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buckysgrace · 10 months

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2. My Heart Can't Tell You No

Pt 2 to Every Little Thing :)

Gator Tillman x OC

CW: Cheating, blowjobs

“This is when all the kids would get together,” Ruby proclaimed proudly as she flicked through the photo book with Hugh, “They always got along so well.” Daphne felt her eyebrows knitting together at her mother’s words, her eyes caught Noelle’s as they appeared to be thinking the same thing. They got along well enough now, but there had been many fists thrown and tantrums caused by one another in their youth.

Hugh had one leg crossed as he sat near Ruby, scanning through many of her photo albums from Daphne’s childhood. She felt her cheeks reddening, knowing that there was more than one picture of her in there running around with no diaper on.

Daphne peeked over Hugh’s shoulder, scanning the photos briefly to confirm that Gator was also included in the pictures. She was sure that he was in as many photos with her as her siblings. She felt her heart beating a little faster as the guilt settled into her stomach again, eating at her until she could no longer look at the pictures of them.

She felt worse than awful. She felt as if she’d for sure damned herself to hell now. There was no way Hugh would ever forgive her if he found out. She didn’t think he should forgive her either. There was no excuse for what she’d done. She hadn’t even protested, fought to not to do it. She had wanted Gator just as badly.

She thought about him continually as the days rolled by, her mind torturing her with the image of him on his knees in front of her. She sat next to Hugh, crossing her legs as she desperately tried to think of someone else. Anything else.

“You bathed together?” Hugh raised an eyebrow, looking a little concerned as he faced Daphne. She parted her lips, leaning over to get a better idea at what he was looking at. Her and Oliver couldn’t have been any older than four in the picture, which meant that Gator and Noelle would’ve been about six. August would’ve just turned eight at the time. A smile crept onto her lips as she looked at the bubble beard she had put on Gator.

“As kids,” Daphne defended as she looked over into the photo book, “He was like another sibling.” She muttered softly as she leaned back against the couch, knowing that it wasn’t like that at all. She had never thought of Gator as a brother, not once.

“Please,” Oliver snorted as he brought his soupy ice cream up to his lips, “You had the biggest crush on him in high school.” He responded dryly, blinking softly as he waited for her to deny it. She sat forward, her cheeks burning at his accusation. It was true, but she had done a good job at hiding it. There was no way that he knew. “I did not,” She shrieked in horror as she threw a pillow at his head. Oliver yelped, nearly dropping his ice cream onto the floor, “You’re such a liar.” She told him pointedly, feeling more on edge the way everyone kept teasing her about Gator. She wanted to keep herself from spiraling, feeling like everyone would know the truth if she didn’t deny them.

“Watch my pillows,” Ruby said in a huff as she gave the two of them a stern look, “Stop being such a child, Daphne. Oliver, stop teasing your sister.” She said at last, shaking her head as she turned another page. Hugh looked at Daphne a little amused before he looked down at the album again.

Daphne turned, making sure that Ruby was distracted before she stuck her tongue out at Oliver. He returned the favor, making sure to curl his lip up and scrunch his nose as he did so. She rolled her eyes before she settled back in the chair

Her eyes drifted to the old western that was playing on the TV, trying to think of anything but how she’d so easily cheated on Hugh. She felt awful, shameful as the memory of Gator’s fingers digging into her thighs came forth. She had thought of him when she’d showered the night after, how his fingers always reached parts of her that she wasn’t able to get.

“I don’t remember you mentioning him.” Hugh said a little later once everyone had dispersed from the living room. Daphne hummed softly as she looked at the album from her high school years, wrinkling her nose as she remembered how badly she’d hated her braces.

“Who?” She asked him as she examined her prom picture. She had nearly stuffed her bra, until Noelle had convinced her otherwise. She had been pouty at the time, but now she was grateful. She could only imagine how awful it would’ve looked. She was more than happy with how big her boobs had grown.

“That uh,” Hugh paused for a moment, looking like he was rehearsing what he was trying to say, “That Gator boy. Why would you not tell me about him?” He furrowed his dark eyebrows together, his eyes filled with confusion as he watched her.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Daphne told him seriously, trying to ignore the fresh shame that settled inside of her gut. She still couldn’t believe she’d let Gator weasel his way in again so easily, “We were really close as kids and we just grew apart. I don’t see what the big deal is.” She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to shut the conversation down.

