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#Shop ladies
booksandothersecrets · 5 months ago
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Shout out to all the notes-app poems, love letters, secrets, novels, diary entries, bucket lists and lyrics that were hurredly typed into people’s phones at 3am and then hidden from the world and forgotten. Maybe one day you’ll open the app and laugh at how pretentious you were, or maybe you’ll smile at that part of yourself that noone else saw
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fionacreates · 2 years ago
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An adventurer on their travels, going through a silver birch forest.
I really just wanted to play with dramatic yellow colouring and perspective ofc!
Prints available at https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/FionaCreatesUK
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chickadeegreen · 3 years ago
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bought a buncha new tiny guys 🌱🌿
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moringmark · a year ago
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“Dave was a regular old Mewman who worked as a Barista at the coffee shop Lady Lucitor frequented.”
— Adam McArthur, Reddit AMA.
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othersentencesbyphil · 3 years ago
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dan: you guys need better lighting in here so i can post this on my instagram story
the cashier: sir, this is a whole foods grocery store, usally people just check out and leave
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daily-dimitrescufam · 2 months ago
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Alcina : *holding Cassandra and Bela* Sometimes people ask me if I have a favourite. I don't, I love my daughters equally.
Bela : Where's Daniela ?
Alcina : ... Oh shit.
Somewhere in a supermarket :
Daniela : Mom...?
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trulymadlysydney · 3 years ago
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All I Want For Christmas
In which it’s Christmas time, and Harry can’t help falling for the girl who helps him shop for gifts. 
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A/N: THE CHRISTMAS ONESHOT IS HERE! I’m sorry I didn’t get this out yesterday like I originally planned, but I figured better late than never right?!  Enjoy, my loves, and Merry Christmas!!! xx
Please do NOT repost without permission!!!! 
The first time he comes in is on a Friday.  Which is generally known to be one of the busiest days in retail, so he has no one else to blame for the crowds but himself.  Especially being Harry Styles.  For goodness sake. 
But he isn’t blaming anyone, or anything, really.  He knows he’s brought this upon himself by waiting until a few weeks before Christmas to do his shopping.  Normally he’d be so on top of things.  But he hadn’t had the time, having just completed the first half of his world tour.  Being Harry Styles and all.
The crowds aren’t all that bad, all things considered.  It isn’t like he’s being mobbed-- and he’s certainly had his fair share of that in his day.  No, aside from the few picture requests here and there, he is generally left alone-- and yet all too aware of the fact that there are cameras taking pictures of his every move at any given second.
Still, he tries to ignore that and presses on, entering the store.  Christmas music plays obnoxiously loud. He is overwhelmed with a strong scent of cologne, and he coughs.
The corner of this room seems to be significantly more crowded than the rest of the room, so he tries to avoid that.  He maneuvers his way through the crowd and wonders why on earth he couldn’t have gone online shopping like literally everybody else.  Of course then, it would arguably be less authentic because he hadn’t hand-picked the gift.   He was always silly about those things.
Working his way towards the back of the room and into the next, he is now in earshot of the conversations happening in the corner. One shrill voice is heard above all the others. “Miss, I have been standing here for three minutes now, could I please get some assistance?”
He almost doesn’t catch the response, because it sounds further away.  Or oddly, lower down than all the other voices.  But he does hear it.  “Ma’am... please. We’re doing our best and I’m kind of trying to, you know, clean up glass here so that no one brains themselves.”  
The irritated customer scoffs.  “Well, I have been standing here since long before the incident happened.  You have terrible customer service.  I’d like to speak to your manager.”
And Harry knows he shouldn’t do this.  He knows it isn’t his place, but now he’s intrigued.  So he steps towards the chaos.  
It’s then that he sees her.  A young woman on all fours, using a little brush and a dustpan to sweep up the remains of a shattered cologne bottle.  Which explains why his nostrils had been assaulted.    She looks absolutely exhausted.
She sighs, looking up at the customer.  “Of course.  If you’ll just give me a moment to--”
“Are you serious?” The customer throws up her hands.  “Young lady, I shop in Paris.  I can get all of these things for a LOT cheaper there, but I choose to come here.  I have been coming here for a year now, but after your behavior today I will NEVER be coming back.  Your corporate office will be hearing about this.”
Harry looks around.  The store is packed, wall to wall with customers.  It seems severely understaffed, and those who are working seem to be just as stressed as this girl.  But there’s something about her, this poor girl who’s trying her best to clean up the glass and handle this woman’s complaints at the same time.  He takes pity on her really, and so he reaches out to grab the nearest employee as soon as they walk by. 
“Excuse me.”
He watches the recognition register on the employees face, and her cheeks turn a bright red.  “Oh my god,” she says quietly, before realizing she’s in a professional setting.  She regains her composure- poorly- and visibly gulps.  “How can I help you, Mr. Styles?”
Harry hadn’t even given her his name, and it takes him a moment to realize that she already knew it.  Everyone did.  Of course.   Even still, after years of being Harry Styles, it took him a moment to remember these things.
He nods his head towards the woman in the corner.  “I think the employee there needs a manager.  And possibly some help.  Broken bottle and a bit of a difficult customer.”
The girl sighs, and even she looks exhausted.  “She comes in here a lot,” she says quietly, seemingly forgetting once more that she’s supposed to be professional.  “I’ll get my manager.  Thank you for telling me.  Let me know if you need anything else!” She is obviously incredibly nervous, which is silly, Harry thinks.  But he’s used to it.  He watches her disappear further into the store and glances back towards the corner of the room.
The girl cleaning up the glass looks to be on the verge of tears, and the customer is going on and on about how “A smile can go a long way, young lady” and “how dare you treat me, an esteemed and long time customer, so poorly.”  Harry almost wants to step in himself, but he knows that would probably do more harm than good.  So he just stands there, frozen, and hoping that the manager will show up soon.
It doesn’t take too long for the manager to arrive, thank God, and the girl on the floor looks relieved at the sight.  Poor thing.  As soon as the customer turns to speak with the manager, Harry gets a good look at the girl.  
Despite her weary eyes and messy hair, she’s cute.  Insanely cute.  And she has sweet eyes and a pretty mouth that, Harry is certain, looks beautiful when it’s smiling.
 Harry wants to wrap her up in a huge hug.  Tell her she’s doing just fine, she did nothing wrong.  He also wants to take her home and put her in comfortable clothes and give her a cup of tea.  She looks like she could use about twelve hours of sleep, and his bed seems like the perfect place.  
And then he’s shaking his head because he doesn’t even know this girl and he’s thinking about her in his bed while she’s on the floor, cleaning up glass and looking on the verge of crying at any second. 
The manager whisks the customer off somewhere else to talk more clearly, but Harry knows that the girl on the floor isn’t in trouble.  The other employee said this customer came in a lot, and by the look on her face, none of the employees could stand her.   The minute she walks away, the body language of Floor Girl changes immediately.
Her shoulders slump forward, releasing all the tension she’d been holding, and her lips pull into a frown.  She swallows a few times, and that confirms it for him-- she’s definitely about to cry. 
Harry can’t even stop himself at that point.  He’s walking towards her-- although he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say to her when he gets there.
He stops though when she stands up, dustpan and brush in hand.  She walks right by him, not even noticing that he-- Harry Styles-- is watching her.  That only intrigues him more.
He follows her through the rooms of the store from a safe distance, trying his best not to be suspicious or creepy but keeping his eye on her because, for some odd reason, he just wants to know she’s okay.  To his dismay, she disappears into the women’s room before he can say anything.
He’s standing there awkwardly now.  He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He twists one of the rings on his fingers.  What is he expecting?  Does he want her to notice him and make a big deal?  What’s he going to say when she does?  “Great job cleaning up that glass. You should be promoted.”
