HARRY STYLES INTERRACIAL IMAGINES.

he wants to cuddle.

"y/n?" harry pouted, his eyes glossy.

you looked up, seeing your boyfriend sad.

you closed your laptop where you were doing an essay, and set it aside.

"come here my love." you said softly, opening your arms.

harry nearly melted. he loved when you called him that.

he slid into bed, loving the feeling of your arms wrapping around him and your fingers running through his hair.

"wanna tell me what's wrong darling?"

"i'm tired." he said his voice muffled, as it was in your hair.

you took the hint he didn't wanna talk about it so you left it alone.

that's one of the reasons he loved you. you didn't pry.

"okay my love, let's take a nap."

"but your essay-"

"can wait." you said pulling the covers up.

"i love you." he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.

"and i you."

-

if you can't tell my love is my favorite to name to call my other half.

IF I HAD ONE LMAOOOOOO