotions he was feeling for the girl upstairs.

Did he ever see himself taking in a freshly 13-year-old foster child at 28? No. Did he think he would be a single parent? Never in a million years.

But now that Julia is here, any trace of doubt he had has vanished.

It was meant to be.

-

I know this is a bit of an unconventional route to go about with dadrry. But just bare with me, yeah?

In case it wasnt completely clear, Harry is not Julia's foster dad.

Please do let me know your thoughts on these babies.

Ily

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 6 - That's Hot - Anna

Hi. This is the sixth chapter of my book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter Index

Chapter 5

The blaring sound of an alarm clock has my eyes flying open suddenly. The bright sunshine that filters through the curtains is attacking my barely awake eyes.

I groan, shutting them again quicker than I opened them as I pull the covers over my head in a further attempt to shield my eyes further from the unforgiving, unrelenting sun.

Another five minutes of sleep isn’t an option anymore, I guess.

Not when it dawns on me that the last memory I have, was watching Grey’s Anatomy with Harry in his living room.

“Oh my god, no.”

Did that poor man carry me up here? I’m never gonna be able to look him in the eyes again.

Unless I woke up at some point and walked upstairs myself, that’s the only explanation that makes sense. Because I’m pretty sure a bed doesn’t just magically replace a sofa. But oh my god, this bed is freaking incredible.

I don’t know where this man buys his sheets, but they’re softer and smoother than what should be legal to use as bedsheets. If he has the same kind in his own bed, I am impressed at the fact that he still manages to get up and out of bed every morning. I know for a fact that if these sheets were in my home, I would walk around wrapped in them 24/7.

The mattress and pillows feel like laying on feathers and it makes me want to stay cocooned here forever.

Maybe I need to sell a few organs so I can buy some of these sheets. Or start setting aside money in a funeral savings account so that when I die, I can be buried and spend the rest of eternity with them.

The sheets make a rustling sound when I decide to roll over, suddenly aware of the dull pain laying like a blanket over my right hip. What I didn’t take into consideration was that I was apparently already close to the edge.

That realisation dawns on me when my stomach drops to the floor along with my body. The duvet softens the fall just enough for it not to hurt. But my life still flashes in front of my eyes for a second there as I can feel my throat tearing from the shriek that was just ripped from it. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, keeping my hands tucked to my chest, as I let out a shaky laugh.

With all this grace, I should be a freaking ballerina or something.

How long I let myself just lay on the floor with my mind completely blank, I don’t know. But my peaceful quality time with Harry’s carpet is cut short when once again, I’m partly blinded against my will by light.

Until the light is blocked by a messy head of brown hair. “What are you doing on the floor?”

He looks like he just worked out. His skin is flushed and shiny and his hair is pushed away from his forehead by a white headband.

Since I don’t have an answer that makes me not seem like I have less balance than Bambi, I ask him a question instead, “Why do you work out at the ass crack of dawn?”

“It’s nearly 10 in the morning, sunshine.” He drops the duvet back on my face and I’m once again, enveloped by darkness.

I struggle for a second to rid myself of the covers. Trying to be the bigger person, I gather them off the floor and spread them on the bed instead of throwing them in his face the way my entire being is begging me to. “You know, some people would find sunshine kind of offensive.”

Harry tilts his head at me. A small smile playing on his lips, “Are you one of those people?”

He watches me sit down on the edge of the bed and rub my face tiredly. “That depends completely on the person who calls me that.”

“And am I the kind of person who get to call you sunshine?” He sounds uncertain. His weight shifts from foot to foot and he is picking at his fingernails. His teeth have sunk into his bottom lip. But it’s the way he won’t meet my eye that stops me from giving him the sarcastic response that was playing just at the tip of my tongue.

“After letting me sleep here you can call me whatever you want, H.”

I can practically see the way the relief passes through his body and his shoulders slump and his lung fully expels the air in them, “Thank god.”

“No. Thank you.”, I say, poking his shoulder as I walk past him.

He smiles and goes to leave the room while I rummage through my open suitcase for the clothes I had planned on wearing today. Before he closes the door behind him, he turns around, “I’m gonna hop in the shower. But I left some breakfast out for you in the kitchen in case you want some before I’m done. The tea bags are by the kettle so just help yourself to whatever you want, yeah?”

For lack of anything else to say, I thank him as sincerely as I can still feeling tired enough to fall asleep while standing up.

Once I’m left alone again, I shuffle into the bathroom and take a second to examine myself in the mirror.

I look dreadful. Great.

In hopes that a shower might help me wash off the look of death that seems to be settled deep into every pore of my face, I quickly strip out of my sweats and t-shirt. The warm water is already fogging up the mirrors by the time I’ve found the correct playlist on my Spotify.

A few seconds later and the hot water cascades over my body while the first verse to TiO flows from the speaker loud enough to drown out every fleeting thought that passes through my head so fast I don’t even register it.

It’s a calming feeling. Those minutes where all that matters is getting all the conditioner out of my hair and making sure I don’t slip on soap while still pulling some wicked dance moves and outing on a whole ass shower concert that will never see the light of day.

If anyone did see it, by choice or not, I would just have to confine myself to an underground bunker for the rest of my fucking life.

I finish up, making sure all the body wash and conditioner are rinsed off before grabbing the fluffy, white towel from the counter as fast as possible to limit the amount of water dripping to the floor.

I have been continuously blown away by how generous and hospitable Harry has been to me over the past two days when not even my own family

The mirrors are completely covered in fog, blurring my reflection to the point where all that’s visible is a flesh-coloured and black blobs that vaguely look like me.

Oh to live in a world where you can just make anything blurry if you get tired of looking at it.

I’d pay some good money for that.

Since I’m not going anywhere other than the airport later today, I just do my skincare and apply a light layer of mascara to make myself look a little bit more alive. Singing and humming the songs while my body sways along to the music. The warm shower already helped bring some colour back to my cheeks and old One Direction songs bring life back to my soul.

I turned the volume down to a pleasant background music level when I’d dried off my hands. The reduction of noise in the bathroom has allowed me to hear the music that’s being played in another part of the house.

Right now, I’m pretty sure Justin Bieber’s ‘Yummy’ is the song of choice.

My own, and his music mixing together is kind of confusing, especially when at one point I was listening to ‘Everything I Wanted’ and he was listening to ‘Blurred Lines’.

It was a combination, that’s for sure.

Once I’m pleased with how my head looks, I untuck the towel from my body and get dressed. The fresh hoodie and sweatpants feel soft and comfortable as I pack all my toiletries back into my suitcase.

53 minutes. I’d say 53 minutes is a pretty alright amount of time to get ready and packed. For effective people, it might still be long. But for me, a procrastinating, slow, stress-hating slob, I just won an Olympic gold medal in speed and efficiency. Even my floor time was cut short.

I meet Harry in the hallway, my hands occupied with my suitcase and loose items I haven’t packed yet.

“Need a hand?”

It was a question, but he is already taking my suitcase from me and carrying it down the stairs. I dreaded it, but he does it with ease. As if all I had in there were feathers and not a week’s worth of clothes.

I mumble a thank you as I follow him, registering that he also went for a more comfortable outfit. Grey sweatpants and a dark brown hoodie that’s bunched just over his ass. I focus on not tripping over my own feet on my way down the stairs.

Unless the actual fall didn’t kill me, I think the embarrassment of it would’ve taken me out.

Harry leaves the suitcase by the bottom of the staircase, turning around to face me so he’s walking backwards the rest of the way to the breakfast. His head is tilted sideways, and his eyes are glued to my face as if he is studying it.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”, I joke before I can start blushing too much. I’m not used to feeling like someone is staring into my soul.

“Ok.” Harry stops in his steps, hollowing his cheeks. He reaches for his pack pocket, pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of me with my jaw pretty much on the floor before I even have the chance to react.

The sound of the camera shutters capturing one, two, three photos is what it takes for me to snatch the phone out of his hands before he can take any more.

“You’re such a dick, omg.”, I whine when I realise that he shut the phone off before I could get it. He just laughs and takes it back. He steps behind me, gently pushing me to sit by my shoulders, giving them a good squeeze when once I'm sat. “I was just doing what you told me to do, sunshine.”

