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kkusuka · 4 years

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(i had to repost lol- it wasn’t showing up on my page)

this the request: part 3 of thiccy gf hcs ??? with kuroo, terushima, sakusa, and daichi and/or atsumu 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 i must be fed

i understand your need for them

and as a member of the thunder-thigh committee, i am happy to write about my fellow sexy women! (another 4:56 am ramble i refuse to delete)

part one

part 2 <3

i mixed this with this ask ; Pt. 3 of the thicc af gf with Aone, Osamu, Kyotani, Daichi, Kuguri, and Terushima plz? 🥺

this got wayyyyyyyyy long

4, 685 words. my finger slipped?

Kuroo tetsuro

this guy has been trying to get you since first year

he’s that dedicated

and you didn’t even notice, he was just a flirty friend who helped you with science

(even when he would practically put you in his lap while he went over things)

lo and behold, he finally got his chance during the third year culture festival

yeah as in he waited a whole three years for this

Eh, once again, had a whole pan to make you see him as your great future husband, aka the haunted house (a good excuse to have you hold onto him)

He has to give it to class 2-4, the did a damn good job, it was scary

Long story short you fell on top of him, boobs in face hands-on ass

~heaven~

Mans actually asked you to be his girlfriend right there, groping you and murmuring between your boobs. (he wouldn't have gotten up if the next group wasn’t approaching.)

From then on he’d literally do anything for the ass

He’s a big simp and we all know it.

Like When you wear shorts he has to ‘pull them down’ aka feel you up while pulling the hem of your shorts down ever so slightly.

Or when he gets on a knee right behind you to ‘tie his shoe’, but the school shoes have no laces.

He could be a bit more creative and he wanted to look under your skirt.

When he wants to cut the bull shit he’ll just lift the back of your skirt and rub around for a but, to hell with all the other kids in the hallway.

(did I mention that he puts things on the highest shelves so he can walk up behind you and practically dry hump you.)

Speaking of simp nation

You can't really wear anything without setting him off

Shorts drive him absolutely nuts, it's insane. But it isn't his fault that most of your shorts are spandex that cut off right at the beginning of your thighs, it's like a homemade booty lifter. He just can’t help but wanting to cop a feel.

Or the color red in general. It is ridiculous, the guy rips everything when he tries to take it off too. So that stunning red cocktail dress with the lace-up sides was not unwearable, and you only had it on for like 2 hours. And that was only because it was a friend's 18th birthday party you were both invited to.

(thanks to kuroo not letting you out of his arms you both were late and left early.)

((in his defense you looked like a full course meal and it was giving him severe blue balls, and he’s only seen you for a few minutes))

Halloween, you know. the one night you could dress up as anything. any you decide to go as a cat-girl in a maid costume. And you expected him to just take that sitting down? Hell no. the red thigh highs AND the corset middle? You're lucky it lasted as long as it did.

That my dear was bravery. His color. A cat. And a short skirt. With thigh highs!

And so, he did what he did all those other times, dragged you to sit on his lap, and opening your thighs, and like a good girl you’ll let him

If you could already tell, he gives no shits to whos watching, let ‘em see (they really never do but you get the point)

He’s also a prime thigh groper, especially when he wants to keep your legs open, he also loves thigh hic

Terushima Yuji

Another shower-offer

You were already he's so why can't he let everyone know?

Speaking of you being his, he doesn't tell people how you guys don’t together, with good reason considering you practically beat him up

Not really but that’s what he calls it, basically he tried to get with one of your friends at a party.

She just happens to not be interested in men and has a wonderful girlfriend, so she was uncomfortable but couldn't tell him to leave her alone

So you took fate into your own hands, literally, you stole Fate from class 3-2’s drink and poured it on him before slapping him and telling him about how he was a pig.

And he fell in love, you looked like an angel, a really hot angel, it didn't help you were in a white dress either

And from then on he literally once or twice, got on his knees for you, asking to give him a chance.

Honestly, it got annoying, so you just agreed to make it go away. It did, but you also gained a perv of a boyfriend who has an insatiable love for your lower half

He’s a simple creature, do take caution of his fragile being

So that means all those times you bend over in front of him he was slowly cracking and trying to figure out where the nearest storage closet is.

He thought he was having heart palpitations when he saw you in the damn dress again, apparently, he didn't see all of it. Specifically the v-neck top, and the fact it only went to the end of your ass. Needless to say, he made sure to walk behind you on every staircase that you went on

Another set off is yoga legging, like the lululemon ones, that people wear all the time. They fit you great, really really great. They were supposed to work out in them???? Why were they so skin-tight????? And he also figured out that you wore things because of them. Instant nut.

How you ask, simple.

One time he saw your underwear line through the pants and he pointed them out, they did make it seem like your ass was super soft so he saw his chance and took it.

So the next time you wore them and he didn't see the lines he was like ??????

And thus began the “Yuji hunt for lineless underwear” and he found the thongs

And you received the fucking of your life soon after.

Oh! And there’s any time you go to the beach. Literally every time.

No cap.

The first time was when you wore a red one-piece and he practically went feral. It wasn't really a one-piece if it was see-through and had the lowest neckline on the planet.

Everyone was looking at you.

He practically fucked you on the beach but held off until you got back to the hotel room.

He’s way more forward when he wants to fuck, if you could imagine. He’ll just walk up to you and tell you he wants to get some, like right now.

If you can even ignore him, he’ll throw an arm around your waist and grope around your legs, all the way to the apex.

It is also not below him to try and get you off while still wearing underwear that he will be taking after.

(i didn't say anything about his stash off orgasm ruined underwear? My bad.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Going beyond the fact he even has a girlfriend, y’know considering, but the fact that no one knew who you were until you showed up at nationals to cheer him on

(atsumu was even starting to think that you didn't exist and that poor kiyoomi just imagined you up, so can imagine his shock when you ran up to said boy after they won)

The whole dating thing wasn't the shocking part; it was the fact that you looked like you walked off of the Milan runway.

And you were wearing leggings and sakusa's jacket, all of a sudden everyone was interested in how that happened

It was a kind of a boring story, someone had spilled coffee in a shop that you both happen to be in

And he watched you offer the man the same disinfectant wipes that he uses!

And in the most sakusa way possible he followed you out of the shop and tried to talk to you.

An exchange of numbers and many awkward conversations (and boners) later, you were a couple.

Back to that hug, like the many others, he's let you have, it’s all just to feel how soft you were

But poor touch -starved sakusa doesn't know what to do with any of these pent up feelings.

And he has a loooooooot of them.

Multiple occasions have shaped the poor germ-boy into the horny-tornado he has become

so he’s not really into what you’re wearing, it’s more about what you’re doing

like when you wore the mask he bought you to one of his games, and you wore one of his alternate uniforms, but the kicker was how you stayed away from everyone and didn’t let a single person near you (or his shirt)

or when you helped him clean his dorm when he was doing his weekly deep clean

or when the two of you washed the dishes while trying to do one of those “try not to sing” challenges

(is it normal to get a boner when your girlfriend helps you clean? no?)

but, as much as he tries to remain emotionless on the subject, there are multiple exceptions to the “it’s not what she wears” whole thing

Like that violet puffy skirt, you wore to a study fate, the one with the white sweater? That one, the same one that he could see your panties, from anywhere he sat. and Every time you got up you would have to smooth it down to make the creases go down, but it was only ever really giving him a good idea about the shape of your ass.

(if he sees you in that skirt again he’s just going to fuck you in it)

The lesser-known horny-inducer, since he made you take it off within the first five minutes, was a dress! What kind of dress? A neon yellow see-through mesh dress. The bottom wasn’t what got him though, it was the fact that your white bra was clearly seen under the mesh top. Or maybe it was the way the skirt made your waist look super small, and how your hips looked so round and squeezable.

Yeah, no one else could experience you in that.

Not to sound like this, but sakusa is still averse to touch

BUT BUT BUT

That goes out the window when he wants to dance the devil's tango with you.

Mr. His way or no way shows up, he does it every so slightly different

If it’s just the two of you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and he’ll push you to your knees. And he’ll pet your head and tell you what’s about to happen and advise you to listen like a good girl.

But in the instance you are in the presence of others, he’ll stand behind you and bring you super close to him, ass to dick. (maybe he’ll grind into you a bit, just to convince you to follow him) and he’ll throw a few words in about how much of a bitch in heat you are for getting turned on in front of all of these people.

It’s best to just do what he wants before he makes you cum in your underwear.

Daichi Sawamura

oh my

you guys are the power thigh couple

powerful and defined mixed with soft and pillowy

In Fact, that’s literally how the two of you met, thanks to Tanaka and Nishinoya of course.

(let’s just pretend karasuno has a cheer squad, and you just happened to be the captain of said team)

So basically you were doing a favor for the student council, and you were supposed to ask how many third years, managers included, were on each team and each club in the school

Easy! Turns out not so much. You were still in your cheer practice uniform, which was the shortest spandex ever made, and a Karasuno school t-shirt that was ever so slightly too tight.

Anyway, you make it to the gym and open the door, and the little one, Yachi, saw you and literally screamed. (she was right by the door), and that alerted everyone else in the gym, which led to the bald boy and his short companion pushing you further into the gym.

But in the better sense, it did gain the attention of the captain! Just the exact moment he was in front of you someone pushed; your back and within a second, in some miracle like way, you both ended up on the floor and he ended up planked on top of you with a leg between your spread thighs.

Almost kissing nonetheless.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got off and asked you if you alright and kneeled down and let you use his shoulder to try and stand back up.

You did get up, for a split second, Daichi still kneeling letting you use him as a step stool when a certain red-head was flung right into you and you went toppling forward.

Onto Daichi.

Onto Daichi's face.

Your thighs around his head.

His hands-on your ass.

Hand in his hair.

He could sit there forever, you were frozen, everyone else was frozen.

You eventually climbed off and asked how many third years there were. But he just sat there, his hands hadn’t moved either, luckily Suga answered and you were on your way.

And Daichi still didn’t move, after that incident, you had begun to see him everywhere, and eventually, he just cut the shit and asked you out.

Daddy Daichi likes seeing you in literally anything from sweatshirts to lingerie.

His favorite was the brown buttoned pencil skirt and the white blouse, that you wore to a date. You were kind of overdressed for the ramen shop and after a walk, but he didn't even care. He was so thrown off by how turned on he was he couldn't speak in full sentences.

An example:

“Yeah, the food here is- boob, I-I mean great, not boob, great, yes, great.”

The second.

Was a bathrobe.

Can you see where I'm going with that? Simply you look hot.

His favorite part of the night was ripping it off of you.

And like the first time you met, he had his head in your thighs <3

Atsumu Miya

You met poor atsumu at a party.

He tried to shoot his shot, y’know he sees a cute lady he’s just gotta try and show you what you could be getting

he had it all planned, he was going to walk up behind you and run his hands over your delicious curves and ask you if you were in need of any help

he doesn’t take into account that a having a random guy just start groping you and pressing himself behind a girl was panic-inducing

so when he dropped your waist, you freaked out and may or may not have punched him in the dick

while he was in a. world of pain you age to figure out what the hell had just happened to you

then you noticed him on the floor, and when he noticed you looking at him he put this forced cocky smirk on and gave you a “how you doing”

You took pity on the poor creature and helped him up and got him some ice, then conversed with him for the majority of the rest of the night.

And he just hasn't left you alone since

(and, you learned this far later, that he went so far to tell Sakusa and Kageyama all about you and how amazing you are, and has even sent them- more than one- picture

But in other news, he’s very horny

So really all that means is he always has his hands on you

Like during practice breaks when you're allowed to come down and talk to him for a bit, give him some things, but it normally just consists of him sitting on the bench and you standing in front of him.

While his hands rest on your hips and his face is shoved into the valley between your breasts, and he just sits and listens to you as you brush a hand through his hair.

Or sometimes, if he had been having a rough time, he’ll just have his hands under your skirt and he’ll feel around for a bit while grumbling about how people cant hit his sets

But for being the possessive bastard he is, he sure likes letting you wear all those outfits

Like the booty shorts and tank top, you wore to bring them food during the summer training camp. That same camp that the two of you disappeared at and he came back looking like he had won the lottery.

Or the cute little red dress you wore to your anniversary date? The one that made him have a hard-on the entire time you were at dinner. He knows the waiter remembers, he also bets the waiter remembers seeing him fucking you in the car when his shift was over.

And that time you wore his jersey to bed and sent him a picture of it. It was such a good picture that he made it his lock screen for everyone to see.

He just likes looking at you tbh.

Aone Takanobu

you guys didn’t meet in some weird perverted way, it was actually really cute!

Not to sound creepy but he knew that you were in the garden club because you sat right in front of him in class

And since he didn't talk to anyone else in that class he was just content with listening, and so there he was

Standing outside of the garden club door holding his withering basil plant. Lost.

Lucky for him you were walking down the hallway and greeted him, looking all pretty and cute

You did help him realize that he was overwatering the basil and within a few weeks, it was back to life!

From that first time on, he came to the club room with you twice a week and walked home with you, just listening to all the random plant facts that you had harbored in your mind.

Eventually, with the help of the team, he asked you out, and you hugged him and said yes, and that was the beginning of the “oh god, y/n is way softer than I thought”

So he really just tries to be near you or be touching you at all times

(i am also a firm believer that he likes to slow dance to classical music in your living room)

Like during lunch periods when you sit next to him and the second you finish eating hell push you to lean against him

And he’ll rub small circles on your hips and give you small innocent gropes

Or how he hugs your waist when you're doing literally anything, and he puts his head on top of your head while swaying

I can also tell you that Aone is a good singer

So he hums to you (I'm uwuing over my own headcanon lol)

He also really likes just running his hands along your body, so he likes when you wear the one-piece dresses so he has smooth sailing down your body

As a man of little words, he clearly has a more physical approach to getting you on the horny train

What I am trying to get at is that more often than not he literally just picks you up and carries you away.

Of course, that leaves you to come back to whatever you were doing.

That is after the cuddles and after sex ‘conversations’ about the dumbest things

Basically, he likes to hear you talk and he really likes being near.

Osamu Miya

He knew who you were

With a brother like atsumu, who never shuts up about you, it's hard not to

(Osamu is pretty sure atsumu had a picture of you next to his pillow. ew)

Anyway, the two of you just happened to share the same lunch block, and it also just happens to be the only period block that he was alone

No teammates and no especially close that he could hang out with

That meant he could either study or eat

Had he chose to eat, only to be met with the fact that atsumu had drained both of their lunch accounts for his flavor of the week

Poor baby stood there for a while just processing what was the worst news of his life

When you, a true angel among the evil, said that you would graciously pay for his food so that he didn't outlook so sad anymore

If he wasn’t holding an armful of onigiri he would have fallen on his knees and begged to whatever god was out there to let him keep you

But he settled for thanking you and spending the entire period with you, he even offered to share (for the first time in his life)

You complimented him on his flavor choice and he decided to keep you

He made sure to share his recipes with you and you tried to do the same

And somehow that evolved into you guys going on dates, much to atsumu’s distaste, and you guys were totally hitting it off

Osamu was your official biggest fan, he loved everything you do

But that means he wants to stay your biggest fan, and he knows that you’re pretty well known for boys thinking not so innocent things about you

Again being brothers with atsumu gave him this little sadistic streak

He lets you wear all of the revealing outfits and the bikinis, all for everyone to see

Everyone to see what belongs to him

Like at suna’s party he let you wear a black mini-skirt and a white off the shoulder long sleeved flowy shirt.

You looked good, and all the guys staring at you proved that point tenfold. Three guys had come up to you and tried to get you to go upstairs with them. And it was almost immediately shut down when they noticed the act you were sitting on your boyfriend.

Speaking of, he almost always has you in his lap.

Aww, cute! Not, he like grinding you down on him, that's also why he likes having you wear skirts, easy access to your ass, also a nice way to ensure that he could get more than a few gropes in when he wants

No, it's definitely the way he made you wear thigh highs to school one day and the shortest skirt you owned (like a school skirt) and walked behind you the entire day.

And he just reached behind you and lifted your skirt for the whole hallway to see, but mostly for him

He waists no time when he wants to fuck, he’ll just walk up to and open your legs while making out with either you or your neck.

And yes he has done that in front of atsumu

Who was warned to stay out of their room for a while.

Not to mention all those times he convince you to go to school with no underwear on just for the fun of it

(I didn't tell you this but those off the shoulder mini dresses drive him wild. On graduation day he pulled into a closet and had his way with you. I mean he did say that if you wore that dress he was going to do it, buuuuuut y’know….. yolo)

Kyotani Kentaro

We all know he’s a fighter, which means he gets hurt a lot, which in turn makes him a frequent face in the nurse's office

And who happens to be the nurse's niece? You of course!

And right after school, when your aunt takes her break and leaves you to take care of the office alone

Right after school is also when Kyotani always comes in.

(it’s not like he knew that you would be there alone, and that meant that you had to deal with him and heal him up. And it also is not like he started the fight so he could come here and see you. No not that)

Who am I kidding it was like that.

It was totally like that.

Your hands were just so soft when they put the bandages on and you have to bend down to get the wrapping.

He had a crush, that's what iwaizumi said, and after googling what the symptoms of a crush were he was sure

So with the help of the third years, aka Oikawa just having Iwaizumi repeat what he wanted to say, they had a plan

And the next time he was in the office he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him, it was so cute and he looked so shy

It would have been perfect if after five seconds he tried to take it back, you still went on the date with him though

He was happy.

Angry boy likes hugs

And yes he does, no objections

So when he’s upset he’ll make these grabby hands at you and have you come over and stand with him

He shoves his chin on your shoulder and his hands squeezing your waist and you’ll rock back and forth until he calms down.

He’s also very aware of what you wear

Like how your skirt perfectly frames your legs. How the socks you wear make your legs look 10x longer, and make you look like you’re walking like a model.

Or the dark blue leggings you wore with his alternate jersey and you were cheering for him!

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets him better than when you wear spandex shorts and one of his shirts. He goes feral every time.

This man is the CEO of picking you up and placing you on his lap, straddle style, and just going ham on you

Not to mention that sometimes when he’s really tired he’ll have you just sitting on his lap while he plays with your thighs

(he also likes playing with your waist and stomach, but he doesn't realize that he’s talking out loud so you can hear all of the “so soft”’s he lets out.

Kuguri

You were one of Mika's close friends so you were always just kind of around

It was a little get together that Daishou threw that really made you two close

It was a weird drinking game of sorts, and it had these teams, and you were out as a pair!

Somehow throughout the game, you guys got side-tracked and just ended up talking to each other the rest of the night

Eventually, you were convinced to go on a double date and the rest was history

He didn't even pay attention to what you wore that much until he heard a few rando kids in the locker room talking about it.

And that’s when he started thinking about just who he was dating

He first realized how round your ass was. Is it normal to look that good in leggings? No one else has ever looked that good to him. With that came his obsession with just touching your butt. He just grabs it or he’ll stop you from walking and palm it. Or he’ll rub circles into it.

(it's cute how intrigued he is by your butt)

Then came his obsession with your thighs. Mostly the way that they spread out when you sit. He didn't even understand why they were just so mesmerizing. They were so squishy too. He likes how they look in his hands-

Lastly was the waist thing. You aren't even sure what it is. He just likes putting his hands on your waist. Like a prom picture. Sometimes he’ll squeeze or run his hands along your sides. But he’s mostly stationary.

He also has this habit of just opening your legs and laying on your stomach.

He is just so into how soft you are.

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years

Text

Second Best

summary: you and Harry meet at a party, but he seems to take more interest in your sister than in you, and you won't be Second Best.

author’s note: bonjour mes chéris!! this is the first instalment of hannah being the history/french student she is and merging all three of her worlds and creating her own little fictional one. this is based off of lousia may alcott’s little women (one of may favourite books ever) but with my own little twist on it. this is set in the 1860′s during the civil war but i haven't made it too historical at all. i have done all of the translations myself and even though i'm semi-fluent i still make mistakes so if you spot any let me know. this is so long so i'll shut up now, thanks for all the support bye!! <3

word count: 16k of good old fashioned marriage talk (there’s a lot of it, its all they spoke about tbf??), fluff, angst and a lil’ smut. there is marriage and children at the end (woo, exciting!) not proofread because my eyes are already asleep.

masterlist | speak to me about second best here!

“Stand up straight, don’t slouch. You have a tendency to do so, and these people will not tolerate it.” You sister, Lizzie, says as she pushes her arm between yours, walking you towards the fancy house in front of the two of you, “Whatever you do, don’t speak about your art at all. Nobody can stop you once you’ve started. Do speak if you’re spoken too, and if you’re asked to dance, dance.”

You shake your head, “But I don’t want to dance.”

“You will dance.” Lizzie says again, squeezing your arm slightly, “You may find yourself a husband if you act proper enough.”

“I shouldn’t have to act proper just to find a husband, Lizzie.” You scoff, shaking your head, “If they don’t love me, oil paints and all, then I don’t want them. I don’t think I’ll ever find a husband.”

“Oh shush with you.” She says, tapping your arm slightly. It didn’t hurt, but it did cause your lips to part in shock, “How lovely would it be if father returned and you were married! It would make his life.”

“I think he’d have a heart attack.” You mutter, removing your arm from around hers as you stand outside of the door you were going to walk through in mere minutes, “I’m his little girl, you are also, Lizzie. If we were both to be married I’d think we’d kill him off.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. I truly believe that would happen.” You deadpan.

She scoffs and slips her arm through yours this time, using her free hand to ring the bell. A man wearing one of the fanciest suits you’ve ever seen in your life opens the door, allowing the two of you to slip through. You help Lizzie remove her shawl, whilst she does the same to you. The man hangs them up amongst the array of other jackets. You lips part in shock at the sight of the house you were in, the first thing your eyes falling upon being the large staircase, with paintings littering the walls. For once, you were speechless, unable to control your excitement and want to gawk at the art upon the wall.

“Lizzie!” You gasp, gripping her arm tightly, “Look at the—”

“Don’t you dare say paintings!”

“Lizzie!” You groan again, pulling her arm so that she’s looking your direction, “Look at them.”

“I’m looking at them.” She lifts her eyes to look at the wall you were looking at, where the pieces hung with such grace and elegance, “They don’t seem too spectacular.”

A shocked gasp escapes your lips, “Take that back, Lizzie! They are beautiful!

“If you say so.”

She removes you from your awe of the paintings and pulls you towards the ballroom. There’s people everywhere, the most amount of people you think you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch as they mingle with glasses of Champagne in their hands, the expensive material of their dresses sparkling in the light from the chandelier. Men stood wooing the women before them, flicking their suit jackets and inviting them to dance. The dresses the women were wearing were something out of dreams. You weren’t the biggest fan of dresses, in fact, you lived in trousers around the house, but you couldn’t help feeling embarrassed about your tattered dress. You’ve had the dress for a year or so, and the holes and rips and anything else you’d manage to do to the material could be seen in the light even if you’d fixed it.

“Lizzie!” The call comes from somebody who you don’t recognise, but Elizabeth certainly did and before the syllables of her name could escape your lips, she’s gone. You watch as your sisters whisked away with the crowd, leaving you stood there with no clue as to what to do.

Gripping the material of your dress, you slip yourself to stand by one of the doorways, away from the hustle and bustle of everyone in the room, but close enough for you to be able to watch. Lizzie stands in the middle, just as she always is, with a group of people around her. She was always the centre of attention, the one that everyone loved — you included. You were only a few years younger than her, but you were the only siblings each of you had, so you were close. You had your disagreements, that was certain, but you always came back stronger. You weren’t shocked when you noticed her spinning around holding some man’s hand, dancing away with a smile on her face that always made your insides happy. If she was happy, you were happy.

“Not one for dancing?” You eyes almost bulge out of your head as you hear a voice next to you, a male one at that.

“Oh, um, not really.” You laugh, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I’m not a very good dancer. I don’t really like dancing, to be completely honest.”

“Everyone loves dancing.” The man says, and you’re able to get a good look at him. A black suit, with a crisp-white shirt sits upon his torso. His hair was a fluffy brown, a chestnut that you found yourself in awe of. His green eyes ones of masterpieces, better than any art you could ever see upon any wall in any gallery, “I believe you are just lying.”

