#im utter trash.

[nyxtickled]

how well can you follow instructions? I know you can't admit out loud to how much you love being fucking tickled breathless, but can you hold your toes back on command? I just figure such an insatiable lee like yourself should be able to keep her arches flexed for any tool I use, yes?

[utterhomestucktrash]

Some OC Sketches... Why do I have so many of these guys...

[oliiroo]

Soooo, there’s a game that I’m into… some of you maaaay know it?

*cough, ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˢᵖᵃᶜᵉ, cough*

And there’s a newish character that was recently added to it… ˢʸˡᵘˢ

ANYWAY… I’m in my brain rot era so I wanted to show off some art I painted inspired by said character!

(Rafayel, I tried to stay strong, but clearly I didn’t try hard enough. You still my OG tho, and I still love you dw ✋🏽)

⬇️

[darklingduck]

Not me over here crying about the Darkling again at 8am on a Friday morning.

[ladyofthelake]

Me right now after finishing my Merlin rewatch and concluding with Diamond of the Day on Christmas Eve:

[izzypaw]

oh btw i FINALLY made a toyhou.se :D no idea how it works tho

[utterhomestucktrash]

What is glitch page a glitch in? Just the universe ?

Text : Every time your heart skips a beat that's me !

Sorry those of u with heart murmurs 😔 for my crimes

[honeyrisuke]

I will die on the hill that vellum is a complete and utter heap of garbage

every person who disagrees with me and loves to use that trash owes me money

[kitxkatrp]

The question is: do I have the will to work on more BIOs tonight or not

[bunicate]

rambling abt diluc’s relationship with his sister from the maid, adelinde’s pov ♡ im pretti sure dis was an ask I received on my old blog too ! !

adelinde didn’t have much expected of her besides her daily cleanings and the occasional rotation of taking out the trash, but recently she’s been burdened with the task of looking after you.

you’re a troublesome girl to tend to.

she would never say it out loud or let her feelings show, but master diluc had you spoiled rotten. you were the only one allowed to disturb him in his study and demand the most menial things for the sake of his attention. 

you're often half-naked and oversleeping when you weren't bothering him.

she frequently dresses you, and brushes your hair so you could look presentable in front of your brother, and you would insist on only the shortest dresses and skirts. or flat out refuse to have your blouse buttoned all the way. she wouldn’t dare to speak out of turn, but your bosom was nearly visible at all times. 

she doesn’t acknowledge her master's subtle glances towards the swell of your chest, or his hand that rests too closely to your bottom.

you both were closer than most siblings. that she knows, the other maids all witnessed it but wouldn’t speak of it lest their master would catch them.

it was an enjoyable job, and it would be a shame to lose it because diluc caught their loose lips flapping away.

adelinde was quick to regard the interactions as siblings who simply cherished each other.

although you’re a handful, you’re also sweet and thoughtful, and she could see why diluc treated you as such. she often helps you clean up your messes from making strawberry tarts, and other little gifts that you give diluc. by the end of the day, you’d be exhausted, and each time she’d lay a blanket over your slumbering body when you waited up late for diluc.

she’d watch you until she’s interrupted by her master's arrival. 

“thank you, adelinde. you may go for the night. i’ll take care of her from here,” he’d say.

like routine, she’d bow.

“well then. goodnight master diluc.”

she would watch him slowly collect your body within his grasp, gentle enough not to disturb you from slumber. 

he’d pull back the hair that obstructs your face and adelinde could never forget the look of utter tenderness that seeped into his visage.

a certain kind of love unbinds the furrow of his brow and eases the tension in his broad shoulders. his figure would then disappear into your room, and that would be the last she saw of you both for the night. 

the next day when adelinde knocks on your door to come in, and you’re already awake.

your pajamas are revealing as always. a skimpy underwear and a strapless cotton top. your hair covers it, but she makes out the bruise on your neck, and she ignores it.

she tries not to appear uncomfortable when you walk downstairs in the same attire and diluc don't even seem phased. he just puts you on the kitchen counter, feeding you blueberries for breakfast.

touches and the palatable air isn’t enough to jump to conclusions, but she supposes she no longer had a choice anymore when she mistakenly walks into the living room and witnesses such a sweltering kiss.

her master trails his hands on the cheeks of your butt, groping the flesh while he buried his tongue in your mouth. 

adelinde is stunned at the sight. her master was kissing his little sister. 

