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honnelander · 9 months

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go fish! part 2

guyssss i did NOT expect this little series to blow up. y'all are amazing! i'm turning into a Sanji writing blog and am i mad about it? no lmao i received a couple of requests and i'll work on them as soon as i can. i'm really in the zone rn so i'll ride this wave as long as i can. if you want to be a part of the taglist for whenever i post new Sanji content, lmk. i hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: none

word count: 2.8k

pairing: opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: after being humiliated by Usopp earlier, reader stays in her room to decompress. however, she gets a visitor.

prequel part 1 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @smolracoon25 @mischiefmanaged71 @jovialcat123

Mortified. That’s how you felt. Still.

Ever since you ‘forfeited’ from finishing your Go Fish card game with Usopp a couple of hours ago, you had taken your glass of water that Sanji had poured for you and boarded up in your shared room with Nami, refusing to come out due to “heat exhaustion”.

Poor Luffy, ever the golden hearted captain, was immediately worried for your wellbeing as soon as he heard that but after multiple reassurances from you and getting up off of your hammock multiple times to prove you were in fact, just fine, he relented from wanting to stop by the nearest island so he could find a doctor for you. Usopp had managed to convince him as well that all you needed was some water, alone time, and that you would be fine by dinnertime.

You rubbed your eyes as you let out a sigh, vowing to yourself that the next time you wanted some time by yourself, you should just take a bath or something, since any other excuse would cause someone on the crew (Luffy) to lose their mind at the thought of someone not feeling well.

You readjusted yourself, sitting more upright, as you downed the last of your water, it being warm by this point since it had been poured by Sanji hours ago.

Sanji. Ugh.

Your heart fluttered once again at the mere thought of him, but that flutter was immediately replaced by a wave of crashing embarrassment at the thought of the afternoon’s sequence of events. What had happened earlier wasn’t even anything that groundbreaking or special, but to you? It was everything. It wasn’t common practice in your life for the object of your affections to be so kind towards you, so thoughtful, to read and anticipate your needs before you even knew they were even there. But Sanji? He was all of that and more. And you didn’t even know him for that long! You’ve all been a part of the straw-hat crew for 5 months at this point and it felt silly to admit to yourself that you had developed a crush on one of your crewmates in that short amount of time.

And having feelings for your crewmate? Someone who you literally couldn’t get away from since you all were trapped on a ship together (not that you would ever want to be away from him or anyone else for that matter, besides Usopp, but still), it felt morally wrong. You guys were all a team. Sure, you all were off to sail around the world and chase dreams, but achieving all of that required teamwork and trust, and that was hard to do if two of those people were caught up with matters of the heart every hour of every day.

Like, what if things didn’t work out in the end? Would you really want to put the crew’s dynamic at stake just because you thought the blonde guy was cute? No, you wouldn’t. It would be selfish so you would never dare to put yourself or Sanji in that position. No matter how much you liked him.

So as much as it pained you, you could never tell Sanji how you feel. You would never cross that line of being a ‘professional pirate’ into something more, like a pirate wife. Or a pirate chef’s wife.

It definitely didn’t help that freaking Usopp of all people on the crew knew about your affections for Sanji. Ugh, you groaned. He was the absolute worst person to know about it too. Why did he have to figure it out? Why did he have to be the one that had put two and two together to equal four? That your random bouts of awkwardness and shyness plus ‘heart eyes’ and blushes whenever Sanji was around equaled to you having a forbidden crush on the crew’s chef? It was embarrassing. And complicated.

He loved to stir the pot too, so whenever he could tease you for it when you both were alone or in front of a clueless Sanji, he would. You remembered the kiss he had shared with Kayla back when the straw-hats had acquired the Going Merry, so you definitely jabbed him right back when you had had enough, since part of you felt guilty for it since Kayla was thousands of miles away and Sanji lived on this ship with you. Your situations were slightly similar but completely different.

Also, completely different in the way that him and Kayla were basically dating at this point, albeit long distance, and had shared a kiss while you could barely sustain eye contact that lasted more than 5 seconds with Sanji.

You were hopeless.

“Knock, knock,” a familiar accented voice came through the closed door. “Y/n? Are you awake?”

"Sanji?” you blurted out in complete surprise.

Shit. You weren’t mentally prepared to see him just yet. At all. You were still replaying the interaction you both had earlier in your head, your overthinking mind going over every minute detail to figure out if Usopp’s careless teasing had given away your affections.

Usopp, you mentally ground out. You were going to kill him. Sanji had never stopped by your room before so what on earth was he doing here now?

Suddenly, a thought struck you like a bolt of lightning and made your stomach drop fifty miles below sea level: if Sanji had specifically stopped by your room just to gently let you down, that no, in fact he did not feel the same way about you, that he only thought of you as a member of the crew and nothing more....then yeah, you were definitely going to kill Usopp and throw him overboard.

Before you could mentally plot out more details on Usopp's murder, the door opened and the straw-hat chef’s blonde head appeared. His eyes quickly scanned Nami’s empty hammock on the room’s left side before turning his head to the right, his blue eyes immediately finding your surprised ones, a (relieved?) smile lighting up his face at the sight of you.

“So, I take it you’re awake?” Sanji asked in a light, teasing tone but not making an effort to move himself away from the doorway.

“Uh, y-eah,” you stuttered out in surprise as you just stared at him dumbfounded. You still couldn’t figure out why he was here.

Sanji continued to lock eyes with you, making your cheeks flush the longer you both stared at each other, and your palms sweat as the silence stretched on, making the tension in the air become thicker by the second. He blinked, his eyes darting to the side in confusion, raising an eyebrow as he asked, “May I come in?”

“OH! Yes, of course- sorry,” you stuttered as you waved him inside, sitting up in your hammock and mentally face palmed yourself. Of course, Sanji was waiting on you to invite him inside. Like always, he was acting like a true gentleman. “Please, come in. Have a seat. Sorry, that was rude of me. Make yourself at home.”

Sanji stood up to his full height and walked into your room with an easy smile and a small laugh, closing the door behind him. “Ah, don’t ever apologize y/n. You could never be rude to me,” Sanji rebuttalled and waved off your apology as he looked around and took in your very plain and basic shared room with Nami.

Your room, or side of the room more specifically, wasn’t much to brag about considering you really didn’t have much to your name but for now, it was home to you. Your side consisted of your hammock, a wooden barrel next to it to act as a makeshift nightstand that housed your only book, a journal, and a lamp, along with an empty wooden crate to act as a makeshift seat and another to hold some of your other clothes and small travel bag. Nami’s side was similar to yours but had a touch more personality as she hung up some maps she found at various markets and drew up herself on her wall.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a tad self-conscious about the lack of things in your room considering your current guest was dressed, as usual, to the nines in his signature black suit and blue and white striped shirt complete with a skinny black tie. “Sorry for the sad state of my room-”

“Sad?” Sanji stopped admiring your room and snapped his gaze to look at you. His eyebrows pulled together as another confused smile adorned his features. “Why would you say that? Your room isn’t sad, I like it. It’s a reflection of you,” his next words came out softer, “and I think that’s beautiful.”

You could feel heat crawling up your neck at his words as you busied yourself with placing the empty glass in your hand on your barrel nightstand. There was no way Sanji was calling you beautiful, he was just commenting on your room. With Nami. On your shared room that owed any ounce of ‘personality’ to the ship’s navigator because it was obvious you literally brought nothing special to this room whatsoever.

You stopped yourself from spiraling into ‘I don’t bring anything special to the straw-hats, I don’t know why they keep me around’ thoughts because now wasn’t the time to think about any of that. Those dark thoughts were reserved when you couldn’t sleep in the middle of the night.

As you placed the glass on the nightstand, you asked, “So, what brings you all the way to my room? Aren’t you usually prepping for dinner around this time?”

Sanji’s eyes followed your hand and lit up when he saw the sole book on your nightstand. “Oh, a book? I didn’t know you liked to read.” His megawatt smile lit up a couple of notches as his eyes sparkled, he looked like he had just learned one of the universe’s greatest mysteries as he took a seat near you on an empty crate. “What book is that?”

“Oh, that?” You mentally deflated at the fact you now had to tell Sanji about your favorite book, “It’s Pride and Prejudice.”

You weren’t ashamed of having that book specifically, you loved it and it was your favorite book of all time, you had lost count at how many times you had read it at this point, but it was the fact that you now had to share this part of yourself with the guy you fancied. Guys normally scoffed and turned their nose up at romance book and romantic things, so you were bracing for Sanji to scoff and laugh at you like all the other guys did (like even Zoro and Usopp did when they first saw you reading it) but it never came.

Instead, Sanji’s smile remained bright. “Ah, so you’re a lover of classic romances? Pride and Prejudice? Romeo and Juliet?”

Immediately, you smiled, finding yourself instantly comfortable suddenly whenever you got to talk about one of your favorite things. “Absolutely. I don’t think there’s a problem big enough out there that love can’t solve. Family backgrounds? Wealth and status? At the end of the day, none of that stuff matters. What matters is if two people love each other.”

Sanji stayed quiet for a moment, looking into your eyes with a twinkle of an emotion that you couldn’t decipher. It made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly, never breaking eye contact. “I agree.”

You swallowed. “You like this stuff too? Have you read Pride and Prejudice?”

Sanji blinked and that indescribable emotion he had in his eyes was gone. His smile remained, however, and became sheepish as he held up his hands, “Ah ok, you caught me. I’ve never read the full thing, but I know the main parts of the story. My favorite part that I did read though, was the first dinner with Mr. Collins and he complimented the Bennets on their ‘excellent boiled potatoes’.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head slightly as you teased, “I should’ve known that the chef of the Going Merry’s favorite part of the book is when food is discussed!”

The blonde cook held his hands up again with a good-natured laugh, “Ah, you got me!” His face softened as he asked, “What about you?" He nodded towards the book. "What’s your favorite part?”

You paused for a second as you mulled the question over. “Well, I'm not sure if you know about this part since you never read the book...”

“Try me,” he encouraged softly.

