Harry's style


1. Unpredictable

‘Harry, stop, stop’ I moaned. His head rose and all I could see through his thick, curly hair was a smirk stretched across the right side of his face. He was so devious, so unpredictable. I craved him so constantly, so deeply that it was a physical ache. It killed me how attracted I was to the idea of his lips, his lips exploring my body. His head nestled alongside my shoulder and his hair curled between my arms. Everything seemed to be moving so slowly, like what we had was a movie, being so slowly edged forward. The way he looked, smelt, touched, was so effortlessly beautiful, it killed.


‘Em, rise and shine.’

I glanced up to see Harry’s figure shadowing above me. It was too early to be awake after the night we had shared, but there was no better way to wake up then with Harry by my side. His hand slid down under the covers, which were still tightly bringing warmth to my body, and he so gracefully flung them across the room. A sly grin struck his face and he frolicked off into the kitchen. Following him like a little puppy, off I went. Harry held this whole tough guy sigma and made pathetic attempts at trying to shy off the mischief we had both encountered the night before. He was so, how do I say, endearing? As we both devoured the morning feast served by two house guests, in which I never formally encountered, Harry continuously played around… playing footsies under the table and so elegantly flicking fractions of his buttered toast across the table. Despite his foolishness, I couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes. He sat there, taunting and teasing and there I was, falling completely and utterly head over heels, for a fool, but a perfect one to say the least.

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