“I didn’t mean for you to actually take a photo, H.”, I grumble. But when Harry slides onto the stool next to me, I take in the layout in front of me and I can’t keep the bloody smile off my face.

Harry is looking at me expectantly, a smug smile on my face at my change of attitude.

I love food, what can I say?

He’s cut up strawberries, watermelons and kiwis. Blueberries, raspberries and grapes. All of it is in separate bowls. And while I’m just sitting here gawking, he retrieves orange juice, milk and yoghurt from the fridge.

“I didn’t know what you preferred. I just remembered that you said you usually eat fruits and stuff for breakfast. But if there is something else you want just, let me know and I’ll see if I have it. Or I could run to the store and get-”

“Hey, hey. Stop.”, I grab his hand to make him stop rambling. “This is wonderful, Harry.”

“You sure? I could make you eggs if you want that. Or pancakes.” His bottom lip is back between his teeth again.

I take a deep breath, making sure I look him straight in the eye so he knows I mean it. “Listen, Harry. I love fruits. This is incredible. Even if I didn’t like it, I would still eat it as if it was my favourite meal.”, I gesture to the fruits, momentarily letting go of his hand before grasping firmly it again. “You’re so kind and generous, H. Don’t you see how incredible you are?”

Harry blows out through pursed lips, giving my hand an appreciative squeeze. “If you’re gonna keep randomly saying shit like that to me, we’re gonna need some ground rules.”, he’s already on by the window again, the click of the kettle being turned on explains why he got up so quickly.

“What are you talking about?”, I ask as he makes his way back to his stool.

The man looks me dead in the eye. “Saying things that make me want to cry.”

I feel my face fall as I go from being amused to guilty and I’m about to apologise for saying something wrong when he adds, “In a cool way.”, with a smirk. Way too pleased with himself.

“God, I hate you.” I bury my face in my arms rested on the table in annoyance and embarrassment at how easily he played me.

“Aw. I love you too.”, he snickers, patting my shoulder.

I shrug him off me, giving him a scowling pout. “You’re not funny, you know,”

“Hold on.”, he says, unlocking his phone. He’s scrolling through something with his thumb. His eyebrows are pinched together in concentration as I patiently wait for him to find what he’s searching for.

The kettle has just started making the high pitch, whistly sound it does right before the water is done. Does this man have an electric kettle that whistles?

“Did you break your kettle?”, I ask as I slide off the stool, grabbing the two mugs as I make my way over to the window.

His eyes are still trained on his phone. “No. Why?”

“Cause it whistles. Mine did that when I broke it.”, I explain.

“How do you even break a kettle?” Harry looks at me puzzled as I am separating the string and tag from the teabag itself before dropping the bags of dried leaves into the mugs. “And it whistles because it’s supposed to.”

“If it doesn’t, I always forget that I put it on. And then I have to refill it and boil the water again and it becomes a whole thing.”, he justifies his kettle when I just stare at him. “This way, that doesn’t happen.”

“Whatever works for you, H.” It’s actually a pretty smart idea. Not that I would ever tell him I think he’s done something smart.

So instead, I change the topic. “What are you looking for over there?” The frustrated way he’s been scrolling for the last minute is what lead me to the assumption that whatever he wants to find, isn’t where he thought it would be.

Normally people don’t look like they want to fling their phone to the wall over plant videos.

“Proof that you think I’m the funniest man alive.”

“And where’s that?” I make my return to the kitchen island with one steaming cup of tea in each hand, making a silent prayer that I don’t trip.

When the hot drink is right in front of him, he thanks me, giving himself a break from the search to take a small sip.

“Fuck me!” Harry’s entire face scrunches up in discomfort, “That’s hot.”

I’m clenching my teeth together to keep myself from cackling, “It’s tea. It’s supposed to be hot.”

“Not that hot!”, he cries in frustration, speeding over to the freezer, ripping it open and stuffing a handful of ice cubes into his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.

But when he closes the freezer and turns around again, I can’t help but burst out laughing. Harry’s mouth is so full of ice that it’s wide open. His cheeks have him looking like a hamster from how full they are. And I can see an ice cube slowly but surely sliding out from between his teeth as if it was a slow-motion video before it shatters against the floor.

Harry’s standing straight up and down looking at me with a severely unimpressed expression on his face while I physically can’t stop the loud belly laughter from coming out of me.

It isn’t until I fall off the stool from how hard I’m laughing that his eyes smile.

I don’t even feel my body hit the floor. The laughter just keeps coming and taking over my every muscle as it feels like my lungs are neither sucking in nor expelling enough air.

His feet are like glued to the same spot on the floor, them being the only part of him I can as I physically can’t bring myself to lift my head from the floor anymore. That’s until after what feels like an eternity, my laughter finally dies down and I’m left panting for air like a dog on a sticky hot summer day.

“Are you done?”

I tilt my head to the side to find Harry crouched down next to me, amusement lighting up his features. “Does it look like I’m fucking ok?”

He squints at me, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

When I left my apartment in New York last week, I was filled with so much excitement and happiness over the weekend I knew I was about to have.

I’d been nearly bursting with it.

It had been a long, long time since I felt like I could scream from just pure joy.

I was going to hop on a plane and fly to LA. I would be seeing some of the most amazing artists perform among thousands upon thousands of people. I’d be seeing my favourite songs be played live for the first time in my life.

There had been this conviction inside me that Coachella would be the highlight of my trip to the city of angels. Hell, I thought it would be one of the best things to happen to me in my 24 years of living. And in one way, I was right. But I could’ve never even in my wildest dreams dared to hope for what became the aftermath of Coachella.

Never have I even attempted to convince myself that I would ever have the chance to talk to him for even a second, let alone have a whole ass conversation.

But oh my god, how happy I am that conversation happened.

I like to think that it’s karma for always walking my neighbour’s dog for free back home for a month when Mr Hendrick broke his leg.

It rained a lot that fall.

The last three days have felt like I all the angels have blessed my existence. Angels I’ve been wishing would show up at times when I’ve been at my lowest.

Harry has felt like that angel.

I don’t even know how to put it into words. But when people have been saying that he is the definition of human sunshine, they weren’t wrong. Just a person being so genuinely good is something I feel incredibly lucky to have witnessed and experienced.

Even though I’m kind of sad that it’s all about to be over, I’m going to carry this with me for the rest of my life.

“What are you thinking about, sunshine?” Harry taps my arm to get my attention, making me snap my head to the right. Diverting my attention from the ocean and my thoughts and over to him.

“This might sound weird.”, I start, looking away again when his stare becomes too intense. “But I’m going to miss this.”

“Miss what?”

I don’t notice that I am chewing on my bottom lip until Harry squeezes my chin and I’m automatically letting it go. “Tell me.”

I don’t know what it’s about him, but instead of giving him the sarcastic and safe answer I would usually give to avoid vulnerability, I’m honest.

“Los Angeles. The sun. This fucking view, man.” Harry chuckles when I gesture to the ‘out of a novel’ worthy view in front of us. “Because this is just stunning.” A small pause to steady my voice, “Then I might miss you when I go back home.”

“Are you gonna miss me? Or are you gonna miss my sheets?”

Hearing the smile and playfulness in his voice makes me smile so wide my cheeks hurt as his shoulder bumps mine. “Why can’t it be both?”

“It would be really good for my ego if you liked me better than fabric.”, Harry frowns. “Plus, you would’ve never even felt my sheets if it weren’t for me. So just for that, I should be number one.”

I pretend to think about it, tapping my chin and staring him directly into his eyes when in reality, I’m just taking a moment to appreciate the sound of the waves since I don’t know when I’m going to get to be in a place like this again. The briny smell of the water was carried to my nostrils by the breeze.

Back home, everything is so chaotic. All the smells and noises overlap with one another. There’s something so serene about getting away from that. Even if it’s just for a short amount of time.

“You can share first place with your sheets.” When his frown deepens, I shake my head at him with a light laugh. “Final offer.”