He looks around the store once more and selfishly thanks his lucky stars he’d never had to do this.  Sure, he’d worked a few jobs in his life prior to making it big.  He was definitely familiar with a business rush, but this?  This is a whole other level, and even just being in the midst of it is making him anxious.  Add in the people staring at him and the cameras that he knows are everywhere, it’s a wonder he hasn’t left yet.
But then the door to the women’s restroom opens minutes later, and he remembers why he hasn’t left.  Except now, his pull towards her is even stronger.  Because she’s been crying.  
Her eyes are red and she looks around before wiping them, hoping no one notices.  She takes a deep breath and steps back onto the floor, but stops when she notices Harry.
He realizes now how close he is, and how awkward it must look.  He must look like he has a question, because she instantly gets that false “customer service” smile on her face.  “Hi!” she says through a little giggle, reaching up to wipe at her eyes again.  Her nose is red and shiny, and Harry has the weird urge to reach out and poke at it. He refrains, of course, but it is there.
“Wow! This is embarrassing!” She says, letting out another laugh.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t normally cry on the job.  What can I help you with?”
Harry is in awe of her, really.  He smiles and shakes his head.  “No, nothing.  Uh... you just... I saw what happened.”
He knows she wants to cry more, but she just continues to laugh instead.  “Oh yeah?  Sorry about that.   I’d hoped it wouldn’t cause a scene.”
“No! It didn’t.  Not at all.  I just, erm, wanted to know if you were alright.”
She seems actually shocked at this question, as if no one had asked her how she was in a long time.  And then, for the first time, she gives him a genuine smile.  “Yeah.  I’m alright.  Thank you.”
“People can be downright awful, can’t they?” He says with a chuckle, and her mouth, still in a smile, falls open.  Perhaps she’s shocked that those words came out of Harry “Treat People With Kindness” Styles’ mouth, but he meant them.  “S’not really fair.  Especially not this time of year.”
She giggles, nodding her head.  “Definitely not.  But it’s alright.  Working retail, you kind of get used to it.”  She shrugs, and suddenly Harry is incredibly self-aware and awkward.  Why is he feeling flustered by this girl?
She notices the silence and clears her throat.  “Anyway.  I’m y/n.  Let me know if you need anything, okay?”  
Harry notices the band-aid on her hand just as she turns to walk away.  He knows he wasn’t that close to her before, but he swears she wasn’t wearing that when he first came in.  She must’ve cut herself on the broken glass, and it makes him sad.
And then he remembers the whole reason he came in here in the first place.  “Wait, y/n!”  He steps forward and she turns on her heel.  She’s got her “customer service” face on again, but her smile seems much more genuine this time.  “Actually, if you could... point me in the direction of your hats?”
She smiles, pointing towards a room further back.  “All our men’s styles are right over there!”
“Actually...” He says again.  Why is he nervous talking to her?  He hasn’t felt nervous talking to a girl in ages.  “I’m looking for a woman’s style.”
He swears he sees her face drop for just a split second, and if he’d blinked he would’ve missed it.  “Oh.  Yeah.  Straight back there, past the restrooms.”
He smiles.  “Thank you so much.”
She turns to walk away for the second time but a thought occurs to Harry suddenly.  “Y/n!”
She giggles, turning to him once more.  The smile on her face makes it clear that she’s happy he’s still talking to her.  He adores it.  He wants to stay here and talk to her for hours.
He holds out his hand.  “M’Harry.”
She looks down at his hand in disbelief.  Of course she knows who he is.  Regardless of whether or not she’s a fan-- which Harry is very curious to know-- she’s bound to have heard of him.  She takes his hand, giving it a soft squeeze and a shake.  “I know,” she says with a laugh.  “It’s nice to meet you.”
He never wants to let go of her hand.  He wants to keep holding it and feel her squeeze it like that over and over.  But, god, he’s just met this girl and he doesn’t even know the first thing about her.  So he drops her hand and nods his head.  “S’nice to meet you too.”
-
The second time he comes in is on a Wednesday.  And he’s surprised, really, because even though it isn’t as busy as the last time he was here, there’s still a decent amount of traffic in the store.
Y/n isn’t in the front room, and Harry doesn’t know wether to chuckle or shake his head at himself when he realizes that her absence makes his heart drop.   
He didn’t come here to see her, again, of course.  He came to get another gift.  Though admittedly, he would be lying through his teeth if he said he hadn’t at least wanted to see her.
It had been all he could think about while he was wrapping the hat, and it was almost embarrassing.  The way she’s constantly on his mind, despite having only exchanged a few words with her.  He had caught her name, though, and honestly it had been ringing in his ears, playing on a constant loop in his head-- over and over.  Embarrassingly enough, he’d found himself whispering her name quietly to himself before falling asleep, and smiling at the way it felt in his mouth.  That’s when he knew he had to see her again.
But alas, she isn’t here in the front room, and he’s wondering if he actually came to get a present at all, or if she was what he was really looking for.  
He’s about to ask someone if she’s working today when he feels someone tap his shoulder.  When he turns around, he’s greeted by two young girls, probably no older than fifteen.  Both are smiling ear to ear, and one looks just on the verge of passing out.
“Harry, oh my god... can we get a picture with you?”  Her voice shakes when she asks, and it makes him chuckle a bit.
“‘Course.”  And for a moment, all is forgotten.  He asks the girls how they’re doing, how their days are going.  He tells them its lovely to see them, they tell him how much they love his music.  One of them swears she isn’t going to cry, and he hugs her when she does. 
It’s when he turns to pose for the picture with them that he notices it.  Over at the register, a quick flash of the smile he seems to remember so vividly alerts him of her presence.  He tries his hardest to stay focused on the task at hand, he really does, but damn if his heart doesn’t soar out of his chest when he hears her laugh-- bubbly and light, just like her.
She looks lovely today.  Not that she didn’t look lovely the first time he saw her, of course, but still.  Her hair is perfectly in place, and she looks significantly less stressed than the last time he saw her.  The bandaid is off of her hand now, which he notices when she reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.  She types effortlessly on the register while giggling at a story her coworker is telling her, and its all so excruciatingly adorable.  
Harry holds polite conversation with the fans in front of him but he physically cannot stop his eyes from flicking over to her every now and then.  She still hasn’t noticed him, but he wishes she would.  Though sooner or later, he’s sure she’ll catch on and notice him staring, so he clears his throat and turns back to the young girls.
When the conversation begins to die down and the girls are saying their “thank you”s, he allows himself one more glance in her direction.   And when he does, his body goes hot.
She is looking right back at him with an amused expression on her face. Her lips curl into the daintiest little smile and she quirks her brow at him.  He feels his cheeks go hot, but he smirks at her nonetheless.  He’s got her attention now, and try as he might to stay calm and collected, his stomach is in absolute knots.  What’s he going to say to her? Should he say anything at all?
Once the girls have said their goodbyes they leave the store giggling and scream-whispering about him.  And now he’s there, and he feels like his feet are cemented to the ground.   Y/n seems to be stuck as well, fidgeting with the various items behind the register.  Her coworkers who aren’t currently assisting customers, are whispering, blushing, nudging one another, and its all very awkward because no one knows what it is they’re supposed to do in this situation.
Harry clears his throat and takes a step forward at the same time y/n does, and they both notice this-- causing them to stop in their tracks.  Y/n giggles at this before shaking her head and closing the space between them.  Cautiously, but with purpose nonetheless.
“Harry!” she says.  “Welcome back.  Did you have troubles with the hat?”
Harry swallows when he gets a whiff of her perfume, but he smirks and upholds his suave demeanor.  “No actually.”
“Did she love it?!”  Y/n shows no hint of jealousy when she asks this, but Harry does notice her fidgeting with the ring on her pointer finger.  
He shakes his head.  “Still sitting under the tree, silly.  S’a Christmas present.”
“Oh.”  Y/n giggles again.  One of her coworkers drops something behind the register, and it lands with a thud that causes nearly the entire store to turn.  Y/n shakes her head, and and sighs when she speaks.  “They’re nervous.  They don’t know how to act around you.”