“I am not.” You shake you head, “My sister told me that if anyone asked me to dance I must say yes, but I have decided that I mustn’t. I have two left feet and anyone who is to ever dance with me will regret it, I know of it.”

“I highly doubt that.” He shakes his head, sipping from the glass he had in his hand, “Your sister shouldn’t force you do dance either.”

“Oh.” You shake your head, “Lizzie isn’t forcing me to dance, she just wants the best for me. Dancing is how people meet.”

“It’s how we met.” He says after a few seconds.

You let out a small chuckle, running your tongue over your lips slightly, “Sir, pardon me, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry.” He smiles, “M’names Harry.”

“Oh!” You exclaim again, “Harry Styles! You’ve just moved in next door with your father! Mother saw you the other day.”

“You must be—”

“—YN YLN.” You hold your hand out for him to shake, immediately shaking your head and pulling it back, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Styles, Lizzie forgot to remind me to not shake hands. It’s not very ladylike, I know.”

“It’s perfectly okay.” He holds his hand out, and you bite your lip and shake it, “And please don’t call me Mr. Styles. I’m not my father. Call me Harry.”

“Harry.” The name slips from your lips, “I think Lizzie would die if she saw me talking to you.”

“If I may, would you show me Lizzie?” He asks and you nod.

You nod and turn back to the crowd, fluttering your eyes across all of the people in hopes to spot your sister. She was wearing red, the colour which suited her the most in your opinion, so she wasn’t too hard to spot. She was dancing in the middle of the room with a man with blonde hair, a suit similar to the one that Harry was wearing upon his body. She looked happy, and the sight caused a smile to flutter across your lips.

“She’s in the middle there.” You say, nodding your head in the girls direction, “The one in the red dress.”

You turn to look at Harry and once his eyes fall upon your sister, you can tell that the whole world stops around him. His lips part, his eyes widen and if you look closely you can see the reflection of the red dress in his eyes. You’re unsure how long he’s staring at her, but you’re staring at him for the exact same amount of time.

“It’s a. . .” He fumbles with his words after a few seconds, lifting his hands to scratch the back of his neck, “It’s a beautiful dress.”

“It is.” You agree, “Mother let her save up her allowance to buy the material. I should’ve done the same but I spent mine on paints.”

“You paint?” His raises his eyebrow, finally looking back at you.

You nod, “I love to.”

“Then you have every right to spend your money on paints.” He says, and you try to hide the heat that falls upon your cheeks, “You dress is perfectly swell

“It’s not beautiful though.”

“It’s swell, YN.” He reminds you again, “I’m sure you’ll get a beautiful dress at some point.”

Then you’ve lost him. You’re not surprised, though. Everyone prefers Lizzie to you, it’s just how it’s always been. You watch the back of him as he walks towards your sister, taking the world in his stride behind him as he does so. You watch as she courtesy’s for the man she has just danced with, and before Lizzie can go anywhere, she’s scooped up to dance with Harry. Maybe if you had bought the Emerald material your mother had wanted you to, Harry would be dancing with you right now instead of Lizzie. Maybe if you hadn’t been so against dancing in the first place he might’ve asked you to dance.

No, you wouldn’t stoop to that level for a man of all people. If Harry didn’t want to dance with you, ‘swell dress’ and all then you weren’t going to change yourself, no matter how much you wanted to, for a mere man.

“YN!” Lizzie delightful glee of your name came after their dance had died down. Lizzie came bouncing towards you, a just as bashful Harry following behind her, “Harry has offered to take us home in his carriage!”

“Now?” You ask, your heart hopeful that they’d both say yes.

Lizzie turns to look at Harry who shrugs his shoulders slightly, “If the two of you want to, we can.”

“Oh no.” Lizzie places her hand upon his shoulder, “We couldn’t dare take you away from the festivities. We will wait until you’re finished.”

“I’m ready to leave myself, Miss YLN.” He says to Lizzie, the same heat falling upon her cheeks as you had felt earlier.

“Please. Call me Lizzie.”

“Okay, Lizzie.” He grins, “I’ll just go fetch the carriage, see you by the front door?”

Lizzie nods, and you give him a small smile and watch as he walks towards the door. You try not to stare as he shrugs on his coat but it’s hard to, and you know that Lizzie is feeling the exact same way that you are.

“Oh YN.” She gushes, turning to you and placing her hands upon your shoulder, “He’s a perfect gentlemen.”

“Is that so?” You ask, walking towards the door also to fetch your shawl, shrugging it on your shoulders.

“It is.” She copies your actions with her own, “He asked to dance, saying that you were the one to introduce me to him. I can’t thank you enough, dear sister.”

“It’s no issue.” You shake off, turning away from her so that she can’t see the fall in your face, “He seemed to take a fancy to you once I’d pointed you out from the crowd.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes.” You nod your head, turning to look at her. Her shawl was scraggly thrown upon her body, probably from how distracted she was, and you lean forward to sort it for her whilst she gleams over your shoulder at nothing. You wonder if this is what it was like to meet your husband, butterflies and distractions from that moment on. It hadn’t happened yet for you, and seeing the way Lizzie was acting, you decided that you didn’t really want it happen, “Couldn’t take his eyes off you, sweet one.”

She squeals and wraps her arms around you, squeezing you slightly. You were happy that she was happy, and you wouldn’t take that away from her.

The door opened, revealing a blushed faced Harry due to the cold outside, “Ready?”

“YN!” Your mother calls from the floor below you, “Can you please come and set the table?”

You groan and remove your paintbrush from your canvas. The day prior you had been given a small sum of money from your Aunt Jemima after visiting and immediately gone to the store in town to pick up some new canvases. It was heaven to receive little amounts of money like these and you almost always spent it on canvases so you wouldn’t have to use paper, which was the cheaper alternative that you had to buy.

“I’m a little busy!” You call back, moving so that you can shout out of your door, “Can you ask Lizzie?”

“She isn’t here!” Your mother calls back and you groan. You place your palette down on the table beside you, as well as your brushes in the pot of water you had brought up with you. You wipe your hands on your apron before pulling it over your head and off your body. You drape it over your bed carefully, being careful to not get anything on the linen.

You bounce down the steps, tucking your hair that falls down in ringlets by the side of your face behind your ear. Entering the kitchen, you place a kiss to your mother’s cheek. She stands over the side, chopping some vegetables that she’s going to bring to boil for your dinner. She greets you with a smile and continues chopping.

“Is Lizzie with Harry?” You ask, placing the cutlery beside each mat on the table, noticing that there were four like there had started to be now.

“Of course she is.” Your mother shakes her head, “They’re always somewhere causing trouble.”

You had to suppress your grin. Lizzie had been the good girl of the family for so long, always doing everything that was asked of her and your were the one who tended to ignore requests so that you could continue doing whatever you wanted to. Since Lizzie had met Harry, that had been completely flipped upside down. You were the good girl of the family who did everything that was asked of you, and Lizzie was the one always getting out of doing things by sneaking off with Harry.

Since the two had met just over two months ago, they had been inseparable. When the two of you weren’t being taught how to read and write by your mother, Lizzie was always somewhere doing something with Harry. The other week he had taken her to the theatre and words couldn’t explain how jealous you were. You and Lizzie did everything together, and you always had done, but now you felt second best to someone who she hardly knew. You knew a part of you was jealous, but you would never admit that. What you did admit to yourself was that you were lonely and missing your sister.

“Is Harry staying for supper?” You ask, filling up the water jug to be placed upon the table.

“I’m guessing so.” Your mother says, moving to bend down by the fire to check on the meat, “It’s ready. Will you go get them? I think they’re by the river.”

You nod your head, moving to the front door to retrieve your shawl and boots. They were always at the river, as though it was there place. You couldn’t understand for the life of you why they’d chosen that place out of all, especially during the winter months. Snow was just around the corner and the two of them decided to spend their days moments away from catching a cold by the river.

The walk itself was five or so minutes through the woods behind your house, watching your step for fallen branches and wild animals. Lizzie was usually the one who brought you to the lake, so it was a given that you hadn’t been in a while.

Once the trees start to disperse, you stand in the middle of the opening to try and spot them. You do, quite quickly in fact. They’re stood by the water, picking up stones every now and then to skim across it, rippling the stillness with their movements. Skimming stones felt like a normal thing to see people doing, but once you watch Lizzie throw her arms around his neck, you feel like a little portion of you crumbles inside. You hadn’t seen them like this before, and you never ever wanted to see them like that again.

“Lizzie!” You call, snapping them out of their trance so that they turn to look at you. Lizzie immediately removes her arms from around Harry’s neck.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No.” You shake your head, “Mother just asked me to collect the two of you for supper.”

The two nod and move around where they were stood to collect their things but you don’t wait for them. Instead, you turn around and walk back towards the house. You can hear them laughing but you refuse to look back, because you know that you won’t be able to handle it. The temperature drops dramatically as you walk back, and you pull your shawl closer to you to help preserve some heat. You had a suspicion that at some point this evening it would start snowing, which you weren’t too unhappy about. It would give you time to finish the painting you started today, and hopefully create some more.

They aren’t close behind you as you reach the door, so you enter and immediately walk towards the table which is looking a lot fuller than it had been.

“Are they coming?” Your mother asks and you nod, sitting down at the table. They enter a few minutes later, Harry greeting your mother with a kiss on the cheek.

The three join you at the table, Harry next to you, Lizzie next to him and your mother sat next to the spare seat — where your father usually sat. You all join hands in saying grace, your hand feeling completely natural sat in his. The way his encompassed yours was something that will be etched into your brain for the rest of the day, and for the days after that. It isn’t a light hold either, it’s a prominent one, and his fingers squeeze yours tightly. You drop your eyes to your plate, unable to look up at him because you’re unsure of what his features may hold.

You don’t say anything over the dinner, you just listen to their words. It’s all about Harry’s time in London, like it usually was, and the rest about what the two had been up too. Your mother asks the dreaded question, and yet again, you ignore any word that comes out of their mouths.

It was inevitable at this point that Harry and Lizzie, at some point, were going to marry each other. You were surprised that Harry hadn’t proposed yet, if you were honest. If soulmates were a thing, no matter how much it pained you to believe, you wouldn’t be surprised if they were the example. You wouldn’t ever say anything to anyone about this, but you do think a part of you wished that was you in her place. You wished that you were the one that he smiled at, held hands with, kissed upon the cheek as she left.

After the dinner had finished, you had returned up to your room and lit your candle, leaning against the window frame to peer outside. They stood by the gate, Harry’s hand holding hers and her hand holding is. They looked as though they truly loved each other and what you expected to be a measly kiss on the cheek like it usually was, wasn’t that at all. A little part of you died inside when you saw him lean forward and place a kiss upon her lips, his hand lifting up to rest against her cheek. You managed to draw yourself away from the window after you’d watched for a while or so, slipping under your sheets and into your linen, turning so that you’re facing the wall. A few minutes or so later, you hear the door open and the rustling of clothes and you suspect Lizzie gets ready for bed. You try not cry but you can already feel the tears starting to fall down your face.

“YN.” You hear the soft whisper of your voice over the crackle of the candle that was still on in the room, “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” You manage out through the hesitation within your voice.

After a few seconds, and a slight giggles escaping her lips, “He kissed me, YN.”

“Oh.” You try not to sound like you’re upset, “Are you going to marry him?”

“He hasn’t asked me.” She’s quick to say, “But I think he might.”

A month or so later, you’re stood in front of a carriage, one that sits Lizzie inside on her way to Etiquette Lessons. Every young lady in the village had to go to them when they reached a certain age to make sure that they are properly prepared for how to look after their husbands when the day comes. You weren’t quite at the age yet, but Lizzie was.

You had given her a hug, and watched your mother kiss her cheeks and hug her, but you now found yourself watching something that you had seen so many times now. Harry and Lizzie stood by the door of the open carriage, her hands in his as they whisper and chuckle at whatever they’re talking about. You can’t hear what they say, but you can tell it’s emotional from the tears that are running down his face.

You mother wraps her arm around your shoulder, squeezing your shoulder. You wondered if she knew. You hadn’t said anything to her, but she always seemed to know what was going on in your life even if you hadn’t told her anything.

Harry helped Lizzie into the carriage, and closed the door for her before coming to stand next to you. Your eyes fluttered up to look at him for a second, but he didn’t even look anywhere near you, he was watching the carriage as it left. The love of his life was leaving in it, so I’m not surprised he did so.

“Mother.” You say quickly once the carriage had turn off the path, “Can I return and paint?”

“Of course you can.” She places a hand on one of your cheeks and a kiss to the other, “Take Harry with you. He’ll need the company.”

You turn to look at him, and he just shrugs, so you nod. You return back to the house with Harry trailing behind you, looking like a lost puppy. The way his eyes seemed to droop, as well as his hair, all hinted to the fact that he was actually upset that she was leaving. He follows you into the room, and sits on the end of Lizzie’s bed whilst you pulled your paints out of your drawer.

“I’ve only been in here once before.” He says after a few seconds, running his hand over the linen of her sheets, “You were out. Something about Aunt Jemima.”

“Oh.” You start to face place some of your paints upon your palette, “I read to her, sometimes, and she pays me so I can buy paints. I’m hoping that one day she’ll take me to Europe with her.”

“Europe?” He asks, “You want to go?”

“More than anything.” You sigh, swirling your brush in the green paint you had just placed upon your palette, “More specifically I’m hoping she takes me France. I’ll be able properly practice my art then.”

“Can you not do that here?”

You hesitate for a second, hovering your brush over the canvas slightly, “I’ll be better suited if I go there. People will care more about my work.”

“It’s beautiful work.” He says after a few seconds, “I don’t know how France would change that.”

You think for a second about how to explain this to him, “Think of it like Etiquette school. The girls go and return as better wives than if they hadn’t gone. They would’ve been good wives, but not as good without the school.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“My art is good without France, just like the wives are without Etiquette class, but they are better with it. My art will be better with France.”

You turn around to see him nod his head, “I think I understand.”

“A part of it is also me wanting to leave this town.” You say, turning back around so that you can place your paintbrush back upon your canvas.

“I cannot fault you for that.” He says, and you turn to him again, only to see that he’s laid back upon the bed, a hand over his eyes, “Sometimes I wish I could leave.”

“Why don’t you?” You ask, “If one of us had the beings necessary to leave it would be you?”

“Beings necessary?” He pushes himself up on his elbow so that he’s looking directly at you, “And what would be those necessary beings?”

“Money, for one.” You say, moving so that you’re sat on your bed, looking straight at him, “Carriages. Knowledge of the world. The furthest I’ve ever gone is the neighbouring town and that was to drop something off for my mother.”

“Why don’t you leave then?”

You chuckle, raising your eyebrows, “I plan on it.”

“Ice Skating.” Harry says as he walks through your bedroom door, holding two pairs of ice skates in your hands.

“Harry!” You exclaim, placing your hand upon your chest at the shocked sight of him, “I could’ve been indecent and you would have never known!”

“But you aren’t.” He tips his head to the side, “Ice Skating. We’re going ice skating. The lake has frozen over and it’s perfect.”

“Are we now?” You ask, placing your palette down upon the table next to your easel, “Is Mr. Styles bored of his mansion.”

“I’m going to loose my mind.” He drops down on your sisters bed, the skates clattering to the floor as he does so, “Please come ice skating with me.”

“Harry.” You sigh, pulling your painting apron off, “I don’t even know how to ice skate.”

“Then I will teach you.” He says.

After a few seconds of contemplation, you nod your head, “I’ll do it if you let me paint you.”

“Deal.”

Over the past two weeks you and Harry had grown close. Not as close as Harry and your sister, but close enough for you to class him as one of your good friends. The two of you had started to do everything together, similarly to him and Lizzie but with some barriers. You hugged each other but you certainly weren’t as touchy deeply as they were with each other. You couldn’t do it to your sister, so you avoided doing anything that would be seen as wrong.

You did feel sorry for Harry. He had told you that he had sent three letters to Lizzie during this time and she hadn’t even replied to one. You weren’t quite sure why, but that was quite despicable on her part. The poor man was making himself sick with how much he was worrying about her, and you were the one who had seen it, and been the one to try and get him out of it. One of the things that you had begged him to let you do was paint him, but he kept rejecting your proposal. Instead, he told you that he liked to enjoy watching you paint rather than having you paint him.

You were excited to say the least that he had agreed to let you paint him, and you certainly weren’t going to miss that opportunity.

“Slow down.” You call to Harry, who’s around ten strides a head of you as you waddle your way with your dress in your hands through the snow, “I can’t keep up with you.”

“Walk faster then.” He says, turning to look at you with a grin across his face.

You groan and try to pick up the pace, nearly slipping a few times on some particularly icy parts of the ground but you make it to the lake in once piece. Harry passes you the skates he had picked up for you and you thank him for passing them to you. You kick your shoes off and fasten the skates, just as he does the same.

“Stay away from the middle.” He says, “It’s thinner than the edge.”

“I think you’re forgetting something.” You say as you try to stable yourself on the blades, “I have not idea what I’m doing.”

“It’s like walking, but on ice.” He deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I’ll let you hold my hand if you want.”

He holds his hand out and without really thinking you place your hand in his, allowing him to guide you onto the ice. His hand was cold, but so was yours, but having his in yours sent little flames across the entirety of your body.

At first you were unsteady on your feet, and you’re sure that you could’ve nearly broke Harry’s hand with how tightly you were squeezing it. He chuckled and made sure that you were continuously upright. After five minutes or so, you found the swing of what you were doing, and managed to move forward without any wobbles.

“I’m letting go of you.”

“No!” You exclaim, gripping his hand tighter so that he wouldn’t be able to pull away from you, “I’ll fall.”

“You won’t fall.” He chuckles, trying to pull his hand away again. “I will.” You shake your head, “Please, don’t.”

“You’re not going to fall.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

He somehow manages to release his hand from yours and skate backwards away from you, leaving you on your own. You hold your hands out, straightening them as though that’s going to help balance you out. With the little momentum you had left, you moved forward slightly until you came to a halt, where you pick up one of your feet to push forward and move forward. You manage to do it, without falling which surprises you.

“Harry!” You exclaimed, beaming at him, “I’m doing it.”

“I told you that you would.” He smiles, tilting his head to the side, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You smile, and the two of you continue off across the ice.

Everything seems to be going well and good until you manage to catch your blade in a slit in the ice and go tumbling forward, going over on your ankle as you do so. You drop to the ground with a thud, a throbbing immediately falling upon your ankle.

“Harry. . .” His name escapes your lips through the the hiss of pain you let out.

“Are you injured?” He’s quick to ask, skating over to you as quickly as he possible could.

“My ankle.” You say, “I think I’ve sprained it.”

“You probably have.” He’s quick to say, “Lift up slightly, I’ll carry you back home.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“What are you going to?” He laughs, “Crawl?”

“I might.”

“You wouldn’t make it home for Christmas.” He bends down, “Come here.”

You lift your hand up and wrap your hands around his neck, allowing him to place his hands underneath your knees. He looks at you with a small smile on his face and skates back to the edge of the lake, placing you on the floor for a second so that you could both remove your skates.

“How did you get so good at skating?” You ask, returning to your prior position his arms.

“Home.” He says, “In England. It’s cold year round there, and the lakes are often frozen. My mother taught me.”

“You don’t talk about you mother.”

“She died when I was young.” He says, not looking at you the way that he had been, “I don’t remember a lot about her.”

“I’m sorry.” You say, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head, “You were merely curious.”

You drop your eyes to the white around the two of you, “My mother says that my curiosity may get me in trouble one of these days.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He chuckles, “But that’s something that makes you, you.”

Without really thinking, you say the next few words, “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t me.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You nod your head, “There’s nothing special about me. I’m no Lizzie YLN.”

“No.” He shakes his head, “You aren’t Lizzie, but you are YN. This world doesn’t need anymore Lizzie’s in it.”

“I thought maybe you’d have a thousands Lizzie’s if you could.”

“I wouldn’t need a thousand if I could have the one.”

“You do have you.”

He shakes his head, “I told her before she went that there was no need for Etiquette classes because to be my wife all I wanted was her. Lizzie wanted to go to get the best experience she possibly could.”

“You respected that?”

He looks directly over you again, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“We all know what actually happens at Etiquette classes, Harry.”

Harry only nods his head once, not saying anything else. He still carries you home, one of his arms rested comfortable under his knee whilst the other rests behind your back. You hoped you hadn’t offended him, but there was no way for you to know.

Etiquette classes, as a whole, were to teach young women the proper ways of being a wife during the day, and through the night thy would attend balls and such. The balls were so the women could hopefully meet eligible, rich men who they were hopefully going to marry. If you were already meant to marry someone else, it didn’t seem like a right thing to go to this place where the people were always after one thing.

As your feelings grew for Harry, you wondered whether Lizzie’s had diminished and that was why she decided to go to the classes. You certainly shouldn’t want that, but you couldn’t lie and say that a part of you did.

“Mrs. YLN?” You mother comes running towards the two of you at Harry’s call of her name, “We’ve had a little accident.”

“What have you done now?”

“I went over on my ankle.” You deadpan.

“Harry will you get me some ice?” He nodded and moved towards the kitchen whilst you mother freed your ankle and rested it upon her knee.

He came back with ice wrapped in a cloth and passed it to your mother who placed it upon your ankle.

“Thank you for bringing her home, Harry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “Thank you for the offer, though. But I should be returning home.”

“Pass my love onto your father.”

“I will.”

He throws you once last look, one that you can’t quite pinpoint the emotion of. After a few seconds he drops his eyes, and walks out of the door without looking back. You turn to look at your mother, who’s got a skeptical look upon her face as she looks at you.

“What is it?”

“Does he know?”

“Does he know what?”

A small smile crosses her lips, “That you love him.”

You lips part in shock before you clamp them shut, “I. . . I feel no such thing.”

“You had just lied to me, child.” She shakes her head, “I know love when I see it.”

“Mother.” You shake your head, “He loves Lizzie.”

“I know.” She places her hand upon your cheek, “You’ll be the one to pick up the pieces when she breaks his heart.”

Lizzie was due to return home today, on Christmas Eve of all days, and the house certainly looked as though it was ready for her.

You, your mother and Harry had spent quite a while this year decorating the house to be as Christmassy as possible. The thing that you still think about to this day was jumping on Harry’s back so he could lift you up to reach the star, your mother smiling as she watched the two of you.

The carriage returned at around midday. You were stood next to Harry at the end of the garden, with you mother next to him. The carriage came to a halt and the driver was the one to open the door, Lizzie immediately tumbling out and throwing her arms around your mother who had taken a few steps forward.

She didn’t look like Lizzie, in your opinion. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, the dress upon her body looking more expensive than the ones that she had gone with. The material was a blushed pink colour, with fancy detailing upon the corset and a puffy skirt that was one of the biggest that you had ever seen in your life. Lizzie looks happy to see your mother to say the least, but you’re quite surprised when she moves to you next instead of Harry.

“Hello!” She throws her arms around your shoulder, placing her head on your shoulder whilst you placed yours on hers, the material of her fancy coat hitting your cheek. You hadn’t seen anything quite like it before, never mind felt anything quite like it before, “I’ve missed you so much. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” You pull away. clearing your throat and wiping your hands upon your skirt slightly, “The same old. It’s you who I should be asking that question to.”

She smiles and pulls away, holding her small bag close to herself as she looks at the person stood next to you. Harry looks as though he’s about to cry, and so does Lizzie if you’re being brutally honest. The two of them needed to be alone, and you understood that. When your mother motioned you to follow her back into the house, you didn’t hesitate with your movements, following her back into the house.

“I feel as though dinner might be late tonight.” You mother says as she closes the door behind you, fumbling to take off her scarf, “I feel like they might be out there for a while. Why don’t you go up and finish your painting?”

You nod your head, not wanting to say anything. You remove your outdoor gear and race up the stairs. You know you shouldn’t, but you immediately run to the window to see whether you can see the two of them, but you’re unable to.

Lizzie looked like a different person, but she sounded like Lizzie when she opened her mouth. The clothes that she wore might have changed but she was still your sister, the same sister who had the man you loved following her around like a lost puppy. Lizzie was the same Lizzie as she always had been, and that meant that she probably did feel the same way about Harry as she did before she left. There was a selfish streak in you that wished that wasn’t the case, and she had completely forgot about her feelings for Harry and had met someone else, but until you properly had a conversation with the girl, you couldn’t be too sure that was the case. You couldn’t be sure either that if that had happened, Harry would want you in that way.

