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Smut: * | Fluff: ! | Angst: ā¢
One Shots
Sorry Wrong Number ! / Word Count: 12.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Extra
A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages.
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Table 11 * ā¢ / Word Count: 8k
An encounter at a restaurant brings together Y/N, a hardworking waitress with little time for love, and Harry, a successful yet guarded man who fears opening up.
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Smudged Nail Polish * / Word Count: 3k
Late nights at the office often meant brainstorming sessions and a ton of work undone. But one evening, the line between work and pleasure begins to blur.
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Window in Front * / Word Count: 3.9k
After discovering your husbandās affair, you take a job with his biggest rival to get even. What starts as revenge quickly becomes something far sweeterāand far more pleasing.
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Of Spilled Drinks and Spilled Truths * ā¢ / Word Count: 9.2k
A weekend getaway with friends was supposed to be a break, but for Y/N and Harry, it becomes a turning point. After years of friendship riddled with unresolved feelings, some heated arguments gives way to confessions neither of them expected.
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Sunshine * / Word Count: 20k
Youāre an aspiring actress waiting to be discoveredāthe embodiment of sunshine itself: radiant, stubborn, and perhaps a little too kind for your own good. Then you step into Harryās world, one painted in shades of grey, and nothing for either of you is ever the same
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Soft Secret * ! ā¢ / Word Count: 4.7k
At a party, you drop your innocent act and pull Harry into a heated, unforgettable night.
Short Fics
(COMPLETED)
Reply All ! * ā¢ / Chapter 1 ā¢ | Chapter 2 ā¢ | Chapter 3 ā¢ | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 ! | Chapter 6 ! | Chapter 7 ! *
Y/N and Harry were childhood best friends, inseparable through every laugh, secret, and growing pain. But high school brought unspoken feelings and decisions that tore them apart, leaving both with unanswered questions. Years later, a class project challenges them to face their shared past and uncover the truths theyāve both been running from. And a wrong click unveils the past and what will be the future.
The Luminary ! ā¢ / Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Devils arenāt supposed to go up to Heaven. Devils definitely arenāt supposed to befriend a grumpy angel named Harry. But you were never like most devilsāand, honestly, Harry wasnāt supposed to enjoy your company as much as he does.
(ON GOING)
Do you believe in fate? ! * ā¢ / Chapter 1 ā¢ | Chapter 2 ā¢ | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4
After losing his wife, Harry struggles to navigate his grief, An encounter with Y/N, a kind florist, who shares the same experience.
Heir on the run ! * ā¢ / Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapert 5 Part 1 | Chapter 5 Part 2
Harry runs away from the only life heās ever known, leaving behind a palace full of expectations and a crown he isnāt sure he wants. Alone in the countryside and far from home, an unexpected encounter on a quiet hill might change everything...
Blurbs (Works under 3k + Fics Blurbs)
White Frosting ! / Word Count: 1.6k
A fluffy look into Y/N and Harryās life as soon-to-be parents of two ā snow, cravings, bedtime cuddles, and their curious 5-year-old keeping things interesting.
I love Rex Orange County, and every single day I'm mad that he doesn't have a big fandom because I literally don't know anyone else who loves him. There's also NO fics about him. I traveled to the other side of the fucking world to see him live, bought my favorite hat there, and then lost it in an Uber. That was genuinely one of the saddest days of my life. š Now I check Depop almost every day to see if someone is selling that cap. I would literally sell my soul for that cap
Summary: You spend your days developing disposable cameras at a Walmart photo lab, but one regular customer slowly becomes the highlight of your routine. Month after month, you catch glimpses of Harry's life through the memories he trusts you to develop, until he finally starts noticing the person behind the counter.
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: Soooo... the weather? š I'M BACK!!! (I think... ) i hope you guys enjoy this! Don't mind the title, i hate it too.
Warnings: Mentions of grief and the loss of parents.
.
