#I have exactly zero opinions on what the café should or should not be called
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verecunda · 11 months ago
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Um. These people are aware that plenty of Scots were redcoats too, don't they? They do realise that Scots formed a considerable part of the British Army, don't they? They do realise that the Jacobite rebellions were civil wars over who should occupy the throne of the United Kingdom, it wasn't some Scots vs. English thing??
If the arguments for renaming the café were due to objections over the role the British Army played in imperial atrocities overseas (which, btw, featured plenty of Scottish generals and governors slaughtering indigenous peoples), I could understand, but to object to it being ~offensive to Scots~ is dumb as fuck.
People, I am begging you. Put down Outlander and pick up a fucking history book for five minutes.
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kissinginkitchens · 4 years ago
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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Four: You Can Hear it in the Silence
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a/n: hello again!! So glad to have you back :) I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. It's been wonderful to read some of your comments and thoughts! I do have to give a special shoutout to @harrysblackcoat and @determined-overthinker for their continued support and feedback, it really means the world to me, so a huge thank you to you both!! I am tremendously grateful for all of you lovely readers and I hope you will enjoy chapter four as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, my inbox is open, so feel free to drop by and chat with me after reading! Much love, Mel <3
Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character
Warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual content
Word Count: 6.7k
read parts one, two, and three 
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“You kissed him?” Maleah gasps over FaceTime, her mouth so wide, Alani fears her jaw will detach from its socket. 
She had finally decided to tell her best friend everything, excluding the Rolling Stone details, nearly two days after the last time she had seen Harry. The entire next day had been spent replaying every moment and listening to the recorded interview on her voice notes until the phone battery was completely drained. Alani’s stomach fluttered at the sound of Harry’s voice and it only made her miss him more. The part that she desperately needed her friend’s input on was what had happened immediately before she left. 
“No,” Alani clarifies, quickly. “Well, almost. Maybe—I think,”
“I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks,” Maleah starts, brows furrowed as if her brain is malfunctioning. “And you’re already swooping in on my man?”
Alani feels her cheeks warm but she pushes past it and rolls her eyes. “There is no swooping going on,”
“I don’t know. You two were caught in the rain together, sounds like swooping to me,”
“But that’s the thing,” Alani huffs. “I don’t know what it is. And I don’t know if I’m just making a big deal out of nothing,”
Maleah nods understandingly and pushes any jealousy out of her mind, the love for her best friend winning out. 
“Well, tell me exactly what happened before the kiss,”
“There was no kiss,” Alani emphasizes, thinking back to the last few minutes spent in Harry’s car. 
The sun had already set when the two of them arrived at her house, leaving little light in the already darkly tinted Range Rover. But even in the darkness, Alani could see the intensity in Harry’s eyes. Their bodies had been close enough in the confined space that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, and his vanilla scent enveloped her in an intoxicating haze. For a moment, her eyes had darted to his plush lips and she imagined what it would feel like to close the space between them. She could have sworn that he had done the same, finding his eyes wandering just below the tip of her nose when she looked up. Before anything could happen, however, she found herself reaching for the door handle and stepping into the crisp night sky. 
“But did you want him to kiss you?” Maleah questions. 
Alani waits a beat, but she doesn’t have to think about the answer. “Yes,”
“Well there you go!” her friend responds enthusiastically. “Problem solved,”
“Problem not solved,” Alani corrects. “What about the fact that he’s, like, famous? I mean what happens when he has to go back to L.A. or London or whatever?”
“Woah, woah, woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,”
Alani anxiously nibbles on the skin of her lower lip, not stopping even when she tastes blood. “But it’s true—” 
“Yeah, well, you don’t have to think about it right now,” Maleah assures her. “What if you just let things happen and… enjoy it for what it is?”
Alani doesn’t miss the double meaning in the last part. “Mi, you and I both know that I’ve never been one to just enjoy it for what it is,”
“I know this, and I love you,” Maleah starts slowly. “But as your best friend—and I say this with nothing but love—you need to get laid, for real,”
Alani groans, slumping further into her mattress. “But what if that’s all he wants? I just don’t think I’m ready for that,”
“And that’s perfectly fine,” her friend coos. “But from what you’ve told me so far, it doesn’t sound like that’s all he’s after,”
Alani considers this for a moment before Maleah continues. 
“Look, let’s start with something simple: do you like him? I mean, do you like spending time with him and just generally being around him?”
“Yes,”
“Then start there,” Maleah suggests. “You can enjoy someone’s company without making it romantic, it’s just friendship. Don’t put pressure on something that you’re not ready for, or something that might not even be there,”
Alani feels a small weight lifted off her shoulders and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, no you’re right I shouldn’t psych myself out over something that didn’t even happen. I mean, for all I know he has a girlfriend,”
She waits a beat before a new concern enters her mind. “Wait, does he have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know,” 
“Well even if he does, it doesn’t matter,” Alani reaffirms. “Because we’re just friends,”
“When are you gonna see him again?” her friend asks. 
Alani stomach drops. In all her concentration of the past, she hadn’t even considered what will happen when she has to face him again. “I don’t know,”
“Who initiated the last hang out?”
“He did,” Alani admits, thinking back to the hours he had spent reading in the café until her shift was over. 
Maleah hums. “Well then it looks like the ball’s in your court,”
Alani is quiet for a moment, which her friend takes as her cue to offer some more reassurance. 
“I’m sorry I don’t have more answers for you, Nani, but it’s gonna be okay. Promise, ” 
Alani sighs, kneeling to look out the window next to her bed. 
“No, Mi, it’s okay. I really appreciate you just being there, it means a lot,”
“Of course, babes. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
The call ends and Alani continues watching the palm trees sway in the wind. Will do—the very same last words that she had spoken to Harry that night. Her mind wanders back to the moment right before she had opened the door to escape and plays out an alternative scenario. What would have happened if she had leaned just an inch closer? 
********
Harry pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb. Will do, he repeats in his mind— two words that he never knew could carry so much weight. 
“I said ‘I think Manchester United is shit,’” Nick Grimshaw says loudly, shrugging at Mitch and Jeff Bhasker when his plan doesn’t work. “I dunno, that should’ve gotten him,”
“Oh hey, Alani,” Mitch speaks into his phone loud enough for Harry to hear. This piques the singer’s attention immediately, his heart racing. “Yeah he’s right here,” 
“What the fuck?” Harry questions, zeroing in on Mitch. 
“Who’s Alani?” Nick teases with eyebrows raised into his hairline. 
Harry springs from his seat and corners Mitch, who holds his phone above his head. “Gimme the phone!”
“Hello,” Nick interrupts, watching the struggle continue. “Feeling neglected here, who’s Alani?”
The guitarist ducks and sprints to the opposite wall, Harry chasing close behind. They hop from couch to couch and swerve around fragile equipment while Mitch snickers and guards his phone close. Harry had no idea why Alani was calling and why she hadn’t reached out to him directly, but he’s dying to hear her voice again and is growing increasingly frustrated with his friend’s antics. 
“Mitchell, stop fuckin’ around!”
“I’m sorry,” he relents, holding out the phone with an amused laugh. “It wasn’t her, wrong number,”
Harry huffs and returns to his seat disappointedly, a guitar resting in his lap. Nick, who had only been able to drop in for the weekend due to his busy schedule at the BBC, narrows his eyes at both boys before speaking up again. 
