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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs. They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter. He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two. The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’. Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call. “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!” Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.” “You… are something else.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?” Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.” “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?” What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one. “Only if it’s my treat.” “But I was the one who asked you out.” “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.” Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?” Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!” Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach. “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.” Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that. “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.” That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.” “I mean it kind of is.” “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?” “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?” Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling. “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.” The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes). Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived. “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.” She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message. Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?” “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…” She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?” “You could say that, yeah.” “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.” Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.” For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist. “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.” “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.” At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.” “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face. “Swear it.” “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.” “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.” “See ya’ in a bit.” Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her. “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it. “Thank you. For being here.” Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.” When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs. As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting. “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs. “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.” Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it. “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.” By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.” She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it. “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.” As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face. “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.” “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had. Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest. When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.” “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.” “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience. “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!” The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe. “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was. “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him. When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so. “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.” Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years ago

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Nothing To Him - A Harry Styles One Shot

Harry Styles is a liar.

He lied your whole relationship.

He promised to love you forever and then he walked away.

A lovers to nothing break up fic feat. blisters, heartache & two sides to one story.

Word count: 15k (Sorry! You’re going to want to open this little pal in a browser window probably. Eek)

Story Playlist:

The First Lie: Damn This Love - Thirsty Merc The Second Lie: Do You Remember - Jarryd James The Third Lie: Nebraska - Oh Wonder The Fourth Lie: I Saw You - Jon Bryant The Fifth Lie: Here We Go - Emily Hearn The Sixth Lie: Crying Dancing - Nina Nesbitt , NOTD

MY MASTERLIST.

The first lie was that you were different.

Harry felt different with you.

You just slipped into his routine and his life. You didn't buy into the spectacle of it all. You told him on your first date that you didn't play games, and that it wasn't often you connected with someone on an intellectual or emotional level. Harry sat there and listened to the woman across from him say she didn't expect to finish the date still attracted to him.

And he fucking loved it.

The next morning he called you at quarter past eight, because he figured you either started work at eight-thirty or nine o'clock, so he'd catch you on your commute or just before you walked into the office. You answered your phone like you would a business call. He teased you for it, but really he was just glad you answered at all. It felt like getting test results telling Harry he was in the clear.

The truth was when Harry first met you at the birthday party the night before he'd been angling towards you being a hookup. He saw you across the bar as soon as he arrived, gaze zeroing in on your legs in That Dress, his ears leaning to the sound of your laugh pulling eyes from around the room. Harry wanted you, and he'd been through a bit of a dry spell. You radiated the kind of energy Harry could get drunk on, the sort of body he wanted to lose himself in for a night.

It was almost an hour before he managed to edge into the same circle of bodies as you. You knew the birthday girl the same way he did; through work. Harry caught early on that you didn't still work for his record label, but did a few years before and stayed in touch with everyone. You seemed like the kind of person who collected people, who everyone wanted to keep in touch with. Harry just wanted to touch you.

Two tequilas in he got you to himself.

You were good at flirting, which excited Harry initially. You had a quip for everything or an interesting addition to each story he told. You were well-read and well-travelled, and you weren't hesitant in showing Harry that you had opinions and ideas of your own. Over the years he'd become good at getting people to talk, good at asking questions that make someone share themselves because the alternative—Harry sharing himself—wasn't something he could do. But something about you and the way you framed questions made Harry feel like it was safe to share a little more, you'd disarmed him quietly, and by the time he noticed Harry didn't feel the need to protect himself anymore.

"That's bullshit," you'd told him when he said he wasn't all that into contemporary fiction. You hated the artsy elites who listed off the Hemingway's and the Kerouac's and the Vonnegut's as though the only literature worth mentioning came from lifetimes ago. Your hair swished back and forth at your cheeks as you shook your head emphatically, "You're being lazy. Imagine saying the same about modern music."

Harry's lips ticked up into a smile, and he raised his eyebrow in concession, "That would be bullshit," he agreed, thinking of the album he'd just released and how he wanted to know if you'd listened to any of his stuff. (Very quickly he decided he probably didn't want to know because it stuck Harry the answer would be no.) His eyes couldn't pull away from watching your lips as you spoke, admiring the shade of lipstick you wore.

"Right," you continued, "Modern fiction teaches me about myself, about my life. It gives words to what my friends and I are experiencing. The classics are amazing—don't get me wrong—but I don't see myself in them."

"Seems like your criteria stem from narcissism," Harry was sure he had you there. He grinned at you happily.

"Exactly," you agreed without hesitation, "Maybe 'Hills Like White Elephants' is genius, and as a woman, I should be grateful to Hemmingway for horrifying his audience in 1927 with a normalised view of abortion but … I don't think he wrote that for me. He was challenging ideas then. I feel more connection and loyalty to an Instagram poet who's painting the world that actually matters to me, the world I'm trying to survive now."

Harry hums into his drink and says nothing. He expects you to back away a little, or ask him some question that watered-down your view and opened up the table to his. But you don't. You let your view sit on the slice of the bar between you and don't apologise for it.

"There's a reason artists burst out of every generation," you add, sitting forward on your stool. "If the classics were the perfect form, the perfect commentary of humanity, then there'd be no need for anyone after them to bother trying to put the world and life into words, or pictures, or music. You can't just dismiss a generation of voices because some smelly, old, white, university hasn't decided to name a building after them yet. I don't think being published as a little orange Penguin Classic is the singular hallmark to good literature."

He didn't entirely agree with you, (he thought it was vital to learn from the past, thought those great authors you reeled off and dismissed set the benchmark artists today should aspire to) but Harry liked hearing your thoughts and seeing the passion burst out of you. He liked seeing how you didn't second guess yourself or try to soften your opinion by asking for his. You just said what you thought, and that was always one of his favourite characteristics in a person.

That night you met him, you were the designated driver for a few of your friends. He should have noticed the way you switched to pineapple juice after you finished your first drink, but he was too busy trying not to look at the curve of your thigh when you crossed one leg over the other. Trying to ignore the smell of your perfume or how you kept licking your lips and he wanted to taste them, desperately. Harry didn't like to say anything when he offered to buy you another gin and dry. Still, when it eventually came out in conversation—that you were strictly only having one tonight—he felt his excitement deflate. His warm buzz suddenly felt pervy and presumptuous.

"Well, that's bloody annoying, isn't it?"

His response surprised you, "Me getting my friends home alive?"

With his hand comfortably resting over your knee, Harry shook his head, "I was hoping to go home with you."

"Oh."

You blinked at him, not having expected him to be so bold. You didn't hate it though, you felt the twinge of realising you were going to miss something that could have been good. Could have been great, probably. The last time you had sex had been … sad. And disappointing. Still, you hadn't come out to meet anyone tonight, why the sudden rush of despondency? These were old work colleagues you rarely saw, and you figured it would be a night of catching up before six months of not seeing each other because life got in the way.

Then Harry asked for your number. Asked if you'd go out with him the next night. He didn't beat around the bush with it, he wanted to see you again and told you so. The way you said you would filled him with relief but also fear. Harry knew he'd need to really deliver with you, he couldn't half-arse it. He was terrified he'd overshoot it and lose the change to be someone who impressed you.

He settled on a Sunday evening picnic where the two of you ate takeaway on a beach towel at the top of a park halfway between your houses. Something told Harry you would be happier with him underplaying the date than you would be getting taken to an expensive, showy restaurant. You wore jean shorts and a long sleeve jumper which churned his body more deeply than the dress with the split from the night before. He was hooked.

"Do you not like olives?" Harry asked, sucking the oil off his fingers after just depositing one into his mouth. You instantly loved the way the inflection of his words rose at the end of his sentences, and you'd mock him for it your whole relationship.

You looked at the plastic container sitting between you, you'd been picking at the cheese and crackers, the antipasto was not your thing, "They don't seem like something humans should eat … Salty and rubbery with a tiny stone on the inside? No, thanks."

A laugh burst out of Harry's mouth as he picked up another green olive, "More for me then."

"I'm happy about the rosemary in these though," you held up a cracker before digging it into the hummus, a plastic-stemmed wine glass with a dry rose in your free hand, "You got the fancy ones."

"Only the best," Harry returned with a smile and then went on trying to playfully wedge more information from you about the secret poetry Instagram he was convinced you had. He was already feeling buzzed from the wine, but more from the way you kept looking at him and he couldn't catch a hint of you being anything other than yourself.

You didn't go home together that night either, despite The Kiss at the end next to his car. Despite Harry's hands on the back of your thighs as things got heated. The way the tips of his fingers feathered against the elastic of your knickers, just slipping under before pulling away. Your chests heaving together in a rhythm you'd never found with anyone else.

He felt like he had just auditioned for a part he wasn't sure yet that you were going to give him. Wine always heightened his anxiety, so Harry also wanted to appear controlled and measured. He wanted to be as thoughtful as you were. As connected to himself as you were to all your wonderful opinions and facts. There was some part of him that feared taking you home too soon might risk that being the only night Harry got. So he pulled away, kissed your cheek and promised to call you later on.

Somewhere along the line, Harry decided he wanted more than a little bit. He was greedy. Harry wanted the whole pie all to himself.

That was a theme, him wanting more. Even now, months since you've seen or heard from him. Harry always knew how to get you to take that one step out of your comfort zone, take that little bit extra risk. Letting go of him in one way felt like small release valve finally letting go. A tiny bit of your safety net tucking closer around you. A little quiet moment to take stock and check every part of you was still connected, still there. A deep breath in. A short pause of calming silence. Like getting your heart back … But then finding it didn't fit in your chest the same way anymore.

So you found it particularly cruel to have received a follow-up email from his assistant this week, checking to see if you were able to attend his show tonight.

The show that six months ago Harry drew you a mock ticket for and hand-delivered to you sitting outside in his garden with a tea and a biscuit. Even then, even as his girlfriend, you'd feigned not knowing if you could say whether you would attend. Now it felt foreboding, the way you'd pulled your features together thoughtfully and told Harry you'd have to see closer to the date. You waited just long enough for him to switch over into thinking you were serious before you laughed and told him of course and where else would I be?

Where else would I be, was right, in a sense. Because this is still your city, and you're here tonight. It's not his anymore. He moved soon after you broke up … Relocated to one of his—what was it you used to mockingly call them?—" location" homes. Houses you never saw in person. Places he never took you. Either Italy or France. Somewhere he could hide, be creative, recenter himself. All three of those things filled you with dread for different reasons.

Were you really going to go tonight though? Walk in through the front door of the venue with a ticket and barcode on your phone, sit in a crowd and listen to Harry for two hours? Look at him from across the room and just take it on the chin?

It certainly seemed you were dressed for it. And you were out of the house with time to get there. Would you get off the train at the stop though? Would you walk down the street with the bright sign his name lit up? Would Harry even know if you didn't go?

Part of you wonders if his assistant didn't mean to email you. Maybe she forgot you were no longer in Harry's life? Perhaps it was a scheduled email she forgot to stop? Probably it was Harry just being fucking nice, and polite, and worrying about how you'd feel if you were uninvited. Or if he didn't check in on you while he was here.

You accepted the reminder too easily and scolded yourself for it. His team was expecting you. Harry was expecting you. And now, sitting on the train and counting down the stops you felt caught. Felt like he had you again, even if it was just winning whatever tonight was.

Harry did always enjoy the chase. Admitted it himself, admitted to loving the beginning of meeting someone. Loving the audition process, the figuring each other out, the get. The Catch.

You wonder now if it was the chase he liked back then. Was it a thrill having you make him feel as though he had something to prove? Or was it Harry experiencing for the first time not having the upper hand, not having even the tiniest amount of weight around who he was count for anything. Now it felt like Harry was nothing but upper hand.

Whatever it was—the Chase, or your endless facts, pancakes on a Sunday morning—the part of Harry's lie about you being different that hurts the most is the way you bought into it so proudly. Wore it later as his girlfriend like a badge of honour. As though it signalled to others you'd been hard-won, and Harry was lucky to have you.

Different turned out to be such a dirty word.

Different turned out to mean nothing. To get you nowhere.

All different got you was Nothing To Him.

The second lie was that he saw a future with you.

Harry didn't shy away from talking about it. He made plans for you both.

Sometimes it was in the moments right before you both fell asleep at night, or in the final seconds before the kettle finished boiling. Always in some small window where his mind drifted and sat comfortably stagnant when all there was to think about was the next holiday you'd take together. Or what breed of dog you might have one day. Whether you wanted your kids to be close together in age or have larger age gaps between them. What you thought about silent retreats in Thailand.

He stored your answers away in the file full of you in his head or added them to the note on his phone with ideas for gifts for people or things going on in their lives he wanted to remember.

"My family have always had cats," he told you one night, fingers drawing circles around your bare kneecap, your naked thigh resting across his stomach, "When I'm settled I'd want to get a few of my own."

It was one of those hot summer nights no position felt comfortable for sleep, you raised your arms up over your head and stretched out further on the mattress, fingers dangling off the edge of the bed to feel the cold stream from the air conditioning unit above, "I don't trust cats. Isn't there something about them being evolutionarily build to hunt their owner?"

Harry turned his head to face you, "A fact for everything," he recited fondly, his common quip for your always having an answer for everything, "I'll let the cats hunt me, you'll be spared."

"As long as I can name them," you murmured, your eyes finally closing.

Close to three months later, an hour into unsuccessfully putting together a flat-pack shelving unit in Harry's garage, you heavily plopped yourself down on the concrete floor and hailed defeat. You tossed the small, silver Allen key onto the floor in Harry's direction and rested your chin in your palm.

A few minutes of watching his embittered attempts passed before he spoke.

"Hey Sulky, I can feel you looking at me," Harry was frowning at the short piece of timber in his hand, he was holding it next to what was supposed to be the base of the structure. This was your second attempt at pulling apart the shelves and starting again while you cursed the entire Swedish furniture empire. You were enjoying seeing Harry's stubborn frustration immensely.

He could be such a man sometimes.

"Yeah, 'cause you're hot," you said, mocking him dreamily.

"Ha ha," he drawled, rolling his shoulders back to try to regain his focus.

When he paused a moment later and looked up at you, his arms dropped as his brow softened and he let out a breath.

You grinned at him, "I'm pretty cute too, right?"

"All this shit is going to end up living on the ground because you're sabotaged the assembly!" He gestured wildly at the tools and spare paint colours for the house lying around you. His bike parts and the weird assortment of garden tools Harry collected were leaning against the wall waiting to be put on their new home as well, the shelf neither you nor Harry were skilled enough to put together.

"Baby," you began, but Harry waved you off, and you saw genuine frustration start to emerge on his face, "Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," you stressed, "Are you sure we're looking at this thing from the right way around? Maybe the designer meant for it to be wonky?"

He rolled his eyes at you. As if the mere thought anyone would design anything to look like the mess currently on the floor was purely preposterous—his temper for small frustrations on full display.

"Don't be rude!" You admonished, "It's a fucking shelf, we can do this, Harry."

It took you another hour and a half, but when it was done, Harry draped his arm around your shoulders, kissed you on the head and told you that you were the person he wanted by his side of all his future crisis. Someone to say to him, whatever the challenge was, it wasn't beyond him, wasn't something he couldn't handle or wasn't capable of.

You felt like you were floating that night.

It was one of those few times you could see your imprint on his life. See some evidence of it. There were shelves in his garage only there because you told him he needed storage there, and then you pushed him to keep trying assembling them. It was some proof you'd been in his life. An impression of your influence. A memory that would hover in his garage forever.

Two days after putting the shelves together, you and Harry had an argument about the plastic tubs he went off on his own to buy for all the loose bits and pieces he wanted to go on the shelves. You were annoyed he didn't purchase wooden ones, and he couldn't understand why it mattered that they were white plastic which would apparently be impossible to keep clean.

It's a garage, he thought, who's cleaning their garage?

And because arguments always dredge up things that they aren't supposed to, you made a jab about your relationship being secret.

You said something like, If I'd been able to come with you, we wouldn't be having this row!

Harry knew what you really meant straight away. You'd been together for more than nine months at that point, and nobody knew about it: nobody but your families and very very closest friends. There were no photos of Harry having lunch with you at a cafe, or of you walking a few steps behind him at the shops. Nobody had snuck a picture of you backstage at a show of his. He'd never appeared on your social media, even by suggestion, and Harry had never taken the risk including you on any private Instagram Stories.

Those photographs didn't exist, because those circumstances never had. There wasn't even a celebrity paper trail linking you to knowing Harry, let alone dating him. Harry didn't dedicate performances to you, or even to an unnamed significant other. You never got a song or an album dedication. Harry was so adamant on nobody getting wind of the relationship that sometimes it felt like �� Like he enjoyed the sneaking around. The having a secret. (Later on, when you reflected on the relationship once it was over, you really weren't sure how there'd never been even one instance of you being seen coming or going from Harry's house. Hindsight made that feel suss to you.)

Most of the time you liked it, though, liked not having any fuss or interruption to your life but sometimes—a lot of the time—it felt like something silently eroding you from the inside—a silent acid eating your spirit.

But you'd never tell Harry that. Then anyway. Now … You're not sure what you'd tell him now.

The truth was a lot of the time you weren't sure how you'd managed to keep it going so long. Part of it was obvious, maybe, like not being in public together. But still, surely after being together months and having arguments about shelves you could afford a platonic appearing coffee trip or going for a run at the same time, together?

Instead, you'd gear up and run in opposite directions down his street. Or Harry would stay in the car while you went in for the coffee. You'd sit in a nosebleed seat if you went to a show, sneaking through some fire exit and into the main hallways of a venue with the public to get to it. You looked like a sad woman attending a gig on your own, not the girlfriend of the star.

Nobody would know you even knew the man up on stage. That you had something in the slow cooker at home for you both to eat when you got home, or that he'd stolen a tube of your favourite lip balm and had it in his blazer pocket for his set. Nobody would guess you made him late for the soundcheck with just a smile and the undoing of a zip.

Seeing him tonight would be just like it always was, you and Harry from across the room. But then not like always, because Harry wouldn't see you tonight. You wouldn't have the taste of a good luck kiss on your lips. Or the sound of Harry's warm-up in your ears. Yours was always an invisible connection that was kept invisible by design, and now being broken up, it looked no different than together. Not really.

Tonight though it would only be you seeing Harry. Like you see him on late-night talk show promotions and billboards. Like the times you get into an Uber, and his song is playing. How strange it feels, to have your heart crack in your chest again while also lifting somehow. Singing along with a song about you. Or hearing his laugh or even just Harry speaking, and being able to picture the exact expression that would go along with it.

Every raised inflection. Ever breathy giggle. Every brow crease at a thought that Harry was chasing or somehow unable to articulate. All of those turning into you picturing what he looked like every time he knew he was disappointing you. Every whined sorry and all the instances of him loving on you to move your mind away from his deficiencies.

"What's the plan for Y/N?"

If your relationship with Harry was a t-shirt, that would be the slogan across the chest. Those would be the words under the cartoon impression of you banging your head against a wall Harry's standing on the other side of.

How will Y/N get in? Who's staying behind with Y/N? Where will I meet up with Y/N?

There was always a question. Always a plan for you and it was decidedly separate to the plan for Harry. His team organised a second car or an earlier flight for you. A back entrance or some other smokescreen to keep you concealed. In the beginning, it felt like a kindness, but in the end, you were embarrassed by it. The bother, the way what started as a careful consideration for your wellbeing turned into something rotten that painted you a different colour to Harry and his public inner circle, the circle you were never invited or initiated into.

It was exhausting. But Harry assured you it was for the best.

You wonder what the future he saw for you really was though. How much further did Harry see a life like that going? A life with you perpetually operating under cover of darkness. A life of you decidedly not existing. Not really.

So when he said he saw a future with you, you're really not sure what Harry meant.

Did he mean one day he saw himself lifting the veil and telling the world he had a Someone? Or did he mean that he saw himself forever hiding you, forever living that lie?

Maybe he actually saw nothing.

Sometimes you could be convinced the fact Harry hid you was an action pointing to a more profound truth.

That the future he saw was an imagined indulgence; a convenience, and a comfortable lie. Comforting on a temporary level, like bowling alley bumper rails or the plastic covering on a new watch face. The fake sense of security—of protection, of immaculacy—was just that, artificial and temporary. It ceased to exist the minute you plucked the corner and pulled back the protective layer. Crashed as soon as the bumpers were flipped down.

You were a secret only Harry had any power over. He led from the front because you didn't know there was any other option. And in letting yourself be that, you made yourself easily dispensable.

Disposable. Replaceable. Erasable.

Which is precisely what happened when he left.

Harry left, and the You of the two of you ended. But more than any other relationship ever could, the silence that followed felt deadly. It wasn't just a relationship that once was, it was a relationship that never was. A year of your life made no imprint on his. Nobody looking at him could know there was anything—anybody—missing, and maybe that was the whole point.

Maybe that was the design of it.

The third lie was that you could tell him anything.

Harry's golden rule always was honest communication.

There's no such thing as an overshare, he'd say when you naturally hesitated.

He was all about that. All about hearing what was worrying you, or the mundane things that were going on in your world. Sometimes you felt like maybe it was an act because nobody had ever found your family, or your friends, or your life in general as interesting as Harry seemed to. He was always telling you he loved hearing the funny text conversations going on, or who was having a row and why, or what each of your friends was stressed about in their jobs or relationships or themselves. And Harry always said he loved hearing it from you the most.

(Now, that struck you as a strange thing to say. Where else would he hear anything about you? Harry was the only line connecting you back to him. You didn't have mutual friends or people who'd known you both before you dated each other. There was nobody for Harry to hear anything from. It's not like your friends were going to reach out to him with gossip about you. Not like how you could sneak a look at update accounts or read about his performance online while he was away.)

Still, you loved the stories he told from the road, ate them up. The missing coffee mugs where everyone got their caffeine fix served in wine glasses and lemonade tumblers for almost two whole weeks. And then the tour t-shirts accidentally ordered in bulk in children's sizes that Harry hand-delivered them to a local children's charity. The crumbs of gossip Harry picked up about who in his team was sweet on who (he loved a setup, loved watching crushes silently and awkwardly orbit around each other).

Your secrets were safe with him, he promised. He wouldn't ever judge you. Wouldn't dismiss your feelings or what kept you awake at night next to him. So you did it. You believed him. And you slowly drained everything inside of you into him. Harry got all your stories, even the ones you vowed to leave exactly where they sat in your past. Even the ones you felt like might kill you to dredge back up. The ones that made you look like a shitty friend or sister or daughter. He got them all.

And even now, he's still got them.

"What's the biggest lie you ever told?" He asked you one night in his kitchen, both of you elbow deep in making dinner. Harry rolled out the lines of gnocchi and cut the inch long pieces while you pressed them over a fork to decoratively indent them. (Although Harry likes to tell you how when he was in Italy he learned in patterns weren't just aesthetic—it was all about soaking up more of the sauce, For the sauce, of course! He'd sing out in an Italian accent, proud of himself.) "Like, a proper lie," he clarified, "Not like how you told my mum you didn't take sugar in your tea when you first met her."

You hinged your knee out to attack his calf for the teasing comment but then rolled your lips together in thought, "I lied to my parents a lot growing up," you told him honestly. "I think about eighty per cent of the time I wasn't where I told them I was. Definitely wasn't with who I said I was with."

Harry shook his head as he rolled out the next lump of dough, "No, I mean like … Like a lie."

A moment passed as you thought more deeply about the question, travelled around your memories until you landed somewhere suitable, "I lied to my boyfriend at university," you begin. "A pretty bad one, I guess."

"And the lie was …" Harry prompts.

"I told him I was a virgin before him."

Harry eyes raised, and then he nodded, accepting it, "I think that's probably a common one, really."

"I thought he'd like me more if I said it," I admitted quietly, pausing the work with your hands. "Wasn't too proud of losing my virginity in a tent in the sixth form … And I mean, at that age you just so desperately want to be the version of you that you think the people around you will like the most. A whole group of us went camping at someone's grandparent's farm during the summer holidays. Not sure how our parents let us, to be honest. Anyway, I had awful, painful, embarrassing sex in a tent with a guy named … Dylan Fraiser."

You were surprised by how long the name took to come to you. Years ago, that was such a defining event in your life. Now it hardly mattered at all anymore.

Progress, you thought.

"A tent," Harry winced.

"Really came back to bite me in the arse when my uni boyfriend went on to tell a group of his mates he was my first and—

—Tent Guy was one of them?" Harry guessed. Correctly.

"Yep. Small towns are a curse."

"I promise never to have sex with you in a tent," Harry teased, grinning at you over his wine glass and then leaning over to kiss your temple. He looked down at the line of gnocchi pieces you'd made together proudly, "We're alright at this."

"Hmmm," you hummed, now lost in the past, "I told that uni boyfriend him I loved him … I didn't though," you say without thinking, shrugging as the words came out, "I thought he was boring. But it was cool to have a boyfriend, so I didn't break up with him … Guess I've told more whoppers than I thought."

Harry gives you an understanding look, "I've said I love you to protect someone's feelings too. Thought it might come a little later, that I was just not feeling it as quickly as them."

