#so this may be littered with mistakes everywhere

[hopefull-mindset]

Kyara Makura (伽羅枕)

The Kuchi-e (Frontispiece) for Ozaki Kouyou’s novel of the same name; artwork by Takeuchi Keishū. The literal translation of “Kyara Makura” is Agarwood Pillow. It was a wooden pillow with drawers so that incense could be burned inside. It had been mainly used by those in the Red Light District.

Novel Description Translation:

Born in Gion, sold in Shimabara, and became famous in Yoshiwara, this is the story of Sadayū. As it continues to unfold the many brilliant stories surrounding her, the author's brush reaches its full potential, vividly capturing the state of times and the underbelly of humanity in appearance and richness. It’s one of the masterpieces of Meiji Era brothel literature and Kouyou’s first full-length novel.

Wiki Summary Translation:

Osen was the child of a Geiko from Gion and Mizuno Iwami-no-Kami, a Hatamoto on duty in the capital. After the death of her mother, she was taken in by a rice trader named Nishiokaya and raised in luxury. At the age of 12, her adoptive family went bankrupt and was sold to a bald man in Shimabara as a “stepping stone to tamanokoshi**”. At 16 years old, her fee was paid off by a retired man—then after his passing, became the mistress of a samurai in the capital. Wishing to see her father, she begs to come with him into Edo, but shortly after, the samurai dies and all that remains is a child she bares. At a loss, she visits the Iwami-no-Kami residence to find that her father had died 17 years earlier.

Hearing that her half-sister—who‘s the wife of a high-ranking man—missed her, she waits at Ueno Yamashita to meet her. However, the attendants of the Kago her half-sister rode scolded her and didn't let her get close. At the age of 22, in order to survive with resilience and a feeling of rebellion, she sent her baby to another and immersed herself in Yoshiwara, where she became an Oiran. She spent her dramatic, tumultuous years with the spirit and skill of a prostitute in Kofu at 28. Finally, she became a servant of a 67 year old man with leprosy in Kajikazawa. With the heartfelt wish to “extinguish the immeasurable amount of indiscretion that can be created”, she gently nursed him back to recovery.

As she cuts her black hair, she also cuts off the men that come into her life again and again. Till she’s 62 years old and onward, she secluded herself in a home within Dangozaka to enshrine the 34 departed souls of prostitutes.

(**tamanokoshi (玉の輿): I wasn’t entirely comfortable trying to put it into something concise, but it’s an expression that means money and status gained by marrying a rich and powerful man.)

[dontfearrr]

ask and you shall receive! @elia-the-bibliophile

i have a few warnings, i’m coming out of fan fiction retirement so bare with me. i didn’t proofread that well so don’t mind any spelling mistakes, i used some shitty sindarin translator on google so i do apologize if it’s incorrect, and. i think that’s all! :)

In my arms

gif not mine!

Summary: Thranduil isn’t very fond of you and legolas’s relationship but nonetheless he bares it.

Pairing: Thranduil x reader

Warnings: small hint toward sex (nothing specific)

Word count: idk tbh i forgot to check

Category: hurt/comfort(?)

—————————

“final count, forty-two.” Legolas spoke matter-a-factly across from you as he ran his fingers over his perfectly crafted, elvish bow. You gave him a raised eyebrow and drew your sword in a blink of an eye, plunging it into an orc that had its axe raised behind Legolas’s back.

“forty four”

—————————

It was midday in middle earth, you and Legolas had volunteered to clear the rogue orcs that ravaged near by villages, burning and spilling blood mercilessly. It wasn’t often you got to spend time with him due to your other duties in Mirkwood.

The Woodland Realm had been your home for many ages, you were an elf but a fool in their eyes. Woodland elves aren’t the wisest of the bunch but nonetheless, they’re your home. Legolas was the closest you’d ever get to a brother, he cared for you as family.

However that could never sit right with Thranduil.

He was a stubborn man, possessive some may say, which is why you and Legolas’s little adventure wasn’t mentioned to the elven king. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice considering he will find out eventually, he had men everywhere you look. At the end of the day, you’re accompanied by one of the most skilled princlings you’ve ever came across, so what could justify Thranduils brooding this time?

You and Legolas were on your way back to your residence, small talk was made but you both enjoyed simply just each others company, even if it was in silence.

“and what do you suppose daddy dearest will have to say once we return?” you inquired, not looking up from the ground as the both of them walked walked. “something along the lines of ‘no one leaves here without my knowledge, i’ve told you many times legolas’ then send me off as if i’m some child” He mocked his father, which earned a small smile in amusement from you.

As you entered the throne room, you and Legolas stood near the doors for a moment, exchanging farewells for the day. He embraces you in a warm comforting hug as he always did before he let you be, smoothing down the back of your hair and nodding his head before exiting to mind his duties. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for what was to come as you walked down the long stone walk way to the throne, which sat the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. He sat nearly diagonal, legs crossed with his arms on either side of the throne. Glittery gems littered his fingers and crown that complimented his usual flawless elven apparel.

His long white hair shifted with his gaze as he spotted the smaller elf before him. He gave her no expression which was expected. He stared, waiting for you to speak, you could feel his mood from where you stood, it reeked of attitude.

Thranduil had spotted the interaction between you and legolas, it burned a fire of rage inside of him, only he was allowed to lay even a finger upon the elf. She belonged to him. His mind raced with thought but never cracked even a sliver of visible emotion.

“my lord” you began to bow before him until he raised a hand, putting a halt to your actions. You stood back up straight in confusion and shifted on your feet, Thranduils eyes staggering into you.

He finally spoke. “i don’t think i remember warranting your leave.”

You stood your ground, after all, the king would do anything for this she-elf.

“orcs were bringing treachery over near by villages, surely you saw the fires, my lord.”

You dipped your toe into the water, testing him.

His eyes narrowed at you, his thick dark eyebrows coming together, he was unimpressed. “and what does that have to do with me?”

“nothing, my lord. Me and Legolas simply volunteered.” you took no more than five steps closer toward the tall man. “we both had a free morning, i see not the problem.” Thranduil uncrossed his legs slowly, rising from his seat. His garments fell into place, the long white, detailed over coat trailed behind him as he made his way down the wooden steps. You were eyeing him like the finest piece of treasure, his grace and royalty always intimidated you.

“very well. however, i see no reason why my son had to accompany you.” he challenged, standing only a few feet from you, hands intertwined at his front.

“i mean not to disrespect you, my lord, but i don’t see a problem with the company of your son. would you have had me go alone? perhaps getting killed?” you know he would react to that, and he did. A long sigh drew from his nostrils, getting quite impatient despite having lived for more than 8,000 years.

“Thranduil, it is to you.” he steps even closer to you and peers down at you like an animal hunting prey. “you two seem.. close.” he followed up, taking the knuckle of his index finger to push a strand of misplaced hair behind your ear. “yes. he’s the only one who will even speak to me in this realm, other than you.” you finally raised your head up to meet his piercing blue eyes. “he is the only one who treats me like family. a brother.” you continued to further solidify your point.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a conversation like this with Thranduil. He’s a curious yet jealous mess, whether he likes to admit it or not. This conversation was slowly taking a toll on his heart, nasty remarks threatened his throat and boiling tears threatened his eyes. He remained calm, the elf in front of him reminding him of his purpose.

“he touched you.” Thranduil simply said while tilting his head to the side a bit. If this was his attempt at intimidating you, it sure as hell was working. He made something in your heart weak, yearning for him. “surely you aren’t jealous of your very own son, right?” your tone changed, attempting to take the upper hand in this situation, and based on his expression, it was working. your crossed your arms behind your back and gave him your best doe eyes.

“i mean not to make you feel this way, you know Legolas doesn’t think of me that way, and nor do i.”

Thranduils hand fell from your cheek down to your waist, gripping fairly tight as if you were going to disappear. “i know my son shall never dare to try my woman, but you are special and you know that. it wouldn’t take a lot for him to change his mind.” At this point you were bored of the conversation, you only ever had eyes for Thranduil, but that is hard for him to understand. He’s not used to this kind of love and anything that happens under his nose makes him rethink every single thing that has ever come to him. you were his star.

“oh meleth nin” Your heart ached for the king in front of you. He has seen many a heartbreak. He couldn’t bare to handle another. You were much younger than the elven king, but you knew when his heart was hurting, and you were going to fix that. Both of your hands raised to his face, his skin was like porcelain, flawless and pale. Your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, he instinctively leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. He may seem intimidating, but sometimes even the most wretched need comfort and reassurance.

“Legolas is no more than a brother to me. you need not worry. I pledged my heart to you a long time ago Thranduil and that is how it will stay.” you got as close as you could to him to where you could still reach him. Your hands never left his face and his arms came to wrap around your waist completely. “Im nifred i er aur im lothron ú- n- farn an cin.”(i fear that one day i may not be enough for you) He whispered just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart shattered at the broken man. You wished you could take all of his trouble for yourself so he’d never have to bare them again. His head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck. You’d never seen him so vulnerable before. You held the back of his head, gently smoothing over his hair and scratching his scalp.

“meleth nin, my heart and soul belongs to you. there’s nothing in this earth that could give me the love you do.” You whispered into his ear, kissing the pointy tips and they flushed red. You felt his body shudder at the action and held him closer. “don’t let a simple adventure spoil your mind.”

you lifted his head to face you and leaned yours against his. “im mel cin”(i love you).

Thranduil sighed in content and took your small hand in his, holding it to his cheek as his eyes fell shut once again. He kisses your wrist and opens his eyes. “i apologize for my behavior. it was unnecessary” he drops your hand and pulls you into his large figure, engulfing you in a warm embrace. You returned the embrace by holding him tight, breathing in his woodsy scent as you did so. your head just barely reached his chest, you felt like a princess in his arms. “your apology is accepted. you never have to question my devotion to you. Ask for reassurance and i will give it to you, sweet king.”

He released you and captured your lips in a soft but passionate kiss, he tasted of pine and elvish wine. you savored the kiss as your hands cupped his face, using your thumb to draw gentle circles over the points of his ears. You always loved his body language especially since you’re the only one who ever sees him express emotion besides Legolas. As the kiss ended, you smiled up at him, to which he returned but quickly was replaced with a huff of defeat, his eyes dared to close and his legs nearly trembling.

“you witch” he feigned the insult, merely joking as you gave his ears attention. Causing him to sweep you off your feet into his arms and head toward his chambers.

[komoboko]

Sooooooo-

I've been stalking your blog- (mueheheh and I love your posts and writings 😭)

Can I request a kokushibo x Fem! Artist! Reader who often gets frustrated over little things whenever she messes her drawings up? And probably gives the most scary glares and annoyed looks. Meanwhile, he tries to comfort her.

Thank you! May you have a great day/night ahead!

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

kokushibo tsugikuni x gn!artist!reafer

This is set a little closer to when he was human so he can actually comprehend everything ur doing

Kokushibo doesn’t understand why you’re so mad at first.

While he does not completely blame you, he’s only more confused on why you’re feeling this way. In some ways he can link your frustration to his.. “occupation” so he can sympathize and understand you more.

He can’t say he doesn’t get annoyed himself when he can’t kill a certain group of slayers in the time he pleased. Maybe another victim found their way around and ran off as the sun started to rise. Mistakes like that frustrate him to. Kokushibo just doesn’t understand why you’re so upset about the tiniest of things.

