Begin Again [Harry Styles Fanfic]

Gotta Be You

So as you all know, last chapter I said that this was going to be a HUGE chapter. But, the problem is, I'm back in school again and its crunch time because this is the school year colleges really focus on and blahblahblah so I haven't been on as often as I would like to be. This will probably just be a really cute little Hadia feels filled chapter. Nice and short and sweet. Just so you can guys can have something to read while I work on the big guy. And, also, the only reason this is in the at the very beginning because I didn't want you to be all upset that nothing extreme really happens and then get pissed off and stop reading. Maybe no one really even does that but me. Whatever. I'm just rambling now. But, before you carry on with your Hadia filled reading, I'd like to give a shoutout to @Horany4_Horan because she's fabulous and so is her fanfic. :) Happy reading, porcelains!!!

“Pst, Harry,” I whispered as I rolled over in bed so that I was facing him and snuggled closer. “I’m hungry.”

He snorted and opened one eye, looking down at me tiredly. “When aren’t you hungry?” He laughed. I started to glare at him before realizing that he was right. Me and food were homies, yo. You couldn’t separate us. It was just that recently I’d found myself even hungrier than usual. The other day we were in Nando’s and I out ate Niall. Do you know how hard it is to out eat a fucking Irishman with a fast metabolism? Fucking impossible, I tell ya. But I did. And still had room for cheesecake.

Harry sighed as he sat up, a little more awake and alert. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What do you want to eat, love? I can make you something.” I rolled my eyes as he grinned down at me widely. He was very proud of his ability to cook. If you told him that he burnt something or it tasted weird he’d pout in the kitchen for an hour until you came in and told him that you were joking. 

I traced the outline of the ship on his arm (do not fucking ask me why he got a giant ass ship tattooed on his bicep. I asked him the same thing and all he did was shrug and say that it looked cool) and looked up at him, giving him my best puppy dog eyes. I was so good at them now that I was even going to make a tutorial and put it on Youtube. Watch out boys, you’re about to get whipped into check. “Baby,” I said as I fluttered my eyelashes at him. He groaned and tried to look away but couldn’t even if he really wanted to. That was the best part of the perfecting puppy dog eyes. You had fucking mind control once you got it right. “Would you pwetty pwease with sugar on top, make me some spaghetti?” 

He rolled his eyes at me and kissed the top of my head. “Of course, Princess.” I mentally high-fived myself for winning the competition that he didn’t even know was happening. “But,” Fucking fuck. He always had to add the but. Always. “You have to come downstairs with me while I make it.” Ha, fucking bitch thought I was just going to sit here in bed while he made me spaghetti shirtless? Bitch, please. “And you have to stay exactly the way you are.”

I scrunched my eyebrows at him, not understanding where he was going with this. If this was about to be another one of those inspirational “You are beautiful just the way you are” kind of things I was probably just going to punch him in his throat. Or leave some tampons out in the bathroom. He motioned down towards my body and I followed his gaze, laughing loudly as I finally got it. I was only wearing a bra and a pair of his boxers. My standard bed time attire now. 

I laughed loudly as he stood up from the bed, waggling his fingers in front of me so that I could intertwine my own with his. "Bitch please," I laughed again, grasping his hands with my own. "I wasn't going to put anything on anyways."

We walked downstairs holding hands, swinging as we went. I didn't plan on helping out at all honestly. I mean, if I wanted to make something I would've just made the spaghetti myself and not bothered with the whole begging and pleading and pouting thing. That shit gets tiring even if you perfect it.