It should have made you question whether Harry meant I love you with you. But it didn't. He was speaking in the past tense, and you were imaging that version of him being younger than the almost thirty-year-old you were dating. Now though … You wonder what love meant to Harry when you were together. Whether your wires were crossed by different definitions. Even now, you couldn't vilify him. Not completely. He was too thoughtful in general, there'd be a reason for it. There always was with Harry.

"What's your biggest lie?" You turned the exercise back on him, smiling as he refilled your wine glass and skipped a few songs on the playlist. These were your favourite moments with Harry. The end of the day, where you were the only thing on his to-do list. There wasn't a lingering work call, or a meeting to prepare for, an email to reply to. Harry was just finishing his day with dinner and some time at home. With you.

Harry gave you a withering look, "I think you know already."

"I don't," you said because you really didn't, "What was it?"

"There's no way I'll ever do anything else with The Band," he said tonelessly as he turned to rinse his hands in the sink, unable to look at you while he said it. And even then, Harry didn't admit to the lie. Didn't name it. He just said what the truth was instead.

"Why wouldn't you?" You asked, instead of what you were sure Harry thought you'd ask.

You weren't interested in why he told that particular lie though, the answer to that was pretty apparent to you: he cared about his fans—they all did—and didn't want to disappoint them. And they probably hadn't been able to deal with thinking about the ripples ending it completely, right off the bat, would have caused. Saying you were taking a break was a much nicer way to let a world of fans down. An easier pill to swallow than 'We're done' straight off the bat.

You gave Harry time to respond. He fiddled with the gnocchi pieces in front of him, waiting for the water to boil in the pot behind you both, "Not sure, really."

He was lying now, and you could tell. He was ashamed of the truth.

"You're not sure?"

"I just wouldn't, there's no one reason. No big thing. It's not like I hate them all or anything, I just …"

There was one big thing, though. And it was typical Harry to not be able to name it. He was always so in denial about his own arrogance, about what it was that drove him. Harry thought he was above them. His success since The Band far outweighed anything any of the others had done. Going back to that would be diminishing for Harry's career. Wouldn't help him any. He was stronger on his own, more successful. More widely appreciated. That chapter of his life was done, it had been a stepping stone—yes, a life-defining one—but Harry had moved to bigger and brighter stages on his own.

"It's not what you think," he told you lowly when you didn't ask anything further.

It was so typical of Harry to not see the forest for the trees. To not see how he, yet again, was blurring and confusing the lines between a business decision and an emotional, personal one. He was speaking about The Band emotionally, but his reason for distancing himself from it was all to do with business.

"It's not?" You asked plainly.

"I don't think I'm better than them or some shit," Harry said, "I just … That part of me is done. I'm not who I was back then, and I don't want to go back to that person."

"You also wouldn't get anything out of it," you prod, knowing that you shouldn't have. But it was true. So much of Harry's life was a business decision. Everything was so carefully done, so deliberately set into place by him and his team that results and his successes were almost guaranteed.

At the time, you didn't understand how he couldn't see it. Or you couldn't believe that he didn't. He was so calculating, and he hated you telling him so. But he was. He liked to say he wasn't defined by his job, but Harry's whole life was defined by his career, by the who he was.

He loved to spout off his public shit about staying grounded and having a life away from being Harry Styles ™, but he didn't let anyone see even a skerrick that life. The only thing Harry ever let be projected about him was his job, that was all was ever on the table for discussion. And so it was hardly surprising that became who he was away from the cameras and lights as well.

Hiding you was a business decision, you figured out in the aftermath of The End. It was his way of keeping the narrative about his music and career on track. As soon as there was a You, Harry's private life would distract from his real focus and goal, his career. And you mean, it's not like it didn't work for him. Because here you were, standing outside in the chilly night looking at his name up in lights.

Harry's name always looked so good up on billboards and the fronts of stadiums. You always used to tell him even the letters of his name were visually pleasing, they looked good together, like they fit. So you stand on the street across the road from tonight's venue and take it in—HARRY STYLES, SOLD OUT—for several minutes.

You don't know that you're ready for this. Seeing him. You've so perfectly avoided it until now. Until you felt like there was a promise you made lifetimes ago you now can't break. Even if you felt like he'd broken a thousand promises between the two points in time.

Where else would I be? you'd said when he first drew that stupid mock ticket.

Where else, indeed.

You scuttle across the street and sneak between people to get yourself in through the doors. Dodging lenders selling merchandise and ticket holders excitedly covering their painstakingly planned outfits with t-shirts Harry—aided by his perfectionism, you were sure— probably spent months deciding on.

The barcode won't scan though. And the usher at the door doesn't appreciate you pulling your phone back and trying to adjust the backlight, as though that will help the loud, angry sound his scanner is making each time he aims it at the email on your screen. He eventually reads part of your email and then tells you that you need to stand off to the side, barks something gruffly into his walkie talkie and dismisses you in favour of getting through the backlog of people behind you. You're filled with a white-hot embarrassment as you shuffle over and stand under a neon EXIT sign. A moment later you step forward and ask him to try again, but that doesn't get you anywhere different, and you think you're going to get in some kind of trouble when he insists Just stand back over there for a moment.

Your feet have already started hurting in your too-tight boots when finally the wall behind you opens up, and you very quickly come face to face with Harry's assistant.

"Y/N," she smiles, "I thought I said in the email to call me when you got here?"

You're dumbstruck, you didn't read the email, not properly. "I … I …"

"It's good to see you again," her smile hasn't moved, and it's genuine. She reaches one hand out towards you and deposits a VIP lanyard around your neck, "Follow me."

You get halfway down the emergency exit, and she sidesteps a security guard through a doorway, leading you into the veins of the backstage area where there's a familiar buzz of busy people you'd not realised you missed being around until now. Your heart is racing because you weren't prepared for this. You'd been deliberately dragging your feet getting here, and you've arrived barely fifteen minutes before Harry's due to go on stage. She's walked you right to the side of the stage where there's a curtain just to your left and scaffolding all around. You can hear the audience, and you know that one step through that curtain will take you to the pit side of the stage, where you'd seen Harry's family stand during shows before.

"He wanted to say hi beforehand but," his assistant looks at her watch, "But it's a touch too close now so are you okay if I leave you here for just a second? I'll be back in …" her eyes go back to her wrist, "Probably about twenty-five?"

"That's fine," you nod dumbly. "Are you sure this okay?"

You're looking around wondering if this is where Harry meant you to be. Really, you're sure this isn't where he intended you to watch his show at all. A few people are milling around but nobody you recognise, and you figure the majority of them are probably venue employees. Harry and his band would only walk through here at the very last second. He didn't like standing around beforehand with anyone who wouldn't be on stage with him. Harry got in his zone and needed to stay there.

When you look back at his assistant she's giving you a look you don't want to read too deeply, but it almost looks like pity, "Of course," she tells you, "I'll be back by the end of the first song."

"I might go stand through here now," you point to the curtain, preferring the thought of standing in the dark by yourself than waiting for Harry to walk straight past you during his thirty-second countdown. "Is that okay?"

You get a nod, and she tells you to grab a drink off the table behind you. Leaving you with your heart rattling and the heaviest lanyard you've ever worn burning through your shirt to your chest.

Finding a spot to watch the show was easy. You picked the furthest side of the pit, under the concrete overhand of the seats above, and stand in the shadows, only half the stage in your line of sight. It felt like a little cave almost, and you lean your back against the cold concrete and tap your boots together on the ground below you.

The area starts filling around you as members of Harry's team finish their part in preparing him for the show. There are a few women wearing belts with makeup brushes and combs peaking out of them, and two familiar faces from Harry's executive team. They don't see you, though, and you're glad. You watch the roadies' torches flash on the dark stage as they neaten up leads and manoeuvre over amp boxes double-checking the guitars are in the right order for the sets.

There's a movement in your periphery that draws your attention back, the group of people who joined you in the pit all gravitating towards something back at the curtain. And it's not until one of them steps to the side that you see the floating head that's poking through the dark material.

Harry.

He's staring right at you: no expression on his face, just his searching, green eyes that stop when they see you standing in the dark as far from him as you can possibly be. He takes half a step forward, and the shoulder of an expensive suit peeks out. You hear in your head echos of a moment in Harry's living room unpacking a delivery from Gucci, the way you nearly choked on your tea at the cost of a tailored trouser and his half frustrated dismissal, 'It's nothing, that's standard for me.' You felt small at that moment, thinking about how one of Harry's suits could pay for your education for a year, and that would be nothing for him.

You feel small now too. This isn't the space you're supposed to occupy.

The shadow of a frown barely cross his features, but then Harry tries to pull his dimples up to give you a small smile. But it's testing, it's not a confident smile or one he looks sure he's giving. Like he's smiling at someone he's not sure will smile back.

There's no way I'll ever do anything else with the band, he'd said.

But that wasn't the biggest lie he'd told, just the most public, the widest.

His deepest, biggest lie was you.

The fourth lie was that he loved you.

Harry was the one to say it first.

It came out like a compliment. A response to a fact of yours he'd particularly liked. A sort of well done, that was a good one.

It was nearly two months since you'd met, and what started as three or four dates a week morphed into you staying at Harry's house most nights. You spending your weekends off work trailing around after him on his errands or to work things, or hanging out alone at his place until he returned from them. A couple of times, you went to the same exercise class, which involved the two of you going separately and not interacting at all. Still, you'd peek at him from across the room and have to hold your giggles for later when Harry spent the hour concentrating beyond anything you'd ever seen just to stay in the seat of the spin bike.

Saturdays and Sundays he started taking off too though, around a month into dating you. No more 6am weekend PT sessions or midday conference calls with creative teams. The only work Harry allowed himself to do on weekends was housework. Laundry. Food prep. Touching base with his mum.

"Did you know blueberries are actually false berries?"

"No, I did not know blueberries are actually false berries," Harry parroted back to you. You catch the half rolling of his eyes at you where you're sitting up in your favourite spot on the bench next to the hob, peering at him keeping careful watch over breakfast: blueberry pancakes. He was wearing just his pants, chest bare and cool in the autumn morning air. You were rugged up in leggings and a sweater, unsure how he could stand being in such a state of undress.

"It's true," you reaffirmed your tidbit, popping a false berry into your mouth while Harry—with far too much concentration for the job at hand—dropped the small round berries on top of the batter sizzling in the pan. "Berries by definition are fleshy, pulpy ovary fruits that have their seeds embedded on the outside. Blueberry seeds are on the inside. So they aren't really berries."

"Ovary fruits?" He questioned, with a look of mild distaste.

Your shoulders dropped as you realised Harry knew less than you thought he did, "All fruit are ovaries, Harry. Think about it."

He does for a moment, and you can practically see the cogs turning. Harry thinking about how fruit grows on their plants and bushes and shrubs. The fact of what an ovary is when it comes to basic anatomy. And when he comes to the full circle of it, he groans, "That is so weird."

"I think it's cool," you grinned. "Like a little bit cannibalistic in a way."

He barked out a laugh at that, "I don't think that's what it is."

"Well, maybe not technically," you conceded, "But it's something … Really makes you rethink eating eggs."

"Oh my god," Harry was truly laughing then, "Stop, please."

"Sorry," you peeped with a cringed look, tossing back half a handful of the small, round fruit in front of you.

He was shaking his head at you, laughter bubbling out between his perfectly straight teeth, and then it just slipped out, "Fuck, I love you."

The words didn't bump over any hesitation. I love you, Harry said.

Your stomach dropped instantly, but the fond happiness dancing across Harry's face didn't go anywhere. He didn't look back at the pancakes or to where your hands were wringing together on your lap. Harry held your gaze and didn't dodge away from what he said at all. Like he knew you'd need a moment with it, that you weren't expecting him to just come out with that.

"I love you," he repeated after a moment, smiling when he saw your lips start to turn up, "I mean it."

Hearing him yell the same words through the microphone from stage sizzles your heart a little, like the pancakes that day crackled in the pan as Harry pushed himself into you on the kitchen floor. You remember the feeling of his hands under your clothes, your leggings barely halfway down your thighs before he was claiming you in a wave of lust, pushed by the new, invisible force in your relationship—love.

The floor under you now vibrates as everyone gets to their feet to join Harry dancing through his first song. You stare at him, daring him to look over at you but knowing he won't. The longer you stand there, the more you thaw out to it, the more you find yourself with a smile on your face and a slight sway to your hips. His music is fun and familiar and feels like clicking into place.

It's mesmerising. He's mesmerising.

You don't like admitting you'd forgotten how good at this he was. He has the whole crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Even his crew around you are grinning ear to ear and singing along. Sharing private jokes between them and cutting dance moves in small groups as they watch the show. It's fun. And it reminds you that so much of your relationship with Harry was like that. That there were countless nights spent dancing in the living room or screaming at laptop screens doing board game nights with his family.

You'd forgotten that you could laugh so hard your belly hurt and that Harry was one of the few people who'd ever been able to get you to that point of joy. Watching him throw joy off the stage now at thousands of people was reminding you how very good Harry was—used to be—at making you feel like the only person in the world to him.

"Babe," his giggles filtered down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were plucking your eyebrows, "Babe! Come … Come see this."

You rolled your eyes as you put the tweezers down and padded into his living room, not at all surprised to see Harry pretzeled on his yoga mat in a fit of laughter. He did this a lot, called you away from a task or from work for something hilarious that ninety-nine per cent of the time wasn't hilarious at all. You'd end up snorting out laughter of your own though, at him.

Now, Harry had one of his feet hooked behind his neck while the other was prostrate on the floor behind him.

"You're doing great, baby," you condescended lightly, tilting your head to the side and frowning at his position. It looked awful and not at all calming, let alone comfortable. He wasn't a very good advertisement for yoga at all.

"They say this one's great for—great for," he giggled too much to get the words out, his arms holding his torso back so his legs would do what he wanted them to, he took a deep breath, "It's meant to be the yoga colonic."

Harry was heaving with laughter as he finally got it out, his position faltered, and you watched as his limbs all fell back to the mat as he leant forward cackling. You were grinning too, amused by how amused he was.

"Been feeling backed up, have you?" You asked him, crossing your arms as you hitch one hip out.

He rolled over on his back and wheezed out the final string of laughter, one hand holding his lower tummy as if it ached from the whole spectacle, as his other hand reached out for your ankle, "Come down here with me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to be unhappy to be dragged down on top of him, your hips resting on his thighs as your chin propped up on your hands at his chest, "It's very entertaining how entertaining you find yourself," you mused.

Harry rubbed the tears from his eyes and then settled his hands on your back, breathing in the pleasant weight of you there, "I just—I was thinking about what they think the yoga colonic is going to do." His giggles started again, "Imagine being in a class and it literally working? Everyone just—everyone just shits themselves!"

You can feel his laugher, his bones pushing yours up as his whole body fills with his happiness. The stream of tears coming from the corners of his eyes start again as he squeezed his eyes shut while the sound of Harry's deep, uninhibited laughter filled the whole house again.

The memory brings back a smile, like so many with Harry do.

But there's still the Too Fresh Sting of your final moments with him, your last moments with him. You've not seen him since that evening months ago where you both yapped at each other things that couldn't be unsaid, unhappinesses that couldn't be reverted or unadmitted. It wasn't like the fights you had about Harry's casualised view of money and how he'd drop thousands of pounds on seemingly nothing without thinking how small it could make you feel. Or the times you'd snap in frustration when Harry tuned out of you complaining about an issue with your friends he deemed as superfluous or rooted in something silly or not as essential as the Important Thing He Was Planning. He could be so dismissive when he didn't think something mattered highly enough on his scale of measuring things.

The Harry dancing around on stage in front of you wasn't the man who said you were independent like it was a dirty word. Yelled across the kitchen that it was too easy for the two of you to be apart, you didn't miss him enough. The man who told you he didn't feel like you needed him, thought you were always standing with one foot out the door the whole time you were together. And you can remember being flabbergasted (still are, really) by what he was saying because it just wasn't true at all. You? Too independent? You spent every night at his house, and were at Harry's beck and call the whole relationship. And you can hear all the times you said 'what would I do without you?' when he talked you off a ledge or had answers to questions you believed to be unanswerable.

You can see how it was another classic example of Harry telling a non-truth to cover up what was really there. To distract from his own shortcomings. He accused you of what he was feeling, of his flaws. Making them your problem meant he didn't have to be vulnerable. Didn't have to take a risk his business manager hadn't guaranteed. Didn't have to gamble on your future together.

In the relationship, he always had the upper hand. And maybe you did have one foot out the door emotionally, but that was only because you had to. Harry never invited you in with him completely. You were always on the outer. After nearly a year of dating you were still The Girlfriend He Didn't Have.

But I fucking love you, he'd said when he sensed where that night was going. Like Harry had a list of grievances, and it wasn't until he got to the end of reading them out to you that he realised where it landed him. He told you he loved you as though it would erase all the things about you he seemed to dislike so much. Things about yourself you apparently couldn't see.

Hindsight has taught you that if anyone was too independent, or hesitant to commit fully in that relationship, it was Harry.

Halfway through his set, Harry's assistant comes over to check on you, and you end up chatting for a few minutes about how you've been. She speaks to you like there was some club you were a member of and she missed your meetings. Although neither of you references the breakup, or acknowledge in another life you had a lot more to do with each other, the unspoken things weigh on your chest. You find yourself wiping away a quiet tear when she walks back over to the main group watching Harry.

Of course, that's when he teeters over to your side of the stage and looks straight at you. His expression falls instantly, and you're sure that he only meant to glance at you in passing, but what he sees has him doing a double-take and fixing his gaze on you for two lines of the song he's midway through. He tugs on the collar of his shirt and Harry's eyes are desperately trying to read what you're thinking, just like that day he told you he loved you at the end of the breakup, as though you'd forget everything that came before it.

You stick your thumb out to him and give him your best fake smile. Like he might be led to believe you were crying about something else. As if you hadn't just pulled his attention from a room full of people who'd paid for his attention tonight. At that moment you think the fact there's a secret love and life between you must be too obvious to everyone else. There's a connection, something whirls around the room between you and it feels threatening and perilous to how you've been trained to think things have to be.

You wait until Harry turns and goes the other way across the stage before you push off from the wall and walk out.

At first, love was an encouragement between you. It was approval, a showing of appreciation. Love was a promise that was just for the two of you. A declaration that validated everything you were doing together. Love was a feeling that proved what every action meant.

Then, love was a bandaid, was a line used in desperation to fix something unfixable, and you walk the world with skun knees now because of it. Love was never just love. It was used to fix the wrong things.

And in the end, nothing healed at all.

The fifth lie was that he'd always fight for you.

Harry promised you that the two of you would make it work.

You'd make up after every argument, big or small. The little ones that were those tiny bickerings in the car which somehow roared into yelling matches. Or when one person's grumpiness from the day leaked into your evening together. You always expected his call or the long sigh that would precede his apology. You never got halfway home to your house if you left his after a row. He'd call and beg for you to come back, that nothing was worth you physically leaving being near him. You left knowing before the night was done the two of you would reconcile.

Until it was That Fight you were leaving after. The one that began The End.

It started because Harry was overseas for a few weeks. While he was away, you suggested the two of you going on a holiday together during the summer. An anniversary trip. From the other side of the world, it was easy enough for Harry to worm his way of out of it. He went off on a tangent about there being no holidays (rest) for the wicked and then got you talking about something else until you forgot how you'd been sold on the idea of lying on a beach with him for a week.

When Harry got home, you had it stored in an unhappy little pocket in your mind. Top of the agenda for when he returned.

"Can we talk about the holiday thing again?" You asked his first night home.

He sighed against you, his body gearing up for a reunion that didn't involve speaking, lips attached to your neck while his hands danced around the band of your bra, "Do we have to right now?"

"Well," your instinct was to back away from the tension rising between you, "I'd like to."

Harry pushed his hair up off his face and briefly looked at the ceiling, "I don't see how we can, babe. It's too hard, logistically. Just take a week off work and stay with me here."

"I already stay here," you counter, "I'm talking about a holiday somewhere. A beach. Or a ski resort. Something fun and different."

"Those places are all busy," Harry complained, his hands off you. He started to pack the dishwasher from dinner.

"I just want to go away with you, do something normal, you know?"

He clipped the side of the sink with a dinner plate and swore angrily under his breath, "Fuck."

"Don't get angry."

"I'm not fucking angry," he growled, tossing your forks into the plastic crate, "I just fucking got home, and you're straight into this. No 'I missed you so much' or 'It's so great to see you'… Just straight into going on a holiday as if I have endless time to mess about."

"What do you mean? We've just eaten dinner together, you told me all about your trip. I said I was happy to have you home!"

"Yeah, well, feels like you just don't give a fuck that I'm back."

You frowned at him starting to get annoyed yourself, "I cried on our FaceTime call on the weekend because I missed you! You have a lobotomy since then?"

"Don't yell," Harry instructed quietly like he was chastising a child for not controlling themselves.

"What's this about, Harry?" You asked. "Why is it such a crime for me to want to go away with my boyfriend?"

He sighed again, "It's not."

"Right," you crossed your arms over your chest and wondered how many times he could wipe down the chopping board.

Probably one more time.

"So …"

"So what?" Harry repeated, "What do you want from me?"

His words and their harshness shocked you, and that was the exact moment you started worrying this was going to turn into Something Else. Not just a Normal Fight.

"I want you to tell me why you're so annoyed by this?"

It would have been so easy for you to break down and scream about how insane it was that you were talking about celebrating your first anniversary with him and the relationship was still a secret. How badly you wanted to throw that out there, but there was a wise fear in you which said that would be a death wish. (That fact haunts you today, how you knew he'd never step out with you. There wasn't any hope in you or promise from him it wouldn't always be that way. You knew your place and where the boundary line was, don't push past this point. And you always behaved. Never peeped out of your box.)

"It's like you don't even need me," Harry said bitterly, "You're so fucking independent. What's the point?"

"What are you talking about?" You gushed, nearly swallowing your tongue when he turned back to look at you for the first time.

"You don't need me," he accused, "You've always got one foot out the door."

"I don't," came your defence, but you both knew it was the truth. You were halfway out the door because you hadn't been invited all the way in yet.

"You don't want this life with me," Harry shook his head, "You've never been happy where we are. Relationships don't work that way, you can't just keep demanding the same thing hoping you'll wear me down. That's not fair."

Tears shake out of your eyes slowly as your body catches up with what he's saying, "Harry."

"It's not fair!" He repeated loudly. "You can't keep on about it."

About what? You want to ask him because you hadn't mentioned a holiday until the week before. That's not what he was really angry about. He was talking about The Secret. And his guilt was showing. His anger was misdirected, aimed at the wrong thing. He muttered something to himself you didn't hear.

"I didn't hear that."

"I said," Harry looked up at you, and when your eyes clicked together you saw surprise rise and then quickly disappear as if he hadn't expected to see you there. "I said, I don't think we can keep doing this."

"You don't think we can keep doing this?" You repeated it because the words hardly sounded like English the first time you heard them.

I don't think we can keep doing this.

Harry stood across from you with no expression on his face. And it took a few moments for him to own up to what he said, but he does. He nods his head once, awkwardly, and then nods again.

"We can't keep doing this," he tells you, sounding defeated, and then his voice rises again—in pitch, not in volume—"But I fucking love you!"

But I fucking love you.

As if that was enough.

It was days of you expecting a call, and a make up that never came. Expecting the fight for your relationship Harry promised you he'd always put up. You wanted him to prove that you were someone he couldn't do without. You hated the thought of him walking around his house and not feeling the absence of you as some impossible weight he couldn't bear.

"Y/N!" Your name sounds out behind you, but you keep walking, an instantaneous decision that pretending not to hear her might work.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't.

Harry's assistant keeps chasing you down the hall she initially led you through, calling your name and eventually getting you to stop and turn around because, well, you can't keep pretending she's not there forever.

"I'm just finding a loo," you lie.

"There's one this way," she points over her shoulder, in the direction you both came from, "Harry said if you tried to leave I had to go with you, which, for my own dignity I'd really prefer not to have to do."

You find yourself scoffing, "Who said he's in charge of how long I stay?"

Her expression softens somewhat, "He just wants to see you after."

How dare he think he can control this still, you think.

You know she's not the person to be frustrated with. You should be frustrated with yourself first, for coming, and then with Harry for deciding he could orchestrate this … This whatever it was. Still, you find yourself biting out your reply, "He saw me from stage," you tell her bitterly.

"And he'll have seen that you're not there anymore," she replies patiently,, "It'll throw off his focus if he's worried you've gone home halfway through."

You fall into step beside her but can't give him the win, "Quite frankly, it's not my concern or responsibility anymore if his focus is thrown or not."

She wordlessly points out where the bathrooms are just in front of you. You're trying not to make eye contact with anyone who's in these backstage hallways. They feel like ghosts from a life that's not yours anymore.

The first time you met any of Harry's People you'd felt absolutely mortified. The whole thing felt awkward to you, meeting assistants and managers and creative directors. Putting faces and humans to jobs done for Harry. He was a lot of people's boss, and it made you uncomfortable because you'd not seen that side to him before. You knew things like how hot he liked his showers and what yogurt he liked on his muesli in the morning.