“I was just asking a question,” Hugh defended himself a second later, “I didn’t mean to offend you.” He said a little softer, his eyes gleaming like he looked guilty. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to ignore the guilt that was burning inside of her. She knew she had snapped at him for no reason. She was the one in the wrong.

“You didn’t,” Daphne sighed deeply, feeling a little bad with how snippy she’d grown, “I don’t want you to feel bad. They used to tease us about getting married one day but we just never liked each other like that. He was a friend.” She replied softer, feeling a little less stressed at the topic. She had rehearsed and practiced for so long about how calm and collected she’d remain when Gator was brought up, but all of that seemed to go out the window.

“Okay,” He said slowly as he watched her, his hazel eyes looking at her inquisitively, “What happened? You seem bothered by him.” He admitted to her, looking like he was concerned as he nudged his shoulder against hers. She sighed as she moved her leg underneath his longer one, linking the two of them together.

“It’s just annoying,” She said as she huffed deeply, “I’m marrying you. I don’t know why they need to bring him up all the time.” She replied as she set the photo album down, trying to avoid the pair of brown eyes that seemed to be staring up at her.

“Why did they want you to marry him?” He asked her curiously as he turned to face her better. She looked down at her lap, pressing her fingertips against her knees as he pushed her bangs from her face.

“My mom was best friends with his mom before she left,” Daphne said softly, “They grew up together. His dad and mine got really close in return. He works for him.” She shrugged her shoulders softly, feeling like that was the end of the story. She didn’t want to talk about how Gator had been her whole world, how she used to dream about marrying him the way everyone teased her about doing. They wanted different things and she’d found that with Hugh.

“What does a sheriff do anyways?” He asked a new question, tilting his head as he waited for her response. She grinned as she looked up towards him, matching the smile that rested on his lips.

“I don’t know,” She admitted with a laugh, grinning at the way he squeezed her thigh, “Basically enforces laws, I think.” She said slowly, not really ever dwelling on what Roy did. Hugh leaned forward to kiss the top of her head.

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” He said softly once he pulled away, “I still feel like I should be sleeping right now.” He admitted. She nodded her head, noting the bags that were underneath his eyes.

“I’ll see you later.” She told him sweetly, grinning as she leaned over the couch to smack at his butt as he walked away. He blew her a playful kiss before he strutted into the guest room down the hallway. Her parents had been insistent that they didn’t share the same room, even though they were engaged.

Not that it really mattered. Hugh wasn’t much for snuggling or kissing anyways. He claimed it to be a sensory thing, but she often wondered if it was his lack of experience. They’d only brought up sex once or twice, but he’d never touched her in such a manner. He never watched her undress either, always shied away when she’d quickly change in their bedroom.

“Mama,” Daphne whined as she walked into the kitchen, “Please stop bringing Gator up around Hugh.” She said desperately, raising her eyebrows high as she pouted her lips out. Ruby’s blue eyes met Daphne’s in surprise.

“Why?” She looked at Daphne confused, “You two were really good friends and we did really think you were going to get married. Until, well…” She trailed off, giving Daphne a knowing look. She huffed in frustration, feeling like she would never hear the end of what could’ve been between her and Gator.

“Gator and I were never together,” She reminded her mother quickly, “You should set him up with Noelle. They’re the same age.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders, trying to keep as stoic as possible. However, the thought of Gator with anyone else still filled her with jealousy.

“Do you want Gator with Noelle?” Ruby asked in amusement, her dark eyebrows raised high as she waited for Daphne to answer. She fiddled with the kitchen towel, drawing her nails across the simple design as she did her best to deny her feelings. Three long years of trying to erase him and she still felt like nothing had changed.

“Why does it matter what I want?” She asked softly as she finally stopped fiddling with the towel. Gator hadn’t ever wanted a relationship and she wasn’t going to let him string her around forever. She deserved to move on, to be happy.