“Once again, no one has answered my question.”
“She’s just a girl he’s been hanging out with,” Jeff explains nonchalantly. “He wants to have her babies.”
“Don’t,” Harry warns. 
Despite already having his fun, Mitch can’t resist adding on. “It’s none of our business… but I’ve heard a summer wedding is in the works.”
“I’m gonna go drink now,” Harry announces, standing. “And none of you fuckers are invited.”
He wanders down the hallway and into the kitchen, immediately reaching for the tequila. Is it too early for margaritas? he wonders before deciding that he wants a second opinion.  No new texts are displayed on his phone screen, much to his disappointment, but he decides to open the messages app anyway. He carefully types in Alani’s name and writes, then re-writes, the text several times before pressing send. As soon as the tag reads “delivered”, his body is filled with apprehension, but there’s no turning back. 
Harry: Is 10 a.m. too early for margaritas?
There’s a minute of silence, then two, and Harry turns his phone face down onto the counter to reach for the ingredients. It dings just as he opens the bottle of tequila and he immediately lunges for it. 
Alani: Never. Morning margs were invented for a reason. 
Relief. He quickly types out a risky response. 
Harry: Any chance I can convince you to join me?
He stares at the screen, willing the “delivered” to turn into a “read,” but it doesn’t budge. His lips ghost over the rim of the tequila bottle before he bites the bullet and takes a sip. 
Alani: Working :( sorry. Another time maybe. 
Defeat. He knows that “another time maybe” is a polite “never.” Another swig of tequila down the hatch. 
Harry: Yeah, no worries. 
Alani sets her phone down on her nightstand and brings the duvet up to her chin. She hopes with every muscle in her body that Harry doesn’t show up to the restaurant, though if he’s planning on drinking, perhaps she’s safe. Maybe I should do the same. She wonders, thinking about the rosé her mom keeps in the cupboard for special occasions. Surely heartache must be a good enough reason to crack it open. Regardless, Alani doesn’t think she has the stomach to keep it down at the present. 
********
Harry pushes the remaining peas around on his plate with the prongs of his fork. His chin rests in the heel of his hand. 
“And then I said ‘what’s the difference?’” his manager remarks, sending the rest of the group into a fit of wild laughter. 
“You’re so fucking stupid.” Mitch comments through a chuckle. 
The laughter slowly dies down and their eyes all wander to Harry who hasn’t budged for the past twenty-five minutes. They exchange worried glances, and Jeff begins to wonder if  his initial advice for Harry to go out with Alani was a mistake. 
“Hey, H,” he begins gently. “You feelin’ alright?”
Harry looks up from his plate and musters his best fake smile. “Yeah, jus’ tired,”
It was partially true; the crew had spent their entire afternoon at Honoli’i Beach practicing their surfing, though it was mostly unsuccessful for Harry—his life seemed to be a series of wipe-outs these days. 
“I’m gonna go watch a Rom-Com in my room,” he announces, standing with his plate. “Probably doze off.”
The group exchanges “good nights” before Harry saunters down the hall to his room. Settling into the bed, he flicks through the movie selection and clicks on one that he knows by heart. He contemplates texting Alani again, scrolling through their brief conversation from three days ago. Against his better judgment, he types out another message and presses send. 
Harry: Opinion on The Notebook?
He waits, attention briefly occupied by Rachel McAdams until the phone dings. 
Alani: A classic, though not as good as Dirty Dancing if I’m being honest. 
The corners of his mouth curl and he immediately types out another response. 
Harry: You have a problem with The Goss?
Alani snorts, planting her spoon into the pint of strawberry ice cream to reply. 
Alani: First, I have many gripes about you referring to Ryan Gosling as “The Goss”. Second, I was actually rooting for Lon Hammond, but maybe that’s just because I’m partial to James Marsden. And third, the scene where Baby and Johnny are dancing alone in his room. That’s all I have to say. 
Harry hums, hanging on every word. 
Harry: Confession: I’ve never actually seen Dirty Dancing…
Alani: We need to change that immediately. 
His heart pounds. So she didn’t plan on ghosting him forever. 
Harry: So Lon Hammond, that’s your type? 
Alani doesn’t know why she finds it unsettling that Harry steers the conversation away from any possible talk of them hanging out again. She reminds herself that she had been the one to decline his invitation for margaritas and shovels another scoop of ice cream into her mouth. 
Alani: Kind, supportive, successful, handsome? Yeah, I’d say so. Not to mention he forgave Allie for cheating. 
Harry: But Noah built her a house. Her dream house, I might add. 
Alani: I’m not discrediting Noah, I love a grand romantic gesture as much as the next person. Just think Lon deserved better. 
Harry grins, entirely ignoring the movie at this point. Grand romantic gestures, he notes, good to know. 
Harry: And what about the fact that Noah wrote it all down and reads their literal love story to her every time she forgets?
Alani: Maybe he deserves some rights for that. 
Alani taps the spoon against her lower lip and thinks about Cecily’s words. Just let things happen. She desperately wants to, but she doesn’t know how. The thought of getting too close only to let it all slip through her fingers is too overwhelming, so she starts with something simple: do you like spending time with him? Alani doesn’t think she could enjoy anything more. Her mind wanders back to the passenger seat of Harry’s car and the image of his wrist draped over the steering wheel, lower lip captured between his fingers. She had noted this tick early on and found it endlessly endearing. Save for the awkward fifteen minutes of their very first interview, their conversations all seemed to come so easily. Alani enjoys his quick wit and the way he speaks slowly, as if carefully weighing each word. She likes that even though the entire reason for their relationship is for her to learn all that she possibly can about him, he makes an equal effort to get to know her. Alani compares Harry’s sincere reaction to hearing that she was a journalist to David’s snarky remark. Harry had believed in her from the get-go—he had trusted her. He makes her feel seen and known. Isn’t that what it means to be loved? To be known? His words echo in her mind. 
Harry: How’s the article going?
Alani’s stomach drops. Fuck. In all her contemplation over the almost kiss, she had forgotten the truth behind her motives. She had lied. Harry had trusted her, and she had lied. Not yet, she thinks, I haven’t lied yet. It would only be a lie if she submits the article to Rolling Stone. Her throat tightens. But I’m so close. She thinks about telling him, but quickly shuts the thought down when she considers that she still doesn’t have enough material and can’t afford to risk it now. This is her chance, there’s no doubt about it. Why else would the universe have planted a world famous rockstar right at her feet just when she had decided to give up for good? Alani had to at least try, she owed it to herself, and she reasons that if Harry really cares about her, he will understand. He would have to. 
Alani: It’s going. 
Harry: Can I get a sneak peek anytime soon?
Alani: Soon. Good night, Harry. 
She sends the last text and sets her phone face down next to her. If she was going to do this, she had to do it right—even if it meant putting some space between the two of them. She owed that much to Harry. 
He sinks further into the mattress, not understanding what he had said or done wrong, but he grants Alani her space, anyway.  
Harry: Good night Alani. 
********
“You’re listening to KWPX The Wave and that was the latest single from Ariana Grande,”
Alani stops fiddling with the radio and sits back with a defeated huff. She had been in a rut with her own music lately and after spending nearly fifteen minutes in her driveway shuffling through songs, she decided to turn on the radio and leave it up to fate.