Your face turned to the side, your eyes looking at the wooden wall to your right, unable to bring yourself to look at Sanji as you told him your favorite part of your favorite book. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and calm your nerves, your voice becoming quiet as you told him, “My favorite part is...when Mr. Darcy barges in on Elizabeth for the first time, while she’s at her friend Charlotte’s house writing a letter. He had come to practice ‘conversating’ with her since he admitted that it wasn’t something he was good at and she had told him to practice it. So, Mr. Darcy just barged in and they had one of the most painfully awkward conversations ever...and he did all that just because he loves her. He did something he hated and was bad at, and opened himself up to embarrassment just because he wanted to improve and be better for her. It’s so romantic and beautiful.”

The air was quiet after your mini monologue and for a moment, nothing could be heard except for their quiet breathing and the occasional crash of the ocean from outside your small window.

Part of you worried that your little rambling had bored Sanji, so when you finally looked at him, imagine your surprise when you found him leaning in towards you, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees and his eyes watching you, completely engaged. It was like he was hanging onto your every word.

Sanji scanned your face for a moment, the corner of his lips curling upwards as he said, “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not familiar with that part in the book,” and before you could open your mouth to bring yourself down, he continued, “but, that doesn’t mean your answer is wrong.” He leaned back and slapped his hands against his thighs, “Hell, it’s a much more insightful answer than mine!” He laughed. “I just liked how they were poking some fun at boiled potatoes.”

You laughed with him because yes, that part in the book also made you laugh as well. But at the mention of food, you realized that you still didn’t know why Sanji was here in the first place. Wasn’t he normally prepping for dinner at this time? He had to be running behind schedule at this point.

“Why are you here, Sanji? Isn’t it almost time for dinner?”

“Yeah, it is actually but I heard you weren’t feeling well so I wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re feeling alright and see if you have any special requests for dinner?”

You couldn’t help the slight smile that overtook your face, trying to hide the blush at the fact that he was kind enough to check in on you and offer to practically be your own personal chef for the evening.

You hummed for a moment, acting like you were deep in thought before asking with a raised eyebrow, "And what would you say if I requested some boiled potatoes?”

The smile that lit up the chef’s face was priceless. He had never looked more beautiful. “To that, I would say ‘Absolutely. If that’s what the missus wants, then that is what the missus will get.’”

Missus. There it was again. You felt all warm inside whenever he called you that, it made you feel like he was your husband and that you were his wife. But that wasn’t the case. Sanji definitely must have called other women that before. You weren’t special to him, he was just being polite.

You swallowed down your emotions, putting your sudden wave of sadness away for later, putting on a small smile. “Then that sounds perfect. I would like to formally request some ‘excellent boiled potatoes’ as a side for dinner, please.”

If Sanji noticed your sudden change in mood, he didn’t show it. Instead, he grinned as he said, “Excellent choice, Madam. Boiled potatoes, coming right up.” As he stood up and made his way towards your door, Sanji did one of the most unexpected things that nearly knocked the wind out of you. With his left hand on the doorknob he said, “And don’t worry, Madam. I’ll sprinkle in a little bit of extra love in there,” he turned and winked at you, “just for you.”

With that, Sanji left your room, gently closing the door behind him, leaving you completely dumbstruck in your room, your mouth agape and body frozen.

Did Sanji just say he loved you?

You shook your head, because there was no way he did, right? He said he’d ‘sprinkle in some extra love’ into your potatoes, not 'I love you". You weren’t a chef, maybe that was a euphemism for something.

You sighed.

Those better be some good boiled potatoes.

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hungharrington · 1 month

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i’m almost 22 and have never even kissed a boy (which i’m chronically insecure about). it’s made me feel very nervous regarding intimacy or “doing it wrong”. i feel like steve would be great coach and reassure the reader it’s okay and that they’re doing great. nothing to embarrassed about. (my soul needs this so bad)

hi honey !! i think you r so right & steve would be the perfect guy to give all the assurances <3 i hope u know that kisses don’t matter too much til they’re with someone you’re rlly sweet on so i wouldn’t sweat it angel x this one is sfw! wowzer!

You’re on your couch and in Steve’s lap and worried about just about everything.

Steve’s being sweet about it, his hands resting gently on either side of your waist, his thumbs swiping up and down to comfort you. He’s watching you closely, unaware he’s just taken your first, second, and third ever kisses. How could he know? you think, on the side of insecurity— it seems everybody else your age has already kissed someone.

“You okay?” He asks, hazel eyes tracing over the soft features of your face. He loves your nose and the shape of your bottom lip— strange things to like perhaps, but Steve doesn’t care.

You nod but don’t say anything. The motion is a bit jerky. Your hands are planted on his shoulders, holding them probably a bit too tight. Exhaling a breath, you nod again and pretend the fondness in his gaze isn’t making you shy.

“Yeah,” you finally speak, voice smaller than you intend. “Just- just wanna like—“ you swallow, eyes darting to the ceiling for a moment, if only to avoid his intense eyes. “I wanna get this right.”

A car engine drones by outside in the dusky evening. Steve gives a little chuckle and his hands on your waist tug forward, pulling your attention down and your body an inch closer to his. It’s warm— every part of him is glowing warm.

“I don’t think there’s any way you can get this wrong,” He admits, awfully sincere about it.

It’s the truth. Steve likes you a lot. You could probably bite his lip too hard and make it bleed and he’d still find it pleasant. You have that effect on him.

You don’t know that though. So, every stress seems very, very real. Are you kissing firm enough? Too firm? God, are your lips too dry?

Your tongue flicks out to wet them, your hands giving his shoulders a nervous, minuscule squeeze. In your chest, your heart is torn between rabbiting in its anxiety or shrivelling in insecurity.

“I mean,” you laugh a little, if only to cover your embarrassment. You duck your head to avoid his face, murmuring, “If there is, I’m sure I’ll find it. I haven’t, uh, exactly done this… too much.”

“That’s fine,” Steve says instantly. His warm, large hands give a tender squish on your waist, before sliding up and around to curl snugly around your body. He sits up a little straighter, his nose nudging against yours.

“No, Steve,” you say, cheeks a touch heated. You count his eyelashes so you can avoid his eyes, you voice dropping volume towards the end of your sentence. “I mean, like… like ever.”

Surprise flashes in his eyes for only a moment. His gaze darts down to your lips quickly but then he’s smiling, nudging closer, and stealing a quick kiss off your lips. Now he’s taken your fourth kiss too.

You flush, something warm pinging its way up your spine.

“That’s okay,” He murmurs, sounding like he really means it.

“It is?”

“It’s great. You’re great.” He kisses you again—your fifth— so sweet it tastes like sugar on your lips, his arms around you pulling you in closer. You drown in it, enamoured by how it feels to have his lips against yours. God, he makes you dizzy.

Steve breaks the kiss but stays close, his arms pulling you closer still so you’re straddling him properly. He’s warm, so warm— and so freakin’ nice to you.

“You don’t find it weird?” You can’t help but whisper. Your eyes crush closed, unable to face him.

“Weird?” Steve echoes. “Are you kidding me? It’ll take more than that to freak me out.”

One of his hands shifts up, moving up off your waist to cradle your jaw gently in his large palm. He peppers a string of kisses along your cheek and jaw, beginning to suck a sweet spot beneath your ear. Your hips shift before you realising, subtly grinding down into his. Flames begin to burn in your stomach.

“It’s—I mean it’s kind of, like, a little embarrassing, don’t you think?” You continue, voice a little breathier than before. You’re not sure what you’re trying to convince of him of— you certainly don’t want him to stop.

Steve’s lips brush over the barely forming bruise on your skin and your breath hitches.

“Are you feeling embarrassed?”

One slow kiss against your neck, his plush lips accompanied by the heat of his tongue. You squirm in his lap but don’t answer, fearful of being too truthful. You are and you aren’t. He isn’t making you embarrassed but you are, just a little.

Your silence makes Steve pause, digging his face out of your neck to meet your eyes. “Hey. You shouldn’t be embarrassed- if you are for some other reason, we can— we can like stop—“

“No.” You cut in, God, now you’re seriously giving him the wrong idea. “No, oh my god, I sound so stupid- it’s not you— Steve—“

He cuts you off with another kiss, your sixth, and steals your runaway thoughts. It blissfully chases away your nerves for just a moment.

“Great.” He smiles against your mouth, giving another squeeze of your waist. “Cos you don’t need to be.” He kisses your mouth again, seven. “All you need to be is enjoying yourself, okay?

You like the sound of that— adore the way he’s so seamlessly finds the thing that sets your nerves alight and soothes it so easily. You whisper back, “Okay,” and gift him your eighth kiss, sweet and fierce.

#ehehehe loverboy steve! he’s here!#🫶🫶🫶 hope this is ok nonnie #sincerely i KNOW it feels balls to not have done it but genuinely like all in its own time!#when u do kiss ur lucky person they will count themselves lucky for getting such a vulnerable & raw piece of urself #u only don’t know how to kiss once !#i wouldn’t worry and it’s certainly nothing to be insecure about 🫶 mwah ily #steve harrington #jay writes #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve harrington x you

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paperultra · 9 months

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mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

#opla #one piece #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro #opla zoro #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #once again i underestimated how long this would take. hoowee #opla zoro my grumpy old man :)#good thing reader is coming along otherwise he'd NEVER make it to mirror ball island rip

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atsumutu · 3 months

Text

it’s not in zoro’s nature to be affectionate. at best, the swordsman is stiff and awkward and at worst, cold and unreceptive - still, there are always exceptions, namely you.

because in the confines of the bathroom, where four walls shut the two of you off to the rest of the world and the lukewarm water of the bathtub laps at your bare skin, it’s his touch that consumes you whole. a steady warmth as you lean against the muscular chest settled behind you.

a warm kiss is pressed onto the back of your neck, followed by another on your shoulder, then another until it reaches the soft flesh between your ears and your jaw, goosebumps rising in its wake.

zoro smoothes a hand over your prickly arms. “cold?” he murmurs, lips grazing past your ears.

you shake your head, turning slightly to smile at him. “just tickles.”

the swordsman grins back at you, leaning forward to peck the corner of your lips. “sorry.” he says, without sounding too sorry.

chuckling, you return the chaste kiss but firm fingers grip under your jaw before you can fully turn away, pulling you back for another kiss. then another. then one more that lingers longer than the rest and has you melting in his hold. a small bubble of laughter escapes you when he finally deems it reasonable to release you.