a sensation she’s unfamiliar with runs down her body. his tongue is so much larger than yours, wrapping around your smaller one, swallowing your breathy cries. his hands cup your face, and it’s then she realizes how large those gloved fingers really are.

carefully, she watches them trail downwards, slipping into his pants to pull out his thickening and leaky member. 

adelinde , felt fear and a tinge of arousal.

he was going to insert his cock between your folds. your pretty silken folds, that sweltered with lust. his dick was hard and angry, and your body looked too perfect — too delicate to be touched.

adelinde licked her lips as diluc entered inside of you. your back arches and your tits jiggle from the comedown of his hips. he fucks into you at a rapid pace, and the sound of wetness on his cock destabilizes the maid's ability to react appropriately.

the moistness is audible between the slaps of skin and the loud cries.

the sheets darken with sweat and cum. your skin is bitten and then kissed, and your moans reverberate in the same room.

the air is hot and sticky and adelinde feels a knot in her belly. she quickly darts out into the corridor and begins to dread the following day. anxiety pricks at her skin at the fear of facing you both once more.

she knows that she’ll have to clean you up in the morning and face the dark truth about her master and his younger sister.

[aqxatofana]

"Christmas, huh?" the dark brunette muttered as she bent just low enough to scoop up the envelope he'd tossed her way, "And you're, what... the big guys best little helper? Can't say I've ever been this disappointed by a sighting of that fat prick." She snorts, deciding very quickly that the comparison didn't tick all the boxes in her mind. Albeit, Jack was never too pressed about waiting for payment when it came to Nolan - or a number of other unspoken people within the city that used her expertise for matters unlawful. Money, she didn't need. Regardless of where she'd been, it'd never been to line her pockets with riches - she held no regard for materialistic wares, nor tropical locations or fancy homes. That was never the world she belonged to; rather, Jack Taylor was as much a part of the slums as every shadow in every dark alley. A harrowing sliver of a nightmare, always just out of reach. Her nose crinkles, an easy difference between her usual icy indifference and whatever she wore around those she'd deemed worthy of something else. "I can only imagine." It was one of the few things she would have detested upon being someone approachable, in any capacity. Muscle memory sought to pull and tighten the wraps around her hands, setting aside the envelope in the corner. "Since I'm in the market of paranoia... -" The curve of her lip is telling, she's itching to let loose, "You know, I almost don't hate having you around, it's like having my own personal assistant. No phone calls, no angry mobs..." The roll of her eyes is easily noted, Jack has never shied away from allowing anyone to see her myriad of ever-changing moods. "I'd never be caught dead at any of those fucking things." She could think of few things worse than having to schmooze her way through an entire night with so many insufferable people. "That side of things, I'll leave to you."

where: k.o. boxing gym, after hours who: @aqxatofana ( jack ) & nolan fitzpatrick

Nolan may have been the sole proprietor of his own law practice, but that definitely didn't mean he acted alone. Throughout his career he'd amassed an impressive rolodex of contacts, people he could trust to take care of certain things that would ultimately nudged the pendulum in his clients' favor by whatever means necessary. Not that he wasn’t willing to get his hands dirty himself--hell, Nolan had grown up with them buried in the dirt, boots on the ground, clawing his way out of a poverty-pit and into the big leagues, but even he could only be in so many places at once. As much as he'd prefer to keep as many eyes and ears of his line of work as he could, it simply wasn't possible to do what he did without a little help -- which is where Jack came in.

“Christmas came early this year.” Nolan’s voice cut through the quiet as he approached the ring, waving a thick white envelope stuffed with cash. He'd made sure to come by far after closing hours, reassured by the fact that there'd been only a single car in the parking lot the time he'd pulled in.

“For your troubles,” he continued, tossing the envelope into the ring, “and the ones still on the way. My phone’s been ringin’ off the hook -- everyone's paranoid, which means you'll be hearing from me soon enough.” He hopped up on the side, forearms draping over the ropes, watchful, but easy. “Gotta say, though,” he added, his lips curling into a roguish smirk, “even with all the Texas Chainsaw Massacre shit that went down at the gala, I’m a little disappointed I didn’t see you there. Bet you’d pull off an evening gown real nice.”

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART FOUR — NOT SPECIAL PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader. WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping (sort of), Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), not proofread, possibly OOC... A/N: Damn im writing these quickly. I’m trying to pace it well, but I think I’m failing in that department lol…but, I also plan to have no more than thirty(ish) parts/chapters.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Just great.”