You found yourself unable to paint, so you dropped down upon your bed and sat with your back against the wall, watching the outside world as your thoughts danced around within your head. You found the thoughts spiralling through your head that you were still a young woman at the end of the day, one who could have a line of men wanting to marry you but you instead found yourself second best to your sister, and that shouldn’t be happening. No matter how much you loved the man, or had grown to be accustomed to his company, being second best wasn’t something that you had set your heart on being, and you wouldn’t be for him.

You were the first YLN he had met, yet he had chosen your sister first and he was going to lay in that bed now.

“YN!” You mother called from downstairs, “They’re here.”

Christmas Eve dinner, to say the least, was one that you’d never forget. Harry looked as though he was either going to burst out crying or kill someone at any moment, Lizzie looked exhausted and your mother and yourself were sat in the middle of the two of you trying to make ends meet of what had happened. Harry’s eyes caught yours once, but he was quick to flutter them away and take another forkful of vegetables and place it in his mouth.

“Lizzie, you haven’t told YN and I anything about your time away.” Your mother started, probably not the best topic of conversation but one that would split up the silence hopefully, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did.” She wipes her mouth upon her napkin, “I had an amazing time. Met some amazing people. Actually, there is one person that I’ve invited for you to meet for the new year.”

“You have?” Your mother raises her eyebrow, “How wonderful.”

“His name is Theodore.”

That’s all it takes for Harry’s fork to clatter to the plate, his chair screech across the floor and his body to stand up.

“I’m, uh, truly sorry Mrs. YLN.” He says, “The meal was lovely but I’m not feeling very well so I think it’s best that I go home.”

“Are you alright?”

“I will be.” He nods his head, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck, “So sorry again, have an amazing Christmas.”

“You too, Harry.”

Once the doors closed, Lizzie’s the next person to drop her cutlery and sulk off upstairs. The slamming of the bedroom door shakes the whole house. You place another bit of potato into your mouth and slowly chew whilst looking at your mother.

She sighs, “Will you go check on your sister for me?”

“But—”

“You’ll get to see him later, don’t worry.” She says, “I’m going to plate him and his father some food. God knows they won’t eat without it, and you can take it over for me.”

You nod your head, taking a sip from your glass of water before standing up and making your way upstairs. You cam hear Lizzie’s cries before you open the door, and you know that its because of what had obviously happened before the two of them had come to lunch. You push the door open, to see her laid on her bed face down, her head deep within her pillow. You push the door closed behind you and back up until your back is directly placed upon the solid wood.

“Are you engaged to him?” You say, looking down at your shoes so that you don’t have to make eye contact with her.

You can hear the bed creek beneath her as she moves, but you still don’t look up, “To who?”

“To Theodore.”

“No.” You lift your eyes up just as she shakes her head, “I’m not.”

“But you want to be.”

“What makes you think that?”

You scoff and shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, “You forget that I’m your sister, Lizzie. I know you better than you know yourself.”

After a few seconds, she speaks again, “He’s going to propose.”

“He is?” You take a few steps forward until you’re sat upon your bed, directly across from her, “Why, Lizzie?”

“We’re in love.” She quickly says, her eyes bulging out the way that they do when she starts to get upset, “When you’re in love, you get married YN.”

“I thought you were in love with Harry.”

“I love Harry.” She says, shaking her head, “But I’m not in love with him. I love him as a best friend.”

“He loves you.”

“I know.” She shakes her head, “I just didn’t love him the way I love Theodore. He’s just so kind, and so gentle and he makes me feel things that I just haven’t felt before.”

The way that she stands up immediately makes your mind immediately fall to a place that you know isn’t where it should be. Your eyes widen and she looks at you the exact way that you know that what you thought is right.

“Lizzie.” You voice comes out as a whisper, and you shake your head, “You didn’t.”

“I love him, YN.” She shakes her head, “And he loves me.”

“We always said we’d save that until marriage.” You shake your head, “You told me that’s what you have to do.”

She sits down on the bed next to you, reaching so that her hands are placed upon both of your shoulders, “And you do. Promise me you will, YN.”

“I will.” You quickly say, “I promise, I will.”

“Good.” She sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulders, “You will not end up like me, I won’t let you.”

“How have you ended up?”

She looks at you with tears in her eyes, “I think I’m pregnant, YN.”

You were holding a basket of food that your mother had collated for Harry and his father. You had knocked upon the door once and now you were stood, waiting for someone to open the door and let you in from the cold. The temperature had certainly dropped since you had been outside earlier, but you weren’t surprised at that fact.

“Miss. YLN.” Harry’s father opens the door. You’ve only ever met him once, and from what Harry has told you, he’s quite a cold man, “May I ask why you’re here?”

“Uh, my mother sent you and Harry some food over.” You say, holding up the basket within your hands, “I just came to deliver it.”

“Please.” He says, “Come in.”

You step through the threshold of the house, entering one that was three times the size of your own but just as empty as yours.

“I’ll take that to the kitchen for you.” He says, holding his hands out so you can place the basket within them, “H is upstairs, in the library. Third door on the left.”

“Thank you.”

The stairs themselves were probably bigger than your entire house, and as you ran your hand across the wood of the banister you couldn’t believe how expensive it felt beneath your fingers. You followed Mr. Styles’ instruction and walked along the grand hallway until you found the third door on the left. It was slightly ajar, so you placed your hand upon the wood and push it open, the door creaking as you did so.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of the room in front of you. When Mr. Styles said Library you thought it may have been a small room with bookshelves in it, but it wasn’t, it was a full library at the most. It was full of the most books you’ve ever seen anywhere, floor to ceiling bookshelves. You couldn’t help your want to run your fingers across every single cover.

You spot Harry sat at the window, his knees bent and a book placed open upon them. You cross your hands in front of you, taking a few steps towards Harry. The sound of your shoes against the wooden floor notifies Harry that you’re there, and he lifts his eyes to look at you.

“Are you okay?” He asks, closing the book that he had open.

You take a few more steps towards him, sitting at the opposite side of windowsill to him, “I should be asking you that question.”

He chuckles, lifting his leg up again so that it’s on the windowsill, “I’m okay.”

“I don’t believe that.” You shake your head, coping him so your feet are up also and you’re facing him, “Tell me truthfully. How are you?”

He shakes his head, dropping his eyes down to his knees, “She doesn’t want to marry me.”

“You asked?”

“Today.” He nods, looking back at you again, “I had a ring.”

After a few seconds you whisper, “Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“The ring.”

He opens his jacket and fumbles around in the inside pocket, bringing out a small blue velvet box which he throws towards you. You catch it, nearly dropping it but you manage to keep it in your hands. You raise your eyebrow at him and he offers a small smile, one that you knew wasn’t the most truthful of how he’s feeling.

You open the box and see a beautiful ring in the box. The ring itself was silver, but the thing that drew your and probably Harry to it was the gem. It looked to be diamond, not a large one at that but one that was a lovely sized. The light from the window caused the diamond to glimmer slightly, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“Harry.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “It’s beautiful.”

“I thought so too.” He says, running his thumb across his bottom lip before shrugging his shoulders, “Lizzie didn’t think so.”

“It’s not because of you, Harry.” You quickly say, “Nothing to do with you.”

“It must’ve been, YN.” He says, “You’re sister doesn’t want to marry me. Me! Not anyone else.”

“She can’t marry you, Harry.” You say, the tears starting to collect in your eyes, “I don’t know whether if situations were different she would marry you, but in this situation it isn’t your fault. I can promise you that.”

You watch a tear fall down is cheek, “Has she met someone else?”

You look away, pursing your lips and closing your eyes to try and stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“Is it Theodore? Is she engaged to him?”

“She will be.” You say, standing up and moving so that you’re in front of him, placing your hand upon his knee, “I’m so sorry, Harry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“She’s my sister.”

“You’re not in charge of her.”

You reach forward and place your hand upon his cheek, using your thumb to delicately wipe the next year that falls out of his eye. His tilts his head slightly so that it’s nicely rested within your hand, and you smile at him, which his returns.

“Did she ever love me?”

“She did.” You say, nodding your head, “She loves you. She’s just not in love with you.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

You shake your head, “I don’t think anything will at this point. You just need to wait, time will heal. I’ll be here for you.”

“I think.” He says, dropping his knees so that he can move closer to you, “I think you might be able to.”

“Whatever you need, H.” You say.

He moves closer, you can feel him closer to you, but you certainly hadn’t expected for him to place his lips upon yours. The kiss at first in gentle, his lips pressed against yours so gently that at the start you couldn’t quite feel him upon you. Then it’s more urgent, with his hand placed upon your cheek, his lips moving against yours at a quick pace.

“H.” You whisper, pulling away slightly as he removes his lips from yours, using them to dance down your cheek, to your jaw and then resting against the skin of your neck.

He removed his hand from your cheek and hooking it underneath your thigh so he can manoeuvre you to be on his lap.

This is the first time you’ve ever kissed a boy, and you can’t believe that the boy of all people is Harry Styles. You hadn’t been this close to anyone before, straddled across his lap with your knees each side of his waist, your skirt bunched up at your waist. The second you were comfortable, his lips attached to your again, his hands rested upon the small of your back. A feeling brewed within you, causing your hips to involuntary buck towards his. You felt him smile against your lips, and that was when you snapped out of the daze that you were in.

Without really thinking, you pulled away and clambered off of his lap. He looked flushed as you pulled away, his hair a little messy and his lips red from the kissing.

“No.” You hold your hand out at him, shaking your head, “You can’t do that.”

“Why not?” He said, standing up and taking a few steps towards you.

“Because. . . because you just can’t.” You shake your head, lifting your hands to run through your hair.

“I thought.” He looks at you quizzically, “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Maybe I did, a little bit.” You say, shaking your head, “But you didn’t want it to be me. You wanted it to be Lizzie.”

“No.” He shakes his head, holding his hand out as if to touch yours, “I didn’t want that.”

“You did, I know you Harry, and you did.” You sniffle slightly, shaking your head, “I’m not Lizzie and I’ll never be Lizzie, and I’ve accepted that. You’ll never love me like you love Lizzie, and I know that. But, Harry, I won’t be second best. I don’t deserve to be second best.”

“You aren’t second best, YN!”

You can’t help but let out a small sob at his words, “I am, Harry. From the first day that we met each other, Lizzie came first. She was the one who you couldn’t bore your eyes away from, not me. I don’t think I had a full conversation with you until Lizzie left for her classes.”

“That’s not true, YN.” He shakes his head, “I swear to you, it isn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” You take a few steps back, “I won’t be second best.”

With that you turn away, leaving the house and leaving Harry. You couldn’t help the tears that fell as you walked across to your house.

You had made the decision that day that you weren’t to stay in America, that you were going to leave and you knew that Aunt Jemima was the person you knew would be able to help you with that.

Your Aunt Jemima was getting older, but before she died she wanted to go to Europe on last time, more specifically France. She had asked you years ago to be her companion on the trip, and you had agreed, but that was the last time you’d ever spoken to her about it. On Christmas day, you had been the one to bring the idea back up in conversation, dropping in little hints until Aunt Jemima picked up what you were saying. She had been the one to say that in the new year you were going and that you had to be ready to leave on January second with no complaints, not that you had any anywhere.

When Aunt Jemima’s carriage came, you said your farewell’s to your mother and you sister, and Theodore who had proposed to your sister the day prior — and left. As you sat in the carriage, you couldn’t help but look at Harry’s house, and you weren’t shocked to see him at the window watching your every move. You didn’t look away from the window until you could no longer see the house, when you turned to look straight in front of your, your gloved hands resting upon your knee.

“Forget him.” Aunt Jemima says, sighing slightly and shaking her head, “He isn’t right for you.”

“I have no idea what you are on about.” You shake your head, looking out of the small carriage window so that you don’t have to look at your Aunt.

“That Styles boy.” She says, and you immediately snap your eyes towards her, “Don’t think I don’t know about the two of you.”

“There isn’t anything to know.” You shake your head at her.

“There obviously is.” She says, “Or you wouldn’t be sulking the way that you are.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“I haven’t brought a liar with me have I ?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t.” She shakes her head, “I am sulking, I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” She says, pursing her lips, “Are you going to tell me about him, then?”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re about to cry, my dear.” She flutters her eyes to you slightly, “I could sense your heartbreak from a mile away. He’s the reason you wanted to come, isn’t he?”

“I wanted to come.” You say, messing with your fingers that sat on your lap, “He just. . . gave me a reason to finally do it.”

“I think he’s the idiot in this situation.” She says after a few seconds and your lips part in shock, before you clamp them back together, “He’s the one who got involved with you and your sister. I wonder if he can even get out of bed.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well. First of all your sister broke his heart by not marrying him and marrying that other man, I’ve already forgotten his name.” She shakes her head, “Then you broke his heart by doing whatever you did when you went to go see him on Christmas Eve and you’ve been depressed ever since you left.”

“Who told you that?”

“Who do you think?” Aunt Jemima clicks her tongue and shakes her head, “My daughter told me. Wouldn’t stop crying saying that you’re leaving the love of your life and her other daughters pregnant by some pretentious nobody.”

You run your hand over your forehead, scrunching your face at the fact that everyone knew, “My mother knows too much.”

“Your mother just knows you.” Aunt Jemima shakes her head, “At least you haven’t ruined your life before it’s even begun, with a child of all things.”

“You’re just saying that because you never had children.”

“Why would I want an offspring of myself and some other man?”

“It’s about love, Aunt Jemima.” You can tell that you’re about to cry, so again you turn your head, “When you love someone, that’s something to bring that love into a being.”

“I just don’t see why.” She says, curling up her nose, “But then again, that’s why I’m seventy, unmarried and childless. Don’t think about the Styles boy too much. You’re going to a different country for heavens sake, think of all of the people that you’ll meet whilst you’re there. You’ll forget him soon, my dear, and he’ll forget you. That’s what we’ll hope for anyway.”

The tears do start to fall now, in quick streams down down your cheeks. You couldn’t stop them. Aunt Jemima, no matter how much you despised her sometimes, she certainly knew what she was talking about. You turned your head so that you were looking away from your aunt, looking out of the window and trying your hardest not to let any sobs fall out of your lips.

You did love Harry and if he had stopped your from getting into the carriage, your probably would. If he had asked to marry you, you probably would have said yes without any hesitation but at the same time you also felt as though you were second best, and that wasn’t a place that you ever thought you’d be.

No matter how much you loved him, and yearned to be with him, you knew for the sake of your sanity and for the sake of staying as a strong independent woman. You were taught from being young from your mother that no matter how many people try to say that all you were worth is more than just being the wife of some rich man. Your mother also said that you had a talent and that you had to use it.

France was going to be the place that you were going to use your talents, and be a better person for doing so.

Four Years Later

“Pierre.” You say, smiling at the man as he held his hand out to you, “Puis-je vous demander ce que vous faites?” May I ask what you’re doing?

“Je demande à la plus belle fille de la pièce de danser.” You can’t help the blush that falls across your cheeks. You nod your head and slip your hand into his, standing up and following him into the middle of the dance floor. I’m asking the most beautiful girl in the room to dance.

The music changes around them to one of the most popular songs in Paris to dance to. He lifts his arm up, just as you do to his, and start the movements in the same way that everyone else in the room had.

You had arrived in France with Aunt Jemima four years ago, fresh faced after the journey and ready to start your new life there. At first it took a while for you to get used to the new life that you now lived. Aunt Jemima’s French house, if it was even possible, was bigger that her house back home with more nooks and crannies to explore but more importantly, a bigger garden that you could paint every corner of. The main thing that you focused on during the first few months of your arrival was settling in and learning the language which you knew would be hard, but it was something that you needed to do.

Pierre was the person who had helped you do that.

Aunt Jemima had hired him to be your French tutor. She said that he was one of the best for you, and that he certainly was. You learnt the basics within the first few months until you were able to finally communicate with the people around you in their native language. At first, you despised Pierre and his pretentious way of making you feel small, but here you were, fours years later, dancing with him and waiting for his proposal at some point.

Aunt Jemima would be turning within her grave if she knew you were planning to marry Pierre. Even though she hired him when you first arrived to teach you, but she found him incompetent to do anything else. She could tell that you were falling for him, and told you multiple times to not settle for him but you were ignoring her.

If you listened to every one who your Aunt Jemima told you to not settle for, you’d never marry at all.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He asks, in English this time, his accent seeping through with every word that he spoke.

“Plans?” You raise your eyebrow, “To paint, yes, but I suppose I can clear my schedule.”

After learning the French language, that was when you had started your painting classes. You started taking everything in, listening to every single word the teacher said to you until you were good enough to start on your own. The first time one of your pieces was shown in an exhibit, people loved it, and you found yourself creating more and more works and creating more and more links with people around.

“Do.” He says, nodding his head, “Je veux t’emmener quelque part. Quelque part spécial.” I want to take you somewhere. Somewhere special.

You bite your lip, nodding your head whilst trying to suppress the large smile that’s ready to cross your entire face.

Pierre was a hopeless romantic, always showering you in large gestures that caused your heart to flutter within your chest. He hadn’t kissed you, and even though you knew that you knew deep down that you shouldn’t compare it, you found yourself not feeling the way that you did the last time you found yourself with a man.

At twenty-three you were late to get married, and if you ever wanted kids you would have to do so quicker than anything you had ever done in your life because you knew that your days were going to start become numbered.

“What time should I be ready?”

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

The song ends, your courtesy and he bows and that’s when you walk back towards the table you were sat at, picking up your glass of Champagne and taking a sip.

“YN.” You stop drinking immediately, nearly choking on the liquid that you had already started to sip. You know that voice anywhere, etched into your brain from when you were just a mere eighteen year old with a heart twice the size of the one you had now, “As I live and breathe.”

You turn around, immediately seeing a man that you had left years ago stood in front of you. He looked exactly the same as when you knew him all those years ago, except his features were a tad harder and his hair curler that it was before if it was even possible which you weren’t too sure about.

“Harry.” You swallow the lump in your throat, placing your glass down on the table and turning so that you were facing him, “It’s been a while.”

“It certainly has.” He says, lifting his own glass to his lips, “You look good. Happy.”

“I am.” You nod your head. You look at him, his eyes emptier that you had ever seen them before, not even when Lizzie refused to marry him, “I wish I could say the same for you, but. . .”

“I look exhausted.”

“You do.” You say, watching as his lips curled up into a smile as do yours, “How are you? Genuinely.”

“I’m. . .”

“Ma chérie.” You feel an arm slip around your waist, rest upon the small of it as he stands next to you, “Qui est-ce?” My darling. Who is this?

“Ah.” You brush a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place away from your face, “Pierre, this is Harry. Harry this is Pierre.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, lifting the glass to his lips to drink the rest of it. As you watch, it doesn’t seem to even hits the sides with how quickly he drinks it.

“Bonjour.” Pierre holds his hand out to Harry, “Comment allez vous?”

Harry looks at Pierre’s hand but he doesn’t shake it, and that’s when you lift your fingers to run against your forehead, “Are you two, marié?” Married.

“No.” You shake your head, stepping to the side slightly so that Pierre’s hand isn’t upon your waist anymore, “We are. . .”

“Courting.” Pierre’s quick to interject, “I think that’s what to call it.”

You watch as Harry’s eyebrows raise, and without saying anything to the two of you, he turns around and mutters, “I need another drink.”

As he walks away, you can see the slight stagger in his walk, one that many intoxicated people hold and you know that him being not himself treads deeper than just seeing you there today.

“YN.” Pierre places a hand upon your shoulder, “How do you know that man?”

“He’s someone from home.” You say, watching as Harry drinks another full glass of Champagne where he’s staggered off to, “He’s an old friend.”

He leans down until you can feel his breath at your ear, “Just a friend.”

You nod, leaning into him as he places a kiss to your neck, “Bien.” Good.

Since Pierre wasn’t picking you up until eleven, you decide that you have the time to at least start your next painting. In the garden of your Aunts house that you had inherited, you had built a gazebo with the money that you had made from selling your art pieces to exhibits that overlooked the garden and the pond from the four different directions that it had around it.

You had decided that the swans that swum in the pond were looking particularly delightful today and you decide that is the direction that you want to start your painting. You set up your easel and your canvas, as well as your paints that you brought on a palette and start figuring out the dimensions of the painting and what you wanted it to look like.

You hold up your paintbrush, closing one of your eyes as you move it from portrait to landscape and back again.

“You always were a perfectionist.” The paintbrush in your hand clatters you the ground as it slips through your fingers, due to you jumping. You weren’t expecting anyone to be here, and you certainly weren’t expecting to hear his voice.

“And you always had a tendency to shock people.” He laughs, his dress shoes hitting the decking with loud pats.

“My apologies.” He says, slipping one of his hands into the pocket of his trousers, taking another step closer to you, “I didn’t mean to shock you, love.”

You place your palette down, brushing your hands off slightly on your apron. You’d usually wear your comfortable clothes to paint in, the attire usually not even being a skirt but often trousers, but because you were meeting Pierre later, you knew that you had to dress up. It wasn’t the fanciest dress you owned, but the light blue material complimented your features in a way that you just couldn’t resist when you saw it in the shop.

“Yes you did.” You lips curl up into a smile, “You forget that I know you Harry, even after all these years.”

“Lots of things can change in four years, YN.”

“You haven’t.”

“You haven’t, either.” He smiles.

You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and take a step closer to him, clearing your throat slightly as you do so, “I want to apologise for last night. Pierre can be a little. . .”

“Intrusive.” Harry leans against the pillar nearest to him and you nod, knowing that is exactly what he is.

“I’m very sorry. I would have loved to have caught up with you.”

“I probably wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind to do so.” He runs his fingers through his hair, “I was drunk, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I could.”

“Now.” He lifts his hand up and motions to the garden around you, “Are you going to tell me what I’ve missed in the last four years?”

“Uh.” You move so you’re stood next to him, leant against the barrier, “I moved with Aunt Jemima. This was her house but she died a year ago, if I remember correctly. She left me the house in her will, and I decided that I wanted to stay.”

“Have you been at home at all during the last four years?”

You nod your head, “I went home when Lizzie got married, that was when I met Anna for the first time. Then I went back for Aunt Jemima’s funeral because she decided she didn’t want to be buried here.”

“I must have missed you.” He says, “I spent a lot of the last four years in England with my grandparents.”

“Lizzie told me.” You say, “She said that she did invite you to the wedding but your father explained that you were in England.”

He nods his head, “I left a few months after you. I think my father was fed up of my moping.”

It shouldn’t have hurt you, but his words did. Your chest squeezed slightly at his words. Even though you knew you were doing what you were doing to benefit yourself, you couldn’t lie and say that you hadn’t missed him. You had lost a friend when you left, as well as your first love.

“Are you married?” You ask, not really knowing why the words escape from your lips in the way that they do.

He shakes his head, holding his hand up to reveal his completely ring free hand, “Nope. I can’t really say that I’ve been looking.”

“I’m sure you’ve had opportunities.” You say, “You’re the perfect gentlemen, Harry. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had women queuing to marry you.”

He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “People have tried but I haven’t been interested.”

“Why not?”

“Some may say that I’m still hung up on somebody.” His eyes flutter away from yours, and you take it as the opportunity to look down at your hands, “But that doesn’t matter. What about you and Mr. Intrusive.”

You chuckle, lifting your eyes up to look at his, “He was my French language teacher. I didn’t like him, despised him to be fair but here were are a few years later and I think he’s going to propose to me later today.”

“Do you want to marry him?”

If you were asked this question but anybody else, you probably would have immediately said yes and that was enough for you to know that you should marry him. But seeing Harry stood there, the way that he is, waiting for you to answer what should be one of the easiest questions ever, reminds you that this may have gotten a lot more confusing now with Harry’s reappearance.

“I. . .” You hesitate and drop your eyes down to the ground again, “I think so.”

“You think?” He says, “I can’t say that I believe that you do if you only think that you want to marry him.”

“I do.” You say, quickly.

Harry stands up and takes a few steps towards the opposite end of the gazebo, “Do you love him?”

This answer, so it should be another one, was easy to answer, “No.”

“Then why are you marrying him.”