“Next up is a song from everyone’s favorite ex-boyband: One Direction,”
Goddamnit, Alani groans. She had forgotten what a bitch fate could be. 
“Now, I have to say, DeeDee,” the radio DJ starts. “I was personally heartbroken to hear the news, and I know my daughters were too,”
“Oh definitely,” DeeDee replies. “And I can’t help but wonder what this means for all of them. I mean, what do you think they’re up to these days?”
The first DJ gives a snide chuckle before he continues. “Probably doing what every twenty-something year old millionaire does: booze, cruise, and schmooze—the pretty girls, especially,”
Alani scoffs, rolling her eyes at his insinuation. She had begun to resent all of the gossip and speculation surrounding Harry’s whereabouts, especially after learning how much privacy meant to him. Moreover, she hated the twinge of jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of him with another girl. Alani supposes that it wasn’t entirely out of the question since they were far from romantically involved. While he had occupied her mind over the past few weeks, she knew that it was highly unlikely that he paid her the same attention. The thought still brings bile to her mouth. 
“Well whatever they’re up to, one thing seems to be pretty clear,” DeeDee speaks up again. “All eyes will be on Harry Styles. I mean, he’s really the one to watch in all of this, isn’t he?”
“I think you’re right. I’m curious to see what he’s got in store. Maybe he’ll join Justin Timberlake and Nick Jonas with the ex-boyband buzz cut. But without further ado, here’s Drag Me Down.”
Alani knows that she’ll have to talk to Harry eventually; over the past week and a half, she had dodged every invitation to hang out, left cut and dry responses to all of his texts, and even ducked into the restaurant’s walk-in fridge when he unexpectedly showed up one afternoon. While the temptation to indulge his friendly advances was high, professional boundaries needed to be established. She had already begun working on the article with material from the two previous interviews—and it wasn’t half bad—but there was still so much of the story to fill in. If Alani was going to make it all worthwhile, she had to keep digging and do it fast; she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings get in the way.  
Her car sputters slightly as she heads south on Mamalahoa Highway and the radio fades in and out. Alani checks all of her gauges—she had made sure that the gas tank was full before leaving—and doesn’t see anything unusual. A few miles later, it jerks again before coming to a complete stop. 
“Fuck,” she cries, pounding her palms against the steering wheel. “No, no, no, no, no!”
Alani waits a moment before turning the key again, but the engine refuses to start. She whips her phone out of the cupholder and scrolls through her contact list. 
Pua—no license.
Maleah—out of town. 
Dad—also out of town, catering a wedding in Oahu. 
Mom—probably scrubbed in on a major, life-saving surgery. 
She continues scrolling until her finger lands on a name that makes her heart race and sink at the same time. 
Harry Styles—no. 
There’s no way she can justify calling him, not after giving him the cold shoulder all week. If texting back and forth was unprofessional, then asking to be rescued off the side of the road surely crossed several boundaries. Alani scans her surroundings, shielding her eyes from the blinding afternoon sun. There isn’t a car or person in sight for miles—what other choice does she have? With shaking fingers, she dials the number and presses the phone to her ear. Harry answers after the third ring. 
“Hello?” he responds loudly over the sound of cymbals crashing and laughter in the background. 
“Hi,” Alani greets, raising her voice to be heard. “It’s Alani,”
She hears shuffling on the other end and then Harry’s voice, softer this time. 
“Oh hey. How are you?”
“Good, how are you?”
Harry senses that something is off, but he’s glad to hear from Alani, nevertheless. His friends continue their antics in the studio, despite his silent gestures to knock it off, so he heads outside. 
“Uh, yeah I’m fine. S’good to hear from you,” he offers shyly. 
Alani’s chest tightens. 
“Ditto,” she replies. “Hey listen, um, I’m kind of in a bit of trouble I—” 
She hesitates. What the hell am I doing? 
“I need your help,”
Harry’s heart sinks, immediately filled with worry. 
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “It’s my car,”
“Where are you?”
“The highway, southbound. Just past exit 243, I think,”
“I’m on my way,”
“Thank you,” Alani offers gently. “Really, thank you.”
A soft smile spreads across Harry’s lips. “Anytime.”
He arrives in a pink Cadillac fifteen minutes later, pulling over behind Alani. She doesn’t recognize the car and  her confusion only deepens when a man with short-cropped hair emerges. As he approaches, a wave of recognition and relief washes over her. 
“Harry?”
“Hey,” he greets, walking up to the driver’s side. “Need a lift?”
Alani’s mouth hangs open ever so slightly, scanning his new appearance. He looks like a completely different person than the one she remembers, and he has the faintest trace of stubble above his lip and jaw. 
“You cut your hair,”
“I did,” he confirms. 
“It’s so short,”
“Do you like it?”
“Of course I do,” Alani offers with a light laugh, feeling flustered under his gaze. “I mean it looks great, really suits you. Not that it matters what I think, it’s your hair,”
But it did matter. Everything she did, or didn’t do, said, and didn’t say— it all mattered to him for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. And it mattered more than she would ever know. 
“So Stevie quit on you?”
Alani sighs. “I don’t know what’s wrong, honestly. All of the gauges look fine and I filled the tank this morning,”
Harry asks her to pop the hood and makes his way to the front of the Bronco. He looks around, not seeing any smoke or trace of other issues, though his knowledge of cars isn’t as comprehensive as he’d like in this situation. 
Alani joins him, doing her own scan over the inside of the hood despite the fact that she has no idea what to look for. Her eyes wander to Harry’s strong hands as they prod the various bells and whistles, and she notices the way his tanned skin glistens under the sun. The cross pendant nestled behind his white t-shirt escapes when he leans over, swinging like a mesmerizing pendulum. 
“I called a tow truck,” he says standing with his hands on his hips. “Should be here soon,”
“I’ll pay you back,” Alani offers quickly, her throat dry. 
Harry waves her concern away with a hand and places the hood back. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re okay,”
“I really owe you one,” she says appreciatively. 
He leans against the car with his arms crossed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Have lunch with me and we’ll call it even.”
“Deal.”
The tow truck arrives ten minutes later and the driver gathers all of Alani’s information, letting her know which mechanic the car will be taken to and when she can pick it up. She sighs watching Stevie pull away down the road and imagines the dent it’ll make in her savings. Harry nudges her gently, motioning for her to get in his car. 
“New ride?” she questions, running her fingers over the cotton candy paint. 
“It belongs to the owner of the studio,” he explains. “All of the cars do except the Rover, she’s a rental. But Jeff took her out to get us lunch,”
“I’m so sorry for interrupting your plans,” Alani apologizes. And for kind of ghosting you, she thinks. 
Harry shakes his head, shifting the gear between them. “Nah, you didn’t interrupt, we were just messing around. But I am curious to know what brought you all the way out here on a Tuesday afternoon. Skipping town?”
Alani giggles at the way he says “Tuesday,” but responds despite the curious look he flashes her. “Day off. I was gonna go to the beach,”
“Bummer,” Harry offers, thanking every deity that he can name. “We could still go,”
“Your friends won’t be mad?”
“They’ll be fine,”
Alani nods, her eyes studying the orange checkers on her trousers.