Putting his hands on his hips, tilting them to the side as if he is a teenager about to tell off his parents for refusing to give him permission to stay out past his curfew. “See, I was going to give you this whole heartfelt speech about how you’ve probably changed the trajectory of my life since you’ve been here. And how when you leave, it’s going to feel like a piece of my soul was packed in your suitcase-”

Confusion takes over his sass as he stops talking mid-sentence, “I lost track of where I was going.”

“Mhm.”, I hum, choking back a laugh as I try to cover my smile with my hands.

Harry gives himself a good ten seconds, his pointer finger angled towards the sky as he tries to remember where he left off before he gives up and lets his arms drop, his hands smacking against his outer thighs. “It’s gone.”

“That’s one thing your speech and I will have in common in three hours.”, I joke, wiggling my eyebrows despite the lack of appreciation he is showing for my joke.

“Not funny.”

“Aw. Don’t worry, grumpy.”, I coo, taking his face between my hands. “You can always come visit whenever you’re in New York.”

I regret saying it almost momentarily when a cheeky grin breaks out on his face.

“I might just take you up on that.”

-

Masterlist

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 5 - Knock Knock - Anna

Hi. This is the fifth chapter of my new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter Index

Chapter 4

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding with me.”, I groan in frustration, running a hand through my unruly hair.

Still have to brush it.

Sighing, I squat down so I can clean up the apple juice from the tiles that probably were white at some point. Now they’re cracked all over and have a yellowish tint to them.

You’d think that in the relatively long amount of time I would be using this bathroom in the days I’m here, that I would at some point get used to the smell. But it still has me scrunching my nose in discomfort every time I open the bathroom door.

I think the hotel should probably change the cleaning products they use. Because whatever it is, it’s like it got a renewal after yesterday. When I for once didn’t have the ‘Do not disturb' sign up.

Yesterday still feels like a fever dream. Like something that I just convinced myself happened after getting black-out drunk and waking up in different clothes than the ones I still remembered putting on the night before.

But that obviously isn’t the case. Because I do remember every single thing that happened yesterday.

From the second he sat down at the beach to when he dropped me off again here in the middle of the night. He’d asked if I was free again today. Which I really wasn’t since I was supposed to fly back to New York this afternoon. He said I should just push the flight to tomorrow. As if it was nothing.

Maybe it’s nothing to him. However, my broke ass can’t afford the flights that are scheduled for tomorrow.

I genuinely don’t understand how this man thinks, but he said he would fix it, no problem. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

So now I’ve promised him brownies and ice cream. Something he seemed very excited about.

Sadly, he’ll probably be disappointed.

I can’t bake at all. Morgan always does it. And she loves making a good brownie. Which is why that’s the idea that came to mind when I was trying to come up with something I could do for him.

Morgan was laughing for almost five minutes straight when I asked her for the recipe. She was near tears from laughter as she explained how to do it step by step, going slow enough so that I could write everything down in my notes app.

If I forgot to write down a step, I’m screwed.

I drag the travel-size hairbrush through my hair as fast as possible after spraying water in it in hopes it will tame the fizziness at least a little bit. Once all the tangles are out I split my hair down the middle before making one French braid on each side, leaving the front pieces out.

The stress already making me bounce around the room like a freaking crazy person and spill juice everywhere just increases when I catch a glimpse of the time on my phone screen when it flashes on with a notification from a text message.

It’s 12:56 right now. And Harry said he would come to pick me up at 1:00.

My palms are slippery and gross with sweat as I try to fold all my clothes and stuff them inside my suitcase. It’s anything but organised. Crumpled and messy and the opposite of how everything was when I came here.

But right now, I don’t really have time to care about that.

My laptop and everything else I’m going to need on the plane tomorrow go in my tote.

God, I suck at packing my shit.

My notes are the only thing I’m even remotely careful with packing. Every piece of paper I’ve scribbled on over the days, I fold and slide underneath my clothes.

They’re every unfiltered thought and idea I loved enough to write down. As of right now, they’re all unrelated and random. Most of them, I probably won’t ever use. But from experience, one of them might spark an idea or help patch plot holes in the future. My process is messy, but it works for me.

I’ll sort through them when I get back home.

I’ve done my best to look presentable today. But I hadn’t exactly planned on going over to Harry Styles’ house. Or be in LA for an extra day for that matter. So I didn’t really have much to work with.

A pair of black denim shorts, a white tank top and a mint green, knitted cardigan is what I ended up going for. It’s not my worst. But also far from my best.

Someone really needs to teach me fashion.

I’m in the process of trying my shoelaces when there is a sharp knock at the door that has me freezing in the middle of looping the shoelace around itself.

“Anna.”, I can hear him singsong through the thin door.

After a quick examination of the room, making a mental note to remember to zip up the suitcase that’s still open on the foot end of the bed, I get up and shuffle over to the door, taking a deep breath before twisting the lock and pulling it towards myself.

Pretty much the second there is room, Harry saunters into the room and plops down next to my suitcase as I close the door again behind him. Cheeky smile plastered on his face and everything.

“Knock knock.” He looks at me expectantly.

I suppress my smile, “Hi, H. Nice seeing you again. How are you doing?”

“Yeah, yeah. Greetings in all the languages. Knock knock.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”, I ask as I pick up my flip-flops from the floor, shuffling across the carpet. The carpet might be a bit more stained from my boots, but that’s not my problem anymore.

He shakes his head and I give in already knowing it’s going to be something stupid. “Who’s there?”

His dimples indent his cheeks as he smiles bashfully. “Nun.”

I tilt my head, confused about where on earth he is going with this. “Nun who?”

After a dramatic moment of silence, “It’s nun of your business.” Jazz hands.

It takes me a second to realise why he is so happy about this one. And why he sang it. Probably longer than it should’ve taken considering that I’ve heard it more times than I can count.

But when it clicks, I chuckle, shaking my head at him. “You’re fucking ridiculous. What that fuck?”

“That one was good.”, Harry says matter-of-factly. “You have to admit it was good. You even laughed.” And I can’t really argue with that.

I release the inside of my cheek from between my teeth. “It’s better than the ones you told me yesterday.”, I admit. The knock-knock jokes he told me in the car were actually horrendous. I don’t know where he comes up with them or why he thinks they’re funny.

Harry looks genuinely offended. With his hand held to his heart and his whole body leant away from me he puts on his best hurt voice, “Take that back. Right now.”

“Sorry mate.”, I raise my hands up by my shoulders. “No can do.”

Blowing harshly out through his nose, he shakes his head disappointedly. “That’s not very treat people with kindness of you, darling.” He points to my ‘Treat People With Kindness’ tote I left lying on the floor earlier.

I embroidered the slogan onto the bag myself almost a year ago. That is if you can call my amateur sewing embroidery. The bag itself is black while the letters switch between a pastel pink and a baby blue.

I could probably have made one that looks prettier now. Maybe I would’ve even been able to add in a little heart or something. But I’m attached to the stupid tote bag.

“Oh really?”, I say innocently. Disgustingly so. “I hadn’t noticed. Your joke was so fucking funny I forgot how to laugh.” To further my point, I fake a laugh into the palm of my hand.

Harry shakes his head at me, “Careful. Or I might not buy you smoothie like I was planning to.”

That has me straightening up instantly. “We were gonna get smoothies?”

“You told me you live for a strawberry smoothie, didn’t you?”

I nod, not even embarrassed by how big my smile is right now. I had completely forgotten that I told him that I love smoothies. But I did and he remembered well enough to plan on going to grab smoothie. Strawberry smoothie too.

“Wait.” I look at him sceptically. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna buy that liquid grass.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

I lower my eyes to my smoothie. My delicious strawberry smoothie that brings me genuine joy and happiness from how yummy it is. Away from the abomination of a drink he’s carrying in his free hand. “I’m not looking at you in any way.”

That’s a lie and he knows it.

“You have your preferences and I have mine.”, Harry defends himself. He takes another sip of his green juice.