Let say you try to start a new painting and something slightly goes off of the pattern or escape the lines. You’ll scrap it with an irritated glance before staring again on the next canvas. Bits and pieces of left behind are over something so tiny scatter around everywhere.

Not only does he not like what you’re getting mad at, he does not like the storm that follows.

Your temper rises significantly, and the amount of evil glances that meet at least one of kokushibo eyes will make him close all six of them to avoid yours. There is much more passive aggressiveness to any word you say and overall just a force of nature to be around.

Your attitude reminds him of an open wound, when you first add treatment like alcohol, it begins to burn.

Of course after you just patch it up so it can heal.

The next time you try and discard another piece, kokushibo is there to stop you. You could only look up at him with confusion, you can’t say there was slight irritation behind your eyes. Nevertheless you let him speak before you said anything yourself.

“Why must you wear yourself down?” The six eyed demon asked. You don’t reply, your eyes only drift down towards the countless crumbled pieces of paper that scatter the floor. Kokushibo takes your silence as a proper response and sees fit to continue.

He blinks before picking up a crumbled piece of paper unfolding it for you to see. “Humans are always to stubborn.” He blurts out turning back to you and holding up the two copies of paper. “Nearly identical copies that any human wishes they could draw themselves. Yet you crumble and throw them away like nothing.”

You turn your eyes away either from shame or anger and irritation. The demon before you only stares at you a sigh escapes his lips trying to find the proper words to say. “Mortals like you always try to strive for perfection when you already have it.” You perk up hearing his words.

“Self perfection can lead to self destruction if you don’t bring yourself back to reality.” His words shiver ringing in your ear. It only brings you back to reality, harsh words that really have a sweet meaning underneath. Your eyes drift back to your art and then back to the discarded treasures that litter the floor.

Kokushibo noticing the glint in your eyes hesitates before stepping closer. Slowly wrapping his arms around you to bring you into his embrace. You lean into his surprising warmth he’s providing as a needed sigh finally escapes your lips.

“Thank you.” Is all your able to mutter before your head moves to the crook of his neck, his hand coming around to rub circles slowly on your back.

Kokushibo can’t help but feel a slight smile spread across his lips. While healing takes steps he finds some happiness that you’ve taken the first leap of faith.

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

Show me Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Word count: 2k ish?

Summary: Reader is insecure about her body and Bob shows her just how beautiful she is...

Warnings/tags: fluff, implications of smut, body insecurities, TW; mentions s/h, one use of y/n

Not proofread. English isn’t my first language so there may be mistakes.

Masterlist

It has somehow become an everyday ritual for you now. After showers, standing in front of the fogged up mirror as you picked out every small thing that you thought was wrong about you. the swell of your tummy to the fat of your thigh to the scars that littered your body, large or small, it didn't matter. Their existence was the sole reason you were here. 

It first started when you and Bob attended the New Year's party at Jake's house. It was a beautiful house more so than the people in it. Tall girls, with skinny legs and model like bodies. It made you pull down your red slit dress a little that cling to your body like second skin. Trying to cover the already visible lines that you had spent hours covering. It wasn’t  a special dress, something that had been sitting in the back of your closet collecting dust. 

You moved through the house with Bob’s arm around the low of your back. Trying to navigate through the dense crowd of navy officials and some of Bob's previous Top gun classmates that you had met prior. Once you had spotted the gracious host of the party and your friends in the small patio, you and Bob settled in your little corner around the bonfire that Jake had set up. Just as you were about to sit on the chair next to him, Bob patted his thigh; an invitation you didn’t always decline. You smile at him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before settling to the chair beside him.

His lips turned downwards, a frown replacing his toothy smile. But he dusted the concern off when he saw you wave happily at Phoenix who had also just arrived. You looked to him again, giving his a loving smile before tilting your head towards Phoenix to which he nodded gracefully.

His lips turned downwards, a frown replacing his toothy smile. But he dusted the concern off when he saw you wave happily at Phoenix who had also just arrived. You looked to him again, giving his a loving smile before tilting your head towards Phoenix to which he nodded gracefully.

You both were reserved like that. It was probably why you had become such great friends and ended up dating after meeting years ago at the Hard deck when you were working under Penny.

Soon enough it was half an hour before midnight. Phoenix gave you a heads up as she looked at her watch, a reassurance that you could find Bob if you wanted to. Once again you were left victim to the crowds because somehow you and Phoenix had managed to grab a private conversation in Jake’s bedroom. So, you moved through sweaty bodies and tender legs before you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. It felt as though everyone’s gaze was fixated on you, a deer caught in headlights.

You managed to stumble your way into Jake’s kitchen before you felt an arm tighten around your waist, flinching you tried pushing it back but the voice just above the shell of your ear spoke lowly.

“Been looking everywhere for you, darlin’.”

The calm in his voice eased your nerves a little as you let out a sigh, turning in his arms. Wrapping your hands around his neck loosely, a lazy smile on both of your faces. He backed you up against a counter in the corner, easily making way for himself between the crowd.

“Hmm… and why would that be?” You teased, leaning into him, your hand coming up to his face to push his glasses up.

“Is it a crime to look for the prettiest girl at the party?” Your cheeks flushed at the question, stomach doing backflips but somewhere in there you felt guilty. For not sharing the insecurities you had with him.

He took notice of the distant frown you wore now as you ducked your head into his neck, peppering small kisses as you muttered a ‘no’. Suddenly becoming too aware of your detached behavior. He swayed on his feet, moving a hand to the back of your head as his other tightened around your waist.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Hmm…”

The acknowledgement wasn’t enough for him. He somewhat knew of your anxieties and what they withheld. You had worked hard on improving your mental health over the months the two of you had been together. It was something that had held you back from dating him in the first place but he said he’d wait for you his entire life if it meant he had a single chance with you.

The rest is history and now, here you stand, twenty minutes to midnight, to a new chapter of your relationship. Fighting with all your might to put the gnawing feeling of unworthiness away.

Bob cupped your face in his hands, he noticed the faint hint of tears in your lash line. His heart broke a little, chipping away on the tiled floor.

“Hey, don’t cry. Tell me, what’s wrong?” He cooed. His voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked when receiving nothing but a broken look from you.

You nodded, silently hoping that he will take you straight home. You ended up maneuvering your way out of the house, not before saying a quick goodbye to Phoenix and the rest of your friends. You step out into the nipping cold before Bob has a chance to catch up with you, hastily making your way towards his car as you pretend to not hear his calls from behind you over the loud music amplifying from the house.

“Y/n! Stop!” his voice booms and you freeze, turning slowly on your heels to face him.

He stepped closer to you, an unconscious move he made every time there was a single meter of distance between the two of you.

“Tell me what's wrong, please.” he says- no begs. He doesn't know what caused this sudden change in you but he sure as hell will go out of his way to make you feel better.

You shake your head, lips trembling. The ground is melting under you, the world slowly fading away as voices fill your head; cruel, vile, abhorrent voices.

“The voices, Bobby, they won’t stop.” You crumbled on the cobblestone ground, your heels digging into the ground as you put your full weight on them. Bob runs to you, swiftly taking you in his arms; a hand wrapping around your head as the other goes to stabilize you around your back, swaying you back and forth.

“What, baby, what are they saying?” He asks tentatively, scared that might say the wrong words.

“The scars…my tummy, everything. Please just make it stop Bob, please.” you sobbed into him. Gripping his shirt as though your life depended on it. Throat contracting, it was becoming more and more difficult for you to breathe.

“Let’s get you home”

…

Somehow the 30 minute car journey to your shared house had lulled you to sleep. It wasn’t unusual for you to experience these symptoms in crowded places. What concerned Bob was the voices. A sign you had been spiraling. It was something you had experienced for a few years before meeting Bob, but when you met him, somehow you wanted to escape to him; to work harder on your mental health just so you could be with him.

He had been with you every step of the way. Guiding you, though both of you were blind to the path that you had taken. There was only one thing you knew. You weren’t going to let go of each other.

As Bob pulled into the driveway, his attention turned to you. You were out cold, head propped on your shoulder uncomfortably that was bound to give you a ridiculous neck pain the next morning. Quickly, he moved around the car to your side, carefully removing your seatbelt, managing to avoid your head and resting it against the headrest. Squatting down to your eye level; he tucks his arms under you, one moving to support your back while the other is snug under your thighs. You stir a little as he lifts you out of the car,arms tightening around him as you tuck your head into his chest a little more. Closing the door with the heel of his foot, locking it; he moved towards the entrance of your house. Careful not to wake you.

After a while, he’s managed to get you in bed. Weighing the idea whether he should wake you or leave you be.

He decides he’d stay but not wake you. making his way to the en-suite bathroom to get some counsiousness into him. It’s way past midnight, the new year already seeping into his mind. Splashing some cold water onto his flushed face; steadying himself on the sink, he breathes. Inhale…exhale….inhale…exhale. He repeated it a couple times; just like you had taught him.

There is a sudden knock on the bathroom door, he lifts his head to meet your bloodshot eyes standing in the doorway. Hair let down, your dress long gone, replaced by a pajama shirt of his that reached just above your knees, swallowing you whole.

He shows you a weak smile, observing the way your lips slightly trembled when he did so. He turns around to grab the towel and wipe his face, then makes his way towards you, taking you in his arms. Tucking you into his chest as he peppers soft kisses on the crown of your head.

“I'm sorry.”

“I’m sorry”

The apology slips out of you both at the same time. One a whisper; the other equally as quiet.

“Why are you sorry?” he beckons, holding you at elbow length.

“I ruined New Year’s Eve for you, our first new years together…” you mutter in a small voice. Visibly shirinking, trying to pry out of his grasp but he keeps a firm hold on you, but not enough to hurt.

“No, baby, you didn’t ruin anything. It’s still new years, you see that, your big bang?” He inclined his head towards the window, a plethora of colors flashing their way in and out, a kaleidoscope in the night sky. Booming and sparkling their way into life and dying in an instant.

Like the Big Bang, you had once told him.

“I’m with you, that is the best part of my new year.”

A small smile graces your face, eyes burning with the salty tears as they escape their way out of them. Bob cups your face in his hands, thumb swiping the tears away as he stares into your eyes, the fireworks outside illuminating their way into his eyes as a thousand galaxies deep their way into yours.

He rests his forehead against yours, his own tears flowing down the soft slope of his cheeks. The focus of his eyes dip towards your lips and back to your eyes.

A question of consent.

You answer it by closing the space between you. Hands wrapping around his neck as you pull him into you. It feels as though the fireworks outside have traveled their way into your stomach as your lips meet. Molding together though they were made for each other.

A soft gasp escapes his lips as he pulls you in further by the waist, thumb rubbing the soft curve of it. Before it could go further than a gentle gesture, he pulls away, backing against the door as he keeps you steady.

“I’m sorry that I failed you” you open your mouth to interject but he pushes a finger to your lips, quieting you as you look at him with wide eyes; “ahh, let me tell you something:

You are the most beautiful creature that I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, no matter how you may think of yourself. The world- hell the fucking universe couldn’t compare to the beauty you hold. And I want you to know that; no matter how many times you point out things about yourself that you think are unattractive, I will always find a way to show you that it’s not unattractive. It’s unique. You are unique, my beautiful, beautiful Y/n.”