Harry chuckles.  “Around me? Nonsense.  M’a normal guy.  A regular dude.”  Keep it together Harry. 
“A normal guy who gets asked for pictures and autographs just for simply entering a store.”  Y/n nods her head over her shoulder.  “Look at every person in this room right now.”
Harry scans the room and chuckles when he notices that everyone does, in fact, seems to be looking at him.  Even if they’re mid conversation, or holding an item in their hands, or texting.  They’re all looking in his direction.
He shakes his head and turns back to y/n.  “Not lookin’ at me.  Must be you they’re lookin’ at.”
Y/n’s cheeks redden at that, and she glances down for a split second.  The smile on her face is bloody adorable, and Harry can’t believe he’s twitterpated like a damn schoolboy.  She composes herself before he has a chance to say anything else.  “So, what can I help you with today?”
“Another gift.  M’thinking a scarf or like, a dress.  To go-”
“-with the hat.”  They say the last sentence at the same time and now Harry’s cheeks go red hot.  He laughs nervously, raising a hand to run through his hair before adding, “Yeah.  Want to complete the look and all that.”
Y/n clears her throat.  “Well, all our women’s apparel is right down there.”  She points with an open hand towards a room in the back, and Harry’s brain scrambles with any excuses he can make to get her to help him.
“What would you recommend?”
“Hmm?” She looks at him with genuinely curious eyes, and he backpedals.  Don’t come off too strong. 
“I just mean like... what do you think would go nicely with the hat?” Did she even see the hat? Harry thinks back and, shit, no, she hadn’t been the one to ring him up once he bought the hat last time.   He clears his throat.  “It’s black, and uh-”
“It has the buttons on it,” Y/n finishes.  “I remember!”  And now Harry feels stupid.  Y/n giggles.  “Well... uh.... here.”  She starts walking into the women’s apparel room, motioning for Harry to follow.  And he does, like a faithful little puppy just waiting for his treat.
Harry, of course, notices the way her hips swish back and forth when she walks and it makes his lips quirk up in his famous smirk.  His fingers find their way up to tug on his bottom lip to possibly hide this, but there’s no denying that dimple on his cheek.  She looks subtly sexy and impossibly polished and Harry’s mind wanders to what she would look like outside of work clothes.  Maybe bundled up in her winter clothes with a little red nose.  Or sitting on his couch in one of his t-shirts and her hair disheveled from her attempts to keep it out of her face.  Or maybe wearing nothing at all--
“Here.”  Y/n stops walking in front of  a black dress hanging on the rack.  “I really, really like this dress.  You’d think it would be heavy, but its actually not.  I think it would look stunning with that hat.”
It would look stunning on you, Harry thinks.  His mind focuses on her in that dress, and how beautiful she must look in it.
“S’it comfortable?” He tugs at one of the sleeves, trying to determine the material.  As if he knows anything about that.
“I think so, but I’ve only worn it once.  I would imagine that it stays comfy though.” She twists the price tag between her fingers, and lets out the quietest little sigh that Harry would’ve absolutely missed had he not been paying attention.  “It’s quite pricey though.”
Harry’s lips quirk up in an amused little grin.  “I don’t mind all that.”
Her eyes go wide.  “Oh! No, I didn’t mean... I didn’t want to assume... that you couldn’t... I figured you could, I just--”
Harry chuckles, reaching out to touch her arm without thinking about it.  “S’okay, love.  Relax.  I knew what you meant.”
Y/n turns even more red than before, and she bites at  her lip to hide the adorable little smile threatening its way onto her cheeks.  “Sorry.”
Harry has to refrain from reaching out to tilt her chin and make her look at him again.  “Don’t apologize.”  He nods his head towards the dress.  “Why’ve you only worn it once then?  A dress like this deserves to be seen on a beautiful girl all the time.  If I were as beautiful as you are, I’d be wearing it every day.”
This coaxes a giggle out of y/n, and Harry beams.  “You’re a charmer, aren’t you?” She says, through her laughter.  “No, I don’t actually own the dress.”
Harry’s eyebrows do furrow at this.  “What?”
Y/n rolls her eyes, but her smile deepens.  “Like I said... it’s pricey. Even with my discount.” 
It’s then that Harry realizes he hasn’t actually looked at the price once during this conversation.  He glances at the price tag, and his mouth nearly falls open when he sees that the number is far less than he’d been anticipating. It’s money he could spend without even making a dent in his bank account, and of course he realizes that this is because he’s extremely fortunate with his career.  Times like this are when it hits him that he’s not just Harry, out shopping for a Christmas present.  He’s Harry Styles, and he is, in fact, incredibly different.  
He drops the tag and is about to speak when y/n cuts him off.  “Sorry.  God, I’m not even supposed to be talking about that.”  She laughs, and Harry smiles at the way she nervously fidgets with her ring again.  “Anyway! It’s a great dress.  Absolutely worth the price. And it would be gorgeous with that hat.  We have other options, of course, but I feel like this dress was kinda like... made for the hat, ya know?  But I can show you some other options.  Like maybe--”
“Nah, this is good.”  Y/n stops mid sentence, and then raises her eyebrows.
“Alright. What size are we thinking?  A small? Extra small?”
Harry doesn’t know why she automatically assumes that the person he’s shopping for is a small, but he shakes his head. “Mm... no I’d say a medium.  Maybe a large.  She can always exchange it if it doesn’t work, yeah?”
Y/n swallows when Harry mentions the female he’s buying this for, but he doesn’t think twice about this.  “Yeah,” she says.  “She uh... she has 30 days.”
Harry nods.  “Perfect.  Medium it is.”
She smiles.  “Right.  I’ll get that from the back and then ring you up, yeah?  Unless there’s something else you wanted to see.”
You. Tonight.  Cuddled up close in my arms.  “That should do it.”
Y/n seems like there’s something else she wants to say, but she settles for a simple nod of her head.  “Okay.  I’ll be right back.”
And when she disappears into the back to get the correct size for him, he lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.  He glances back at the price tag and lets out a soft little laugh.
He is falling for this girl.
--
The third time he comes in, he’s in a hurry.  And he’s actually hoping that Miss Y/n is not here. 
He hardly even gives the customers a chance to register who he is.  He walks with purpose, his long strides carrying him as fast as they can take him without making him run.  When he reaches the register, he’s almost out of breath.
The girl at the register, a thin young thing with a very pretty smile, seems confused.  “Hello Mr.  Styles.  Is there something--”
“Is y/n working?”  He doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he’s in a hurry.
The young lady-- ‘Bea’ as her nametag reads-- seems taken aback by this.  “Uh...”  She glances at the computer.  “She comes in in about, like, twenty minutes.”
Harry lets out a breath.  “Perfect.  Bea, love, I need your help.”
--
Exactly twenty minutes later and not a moment too soon, Harry is exiting the store with his latest purchase in a bag on his arm just as y/n is entering.  
Her face lights up the minute she sees him, but she furrows his eyebrows when she notices the bag.  She seems almost hurt that he was there without her.  But she brushes it off with a cheerful smile. “Harry... hey!”
Harry is aware of the way people are buzzing around them.  He’s aware of the pictures being taken, and the people nearly crying because he’s right there. He’s aware of all the people he’s going to have to stop and take a picture with after this, and, worst of all, he’s aware of all the rumors that are inevitably going to start flying once people see him talking to a girl.  This is, in no way, how he wanted this to happen.  But he can’t hold off on this any longer.
“When are you off?”
Now y/n doesn’t even try to hide her confusion.  She glances around at all the people who seem to be staring at her, and her fingers find their way up to fidget with her ring once again.  “Uh.. I’m off at 8:30.”
“And Saturday? When are you off then?”
“All day...”  Y/n’s answer seems to end with a question mark. “But I can see if I come in if you’d like.”