I can’t see his eyes since they’re hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses. His hair is collected on the top of his head by a small clip. The black hoodie with the words ‘Pleasing’ written across his chest in white is a little big on him, but the hem of his t-shirt is still poking out over his green athletic shorts.

I actually really love the hoodie and I would blow my money on it. Even though I could probably have a closet for just hoodies already. But Harry straight up just refused to tell me where I could get my hands on one.

“Your preferences are scary, H. No normal person would willingly drink a juice with both apple and spinach.”

“Good thing I’m not normal.”, Harry counters.

I don’t see him transferring his juice to his other hand until he snatches the smoothie from my hands and has taken off running away from me. His laughter makes the people he runs past turn their heads to see where it comes from.

It takes me a second to react and run after him, “Come back here!”

He isn’t running that fast, but my thighs still burn a little while trying to catch up to him. I don’t register the faces twisting in my direction, my focus directed to seeing where he runs off with my precious smoothie and not falling on my face.

Finally, he slows down when we’re approaching his car parked by the side of the road. I can tell that he’s still laughing from the small distance. His hands on his knees to help him catch his breath after setting the cups on top of his car.

I do the same when I’m caught up, wheezing oxygen into my lungs. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Harry only laughs harder at the accusation when I sink to the ground as slowly as possible. When my knees are bent just past 90 degrees, I give up on slow and just let my ass plant to the pavement.

“You good?”, Harry asks. His voice breaks when he giggles again.

I roll my eyes, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. “If you can hand me my smoothie and stop killing me then I’ll be just cracking.”

“Cracking, huh?” Harry sits down next to me after giving me back my smoothie. Miraculously, nothing was spilt.

I hum contently, letting the cold drink slide down my throat and soothe the thirst that’s built up from running.

I don’t run enough.

“Yeah, H. Cracking.”

He tilts his head to the side confusedly, “I’ve never heard an American use cracking seriously before. Thought that was a British thing.”

A nervous chuckle makes its way out of me while I can feel blush spread across my cheeks. “It is a British thing. I looked it up.”

Harry looks at me as if I’ve suddenly grown an additional head. “You looked it up? Why?”

“Hanging out with someone who is British, AKA you.” I nod my head towards him. “I wanted to be prepared for you making no sense.”

Harry takes a deep breath, drinking more of his nasty juice. “What do you mean making no sense? I always make sense.”

“Mhm.”, I hum. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I’ve decided the beach might be my favourite place again. Maybe even more than it was yesterday.

Salt wind. Soft, warm sand between my toes. The sun that makes me look more alive than dead for once in my pale life. My lifeless skin soaking up some of the very much needed vitamin D the sunshine offers so my skeleton can remain semi-healthy. Gorgeous, gorgeous blue water. The sound of the waves washing over the shore the kind that could lull you to sleep effortlessly.

It was my number one place in the whole world for one whole, uninterrupted hour. When it was just Harry and I talking with soft music playing from the small speaker he brought and munching on the fruits and berries he packed us.

Until I got a handful of wet sand chucked at the back of my head.

I shriek in shock, my spine straightening instantly as my hands fly up to protect my face. Twisting my body 180 degrees on reflex.

I spot the guilty party instantly.

Harry is hunched over laughing just a few feet away from me. His mouth is covered by his clean hand while the dirty, sandy one is pointed at me.

“You’re gonna regret that.” I shoot to my feet, collecting sand in each fist on my way up before I take off charging towards him. The towels are probably covered in sand now.

Harry’s smile falls, a mumbled “Shit.”, before he scrambles to get some sand of his own to defend himself with.

He dodges the first sand ball I throw at him, but the second one hits him square in the face.

“Oops.”, I cover my mouth to hold back a cackle while he literally turns his head to the side to spit sand. Lucky for him, the sand was dry. So it falls off his face pretty much on its own, dropping to his chest where it sticks to the sunscreen he just applied. The amount of sand robs his skin of the golden glow the sunshine gave him before.

Standing still and watching him get it all away from his eyes might have been the stupidest thing ever. Because the look on his face when he has his eyesight back has me backing away slowly with my arms protectively in front of me. “We can talk about this, H. No need to make any rash, murderous decisions.”

It’s when he shakes his head, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth I realise I’m fucked.

Harry follows my stressed, uncoordinated steps with steady, calculated ones while sizing me up and down. He’s probably trying to figure out where he wants to hide my body.

Out of nowhere, he charges.

His bare feet send the sand flying behind him and he gives me no time to react or turn around to run. The already close proximity only gives him an advantage as he simply crouches when he’s close enough.

Before I even know what’s happening, he’s got me thrown over his shoulder. I shriek as my legs dangle off his shoulder, gripping onto him for dear life.

The way he managed to do that so easily is honestly kind of offensive.

“What the fuck? Let go of me.”, I cry out, feeling my body sway with every single step he takes.

Harry giggles, giving my knee a small squeeze. “You sure about that, Anna?”

I’m about to say yes because right now there is nothing I want more than for him to let me down onto the ground again and kiss the fucking earth for being there.

Heights aren’t really my thing.

The word was right on my tongue until I realise how much closer the waves sound now and it has my eyes flying open and my head twisting over my shoulder to see that yes, he is doing what I think he is. “No no no. Harry. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Really? I thought you wanted me to let you down.”, he teases as the water engulfs his feet without even flinching.

He isn’t human. That water is probably freezing.

I can feel the goosebumps spreading like wildfire across my body when he’s waist-deep and the water hits my hands and feet. “Fuck me that’s cold.”, I hiss, freezing completely.

I feel him pat the back of my thigh before I hear him. “You ready?”

“No!”

“Fantastic!” He ignores my protests, walking further into the ocean.

“Harry, I swear to fucking God.”

“On a count of three?”

“We can talk about this.” I know I’ve lost here.

“3.”

“My lord and saviour, Zayn Malik, please save me from eternal damnation-”

Freezing, fucking cold. That’s what the water is. Fully emerged and in darkness, the water shocks my body despite already being aware of the temperature. Harry flipped me over his shoulder again. My head was the first to go under barely giving me time to stop my quick prayer and breathe in.

It takes me a second to figure out what’s up and down, but the second I do, I’m planting my feet in the soft sand so I can stand up straight. Coughing and wiping the salt water out of my eyes and my hair out of my when my head is out of the water.

“You ok?”, Harry asks through a choked laugh, running a hand through his now soaked hair.

“Mhm.”, I hum tensely, doing my best to ignore the way my body is shaking from the cold so my scowl is more believable.

Harry lets himself sink until everything but his head is submerged. What he didn’t consider, was the fact that we’re in a literal ocean, a wave catching him off guard as it washes over his whole head so he’s completely underwater.

I’m holding my stomach laughing as he coughs from the unexpected water the same way I did, a pout turning his pink lips downwards when he’s done. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

-

Masterlist

[raisemybody-deactivated20230125]

Harry having to explain Larry isn’t real on second dates.

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 4 - Tickling Isn't Fun - Anna

Hi. This is the fourth chapter of my new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter index

Chapter 3

“Are you sure about this, H?”, I ask hesitantly when the gate closes behind his car. “I can just take a cab or something and I’ll be out of your hair. This is really not necessary.”

“Like I said the dozen other times you asked, yes. I’m sure. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t mean it.”

Harry sighs as he puts the way too nice vehicle into park. In the car I’ve probably lowered the value of by 70% just by touching the door handle.

“I still don’t believe you.”, I tell him, cutting him off before he can protest, “But you’ve already brought me here and I really need a shower.”

A genuine laugh that has his face lighting up explodes from him. The corners of his eyes crinkle and I should probably be embarrassed with how much it’s making me smile in return. “I think we both need one. It reeks.” Harry plugs his nose and scrunches his face up in disgust dramatically.

But it only takes him a beat before we’re both breaking out into a fit of laughter.

Once we’ve both calmed down, he leads the way into his home.

From the outside, it looks sleek and modern. The house is two stories with a slanted roof and large windows facing the ocean that Harry’s told me is only a 15-minute walk away. The front stairs of his house are only two steps, thank God for that, leading to the dark, sleek door. Narrow windows on either side. Due to the dark and the reflection from the lights outside, I haven’t got a chance at getting a peek inside from here.