You woke up that morning still half-asleep, your body heavy with exhaustion. After dragging yourself into the shower, you stood beneath the warm water with your eyes barely open, letting out a long sigh as the steam slowly woke you up. You washed your hair, soaped your skin with practiced movements, and tried to gather enough energy for the day ahead.
Once you were done, you pulled on your usual work clothes: beige pants, a faded pair of Converse, and the bright red vest with your name tag pinned neatly over your heart. Your hair went up into a high ponytail without much thought.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted you before you even reached the kitchen.
"Good morning, Bunny," your grandmother said warmly.
"Morning, Grandma," you replied with a sleepy smile
"Already heading to work?" she asked, pouring a mug of coffee before sliding it across the table toward you.
"Yeah. I'll bring home the discounted chicken tonight."
"Sounds lovely, Bunny. Have a good day." She handed you a peach on your way to the door. "I'll be at Myrtle's house for most of the day."
"Okay"
You smiled softly as you watched her leave, the screen door creaking shut behind her.
Your grandmother had taken you in after your father passed away a few years ago. What had started as an undetectable infection in his lungs had stolen him within weeksā¦and you barely remembered your mother. When you were five, she'd boarded a bus headed somewhere you never learned, and she never came back. After that, it had always been just you, your father, and your grandmotherāthe woman who practically raised you while your dad worked long hoursā¦
Your father developed film for a living.
He started in a tiny photo shop downtown before eventually landing a job at the photo counter inside a Walmart, back when disposable cameras still had a place in people's lives. You grew up behind that counter as much as you did at home, surrounded by the smell of developing chemicals and stacks of yellow Kodak envelopes.
Your childhood existed on film.
Birthday parties. Christmas mornings. Toothless smiles. School recitals. Every milestone preserved on glossy paper before it was tucked into family albums.
While other kids learned to ride bikes or play instruments, you learned exposure, negatives, enlargers, developer baths, fixer, timing, and light. You learned how to hold a strip of film without leaving fingerprints, how to spot an underexposed frame before it reached the printer, and how every photograph carried a tiny story.
By the time you graduated high school, college wasn't an option. There simply wasn't enough money.
You worked as a waitress for a while, picking up every shift you could, until your father got sick. When he no longer had the strength to stand behind the photo counter, you stepped in to help.
Then, after he was gone...
You never really left.
Now, every morning, you unlocked the little photo lab tucked between Electronics and the Pharmacy, one of the last places in town where people still went to develop their film
.
You flipped on the lights, the soft hum of the fluorescent bulbs filling the tiny photo lab as it came to life.
Like every morning, you settled into your routine.
Register on.
Computer on.
Photo printer.
Film processor.
You checked the day's pickups, sorted the envelopes into alphabetical order, wiped down the counter, and finally propped up the new promotional sign your manager had insisted on.
FREE PHOTO DEVELOPMENT AFTER FIVE ROLLS.Ask about our loyalty card.
"Ohhh we've got discounts over here now?" Victor said, leaning against the counter as he snapped his fingers dramatically.
"Apparently it was a marketing decision" you replied with a quiet chuckle "Want to sign up for a loyalty card?"
He pressed a hand to his chest "Darling, I'm flattered, but the last thing I know how to do is take a good picture, i was meant to be in front of the camera"
A laugh escaped you. "Aren't you supposed to be up front? likeā¦for real?"
"It's barely eight in the morning. Nobody's coming in forā"
The overhead intercom crackled to life before he could finish.
"Victor to the front of the store. Victor to the front of the store."
You looked up with an innocent smile "Have fun."
Victor groaned dramatically as he pushed himself off the counter.
"I don't get paid enough for this place"
"You've been saying that for three years"
"And yet somehow it's still true"
You laughed as he disappeared around the corner, the store falling quiet once again.
.
You looked up from the stack of pickup envelopes to find a woman in her early forties juggling three things at once, a giant insulated water bottle tucked under one arm, an oversized tote bag threatening to spill over, and a disposable camera pinched carefully between two fingers.