“You know it’s odd,” Ruby said slowly as she rested her hand on her hip, “You still can’t give me a straight reason as to why you ran off.” She tilted her head, holding her eyebrows up highly still as she waited. Daphne traced the constellations across Ruby’s cheeks, wondering how badly she’d hurt her mother when she’d left.

“I told you, I was doing missionary work,” She shrugged her shoulders as she kept her face down towards the window, not wanting to give anything away, “Then some of the other girls wanted to take a trip through Europe and I joined them.” She said briefly, acting like she hadn’t left without saying anything.

“But you didn’t even go to summer camp when you were little because you hated being away from home,” Ruby replied quickly, still digging for answers, “What changed?” She asked her in confusion. Daphne paused, wishing she could be honest for once. She feared that if she started telling her about everything that had happened, she’d never stop. She shook her head, deciding it was best to keep secrets instead.

“I just grew up.”

////////////////////

“What do you do again?” Bruce asked for the third time the next day. He was sitting at the dining room table, all dressed up for the fishing trip he was taking the boys on for the day. Daphne dragged her eyes up slowly, pausing as she dropped the butterknife back into the jar of mayonnaise.

“Daddy,” Daphne looked at him as she sighed deeply through her nose, “We talked about this. He’s an artist.” She pulled a bright smile to her lips, hunching her shoulders together as she tried to feign being positive. Bruce, as expected, was taking the longest to warm up to Hugh. She had prayed long and hard last night that Bruce wouldn’t try and drown Hugh.

“Oh, right,” Bruce responded, still looking disgruntled, “Do you make a lot of money doing that?” He asked with his nose curled up. Daphne looked towards Hugh, noticing his panicked expression as his lips parted. She dropped her head and looked towards Ruby, searching for help.

“Bruce.” Ruby warned as she gently nodded her head in Daphne’s direction. Daphne was sure that Ruby didn’t look like much of a threat to most people. She barely reached Daphne’s shoulder, had a petite frame and always bore a dazzling smile. Daphne knew the truth, however. Ruby was the one to be wary of.

“It’s just a question,” He said in defense, “I just want to know how he’s going to take care of my daughter.” He said, feigning a smile as he turned his attention back to his hunting magazine. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes as she knew what this was really about. Bruce had been the least supportive about her engagement.

“Well,” Hugh looked a little uncomfortable as he rubbed his palms against his hands, “It depends. Sometimes the money is good. I think Daphne wanted to do more of her singing.” He said as he motioned towards her, his lips curling up into the softest smile. She felt her eyes widen, realizing that Hugh had forgotten that they weren’t supposed to talk about her singing.

“Singing isn’t a job,” Bruce replied dryly, giving Daphne a stern look as he reminded her. She shuffled lower as she sandwiched the pieces of bread together, wishing that Hugh hadn’t brought her up, “Besides she can’t. She’ll have to look after the children.”

“Children?” Hugh stuttered out, his eyebrows raised wide as his features mixed into horror. She felt her own face heat up, knowing that children hadn’t really been discussed. She wanted kids and figured he had to, as that was sort of the point of marriage. However, his reaction didn’t seem like he felt the same way.

“After you get married,” Bruce said slowly, like Hugh couldn’t comprehend his words, “The children that you’ll have. I’m not letting you live on my land just to chase after some silly dreams.” He said pointedly as he leaned back in his chair, referencing the whole point of them moving back here.

France was expensive, far too expensive. She supposed they could’ve made it work somewhere out of the city, but Hugh was right. Sometimes he went months making very little money and she didn’t make very much money working in a bookstore while she finished off college. He didn’t speak to his family for unknown reasons that he had yet to tell her about.

Bruce was paying for everything. Her dress. Hugh’s tux. The location, the flowers, the food and music. There was not one thing that Bruce would not be financially aiding in them other than the ring that Hugh had got for her. Most of the guest list that was compiled was people that Bruce wanted to invite.

And as a gift, Bruce would be building a house for them on part of the land. No cost. Daphne didn’t feel like she had a right to say anything against Bruce’s wishes. She owed him a lot. She only hoped he’d warm up to Hugh and not try to make him an outsider.

“Go get loaded up,” Ruby said, effortlessly changing the subject as she finished piling the sandwiches into the baggy. Daphne passed her the apples, then the chips, “You won’t catch any good fish if you wait too long.” She reminded him quickly.