That first—and only—step into his professional world, was in a venue just like this one where Harry was filming a music video for a few days. The stage was set up like it was for live a show, and you overheard someone saying setting up for a shoot was more involved than for an actual performance. Harry wanted you to see what this part of his world looked like and despite them not fitting in either of the Friends or Family categories you'd laid out for People Allowed To Know About You, his "Team" were people Harry felt safe introducing to you. (NDAs were a powerful thing) He led you through the hallways by the hand and stuck his head into every room with a cheery, 'Hullo, just bringing Y/N around to meet everyone.'

You remember one person declaring they were happy to be meeting you. Harry was too young to be married to his job, they said with a relieved tone, That it was good he'd found his Someone. Harry beamed at that, looking down at you as if thinking, Yeah, I have found my Someone.

Now you stand back in the pit side of stage, and Harry looks down at you with a hesitation that makes you more uncomfortable than when you were watching him film that music video. His assistant has brought you back to where his team are standing, and you feel more than one set of eyes take stock of you returning, a shared glance between a manager and the girl shadowing you. A wide-eyed exchange that says, That was the last thing we needed. When Harry comes to the side of stage between songs, he's hunting for a bottle of water, but you can see he's come to that side because his eyes are focused on hunting for you.

When he sees you've returned, he slowly takes a sip of water, eyes not leaving yours. You feel like he's admonishing you in his head, seeing how weak you were, that you ran away after a little eye contact. There's a distaste there, you think, and as he's putting the cap back on the bottle, Harry opens his mouth like he's going to try to say something to you, but he stops. He frowns at his hands as he puts the bottle down and then turns away, bringing the microphone back up to his lips and slipping back into entertainer mode.

"In a lot of ways, I hate this next song," he starts slowly, speaking over the band as they begin to slow down the tempo of the night. A smoke machine whirls to life and pumps out a few big clouds, shrouding the stage behind Harry. "I really hate it."

He pauses. And your insides freeze in your chest. You're hanging off his every word, just like every other body in the room. Harry stands right on the front of the stage, toes almost touching the drop off. He's looking out at the audience and lets the microphone hang at his side. Makes no move to keep talking. Was he looking for someone out there, or was he running over what he was about to say in his head? Rehearsing it, making sure it was exactly what needed to be said.

Where you used to see thoughtfulness you now see calculation.

Give nothing away. Sell only the product. Push the song. Let people come to their own conclusions.

"This is a song about," he says carefully, a crack to his voice that sends adrenaline shooting straight down your legs, "About regretting that you've hurt someone. And about the helplessness of wishing you could make them forget what you said, but … Knowing you can't take it back."

You watched Harry trail around to the upright piano on stage and sit himself down on the stool. He stares at his hands hovering over the keys for a moment too long, but you're sure Harry's audience would let him take a hundred more. You see what perhaps they don't—the hesitation. You'd witnessed it enough to spot it, even across the stage in the dark from thirty feet away.

He's not sure about playing the song.

You think about contacting him by telepathy. Saying, I'll leave so you can go back to your show. You don't have to pretend I'm not here, I'll just go. Like I wanted to. Like I tried to.

But he plays it.

You've not heard it before, but the rest of the room has, and they sing along with him. You hear a couple of thousand people sing with your ex-boyfriend about him regretting the way he treated you. And you're almost able to talk yourself out of believing it's about you, you can nearly reason with yourself that it's kind of vague. Other than naming the cafe he'd sat in the car park of a hundred times waiting for you to return with a takeaway, it could be about anyone, really.

But he sings out a line and looks straight at you, and his eyes say it's yours. The song. The apology that's not been said yet.

I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.

His voice cracks again as he sings it. And the hurt part of you says it's just a vocal technique Harry's trained to call on at any time. It doesn't speak to anything other than a creative choice on his part. But the vulnerability is hard to ignore, the low hanging, remorseful unease in the room. He fumbles a string of notes on the piano as he sings and you're hit by the overwhelming need to make him stop.

Witnessing whatever he's currently feeling with this song is more uncomfortable than you've ever been, and a switch in you to protect him flicks on. You look around at his assistant, his manager, trying to see if there's even a hint of anyone else feeling like this moment needs an intervention, needs to be stopped.

The song ends. And you're glad.

Harry takes a few moments on stage to get ready with a guitar for the next song. He doesn't come over to your side of the stage for a drink, or to ask the roadies for anything. Instead, he flies straight into the next section of the set. Seemingly recovered from the heavy moment you felt as though you nearly drowned in. He'd never sung about you before.

Nothing remotely personal about your relationship ever left Harry's house.

And you find yourself wishing it would all just go back there.

The sixth lie was that he wouldn't break your heart.

Harry did though.

He broke your whole life.

So when he comes off stage at the end of his gig, there's little in you that wants to hang around. As soon as the lights go down and you see Harry's silhouette cross the back of the stage and hop down the stairs to the floor, your gut churns, and you wish you were one of the people in the rest of the venue. The ones now turning and slowly filing out of the building. Going back to their lives peacefully.

Instead, you're ushered behind the curtain again, into the small area that's immediately buzzing with life. You watch Harry as if he's moving in slow motion though. As soon as his boots hit the concrete floor somebody is tugging the suit jacket from his shoulders and swapping it for a grey hand towel that he uses to wipe down his face. His hand pushes his hair up over his head as he smiles at a handful of people, and then his eyes find yours. The smile drops, and he takes a steadying breath in.

"Y/N," he says loudly. Straight. Without expression. It's a statement, but also you sense a question there too. As if you might not turn out to be the person who was standing there. He holds your gaze over and through the people walking around and in front of him. He's handed a bottle of water and offered a second one which he takes, "Y/N," he says again, pulling his head back to beckon you over.

You roll your lips together when you've made it to the vacant space in front of him. Harry passes you the extra water bottle and cracks the lid off the one he keeps for himself. You grip yours with both hands but don't make any move to open it. Standing in front of him didn’t feel like you thought it would. It’s less of a kick I in the gut, and more a reinforcing of things that you’d figured out since being without him.

"Hi," he says hesitantly, briefly looking at someone behind your left shoulder. Then, you feel his eyes back on your face.

You speak to his forehead, not ready to have things inside you unlocked by eye contact, "Hello."

"This way," Harry says after a moment, running the towel down his sweaty face again.

He leads you down a hallway, wiping his face on the towel two more times as he walks. Harry continuously looks over his shoulder at you to make sure you're still following him, as if there was somewhere for you to hide in the concrete hallway. When he gets to his dressing room door, he kicks it open and holds his arm out to let you in first. The room smells like his cologne, a whiff of his final moments before going out on stage and a time portal back to mornings you'd spritz it on yourself before leaving the house, it was your scent then too. There was a small sofa and table, a long mirrored table with his laptop open next to a stack of papers, his screen saver bouncing back and white photos across the locked screen. His overnight bag and its contents were sprawled out over the floor in the corner next to where you can see his phone charging.

"You look good," is the first thing he says to you. Trying to pull your attention probably. Maybe hoping to get on the front foot charming you. You could tell him he looked good as well, particularly in the cream suit they had him in tonight, but you were sure there were no shortage of people who already had.

"Your show was good," you deflect away from the personal, eyes tracing the bottles in the corner of the table, "Great setlist."

"Needs a shakeup, if we're honest. Getting stale," Harry shrugs, and you see it in the mirrored wall. He's still standing by the closed door, watching you walk into the centre of the room and take stock of what's around you. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

Harry coughs uncomfortably, "Thanks for coming, wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure either."

You sense Harry realising this conversation was going to be exactly as difficult as feared it might be, he nods his head and moves over to the sofa but doesn't sit down, "Did you want a seat?"

"I'll sit here," you perch yourself on the chair in front of his laptop, crossing one leg over the other and hitching your elbow at the back so you're facing Harry. Keeping the room between you.

Harry sits on the arm of the small, burgundy sofa, and tosses the towel onto the seat next to him, "Looked like you were a little upset there for a moment."

"My boots are new," you quip, kicking your top foot out towards him, "Blisters."

He sighs again, and you start to feel chastised, but there's a more substantial part of you that stubbornly bunkers on down to playing this role, taking power when you'd never had it with Harry before. He knew it wasn’t blisters that had emotion welling up in you during his set. But just the same it wasn’t his place anymore to be privy to your feelings. And you weren’t going to let him gallantly try to take it. You weren’t old friends who could pick up where you left off. You were broken lovers.

"I just thought we could do with talking," Harry says finally.

"You could have uninvited me, you know, I assumed—Well, it's not like I've been expecting to still attend any of your shows the last six months. This one didn't have to be different."

He almost looks hurt, "You live here."

"How was Italy, Harry?” you turn the conversation around abruptly because you didn't like where it was going, and he was starting to frustrate you. You didn’t need him pointing out you lived in this city alone now since he left. As if you didn’t know.

Where watching him on stage hit you with longing and heartbreak, memories you found yourself irrevocably attached to, being in the same room as him now is only making you see the real Harry. The one who's so good at rearranging the energy in the room to make you feel you need to give more of yourself. The one who's an expert at asking a leading question and relying on the other person to be vulnerable first, lead the charge out the gates.

The man who lied to hide you every day for nearly a year, even when it was hurting you more than protecting you. The hurt from him was worse than the invasion of your privacy would have be. The distrust you felt didn't counteract the security you were still afforded by anonymity. The way you felt you still had something to prove—something to earn from him—and that you just needed to earn the right to your place in Harry's life.

"I've missed you," he said finally, "Just …"

"You've been lonely?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"What?" Harry's defences click into place, "No, it's not that—obviously yes, I've been lonely—but also I just—I miss you."

You start nodding, and your gaze drifts around the room, "Yeah, I … What exactly do you miss, Harry? Because—I mean, it was kind of shit, don't you think?"

"Shit?" he looks horrified, "What was shit?"

"Harry," you say simply, telling him to cut the bullshit with your expression. "Come on."

"I loved you," he declares loudly, proudly, “We had a great time together. I don't think it was kind of shit at all."

That's when you feel tears come to your eyes. Of course he didn't think it was shit. He still didn't see where the problem was. Couldn't see it. He would go right back to That Fight and keep going the way you had been if he could. Harry would keep living that life with you, he would have kept on going the same way. You'd still be the secret. A fight about a holiday would have resolved itself with compromise and make-up sex, and you would have gone right back to sneaking out of venues and pretending not to know him in crowded rooms.

Your lips turn up in a smile of sorts as your tears beg to fall but don't, "You haven't changed," you state with a small, incredulous laugh, "You've not figured it out. Nothing's changed," you repeat, shaking your head.

Harry's confusion is plain, and if he thought your tears were because you miss him there's something like a flicker of doubt, as if he's reading what's in front of him again and maybe getting a different story.

"You can't have a life with someone who doesn't want anyone to know you're in their life," you state simply.

And that was it, really. That was the nuts and bolts of it.

The secrecy eroded any meaning your relationship with Harry had. The doubt that cast. The burden on you to continually prove yourself, to audition for the role every day only to never graduate from understudy.

You watch Harry's throat constrict tightly as he thinks about the words that come from his mouth, "I loved you," he repeats, "I didn't want anything outside of us to fuck us up."

"You can't control the world that way, Harry," you're observing him carefully, "You definitely can't control people that way. I get why we started that way, but a year in, Harry? A year."

He looks at his feet, and it's the first bit of remorse you've ever seen him show over it.

"I know you loved me," you keep going, "But you can't use that as some bandaid for the lying, for the hurt that was. You can't erase the consequences because you thought you were protecting me or us or yourself. The truth doesn't cancel out the hurt of the lie."

Harry's still starring at his boots, "You could have said something."

You blink once.

"Fuck you," bursts out before you can stop it, and Harry's eyes snap up to yours, you laugh at his nerve and rise to your feet, "Fuck you, Harry. I couldn't have. I felt like I had to earn it. Like maybe I was one gold star away from getting there. And then when I did push it, you ended it."

"That's not—

"—It is," you insist, shaking your head at him, "You put all your insecurities and shortcomings on me and then had the nerve to tell me you loved me as if I was the defective cog in the wheel. As if you saying you loved me put all the onus on me spoiling it."

"I'm a private person—

You put your hand up to silence him, turning on your heel to face Harry as your pacing halts, "Stop. I don't … I don't care," you breathe out simply, "I really don't. Our relationship wasn't The One. It's one we'll both learn from for the ones that are coming. I hope you learn from it," you add quietly, "Because I have."

"Y/N," Harry says your name like it's an idea he's unsure of.

"That song wasn't about me, was it?" You ask because on stage he said it was about regretting hurting someone and there's been no hint of a 'sorry' from Harry since.

His brow creased, "It is. I am. I wanted you to hear me play it tonight. It's for you."

You smile, the idea that you've grown beyond this situation blooming inside you, "You've not said it."

"What?"

"You haven't said you're sorry," your head shakes again, a fresh wave of your new perfume—the one that's just yours—filling your nose, "You've said you missed me. And that I look good, but you've not said you're sorry. You can put an apology into the song on stage, but you can't admit you were wrong to the person you wrote the song about."

His shoulders sink, just the slightest amount, and you know that you've seen enough. You've said enough. He's not going to have an epiphany on this, not in this conversation with you. You've gone as far as you can with this. As far as you're willing to.

"I'm going to go," you take a step forward, "Thanks for the song, your voice sounded really nice on it."

And you walk passed him with just a final wave and the slightest touch to his shoulder. He doesn't move from his seated position, but his neck cranes and he watches you leave. Eyes hunting your back for answers, like the manuscript for what just happened might show up there. But it doesn't, and you slip out the door, the clip from your shoes fading from his hearing quicker than he wanted it to.

Your insides are shaking by the time you make it out onto the street. No part of you wants to turn back and look up at his name in lights again. You're done with seeing the best of everything in him. Harry's one of the shitty boyfriends you'll tell someone about one day in the future, and they'll call him a dickhead with anger dripping from their tongue, promising to never treat you the same way.

And they won't.

You'll both have bumped and bruised your way into each other's lives, and there'll be a satisfying click with them there wasn't with anyone else. You'll have journeyed through all the maybes and not-quites, and you'll land in that forever place with the person who wears the badge of Yours with a fervour nobody before them has.

And Harry … You'll go and be Nothing to Him.

My inbox is here

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years ago

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It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: It’s the Christmas season and Loki still has much to learn. Thankfully, he has his favorite little mortal to teach him all about it. Warnings: just straight fluff A/N: Alright, it’s December, and you know what that means: time for Christmas fics! Hope you enjoy my first installment for the holiday season. Happy reading folks :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was bizarre, thought Loki, how seemingly overnight the world was lit up with red and green everything. Lights, wreaths, trees, inflatable decorations; you name it, and Loki could spot it from any corner in NYC. Everyone he passed seemed to be filled with joy, ready to start singing at any second. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Normally, people would give him the side-eye, but lately they passed by with a quick nod or wave. Loki doubted it had little to do with him and much more to do with the Christmas spirit floating in the air.

Ah, Christmas. He knew a decent amount about it, but had never paid too much mind to it. After all, it wasn’t like he ever really planned on living on Midgard. It was just the way things worked out. Now he wished he’d taken a bit more of an interest, for this fat, bearded, old man in a red suit made very little sense to him. And yet, he was everywhere this time of year. Though he could have asked any one of the Avengers about it, he refused to risk being teased. It should be easy enough to learn about if he truly desired to.

Loki marveled at the world in a sort of confused awe as he walked back to the Tower. This time of the year on Midgard, while so disagreeable to many, was perfectly fine with him. The bitter cold of the city at wintertime barely even felt like a summer breeze to him. One of the perks of being a perpetually cold frost giant, he supposed, was that you didn’t notice the freezing temperatures. As for those who did, well, he didn’t get why those silly little mortals didn’t just go somewhere warmer. You’d explained to him, once, that not everyone could afford to just pack up and move as they could on Asgard. A terrible shame, he thought, and he wished that he could do something to help, not that he would ever admit it. Feeling particularly generous, he dropped a one hundred-dollar bill in one of those collection bins that always popped up this time of year. It was guarded by yet another one of those strange, bearded men ringing a bell.

Hugging his so dark-green-it-was-almost-black peacoat to him, he rounded the final corner to get back home. Much like his gloves, it was more for style than anything else. Besides, no need to draw more attention to himself by dressing too lightly in the winter weather. Taking one last glance at the world around him, Loki pushed through the doors of the Avengers Tower.

“What in the Nine?” he sputtered as he was hit with a mouthful of glitter.

“Sorry, Mr. Loki,” Peter apologized. “We’re just decorating for Christmas.”

“By throwing glitter around?”

“Yeah. Why not? It’s Christmas, everything is glittery,” he said with a shrug.

“That, I can tell you,” Loki replied, patting Peter’s shoulder as he passed, “is absolutely true.”

All his other teammates seemed to be as excited about decorating as Peter was, though no one else was just haphazardly throwing that infernal sparkly dust. No, they were all using their special talents to hang garlands up from high balconies and banisters. Large ornaments and snowflakes were hanging from the ceiling. Every floor that Loki walked to was filled with merriment and yet more Christmas adornments. How they were put up so fast, the trickster god had no idea.

The common room was, much to his surprise, the least decorated place in the Tower so far. The team must have been saving this room for last, perhaps to do all together. Loki would have been upset that he wasn’t invited, but he was sure it was mentioned in one of those email blasts he always ignored. Now that he thought of it, he did remember seeing it in something that he skimmed. Regardless, this was a nice break from the hubbub in the rest of his home at the moment. In this room, there was only a tree put up and his angel working on prepping it. You.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” you sang to the music you had blasting through the room, unaware of Loki’s presence. “Everywhere you go.”

He watched in wonder as you twirled about the floor, taking out ornaments and other assorted trimmings for the tree. You grabbed a silver and gold garland and began the tedious process of wrapping it around the artificial branches, still belting your heart out. Though Loki was unfamiliar with the words, he caught on to the tune and began humming along, startling you ever so slightly. He walked up to you and grabbed your hand, joining in your spinning and dancing. Prancing around the room with you, Loki was filled with unbridled joy, and he thought he might be beginning to understand the reason for all the joy the season brings.

As you sang the final notes, you and the God of Mischief collapsed onto the couch amidst the boxes of Christmas knick-knacks, laughing your heads off. When you tried to get up, Loki pulled you back down to him, starting another fit of giggles.

“And how is my little mortal today?” he asked, playfully ticking you a little.

“I’d be a lot better if you let me finish decorating,” you teased, poking his chest.

He sighed and relinquished you back to your duties, watching you walk back toward the tree. If only he had the courage to tell you how he feels, rather than just admiring you from afar. You were best friends, sure, but he longed for more. Much more.

“Loki,” you called in a sing-song voice, batting your eyes. “Can you help me, please?”

“Of course, little one.”

He helped you string the garland the rest of the way around the tree, using his magic to get even the highest boughs. You squealed in delight as you admired your work so far, throwing your arms around Loki to thank him for his help.

Soon, the rest of the team joined you and began to hang the ornaments. No one particularly cared about where they were put, just that everyone was having fun. Loki tried to stay on the outskirts of the activity, but everyone kept pulling him back in. It made him happier than he cared to admit that they all concerned themselves with him participating. That they wanted him to participate.

“What do you think, Mr. Loki? Here?” Peter questioned as he held up an ornament in a prospective spot. “Or here?”

“The first spot, I suppose.”

“No,” Thor chimed in, making Peter worried he was going to start one of their infamous sibling battles. “The second spot, for certain.”

“I guess. I still do not understand most of this ‘Christmas’ stuff, to be quite honest.”

“Well, why did you not say so, brother?”

“Yeah, we can teach you all about it,” you added, showing up beside them. Then you snapped your fingers, getting an idea. “The tree lighting is tonight! At Rockefeller Center. We should go to that!”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Peter agreed. “So it’s set then. A crash course, then a field trip to see the tree lighting!”

Loki smiled at his friends as they bustled around him, planning the rest of the day. He couldn’t wait for later, and it made the rest of the time spent decorating even more enjoyable. Between the constant singing and cracking of jokes, there was not a dull moment to be found. While it would have usually drained Loki, he felt as lively as ever. Maybe there truly was something special about the season, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Loki stood with his teammates as incognito as possible in Rockefeller Center. It had been agreed that they just wanted to be normal people for one, not celebrities. To keep your group warm, Loki had cast a heating enchantment that they were all more than grateful for as they waited for the tree to light. In the last minutes before it was set to shine through the night, you summarized your lessons on the holiday.

“So,” you began, “I guess it’s basically a time for love, showing others how much they mean to you. And sure, there’s all the commercial stuff about candy canes and elves and trees and Santa Claus, which is nice and all, but that’s not the real meaning. It’s about being with those you care about and spreading goodwill to all.”

Loki thought back to all the times he’d needed a little charity or a helping hand, or really just to be shown he was loved. There were certainly a plethora of scenarios to pick from in his life. A whole season to spread cheer and show everyone things are not as hopeless as they seem sounded like a splendid idea indeed.

“I quite like the sound of that,” he said with a smile. As you looked back at him, an equally warm glow adorning your features, Loki realized there was one person he loved more than anyone else. With a sudden burst of confidence, he went to tell you exactly how he felt. “I must say this now, I-”

He was cut off as the crowd began the countdown. You gave him an apologetic smile as the both of you joined in. Upon reaching the last number, the tree lit up, filling Loki with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. That was only accentuated when you grabbed his hand, bursting with excitement and awe. Once the cheering went down, and your group began to depart, you remembered Loki had been about to say something to you.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me before?” you asked. “Before the countdown.”

“Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. He’d already lost his nerve. “It was nothing urgent. I hardly even remember now. Another time, perhaps.”

“Well, that’s ok,” you replied, though you sounded a little disappointed. “Whenever you remember is fine.”

Back at the Tower, everyone said goodnight and parted ways to go to bed, exhausted from the busy day. In the hall between your rooms, you and Loki stopped to say goodnight one final time. You paused mid-sentence, spying something green hanging from the ceiling above you. Loki followed your gaze upward and immediately went a shade of red that put Rudolph’s nose to shame. Even before all your lessons from the day, he knew mistletoe when he saw it. And, of course, the tradition that went with it.

He heard snickering from around the corner and spotted Peter and Thor waiting for one of you to make your move. Undoubtedly, they'd fabricated the situation to try to get you together faster than you were going by yourselves. To be fair, at said pace, you’d never be together.

“Just kiss already!” Thor shouted before ducking away to give you some privacy.

“Pardon my brother,” Loki said self-consciously. “If you do not wish to, there is no law saying-”

He was cut off for the second time that night. This time, however, it was by something much more pleasurable. You had stood up on your tip toes and placed a kiss to his cheek, too sheepish to do much else.

“Night, Loki,” you said to the still stunned god. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow indeed, my little mortal,” he said, pulling you in for another kiss, this time on the lips.

Oh yes, it was decided. This season was magical.

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merakiclosed · 5 years ago

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Taehyung - Bunny love

》Pairing: Hybrid!Reader x Single Parent!Taehyung

》Summary: Moving around and trying to find your home that your animal side craved for, you find your love of teaching kids art. Being a rare, albino bunny hybrid, you have to hid your appearance with baggy clothes and hats. What happens when a certain little girl takes a liking to you and what happens when that little girls very single, very hot dad also takes a liking to you?

》Genre: Fluff, a little bit of angst (tiny)

》Word count: 5k

》Notes/Warnings: Fem reader, choking (not sexual), slight harassment for a very short period.

Ah this took me a long time, I couldn't think of a proper ending but I quite like the ending and how it ties it together. Enjoy ! <3

Masterlist | All messages and requests are open <3

Moving around to new cities wasn’t new to you but moving to an entirely different country is. You never felt like you was home, even when you was living with your parents, it never felt right. It never felt like you belonged in your little town, you never felt that warmth of finally finding comfort. Your parents said that it was because of your genetics, that when you find that warmth feeling, don’t let go because that will be your home. It will be the place where you belong.

You are now living in Seoul and you were slowly but surely getting more comfortable. The language wasn’t hard to learn, you are a fast learner after all. You found the perfect job as an art teacher for a primary school and found that your classroom was where your heart and soul was. The walls were covered in splatters of paint, the children’s artwork splayed across the three walls that didn’t occupy the interactive whiteboard. Cut outs and spiral hung across the ceiling like Christmas decorations. Luckily for you, you were only small, so you didn’t get tangled with the hanging artwork. However, trying to get them on the ceiling was hard as you were scared of heights and being at the very top of a ladder was scary.

Being an art teacher meant that you could be quite laid back as you didn’t have to worry about students not understanding nor worry about teaching them about certain words. It also didn’t require the kids to fully think as you often promoted that they should create whatever their hearts desire. Because of this, you found that the kids were a lot more happier and open to you than the other teachers causing you to get side eyed sometimes by other teachers. You just shrugged at them, kids didn’t like to learn and listen all the time, they wanted to be free for a while. You were also good with smelling emotions that the kids felt, causing you to be good with kids in general. If they were sad? Juice box and fruit. If they were angry? Give them some paint and a blank canvas, let them express what they are feeling.

The headmaster liked your teaching style and the way that you were ‘talented with children’ - their words not yours. You also really liked the headmaster for allowing you to wear whatever clothes you wanted, which was good because of your situation. The situation was the big, white, fluffy flops on top of your head and the white fuzzball that was at your lower back.

