Basically the life I dream of having if I was lonely and needed Harry to give me love.
One-shots/imagines/blurbs about Harry Styles.
Y/N - Your name because you're the cutest
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5.1k words
synopsis: Harry's in love, Y/N wants a tattoo and sometimes things don't go as planned
contains: mentions of violence
Harry had never been in a serious relationship before so the idea of love didn't come easy to him. He had spent the majority of his life believing he was destined to be lonely, finding himself in one night stands and never getting past the first date for lack of connection. He didn't know what love looked like, felt like or even if it existed at all, until he met his flower. He was pretty sure his relationship with Y/N was the physical embodiment of what it meant to be loved and to love in return.
It had been the start of autumn when they had kissed and now it was getting close to winter, nearing the start of the Christmas season. People were walking the streets in thick jackets and woollen hats and scarves. The days were getting darker much earlier which Y/N was a little upset about considering how much she loved the day.
In the past two months, Harry had learnt so much about the sweet, pretty girl next door. From her little habits and small quirks she didn't think he would notice.
Y/N loved wearing Harry's clothes. He had bought a new band tee from an online shop one of his friends had recommended to him. When the parcel hadn't arrived on time, he wondered if it had gotten lost in transit or they'd delivered it to the wrong address. He had emailed them once or twice to see its whereabouts only to find the Fleetwood Mac t-shirt on the body of his girlfriend asleep on his sofa when he came home from work. "But Harry they're so soft and comfy!" She argued when he accused her the next morning. "Know that baby but I need clothes to wear." He was trying not to smile and pinch her cheeks when he caught a glimpse of her pouty lips. "But Harry-" He couldn't help but interrupt her with a quick kiss to her lips, "Can use some of my old shirts flower, y' can pick them out. C'mon sweet girl," He led her to his wardrobe and let her scramble through the box of his old shirts.
She loved being praised. Harry thought it was the cutest thing ever when he'd compliment her or tell her how good she was for him and her cheeks would turn a dusky pink colour. He'd often find himself kissing the crescent moon-shaped dimples on her cheeks whenever she'd beam up at him after he mumbled sweet praises into her ear, "M' good girl," He'd say, "Best girl, m' favourite flower."
She loved physical touch from him and him only he had learnt. His favourite time of day was coming home after a busy day of working and finding his darling girl sitting up in bed, either reading or watching tv, waiting for him in his favourite soft, satin pyjamas she wears (he loved the feel of them under his hand when he'd hold her). She'd make grabby hands for him as soon as she saw him walk through the door of her bedroom, wanting to touch him almost immediately. He'd kiss her a few times, run his fingers through her hair, stroke her cheek and brush his fingers over her arm. Even when they were walking through the streets of the town, Y/N would often cling to Harry - feeling anxious being around too many people. He'd comfort her with soothing touches, rubbing circles on the pulse point on her wrist to make sure she was okay.
