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Harry Styles

I wipe the blood off of my hands before getting in the shower. I just got back from base after torturing someone. I get out and put on a black button up shirt, with some black jeans. I brush my teeth and run my fingers through my hair before sliding on my cross necklace again, ironic that I kill people then put a cross around my neck. I put on my black leather Chelsea boots and grab my keys then leave to go to Arabella's house. It has been a few days since our dinner at the diner and she texted me earlier asking me if I wanted to have dinner at her flat.

I reach her apartment and knock on the door. I hear shuffling and a lock being unlocked before the door opens revealing a stunning Arabella. She's wearing a white tank top with lace going down the v, and some black/grey skinny jeans. She smiles at me and opens the door wider, her apartment is the same as I remember and it smells amazing.

"Hope you like pasta." She turns around and looks at me, waiting for a reaction.

"Love it." I mutter and she smiles before turning back around. My eyes raking her body up and down before moving to papers on her counter. I shuffle through them and notice it is about my recent murders. "What are these for?" I question and she moves the pan to a burner that isn't on before walking over to me.

"One of my classes, I am writing about the recent murders." I nod and hum before my eyes go back down and read them. "Whoever is doing it is really messed up." I nod in reply and internally chuckle at the irony of her sentence.

"Yeah I agree,what a terrible person." She agrees and starts playing the pasta.

"Ok so I have no clue how good this will be, but here you go." She slides me a plate and sits at the bar stool next to me. I take a bite and slowly chew, faking disgust while she watches me carefully and frowns at my reaction. "Is it that bad?" She asks sadly and I nod. "I-I'm sorry." She mutters before standing and grabbing my plate. I grab her wrist and chuckle.

"I'm just messing with ya baby, it's really good." I see her smile when I call her baby and relax after I assure her it is actually quite good.

"Harry you jack ass I thought you hated it." I chuckle and shake my head. She sits back down and we continue eating, talking and chewing filling the air. When we finish we both do the dishes and I argue with her to let me help, she gives in when I start to tickle her sides. As I'm I'm washing a plate I get an idea. I take some bubbles in my hand and flick them at her, making her shirt wet when I accidentally get some water in it, her white shirt showing off her lace black bralette.

"Harry!" She squeals and I laugh, my head going back and eyes closing for a second before feeling wetness on my shirt.

"Oh you are getting it now." She screams lightly before running around and trying to dodge me. She goes into her room and I "lose" her for a second when in reality I see her hiding behind her closet door.

"Come on princess, stop hiding." I snap my head in her direction and she screams before running. I trap her in the corner and put my hands above her.

"It's not very nice to hide from me, now is it?" I lock our eyes when I pull back from her ear. I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder walking to her bed. She hits my back and protests for me to put her down. I refuse and place her on her bed, climbing over her and hovering. I lean down and inch close to her face, our lips brush and I pull back. She looks at me with her cheeks flushed a little bit before biting her lip. My cross necklace hangs down and she grabs it, toying with it.

"Harry, do you um, wanna watch a movie?" She questions while her eyes are still locked on the necklace.

"Sure." I reply hesitantly but she looks up at me and smiles. I get off of her and go to the side of her. She leans over and grabs a remote, turning on the tv and going on Hulu. We settle on a movie and Arabella gets up to change quickly, coming back in a white over sized shirt, and some pajama shirts. I take off my shirt and get more comfortable. She stares at my body not so subtly and I smirk.

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