As he is punching in the code, his bag thrown over his shoulder, I am pinching the inside of my cheek between my teeth. “Yup, still awake.”

“What was that?”, he asks, a pinging sound coming from the door as the light flashes green.

I’m not gonna tell him that I’m questioning whether or not I’ve been snatched by aliens and they’ve put me in a simulation and are performing experiments on my sedated body in a UFO. “Just thought you would have an instrumental version of Sigh Of The Times playing when you opened the door, is all.”

“Who says I don’t?” And with that he pushes the door open, stepping aside to let me in first, “Step into my humble home.”

Just as I am welcoming the warm air within the walls of his house, I freeze.

“We never learn we’ve been here before.

Why are we always stuck runnin’ from the bullets?

The bullets.”

Now I’m sure I have been abducted by aliens. Not that I’m mad about it.

“You’re not that funny, you know.”, I lie through my teeth, ignoring the goosebumps making my arm hair stand up as if I’ve been electrified.

Harry closes the door behind himself, looking utterly pleased with himself before we’re no longer lit up by the lights and left in complete darkness. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.”

Harry fumbles around momentarily before the sound of a light switch followed by bright lights invading my unprepared pupils has me blinking rapidly. After the mellow, dim lights ever since we exited the highway, these lights make feel like I might need sunglasses to spare my eyesight.

“You’re trying to blind me, aren’t you?”, I say while Harry is bending down to untie his yellow sneakers, his back facing me.

He chuckles, his hair bouncing as he shakes his head, “Now why would I do that?”

“Your house is probably super gross on the inside. And you don’t want anyone to know. And if no one who comes in here can see when the lights are on. Then no one would ever know, and you could keep it as messy as your heart desires.”

I copy him, taking off my shoes and placing them neatly next to his while I talk, struggling to keep myself serious. Small breaks between each sentence longer than what's normal. Only to keep me from cracking up only made it harder.

Being silent never works when I’m about to laugh.

“What the fuck?”, Harry says through a cackle, slapping his palm over his mouth.

I pat him on the shoulder, looking as directly into his eyes as I can. I am trying really hard to get the words out through a choked laugh from how ridiculous this whole conversation is, “Don’t worry, H. Your secret dust bunnies and cockroaches are safe with me.”

Harry shakes his head at me. “Just shut up and let me show you my house, Anna.”

I trail after him as he shows me first his living room, then the rest of his house. And begrudged, I have to admit that I love everything. Not just because it’s his. But because everything is so…homey.

From the outside, it looks like it would be modern and impersonal. Like he might have a few black and white paintings in every room. A small photo of his mother next to the TV. And some plastic plants here and there to give the rooms an illusion that there is life there.

But turns out I was completely wrong.

He has mismatched throw pillows on his sofa. A large bookshelf in his living room. Filling almost the entirety of the space of the mint green wall. The shelves are stacked full of books. With the exception of the ones with photos. Framed photos of his family and his friends. Some polaroid pictures that he’s hung up on the back of books here and there.

Just as you enter the room, the first thing you see is the record player next to the TV. Records upon records are stacked on the floor next to it. The back of them faces out so he can easily spot the one he wants to use. When I saw ‘Fine Line’ at the top of the stack closest to the record player with ‘Harry Styles’ just underneath it, I shake my head, mumbling of course under my breath. Harry catches it and just tells me that “his favourite music should be on top shouldn’t it?”

The electrical piano and acoustic guitar leaning against the wall, he tells me are his favourites.

His kitchen is spacious and he has herbs growing in small pots along the windowsill behind the sink. A kitchen island with the same quarts countertops as the rest of his kitchen. I couldn’t help but tease him about the fruit bowl filled to the brim with various fruits and how fitting it was.

He then moved on to show me his dining room with a beautiful dining table and chairs that are far too comfortable. I had to try one of them out. As it’s a hassle to get up after a large dinner in a chair harder than freaking rocks, I would never be able to get out of these. His dinner parties must go on forever.

Harry said he only use the dining table for celebratory dinners. Like Christmas or a birthday. Normally he eats at the kitchen island or on the couch.

The rest of his house is just as beautiful. Every room has something of its own to it.

The first floor is a pretty open space, but the second floor is mostly rooms. Guest bedrooms, most of them designated for a certain person, his office and his own bedroom as well as bathrooms.

His studio is on the first floor. A small recording booth that's separated from the rest of the room by glass. The walls are padded, and the wooden floors are covered in different, soft rugs. He’s nearly beaming with joy when he tells me the significance the different instruments hold to him.

“What about this one?”, I ask.

Harry sets his painted acoustic guitar back in its rightful place before he comes over to see what I’m referring to. When he does, he takes the instrument from my hands. He holds it up next to his face, the metal reflecting the warm light in the studio.

“This, my friend.”, he takes a deep breath, clinging the metal beater against the instrument, “Is very near and dear to my heart.”

The high-pitched sound rings in our ears as I hold my breath to keep from laughing.

“How come?”

Harry lets a dramatic silence go on, holding his hand to his heart as if what he is about to share with me is his deepest, darkest secret. Or something truly emotional. His lips pressed together tightly, and his eyebrows turned upwards. His eyes looking up and air forcefully blown out through his nose. “I won this triangle in an Instagram giveaway.”

“How the fuck did you do that?”, I exclaim while he lays the triangle back on the shelf I found it, “I never win anything. Ever. What’s your secret?”

It’s true. I have lost count of how many giveaways I have entered. Fingers crossed and hope in my heart that this is the time when I will finally win some free stuff. Whether it’s been a phone case or concert tickets.

But sadly, the odds were never in my favour.

“My friend sent me the post and said I should try.”, Harry explains. “There were like, 5 prices, I think. And all you had to do was send in an original lyric.”

“The triangle can’t have been the first price?”

Harry shakes his head and purses his lips. “Nope. It was the third price.” He’s got a pout on his face as if it’s still bothering him that he didn’t win first place.

“What lyric did you use?”, I ask, curious as to what he sent in.

His cheeks get a pink tint to them, and he refuses to meet my eyes. Instead, he’s staring at his feet. His voice is more vulnerable than I’ve heard it in the short time we’ve spent together. “I used ‘Your love grew flowers around my scars.”

“Oh.” His words completely wash the smile off my face. I wasn’t prepared for something so deep. Not in the slightest.

“It’s from a song I wrote a few years ago that I’m never gonna use. But I always did like that line. And it won me a triangle, so it was worth something.”, Harry clarifies, still not meeting my eye.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to say right now either.

On one hand. He has just shared something else that’s really personal with me like it was nothing. As if this is something we’ve been doing for years when in reality, I met the man three days ago.

Then, on the other hand, we met three days ago and I don’t know if he’s the type of person who just wants to let it go without dwelling on it, talk about it or if he does hugs.

So I just look at him dumbfounded.

While Harry darts his eyes from my face to somewhere to my right to his feet and then back to my face until I can’t take the silence anymore.

“Do you need a hug?”

What the fuck is wrong with me? I mentally scold myself because what the fuck is that?

Harry looks puzzled, “For what?” “You know. As a consolation or something for not getting first place.”

“Well, come here then.”, he laughs, pulling me to his body by my shoulders, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I copy him, the side of my face pressed to his shoulder. His hoodie smells like a mix of his cologne, washer detergent and something uniquely him.

“You’re gonna be fine, H.”, I rub his back. “Even though you didn’t win the giveaway, you can take comfort in the fact that your watermelon song got you a Grammy.”

Even though his shoulders muffle my words, he still heard me because he pinches my waist, making me squeal and jump away from him. Arms protectively wrapped around myself.

I scowl at him, “That was very mean.” “Really?” He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer so I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye. The mischievous glint in his eye has me snaking my arms tighter around myself as if it would help even in the slightest if he decided to try to tickle me again.

“I think”, he starts. “It would be perfectly justified.” I start back away. “Since you.”, he pokes my shoulder and it causes a nervous laugh to squeeze out of me.

The more he waits to finish his sentence, the more nervous I feel myself become. And the more nervous I become, the wider his smile is.