Yes, you were an albino rabbit hybrid.

Hybrids are extremely rare. Hybrids came about when some crazy scientists thought that they could create a superior race where they were stronger and smarter than humans but were more obedient. The government and animal control was involved with taking it down and not much was said on the news about the whole situation. The government made up an organisation called The Hybrid Move. They basically take care of anything to do with hybrids and make sure to keep track of them so that none of them get taken and get experimented on by other crazy scientists. They were a lovely bunch of people; you knew quite a lot of the employees as you have to keep in contact with them.

Your parents were a part of the experiment, they never talked about it much and you can’t imagine how awful the conditions were. Once they were free, they ended up having you and moved to a small town, outside of the city. Seeing as they were both hybrids, it was inevitable that you were too.

From a young age, they told you that you always had to hide your tail and ears so that nothing bad happens to you. This meant that you had to wear baggy clothes and hats in every public setting and because of this, you had very little friends as they didn’t understand why you wore hats in summer, or why you couldn’t go swimming or go to sleepovers. Many people talked about you behind your back, name-calling was common. It seemed that even if you did hide your animal features, you were still a freak. A group of boys once took it so far, that they cornered you and tried to take your hat off. This then resulted in parents coming in and you being supervised by at least one teacher at every single hour of the day.

At first, you was confused at why there wasn’t anyone else that had ears or tails. You were also confused because, “Why do I have to hide something that I can’t help, it’s my nature?”

This, in turn, led to a conversation about the hybrid experiments that your parents went through and how they are in contact with The Hybrid Move organisation.

It hurt to bend your ears into a beanie at first, but after a while you got used to it, but now, from the years of fitting your ears into your beanie, they both bent outwards permanently at the top. Your tail hurt when you snatched it on somethings, and it killed when it snagged on your clothes. You always wear flowy, long skirts and baggy pants, making sure to cut a hole in your pants and that your top was always long enough to hide the cut. You have a very, artsy aesthetic, neutral and earth colours are your thing.

You live in a little bungalow, the large backyard was filled with flowers, plants, and vegetables. At the very back of your garden, you had a small selection of overgrown trees so that if you do shift, you have your own little hideout where you can properly connect with nature without being chased by a predator. You have a little cut in the middle of your right ear because of a fox. You had to shift at least once every month, otherwise, you get extremely uncomfortable and can cause you to shift in places where you really shouldn’t.

The only downside to your job, other than the snarky teachers was that you couldn’t go to any events that they held. You couldn’t exactly go to a posh event because you would end up wearing a beanie, very classy. And, you couldn’t wear fitted clothing.

You did have two teacher friends, first being Namjoon. He teaches English and has an incredibly beautiful husband, Jin who teaches history. How lovely the both of them are, they are so in love. Jin is so nice, he likes to look after both you and Joon. He often brings in food, of course they were vegan friendly for you. As much as you love Namjoon, he is clumsy and because of this clumsiness, they found out about you being a hybrid shifter.

What happened was, after school one day, you were on the ladders, hanging up some artwork when a loud crash came behind you as Namjoon dropped his mug of coffee. You are scared of loud noises because of your sensitive ears and the mug dropping caused you to shift. They had no words when one minute you were climbing the ladder and the next there’s a white bunny on the floor. Jin went to scream but Namjoon shoved his hand over his lovers’ mouth, causing the scream to be muffled. Joon is as clumsy as he is smart, so he connected the dots fairly fast and quickly went to shut the classroom door and pick the shaking bunny up in his arms. It only took 5 minutes of Joon and Jin stroking and whispering sweet words for you to shift back- Luckily with clothes. After that fiasco and explaining everything, they were very understanding and you three became very close friends, with you often feeling like you were third wheeling.

It was coming up to the end of summer, which meant that you could no longer just sit in the sunny spots of your living room and stay up to watch the sunset. You were excited nonetheless as you got to meet a new set of students that were coming up to their last years of primary. The whole process went smoothly and after a few months, they were well on their way with their current projects.

A little girl named Sujin became particularly close to you, sometimes choosing to stay in your classroom for lunch if she noticed that you wasn’t busy. Sujin had chubby cheeks and short, black hair with a wide, boxy smile. She was incredibly talented and was always excited about coming to art class, always skipping, singing, and dancing. Sujin was also a very curious child, always asking questions. You don’t mind answering them and you don’t even mind answering the ones about your personal life because, who on earth is she going to tell that your favourite snack is strawberries? One day after school she even asked if you had found your ‘prince or princess’. It took you a while to register what she was talking about, but you answered with a big, fat nope, ‘I haven’t found my prince’. After you answered, she just ran off and giggled, a cheeky smile painting her face. You shrugged, not minding her curiosity.

December comes and it’s time for parents evening. You have talked to multiple parents, a few have you scowling as they say how you ‘don’t dress like a teacher’ or that you ‘look too unprofessional’. Whilst you’re waiting for your last appointment with Sujin, you go around the classroom and pick up the swirl cut-outs that parents hadn’t notice where hanging from ceiling, causing them to waft their arms around and destroy some of them.

You stand in the frame of the door once you are done when you hear a very distinct laugh. Sujin comes bounding in, dragging a very, very tall and very, very handsome man down the hall. You can tell straight away that this is her father, his boxy smile unmistakably the same as Sujin’s.

Your mind buffers looking at him and your animal inside goes feral, ‘He could easily protect you; he looks strong and he’s so tall, he could defend you without much energy’. You blink rapidly, trying to stop yourself from jumping on top of him asking him to be your buck. Stupid animal instincts.

You look down when you notice that the man has stopped smiling and is now starring at your feet, to find that your right foot is slightly thumbing the ground. You try to stop yourself but you’re leg ends up twitching and shaking. Ignoring it the best you can, you smile awkwardly but in Taehyungs mind, you look annoyed; you’re leg stomping with a very forced smile. He looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that isn’t holding Sujin’s

“I’m sorry I’m late, the traffic was worse than I thought”

Once again, your mind malfunctions at the deepness of his voice, ‘please, earth swallow me now’ you thought. You shake your head and mumble to him that it’s fine and you wasn’t waiting that long.

You lead them into the classroom and turn around when you hear Sujin giggle as the man almost runs straight into one of the swirls from the ceiling. You really should have asked Joon if he could have taken them down beforehand. You cover your mouth when you chuckle, his sharp, dark eyes finding yours when he hears you and coughs, his cheeks blushing slightly. You stop laughing and sit down at your desk, gesturing them to do the same.

Throughout the meeting, you say various praises for Sujin as she is a literal angel and is extremely talented. You question the man, that you now know as Taehyung, if there has been artistic people in the family.

“Um, no not really, I mean, I do. I only do art as a hobby though. One day she came home and asked if she could get some art supplies because she really enjoyed your lessons and loved how she could express herself” Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of inspiring someone, even if it is a child, it’s a massive compliment for a teacher.

The meeting doesn’t last long but you do notice that the entire time, you had a very warm feeling in your heart. You felt comfort. You ignored your thoughts, deeming it to be from the warm classroom.

Just as you’re about to turn back into your classroom, his voice echoes in the, now empty, hallway, “Are you going to Parent-child Christmas dance?”

You pause in your tracks and stare wide-eyed at hm, “Uh-I-Uh”

‘Omg WORDS Y/N’ you thought

Quickly gathering your thoughts, you reply “I don’t usually go”

You see his shoulders sag as his smile falters and quickly add “I might go this time though”

You inwardly freak at your words, what were you thinking??

His boxy smile once again makes an appearance “I’ll see you there than, Ms L/N” His voice showing his excitement

Without a second thought you run to Joon’s room to get help. Oh gosh, what have you gotten yourself into?

On the night of the dance, you’re wearing an A-line dress so that it doesn’t catch your tail and your ears are free as you stand next to Namjoon and Jin who have fake bunny ear headbands on their heads. When you freaked out about going to the dance wearing a hat, they proposed that you just went without a hat. Immediately, you shot the idea down, but they suggested that if you went without a hat, they went with a headband so that you wasn’t alone.

You’re a bunch of nerves as you’re dart across the many parents and children that fill the decorated gym hall. You have to restrain your ears from moving towards every sound that they hear, not used to being uncovered. Lucky for you, many teachers were dressed up in a Christmas themes as you see many antler headbands and Santa costumes.

“Hey, you good?” Namjoon’s voice breaks you out of your trance as you look up at him with your wide eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Totally fine” You nod your head so many times, Jin thinks that your head might pop off.

“Your ears are twitching, darling” Jin says, going to rub your ears to soothe them, your body visibly relaxing at the administration.

Your eyes briefly flutter at the calming motion but soon shoot open when you hear the gym door opening. He walks in, once again, being tugged by Sujin who ditches him as soon as she sees her friends on the dance floor.

He makes eye contact with you and you can feel your face heat up. You see him take big steps towards you, not seeming to notice Jin or Namjoon who look at the both of you curiously. They step away when Taehyung gets close enough, wanting to watch the interaction from the side-lines.

You both stand side by side in silence until it’s broken by Taehyung, “I’m going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

You shake your head, too nervous to speak, your ears almost twitching.

He walks off as you stare at his broad back. He looked amazing tonight as he wore a flowery coat with a black tuxedo underneath it, his hair fluffy and curly, you want to run your hands through it. His jawline is sharp, and his eyes are a deep shade of brown, you could get lost in them.

Your lost in your head by the time he comes back to you, jumping when he appears in front of you, bending his back to look into your eyes because of the height difference. Even in heels, you only just reach his shoulders.

“I bought you some strawberries, Sujin says that they are your favourite”

Your big eyes stare into his, he remembered? You told Sujin that like 2 months ago. You don’t dwell on it too long as you look at the plastic plate in his hand that is full of strawberries and snatch one so quick that Taehyung didn’t think he’s seen anyone move so fast.

His chuckle causes you to strain your head upwards to look at him with your cheeks full of strawberries. With your cheeks still full you smile shyly, some strawberry juice escaping but Taehyung just grabs a napkin and softly grabs your chin with his other hand and gently wipes it away. All you can do is look at his face, noticing that he has one monolid and one double lid, as well as having a little mole on the tip of his nose.

He doesn’t move when he is finished and just looks you in the eye, his eyes filled with curiosity of wanting to know you more and adoration because he thinks, that he might have just fallen, even if you don’t know each other fully.

Throughout the rest of the night, it’s filled with random questions and you learn a lot about this man. When your both looking at the kids dancing, you see him look at the kids with adoration and care, a smile always present on his face, you wonder why he isn’t a teacher.

However, when you think that everything is going well, it goes downhill, fast.

The music seems to be getting louder and your ears twitch slightly, you feel a whimper wanting to leave your throat at the discomfort. You turn to face Taehyung when you find that he is already looking at you, specifically, your ears.

“I’m going to get some space” you whisper to him, your voice small. You see Taehyung nod at you, still fascinated by your ears.

You walk into the hallway outside of the gym and lean against the wall, breathing heavily. You closed your eyes to try and focus on relaxing your ears from all of the sounds that surrounded you, the music booming, the sound of the AC, footsteps. Footsteps.

You looked up frantically, looking at the man that was staring at you intently, the disgusting smell he gave off showed his intentions. Frozen in place, he came up to you and slammed his hands next to your head. His lips contorted into a smirk as he dragged his hands down to your face and stroked your cheek, “I’ve been looking for you, I knew I would find you eventually”

Your throat hurt felt tight as you gulped. His hand that wasn’t on your cheek slowly caressed your figure, going down to your waist, his grip tight. You let out a whimper when he pulled your right bunny ear, your eyes filling with tears. Your animal instincts of submitting made you shake, both of your ears dropping to the back of your head.

“Aren’t you a sight, little bunny” he stated, his breath smelled like smoke, making you want to gag. Your breathing became heavier as he started to pull you closer to his taller and more muscular frame.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing” a voice growled, surrounding the empty hallway.

The man that held you turned you around to face Taehyung, one of his arms going towards your neck and the other wrapping around your waist. Your arms go up to his arm around your neck as your nails dig into his skin.

“Aw, the boyfriend has come to rescue the doe” the man snarled at Taehyung, anger radiating off him.

Taehyung’s eyes are sharp, his jaw clenched as he looked at the arms around your neck and waist but softening as he saw the tears running down your face. Taehyung saw red when the man tightens his grip on your throat, he lunges towards the both of you when the man holding you speaks.

“Did you know these pretty things are real?”

Taehyung stops, his face void of showing emotion. The man that held you pulled your ear once again as you whimpered in pain, tears finally making their way down your face. You start to cough when the lack of oxygen gets too much.

The noises and the stress of situation was getting too much for you and it was like Taehyung knew as he made eye contact with you as your ears started to twitch on their own, your tail feeling fuzzy.

The arms around you slip as you shift into your bunny form, the man stumbling slightly which gives Taehyung the perfect advantage as he runs to the man, punching him square in the face. The man hits the floor with all of his weight, his eyes shutting. You don’t have much time to think about how strong Taehyung must be to knock him out with one punch as you sprint down the hall, your small legs jumping as fast as they can to find somewhere to hide.

“Y/N wait” You hear Taehyung cry out as he runs after you.

You’re fast, but Taehyung is faster with his longer legs as he scoops you up in his arms. You kick him with your back feet, trying to get out of his grip but not with all of your force so that you don’t injure him.

“Shh, shh, it’s fine, it’s just me. You’re fine” He shushes and coes at you, calming you down, one of his hands rubs against your fur.

Taehyung slowly slumps down against the wall of the hallway, not too far away from the gym but not close enough that someone will walk down. He is still holding you as you calm down, whispering soothing words into your ears and rubbing your back. You look up at him and all you see is love in his eyes. You sit up a bit more on your back feet, your front paws going onto his chest for stability as you nudge his nose with yours. His laugh rings out down the hallway as you start to lick his cheek.

Taehyung feels a significantly heavier weight on his lap as you shift back into your human form, your legs over his sideways, your right side leaning into his chest and your hands resting near his collarbone. There are still tear tracks on your face as you look up to him with your big eyes.

“I knew these bunny ears looked scarily realistic” he chuckles, no disgust in his voice.

You stay seated in Tae’s lap when you call the hybrid organisation, as he occasionally kisses you head when you choke on your words, encouraging and supporting you. You both sat there for a while afterwards, with his left hand wrapped around your waist and his right brushing your bunny ears. Your teeth clicking together in contentment as no words where said, none were needed.

Taehyung is nearly tackled to the floor when you both walk into the gym hall as Sujin jumps on him and wraps her arms around his neck. She babbles at how she had such a good time dancing and that one of the other girls, Yuna, showed her some dance moves. You and Taehyung laugh as she talk animatedly about it. You move your hands to brush your hands through her hair, gathering it all so that you can redo her ponytail, whilst Taehyung looks at both of you with fond eyes.

“you know, there’s a job opening for another art teacher, the other one left” your voice was soft as you glanced at Tae. His eyes looking straight at you, excitement evident. Sujin joins in, encouraging her dad to start working here. You knew that he would love the job, he is great with kids, and for your own selfish reasons, you really want him to teach by your side. When Taehyung says that he will apply, you feel warmth start to spread in your chest, a wide smile making its way onto your face.

“Daddy, look it’s a slow song, go dance with Ms. L/N” Sujin whispers into Taehyungs ear. She noticed that her daddy was looking at you when you was talking to Namjoon and Jin about something across the hall. Your ears pick up the words she spoke as you weren't fully paying attention to what Joon or Jin was talking about. You didn’t mean to, but with Tae stood there, you couldn’t help but savour every moment that you were near each other.

Taehyung puts Sujin down and walks over to you in wide strides, confidence oozing out of him. A sly smirk makes its way onto your face when you make eye contact with each other, making Tae falter in his steps.

“May I have this dance?” His voice cuts through the convocation Jin and Joon was having, both of them looking at Tae with their mouths open.

“You may” You say shyly, taking his hand.

The both of you make it to the dance floor as other parents fill up the space. You put your arms around his shoulders as he puts his on your waist, the warmth once again coming back and filling up your chest.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier” you said in a low voice, not making eye contact with him.

Taehyungs heart cracks a little at how small you sounded, “It’s completely fine, I should have gone out with you” his voice equally as low.

You look up at him and your heart beats a little bit faster. You shake your head side to side to disagree with him, neither of you could have predicted what happened.

“Ever since I met you at parents evening, I thought about you ever day. Every time I see you my heart beats erratically and there’s a warmth in my chest that I can’t explain” Tae mumbled, only for you to hear.

You place your head on his chest as you both sway to the music and whisper “I’m the same. But I have, um, something to tell you”

“My parents said that whenever I find warmth, this warmth, it’s where my home will be” you pause, “Tae, I think you’re my home”

Taehyung stops dancing, causing you both to be stood in the middle of the gym, the parents around you still swaying past both of you. You don’t separate from him nor look at him, scared of what he may say. The palpitations in your heart, the closeness and the heat in your chest have your feelings soaring, so much so, that a tear escapes your eye at the thought of him being disgusted by the words you spoke.

He raises his hand to life your chin up to meet his eyes, he briefly looks down at your lips, then back to your eyes, looking for permission. You nod slowly, standing on your tip toes as he leans down, his hand now cupping your cheek. The dim lights casted shadows onto his face, though you could see him perfectly. You can feel the hand that lays on your cheek softly, contrasting with the strong grip around your waist. Leaning closer, your lips met in a sweet kiss, all of your emotions coming to the surface. You clutches his shirt into your hands, tears now fully coating your cheeks. He pulled away slightly, his breath danced across my lips as he whispered, “I don’t think you’re my home, I know you are my home”.

You smile to brightly that it hurts your cheeks, he brings a hand up to wipe away your tears. Even with mascara smudging at the bottom of your eyes, tear stains on your cheeks and bloodshot eyes, Taehyung hasn’t something more beautiful.

3 years later

Explaining what you were to Taehyung was easy, but explaining it to a young girl, was interesting to say the least. It sent her imagination wild when she asked you to shift, she loved to give you kisses and hug you close to her.

You now lived in Taehyung’s house with Sujin, who has recently started to call you mummy. She first said it when you tucked her in bed when one day, your ears stood up to attention, eyes stinging to avoid from crying with happiness. As soon as you got to your shared bedroom with Tae, you flopped onto your side in front of him, instantly shifting to your bunny form. Tae laughed at you as he rubbed your fur and asked, once you shifted back, what caused that reaction. When you told him, he seemed to be as happy as you were.

Both of you are art teachers at the primary school. When you first properly introduced him to Namjoon and Jin, they interrogated him for a least an hour. But nonetheless, the four of you created an amazing friendship group, you could finally be yourself, your tail and all.

You smile at the thought of the four of you having a sleepover this Saturday as you pack your Taehyungs bag. You’re so happy that you get up and run to Taehyung, only to run away from him, giggling like a mad woman, “be careful love” he calls. You turn around and come back towards him at full speed and once you’re a few centimetres away from him, you start to circle his standing figure, your socks slipping on the hardwood floor. His laugh is deep as he catches you around the waist and flops you both backwards on to the sofa, cradling you in his lap. His eyes soften as you start to rub your chin on his shoulder. You relax against his body as you now start to nibble his shoulder. After being together for 3 years, Taehyung is used to this display of affection as he knows what it means – you’re happy and in love.

Taehyung kisses the top of your head once you’ve finished scenting him and pulls you closer together when Sujin bounces on top of the sofa next to you, joining in on the hug.

Your little family was perfect, and you loved it.

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spartanguard · 4 years ago

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partners

summary: SVU detective Emma Swan's new partner is not what she expected. Thankfully, that's a good thing.

A/n: So I've been watching a LOT of Law & Order: SVU lately and when I got to the episodes where Stabler was partnered with Dani Beck, it just smacked with CS feels. This is just a bit of exploration of that, in honor of @optomisticgirl ‘s birthday!!

B—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Thank you for being the most amazing friend, and the best person to bounce crazy fic ideas off of (like this). I hope you have the most amazing day and I love you!!!!

Note: While there isn't any actual sexual violence in this story, it is an SVU AU, so it's mentioned.

rated T | 2.3k words | AO3

She met him while he was trying to arrest a perp who’d just walked.

“Are you Detective Swan?” he’d asked, and she immediately noticed his accent—the way it wrapped around her last name in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was hard to tell if it was in a good way or not.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she tossed back.

“I’m your new partner. Killian Jones.”

She shook his offered hand (only later noticing he only had the one) and wondered—just what the hell were they about to get into?

[He was her second new partner in as many weeks. Graham, who she’d worked with since she joined the unit, had enough with special victims—with Boston in general—and had taken up some smalltown sheriff gig in Maine. Emma knew he’d be happier there, but it kind of left her in the lurch. They’d sent someone new over the week before, but her style didn’t gel with Mulan’s quite well enough—the woman was a damn fine detective but just...too different.]

Jones was new to special victims, transferring in on the recommendation of the captain at his previous precinct, where he’d worked in homicide. The dead victims, he was used to; the live ones—not so much.

It was pretty obvious on their first case together, when they were interviewing the young girl in the hospital. Emma—she’d seen enough of the world’s shitty side that little phazed her any more; growing up in the foster system made her uniquely suited to this line of work.

But Killian? He was visibly upset; she had to physically restrain him from running out of the hospital to start tracking down the culprit, holding him back by the sleeve of his leather jacket. They hardly had a lead on this. Something could be said for enthusiasm, but that didn’t excuse jumping ahead of themselves. That’s how you got into trouble—that was how criminals got away with murder (literally); she’d done that enough for the both of them, and had a feeling he had, too.

She felt they had a lot in common, actually; there was an obvious affinity for leather coats, but past that, there was something familiar in his eyes. Not that she’d met him before, or anything—just something in the determined set of his gaze when interviewing a suspect, in the empathetic way he handled the victim.

She still wasn’t sure if that was good or not, especially when he almost forgot protocol—almost lost them evidence—by rushing in too soon.

And she was half ready to walk into Captain Mills’ office to request a new partner (again) when she found him asleep at his desk with what could only be described as a murderboard spread out behind him. He looked younger and softer in his sleep, impossibly gorgeous with the way his long lashes rested on his cheekbones and gentle breaths from his full lips—and none of that was really pertinent, because the man had just researched his way to a solved case.

“Just who are you, Killian Jones?” she asked when she later woke him up with coffee and a bear claw (biting back a comment on the rumpled state of his usually pristine waistcoat-and-dress shirt combo).

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled, holding her gaze intently before taking a long pull from his cup.

She knew she shouldn’t, but damn, did she.

It wasn’t until a couple cases later that she began to put together the pieces of him. It had been a doozy of a kidnapping, and he’d been on edge the whole time—right until they finally tracked down the little boy who’d been abducted. Emma slapped the cuffs on the miserable excuse for a father who’d taken him and Killian pulled the boy into his arms, visibly deflating once he knew he was safe.

She dragged him to their unit’s favorite bar that night and slid a glass of rum in front of him, along with the directive to “Talk.”

He downed it in one shot, then worried his bottom lip (much to Emma’s distraction) before saying, “Have I mentioned I have a daughter?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she let him explain without interruption. Her name was Alice; she was 8. He had sole custody, and with good reason: her mother, his ex-girlfriend, had kidnapped her from his apartment when she was only a few years old. “It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” he confessed. “And today...it’s like I was right back in that moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied, then finished her own whiskey. This was probably where she should drop some of her own tragic backstory, right? Like the scumbag who left her pregnant at 17, and the baby boy she put up for adoption? “Props to you for doing it on your own. I obviously couldn't.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love; you gave him his best chance.” He gently set his hand over hers on the bar and she froze; not because he was cold—quite the opposite, actually—but between that tiny gesture of support and the understanding in those too-blue eyes, she felt more seen than she had by anyone in ages, even Graham.

It was suddenly too much, too intimate, and she yanked her hand away and ordered another drink. “Is your ex the name on your tattoo?” she asked, trying to put some space in between them (physically and emotionally).

It worked. He sat back up and tugged his right sleeve down with his prosthesis, hiding the ink, and she could almost see the walls go back up between them. “No. That’s...another story. For another time.” He stood and tossed some cash on the counter. “Alice is with my neighbor; I better go get her. See you ‘round.” And he left hastily.

It was what she wanted to happen. He’d suddenly gotten too close. So why did she feel like such an ass about it?

She was going to apologize at their next shift, but they got thrown into another case. And then another after it. It was a different kind of intense—a different kind of intimate—than that moment in the bar; very quickly, she had to trust him, and vice versa. That was something neither were predisposed to, but were managing to do...honestly, better than she had with anyone.

After putting another rapist behind bars, Killian said with a smirk, “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” And he winked (well, tried to), and she just blushed back, like she was a teenager in love all over again. That fact that would normally send her running but, for the first time in years, she wasn’t opposed to it—except for, y’know, the fact that he was her partner and they were coworkers and HR generally looked down on that kind of thing.

She doubted he was interested, anyway. They hadn’t really done anything outside of work since that night; he was always quick to get home to Alice, and she didn’t fault him that—especially when she finally met the kid, who was clearly her father’s daughter in all the best ways.