Daphne waited a second later, leaning against the counter as Bruce mumbled under his breath. She waited until she no longer heard his heavy boots tapping against the wooden floors. She watched the way the rays of sunlight dipped into the room and cascaded against them.

She glanced towards Hugh, feeling bad as he struggled to get his boots laced up. They were an older pair of Oliver’s, very worn and probably stinky. She scrunched her nose at the thought, watching as Ruby carried the bags filled with their lunches out the door.

Hugh and Daphne fell into silence. She chewed on her bottom lip, as the guilt burned deep inside of her chest. She felt terrible for how she’d treated him, how she’d betrayed him. The feeling only burned deeper the worse that Bruce behaved.

“Your father doesn’t like me,” Hugh said slowly, making her wince at the hurt in his words, “I don’t think the animals do either.” He replied a second later, looking to be deep in thought. She felt her lips twitch into a smile, thinking of how the chickens continually chased him around.

“He will,” She promised him as she squeezed his hand, “He’s just tough. He’s been tough on all of us.” She told him truthfully, thinking of how Bruce had allowed for her to sing in the church choir but nothing past that.

Hugh still didn’t seem too enthusiastic about going, but Daphne feared that it would only grow worse if he didn’t at least try with her dad and brothers. Not that August or Oliver seemed to be the issue. She had pulled Oliver aside before they left and made him swear that he wouldn’t let Bruce do or say anything too harsh.

She thought that she would distract herself after, not wanting to linger in the house and pour over picture books that would just make her heart hurt. Everything still reminded her of Gator, like she had some ghost of him lingering about her. She blamed it on her shame, on how horrible her actions had been.

She went into town instead, determined to bury her thoughts through spending money and eating her feelings away. Not that it ended up working very well. She ended up catching up to distant friends, former teachers and friends of her parents. They asked about her trip, about Hugh and to her dismay, Gator. It was all busy talk, each one of them trying to dig around for some sort of gossip that they hadn’t heard of.

By the end of the day her head was aching so badly that she feared she’d given herself a migraine. Her bags were cluttered in the passenger seat, though she felt like she was no longer happy with her purchases. Nothing could erase the guilt and shame that was swirling inside of her chest, threatening to boil over as she touched her fingertips against her painted lips. She thought of Gator again, how nicely his mouth had molded against hers

She shook away the memory as quickly as it had come to her, trying to ignore the rush of desire that formed in the pit of her stomach. There was no use in dwelling on the way Gator touched her as it was never going to happen again. She promised herself that.

“Shoot.” Daphne cursed as the sirens to the truck eventually turned on. She inhaled deeply through her nose before exhaling through her lips as she pulled over to the side of the dirt road. She leaned over the console, digging through the old papers until she found her proof of insurance. She twisted at the crank until the window was lowered low enough to see out of.

“You know why I pulled you over?” She heard his voice before she locked eyes with him. She gaped, looking at Gator in disbelief as she shook her head. She dropped the papers, deciding he had no reason to pull her over in the first place. He just wanted to irritate her.

“Gator,” She huffed in frustration, “What on Earth are you doing?” She asked him seriously, trying to decide if it was worth it to hit him with her car door. Perhaps it would knock the cocky smirk off of his lips.

“Your tags are out,” He drew out slowly as he tapped his fingertips against the windowsill of her truck, “Which means you can’t be driving this old thing.” He curled his lip up, giving her a mock shrug like he actually regretted what he was saying.

“Don’t kick my truck,” Daphne said pointedly as she watched him. It had been her grandfather’s from the seventies. A chevy that sat low to the ground, the white paint was peeling and no matter how often it was washed, there was always a layer of grime on it, “I didn’t know my tags were out. I haven’t been here.” She reminded him softly.

“Shucks,” Gator said playfully as he shrugged his shoulders, “I guess you should’ve checked that out before you drove it. Sometimes you women just aren’t very bright when it comes to cars.” He teased her, his brown eyes gleaming as he scanned her features. She picked up his tone, thinking that it sounded like he was lost in a memory. She hoped it was the time she’d yanked out a fistful of his hair when he’d insisted that girls had cooties.