“what’s so funny?”

“nothing.” you giggle, twisting around fully so you can entwine your fingers behind his head. zoro raises an eyebrow asking you to elaborate. “you’re so needy when it’s just the two of us. it’s cute.”

the tips of his ears turn pink, his cheeks shortly following suit. “am not.” he gruffs, jostling you around in the water with ease as he makes room to stretch out his legs.

thinking he’s readying to leave after your teasing, you plant a hand on his chest. “where are you going?”

zoro smirks because who’s the needy one now? “nowhere, just cramping up.” he placates, drawing you closer once he’s comfortable again.

your fingers have turned wrinkly, imitating the prunes you detest so much. still you ask, “stay with me a little longer?”

zoro’s lips find yours again.

“always.”

#if you're looking for my weakness its this #grumpy looking boys who are soft only for you #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #once piece x you #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #opla #opla zoro #one piece live action

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junosmindpalace · 5 months

Note

can you make a scenario where saiki accidentally makes his s/o cry so now he literally panicking trying to calm her down? and then out of guilt for the next few weeks he doing all these sweet things for her?

lots of fluff please!

hi there! thank you for your request!

Last week, Saiki was caught up in an incident.

There was just a lot going through his mind, alright? His parents were on his case about errands--particularly his father, exhausting his powers for his own needs--and his friends kept finding ways to drag him along in their endeavors, and he was worn out; both physically and mentally.

The second he thinks he gets a mental break to himself to recover, you come along and try to make conversation with that irritatingly cheerful voice he’s been having to listen to as people tear him from limb to limb trying to get him to do this and that for them.

So he accidentally comes off a little harsh when he tells you with a murderous glare to just leave him alone.

And you know Saiki, and Saiki knows you. You know the stress he’s often under, and he knows you just want to spend some time with him. Neither of you have a problem with either of these things usually, but today, it was just a jumble of emotions and some miscommunication that made it all fall apart.

You try to understand, and you do! But even still, you couldn’t help feeling bad for upsetting him, and are unable to prevent the stray tears that pricked at your eyes from rolling down your cheeks. You immediately wipe them away with the palm of your hand and give him an apologetic smile, but Saiki immediately panics.

He panics a little simply recalling the incident, even a week later when you’ve practically forgotten all about your crying and getting your feelings hurt. Still, Saiki feels bad, and ever since the incident occurred, he’s been trying to dull the guilt and sense of obligation to compensate for his actions in his heart.

But though it doesn't seem like he's doing anything unique to an outsider who may not know him very well, you can tell the small shift in his attitude toward you in the weeks following the incident.

Seeing you splayed out in distress over a desk is a sight Saiki has become accustomed to with all the time you spend studying together. Typically, a couple of "motivating" words from him telling you to just pull yourself together and break down the material is enough to get you to begrudgingly pull yourself up and work. As of late, however, he'll tells you to stop moaning about your work when it gets too difficult to understand or you’re too tired to comprehend any of the material, and to just copy off him. He words it in a way that makes it seem that it's to his benefit, but usually Saiki wasn’t the type to lend you his work, believing that you should put in effort yourself, even when you’re whining about it.

He sacrifices life and limb to help you with your daily tasks. Mundane things he knows you can handle yourself, but now his absolute first instinct is to immediately look for ways he can help you, even if he rolls his eyes and reprimands you at first. Lost something of yours? He’s using clairvoyance to track it down. Forgot something at a certain place when you go out? He’s fighting off traffic, interrogations from his friends, and all the other absurd obstacles he often finds interfering in his everyday life just so he can bring it back to you without raising suspicions of his powers.

And if all those things weren’t obvious enough he’s been trying to atone, he buys you sweets. All of your favorites over the past couple of weeks, paid in full by him whenever the two of you order or stop by a bakery or restaurant. Maybe one found on your desk throughout the school day. He even shares with you his own if you ask or eye them longingly.

All of these seemingly menial acts leave you a little suspicious, especially since it had been days since the event happened, and it hadn't taken much time for you to come around from the incident and continue being yourself. You expected that his offer to listen to your rant would be the extent of his atonement. Could he really still be stuck on it?

Your speculation is pretty much confirmed that these things were all attempts at making up for his poor behavior when he finds him yet again in a similar situation, exhausted and frustrated thanks to all the nuisances in his life. And then you come skipping along happily, greeting him with news of your day. His brows furrow, his eye twitches, and he’s about to open his mouth. And then he meets your gaze and he pauses. Takes a second. Remembers what happened last time, can see a flash of that pained face you made.

You give him a look of confusion as you observe his expression. At that point, he can only sigh and slump back.

"Saiki?”

"Let’s just go home and talk.”

You might catch onto his drained attitude, and offer to take him to one of his favorite dessert places as a treat to refresh and an apology for not recognizing his burden sooner. He’s immediately brightened by this, of course, and you end off with a win-win situation, with Saiki being able to wind down with some treats, and you being able to spill about your day sitting across from him.

#havent written saiki in a bit #been wanting to get back in the habit of posting a piece once a week #so here we go!#kusuo saiki x reader #kusuo saiki fluff #kusuo saiki oneshot #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki kusuo fluff #saiki kusuo oneshot #the disastrous life of saiki k oneshot #the disastrous life of saiki k x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k fluff #tdlosk x reader #tdlosk fluff #tdlosk oneshot #saiki x reader #saiki fluff

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an-established-butt-dent · 3 months

Text

'Dreamers' A quiet evening

Solas x Lavellan, available as print here.

Mixed media on paper

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trashytoastboi · 11 months

Note

Hello! I've loved so mich your nsfw scenario about Killer and s/o first time together, could you do something similar for Kid and female s/o please? Thank you if you'll write it!!

^^ Heyya! 🍞🍀 sorry for the late reply on this! I'm so glad you enjoyed it, and of course! Hope you enjoy~

NSFW Scenario: Kid x F! S/O – First time

(Female Pronouns)

Warnings: NSFW {Virgin, Body worship, Fingering, Missionary} + Soft Kid (Because why not)

Word Count: 2,626 words

🛠 Eustass Kid 🛠

From the get go of the relationship it’s been evident to say that Kid is a very affectionate person by nature. Emotional intelligence and thoughtful conversations were not his forte. He willfully chose actions in lieu of words. Everything about conveying intention through action felt more honest, and genuine. At least in Kid’s mind. Even now, he expressed his own unfamiliar feeling of attachment and what he speculated to be love in the impulsive manner of abundant affection. Kid’s kisses grow a little deeper, more passionate, more driven and intent. He pulls {Name} closer, eliminating even the faintest distance between their bodies.

“K-Kid” she mumbled between the barrage of kisses, Kid looked at her with question in his eyes. Unsure why there is a faint shaking present in her voice. She appeared anxious, “What’s up doll?” Kid inquired between a few more pecks. She flashed an awkward smile “Just nervous.” Kid raised an eyebrow at the word nervous, “You’re acting like this is your first time or something.” Ah yes, the sharpest hammer in the shed, an apt term to describe Kid. Sometimes he hits the nail on the head without realizing the extent of a situation. {Name} gave him that knowing look that basically confirmed it, Kid genuinely surprised himself with that one and did not expect it. “It’s really your first time?” Mild panic set in, considering he wasn’t really one who could be gentle nor one with patience. At least with how he saw himself in matters of lust and desire when he worked solely towards his own carnal satiation. Kid took a moment, and inhaled a deep breath to steady himself. Silently begging whoever, whatever for the necessary restraint. {Name} is different, she is not a one night stand, a random tavern hook-up with a stranger. She is his partner, someone he grew to care so deeply about that it came as a surprise to him more than anyone.

Kid had already had his fair share of fantasies, imagining them being intimate together and watching how {Name} would writhe and moan with pleasure. Clawing at him, begging for more as he- “Kid?” Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, he lifted his hands to his head. “Doll, I really want this to be good for you but I’m not sure how to do that. I’m not exactly the most gentle.” Kid searched through his previous experiences, he knew the ins and out. Yet his previous experiences could not provide the information he wanted, he hadn’t really slept with anyone he shared a connection with, most of those people he didn’t even know. Two strangers trying to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible. Yes, there were the generalized tools of trade, the common tricks that could get anyone to where they needed to be. However, Kid wanted more from this exchange than that, he wanted to learn her body just as {Name} wanted to learn his. In a way, this would be an equally new experience for Kid. Who up until this point had not shared a meaningful connection, he so easily gave his affections and poured them onto {Name}. She probably could never guess his thoughts and hesitation that gripped him in this moment. He is a clumsy, rough around the edges asshole to the world, who truly meant well to those he is loyal to.

His hand rested on her hip, while the prosthesis he composed with all the random metal components had a cold touch, he cradled her face and she leaned into the coldness. She stifled a small laugh at seeing him so perplexed, Captain Kid, the very man who dives headfirst into everything and somehow always had to have the last word. Right now, he seemed lost to the point of stagnation over figuring out how to touch someone he cared about. “Just do what you normally do Kid.” {Name} suggested hoping it could give him the necessary push. Kid remained silent, allowing his hands to do the talking. He pushed her back onto the bed, his large form engulfing hers beneath him. He tugged off her shirt, taking no time to struggle with the clip of her bra and opted to rip it off altogether and toss it off to the side. Kid instantly occupied his mouth with the soft flesh of her breasts, his hand roughly squeezed and kneaded one, while his tongue took care of the other. His tongue swirled around her nipple, using his teeth to bite and pull at it. {Name} hissed with the minuscule hurt, wanting to roll her eyes when she saw how Kid looked so amused and enticed by her actions. For {Name} most of all this was a first, an alien feeling and he wanted to take the opportunity to tease her. Kid got up, swiftly attempting to take his clothes off at lightning speed and nearly tripped over his pants in doing so. After the heap of clothing on the floor only grew the more he took off until there was nothing left. He focused on her remnant clothing, underwear and all. Kid paused, taking a good look at his partner, to really drink in and appreciate the sight of her naked form splayed on his bed, even better yet under him. After really appreciating the sight, his lips turned up into a grin. “So beautiful and all mine.” He whispered, running his fingers down her chest and stomach. {Name} shifted under his touch, the view from where she was laying is a feast to the eyes. She blushed at her own perverted thoughts but considering everything, there was nothing wrong with a little day dream.