Now you were stuck by yourself, in this mangy pink motel room with someone who played Ddakji and sent innocent people to their deaths for a living. Lovely. “So what’s your name?” You ask, ‘gently’ prodding. The recruiter chuckles. “Why don’t we play a game, and if you win, you can find out.” He smirks. You give him a small, fake smile. “And if I lose?”

“You are in debt to me.” He smiles. You laugh out loud. You couldn’t help yourself. Just who did this guy think he is? “You’re funny.” You say through a fit of giggles, the silence around you deafening. The enigmatic salesman studying you in an unnerving way. “Why don’t we play a different game?” You ask, gently cupping his face. The salesman lets out a small hum, telling you to continue.

“How about you tell me where the island is, and I don’t kill you.” You smirk. “Nice try miss.” Your smile instantly drops. “But I don’t give anything out for free.” You scream in frustration. “Why won’t you just cooperate!?” The ravenette lifts up the sleeve on his unshackled hand, revealing a watch. “It hasn’t even been five minutes since your friends left, and you’re already this worked up?”

“Listen here, asshole.” You utter lowly, lunging forward to grab his perfectly ironed, white collar. “Your ‘organization’ has probably already replaced you—so why are you still so loyal to them?” The salesman glares (the first time you’ve seen him do anything but smile), as you continue on, letting him go. “You’re pathetic.” You spit.

“And your friends? They left you here because you’re too weak to help them.” He pauses, his eyes sizing you up. “You may not be the same trash that Gi-hun once was—but you’re not much better.” He chides, his voice filled with a cunning malice.

“You’re weak.”

…

Was fighting with this moron even worth it? He knew how to exploit your feelings, didn’t he? He was doing it right now. Maybe it would be best to just leave him be and come back in the morning. Maybe then, you could start fresh, your emotions out of the way. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” You breathe out, stepping away from the bathtub. You turn towards the stained glass door, before he called out to you one last time.

“Before you go, miss, I’ll have you admit one thing.” You didn’t bother to turn, your hand still placed firmly on the cool metal handle. “You’re just like everyone else. You’re not special.” You quickly open the glass door, stepping outside—before slamming it harshly, the pressure enough to slightly crack the glass. Good thing Gi-hun owned the motel. He wouldn’t be mad at you. Would he?

You pushed your intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind as you step out of the room, walking down the long hall to room ‘220’. You pull out the bronze key. It had a heart engraved into the center of the handle. You pushed it into the lock and easily pulled open the door. Walking in, you lazily tossed yourself onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of your day clothes.

As you tuck yourself into bed that night, you can’t help but remember the salesman’s words. YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL, YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL, YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL. Was that really true? You had always strived to be a good person, helping out your community. You had gotten good grades in school, attending university like your parents wanted…yet…maybe what he said was true.

Maybe you weren’t special.

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho @devilishdelirium @muchwita @ang3lgvts

[awrkive]

angst + 14 + with jk make it HURT miss dee i trust you with my life 🙏🏻

14.  "If you walk way from me, I don't want you coming back."

note: im genuinely so annoyed i cant keep my words bcs this drabble is 2.5k words but i promise the next ones are gonna be under 1k 😭

Two lines. 

The first one is clear as day, and you’ve tried so hard to blind yourself from the other one that’s just barely there – barely because it’s faint but you’re not stupid and you know it is there. That it exists. That it’s crystal clear there are two. Fucking. Lines on the damned test.

Two lines. 

It’s funny how a single plastic stick can ruin your life in a matter of minutes. 

Your mother didn’t lie at all when she said that you’d know these things. That you will feel it when it’s there. A month ago you didn’t get your period and while you could have an irregular cycle sometimes, you had a bad feeling about this particular one; the fatigue didn’t feel usual, your hips and breasts are growing and it didn’t make sense. You hated key lime pie for most of your life but recently you feel like you could eat it for the rest of your days. 

That was not fucking normal. 

And when you vomited again this morning after waking up, you decided to take a test.

It was past 7pm when you got home from the drugstore, and thirty minutes had passed since then when you found out the result. There are three sticks in the strewn paper bag all over the sink – all of which shows you the same thing. 

Two damn lines. 

You’re pregnant and you don’t know what to feel about it. 