Your lips are still shut by his finger that rests softly on them. But the tears that run their way down your face are evident. All emotions held in one look.

You slowly grab the finger that holds them shut. Removing it to let your emotions out. Instead of saying something, you simply grab his face, smashing your lips together in a heated kiss.

“Show me”

A/n: ANNDDD that is all my lovelies, I am in LOVE with these two. do let me know if you want a part two and what you thought about this?? Reblog, asks and comments are always appreciated <33

Taglist:

@lemur46

@elicheel

@arson-tm

@blahblechblah

@ravenhood2792

@bussyslayer333 (I didn’t know if you wanted to be added but lmk if you don’t 🫶🏻)

[l0serloki]

hii! can i request some cassidy x reader fluff? i’m not picky anything is okay! <3 tysm

Cole Cassidy x Reader

Genre : Fluff

Summary : You planned to make cookies with your boyfriend… However, an impromptu nap may ruin that.

CW : GN!Reader, Cass calls reader doll/darling, a little sexual at the end :^>

A/N : Sorry it took so long and if there’s any mistakes! I’ve been in like a writing slump and then wrote this little blurb just now (7 am no sleep moment). I hope there’s not too many typos and you enjoy!! Thank you for the request! 💚

Cooking with Cassidy was always such a mess. He claimed that the trash and bowls littered everywhere was the result of “southern love’. You could only sigh as you prepared for the hour cleanup.

This time, however, was different. You had planned weeks ahead for the two of you to partake in some ‘christmassy’ ideas since he hadn’t before. The two of you had gone shopping for eggnog and ingredients to make cookies, buying almost the whole aisle of snacks in the process.

Cassidy twirled around you, giving your cheek a kiss as he dipped his finger in the icing.

“Cass, would you quit! That’s for the cookies!” You elbowed the man, causing him to grunt.

“Well if ya’ took the time to finish up the cookies then I wouldn’t eat the icin’!”

You could only throw your hands up in defeat, still working at the dough.

“You say that like you didn’t spill flour over the counter five million times. The one to blame is yourself! We were supposed to be doing this together…” You saw the mans eyes shoot open at your pout, suddenly getting guilty.

“Sorry darlin’, we still will! We gotta ice them together.. I-Uh won’t eat anymore.” His arm wrapped around your torso, lips smothering your face in light kisses.

You shooed the man out of the kitchen, finally putting the finishing touches on the cookies. You shuffled the tin into the oven, setting the timer.

Making your way into the living room, you were met with the lovely sight of your boyfriend sprawled against the couch. He sipped away at a glass of eggnog and was focused on some old movie. Moments like these made your heart warm, wishing that you could snap a forever photo of him in your brain.

“Scoot back! I wanna join.” You pushed against him, his arms enveloping you. “Yeah yeah! Hold ‘yur horses doll. I’m trying to put my drink away so I don’t spill it!” The two of you readjusted on the couch until finally comfy. Your head rested against his well-built chest, hands rubbing circles into his bicep.

The slow lull of his breathing calmed you, sending you off to sleep. It wasn’t until you heard the blaring alarm and your boyfriend jolt that you remembered about the oven.

“Oh shoot! Cass, our cookies!” You jumped up, running into the kitchen, hoping they weren’t completely ruined. Opening the oven, the harsh heat met your face, hands pulling out the sheet.

A few of them were a little too torched to salvage but most of them came out fine. You were a little disappointed that Cassidy’s first ‘cookie baking’ had gone awry but there was always next year.

“Are the cookies okay?” Arms wrapped around you once again, his scruffy head leaning over your shoulder.

“Mm, some of them. Grab the icing and we can eat.” You went to turn but his grasp kept you in place. He spun you around, leaning down to capture your lips in a surprise kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, lips meeting his with the same passion.

“We can make those cookies later. I wanna have my dessert now.”

[or0ch1maru]

ima need some nsfw obito x curvy fem reader head canons 💳💳💳💳💳

18+, minors, ageless blogs, and trolls DNI

note: i am very petite with limited curves so if i made any mistake in my imaging, please let me know and i will gladly fix it!

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

-for starters, just know he will have a hand on you at all times. obito can't get enough of you and your figure

-sees you as a goddess and treats you as such, especially in the bedroom

-our sweet boy will worship your body; starts with a chaste kiss to your lips before moving down your neck, following every dip and curve.

-HICKEYS. your frame will be littered in red and purple marks. another thing he loves is leaving bite marks across your soft skin. his favorite place being your hips and ass. the feel of your curves under his hands and teeth is something he can never get enough of

-obito loves any position where he can see your face, but loses himself when he's got you bent over any surface, the way the plush of your ass ripples with every thrust is more than enough to make him cum.

-spanks and squeezes your ass as he's balls deep. watching as your cheeks turn pink and red from the constant contact

-was never the type to prefer tits over ass or vice versa as he loves all of you so much, but that doesn't deter him from obsessing over the way your figure looks when you're arched in doggy

-don't worry yourself if you think you may be 'too heavy' to sit on his face, he will HAPPILY suffocate under your pretty pussy and thick thighs. if you even attempt to hover, his hands will clamp down on your waist as he yanks you down onto his tongue

-his eyes will be on your face the entire time, watching your chest rise and fall as you buck against his sinful mouth, the way your hands palm at your full breasts, gently pulling and pinching at your nipples

-will squeeze and rub circles against your hips and thighs to reassure you to keep going, to use his mouth as your own personal toy

-his eyes rolling back as your adorable and puffy clit bumps against his nose, coating the entirety of his lower face in your slick.

-if you wear a dress or any type of outfit that accentuates your figure in any way, just know obito will be pulling you away to any empty bathroom for a quickie.

-pulling your dress or skirt up, pushing your panties to the side as he fucks into you. your cheek mushed against the wall as he fills you up

-when he's like this, his hands don't stay in one place, they're roaming all over you; neck, tits, belly, down your spine. he truly can't get enough of you

-will NEVER have you feeling insecure or putting yourself down about yourself. he has two methods for the times this happens

-the first being; body worship. he will kiss and give you a reason for each feature you're worrying about. will have you standing naked in front of his full body mirror as he does this. wants you to see yourself as he does

-ex: if you're insecure about your belly/pouch. he will plant kisses everywhere before telling you why he loves it. 's a pillow f' me baby, so soft and plush'

-his second way being you either flat on your back in missionary, or fucked standing up in front of said mirror. his hands caressing your plush, leaving hickey's as temporary visuals of his love as he would call it. for days after you can look at yourself in the mirror and see the lingering devotion and adoration your boyfriend/husband left on you

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎ ♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER III

"YOU MUST BE SOMEWHAT worried, (name)," William spoke, eventually ending their book discussion.

"Why would I be worried? I'm not worried."she replied back quickly clenching her fists against her dress. "There's nothing to be worried about."

William brought his hand up to (name)'s face, slowly brushing it from her cheek down to her chin whilst she grew more flustered by the second as she furrowed her brows. He tilted her chin up gently so she was facing him, centimetres away from his face

"It's not every day that you get 'fake engaged' to someone..and I understand you don't think of me fondly." He reminded her to which she replied with a scoff.

"I think that's quite the understatement," (name) grew strangely cold all of a sudden, moving away from him. "Shouldn't you be returning to the party? Are your brothers not looking for you at least?"

"I told them I was coming out here to find you, they're currently entertaining themselves with the other guests..I suspect Albert may be speaking to Marquis (Last name) about the wedding arrangements," William said, resting his head against the bark of the tree, his light blond locs contrasting with the dark tree. He shut his eyes as if he were thinking deeply about something. "Did your parents give you their blessing..?"

(Name) nodded "Father seemed enthusiastic about the wedding and mother was satisfied that I wasn't going to die alone..although our marriage will probably not change anything in that sense." She sighed, picking her book back up from the ground "wait a minute-" she paused as William opened his eyes to face her once more "you gave me the impression that you just so happened to have stumbled across me reading here, but you were, in actuality, looking for me?"

William averted his gaze, and turning away so that his face was no longer visible to (name) whilst slowly standing up. "Well it's not like you to be surprised when coming into knowledge of my ulterior motives..I'll return to the party now," he turned and gave (name) his hand to take so he could help her up "Would you care to join me?"

She smacked his hand away, to which William gave a polite smile. "I thought we had already established that I don't need your help with anything"

"Oh but you do, sweetheart," William smirked, his voice held a mocking yet amused tone "Have you really forgotten why this engagement was arranged?"

"Do not remind me of my foolish mistakes, Moriarty." (Name) glared as she stood up. "You know exactly why I requested your assistance and the heavens are to witness that this will be the first and last time I ask for your help."

"You haven't changed much from your fiery teenage self." Her fiancé chuckled softly, guiding her hand to his arm as they walked back together, much to (name)'s annoyance.

The party had ended after hours of pretending to be William's dearest lover and (name) eventually retired to her chambers in the Marquis' summer estate.

Josephine was patiently waiting outside of her room to help her get ready for bed whilst (name) screamed into her pillow repeatedly.

'William must have been flirting with her ladyship again..' Josephine thought to herself with a sigh.

Eventually the door swung open to reveal a disheveled and irritated (name), allowing Josephine to enter her large room. From a single glance, one could instantly tell this wasn't her usual residence. She would only stay in the summer estate if she were too tired to leave after a party or in the summer when the environment was a lot more enjoyable. Except this summer felt like absolute hell all because of that stupid man.

(Name)'s room in London, where she usually would stay, was a mess, especially around her desk where papers were littered everywhere, and (name) would usually lie with her head on the desk, asleep whilst her hair cascaded onto the wood surface, her whole appearance disheveled.

"Would you like me to help you undress, my lady?" The 15 year old asked, wary of her lady's unpredictable temper.

(Name) nodded and as soon as Josephine had started helping her remove her attire and makeup, she instantly begun to complain about William's behaviour.

"...and then he just smirked at me and had the nerve to say 'oh but you do sweetheart.'" (Name) quoted him in a mocking voice as she mimicked him. "It's like he wants me to punch him right in the nose."

Josephine tried to resist the urge to laugh and maintain a straight face whilst (name) continued complaining. Ever since her lady had started teaching her how to read and write, Josephine had started reading a few romance novels which (name) would eagerly lend her from the estate's library and she really could not help but think that (name) and William seemed like the perfect protagonists for one of those books.

"My lady, what time would you like to take the train to London in the morning?" Josephine asked once (name) was sat in her bed, with a book in her hands

"As early as possible..I have business to attend to for the sake of the Marquis. He's quite incompetent when it comes to trade but when he throws parties, he's all of a sudden a master trader...really...father must have been the one to inherit the intelligence from My late grandparents, even though he doesn't act like it.." (name) trailed off "let's see..we should be at London by noon, so we must leave Cornwall at..about five o'clock in the morning."

"Very well, I shall leave you to rest with the time we have now." Josephine left the room with a smile.

As she returned to her chambers even as a maid, she couldn't help but feel somewhat excited for the coming months in her lady's stead.

Within the next month, Lady (name) would marry Lord William and become Lady Moriarty. The wedding plans had already been set out and despite being for a fake relationship, they were so incredibly extravagant.