Her ponytail was slightly crooked, there was a smear of sunscreen across one cheek, and she wore a bright green soccer mom sweatshirt despite it being almost eighty degrees outside.
You smiled instinctively.
"Good morning."
"Hi!" she breathed, already sounding exhausted. "Can you develop one of these?"
She placed the yellow Kodak disposable camera on the counter as if it were something precious.
"Of course."
You picked it up, turning it over in your hands out of habit.
The flash had already been used.
The advance wheel refused to turn.
"Looks like you've finished the roll."
"Oh, thank God," she laughed. "My son had three soccer tournaments this weekend and I think I took every single picture with that thing."
"I'll take care of it."
You reached beneath the counter and grabbed one of the familiar yellow processing envelopes.
"Name?"
"Jennifer Collins."
You wrote it carefully across the top.
Phone number. Date. One roll of 35mm disposable film. Standard development. Four-by-sixes. Expected pickup: three business days.
"You'll get a text as soon as they're ready."
"Perfect."
You handed her the receipt and Jennifer waved before disappearing into the endless aisles of the store. Once she was gone, you slipped the disposable camera beneath the counter into the tray labeled TO BE PROCESSED.
By noon, the tray held six cameras.
Three disposable Kodaks.
One Fuji.
Two rolls of professional 35mm film sealed inside black plastic canisters.
When the morning rush finally slowed, you pulled on a pair of powder-blue nitrile gloves and disappeared behind the swinging door marked PHOTO LAB ā EMPLOYEES ONLY.
The room was barely larger than a walk-in closet.
Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with bottles of developer, bleach, fixer, and stabilizer. The air carried the faint chemical smell you'd grown up with, sharp enough that most people wrinkled their noses, but to you it smelled strangely comforting. Like home.
You switched off the overhead lights until only the tiny red safe light remained.
Film hated light.
One careless second could erase an entire vacation.
Working almost entirely by touch, you cracked open a disposable camera with a small metal opener. The plastic shell popped apart with a familiar snap, revealing the tightly wound roll hidden inside.
Carefully, you pulled the film leader free and clipped it onto the machine's loading tab before feeding it into the processor.
Years ago, your father had done every step by hand, dunking negatives into trays of chemicals one after another.
Now the machine handled most of the work.
The film slowly disappeared inside with a soft mechanical hum.
Developer. Bleach. Fixer. Wash. Dry.
The process took a little over twenty minutes.
Long enough for you to restock photo frames, ring up a customer buying batteries, and answer two questions about passport photos.
When the processor finally beeped, you returned to the lab.
A warm strip of negatives emerged from the dryer, hanging like a tiny ribbon of memories.
You held it carefully against the inspection light.
Tiny squares.
Tiny lives.
You checked each frame for scratches, light leaks, dust, or overlapping exposures before feeding the negatives into the scanner. One by one, the images bloomed across your monitor in surprisingly vivid color.
Jennifer hadn't exaggerated.
Soccer fields stretched across nearly every frame.
Children in oversized jerseys chased soccer balls through muddy grass.
Orange slices during halftime.
A team huddle.
One little boy grinning proudly while holding a plastic participation trophy.
A blurry picture of a golden retriever that had apparently wandered onto the field.
You smiled despite yourself.
There was something wonderful about ordinary lives.
Moments people thought were too small to remember.
.
The cheerful chime of the service bell echoed through the back room. You pulled your gloves off with a sigh, setting the strip of freshly developed negatives onto the drying rack before pushing open the swinging door that separated the lab from the counter.
"I'll be right there!"
As you rounded the corner, you already had your customer-service smile ready.
Then you saw him.
Harry.
He was standing exactly where he always did, one hand resting on the counter while the other absentmindedly rolled a disposable camera between his fingers. A worn canvas tote bag hung from one shoulder, and the sleeves of his faded forest-green sweatshirt were pushed up to his elbows. His curls looked slightly flattened on one side, as though he'd spent the morning wearing a baseball cap, and there was a pair of sunglasses hooked into the collar of his T-shirt.