“What’re you hungry for?” Harry speaks up. 
She thinks for a moment and is reminded of her original plans. “I could go for some sushi,”
“Know any good places?”
“Yeah, I’ll show you,” Alani’s curious gaze falls to the glove box before her, immediately wondering what’s inside. “Do you think the owner will be mad if I open this?”
Harry glances down at what she’s pointing to and shakes his head. “Knock yourself out,”
Alani pulls down the hatch and reaches inside; her fingers make contact with what feels like a pair of glasses. When her hand re-emerges with a pair that are pink and heart-shaped, she smiles. 
“They have good taste,” she comments, putting them on. 
Harry looks over and flashes a wide grin, the dimple that Alani has become so fond of emerging. 
“Look good on you,”
“Try them on,” Alani suggests, handing them over. 
He obliges and pushes his own pair up to make room for the other lenses. 
“What d’you think?”
“I think you should keep them,” she says. “They suit you.”
And they really do; they compliment his face well and hint to the fun, easygoing parts of his personality that Alani has recently discovered. 
She directs him to her favorite sushi spot near Bayfront Park, which is buzzing per usual. After they’ve been seated on the patio outside, Harry tucks the heart-shaped sunglasses into his t-shirt and contemplates addressing the elephant in the room: the ghosting. He doesn’t want to spook her, though,  so he decides to pose the question lightly, but Alani speaks before he has the chance. 
“So what’s with the haircut?”
Harry blinks, clearing his throat before he responds. “You hate it,”
“No!” She defends. “I like it, really, it looks great,”
“You wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t absolutely hate it,” he teases in mock offense. 
Alani rolls her eyes, a playful smile spreading across her face. “It just seems like a huge step and I’m curious, that’s all,”
He considers this, deciding to stop giving her a hard time, and responds. “Well if you must know, it’s for an audition,”
“For?”
“A movie,”
“A movie?” Alani’s eyes grow wide. “You’re gonna be in a movie?”
“Maybe,” he clarifies. “Dunno yet,”
“Wow,”
Harry leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What have you been up to? Any life changing decisions?”
Alani shrugs. “Same old. Work, my summer class,”
“And how’s your family?” he asks, which catches her off guard. 
“Good. My sister’s… a moody teenager. My dad is catering a big wedding in Oahu right now. Mom’s saving lives like the badass woman she is,”
Harry laughs lightly at her comment and Alani tries to store the soundbite in the back of her mind for safe keeping.
“What about yours?” she questions. 
“Fine, yeah. Mum’s good, so’s Gemma. Talk to them at least once a week just to check in,”
He pauses to take a sip of his water before continuing. “Ever since I was about...ten, maybe, ‘ve had this feeling like—protect mum at all costs. But she’s strong, has the greatest heart,”
Alani finds it sweet that Harry speaks so highly of Anne. Her own mom had always told her that a lot can be said about the character of a man by the way he treats his mother. 
“I’m sure she misses having you around,” Alani comments, thinking of her own close relationship with her mom. “I don’t know if I could let my child leave home as early as you did,”
Harry brushes the tip of his nose with a knuckle and nods. “Was kinda hard at first, but she’s always been really supportive.”
“I bet she’s really proud.”
He offers a shy smile in response, scanning the scenery around them. 
“I’m sure your family’s proud of you too.”
Alani and Harry continue their light conversation through the entire meal, sharing stories about their families and childhood. She finds herself wishing that  she could have met a teenaged Harry, pre-fame and general world domination. He enjoys her anecdotes, soaking up every detail that he possibly can as if his life depends on it. The two of them go back and forth well after the meal is finished, only pausing when the waitress stops to check on them. 
“Maybe we should go,” Alani suggests, checking her phone for the time. “I always hate when customers stay for hours,”
“Just like I did the first time at the café?” he asks, putting his signature on the bill. 
Alani feels her cheeks warm and she quickly back pedals. “No! I mean—well, yeah, kinda—”
“And the truth comes out!”
“I was just annoyed because my sister kept bugging me to fill up your water. She was afraid you were gonna, like, get dehydrated and die or something.”
“Tell her I appreciate the concern.”
Alani laughs lightly, feeling a bit of relief when the breeze soothes her burning cheeks. The two of them make their way back into the restaurant and out the main entrance, padding down the boardwalk side by side. Harry never knows what to do with his hands, usually opting to stuff them into his pockets as he hurries down a busy street,  but he desperately wishes to occupy them a different way. His pinky involuntarily brushes the back of Alani’s hand, but he pulls away quickly to avoid freaking her out. She wishes he hadn’t. 
“What were you gonna do at the beach?” he asks to break the ice. 
She thinks for a moment, watching the different couples huddled together on the beach. “Relax, get some air. Do a little reading,”
“What’re you reading?”
“Currently this book about Laurel Canyon in California and some of the musicians who lived there during the 60s. You might like it,”
Harry’s brow raises. “Think so?”
“Yeah, it’s got Joni, Crosby, Stills, and Nash, Mamas and the Papas, all those guys. They talk about their experiences of coming to terms with rapidly growing fame, the reality of the peace and love movement, the collaborative process. Seems like something you might find interesting—relatable, even,”
"I’ll check it out,” Harry promises with a nod. 
Alani smiles gently and refocuses her attention on the horizon. “So what were you gonna do today?”
“Not much,” Think about you. “But speaking of books and stuff, I‘ve been meaning to ask. When you become, you know, the next Pulitzer Prize winner, do I get to be your plus one?”
She scoffs, squinting under the bright sun to look up at him. “I don’t know, I have to make it first,”
“And what does ‘making it’ mean to you?” Harry had been trying to re-define success, himself, and was curious to hear Alani’s thoughts on the subject.
She ponders the question for a minute, adjusting the straps of her orange tank-top to occupy her anxious fingers. “Move to New York, work for some big publication, something like that,”
“New York?” he asks, slightly taken aback. “And leave all this behind?”
“I think I’d like the change,” Alani reasons. “I love it here more than anything, but I think I’ve gotta make my own way, my own decisions. My grandma used to say that you ‘gotta swim before you drown because the ocean’s too vast and too interesting to get stuck treading water in the same place,’”
Harry nods, understandingly. “Wise woman,”
“Carolina,” Alani says, using the Spanish pronunciation that sounds like music to Harry’s ears. “That was her name, I was named after her,”
“Middle name?”
“Yeah,” she clarifies. “I’m half Mexican on my mom’s side,”
He hums. “Ever been?”
“To Mexico?” Alani asks, proceeding when he nods. “Yeah. Once when I was like, five, we went to Xcaret for my aunt’s wedding,”
“It’s beautiful there,” Harry notes. 
“What’s your favorite place that you’ve been to?” Alani questions, imagining all the stamps that must be in Harry’s passport. 
He thinks for a moment, a hum buzzing low in his throat as he sifts through his memory. “Probably Italy,”
“Lucky,” Alani muses, picturing the Gothic cathedrals that she longs to visit. 
“You’d like it there.” Harry says, truly believing it. A part of him felt that she belonged in every beautiful place he could think of. 
The two of them walk in silence for a few moments, each taking time to scope out the view around them. Alani sees a couple leaned against a staircase railing, looking deep in conversation, though probably not a pleasant one. 
