Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

80

Bree Tyler

Dear Journal,

Never in a million years would I have anticipated this. Everything. It's all so clear now, maybe this is the life I want and need. Me and Harry are now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, how crazy is that? I sound like a little school girl writing in a diary, but it's not a diary, it's a journal. Big difference yes? I've just never had a boyfriend before, I always slept around and hated being committed to anything. But me and Harry are committed to each other. I don't think I'd want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else, it's always going to be him.
It'll always be you, Harry Styles.
He's been so open to me, he talks to me, he showers with me, he told me his biggest fears and we got rid of them with the magic of fire . Me and Harry are made for each other, I know it. We live on this earth together and we'll die on this earth together. He just lights up my world, the way no one else can. I wonder if that's how he feels about me? Like there is simply no one else for him besides me?  I mean, I hope he feels that way about me, or else I'd be a little bit embarrassed, wouldn't you? The boy you're crazy about, doesn't feel feelings as strong as yours? But I know he feels the same, he's confessed so much more than I could ever. He puts his feelings in words, most cannot successfully do that and express it truly. But him, he can.

-Bree

"What are you writing in there?" Harry whispered in my ear, lightly running his hands over my bare boobs.

"Stop," I chuckled with a small snort, closing the leather journal instantly after I signed off.

"Did you just snort?" He observed, making my cheeks turn red in embarrassment and bite the flesh inside of my cheek.

"No." I laughed, shaking my head even though I was lying and I did in fact snort.

"Aww is m'lady embarrassed?" He questioned , as his hands trailed down my back around my tailbone and just above my ass.

"Stop." I scoffed, "I'm never embarrassed." I lied through my teeth.

"Mhm." He groaned and lulled his head back with his curls slightly shagging. "I'll see what's in that journal one day."

"Please, in your dreams pretty boy." I kicked my heels up, rubbing my feet together in the air and laying my chin in my palms with my elbows digging into the mattress as I bit my lower lip.

"Don't get too cocky, I always find a way into getting what I want." He smirked against my cheek, making them turn red again just by his slightest movements.

"Oh yeah?" I looked at him, and he ruffled my hair.

"Oh yeah." He repeated me in smug, leaving the room and walking out like he had just proven me wrong.

You won't get your hands on this leather journal, Styles.

I walked into the closet, and put his tank top over my head and let it drape along my torso. And pulled the black boxers up my legs, I usually don't wear much clothes around the house, and this wasn't that much but it's kind of cold in here, the AC is turned up high so a large tank top and boxers it is.

I looked like I was swimming in his clothes, even though we're basically the same height his muscles are much bigger than my own, but the boxers are a little tight around my legs and ass of course.

Prancing down the stairs and feeling just, happy? I look around in the kitchen and bite my lip at the sight of my everything. He's shirtless with sleeves of tattoos rolling down his arms. My favorite ones being prominent like the one of the naked stripper on a pole, or the one with a red inked broken heart and an bedazzled arrow flying through it. He had black sweatpants on that hung low on his hips and accented his happy trail below his belly button. Who knew people as good as him existed in this fucked up world, huh?