Harry Styles Imagines

gotta be you - part two*

(panic attack)

The Wedding

To say you were stressed was the understatement of the century.

You had never felt so anxious in your life. You had had your engagement party last night and it was going well until you started to talk about the actual wedding plans, to which everyone started criticising. You just wanted to get this wedding right, but it proving to be more difficult than expected.

You'd snuck out of bed, at around 2am, to go downstairs and continue planning, now fixing, the wedding. You didn't want to wake Harry up seeing as he had been busy planning his world tour, for next year, recently, and so he was almost always tired. He didn't want to go on the tour if you weren't comfortable with it, but you could never step in the way of his dreams so you obviously told him to do it. You were travelling with him, for the Europe leg of the tour, as you'd managed to get the time off work.

The kitchen was dimly lit by the lights that ran along the borders of the kitchen cabinets. You'd made yourself some green tea and sat on top of the kitchen island, with all your wedding notes and plans out in front of you.

You wanted a small wedding ceremony, with just close family, and then a large wedding reception afterwards. Harry didn't mind what you had, apparently as long as you were happy he was happy. Except now you didn't know what to do or what you wanted. People were saying, yesterday, about how small wedding ceremonies are risky because you have the fear of missing someone out, but you didn't deal with large crowds, or being the centre of attention, very well at all so it would be hard to have anything else.

You hair was in a low bun yet it was still adding to the strain of your headache. You'd already taken some ibuprofen, but obviously that wasn't helping.

"Baby, what are you doing up?" Harry sleepily says, startling you as he walks in the room. He rubs his fist in to his eye, getting rid of the sleep, and it should honestly be illegal for him to look so cute. He was such a baby, and he knew it, but he hated you saying that him.

It was hard for anyone to look so cute and also goddamn hot and beautiful, at the same time, and yet here Harry was doing both. He had his grey sweats on, hanging low on his hips so his Calvin Klein boxers were peeking out over the top. What mesmerised you more was his bare chest. You'd seen it thousands of times and yet he still managed to take your breath away. He'd been working out more recently, too, with you, and it was showing.

You were so busy fantasising over your fiancés body that you didn't even realise he was now at the kitchen island, leaning over to reach out for you.

"Wedding planning is not as fun as I thought it would be." You pout and sigh, rolling your head back in frustration.

"Come here, love, and tell me what's wrong." Harry extends his arms out, further, to latch on to you. You don't move so Harry moves you, for you, instead. He grabs your legs, from their cris-crossed position, and uses his upper body strength to tug you towards him. You glide easily over the counter and end up pressed right against Harrys warm chest. You instantly rest your head on his chest, needing a bit if comfort in that moment.

"I told you." You mumble, not really in the mood to be having this conversation.

"Yeah, Y/N/N, I heard; but wedding planning should be enjoyable and something you look forward to so why aren't you feeling like that? Hmm?" Harry asked brushing some hair behind your ear as he brings your face up to meet his. He wanted to see your gorgeous face in case he had to kiss away any frustrated creases that formed on your forehead, because he hated them so much. He would kiss away all your problems if he could.