Hell no.

Before he can tickle me again or finish his threat, I am darting away from him, speed walking out of the studio and into the small hallway with doors identical to the one I just closed behind me.

I keep walking as fast as I can without running into the living room. My heart beats rapidly in my chest when Harry follows me calmly, taking long steps that easily match my hurried skipping.

“What are you doing?”, Harry laughs, making me abandon my original plan of running up the stairs and hiding in the bathroom. My lungs would probably give out by then.

Instead, I round the kitchen island as fast as possible, putting it between Harry and me.

Palms flat against the smooth, cold surface, I lean on the counter, breathing heavily from the way I’ve been stressing myself out over the course of the last two minutes. “Tickling isn’t fun.”, I say. Breath by breath regaining control of my lungs.

Harry tilts his head to the side, a shit-eating grin on his face as he starts going left, around the island, “Not to you maybe. But it’s really fun to me.”

Warily, I step to the left, making sure he’s as opposite to me as I can. “I will chop off your hair.”, I threaten out of desperation. I hate being tickled more than anything.

“You wouldn’t!”, he exclaims. But he still stops. Thank God.

“It smells fucking delicious.”, I compliment him when the smell of whatever dish he is cooking hits my nostrils. It replaces the mix of the shampoo, conditioner and body wash I found in his guest bathroom shower.

Not to any surprise, he has strawberry-scented body wash. So there was really not a question about which one I would use when he said I could use anything and everything in there. 

And don’t even get me started on his towels. They feel like the I would imagine touching clouds feels. If he had a purple unicorn with a rainbow mane on a magical island somewhere, I wouldn’t question it.

Harry looks up from the pan in front of him, his green eyes meeting mine when I sit down on the middle stool by the kitchen island that saved my life, leaving two unoccupied stools on my right and one to my left.

He smiles softly, mumbling a small thank you before he goes back to stirring the food.

His hair is slightly damp and pushed back, but the lack of products has allowed more hair than usual to fall over his forehead. It’s also allowed it to stay in its natural, curly form. His hair is kind of all of the place, going in pretty much every direction instead of the elegant, more controlled way it’s seen most frequently.

He’s wearing a worn-out, black Rolling Stones t-shirt. The design of the mouth with the stuck-out tongue has cracks all over, only making it that much more charming.

“What are you cooking?”, I ask, tucking my wet hair behind my ears, watching Harry grind what looks like salt over the pan.

He has his bottom lip tucked into his mouth in concentration when he drops a drop of the red sauce on his finger before bringing it to his mouth. His tongue pokes out to lick off the sauce. “There it is.”, he says happily. “Um. It’s just some sauce and pasta. Really simple, so don’t get your expectations too high.”

“Sorry, pretty boy.” I lift my arm up as high as I can stretch it while staying seated, “My expectations are way up here.”

Harry shrugs, “I guess I’ll just have to deliver, then.”

And deliver he did.

I don’t know what kind of magic mushrooms he put in the sauce, but I have never had pasta like this before.

I didn’t even cry over Derek Shepard dying. Something I do every single time. That’s how mind-blowingly delicious this stuff is.

Harry on the other hand had to go grab a box of tissue paper to wipe his tears while warning me that he would throw me in the pool if I said I told you so. Not gonna lie, I would have said I told you so. Laziness is what stopped me from it. Already showered once this evening and I didn’t feel like showering one more.

But he did do that to himself when he insisted on watching that episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy'.

We put away the dishes and transferred the pasta we didn’t eat into containers so he can eat it later. He then asked if I wanted to stay for a bit longer. And I can’t say no to him, apparently. So we went back to watching ‘Grey’s Anatomy’.

Now, cuddled up with a blanket draped over my shoulders after two more episodes of the show I feel my eyes getting heavy, covering my mouth to stifle a yawn.

“You tired?”

I look at Harry sheepishly, embarrassment making heat travel up my neck before settling into my cheeks. “Maybe.”

Now that I am looking at him properly again, the flickering light from the TV highlights the closest parts of his face. His eyes have started to look a little bit heavy as well and I instantly feel guilty.

I’ve just come here and taken his whole evening and he’s just too nice to tell me to get my ass out of here so he can do whatever it is he wants to do in peace.

“It’s getting late.”, I start, dragging the blanket off my body so I can fold it and put it back over the arm of the sofa. “I’m just gonna call a cab down the road and get out of your hair.”

I can feel his eyes on me when I dart around the living room to gather my belongings, stuffing everything into my tote bag. When I pick up the bag with my dirty clothes I freeze.

Was I really about to steal his clothes?

“Shit. I’m so sorry. Let me just go change back into these. I didn’t even think. You-”

I stop rambling when I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Breathe, Anna.”, Harry says softly. “It’s fine. Just keep them. I don’t mind.”

He moves in front of me, his hand still on my shoulder. Worry is etched on his face and I hate that it’s because of me. Not only has he had to deal with me for hours, but now I’ve also caused him to worry.

“What’s going on?”, he asks when I don’t meet his eyes. Instead looking at the soft hem of the pastel pink crewneck I borrowed. When I don’t answer him, he keeps talking, going into a bit of a ramble of his own.

“Did I do something to make you want to leave so fast? If I did, I’m sorry. I just wanted to spend time with you. I wouldn’t throw you in the pool if you really didn’t want me to. You can tell me ‘I told you so’, I don’t mind. If you want to borrow or have another shirt I can go and see if I can find something, you’ll like better. Just wait right here.”

I’m a little too stunned to speak because he genuinely seemed to be upset at the thought of making me feel bad. So I just grab his wrist to stop him from going to get something he really doesn’t need to while I try to get the word to go from my brain and to my tongue.

This might be the one time when I wish he could just read my mind. I would at least have been spared the embarrassment of having to say it out loud.

Harry, bless him, waits patiently, letting me take my time.

“I just realised that I’ve probably been here for too long and should probably think about getting back to the hotel and stuff. Get out of your hair so you can do whatever.” It came out more calm and relatively sane-sounding than I had expected myself to.

Finally.

Harry wipes his forehead while blowing out sharply, “Phew.”, making me laugh and readjust the toe bag on my shoulder. “Can’t have my guest leave hating me. Now, can I?”

Even though his tone is humorous, I can tell he really means it.

“I guess not.”, I shrug, shifting my weight between my feet. “I’m just gonna call the uber.”

Just as I’m about to dial the number, my phone is snatched straight out of my hands.

“Nope. We’re not doing this. I’m driving.”

-

Masterlist

[foolforharrry]

Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 3 - Sweeter Side

Hi. This is the third chapter of my new book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.

Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.

Chapter index

Chapter 2

Harry has been a bit too cheerful.

Ever since I told him I’d be down for anything he wanted to show me, he’s had this extremely coy little smile on his face, glancing over at me every few seconds.

We’re on our way back to my hotel. Harry wasn’t happy with my outfit. He said I would need something more functional. And jeans aren’t cutting it for him, apparently.

When I pointed out that his trousers are tighter than mine, he smugly informed me that he has a change of clothes in the back of his car.

He still won’t tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing.

I’ve been trying to wrack my brain for the past five minutes, having given up on trying to make him cave and tell him what he’s got planned for us. But everything and nothing is what I’m left with.

Maybe he just wants to do yoga by the Hollywood sign. Or do water aerobics fully clothed at a random pool. Or maybe a fountain. It could be some rite of passage of some sort. You never know.

But whatever it is, I want to know.

“This is your hotel, right?” Harry points to the run-down looking hotel to our right, turning down the volume of the radio. The radio host’s chatter now drowned out by the sound of the engine still humming.

I nod, “Yeah. I still feel like I need to wash down your whole car now.”

I seriously do not understand why on earth he would let my dirty ass into this car. It’s white. And shiny. And beautiful. And more importantly, it’s a fucking Porsche.

“What do you mean?”, Harry asks confused. “Unless you threw dirt on it or something, there is nothing for you to clean.” He doesn’t let me explain, he just fully turns his body towards me, his expression turning hard and accusing, “Did you throw dirt? Why would you do that when I’m being nothing but nice to you?”

