summary: in which you + winter weather = a photoshoot
a/n: sorry about not posting yesterday! because of that i plan on posting 2 little fics tomorrow!
The sound of a camera shutter detracts your attention away from the snow falling outside. You turn from your spot by the window to glare only half mockingly at your boyfriend, “Harry, quit it! You know sometimes savoring the moment is much better than taking pictures of it.”
He winked at you from over the viewfinder of his camera, “Yeah, babe, I hear you; live in the moment, sure. But it snows here all the time and you just look so pretty.”
Harry punctuates the end of his sentence with another snapshot of you, the gentle sunlight filtering through the window panes and illuminating your profile in just the right way. You sigh and smile despite yourself, unable to stay mad at the Holland twin for very long. Resigning yourself to Harry’s constantly evolving inspiration, you get up from your perch by the window and make your way across the room to sit on his lap.
Harry sets his camera down on the coffee table in front of him in lieu of wrapping his arms around your waist; he presses a kiss to your cheek when he feels your body relax in his grip. For a few minutes, you both bask in the feeling of each other’s warmth as you watch the snow make mini mountains on the window sill outside.
But when Harry begins to feel you squirm in his lap, a knowing smile curves his lips upward and he squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw, “Do you want to play outside?”
At his suggestion, you shoot up off his lap, “Please!”
Before he can offer to take you out, you’re already grabbing your coat from the other room, rushing around the living room of the Holland family house to put your boots on. He revels in your excitement, grabbing his camera off the coffee table before holding the front door open for you.
Once you’re let loose in the falling snow, Harry can’t help but stand back and admire you; your nose is red from the cold, snowflakes are beginning to dot themselves in your hair, and your gloved fingers hold handfuls of snow as you attempt to construct a mini snowman.
At the sight of you so genuinely happy, Harry feels his shutter button finger twitch; the lighting is perfect, you’re perfect, this moment is just so perfect. Despite your earlier remark, he finds himself holding his camera up to take a photo of you. Just one, he tells himself.
When the telltale sound of his camera’s shutter goes off again, your head whips around to face him, but instead of the disapproving look you had plastered on your face before, a grin pulls at the corners of your lips, “You’re obsessed, Harry Holland! Do you know that?”
As he lowers his camera, he smiles back at you, reaching a hand out to take one of yours. You drop the snowball you were so meticulously crafting to lace your fingers through his, rolling your eyes as he says, “You’re right. I am obsessed. With you.”
You grunt in faux annoyance at his cheesy compliment, attempting to force down the heat that threatens to set your face on fire. He smiles at you as you take his face in your gloved hands, squishing his cheeks together to make his lips purse. You laugh for a moment before letting yourself ogle at his face from up close.
He has all the trademark features of a Holland, but there’s something so distinctly his that you find unbelievably beautiful. He doesn’t have as many freckles as his twin, nor are they nearly as dark, but they’re there, dotting his cheeks in the same way that snowflakes cling to your clothes. You kiss him chastely before going back to admiring his physique, “You know, I never understood why someone as pretty as you isn’t in front of the camera instead of behind it.”
It’s Harry’s turn to blush, not yet having gotten used to your freely given and effortless compliments. He leans in to kiss you, this time longer, as a thank you for your constant love and support.
His kiss is warm, encompassing both of you in an inexplicable kind of warmth that soothes you from your head to your toes, distracting you from the snow falling around you and the cold permeating through your clothes.
In that moment, it’s just you, Harry, and–
You hear his camera shutter go off again. When you pull away, he’s grinning cheekily at you, showcasing the picture he managed to sneak of the two of you kissing, the colors of your skin and clothes vibrant as white blankets the background.
Despite your qualms about being interrupted, you have to admit it’s a very pretty photo. Gently lowering his camera to let it hang from the strap around his neck, you lean in again to kiss him gingerly, determined to return to the warmth no tea or blanket could ever provide.
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