“No, no,” Harry says quickly.  “Uh--”  He’s cut off by the flash of a camera, and a little groan escapes past his lips.  “Christ,” he mutters, before nodding his head towards the store.  “Can we talk inside?”
Y/n glances straight at the camera that just went off, and then worriedly back up at Harry.  “Yeah.  I feel like maybe that’s a good idea.”
The tone in her voice makes Harry sad, and he fears he’s screwing this whole thing up.   This isn’t how he wanted to ask her.  He didn’t want to stress her out or, heaven forbid, scare her, but it seems he’s doing all of the above.  
They step inside the store, but y/n doesn’t stop walking, so Harry has no choice but to follow close behind her.  “Sorry,” she says, her voice quiet.  “I’m running a bit late, so I have to clock in.  But what’s wrong?”
“No nothing’s wrong, I just--”
“Did she not like the dress?”  Y/n seems to be in her customer service mode again, all of her anxiety from a few moments ago washing away once she’s at the register.  She types something that Harry doesn’t quite catch, and he’s assuming she’s clocking in.  “Do you need a size smaller?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”  Despite the company outside, Harry thanks his lucky stars that the store isn’t very crowded at the moment.  He leans in a bit closer.  “I was wondering if... you wanted to do something.  With me.  On... when did you say?  Saturday?”
Y/n’s fingers stop moving and she gapes at him.  It takes her a moment to process what he said, and when she does, she lets out a squeak.  “But... but I thought--”
“We can just go see a movie or something.  Or, if you wanted, you could just come over to my place.  No funny business, of course, just figured we might want to avoid all of that.”  He nods his head over his shoulder in regards to the crowd outside the store.
Y/n cocks her head.  “But... your girlfriend...”
Harry makes a face of pure confusion at this, shaking his head the minute the words leave her lips.  “My what?”
“Your girlfriend,” she says slowly.  “The person you’ve been buying all these things for....”
And then it makes sense to Harry.  Everything makes sense. He snorts as realization hits him, and he shakes his head.  “Must have me confused with somebody else, love.  They’re for my sister.”
“Your...”  And now y/n is laughing as well.  She groans and hides her face in her hands.  “Oh my god. I’m an idiot.”
Harry wants to reach out and tug her hands away but instead he reaches up to run a hand through his hair.  He wishes he’d cleared this up sooner, but admittedly this is a bit funny. “You’re not an idiot.  I probably could have told you.”
“I mean, I shouldn’t have assumed.” She lowers her hands, but keeps one of them placed on the the back of her neck.  “God, I’m sorry.”
Harry watches her rub at her neck and thinks just how badly he’d like to kiss the spot below her hand.  He shakes his head.  “Don’t be.”  He leans just a bit closer now, now that he feels he can without making her nervous. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“What?  Oh!” Y/n’s face lights up once more at that.  “Yes! Of course. God, I’d love that.  I’m free all day Saturday so like.. whenever you want.” She giggles, and its the most endearing thing in the world to Harry how nervous she is now.  He feels just as relieved as she feels, no doubt, because now there’s no question in his mind that she’s been crushing on him as well.  “Uh,” she stammers, fidgeting with a pen and a business card.  “You want my number?  Or I can like... get yours, or... something.”
Harry smirks, looking down at her hand that is practically shaking.  “Yeah.  I’ll take yours and I’ll write you tonight.”
She lets out a shaky breath, and Harry can tell she’s trying to suppress the world’s largest grin.  If he’s honest, so is he. “Okay,” she says, scribbling out her number on the back of the card.  “Sorry I... don’t know why I’m like... shaking.” 
He laughs at this.  “You’re nervous?  Around me? A normal guy?  A regular dude?”
She rolls her eyes and finishes writing out her number.  When she hands it to him, he can feel how cold her hands are.  “Here you go,” she says.
“Thanks.”  He tucks it into the shopping back that still hangs from his arm, and when y/n notices that, she nods towards it. 
“What’s that then?”
Harry glances down at the bag and smiles.  When he looks up at her, he can see she’s trying to peek through the tissue paper.  “Another gift for my sister,” he says, pulling it further away from her.  “Nosey little thing.”
Her mouth falls open and he knows she’s about to let forth a slew of apologies, so he cuts her off.  “Have a good shift, love.  And tell your friend Bea thanks for the help.”
---
On Saturday, it snows.  Which, of course it does.  And on any other day, Harry would absolutely advocate for a snow day.  But not today.  No, today he’s spent the entire day worrying that y/n isn’t going to be able to come over due to the snow and the icy roads.
Currently he paces around the kitchen, touching and retouching nearly everything.  His house smells like brownies, his mum’s special Christmas recipe, and the roast sits cooling on the stove.
Tonight, Harry has pulled out all the stops.  Which, now that he thinks about it, may be overkill.  This sends his heart into a tizzy once more because he wants to impress her, of course, but christ, did he have to go to such great lengths?  What if he scares her off?  It’s been a while since he’s done this whole “date” thing, and being Harry Styles he can’t exactly just take her out for a casual night at the movies.  He’d had to take matters into his own hands.
Which reminds him... are his hands clean?  Did he remember to remove the chipped nail polish?  Should he have clipped his nails one more time?
His phone makes a ding noise from it’s spot on the counter and when he sees her name, he grins.  This has been the normal reaction since the first text he’d ever received from her, and it hasn’t gotten old yet.  She’s just as adorable over text as she is in person, and it’s almost intimidating.  She constantly sends just the perfect amount of emojis and, even though Harry himself has never been one to use them, he finds himself growing quite fond of the little yellow smiley’s and pink hearts scattered throughout her messages.  Plus her spelling and punctuation makes the writer in him swoon, but he’s more hesitant to admit to that because it makes him feel like a loser, so he keeps that to himself.
He picks up his phone, using his thumb to punch in the passcode before reading her message.
-Hey, I’m here.  What’s the code for the gate?
It wasn’t even a cute text, but he smiles to himself when he replies.
-2427.  The front door is unlocked,  You can just come right in.
-Are you sure?  Nobody’s going to like, stop me or ask for my ID?
-What do you think this is, Buckingham Palace?  Of course not.
Harry worries that his teasing doesn’t translate well, so he quickly adds:
-Would it make you feel better if I met you in the driveway?
When her text comes moments later, he can’t help but snort.
-Who do you think I am? The Queen of England?  I don’t need any escort.  😂 -See you soon 😌
And suddenly, Harry’s nerves come back.  He looks around the house.  It’s enormous, and it’s clean, but is it clean enough?  Had he spent enough time vacuuming the carpet?  He straightens one of the pillows on his couch, and then straightens it again.  Fuck, it’s not good enough.  
Is it good enough?
He doesn’t have any more time to overthink when he hears the front door open. Y/n clears her throat before calling out a soft, “Hello?”  And it makes the nerves completely disappear.  
He turns the corner of the living room to find her standing in his doorway, shaking little white snowflakes off of her boots. She’s got a black beanie with a fuzzy little ball on the end adorned atop her head, as well as fingerless black gloves, and it’s all so cute that Harry has to resist the urge to go up and kiss her nose (which is red and undoubtedly cold).
“Hey you.”  He smiles as he walks towards her, and he hears her say a quick “hello” While he wraps her up in his arms.  Her coat is cold to the touch, and he notices a few snowflakes along the wool.  When he pulls away, he asks, “Still snowing?”
“It just started up again,” she says with a nod, peeling off her gloves.  “So it’s not too bad just yet.  But yeah.  It’s snowing.”
“Nice,” Harry says, watching as she starts to peel off the jacket next.  “I love the snow.”
“Me too.”  She shoves the gloves into the pocket of her jacket and then holds the jacket awkwardly in her hands.  She doesn’t know where she’s supposed to put it.  He takes it immediately and walks to hang it up in his closet.  In the meantime, she stands, twisting the ring on her finger in her hands, over and over and over again. 