“I’m twenty-three, Harry.” You say, your heels tapping the wood as you move to stand next to him, looking at the pond in front of you, “I’m certainly not getting any younger. If I returned home to mother and father without a husband and children I believe they would disown me.”

“They wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, “They love you too much.”

“I’ve had three letters from them asking about grandchildren.” You deadpan, looking at him with a stoic look on their face.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t want to marry someone who you don’t love.” He says.

“If I don’t marry Pierre, who will I marry?”

After a few seconds, the smallest whispers escapes his lips, “You could marry me.”

The whole world seems to slow down around you, and you turn to look at him. He’s already looking at you, with those green eyes that you became so accustomed to all those years ago. You knew each other in all for three months, but you spent every second of every day with each other when Lizzie was away, and it certainly showed with how close you became. Marrying Harry could be the thing that you need, have always needed. You haven’t been as happy as you were when you were back him with him in a long time.

“Harry.” You say, the words coming out in a small whisper, “You can’t mean that.”

“I do.” He says, quickly to say the least, “I haven’t been more sure about anything in my life before.”

“Harry—”

“Madame.” One of the groundskeepers say, walking towards the two of you, “Monsieur Perney est là.” Mr. Perney is here.

“Merci, Alfred.” You clear your throat to try and mask the uncertainty in your voice, “Ça ne prendra qu’un seconde.” Thank you, Alfred. I will only be a second.

The man nods and walks away, and you turn back to look at Harry, who has the same look on his face as you do on yours. There’s a level of defeat between the two of you.

“I need to, um, go meet with Pierre.” You say, hands gripping the material of your dress.

“Is that a no?” He takes a step towards you.

You sigh, “It’s a, I have to think about it.”

He nods, “When will you know? This is probably a good time to tell you that I’m leaving tomorrow.”

That changed everything. It wasn’t as though now you had a few days to think through and make your decision, you had to make it quickly before he goes.

“Tomorrow?”

He nods, “Father’s ill. Paris was my last hooray before I go back home to be an adult.”

You take a few moments to think, “Will you be able to return back here this evening?”

“For you? Of course.” He says as though he doesn’t even have to think about it.

You nod your head and take a few steps towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “Goodbye Harry.”

“I’ll see you later, love.”

“C’est une belle journée.” Pierre says as the two of you walk side by side around a park, the spring heat light upon your skin as you do so. It’s a beautiful day.

“It is.” You say, not being able to pull your eyes away from the ground below you.

You knew that you shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, that it wasn’t fair to Pierre, but all you could think about was Harry. You couldn’t get the look of his face out of your head as you kissed his cheek and walked away, as though he felt like that was it between the two of you. You were still unsure of the decision that you were going to make, but once you found yourself stood at the top of some steps, looking out at the park below, you knew that you were to make your decision sooner of later.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No.” You shake your head, finally lifting your eyes to look at his, “Everything is swell, thank you.”

“Good.” He takes a step closer so that his fingers are brushing yours, “YN?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve known each other for a long time.” He says, and the two of you turn so that you’re facing each other, his hands gripping yours, “A very long time, and I was wondering whether I could ask you something?”

“We have.” You know what the question is before the words have left his lips, and you’re already beginning to prepare yourself for what you’re going to hear the next time he open his lips, “And you can.”

He clears his throat and fumbles within his inside pocket, drawing out what you know is a ring box. He lets go of your hand which he was still holding with his free one and drops down to his knee, using his other hand to open the small box.

“YN YLN.” He sighs, “Ma chérie. Will you marry me?”

The same feeling that you felt before overcomes you, when the whole world around you seems to be moving in slow motion. He looks so happy, his cheeks lifting in a wide grin that you can’t seem to shake from your sight. You can’t even bring yourself to look at the ring he had chosen for you, because it was at that time, seeing him on his knee, that you know what your answer is.

“I’m so sorry, Pierre.” You slip your bottom lip between your teeth, “I don’t think I can.”

“What?” His whole face drops, and guilt starts to wash over you. He immediately stands up, looking at you with wide eyes, “No?”

You shake your head, “I’m so sorry, Pierre.”

“I thought that you wanted to marry me.” He shakes his head, “Comment ai je pu être si stupide?” How could I have been so stupid?

“You haven’t. I promise you, Pierre.” You reach your hand forward to touch his arm, but he moves away from you, not wanting you to touch him you suppose, “I did want to marry you.”

“What has changed?” You look at him with sad eyes, tears threatening to spill and you watch the realisation flutter across his features, “He has.”

You drop your head, lifting your hand to wipe away the tears that had started to spill, “I’m so sorry.”

“Who is he?” His features switch to angry ones next, and his voice deepens and it shocks you to say the least, “You have never mentioned him and now you will not marry me because of him?”

“He’s an old friend from hime, like I said.” You repeat your words from the party last night, “I haven’t seen him since I moved here.”

“Do you love him?” The words are quick to leave his lips and you once again drop your head, in shame if you are completely honest, “Do you? I want to hear you say it?”

“I do.” His hostile tone scared you into answering, “I always have.”

“Did you ever love me?”

You shake your head, the little movement causing him to throw you one of the worst looks you’ve ever seen in your life and stalk away from you. Tears stream down your face, and you know that you probably look the worst you’ve ever looked in your life at this given moment but you couldn’t care less. You thought that you’d feel worse than you do, but you you feel more relieved than anything. You feel bad that you’ve had to break his heart, but the idea of going back home with Harry, seeing your family and saying that he is the man that you’re going to marry was enough for your heart to burst with excitement.

In your opinion, you couldn’t return home quick enough. The second you return to the house you’re fluttering around as quickly as possible, packing all the belongings that you’d need immediately when you returned but you knew that you could get the rest of your belongings shipped in at a later date.

The evening rolled around quicker that you had imagined it would, but you supposed time went quickly when you’re packing to go across the world with the love of your life. When you hear the knock at your door, you race to open it, not caring what people think because all you want is to see him.

You throw the door open, and there he is, stood in the exact same suit that you’d seen him in earlier. He did look tireder then he did earlier, but if you had spent the day worrying you probably would’ve looked worse than he did.

“Come in.” You open the door wider, so that he can step in, “Please.”

He takes a few seconds to look around at the entrance way to the house, his lips parting at the sheer size of it as you did when you first arrived. Aunt Jemima was an odd woman, you couldn’t lie, but she certainly knew how to pick a lovely house. You’d probably sell it now that you were going back to America.

He looked around for a while before he noticed your pile of belongings in the corner, all packed away and ready to leave.

His eyes meet yours and he looks as though he’s going to cry at any given moment, “Really?”

You nod your head, “I want to marry you, Harry. Always have.”

He takes two steps forward and places his lips on yours, his hands falling to your cheeks. It sent you back to four years ago, stood in the library after you’d just kissed him. You couldn’t believe that he was back with you, kissing your lips in the way that you had yearned for him too for so many years.

He pulls away and rests his head upon yours with a sigh, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Ever since that day. I should’ve done more.”

“It was my fault.” You thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, “I shouldn’t have left. I should have sulked for a while but gone back to you. I missed you so terribly.”

“I know why you did it.” He says, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I shouldn’t have proposed to your sister when it was you who made me happy. I knew that I shouldn’t have the second I said it, and I’m sorry for that.”

“We’ll start a fresh.” You whisper, resting your forehead upon his, “Forget everything that happened four years ago and start fresh. I love you, Harry. I always have.”

“I love you too.”

You lean forward and place your lips on his again, his hands resting comfortably upon your waist. It felt so familiar for you to be in his arms, his lips upon yours. He was the only person you had ever kissed, and now he’d be the only person that you’d ever kiss, and you certainly weren’t complaining about that.

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Harry smiles at you, and you beam up at him before the two of you lean forward and kiss each other. Cheers and applause erupt around the two of you, as well as confetti and flowers being thrown across the two of you as you walk down the aisle.

You had arrived a few months ago from Paris, and immediately thrown into trying to nurse Harry’s father back to health, which didn’t go to plan. It was hard on Harry, but he had you and that was the most important thing to him. His Father gave you his blessing for the marriage, saying that it was the best thing he’d heard in a while. The funeral was a few weeks later, and the two of you decided to have the wedding two months afterwards.

The two of you were moving into Harry’s house, across the road from the house that your mother and father still lived in. You had so many plans for what you wanted to do to with the place, seeing as though it was way too big for the two of you to live in on your own.

It was your wedding night, and you were walking up towards the front door of the house when you felt Harry’s arm slipping under your thighs. You squeal as he picks you up, wrapping your arms around Harry’s neck. Giggling, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, causing the dimples to show within his cheeks.

“I love you, husband.” You say, smiling as he places you down in the entry way.

“I love you too.” He leans forward and places a kiss to your lips, “Wife.”

It was as though the atmosphere within the room changed the second he said that word. His hands found your hips, resting on the material of your dress. You took a step backwards, causing you to press your back against the inside of the door, your lips immediately attacked by his. Your hips involuntarily buck up to Harry’s, causing a groan to escape from his lips. After a few seconds, he pulls away, kissing down your neck.

“Harry.” You whisper, feeling a moan ready to tumble from your lips at the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, “Take me upstairs.”

“Are you sure?” You nod your head and he’s quick to pick you up again, this time carrying you over his shoulder. You squeal and grip his shoulders to steady yourself, “Better give my wife what she wants.”

Once you were up the stairs safely, he placed you down and connected your lips again. The first thing you did once your feet touched the ground again, you gripped the edge of his suit jacket and pushed it off his shoulders, listening to the material tumble to the ground and drop.

“Can I take your shirt off?” You mumble against his lips and he hums, allowing you to unbutton his shirt and shrugging that material off of his shoulders. This was the most you’d seen of Harry naked, and another human being at that.

“What about you?” He says, walking you both back until he’s sat on the bed, “Can I see you?”

“You’ll have to help.” You giggle, turning around. He starts to unbutton your dress, letting the material slip from your body into a pile upon the floor. He starts to unfasten your corset next, allowing that to slip from your body also. You were very exposed now, and you knew that, but the way that Harry looked at you sent all of your worries flying from your head.

He leaned back on his arms and clambered back into his lap, similarly to the way you had done all those years ago when you first kissed in the library of this very house. You wrapped your arms around his neck, just has his rested upon the exposed skin of your waist.

“YN?” You hum against his lips, “Can I make you feel good?”

You pull away and nod, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. It made you feel nervous that he was going to see you in the way that he was but this was Harry, your husband and the person you had wished to be touching you and near to the years that you had been apart. He helps remove the rest of your undergarments until you’re completely naked in front of him, laying and waiting for whatever he is going to do to you. He removes his trousers and underwear as you do so. There’s something about seeing him like that causes your hear to flutter and the rest of you to follow it.

He hovers over you, pressing another chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck and to your chest until he reaches your breasts, pressing kiss to the plushy skin around it until he wraps his lips around your nipple, lifting his hand up to pinch the other one between his fingers.

“Fuck, love.” He smiles up at you as you whither beneath him, feeling all of your senses heightened at the feeling of him on your skin.

He kisses down from your breasts to your stomach until his face is directly where you want it the most, where you’re literally throbbing for him. Without any warning, he leans forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue, causing your hips to buck up from the bed and moans threatening to spill from your lips. Your hand drops to the top of his head, tugging at the curls that rest there. You’ve never felt like this, ever, in your life and you believe that if you feel it too much you will become accustomed to it. Your thighs try to clamp around his head but he stops you from doing so by gripping your thighs with his hands. After a particularly hard tug of his curls, a moan erupts from Harry and vibrates against your clit causing you to shudder.

He moved one of his hands up from your thigh to run over your wet slit, “Can I?”

“Please.” You’re quite embarrassed about how breathy it comes out but once he slips one of his fingers in, and a whine escapes his lips you can’t be bothered to care about the sounds that are leaving your lips.

“I need to stretch you out.” He says, curling his finger in you, “Can I?”

You nod your head, “Please.”

He pushes another finger into you, leaning his head back down to attack your clit again. He’s quite gentle with his tongue, using it to make a skilled attack on your clit, using it and his fingers to coax you closer and closer to the first ever orgasm you are to experience.

“Harry.” You whine his name and the feeling washes over you quicker than you had expected it too, but at the same time the man knew what he was doing and you to bring you to that peak. He continued to move his fingers and kitten lick at your clit until your thighs stop shaking. Once you have, he moves up your body again and kisses you.

“Good?”

“Really good.” You laugh, wrapping your arm around his neck, “I want to feel you, H.”

“Certain? Because we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I do.” You place your hand on his cheek, pecking his lips, “I want to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smile, “It’s going to hurt whether we do it now or later. I want to.”

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the feeling contrasting the one that you had felt earlier. You weren’t in a lot of pain, but it made it a little harder to feel the pleasure that you know you can feel from this act, Lizzie had told you plenty about it when you were younger. Harry grunted as he pushed into you, scrunching up his features. From the way that little groans and deep breaths escaped his lips, you knew that he was feeling an immense amount of pleasure.

“Feel good?” He grunts against your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin as you smile, running your nails down his back. You knew that he was close, from the way he twitched inside of you, and your tried everything to coax it out of him.

“Feel so good, love.” He comes soon after his words, spilling into you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you and you hold him close to you, pushing his curls off of his forehead that have stuck. You giggle as his pouts his lips, leaning down to play a kiss to them.

“I love you so much.” You smile.

“And I, you.” He pulls you close, “You were never second best, I hope you know that.”

“I do now.”

Three Years Later

“Mary.” You smile, placing your hand on the back of the little girls shoulder, “That looks beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” She says, continuing to add the green paint to her painting.

You and Harry figured out not that long after what do with the large house you had been left by his father. With your art and French skills, and Harry’s love for reading and slight knowledge of simple maths, you decided to convert the house into a school for the kids in the village. It was a place for them to come without having to worry and learn and focus on new skills.

At this point you had just finished one of your art classes and left the kids to let their creativity flow with some paper and paints, as well as pencils and other materials for them to use. You were making your way outside, smiling at the sight of Harry sat in the garden with a group of children sat around him, listening to every word he spoke as he read from a book.

The next thing you saw was your sister, stood with her husband and her children. You were surprised to see your little boy, Oscar, sat comfortably in her arms. The second he sees you, he’s making grabby arms in your direction.

He had just turned one and was now in a phase of not wanting to walk but be carried everywhere. He was certainly his father’s son, in more ways than one. He looked identical to his father, with green eyes and unruly brown curls and dimples, but he was also the exact same person as your husband, and if you thought it was a struggle to live with one Harry Styles, having an Oscar Styles as well was just as hard.

“Hi baby.” You pick him up and place him on your hip, his hand resting on your neck lovingly. From the way he drops his head to your shoulder, you can tell he’s almost ready for his nap. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

Harry comes over a few seconds later and kisses you on the lips briefly and places a kiss to Oscar’s cheeks. The two of you look over at what you have created for the kids around you and smile at each other.

“I’m glad I didn’t give up on you.”

“Me neither.” You smile, “I love you, mon chéri.”

“I love you too.”

Oscar looks up at the two of you with a pout on his lips, causing Harry to chuckle, “And we love you too, little man.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles writing #harry styles au

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bellakitse · 3 years

Text

Greener on the Other Side

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, not believing what she’s just said. “Say that again, please.”

“I said he’s married,” she repeats herself softly, giving him a pitying look. “And he has a kid."

Alex hasn't heard anything about TK Strand in over four years. That's about to change.

Alex Fletcher walks into Gramercy Tavern twenty minutes later than he agreed to meet his friends. He already dreads what is sure to be a lecture on his constant tardiness from the group, but more so, what he knows will be pointed looks when they see he’s come alone instead of with his boyfriend.

Spotting them to the left of the restaurant, he starts to make his way over to them. “Sorry, sorry,” he starts to say with a charming smile as all five of them look up at his voice, hoping to curb the scolding before it starts. “The 6 train was an absolute mess. It got the 33rd street and then refused to go forward.”

Liz and Becca share a look at his excuse, and Alex has to keep from rolling his eyes at them. He gets it. Being late is one of his less desirable character traits, and they find it annoying, but after over a decade of friendship, he thinks they should get over it by now.

“Yeah, the trains have been acting up all week,” Malcolm offers while his wife Patricia gives him a small smile, the two of them ever the peacemakers of the group. “Sit down, man.”

Alex offers his friends a more sincere smile, shaking hands with him and his other buddy Chris before giving all three women kisses on the cheek.

“Where is Dean?” Patricia asks politely, and Alex winces at her mistake. It’s been a while since he and Dean ended things, but it’s also been a while since Patricia has joined her husband at one of their dinners.

“We broke up a few months ago,” he tells her, his face feeling tight from his fake smile. “I’m dating someone new now. His name is Wallace.”

“Oh,” Patricia says softly, going a little red in the face at her blunder. “My apologies, Alex.”

He waves her off, wanting to move on from the embarrassing moment quickly. “No worries, Patty,” he says to her. “And Wallace wanted to come, but he had to work,” he explains, trailing off lamely, not believing the lie himself, but it’s not like he can tell his friends that Wallace simply didn’t want to come because he thought it would be boring.

His friends all give him understanding, if not quite believing looks, and Alex wonders just how pathetic his expression is that they don’t push for more.

The mood around the table is awkward and quiet, making his skin feel tight. Thankfully their waiter comes over to take their drink order, easing the moment, giving him something else to focus on.

He starts to loosen up once there is a vodka soda in his hand. He listens to Liz as she talks about her latest architecture project, laughs at the funny story Chris tells them about his 1st-grade class painting the class bunny with washable markers. He’s enjoying their company, forgetting for a moment that his boyfriend should be there with him getting to know his friends when Becca’s eyes light up as Chris wraps up another story about his students.

“You guys will never believe who I saw yesterday walking out of FAO Schwarz,” she starts, her brown eyes lighting up with the chance to share some juicy gossip.

Alex leans in, already intrigued by the look on her face.

“Who?” Liz asks with a grin, curious herself.

“TK Strand,” Becca answers, saying the name with emphasis, and Alex gets why even as he feels shock go through him. It’s been over four years since he has seen or heard from TK. Not since the night he stopped him from proposing, confessing he was in love with someone else.

Mitchell, he thinks bitterly as he takes a large gulp of his drink. In the end, he’d turned out to be Alex’s own personal karma for hurting TK.

Walking in on him and another guy from their gym eight months into their official relationship had been a kick in the teeth and a hard lesson to learn.

He shakes his head to clear it from the lousy memory just in time to hear Becca’s following comment, shocking him more than her first. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, not believing what she’s just said. “Say that again, please.”

Becca looks at him, hesitating as she bites down on her lip, looking remorseful for a moment, probably remembering that out of all of them, he’d be the one with the most invested interest.

“I said he’s married,” she repeats herself softly, giving him a pitying look. “And he has a kid. They were coming out of the toy store when I bumped into them, and he introduced them to me. His husband’s name is Carlos, and their little boy is Luca. Really cute kid – was talking a mile a minute about all the toys in the place, and given all the bags they had, they must have bought him half the store.”

“Wow,” Chris breathes out, his surprise evident. “I can’t believe he’s married and with a kid. How old do you think?”

“Four,” Becca answers instantly. “I asked Luca, and he held up his fingers.”

Alex shakes his head again. It’s been four years since he and TK were together, and he has a four-year-old son. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he says mostly to himself.

“I get the feeling he’s adopted,” Becca answers. “Or maybe Carlos’ son,” she continues with a shrug. “But he called TK dad.”

“What was the husband like?” Liz questions, and Alex is grateful because he can’t bring himself to ask.

“He was polite and friendly,” Becca pauses, shooting him another look before continuing. “Ridiculously hot, and hopelessly in love with TK. I spent maybe ten minutes with them, and you guys should have seen the way he looked at him. It was like TK hung the moon.”

The table is quiet for a moment. For his benefit, he’s sure, as he tries to process everything he’s learned, when Liz speaks up again.

“Good for TK. He deserves that and more,” she says with a smile on her face that takes a hard edge when he shoots her a glare. “What?” she questions, her whole expression challenging him. “You didn’t take care of him when you guys were together, and he’s a great guy. I always liked him even though we lost touch after you broke up. I’m glad he’s found happiness.”

Alex bites down on the urge to lash out at his friend, not only is it a losing battle with Liz, but deep down in the parts of him where he has buried his guilt and shame at his past actions, he knows he can’t argue with the truth she just laid on him.

֎֎֎

The rest of the dinner is awkward to say the least. Even though they move on from TK, Alex can’t stop thinking about his ex and what he’s learned. He pulls Becca to the side as they’re leaving, grilling her for any more information she might have.

She finally tells him TK had mentioned they were staying with his mother and little brother – one of the few things he did know about TK and his family since Gwyneth and his father ran in the same legal circles. He’d learned about the woman’s surprise pregnancy almost three years ago.

Becca looks at him as he absorbs the information before letting out a heavy sigh, reminding him not to do anything stupid.

He’d given her an absent nod that even he didn’t believe. Which is probably why he’s outside of Gwyneth’s Park Avenue apartment in a hat and sunglasses like a stalker, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ex and his husband.

Whether luck is on his side or karma wants to teach him another lesson, he doesn’t have to wait long. He’s been outside of the swanky apartment building for maybe 15 minutes, trying to decide what exactly he thinks he’s doing, when the front door opens and out walks the person he wants to see.

He ducks behind a tree just in time to not be spotted, peeking behind it to look at the small family.

TK, at 26-years-old, had been a beautiful man; Alex remembers that well. But now, at 30, he’s even more stunning if that’s even possible. He walks out of the building with a tall, muscular man Alex instantly recognizes as the ‘ridiculously hot’ mystery husband. Each of them with a little boy in their arms.

“So what are we doing today?” he hears TK ask with a grin on his face as the little boys instantly start to chant, ‘Park, park, park!’

“I wanna see the penguins, Dada,” exclaims the little boy in the arms of TK’s husband. Carlos and Luca, he remembers.

TK smiles softly at his son before looking at the child in his own arms. “What about you, little brother? Do you want to go to the Central Park Zoo and see the penguins?” he asks, tickling his chin, getting a happy giggle along with a nod from the little boy.

TK’s grin grows before he looks over at his husband, getting a nod from the man too.

“It’s unanimous then,” TK proclaims in an animated voice that has the boys lighting up. “To the park! To the penguins!”

The pair of boys let out a ‘yeah!’ leaning over at each other to share a clumsy high-five that has the adults laughing.

“You just had to rile them up, troublemaker,” Carlos scolds TK, and he might be a stranger to Alex, but he can tell it’s said with amused fondness.

“You love me,” TK teases his husband, going easily when the man reaches out to tug him in closer by his shirt, turning his face up as his husband leans in to kiss him, tilting to the side to keep the boys out of the way.

Alex swallows hard at the display. Even from where he’s hiding, he can see TK’s bright smile and dancing green eyes once he and his husband break the kiss.

“Always, my love,” Carlos tells TK as he kisses the side of his face adoringly.

“Dada, Papa,” Luca groans out. “Kissing later, park now,” he continues, much to the amusement of the two men.

“So demanding,” TK teases, leaning in to kiss the little boy’s cheek too, laughing at the face he makes. “Okay, let’s go.”

They start towards the park, and Alex hesitates for a moment. He’s seen and heard TK and his family with his own eyes and ears. It’s obvious his ex is happy and not at all thinking about him. He should turn around in the opposite direction and leave before his luck runs out and they spot him. It’s the reasonable thing to do, and yet he finds himself following them about half a block back, keeping his head down.

He can’t hear them from this distance, but he can watch them. He takes in the way the two men hold hands while each holding on to a child, listening and chatting with the two little ones. Everything about them screams family, and Alex can’t deny the dull ache it causes inside his chest.

Is this what he and TK could have had?

He follows them through the park until they come to a series of benches. He watches as TK hands over his little brother to his husband, the man easily carrying both kids. TK sits down, but no one else does. Instead, he waves at them as his husband walks away with the children, leaving TK alone.

Alex hesitates again. This is his chance to approach TK, and yet he’s frozen in place by indecision.

A moment later, his ex takes the choice out of his hand.

He startles as TK turns his head to look straight at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you just going to stand there?” he calls out to him casually, the picture of calm as he places his arms on the backrest of the bench. It’s different from the TK he remembers, who was always constantly bouncing his legs with nervous energy.