He looked... familiar.
Not because you'd ever spent more than five minutes talking to him, but because he'd been coming to this counter for almost a year now. Once every month, sometimes every six weeks, he'd walk in carrying one, occasionally two, disposable cameras, drop them off with the same easy smile, buy fresh ones, thank you by name, and disappear back into the world until the next roll was full.
Most regular customers developed pictures of birthdays or holidays.
Harry developed his life. Road trips. Cabins.
Coffee shops you'd never heard of.
Sunsets from places you couldn't name.
Friends who looked impossibly close, always laughing at something outside the frame.
The same golden retriever that seemed convinced every couch in existence belonged to him.
A little blue house with ivy climbing around the porch that appeared often enough for you to recognize it instantlyā¦.
His photographs never felt posed. Half of them were crooked, overexposed, blurry around the edges, or caught someone in the middle of laughing. Somehow, those always ended up being the best ones.
Over the months, you'd unknowingly started piecing together tiny fragments of his life. Not enough to know him. God, not even close. but enough that when he walked through those automatic doors, your brain quietly filled in the blanks.
He liked camping. He drank his coffee black. He traveled whenever he could. He had a dog that hated sitting still for pictures.
And judging by the amount of birthday candles and Christmas dinners you'd developed over the past year... he had people. Lots of them.
A full life.
The kind that fit effortlessly inside disposable cameras.
You blinked yourself back into the present when he smiled.
"Hi."
"Hi" you answered, returning the smile without even realizing it. "Sorry about the wait."
"No worries" He lifted the little yellow camera between his fingers. "Finished another one."
You glanced at the disposable camera before meeting his eyes again.
"I figured."
He set the disposable camera on the counter, watching as you picked it up and turned it over in your hands, checking that the advance wheel had stopped.
"Looks like you got all twenty-seven."
"I always do." He grinned. "I hate wasting frames."
You laughed quietly as you grabbed one of the yellow envelopes.
"Name?"
"Harry."
"Last name?"
"You still have to ask?"
"It's procedure."
He let out a small laugh before answering anyway.
As you scribbled everything down, he leaned his forearms against the counter, looking around the tiny photo department.
"You've been here a while now."
Your pen paused for half a second.
"Almost three years."
"Really?"
You nodded. "Time flies when you're surrounded by disposable cameras."
He smiled to himself.
"Did you always want to do this?..."
It caught you completely off guard, not because it was an invasive question, because it was the first question he'd ever asked that wasn't about prints, pickup dates, or whether the flash had worked.
For a moment, you simply looked at him, and then you shook your head with a small smile.
"Not exactly."
He waited.
"My dad worked here before I did."
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
"He developed film?"
"Yeah." you said while your fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the envelope. "He'd been doing it since before digital cameras took over. First at a little photo shop downtown, then here." You smiled faintly, the memory warming you despite yourself. "I practically grew up behind this counter."
"So you learned from him?"
"Everythingā" you chuckled softly "I think I knew what fixer smelled like before I learned long division."
That earned a genuine laugh from him "I can believe that."
"He used to let me hand him the negatives after they came out of the processor" You shrugged. "Eventually he trusted me enough to run the whole thing myself"
Harry's smile softened. "Where is he now? Retired?"
The question came gently, genuinely out of curiosity.
You glanced down at the counter for a moment. "He got sick."
Silence settled between you.
"It happened pretty fast" You swallowed. "An infection in his lungs. By the time they figured out what it was..." You offered a small, resigned smile. "...there wasn't much they could do"
"Oh...I'm sorry."
There was no awkwardness in the way he said it. No rush to fill the silence.
Just two simple words, spoken like he actually meant them.
You nodded "Thank you."
"He'd probably be happy you're keeping it going."
You looked around the little photo lab, the aging machines, the shelves full of chemicals, the faded Kodak posters that hadn't been replaced in years. "I hope so."
For a second, neither of you spoke.
"Well..." A crooked smile tugged at his lips. "I'm glad you're still here."