This is all so awkward but in the loveliest way; like he wants to drink in their silence because its *theirs* but he also wants to say something- anything- to keep things going. 
Fuck, he’s not even making sense in his own head. 
He clears his throat.  “Were the roads bad then?”
“Not too much.  Not yet anyway.  Hopefully they’ll stay that way.”
“Well if not, I’ve got room for you to stay.”  
Did he say that? God, why did he say that?!  That sounds like he’s trying to make advances on her.  And sure, he’d love if she stayed but he doesn’t mean it in a perverted way, and christ, it most definitely came out that way.  He won’t blame her if she walks out right now.  And--
“Thank you.”  He hardly dares to look at her, but out of his peripheral vision he can see her cheeks are red and fuck, its cute.  She giggles a little before swiftly changing the subject.  “Something smells delicious!”
“Yeah?”  He smiles, thankful that she’s changed the subject.  He motions for her to follow him into the kitchen. “I made a roast.  And there’s brownies in the oven.”
She gasps.  “Harry, oh my god.  You should’ve told me! I would’ve brought something.”
“Didn’t have to bring anything, love.  I invited you, and this is a date, innit?  Aren’t I supposed to be the one to do the impressing?”
Y/n is quiet for a moment, taking in the size of his house with eyes the size of golf balls.  It’s gorgeous and massive and unlike anything she’s ever seen.  “Well you’ve certainly done a good job,” she says softly.  And now Harry really feels like this is all overkill.  He’s about to say something when she speaks again, “I still feel bad.  But thank you. This is amazing.”
“Of course.”  He smiles softly, walking over to the fridge to offer a drink.  “Just happy you could make it.”
For the next 30 minutes, they just talk.  And it gets less and less awkward with every passing minute.  In fact, its completely normal by the time they’re sitting on his couch, with full plates resting on their laps, and y/n with her socked feet-- crossed at the ankle-- resting on his coffee table.
She continuously compliments his food, and he continuously turns an embarrassing shade of red.  Because he did try.  He tried his hardest, really, and she loves it.
She talks to him about work and it all feels so casual and domestic and natural.  He genuinely cares about her and her struggles with retail, and school, and her family life, and they both seem to forget the reality of the situation-- that he’s Harry Styles and she’s in his mansion, drinking his egg nog with her feet up on his coffee table that is probably worth thousands of dollars. 
And after dinner, she helps him with the dishes.  She rinses them and loads the washer while Harry cuts the brownies and talks about his life-- his actual, real life story before he became this massive sensation.  She listens and asks questions, and he forgets nearly everything else except for her and this moment.  Her smile, her laugh, her voice.  
It’s an hour and a half later when Harry finally makes a move.
They’re on his couch, watching Christmas films.  Although truthfully, they’re hardly watching because they keep getting wrapped up in conversation.  Sharing memories from their childhood.  Laughing at hilarious jokes the other tells.  Feeling buzzed off of Christmas cheer and all that.
It’s when she giggles at Chevy Chase’s line in the film they’re watching. ”When Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse!”  She leans in ever so slightly, her body nudging close to his while her belly laugh overpowers her.  Its the cutest fucking thing Harry thinks he’s ever seen, even if his whole body seems to ignite when she leans into him. 
When she doesn’t make any type of effort to scoot away, he starts to think that maybe she’s done it on purpose.
Her body feels warm against his own, and he’s getting a much stronger whiff of her perfume-- or maybe her shampoo.  He’s nervous.  God, he’s so nervous... but surely she wouldn’t be leaning into him like this if she didn’t mean to right?
She giggles again and this time, her hand brushes against his knee.  And that’s when he knows.  He chuckles along with her (because admittedly, Chevy Chase is one funny bastard) and allows his arm to slink around her shoulders. Then down her back.  And then around her side.
And now they’re cuddling.
Her bottom lip finds its way between her teeth for just a brief moment, and her eyes wander.  She’s happy he did this..  At least, she seems happy.  He gives her a little squeeze as if to test the waters, and, although her eyes never once leave the screen, she reaches over to interlace her fingers with his.
She’s happy. 
She scoots impossibly closer and closer by the minute and Harry wants to kiss her.  He really, really wants to kiss her. To feel her lips between his own.  Maybe her tongue.  Inhale that scent, taste that giggle, kiss that smile. And he thinks maybe he’s going to... that is, until the TV gets all fuzzy.
He halts his movements (which up until now have only been stroking his thumb softly against her skin and glancing in her direction every now and then) to glance at the TV.
“Uh oh,” y/n giggles.  “It says poor satellite connection.”
“No way,” Harry says, reluctantly unwrapping himself from her to stand up.  “It wasn’t snowing that hard, was it?”
As he makes his way to the TV, y/n glances at her phone. “Well, that was three and a half hours ago when I first got here.  We haven’t even checked outside.”
Harry is poking and prodding at the cable box, as if he has any idea what he’s doing. “Hasn’t been that long.. has it?”
“Yeah man,” she says.  “It’s 10:30.”
“Jesus.”  Harry mutters curse words under his breath while he touches the wires.  Mostly, he’s upset because of how late it is.  That means she’s going to want to leave soon. 
Moments later, a gasp, and her voice saying “Harry, look!” draws his attention. When he turns to her she’s at the window, peeking through the blinds.  He walks over to her and it feels good to be that close to her again.  He takes a risk and puts his hand on her hip, which she happily relaxes into, before taking a look through the blinds.
It’s snowing.  Hard.  The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, and the air seems fogged up with the little snowflakes. This isn’t a snowfall all tender and mild.  This is a snowstorm.
“It’s so pretty,” she breathes.
Alright, so Harry is being dramatic.  It isn’t a storm per se, but it’s still more snow than he’s seen in a while.  And he instantly has to shoot down the tinge of excitement that burns in his chest that maybe, just maybe, she’ll end up snowed in at his place for the night. 
“So pretty, innit?”  Harry asks softly, tearing his eyes away from the white snow to look at her.  Her, in her soft little sweater.  Her face a beautiful shade of reddish pink-- half from the soft lights in his house and half from her natural shyness.  Why she’s shy, Harry hasn’t the foggiest idea, but he intends to break her of that if she lets him.
“It’s actually really romantic” she says softly, her cheeks quirking up into the softest smile. 
“Yeah.”  Harry isn’t looking at the snow now.  He’s looking at her, and she knows it. “Comin’ down pretty hard though.”
She ignores his last statement and turns to him, biting her lip as if hesitant to say what she’s about to say.  “Have you ever kissed in the snow?”
“Hmm?”  He’s taken aback by her question. 
“I just mean like... you know how people make kissing in the rain into such a huge deal?”
Harry thinks back to the one and only time he’d ever kissed in the rain.  It had hardly been romantic at all, really.  Mostly it had been wet, and it had made his clothes feel gross against his skin.  Not to mention his at-the-time girlfriend’s hair had become wet and stringy and gotten stuck on his mouth and his cheeks.  As much of a sucker for romcoms as Harry is, he’d never recommend a rain-kiss to anyone.  
But still, he nods.  “Yeah.”
“Well like... what about a snow kiss?”
And Harry can’t help but smile at this.  “You ever had a snow kiss?” 
“No!” she says.  “And that’s what I’m saying.  I think it would be romantic, you know?”
Harry, getting a sudden burst of confidence, wiggles his eyebrows. “Are you lookin’ for an excuse to kiss me?
He revels in the way her cheeks turn red and her voice gets quieter, but she stands her ground and surprises him with a snort.  “I mean, duh.  I figured all those hints I was dropping were obvious.”
It’s his turn to turn ruby red.  He’s shocked really. Her voice was quiet when she spoke, and she’d looked everywhere but at his eyes (or his lips), but she was smirking and subtly scratching her nails on his back when she’d said it.  Fuck.  How did he find himself such a little firecracker, who could both dish it out and take it?  