From what she had seen in the past few months that she had been serving Lady (name) she was quite the workaholic. Whether it be studying for university to prove her worth to the world, or managing her uncle's financial affairs, (name) would do nothing but sit at her desk for hours on end.

In Josephine's eyes, the only person who could temporarily distract her from this addiction was Lord William. She had only met the man once or twice when accompanying Lady (name) to meet him but from what she had seen of their relationship and heard from others, William had an incredibly teasing nature with the woman, even when she had a gun to his throat whilst he proposed to her.

She had only wished her saviour great happiness and if William was the one to give that to her, she would gladly root for them.

Josephine picked up the journal beside her bed, writing about her day. Once her arms had grown tired and weary as she wrote of what (name) had told her she had experienced and her day in the manor, she put her fountain pen down and flipped through the journal she had recently received as she waited for the ink to dry. The previous entries had made her feel emotional. Naturally so, considering all she had been through.

Eventually, her fingers made their way to the first entry. Her handwriting quality and variation of vocabulary was limited compared to what she had done recently but she felt proud of learning how to write nonetheless.

Josephine shut the leather diary and blew out her candle before falling asleep with a soft smile on her face.

‘It’s dark’

Grey eyes darted around the room. It was a strange little , but well kept basement. The entrance, which was surrounded by fog, clearly indicated that this was a nobleman’s home.

Her pale fingers pressed onto the door, opening it as it creaked.

Inside was a man with his back turned to the door. He was stood against a table.

Josephine kept her eyes on the man, frozen in fear but what she was afraid of, she didn’t know.

Or rather, she had forgotten the horrors she once saw.

She looked back at the table. There was an arm hanging limp over the edge of the table. The noises had gotten clearer and she could know hear some groans coming from the man and subtle sounds of tearing and cutting.

The man turned around, making eye contact with her but his face, apart from his blood shot eyes, was dark and cast in shadow.

“No!”

Sitting up, Josephine realised she was drenched in sweat. Her palms were clammy and her face flushed red. She put her hand to her chest as she tried to steady her breathing.

“He can’t hurt me anymore..he..he’s gone..”

A/N: poor Josephine, itd be a shame if her past came back to haunt her :) jk I’m not that mean. Also I’m sorry not that many fl and Liam interactions this chapter I promise itll get better later. Anyways tiny sneak peak to Josies backstory I wonder what happened-

[yanderu-deredere]

the m in may stands for marriage

a/n: idk what this is honestly. the prompt was so hard forreal and this is just something silly and stupid tbh LOL

warning: gender neutral reader prompt: day twenty eight ★ getting the giggles together

fujio watanabe ★ profile

Fujio was nothing if not the clingiest husband known to man and, though you loved him dearly, sometimes his habit of dragging you everywhere he needed to go was a little annoying.

Especially now as you sit on one of the various equipments littered around the gym, your husband in front of you shirtless and lifting weights.

Though you yourself rarely exercised, Fujio tended to go to the gym at least once a day if not multiple times a day. You wouldn't have a problem with that if it weren't for the fact that he needed you to come with him.

Fujio put his weight back on the rack and walked over to you, his sweaty body both sexy and disgusting.

You handed him his water bottle and a towel "You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He replied in the most snarky tone you'd ever heard and it immediately made you roll your eyes, cross your arms and look in a different direction.

Big mistake.

Your arms immediately uncrossed and your hand flew to your face to cover your mouth.

"The fuck's wrong with you?" Fujio furrowed his brows at his rather odd spouse.

You just scooted over and patted the space next to you, hoping your husband would understand and not argue like he usually did.

He complied, thankfully, and you pointedly glanced at the really buff looking guy who was doing the really big weights. Normally, you minded your own business but this guy was sweating. So much so, in fact, that he had an ass stain the size of a baseball.

Fujio immediately laughed. You shushed him despite the fact that you were a bit giggly yourself.

"Shut up, shut up." You wrapped your arm around his neck and tried to cover his mouth.

He just wrapped his arms around your waist and laughed into the crook of his neck, his sweat rubbing onto your clothes and your skin.

You couldn't find it in yourself to care, too busy still laughing with your stupid husband.

[timeguardians]

When Danger Comes Home

LibertyKingdom

Summary:

A blast takes out 51's Ambo bay and coat room "Call out!" There's a voice, interspersing with the still blaring sound. The annunciation of the words is so garbled, suffocated beneath the fierce grip of tinnitus, that Violet decides it's best not to bother attempting to translate them. It takes more effort than she can readily expend. Again, the voice presses urgently. This time, the sound emanates from somewhere above her. Then, it is followed by the most adoring iteration of her name she's ever heard. "Violet?!" Sam?

Work Text:

Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.

The incessant piercing whine permeates every inch of her form, until it becomes nearly intermingled with a strangled breath that tries to reach her lungs. Somewhere in her subconcious, she muses about burying her alarm deep beneath the cushion of her mattress. Horrifyingly enough, it's not the alarm her fumbling hand finds when Violet flails out an arm. No. It's fair too coarse and grainy. Since when did she had layers of dirt on her nightstand? She didn't. There has to be some mistake.

A piteous groan tugs free of clenched teeth as the ebony-haired medic tries to turn towards the sound. Her next inhale is riddled with a gravelly cough. She strains, trying to determine if the stench of smoke had set off the fire alarm. But that wasn't quite it. As irritating as a smoke detector could be, this pitch was different. Alarmingly different. There's a choir of Pass devices, all singing in unison. A fact she discerns far too late.

"Call out!" There's a voice, interspersing with the still blaring sound. The annunciation of the words is so garbled, suffocated beneath the fierce grip of tinnitus, that Violet decides it's best not to bother attempting to translate them. It takes more effort than she can readily expend. Again, the voice presses urgently. This time, the sound emanates from somewhere above her. Then, it is followed by the most adoring iteration of her name she's ever heard. "Violet?!"

Sam?

Hands, furnice-like, and all-encompassing, adhere to her face. It is the first tangible thing that resonates among the chaoses. Why? Why were his hands on her? The first swallow is air dry. Violet tries to push herself up, but finds one of his warm hands had diverted to press her back down.

"You're okay. Don't try to move." Sam carver insists, thumbing with great tenderness at the smudges of debris that littered her pallored face. Though his words are tinctured with relief, there is still an undercurrent of dread lurking in their wake. "Just try not to move. There was an explosion." The Ambulance bay and uniform room were GONE. The area was eradicated completely by the blast, almost as if, it had ever truly existed at all. Tentative eyes swivel about, searching for anyone else who may have been with Violet.

Bits and pieces of the now mangled emergency vehicle lay strewn about her, over her, and everywhere within her range of vision. It must have been that package. She thought it strange when she saw it seated upon the stretcher and had gone to inspect it. Sylvie hadn't mentioned getting more supplies which made it's presence there all the more curious.

"Violet? Carver patiently grits out for what may have been the twelfth time. She's not focusing. The brunette can tell from the vacuous expression her usually warm and attentive eyes gave off. He swallows down a surging sense of dread, uncertain if he truly wants her ask the next question or not. "Was anyone else in here with you?"

Showers of cotton-candy pink insulation continue to drift lazily down over them in small billowy clouds, like some feverish but fantastical snow storm. A fact that gradually registers to the paramedic. It takes her several moments to focus her hopelessly whirring mind. "S---Sylvie?" She again strives to sit up, finding the hand on her chest every bit as unmoving as it had been.

"Easy." The word is clipped, warningly enough. Sam's sharp eyes surveilled the room for any sign of the familiar blonde. A pit of apprehension forms, snaking like shattered glass through his intestines.

Gritted teeth beseech him. "Tell me what's going on, Carver." Her head tipping back to rest on parts of a blown tire. Worry laces through every coil of her eye. "Carver!" This time his name is spoken more adamantly.

He pallors at the request. Well, it was more like a demand. A demand that inspired his broad shoulders to bristle. "Can you feel your legs?" He diverts with the aim to distract.

"What?" She stares at him in bewilderment. That wasn't the update she thought she had asked for.

"Can you feel your legs? Violet? I need you to answer me."

[artificialqueens]

Daddy's Boy, Chapter 6.5 (Biadore) - Imafuckinglibra

Ummmm. Hi. I don’t really know if anyone on here cares or if I’m shouting into a void. Obviously I’ve been gone a minute. I’m making this one 6.5 bc technically it’s supposed to be 7 but I don’t know if I’m publishing it yet or If it’s worth publishing it I should say. As an apology though I’m including a bonus at the end for whoever wants it. If there’s mistakes I’m sorry if there’s a part 7 it’ll be fixed. 

This is just pure smut btw enjoy.

“Fashion is like eating, you shouldn’t stick to the same menu.” Kenzo Takada. If you we take his words to actually mean what they literally say, you could say he’s implying we should change our choices. Kind of like…"

“Who the fuck wrote this shit?” Roy grumbled out loud, trying to find the name of the culprit on the loosely stapled pages in front of him. 

He tossed his glasses off onto the bed and tried rubbing the frustration out of his weary eyes with his thumb & index finger.

‘I’m too old for this’ He thought. ‘Go be a costume designer, no I want to TEACH. Be a LEADER.‘ sigh “Yeah right.” 

He had to come to realization we all do that - inevitably - when we’re alone for too long we kind of go, batshit. You start thinking about your life choices and just where oh where did you go wrong. And man did he feel alone.

His apartment, although my no means small especially on a teacher salary, suddenly felt massive. Without his near constant companion running around in baggy jeans, ill fitting hoodies or singing about every day activities the apartment felt like he did. Vast & vacant. Tad dramatic perhaps.

The living room once just books, dog beds and a TV was now littered with photographs, guitar picks, knick knacks so many empty bottles of various sodas or beer. 

The bathroom once so pristine now riddled with long hair everywhere, toothpaste splatter against the mirror, bottles of all sorts of hair and face lotions.

Food smeared and discarded left and right in the kitchen area, boxes and boxes of old take out. Empty bags of chips or half eaten cookies just scattered about without a care in the world. 

Not to mention the bedroom. 

“Just look at how he left these pillows!” He thought. 

Well, to be honest none of it was that bad. Not even close. Everything was immaculately clean. It just been so long since he’d seen Danny he had to start making things up to be mad at him at. If he didn’t he’d start to think of the good and then he’d just miss him.

In true college student fashion the punk rocker had taken the opportunity summer vacation presents to travel with his friends. Him and his roommates packed their bags into Brian’s busted little car and decided to travel the US and hit at least one new bar every night. It may have only been 12 weeks but god it felt like 5 years. 

Some times they’d just stay in one place, sobering up in some dodgy hotel before they head to the next place. Which Roy absolutely despised, causing many a fight between the two. At least 3 times. At least. 

However. Some times, most times, fine. Pretty much every city to be honest, Danny and Brian would perform some of their music and they’d have gas, food and hotel money the next day. Which Roy had to admit, made him proud. 

The fact that he could take responsibility and provide for himself like this with his craft was absolutely endearing. Roy envied him for it once in a while. 

Granted. He didn’t do it all himself, he had 4 others with him. Jason included, the only one with a head on his shoulders who’d pre planned every last detail of their trip before they left. 