But who are you lying to? You know exactly what you feel about it. You feel like utter shit. Absolute fucking shit and there’s a lodge in your throat that breaks into a sob when it finally dawns on you that holy fuck you’re fucking pregnant. There’s a baby growing in your womb and you can barely feed yourself waiting tables at a shitty restaurant downtown. 

You cry.

Your shoulders shake as you sob silently in the lavatory of your tiny bathroom, the chipped edge of the mirror and the broken faucet reminding you once again that you are not ready for this. You’re only 23. You’re barely making ends meet. The gap year you took off school that was only supposed to be one year stretched into two because of financial issues and now… this? A kid? What would you do with a child? You aren’t ready. You just aren’t ready. 

This was not supposed to happen. 

You think that over again. This was not supposed to happen. It repeats in your head over and over again like a broken record until you break into yet again another sob.

You dig your fingers in the porcelain sink, let your body fall low as you cry until your throat hurt. Tears flowed until you felt numb inside. You wept until your body trembled, weak and unsteady, struggling to throw the sticks into the trash, wrapped as carefully as you could manage in your fragile state, afraid Jungkook might find them. 

He comes home in two hours. 

And for those two hours, you lie on the couch with tear-stained cheeks, thinking about what he would say; how he would react. 

You wish you live in the timeline where this news could be good rather than bad. Wish this could’ve brought you to tears of joy instead of… this hollow ache in your chest trapping your airflow you could barely breathe. 

But that timeline is non-existent. You’re living in the now. You’re a twenty-three-year-old woman living with your twenty-five-year-old boyfriend – and while both of you have jobs to sustain yourself in a rundown, shitty, sketchy apartment, having a kid is not ideal. It’s not in the picture. It never fit in the picture – not at all. You’ve never discussed this and you were mostly certain Jungkook would not receive this news with open arms and a wide grin. 

The thought brought you to tears again until you fell asleep. 

——— 

“Babe?”

Jungkook feels like a kid on Christmas day. He feels a bout of energy, and he wants nothing but to unleash it on you – and there are fun ways he can unleash it on you, alright – things that you both will enjoy on this cold January night. 

He can’t help it. His grin only grows wider when he steps into the threshold of your house and the waft of home fills his nostrils. This part of town is shitty but you’ve done your best to make your apartment smell good. It’s that citrus… lavender… whatever the fuck candle you buy, Jungkook thinks.

Hah. He should’ve bought you one or two, huh? You fucking love those scented candles. You hoard the hell out of them even though they could be expensive. It’s worth it though… and with the bonus he’s holding in his wallet, why not? 

The thought only makes him smile even more. 

You’d love the news. You’d light up in that usual way you do when Jungkook does something remotely good. Anything that means he’s straying away from the destructive life he’s always led before he took your relationship seriously – you love it. And Jungkook admits he loves it, too. Loves doing good for you. Loves when he makes you happy. 

He doesn’t believe in changing for other people because fuck that, this is his own life and he does whatever he wants with it – but you’re a part of it now, a great part, and Jungkook will be damned if he loses you. He certainly did before – and for all the dumb decisions he’s made in his twenty five years, that one was the worst. 

“Baby?” he calls again when you give no answer. He’s sure you’re home by now, though, and so he crosses the distance to the threshold and living area, finding you in the couch cocooned like a burrito.

Chuckling, he steps closer and lets the cushion dip in his weight when he sits on it. You’d give him an earful if you see him letting his outside clothes touch your sheets but right now all he gives a fuck about is you hearing the news about his promotion at work. Granted, it’s not “promotion” per say, it’s just that he’s going up from being an apprentice to an actual tattoo artist at the shop. He can finally quit that job at that shit-paying convenience store and can focus fully on the shop which he actually likes doing. And he can finally get a more formal pay as well. It’s all for you. 

When Jungkook rolls you to his side, he swiped away the hair that’s gotten all over your face. You stirred, but when you wake up, Jungkook frowns. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Your eyes are puffy and red. Swollen. You look tired, drawn, exhausted. And Jungkook couldn’t have mistaken the tear stains on your cheeks for anything other than you've been crying.

“H-huh?” You say, obviously still not fully conscious.

“Were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concern growing heavy. He tries to think if you texted him today about something – but other than your usual texts of I love yous and I miss yous, there was nothing. So what could you have been possibly crying about? 