Kid leaned down, {Name} sat up quickly and accidentally caused them to collide and hit their heads. “What the hell?” Kid muttered while rubbing the forming lump on his forehead. {Name} looked at him, “I wanted to touch you too.” She said it with such conviction despite the tears pricking her eyes from the bump and Kid smirked. He opened his arms as if showing off “Go ahead.” {Name} reached out, first touching his shoulders. Dragging her hands down his chest, lingering longer than intended. “Huh, never pegged you as a tit person.” Kid mused, cackling when she blushed. She shook her head trying to get over the bashfulness, her hands ran along the taut muscles while caressing his abs and sides. Kid tried not to giggle or move around too much, he didn’t want to admit that his sides are ticklish. {Name} marvelled at his body and loved every single moment touching him.

He found the sensuality of it all to be such a turn on. {Name} fixated on exploring every inch of his skin with her fingers as if exploring newfound territory. Her fingers grazed over the jagged flesh of his scars, Kid jolted slightly. The sensitivity of his scars was a new discovery. Her hands headed lower and suddenly stopped. Kid glanced at her with curiosity, she didn’t know where to direct her gaze and looked flustered. Kid looked down, ah…he realized where she was staring. “Anymore staring and you’ll make me shy.” He teased, his comment snapped her from her daze when {Name} realized how utterly fixated she was on seeing his cock for the first time.

“What’s the look of surprise for? Is it the size or the piercings?”

“That- well, um…” She stuttered and failed to actually provide a coherent answer. Kid caught her off guard with a sudden kiss, a series of shallow and passionate kisses to her lips, down her jaw and down her neck. “You done exploring?” He asks, she nods. Kid hooks his hand behind her thighs and pulls her, causing her to fall back into the bed. “My turn.” His mouth traces down her navel, her thighs and Kid looks up to see the shallow breaths that disguised her soft breathy moans. He figured he was doing something right when he pulled her thighs apart and could see {Name} practically overflowing with arousal. She squeaked in embarrassment and tried to shut her thighs. “Now, now. No need to be so shy.” Kid kept her thighs spread apart, the cold metal of his hand that rested against her thigh contrasted against the warmth of his hand that inched closer, he paused. Very unceremoniously he brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them one by one. Making sure she watched everything. Kid pulled them out with a pop, his almost wicked smile paired with the smudged lipstick made her gulp at the sight. He slid his fingers up her slit slowly, waiting to see how she would react. The first touch already elicited a moan from her lips and she hid behind the arm she draped over her face.

Kid gave another long stroke and watched how she jerked when he bumped against her clit. He already knew it would pull such a vigorous reaction. He still wanted to watch her writhe with silent impatience not even knowing what kind of touch she wanted or where she wanted to be touched. “Oh? Here.” Kid feigned innocence, pretending to just by chance stumble across her point of sensitivity. “Kid~” She mewled, his name came out stuttered and interrupted by her moans that fell from her lips. Kid kept his focus on rubbing her clit, just a little more. He moved a little lower and prodded at her hole before tentatively pushing a finger inside. He worked it in, the heavenly feeling that greeted him only rushed to his already leaking cock. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s weird…” {Name} admitted, Kid let out a low laugh, “Weird huh.” His finger moved with intention and insistence, his thumb prodded and clumsily rubbed her clit while working a second thick finger inside. “Oh-” she whined, “Oh?” Kid repeated it for effect while he kept working her over. {Name’s} body twitched and her insides clenched around his fingers. “Fuck that’s hot, you have to do that around my cock.” He moved his fingers with perfect rhythm, seemingly searching for something. He slowed down, watching every tiny reaction as he pulled a little away from {Name}. His thumb stopped its motions, dragging his fingers out and pushing them back in. Curling his fingers a little more as he pulled them out, “Ah-!” she blurted out, his hand stopped dead where she had shown such an intense reaction. “Here?” He cooed, returning to his faster pace as he focused on prodding that one spot. His thumb began rubbing her again and {Name} started falling apart, not knowing what to do with herself. Her hand shot down to grab his wrist, “Kid wait- it feels strange.”

“Does it feel strange or does it feel good?” he asks, {Name} leaning back and shutting her eyes. It felt good, it could not be articulated. “Should I stop then?” Kid stalls, “N-no” she pleads, That answers his question, he moves faster and watches how she comes undone. {Name} blurted curse words in the sweetest voice as her body trembled and stills on the bed. Kid had the cockiest grin on his face when he looked down at her and pulled his fingers out. He was more than ready, practically aching and made his second discovery of the night. He had the potential to be patient. “Um, should I change positions or?” {Name} asked. “There are a lot of positions I’d like to see you in but I think we should just keep it like this for now.” He hums, settling between her thighs as he stroked his cock. Rubbing the head along her slit and coating it with her juices, “Remember to breathe doll.” Kid pushed into her while making sure to keep it slow. {Name} winces from the unfamiliar pain, the strange stretch and the feeling of being filled, only adding to the unusual sensation she is experiencing for the first time. Kid stopped when he saw the look of pain flash across her face. Gritting his teeth to hold himself back from slamming everything inside her. “You alright there?” Kid inquired with concern, and she nodded. He held her close, Kid really wasn’t one for all the sappy bullshit but this is one of those times that needed it. He could save his kinky asshole routine for another time. Kid kissed her gently, distracting from the pain as his metallic hand stayed on her hip and held her steady. His other hand held her head, “You’re taking me so well doll, just a little more okay?” An understatement considering he had a little over half still to go. Though nothing like a little reassurance, his quiet praise comforted the pain. As odd as the feeling, it paired with a searing pleasure in her body.

“So good.” Kid grunted, slowly rocking his hips to work his way in a little easier. He was determined to bottom out or at the very least try to. {Name} could tap out if it got too overbearing and he would gladly accept what she gave him. Finally to the last little bit, his patience waned and his hips snapped, roughly slamming into her. “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry you feel too good.” {Name} panted and whimpered, a few tears fell from her eyes. Kid kissed her, keeping still until he couldn’t take anymore. His hands clenched the blankets, trying to give himself stability and restraint. He shallowly rocked his hips, {Name} perched her hands on his shoulders “K-Kid you can move more.”

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.” Kid growled and held back a rumbling moan, “I’m okay Kid…” she reassures and convinces him, he nods and starts moving more. He developed an uneven pace, slowly pulling his cock out, leaving no spot untouched and slamming it back in roughly, Kid chuckled when he found her unintentionally clenching down on him. {Name} tried to move with his time, unconsciously seeking out her release. “Relax babe, I’ll get you there.” Kid chuckled, leaning back to look down on her dishevelled figure. His metal hand grabs her breast with a rough grip, while his fingers pay attention to her clit and thankfully he knows how to multitask. “Just like that”, he pounds into her harder and becomes aware of the blooming heat in his stomach. He knew he had the stamina but felt the oncoming surge approaching faster, {Name} just took in every new sense, feeling an unknown pleasure that bubbled in every part of her being, she logically knew there were various words, descriptions for it but she couldn’t think. {Name’s} attention failed to drift anywhere aside from the physical touches of Kid. If it wasn’t the cold metal contrasting against her skin every time it touched her, or how his fingers unsteadily and roughly rubbed her clit that sent shocks down her spine or the continuous feeling of being stretched and full to wanting and empty if even for a brief moment. Kid’s thrusts grew sloppy, he tried to keep himself steady while thrusting hard, he knew he was close already. Kid refused to give into the feeling, not until he felt her cumming around his cock. {Name} digs her nails into his shoulder as she hits her high, vision turning white and rocked by the pleasure. A deep groan escapes Kid’s throat, who instantly feels his own orgasm about to overtake him. He quickly pulls out, and covers {Name} in his cum. He ran his fingers through his dampened hair and grinned down at her. She looks a little dazed, she sighs and smiles with tired eyes. Certainly a first to remember and a gateway into oh so much more. “Catch your breath, we’re not done yet.” Kid smirked.

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beanghostprincess · 8 months

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when the straw hats eat sanji's food, they never ask what it is. i mean, of course they do ask what they're eating, but they don't have the patience to wait for sanji to explain everything to them (c'mon, they're hungry) so they just settle for listening to the name of whatever his new dish is before enjoying the food.

the thing is, usopp wants to know. usopp asks sanji about the ingredients and how he turned them into the masterpiece he's eating. he asks and listens and looks at sanji's face the whole time, patiently waiting for him to finish so he can taste it.

and sanji is surprised because, well, he always has to hold back when it comes to talking about food because he's sure nobody wants to listen to him rambling about it. but usopp does, apparently, and it fills his heart with so much joy that he can only smile wide (every damn time it happens) and explain step by step what he did to cook their food.

sanji isn't used to sitting so close to usopp, but it happens one day without neither of them really thinking about it. nami and robin are on the other end of the table and he hasn't looked at them once. he's too busy explaining usopp what he did to cook dinner, and too focused telling him about his new dessert.

things just happen naturally. they start sitting next to each other all the time, the crew already leaving the sit next to usopp free for sanji. usopp starts going in the kitchen earlier only to see sanji cooking. he stays with him and helps him clean up later. neither of them finds it odd. it's just new. the warmth and company is different than the one they're used to, and it feels so good and natural they just keep on doing it.

i like viewing sanuso's relationship developing into a romantic dynamic gradually and slowly, both of them realizing that they've been falling for each other for a long time now. and it just feels so real and tangible and natural...