“Didn’t have to drop hints, you know,” he says, pouting a bit.  “Could’ve just done it.”
“I wanted it to be perfect.”
“Wouldn’t have been perfect just sitting together cuddling?”
She giggles, shaking her head.  “No.  Had to make it as absolutely cheesy as possible.”
Harry is smirking now, pulling her in closer and giving her hips the slightest little squeeze.  “Oh did you?”
She smirks right back, leaning close enough that he can feel her warmth but just out of his lip’s reach.  “Mhmm.  Tis the season and all that.”
Harry snorts, giving her side a little squeeze.  “Right.  Get bundled up then.  We’re going outside.”
He laughs at the way her jaw drops when he lets go of her and starts walking towards the hall closet.  “What?”
“You heard me. C’mon then.”
“I mean, we don’t actually have to have our first kiss in the snow--”
“Actually we do.”  Harry opens up the closet and starts removing her coat from the hanger.  “Know why?”
She doesn’t answer him, she only steps closer to him.  So he continues.
“Because you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t think it.”
She starts stammering, but she’s beaming from ear to ear.  “I mean, I was kind of kidding about making it as cheesy as possible, but--”
“None of that,” he says, pushing her coat towards her.  “You want cheesy?  I can show you cheesy.”
She hesitates before taking the coat with a shake of her head.  “You’re nuts.”
“Thank you.  Want to borrow a scarf?”
Its a few minutes later when Harry and y/n trudge outside, their shoes crunching through the snow a bit loudly.  Harry’s lucky he lives in the gated community he lives in, but just in case, he takes y/n’s hand and leads her around the back of the house.
“Never snows like this in LA,” Harry says quietly.  “You’re right, it is romantic.”
Y/n giggles nervously, letting him lead her.  She’s definitely wondering what she’s gotten herself into, and if Harry’s honest, so is he.  When they get to a private spot, Harry lets go of her hand.
She thinks he’s going to kiss her, and her stomach fills with a wave of nervousness.  “Harry, I--”
“Hold on,” he says, turning away from her.  “Have to make this proper cheesy, don’t I?”
Y/n watches in confusion while he takes a few steps away from her, then stops and turns on his heels.  She snorts when he wiggles his eyebrows at her and steps with a wonky half step, half dance move maneuver towards her.   “Hey girl.”
“Harry oh my god.”  
He wiggles a bit closer to her.  “Heard you’d never been kissed in the snow.”
Y/n is having a proper giggle fit now, and its making Harry want to laugh too.  Still, he keeps up his act.  “As it just snow happens, I’ve never been kissed in the snow either.”
“HARRY.”  She snorts and steps away from him at his awful pun.
“I knew I wanted to kiss you... at frost glance.”  He reaches out for her.  “I feel like fate... sled us to this moment.”
“Oh my god.  Alright enough with the puns.”  But she’s giggling, and Harry is thriving. 
He continues wiggling his hips the closer he gets to her.  “There’s snow easy way to say this... but--”
He’s cut off when y/n throws a snowball-- or what wishes it was a snowball-- at him.  It lands with a thud against his chest and breaks, a few of the icy pieces hitting his chin.  His jaw drops and she laughs.
“Sorry,” she says.  “I can’t take any more snow puns.”
Harry takes a moment, and it makes y/n a little nervous when he smirks.  “That was very Rudolph you...”
And before y/n even has time to react, Harry’s scooping up snow and tossing it at her.  She shrieks, trying to dodge the ball that comes her way.  “No!”
“Yes,” Harry says back, already scooping up his next snowball.  “You started this.  Could’ve just taken my puns, but you had to throw a fit, and now look at where we are.”
Y/n shrieks again, dodging his grasp and trying to scoop up a bit of snow in her own gloved hands.  She reaches for him, trying to shove it down the back of his jacket-- which in turn makes him groan through his laughter.  “Fuck, s’cold!” He whines. 
“That’s what you GET!” She says loudly, followed by a squeal and a slew of ‘NO NO NO’s when Harry grabs her jacket and does the same thing to her. 
They continue like this for the next few minutes, and Harry doesn’t even have time to think, once more, about how incredibly easy it is to be around her. He’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t laughed this loud or this long in quite a while, and he isn’t thinking about how he’s told this girl so much in just one night.  He’s not even worried.  He wants her to know everything.  He wants to spend every single night like this.  For a long, long time.
She giggles, tripping a bit on her own boots and plopping with a thud into the snow.  He follows suit, falling beside her with a grunt and a loud laugh. (But not without shoving a bit more snow onto her and under her coat onto her bare tummy-- to which she shrieks.)
He laughs, reaching over and taking her hips in his hands and guiding her gently on top of him.  She obliges instantly, swinging a leg over and straddling him.  She sits on his hips while he remains laying on the snow, and she smirks down at him.
 This could easily turn sexual, of course, and Harry is acutely aware of that fact.  But right now, she looks so bloody beautiful with snow in her hair and snowflakes in her eyelashes and her nose red and shiny, that he doesn’t care.  This is all so like a cheesy Christmas film and it makes Harry’s stomach churn a bit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Cheesy enough for you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows and giving both of her arms a bit of a squeeze.
She rolls her eyes, but breaks into the biggest smile he’s ever seen.  “The perfect amount.”
He smiles, wiggling a bit so he can sit up on his elbows.  “Excellent.  Kiss me.”
Her bottom lip tucks up in between her teeth once more, and he immediately softens the request with a “please.”
When she giggles, he knows he’s got her.  And when he leans in, he doesn’t even have time to register anything that’s going on.  Her mouth is on his, and its the most incredible thing he’s felt in a while. 
The kiss is exactly how he’d expected it to be.  Soft, but with a bit of a kick to it-- just like her. Her tongue, hot and warm, peeking ever so slightly between her lips and then retreating back into her own mouth as if asking him to do the work.  Although both of their eyes are closed, he knows she’s smiling because he can feel it.  The thought of her smiling through this makes his heart flutter, and in turn, makes him smile as well.  God, he wanted this more than he’d let himself realize.
His hands find their way from her arms, to her hips, then up under her coat to scrach lightly (and innocently, mind you) up her back.  She shivers when his cold fingertips come in contact with her skin, and he chuckles out a quick “sorry” before bringing his fingers back out of her coat.  She only giggles, reaching up to scratch affectionately at his scalp, and-- god, Harry is putty for this girl.
She breaks the kiss moments later, with a soft breath and a whisper of “Sorry.”  They both open their eyes and, even though they’re only looking at one another by the light of the moon, they know their cheeks are both crimson.  Y/n looks down.  “I’m just.. so cold.”
Harry laughs at this, sitting completely up but keeping his hands on her hips to ensure she stays seated on him.  “Yeah?  Had your fill of kissing in the snow?”
She nods.  “Mm.  But... not of kissing in general.  Not of kissing you.”
Harry beams at that, brushing his nose against hers and kissing her again.  “Me neither, love.  Not at all.”
They scramble apart then, untangling themselves from one another and trudging hand in hand back into his house.  When they stand in his entry way peeling their wet clothes off of each other, they continue to share soft, blissful kisses and giggles.  (Not, of course, without Harry telling her that this is definitely snow laughing matter.  Which earns him a slap to the arm.)
They maneuver their way back into his living room, shivering and laughing and kissing, and the minute Harry plops onto the couch he pulls her onto him so she’s once more straddling him.
They stay like that for quite some time.  Harry’s hands comb their way through her damp hair and his lips find their warmth between her own.  She scratches at the hair at the nape of his neck which causes and embarrassing little groan to escape from his lips and a grin to appear on her own. 
It’s when her lips make their way to his neck that Harry knows he’s in trouble.  
“Oh god,” he says softly, tilting his head to allow her easier access when her lips brush his sweet spot. “Y/n if you’re not careful you’re--”
“I’m what?” she breathes, her wet lips ghosting against the bottom of his ear.  “Going to turn you on?”