They got a call for a case late one weeknight; Emma easily beat him to the scene, since he had to make sure his neighbor could watch Alice at such an ungodly hour. She handed him a coffee when he got there and they made their way to the ME, to get the rundown on the vic.

Emma had been paying attention, but it shifted from the examiner to Killian pretty quickly; he stiffened at the description of what had been done to the victim, then when white as the sheet covering her when it was pulled back.

“Eloise,” he whispered, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Wait—as in…?”

He nodded. “Aye. Alice’s mum.”

“Shit.”

They got what little information they could from the scene and then started to head for the precinct, but he was shaking so much, she insisted on driving.

“Are you gonna be alright?” she asked.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, probably not.” Then, one long breath later, “It was Gold.”

She nearly missed their turn at that. “Gold? As in, the mysterious Mr. Gold, owner of the pawn store chain?”

“One and the same,” Killian said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s the same as with Milah.”

She would have asked who that was, but he was resting his prosthesis over the spot on his arm where she knew the tattoo was. And she got a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was going to be a rough case.

Once they got to the office (and she got some more coffee in him), Killian explained: Milah was his ex, his first love—but also Gold’s wife. And while Gold was well-known for being a shady individual, no one had ever been able to pin anything on him.

But Gold did find out about their affair, and Killian came home one day to find Milah—dead, attacked and killed in the same way Eloise had been hours ago. He wasn’t sure what their connection was—and he didn’t think Gold knew about his to Eloise, especially since she’d only been released from jail last week—“But I know it’s him. And I’m going to prove it this time.”

(Apparently, last time had ended with him getting into an altercation with one of Gold’s lackeys. He escaped with his life, but not with his left hand.)

Milah’s case had gone cold, but given the similarities, they were able to pull the files. It took a few weeks—several late nights, more than a few breakdowns, many tears (mostly Killian’s, but Emma’s and Alice’s as well) before they finally—finally—had the evidence to pin both murders on Gold.

Tracking him down was another thing altogether, but they finally caught up with him in his penthouse apartment. To no one’s surprise, he didn’t go willingly; a fistfight broke out between he and Killian.

She was scared she’d have to intervene, knowing how personal it was. By the end of it, Killian had a black eye and a bloody lip, but Gold was in handcuffs, tossed unceremoniously in the back of a squad car.

Killian watched the vehicle pull away, then turned to Emma, and wrapped his arms around her in a bruising hug.

In any other situation, she would have gone stiff with shock, but she didn’t hesitate to lean right into him. Her desire to comfort him after that was just as strong as his need for comfort.

But then he pulled back, cupped her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers.

That did take her by surprise.

But she was equally quick to reciprocate.

Just as fast, it was over and he was walking away, leaving her utterly confused. Logically, she knew it was probably just an emotional reaction—a one-time thing.

However: he kissed her like he meant it. She was familiar with empty kisses and single-night flings—and that...was a whole lot more.

And she couldn’t deny it any longer: she wanted that more.

She arrived at the precinct early the next morning, hoping to beat him there so they could talk about whatever that had been. She’d even gotten up an hour before she usually did so she could get them good coffee. But he was already there, filling out forms at his desk.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward as she put the cup on his desk. “You taking care of the reports?”

“Um, yeah,” he stammered, pointedly focusing on the paperwork and not her.

She glanced down at the desk, and that wasn’t a report—that was a transfer form. “You want to leave?” she whispered, the familiar pain of betrayal washing over her. He didn’t want to be her partner anymore?

“Emma, I can’t stay here,” he said, only somewhat apologetic. (Also, though she didn’t realize it at the moment, it was the first time he’d used her given name.) “After this last case...it just wouldn’t be good form.”

“Fuck your good form, Jones!” she cried. “How can you say that, after everything these past few months? After last night?”

Calmly, he stood up and moved into her space. “I can’t be your partner any more, Emma,” he said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Because I want to be more than that. And last I checked, Captain Mills frowned upon inter-unit relations.”

That was true; she really did, more than most. But then the reality of what Killian was saying hit: “You...you’d give up your position for me?”

“Aye,” he answered, simply, like it wasn’t the heaviest thing anyone had ever told her.

What else was she supposed to do after a confession like that but kiss him? She rose up on her toes, gripped the lapels of his waistcoat, and found his lips with hers. He didn’t hesitate to pull her close and she was exceedingly glad no one else was in the squad room, because she’d never quite been kissed so closely to within an inch of her life as she’d been then.

(Also, it was a good thing no one was around when he pushed her onto his desk to deepen it further. If Captain Mills later noticed the forms were a bit crumpled, she didn’t say anything.)

Killian ended up transferring back to his old precinct, old job. It turned out they missed him. Emma knew exactly why; her next partner, David, was great, but no match.

Good thing she got to go home to Killian—and Alice—every night.

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

thanks for reading, and send B all the birthday love! tagging some others:

@kat2609 @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx t @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs detective au #happy birthday #optomisticgirl #my ff

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hazbbyhaz · 4 years ago

Text

sleepless || harry styles

fourteen

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: a last minute trip

disclaimer: cameras, small talk of family

Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me

“Can I take a photo of you?”

Avery turns her head to look at Harry. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the green sofa with Oliver in his lap. His camera clutched in his hands.

“I always look so sick in photos.” Her head falls back on the cushion as she closes her eyes, momentarily resting them. She thinks back to the dream she had a couple of nights ago, the scenes playing in her head like her own personal movie. The scenes playing before her closed eyes were better ones, happier things were happening. She was glad that she got a small break from what they usually entailed.

Soon, the sound of a camera shutter breaks her peaceful daze. The streetlamps illuminated the ceiling, giving it a soft, yellow glow. Avery wasn’t sure that she had ever really looked at the pattern on her ceiling until now, though countless nights were spent exactly like this. “We should go to the beach.”

The ceiling is divided into squares with thick edges, and with the glow from the streetlamps, it almost looked like a cloudy night sky. “We can’t just go to the beach.”

“Why not?” Harry questions, the shutter click echoing through the apartment again. “Me and my mom used to drive down to East Sussex.” Third click. “Camber Sands is down there. If we left now, we would be there by the time the sun rises.”

“I'm tired Harry, and that's got to be at least a two and a half-hour drive.”

“Everything is different by the sea, Ave. Have you ever been?”

“No…”

“Then it's settled. Let’s go.” The fourth time the camera goes off makes her turn around, but Harry is already quick on his feet, scaring Oliver in the process. He makes a quick escape through the open balcony window.

“I don't know…”

“I'll buy you ice cream. Three scoops.”

“Four.”

“Deal.” He puts on his boots and retrieves his keys from the counter while Avery watches him from her spot on the sofa.

“Are you serious?” She giggles as Harry puts his camera around his neck, waiting for her to follow him.

“Life is to be lived, Ave.”

‘So she grabs another hoodie, a blanket, and a bottle of water before making her way towards him. As they descended down the stairs, for the first time she could see the different colors around her. She had always been able to see them, but this time it was different. Everything seems so much more vibrant

She saw different shades of yellow and green, even a little bit of red. It wasn’t just blue, blue, blue. Avery runs after Harry, after the colors because the further away he is, the darker it gets. She picks up her pace, trying to catch up with him.

“Thought I’d leave without you?” He grins, holding the passenger door of the car open for her.

“No.” She lies with a smile, trying to just enjoy this moment. This moment is now, and she doesn’t want to be stuck in the past any longer.

“My sister used to take this car a lot, so there's got to be a hair tie somewhere,” Harry says, his eyes moving back and forth between the dark street in front of them and the interior of the car. “Take a look in the glove compartment.”

He’s right. Under numerous papers that had been shoved inside the small space was a leopard print scrunchie. “Found one!” Avery cheers, putting her hair in a low ponytail. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah, her name is Gemma, she lives abroad.” He explains. “In a way, her job reminds me a lot of Chandler Bing, because I’ve honestly no clue what she really does, but she travels a lot for it.”

“That must be difficult, I don't know if I could do that. Pack up my life every six months.”

“It's quite perfect for her, I think she would go crazy if she had to stay in a single place for longer than a year or two. What about you? Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” She says quietly. “And, if I’m honest, I didn't want any.”

“Isn’t a sibling something everyone wants?”

“I guess I just… they don’t deserve that… no one does…”

He stays quiet for a while after that. Did I say too much? The air suddenly felt colder, so many unanswered questions flying about. Harry couldn't find the right one to ask, so he just went with the basics. “What's your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“Ha! That's the color of my eyes, does that mean you fancy me?” a childish grin plastered onto his face.

“What? Your eyes are not green. Look at me!” She knew they were green, it was hard not to notice. But, she wanted to feed into his antics for a bit. It seemed to be lifting the tension.

“I’m driving, Ave. That's not gonna work.” He laughs, focusing his gaze back on the road as more cars started to make their way onto the once quiet street.

“Harry?’’

“Hm?”

“Who is your roommate? At your party I had accidentally stumbled into a bedroom, thinking it was the bathroom. There was a guy in there by himself.” She had never told him about the strange encounter she had that night, thinking that Harry would have asked her about it at some point. After not being brought up for some time, she figured he wasn’t going to and left it at that.

“Oh, you mean Francis… you met? He didn't mention anything.”

“He had told me that several other people had walked into his room instead of the bathroom, that's probably why… so, he’s your friend?”

“Yeah… we’ve known each other for ages, since about grade one I believe.” There is something in his voice that doesn't seem right. He seemed saddened by the sudden mention of his friend, almost like he hadn't fully prepared for the topic to be brought up.

“Francis is probably the kindest, most generous person I know. He is much better than me, and I honestly don't know why he has stuck with me for this long. You should meet him. He's not fond of meeting new people, but nevertheless, he would be nothing but nice to you.”

“I'd love that.” Avery smiles. The smile doesn’t leave her face while Harry continues on about Francis.

“We should have taken him with us.”

“He is with his parents at the moment.”

“Oh, well maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs. “Next time.”

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Taglist: if you would like to be added, please let me know!

@serenametanoia @magicalmongerherringfan

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Note

hi there! could i request an aizawa x female reader oneshot? if you're willing to do angst, could it be him getting jealous when they go out for drinks with a group of friends :o

Ok, so I’m hoping this is angsty enough. I’m still getting used to writing in that style. Also, thank you so much for the request. I wasn’t sure about writing for Aizawa at first, but it was easier to get into his mindset than I thought it would be!

My requests are still open for anyone who is interested. Please check out my rules and masterlist!

A Big Deal:Part One (Jealous!Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

You can find Part Two of this story Here!

Today was kind of a big deal for you. After months of grueling effort and countless hours of overtime, you’d finally been acknowledged by your boss and given a huge promotion in your company. You’d been awarded a new title along with a generous pay raise, effective immediately. In addition to those perks, your new job responsibilities would allow you to finally use the degree you’d put yourself through college to obtain. It was really great news, and you were over the moon with excitement. A few of your colleagues suggested a night out to celebrate the career advancement. You were quick to agree. It was a Friday evening and you saw no reason not to make the most of this incredible day. You sent out a quick text message to invite your boyfriend and a few of your close friends to join in the festivities.

Today was kind of a big deal for Shota Aizawa too. He had always been a bit wary of relationships, both romantic and otherwise. He was a bit of an introvert and socializing often wore him down. He had a couple close friends that had forced their way into his life during high school and that had honestly been enough for him. He had been content to be mostly on his own until he met you and his outlook changed. You were hardworking, which he admired, and he’d noticed right away that you always gave him his space even though you were more outgoing than he was. You never forced him to attend big group outings or gave him a hard time when he was just too tired from work to do anything else besides get take out and have a quiet night in for date night. He appreciated the comfort and peacefulness you brought to his life, which is why he was actually quite excited that today was your one year anniversary together.

Aizawa wasn’t much for big extravagant gestures, but thought it might be nice to invite you over for a nice dinner when you finished work. He managed to get out of his teaching duties a little early so that he could pick up what he needed from the grocery store and get the cooking started. He had a nice evening with just the two of you in mind, so it came as a bit of a shock when he got your text message. He sighs and looks around his kitchen at all the half prepared food. Normally he would decline such an invitation, though he always appreciated you thinking to include him, but this was not a usual circumstance. He knew how hard you worked and was happy to hear that you were finally being recognized for everything you did. He takes out some containers and starts packing up the food, knowing he could always finish cooking it tomorrow.

The Izakaya restaurant where you were having your celebration was already packed with people since it was a Friday, but you’d somehow managed to book a decent sized table. The first round of drinks had been brought out and everyone was calling for you to make a speech. It wasn’t until they started bringing out the food that Aizawa finally arrived.

“Hey! Eraserhead!” Present Mic calls him over from the far end of the table. “You actually showed up! Come over here! I’ll order you a drink!” Aizawa glanced over at you but you were deep in conversation with two of your coworkers. He would have preferred to sit with you, but could settle for attaching himself to Mic since he didn’t know anyone else that well.

“Let’s have another round on me!” one of your coworkers calls to the wait staff. You laugh and nudge his arm with your shoulder.

“Idiot. We paid for ‘all-you-can-drink’!” You give him a teasing grin, “No matter what, we’re all going to be paying the same amount!”

“Aw, come on!” Another one of your male coworkers leans across the table, “You know we’re not letting you anywhere near tonight’s bill! You’ve been working so hard for this day, so let us treat you!”

“You make a good point,” You nod while lifting your glass. “And I’m not one to turn down free drinks!” They all laugh as the waiter disappears to go prepare another round for the table. Aizawa’s eyes linger on the two male coworkers for a moment before turning back to Present Mic.

“I guess she has a pretty good relationship with her coworkers,” he says flatly.

“Yeah! Definitely!” Present Mic declares with a wide grin, “I’ve met them a few times before. They’re fun dudes!”

“Hmm,” Aizawa found himself wondering if those guys knew you had a boyfriend. He trusted that there wasn’t anything deceitful going on, but it was weird for him to see you so open and relaxed around people who were strangers to him. He’d never really thought about what exactly happened when you were out at work parties. Perhaps this was normal. Still, he kept an eye on the people around you as the food and drinks continued to come.

“Shota,” you shuffle over to your boyfriend once last orders had been taken and the rambunctious group was kindly asked to leave the restaurant. “Thank you for coming! You usually don’t.” The words, though said with a lazy smile, struck Aizawa with a pang of guilt. You’d never forced him to go out, but perhaps you’d always wished he would.

“This was a special occasion,” he says while you both head out into the cool night air with everyone else. They were all mingling outside the restaurant, waiting to see what happened next. “You deserved that promotion, and I’m very proud of you.” He wanted to tell you that he’d also come to this party to spend time with you since it was your anniversary, but decided not to ruin your good mood by mentioning it. Perhaps he didn’t deserve to celebrate the milestone in your relationship anyway if letting you go out to these little get-togethers without him made him a bad boyfriend.

“Who’s up for Karaoke?” Present Mic throws his hands into the air, attracting the attention of other drunk groups meandering the streets nearby. A few people declined the offer, saying they needed to catch a taxi home, but a handful of others seemed enthusiastic about continuing the festivities of the night.

“Well we know you’re coming!” One of the coworkers from before slides up next to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. “This party is for you after all!”

“Of course!” You agree before turning to Aizawa. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know it’s not your thing.”

Aizawa stared blankly at the arm around you that was not his own. He was tired from work, he hated parties, and a night of karaoke was literally his worst nightmare. Were the things he hated the same things that made you happy? It made him wonder why you were even dating him in the first place. Maybe there was a reason why you hadn’t mentioned your one year anniversary, and perhaps this relationship meant something different to each of you. Even if that was true, could he really let you go off to spend the rest of your one year anniversary with a bunch of other guys?

“Hey, come on!” another one of your coworkers comes over and playfully shoves you in the direction of the karaoke bar. “You’re burning moonlight! Don’t think you’re getting out of doing a duet with me like the last time!” You can’t help but giggle at his antics.

Aizawa glared at the men who could not seem to keep their hands to themselves. Part of him wanted to whip out his scarf and knock them on their asses, but another part of him envied their closeness with you. They got to see you all day, every day. Did they know you better than he did? It made him feel ashamed somehow.

“OK! Ok!” You swat your coworkers away so you could focus on your boyfriend. “No pressure, babe!” You tell him, “I won’t be mad if you want to get home and get to bed.” Aizawa was second guessing everything now. Normally he took your words as kindness and understanding, but now he was wondering if it was a dismissal. It made sense if you didn’t want him to come. There was no way he’d join in the singing so he’d just be dragging the mood down by coming and lurking in the corner. It was better for you if he stayed behind.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I guess I’m going to call it a night.” He watches your face for signs that he’d made the right choice. Would you be happy that you were finally rid of him for the evening, or disappointed that he wasn’t as fun and outgoing as your coworkers? It was hard to judge your reaction.

“All right,” you tell him. “Go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You lean forward to give him a peck on the cheek before finally heading off towards your next stop of the night. Aizawa was left to watch you go off with a group of people he knew could make you happier than he ever could.

#aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #writing requests #bnha #mha #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #Cindy's Writing

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hebescus · 4 years ago

Text

remember this ship ask? yeah, i wanna do them all with lawlight bcs they control my brain. but it's a happy no death note au bcs it's me. oh and this shit is long plus it's 3 am rn so my words are very messy. but enjoy.

(i skip some numbers that i answered and the ones that i can't think of btw)

pre relationship :

How did they first meet?

L's investigation hq. he was a suspect of L, still, but this time he told soichiro to bring this 18 yo boy to the hq to test him, asking light to work with all of them. he ends up not guilty ofc, but L still wants to keep him…around.

What was their first impression of each other?

ah, the good old 'what the fuck dude???' from light and the 'oooh he got a big brain' from L. it's hard to get out of canon in this one.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

L. But it's more like thoughts, rather than feelings. It's just these random thoughts that pop out in his head like 'i don't mind kissing this guy, if he asks' but not like 'i want to kiss him' yknow what i mean? idk this is just something i experience a lot lmao. it develops to feelings once light falls for him and L can see that. So in terms of ideas, it's L, but in terms of feelings, it's Light.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh our favorite light denial yagami. Of course he's cursing himself for having feelings like this but once L calls it out he's over.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Light would laugh it off, and be like "i don't like him that way you know". L would shrugs be like "well yes that's possible, i don't think i mind".

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

boring, lonely, empty, you name it

(more under the cut)

general :

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

hmm, they both initiated the relationship? ykwim? They both notices they had feelings for each other and just...go from there. they never have like a relationship talk, they just go with the flow until at some point they starts to get comfortable to refer the other as partners. They basically can read each other's mind, after all.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Yes, sort of. A tennis game! And a coffee sesh after, just like canon. They plan this to be just "let's just relax, this case has been really exhausting, take a one day break, L" but when Light got home, sayu asked "how's the date going?!" He immediately said "it's not a date, you watch too many dramas it's rotting your brain" And sachiko gave him a smile while shaking her head at this statement and when he's back to his room he immediately calls L and was like "hey does that count as a date?" and L answers with "depends, do you want it to be?" with a smirk that light can hear.

What was their first kiss like?

it was late at night, light was helping L with the case when everybody went home. they were sharing their view about this certain criminal when light notices L staring at his lips, first he ignored it but it happens again and again to a point where their face just got real close and then...kiss, somehow. idk lmao.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First person who can understand each other and are equals, the only ones who can tear the other's wall down, and just practically soulmates in any form that even their sun & moon signs mirroring each other's? YES.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

i hc L as just a little bit taller than light, but it's not like you can see it through the hunch anyway. ofc we all know the 6 years and 4 months age gap

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sayu likes L, Sachiko is kinda surprise Light doesn't date a typical pretty person, but it only makes her heart fonder. L doesn't mind them, he thinks they're nice, light grew up in a good place. Soichiro? Well, he might me a bit reluctant but he loosen up slowly, his son is happier than he ever was, after all.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Light, obviously. Because he's a charmer and if L takes control, the person they speak to would run immediately the first 2 minutes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

it is a universal knowledge that L does this. like, come on, count the fics, you can't, there's just so many. he loves to break that perfect wall and make light feel 🥴😳. it's entertaining. But he knows when to stop. too much of that will be embarrassing in light's part, and he respects his boy's dignity.

love :

Who said “I love you” first?

Light!! The thing is it was said over the phone. He gets more and more comfortable talking with L through calls, since every now and then L travel frok countries to countries. One time he just like "yeah, safe flight. love you, bye" he expected L to say goodnight to him as a response as usual but L was silent and he realised what he just said and realised that he fucking mean it. L seems to still be able to read his mind even thousands miles away so he replies with "i love you too, goodnight". they never missed seeing each other more than that night.

What are their primary love languages?

we had a discussion for this! but as we see in canon, they're both very acts of service with a little hint of physical touch here and there. quality time is also important. words and gift aren't really needed for them.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

L. Only to annoy light. It's terrible that he almost cringed to himself, but it does bring a good laugh for light.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is a not their preference, they just love being in private more. They might hold hands sometimes, butmost times they won't. Altho they always stand or sit reaaaaally glued to each other even though there are so many space.

Who initiates kisses?

both. they want it, they got it. but light gives light kisses (ha) more, not necessarily on the lips, usually when L was really busy working, keeping his feet on the ground.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They don't spoon a lot, they prefer not touching at all or cufdling face to face, but when they do, Light is the little spoon because being a big spoon makes his sleeping position kinda uncomfy, he feels awkward with his legs, it's just not. thankfully L thinks cuddling light this way is very calming.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Tennis and solving cases, duh. Or sometimes they play video games fighting each other. Anything competitive and/or challenging that make their brain grow 10 times bigger. But sometimes, a comfortingly peaceful and quiet dinner with hushed words thrown here and there about random things feels like the best thing ever.

Who’s more protective?

L. For identity reasons, ofc.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical. They can read each other's mind, they knew it by gesture, touches, and glances.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE. venus by sleeping at last fits them so well, that song is in the background of multiple cozy couch smooches sessions or even when they're slow dancing (please listen to this tho song it's so good). also i think they would like persephone by the tragic thrills too, L would be like "this song reminds me of you" and Light answers with "i'm persephone?" "Yeah" "i'm a fucking badass then" "yes you are". oh and first day of my life? lover of mine? pink in the night? sweet creature? the lakes? oh god i have too much answers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't do nicknames, really. although, L sometimes called light with some snarky tony stark styled nicknames when he feels particularly playful but annoyed at the same time.

Who remembers the little things?

They both do. Big brained assholes they are.

domestic life :

If they get married, who proposes?

It's not really a proposal, they didn't even remember who said it first. But one sleepy night after a hard case, someone said "hey you wanna get married" and the other was like "sure, why not" "really?" "yeah, i think i'm ready, you?" "me too" "great" and then they go to sleep. at breakfast the next morning L called watari from across the room and said "wammy i need you to prepare [enter marriage stuff here], and light, you must call your family after this". poor old watari chokes on his tea.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding is in a secluded little place near the wammy's house, L used to go there a lot as a kid. With just light's parents, sayu, and watari. Well, not until Light caught Mello, Matt, Near, and Linda peeping from the bushes

Do they have any pets?

A chunky cat the wammy's kids feed daily but never try to keep them in, because no animals are allowed inside the orphanage. L saw it and was like "light let's bring this bitch home" she is, indeed a little bitch, but light and L loves her dearly. her fur has light brown and black colors, like both of their hairs, so she becomes their daughter, L gave him a weird ass name but i can't think about it rn.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Light because he's the one who's actually bothers to. They ofc annoyed L but he cpuldnt care less to actually get rid of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

L. He rarely sleeps and once he did, he wakes up very fucking late and will pull light back to the bed if he's woken up by the empty space beside him.

Who’s the better cook?

Light. L is a spoiled brat. But Light can't bale for shit, that's Watari's job. Light grow up learning and helping his mom making meals for the family. He's not the best, but it's good enough to make L craves them in between his sweets.

Who likes to dance?

None of them. But they would slow dance on rare, sentimental occasions. And it's like so fucking romantic bcs all the lights are off except for a candle or a table lamp or a cabinet lamp whatever that has yellow-y dim light. And they don't speak, they just casually move against each other, but heart ready to combust like i do when i the mental image came into my head.

#lawlight #death note #very fucking self indulgent whoa #brainrot hours #anyway i love them so much #scenarios and shits

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atths--twice · 3 years ago

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Chapter Seven

Fox was up at dawn the next morning, packing the last of his items, staring out the window and out to the Nile. No more would they have the luxury of beds, fancy dinners, cool places to seek out for a reprieve.

And he could not have been happier at the prospect of living rough.

A knock sounded at his door, surprising him, believing himself to be the only person who could possibly be awake at that early hour. When he opened it, he found Dana, looking happy, but slightly nervous.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“Hello. I know it’s early, but…” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Would you like to have breakfast? Just you and I, before the others wake to join us?” She smiled and, as always seemed to happen, it caused his stomach to flip.

“I would love to have breakfast with you,” he answered and she nodded. “Let me get my jacket and we can go downstairs.”

It was slightly cooler in the mornings, and he also had something for Dana tucked inside the inner pocket. He had wanted to give it to her on Christmas, but mistakes being made, he was unable to do so. As they would now be alone, possibly for the last time in a while, he knew the timing was perfect.