“How did you – “ he starts, feeling awkward and off-balance.

“I didn’t,” TK answers with a shrug as Alex gets closer to him. “It was Carlos who realized. He’s a cop. Noticing weirdos is kind of his job.”

Alex cringes at the descriptor as he comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi, TK,” he says lamely, wincing again at the high pitch sound of his voice.

TK raises an eyebrow at him again. “Hello, Alex. Any particular reason you’re following us in that get-up?” he questions, pointing at his hat and sunglasses.

Alex feels his face grow hot at the question. He reaches up, taking them off. “Becca said she saw you,” he says uncomfortably, getting a casual nod back from his ex. “And I got curious,” he continues weakly. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“That sounds like poor impulse control,” TK mutters to himself. He moves to the side, leaving half the bench open for Alex to decide if he wants to take a seat or not.

Alex would be embarrassed by the speed with which he takes the offer, but the joy at being allowed to get closer overrides that. Neither says anything after he sits down, him because he’s nervous, TK it seems because he’s simply waiting him out.

“So,” he starts slowly. “You’re visiting?”

TK looks at him, seeming to study him before giving him a nod. “We try to see my mother and my little brother Robbie every few months. Sometimes they come to see us, but New York is always pretty in the spring, and Luca has never been.”

“That’s your son,” he blurts out, his face going hot again at the look TK shoots him.

“Becca shared everything, did she,” he questions with a dry smile, shaking his head to himself.

“The group had dinner,” he explains, not needing to add who exactly was there. There was a time when TK would have sat right next to him at one of those dinners, charming everyone with stories about fighting fires and daring rescues.

“Ah,” TK exhales softly. “It’s nice you all still do that. They’re good people. I liked them.”

“They liked you too,” Alex answers, giving TK a half-smile. “Liz was thrilled to hear that you’re married and have a kid. She’s happy you’re happy.”

TK smiles, this time more genuine. “That sounds like her,” he comments, looking nostalgic for the first time. “She was always kind to me,” he finishes, not adding anything else.

It goes quiet between them again, causing Alex’s nerves to fray at the edges. He’s not used to this TK. The one he remembers always filled the silence, even if it was just with nervous chatter.

“So, are you?” he can’t help but blurt out, swallowing nervously when TK gives him a curious look. “Are you happy?”

TK lets out a huff, and while he doesn’t smile or laugh, Alex can see a hint of amusement in his bottle-green eyes. “Is that why you’re here? You want to know if I’m happy?”

He feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand at the mocking he hears in TK’s voice. “Is that so crazy?” he questions defensively. “The last time we spoke wasn’t precisely the best encounter – “

“That’s because I was getting ready to propose to you and instead found out you were fucking around my back with a spin instructor,” TK interrupts him, surprising Alex with how calm he is. There is no anger or reproach in TK’s voice like Alex anticipated, just a simple fact. It hurts Alex more than he expected to witness how unaffected TK seems. “How is Mitchell by the way?”

Alex clenches his fists, his nails digging into his palms as embarrassment courses through him. He wants to stand up and walk away from this. He’s not sure what he’d hoped to accomplish by seeking TK out, but it’s clear now whatever it was, he isn’t going to get it.

He looks at TK to find a mild curiosity on his face, like Alex’s answer doesn’t really matter to him one way or another.

“We broke up,” he answers anyway, taking a breath to try to soothe the ache before his next words. “I found him in our bed with someone else less than a year after you and I broke up.”

“Well shit,” TK says quietly, letting out a breath of his own. He doesn’t look gloating the way he has a right to look. Instead, he looks at Alex with what can only be called compassion. “Karma didn’t just pay you back. It sucker-punched you in the face, huh?”

Alex lets out a startled laugh at the description. TK joins him with a chuckle of his own, and Alex welcomes it even if it’s at his own expense. They laugh for a few seconds before they let it trail off.

“To answer your question,” TK starts to say. He looks at him, bobbing his head softly. “Yes, I’m happy. I’m the kind of happy where I wake up in the morning, look at my husband sleeping, usually with our kid between us, and I can’t believe just how lucky I am.”

“You love him,” Alex whispers, not really needing an answer when he can see it clearly on his face.

TK answers anyway. “He’s my soulmate,” he says with a smile that isn’t directed at him at all. It’s directed at the man who walked away with two kids in his arms minutes before. “I used to think that was you,” he continues, his voice sounding far away, lost in the past while Alex aches in the present. “I was so sure of it once, and then I met Carlos. I was still a mess about you, and I wasn’t looking to fall in love at all, but there he was, and I fell. I fell so fast, Alex. Years later, I’m still falling in love with him every single day.”

“That sounds – “ Alex starts, exhaling through the dull throbbing in his chest. “Scary, honestly.”

TK smiles, bright and beautiful, just like Alex remembers. “It is,” he says with a short laugh. “It’s terrifying, but it’s also amazing, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.”

Alex nods quietly to himself.

“I’m sorry you haven’t found that yet,” TK continues softly because it seems that surprising Alex is the name of the game today. He gives TK a shocked look that has him giving Alex a compassionate look back. “I never wished you ill will. I was hurt and angry after everything went to hell between us, but in the end, I wanted you to find someone to love the way you couldn’t love me and for that person to love you back just the same.”

Alex swallows hard at TK’s words, feeling overwhelmed by them. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

TK looks away from him, and Alex follows his gaze to find that his husband and the kids are coming back with ice cream in their hands. “Thank you for saying that,” he says softly as he stands. He looks down at Alex, giving him a slight quirk of his mouth. “Goodbye, Alex. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Alex watches TK walk away from him, knowing it will be the last time he’ll see him. “Goodbye, TK,” he whispers at his back, feeling the loss more now than he did four years ago.

֎֎֎

“Dada, we got ice cream!” Luca exclaims happily as he slurps on his spiderman popsicle.

“I can see that. Can I have a taste of spidey?” he questions, leaning in when Luca sweetly offers him his treat. “Mmm, that’s yummy. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Luca smiles up at him, his face already a sticky red and blue mess. He looks at Robbie to see his face is yellow from his Spongebob popsicle. He smiles at them fondly as he turns his backpack to his front, searching for the wet wipes to clean their faces.

“We got you a cone with sprinkles,” Carlos says with a smile, though TK can see the worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

TK looks at his husband, taking in his concern for him along with his ever-present love, and smiles as he remembers what he just told Alex moments ago. The love he and Carlos share is so strong – it can be frightening at times to feel so much and so intensely for another person, but like he told Alex, he wouldn’t change it for the world when it means Carlos loves him back just as strongly.

“Yeah, baby,” he answers, reaching out to touch Carlos’ cheek. “Everything is okay,” he smiles at his husband before looking down at his son and little brother. “Better than okay because we’re going to go see some penguins!”

Luca and Robbie cheer happily.

“Let’s go, Robbie,” Luca says to his uncle, throwing an arm over the other little boy’s shoulder.

TK and Carlos watch them walk a few steps ahead of them, chatting away the way only little kids can.

“You sure you’re alright?” Carlos asks as he hands him a melting ice cream. TK takes it, giving it a few licks to keep it from dripping.

“I swear, babe,” he assures him as he wraps an arm around Carlos’ waist. “We talked, and then we said goodbye.”

“What did he want?” Carlos asks curiously.

TK shrugs. He’ll be honest even after talking to Alex; he’s still not entirely sure what the other man wanted out of the conversation. “I’m not even sure he knows,” he answers after a moment. “He apologized for the past and asked me if I was happy. Maybe he was feeling guilty.”

“What did you tell him?” Carlos questions, a smile playing on his mouth when TK shoots him a look. “What?” he asks innocently, and TK can’t help but chuckle at his fishing.

“I told him,” he starts to say, making sure that he’s holding Carlos’ gaze, as usual falling in love all over again as he gets lost in Carlos’ soulful brown eyes. “That every morning, I wake up amazed I got so lucky to love and be loved by you.”

Carlos pulls him to his side, pressing his face into his neck. “I’m the lucky one, Ty,” he whispers against his skin.

TK smiles at Carlos’ words, his smile growing as Luca shouts for them to keep up; the penguins are waiting. “We both are, my love.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tk x carlos #outsider POV #my writing

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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The Bodyguard (Elorcan)

MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SHIP.

I wrote a lot of Elorcan a while ago on my phone and realized I’ve literally been posting Nessian nonstop, so we’ll take a little break.

I have no idea how many parts this is going to be, but it’s a bit more of a slow burn than my usual fics, so probably 5ish. Not much happens in this part, but it get’s more interesting lol. Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

Part 2 | Part 3

______________________________________________________________

Elide rolled out of bed Monday morning to the sound of a loud, incessant banging on her front door. How someone was managing to put that much aggression and frustration into a simple knock baffled her.

She swung it open and yelled, “What the hell do you want?”

When she looked up--and up and up and up--to the man standing in front of her, she instantly regretted her choice of tone.

This was not a man you yelled at. Hell, this was not a man you poked with a very, very long stick.

The stranger towered above her, making all five feet of her feet insignificant. He had long dark hair pulled back in a bun, tan skin, and eyes that looked almost black. Chiseled cheek bones, a jaw set in a scowl, and head to toe black clothing completed the look.

Elide didn’t know how to feel about his appearance, actually.

It was definitely abrasive and intimidating. Or to most it would be. She’d lost her fear of “scary” men a while ago. She knew firsthand the most innocent looking man could be the most sadistic.

And yet, beneath all the black clothing and deep scowl, the man standing in front of her was also attractive in a dangerous, rough way.

But what the hell did he want?

“Elide Lochan?” he asked, his voice conveying everything written across his face effortlessly.

“Um, yes?” How did he know who she was?

“I’m with The Galathynius Guarship. I’ve been assigned to watch over you.” He seemed satisfied with that explanation, but she sure as hell wasn’t.

“Galathynius? As in Aelin Galathynius?”

If possible, his scowl got deeper. “The one and only. But more specifically, I owe the whipped little bitch who calls himself her husband a favor.”

“Hold on,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Rowan sent you?”

This was beyond weird. Aelin was one of her best friends, but she didn’t spend all that much time around her husband.

The man in front of her sighed, so much aggression in the one simple sound. “I suspect that he was told to cash in the favor in this specific way by a certain fire-breathing bitch queen, but yes, he was the one who called me.”

“Okay, but why?”

His eyes met hers, and she somehow knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. It didn’t soften the words in the slightest, though.

“He found you.”

Fuck.

An involuntary shiver ran over her, but she hid it behind a stretch. “How do they know?”

“Rowan said they’ve been watching your uncle for a while, and that he just bought an apartment in the city. He’s also made inquiries into this complex about you, and a black sedan has been spotted canvassing the building you work in.”

He said it all in that same cold, almost bored tone, and for some reason, that kept the panic at bay.

Elide straightened her spine and put on her best smile. “Thank you for telling me. I don’t need a bodyguard, though.”

He shrugged one massive shoulder. “I don’t care.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I owe Whitehorn a favor, and this is what the bastard asked for, so I don’t particularly care if you think you don’t need a bodyguard, although I expect that to be false.” He looked her head to toe as he said that last part, and her blood started to boil.

She wanted him gone. Now.

Glaring at him, she snatched her phone and dialed Aelin’s number.

“Hi, Elide. You know it’s like six in the morning, right?”

“Believe me, I’m not happy to be awake at this hour, either. I was woken up by...” she realized she didn’t know the man’s name. “someone pounding on the door. He says he’s my new bodyguard and that you had something to do with it.”

“His name is Lorcan Salvaterre.”

She sighed, continuing to glare at him. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but tell Lorcan Salvaterre to piss off. I’ve been on my own my entire life, and I’m fine.”

“Barely,” Aelin said quietly.

She paused, ignoring that train of thought, then tried a different tactic. “You know he’s like ten feet tall right?” Lorcan rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to keep a low profile with him following me?”

Aelin laughed softly. “He’s a tall, insufferable bastard, but he’ll keep you safe. At this point, your uncle’s seen where you live and work, so keeping a low profile doesn’t exactly matter.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “But-”

“Listen.” There was a little fire in her best friend’s tone now. “I do not plan on repeating what happened two years ago. Ever. So until we figure out how to throw Vernon in a deep, dark hole no one will ever find him in, Lorcan stays. Just ignore him.”

“Easier said than done,” she muttered back.

She could practically see Aelin’s smile. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

The line clicked dead, and she threw her phone on her couch in defeat.

“Your powers of persuasion are truly something magnificent,” Lorcan Salvaterre told her in a mocking tone. “I’m tall? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s 6 AM and I’m tired,” she defended, suddenly annoyed. “But I’m already up, so I guess I’ll just go to work early.”

She shut the door in his face so she wouldn’t have to even think about inviting him in.

Damn.

Damn damn damn!

This was so frustrating. She felt... helpless and desperate and trapped. Everyone in her life was trying to keep her safe, but she found herself wanting to be alone and independent for once in her life.

And she was afraid.

After finally escaping her uncle’s country estate and moving to the city, she’d sworn she’d never let him make her feel like this again.

And yet, just the mention of him being in the same city as her made her tremble with fear. Fear, and more than a little rage.

Elide stepped under the shower spray, closing her eyes. Images from her lifetime of misery flickered through her mind, and unlike usual, she didn’t even bother blocking them out.

They played like a montage in her head, showing her all the reasons she had to be afraid of her uncle.

Her parents funeral. The first time Vernon had asked her to come to his office. The hidden bruises. The ruined ankle from the time he’d refused to let her go to the doctor and get the bone set. The scars on her wrists and ankles from her chains.

The emotional scars from everything else.

She squeezed her eyes closed, shut off the onslaught of memories, and stepped out of the shower.

As usual, she put on jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, even though it was almost summer. Even though she’d made peace with her scars, she didn’t want people to see and gawk. She got a few odd looks for being dressed so heavily, but it kept her more comfortable, so Elide didn’t care.

She straightened her dark hair, swiped on a little makeup, and grabbed her bag.

When she opened the door again, Lorcan was still standing there, leaning against the wall across from her. He didn’t even seem to notice her very conservative apparel, but his eyes swept over her face, studying her closely.

“Ready?”

She nodded, a little nervous by how observant he seemed, but followed as he turned and walked towards the stairs.

Living on the second floor had a few advantages, but the biggest had to be that she didn’t have to wait for the slow ass elevator that almost never worked. Soon, they were out on the street, walking towards her building.

Feeling like a million eyes were on her now that she was in public, she tugged on her sleeves and ducked her head.

“They’re probably staring at me, not you,” Lorcan said with a grimace.

Oh, there was no “probably” about it.

Everyone--everyone--was looking at the man strolling next to her. Some with blatant fear on their faces, some just in shock.

She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. He was large and imposing and looked like he could snap anyone in half who dared to cross him.

The attention still made her uncomfortable. She preferred to go through life unnoticed, and Lorcan was like a magnet to both men and women’s attention.

Spotting her favorite coffee shop, she almost cried in relief. She tugged on Lorcan’s arm, and he followed her inside, dark eyes scanning everyone there for signs of a threat.

Considering this was the most hippie, backwater place in the city, it was a short search.

“Hey, Elide,” the woman behind the counter said with a smile.

Elide smiled back. “Hey, Asterin.”

Asterin was one of her best friends in the city. They’d met in the hospital’s mandatory group therapy for people who had suffered certain times of “trauma” and had instantly bonded over their shared hate of one of the nurses.

“Same as usual?”

She nodded, then turned to Lorcan. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” he responded, eyes hovering on Asterin as if she were a threat.

Granted, her friend was in her usual all black, mostly leather attire and had multiple piercings gracing her beautiful face, but this was Asterin for crying out loud. She was more than a little protective of Elide.

“Who’s the mutt?” the object of his attention asked in a too-friendly voice.

Elide sighed, unsure how to explain. If Asterin knew her uncle was in town, things were bound to get a little haywire.

“It’s a long story,” she dodged, sliding a bill across the counter. Her friend looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“When’s the last time I charged you?”

Never.

She stuck it in the tip jar, making Asterin roll her eyes. A moment later, she brought back her vanilla latte and said, “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

For a moment, she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but it came rushing back a second later. Friday. Concert. Asterin’s band. “Yeah, sure.”

She could feel Lorcan’s eyes narrow, but she pulled him out before he could cause a scene.

“What’s happening Friday?” he asked as soon as they were outside.

Taking a deep drink of her coffee, she replied, “Asterin’s band is having a concert at MSK.”

He brooded for a minute over this information. “No. A crowded area is not exactly safe for you right now.”

Elide stopped walking, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “No? No?”

He was fucking crazy if he thought she’d do whatever he wanted just because he’d been assigned to follow her around.

Lorcan repeated the word, and she saw red.

“You are not going to tell me what I can and cannot do, you stupidly large bastard. I’ve spent my entire life with someone who did that for me, and I won’t put up with it for a second longer.”

He sighed, and that just pissed her off more.

“If you’re not confident in your skills to guard me in a crowded area, then maybe you shouldn't be here,” she snapped.

His dark eyes narrowed. “I’m more than confident in myself, Elide. That doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid to put yourself in unnecessary danger.”

She just rolled her eyes and stormed away, well aware his long legs would catch up to her in a second. “I’m going.”

“Fucking hell. You mean we’re going,” he corrected with a gruff.

She smirked. “At least you won’t have to buy any new clothes. They’re a pretty goth band.”

Elide didn’t need to look to know his scowl deepened, and the thought brought a bright smile to her face as she walked into her office building.

“Morning, Elide,” the receptionist, Tom, called. She waved back.

Lorcan did not.

He just followed her down the hallway to the suit labeled Perranth Wellness Center, through the lobby and staff kitchen, and into her office. When she tried to shut the door behind her, his hand shot out above her head and stopped it. “I’m coming in.”

“You most certainly are not.”

He showed her she was, in fact, incorrect in that statement by pushing her out of the way and strolling in. Her office was exactly what it was supposed to be: calm, relaxed, covered in plants, and home to a comfy black sofa, two chairs, and a desk.

As a therapist, it was all pretty much standard.

Lorcan dragged one of the chairs into a corner near her bookcase, then sat down.

“You can’t stay in here! I have appointments today!”

He gave her a strange look. “I assumed as much. I’m fine here.”

Elide pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from strangling him. “I’m bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. You legally cannot be in here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not leaving you in here with a bunch of crazy people.”

“They aren’t crazy! They just talk about their problems.”

The look on his face said that statement proved his point. “I can assure you I won’t care what they say.”

“I am not losing my license because you have some insane idea that my clients are violent!”

Suddenly he was on his feet, towering over her, looking at her as if she were a naive little girl. “Elide. Has it not occurred to you Vernon could send someone as a fake client to get to you?”

No.

“I’m safe here,” she lied. She wasn’t safe anywhere.

“If you actually believed that, then why do you have a knife strapped under your desk?”

How the hell had he found that? He hadn’t even searched the place!

She bit her lip, trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation. “I’m getting the idea you’re not up for negotiation on this point.” He shook his head like the stubborn asshat he was. “Fine. You can stay as long as you tell people you’re shadowing to become a therapist yourself.”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “I don’t exactly fit the bill for a therapist.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.” The dark attire and permanent scowl were sure to raise some brows, but it was the only option. Elide rolled her eyes and tried to calm down. “Try smiling or something.”

He looked as if she’d suggested he run naked through the city in the dead of winter, but before he could argue, a knock on the door sounded. “Dr. Lochan? Your eight o’clock is here.”

She shoved Lorcan to the chair in the corner, and he plopped down with a sigh.

“Send him in!”

This would be interesting.

Twenty minutes later, Elide corrected her statement from interesting to big fat mistake.

Her client, Wayne Jefferies, kept looking towards the corner Lorcan was situated in, eyes wide. As someone who had a strong fear of practically everything that moved, this situation was less than ideal.

He tilted his ear toward something she couldn’t see, then whispered, “He’s here to kill me.”

Wayne was also a raging schizophrenic.

“No one is here to kill you, Wayne. Close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.” Once he did, she turned around and shot a glare over her shoulder at the hulking brute. Stop it, she mouthed.

His brow scrunched. Stop what?

Scaring him!

Before he could mouth something back, Wayne’s eyes shot open. “They’re saying I should kill him first.”

Oh, good gracious.

“Feel free to try,” Lorcan said in a low voice.

Wayne jumped to his feet, thrusting an accusatory finger towards the corner. “See! He’s after me!”

“If I was after you, you’d be dead,” her very helpful protector reasoned.

Wayne paused, then opened his mouth to shout something else. Before he could, Elide said gently, “Sit down, Wayne. No one here is going to hurt you. I promise. Shut the voices out and imagine a wall being built around your mind, keeping you safe.”

Her client was silent, so she turned around and glared at Lorcan. He just rolled his eyes, then leaned back and closed them.

This was going to be a long day.

After three other appointments, which had gone a little smoother actually, Elide was exhausted. Hearing about other people’s problems both helped rationalize hers and drained her.

She walked to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, Lorcan following behind dutifully.

“Dr. Lochan! Got a package for you,” Tom said, handing her a thin package.

Before Lorcan could snatch it up, she grabbed a knife and cut it open, revealing what was inside.

Yet another mistake.

A handwritten note in beautiful, recognizable calligraphy, read: I’ll see you soon.

It was a promise, threat, and taunt all in one. How like Vernon.

Knowing he would never send just a little threat, she ignored the dread unfurling in her stomach and flipped the card over.

And stared down at a black and white picture of herself, asleep in bed.

The covers were thrown back, exposing her bare legs, and her shirt had ridden up while she slept. She looked young and innocent. Vulnerable.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that it had been taken from directly in front of the bed. Inside her room.

The angle of the camera made that obvious. It also revealed that the person who’d taken the picture had done so with painstaking care, getting just the right angle to make it look as if a lover had taken it.

Bile rose in her throat as she stared at it, trying desperately to figure out how they’d gotten inside her apartment.

And why hadn’t they just taken her then and there?

Lorcan snatched the note and picture out of her hands, jaw locking tightly. He studied the photo, the note, everything. “I’ll search the apartment when we get back. They can’t get to you with me there.”

His confidence was unwavering and let her relax a little. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

But somehow, in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn’t. This was just the beginning for Vernon.

He’d always enjoyed the thrill of making her as terrified as possible before finally unleashing whatever sick desire he had planned out. The waiting was half the fun for him.

And he’d just let her know he could get to her whenever, wherever. No matter who was around.

It was a strong opening move, she had to admit. The obviously-desired fear was there, pushing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But there was something else, something new. Something that had only developed in the year she’d been free.

It was rage, sure. But it was a cold, calculated rage that only came with one thing.

Revenge.

______________________________________________________________

ooOOooh dramatic ending for the win.

Part 2

@ladywitchling @perseusannabeth @studyliketate @cursebreaker29 @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life

#elorcan #elorcan fanfiction #lorcan #lord lorcan lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide #elide lochan #elide x lorcan #lorcan lochan #tog #tog fanfiction #throne of glass #throne of glass series #throne of glass fanfiction #acotar

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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 3 years

Text

Family - TDC Post-Canon series 1

Ok so this originally was a post canon one-shot but then I really liked the idea so I’m going to do more of these focussing on Arsinoe from TDC to old age likely and all of the things that entails.

Also, I couldn’t let go of the idea that Billy has more siblings, so I made them! Enjoy!

And then he leans close and kisses her tenderly, as the rooster clucks happily between them (fdf).

Arsinoe feels warmth flood through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes as Billy’s gentle but firm hands hold her close at the waist. She missed him, missed him like he was a part of her that she lost. In a way, she guesses, he is. Finally they hear a throat clear behind them and she wants to scowl at Jules. She pulls away to glare at her friend only to realise it was actually a passing lady in a ghastly dress who obviously didn’t approve of her and the man she loves kissing on the street. She sticks her tongue out and the woman looks even more scandalised. Billy chuckles and buries his smiling face in the hair sitting against her collar, his hand fisting in her vest.

“We should probably go inside before those pants give someone a heart attack,” Billy says and takes her hand, leading her up the path. Right before they get to the door, he pauses and finally seems to remember that she still has a chicken in her vest. He gestures with his hand and she passes him the chicken. He darts around the side of the house and after a minute, he’s back empty-handed. She tilts her head slightly and he shrugs.