I raise my hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, H. it was just too tempting. Your car is so sparkly and expensive.”

“You’re a force of evil aren’t you?” Harry shuts off the engine, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he reaches for his door handle, “And you look great in my Porsche.”

Out of my say or control, I can feel blush spreading embarrassingly fast on my cheeks. But I ignore it, taking a deep breath to gather myself before I join him where he’s waiting patiently on the passenger side of the car, offering him a small smile as I carefully let the car door fall shut.

“Come on, then.”, I say when I hear the sound of the car lock. Harry trails after me when I make my way through the lobby and into the elevator, keeping his hands clasped behind his back the whole elevator ride. A comfortable silence blanketing us in the short time it takes the elevator to get from the ground floor to the 5th.

I turn around, walking backwards in the direction my hotel room is, making sure to look Harry in the eye when I talk. “There will be a few things. Here and there. And on the floor and stuff. You.”, I point at him to further my point, “Don’t judge. I’ve been busy.”

I have been very busy. Mostly holed up in there with my laptop and notebook jotting down every thought that’s passed through my head when I wasn’t sitting at the café or talking with Harry. Tidying it and cleaning haven’t really been a priority.

There has also been a constant do not disturb sign hanging on the outside of my hotel door. It’s still there.

Harry shakes his head with a laugh, “Ok, darling. I promise I’m not gonna judge.” “Do you pinkie promise?” I offer my pinkie, stopping momentarily to let him wrap his around mine and squeeze. “Promise

So it turns out Harry’s idea of sight seeing is quite what I’d pictured it would be.

“Come on. We’re almost there, Anna. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

I don’t even wanna look at him right now. How can one person be this cheerful while doing such a torturous thing? By choice.

I such in as deep breaths as I can, the sun making me have to squint my eyes. “You said that five minutes ago too, H”, I sigh. This is actually torture.

“It’s just up there, I promise.”, Harry offers me his water bottle. I accept it gratefully considering I finished mine a while ago, but just take a tiny sip. I’m not that horrible. After screwing the lid back on, I hand it back to him, thanking him profusely.

“Ready?”, he asks even though he’s already started walking again.

Reluctantly, I do the same, ignoring the burning in my thighs from the abuse the poor things have been put through.

This might be a sign that I should work out more often, because Harry is smiling at me when I catch up to him even though he is 100% doing this whole hike a lot slower for my benefit. Which is something I really appreciate.

Maybe this is a sign that I should work out more in general.

But one thing that’s for sure is that Harry wasn’t joking when he said the view from the top is to die for.

On one side there is ocean stretching as far as your eye can see. Different shades of blue mixing and blending together as the waves crashes against the shore. On the other side it’s green. Green with little spots and spaces of purple, yellow, tan and red. But it’s too far away for me to be able to see what it is.

The air, unlike on the beach where you could basically taste the salt from the ocean, is fresher than ever. Every breath feels like all the filth from the city is being cleansed from my lungs. The only form of civilisation I can see is the road we took here and the small town a little away from the small mountain we just climbed.

“I told you it would be worth it.” I don’t even have to see his face to know that he’s smug about being right. “You can say it, you know.”

This isn’t going to be good for my ego. “Yes. You were right. But.”, I turn on my heel so I’m looking at him and not the view anymore, “I still think you’re a horrible person for dragging my lazy ass up a whole freaking mountain for a view.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise in surprise, his lips pressing together to supress a smile.

There is a light sheen of sweat on his skin. But really, it’s just giving him a nice glow where the sunlight hits him.

I have no idea how he makes sweat look like that. I’m 99% certain that my sweat makes me look more like a drowned whale than anything. It’s unfair and there should be some rule against people making everything look good.

“You’re just hungry.”, Harry waves me off, “Once we’ve had something to eat, you’re gonna be able to appreciate me taking you here.” “Don’t sound too confident about it, pretty boy. I hold grudges.”

He doesn’t seem phased by my threat, instead he just nods, “Sure, grumpy. Let’s go.”

“Wait.”, I chase after him, careful not to trip over my feet or any loose rocks, “I thought we were going to enjoy the view.”

Harry is already walking at a fast pace down the hill again that we just came up.

I swear to God this man-

“You snooze, you lose, Anna.”, he just yells over his shoulder as I am tiptoeing as fast as I can after him.

If I survive this, I’m gonna cut off a piece of his hair.

It took us a good one and a half hours to get back to his car. My life flashing before my eyes several times.

I’m just thanking God that Harry has quick reflexes.

The journey down wasn’t much different from how we spent the one up. Only instead of me mostly keeping my mouth shut from lack of oxygen, it was out of either concentration in order not to die. Or to admire everything I didn’t have the patience to earlier.

Everything from the random, little flowers scattered to a wild animal we passed. I am not going to admit it to Harry, he doesn’t need to be told he’s right anymore today, but I kind of understand his whole thing about nature being freeing or whatever.

There was something oddly peaceful about not being surrounded by people milling around and cars packing the road.

Surprising, I know.

 “You don’t look like you want to kill me.”, Harry breaks the comfortable silence that’s been blanketing us since we settled into his car and he told me he had another place to show me.

I lift my head from the window where I’ve been resting it, turning to look at him. “It’s the Porsche. I’m telling you.”

“I see.”, he hums. “So, the best way to stay alive after dragging someone on a hike is to have a nice car?”

I nod, patting his hand, “I’m afraid so, H.”

Harry blows out a breath, shaking his head in defeat. “The world we live in, Anna.”, he stares right at me, “It’s beyond saving.”

“How about this?” I gesture to the small town we’re just entering. “This also beyond salvation?”

But it’s the stark opposite of where I’d imagined that we would be going today when he said he wanted to show me his favourite places. I’m not really sure what I did picture. But it was for sure not hiking or visiting a small town two hours out of LA with the sun starting to set in the distance.

Instead of there being busy streets and tall buildings everywhere with noise and smells that never lets up, it’s quiet. The houses are all charming and inviting. Every one of them with a front yard and one or two cars parked in the driveway. There are kids playing outside without a care in the world.

It reminds me of the kind of towns you’d read about in a romance novel. With the boy next door and the small high school. The town where everyone knows everyone and their business.

I can see why Harry likes it here.

A soft smile that can only be described as fond has settled on his face where he keeps the car moving slow enough to take in everything without risking running over something. As if he is taking it all in for the first time.

“I came across this place back in 2016, you know.”, Harry starts, making me straighten up in my seat so I can give him my undivided attention.

He takes a beat before he picks up again where he left off. “I had some time where I didn’t know what to really do with myself. It was weird, you know. So a friend of mine and I had seen some photos from the hill we were just on, and decided to go there.”

“He went straight home when we finished the hike, but I’d seen the lights from the top since it had started getting dark. I was hungry and needed to use the bathroom. That’s all I wanted here.”

I nod when he glances over to me for him to continue. He does. “I ended up going to this little bakery. And even though it was almost time for it to close, they had the best hot coco and apple pie I’d ever had. The woman who owns the bakery, Molly, she’s the sweetest old lady ever. Her grandkids help her out after school, but it’s mainly her and her daughter who handles it.”

“Sounds like you love it there.”

“I really do.”, he agrees. “I’ve been coming here whenever I’m in LA for more than a few days ever since. It’s nice to have a place where you can go to just relax and still not be alone, you know?”

I don’t even know what to say, so I sit quietly processing everything he just said until he talks again. “That’s where I’m taking you right now.”

Struggling to keep myself looking like a human being and not a goldfish, I clench my teeth so hard it feels like they’re going to break. Don’t cry is being chanted repeatedly in my head. Because I refuse to cry. I am going to take a deep breath and calm down right now.

Fuck Harry for making me emotional right now. I’m cool. I’m stoic. I don’t cry over someone sharing a personal, really cute story. That’s not me.

He must take my silence as me not liking his plan because he is apologising and rambling and by the time I can stop him, he has stopped the car and pulled out his phone.