Summer comes and goes every year though and so does financial independence and adolescent freedom. Danny and his friends had to finally return to school, and finally back to Roy. Not before making a stop at his mom’s house first though. 

He’d been in Azusa for 2 weeks at this point, getting his school work in order, doing laundry, buying school supplies, being babied by his mother and bullied by his brothers as 20 somethings do. 

“God I miss him though.” Roy said to Dede who’d been strolling through the empty hallway. Realizing the essay from hell was finally over and done with. 

‘D!!’ he scribbled on it. ‘You at least managed to get your own name right, now try getting other people’s name right! Baloney!’

VRRRR VRRRR

His phone vibrated on the bedside table next to him. He carefully dropped the stack of papers  onto the portable work bench he kept close by and picked up his phone. 

Incoming Call

Danny 

Danny put the heart next to his own name, don’t question it. 

“Hey, you headin…” Roy asked before he realized what he was looking at and grabbed his bottom lip with his hand to keep from laughing. 

“Shhh.” Danny gestured softly with his index finger over his lips, whispering the command. “Quiet.” 

Danny had propped his phone against some shampoo bottles and a tub of conditioner at the bottom of his mother’s shower. The front camera pointed directly at center stage just for Roy.

His head was tilted in the corner of the tiled shower, his body contorted to fit into the small cubicle. Bent long legs either side of his chest to give his partner the best possible view of the skinny middle finger gliding slowly in and around both entrances. 

His mouth agape in ecstasy at the hot water spraying down from the shower head against the wall onto his growth and down his inner thighs. 

“Naughty boy.” Roy whispered to himself with a devilish grin. He knew Danny only ever teased or fingered himself in both holes when he was desperate. Something which he didn’t frequently do up until right before he left. During finals when he was too stressed to see each other. 

“It must’ve been a minute since he’s been able to jerk off.” He thought but hey can’t blame him. He might have been a liiiitle pent up too. 

Roy picked up on the hint and put the phone down on the bed against his headboard so Danny could enjoy his own show. 

Sitting back on his ankles Roy undid his shorts zipper and pulled his semi erect cock out. Slowly tugging at it to match Danny’s rhythm. Eager to catch up with him but not eager enough to ruin the moment too fast. 

Driving his young lover wild with his fist steadily opening and closing, squeezing the pre cum out of the tip. The same pre cum Danny spent hours teasing him with. 

He reached for the drawer or toys they’d accumulated in their time together and pulled out a fleshlight Danny bought him before he left. 

“No.” Danny mouthed shaking his head. “Pillow” 

“Pillow?” Roy whispered. 

“I want to see.” He gestured back with one now freed hand. 

Roy realized what he meant and happily obliged.

With one hand still around his shaft and the other gripping under him he slowly lowered himself as he would if Danny had been there rather than his hand. 

“Like that.” Danny smiled biting his lip. Watching carefully for when Roy’s cock would slide into his palm again. Sliding 2 fingers into his asshole at the same time. 

He’d grown accustomed to pretending Roy was the one pleasuring him rather than himself, especially when they played together like this. 

He still felt the same butterflies in his stomach he had the very first time they slept together, the same giddy high from watching Roy’s head twitch at every gentle touch. The veins wrapping around his thick tan cock. 

‘Oh fuck he’s gorgeous.’ He thought, watching his body tense and relax with every thrust. His skin becoming shiny with sweat as he picked up his pace, probably without realizing. 

Or maybe Danny was the one who picked up his pace first, who knows. He couldn’t tell anymore. All he wanted was Roy to fuck him hard right now, even if it was just pretend. 

“Dan!” His mom yelled snapping them to reality. 

“Yeah?” Danny yelled frowning at Roy to hush. His fingers slowing down significantly but not stopping. As if he’s been caught in the act before but knew he could get away with it. 

“We’re heading to dinner soon, when you gonna be done?” 

“Like 10 more minutes I’m just washing my hair.” He lied winking at his audience. 

“Okay Hun, we’ll wait for you.”

“AirPods.” Roy whispered quickly gesturing with his hands while they were still unoccupied. 

“But they’ll get wet?”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Roy rolled his eyes. Danny had dropped these AirPods in everything from salsa, mountain dew to even the mud at the dog park but this was one step too far apparently. Really?

Without missing a beat Danny simply reached his long legs over to his pants that had the case still inside. He put just one in, being careful to keep his head out of the splash zone. Reassuming his position when he was ready with the water perfectly hitting its target again. 

“Ready?” Roy growled into his ear.

“Yeah…” Danny melted into his voice. Thinking how close he could get to cumming right then and there just at hearing his rasp again. 

“I can’t. Wait. To. Fuck….ugh, you.” Roy grunted emphasizing each word with a thrust into his palm. Watching as Danny nodded lost in his own desires, his fingers pounding into himself with him. Making his top lip quiver each time, distorting his face into a silent cry as he tried to control himself. 

A year ago he’d be too embarrassed to act like this over a video call but dating someone long distance like this changes a person. Especially when that person begs so nicely for it each time. 

“I know you want both holes filled, don’t you. I need to fuck you, I need to taste your cum running down my chin again.” He continued.

Danny whimpered a near silent “uh huh” at him drifting his eyes closed as his hands took over with a mind of their own. His left hand finding the same path as his right. A single lanky finger curling into himself, enough for now to apply just the perfect pressure for release.

“Fuck you’re gonna cum right, uhng…now.” Roy panted thrusting himself harder and harder despite his legs burning. His breath ragged. “Right now, aren’t you. Oh fuck.”

“Uh…huh.” Danny nodded again to the best of his ability as his hips bucked, his fingers and toes all curling in as his orgasm overtook him.

Roy watched him writhing around, the sight pushing him so close to the edge he didn’t think he could come back from it. But he didn’t want to look away yet, he didn’t want this moment to end so soon. 

Watching Danny melt into the floor as his hips instinctively kept riding his own fingers were too delectable to let go just yet. His bottom lip clenched tight between perfect teeth as he fought back from making a sound. His chest puffed high as he fought for air. 

“Hngh I can’t wait, fuck, to fill you with cum. Watch it drip out of your tight little ass”. He kept teasing. Knowing Danny hadn’t had enough yet, he could see it in the brief flash when their eyes finally met again. 

Rhythm be dammed at this point he was uncontrollably humping his pillow chasing his own orgasmic high as he tried leading Danny to a second.  Wether ready or not he couldn’t escape it now. “C’mon baby, I know you got one more. Keep that hand there.” 

Danny took a deep gulp for air and moved his left hand towards his growth instead, jerking off furiously in unison with his hips’ gyrating. 

“I…hm huh.” He squeaked softly. The coil inside his body near snapping again despite never going down. 

“Aaah!! Fucking…Dan. Shit.” Roy cried, looking down at his cock pulsing violently. Cum shooting out from his hand onto the sheets beneath him. Splattering across the pillow, the bench next to him and nearly on his phone. 

He kept his chin pressed against his own chest trying to catch his breath, his eyes shut in ecstasy as he heard a faint squeak between the shower splashes coming from his phone. 

His eyes fighting open as he watched Danny completely drop into a mess with his legs uncontrollably shaking through his second orgasm. His face scrunched up, bright red and dripping in probably sweat if the water hadn’t gotten to it yet. 

“Holy shit.” He sighed wiping his hair out of his face. “Fuck baby you made me cum a gallon.” 

Danny softly chuckled under his breath as he straightened his legs up and out against the tiles. Ass still on the floor as he felt the water washing away his sins. “Shhh.” He joked again.

“See. What am I supposed to do with this?” Roy teased pretending to be mad as he turned the camera to give him a view. 

Danny took his phone and started typing quickly. 

You better save some for me then when I get back. You promised to fill me up remember.

“Yeah I remember.” Roy laughed. “Gonna make up for all the times you blue balled me this summer.”

Danny’s face went flat when he read it. Looking into the camera with fake distain. 

Nevermind. I’ll just find some other professor to do it, fuck my way to an A this semester. 

“Dirty bitch…” Roy growled. “We’ll talk about it later, go wash your hair and enjoy dinner. I have papers to grade.” 

[Admin Note:

Continue scrolling for a mildly pornographic illustration.

If you are at work or in church or your parents are looking at your phone over your shoulder...

...then consider yourself warned.

Coming in 10...

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1!]

[f10werfae]

Written on Polaroids

Pairing: Husband! Chris Evans x Plus size! Latina! Reader

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Word count: 1,380

Summary: Request with a filthy smut 😍 (no for real i need to now go say the rosary and pray)

Warnings: Unprotected sex, spit play, dirty talk, breeding kink, n idk what else 🤞

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Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

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(Chris' P.O.V)

I greeted the likes of Downey and Mackie as I got onto set, the loud shouts of production filling my ears

Heading into my trailer, pictures of me and my lovely wife were littered everywhere, pictures from our wedding day or when she brought me home to (Insert country)

I was blessed with such an amazing woman, don’t even get me started on her body.

Sitting by my desk, I took off my backpack, reaching in for my script notebook

“Ah shit” Instead of my usual green book, I was instead holding a fluffy pink book in my hands, how the hell did I make that mistake.

“Musta taken Y/n's by mistake” Throwing it onto the desk, something fell by my feet, my eyes instantly widening when I picked it up.

“That minx” Twirling the polaroid in my hand, a picture of us immediately after sex stared back at me, both our bodies covered but our faces still in that post-sex haze.

The back of the photo was dated “14/2/22 Valentines day with Chris <3”

Let’s just say my curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to have a snoop through her book, she wouldn’t mind right?

Ignoring the warnings on the front page, partly because they were in Spanish that was wayyy still too advanced for me. The first few pages were just her detailing what went on during the day, chuckles leaving me every time she complained about how i’d leave a dirty plate out.

Then came the pages where the dates showed I was away filming, these pages broke my heart. Details of her day without me, consisted of caring for Dodger, going to work and as she said “moping around”

“Woahohoho” Turning to the next few pages, my eyes jumped to random words such as ‘dick’ on the page sticking out. The dates saying the times I had come home after weeks away, multiple pictures of us post sex all over the double page spread.

“So this is what she does with the pictures she takes” I said out to myself, remembering the times she’d jump out of bed and ask to take a photo of us, more often than not, ending up with me asking for a separate copy to bring with me in my wallet.

Starting to read the first paragraph

“Within seconds of him getting through the front door, his eyes instantly bore into mine, a primal growl leaving him as he picked me up and dragged me upstairs to our bedroom.

His paws clawing away at my clothes, his face smothered into the crook of my neck placing kisses everywhere, leaving me breathless.

With both of us now naked, he placed a wet open mouthed kiss on my lips, all teeth and spit.

Dragging himself down my body to face my wet centre, he dragged a finger down my folds, instantly making me shudder.

He made a comment about wanting to be smothered between my thighs, always wanting to be between my legs, because that’s where he belonged…”

Deciding not to read further, I felt my cock start to ache in my pants, the thought of her filling my mind.

Stuffing her book back into my backpack, I rushed out of my trailer, shouting excuses of major migraines before bolting for my car.

All through the ride home all I could think about were her fleshy tits and kissing them as I pummelled my cock into her pussy.

Parking into the driveway, I rushed inside the house throwing the bag to the side, not announcing my arrival yet.