Closing his door and locking it, he fell in step beside her. She was quiet but seemed to be giving off the same excited energy he himself was feeling. He looked at her appreciatively, the simple yet attractive style in which she dressed always pleasing to behold.

She did not have overly fashionable clothes, but she did not seem to care or desire them. And yet for he, who had grown up with women of all ages dressed in the latest fashions and the best jewels, her simple dress drew him to her even more. Her beauty was held in the simplicity of dress, her manners, and her intelligence.

And her eyes, which spoke to him, even when her mouth did not.

“Have you everything ready?” he asked and she nodded.

“Yes. I packed and repacked last night. Kept thinking I’d forgotten something. Or could rearrange things and find room to add one more thing.”

“Are you needing something?”

“Not at all. I have everything I need,” she assured him with a smile. “It was simply in case I needed or, more accurately, wanted it.” He laughed softly and nodded in understanding.

The dining room was nearly empty, most of the patrons still sleeping. Suggesting a table on the veranda, she accepted and they sat down. She smiled and he smiled back before the waiter walked up to ask them what they wanted to eat.

After he had walked away, he began to reach into his jacket pocket when she let out a deep breath and turned those blue eyes onto him. They were serious and he drew his hand back, folding them in his lap.

“I want to talk about… to tell you why I came here. You’ve never asked and I’ve never volunteered the information, but I want you to know.” She drew in a breath, licked her lips, and closed her eyes briefly. Opening them, she smiled softly and he waited, not wanting to hurry her.

Coffees and sweet biscuits were set on the table and for a few minutes their attention was diverted. When she had taken a few sips of coffee, she nodded and exhaled.

“I… my family is from Maryland, as I told you, and two houses down from us was a family with three children. We all grew up together, though they were slightly older than me. The youngest boy, Matthew…” At this, she trailed off as her hand went to her throat and he knew what she was going to say. He wanted to stop her, tell her it was not necessary, but she had said she wanted him to know, so he would listen.

“Matthew was two years older than me and I…” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes. He swallowed, hating to see her hurting, but knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. “I tagged along with all of them, equally hating and loving him. He treated me like an annoying little sister, but then brought me flowers or held my hand when I had fallen and scraped my knee. He had a way about him. I was in love with him for most of my life.” She smiled at him with tears in her eyes and she sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

“He… he never encouraged it, or expected it, showing attention to other girls which broke my heart. But one summer, I stayed with my grandparents and came home in September before school started. I had changed and he noticed, his attention no longer given to other girls, only me. I was fourteen, he was sixteen, and a far off war had recently been declared. Our lives, though not yet consumed by it, soon would be.” She took a second, drinking more of her coffee, not meeting his eyes.

“We were still the same, but different. I had our lives planned in my mind: engaged once I was eighteen, married by nineteen or twenty, a family not far off. I was so happy.” She let out such a shuddering breath, Fox reached for her hand, not caring what others thought or if she would object. She clung to his hand, still not meeting his eyes, tears on her cheeks.

“Though America had not officially entered the war, we all knew it was imminent. It weighed upon everyone. The Lusitania…” She shook her head and closed her eyes. He knew what she was thinking and it made his stomach turn. Opening her eyes, she exhaled quietly. “When Matthew turned eighteen, in August of 1916, he enlisted in the military. He was so proud, ready to fight the Germans and stomp them out. I was terrified.”

“Dana,” Fox said, as she began to cry quietly, but she shook her head, determined to see her story through.

“When… when war was declared… he was so happy. Oh, that makes him sound… I didn’t mean-”

“I understand,” he whispered and she nodded, her head down.

“He left not long after for training and then to England. He asked me to promise to wait for him. It was the easiest promise I ever made.” She blew her nose in the napkin and wiped her eyes. “He arrived in England in June of 1917 and was killed in October of the same year.” She covered her face and cried and he swallowed down the large lump in his throat, turning his head to give them both a chance to compose themselves.

When he had, he looked at her, seeing her tears were subsiding as she took deep calming breaths. Uncovering her face, she looked at him, tears clinging to her lashes.

“My life was planned. I only wanted a husband and a family. And I lost it all. My life ended when his did. My heart was broken.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was… I can’t describe it. I…” She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “I was devastated. Then angry. Then devastated again. My brother came home, wounded but alive, and I hated him for it. My sister’s husband had not fought, a childhood illness of scarlet fever keeping him from doing so. I hated him too. I hated all of them, until I found an old book of mine, one Matthew and used to read together, about the gods and goddesses of Egypt, planning one day to see them together. That’s when I read about Kha’ari. When my heart was broken, I found her.”

He took a drink and tried to dislodge the lump which once again sat there, as she cried softly for a second.

“My path was clear, I needed to come here, to find her temple. My parents didn’t want me to leave, my father was adamant that I stay, wanting to keep an eye on me, but I was still angry, still hurting. I had to leave. I came here with my aunt and uncle, two people who knew to keep quiet about subjects and let me grieve. They helped set me up at my flat and get me the job at the museum in a training program. They left me and for the first time I felt like I could breathe. When I discovered there was not a temple dedicated to Kha’ari, I was broken again. I did my work, but felt empty for quite a while. But when King Tutankhamun was discovered, I once again felt hopeful. Felt that spark within me ignite, just as it did for you.”

She smiled and he stared at her, once again amazed by her, and by women in general. Women who suffer and hurt, yet carry on every day without giving any indication of their pain.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again and she frowned. “I had no idea.”

“I hadn’t told you, how could you have known?” she asked softly.

“I kissed you. I… should not have done that, not when you…”

“Fox…”

“I took liberties and you’re… grieving… you’re hurting.”

“No, Fox,” she said, softly still. “No. Well, not exactly. I did grieve. I suppose I always will, but it’s… mellowed. It’s evened out. I’m not hurting anymore. Not the way I was. I have a new path now. It’s this… and after this… I don’t know. But, my grief and pain are no longer the same.”

“That’s why you want to find it. To thank her,” he stated, as it all finally made sense and she smiled.

“When I first arrived and did not find it here, when all I had wanted was to offer up my pain to her and have it taken from me, I wanted it for different reasons. But now, five years have passed since the worst day of my life, and yes, I want to thank her.”

He stared at her and felt a new desire grow within him. If it took years, he would work to find that temple for her, to present to her the opportunity to give her proper thanks.

If she asked him for the moon, he would attempt to try, wanting nothing more than to see her happy.

____________________

They were quiet after her story, but a comfortable quiet that did not feel strained. He kept feeling he should reciprocate with his own story, but it did not feel like the right moment. That had not been what drove her to speak, so he remained silent.

“The dress your mother sent two years ago,” he said, her eyes raising to his in question, as the puzzle pieces he knew of her life began to fall into place.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “She sent it with a note hoping it would be something I would wear ‘out with a young man.’ I never found an occasion worthy of it, until recently anyway.” She smiled and he nodded.

“Or the young man, I suppose,” he joked and she held his gaze, saying nothing as she then looked away.

Clearing his throat, finding double meaning in her answer, or lack thereof, he once again reached toward his jacket pocket and took out the gift he had purchased for her a few days past, placing it onto the table. Pushing it toward her, he watched her looking at it.

“I noticed that your journal was nearly full as you wrote in it recently. I knew you needed a new one, and I had planned on making it a Christmas gift, but…” He pulled his hands back and she smiled as she looked at the dark, rich brown of the leather.

“Thank you. I was in need of a new journal… oh, Fox…” she breathed and then gasped as she opened the journal and saw what he had added to it.

Every night before he had gone to sleep, he sketched copies of his sketches from his own journal into hers. The first three pages were dedicated to the sketches of what they had seen and what had caught his eye.

“This is beautiful. Oh, the details of this one… Fox. This is from Karnak. I remember turning around and you weren’t there. I came back and you were sketching this one.” She looked up at him and he smiled with a nod. “Thank you, this is an amazing gift. One I will treasure always.”

He nodded, saying nothing, her story weighing heavily on his mind as they finished their meal. He was thoughtful as they left the veranda and for the first time, her words did not reach his ears as they walked and she spoke to him. His mind was full and he needed time to think of all he had learned.

The arrival of the men was a welcome distraction, their excitement driving away the heaviness of the morning. They were all laughing and talking, Pierre both writing and signing.

Their trunks were brought down and added to the wagons, a third one procured for all of the extra bits they had not accounted for, the others too full to hold any more.

They had to ferry across the river one wagon at a time, the weight of all too heavy to sustain them if they did not. Once they were all together, they set off. Akl drove one wagon, his boys the others, with everyone else on horseback, using borrowed horses which would be brought back when they were settled.

It would take nearly three full days to reach their final destination, needing to stop and camp for two nights. The weather was perfect, the sky cloudless, the company easy. No one could have asked for a better start.

By the time they stopped for the day, they were sore and tired. Akl’s sons began to prepare a fire as he set about making them dinner.

The three men insisted they had bedrolls and were not in need of a tent for two nights, so long as the fire was warm, they would be quite fine.

Fox insisted they put up the smaller tent for Dana, and though she refused, not wanting to be of any trouble, with the help of Sobek and Atum it was quickly erected and her bed made up. As she stepped inside to have a look at it, she brushed Fox’s arm, her eyes thanking him.

They ate and sat around the fire talking, getting to know one another better.

John, 28, was from Kansas, the middle of six boys, and the son of a very tough man to please. He was cruel at times, enticing his sons to squabble and fight one another, believing it made them stronger. No weak sons for him, thank you.

“Although it doesn’t excuse me,” John said, as he looked at Dana. “It’s part of why I was willing to leave when we first met. My father’s voice in my ear telling me a man should never be led by a woman. That I was weak if I allowed it.”

“I understand. I do,” Dana said softly, but she shook her head. “It doesn’t mean that it’s right, however. To be diminished because of my sex… to be thought as less than another, it is unfair.”

Pierre clapped his hands at this, nodding vigorously and tapping his chest. He signed something to John, who nodded and signed back with a rueful smile.

“Yes, it is unfair and I apologize again, to you both. For my thoughts were somewhat similar when I met Pierre, though it was wrong of me.” He nodded at his friend again. “It’s hard. To get that voice out of your head, even after all this time. I haven’t seen my father in nearly ten years. I left home when I was eighteen, moving from place to place doing odd jobs and never went back. I got into a lot of scraps and some of them… I’m surprised I survived. Surprised I survived that, more than I survived the war. But I did and I learned from them, though not enough it seems. I apologize to you once again, Miss Scully.” He bowed his head to her and she smiled kindly at him.

“For the last time,” she stated softly and he grinned as he met her eyes, his forgiveness granted.

Charles, 30, was from London, very near Fox’s family, though they had never met. He had two younger sisters, both now married and in the country somewhere.

“I’ve been away from home for a long time myself. After the war, I couldn’t go back. I was different and the thought of home did not hold the same appeal. My mother had passed while I was in Belgium, the letter from my sister reaching me nearly a month after it happened. I… I read it and put it in my pocket, took one breath, and was back to the fight. I had no time to think about it, to dwell and remember her. I felt nothing because I would not allow myself to do so. I was twenty three, in the middle of a bloody war, and it was I, not my mother who survived.” He shook his head and wiped at his eyes quickly. Pierre clapped him on the back gently and Charles nodded.

“When the war was over, I couldn’t go home. Not even for my sisters. I had to leave, to go anywhere. Anywhere hot. I’d spent nights freezing without a fire and I could not abide a cold London winter. I had to go somewhere warm. I traveled through Africa, visiting many of its countries. I like it here, this continent suits me.” Dana smiled at him and he nodded. Pierre rubbed his back again and looked at Dana and then John.

“Right,” John said. “Charles and I know Pierre’s story, having heard it before, but Charles is not as fluent in sign language as I am, so I’ll be translating for him.” Pierre smiled at Dana again and she smiled back. He began to speak with his hands and John spoke his words quietly.

“I am twenty five, from Bordeaux. My parents have a vineyard there and I have two brothers. An older and a younger. I don’t remember ever being able to speak, though my parents said I did. I fell when I was two and was in the hospital for a long time, though I have no memory of it. I was brought to Paris by train and had surgeries done as my brain was swollen. I survived them, though it was a long time in the hospital, again something I do not remember much of, but from it, I was left unable to speak. I eventually attended schools for the deaf and the mute where I learned sign language. My parents thankfully did not lose their vineyard, as my injuries and costs thereafter were expensive, but it thrived. I will never be in charge of it, my…” Here Pierre paused his hands and took a deep breath. “My younger brother will, my older brother having died in the war.”

It was now Charles’s turn to offer support, his hand on Pierre’s shoulder. Pierre nodded and then shook his head, his hands once again moving quickly.

“I came to Italy four years ago, a doctor there claiming he could treat and cure muteness. I…” Again he paused, his hands lying in his lap. The fire crackled and they all jumped, laughing in embarrassment. Pierre smiled and began again. “I was in love with a young woman and I wanted to be able to speak to her. To speak the words I love you and not just write them. But the treatment was not what I believed it would be. It was…” He swallowed and wiped at his eyes. “Terrible. Just… terrible. I won’t go into more detail.”

“And you never went back to her?” Dana asked softly. Fox looked at her and saw tears on her cheeks as she stared at Pierre. “You didn’t go home?” He shook his head and looked down at his lap, his hands moving, but his gaze not meeting hers.

“No,” John said for him, his voice very quiet. “I was and still am ashamed. Of my imperfections and my cowardice to face her with them.”

“Oh…” Dana breathed and she began to cry softly. Pierre looked up at her and then stood to his feet, walking close to her. He handed her a handkerchief and she took it, grasping his hand. “I’m so sorry. If she loved you, she saw past what you consider imperfections. I know she did.” He shook his head and shrugged, sitting back down as the rest of them were silent.

Dana, after her tears subsided, told them about herself and Matthew. Fox was thankful to her for telling him privately that morning, the shock and pain at hearing her pain would have been hard to hear in front of strangers. He would have been unable to hide his feelings and desire to comfort her.

When she had finished, Pierre was sitting beside her, holding her hand. Their stories were somewhat similar, thus they seemed to find comfort with one another.

All eyes turned to Fox and he cleared his throat. He had never told Dana his whole story and as he relayed it now, of being stabbed and shot, his multiple illnesses both during and after the war, she rose from her seat and sat close to him, taking his large hand in her small one. She would squeeze it when he paused, needing a second to compose himself, the panic rising within him. When he was done, she remained next to him, now holding his hand in both of hers.

“Bloody hell,” Charles said, shaking his head. “We’re all quite a broken bloody mess, aren’t we?” They all laughed, Dana wiping her eyes as she did, still holding onto Fox’s hand with the other.

“I’d say so,” John said almost bitterly. “And with that, I think I’m going to call it a night.”

They all agreed and stood to make their beds ready. Fox walked Dana to her tent and she stopped at the door before going inside. She searched his face and he smiled, not wanting her to worry. She took his hand and squeezed gently.

“Goodnight, Fox,” she whispered.

“And to you, Dana.”

One more squeeze and she let go of his hand, stepping inside the tent. He waited for a second and then rejoined the men around the fire.

He lay on his back looking up at the stars, the sand cool beneath his fingers, and he thought of what Charles said; they were all a broken mess, each in their own way. He turned onto his side and stared at Dana’s tent, hoping she was asleep or at least near to it.

A snore from Akl, around his own smaller fire with his sons, came from his left. The other men seemed to be asleep already also. He closed his eyes, his thoughts once again on Dana, hoping she was able to find peace as she slept.

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Alternate Universe #Historical AU #Egypt #On The Road To Discovery #Nearly There

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sgwrscrsh · 4 years ago

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double double miya style: the epilogue

☁️a/n☁️ here we are, at the end of another series. writing this hit home extra hard since i’ve gone through something similar the last couple of months. but enough about me. please enjoy the final installment of double double, miya style: the series.

cw: implicit character deaths

“i still remember when we brought you home from this same hospital.”

“seems like it was so long ago. you were all just little babies that barely fit in our arms.”

three of the younger adults standing around the room shake their heads asynchronously.

"don't embarrass us like that, mom," ryuki says despite the sad smile spreading across his face.

"what's wrong with being a little nostalgic? we're all family here."

“speaking of which, where is your sister?”

“she said she was gonna be a little late since practice ran long. you know how it is for d1 athletes getting ready for the olympics,” ryo pipes up, pocketing his phone. “it’s a good thing we close shop on sundays.”

“and whose genius idea was that?”

“oh, shut up about taking credit already, umi,” hana teases, shutting the door behind her. “we get it, you have a degree in business management.”

“it only took him three major changes to finally make up his mind,” her twin quips without missing a beat.

“yea well, better late than never. ryo wouldn’t have been able to run both branches without me. he’s only good in the kitchen. not as good as my wife, of course, but good enough to keep customers coming, i suppose,” takumi places a sweet kiss on her lips and pulls away with a smile.

“that’s not what your boys said last time they stopped by for lunch, right, little dudes?” ryo leans down to offer his three identical nephews each a fist bump in turn.

“don’t try to steal my boys. my precious niece and nephew will get jealous.”

“it’s okay, uncle takumi. we’re used to it by now.”

“yea, at least dad can feed us properly.”

“hey! i can cook some stuff,” takumi huffs.

the two brothers who lay in their beds chuckled weakly as they listen to the familiar squabble, drawing the attention of the family around them. their gazes turned from amused to sad as their wives, children, and grandchildren took in their time-withered forms.

“anyway, i don’t know how you guys manage your busy jobs on top of your home lives. i just barely figured out how to balance work with my relationship. i mean, it does help that they’re on the team with me.”

“i mean, dad did it,” ryo points out, slinging his arms around his adopted children happily. “so did uncle tsumu.”

“exactly.” takumi’s boys swat at his hands mussing their hair, uncaring of their father’s soft smile. “but i can’t imagine how you do it as a single dad.”

“i had a lot of help before the divorce. she was just set on a different path from me, but she was still an amazing mother.”

“i’m sure you’d make a great mom, too, hana,” ryuki says. “huh, sweetie?” his wife nods in agreement, bouncing their young daughter in her arms. “though, being an exhibit curator for the museum lets me work from home most days. can’t really imagine the volleyball association could figure out a way for you to do the same.”

“yea, but i don’t think i’ll be ready for a family any time soon anyway.”

“you know,” atsumu takes you all by surprise when he croaks out his advice, waving away all of the concern when his frail body racks with coughs. “i didn’t think i was either. but when your mom told me she was pregnant, i was over the moon. nothing in the world made me happier than when you and your brother were born. look at you now. i couldn’t have asked for better kids.”

his words bring more tears to the eyes in the room than the retired setter knows, his wife taking his hand in hers and resting her forehead against it as her shoulders shake with sobs. not one to be outdone, his brother peels his eyes open to glance around the room before settling on his own sons and their kids.

“and i couldn’t have left the shop in better hands either. i’m glad you took your time to figure out what you wanted to do with your lives. you’ve made me so proud,” osamu reaches out to run his thumb under his wife’s eye, wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. “we did good, love.”

her hands come up to clasp his against her wet cheek, “we sure did. do you still remember what their first words were?”

osamu shuts his eyes again and hums, “it was one word with a joint effort. and it just had to be onigiri of all things.”

“samu would not shut up about it for weeks,” his older twin makes chuckles rise around the room.

“you weren’t much better when hana first said ‘dada,’ tsumu,” he scoffs.

“at least ryuki made my whole year when he made ‘mama’ his first word.”

“remember when dad taught us how to make onigiri for mother’s day?”

“at least one of us picked up the culinary skills that run in our family.”

“and between us two, one of us got the more athletic genes, too.”

“i’m happy with my simple life and job and family, thank you very much. besides, i distinctly remember being way better than you at volleyball when we were growing up.”

“that’s not what i remember! you sucked at serving, ryu! you’d always hit the net during youth club practice.”

“nuh uh!”

“you know, i think i remember the same thing, hana.”

“why are you all ganging up on me?”

between the bickering and the reminiscing, only their wives notice the content smiles spreading across the oldest twins’ faces, each of them grasping their hands tightly as tears stream ceaselessly down their weathered cheeks. and only they hear the words whispered their husbands’ parting breaths.

“i had the better life.”

xv. || mlist

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai-taglist @honey-makki @kenmaki @inarizakied @aruhappy @goodpop9 @tris-does-stuff @its-the-aerieljeane @callmekda @navymacaroons @tinystarks @luckypartyranchmug @chibichab @bjbex @heauxzenji @anejuuuuoy @semi-g0th @lets-go-datehoe @tsukkisfatsimp @newfriendjen @bigdickdaichi

final notes: to my moots, thank you for being such amazing people. you never fail to inspire me to improve and write more.

to my taglist loves, thank you for every comment, reblog, and like you've left on every chapter of this baby. i hope the epilogue has lived up to your expectations.

to all my readers, thank you for all your support whenever the algorithm happens to drop my content on your dash. you all have my heart.

join my general taglists for future content ♡

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heavyarethecrowns · 3 years ago

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As Kate re-emerges more tanned and confident, a new Middleton girl takes a bow - May 2007

Amid the clatter of small talk and social niceties, it was a well-meaning attempt to rally a young girl's spirits: "Keep your chin up. Don't let them get you down. You'll be fine."

But when Tara Palmer-Tompkinson delivered these words of wisdom to Kate Middleton at a fashionable book launch, what was striking was not the kindness of the older woman's words but how superfluous they appeared.

For, since splitting from Prince William, Kate Middleton seems to have had very little trouble in keeping either her chin, or her profile, high.

ndeed it has become a much remarked oddity of Kate and Prince William's break-up that, in the weeks since her apparent heartbreak, she has never looked better...or happier.

Far from appearing shattered by the very public end of a romance that many - including Kate herself - predicted would end in marriage, Kate sans William is cutting a frankly far sexier figure.

Her hair is shinier, her skin more tanned and her dress sense more youthful than during her tweedy William days.

Far too dignified to accept the vast sums on offer for a royal 'kiss and tell,' she has, The Mail on Sunday has learned, drawn on the support and advice of a trusted few.

And, in the process, one figure has emerged above all as key among the newly single Kate's loyal coterie: her younger sister Pippa.

At 22, Pippa is three years junior to - and 4in shorter than - her more famous sibling but she has had an enormous impact on the emergence of this increasingly sleek and confident Kate.

She is, according to those who know her best, more sassy than Kate, more direct and, tantalisingly, less discreet.

And though these days she may pass largely unrecognised she is unlikely to do so for long.

After all, it was Pippa who joined Kate at the launch of Simon Sebag Montefiore's book on Stalin at Asprey's, Pippa whose hand Kate held as she left trendy London nightclub Boujis at three in the morning four days later, Pippa who will be at Kate's side when the girls attend the Kuoni World Class Cup Polo at Hurtwood Park, West Sussex - a tournament at which both Prince Harry and Charles have played.

In the weeks since her split from William, Kate has gleaned style advice from an executive at Vogue, discussed strategies for dealing with the media from Tatler editor Geordie Greig and, fascinatingly, turned to Guy Pelly, one of William's best friends, for entrance to some of London's coolest clubs. But it is Pippa who has been her ever present consort.

For where Kate's entree into high society was as the prettier 'add-on' to a powerful partner, her staying power may owe much to establishing herself in another, formidable, double act.

And according to one well placed source: "Kate and Pippa have already been dubbed The Wisteria Sisters - they're highly decorative, terribly fragrant and have a ferocious ability to climb.

"Pippa has just graduated in English from Edinburgh University and while other students are taking advantage of the last weeks of term to lie around in the meadows, have late breakfasts and long lunches and generally do very little, Pippa couldn't wait to get down to Kate and to London.

"She'll go back for the graduation ball at the end of June but it's clear that Kate is the key to unlocking a new social life for Pippa and Pippa is there to support Kate.

"So many doors were opened to Kate when she was with William and she's certainly not going to let them close now."

Certainly Pippa seems more than up to the task of putting a well-shod foot in the way of any door that threatens to shut now that Kate and William are no longer together.

According to one university friend: "As soon as Pippa arrived at Edinburgh, she was assiduous about joining the right social circle.

"At Edinburgh, the aristo crowd are divided into two social sets - one crowd who go to London for the weekend and are really into partying and hard drinking and the other who are more staid and go off to each others' country houses for weekends.

"Pippa joined the country set. She was very charming about it but quite ruthless in cultivating the "right" friends.

"If she found out that someone had impressive social credentials - the right title, standing, connections - she would immediately pay them a lot of attention where before she wouldn't have shown the least interest.

"She would leave notes in the pigeonholes of people she coveted as friends, desperate to arrange a time or date to meet.

"She was always well turned out to the point of being prim, always conscious of projecting the "right" image and, if she heard of other girls' "naughty" behaviour - too much drinking or partying or risque behaviour - she'd pull a face like there was a bad taste in her mouth."

Like Kate, Pippa attended Marlborough and, like Kate, her university ascent into the social elite was rapid. By the end of her university days, she could count Ted Innes-Ker and George Percy as flatmates - the sons of the Dukes of Roxburghe and Northumberland respectively.

And her boyfriend, who graduated two years before her, is JJ Jardine Patterson, an Eton friend of Edward and George and scion of a highly successful Hong Kong banking family.

"She met JJ through the boys," a friend said. "It really wasn't the family millions that attracted her to him but the social cachet."