You blinked, It was such an ordinary sentence, so casually said, and yet something about it settled warmly in your chest.
Before you could think of a response, he reached toward the display beside the register.
"I'll take two more."
You looked over to find him holding up a pair of disposable cameras.
"You've got another trip planned?"
His grin widened "Maybe"
There it was againā¦that little bit of mystery but never enough information to satisfy your curiosity
You rang up the two disposable cameras, sliding them into a paper bag before handing it across the counter along with his receipt "Your film should be ready by Thursday."
"Perfect."
Harry tucked the cameras into his tote bag before flashing you that same easy smile he always wore.
"I'll see you then"
"You will."
He gave you a small wave as he turned, disappearing into the bright maze of grocery aisles. You let out a quiet breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
"He's gone now, right?"
You didn't even have to look up.
Victor.
He leaned dramatically over the counter, following Harry's direction."Jesus Christ."
You rolled your eyes."What?"
"That man."
"What about him?"
Victor looked at you as if you'd just asked what color the sky was.
"He's offensively attractive!"
A laugh escaped before you could stop it.
"Oh, please"
"No, seriously." He pointed toward the grocery aisles. "Those curls? The smile? The whole 'I'm effortlessly cool' thing?"
You shook your head, trying and failing not to smile. "He's just nice"
"Exactly" Victor snapped his fingers. "That's what makes him dangerous"
"I don't think nice is dangerous"
"It is when you're built like..." He gestured vaguely toward where Harry had disappeared. "...that"
You laughed again, shaking your head as you tucked the receipt book back beneath the register. Victor watched you for a beat before narrowing his eyes.
"...What?"
He leaned closer. "That smile"
"I smile at everyone."
"No" He wagged a finger "Customer-service smile? Totally different..."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I do" He crossed his arms triumphantly. "The second Pretty Boy walks in, your face changes"
"My face does not change"
"It absolutely does"
You busied yourself straightening a stack of photo envelopes, refusing to look at him.
"You get this..." he waved his hand around your face, searching for the right word "...soft look"
"I don't"
"You smiled before he even said anything"
"I was being polite"
Victor snorted "You weren't smiling at Soccer Mom like that"
You opened your mouth but then closed it. "...That's because she told me about her son's soccer tournament"
"And Harry tells you he filled another cameraā¦."
"Which is relevant to my job Vic"
"Mhm" Victor nodded with mock seriousness. "Whatever helps you sleep at night"
You sighed dramatically. "He's just a regular customer, I literally don't know anything about him"
Victor raised an eyebrow "No?"
You shook your head. "No"
He smiled knowingly "That's funny."
"...Why?"
"Because from where I'm standing..."
He nodded toward the swinging door that led back into the photo lab.
"...you look an awful lot like someone who's looking forward to seeing whatever's on that roll"
Your cheeks warmed instantly.
Victor caught it and his grin grew impossibly wider "Oh my God."
"Don't."
"You do have a little crush."
"I do not have a crush.
"You have a Kodak crush"
"I'm going back to work and you should too!"
Victor laughed as you pushed through the swinging door
"You can't hide in the darkroom forever!"
"Watch me!" The door swung shut behind you, muffling his laughter.
You leaned against the cool metal shelf for just a second, shaking your head at yourself
Ridiculous.
It wasn't a crush. It couldn't be.
He was simply the customer whose life passed through your hands once a month, twenty-seven frames at a time.
Hi Mia! I'm sorry to hear about the money issues :((( How have you been doing otherwise? are you feeling better? And congrats on whatever good happened to you š¤ Sending you so much love and good vibes overall
Hi! That's alright, I'm doing okay, I'm learning to understand my body and all the new symptoms I'm experiencing....It's hard but not impossible! So yeah one day at a time right?
Emotionally, I've had both good and bad days. I think it's a "double edged sword" because whenever I have a really great day the next one tends to be a bit harder with all the highs and lows but yeah....I'm working on that too!
Thanks for asking! and thank you for the good vibes! š¤