It seems like you’ve snapped the haze of sleep off your mind because you quickly turn away from his touch, untangling yourself from the sheets and sitting upright. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease even more. 

“What?” 

“I said nothing!” You snapped, which surprised the both of you. Jungkook doesn’t have a clue what the fuck is going on – but then you turn around to look at him and you look so fragile and scared shitless and sad and broken that it just sends him into utter confusion when you stutter, “I’m– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook says, a bit irritated now because he doesn’t like it when you skirt around what you feel. “What happened?” 

He tries to ignore the fact that when he lifts his hand to put it on your thigh, you flinch and your muscles grow tense. As if you don’t want his touch. 

“I was… I was watching a movie.” you say, lips tilting into a small smile Jungkook knows is fake. 

Now he’s just perplexed. What the fuck is all this about? You’re flinching at his touch and you can’t even look him in the eye as you fake a smile at him. 

He peels his hand away from you and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah?” He knows he has a temper. And it definitely shows when he continues to saracastically add, “Pretty fucking dramatic movie, huh?” 

You stay quiet but you definitely have a physical reaction to his sharp tone.

Every single second that passes and you still don’t utter a single word, Jungkook begins to feel like this air is growing into tension. 

And his defense mechanism gets the best of him. 

“Alright, lay it on me,” he says with a leveled tone, staring at you coldly. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jungkook thinks that must be it. There’s no way there’s another reason why you’re acting like this; looking at him in that solemn way. 

Two years. Two years of trying to fix him and you’ve finally reached the rim of your dam. You finally realized he’s not worth your time, that you could have so much better, be with better men, have a better life with them than whatever the fuck you have and will ever have with him. 

Jungkook’s always been aware of that. It’s not even self-deprecation, it’s just facts. 

But fuck if it didn’t hurt to confront it this way. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Two words. 

Two words and it’s enough to make Jungkook’s head spin. 

“What?” He asks again, because there’s no way you just said that. 

“I’m pregnant.” you repeat again, this time louder. Jungkook sees you inhaling a sharp breath, and it’s clear to him when your eyes begin to tear up. “I’m pregnant, Jungkook.” 

His mouth closes and opens like a fish in a tank. He goes from confused then disbelief then just… nothing. 

“You’re… you’re pregnant.”

You obviously take his tone as something different, and Jungkook can’t blame you when you snap once again. “When you put your dick in me without a condom, that’s what usually happens, so yes, I am pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” 

“You let me put my dick in you without a fucking condom,” Jungkook retorts, looking at you incredulously. “What the fuck, __? What– what happened with– are you not taking your pills?” 

“Fuck you!” You roar, venomous and mostly hurt. 

Jungkook knows you’re feeling more like the latter. 

He knows that, and yet, he decides to press more. 

“What did you fucking expect, babe? That I was gonna smile and laugh and carry and spin you around this fucking– this fucking tiny apartment?” Jungkook gestures around wildly, and he hates that when he looks at your face it's now contorted into tormented pain. Your shoulders shake as you sob silently. But his head is on a haywire and he feels like he can’t think straight. You. A baby. You two. A family. He runs a hand along his face. “We’re barely making ends meet. You wait tables while I only rely on commissions from my apprenticeship at the shop and earn shit at that convenience store five blocks away. We can barely afford the fucking AC and – and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant? What the fuck do we do with a fucking child, __?” 

“I don’t know!” You say exasperatedly, abruptly standing up from the couch. You sniff as you rub away at your eyes – red from all the crying you must have done and been doing. 

“So why the hell would you get mad at me for reacting this way?” Jungkook answers, because frankly, he doesn’t understand. And then he says the next words he thinks of, “Are you keeping it?” 

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. 

You usually look at him with so much adoration in your eyes – so genuine and loving that Jungkook gets confused sometimes – but now you look at him with nothing but pure distaste. Hatred. And even he was taken aback. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck the answer to that horrible question is. But whatever the hell I do, you decide if you want to be part of it or not – and with the way you’re acting right now, I’m assuming you want out,” you say, voice firm and full. Gone was the fragility, all Jungkook could see was a stone-cold person in front of him who didn’t give a fuck about whether or not he stays in her life. And your next words further prove that. “But there’s something I want you to know and make sure you remember this: if you walk away from me, right now, I don’t want you coming back. Ever. And I mean that. I mean that, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook stands glued there in the middle of the living space, heart squeezed to fuck and his lungs tightening as he processes your words. 