“You think they’re breaking up?” Alani asks gently, nodding her head in their direction. “Or just having the talk?”
Harry scans the scenery before his eyes land on the pair that she's referring to. “Ah yes, the talk. Ye olde chat,”
“What do you think you’d be if you weren’t a musician?” She poses suddenly. He laughs to himself at the way Alani jumps from topic to topic and reasons that her mind must always be going a mile a minute. 
“A virgin,” Harry jokes, hoping that it’ll land. When she lets out a sudden, bright laugh, he looks over in relief. 
“God, you are so…” Alani trails off, shaking her head.
 He waits to see if she’ll finish the statement, but he doesn’t think she will. Truthfully, she doesn’t know what to say. The more Alani learns about Harry, the more he seems to surprise her. One minute he can be serious and thoughtful. The next, a ray of sunshine—aloof and carefree. She finds herself anticipating his every move, every word, and loving each minute that he allows her to. It makes her head spin at times, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 
They journey down to the shore and discard their shoes in favor of feeling the cool sand beneath their toes. Alani tells Harry about the sea glass collection she had as a child, and he makes a mental note to scan the ground for any pieces she might like. She asks him if the beaches are nice in England, to which he responds a hard “no” compared to the ones in Hawaii or California. A couple of children splash in the shallow water nearby, and Alani doesn’t miss the fond look in Harry’s eye as he watches. Eventually, they wander back up to the main boardwalk when they spot a group of people  happily sipping milkshakes. Harry noticed her eyes following them, practically drooling, so he suggested it before she had to. 
“Want some?” Alani asks, her mouth full of strawberry. 
Harry gladly accepts, taking a sip from the straw that she holds out to him. He hums, letting the taste sit on his tongue before he offers  his own cup full of vanilla. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning over for a taste. The flavor is sweet and comforting to her, despite popular opinion that it’s boring. Alani swipes her tongue across her lower lip and thinks for a moment that this is what his mouth must taste like. She wishes she could verify this thought. 
“I’m really glad you got the strawberry,” he notes, stirring his drink with the straw. “I was having a serious crisis over what to get,”
“When in doubt, always go with the pink one,” Alani says, tapping her temple, and suddenly Harry remembers that the contents of her bag were all various shades of bubble gum and dusty rose. 
“It’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” he offers, taking another sip of his milkshake. 
“Paul Simonon?” she questions with narrowed eyes, instantly recognizing his reference to a quote from The Clash’s bassist.  
“Nothing gets past you.”
********
The clouds above start to resemble puffs of cotton candy, signaling that the day will soon draw to a close much to both Harry and Alani’s dismay. They lounge in the pink Cadillac, which is parked in an area that overlooks the entire beach, and take turns picking out the one lie amongst two truths about one another; it was a game that Harry had proposed. 
“Is it,” Alani starts, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “The four nipples?”
Harry makes a buzzer sound effect through his own laughter, temple resting against his fist as his arm drapes over the seat. 
“Wrong-o, sorry,”
“What?!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “You’re messing with me,”
“Am not,” he defends proudly. 
Alani lets out a surprised chuckle, fighting the urge to let her eyes wander below his neck. “I don’t believe you,”
“I’d prove it,” he shrugs. “But then I’d have to flash you,”
“Guess we’ll never know, then,” 
Their laughter settles down and the only sound between them is the crashing of waves in the distance. Harry lets his eyes trail down the slope of Alani’s nose to her cupid’s bow—dangerous territory. Little does he know, Alani does the same, noting the fact that his lips are heart-shaped and the perfect shade of strawberry. How sickeningly charming, she thinks. Her eyes lift back to Harry’s and there’s something hidden behind the sea-glass that she can’t quite read. The air becomes charged and the two of them are like magnets, drawn inexplicably towards one another. Alani inches closer, her heart pounding so violently in her chest, she’s afraid that he can hear it. The sound of his own blood rushing in his ears prevents this, however, as he leans in too. The space between them gets smaller, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation, when the high pitched ringing of Alani’s phone sends her jolting backward. Harry curses every deity that he can name. 
“Hello?” she responds, turning her back to him. She listens for a minute, a soft “mhmm” escaping every few seconds. “Okay, yes, I’ll be there. Thank you,” 
Alani dreads having to turn back to Harry and face the consequences of whatever lines were almost crossed. She chooses to simply ignore it all together, as if no time had passed between his shocking personal revelation and the ringing of her phone. 
“Stevie’s ready.” she says weakly. 
Harry swallows down his frustration and offers a polite smile. “Let’s go get her.”
The mechanic shop is twenty minutes from the beach; Harry and Alani spend the entire ride in silence. Neither of them address the almost kiss despite the fact that it hangs over their heads like a raincloud of uncertain emotion. She occupies her gaze with the scenery whizzing past while he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. Alani mourns the fact that their little bubble had been popped so soon, but she figures that it’s for the best. Don’t get attached, she reminds herself. Easier said than done. Harry also wallows in the aftermath of the interruption, wishing he had acted sooner. When they finally arrive at the shop, the mechanic reveals that the cause of her car troubles was a simple dead battery. Harry offers to foot the bill, but Alani refuses, deciding that she shouldn’t accept any more favors from him in order to restore the boundary. 
“So I guess this is where we part ways,” Alani says gently, toying with her keys. 
Harry scans his brain for something—anything—a single excuse to see her again, and soon. He doesn’t think he can take another week and a half of icy silence and he has a suspicion that she can’t either. After all, she had leaned in, too—hadn’t she?
“There’s this thing,” he blurts out. “A sort of jam sesh at the studio tomorrow night. There’s gonna be booze, otherwise I’d tell you to bring your sister. But I’d love for you to come, and I think it might be good for—the article, or something,”
Alani weighs the pros and cons in her mind, one of which he had already mentioned: a chance to listen to what he’s working on. It seemed professional and innocent enough, not to mention the fact that there’d be other people around to keep them in check. Once she decides it’s safe, she nods. 
“Okay, sure,”
“I can pick you up,” Harry offers. 
Alani shakes her head gently and offers a shy smile. “No, that's okay. Tomorrow night?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be there.”
They exchange good-byes and Alani thanks him for coming to her rescue, to which he offers a modest shrug. Harry speeds down the highway and back to the house, but three words linger in the silence. 
I’ll be there.
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sushigirlali · 4 years ago
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If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue (Reylo Fanfic)
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Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue
Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa’s son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?
Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron
Rating: E
Continuity: Modern AU
A/N: Last but not least, here's the epilogue! I would have been in CA this week for SWCA, so I'm missing my Reylo friends extra hard! Hopefully things will start looking up next year for conventions because cosplay and meetups are life for me! Enjoy :)
Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr
——————
If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue
By: sushigirlali
——————
Kennington, London Three months later
——————
Rey curled her legs underneath her as the news report she'd been waiting for finally started. At the same moment, Finn's door opened and he passed through the living room to the kitchen.
"Since when do you watch the news?" he asked, opening the fridge to grab a snack.
"Shh!" she waved a hand at him, trying to listen to the report.
"Senator Organa has won reelection in a landslide, despite a hiccup in her campaign when J.J. Snoke, former head of multinational corporation The First Order, was arrested by the FBI and charged with a slew of crimes ranging from embezzlement to the attempted murder of her son, Ben Solo. Solo is expected to remain at his mother's side for the foreseeable future as Chief of—"
"Hey!" Rey yelped as Finn grabbed the remote and switched the TV off. "What the hell?"