The sound of her playlist filled the house along with the smell of her famous Empanadas. Smiling to myself at the thought of it all, I sauntered into the kitchen, any pure thoughts I had flying out the window.

There she was, the love of my life, standing in nothing but an oversized shirt, swaying her hips to the music, is she seriously trying to kill me?

Turning around shocked her eyes widened before she greeted me, “Hola Papi? I thought you wouldn’t be home until late”

Dropping her makeshift microphone, her voice like music to my ears.

She walked over, her hands going around my waist as she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, my home.

“You are in trouble” I whispered, crooking my neck down to meet her lips in a passionate kiss, my hands holding onto her love handles.

“Eh? what’d I do my love?”

“This” I said grabbing her book out of my bag, in seconds she had snatched the book back and clutched it to her chest.

“It’s too late baby, I’ve already seen it” I pushed further, setting the book down away from the both of us, intertwining our hands as I lead her up the stairs.

“Now get on the bed, naked”

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Following his orders, I felt myself getting wetter as time went on, watching as he undid his belt and it all fell to the floor.

Reaching over to stroke him, he caught my hand, “Tonight, i’m taking care of you”

Laying back down he crawled over me, beckoning for me to open my mouth before spitting into it, then bringing me in for a sloppy kiss.

“You are so gorgeous” He beamed looking down at me, his hand caressing my cheeks before his attention went to my chest.

“God should I just knock you up? Make 'em even fuller? Make you a momma?” He whispered, groping one of my breasts in his hands.

A whimper leaving my mouth both from his words and touch.

“Please” I breathed out

“I haven’t even started yet and you’re already begging baby” He laughed, crawling further down, leaving kisses on my tits which were now glimmering in his saliva.

“I love this pussy of yours, fits me so well” He whispered out, placing a kiss right onto my clit making my legs shiver.

“Don’t even get me started on this thighs of yours, fuck I could just love on them forever” Hickies now littering my thighs as he teased closer and closer to my now aching pussy.

“F-fuck Chris” I moaned out, his tongue licking a stripe up my pussy, not letting down and just continuing to ravish it.

Wet filthy sounds filled the room along with our groans, and the occasional spank to my ass.

“Baby, i’m gonna cum” Holding onto his head, I started to grind against his face, groaning when he pulled away.

“You’re only cumming on my cock sweetheart, we both know that”

“Well fucking put it in then, coño”

“Patience or you get nothing” Running the tip up and down my slit, my hips bucked, a deep chuckle radiating through him.

“F-fuck sweets, I can feel your walls tightening around me, fits like a glove” He groaned out as he sank into me, his hands caressing my sides lovingly as he bent down to hover over me again.

Kisses placed all over my neck as he started to drive his cock into me, tears starting to brim as he shushed me gently, his forehead against mine while he placed kisses on my lips every now and again.

“J-just relax baby” He whispered out, one of his hands toying with my nipple before reaching down to circle my bundle of nerves, causing my legs to close in around his waist.

“Gonna fuck you so hard bub, make your pussy all puffy and swollen yeah?” He moaned out, bitting down on my shoulder as his thrusts became more frantic.

“Yeah baby, knock me up, wan’ have your baby Chrissy” Pulling his face up to meet mine, I swallowed his moans as our lips and tongues met in desperation for each otherwise touch.

“I’m cumming hun” I moaned out louder, his thumb now rapidly playing with my clit sending me into overdrive, “go on sweet girl, let it all out for me”

That was all that was needed to send me over the edge, his cum filling me up as we just lay there embracing each other, sensual kisses being placed everywhere.

“Hold on where are you going” I asked watching him get up and slowly moan as he pulled out, heading towards my bedside drawer.

“Polaroid”

—————

yeah idk I tried my best 🫡 Hope yall like it

[arlecchno]

mission accomplished [ scaramouche x reader]

eleven | flashbacks

prev masterlist next

the date for a trial you've been meticulously involved in comes crashing down on you, and flashbacks to the incident keeps flooding in. has scaramouche cared for you all this time?

warnings: mentions of broken leg, blood, gunshot wound, swearing as usual, comfort

a/n: hello, hello! chapter eleven is finally here~ i'm not really sure how courts nor hospitals work, and due to my lack of knowledge i just wrote whatever i know, i'm not even sure if you can send out proposals to court 😔 this chapter is just a continuation of last chapter's incident lmao, happy reading!

grammatical errors may occur so please let me know if i've made any mistakes!

“i got your call. what happened?” childe walked up to scaramouche, who's currently waiting on a chair in the emergency waiting area, head in hands.

scaramouche looked up from his position, eyes fairly red. childe raised a brow at him. he proceeded to take a seat next to the ravenette and looked around, before moving his gaze back to the person next to him. “is y/n okay?” he asked patiently, waiting for scaramouche to reply.

the short male ran his hands through his hair in distress. “i–it's my fault. she's– she's hurt because of me, childe! what the fuck am i supposed to do?!” he stammered, voice breaking through the empty hall.

childe frowned at his friend's current state, deeply worried with how he's dealing with this. “look, it's gonna be okay–”

“how can you be so sure?” scaramouche cut him off, not daring to move his eyes away from the man next to him, an anxious look on his face. “she had to be rushed for surgery, there's a chance she won't survive. the bullet went through her artery— i think. my mind was too hazy to pay attention to the doctor.”

childe took a good look at scaramouche. he was littered with small wounds and cuts all over his arms and face, his black t-shirt covered in your blood. “come on.” childe said calmly, standing up from his seat.

“what?”

“let's get you checked up.”

scaramouche scoffed at childe. “i'm fine.”

childe turned his head back to look at the short male up and down, giving a judging look. “you're clearly not, given how you're covered in wounds everywhere but didn't even bother to get yourself checked. at a hospital full with medical treatments no less.”

the cold dead of the night made the ravenette and orange-haired man shiver, slightly regretting for their lack of layered clothes. the omnipresent smell of antiseptic fills the air in the hospital as the two waited in the hall for you, patience slowly running out.

tick, tock.

another hour clocks in.

it's almost been 4 hours and you're still in surgery. childe was already drifting off from sleepiness, and scaramouche who is now bandaged up, was sighing every second. nurses walk by back to back, their shoes squeaking on the pristine tiles made the ravenette grimace, fully annoyed from the sound it made.

his indigo eyes scanned through his phone screen to check the time. 3:19 am, it read. he sighed once again.

maybe resting his eyes for a second won't hurt, he thinks. he looked around the empty hall first before he took a deep breath. as he closes his eyes, he slowly enters dreamland.

a nudge on the shoulder jolts scaramouche awake. he opened his eyes and turned his head towards the person who woke him up from his slumber.

“sir...?” a woman in a doctor's coat calls out to him, pen nudging his shoulder. she had a clipboard in hand and was trying her best to wake the ravenette up as gently as she could without startling him.

scaramouche rubbed his eyes, sleepiness still evident on his tired face. “what is it?” he asked, voice hoarse.

the woman smiled awkwardly at him. “ah... are you the partner of um– wait...” she quipped, going through her clipboard. “...miss y/n? you're here for y/n l/n, yes?” she asked, looking back to the man on the seat.

scaramouche immediately went wide awake upon hearing your name, sleepiness completely off his mind now. he stood up quickly, ignoring childe who's currently peacefully sleeping on the chair.

“how is she? is she okay? can i see her? do you–”

“okay, okay. calm down now, sir.” the woman stopped him from popping up more questions, making him frown. “there's no need to worry. she's fine, and the surgery went well for her.” she said calmly.

scaramouche sighed in relief. “archons...thank you, thank you. i wouldn't know what i'd do if it weren't for your help.” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “is it okay if i see her?” he questioned.

the woman nodded, smiling at him. “i'll show you the way.”

the two people then headed to your room, the woman informing scaramouche with the subject of your surgery while doing so.

unbeknownst to them, they've completely forgot about the other person who was waiting for you, who's snoring ever-so-loudly in the waiting area.

guess childe can find his own way to your room.

“i'm afraid she'll need to be bedridden for a few months. even though her surgery went well, she'll still need time to recover from both her leg and shoulder. and even if she is discharged, she'll still need plenty of physical therapy and treatment before she can start doing her daily life routine again.” the doctor informed scaramouche.

scaramouche nodded in acknowledgement, standing by the door of the room with his arms crossed, staring at your unconscious form on the hospital bed. “will she be fine?”

“it'll take some time, but she will be okay. it's truly a miracle she survived, in most cases people don't even have enough time for surgery, they ended up bleeding to death before they can arrive to the hospital. you were the one who actually saved her.” the doctor remarked.

scaramouche took a few seconds to answer. “...thank you, again. i really appreciate everything.” he said, looking at the woman standing beside him.

the woman smiled. “just doing my job.” she replied, already starting to head off her way. “i'll leave you be. i'm sure you want to meet your girlfriend due to how badly worried you were just now.”

scaramouche hummed, before quickly realising what the woman said. girlfriend.

he turned to the hall to deny what she said, but the doctor was too far ahead from his reach now.

your eyes slowly opened.

the blurry vision made you blink a couple of times before you opened your eyes once again, the dull room and its white walls greet you. the occasional beeping sound coming from the machines next to the bed indicated that you were in a hospital.

what happened? how did i get here? you thought to yourself.

you wanted to rub your eyes, and as you tried to bring up a hand, you realised there was something weighing on it. you looked to your hand, and saw scaramouche and his messy lock of hair.

he was sleeping and had his head rest at the edge of your hospital bed, one arm propped up to where his head rests, the other splayed on the bed, hand loosely holding onto yours.

scaramouche was a light sleeper, so it was a little too easy to get him awake. just the shift of your hand made him look up from the arm he was resting on, tiredness still visible on his face.

looking at you who's finally awake, he went wide awake once again and quickly sat up, hand latching onto yours tightly.

“y/n... you're awake.” scaramouche said, his thumb rubbing your knuckles softly.

you hummed, trying to sit up from your lying position but abruptly stopped halfway, groaning from the pain. the ravenette swiftly stood up and helped you up, arm snaking around your waist. you mumbled out a thanks to him, in which he silently nod. he sat back on his chair by the hospital bed.

you looked at scaramouche for a second, then moved your eyes to your wounded shoulder and broken leg. flashbacks flooded your mind to the brutal situation you were in, and just the thought of it made you wince in pain.

you shook it off your mind. this is not the time to be thinking about that right now, you thought.

“...i've got it real bad this time, huh.” you finally said your first words after being unconscious, letting out an airy chuckle, though no amusement laced your voice.

scaramouche was silent, making you perk your head up to look at him. his black t-shirt was covered in dried blood, and he was also covered up in bandages everywhere. a worried expression plastered on your face upon seeing him in such a state. “did you get injured?” you asked curiously.

“i'm fine, these are nothing.” he said flatly.

you frowned at his lack of words. “you don't look like you are.” you commented, looking at his deflated form on the chair. his eyes were puffy and there were visible eye bags under them. archons, how long has he been waiting for you?

he was silent again for a few seconds. you huffed, about to move your gaze to the window before he spoke up.

“...i'm sorry.”

you raised a brow. “for what?”

“you wouldn't have ended up like this if i was quicker.” he said, eyes still on the floor.

you sighed. “scara, it's not your–”

“it is, okay? if it weren't for those guys i had to beat up when you sent me that signal, i would've gotten to you sooner.” he cut you off.

you frowned even more at him. “scara, look at me.”