“You already have,” he practically growls, taking her hips in his hands once more.  They move effortlessly so that she’s laying on her back now, and he’s hovering above her.  It’s his turn to love on her neck.  “Since the first time I saw you.”
“Oh god,” she says with a smile.  “We don’t talk about that first time.”
Harry’s head pops up when she says this, and he shoots her a confused look.  “Why not?”
“You came on what was possibly the worst day you could’ve come,” she says through a laugh.   “I was a wreck that day.”
“Didn’t seem that way to me.”  Harry leans down to kiss her neck, just on her pulse, and her back arches ever so slightly.  He makes a note to do more of that.  “You were beautiful.”  He kisses just below her ear.  “Are beautiful.”
“Mmm.”  Y/n sighs, her hand reaching up to tug at his hair while she closes her eyes and leans into his lips.  “It wasn’t a good day at all until you came in.”
“Guess it all worked out then, didn’t it?”  Harry kisses the sweet spot once more, and hears her breath hitch in her throat. “S’that feel good?”
“Yeah,” she breathes.  Her hand scratches its way from the nape of his neck down his back, and he nearly hisses.  Oh god, he can feel himself getting harder.
One hand travels slowly, cautiously, down her stomach and traces along the waistband of her pants.  He can feel her take in a breath, and she rolls her hips as if hoping to get some friction.  Does she want this as badly as he does?
“Love,” he says slowly, pulling away to look down at her.  “You can tell me to stop, alright?  If you’re not feeling this... if it’s too much--”
She cuts him off by grabbing the back of his head and pulling his face down to hers so she can fasten their lips together once more.  Her tongue makes it’s way into his mouth, bold and a bit rough, and he loves it.  He practically drinks it in, involuntarily moaning into her mouth and pulling her hips closer to his.
When she pulls away, she’s smiling up at him.  “It’s not too much.”
Harry takes those words as his starting gun, although he does move cautiously.  He sits up a bit and reaches down to work on the buttons of her jeans.  “This okay?” He asks, eyeing her closely for any sign of discomfort.  
All he sees, however, is a smile that he cannot resist kissing once again, and eyes that are practically begging him to touch her.  
When he pulls out of the kiss she nods.  “Yes.  It’s okay.”
“Fuck.”  Harry doesn’t even know why he says that word.  Maybe its because of how badly he wants to touch her.  Because he can’t believe he’s got someone so lovely, so soft, so sweet, laying out below him, asking him to touch her and make her feel good.   
He tugs on her jeans and she helps him, raising her hips so that he can maneuver them off of her.  He’s met with the sexiest pair of black lace underwear he thinks he’s ever seen, and he swears he could start drooling.
“Christ,” he says, running his hand through his hair.
“Came prepared,” she says, matter of factly, and he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss her or make her cum right then and there. 
“You were expecting this then?”
She blushes.  “I was hoping.”
He smirks at that, leaning down to kiss her.  “So was I.”
He takes his pointer and middle finger and tests the waters, rubbing against the already damp fabric of the lace between her legs, and she arches her back.  He leans forward to kiss at the pulse in her neck while continuing the movement with his fingers, and he feels himself twitch when he finally coaxes a moan out of her.
“Fuck,” she says.  “What about you?”
“Don’t have to worry about me if you don’t want to,” he says with a shake of his head.  And he genuinely means it.  He wants her to feel good and sexy and incredible, but he also wants her comfortable.  Of course this isn’t the reason he invited her over tonight, and he wants-- needs -- her to know that.
Still, she reaches for him.  She tucks her hand into the waistband of his jeans and gasps when she feels his length through his boxers. He hisses at the contact and cannot help but let the word “baby” slip from his mouth.
“You’re so big,” she says quietly, and it sounds like the statement is almost ending in a question.  
He kisses her in response to that, picking up the pace with his fingers between her legs.  He moves his hand to tuck into her own waistband and she moans into his mouth.
And then there they are-- rubbing at one another on the couch like horny teenagers just discovering what all of this is.  Harry thanks God, his lucky stars, and everything else that has led him up to this moment with her.  Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed he’d have the chance to do this-- but he is so, so happy he does. 
He shimmies out of his pants and his boxers and they flip once more, so that he’s the one on his back and she’s straddling him once again.  She keeps her body pressed to his, with the only thing separating them being their hands while they rub and stroke and caress at one another.  The television is still cut off due to the snow, so the only thing that can be heard are his groans her soft little whines every now and then. 
He circles her clit with his fingers and pays special attention to what makes her cry out.  Although admittedly, it is a bit hard to focus when she’s tugging at him the way that she is. 
She lets out a noise that would put a porn star to shame, and Harry smirks.  “That good, huh?”
“Fuck I want you,” she says.  “Please.. I’m... I know this isn’t... I know it’s only our first date but--”
He cuts her off with a kiss.  “None of that.   If you want it, I want it.”  He squirms a bit so that he’s laying flat on his back before moving the fingers of his free hand.  “Baby, sit on my face.”
Her jaw drops and she stops moving her hips against his fingers so suddenly that he almost worries he said something wrong.  Almost.
“What?!” she says.  “I was just gonna say I wanted you, but--”
“I want you, too,” he says, matter of factly.  “I want you more than anything in this world right now.  And I want that pussy on my face.  Please.”
Her cheeks are red and she swallows so harshly its audible.  “Harry I--”
"What?” He stops rubbing at her clit then, and uses the fingers on his free hand to trace up her arm. He’s nervous now.  The last thing he wants is to pressure her.  “Is that too much?”
“God, NO!” she says quickly.  “Fucking hell, no, not at all.  I’ve never wanted anything more.  I just... are you sure?”
“Course I’m sure,” he says, giving her a reassuring little smile and a nod of his head. “Please, darling.”
It’s the way he says darling-- so sweet, like honey dripping off of his lips, that gets her.  She obliges, then, but first mutters a quick, “hold on.”  
She swings a leg off of him and he whines at the loss of contact.  That is, until he watches her wiggle out of her panties while standing on the couch beside him.  He smirks at her when she glances at him, and she looks down at the black lace in her hands wondering what she’s supposed to do with it before deciding to just discard of them on the carpet.  
She moves up towards his head and swings a leg around once more, but this time she’s facing the other way.  He wants to ask why, but he’s silenced when she gently lowers herself down towards his lips.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.  “I’ve never... sat on a face before.”
Harry gives her clit a quick, rewarding little flick with his tongue and she gasps.  “Doing a fucking good job of it,” he says against her skin.  One hand reaches up to grab at her hips in hopes of steadying her, while his other hand reaches down to stroke at himself.
She’s a whimpering mess almost immediately, rolling her hips against his tongue and gasping every time it finds its way inside of her.  Harry reckons he could stay just like this for the rest of the evening, licking and sucking at her and making her cum as many times and as many ways as possible, without wanting anything in return.
And then he feels her give him a slow, hard, tug.
He whimpers against her when she feels her hands against his cock, and she smirks.  “What?” She asks innocently.  “I wasn’t gonna let you have all the fun.”
He presses a kiss to her clit and moves ever so slightly just so he can speak coherently to her.  “Do that again, but faster... fuck, please.  Please faster.”
 She obeys, tugging and stroking him like a pro for the next few minutes.  Every time her thumb brushes against his slit he groans, and he has to stop himself from begging her to do it again and again and again.  Instead, he buries himself in his work, so to speak, flicking his tongue against her and wrapping his lips around her clit. Her noises are louder than his and it makes this whole situation that much fucking hotter to him.  
Harry doesn’t know how much time has passed but he knows that he’s starting to get that familiar burn in his belly, and he gulps at the feeling.
“Good girl,” he says against her skin, and he twitches when he notices a shiver run down her spine.  “That’s such a good fucking girl.  Oh my god.”  He halts his movements at the next swipe of her thumb.  “Love, I’m... I’m close.”