#there's angst later ofc #sanji's internalized homophobia and usopp's self-worth issues are stronger than them #but for now just fluffy fluff #i'm letting them be happy for once i deserve a pat in the back #sanuso #black leg sanji #usopp #sanji x usopp #one piece

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writingsfromhome · 2 months

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Dos and Dont’s Epilogue

Part 1 / 2/3/4

A/N: for those of you still needing more closure with this story this is for you

——————————————

6 months later:

My apartment was small but it was mine and I got to share it with one of my childhood best friends I’d reconnected with after moving back to the states last year.

Today the sun was setting on the beautiful November day. I had ordered in sushi and was enjoying a glass of wine, waiting for Deanna to get back home and tell me about her date.

These quiet evenings to myself always got me contemplative. Tonight was no different—I get to thinking about my day on set and how tomorrow was going to look.

After coming back from London and submitting my video proposal last spring, I had been rejected to nobody’s surprise. But that hadn’t stopped Harry from intervening and getting me a spot on set. It became a joke that I was a ghost intern there because really all I got to do was shadow people on set and help out where I could. And it had left me hungry for more.

I started building a portfolio and networking like crazy to get on more sets. So far I’d worked on three, once as a general assistant and twice as an arts assistant. I felt myself moving in the right direction I wanted to and it was thrilling.

I had Harry to thank for that really. And just like always, thinking about him sent a pang of achey regret through me.

I’m not sure what happened between us; we kept in touch loosely after I got back to the States. Mostly we talked about my future work and getting on set but after he actually got me on set and I got busy, our conversations fizzled out.

When I landed my second gig and had to maneuver my old job with Oretta she had ultimately let me go. I’d been bitter about failing something then but now I saw it as the kindness that it was—she had let me go and I had the room to pursue this new career.

It wasn’t easy though. The feeling of failure had driven me into the arms of a depressive episode that had taken me back home to Burbank. And when headlines were made of Harry’s new dates and women of the week, I’d taken it as a sign. We shouldn’t be in each other’s lives.

But I missed him every time I thought about him. And I always hated myself a little for not being brave enough to do anything about it, for pushing him away, and for liking him in the first place.

Clearly I was a very health person.

There was a knock on the door and I knew it had to be Deanna.

She distracts me with stories about her date and how well they hit it off. Apparently he kissed her goodnight right downstairs while I’d been drowning in misery on our living room couch.

The next morning, my phone rings at the ass crack of dawn. I expect it’s someone on set and end up being right. So with a few hours of sleep and a slight hangover from last night’s wine, I pick up a large coffee and get to work.

Last night’s thoughts bleed into my drive to work. It was when I was on set especially that I wanted to message Harry. I wanted to update him about all the cool things I was working on and hear what he thought. It was stupid but I wanted him to be proud of me too.

I wonder sometimes if I should have said something in London, been the bold one and taken a leap.

But I couldn’t have.

Harry was a damn rockstar and I was still figuring out my life. I can’t imagine it could have worked. So was it just the maybe, the what-if of us that kept looping in my mind? Or did what I feel for him mean something real, real enough not to shake so quickly.

A knock on my window scares me. It’s another one of the set assistants—Damien, waving at me. I guess I’ve just been parked staring into space. Oops.

“You need a coffee,” he tells me when I join him.

“Can you believe I’ve already had one?”

“I can probably find you a line of coke somewhere on set if you need something stronger?”

“Damien,” I pretend to be scandalized. But after working with these people over the last few years it was a pretty normal sight to see. “Ease into it first.”

He laughs, “I’m joking. I know you’re not…”

“I know,” it gets a bit awkward as it usually did with Damien and I when we started joking. “I’m joking too.”

His face flushes and I welcome someone calling me over to leave the awkward.

The day passes in a blur, the art director had a last minute change sending me to a local antique store trying to source props which was part of the job I enjoyed. With my headphones in I was in a world of structured creativity.

While I look through gold frames one of Harry’s songs comes on and I skip it automatically. I wasn’t quite ready to listen to his addictive voice croon about lovers of his past.

Not that I hadn’t tried going on dates of my own. But the thought of what-if kept me committing to anyone. If I thought about it for long enough it was actually annoying—how he somehow managed to still block my romantic life.

I’m invited for drinks after we’re done shooting for the day. Even though it’s pretty late I decide to say yes. Lately I’d spent my evenings when Deanna’s out just drinking by myself and being miserable. May as well drink with coworkers.

And I actually missed having regular coworkers, like I used to have Winnie. Shit talking about work to destress and drink was one of the highlights of making friends at work.

I have more to drink than I intended, and a small voice in my brain tells me that the amount of alcohol I’d been having recently might be a sign I’m losing it a little. But I order one last drink to shut it up.

At one point I start talking about horoscopes with someone in the bathroom and she ends up showing me how to use the lipstick I complimented them on to overline my lips, and I somewhat remember signing someone’s napkin and telling them to keep it for a few years and what it would be worth.

I also text Deanna an assortment of things and try to call my sister for a pressing matter that I can’t remember when it goes to voicemail. I end up babbling about drinking too much and needing to cut back.

I don’t know what time it is by the time I’ve ridden my high but I want to go home. I huddle by the entrance trying to remember if I came with a jacket tonight or not.

“You’re not driving home tonight are you?” Damien pops up beside me. We’d chatted throughout the night but I’d avoided any awkwardness by constantly inviting other people into the conversation. But right now he has me cornered.

“I’m a very responsible adult Damien,” I slur. “I am getting a taxi.”

“I can drive you home?” He offers.

“You were drinking too mister.”

“No,” he touches the tip of his nose. “I just had a beer and switched to soda afterwards.”

“That’s cheating,” I touch his nose and he laughs. I laugh too.

“We were invited out to drink,” he shrugs. His face flushes. “They didn’t specify what.”

“Cheater,” I tease. “D’you have a car?”

“I could drive yours home? And take an uber home from yours. We don’t live too far away.”

“No way!” I clutch my purse to me. “Nobody drives my car.”

“I didn’t realize you were so possessive.”

“It’s my car!” I let him know.

“But it’s parked on the street. You can’t leave it here weirdo.”

He had a point. Damnit.

“Fine,” I hand him my purse. He opens it tentatively and pulls the keys out.

“I just need these,” he hands my purse back.

“I need those back,” I remind him.

“I know,” he laughs, his hand coming down on my shoulder to lead me out. It sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m parking it in your garage and handing them right back.”

“Good.” I nod.

I pick the music until he tells me I shouldn’t go into singing and he switches the radio to a classical station. I pretend to snore.

“At least it might sober you up.” He pats my leg before snatching his hand off when he realizes he’d touched my bare thigh.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“I know, how much did you drink tonight y/n?”

“No I really don’t feel good.” I complain.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

I do, I grip my door handle and will myself not to throw up in my car. I was at least lucid enough to know I would hate myself for having to clean it up tomorrow.

He pulls into a Trader Joe’s and I launch myself out in time to throw up on the pavement.

“Are you o-“

“Stop!” I splay my hand out behind me. This was embarrassing enough I didn’t need him to see me actually be sick. “Don’t come closer just…”

“I’ll get you some water.” He calls out and walks away.

How pathetic, I think. How pathetic was I.

Suddenly I want to cry and be left alone. I don’t want Damien driving me home, I don’t want to be drunk, and I don’t want to be here in the middle of nowhere.

When Damien gets back I’m sitting on the curb of a garden bed at the edge of a parking lot. He hands me the water and some electrolytes and gives me space which I’m grateful for. He does linger halfway in the driver’s seat and my anxiety builds until I get up and head back to the car.

“Someone kept calling you,” Damien mentions when I open my door. “I picked up after the third call. I didn’t want to bother you out there.”

“Oh, was it my roommate? Deanna?”

“No,” he scratches the back of his neck. I stare at him, waiting for him to sit back in the car and take me home. I wasn’t having fun anymore.

“Okay…?” I grab my phone from the centre console so I can check myself.

“Someone named Harry? He sounded worried?”

I look up at Damien, wondering if it was a joke even though I know it’s not. He doesn’t even know Harry. His face reflects back an awkward realization.

“Oh.” I can’t get out anything more. I could be decent and tell him that wasn’t my boyfriend—it wasn’t until this moment that I realized Damien was looking at me as more than just a casual friend. And a part of me wonders if that’s the only reason he was helping me out tonight. Then I banish the thought—that was rude. “Thanks for…letting me know.”

“I guess you don’t live with him if your roommate’s name is Deanna,” he tries to joke as he finally gets into the car.

“No that would be hard,” I reply. “He doesn’t live in the states.”

“Long distance,” he nods. I don’t reply and the car goes deathly silent as he drives me the rest of the way home.

I check my phone in the silence, Harry’s texted me. Before he called it seems:

Hey is everything alright?

Y/N I want to call you, you didn’t sound too good in your vm

I’m calling you

Shit! Did I call him first?

My face heats up with a stabbing sensation and I try to blink away the headache that was forming.

I check my call logs and sure enough after calling Deanna I’d called Harry. Why had I called him? I don’t even remember what I said in my voice message.

I groan.

“Is everything ok?” Damien asks.

“No I feel like shit-“

“Do you need me to stop again-“

“No.” I wave his concern away. “I just need to get home.”

I feel bad for him. I didn’t think I was leading him on in any way and yet he had driven me home because he liked me? I decide I’d call him his Uber myself to make it even. To feel like I didn’t owe him something.

When I finally drudge up my stairs to my bedroom I can barely be bothered to remove my clothes or take off my makeup. But my brain is wired thinking about Harry, how he called me.

I must still be somewhat drunk because as I lay horizontally in bed with half of my clothes on the floor I pick up the phone and call him.

H’s POV:

“Hi,” her voice is small and tired. My heart squeezes just hearing it.

“Y/n, you’re alright.”

“Yeah sorry, I think I mis-called you instead of my sister. Your names are beside each other.”

“So you were spilling your guts to your sister then?” I smile.