“if i was quicker on my feet, i would've stopped that man from shooting you.”

“scaramouche, look at me, please.”

he did, with an unreadable expression on his face.

you sighed for the umpteenth time. “it's not your fault, okay?” you reassured. “even i couldn't have prevented it from happening, it was inevitable from the start. i'm just glad i survived from the gunshot, though i don't think i get to leave this place for quite awhile.” you said, looking around at the empty room.

you caught glimpse of the iv drip to your right, its solution traveling down slowly from the long thin tube right to the vein in your hand. you grumbled. i'm gonna be stuck here for at least a month, you thought.

scaramouche was silent once again. you're not sure if he was even acknowledging what you said a second ago, truth be told he's a stubborn guy and he never takes your words seriously.

“did you get the guy?” you changed the subject, eyes still trailing on the iv drip.

“i did, pierro's handling it right now. you might need to be in court for the case though, you're technically involved in this now.” he said.

the chirping sound from the birds on the window of your hospital room indicated that it's already daytime, presumably around brunch time. have you been out that long?

“guess i should've seen that coming.” you muttered. “how long have i been unconscious?”

“9 hours, i think.”

“...and you were here the whole time?” you questioned, eyes landing on his indigo ones.

“yeah.” he mumbled, staring back at you.

“you should go home.”

“i'm not leaving you here alone... not again.”

you sent a glare towards scaramouche. “i'm a grown woman. i think i'd know how to handle things myself. plus, you're supposed to be at work.”

“i took the day off.”

“wha– ugh, nevermind. there's no winning with you.” you groaned.

scaramouche ignored your whining. he stood up and walked over to the table near your bed to grab his phone and wallet. “i'm gonna get some food for you to eat. what do you feel like having?” he asked, sauntering back to your hospital bed.

“anything is fine.” you said, looking up at him.

he hummed, slyly bringing up a hand to brush out a stray piece of hair out of your face, tucking it nicely to the back of your ear. he put up a small smile for you and patted your head affectionately, making you slightly flustered from his touch.

“okay. i'll be back soon.” he retracted his hand, heading off to the door.

scaramouche twisted the doorknob and as he was about to leave, you called out to him.

“scara.”

“hm?” he looked over his shoulder.

“thank you, for everything. i don't know what i'd do without you.”

scaramouche widened his eyes at your words, but relaxed after a moment. he turned back to the door. “just doing what any other person would.”

and he finally left, closing the door behind him to give you some space. you sat there alone in the empty room, just like you've been all these years.

the present

“what do you mean the trial's next month? i thought we sent out that letter to ask for a postponement due to my current case, not getting it moved sooner.” you asked shockingly.

“apparently they declined our proposal on pushing back the trial, and decided to move it earlier since there's an empty slot.” childe said on the other line.

you huffed. “what about the case? i can't just leave my duties. and scaramouche is a witness for me, we both can't just walk out of this. if something were to happen and we missed it, it's totally gonna ruin our case.”

childe sighed in exasperation. “the precint can send out another proposal for you if you want, but if the court still refuses, then there's nothing we can do.”

you groaned loudly in the kitchen. you were too busy with being undercover that you completely forgot the trial for an incident you were involved in over a year ago was coming up so soon.

great, first you have to deal with a serial killer, and now you have to face the person that almost took your life.

you greatly appreciated that you survived through it all, if it weren't for scaramouche you would've been long gone. but now you felt like it'd be much better if you were buried 7 feet under if it means that you won't need to be dealing with these stuff that's making you go bananas.

you took a few seconds to give the orange-haired man an answer. “...fine. we'll send out another letter. thanks for telling me, childe.” you said defeatedly.

“no problem. i'll let you know when i get an update.” childe replied, hanging up the call.

you placed your phone on the kitchen island and sighed once again, both hands on the edge of the kitchen island whilst your head was hanging low.

why do the bad things always keep happening to you?

you woke up one night from a nightmare.

you quickly sat up, gasping for air. one hand clutching your chest, the other bunched up tightly against the bedsheets. your body was sweating from the brutal nightmare you had just now.

ever since the trial's been moved a little earlier than you expected, you've been getting more and more nightmares than usual. you used to only get nightmares regarding the incident once or twice a month, thrice being the maximum. but lately, it drastically changed and you've been getting nightmares every single night.

you've never really discussed about it with anyone, worried that you'd be much more of a burden to people than you already were.

well, except for scaramouche, you guessed.

you told him about it around a week ago, but he's never really pushed you to spare him the details. a curt nod was all he gave when you unravel the information to him.

you let out a breathy sigh. reaching out for your phone on the nightstand, you checked the time.

2:37 am.

guess you should get a glass of water, you're pretty thirsty from the nightmare you had.

you slowly opened and closed your door, not wanting to wake up the ravenette from his sleep. the faint sound from the tv can be heard across the living room, making you stop.

is he still awake?

heading towards the living room, you saw that, scaramouche, was in fact, still wide awake. sitting on the couch by himself, he had his eyes glued to the tv screen. only did your presence made him break his gaze away from it.

“y/n? you're still up?”

you huffed, making your way to the kitchen fridge to get some water. “just woke up.” you said, voice still groggy. pouring down some cold water onto a glass, you gulped it all down. the cold drink refreshes your dry throat completely, making you sigh in contentment.

you walked back to the living room with your glass of water to see what's scaramouche up to, sleepiness drifted off your mind.

the short male saw you strutting to him and in return, he scooted a bit to the edge of the small couch to give you space. you placed your glass on the coffee table, then proceeded to take a seat next to him.

you two were sitting a little too close, with one of his arms resting behind your head on the couch, your thighs subtly touching, and faces right next to each other.

neither of you bothered to move away.

“why are you still awake?” you finally said, looking at him. the only source of light in the living room came from the tv screen, its ambient light illuminates the ravenette's features as you stare at him for a moment.

he shrugged. “couldn't sleep.”

you let out a hum, and moved your gaze back to the tv screen. after a few seconds, scaramouche speaks up again.

“you wanna tell me about it?”

“...tell you what?”

“what's bothering you, of course. what else could it be?” he said nonchalantly.

for a moment, you both looked at each other.

grunting, you turned your head back to the tv. “nothing's bothering me.”

he let out a scoff. “you think i buy that? i'm not stupid, y/n. i know something's definitely bothering you, else you wouldn't be sitting here next to me watching some lame movie.”

you pursed your lips, debating on whether you should tell him about it or not.

“nightmare?” he guessed.

well, he took the word right out of your mouth.

you slowly nodded, eyes now fixated on your lap instead of the tv screen. “childe told me that the trial's been moved up earlier than it should.”

“when?”

“next month.”

his brows knitted. “that soon? i thought you sent out a proposal.”

“they declined. i asked childe to send out another one, we're still waiting on an answer.”

he stared at your blank expression, slightly worried on how you're taking this. he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “do you want to talk about it?”

you looked up, glancing at him. “don't really feel like it.” you said, leaning back on the couch. your head was resting on scaramouche's arm, and he didn't move it away, a sign that he's comfortable enough to let you rest on him.

“okay.” that was all scaramouche said. he took the blanket from his lap and draped it over to you, so that you wouldn't freeze from the windy night. he looked back at the tv screen and minded his own business.

you internally thank him for not pushing on the subject further. as much as he is an insufferable ass, he's still pretty considerate of your feelings, never pursuing on the same topic whenever you showed clear signs that you were uncomfortable. it's one of the few qualities that makes you highly appreciate him, even if you hated him to the core.

the warmth of his body that emitted through the dark living room made your eyes droopy, sleepiness slowly engulfing you. the comfort he willingly gave was all it needed for you to be pulled back to sleep.

next thing you know, you fall dead asleep on the couch, head resting on scaramouche's shoulder.

did scaramouche care though?

no— he certainly did not.

indulged in some comfort bc these mfs are so helplessly vulnerable and needed each other

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[happycupcakesss]

Welcome to the world of Teyv- I mean, tumblr!

I'm not good at making request but I have a nice idea for a good start (maybe):

How about Thoma, Itto, Kazuha and maybe, just if you want, Gorou (If not, then Albedo) loosing some random but important item, reader found it and brings it back and the boys seeing them/her for the first time and are like "oh my dear lord you are the one" you know like, love at first sight.

Sound a bit stupid but I think this would be cute😂 hope you're fine with this😅🌸

Hello hello!! AAA thank you thank YOU this is such the cute request I LOVE it so much!! I did gorou and Albedo too I hope that’s okay!! This is my first time writing for the cute doggy general 🥺 so I hope nothing too ooc! Thank you again!!<3

Lost and Found (Genshin Men x Reader)

Pairings: Thoma, Itto, Kazuha, Gorou, Albedo x gn!reader

Genre/format: fluff; ficlets

Warnings: food mentions in Thoma’s

Thoma

The man had looked everywhere for it. A white, full bag of flour he left on the kitchen counter.

“And done!”

“Ahh! What happened here?” Thoma asked, horrified at the scene - a ripped up paper bag and towels littered with white stains. You soaked them in the bucket of water and wrung out the fabric, smiling over the droplets of water.

“Oh, hello! Ah… you see… Ayaka’s cats got to the new flour shipments - so I hide the kitchen’s bags in the cabinets just over there.” You sighed softly, tone still lifted despite flour dusting your hair and clothes like snow did in Mondstadt’s, Dragonspine. “I hope that’s…”

Your words trailed off slowly as Thoma took the bucket and handed you some clean towels. “You’re two kind! Please allow me… those gosh-darn cats you can’t train them like dogs,” he chuckled softly, “May I get you anything? A tea for your troubles?”

You only laughed, claiming you were one of the new maids for the estate and you were just doing your job. Thoma remembered your name being brought up… and wow, you looked stunning even with flour all over you.

He had learned from the other mades your favourite dish, and whether it needed flour or not; Thoma would definitely whip up a delicious suprise for you.

more utc!

Itto

Itto, the Arataki Gang, and the kids of Inazuma were pumped for today’s rounds of bettle-wrestling! The sun was bright and ready to shine over the numero uno’s flawless victory as crystal, clear as the rays of light reflecting off the waves.

Which was weird… because usually he wouldn’t pay much attention to the waves. Light rolling of the glossy, purple finishes of Onikabuto was all he paid much attention to - today, it was much duller. It had the Oni strutting up the coastlines, searching for some missing bugs in the sand the kids or his gang must had dropped. (bc the great Oni couldn’t make such a silly mistake 😤)

He found you, taking good care of his bugs. When you looked up at him, you wore a smile that would had shone in the dark.

“Oh, hey! I heard of you! I’ve been training these bugs, they’re good fighters… but I doubt they’re as good as mine!” You grinned, eyes challenging.

Itto grinned - his spirits lit up like Yomiya’s fireworks in the night sky.

“You’re on!”

Kazuha

Kazuha, ever the poet, would always spend delicate care in crafting the most, perfect prose.

Today, the words were slipping by him in the wind - and not staying like the sea breeze. Sitting on the beams of the ship, he pondered over the words until his ink dried on the top of his quill.