“There may be a semi-chicken coop in the backyard,” Arsinoe smiles and ignores the way Jules mouths ‘semi?’ to no one in particular as they finally make it in the door, where the sounds of ladies conversation drifts from the main room. But Arsinoe doesn’t tense up like she used to. She’d been to war now, which means the thought of society ladies was only slightly less daunting. Only by a little bit. Billy looks horrified though and pauses just inside the door.

“I just remembered that my mother has been ambushing me with ladies with the hopes of marrying me off,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank God you’re here again to save me,” Arsinoe squeezed his hand before holding an arm out, gesturing for him to lead them into the room.

Ruth Chatworth looks exactly like Arsinoe remembered, obviously not a fan of change, but Arsinoe had to admit she now understood why the woman never wore black. It definitely did not suit her pale complexion. However, her calm smile and light shoulders gave away no mourning, like she actually only wore black and closed the windows for show. Arsinoe likes her a hell of a lot more for it.

Christine Hollen sits on the loveseat facing away from the doorway but turns when Ruth sees Arsinoe and stops speaking mid sentence. Christine seems just as surprised as Ruth does.

“Hello Arsinoe,” Ruth says, standing and approaching her, obviously appraising her pants, vest and longer hair. She then seems to spot Jules behind Arsinoe and seems affronted at the clothes and the cougar at her side. “Who is your friend and why is there a large animal in my house?” Arsinoe almost wants to laugh.

“Hi Ruth. This is my best friend and the Queen Crowned of Fennbirn, Jules Milone. The big cat is Camden, her familiar,” Ruth pursed her lips at Camden but seemed unwilling to enter into a debate about it. Arsinoe sidled past her and sat down next to Christine with a smile. The Governor’s daughter looked lovely (as usual) in a sky blue dress, her blonde curls tied back in an elegant chignon. “How are you, Christine?” She looks affronted but quickly catches herself.

“I’m well, Arsinoe. Are you going to be sticking around this time?” She says, sipping her tea demurely. Arsinoe smiles gently and leans over to make her own tea.

“I will actually Christine. My business on Fennbirn is over and I have no interest to go back,” she said, picking up a sugar cube. Christine hummed.

“And your sister?” Arsinoe’s hand froze halfway to her cup before pursing her lips and considering. She didn’t have to be a member of polite society to know that telling Christine how Mirabella died was too heavy for afternoon tea. It was too heavy for any time of day really, but sunny afternoon tea especially.

“She died in the war,” Arsinoe settled on, finally dropping the sugar cube into her teacup. Christine went quiet for a beat.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Arsinoe. I know you and her loved each other immensely” the socialite says gently and Arsinoe nods in recognition, taking a sip of her tea.

“Thank you, Christine,” the conversation was interrupted by Billy, Jules, Jane and Ruth coming to sit with them. Billy sat right next to her and put a hand on her knee, a movement not missed by Christine, but she didn’t comment

“So, Arsinoe, what business bought you back to New Estra?” Ruth said and Arsinoe knew exactly what she meant by that.

Arsinoe sipped her tea and sighed.

“Well, Ruth…”

~ 6 Months ~

Arsinoe didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children. She liked children and was pretty sure that they didn’t outright hate her back, but she had never really spent extended periods of time around them, Finn excluded. Which is why she was viscerally surprised to wake up to one crawling over her.

“Uncle Billy, don’t you know girls have cooties?” The child said and Arsinoe turned, slightly offended and ready to assert, rather childishly she must admit, that she did not, in fact, have “cooties.” The red-headed child (that she only recognised from photos on the mantle in Ruth’s drawing room) wasn’t paying attention to her though, instead waiting for an answer from Billy, who was groaning.

“John, she doesn’t have cooties. What are doing in here?” Billy says, sitting up so that he was at eye-level with the child.

“Mumma told me to come get you up. She wants to meet Ar-“ he seems to stumble over her name and instead points to her.

“Arsinoe,” Billy and Arsinoe say at the same time and John nods before climbing over Arsinoe, his knee going straight in her gut, and jumping down.

“Sorry,” John says.

“All good, kid,” she says, waving him off and he runs back out again. Arsinoe turns to Billy, confused. “Who exactly was that?” Billy kisses her cheek to say good morning before leaning his forehead against her shoulder.

“My nephew,” he says and she raises an eyebrow, “my oldest sister’s kid. She lives in Bevellet and John wasn’t a great traveller when he was younger so I don’t get to see her very often. But if Viv’s here then so is Henri and her husband so be prepared,” Arsinoe clicks her tongue in acknowledgement and rolls out of bed. From her side of the wardrobe she pulls a pretty forest green jumpsuit (something she had designed and sewed herself, much to Ruth’s shock and vague horror) and the ribbon that went with it to go in her hair before going into the ensuite to change.

When she comes out, Billy is buttoning his shirt up and Arsinoe grabs a necktie. She wraps it around his collar and uses it to pull him in for a quick kiss.

“Compared to your mother, how scared should I be of your sisters?” Billy smiles.

“You’ll be fine,” he says, taking the tie from her hands and tying it before offering his hand and leading her out the door.

The kitchen was loud when they got downstairs and the sound only escalates when the people in the room notice the pair. Billy lets go of his hand to go hug two women who she gathers must be his older sisters and two men approach her, smiling.

“And you must be the newest addition to the family,” one of them says. He’s just taller than her (though that was saying a lot) and broad in the shoulders, with red hair and a truly impressive moustache. He’d be intimidating if he didn’t have such clear laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. “I’m John Moore Sr, Viv’s husband, and this is Edward Allen, Henrietta’s husband,” Edward was shorter than both of the two and lanky, with clear blue eyes and brown-gold hair. He seemed quieter than his brother-in-law but his presence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. She stuck out her hand to them and shook with a smile.

“Arsinoe Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you gentleman. I believe I met your son already John. He’s lovely, even if he may have bruised my ribs,” she says with a smile and John tilts his head.

“I’ll make sure he apologises for that, miss Queen, we wouldn’t want to scare off the only woman willing to keep Chatworth, after all,” Arsinoe’s eyebrows raised in surprise before she chuckled.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” she says, making John laugh and turn to the rest of the group.

“Chatworth, look after this one, she’s a gem,” he calls and Billy smiles and winks at Arsinoe before both have their attentions drawn by a kind feminine voice sitting at the table.

“Well, don’t keep her sequestered, let us meet her,” John nodded and gestured for Arsinoe to move past the two men, where she finally got a glimpse at the two people she hadn’t yet met. Both were women in their twenties who shared Billy’s warm features and she smiled at them, sitting on the chair Jane had vacated.

“Hi Arsinoe,” one of them said, taking her hand to shake. “I’m Henrietta, but most people just call me Henri or Hen,” she smiled with a grin she recognised on Billy’s face and she can’t help but smile back, matching her energy.

“Hen, don’t try anything until she’s met all of us,” the woman sitting next to them says and Arsinoe turns to meet her. She leans forward to shake but is hindered but a very pregnant stomach. Arsinoe leans forward to meet her in the middle. “ I’m Viviana, Viv if you will. I think you met my son in the last half hour. Ignore any schemes himself or my sister try to drag you into,” Arsinoe laughs slightly.

“I only involve myself in schemes when I can’t be caught, don’t worry,” she hears Billy snort from behind her, “Billy may attest differently but ignore that,” Viviana smiles and pats her hands, letting them go in favour of continuing to eat her breakfast.

~ 3 years ~

“Welcome to this month’s meeting of The Chatworth Spouse Club,” John says, smiling as they clink their beer glasses together. Edward smiles.

“This month we finally can officially add a new member to the Club,” he says, turning to Arsinoe, who was tapping her new wedding band on her glass. “Welcome Arisnoe, to the best kept secret in the family,” he said, loud pride in his usually subdued voice.

“Thanks gents. Is this Club only for official spouses or will we be inviting Penworth into the fold soon,” she smiled with joy as they scoffed in unison.

“He wouldn’t be invited even if Jane was unfortunate enough to marry that wet sock,” John said, making his companions cough but not disagree. “Let’s just admit now that Penworth would spoil our nights away from spouses and children by being his usual self,” Arsinoe tilts her head in agreement.

“I’m surprised how happy you are at the thought of being away from home, John,” Arsinoe says, sipping her drink.

“Oh no home is great,” Joh says with his usual wide smile, “It’s just with the new baby on the way and three already… well, here, it’s nice to talk to adults every now and then. Edward would agree, right, Ed?” John says and Edward nods.

“Yeah, Henri and the twins are handfuls all the time so breaks are important. But also I can’t wait to be home with them whenever I leave. Why didn’t either of you warn me how much you miss your kids when you’re away,” he sighs lovingly and Arsinoe raises her hands.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t have children to speak on. Blame John,” Edward smiles at her before turning his smart eyes on John.

“When are you gonna get to doing that by the way, missy?” John deflects back to her and she shrugs with a smile.

“It’ll happen when it happens and besides, I’m never gonna complain that I don’t enjoy just Billy and me. Not that we haven’t had fun trying,” she admits with a small blush and John whistles with a laugh.

“Well, drink up folks so I can kick your asses at darts,” he says and Arsinoe drinks her beer, trying not to laugh. Neither of them had ever beaten Edward at darts. They probably never would if they were being honest with themselves, but she still had a blast trying.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE OF THESE/SEE SOMETHING SPECIFIC/BE TAGGED TAG LIST: @poisonerrose @alwaysbored005

#three dark crowns #one dark throne #two dark reigns #five dark fates #kendare blake #queen arsinoe #billy chatwoth #billy x arsinoe #original characters

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soocouldbemyonlystar · 5 years

Text

Chaebols: The Arrangement Pt10

Genre: Chaebols AU/romance/angst/fluff

Pairing: Kyungsoo x OC

Rating: M

Length: 5.1k

I highly suggest listening to It’s You by Ali Gatie and Without You by Mad Clown ft. Hyolyn

First Previous Pt10 Next

edit by @lalahs85

Her art studio was turned upside down. At least it was form Jae-Eun’s perspective where she lay, sweaty and satiated on Kyungsoo’s desk. Inspiration had struck her in a dream, (a normal dream, the nightmares were few and far between) as she had gotten up to paint.

On the way out she grabbed one of Kyungsoo’s work shirts to cover herself and in the passion of painting, gotten medium on it. Oil paint is a pain to get out, if it will even come out.

Turns out the shirt was part of Kyungsoo’s forty-three thousand-dollar Brioni suit. One Jongin bought for his last birthday.

Later, Kyungsoo found her oblivious to the world and covered in paint.

A very serious scolding followed because though he knew she got caught up in her art, she needed to mind the things around her. In the middle of his rant, Jae couldn’t stop herself from dipping her paint brush in the cadmium yellow and dotting the color under his left eye.

His lips parted in surprise and he jolted forward. Jae-Eun squealed, dodging his advances, bolting across the room. She evaded him for a bit before he caught up to her behind his desk. His smile covered his face as he turned her in his arms and placed a kiss against her cheek.

Jae responded by pressing her thumb to the still wet paint and smearing it across his cheek before planting her lips against his. Jae-Eun never knew it was so hard to kiss someone when your smile was so big it wouldn’t let your lips pucker.

That smile has almost been a constant for the last couple of months. Kyungsoo and Jae-Eun were inseparable if they could help it. They still argued because they were both stubborn and opinionated, but that anger didn’t make it past bedtime. Talking it out before falling asleep was something they both believed was important.

They made it passed their wedding anniversary. As a surprise, Kyungsoo took her back to the island where they had honey-mooned, but this time there was only one bungalow, and they only ever left it twice. The first time was for dinner, the second was to walk the hiking trail, stopping in the same places to get pictures.

Kyungsoo wanted to replace the first set they had faked on their honeymoon, with real ones, for her. Accept the picture when she had surprised him. This time he reversed it, pressing a kiss firmly to her cheek. The resulting picture was Jae with eyes closed and an enormous smile across her face.

Where the first picture was the first thing she had sat on her desk at work, the second joined their wedding picture on Kyunsoo’s desk.

Baekhyun claimed they were the most annoying cute couple in the group, beating out him and Yeri, Yixing and Yan, Sehun and his new fiancé, Park Hye Jin, and Jongin’s girlfriend (who she had yet to meet).

Jae didn’t hate the title.

“I change my mind. You can wear any damn thing you want.” Kyungsoo’s labored voice brought her back out of her thoughts.

Their happy kisses took a turn when Kyungsoo discovered his shirt was all she was wearing. He’d lifted her off the floor and sat her on his desk. His hands found the shirt, only unbuttoning it made for slow work.

“Damn, Kyungsoo, the shirt is ruined.” She told him.

He understood, gabbing the panels in his fists, ready to rip the remaining buttons open.

“Shit, I can’t do it,” he released the shirt and resumed the buttons. With a laugh Jae joined him, hastening the time in which it would take to get his hands on her skin. He didn’t bother removing the shirt entirely, just filled those hands with tender, hot flesh.

When he joined them together it was a symphony of hands, lips, sighs, moans, heat and sweet. With their bodies held close, breathing the same air, they pitched over the edge one after the other.

Jae-Eun fell back, head dangling oer the edge of Kyungsoo’s desk, looking at her studio upside down.

Kyungsoo slipped his fingers into hers and pulled her back up to him.

“Mmm, next time it will be the Brioni jacket.” She teased.

Kyungsoo wrapped his arms aboutn her keeping her weakened body close to him.

“But you wouldn’t really though, right?”

Jae-Eun laughed, “No.”

“You want breakfast?”

Jae shook her head, “I’m going to get a shower and finish my painting.”

“It’s not ruined?”

“Oil paint takes longer to dry. I can get my shower come back and still blend that shit out.”

Kyungsoo chucked against her ear, a sound she was completely in love with, “I love it when you speak art to me.”

Jae slung her arm around Kyungsoo’s neck pulling him to her, brushing her lips against his. “I just love you.”

Kyungsoo moved her hand to press it against his chest. He did it every time she said the words. I never said it himself, but Jae-Eun knew it was his way of telling her how he felt. His heart pounded wilder than any drum could produce.

“Come watch a movie with me when you are done?”

Jae nodded. She felt warm and content in his arms. I reminded her of a little web comic she followed. Any time the main character came close to her love interest the artist circled them in a halo of pink, the darkest saturation of color just between the characters hearts. It was how Jae felt, saturated in pink.

She showered in a daze. The doubt was still there, that feeling of dread sat underneath the surface. But every day that passed lessened its intensity.

Kyungsoo had even stopped talking to Mi-Sun in any capacity other than work. Jae-Eun knew this cause Mi-Sun worked on a schedule coming to visit or bring her son at the same time every week. Time in which Kyungsoo now spent with Jae, in her office or at lunch. Any free moment they could find was spent together.

Accept for the times when he was with Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Jae was kept in the dark about their “business” but Kyungsoo promised he would tell her when the time was right. She didn’t like it, but after what Chanyeol gave up for her, Jae-Eun wouldn’t interfere or ask question.

Kyungsoo frequently sent the house staff home one day of the weekend, with full pay of course, so they could have a day entirely to themselves. It was usually spent in silence. They didn’t need to talk to understand each other, sitting together in the silence was enough. Then there were times when they stayed up talking about everything from her art, to their school days. He eagerly listened to every word, she said, watching in fascination of the passion in which she spoke with.

True to his word, her old room had been turned into a play room for when Yeri brought the kids. If she wanted to be serious, there were plenty of other rooms in the house for her to take if she wanted, but she had no plans to do so.

Their circle was expanding and so far, Jae-Eun really like the women, becoming quick friends with Yeri and Yan.

With work, new friends and being with Kyungsoo, Jae-Eun’s life was full. No matter what happened now, that wouldn’t change. She was happy in and out of her marriage.

When she returned to her painting, Jae-Eun again thought she agreed with her progress. Most of the dream she didn’t remember, just walking through the woods, the morning sun ahead of her, past the break in the trees. It felt symbolic.

It took a few hours to get to a point where she was satisfied. Jae would let it dry for a couple of days, then come bac and put in the last few details.

She found Kyungsoo laying on the couch.

He was sprawled out across the couch, an arm behind his head his ankles crossed. Kyungsoo comfortable and content was one of her favorite sights. He was effortlessly beautiful. She was tempted the break out her sketchbook, this side of her husband was good sketch fodder.

"Leave the sketchbook where it is and come watch the rest of the movie with me." Kyungsoo's eyes never left the screen.

Jae-Eun couldn't stop the smile from forming. "And you say I know you too well."

He angled his head toward her, "Artist Jae has a tell. You raise your left eyebrow, squint your right eye and tilt your head to the side. I can always see when you are sizing me up for a sketch."

He watched as she moved to him, crawling in between him and the back of the couch, cuddling up against his chest.

"I can't help that you inspire sketches." She teased.

Kyungsoo's arm came down from behind his head, his fingers playing in the hem of her shirt.

"What are we watching?"

"The original Count of Monte Cristo." His voice vibrated through his chest.

Kyungsoo threaded the fingers of his free hand into hers, and they watched in silence as the falsely accused Edmund Dantēs finds his fortune and brings justice upon those whose betrayed him.

It was the moments like this, quiet and alone together, that made Jae-Eun feel optimistic about the future. There was no talk of messing things up, or failing, they just worked it out together. Kyungsoo wasn’t pushing himself to try, he didn’t have to anymore, he was just present. He wanted to be present, and that was what made the difference.

The movie ended, but other than to turn off the television neither of them moved. Kyungsoo inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly. Their fingers intertwined, played with each other. This was it. The Kyungsoo and Jae-Eun together, in the silence, just being.

Her feelings were thick in her throat. She needed a distraction.

Jae separated her fingers from his, and in one swift move jabbed her pointer in between his ribs.

He jerked, “Quit.”

She poked him again.

“Jae!”

A final stab sends Kyungsoo over the edge.

“That’s it!” he declares, both hands attacking her side. Jae-Eun screamed, launching herself across the couch from him. But he followed pinning Jae-Eun beneath him, his relentless assault had her laughing until her face was apple red.

“Stop!!” she shrieked.

“Say it first.”

“No!”

Her giggles and screams filled the room, echoed through the halls.

Finally, she relented, “Soo’s the best! Please, I can’t breathe.”

Kyungsoo hands moved to hold himself up. He watched with a smile as she struggled to catch her breath. Jae-Eun’s face was contorted into a half-happy-half-painful grin as she dragged lungs full of air in and huffed them back out.

Kyungsoo’s smile faded.

“Jae-Eun-ah.”

She opened her eyes. Kyungsoo hovered over her, but his smile had disappeared. He watched her with solemn almost sad eyes. But today was a good day, Jae-Eun didn’t want sad.

Her hand came to his face, tracing the lines she found so beautiful. Kyungsoo leaned into the touch.

“God, I love it when you do that. I just…Jae… I…”

Jae-Eun shook her head, “You don’t have to say anything. Don’t say it if it doesn’t come naturally. You show me how you feel every day.”

He pressed his lips to her palm.

“How did I get so lucky?”

Jae-Eun giggled, “Cause our parents are smarter than we are.”

The smile returned to his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t do that, don’t put me on a pedestal. I make mistakes, I’m human just like you.” She hated that Kyungsoo tended to deify her. Like he was a lowly person and she was something to aspire to. The fact that he didn’t believe he deserve happiness hit her hard.

“You are my favorite human. I mean, after Jongin of course.”

Jae-Eun smacked his shoulder as they laughed. Her hand came around his neck, pulling him down to her, his lips to her lips.

She loved all of him. His gruffness, his anger, his gentle heart, his loyalty, his wry sense of humor. Their life together wasn’t perfect, but she loved their struggles as well as their successes. Jae felt they could overcome anything together, and it was more than she had ever dreamed for them. She felt the tears well up.

Ugg, why was she being so emotional.

Kyungsoo’s kisses, washed it all away. She didn’t know what the future had for the two of them, but Jae-Eun was happy with the right now.

And that was all she needed.

In utter exhaustion, Jae-Eun leaned back in her chair, throwing her arms over her head in a relaxing stretch. The rush of Monday was wearing on her, especially after a peaceful Sunday at home. She didn’t mind the grind, but today it was hitting her harder than usual.

Adjusting her watch to check the time, Jae-Eun decided she was going to call it a day. Most of her employees had retired for the day. She knew Kyungsoo had a schedule full of meetings, her plan had been to hold out and go home with him, but her body ached, and home was sounding more attractive every minute she sat at her desk looking over ad pitches.

If she was quick, she could pop in to Kyungsoo’s office before the next meeting and see him before she left. The probability of his getting home before she fell asleep was low, and she craved a few minutes alone with him.

Jae-Eun shut everything down and gathered her things from her desk. Stopping at the door, she patted the wrinkles out of her navy, high-waisted slacks and silk, maroon blouse then locked the door and made her way to the elevator.

She promptly cussed her self for wearing the shoes she chose today, a wine colored half- D’Orsay pump with a pointed toe and stiletto heel. They were beautiful and matched her ensemble well, but the height had her standing taller than Kyungsoo, which she typically tried to avoid. But they had been sitting in her closet for some time and needed to be worn.

Regret had her sighing as she exited the elevator, her legs were paying the price for her vanity.

Secretary Yoon smiled as Jae-Eun approached the desk. “The CEO has about ten minutes before his next meeting, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank You,” Jae-Eun sang as she walked ahead to his door.

Waiting only long enough to the secretary to announce her, she made her way into Kyungsoo’s office.

Her husband looked up from his desk, his doe-eyes peered up at her from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. His face seemed to light up. It made her stomach flip.

“You’re still here?”

She dropped her things off in a chair and hobbled to his desk as he came to his feet and walked around to meet her. Kyungsoo’s eyes angled up to hers. In her heals she stood just taller than him. Kyungsoo laughed at the difference.

Jae-Eun stepped out of her heels, thankful for the relief… for getting out of her heels and for stepping into his arms. His warmth, his scent rolled over her like liquid energy. She sighed.

“I missed you too.” he beamed.

She lay her head against his chest. “I wanted to wait for you, but I think I’m give out.”

Kyungsoo held on tight, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You should head home, I have a budget meeting, I may be here for a while yet. We need to get it done and this was the only time we could all get together. Everyone is busy with the new resort and some other endeavors.”

“I know, I’m going, I just wanted to see you before I left.”

Kyungsoo took her head in his hands and leveled her face to his. “Now you have seen me.”

He pressed his lips to hers, molding them together. Jae-Eun’s heart pounded as his lips gently played against hers. She leaned further into him, absorbing every ounce of him she could get. That part hadn’t changed, no matter how much their relationship had. Jae-Eun still took everything he was willing to give her.

Kyungsoo pressed one more tender kiss against her lips then leaned back.

“I’m sorry I won’t be going home with you today.” He tucked a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. “You do look tired. I’ll come in a little later tomorrow and we can have breakfast together. Even lunch, huh? To make up for today.”

Jae-Eun pouted, “Promise?”

Kyungsoo gave a little nervous chuckle, “I promise. Now stop being cute and clingy before I blow this whole good CEO thing and just go home with you.”

He leaned into her again, but just before his lips reached hers the buzzer on his work phone rang out.

Kyungsoo sighed, “Just five damn minutes. That’s all I wanted.”

He mumbled as he pressed the button. “Yes, Secretary Yoon.”

“Director Yoo is here for the meeting.” The secretary informed him.

“Send her in.”

He turned back, “I’m sorry baby, but the quicker I get this done the quicker I can get home.”

Jae-Eun painted a smile on her face. She didn’t really feel it, but it was for Kyungsoo’s sake. “Wake me when you get in.”

There was a tap at the door before Mi-Sun stepped in, a black binder pressed against her chest.

She bowed, “CEO, Director Lee.”

“Director Yoo,” Jae-Eun acknowledged, it was the best she could give the woman.

“Early as always Director.” Kyungsoo fumed.

“Yes sir,”

Jae-Eun turned back to Kyungsoo. “I’ll see you at home.”

Placing a kiss to his cheek she whispered, “I love you.”

Jae-Eun stepped back into her heels and turned to the door but Kyungsoo’s fingers closed around her wrist. She looked back as he brought her hand up, pressing her palm to his chest, holding it there as his lips drew thin in a satisfied smile. Like always, his heart pounded rapidly. Jae was void of any words. Kyungsoo didn’t do public displays. He rarely held her hand in public, so this was unprecedented.

