Harry Styles Imagines/Blurbs

Golf!Harry

You’d rolled over to find the other side of the bed empty, momentarily forgetting in your drowsiness that Harry had told you he’d be leaving early to golf with some of his friends. Groaning quietly, you’d rolled back over. Sunlight easily pushed through the see-through drapes of the hotel room and boasted the start of another hot LA day.

Rubbing your eyes, you’d checked your phone and found a text from Harry. “heyyy love, something came up so we didn’t go, so I’m playing a round on the hotel course. text me when you wake up xx”

You’d texted him back as requested, and his reply came faster than you expected. His next request made you groan again and flop over, because the very last thing you wanted to do was have to get up and dressed and galavant across the resort golf course looking for him. When you didn’t text back immediately, he’d seemed to know your thoughts. “pleeeeeeeease I’m bored by myself.”

“Fine.”  you’d replied with a huff and thrown the covers off.

Thankfully, one of the caddies offered to drive you out to the hole Harry was on. You asked him to stop just before you got there, intent on watching Harry for a moment before he’d known you were there. As you scooted off the golf cart and the caddy turned to drive away, your eyes had focused on Harry. Even from a distance, the tailored, white pants he wore made him look tall and lean, and the purple polo tucked neatly inside of them made his shoulders seem broader than usual. A golf glove dangled out of his back pocket as he leaned into his playing stance. And then he’d swung, and when he did, you’d thought even through his golf shirt you could see every muscle in his back twisting, flexing, working. You weren’t sure why it was, but seeing him in his golf attire always made you go a little mental. It was a nice contrast to his usual half-homeless, half-hipster look. Honestly, any time he tailored up it was instantly more attractive to you, but there was just something-- something undeniably handsome-- about Harry in his dumb golfing clothes.

“Nice swing.” you’d called across the green. His head snapped from peering towards the flying ball to searching for your voice. He smiled as you continued to walk towards him, leaning on his golf club and sort of giggling as you smiled back.

“Thank you.” he grinned. “Want to try?”

“No. No no, really no.” you’d waved your hands at the outstretched club in his, finishing your trek to him.

“Alright.” he said in a silly tone, one that pretended to try to make you feel sad for missing out. He slid the club back into his case before sliding his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead. “Morning.”

“Morning.” you replied and gave him a simple kiss. Your hands rested on his arms as he casually held you close. “How many holes have you got left?”

“Just three.” he shrugged. “You sure you don’t want a go?”

You’d laughed and looked towards his golf case. “No, I think I’ll just watch. You do look so ruggedly handsome when you play. Not complaining.” you wagged a shoulder in play.

He giggled, a little surprised. “Seriously?”

“Well.. kinda, yeah.” you shrugged, trying to hide the smile on your lips, but failing in the best way.

That information had proved to make him way too excited, which made you roll your eyes and refuse to hold anything or keep his score or tee for him. Instead you poked at him by stealing his glove and ‘accidentally’ knocking over his organized bag and commentating his swings as if you knew what was going on (even though you totally didn’t). He chuckled, trying to ignore your ridiculous announcer voice, but soon his swings became less focused on maintaining par and more focused on making you laugh. You liked watching him all serious and calculated in his effort to succeed, but nothing would ever beat his silliness. He shimmed his shoulders and pranced up to the teed ball, humming his own made-up theme song and swinging blindly, which had made you bust out into a fit of giggles.