I snatch it away from him, turning it off after noticing the notes app was open. “Harry.” I grab his shoulder to make him stop talking. “I would love to go there with you. It’s a brilliant idea. I was just taking a minute to not cry. Because that would’ve been embarrassing.”

Harry’s shoulders sag in relief, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead while heavily exhaling, “Thank God. And yeah, I agree. Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself either.”

“Hey!” I shove him playfully. “You’re so mean today.”

He shoves me right back, his dimples popping out when he smiles, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nope.”

“Great. Then let’s go.” Harry unfastens his seatbelt, gathering his phone and wallet before he leaves the car. I do the same, reaching into the back seat to grab my tote bag. I take a moment to pat myself on the shoulder.

I didn’t embarrass myself that much.

The second I’m out of the car, I can’t help but fish my phone out of my pocket and snap a photo.

There is a small park with a playground and a pond. Flowers are blooming along the edges and in clusters. There are benches placed by the cobble stone path running through the park.

Shops and what looks like restaurants are one side of the park and more houses on the other. The sun set casts an orange glow over buildings.

It’s idyllic is what it is.

“This actually feels straight out of a romance novel.”, I tell Harry when I feel finished with marvelling at the simplicity of the town.

He grins at me, pushing his hair out of his face, “I see what you mean. Maybe that’s why I love it here so much.”

With that we make our way to the bakery.

“It’s so pretty!” I can’t contain my excitement when he points it out, nearly speed walking to get there faster. Harry laughs as he walks faster to match me in my hurry.

The walls are painted a light pink and there are potted, green plants on either side of the white, door. The windows are big and inviting and the name of the bakery is written on the sign hung above the door.

‘Sweeter Side’

Ok, if that isn’t one of the cutest names for a bakery, then I don’t know what is.

I’m surprised by the warm smell of baked goods filling my nostrils when Harry reaches for the door handle. The bell rings when he pushes the door open.

It has a bell.

The second the door closes behind us, a small, old lady with white hair and big glasses is peaking her head out from a door in the right corner of the bakery behind the display and register.

Her expression goes from surprised to complete joy as she hurries her short legs to us “Harry, love! It’s been far too long.”

“Molly!”, Harry matches her excitement, meeting her halfway to engulf her in a warm hug.

They’re laughing as they take their time, greeting each other and it warms my heart seeing the genuine happiness on both their faces.

Molly then seems to notice my presence and waves me over. Harry steps to the side so I can stand next to him as he introduces us, “Anna, this is Molly. Molly, Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”, I hold out my hand to her for a handshake, but she swats it away, pulling me into a hug.

“Call me Molly, sweetheart.” She’s warm and it feels like a hug your grandmother would give you.

“Ok, Molly. It’s so nice to meet you.” I hug her back, not letting go until she does.

The nervousness I had been feeling before I met Harry on the beach earlier today has been completely erased along with the little nerves I had about Harry taking me to somewhere special to him.

“This place is so nice.”, I praise her when she lets go of me. “And it smells delicious.”

“Oh, thank you darling. It’s small, but I like to think it is.”, she thanks me, humbly. “Harry here gave us the sofas over there.”

“He did?” I go over to the sofas she pointed at. Two identical, white, sofas with a floral pattern and soft-looking, pastel green and pink throw pillows. “They fit perfectly here.”

I settle into the closest one, sighing contently at how comfortable it is. It literally feels like sitting on a cloud.

And they do match the other interior and decorations perfectly.

The homey feel of the little plants everywhere as well as the paintings hanging on the wall. The shelf next to the bread display with framed photos. They’re too far away to be able to see what they’re actually of clearly, but I’m assuming they’re family photos.

Harry sits down next to me, his arm draping over the back of the couch. “Where’s Molly?”, I ask confused when I notice she isn’t here anymore.

“She went to the kitchen to finish making our coco and pie.” “Shouldn’t we go help her´”, I go to stand up, feeling guilty that we’re leaving the sweet lady to do everything herself. But Harry grabs my wrist, preventing me to go anywhere.

“She won’t let you. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

-

Masterlist

[harryistheonlyoneforme-deactiva]

Could you do mean mafia harry talking care of you when you're not feeling well? Like maybe he'll pick you up from your work/school whatever and go all mommy bear on you while still threatening other people left and right?

~

“Are these the right ones?” Harry questions, unabashedly holding up the box of tampons to his phone so YN can read the label.

She’s at home in bed with the worst cramps, and when she’d run out of tampons, Harry was quick to hop out of bed to go get them for her.

Ever since they’d started trying for a baby, YN of course had to stop taking birth control, which would keep her cramps at bay for the most part. So knowing she’s suffering for their future child, he’s willing to do whatever to keep her comfortable.

“Yes, those are right,” she tells him, curling up around her heating pad with a wince, making Harry frown.

“They’re still that bad?” he questions sympathetically, placing a few boxes in the cart for later.

“Yeah, it’s like they got worse once you left,” she teases, but Harry doesn’t realize she’s joking.

“Oh fuck, really? I knew I should’ve sent someone to get them but I didn’t want them to get the wrong-“ he’s cut off by YN’s chuckles, a bright smile on her face as she looks at her distressed husband.

“Baby, I’m joking,” she tells him, and he sighs in relief before scowling at her playfully.

“Alright, you better be,” he mutters. “Okay, well I’m gonna checkout then I’ll be back. I love you, gorgeous,” he tells her, and once she returns the sentiment, he presses a kiss to the phone screen before ending the call.

Placing his phone in his pocket, he realizes just how quiet the store is, so he looks around. Looking up, he realizes there’s a small crowd at the end of the aisle that just witnessed his whole conversation with his wife.

Everyone knows who he is, he’s the biggest and meanest mafia boss in London. So seeing him literally melting as he talks to his wife, everyone is she’ll shocked.

His soft look is immediately replaced with a scowl as he addresses the crowd. “The fuck are you people looking at? Mind y’fucking business,” he grits, making his way from the aisle, shaking his head as he grumbles about how nosey these people were.

~

When he’s arrived back home, he practically sprints from his car with the bags, but he stops just as he enters the foyer, seeing some of his men gathered there with fearful looks on their faces.

“What is it now?” he sighs, impatiently shuffling his feet as he’s desperate to get to his wife. No one speaks, so he turns to Niall, who has a smirk on his face as he rests against the wall.

“Theo made the mistake of making too much noise outside of your bedroom so YN shot him in the foot,” he tells him, a laugh following his words. “And now everyone is scared to even go upstairs,” he finishes, and Harry laughs as well, pushing past the men and making his way up the stairs.

Opening his room door, his smile disappears as he sees her curled up in the bed once more, a pained frown on her face.

“Hey, dove. I got your stuff, got some medicine and snacks too,” he mumbles, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

She thanks him before asking him to get in bed with her, which he happily obliges. He climbs in quickly after sitting the bags down, climbing behind her to cuddle her and rub her aching abdomen.

The warmth of his hand helps her relax a bit, leaning further into him as her cramps lessen a tiny bit. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he just kisses the top of her head in response, still rubbing her gently.

The two of them fall asleep like that, Harry only waking up hours later to the sound of a gunshot and a cry of pain before YN is climbing back into bed with him, making him laugh loudly at how adorable she is when she’s angry.

~

[harryslittlefreak6]

I love this😭 her shooting Theo in the leg>

[cheap-pack-of-cigarettes]

18 year old Harry Styles ready to play a show with One Direction at Madison Square Garden, December 2012

24 year old Harry Styles ready to play two sold out shows of his Debut Solo Album at Madison Square Garden, June 2018

[cheap-pack-of-cigarettes]

27 year old Harry Styles ready to play five sold out shows of his second album Fine Line that includes Grammy Award Winning song Watermelon Sugar at Madison Square Garden, October 2021

[cheap-pack-of-cigarettes]

28 year old Harry Styles ready to play his fifteen show sold out Residency that includes songs from his critically acclaimed third album Harry’s House at Madison Square Garden, August/September 2022

[foolforharrry]

Can someone plese give me an idea for a oneshot. Idc whether its fluff or smut or angst. i just wanna write something and my brain is empty

[harryisart]

DON’T WORRY DARLING (2022)