Mi-Sun watched with wide eyes.

“Be safe.” He said as he released her.

Jae turned in a daze. Barely recognizing Mi-Sun as she left his office, too bewildered to even pull his door all the way to.

“Good night Director Lee,” Secretary Yoon called from her desk.

“Huh, yes,” Jae-Eun mumbled as she passed her to the elevator. But as the door closed Jae-Eun came back to reality.

“Shit.” She forgot her purse and phone in Kyungsoo’s office. “Stupid.”

Maybe she still had time to grab it before the other members showed up for the meeting. The elevator opened on her floor and she popped out between a couple of the marketing employees and hit the button to get an elevator going up.

Secretary Yoon gave her a double take.

“I forgot my purse, they haven’t started yet right?”

She shook her head.

Jae-Eun walked on hoping to grab her bag without interrupting him. But her hand froze on the knob at the sound of Mi-Sun’s voice.

“But you don’t love her like you love me.” Mi-Sun inserted.

Kyungsoo’s deep, taut voice replied, “You’re right, I don’t.”

Any other words were drowned in the white noise that turned up like an empty channel on an old television. She snatched her hand back as if the door knob had burned her. What had she just heard? What did it mean? The world seemed to crack under her feet.

Jae-Eun backed away, turning and heading back to the elevators.

“Director?” Secretary Yoon called, but the sound was muffled by the static that flooded her mind.

Slamming on the down button Jae-Eun, slipped into the elevator. But again, as the door closed, the noise died and Jae-Eun was left with anger. This bitch was messing Kyungsoo again, her husband, the love of her life. How in the hell was she supposed to just walk away from that?

Even if he did still love her, the woman was toxic. Kyungsoo would never be free as long as Mi-Sun was left uncheck to wreak havoc on his heart. Jae-Eun didn’t care if he didn’t love her the same. Someone needed to be a buffer between them. He may get angry with her, may hater her later, but she would no longer allow him to be held prisoner by a malicious, manipulative woman.

She hit the button for Sehun’s floor, exited and hopped the next elevator back up. Secretary Yoon watched silently as she stomped past, the carpeted floor buffering the sound of the heals.

Jae-Eun swung the door open and halted in the door frame. Her rage was fueled even further as she watched Mi-Sun, arms locked around Kyungsoo’s neck, lips assaulting his.

Lips that Jae-Eun had just kissed.

Kyungsoo’s hands held firmly to Mi-Sun’s hips. Jae-Eun slammed the door shut.

Mi-Sun jumped back at the sound.

“Well look what we have here.” Jae-Eun taunted. “And I’m barely out the door for five seconds.”

Terror spread across Kyungsoo face. “Jae, please, it’s not what you think.”

Jae-Eun stepped out of her shoes and ambled over to them, “Nah, you don’t know what I think, but I can tell you. I think… I’ve been a little too nice, for far too long.”

With anger boiling in her chest, she set her fist free. It was the second time in less than a year. Jae was not a physical person, but she was past a breaking point.

Having already been subject to her fist before, Kyungsoo anticipated the move, ducking back out of its trajectory, only the punch wasn’t intended for him. It landed center, in Mi-Sun’s face. Long, dark hair flew around as Mi-Sun fell back, landing hard on her ass.

Man, it felt good.

“Did you think I was just going to sit here and let you continue to manipulate him? I don’t care if he still loves you. This ends now!”

Mi-Sun pulled her hand away from her face. Blood covered it, along with the lower half of her face.

“You broke my nose, you stupid bitch.”

Jae-Eun lunged forward, but strong hands lifted her off her feet and spun around away from the bloodied woman. She jerked out of Kyungsoo’s grasp, arms flailing, ready to give him what-for as well.

“Calm down Jae-Eun-ah.” Kyungsoo urged. “You have to stop.”

Jae-Eun huffed, straightening her blouse again.

When he was sure she was under control, Kyungsoo turned away, pulling some squares of tissue from the box on his desk, then knelt down beside Mi-Sun to hand her the tissue.”

“Are you alright Director.” He asked her.

Jae-Eun froze. An image crept into her head. One where she was in a white dress, on her wedding day, and her new husband was knelt next to a pregnant Mi-Sun, looking her over for injury. His worry had been palpable. The entire room of wedding guest watched the spectacle.

There were no guests here to witness this. Only Jae-Eun. No one to see her heart finally shattering into the tiny splinters that would sit in her chest, festering into hatred, resentment, and regret. She was hollowed out. Jae-Eun could handle his feelings for Mi-Sun, she had up to this point. But for him to run to Mi-Sun’s side a second time… Suddenly she felt weak.

“Jae, I think you should go home. I’ll be there as soon as this is over, and we can talk.” Kyungsoo stood to lean a hand on Jae-Euns shoulder, but she evaded the contact.

“Don’t touch me.” She warned calmly. It was too hard to look at him right now. “You… are no better than she is.”

Jae-Eun pointed at the bloodied woman on the floor, “You two deserve each other.”

“Lee Jae-Eun, go home.” Kyungsoo’s voice was low and dangerous.

She backed away, with a crooked smile she said, “Of course, Yeobo.”

With the last of her energy spent, Jae grabbed her shoes and purse and walked out of his office for good.

She wasn’t answering his calls. He wasn’t surprised, if he knew her well enough, she would need some space. But he couldn’t help hanging it up and dialing again.

Mi-Sun had been sent to the hospital to assess her wound. It took him twenty minutes to convince her not to press charges against Jae-Eun. And he wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t still plan on doing it. The meeting had been conducted without his accounting director and was finished, he should be going home. He wanted to be at home, but he knew the scene that would be there when he arrived.

He stared at the picture they had taken just a few weeks before, his lips pressed to her cheek, the smile that shown brightly on her face. She was so happy in that picture. That was all he wanted, for her to be happy, and he’d known for a while that he wanted to be the one to do that for her. Looking at her now, knowing she risked herself to stop Mi-Sun’s devious plans, his chest ached. But he had been so proud, his fierce, little wife coming to protect him.

He was so stupid.

Why had it been so easy for him to admit his feelings for Jae-Eun in front of Mi-Sun, when he had been fighting so hard to hid them from Jae, from himself. She, more than anybody, deserved the truth.

Scared as he was, he needed to see her, he had to explain the situation, tell her the truth. To tell her everything, from the very beginning. So he gathered his things and headed down to the parking garage.

Driver Hwang waited for him.

“Did you get the Madam home alright?”

“Yes sir. Right up to the front door.”

That was a relief. Kyungsoo was positive he would lose it if there was another L.A. incident. He hated that he had only discovered how deep his feelings for his wife were, when he was faced with losing her.

Things wouldn’t be how they were now if he hadn’t been stubborn and decided to deal with his discovery on his own. The truth of his relationship with Mi-Sun.

For so long he had felt responsible for the change she had gone through. From the sweet girl he fell in love with, to this hardened woman who lied to him, and used him. If he hadn’t left her alone in the states, she wouldn’t be this way. Whatever happened while he was gone is what had changed her, and it was his fault for leaving her alone.

But that was a lie she let him believe because it suited her plans. He didn’t know if anything she told him was true.

What he was told: Her parents were dead, she was living with a horrible uncle who wouldn’t let her come back to Korea, she had met someone else, but they broke up and she needs help getting home.

The truth: Her parents were farmers in the south, her uncle had graciously offered for her to stay with him in the states for an education, which he mostly paid for, and didn’t know of her desire to come back home. She had never broken up with that other man and had used the promise that they could be together to get Kyungsoo to bring her home and give her a position in his company. Then she brought the boyfriend over and married him.

One-week Kyungsoo thought they were going to be together, the next she was married to someone else.

Mi-Sun had played him from the very beginning. Telling the naïve rich boy exactly what he needed to hear to get what she wanted from him. And he hadn’t questioned any of that until Jae.

She made him realize he deserved better than that. Because while he took his pain and anger out on her, she remained understanding and supportive. He didn’t deserve her. He had gotten lucky because his mother and hers were best friends.

Lee Jae-Eun had set him free, and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her.

Driver Hwang opened the door for him.

“Rest well tonight, Ahjussi,” he told his old friend.

“Thank you, sir.”

Kyungsoo entered his quiet home to find Nari waiting for him.

“She’s isn’t here is she?” He asked, but he already knew the answer. His chest hurt, his lungs burned. It was like he was drowning. Damn annoying.

“No sir, the Madam came home a while ago, packed a bag and left. I believe there is a note for you in your room.” She informed him. Worry marred her eyes, as she helped him out of his jacket and straightened it out.

“I don’t know if I can bring her hack this time Nari. I should have sent that woman away a long time ago, but I didn’t, and it may have cost me the best thing in my life.”

Nari lay his jacket on the table and swathed him in a tight hug. “Oh, my sweet boy.”

Kyungsoo wrapped his arms around the woman who was like a mother to him and let the tears build up in his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do.” He barely managed to get the words out.

Nari held him at arm’s length. “Do you love her?”

He nodded.

“Then you do whatever you have to.”

Kyungsoo swallowed back the lump in his throat. The muscles ached from holding the emotions back.

“I don’t think there is anything I can do but give her space and time.” He told her. “Right now, I’m going to try to get some rest. It’s going to take a while since she’s not here.”

Nari released him, bowing as he made his way down the hall to his room. Just as she said, a note sat on his bedside table.

I’m at Dae’s. Don’t call, I need time. -J

Kyungsoo let the tears fall.

“But I love you.” He said to the note. He’d admitted it to Mi-Sun, to Nari, and now to a damn note, just not to the woman who needed to hear it.

He would give her what she wanted. Kyungsoo had to have faith that Jae-Eun would come back to him. He could tell her the truth of what happened, give her the proof, the USB he held like his own life in his hand. And then tell her what he should have months ago. He loved her, and he was more sure of that than anything else in this world.

But before that, he had another matter to take care of. It was late, but he knew his friend would answer the phone.

So, he made the most important call of his life.

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sapphicsaro · 5 years

Text

pepper + anya, three years

requested by anonymous: “Pepper + 3 years”

listen this is more fluff and i honestly don’t know how i’ve stayed away from angsty stuff this long lol

---

“Nat, I can take her, it’s okay.”

“You really don’t have to, I’m-”

“You’re not fine. You and Clint both have a terrible flu and you really don’t want to get Anya sick. I can take her out for a girl’s day while you guys get some sleep, and if you still feel like shit tonight, she can have a sleepover with me.”

Pepper was right. Natasha had gotten sick from her most recent mission with Steve. While she could handle the flu, her husband was a different story. They both had fevers, were throwing up, and felt weakened. Medical had given them their medicine, told them to get some rest and said it would pass.

The Russian still wasn’t convinced. Yes, Anya should get out of the house, but there were so many people that could babysit. Don’t get her wrong, she loved Pepper, but Pepper was a very public person and having her daughter trot around the city with her wouldn’t be her first choice. “I don’t know…”

“Tasha, take the offer, I feel like death.” Clint interrupted as he laid on the couch, his pale face covered in sweat.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Fine. Thank you, Pepper. She’s in her room.”

Pepper smiled and walked in the apartment, heading straight to the little girl’s bedroom. She knocked on the door, “Anya?”

“Go away! You’re sick!”

Pepper chuckled, “Anya, it’s Aunt Pepper. Can I come in?”

Silence.

Then, “Are you like mama and papa?”

“No, I’m not sick. I’m here to rescue you.”

The door flew open, and Pepper saw Anya had already gotten dressed and had her backpack on.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Pepper smiled, “How long have you been ready?”

Anya huffed, “A while. C’mon.”

The small redhead walked out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She grabbed Pepper’s hand and tugged her towards the front door. “Bye mama, bye papa! Feel better!”

Clint groaned, “Bye little red.”

“Be careful Anya,” Natasha replied.

The two women walked out the front door, and Pepper immediately took hand sanitizer out of her large purse, putting some on her hands. “Here, give me your hands.”

Anya held them out and Pepper rubbed the pungent gel all over her tiny hands. “What is it?”

“Hand sanitizer. It kills germs, like the ones your mom and dad have.”

“Oh! We should give them some too!!”

Pepper chuckled, “Maybe later. But for now, let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

She nodded, “Mhmm. Every little girl deserves a closet full of pretty dresses.”

Anya shrugged, “But I like my t-shirts...”

“Oh. That’s fine too! I didn’t mean you had to wear dresses, if you don’t want to. I just meant we could get you a bunch of new clothes you like! And if that means t-shirts, then we’ll get you the best ones.”

Anya thought for a second, “Hmm. Okay. But maybe we can get a few dresses, too.”

Pepper smiled, “Of course.”

They walked towards the elevator, heading down to the lobby where Happy was waiting.

“Hello ladies.”

“Hi Happy,” Anya said, waving her free hand to the old man.

He knelt down to her level, “I got a surprise for you.”

Anya’s curled up into her body, clearly uncomfortable. Pepper placed a hand gently on her shoulder, trying to ease her, “She doesn’t like surprises.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just going to give you this,” he pulls out a little bag with a big decorated cookie in it. “It’s a sugar cookie. I heard from your mom that it’s your favorite.”

Anya eyed up the bag, still hesitant, “I can have it? Before dinner?”

Happy laughed, “Yeah, kiddo, it’s all yours.”

Anya grabbed the bag and smiled, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where are we off to today?”

“Downtown. Same place where I got Ann’s baby shower gifts from?”

“Perfect.” He held out his arm, gesturing towards the car, “After you.”

The three got into the car, Anya strapped in a car seat, and Happy headed downtown. Anya was quiet the whole drive, having never really been to the downtown area in New York. She was much more used to the quiet rural area of Missouri, not the buzzing city life where the streets were crowded beyond capacity. Her eyes were locked to the windows, examining all the large buildings that they passed by. She gripped tightly onto her bear, some anxiety creeping up on her. Pepper noticed, and reached her arm out, rubbing her thumb on the child’s skin.

“Are you okay, Anya?”

The girl bit her bottom lip, “I don’t know. It’s just a lot of people...”

“It’ll be okay, sweetie. I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?”

Anya nodded, eyes back on the window for the rest of the drive. Pepper felt bad; Natasha had warned her that she had inherited some of Clint’s anxiety. But Pepper hadn’t considered that the city would scare her, as Pepper had become so used to it. But for a three year old who spent the majority of her time on a farm, it must be overwhelming. Anya had stopped eating her cookie, her eyes big, and her hand holding onto her bear tightly.

Pepper pulled out her phone, texting Natasha:

Hey Nat! Hope you’re doing okay! Just had a question about Anya.

whats wrong? is she okay?

Yes! She’s fine. She’s just having some...anxiety? I didn’t know if you had any advice to help calm her down?

does she have her bear?

Yes. But it’s not really helping.

okay. can i talk to her?

Pepper immediately clicked over, ringing up Natasha. She answered instantly.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Natasha. I’m sorry about this.”

“Don’t be. It happens, it’s not anyone’s fault. Can you put me on with her?”

“Of course. Anya, it’s your mommy. Wanna talk to her?”

Anya nodded and took the large phone from the woman. “Mama?”

“Hey маленький (little one), Pepper said you were nervous?”

“There’s a lot of people here...”

“I know sweetie, but they won’t bother you. Stay with Auntie and Happy, and nothing will happen.”

“Okay...”

“вдохни, дитя мое. сосчитайте до десяти и дышите медленно. помните стихотворение? (Take a breath, my child. Count to ten, and breathe slowly. Remember the poem?)”

“да, мама (Yes, mama).”

“хорошо, давай сделаем это вместе. готовы? (Okay, let’s do it together. Ready?”

The two were in sync, Anya slightly behind her mother as her Russian was not as refined.

“Самолёт построим сами (We build an airplane), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests), Понесёмся над лесами (We'll soar above the forests). А потом вернёмся к маме (And then we'll come back to mama).”

“Good job. Do you feel better?”

“A little.”

“Try to have fun. If you are too anxious, tell Pepper and she will bring you back home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“We love you.”

“I love you too.”

“See you later. I’ll have papa make you his pasta tonight, just for you.”

“Okay. Bye, mama.”

She clicked the phone off and handed it back to Pepper.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah, are we almost there?”

“Actually, yes. We are here, right now,” Pepper answered as the car pulled up to a small boutique. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

They got out of the car, Anya gripping onto her bear with one hand and then Pepper’s hand with the other. They entered the shop; there were only a few other women there besides the workers.

“Ms. Potts! A pleasure as always.”

“Jared, it’s nice to see you.”

“And who is this little one?” He gestured to the little redhead who was hiding behind Pepper’s leg.

“This is my niece, Anya. We are looking to get her some new clothes. Can you help?”

“Of course.”

They had spent hours in the boutique, Anya trying on countless items of clothes. After a little bit of time, Anya loosened up, and began picking out things she liked before doing a mini “fashion show” for Pepper. Pepper snapped photos and videos, sending them in a group text to Natasha and Clint.

Pepper bought every single thing the little girl decided she liked. She deserved to be spoiled, even though Anya didn’t really care for things. Clint and Natasha raised such a sweet, quiet child who found happiness in everything. She didn’t need expensive dresses or designer shoes; she was content with her flannel shirts and boots, running around in the dirt with her father. But, Pepper thought everyone deserved a little extra sometimes.

By the time they left, Anya was exhausted. The sky was getting dark and the little girl struggled to keep her eyes open. Pepper handed Happy the bags full of clothing, and she carried the little girl back to the car, strapping her in. She fell asleep almost instantly, and Pepper tucked her bear into her hands, smiling.

Her phone buzzed; it was Natasha.

hey pepper, how is anya? she any better?

She’s knocked out from all the shopping but I think she had a good time! On our way home!

good! see u soon!

Pepper looked back at the little girl knocked out besides her; she was so precious. Pepper smiled, maybe she could get used to this...

#pepper potts #black widow #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #clint barton #clintasha #anya romanoff barton #anya romanoff-barton #clintasha au #clintasha fanfic #clintasha fanfiction #avengers au #avengers #pepperony

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talix18 · 5 years

Text

November 4

If I could go back in time and tell myself anything useful, #1 would be for gods sake please keep up with guitar lessons. #2 would be something about considering carefully the fact that you're going to live out a few more decades; continuing to blow up relationships will have you living them out mostly alone. #3 would be Absolutely Fill Out the Rhodes Scholarship application, idiot. I know you don't know yet that you want to travel but I promise that the experience you would have going to school overseas would be more than worth putting up with the weather. It's a problem that opportunity arises for some people when they're too young to appreciate it – at least it was a problem for me. So play guitar, sing, write, do all those things in front of people because it can just be fun, you know. Go to school far away. Sit still and let someone love you.

Because there is a distinct possibility that you will never meet someone who you know is The One. I'm pretty sure I thought I'd met The One two or three times. Nobody is going to fit all of your edges without rubbing uncomfortably in a few areas, whether it's their tendency to cut their hair too short or their inability to take on housekeeping duties when you're laid up or their families not being people you'd choose to hang out with. It's nice to have someone to hang out in sweatpants with; it's nice to have someone around who makes you laugh. Love is just as much about action as it is about emotion. It's not just something that happens to you; it's also something that you do.

But the reality is that I did meet someone I had those heart-flips over. We had that connection I'd always hoped to find. And life got in the way. He wasn't willing to make the changes he needed to in order to be with me and I wasn't willing to wait anymore. And I had the one that I was crazy about who just wasn't as crazy about me, and the one that I thought was the Universe actually working in my favor until the long-distance of it all got too much. Maybe I've had my chances.

I just want a life where I can honestly say “I wouldn't change a single second because it got me here.” Is that so much to ask?

Is it terrible if I don't eat anything except cauliflower crust veggie pizza? I mean, if I'm not overdoing the cheese and the veggies are fresh and the sauce doesn't have sugar in it – there's no reason that it's a “bad” idea, is there?

Saturday night I was at a meeting where a friend was celebrating nine years clean. She is hilarious and outgoing and incredibly smart, and she honestly believes that all Muslims are taught to throw acid in the faces of their women. This baffles me. I have this other friend – she's Jewish and also incredibly smart, and helped vote in the current administration because she's anti-reproductive rights. The administration that normalized being a Nazi in the 21st century. I just don't get it. And this is always going to limit the extent to which I'm going to trust someone – if you fundamentally believe that some humans are less deserving of compassion and dignity and self-determination, then I have to wonder what's going to happen if I fall into one of your less deserving categories.

Anyway, what I'm learning is that my mental health depends on being around people – on being part of a community – and I need to tell the truth about myself in safe places. So I'm at a meeting Saturday sharing about how my depression manifests, the specific example being that for most of the almost 15 years I've lived in this house, there has been a dresser drawer on my bedroom floor. It hasn't always been the same drawer – I've fixed at least two or three rails in the time I've owned these IKEA dressers. And it is entirely likely that I wouldn't have this problem if I didn't stuff the drawers beyond their recommended capacity. The point is that this is how I live: walking around the drawer on the floor. I am not going to consider my shit together until there are no drawers on the bedroom floor.

After the meeting, the woman next to me, who is a successful married adult with grown children, leaned over and said “I've never felt so close to you.” And that's what it's about, gang. Those moments when we tell the truth about how we live and other people recognize themselves in it. It's scary sometimes but, for me, it's necessary. And when I have more than one broken dresser drawer, I can ask for help getting rid of the things I don't need and taking the broken things to the dump. Then I can buy a new piece of clothing storage furniture, probably from IKEA, because I'm not made of money, and this one doesn't have drawers.

Last night I drove two hours to Philadelphia to see Fleetwood('s Heartbreakers House) Mac. You have to understand what Stevie Nicks means to me. Yes, I loved “Dreams” when I heard it the first time in someone's apartment in fifth grade where I was playing some version on Spin the Bottle for the first time. (Billy Schoonmaker, where are you now?) I loved the White Winged Dove song that I didn't know the name of until I saw a song I'd never heard of by Stevie on a jukebox and played it. And I remember a cartoon of someone literally dragging a heart behind them that was in the junior high newspaper. But The Moment I got it was when my mother's second husband, who played bass in an actual, playing out band, brought home Stevie's first solo album. I remember seeing her on the cover with white roses and gauzy clothes and a crystal ball and a tambourine and thinking “you mean life can look like that all the time?” My experience of gauzy clothes and crystal balls was limited to the Renaissance Festival that came to town every summer. I don't know why I took that album cover so literally – she could have been dressed that way specifically for those pictures – but in that moment I had permission to make my life look any way I wanted it to.

So Stevie, and by association Fleetwood Mac, have been part of my soul for most of my life, and I've been lucky enough to have seen her solo and with them several times. (Not on the Wild Heart tour, though! Not when Joe Walsh was her opener and Mom refused to sit through him and I was too young to go by myself. [Learning later that Stevie considers Joe the lost love of her life just makes it easier to carry that grudge.]) I've seen them minus Lindsay plus Billy Burnette & Rick Vito, with Lindsay Buckingham but minus Christine McVie (sorry I'm not sorry this is my preferred line-up), and now minus Lindsay plus Mike Campbell and Neil Finn.

I saw them in April and had All The Emotions. All of them. There were the general Stevie emotions, of course. Then there were the Tom Petty emotions, because I'd seen Campbell with Petty and the Heartbreakers the previous summer, on that last tour. Thank god. I don't even know what made me decide to go – I didn't take pictures or buy a shirt like I almost always do – but I was there, and then Tom died. And now Stevie, who adored him, and Mike, who was his musical partner, were on stage together without him.

Then there's Neil Finn, who was? Is? The frontman for Crowded House, who I also love. But more importantly, he was one of the favorites of my friend Andrea, who died of cancer far too young, who lived in Seattle and I made it a point to fly out for her 40th birthday. Who I flew out to sit in the hospital with in the last weeks of her life. Who I met on the Internet of all the ridiculousness, along with an entire group of Webpeeps who I've been lucky enough to ride roller coasters, celebrate weddings, and baptize babies with. Andrea loved Split Enz and Crowded House and made me listen to their catalog beyond “Something So Strong” and “Better Be Home Soon” and find the pop perfection there. There he was, sounding like he was doing Fleetwood Mac karaoke but also sounding like someone I love who is gone.

Not to mention the whole Stevie and Lindsay and will he ever be able to sing again after his throat was injured after his heart surgery and what the hell happened that Stevie decided this was finally a bridge too far to cross with him after everything else they've worked through. I love Stevie but not blindly, and I see Fleetwood Mac touring without two of their three main songwriters but not without her.