Someone else who has met Pippa on many occasions recalled her as: "A charming girl who hung out with absolute toffs, most of whom are named after counties.

"She is incredibly well mannered and well-brought up. At dinner she always makes sure to speak to the person seated to her left and right.

"She has a lovely figure, much better than Kate's really. She's a very keen and aggressive tennis player. A mother's dream, in many respects.

"But she makes no secret at all of being very socially ambitious - almost aggressively so. She wants power and money."

Which explains perhaps, in part, the mixed feelings that Pippa has expressed to friends since her big sister split from her famous boyfriend.

According to one: "Pippa absolutely loved the fact that Kate dated William because of the cachet it brought but she's also quite pleased Kate's single again.

"She sometimes felt that her mum and dad tended to put Kate first, above her and her brother James, when she was dating William simply because of the extra responsibilities and practical considerations that went with that.

"And she was a little bit jealous that her sister was dating the future King of England.

"It didn't help that James, who's also at Edinburgh, would go around saying, "My sister's going to be the Queen of England." He can be very indiscreet.

"Also, Pippa's glad to "get her sister back". The two are very close and she never got to spend much time with Kate when she dated William. Kate would always put William first."

Indeed, Kate put William before all other considerations - personal and professional.

It is worth noting that, since their split, she has been promoted from assistant accessories buyer to accessories buyer for High Street store Jigsaw.

Pippa is similarly bright, but she is yet to fall upon a career path of her own. She enjoys travel and writing and has expressed an interest in journalism.

However, such thoughts are not foremost in the girls' minds this summer.

Instead, Pippa has moved into the Chelsea home that the girls' parents Carole and Michael bought for Kate and, according to a friend: "The two of them are enjoying being quite girlie together.

They have a mobile tanner who comes round and does their spray-on tan. They love shopping on the Kings Road.

They get ballet pumps at French Sole and Pippa loves Chloe clothes and has her hair done in Richard Ward's VIP section just like Kate.

"Kate gets sent a lot of free clothes and gifts and Pippa is very keen to get in on the action as far as that's concerned. She's happy to go along to parties and events on Kate's coat-tails."

Certainly there has been no shortage of invitations. On Wednesday, the girls will be at Mahiki - a favourite haunt of Prince William and the site of his infamous I'm Free! 'celebration' following his split from Kate.

The marketing for the club is looked after by Guy Pelly and it is Guy who is believed to have invited Kate and Pippa to Wednesday's Johnny Cash-themed party.

Kate and Pippa have also been invited to Richard Branson's pre-Wimbledon party - and have received invitations to the members' enclosure for the tournament.

They are on the guest list for Royal Ascot - though whether or not they will venture towards the Royal Enclosure remains to be seen - and have been invited to the Cartier Polo at Windsor Great Park on the last Sunday of July.

Ahead of them both lies the tantalising prospect of a summer of sisterly fun - with a social agenda writ large.

One close friend says: "Obviously, Kate and William aren't together any more but they have an ongoing arrangement. They will go to a couple of things together - things that were planned before they split and which William will honour.

It seems a bit of a habit among that set not to entirely sever relationships. There's rarely a clean break."

As we reported last week, William will go to the wedding of Kate's cousin on July 21. It is understood that they will also spend a weekend together in William's cottage in Balmoral in August.

Being in such close proximity to the man she once hoped to marry - and being so as 'just friends' - must be a prospect that Kate regards with profoundly mixed feelings.

However glossy her image and admirable her poise, there are, in the weight she has shed and the cigarettes she has started smoking again, clues to the effort required in presenting a positive face to the world she knows is watching still.

The importance of Pippa's place at Kate's side right now cannot, friends say, be underestimated.

"Pippa and Kate really are very close," says one. "Sure, they have a very like-minded approach to life and if Kate is leaning on Pippa at the moment who can blame her?

"The whole Middleton family were thinking of holidaying in Scotland this year but Kate felt it was too much of a thorny reminder of the last time that they were all together in Scotland, earlier this year, when they rented a great big house in Perthshire and waited for William to show up for New Year and he never did.

"Instead, they're looking at renting some fabulous villa in Tuscany or Umbria for a few weeks in August at the end of the summer.

"And goodness, I'd have thought by the time they reach August, the girls will need a break."

#duchess of cambridge #kate middleton #pippa middleton #article #proof

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales: Woo-oo! Review! or From the Top

Hello all you happy people! And to those of you just joining this blog, welcome I review ducks, other animated shows and comics... and today’s review is special for me. For a number of reasons. For starters it’s a reminder how far i’ve come. See I always wanted to be a reviewer, ever since high school when a friend showed me a certain online reviewer whose now dead to me, and opened me up to a world of much better reviewers who i’m still fans of to this day, and ones who came after them , and after that and so on and so on. I so badly wanted a community to belong to I struggled to be a youtube reviewer but frankly lacked the talent or self confidence back then to try, so my attempts over the decade were a series of stops and starts. Of me starting to find my niche writing only to stop because I hated myself so much, and still struggle with that, i’d tell myself I could never do it, I wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t funny enough and no one cared. I kept shutting myself down AGAIN AND AGAIN, for far too long.

But that all changed a year ago next month: I’d long been a fan of the Ducktales Reboot. I was caustiously optimistic when it was announced. The optimism came from a deep abiding love of scrooge as a character despite not having dove into his comics that deep, I didn’t have an easy way at the time, thanks to life and times and what comics I had read, and was excited to see a fresh reboot closer to the comics with my eternal boy Donald Duck back in the main character. The caution.. came from the fact that at the time we’d gotten a string of bad to medicore reboots: Teen Titans GO, Powerpuff Girl, and Ben 10 which started pretty meh but has turned into alirght from some of the later episodes I saw. I wanted to be hyped to all hell but I had no proof this wasn’t going to be another dumbed down reboot. Then comic con came, the first teaser poster dropped, and my skepticism died.

It was perfect: a barksian art style with it’s own twists! Donald full on display! And best of all the triplets FINALLY had not only unique outfits but personalities! I’ve long went on in my reviews about how much that annoyed me and while it worked for the barks comics ever since then it’s just felt like a waste to have three characters there.. and not even the SLIGHTEST difference.

My anticipation only grew with the full trailer, the promo posters as more and more info showed how good this series would be, how unique it’d be, and how much tw as taking what made the comics great, giving us a better distalation of that while still being very much it’s own beast. And once this episode dropped.. that faith was unfounded. Woo-oo! is without hyperbole, one of the best pilots i’ve seen, one that introduced the entire main cast perfectly, gets the series tone and mission statment out just right and in general set the stage for one of the best shows of the 2010′s (and 2020′s, even if it only lasted a year and some change). Wheras Teen Titans GO actively tried to take a dump on it’s source material, they thankfully have stopped that but it dosent’ make those early years any less grating, Ducktales was a breath of fresh air that honored the past while making i’ts own future. I tried talking about it but it was all in other failed attempts at reviewing: solo podcasts, my breif second video review career.. stuff no one rightly cared about and I just couldn’t get the hang of.

So this is where we loop back to last year: I decided to finally try and cover it one more time, not realizing this would be my last chance as it came out anyway, and since I was doing text reviews but my output had slid in the new year, I decided to review Season 3 as it came out. If it bottomed out I could always stop.... and I just never did. I kept going, eventually finding new fans, a patreon (The other one’s an old friend of mine), and not only got paid doing what I love.. but found some peace. I reviewed other shows as they came out, covered things i’d wanted to cover for years like life and times, scott pilgrim and x-men,. I covered other shows as they came out, found people willing to talk over my opinions and found my niche at long last.

So that’s why the long speech folks: After almost a year of reviewing i’m properly covering the start of something that made me happier than I had been in a long time and gave me hope during one of the worst periods of ALL our lives. Something i’ve wanted to cover since I finally got started last year, and something truly amazing. So i’d be honored if you’d join me under the cut as I talk about the genesis of one of the best series Disney has ever put out.

Behind the Scenes Stuff: Most details I could find were sparse. it took going back to the first month the show came out and looking at a LOT of unrelated questions to finally find out Frank and Matt outright pitched the show. This dosen’t suprise me as both are huge ducktales fans with Matt having drawn his own duck comics as a kid and Frank taking it an extra mile having sang the theme song in his first grade talent show, worked it into his vows and got his first daughter’s first word to be “Woo-oo”. It’s very clear this show as a labor of love for them something they dreamed of Disney made possible.

Otherwise I don’t have much on the genisis of the show: It was in the earliest ideas going to be a revivial but Frank and Matt both decided against it , deciding it’d be unfair to expect kids from 30 years after the original to know the source material, and instead just starting it over outright, which was the right call especailly with Alan Young’s passing.

Design wise I found quite a bit of concept art thanks to one website, and it’s incredibly intresting. This is why i’ve really gotten into art books: I like seeing this early stuff what characters used to be, figuring out or outright hearing from the creators mouths why they changed it that sort of thing.

Starting off we have some early designs for Donald, with him wearing the sailor suit as a kid but his Quackshot outfit as an adult, something I honestly wish they’d kept but get why they changed it: The iconic sailor suit both helps contrast him with della and fits his reluctance to adventure in season 1 more. I still wish that they worked the Quackshot outfit in somewhere, but they worked in so damn much, it’s hard to complain> Though I probably will make a list of “things I wished they’d worked” in at some point and i’d be lying inf I siad my mind wasn’t currently turning the gears to figure out how to work this into a fanfic. Oohhh maybe as Dewey’s outfit as an adult but blue, obviously.

Next we have Donald settled more into his final apperance as well as the boy’s first outfits. As you can tell from both of these the show originally went more with the classic art style before getting the one we’re familiar with now, one I love by the way and was made to combine a classic cartoon style with the visual of the comics. Donald originally had his classic outfit before they transitioned to the more barks style one, a good call.

The interesting bit though is obviously the boys original outfits which i’m honestly bummed didn’t make it for Huey and Louie, not so much Dewey minus the visor. I do get the changes though: The hoodie Dewey had fit WAY beter on Louie, and the lumberjack shirt didn’t quite fit the nerdier huey. Still look nice. Dewey’s is okay, but only the visor is something I really gregret them removing same with louie’s fedora. It would’ve been neat ot keep the hat thing, but have each hat be unique. Likely they simplified things to make animation easier and simply removed the hats for some reason, but it’s nice ot see these more detailed original drafts and it is VERY interesting to find that differentiating the triplets was something planned from the earliest concept art. Though given Matt and Frank said in interviews they wanted a more natural family feel, it’s not a huge surprise.

Scrooge like everyone BUT the boys thus far, naturally also had his original outfit at first, but like he ended up doing in the series rotated a bit, if not as much in the final product. We also see a protoype for his final design, the old coat but with a jacket over it in the last image. I also notice Donald seemed a lot more like his old comics self in the concept art with quackshot!donald.

Like everyone else, Webby and Launchapd were originally their 87 deisgns, though Launchpad’s slightly diffrent jacket and green scarf were changed from the start. Webby is the closest to her 87 design, and as shown in the previous Lena concept art from my “Spies Like Us and Dime after Dime” double feature, she still had her new personality. More on that in a bit.

Finally we have Flintheart, whose design is a bit diffrent from 87: He was a chub from day one it appears, though they’d exagerate it, and his beard was a bit longer at first like his other incarnations.

Beakly is largely unchanged form 87, only given a coat, which would gradually be mofidied, much liekt he boys into her current outfit.

As you can tell Beakly, Webby and Launchpad were all there from day one as they wanted them from the original ducktales just updated.

Production wise they wanted to go handrawn, chose the style they did to have something close to the comics that felt classicly aniamteda t the same time, I feel they succeeded and wanted a show that felt like the original. I do think this show has it’s own feel but it does feel ducktales. I badly hope for an artbook at some point though as this show probably hada LOT more intresting concept art. Seriously Disney I will PAY YOU to look at your neat art. Please.

So they created a fully formed world and put the characters in it, wanting it to feel like the world had existed before and had throughly been explored and letting our young heroes be the watson to Donald and Scrooge’s holmes.

Finally Della was indeed part of the initial pitch and a core idea from day one as every family has secrets and Della felt like one that had been lurking around the fringes of the story for 80 years. The rest of the production stuff i’ll weave in as we go but first one last stop, the STELLAR voice cast, none of whom outsideo f Tony i’ve talked about before sooooo...

The All Star Cast

The casting was outstanding here, with Matt admitting the cast brought a LOT to the characters, especially Ben Schwartz whose taken on Dewey was so unique and intresting they actually rewrote some of his dialouge for the pilot to fit this version better. This is far and away one of the best casts in western animation, most coming from comedy backgrounds and one or two coming from a voice acting background, but all bringing their absolute best. And since our main 8 are all in the pilot let’s run them down along with Keith Ferguson shall we?

Playing everyone’s faviorite billionare scotsman and one of the very few to ever do so, we have David Fucking Tennant. David was their “First and only choice” and for good reason: David is a talented actor with a MASSIVE amount of stage, tv and audio drama credits. His biggest and best known role is playing the 10th Doctor on Doctor Who, which while not my faviorite (That’d be matt smith, as he’s both the one I came in on and hte one who got me hooked) he’s still VERY close second and damn talented and I need to watch more of his tenure. Outside of that just to condense it to his ongoing roles on stuff and bigger roles: Filmwise he’s had starring roles in the Fright Night remake, You, Me and Him, Fish Without Bicycles and Bad Samartains, and is set to do a voice for the upcoming Loud House Movie, which excites me to no end.

TV wise where most of his roles have been he got his first big starring role on the Telly with the BBC Mini series Taking Over the Asylum in the late 90′s. He’d go on to make a career out of doing mini’s for a while, also taking part in He Knew He Was Right, The Quatermass Experiment Remake, Casanova, Secret Smile.. and Blackpool. I saved Blackpool for last before we move into the Who era as if you’ve never heard of it.. it’s REALY fucking weird. It’s a jukebox musical about a man who wants to make Blackpool, a real city, into the new vegas and Tennat plays a cop investigating a case around the guy and also trying to get with his wife because they used to date and because our lead is philandering jackass. That’s already kinda nuts.. but then you get to the fact the songs are sung OVER the original songs instead of making a new version of them. It’s surreal to be sure but if you can find it it’s worth it for the handful of good numbers and how weird it looks and you can find clips of the songs on youtube if your intrested. Here’s a starter.

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Your also welcome. He’d go on to play Detective Alec Hardy in Broadchurch to critical aclaim as well as be a part of it’s short lived american remake, would play the Fugitoid in tmnt 2007, Kilgrave in Jessica Jones, one of his few post who roles i’ve seen or heard besides Scrooge and easily some of his best work he NAILS that purple bastard perfectly, would make his own show Staged about a fictional version of himself putting on a Stage play that’s still ongoing, and is currently , along with Ducktales as it wraps up, the voice of Lord Commander on Final Space, with the character returning this season judging by the trailers to fan delight and terror. He’s a VERY talented actor and voice actor and I do hope he goes on to do more and more voice work in years to come as, with his background in radio, he was born for it.

He was also born for this roll, playing Scrooge perfectly and easily matching Alan Young in quality, not a small feat and i’ts VERY obvious why he was their one and only choice.

Next up is another legend, Tony Anselmo who we’ve talked about before when I covered legend of the Three Cablleros: He’s been Donald’s voice since shortly before Ducktales, hasn’t done much else but given he’s THE voice for the character and this show let him show off one hell of a range with teh voice, he dosen’t really need other credits. The man is a treasure and I fear loosing him one day and fear for whoever replaces him as they have a LOT to live up to.

Getting into the triplets, we’re going by age so starting off we have Huey, voiced by Danny Pudi. Like most of this cast aside from Toks Ogladyve and Beck Bennet (Who I probably HAD seen on SNL but didn’t really know or look out for him on there till after Ducktales), I not only knew Danny but was a huge fan of his going in. This is due to his breakout role on the glorious sitcom Community, which sadly only had a handful of i’ts cast show up on this show. I mean you got Lin Manuel Miranda I’m sure Donald Glover would’ve said yes too. He grew up with Ducktales. Regardless his role as meta guy Abed was easily the best of the cast on that show, with Glover as troy a very close second and the two working at their best as a duo. Outside of that he’s had a few roles being a regular on Powerless, which I forgot existed and currently on Mythic Quest: Raven’s Banquet, and shockingly hasn’t done a ton of voice work. And given his performance as huey was one of the best parts of this show he REALLY, REALLY SHOULD. Please Danny. He’s also a loving husband, father and surprisingly a marathon runner. Never would’ve guessed.

Next up is SNL Alumn of 9 years, Bobby Monynihan. Bobby is naturally best known for that, my faviorite role of his being Ass Dan. That’s right bitch you know he’s going to live fore..

ASS DAN 1981-2021

He’ll be back. Outside of SNL he’s done a bunch of minor roles. He’s currently on the tragically mediocre sitcom Mr. Mayor, and voiced Panda on We Bare Bears. Hopefully he keeps up the good work as he deserves better than he’s gotten and Ducktales proves it.

Finally for the triplets we have a rising star in voice acting, Ben Schrwartz. At the time Ducktales launched, I was a fan of his from his roll on parks and Rec as Jen Ralphio, aka older scummier Dewey.

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Outside of his historic recurring role here he played a main role on House of Lies, a show I need to go back to, and has done other live action rolls but has REALLY hit his stride in voice acting. He started with voicing Randy Cunningham in Randy Cunningham 9th grade ninja and since then has hit the ground running: He was Rutabega on Bojack, Josh on Bob’s Burgers, and went on to complete the trifecta of blue nostalgic characters after voicing dewey by voicing Leo in Rise of the TMNT (and having one of the most unique and intresting versions of the character to play) and reprised the roll for the upcoming film. And of course he hit it HUGE by playing Sonic in the suprsingly fantastic Sonic the Hedgehog movie, and will do so again for the sequel and might even take up the roll for the games now Roger Craig Smith has retired. We shall see. Point is this guy’s at the top of his game and Dewey is part of that. Like with his brothers I can’t picture anyone else playing him.

Rounding out the kids is Webby, played by the wonderous Kate Micucci. Kate is a lovely talented woman who mostly showed up in smaller parts, was part of the musical duo garfunkel and oates which even got their own tv show, and is currently a fairly prolific voice actor with this being her best known roll. I also had a bit of a crush on her once can you tell? Regardless besides absolutely nailing it as Webby she’s voiced Julie Kane in the crimnally short and even more crimnally not on Disney+ Motorcity, “Irma” in the 2012 TMNT cartoon, and the fact that “Irma” is in quotes should tell you how big a waste I felt it was having her NOT actually be Irma, despite Kate’s massive talent, the fact that Irma hadn’t been in anything since the 87 cartoon, and the fact that for added “Fuck you audience points” her krang form was voiced by Gilbert Godfried, who I love but whose casting feels like they wanted to make the twist as grating as possible. Good job there.

Anyways her second biggest voice gig was as Sadie on Steven Universe, which took WAY too long to show off her absolutely tremendous singing voice. She started voicing Velma Dinkley in the mid-2010′s and has since, voiced Milo’s sister Sarah on Milo Murphy’s Law, Dr. Fox on Unikitty, and most recently voiced a sentient present on close enough who did this.

So yeah quite the career and like Ben she probably has a long and storied career in Voice Acting ahead.

Next up is Beck Bennet as everyone’s friend Launchpad where he excels. He’s best known as a castmember on SNL outside of this, and shockingly hasn’t done a ton of voice work. The only other time i’ve caught him is in the same season of Close Enough as Luc, aka dude-bro satan. But like eveyrone else here who hasn’t done a lot of voice work so far or has been more selective I defintely hope he keeps going with it as he’s amazing. He and Ben will be co-starring on MODOK in May so i’m excited for that.

Last up for the main cast is Beakly, voiced by Toks Olagundoye, who I hadn’t heard of before this show and hasn’t done a lot outside of the two season sitcom the neighbors, the aliens one not the really terrible looking one, and a stint on Castle, but like everyone here deserves much more and if Beakly is any indication, really should stick with voice acting.

Last up is Keith Ferguson as only he could as FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD, whose a staple in the voice acting community ever since 2000, and has had a TON of roles some of which I was unaware with him. Given Frank worked with him on Wonder Over Yonder, where he voiced Lord Hater to perfection, the two clearly have a close working relationship. He also has a close working relationship with Wonder creator Craig McCracken and has worked on all of his post-powerpuff girls show, voicing Bloo as his first major role, something I never would’ve guessed, and currently voicing Papa G on Kid Cosmic.

Outside of Craig and Frank, he played both Karate Kid and Nemisis Kid on Legion of Super Heroes (Which really needs to come to HBO Max), Deputy Durland on Gravity Falls, and Thunderbolt Ross on Avengers Earth’s Mighteist Heroes. He’s damn good and deserves the world for Glomgold alone and i’m glad Craig rung him up again as so far through my watch of Kid Cosmic he’s great.

So with our cast in place, our past in place and you all likely ready to get on with it already let’s dive into the episode:

THE EPISODE: Part one Woo-Ooo!

We begin with a shot of a seagull flying overseagulls, a nice way to establish how this world works and how it bends expectations. They’d have to wait till season 3 to get a duck next to ducks but given that gag is one of the best of the series, it was worth it.

Inside a house boat we meet Donald, Huey and Louie and get a sense of their personalities: Donald is panicked trying to get to a job interview and insists the boys wear life vests, showing his overprotectiveness and responsibility exclusive to this version. Louie stresses that Donald wear a suit instead of his normal clothes to properly impress the interviewer, showing his skill at people reading and manipulation, and Huey is making a nice, if messy, breakfast with a heartwarming message showing his heart and dedication. After finding out said Babysitter was sent to the wrong address, the boys TRY to hustle him out to stay alone.. only for Dewey to blow the scheme by starting the boat too early, letting Donald know he’s been had. Huey’s attempt to lie about it is of course the classic “Who’s Dewey?” Dewey’s caught wiring the boat and Donald throws them in the car, with Donald livid and the boys upset as their chafing at his constant overprotectiveness.

Both sides aren’t wrong. tThe boys DID do something reckless, putting an old woman in the desert and risking their home just to go on a joyride. What they did was wrong.. but the boys AREN’T wrong for getting annoyed that he won’t let them DO anything and overly hovering over them when they CAN handle themselves as we’ll see. WE now know why: he lost their mother and his sister to her and scrooge’s recklesness. While he got therapy for his anger it’s clear he never properly got help about Della, and thus overcompensates by trying to keep what he has left of her alive. He means well.. but to them it comes off as him being manically overprotective with no good reason. They get into trouble because it’s the only way to DO anything away from him. He’s trying so hard not to loose them he almost has by the time hte series starts, and it’s telling that when they get context in Last Crash, they appricate him more from then on. They do love him, but their frustration is understandable even if what their doing is pretty damn stupid. But their also 10 and Donald’s the grown adult in therapy who should’ve dealt with this or tried to at least by now.

So with no other options Donald sets a course for McDuck manor which excites the boys who have heard of Scrooge McDuck and his exploits, each rattling off something they heard him do that fits their personality (Dewey picks him fighting a stone monster, Huey picks him uncovering a hoax and Louie picks his swimming in money. ) As Donald tries to get them to simmer down, they wonder what he’s up to

He’s up toooo.. depression. He’s in a room with his board, watching them with utter hate and sadness as they talk about cutting the invention and aviation departments. This scene plays ENTIRELY differently after the final two episodes of the season. Before it still plays well as Scrooge clearly resenting being stuck in a boring board meeting, having lost everything that made him him and just having lost his passion for life. Now? It plays as a man utterly disdainful of the men who made him give up on his daughter. While as far as he knows they did it to save his employees from his company collapsing, we know better now... and seriously where IS the rest of the board they just vanished after the Season 3 premiere.

I don’t mind only one being fleshed out, unlike the triplets we only NEED the one I mind that they just never explained it and still haven’t. Hopefully the finale will.

But back on the plot, it now plays as Scooge just full of hatred for them, knowing they had to do what they did, even if they weren’t emebzlling but still hating them and himself. He’s likely not even paying attention anymore because he just dosen’t CARE: he has all the money int he world.. and it couldn’t bring him his daughter back. As he sadly puts the coins he was fiddling with back and says see you tommorow he can’t even close the vault without a struggle. As we’ll see later the strength never left, it’s not like he stopped execrising.. but he has nothing left to fight for. Nothing left to care about. He could adventure agian so far.. but without Della or Donald, as we’d learn two seasons later the reason he enjoyed it again... what’s the point? He has nothing left except his money.

This is also a nice parallel to the final Chapter of LIfe and Times. I always felt the first half of woo-ooo was a spiritual adaptation of chapter 12 of that: Scrooge meets the boys for the first time and with their help, and Donalds in the story< Webby and Launchpad here, he regains his passion and more importantly his family after driving them away> The how is very different: he did in life and times due to sinking to his lowest point morally, then cruelly dismissing his family when they tried to welcome him home and bury the hatchet despite what he’d done. Here.. he made a HORRIBLE mistake, one that wasn’t entirely on him but still cost him everything and spent the decade instead of stewing or making more money trying desperately to undo it. The end result is the same, a dried out husk of a man with nothing left to loose and no will to gain anything.

