You *could* (pleaseeeee) do an imagine about harry hurting his hand/not taking care of himself 😏
I definetly could…. I think I will, actually. (I wrote this super fast, might be a tad messy.)
You rise up on your toes in interest when you hear the jangle of keys against your front door, setting down your book and picking up your tea mug as you await for the door to swing open.
When it does, it reveals your boyfriend who looks quiet cozy, a bag on his shoulder and coat in his hand as he pulls the keys out of the door and shuts it behind him.
“Where’d you go?” You ask, breaking the silence because you can’t wait any longer.
His head snaps up from hanging the coat on one of the hooks you guys have lining the wall, looking at you with a shocked expression which quickly melts into a relaxed smile.
“Went to the gym, thought yeh would still be asleep.” He mumbles, setting the back down with a thump as he makes his way over to you.
“The bed was cold.” You pout, taking him in as he stands in front of you. He’s got that big gray sweatshirt he’s been practically living in on, with a pair of shorts and tennis shoes.To top it all off, he’s wearing a beanie with his wild curls poking out around the edges. He has a striking resemblance to himself from 4 years ago. Except, now he looks like a grumpy old man when he frowns, not an anger driven teenager.
“ ‘M sorry, angel.” He apologizes, taking your head into his hands and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes squeeze shut from the outside cold that is still lingering on his skin when he runs his fingers through your hair.
“S’okay, I guess. Did you have a good workout?” You ask, swinging your arms around his waist and tugging him towards you before he can go anywhere.
He lets out a chuckle and wraps an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you to him. “S’fine, been too long since ‘ve gone.”
“Mm, well you’ve been busy, love.” You mumble, taking a sip of your tea before you tilt your head back to look up at him.
He smirks at you while running a hand over the crown of your head, pressing your most likely messy bed hair down, “Yeah, but I should’ve made time.”
You roll your eyes at him before you set your mug down and tug on his sweatshirt, lowering him down to you.
“What’s this?” He asks warmly, peering at you with inquisitive eyes.
“Kiss.” You supply simply, puckering your lips.
He laughs, a swift gentle laugh before he leans down further to oblige. His lips are cold too, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling. He nudges his nose with yours before pulling away, “S’that peppermint tea yeh got?” He licks his lips with a smacking sound.
“Mhm, want to try some?” You ask, offering your mug up to him. He takes it from you and blows at the steaming liquid a bit before bringing it up to his lips.
“S’good, we should get more.” He concludes, ducking down to take a another sip before you can scold him to get his own tea.
But you’re not concerned about the tea, when the white bandage on his hand has caught your eye. You frown, taking the mug from him and setting it down with a clang before you take his hand and observe it, carefully tracing your fingers over the bandage.
“What did you do?” You scold, eyes flashing up at him with scorn. You’re afraid to lift the bandage, if you’re being honest. Harry had a knack for accidentally hurting himself and it makes your stomach do summersaults. When he had first come home with a bandage and an achy back from filming, you had freaked out.
“S’nothing, love. Just a little sore from boxing.” He soothes you, squeezing your hand gently.
“Let me see, then.” You counter with a raise of your eyebrows.
“Don’t believe me, do yeh?” He says with scoff as he begins to unwrap the bandage from around his hand.
You lean forward a peek a little, relieved to see that there isn’t any scathing red coloring his hand but you watch him wince as he flexes his hand and your heart jumps as if you’re the one in pain.
“Harry! Be careful!” You cry, reaching forward and grabbing his hand again.
“S’my hand, pet. Don’t know wha’ else I can do..” He’s teasing you, and you’re not having any of it.
“You’re a bloody- god, Harry I just wish you’d take care of yourself. Don’t like seeing you… hurt.” You murmur, the last word falling from your mouth with sorrow.
“M’fine, sweetheart. No need t’worry.” He reassures you suddenly, darting forward and cupping your cheek with his injured hand.
You meet his eyes and he’s being sincere, and there’s nothing else you can quite do so you sigh with defeat, nuzzling your cheek into his touch. “No more boxing. Not until it feels better, you hear me?”
He smirks, dimple popping at your command but he nods nonetheless. “Course, whatever yeh say love.”
“Good.” You conclude, turning your cheek to press a kiss to his palm before you get up to get another kettle of tea brewing for him.
He comes up behind you suddenly, hand gripping your bum and giving it a possessive squeeze. “Yeh know.. there’s something I can think o’ t’make my hand feel better..” He rasps warm into your ear, before smacking your bum with a cracking sound that overpowers the screaming kettle.