All. The. Emotions.

And I went with my grown adopted niece and Stevie sang about children getting older and I was weeping, as I do.

I had decided against buying a shirt, figuring I could make a more rational decision about what I wanted the next day and get it online. And learned to my horror that no, I couldn't, and then the crazy started. The crazy that said “Look! They're going to be in Philly Friday. Get a ticket to that show and buy what you want there. And if you go alone, you can get a more expensive single seat on Mike Campbell's side of the stage and be In It.” I don't remember how long I thought about it. I do know I ran it past my sister, who said she'd done equally as outrageous things, which gave me permission. My sister is one of the sanest people I know and is one of the lines I can never color outside of.

So I bought that Mike Campbell section ticket and reserved a place on the parking lot and vibrated through half a day at work looking forward to it. Until I happened to see something about them canceling the Boston show the night before and looked further and saw that the Philly show had to be postponed due a band member's illness. I was disproportionately devastated. Which is a thing with both addiction and depression – responding to things out of proportion with their actual importance. That disappointment led to a pretty steep downward spiral during which I actually called my sponsor and allowed her to talk me through the insanity maze.

It is recommended that one have a sponsor one trusts and get in the habit of talking to them regularly so that muscle will be exercised when you're feeling crazy or like using or whatever it may be. This is not my way. My traditional way of being a sponsee was crawling through whatever on my own and calling my sponsor to tell her about it afterward, and getting together with her just long enough to work whatever my next step was before my anniversary. Then my very smart Buddhist sponsor with 20 years clean relapsed, and everything changed.

#nanowrimo #f**k fifty

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myotishia · 5 years

Text

Masquerade part one

Fandom: Torchwood. Trigger warnings: None as far as I know but feel free to suggest. Characters: Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Elise Carter (oc) Rating: Teen and up

Blurb: The police and Torchwoods relationship had calmed in recent months but one officer just can’t seem to let it go. Meanwhile the team get a second chance to defeat an old foe.

Sergeant Farrell grumbled as he found another redacted file pertaining to a case linked to this mysterious Torchwood. The most he’d gotten from his research was that Gwen Cooper used to be a police officer and she moved on to being a police liaison, but even her current residential address had been struck from the record. And as for this Elise Carter there was even less. The only thing he could find for her was that she had a current drivers licence. It was ridiculous. All he knew was wherever the name Torchwood appeared people died and he was certain these people were not special branch. To him it felt more like organised crime. No legitimate law enforcement branch would have two women in from what he guessed were their twenties sent to a murder scene. Just because the rest of his department were frightened of this group didn’t mean he was.

Ianto flinched as Owen examined the healing bite on his neck. The bruising had gone down a lot but it was still there. It just didn’t need painkillers anymore.

“Looks fine. I’m happy to clear you to go back to general duties if you’re ready.” Owen said, all business.

“I am… I’ve started to remember more of what happened.”

“Yea?”

“Mm… I was going to die, wasn’t I?”

Owen paused. “You were close to it. How’d you guess?”

“You called me by my name. You only do that when someone’s dying or practically dead.”

“You lost about 38%. I wasn’t sure if we were going to get you stabilized in time. Elise risked space jumping with you to get you here faster. We’re lucky it worked.”

“Shit… I don’t even know how long I was down there.”

“Neither do we, that’s the problem when you disappear all day.”

Ianto pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it up. “I’ll have to check in more often.”

“Yea, I don’t plan on starting to make my own coffee now. Got that tea boy?”

“Definitely not dying anymore then.” He rolled his eyes.

Gwen sat next to a tearful woman, trying to console her.

“I just don’t understand. Was it something I did?”

“No, no of course not.” She soothed, , knowing the woman would never get the answers she wanted. Her husband had found a device while metal detecting which was essentially a teleporter. Sadly it was a one way device and there was no way to reverse it. Gwen was having to tell the woman that though they didn’t know where he was he had bought tickets to fly to Egypt one way. Sometimes lying to someone's face was part of the job. Jack was waiting in the SUV having secured the device. Years ago he would have just left the whole thing as a missing persons case but Gwen insisted on giving the family closure. He understood why but it meant a lot of waiting around. As if feeling his boredom on the air he got a call from Tosh.

“Calling me in secret? That’s pretty scandalous.” He smiled to himself.

“We just intercepted a party invitation.”

“I think we could throw our own parties if we wanted to.”

“No, a very specific party, complete with an auction.”

“I suppose they didn’t learn their lesson from the last time we crashed their little get together. Where is it being held this time?”

“I’m not sure yet. It looks like they’re being more careful this time.”

“Keep at it. I’m kind of interested what this years theme’s going to be.”

“I’m sure it’ll be over the top.”

“You liked the designer dress you got to wear last time.”

“Yes and it cost more than my car, that’s insane. Owen’s not going to be happy.”

“One day of wearing a suit won’t kill him. I’ll tell everyone when I get back.”

“You just want to see the look on his face.”

“Just like last time.”

The party had been more than lavish last time they attended. It had been a black market auction of alien technology, attended by a huge group of wealthy collectors. The man running the event had escaped the last time but this time Jack was sure he was going to catch him. He couldn’t let it continue and those working for the host had become bolder and more aggressive over the years. Especially towards Torchwood. Just before the last event he’d been essentially mugged for an item, and he never liked reviving in a damp aliway. There was always a chance of waking up to a rat gnawing on your fingers.

Elise picked up a small box that had fallen from one of the storage cases she’d been helping to move, blowing the dust away from the surface. Tarot cards. All the items she’d been moving were very old and completely safe, they’d just been there so long it would be a pain to sort them. Plus sometimes they came in handy.

“You’re already finished?” Ianto asked, arriving in the archive room.

“Oh, hi. Yea, all done.”

“What did you find?”

“Old tarot cards. Every played with these?”

“Not that deck but I had a friend who was into that kind of thing once. You?”

“I have no psychic skill whatsoever. I like the art though.”

“You can keep them if you want. None of this is particularly important so better you have them than leave them to collect more dust.”

“Thanks. Hey, I was wondering. I know when an agent passes they don’t usually get buried, but what happens to their things?”

“Storage usually. General items get sold or disposed of, anything that was important to them gets put into storage and clothing gets stored for a time just in case anything was left in the pockets. Apparently around fifty years ago an agent left an object in his coat. The coat got sold off and the next owner ended up with their brain trapped in a feedback loop.”

“Lovely. No wonder this place can get so cluttered. No offence.”

“None taken. Any part of this place I’ve had control of is in perfect order. I can’t say the same for my predecessors.”

“Are there any interesting pieces stored?”

“I wish there were. For now it’s pretty dull.”

“Aww, shame. If we’re all done here want to go play with these until we’re needed?”

Gwen slumped down into her chair.

“Rough morning?” Asked Tosh sympathetically.

“I didn’t even know what to say to her. Her husband’s gone and she’s a stay at home mum.”

“Poor thing.”

“How’s your morning going?”

“I found a couple of things but Jack wanted to look them over before we go ahead with anything else.”

“Fun. How’s the house search going?”

“We found a place we like. We’ve just got to get the lock modifications approved. It should take too long.”

“Just ask if you need a hand moving boxes or anything.”

“Thanks.” She looked over at Elise and Ianto, sitting playing with the tarot cards. “It’s funny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ianto that relaxed or happy.”

“I suppose they’ve spent a lot of time together. I wonder what it was like here is her timeline.”

“From what she’s told me it was depressing… And gone by now.”

“Gone?”

“Only you and Jack left. Even then with the hub gone things weren’t as they should have been.”

“What does it take to give up your entire life for people you’ve never met.”

“Isn’t that what we do every day?”

“I honestly hadn’t looked at it that way.”

“It looks like our gracious host has returned and plans to throw another auction and we all know what that means.” Announced Jack, a little more enthusiastically than he probably should have. Owen sighed, looking exasperated.

Elise and Gwen looked over at each other, confused. Gwen was the first to speak up. “This feels like something I missed.”

“It’s some jumped up rich arsehole that collects alien junk and auctions it off at a posh do for other rich nobs.” Owen grumbled.

“So we stop it before it happens?”

“Not exactly. They’re careful and have the cash to keep themselves off our radar so we have to infiltrate the party. That means…”

Tosh giggled. “Owen in a suit.”

“Oh fuck off.” He groaned. “It was bad enough last time. And now we have to make sure none of us go out alone because they get stabby when you tell them no.”

“What are they, the mob?” Elise asked.

Jack shrugged. “Close enough. Last time we managed to confiscate everything from the back of the auction room before they could sell them all off. I’m thinking of spiking the wine this year. They all do the opening toast, everyone claps, everyone passes out. The host won’t escape this time.”

Owen smirked, coming out of his strop. “Taking it personally Harkness?”

“He was in my grasp and one of his servants tazed me. It won’t happen again.”

Elise paused. “And they let you just walk in?”

“It’s a masquerade ball, no one knows who anyone is.”

“Won’t they be expecting us?”

“They always do. While I’m thinking about it. Ianto, I need you to send out a warning message to all of our refugee status citizens. Last time we had some of our hosts workers scoping them out.”

Ianto nodded.

“Refugee status?” Elise asked.

“If there’s no way for a being to get back to their planet or if they don’t have a planet to go back to they can sometimes be granted refugee status on Earth. They’re relocated into a Torchwood safehouse and essentially have to stay out of sight unless they can pass for human. It’s very rare but it does happen.” Ianto explained, noting down what he needed to do and finding the address list.

“How did I not know about this? That’s brilliant.”

“You should have seen my face when I found out. It would have helped my first impressions of the job if I had.” Gwen smiled nostalgically.

Owen crossed his arms. “You don’t get to know the good stuff until you deal with the shit the rest of us had to first.”

Sergeant Farrell stood at the scene of a burglary. The stately home had been ransacked. The owner had died only a week before of complications involved with his heart, leaving the place with no owner. The house had sat still full while the late gentlemens lawyers were sorting out who his estate would go to. It was a huge scene and though the sergeant didn’t need to be there he suspected it was just the type of scene this Torchwood institute would be involved with. Sadly they had not made an appearance yet but it didn’t change the fact that he was there so he just went back to doing his job. Something at the far side of the room caught his attention. It seemed to be some kind of gemstone, perfectly spherical, with a liquid suspended inside. The light shining through it looked blue at first but the closer he got the more purple it seemed to be. He shouldn’t touch it, he knew that, but it didn’t stop him wrapping his fingers around it. He couldn’t help it. It felt like it belonged with him. As if it had been waiting for him. No. He put it back on its small pedestal and turned to walk away but found his feet didn’t want to move. No, he couldn’t leave it for just anyone to manhandle. He gently picked it up and slid it into his pocket, feeling warm and safe. Yes, it was his. It had always been his. For a moment he couldn’t remember what he had been doing there but seeing the police car from the window seemed to clear his thoughts. A burglary, that’s what he was attending. He didn’t need to be there and couldn’t quite remember why he’d come along. It didn’t matter. He needed to get home where it was safe.

Elise patted Janets head gently and handed her a chunk of raw beef as a treat. The weevil took it and retreated to the corner to chew on it. Owen had sent Elise to give the implant to Janet as she was the only one who could just walk in there and do it without sedating or pinning down the creature. It had gone smoothly. Most weevils cowered in Elises presence but Janet had reached a point where she could be content with just bowing. Still, no one knew exactly why they did that but for now it was at least helpful.

“If only everything was as easy as this, eh? Maybe I can teach you to fetch things some time.”

She looked back to see Janet holding out a glove Elise had dropped.

“Did… Did you understand me?”

The weevil tilted her head. Elise took the other glove and gently tossed it to the corner.

“Can you fetch that for me?”

Janet looked back at the glove before retrieving it.

“Good girl.”

Janet let out a trill like noise and slowly blinked.

“Huh… Sit down.”

Janet sat on the floor and trilled again awaiting another request.

“Is it just you that listens to me or will the others listen too? What am I doing, it’s not like you can answer me even if you understand.”

She nodded then bowed, her head almost to the floor.

“All of them?”

She nodded again.

“Ok. Let me go and test it ok? You did really well. Here.” Elise handed Janet the other cube of meat she’d been keeping hold of for when she left. She left and closed the door behind her before heading back up.

“Hey, guys? Does Janet ever listen to you or do what you say?” She asked.

There was a low murmur as everyone shook their heads.

Jack decided to get more information. “Why?”

“I was just down there giving her the implant to test and she was listening. Like I was practically playing fetch with her. I thought it was a fluke but I told her to sit and she did. Then I asked her if the other weevils would listen too and she nodded. There was actual recognition there. Look on the camera for yourself. It was surreal.”

Owen wandered over and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “No fever, so you’re not delirious.”

Elise brushed his hand away. “I’m serious.”

“Owen she’s not joking, look at this.” Tosh said, waving him over to see what was on her screen. Jack marched over to join them and see, even turning up the sound so everyone could hear. It seemed to confirm exactly what Elise said. There was recognition of her words. Not just a vague link between a word and an action like telling a dog to fetch a stick, actual sentient recognition. They’d never seen that in a weevil before. They were base creatures, vicious and relatively untamable.

“Do we have any other captive weevils right now?” Jack asked.

“Not since Elise has been shooing them off.” Owen shrugged. “Not sure where the nearest nest is anymore. We cleared the last one out completely.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually wanted a weevil to turn up before but here we are.”

Sergeant Farrell locked his front door and closed the curtains, taking the gem from his pocket. The light it gave out was a lavender colour that shimmered and shone, illuminating the room. He sat in the living room, ignoring the phone ringing. It was most likely his wife who still lived in their old home. She called every night after work and he always looked forward to hearing her voice but he couldn’t drag himself away from the light. It was too beautiful. Too warm. He had to eat. Yes. The grumbling in his stomach distracted him momentarily. It could wait, he had to keep looking at the light. What if it changed? He couldn’t miss that. The light from under the curtain seemed to dull the stone to almost nothing. What time was it? Six? It was morning already? He couldn’t remember if he’d slept or not but he had to go to work. He walked unsteadily on legs that had gone quite numb past the phone, seeing a red number four flashing on the tiny screen. He’d check his missed calls later.

Jack was not impressed that he’d heard of the burglary so late. Due to there being barely anything left the police hadn’t flagged it as strange. Not only that but the death had been registered extremely late. It was a perfect storm and now almost everything was gone. Thankfully there was a safe that the burglars hadn’t gotten into and Jack had one thing that the burglars had not. Tosh. She had plugged her laptop into the digital lock for the safe and only taken five minutes to get it open. Inside the safe sat a full casing from a dalek that had made Jack jump and rattled him more than he’d like to admit. He made the excuse of seeing what was taking Gwen so long with the officers outside just to pull himself together. When he reached the door he saw one of the officers that had been posted at the entrance almost shrinking next to their superior. Said superior looked like he hadn’t slept in some time and it was hard to tell if he was glaring or just trying to keep his eyes open. Gwen looked like she was definitely glaring.

“Is there a problem officers?” He asked as he strode out towards them.

Gwen turned and smiled softly at the offer of backup. “Jack, this is Sergeant Farrell.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been told a few things about you from my staff.”

“You’re the one in charge of this outfit are you? Well you can tell all of your minions to vacate the premises. I will not have my scene contaminated by people who think they’re above the law.”

“Not above, outside the law. I thought you were informed of our status last time you tried to hinder our investigation.” Jack pulled himself to his full height, his stance as solid as possible.

“I don’t care how you put it, no one is outside of the law. You might have paid off or blackmailed everyone else but I won’t be corrupted.”

The captain laughed. “If I tried to intimidate or pay off every lawmaker in the country I’d never have time to do my job. Anyway, I prefer charm to intimidation. I can see you don’t follow the same ideology. Now, why don’t you stop wasting both my time and yours and go.”

“This isn’t over.”

“I think you’ll find it is. Unless you want me to make a few calls.”

“Was that a threat?”

“I don’t make threats, I make promises.”

“Holy fuck!” Gasped Ianto, clipboard in hand to note down the inventory from the house. He’d snapped the pencil he’d been holding in half when he’d seen the dalek casing.

“It’s dead and hollowed out. It’s even been decontaminated at some point.” Said Tosh, pointing to a tag hanging from its eye stalk. “Are you alright?”

“You’ve clearly never faced one of these things.”

“Thankfully no. I thought it looked like an upside down bin.”

“Maybe when they’re dead. They’re a nightmare alive… I’m going to have to archive this thing. Maybe I can convince Jack to have it deconstructed.”

“I don’t think that would be too difficult. He looked rather spooked when he saw it too. You can bond over shared trauma.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary somehow. I hope the other items in here aren’t as terrifying.”

“I’m sure they’re all horrific in their own unique ways.”

“Owen’s sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”

“Sorry, I think it’s contagious. Did you see the skull?”

“Skull?”

“Middle shelf, on your left.”

Ianto turned his head and looked into the hollow sockets of a weevils skull. “At least it isn’t a whole weevil. Why’s it in the safe?”

“No idea. Maybe he was trying to get hold of the other parts of the skeleton and didn’t want to display it until he did.”

“This is starting to feel more like a tomb than a safe. Nice chunk of moldavite in here at least. I’m sure someone’s going to want that.”

“I always prefered a quartz.”

“A good Earth woman. None of this meteor glass nonsense.”

Tosh chuckled. “Well, you have to support your home planet.”

“Well, he was charming.” Jack said dryly as he closed the front door behind him.

Gwen sighed.“Oh yea. Absolutely lovely.”

“It could be worse. You could be working with him.”

“Just don’t. I think I would have quit. Did Tosh get the safe open?”

“Yea. You’ll have to take a look in there for yourself. The contents were a shock I didn’t need this morning.” He stopped to look at one of the empty displays. The small gold plaque said it was a ‘deaths scythe’ that had been found in Afghanistan in the thirties, killing twelve of the archeologists that had been part of the dig that unearthed it. Next to it was a very small display that had once held a ‘sleeping stone’ that had to be kept a certain distance from any living being to prevent it latching onto them, lulling them into an almost comatose state and eventually killing them as they stop eating and drinking just to stay with the stone. The final display was more than large enough to hold a suit of armor. The plaque said it had contained a ‘complete cyberman’. Jack shuddered at the idea.

“Do you think this was linked to the auction?”

“I’m pretty certain it was. The funds you’d need just to move all of this in one night point right to our host.”

“Does this host have a name?”

“Not that we know of. His whole family have spent decades carefully defending their anonymity.”

Owen rolled his eyes thinking there was no chance this weevil whispering thing would work. The building he stood in had been bought and squatters had been evicted but the owner had not counted on weevils moving in. He wasn’t sure what way they were getting in but it was hard to mistake that smell for anything else. Janet was pretty calm for a weevil and he’d managed to at least get her not to instantly try and attack him so he didn’t expect a wild weevil to be nearly as calm.

“Looks like they’ve gone.” He said, watching Elise look around.

“Shhhh. I can hear one.”

“Well then just call it out like a dog if you think it’ll work.”

“Fine.” She turned down the hallway where she’d heard the movement. “Excuse me.”

“Do they react better to you being polite?”

“Oh hush… If you can hear me I want you to come out and show yourself.”

For a moment there was nothing, but then a young male weevil loped out, it’s head down. It wasn’t one they’d caught before as it wasn’t dressed in the usual blue overalls that the captured ones were given.

Owen studied it. “He’s definitely scared of you.”

“It’s ok little guy. Can you understand me?”

It nodded slowly.

“Can you understand him?” She pointed at Owen as the weevil looked up. It tilted its head and huffed then turned its attention back to Elise. “I guess not. Ok… What do I call you… Urm… Steeve. Ok Steeve. You tell all of your friends, family, whatever that they can’t stay in the city. No attacking people. Understand?”

Steeve the nodded slowly.

“Ok, off you go then.”

It plodded off again, disappearing down into what was likely a basement.

“You called it Steeve?” Asked Owen.

“What would you have called him?”

“That’s the difference, I wouldn’t have named it.”

“Like hell you wouldn’t have… So, being as we’re done here you can tell me what the last party was like.”

“Party?”

“The masquerade auction thing.”

“I’ll tell you about it on the drive back, this place stinks.”

“Dogon fourth and fifth eyes. Two sonic screwdrivers because why have only one. Six pages of psychic paper. One Sycorax helmet. One Vashta nerada farm. One Hath respirator. Two Judoon horns. One pair of Menoptra wings. Two Ogron stun guns. Six gemstones of unknown origin. One feline skull of unknown species. Three unidentified items of alien design. Four unidentified items made from materials found on Earth. One decommissioned Dalek. One weevil skull. One six by six inch piece of moldavite. Three bags of mixed currency of unknown origin. Have I missed anything?” Ianto asked, double checking his list.

“I think that’s everything in here. Where’s your PDA?” Tosh folded her laptop and wrapped one of the cables over her arm.

“It won’t work inside the safe. It won’t take me a minute to write it up afterwards. Have you seen Jack?”

“He popped by but he’s doing a final sweep of the house in case anything was missed. Apparently he had to deal with the police outside.”

“The officer Gwen told us about?”

“Yep.”

“I looked him up but he’s as squeaky clean as someone can be. Not even a parking ticket to his name.”

“That’s to be expected with his position. It’s not as if we can simply retcon him like we used to.”

“Well, we could but it wouldn’t have too much of an effect. I’ll see what I can do about contacting his superiors later.”

“Shouldn’t you hand that off to Gwen?”

“Gwen’s the good cop.”

“And you’re the bad cop? You?”

“On paper I’m terrifying.” Ianto smiled.

With all of the items collected and stored safely away the team were free to try and get ahead of this group. Even with all the money in the world there had to be a paper trail. Especially when organising a large event. The more expensive an order the more details a company will want just in case they aren’t paid and that was good news for Toshiko. The last time she had tried to track them they were mostly still using cash but this time he seemed to have joined the twenty first century and started using multiple offshore accounts. They were all under different names but that wasn’t going to be an issue. It never was.

“Got him.” Tosh smiled to herself. Steven Oliver Fayfall the third, the current head of a very old and prestigious family. He owned many buildings around the country so it wasn’t clear where his usual residence was. It was a start. She found a few photos from throughout time and could recognise the family but there was always another figure. A pale female, around her teens with long curled hair. Her face was blemish free, like she was wearing a mask. Her face wasn’t flagged on the system to be any being they’d met before. She sent the images over to Jack, wondering if he’d met her in his long life. In the meantime she could start thinking about the theme. Tarot. Each guest had to be dressed as one of the major arcana.

Elise leaned on the back of Toshiko’s chair.

“What you up to?” She asked.

“I found the theme for the party, plus the full dress code.”

“Nice. Who’s going?”

“Last time it was all of us. It’s a huge operation and we never really know what we’re walking in to.”

“Think they’ll let me wear a suit?”

Tosh laughed softly. “Sorry. The dress code is gender specific. It’s a floor length dress and heels for you.”

“Heels? Um… I can’t walk in heels.” Elise stood back.

“You’ll be fine. We probably won’t be doing any running.”

“No. I don’t mean I can’t run in heels I can’t walk in heels. I can barely stand in them.”

Tosh turned to her. “Really?”

“Seriously. I look like a baby giraffe. Also, if there’s dancing I can’t dance.”

“Of course you can. You just need a couple of lessons.”

“For the heels or the dancing?”

“Both. I can teach you to walk in heels. You might be lucky, me and Owen usually hold up the wall at these things. And if all else fails we could ask Ianto to teach you.”

“I’m going to fall on my face I just know it.”

“Let’s see how awful you are.” She took Elises hand. “Jack, I’ve send you a few things to look over including the theme of the party. High heels are mandatory for the ladies so I’m going to teach Elise how to not fall over in them.”

“I’ve been informed I’m not allowed to wear a suit.” Elise pouted.

Jack nodded in recognition. “They’re very old fashioned, a little over obsessed with gender norms. At least until everyone gets drunk.”

“I’m hoping we don’t have a repeat of that this time.” Tosh sighed.

“That? What happened?” Asked Elise, looking between them.

“We were doing a last sweep before we left and behind one of the doors there was an orgy going on.”

Jack crossed his arms. “And they didn’t even invite me.”

#Torchwood #jack harkness #ianto jones #gwen cooper #toshiko sato #owen harper

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