"I could ask you the same thing," he frowned, taking a bite out of a bright red apple. "Have you actually talked to Ben or are you getting all your information from the telly?"
"We've talked," she said evasively.
"When was the last time?"
"Last week," she muttered. "He's very busy right now."
"And what did he say?" Finn inquired.
"He said he was coming back soon," she hunched her shoulders, "but the news for the past few days has been saying that Ben's going to stay in America and work for his mom and there's speculation he's dating that tiny blonde woman from the fancy café and—"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," her brother cautioned as she worked herself up. "If Ben said he's coming back, then he is. I don't think the bloke has it in him to lie to you. And he's definitely not cheating on you, Rey."
"How do you know?" she cried. "You and Poe talk fifty times a day and are so in love it makes me sick!"
"Okay, let's put a pin in my love life," Finn said, "and get back to the real issue. If you're having doubts about him, then you need to talk to him!"
"I guess I could call him," she sniffed. "It's late there, though. He might be asleep."
"Why not give it a try just in case?" he urged.
She blew a raspberry at him. "Fine."
Finn looked at her expectantly, continuing to much on his piece of fruit.
"Are you just going to stand there or can I get some privacy?" she glared.
"I'm just going to stand here," he confirmed with a grin.
Swearing under her breath, Rey was about to dial Ben up when her phone rang. "Oh, no."
"What? Is it him?"
"No," she gulped, recognizing one of the contacts she'd copied from Ben's cell all those months ago, "it's his mother."
"Well, answer it!" he said, rushing to sit beside her.
Rey held the phone so that Finn could hear too. "H—hello? Mrs. Solo?"
"Organa, but Leia is fine," she replied briskly. "Rey, have you heard from my son? He's supposed to be in town for another—"
"Finn!" Rey gasped as he took the phone from her hand and ended the call. "What are you doing?!"
"Dammit, this isn't going right at all," he bemoaned. "Ben is going to kill me!"
"What?"
Sighing, Finn scrolled through her favorites and called Ben before pressing the device to her ear. "Here."
Rey started to argue, but the sound of another phone ringing diverted her attention to the front door. "What the fuck?"
"Surprise!" Finn said weakly.
Her mouth dropped open as the door suddenly swung wide, revealing a casually dressed Ben Solo with cell in hand.
"Hey, Rey," he smiled, speaking into the receiver.
The sound of his husky voice was magnified by their close proximity, making her quiver. "Ben?" she breathed.
"I'm back, sweetheart," he held his free arm open, "aren't you glad to see me?"
Unable to respond, to think, she just stared at him in shock. "This can't be real. Am I dreaming?"
"Rey?" he frowned, hanging up the phone and slipping it into his back pocket. "You are happy to see me, right?" He hovered half inside the doorway, looking like he intended to bolt if she said "no."
Shaken by his vulnerability, Rey tossed her phone over her shoulder and bounded across the room and into his arms. "Ben? Ben!" she cried, realizing he was real and firm and here. "Oh, my god!"
"Does that mean you missed me?" he teased, sounding relieved.
She squeezed him tight, burrowing her face into his black Henley. "Yes!" she said, words slightly muffled against his firm chest.
"Good," he responded, hugging her tightly. "I was worried for a second there."
Looking up at him, she drank in his handsome features. "Don't be silly." Then, a little anxiously, "Did you miss me too?"
"Every minute, baby, every minute," he said huskily.
"Are—are you staying long?"
He tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm back."
"Yes, but back for how long?" she chewed her lip.
"Have you been watching the news, Rey Niima?" he chuckled.
"Shut up," she flushed.
He leaned down to kiss her. "I'm going to work out of the embassy for my mother during her last term, then I'm free to do whatever I want."
"And what is that?" she sighed against his mouth.
"Be with you," he said simply, looping an arm under her legs and pulling her into a bridal carry. "How does that sound?"
"I think I can work you in between classes," she ribbed, curling her arms around the strong column of his neck. "I'm starting in January. If I take summer classes as well, I should be done within three years."
"I can live with that," he murmured, taking her mouth again. "I can live with that forever."
——————
"Nice to see you, too," Finn laughed quietly as Ben walked into Rey's room and kicked the door shut behind them. Stooping to pick up Rey's discarded phone when it started ringing again, he answered, "Hey, Senator."
"Uh… hello?" Leia replied. "Who is this?"
"Finn."
"Oh, the brother!"
"Yes, the brother," he laughed again. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for my son," she paused, "and now Rey too, I suppose. Do you know where they are?"
Finn snorted as Rey's bed started squeaking against the wall. "I have an idea," he said irreverently.
Something in his voice must have given the situation away, because she said, "Oh… I see... Ben's already in London then. Can you ask them to give me a call, um, tomorrow? There are a few things we should discuss about Ben's move… and other future important events."
"Sure, I can do that," he said brightly. "Rey, you've got your hands full with this one. Good luck planning your own wedding."
"Thank you. Goodnight, Finn."
"Goodnight, Senator." Disconnecting the call, he placed the device on the coffee table with a sigh. "Well, my duty is done for the night, I should probably—"
"Done managing our friend's lives?" A man rumbled from the still open doorway.
"Poe!" Finn exclaimed, flipping around. "You're here too!"
"Surprise!" he smiled, holding out a hand. "Wanna go out for dinner?"
Sparing a glance toward Rey's bedroom as the scandalous sounds from within became even louder, he tossed the apple core into the trash, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and joined Poe at the door. "Hell yes," he agreed, taking his hand, "it's a date."
——————
Washington, D.C. Three years later
——————
Rey Solo tried to focus on what her husband was whispering into her ear, but found the task impossible as his hips slammed hard against hers. With her thighs pushed wide to accommodate his width and a plush pillow propping up her hips, Ben had worked his thick cock so deep inside her body that she could practically feel him in her throat.
Not that she was complaining, per se, but it was rather annoying to be stuck housesitting for Ben's mother, the esteemed Senator Leia Organa, instead of enjoying the long awaited honeymoon in Hawaii they had painstakingly planned over the last year. Having already postponed their vacation until after Rey finished engineering school, they were both itching for a break.
Since getting together with Ben, Rey had met Leia exactly three times. Once at her engagement party, then again at her wedding, and finally only hours ago in the very room Ben was fucking her brains out in now. She was a kind woman, if a bit stern, and loved her son to distraction. Which was fortunate, since Rey was pretty sure they didn't have anything else in common.
Still, she wanted to be a good wife and daughter-in-law, so she'd sucked up her disappointment when Leia had asked them to babysit her pets and water her plants for two weeks instead of going on her dream vacation while Leia jetted off to lord knows where to bail her erstwhile husband out of a jam.
Having never met the man, he'd be conspicuously absent from their wedding, Rey's only opinion on the elder Solo was that he was lucky to have a family that cared about him so much. Having grown up in the foster care system, she knew never to take such things for granted.
In fact, now that she had a family of her own, every day was more special than the last. When not working for his mother, Ben was helping Finn and Poe grow their independent racing team. And with Leia retiring next year, he would be free to pursue his new passion with his friends. For her part, she couldn't wait to get involved in designing cars for Finn; he was quickly becoming a star on the British circuit. It was funny how things worked out sometimes...
