Harry Styles Imagines

He's Upset

I came home to my boyfriend, Harry, sitting laying down on our bed all down and sad. My caring nature kicked in and I dropped my purse by the door. "Harry, are you okay, baby?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He said. I wanted to smirk, Harry always did this. He always wanted to act like nothing could be wrong, but when you see him moping on the bed like that, you know something's up.

"No, you're not." I replied, "You look miserable. Please tell me what's wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." He spoke softly.

I sighed and crawled into be next to him. I lifted up his arm and snuggled up to him face to face. I kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips. "Please, Harry. You can tell me anything."

"Okay," He said, "Baby, I'm just so sick and tired of hearing these rumors about me being a womanizer. I feel like it's going to drive you away."

"Harry, you aren't a womanizer. I know that what those idiots say about you is just trash."

"But what if one day you think otherwise? Babe, promise me you won't ever think like that," Harry said, tears forming in his green eyes, "Promise me you'll never believe that I could actually love anyone who isn't you."

"Harry, I-"

"Promise, Y/N." He hushed me, his voice shaky like he was about to cry.

"I promise. And I love you. I won't ever believe any of that stuff, I know you love me and that you'd never be the man they think you are."

"I love you, too."

"Feel better now?"

He chuckled lowly and kissed my lips deeply, "Yes, babe. I feel better now."