He couldn’t believe he had lost the words to his poem. You, who had stroke up a conversation until the unswept deck was quickly lost to memory - until you both were put back to your chores on opposite sides of the boat.

Kazuha smiled softly at your parting figure, coming and going like the wind. You had found his inspiration, and he would soon move his ink as fast as his sweeps over paper instead of planks.

Gorou

It was pouring recently on Watasumi Island, and the general had just sought shelter at the Nakrumi Shrine right when it stopped. He had shook off the water from his fur before he came in, but the sticky, soggy wet fur had was worse than the wet petals stuck to the pavement outside.

The only issue, he couldn’t find his brush which was usually on his person for such occasions.

“I’ll give it back, only if you let me brush that fluffy tail of yours!” Yae Miko’s chuckle could be heard in the background - and Gorou should had picked up on the familiar cheekiness sooner.

“Sure thing! Wait—“ the general’s ears shot up like the hot, blush to his ears. “Pardon?!”

With some encouragement from the other women, Gorou had let you—crimson cheeked—brush his fur. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like it, running his fingers through the soft, dry tuffs - and thanking you vigorously.

He would have to return the favour, but unless you were like Miss Yae Miko - he hoped it wouldn’t be with a brush.

Albedo

The alchemist frowned at his beakers, giving the concoction a light stir. With his other hand, he swung open a cabinet - reaching for the familiar, bottle of glass holding a special, chemical activator. His frown deepened finding it empty.

“As much as I love the expressions you make when you’re hard at work…” your voice cut in, as softly as the snow on the mountains of Dragonspine.

“I beleive a drop of this,” you said, leaning in with a dropper. “Is what you’re looking for, chief alchemist.”

His concoction lightened traimpuhantly, much like the tug of your lips. Albedo’s frown turned upside down, finding you far more intriguing than the contents of his beakers.

[danger-noodle-uwu]

This is a pretty graphic idea I had but I understand if you don’t want to do it or find it too triggering.

I want to request hc’s of the Brothers + Datables (but if you do the Brothers and Datables separately than just the Brothers please) reacting to MC being summoned but MC’s covered in blood and holding a weapon like a bat or knife, because they massacred their abusive family and they don’t feel bad about it at all. Mc’s pretty emotionally hollow and they don’t show much reaction or fear to dangerous situations either since the Bros do start off threatening and rude but they relate to Mammon since he’s emotionally abused by his Bros and physically punished by Lucifer.

This is only if you feel comfy doing it and I apologize if I broke the rules and making you find it very triggering and disturbing

Trigger warning!

Mentions of blood/murder/abuse

Do not proceed if sensitive

Lucifer

At the summoning part, Lucifer would be merely worried about what type of student has diavolo choosen, pitying his taste. Though he was but a demon, weary and skittish around you.

The Avatar of pride scared of mere human?

(Though he kinda was)

Blood being spilled on the floor was common in devildom yet he was unfazed.

But now, things are different and he can't help to worry about how this weak creature will influence on his brothers.

the fallen-morningstar tried to keep you away from the entire of his brothers including himself.

He also made sure that never was anything that could be used as a potential weapon surround you.

Often the man would receive rather harsh words from you and get somewhat hurt. Yet , not a single cry reach your ears.

(Que enemies to lovers dynamic)

When the pair started dating, the raven-haired demon had already known the past and what it once held for mc...

Oh how much he wishes, he helped you instead of interrogating every movement, to regain the 'you' that your parents killed. So, he will find a solution. To find those rascals in the realm of spirits or demons and put them once again at your mercy.

Prepare yourself Mc. For a whole month of pampering and love as he will never dare repeat the mistake he made.

Mammon

As the story is, Mammon didn't encounter you first but only heard melody of your voice.

The first meet was unforgettable, he was petrified to see the blood dripping off your slender bruised figure.

One thought that he was scared however, No he was anything but scared. He had thought you were the one hurt like--you know h-how Lucifer hurts him.

He rushed towards you but was stopped by the eldest saying " They aren't hurt." And this was the first person tried who befriend you.

When your words were sweetly aimed at him and just HIM. He'd feel his heart beat racing like crazy which made him believe he thought you found him special.

He was never honest with anyone, until you showed up. His biggest fear was snapping because of the mean comments his brothers pass and you had probably done something similar.

He wanted to know. Though dense he may seem, he hoped you'd tell him.

Was it scary? Do you feared this before? Is it still scary? Do you feel emotions after this?

Yet he never asked...

When the greedy Boi and mc started dating, they told everything about their condition. Of how they snapped.

He was the most understanding of his brothers and promised to never let another one harm you. Not even you.

He loved even more since that day. Not to mention 1323433454455686 'I love you's per day.

Leviathan

Blabbering lord knows what, Leviathan had stepped out of his room even if that was to scold mammon and get his money back.

He obviously knew about the exchange program but what he didn't know was that bloody murderer would be part of it!!!

He wasn't moving when he saw the numb expression you wore and the bloody knife you had held.

Inside, he was scared shitless but he didn't know how to show it.

A mere-human had terrified The great admiral of hell's navy. What shame he was.

"Oi cut it out!" Yelled the scummy yet kind demon protectively moving between the two.

In the beginning, he felt unsafe only by your gaze and refusing to make eye contact.

And then, a good day to exit to his room. The true reason being the pearly raindrops that had littered the gardens of HOL.

He saw you... soaking wet smiling and hurting... shining brightly though it felt dim.

That day. That dammed day. He found out who truly were. A beautiful person who was just hurting and breaking.

Since then, he has been a mix of a nagging mother but also shy as if a touch-me-not.

Dating him was heavenly, he wasn't shy with touch yet words were a whole another thing to him.

He always left 'Love you's in the chats and reminders on your phone that were just a bunch of 'eat healthy' 'stay safe', etc.

And this was certain that his love will never end.

Satan

Snatching the bat from your hands, the blonde-man threatened to kill you with your own weapon if you dared to move.

And that's exactly what you wanted... to die... to end the suffering...

And he saw it.

Saw how horribly you were hurting, he knew what it felt however, he couldn't lose his composure not in front of his brothers.

Wrath is a storm which is followed by pain. He knew this. Same in your case except pain knocked the doors first.

He knew it was too early for asking. So, he kept his mouth shut. Not wishing to hurt you any further though he didn't know why he felt this way.

When you finally finished your 2nd month in your new home, things had changed as the Avatar of wrath often talked to you not about how bloody you arrived or you had killed but are you okay now?

His words were soft. So sweet.

Each time he would offer you his shoulder to cry on, you would feel your heart slowly warm up. Slightly more each-time.

Soon enough you started dating the green-eyed pact demon of yours, recalling the long lost feeling of warmth and love.

The knowledgeable one loved to show physical affection especially in front of his brothers.

Oh~ the smell of their burning envy, when he kissed the nape of your neck and complimented you.

Post-its were his favorite though.

He would often write 'Love you, kitten' 'take break,love' 'you look amazing today',etc.

Asmodues

He yelped when he saw a bloodied figure emerge from the purple haze. Are they okay?

He was concerned only till a knife was spotted next your seemingly heartless figure. Now, he was somewhat hiding behind satan in disgusted yet anxious way.

You gaze deeply disturbed him to an extent he even had nightmares of you ripping him open with same knife and had that soul-less expression.

He much like Leviathan refused to see you after the encounter but what was different, was the course of events...

He saw you arguing with Lucifer, for you refused let him hurt Mammon who curled behind you.

Asmo felt pity for you as he knew the outcome of an argument with the eldest.

"Lucifer don't hurt him, please. He already has enough bruises" Asmo says giving his sweet brother Luci the puppy eyes, hoping they would work. (Yeah they didn't)

But nonetheless Luci~ still backed out and left the hallway.

You rush for the poor injured demon, he is crying while thanking you for the save.

And there for one moment, The lustful blond saw emotion in those glassy eyes of yours. It was beautiful and aching at the same time.

Making him greedy for more...

Later the very same day, he approached you finally asking the questions his head was haunted by.

What was weird? He didn't blame you for breaking instead he complimented you for being a survivor of such harsh tortures.

Accepting his confession was the best thing you ever did.

He is open with affection especially when you both are in public to show he is yours. You are his. You belong together.

for his hunger to see those pretty eyes shine with joy is endless, he makes Mc smile with happiness and love

Beelzebub

Famished as always was the sixth born. Especially after smelling human blood.

Little did he know the blood of the now dead parents of mc, the exchange student.

He wasn't even fazed unlike his brothers. He couldn't care any less than he did nor about the blood neither about the weapon clutched in your hands.

Even if you passed insults, he wouldn't mind. Sometimes, he asks why you dislike him? And is fine even if the answer is illogical. (Don't fuckin hate him)

Numb eyes. Tears flowing freely. Cuts. Bruises. Hurting. Dying inside.

The glutton wipes the sweat off his forehead remembering the condition of yours in that horrendous nightmare.

You looked awfully similar to belphi when- when s-she died. He blamed himself and hurt himself for being so useless. Just like you do.

And then realization hits--

YOU ARE HURTING!!

He now knew why your rude words didn't hurt him because you were like belphegor trying to protect your fragile heart.

Why you look numb? because you're trying to hide the pain. Push people away so you don't get hurt when they go away.

The following day, you were gently woken by the huge teddy bear. He held a hand out for you before taking you to his room for the special breakfast.

You teared upon the sight instantly realizing that he recognized your suffering. He apologized for not noticing earlier and from now, he will be there for you.

Never in the three realms did he think he'd fall for you? Maybe he had all along just didn't notice....

Once you begin dating the orange-head, he was ecstasic and cheerful all the time. Encouraging words followed you everywhere.

He would often eat the entire fridge out. So as apology, a cupcake with sorry written on it was placed on the kitchen counter. Other days, when he won't go such extreme, carrot chips or a poison apple etc. Waited for you.

Beely is the opposite of possessive. Protective. He is Protective and supports you through the ups and downs in life. He was your true savior. A savior who never judged you for your past.

His Love is the sky, you learned to fly in.

Belphegor

He had heard the tale of how the human exchange student had shown up covered in blood with a bat in hand.

Never did he believe that it was true until seeing the monotone figure of them.

The way they spoke made them like Lucifer. Emotionless. Heartless. Ruthless. Monster.

He wanted to strangle them on spot but he was stuck within the confines of the attic.

The sloth couldn't help passing comment making mc slowly reveal the aching heart of their own-self.

Expression faultered and he saw it--No, no more like felt it. The way their tears were swallowed. The way their voice turned monotone once again to cover what had already been seen.

However, the seventh born didn't say a word, he just showed affection through body language as they couldn't touch each other yet.

After he was free from the prison of an attic, he ran to you. His star. The one that guided him out to freedom.

It felt weird dating the lazy demon. Afterall, he was doing nothing other than shoving compliments in your face and dozing off here and there.

Few months pass and things become smoother than how they were.

Now, he always compliments you but softly and sweetly. Always willing to listen to whatever you wanna rant about.

"You are my true love, Mc. The star that guides to where I belong when I'm lost."

-------------------------------------------------------

Welp! That was long as hell. Anyway, thank you for the request. It kinda feels like you and my sister share the same brain cell cuz she said the same thing but like- mc ate their organs and more messy. God I hope you like it...

Good day!

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

[enthusiasticharry]

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.”