“Gonna cum?” She asks, although she’s nearly as breathless as he is. She squeezes tighter, using her free hand to squeeze at his balls.  He howls beneath her, holding on to her hips to steady her so that he doesn’t throw her off.  Although he can’t see her face, he knows she’s smirking.  “You like that, don’t you?”
She does it again and again and soon he’s coming, thick and hot.  She is obstructing his view but he can feel it all over his stomach, and his hips, and on what he’s assuming is her hand.  It’s almost embarrassing, but its altogether sexy.  And he knows he has to absolutely ravish her.
And so he does.  He takes both hands against her hips now and squeezes, holding her tightly in place and moving at a relentless pace with his tongue.  She shrieks and gasps, trying to buck her hips or at least move at all, but he’s squeezing so tightly that she’s absolutely stuck there to revel in the way his lips suck and swirl against her clit.
“Harry,” she whimpers, her voice shaking.  “Fuck fuck.. holy FUCK!”
“Go on then,” he says against her skin.  “Gonna make a mess on my tongue?  Hm?  Gonna let me taste you?”
“Har-RY.”  She grabs for anything she can.  His hair, the back of his couch,  his overly sensitive cock, until suddenly she can’t even do that.  Suddenly she’s moaning, whimpering, crying, while her eyes squeeze shut, and she’s feeling the best she’s felt in ages.  
She continuously chants a chorus of both his name and curse words, her voice crescendoing until even Harry is worried that his neighbors-- however far away their house is-- may hear.
And when she finally comes down, she’s exhausted.  She lets out a noise that sounds half like a breath, and half like a groan, and suddenly Harry needs to exert more strength to hold her body upright. She pants and shivers and lets excess little cries escape her mouth like aftershocks, and he begins to wonder if she’ll ever have the strength to get off of him.
They seem to have that thought at the same time, because suddenly she lets out a weak giggle and wiggles her way off of him, muttering a soft “Sorry.” 
Harry feels absolutely and completely fucked out, and he’s a little cold now because she’s not on top of him.  (And not to mention, he’s embarrassed at the sight of his naked torso covered in his own cum.)  But he’s enamored and cannot stop watching her as she wiggles her way back into her panties. “Don’t apologize,” he says softly.  “That was fucking great.”  He reaches out for her hand and gives it a squeeze.
For one sweet, lovely moment, they don’t say or do anything.  They stand there, holding one another’s hands and taking in the fact that, oh god, they just did that. And then she’s looking worriedly at the window, and then back at him, before dropping his hand to twist at the ring on her finger.
He sits up a bit, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the fact that he hasn’t cleaned himself up yet.  “What?”
“Its just...”  She sighs.  “It’s late.”
“Is it?” he teases, cocking his head.
“Yeah.  And I think.. I mean... I guess--”
“If you think m’letting you drive on those roads at an hour like this after all that, you’re crazy, young lady.”
Her face seems to light up ever so slightly at this, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask that.  “But I don’t want to impose, and I--”
“You’re not imposing.  I swear.  My bed is big enough for two.”  The minute he says that, all of his nerves from earlier seem to come flooding right back, so he quickly adds, “So is my guest room.  I have a few guest beds that are quite comfortable.”
“NO!” She says, almost too quickly.  She quickly bites her bottom lip into her mouth and twists her ring.  That damn cute little ring. “I mean I’d.. I... want to sleep in your room.  With you.”
Harry doesn’t even know why but he feels his whole heart soften at this.  “Thank God,” he says quietly, making her giggle.  
He stands up, walking briskly to the bathroom to clean off.  “I’ve an idea,” he says over his shoulder. “You head into the upstairs bathroom.  It’s the first door on the right at the top of the stairs, you can’t miss it.  We’ll both clean up, and you can meet me in my room.  Its right across from the bathroom. 
“Are you sure?”  
Harry doesn’t answer her, even though he heard her, because yes he’s sure.  He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.  He wants this girl in his room.  He wants this girl to make herself at home.  He wants this girl to stay.
A little under ten minutes later, Harry walks into his bedroom to find her sitting in his bed.  She’s wearing the shirt that she came over in and her panties, except now she’s taken all of her makeup off and her hair is tied back.  The sight makes his heart flutter nearly out of his chest, but he hardly even has time to register that feeling before she’s nodding towards the bag in his hand.  “What’s that?”
He’d nearly forgotten.  This bag had been under his tree the whole time, and he’d meant to give it to her earlier before they’d gotten a bit carried away.  He beams at her.  “Your Christmas present.”
Her eyes go wide.  “Oh my god, what?! Harry... I didn’t... I mean I wasn’t--”
“I know,” he says, crawling up onto the bed beside her.  “And I didn’t expect you to do anything for me.  This is for you, because... well,  I know you love it.”
She sits staring at him for a moment, which makes him snort and push the bag a little closer to her.  “For goodness sake open it!” he says.  “The suspense is killing me.”
She rolls her eyes, hesitantly taking the bag in her hands and bringing it closer to her.  “I’ll get you back for this, I swear,” she says, shaking her head.  She tears into the paper of the bag and is about to say something else, when she stops dead in her tracks.
After a few seconds of silence she looks up at him.  “You did not.”
“Did I not?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.  “I might have...”
She reaches into the bag and pulls out the dress.  The one from work that she’d had her eye on since before she’d even technically started there.  The one that would be far too expensive for her, even with her discount.  The most perfect dress she’d ever seen.
Her eyes well up with tears almost immediately.  “Harry, I--”
“Do you like it!?” he asks, beaming.  “The girl at the shop said she loved it.  Said it was her favorite.  Said it was stunning.  So I thought it would look stunning on you.”
Y/n runs her fingers along the fabric, feeling as though she could break it if she touched it too hard.  “I don’t know what to say,” she breathes, wiping a tear from her eye.  “You didn’t have to...”
“I know I didn’t,” he says with a nod.  “I wanted to.  A lot.”  Silence follows for a few moments and Harry watches her intently.  “Do you like it?”
Instead of verbally answering him, y/n throws her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly they both fall back onto the bed.  Harry laughs when y/n covers his whole face in kisses, and showers him in “thank you”s and “oh my god”s.  His heart feels so complete.  More complete than its felt in a while, and hearing how happy she is is warming his heart more than he’d ever even anticipated.
He is really falling for this girl.
Shortly after, she’s asleep in his arms.  Her head is on his chest and she’s letting forth the softest, daintiest little snores Harry think’s he’s ever heard.  Its so cute he feels he could burst, and he almost doesn’t want to sleep just so that he can lay here and feel this happy for the rest of his life.
Still, he feels himself drifting.  So with one last glance outside to check on the snow, and with one last kiss to this beautiful girl’s head, he allows himself to drift off to sleep, thanking his lucky stars that he’d decided to buy a hat for his mum for Christmas. 
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pixelisperfect · 3 years ago
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Let’s examine what was on our screens for a singular minute. Not paying to include Victoria in Tender Nothings means: - The tabloids were right about Victoria being washed up. - Victoria will star in a movie that is clearly beneath her. - Two women in Hollywood are the ones who perpetuate the industry’s aversion to older women. - Victoria never gets to overcome preconceptions that kept her down. - Victoria’s greatest fear was actually justified. She was replaced by the younger, shinier (less experienced) version. Her entire character arc was tied to participating in this movie. Exactly as Matt’s was. And PB has the gall, the audacity, to hide it behind a diamond scene. @playchoices I mostly respect you and tend to see slip ups as honest mistakes. This was a deliberate choice. So I mean this, from the bottom of my heart. You’re a disgrace.
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hanjis-experiment · 3 months ago
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ok ok wait
you're trying to tell me that Shadow didn't get together with the flower-shop lady?
I need a formal apology from bones for that
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catsbeaversandducks · 2 years ago
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“What I saw VS. what the kitten saw.”
Photos/caption by Youngest Old Cat Lady
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