He follows your figure as you disappear in your bedroom, feeling like the room is suddenly spinning when you leave.

Jungkook lets himself fall on the sofa and for the first time in what felt like years, he cries. 

[esstrellaa123]

Saw a fic of crybaby!reader, and was like? My two sense????

Don’t ask how many words :>

Thinking of reader right, all silent for like… a week. Caught up in their head with God knows what, and boom. Sweet Simon finally cracks that fragile barrier you’ve put between the two of you

Because Lord knows Simon hates silence, especially from you. Talk to him, won’t you?

“You’ve yet to speak.” He says blankly, prompting you as he watches you intently like he might be able to see into your very soul. He’s done it before, but now you’re just being difficult >:(

“I’m coloring.” You say just as blank, devoid of the emotion he usually enjoyed. The sun to his world was going dark and he’d do anything to clear those clouds away. Anything. Even if it burned him.

“I like it when you talk.” He tries, arms crossed. Defensive, and unamused by your lack of enthusiasm.

“Not in the mood to.” You all but snap, getting annoyed with him. You let out a harsh huff, coloring a little too hard. Now your drawing was ruined because the pressure changed the color. Everything was fucked. Fuck this.

You tear the page out unceremoniously, tossing it carelessly to the trash before getting overwhelmed with having to start another complex piece. You couldn’t do anything about it now, your old piece was in the trash and-

“Why’re you touching me?” You snap again, jerking away from his hands.

“Alright. What the fuck?” He finally says. Maybe he was more upset at your reaction towards him than you. Either way, he’s getting to the bottom of what he thought was complete and utter bullshit.

“What do you mean ‘what the fuck?’ I don’t want you touching me.” You say, face to face. More like chest to face, but who’s counting the inches? (YES IM AMERICAN)

Okay, ouch. “I’m trynna help here!” He grumbles back down at you.

“I don’t want your stupid help.” You say back, abandoning your art and going to the room. The bang of the door reaches his ears louder than he liked.

“Fucking bullshit. Fucking women.” He grumbles, going out to the porch to smoke.

He’s unhappy. Very exasperated and wanting to break some shit. But he’s better. He got better for you.

He finishes his smoke, somewhat calmed. Maybe you were hungry. Had you had water?

“I don’t want-” you start up but he’s having none of it. Not when his patience is spread thin and he’d really like to spread you open. So be cooperative.

“Nah, shut- shut up.” He cuts you off, setting the tray of food down on the bed. Fruits, peanut butter, chocolate, and some water. “Eat.” He says, sliding under you.

“‘M not hungry.” You say, crossing your arms.

…..

You sit in his lap, being hand fed as you watch your Law and Order. “Water.” He instructs, watching you take a sip before opening your mouth for another strawberry. He delivers.

You’re more responsive now. He’s appreciative of that. But food wasn’t the root of this problem. Neither was water. Something else was bothering you.

“Feel better?” He asks, letting you curl up on his side, using him for all his warmth and comfort.

You nod into the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his tone and smell. “Feel better.” You confirm.

“Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” He finally questions.

“Nothin’s goin’ on.” You huff.

“Don’t huff at me.” He says, flicking your forehead. He let you get away with that shit this morning. There would not be a repeat.

“Just wanna relax.” You breathe, turning over.

“You’ll relax when you get it off your chest.” He turns over, curling around you like heat does a fire. Like it’s natural to be enveloped by a certified heater, it’s second nature.

You can’t help but lean in, scooting back, pulling his arms closer. “Just tired.”

“Tired of what?” He pushes.

“Life.” You mumble, the tears welling. You didn’t like thinking like this, but it plagues you. Sneaks and floods into your day. Your smile dropping too quickly for your own liking. You just wanted to curl up, sleep, and stay in your dreams.

He only hugs you closer. He doesn’t move as you shift, your face pressed firmly into his chest as the tears finally fall.

“I got ya. Si’s got ya.” He mumbles lovingly, rubbing your back, pulling you impossibly closer as you cling to his back. “Tell me what you need, hm?” He suggests, letting you nuzzle into his warmth even more.

“You.” You reply simply. There’s nothing you want or love more than lying in bed with him. You’d stay there, keep him there, even if you had to tie him down, but ultimately knew you wouldn’t, because he’d stay if you asked.