“Spilling my guts?” I can hear the strain in her voice.

I let her worry for a second longer, “No I’m joking.”

“Oh my god,” she sighs. “What did I say? Please tell me it was nothing embarrassing? It had to be bad if you called me right?”

“It wasn’t bad.” It wasn’t. But she sounded really drunk for a Wednesday night and she was blabbering about drinking too much these days, and needing to stop. It made more sense now that I knew it was for her sister. “But you sounded very drunk. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Sort of. I just wanted an excuse to call her and life had given me a pretty one.

It was stupid that I needed an excuse to call y/n after everything we went through. But truth was I had tried to get on with my life after we drifted away. And I think I did a decent job. I made the missing part shaped like y/n smaller and smaller until it didn’t bother me as much she wasn’t around. That we didn’t talk.

It was weird because she was a constant for a year—whether I liked it or not we had to be around each other all the time while she worked for me. Right up to the end even as things soured, as I wore regret like a second skin and forced myself to continue being the dick that she came to know me as.

And then she left and it felt like loosening my tie; breathing a little easier because I wasn’t always so hyperaware of her in the same room or next room over, about how she looked that day or the way she smelled, the joke she made or how angry she was with me.

Yet it didn’t help that she lingered everywhere.

But then I got to have her. All of her for a few weeks and letting her go after that felt more akin to torture than living with the regret for months while she worked for me. It was worse because I had her and I had to let her go.

I thought I knew what falling felt like, what it felt like to love somebody in all their flaws and be seen in return. But then I met y/n, fell for y/n, and everything changed.

“I’m okay,” she says softly. “I’m home in bed now.”

“Good,” I want to ask her about him. The bloke that answered the phone.

“Where are you?” She asks suddenly. “Isn’t it very early there?”

“Nearly half past 6,” I say looking at my watch. “And I’m at the gym.”

“That’s early,” she comments.

“I’m a morning gym person now.”

“Watch out world,” she says. It’s sleepy and makes me think of her curled into me on the sofa as our voices dim into sleep. Then nudging her to stay over and falling asleep in bed with me. So many hours of movies gone unwatched because we were too busy just being in each other’s presence.

The thing was, I had to let her go; you can’t cage a bright and vibrant woman like her. But it hurt doing that.

It sucked being selfless.

“You sound tired,” I say even though I want her on the line. Even if it’s to hear the sound of her breathing. “You should go to bed.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I wanted to worry about her, to be close to her enough to worry. And the want of it feels like being punched in the gut.

“You there?” She asks.

“Yeah. Yep, sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m still here. And it’s fine. I know what can happen when you get drunk, I’m glad you left me the voicemail.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I miss you. I miss you so often I worry I’ll be stuck with the loss of you forever. And I care so much about you that I can’t risk ruining your life by having you.

“At least I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time.” She jokes. Her speech grows slower as I’m sure sleep pulls her in.

“No. Seemed like you would’ve had help though.” I comment. Fuck. I couldn’t resist.

“If I knew any better Mr. Styles,” she says. “I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

She’s teasing me, I can hear it in her voice. But my heart pounds as she calls me out.

“Goodnight y/n,” I say cowardly.

“Goodnight Harry,” she replies. I wait for her to hang up first.

That morning, I have an incredibly productive gym session.

Your POV:

I remember last night in bits and pieces and I’m mostly embarrassed but I can’t stop hearing Harry’s voice in my head. The way he sounded when he said he was glad I left him the voicemail. How he sounded almost jealous at the idea that whoever picked up the phone could be more than a friend. I feel sucked right back to half a year ago when I couldn’t get him out of my mind.

The one thing I did know though, I had to really cut back on the drinking.

I go into work with a bag of doughnuts and hope nobody remembers last night in detail. I make sure to thank Damien and he’s as awkward as ever.

My thoughts are replaced by business and set instructions as the day goes on and I’m grateful for that.

At home I dissect the phone call with Deanna and when I’ve had enough I try to distract myself by asking about her life.

In a way talking to Harry again was like taking an elephant-sized step backwards—it felt like I was in the same headspace of wondering about him and yearning for him all over again. I found myself looking him up, checking to find new information on his life. Even when I could just text him and get the answers straight from him.

A couple weeks later as I park my car in my garage and make my way up to my apartment I get a call. It’s him.

“Hi? Harry?” I answer.

“There she is!” He says loudly into the phone. I have to pull it from my ear.

“Jeez you’re loud,” I comment.

“I need you to be louder,” he laughs. And I realize why he’s called. I check the time, it must be near midnight in the UK.

“Are you drunk dialling me?” My face stretches into a smile and it feels like a betrayal. Why did this man affect me so easily.

“I thought that’s what we did nowadays! Call each other drunk!”

“That was once,” I enter my apartment and put away my things while we talk.

“You’ve unlocked the garden door,” he continues. “And now I have stepped through. I am calling you.”

“He rhymes even when he’s drunk!”

“I write music!”

“I know,” I laugh. “Good music.”

“D’you listen to me?” He asks. “I never asked you that.”

“Mmm not really my taste,” I tease.

“S’cuse me?!” He sounds offended. “I have heard your taste and my music is for your palate.”

“No I don’t think so,” I was having fun.

“Y/n.” He says seriously. “I have heard you listening to Troye Sivan.”

“And? Are you comparing yourself with that fine man?”

He sputters and I continue winding him up until I finally confess: “I listen to your music. Just not lately.”

“Why?” He sounds sad.

“Are you drinking by yourself?” I ask. I imagine him in his living room, knocking back a few bottles.

“Yes. I’m drinking all by my lonely self. Because you’re not here.”

“Lonely self? That’s not what the papers say,” I say without meaning to.

“Y/n,” he lets out a small laugh. “Y/n y/n y/n. If I knew any better I’d think that sounds like jealousy.”

“Oh you’ve been keeping that in your back pocket!” I flush.

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

God, it hits me, what were we doing.

The line goes silent and I try to muster a positive voice to ask something to keep the conversation going but I find I can’t. I feel heavy and sad, like there’s a weight in my chest that’s pulling me down.

“Y/n,” he murmurs. Goosebumps erupt across my chest and I recall a memory of that exact voice in my ear with our hands entangled in his bed.

The ache in my chest grows stronger. So strong I nearly confess three words I barely admitted to myself.

I didn't understand it; how a man that made my life so miserable for so long could tug forth such intensity and longing.

He'd explained it to me—told me why he became what he did. And it just endeared me to him more.

Every man l've dated since, even the man I thought was it for me-Gray, never made me reach so deep into any feeling I was scraping the bottom looking for more.

He knew me enough to nudge me towards this new chapter of my life. This (forced) career change. He knew me in a way nobody else has. It was hard to let that go.

But he wasn't planning on sticking around for any of it—why.

“Why,” I start to ask. I bite my tongue before my impulsivity gets the better of me.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Oh nothing,” I try to play it off.

“You asking something?”

“Nope,” I deny.

“Just ask don’t be shy,” Harry taunts. “Y/n isn’t shy.”

“I-“ I’m tempted but I shake my head and then realize he can’t see me. “It’s nothing.”

“If it’s nothing then say it.” He pushes. He was pushy for being so drunk.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” I ask quickly.

The line goes quiet again.

“It takes two,” he replies. “To stop.”

“But why did you stop?” I ask.

“It wasn’t enough,” he states simply like it should make sense to me. But it doesn’t.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. You got cold.”

“Cold?!”

“Yes!” He shouts again.

“Too loud,” I complain.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You got cold like…like ice. You got icy. You iced me out.”

“No I didn’t,” I deflect his accusation.

“You did! And it wasn’t enough. And I thought y/n doesn’t like me so I let you go.”

What!? I try to make sense of his drunk ramblings. It’s because I was fired from my job, I was lost and spiralling and I stopped talking. I stopped responding to his texts as much until they stopped coming altogether.

“I didn’t like you a long time ago,” I tell him. “That stopped after we talked. After you explained things.”

“Why did you stop?” He asks me instead.

“I…I was going through a rough time. I didn’t mean to but after a while I just thought it was for the better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough time?” Harry asks with a surprising tone of clarity. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

“I didn’t want you to help.”

Maybe I did ignore Harry’s messages because I didn’t want to admit where I was. To admit that I needed his help. And I was too stubborn to admit that his connections in the industry could help me further kickstart my new career. That I could lean on him for help but it felt like cheating in an industry that liked to brag about working hard to earn where you got to. So I’d avoided him.

Jeez. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself until now. And suddenly the shame comes back tenfold. A creeping heat spreads up my neck alongside a slow squeezing of my chest as the silence stretches. I feel exposed and I want to bury myself under my blankets until the feeling passes.

“Why?” His voice breaks a little. I grit my teeth.

“I don’t know.”

“Y/n,” he says my name again and I want to cry. Because I say I don’t know but I do. And so does he. “Why are you building your walls again?”

I can’t speak, I’m so choked up with emotion and the last thing I want to do is cry over the phone to a drunk Harry. Unless this conversation sobered him up. Which is even more embarrassing.

"What do want us to be?" He asks suddenly.

"You can't ask me that," I say nervously, but the question zips through me in a frenzy.

"No you're right" he sighs noisily. "I think about you.”

"Me too," | whisper. Did he think about me when he was with all those women, I want to ask. Or was it subject to certain moments only.

"You ruined me y/n," he says it so softly I think maybe he hasn't said it at all. But he repeats it even lower and I know I didn't hear it twice.

My heart sings the same tune, and then I realize: how did I expect him to stay in touch and continue on with our lives when part of us would always be looking back at each other.

“I should go,” I try to keep my voice steady. “It’s getting late and Deanna’s coming home soon and I have to-“

“Okay,” he says but the word is laced with more. It’s okay.

“Okay.” I return. Will it be?

Silence again. The tears coating my lashes land on my cheeks and I wipe it away.

“I like hearing your voice,” Harry says.

“Me too,” I sniff.

“Goodnight y/n y/l/n.”

“Goodnight Har.”