"Rey?" Ben's hoarse whine broke into her thoughts. "Rey, I'm gonna lose it!" His long fingers slipped between them, zeroing in on her pulsating core. He deftly manipulated her slick nub, dragging her to the brink as well. "Do you want me to pull out, or…?"
Sometimes life threw in-law sized curveballs at you, but on the plus side, making furious love to her husband in the middle of the day on his mother's favorite sofa was a pretty good alternative to a Hawaiian vacation. Being married to the love of her life was turning out to be quite the adventure after all.
"No!" Rey locked her ankles around his waist and tightened her inner muscles around him. Ben swore in response, his careful rhythm becoming sloppy as they careened toward climax. "This sofa costs fifteen thousand dollars, don't you dare ruin it!"
"How the hell do you know that?" he grunted, but she could tell he was pleased. While she enjoyed when he made a bit of a mess during sex, Ben had always preferred coming inside her.
"Your mother," she gasped, arching into his next stroke. "When we toured the house earlier she—she—ah! Ben!"
"Guess I'll just have to come in you then," he panted, playing her body like a fiddle. "You've been off the pill for a month. Do you think you're ready for me? For my come? Are you ready to have my baby?"
"Oh, Ben!" she moaned, heart racing madly at the mention of having his child. Whoever said procreation wasn't sexy hadn't met her husband. They'd barely started trying, but he'd already reconfigured his home office into the perfect nursery. "Yes! Come inside me, please! Fill me up! I want your baby, Ben!"
"Fuck! Rey!" He pounded into her harder, angling his hips in just the way she liked, giving her everything he had to give. "Right there?" he huffed, hooking one of her legs over the crook of his arm. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes!" she cried, nails digging into the soft suede sofa. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Stars suddenly exploded behind her hazel eyes, making her blind to everything except the man holding her. "I love you," he whispered over and over again, trailing kisses across her face as her cunt milked his shaft for long moments. "I love you so much, Rey."
She curved her arms around his neck, returning his affectionate embrace. "I love you too, Ben."
"I'm only sorry I couldn't give you the honeymoon you deserve," he sighed absently.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I think we're off to a great start." She kissed his prominent nose. "Besides, we have traveler's insurance, so we can just go away next month instead."
"Thank god for that," he chuckled. Ben slowly sat up with her in his lap, careful not to dislodge his softening member. "So, about this sofa..."
"Yeah?"
"I think you may want to trim your nails before we start round two."
"Oh? Why's that?" she said bemusedly.
Ben turned her cheek to see two sets of crescent indentations cut into the arm of the couch. Apparently her grip was stronger than the fine fabric. "Shite."
"This is why we can't have nice things," he said with mock seriousness. "Mother will be so disappointed."
She giggled and pushed his unruly hair away from his face. "Then I guess it doesn't matter what else we do on this sofa, now does it?"
"Nope," he grinned at the possibilities. "Though we should probably keep our play fighting in the ballroom; less things to ruin in there."
"Mm… good point," she groaned, unable to resist lifting up and down on his rapidly hardening member. "But before I kick your butt again, I'm going to thoroughly ruin you—and maybe this sofa—first!"
Ben kissed her heatedly, letting her take what she wanted. "I wouldn't want it any other way, sweetheart."
-FIN-
——————
A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this little fic! I really love action romance with an HEA! Please check out my other fics and leave reviews! Validation is wonderful lol Be well!
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misssophiachase · 7 years ago
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do you watch friends? there was a scene where phoebe complains that she's 30 but still hasn't had the perfect kiss. joey runs out of the coffee shop, kisses her & then says "now you can say you've had your perfect kiss." it was quite sweet. can you write a mini klaroline prompt based off that?
Thanks for the prompt nonnie and I’m sorry this took so long to do, I actually had it half written then managed to delete it and have had trouble getting the motivation again. And yes I adore Friends and this scene : )
I also want to tag @thenerdyunhealthybrit who gave me a Friends drabble prompt AGES ago and I never got around to it. Hope this will suffice, luv : )
I’ll Be There For You
“Well, that’s three months of my life I’ll never get back,” Caroline sighed, flopping onto the café’s couch next to Bonnie defeatedly.
“And another one bites the dust,” Enzo murmured, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper as Kol began to hum the melody of the aforementioned Queen song.
“It’s a little too early for your poor excuse of a comedy duo sketch, isn’t it?” She scowled in their direction. “Urgh. What’s wrong with me?”
“Well…” Kol began.
“You’re not being helpful,” Bonnie chided, giving her boyfriend a knowing look.
“She makes it too easy,” he argued, poking out his tongue.
“I meant,” she replied tersely, choosing to ignore his usually childish behaviour. “Why do I always pick the wrong guys?”
“I thought James was perfect relationship material,” Elijah offered, mimicking her premature and totally unfounded predictions and calmly taking a sip of his tea. “If I recall correctly he’s a lawyer, Harvard Rhode Scholar, has an impressive stock portfolio and likes the opera.”
“You really should have known from that opera nonsense,” Klaus interjected.  
Caroline turned to give the middle Mikaelson a weary glance. When they’d first met the Mikaelson siblings after Kol and Bonnie began to date all those years ago, his crimson lips and dimples had disarmed her briefly but then she found out just what an arrogant smartass and womaniser he was and the spell was well and truly broken. 
“It’s times like these I wish you’d not listen to anything I say just like your brothers,” Caroline said to Elijah, while choosing to ignore Klaus. She figured that unusual perceptiveness he possessed was due to Katherine’s influence over the eldest brother since they’d recently begun dating.
“Well, he must have done something wrong,” Katherine observed, snatching the last salted caramel macaron before Enzo could get his greedy hands on it. 
“Oh yeah, he did.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Rebekah offered. “He couldn’t dance like that Max fellow with the two left feet? 
“Yeah, you had bruises for weeks from memory,” Klaus shared.  
“No, it has to be Sam and his questionable fashion choices,” Enzo observed. “But between you and me, I don’t mind a good turtleneck. It can get a little nippy in New York City in the winter, after all.”
“Turtlenecks haven’t been in fashion for a long time and anyone who’d pay so little for a suit needs to have his head examined,” Klaus interjected again. 
“No, it had to of been the laugh,” Kol chuckled. “Do we all remember Nathan and that weird noise he emitted that sounded like a dinosaur dying?” 
“How in the world do you know what a dying dinosaur sounds like?” Katherine baulked. 
“I concur with Kol’s comments, just this once.” Klaus mumbled. For someone who showed zero interest in her love life certainly had a lot of unexpected opinions.
“You have to admit, it was pretty bad,” Bonnie whispered, not quietly enough though to avoid a dirty look from her best friend. 
“Is my love life really that entertaining to everyone?”
“Well…”
“Kol, zip it,” Rebekah warned, slapping him across the head for extra effect and some sisterly revenge. “It can be very difficult to find a good man, believe me.”
“Well, when the woman in question is your bossy, big sister then it’s not that surprising,” Kol shrugged. 
“Enzo? Are you going to defend me here?” She baulked, looking to her boyfriend who was still immersed in his newspaper. 
