Harry Styles Strawberries Novels & Stories

I roll my eyes and elbow Bellamy in the ribs. “Sure.” Harry answers, waving around his right hand which is still clutching what I can now see is a shiny glass bottle full of something purple. “Incubi delivery service. Where we always deliver the whole package.” He says with a wink. I groan. “That was terrible Harry.” I complain. “I could try another one. You would be surprised how many lines I can come up with using the word ‘package.’ Harry offers. “Please don’t” Bellamy says dryly.

I hold it to my mouth, keeping my eyes on him. A sharp smirk crosses his face. “Yeah, figured.” I bite into the strawberry on purpose, and watch his jaw tighten like he’s fighting a losing battle. I smile around it. “See? Stress relief.” He leans in closer, his hands brushing my scalp. “You’re gonna be the end of me, Hermione.” He leans in and bites into the strawberry I’m holding. We both chew it into each other’s mouths, exchanging fluids, and it's a slow, sweet rush.

I heard those ones are very rare. He's walking outside and our eyes meet. His stare lingers and his smile doesn't disappear. What? Does he think I'm gay or something? I'm not interested in you, bastard! My cheeks flush from embarrassment and I quickly look away- “But you know one thing? They kinda had the same smell,” Harry said. “What?” “Crystal and this man. His cologne or her perfume was everywhere when he stepped in. I dunno, man. Maybe it was just-”

How about calling my store Vicky's Strawberry Den? I hurriedly wrote this idea on a piece of paper and drew the billboard of my dessert house. Strawberries were my favorite, and I didn't enjoy them as much as I could during the time I was with Leon. But now I finally didn't have to care about his feelings anymore. I told Lars about my idea and he soon took care of everything for me, and he even gave me a free light box, which was really considerate. "Vicky's Strawberry Den. Opening today with a special offer. Buy 3 get 1 free and buy 5 get 2 free on all items..."

I always wore a tie on my wrist so I used it to style up my hair in a low pony tail. I took two more puffs before I tossed the cigarette on the floor besides my leg and stomped on it. I watched as the little flames scattered before i turned to face Harry. His face was flustered from the cold. He must have a very sensitive skin. His blonde hair was brushed back and his black eyes bigger than ever. He wore a white T-shirt and fancy green knicker. His eyebrows were thick and he had long lashes with a well defined body that showed under his shirt. One could consider him as attractive

You and I We don't wanna be like them We can make till the end Nothing can come between You and I Not even the gods above Can separate the two of us I hummed softly along and he looked over at me. "Big fan,huh?" "No, just one of them." I pulled over into the parking lot. "Who's this unlucky guy?" "One, he's not unlucky. Two, it's Harry." We walked towards my locker. "Harry Styles?" "No," I rolled my eyes at him. "Harry Potter." "Haha, really funny." He said as I slammed my locker shut. I turned on my heels and coffee spilled on my shirt. Way to start Friday morning. "Watch the hell where you're going." The voice barked.

I stayed up until one in the morning, reading more and more since I've already dug up some dirt about him. Benedict Edward Rose Styles. Twenty-five years old. Fuckingly wealthy. He got a headline the day when the world found out he was the first born of Harry Styles from a one night stand. Mr. Harry Styles used to belong to an insanely famous boyband years ago called One Direction, later he turned to be a ridiculously filthy rich businessman. His mother, Miranda Rose Styles, at first kept him in secret for seven years from Harry and the entire world since she wasn't ready to tell everyone about him. Mrs. Styles was also married to her ex-husband Louis Tomlinson which was Harry Styles' best f

I cried a little longer into his chest. Eventually, he lifted my chin, holding my gaze. “I have strawberries.” That caught me off guard. “What?” “Strawberries,” he repeated, like it was the most natural pivot in the world. “I’ve figured you like them. Your keyring has a strawberry charm, you always order a strawberry boba at that cafe, and your hair… the night you slept over, it smelled of strawberries.” I laughed beside myself. “Okay, I might have a slight obsession with the fruit.”