***

I meant to text Harry after that conversation. I meant to apologize or say something—create a bridge that we can meet in the middle of. Even if it’s just as friends.

Me and him have been through a lot together, and so much on our own whilst around each other. We should be able to be friends, long-distance, pining but friends. It couldn’t be that hard.

And yet my fingers hover over his name every lunch break and bedtime. I think about him so much it becomes a permanent fixture in my brain.

And yet I never message him. Weeks go by and it stays quiet. Even from him.

On the final day on set I join some of the team for dinner and drinks. I stick to a single glass of wine and promise Damien I could drive myself home. I’d set him up with someone else on set who I noticed eyeing him with a lingering look and they had spent most of the night talking. It was sweet.

The group reminisces about the shoot and everyone pipes in about projects they were going to move onto soon. I didn’t have anything lined up right now so I listen to everyone else.

As night creeps up on us and people start to leave slowly, I text Deanna I was heading home too. After the night I spent drinking too much I’d taken to letting her know where I was and when I was heading home to make sure I stayed lucid enough on nights out. Otherwise we had agreed she would come and get me.

I step out with Damien and the girl he’s become attached to after tonight. We chat outside the place for a bit as her uber arrives and Damien points out he had driven today and parked nearby.

“I don’t know why we didn’t walk up long time ago,” I laugh and turn to Damien. “Don’t worry Damien I don’t need you to drive me home this time.”

“Uhh that’s good,” he says and motions behind me to my car with widened eyes.

“Yes,” I say with a smile. I spin around to my car and freeze.

The last person I ever expected to see leans against my passenger door, arms crossed and smiling with that smile that says I see you and I don’t care what you’re doing but I’m glad I’m here with you.

“Hi,” Harry says softly, his eyes twinkling under the street light.

“Hi?” I gape. “Wh-how-what are you…oh my god!”

His smile grows to a full grin as I throw myself at him and it’s like my mind and my whole world quiets. Like I never knew how loud everything was up until I felt the silence in his arms. Like everything would be okay because he was here.

“Oh god,” I turn back to Damien, remembering he was here too. “Sorry—I wasn’t expecting him to be here-“

“Is this Harry?” Damien asks.

I look at Harry and nod in response. Harry’s eyes flash with something as he leans forward and shakes Damien’s hand.

“I didn’t realize by Harry you meant Harry Styles uh it’s nice to meet you?” Damien’s awkwardness comes back in full force.

Harry’s eyes flicker between Damien and I and I remember that he thought there was something going on here.

“Damien and I worked together on set. Today’s actually our last day!”

“Yeah!” Damien fidgets. “It was a cool time…”

“Yeah?” Harry lights up slowly, realization dawning on him too. “Well I have to say thanks mate, for taking care of her the other night. That was you right?”

“Oh right when I picked up your call,” Damien nods. “Shit I didn’t realize who I was speaking to…” We laugh as Damien grows more awkward. “Anyway I’ll leave you two alone. G’night Y/N. Nice meeting you Harry.”

“Goodnight!” I wave him off.

I turn back to Harry with a huge grin. “You totally thought he was with me didn’t you?”

“Can you blame me?” He asks, his hand coming down on my waist, tugging me towards him. I go without hesitation.

“You’re here,” I take his face in my hands. “How? Why? When? Tell me everything.”

“I was in town,” he starts.

“Really?” I raise a brow.

He laughs, and hearing it rumble through his chest while his arms encircle me feels like a shot of espresso straight to my heart.

"Y/n," his mouth forms my name. I want to taste the way that feels again. See if that's changed too.

"You're here."

"How did you know?" I ask even though I knew it had to be Deanna.

“I have my sources,” he smiles secretly. We can’t stop smiling.

He brushes my hair to the side and it feels like a dream. He was here. He was gathering my face in his hands, hands I only dreamed of.

“I was in town,” he begins again. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

My breath catches and I can't stop staring at him; he looks even more handsome and chiseled than the last time I saw him.

He looked like something that made my heart sing and my stomach tingle.

I trace my hand up his arm and around his shoulder. I want him to kiss me, I want to feel his arms around me.

He laughs which makes me laugh but neither of us take our eyes off of each other.

He reaches up, fingers threading through my hair. "Is this okay?"

"You're always okay," | say which makes him laugh again. What I mean to say is we're okay. Whatever you want to do is okay, as long as it's with me.

"I missed you." He whispers in my ear and it travels right to the centre of my heart.

"Prove it." I respond.

His mouth is delicate as it presses against mine, whispering soft words against them. They make me ache with a hunger I'd only ever felt around him.

When he looks at me again his eyes are more black then green but I recognize them the same. I don’t know how we’re going to make the trip back home when clearly we just want to soak each other in again.

I have an idea.

I open the backseat and Harry looks at me with a mischievous smile.

“Really?”

“You’re not getting lucky,” I roll my eyes with a smile. “But I really want to kiss you indecently and this is the closest place to do that.”

With a laugh he hustles in, tossing something in the backseat, and I follow, every inch of my body aflame. He shuts the door behind me and meets me halfway.

***

Waking up to Harry is better than catching up with him last night. Because things are so much more real when they remain the morning after. It doesn’t feel like just a dream.

“G’morning,” he mumbles when our eyes meet. He looks sleepy but content. Or maybe that’s just how I feel.

“Morning,” I smile, suddenly feeling shy. Last night was all passion and fun but the reality sets in this morning—what were we? Where were we going from here? “M’gonna brush my teeth.”

He follows me into the bathroom, luckily Deanna’s already headed off for work. He brushes with me in the small sink and we can’t stop looking at each other through the mirror. Like our eyes were magnets and they couldn’t help but find their way to the other’s.

“So did you really come all this way for me?” I ask as I brew us coffee. “Does anybody know you’re here?”

He tilts his head, “a couple people know I’m here but everyone thinks I’m just taking some time before we wrap up my album next month.”

“What!” I stop what I’m doing to give him my full attention. “You’re nearly done?”

“Yeah!” He comes closer to me, taking the coffee pot from my hand. “Final sound editing at the studio up north. So I’m s’pose to be here next month anyway but I’m just here early. For you.”

I’m afraid to ask, did that mean he was all mine for the next couple weeks of November? But the moment passes and I continue putting together a breakfast.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I say for the millionth time.

“Me too,” he kisses the side of my neck and helps me carry our coffees to the table. “I intend to spend as much time with you as possible.”

He answers my unasked question and I feel like I’m glowing from the inside. “Yeah well I just finished on set so I’m unemployed until the next thing I’m on. So I’m all yours.”

“How’s that all going? Tell me.”

So I do. I take him through the sets I’ve been on and the people I’ve worked with. He asks great questions and I feel so deeply seen and not just because he doesn’t take his eyes off of me once.

The conversation leads to a repeat of last night and we end up spending most of the day in bed but I wasn’t complaining.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” he says with a kiss on my head. “Just stayed wrapped up in sheets all day.”

“I think the last time I did this was in London, with you.” I kiss his chin. “That feels so long ago.”

“Every day without you feels so long,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long.”

I shrug, “Yeah. I think I convinced myself it was good. We were fine like that. But now that I have you my god that was too long.”

He chuckles and pulls me into a deeper kiss. He tastes like sleepy familiarity and his hands grip me in places that have made a home for his fingers. I think I was in love with this man.

“What?” Harry asks. I must have paused. “You alright?”

“Yeah yeah,” I go back to kissing him but he pulls away. “No I’m fine! Promise.”

He believes me.

We spend a few days just doing nothing but everything with each other. I introduce him to Deanna and we do dinner together with Harry in a costume so he doesn’t get recognized. Deanna finds it very amusing and so do I. Harry seems tense and I worry it’s because we’re laughing at him but he reassures me it’s not.

I know it wasn’t going to last forever, Harry had a busy life to get back to, but I savour the slow moment we have all to ourselves.

Near the end of the week, while I’m driving us out to a hiking spot Harry brings up something on his mind.

“Can I say something, and you can’t get mad?”

“Well I can’t guarantee that.”

“Try not to?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I can’t promise him that.

“Fine I’ll settle with maybe,” he jokes.

“So are you going to tell me?” I eye him as I pull into the parking lot. He had gone silent.

“Yes, I’m getting to that.” He bites his lip. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you seem a bit distant. Not from me just…from yourself.”

“I seem distant from myself?” I laugh.

“Yeah,” he fidgets with his belt and we exit the car. “Like the y/n I know is only 70% there.”

“What?!”

“No see now don’t go getting mad love,” he says and his pet name only softens the moment slightly. “I just wonder if you’re really alright.”

“Of course I am,” I bristle.

“You always have this fire about you but right now-.”

“Jeez Har, if you’re comparing me to before in London I was more high strung than usual, constantly stressed and having personal issues with my ex. And you were making my life hell. Why are you comparing me to her?”

“No I know!” Harry tries to hold my arm but I brush him off and speed away down the trail. But his stupid long legs catch up easily. “This isn’t coming out how I meant to. But even when we were together last spring. You were still you. You just seem a little sad?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I pull away from him more. “You can’t go MIA for months then pop back into my life and tell me I’ve changed like it’s a bad thing.”

“Y/n you’re purposely not understanding me here,” Harry starts to grow frustrated beside me and it makes me less frustrated sharing the emotion. Like I said—I was very healthy. “I’m not saying you’ve changed. Or that changing is a bad thing! I think you’re a lot more confident and stronger than ever before. I’m just saying your light’s been a bit dimmer in the time I’ve been with you and I’m worried you’re going through something you’re not sharing.”

“Oh my god,” I feel tears prick my eyes and I blink them away before stuffing my glasses onto my face. “My light’s been dimmer? Seriously? I’m fine. I’m okay Harry. You don’t have to worry-“

“But I want to-“

“Well you don’t. And it’s a little late to try and pry me open and dissect what you think is wrong with me.”

“Well I’ve already pried you open it’s the dissecting part that—ow!”

I’ve hit him with my bottle and he shuts up. He was so not funny.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”

Too little too late, I think bitterly. And the strength of the bitterness surprises me. I stay quiet, not wanting to spew anything I’ll regret later. He trails behind, giving me the space I need.