He hummed, low. You almost missed it, and he just holds you, keeping you close.

He’d be there in the morning, letting you cry on his shoulder again if you needed. He’d kiss all your tears away, kiss your tension away. It eased his, made him feel better, let him relax. He’d be your safe space if you promised to be his….

[pretty-blkgirl]

W. E. A. Y [Ch. 13]

~ Masterlist ~

A/N: Heyyyyyy, I know I been MIA for a short while but finals are coming up and I been busier than a mf. BUT! I’m still very much committed to this AU 🫶🏾

~~~~|~~~~

“Are you serious?”

“It was one time!”

“You actually used my toothbrush before?”

You giggle as Han and Changbin go back and forth. The oldest out the two grabbing the younger by his shirt, not-so-threateningly reprimanding him for his latest confession.

With a cold beer in your hand, you had never felt so relaxed in the presence of the group. They were all in their pajamas, hair disheveled and skin red from the alcohol.

Bang Chan had been sipping on what you thought to be apple juice, routinely throwing away a stray piece of trash or laughing at his members.

He would give you all water like clockwork, and monitor your behavior to make sure no one was drinking too much.

“Anyone hungry?” Felix asked, cheeks pink and smiling wide.

Your stomach spoke for you, growling loud.

“Poor thing hasn’t even yet” Lee Know smirks, “Let's eat then”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings and Felix gets up to receive the pizza that had been ordered.

You all had been playing truth or dare, courtesy of Hyunjin (who loved cheesy games like this).

The game didn’t stop even after everyone got their plates and sat back down. It was your turn, and seungmin chose to give you the ultimatum.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth” You laugh, much to the dismay of the rest of the members (who had all chosen dare at least once).

“Wildest sexual experience?”

You raised an eyebrow at the question. You guys agreed raunchy questions could be asked, and this wasn’t the first one you answered, but you had a feeling your friends wouldn’t expect your confession.

Without hesitation, you’d uttered, “I had a threesome before”

Silence.

Pure, shocked, silence.

I.N. couldn’t even look at you, his ears had managed to turn even redder than before.

“Y'all surprised or something?” You chuckle

“Yes!” Han answered, “When was this?”

“Two years back, there were these two guys who had a thing for me. They were good friends and I couldn’t choose so we kept everything platonic. Then, one night, I was over their place, it was storming really bad so I slept over, then things led to another…”

Again, no talking.

“….can someone please say something?”

“Y/n….that's so cool”

~~~~|~~~~

Taglist: @chuuyaobsessed @h0rnyp0t @prttyxbby @yukichan67 @hanniemylovelyquokka @xxeiraxx @loveforlee444 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @cunninglibrarian @holly-here @galaxy4489 @hyunmikim @yougottobekittenme @hyeon-yi @katsukis1wife @multi-fandom-nightmare @staybabblingbaby @kozumesphone @fuck-you-im-gae @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @champagneconfetti @juju-227592 @borahae-reads @reallychaoticwoo @hwangfrnd @fiest4plum @tsukiesimp @minniesverse @kpopnonous @estella-novella @fackeraccount @lezleeferguson-120 @bangchansgirlsblog @willfightforskz @savanaxblue @hanniesbubuwife @shuuporanglinos @leonkennedysslutt @honestlyjaee @strayk1ds143 @hyuneskkami @dessianna1 @elegant-face-tree

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening. 

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised. 

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you. 

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own. 

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so. 

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body. 

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from. 

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man. 

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!” 

“No, it’s alri–” 

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat. 

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out. 

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help. 

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there. 

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help. 

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment. 

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop. 

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help. 

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you. 

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult. 

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back. 

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those. 

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice. 

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!” 

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet. 

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth. 

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else. 

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting. 

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this. 

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to. 

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness. 

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along. 

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation. 

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist. 

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you. 

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again. 

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier. 

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily. 

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice. 

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier. 

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him. 

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. 

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry. 

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably. 

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him. 

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive. 

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him. 

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public. 

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow. 

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather. 

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours. 

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you. 

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen. 

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else. 

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic. 

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing. 

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future. 

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good. 

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana. 

���Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had. 

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery. 

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement. 

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies. 

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second. 

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time. 

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery. 

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit. 

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him. 

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms. 

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal. 

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you. 

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white. 

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one. 

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

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