Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

So good

Christmas has never been y/n’s favourite holiday. In fact, it’s been her least favourite holiday.

Growing up, she would hear her classmates talk about how their Christmas had been magical. Filled with love and laughter. Presents and someone dressing up as Santa Claus.

Even as they got older and realised that Santa wasn’t real, the magic of Christmas had then gone from a mysterious man delivering them presents in the dark of night to the love and laughter of all their loved ones gathered in one place.

Y/n didn’t understand why everyone else got so lucky when her holiday was filled with screaming and yelling at the top of her family’s lungs. Glasses and plates smashed against the walls. There was never a tree that they’d decorate together. Never any pretty lights hung up around the house.

The only thing that separated Christmas time in her family’s house from the rest of the year was that the fighting got worse from the alcohol the adults would consume to get through.

When y/n had opened up to Harry about why she doesn’t like the holiday that he adores so much he had vowed to do his absolute best to replace all the bad memories with happy ones.

And waking up slowly cuddled in bed with her boyfriend on Christmas morning is yet another happy memory y/n knows she’s going to cherish as she reflects on the day and evening before, face nuzzled into Harry’s warm chest.

They had spent the whole day at Anne’s. Anne has grown very fond of y/n in the almost three years she’s been with her son. So when she heard that she would finally be joining them to celebrate Christmas Eve, Anne had been over the moon with joy and hugged the girl as long as she let her when y/n and Harry had knocked on her door just before 12 o’clock.

Christmas Eve had been laughter and board games. Exchanging gifts and the small talk that louder as the day bled into the night and everyone was buzzing with the wine that was served.

It was the polar opposite of any Christmas Eve y/n had ever had in her life.

Y/n had tried to find a moment to thank Anne for opening her home to her, but every time she’d tried, Anne had waved her off saying that “My door is always open for family, dear.”

Right now, y/n feels at peace. As if she and Harry are in their own little, impenetrable bubble that she doesn’t ever want to leave. Feeling his chest rise and fall with every sleeping breath of air going in and out of his lungs as she traces the art inked into his skin exposed to the warm sunlight filtering in through the curtains.

It’s a type of serenity that she used to dream of having.

His skin has paled significantly from the Italian tan he had gotten over their long vacation in the summer, but still held a golden hue left to it.

The change in his breathing pattern is what alerts her that Harry is slowly waking up after however long she’s been in her own little world. Then a shift in his fingers splayed over the curve of her waist as she feels the vibrations in his chest before she hears his groggy morning voice rasp, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

The voice of the person she loves most in this world has a wide smile immediately forming on y/n’s face as she shifts her body so she’s laying on her stomach with her left cheek pillowed on Harry’s chest so she can look admire the beauty of a human being she’s sharing her bed with.

“Morning handsome.” Y/n smiles tiredly at him, humming in satisfaction when Harry starts drawing soft circles on the small of her back.

Harry had been planning on waking up at the ass crack of dawn today so that he could make her favourite breakfast, French toast and berries, and hot chocolate. Wake her up with loving kisses and one of her presents as they ate their meal cuddled in bed with Grey’s Anatomy, their favourite show at the time.