This husk has launchpad though whose introduced as his driver and while good with subs and planes.. isn’t great on the road. After that though Donald pulls up hoping to drop the kids off before Scrooge arrives. Naturally this being a cartoon and Donald having tempted fate with that Scrooge shows up telling him to jettison that Jallopy at once. And finding out who it is, apart from asking how Donald is and Donald doing the same, dosen’t sway him. The boys however freak out after finding out Scrooge is Donald’s and there uncle, with my faivriote bit of that being Dewey exiting the car via a window and rolling across the roof back in. Amazing bit of animation. Wish I had a gif of that.

Donald makes the situation plane and angry and asks “Can you do that without LOOSING THEM”. And scrooge is so painfully disarmed by his reminder of his past mistakes and the fact his surrogate son still resents him, that he agrees before realizing “Shit I have to watch children now don’t I” as Donald drives off. As you probably guessed, this is another scene that plays differently in hindsight, if not by much: It still plays as two men too stubborn and bitter to reconcile.. but now we know the why behind both their rages it feels even sadder. They both lost the person they cared about most but as it sadly happens in real life both have dug in their heels to reconcile, both feeling their right when neither completely is. While Donald was right to be upset at scrooge and della for what happened, and is mostly taking it out on scrooge because he’s the one left... he’s held onto his anger for 10 years instead of going to help when he’s unemployed, living in a dilapidated houseboat and trying ot raise three children alone and could’ve used what help scrooge would give. Scrooge is right to be upset that Donald is just selectively ignoring everything he’s done to save Della, but is too stubborn and prideful to apologize for what he DID do wrong and feels that’s enough to make up for it when , while it is enough that donald should forgive him, still dosen’t mean he dosen’t have a lot to apologize for. Both are just too angry and too much alike, as much as it woudln’t seem so, to settle with each other and see too much of what they lost.

So the kids follow Scrooge.. who forgets to open the door, and Beakly lets them in. It’s a nice subtle bit. After some silence, Bentina TRIES to get her old friend and now employer to talk to them, but he naturally refuses and they do the talking, asking tons of questions.. and Dewey ends the conversation by accidently pressing the “imply he USED to be something rather than is something right now “ button

So Scrooge throws them in the twins old room, and Beakly gives them some marbles. You will give them b ack they will be counted. But another subtle touch I missed the first time is there... her sad look. She clearly doesn’t want to do this, but she has to play this carefully or else he might get mad and fire her on the spur of the moment. He’d obviously hire her back, where else is he going to get an ex spy who will both clean for him AND be his bodyguard and security. It’s a very small pool. Mostly because Beakly probably killed most of the other people who’d of fit that description during her spy days.

Scrooge meanwhile is still rattled by Dewey’s statment, wondering if he really is a “used to be” instead of a “never left”. The fire is starting to spark again.. he just needs more kindling. And more kin.

Meanwhile Louie and Huey marvel at Dewey’s “Brilliant’ breakout plan: hit the door knob with the sack of marbles til lit breaks. To be fair, they’ve known dewey as long as they’ve been alive and even by season 3 after he’s taken several levels in badass and cunning.. he still crashed a plane because his brother well-meaningly called him basic, and thought being nearly sacrificed the most times was an accomplishment. This is the best he could do and you all know it. It also works, so they can’t fault him for that... though he’s quickly kidnapped as are they. They wake up after the commerical break in a room with pure darkness, hung from the celing with a mystery person asking who they are and who they work for before Louie calls out for “uncle scrooge”... so she claps the lights back on and..

Well close. But it is Webby, who cuts them down, fangirls over meeting the nephews and asks who the evil triplet is. They all point to Louie who shrugs it off. I mean it was funny enough the first time but at this point I know he’s running several fradulent charites, almost all scamming his uncle. He’s earned that title. Webby puts them on the big board and then when asked they find out she’s Webby, her granny Beakly is housekeeper. She then asks the big questons “Are we friends now?” “If we say yes will you let us live?” “Ha good one new best friend”

She then explains she dosen’t get to leave or anything even eat a hamburger. The boys are moved by this and Louie asks what she does for fun. She leads them to the vents and while Huey and Louie are a bit relcutant, Dewey naturally goes first pointing out it’s better than the marble room. They agree and are on their way.

Okay unpinning that pin, the crew conciously updated Webby and Beakly as neither really had a lot of purpose in the original. It was also to conciously add more actiony females to the main family lineup, as both creators, both being fathers, preferred someone their daughters could look up to and would enjoy watching. Not someone perfect but someone intresting instead of someone who often got Kidnapped and whose main charactrisitcs were “Sweet and GIRL STEROTYPE” So cleverly they KEPT her being girly, having a skirt, liking ponies. .but also gave her all the training and skill of one Cassandra Cain, a sheltered background and an adorable personality that kept the sweetness but added her probably having killed a man at some point. It worked as Webby is one of the best parts of the show.

Likewise Beakly was upgraded from fuddy duddy housekeeper, to badass former secret agent whose also a housekeeper, and bodyguard and confidant to scrooge. Demonstrated by her talk with him as he tries to put on his diving suit and go after the jewel of atlantis, having spotted the signs to go after it in the paper.. and wanting to prove a child wrong. Beakly points out the flaws in this, and tries to get him to connect to his family. Having lost hers, it’s easy to see why.. though the how’s a mystery.. for now i’m guess. We’ll see in the finale. But she’s Scrooge’s concisence and the one who can easiest reign him in, to the point two episodes directly have our heroes have to NOT call her or else the plot was end, but have that worked into the plot so it works. She’s the calm in his storm and hte one person he needs more than anyone else even if he dosen’t always realize it. He calls family “nothing but trouble” just as Dewey passes overhead.

So naturally as Webby shows off Scrooge’s old treasures in a mysterious room, while the other Siblings are rightfully impressed, Dewey dismisses it as “fake” because he’s being a little shit, and they agree after seeing Donald, not knowing his reputation. The cutaway to him struggling with a stapler does not help> it’s only when Webby accidnetly uneleashes Captain Peghook, a vengeful ghost after scrooge, who gets his hand on a ghostly sword do they realize this time the monsters are real. Huey also accidently wakes up Manny, the headless manhorse!

Things somehow get WORSE as Scrooge finds them.. but is in no state to argue and as our heroes duck and Huey tries to divise a plan.. Scrooge get’s his spark back once agian.. it’s starting to become an ember now... and he charges in despite Dewey’s cries of “No come back your old!”. It then gets VERY badass Scrooge: Oi! Beastie! What's it gonna take to shuffle you off to the afterlife? Captain Peg-Hook: The head of Scrooge McDuck! Scrooge: [cracks his neck, flips his cane around to wield like a sword] Would you settle for his hat?

Now that is how you show how badass Scrooge is in a few lines and gestures. HE proceeds to take both out, as they’ve now teamed up, easily, tricking peghook into cutting off the head of a statue of him in the area, throwinng it at him and finsihing the ghosts buisnesss (”I should’ve been more specifiiiicccccc”) and then giving Manny the head, earning him a loyal employee for life. So our days saved, the kids have faith.. and Scrooge is still pissed. He also reveals this isn’t a treasure room but the garage in what’s easily the best gag of the first half, possibly the whole special but one iconic moment is very close in that one. Webby concedes what about the stack of old magazines or the hose or.. okay he’s probably right. He berates them only for the kids to fire back, pointing out he threw them in a room, they just wanted to spend time with him... but it’s only Dewey throwing his words back in his face that pisses him off. Scrooge bellows at them to get out, clearly having internalized everything with donald into rage and trying to justify pushing eveyrone away instead of working at it... but this dosen’t have time to actually work, nor would Beakly actually throw three children out on the curb, as he hits a mystic gong.. the third time it’s been hit. And after realizing it’s already been hit twice Scrooge is faced with Pixu, the gold hutning dragon! And guess who has a giant bin of it wanting to snack on? Scrooge naturally climbs on the thing and the kids naturally want to follow, with Webby getting her first development by proudly announcing “I’m going to eat a hamburger” then explains the metaphor. They just need a pilto.. and as Launchpad has been saying but I forgot to add in “I’m a pilot”

So we get a GORGEOUS bit of Scrooge riding the dragon over the city, getting banged up as he does before finally being thrown off.. only for the kids to catch him with the planes help and try and come up with a plan. Scrooge overcomes his anger at them not staying put, especailly since Webby brings up the right weakness: as a wise man once said...

So they need some.. like say the Medusa Gauntlet Scrooge had in the garage.. that Louie naturally stole. Huey and Webby eyeroll him but they have what they need.. and Huey brought the hose and quickly comes up with a plan, tying scrooge in, and swinging him to Pixu. The kids hold on tight, Dewey calls his family awesome and our heroes win the day as Scrooge turns the dragon to stone, slips and falls.. and then GRACEFULLY dives into hte bin, showing off his diving skills and his badassery. The day is saved, the gauntlet and the dragon go in the bin for safe keeping and Scrooge calls the kids trouble.. and chuckles fondly. “Curse me kilts how i’ve missed trouble”

He’s impressed: Huey’s quick thinking, Louie’s pickpocketing, Dewey’s drive, and Webby’s magical knowledge all saved them. For once. .he’s happy again. And for the second time in life it took his family to remind him why he does this and show him the true fun of adventure: Getting to share it with those he love. And he finally has people to love again. He has family back, kids who look up to him and want to learn from him again, a REASON to adventure. Money and treasure and eveyrthig couldn’t bring della back.. but he at least sees now that whiel they certianly couldn’t.. they can bring him closely with what he has left. She’s gone, for now.. but she left behind three great kids who could use a mentor and Beakly brought him a fourth. And he just found out he has a pilot. The ember.. is now a raging flame. Scrooge is back. Because i’ts not the money or the glory.. it’s the thrill of it, the discovery.. and the family that makes adventuring worth while and he’s learned that lesson again. So he calls Beakly to clear his schedule.. forgetting she you know PUT A FUCKING PIN INTHE WALL the last time he asked her to play scretary and the onlyr eason she dind’t drive over the choke him to death, is that she’s probably happy he’s back on track.

Back at the interview Donald is stapled to the wall and gets the job.. not as an accountant mind but his employer needs a sailor.. and his employer is FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD. Oh boy.

Part 2: Escape To/From Atlantis First the last bit of background I saved: Originally, Fenton and Gyro were supposed to show up here, starting a gag of Fenton showing up but not being named until “Beware the B.U.D.D.Y. System!”, setting up the sub. But the crew decided this took too much away from the focus on the duck family. The not naming him gag was also dropped, and I have two reasons why: Their given reason, which is it’d take up too much time and a logistical reason: While they gave a heartfelt pitch to Lin-Manuel Miranda, as frank wanted a strong Latino superhero to combat the lack of them on film, Frank and Matt probably thought they woudln’t get such a huge name or at least prepared for it.. and were delightfully suprised when Lin happily and tearfully agreed. So they likely scrapped it so they could properly promote the biggest name in their voice cast. Honestly it was for the best and they still go to do the idea with Drake in “The Duck Knight Returns!”, where it worked much better than it probably would have with Fenton.

We open with the Glomgold Industries Employee Training Video! Encourging IP Theft, making things cheaper and general scumbaggery, and claming your the world’s most beloved scottish billionare. IN short the perfect introduction to everyone’s favorite insane, fake-scottish, scheming, egotistical , short sighted billionaire. As i’ve made transparent before, I fucking love the reboot version of Glomgold and he’s easily one of my favorite parts of the reboot. They clearly needded to find a new place for Glomgold in the grand scheme of things as the show was more about globetrotting adventure and family and less about getting contracts or bets about whose bigger money and more about family. While they DID do a classic bet storyline with season 2, it’s clear the old glomgold was just a bit too stiff to properly fit into this new zanier and deeper universe.

So they instead remolded him as a half insane, knockoff scrooge, someone who PURPOSFULLY modeled himself after the guy to try and one up him, and instead of being a fairly low pitched schemer, was a bombastic idiot whose schemes were half baked, whose name was on everything he made, and whose only thing bigger than scrooge was his glorious ego. In short he was perfect for this series and perfect to show up way more often as a bumbling thorn in Scrooge’s side.. but one who COULD be effective in the right circumstances, as to not make him completely pointless. Keith was likewise the only person I could see in the roll now as with Hater he had a history of playing bombastic, egosticial morons, and made Glomgold into the enjoyable ball of ego, bombs, sharks and shouting we know and love. Some people didn’t take to this version after a while... I’m not one of those. I loved him here, I love him now, and he’s every bit as good in season 3 as he was at the start. He’s also wearing a kilt mcduck A KILT. A bit that’st STILL funny four years and 70 some episodes later.

So we meet Gabby McStabberson and the Smashnikovs as they and Donald file in, though Donald is busy wrapping up a call with Scrooge, who assures them he has a low key day planned.. while in the sub getting ready to go to atlantis. And nearly drowning when Dewey tells Launchpad to dive while he and Scrooge are still up top. Cue credits.

So on the sub we get our setup for the two main plots for the episode: While the main thrust of everything is Scrooge taking them to Atlantis, each leads to a diffrent plot. Louie talks to Donald and lies entirely about their day, worrying Webby.. who then reveals she just didn’t tell Beakly she took off or where she was going and encourages her to call and lie. To save time, i’m going to cover this subplot now minus the conclusion as it’s pretty simple and this review is already a day behind. Louie wants her to lie so she dosen’t worry, which is oddly sweet.. still a bit greasy, but it’s clear he means well and it shows in his own way the boy cares about Donald: Sure he’ll lie to the guy, and set up a fradulent charity to scam him.. but he also knows not to worry his dad-uncle and kows Donald is better off thinking their safe than knowing the truth. Granted it also prevents consequences for Louie.. but he’s not playing here here. He gets nothing out of Beakly not knowing the truth or helping some girl he just met, he’s just being NICE in his own twisty way. It’s a nice show of his depths: While louie will lie, cheat and steal Eddie Gurrero style, he does have a caring side underneath hit. He can read people well and while he primarily uses it to manipulate people, we’ll see time and time again that he can use it for good too and to help those he cares about. He’s nothing but supportive the whole plot, and even when he says “you can’t back that up” it’s more worrying about her and having a bit of crack than actually being a dick.

So Webby tries lying, but is about as good as Huey is at it, saying “I’m at a friends house nothing, then makes up a clearly fake name, then says their only talking in swedish for a grandpa. Launchpad DOES help, but only by accident and snake venom. We’ll get to that. As I said this wasn’t the most complex plot.

The main plot is our focus episode for dewey. In theory each of the kids was supposed to have one in the first five episodes: Dewey here, Webby in Daytrip of Doom, Louie in Great Dime Chase and Huey in Impossible Summit of Mt. Nevverest!. Given the last one was horribly delayed, he instead got Terror of the Terra Firmians, which in hindsight wasn’t the best spotlight episode for him. But it’s a good system; Introduce them all in the first half of the pilot then slowly focus on each one. So now Idoloizing Scrooge, Dewey is desperate to be his sidekick and be seen as an equal and is in deep denial as scrooge instead has them all buckle up for a 17 hour ride and when Dewey questions the route, which skips the direct path.. but is clearly marked with monsters, Scrooge just snaps at him and shuts him down and disapoints the boy who only wants to prove himself to Scrooge.

Naturally though, telling someone with that kind of need for attention and validation to wait goes poorly as he redirects the map while Launchapd is distracted.. and we find out WHY the trip is 17 hours as the direct route nearly gets them killed by mer-ducks, krakens and some sort of storm elemental. Dewey is bummed it didn’t work and annoyed to realize he’s just lumping them all together like Huey pointed out earlier. Huey is also delightful here, having brought travel bingo and sea shanties, clearly used to trips with his other uncle. And adorably taking after him.

But Dewey’s deversion has done more than make him even MORE determined to prove himself to Scrooge whose just trying to NOT loose the son of the daughter he lost...

The Merducks have taken up residence in the bathroom, so they have to make a pitstop. Scrooge, CLEARLY forgetting how to take a trip with children, wasn’t prepared for this but they find a frieghter and make a stop. Naturally it’s GLOMGOLD’S freighter, where his sub took off from, and he and his minons including Donald find Scrooge using the bathroom.. and the boys to Donald’s rage. Unfortunately saying ‘I’ll kill him” to a raging sociopath who takes that as a sign to kill ALL of them, isn’t a smart move.

So while Donald tries to plan to keep his family alive, said family arrives in Atlantis with a great bit of Scrooge trying to give a big speech only for them to see it first and ooh and ah. They touch down in the city.. which is flip turned upside down. Scrooge notes hti is odd but is able to read the hieroglypchs even upside downa nd notes there’s tones of deadly traps and that they shoudl stay back and..

Huey: Dewey ran in as soon as you said traps.

So while Scrooge tries to prevent dewey loosing his head, Donald prevents launchpad loosing his and makes up an excuse about “if their dead now we can’t tourture them later” to cover his ass. Glomgold is impressed. Dewey is Dewcipointed that the traps are upside down, though he does trigger some snakes that get launchpad. He’s fine just delirious. And possibly slowly dying but the fact he’s lived this long is a miracle. Maybe that’s why he’s missing for most of season 3 part 2, the snake venom caught up to him and drake and fenton need to find the cure. Anyways the rest of the party stays behind while Scrooge chases after Dewey, who naturally runs ahead AGAIN.

Donald ducks out to use the bathroom, as Dewey tries the old dance through the laser grid routine.. but forgets the part where your supposed to actually avoid it, leaving it to an unseen Donald to stop the fire traps from barbqueing his boy. IT’s a really awesome sequence that shows off Donald’s still got it even if he dosen’t want it. Scrooge naturally works smarter not harder and simply ziplines above like a badass and berates Dewey when he tells him he took “The easy way”

“Why would you want to take the hard way?” The argument that’s been brewing all episode bubbles up and once again both sides have a point: Scrooge rightfully points out Dewey’s being reckless, has no experince and needs to listen to Scrooge and learn something. Dewey claps back that Scrooge isn’t TEACHING them, just teling them to get behind him while he does things instead of trying to actively mentor them. He outright told them he was going to teach them so while Dewey’s been a wee bit overbearing, he’s right in being disappointed that Scrooge instead just wants them to be safe. I see it as his subconscious acting up: He wants and needs the kids along and is right ot keep them safe.. but is too scared to properly mentor them after what happened to Della and is just trying not to loose anybody. His methods have been right, to keep them safe.. he’s just been so determined to save them, he can’t properly TEACH them so he won’t have to forever or explain WHY. And given the First Adventure shows that while protective he did eventually let Della and Donald pull their weight.. but here he lost so much between adventures.. he just can’e bear loosing them. Dewey also rightfully points out he just lumps them together which in any other version wouldn’t be an issue, until the reboot I had no idea which one was which here? They have distinct outfits and personalities and you had 17 hours to actually get to know them. Probably less given the shortcut but still, several hours at a minimum. It’s things like this that make the series work: while there’s plenty of internal conflicts, at their best their nuanced ones, where if one character is clearly in the wrong they have a reason, and if both are right both are also a bit wrong, versus the original where it’d be scrooge or the boys grabbing the asshole ball at times (Not always mind you but when they did it was insufferable.

However they don’t have time to argue as the bridge goes out and Glomgold finds donald.. and another way around as a result and gets to the treasure first. Scrooge notices they have donald but once again Dewey charges in

“Unhand my uncle” “No” “Okay wasn’t prepared for that”

Naturally both sides are a bit livid, Donald for dragging his boys into danger after being part of the reason his sister is on the moon right now, and Scrooge for working with one of his greatest eneimies.. though Scrooge has less ground to stand on because as Donald points out “I can’t keep track of ALL of your sworn enemies” I mean he has lived like .. 200 years. That’s a long enemies list and Glomgold, while the most persistent, isn’t exactly the most dangerous they probably encountered. Given the guy’s an artist with Bombs and Sharks that does say a lot about how badass Scrooge is.. and how incompitent glomgold usually is. He’s just having an on day today I guess.

Glomgold naturally holds Donald hostage, takes what is suppsidley the jewel and leaves them to drown to death, hitting a wall to let it start leaking. HIs minons run into the rest of the heroes and a fight breaks out while naturally Donald, after even more naturally getting his ass stuck in a hole, literally, rails out at Scrooge for doing this telling him “I knew I couldn’t trust you and” “This is the spear of selene all over again”

Scrooge’s only response is “I was not responsible for the Spear of Selene!”

Dude you still paid for the rocket. While Della shoulders most of the blame, SHE choose to take an untested rocket, SHE choose not to come back during the turbulence YOU still built it and hid it from donald and didn’t make sure she couldn’t just take off in it. Your both to blame. And as I mentioned earlier to the least extent but still an extent, so was Donald telling his grown, adult sister whose as stubborn as she is what she could and couldn’t do. He had the right idea and was the only person trying to be an adult here in this situation.. but he still took the wrong approach with stopping her. Still he got far more ground to stand on than Scrooge, who also took his nephews out. Dewey stops both by pointing out that while yes Scrooge took them on an adventure he’s been doing NTOHING but keeping him safe and most of it was his fault which disarms donald a bit. Though Dewey is quickly distracted.. but for once by an obersvation: the gem glowing above thaem that glowed when they entered... and since the city got flipped turned upside down.. THAT’S the real jewel. Dewey asks Donald ot let it flood so they can get it and begs his uncle to trust him despite his doubts which he does. They get it and everyone’s okay and even more when they reunite with the others they find they’ve handily beaten them. To me this is where donalds walls go down a bit: he realizes he’s been smothering the kids, and that while he may hate his uncle for good reason... he’s not going to make the same mistake with them and while he lied.. Don probably realized if Scrooge had been honest Donald would never have let them go. He can trust him.. and he can trust his kids will be alright without him.

So Glomgold naturally leaves his minions to die, but our heroes manage to make it to the sub, and Gabby asks if they can bum a ride. Not wanting to do any murders they agree. On the surface Glomgold is showing off his jewel, only for Scrooge to upstage him second’s later with the real jewel, and point out his is “nice but defintly cursed”... and right on cue Glomgold gets dragged off with an octopus and let’s off his first “Curse you mcduck!”. Scrooge offers clean water and power thorugh it, for a price because of course he does, and has offically made his grand comeback.

We get back to Webby’s subplot, as she’s confronted by Beakly.. who naturally being a former spy easily figured it out immieditely but is only upset her grandaughter lied to her. And even at that she dosen’t raise her voice or anything about the matter, knowing it’d only make her feel worse and getting that her grandaughter needs to see the world and that much like donald, she walled her up to prevent loosing what little she had left. And since being with Scrooge is safe as with her, she can go with him anytime just tell her first kay? They hug. Awwww.

Donald likewise apologizes, admitting that whatever has passed, he misjudged his uncle here and while not forgiving him yet, is at least willing to let him back into his life and into the boys.. on holidays and stuff at least. But fate forces his hand.. or rather his 10 year old nephew-son having left the engine on and neither having turned it off, meaning his boat goes boom and is in no liveable condition. But Scrooge has the space in his heart and mansion for them.

So as we close the kids help move the artifacts all around the house instead of just the garage while Launchapd drops the boat. While clearing out Dewey notices the painting from earlier.. and finds part of it was flipped over...

“Mom?!”

Now keep in mind, while nowadays Della’s inclusion in the show is one of the most famous and treasured parts of the show.. back then this was a fucking shock. Disney never really cared about the boys mother and outside of one comics story never really went into what happened. So the fact she was not only an actual important part of the plot but we’d find out was a HUGE wham moment and left my jaw dropped after seeing the episode. Like I would with the finales I had read no spoilers and had no idea this was coming but damn was it a huge and welcome suprise and how far they’d take it and how much they’d flesh her out was an even bigger one. Easily one of the best big reveals i’ve ever seen. The only better one I can think of from this series itself... is the end of season 2. But that’s for another time.

Final Thoughts on Woo-Ooo!:

This two parter/hour long special.. is still one of the episodes best and easily one of the best pilots. It does slow down a bit in pacing in the second half, but otherwise is just an immaculate , beautiful pilot movie that introduces and fleshes out all 8 main characters, maybe Launchpad the least but enough to still work, gives us some big mysteries to work out, and even throws in Glomgold’s first apperance. It sets the tone, reverent and adventuerous but also with it’s own weird and wacky sense of humor and world building, and universe perfectly. I .. don’t have much else to say really it’s just THAT good and really worth checking out. If you somehow haven’t seen it go watch it and if you haven’t seen it in a while might be worth a rewatch before the finale. The absolutely perfect start to an amazing ride.

Next on the Della Arc: Dewey and Webby try to figure out where Della is while Louie learns a valuable life lesson and pisses off a killer robot along the way.

Next on the Blog: Amphibia Season 2 is back!

Until then if you liked this review follow for more and if you could please support me on patreon. Even a buck a month helps and juicy stretch goals give you na incentive to contirbute. We’re 5 bucks away from 20 dollars a month which means a review of super ducktales and a Darkwing Duck review EVERY. MONTH. So contribute now! Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure.

#ducktales #wooooo #woo-ooo #scrooge mcduck #webby vanderquack #donald duck #dewey duck #louie duck #huey duck #bentina beakley #launchpad mcquack #flintheart glomgold #della duck #disney channel #disney xd #disney plus #ducks

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