Harry Styles One Shots.
These are one shots I have found on tumblr.
All credit goes to the writers of which I name at the end of every chapter. If any original writers of these one shots would like me to remove them, please let me know.
description: you give harry a camera for his birthday and the two of you are more than excited to put it to good use.
word count: 5k
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It's true that you may have had ulterior motives with Harry's birthday gift.
His hands are delicate, fingertips running across the surface of the Polaroid camera as though he'd break it if his grip got any tighter. The packs of film you'd purchased with the camera rest on the coffee table, being thoroughly ignored while Harry examines his gift, and you duck your head just a bit to read his expression. Slightly confused, brows furrowed, a small grin tugging at his lips - it's what you'd expected with a gift like this, because it isn't as though either of you need a camera. Surely both of your phones are better quality than the photos you'll be taking with the Polaroid but it's for the aesthetic, you suppose.
"Do you like it?" you question, voice soft.
Harry rests the camera on his lap and glances up at you, large hand moving to rest over your knee through your jeans. "Well, I love it, 'course."
There's a second part of his response that's left unsaid - perhaps the question of why you'd gotten him it - so you lean in, chin resting on your boyfriend's shoulder and your lips drifting dangerously close to his ear. Just enough that you know his jeans are growing tighter and he shifts in his seat on your living room couch as if to prove it to you. "Thought it might be fun to start taking pictures of each other."
A beat passes with silence, and then he turns his head to look at you, nearly bemused by the concept, as though he doesn't know exactly what you're implying. "Wha' kinda pictures?"
You hum softly, reaching over to the coffee table to pick up one of the film packages, already beginning to tear open the wrapper. "The kind that'll make touring more fun for both of us."
Harry pauses, eyes narrowing at your fingers ripping open the crinkly film packaging, and you can practically hear his rebuttal of the idea before he says it. "Thought we said no nudes - people could find 'em, babe."
"Physical copies are more secure than digital ones," you tell him, picking up the camera from his lap to put the film in. "Are you telling me you don't want to take pictures of me sucking you off to have with you on tour? 'Cause that's very out of character for you, Mr. Styles."
He snorts and the familiar sound is like music to your ears, and then he reaches over to grab the film-loaded Polaroid from your hands, fingers tracing over the small rainbow printed on the front of the camera. "I do," he confesses, voice dropping in a way you recognize all too well, and your stomach drops with it. "Yeah, I do."
You lean sideways, resting against the arm of the couch as Harry shifts to face you, raising the camera up to his face with a grin gracing his lips that doesn't at all match the mood of what you do next - mere seconds before Harry takes the picture, you grip onto the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your chest for the camera to capture as his mouth drops into a soft 'o.'