“You let him get to you every time, darling. You know just saying,” he murmured, his hand finding hers comfortingly. 
“Don’t take any notice,” Katherine said. “He’s hopped up on caffeine. As soon as he’s coming down from his high we can all pester him incessantly and pepper him with retaliatory insults.”
Caroline wasn’t unfamiliar with their usual banter and while she mostly found it entertaining, today she wasn’t in the mood. When would she find the guy who was going to change her perception on things, challenge her daily and give her the perfect kiss she’d craved? Call her a pathetic romantic but she’d been waiting for that kiss for almost thirty years and right now wasn’t sure it would ever happen. 
Her birthday was coming up in a month and it had taken all her strength to stay with James to that point. Yes, he was perfect on the outside and she was pretty sure would kill any job interview or parental interrogation but she wanted more. She wanted her perfect kiss and couldn’t wait any longer. She was running against the clock, after all. 
“Care?” Bonnie interrupted waving her hand in front of her face. “We lost you there, which isn’t entirely unexpected in this crowd. What was wrong with him?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I suppose he just wasn’t right for me,” she mumbled, feeling the hot water welling in her eyes and dreading having to explain her sudden reaction. “I actually need to get to work.” Before anyone could object she left, pulling her coat across her chest to ward off the winter chill.  
“Caroline,” he shouted, she’d know that familiar accent anywhere given its ability to cause a few niggling sensations down below. Why did her name have to sound so good rolling off his tongue? “Wait up.”
“What do you want Klaus?” She growled, turning around on her heel quickly and somehow finding herself rubbing against his chest teasingly, those necklaces in full view peaking out teasingly beneath his familiar henley. 
“What was wrong with him?”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t say, no doubt due to my brother’s lack of tact as usual.”
“Oh come on, it’s growing on me,” she shot back sarcastically. 
“That’s when I know you’re delirious,” Klaus joked. Caroline was trying to ignore just how handsome he looked in that charcoal, fitted jacket and dark jeans. 
“And you must be too wanting to know about my latest relationship, I mean you’ve barely batted an eyelid.”
“Not sure where you’ve been all this time, love,” he smiled. Moving closer and fastening a stray lock of hair behind her ear, surprisingly her slightly. “Now, what did that ass do exactly and should I kick his ass?”
She was momentarily winded, struggling to breath because he felt so warm against her body and his spicy aftershave so enticing as it filled her nostrils. 
“All I wanted was the perfect kiss before I turned thirty, let’s just say he couldn’t oblige.” She noticed a slight tugging at the corners of his mouth, afraid she’d summonsed the arrogant monster from within.
“I can’t promise perfect but I’d be willing to try and help you out?” She was frozen now, wondering exactly what this would mean for their friendship but his close proximity only made her want him more. She figured you were only thirty once and as his mouth covered hers she realised just how good it felt. 
His lips massaged hers, slowly at first, almost like Klaus was relishing in the initial contact as Caroline melted into his embrace. She felt his tongue slip into into her warm and waiting mouth. She groaned against his lips unable to stifle the unfamiliar feelings he’d caused from just one kiss. 
The sound of a car horn broke them from their reverie and moving apart, albeit reluctantly. They continued to stare, their blue eyes unwavering their breathing slightly ragged. 
“I suppose I should, uh, get going,” Caroline said, finally managing to find her voice. 
“I suppose you should then, love,” Klaus smiled, those dimples making a sudden appearance.  She managed to tear away her gaze and make her way down the sidewalk even if her legs felt like jelly and her heart was racing that much faster. 
Fast forward three years and her friends relished in telling that particular story at their wedding reception but both the bride and groom liked to argue who really was the one to make the first move and if in fact it was the perfect kiss. 
Caroline liked to play her cards close to her chest to avoid inflating that already impressive ego but Klaus figured he had the winning hand given she’d agreed to marry him at all. 
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cyncker-blog · 8 years ago
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Bullies are Home Grown
People involved in historical conflicts are often placed into one of two categories, ‘victim’ or ‘perpetrator’. Yet there is an important third category: the bystander. 
During the Holocaust many people did nothing while Jews, gays and gypsies were ripped from their homes and led to concentration camps.  A relative few reached out and showed kindness to the targeted people. 
 People make choices about whether to stand aside—or stand up—when someone else is being maligned, bullied or harassed. In standing up, we honor not only the other person’s humanity, but also our own. 
Bullying has become a catch all term to describe pain deliberately inflicted by one unfairly on another and is synonymous with lack of respect, insult,  picking on, persecution, oppression, harassment, torment, intimidation,  and/or domination.  
Families are sadly not exempt from conflict that also has its victims and perpetrators. It is not rare for a member to become a bully and for the rest of the family to become bystanders.  The fact is that the same principals apply whether the bullying is done at the macro level among strangers or at the micro level between those in a family where members are  suppose to feel safe, protected and supported.  In fact, we could argue that the pain of being deliberately bullied in a family by those we should be able to trust to be fair, is only trumped by the pain of other family members who witness the bullying as bystanders who say nothing. 
 While we look for answers regarding the psychology of crowd madness…a madness that drives nations to turn against others overnight, we spend little attention analyzing the bystander phenomenon in families. Unwilling to see the same principals at play when bullying occurs, the event is often brushed aside with one sound bite: “I don’t want to take sides”.  Yet, taking sides…between right and wrong action is the only moral and sane choice if healthy people and families are the goal. The only action not to be judged as right or wrong is an action that doesn’t have either a victim or perpetrator. In this situation the excuse used by bystanders “I don’t want to take sides”, in fact becomes “I’m unable to take sides based on what I hear as both sides have valid and fair points.” Only in this situation are family members morally exempt from involvement. 
 Imagine you were one of the millions being marched from your home by the Nazis and you witnessed neighbors that you once had deep friendships with sitting in café’s laughing with Nazi soldiers…and then telling you as explanation of their friendly behavior with your bully, “I don’t want to take sides.” This choice on their part would tell you exactly the level of loyalty they have to you…zero… and also their ability to hold a moral principal…none.  This behavior on their part would be the defining event and an end to your ‘friendship’. 
 Although this example is extreme to illustrate the point, when we are victimized by family members it is imperative that the bully/ies are surrounded and stopped (literally and/or figuratively) by the entire family.  This is showing love and support to the victim and removes the reward of ‘continued friendly interactions’ for the bully…which only serves to support their negative behavior and so empowers the bully.   
As relationship between members vary in families, some closer than others, the dynamic of closeness between two people doesn’t excuse bullying with the  “he’s nice to me”  excuse…anymore than Hitler being ‘nice’ to the Germans was a valid and sound argument for why Germans could  excuse his heinous actions/orders regarding Jews. 
Conversely, and just as important to note, are calling out those who wish to character assassinate others by using the ‘bully’ label unfairly to get undeserved support. It’s one thing to retreat to a safe space to escape bullying and another to insist on protection in a safe space from opinions different from ones own. This is not protection from bullies... it's protection from open free thought, which deserves no protection at all and requires only that the listener grow up and face the diversity of world views.
 If we wish to eliminate bullies from our schools, jobs, relationships, organizations and leadership, we must stand up and stand united to end any bullying behavior first and foremost in our own families and homes where they are allowed to grow strong and instead must be cut down before they have a chance to take root. 
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