Apparently I was bitter about our time apart. But I know that wasn’t entirely his fault—I’d admitted to pushing him away because I’d been too embarrassed. Too stubborn to accept I could use his help. So what was it?

I didn’t think I was any less myself than I was a year ago. But as soon as I think it I know it’s untrue.

I sigh and let the sunlight filtering through the coastal oaks and shrubbery warm my skin. Harry continued a steady pace behind me and I feel slightly sorry for getting so defensive.

I continue one step at a time on the worn path walked by so many. I’d done this several times with friends and it was supposed to be special doing it with Harry but I’ve just ruined it.

I ruined it.

If I was any lesser than in my personality, like Harry said, it was probably because I ruined things. And I was upset with myself. I feel like I let Harry go, that I failed at the career I thought I was going to spend a lifetime. I ruined the thing between Harry and I with pride, by pushing him away! And life’s beaten me down with it.

I haven’t been being very honest with myself. Because the truth did hurt. And I’ve been a wimp.

I glance back at Harry but his head his down, his head of curls bouncing at the effort of the uphill slope. My heart floods with warmth just looking at him and I can’t believe I’ve been an idiot.

“Harry,” I stop in the middle of the trail and he nearly bumps into me. He steadies himself on my shoulder and I grasp his hand there before he can remove it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch back there.”

“It’s alright.” He squeezes my shoulder, but his eyes are still wary. “I shouldn’t have been so insensitive. I do that sometimes.”

“No,” I rush to answer. “No you have a point. And I don’t expect you to ever stop calling me out-“

“Likewise,” he gives me a small smile that feels like relief.

“You’re right. I just don’t think I’ve sat long enough to accept it.”

His finger brushes my cheek, wiping the fallen tear. I was not supposed to cry!

“Let’s keep going,” he suggests and I’m grateful for that.

“I think,” I sniffle as my body strains to finish the final stretch of our hike. “I feel like I should be happy and grateful for where I am now. I’m actually really passionate about this new work I’ve been taking on! But a part of me feels like I’m going through the motions. And that makes me feel so shitty.”

My life in London had crashed and burned but it had felt full. Out here I was so spread apart from everyone, I no longer worked at a steady job, and the only person I had was Deanna. Sometimes I think I relied on her too much.

“I think you expect too much of yourself,” Harry puts his hand around my shoulder as we near the end and even though I’m sweaty and it’s kind of gross I let him. “I know how that goes.”

“Yeah maybe,” I brush away another tear. “I just don’t feel very present. I’m either living in the future or living in the past.”

Harry’s face twists into what I can only describe as a knowing grimace.

“Well we made it,” I gesture to the open water below us. We stand for a little while, breathing it in. It reminds me of the first music video set I’d been on with him. When we were getting along and he had seen my enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

“I’ve been living in the past a lot.” Harry admits. “More than usual.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Y/n,” he says and I turn to look at him. Right, I flush. Me.

“What the fuck did we do to each other?” I ask and we laugh. And then laugh some more, releasing a tension neither of us realized we were carrying.

We end up sitting in the ground catching our breaths again. He pulls me into his chest and kisses the top of my head.

“I don’t know how we keep screwing up.”

“It should be a record,” I laugh. “We really don’t know how to deal with each other.”

“Fucking hell,” he laughs.

“What do we do?” I look up into his eyes that are deeper than the forest we hiked through. They’re so full of love that I could drown in them willingly.

“Firstly I should tell you something, long overdue.” He says. He kisses me with a sweetness before telling me, “I’m madly in love with you. I never thought I could feel this way about someone.”

“Well I don’t know how that someone could be me,” I joke but mostly to cover up just how hard his words hit.

“You wound up in my life when I was at my worst-“

“And taken you even lower,” I joke again.

“No.” He brushes my cheek. “No, that was my own doing. You made me believe I could be better. That I should be better, that I shouldn’t be defined by past mistakes. I love you y/n.”

Woah. I wasn’t expecting that.

I scramble to sit up and face him. “Seriously?”

“So serious.”

“Harry,” I hold his face in my hands. It was true, something I barely admitted to myself but as I roll the words through my head it feels true.

“Don’t feel pressured to-“

“I love you too Harry. God. I love you. That felt good to say.”

He laughs and pulls me to him, and even though we’re smiling too hard to actually get a proper kiss in it’s one of the most romantic moments of my life.

“I don’t think this is going to solve our issues,” he says once we’ve dusted ourselves off and prepare to say goodbye to the view. “But I want to try to stay connected.”

“You’ve told me you love me there’s no getting rid of me now.” I warn him.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “I never told you I wanted you to stay. That I wanted you so fucking badly because I was scared you would get so overwhelmed by my life, how much is in the public eye and all of that. I don’t want to subject you to that-“

“We’ve already been papped together remember?” I raise a brow. He blushes as the memory surfaces.

“The night I acted like a complete arse yeah thanks for reminding me.”

“Look at you blushing,” I pat his cheek. He brushes me off. “But I know what I’m getting myself into Harry. I’ve worked for you! I know how public your life is. And we can figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I reassure him.

“Does that mean…?”

“What are you asking Mr. Styles?”

“Please don’t call me that again,” he groans. “I don’t want to be Mr. Styles to you anymore.”

“No?”

“Only if you’d be Mrs. Styles.”

Now it’s my turn to flush. He laughs at me the same way I did him.

“Harry I barely know what I’m doing with my life. But I do know I love you, and I want to be with you. So I’ll figure the life stuff out as long as I get to have you.”

“That’s very romantic.” He teases.

“I know,” I smile.

“Good. I’d give up the life I have now if it means getting to have you Y/N.”

“Romantic enough,” I tease.

“Remember when we realized we had been at the same Coldplay concert and-“

“Not this again,” I groan. “I’m not bloody asking you to give up your fame and money to start a family.”

“I know I know!” He laughs. “But I just want to tell you that you could. I wouldn’t mind.”

I fan myself, “It’s getting too romantic. Let’s get out of here.”

And that’s the note on which we make our way back down to our car, completely different how we made our way up. It sets the tone for the remainder of his time here.

8 months later:

“G’morning!” I wave to the front desk and walk to the elevator that would take me up to the apartment I called home now. It was spring in the city I’ve grown to love again.

“Is that you?” Harry’s voice calls out when I walk to the kitchen.

“Yes! And I have coffee!” I shout back. I couldn’t sleep last night—first day jitters that I always got when working on a new set.

“Bollocks!” Harry’s voice sounds closer. “I was supposed to do that for you for first day on set.”

“Too bad,” I push the coffee towards him on the island but he ignores it to come to me instead.

“Is it?” He arches a brow. His hands are already running up my sides and my breathing grows shallow. He never failed to pull this reaction from me. Even when we “hated” each other.

I can’t take the teasing so I lean up to press my mouth to his and the coffee is forgotten as he lifts me up on the island and trails his lips down my body. I didn’t need caffeine when I had this.

No. Wait. I had a job to get to.

“Harry,” I try to grab his face back up. “Harry, love, I can’t-fuck.”

“Sorry,” he smiles up at me sheepishly and if I could take a shot of that face it would seriously sustain me for the rest if my life.

“I can’t.” I pout.

“I know. Sorry I got carried away.”

“Drink your coffee,” I steal one last kiss. “Now I feel like I need a cold shower.”

His laugh echoes through the room. “I said I was sorry!”

He dramatically moves to the opposite end of the island and sits down, holding the coffee up to his face. “Mmmm.”

I smile at the man who had my soul and heart. I was so glad I’d made the plunge to move back to where he was.

After Harry left the States when he finished his album we had tried our best at long-distance. I was afraid to uproot my life to London again and he was willing to move out to San Francisco but I didn’t want him to. I knew his life was in London.

We tried going back and forth for a couple months. I’d invited him back home to Burbank during one of those trips and everyone had hit it off. It almost felt like the missing piece I was looking for to take the plunge. To decide once and for all I was moving away again.

The last time I moved I was running away from everything I knew because I thought it would gain me independence and a life I craved. But ultimately I came crawling back home.

This time I take the leap running to something.

I miss being closer to family, and living with my best friend. I beg Deanna to visit every time we catch up but recently she’s told me she’s moving in with the guy she’s been dating and it makes me feel less bad about leaving her behind again.

Harry decided to move his work life out of the flat to give me privacy, now his team worked out of a small office in central and sometimes I popped by when he was there. We tried to keep ourselves out of the limelight, and so far things had stayed private.

“I’m going to pick you up tonight,” Harry reminds me. “Are you sure I can’t give you a lift there too?”

“No I want to take the train,” I insist. I needed my first day to be independently mine.

We chit chat as we finish breakfast and then I’m out the door again towards my first day. It’s a cool morning but the sun climbs into the sky and I know it was only going to get warmer.

I had promised the city that I’d be back one day and this was it. I had laid down roots once before and I was back to try once more; my heart was open enough to embrace it, healed enough to love it again.

I was embracing life again and it felt like my glow was back.

Jeff keeps asking if you’re showing up to the album launch, Harry texts.

Obviously, does Jeff not want me there? I text—it was a running joke between us ever since we came out to Jeff that he hated us together. His reaction had been surprise and then resignation. He was tight-lipped about us any time he saw us together.

He’d rather you throw the party.

I didn’t miss that part of the job. Now when I look back at my old career I’m not sure how I did it for years. It was a stress I didn’t want back.

He’d have to pay me a million dollars, I text back.

I’ll let him know your new rates

I get to the tube and sit down. As I lose service I get one last text from Harry.

I love you. Break a leg

And then: but don’t get concussed or anything

I roll my eyes but the smile stays on my face. To be loved is to be known but to be loved is also to have someone else know all of your stupid moments and know you won’t ever live them down.

I send back a heart and an eye-roll emoji.

The tradeoff was worth it…most of the time.

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #musician!harry #harry stylesxreader #enemies to lovers #dos and dont’s #epilogue #please know I reviewed this piece only like once so take it for what it is #and yeah

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