“Ha,” She blinked, hiding the way she was rolling her eyes, “I’ll go in tomorrow and get my car inspected.” She said briefly as she reached for the crank, wanting to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. She turned away, unable to look him in his eyes for too long.

“Need to search ya.” He drawled out slowly, his lips curling up softly as he leaned against the truck. She snapped her eyes up towards him, hating how cocky he still looked.

“What?” She looked at him in disbelief, “Why would you have to search me? My tags are out. That’s it.” She held her hands up, understanding that he knew full well that she wouldn’t have anything bad hidden away.

“We could call it probable cause if you really want,” He said as he turned his lips into a frown and pretended to think about it, “Why don’t you just get out of the car and let me do my job?” He asked as he tapped at her windowsill before taking a few large steps back.

Daphne sighed audibly, but did as he asked. She could remember the way he used to rough house as kids. She didn’t feel like having him drag her out of her little truck. She slammed the door with a little force, shooting him an irritated look as he touched the small of her back and forced her to face the car.

“Spread them,” He said sternly before kicking his boots against her shoes, making her spread her legs wider, “C’mon. Don’t be such a bitch about it. You’re the one driving around with expired tags.” She felt a moan die on her lips as he slowly dragged his thick thigh between her legs and then pulled away.

“Gator,” She gasped as he pressed her forward roughly, “Please.” She squeaked out softly as she used her palms to keep herself balanced against her truck. She held onto it tightly, fearing where her hands might go if she let go.

“What?” He asked as his hands found her hips. He rubbed his calloused fingertips back and forth slowly, just enough to press the hem of her shirt up so he could rub his bare skin against her own. She breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the sparks that traveled up her spine.

“Nothing,” She said quickly, hoping that he didn’t catch onto the desire that was building in her stomach. She swallowed harshly, trying to ignore the guilt that was rising in her bones, “Just get it over with.” She mumbled as she looked ahead, grateful that he couldn’t see her face.

He hummed in response before he began to pat up her hips, doing it rough enough to make her flinch at the first touch. His movements got gentler, slower as he moved further up her torso. She breathed out harshly, trying to pretend like she wasn’t slowly trying to press herself back up against him.

“What’s Frenchie issue?” He hummed softly, her body twitching forward as he brought his fingers down against her ticklish ribs. She fought back a giggle, trying not to get annoyed as he purposely did it again.

“What do you mean?” She asked as she swallowed down her laughter, feeling a little nervous as his fingertips moved up further and further. Her skin felt like it was burning, liquid fire spreading through her veins as Gator’s fingers lingered underneath her boobs. He was silent for a moment, his breath warm as he pressed closer against her.

“Why won’t he fuck you?” He questioned huskily as he whispered into her ear, lightly brushing his tongue out to lick against her earlobe. Her breath caught in her throat as he cupped her boobs in his hands, squeezing roughly as he pulled her back against his warm body.

“He’s a gentlemen.” She whispered when she found the courage to speak. All of her guilt and shame had left, replaced with lust as his fingers pressed lightly into her skin. Gator snorted as he continued to knead at her tits, his lips dragging against the crook of her neck as he pressed his thigh between her legs again.

She moaned softly as he pressed his thigh further against her wet heat, rocking her back and forth slowly as he nipped at the side of her neck. She tilted her head, trying to find the urge to dismiss him from her. His tongue flicked across the base of her neck, trailing up slowly as he dragged it across her cheek and to the corner of her lips.

“You don’t like gentlemen,” He mumbled as he moved his fingers against her spine, before he dipped her fingers up her shirt to unclasp her bra, “You like being treated like a whore.” He responded as he pulled away, leaving her struggling to fix her bra into place.

Her face was hot again, but not from embarrassment as he slowly took a hold of her hands. She breathed out roughly, trying not to think about how well their hands molded together. A soft grin forming on his lips before he pulled his hands away and gripped the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head.

“Gator,” She choked out, feeling exposed as he gripped her bra and tossed it aside. His breath tasted of strawberries this time as he leaned in closer to her, his nose pressing against her skin as he dragged his nimble fingers up her arm again, drawing goosebumps against her skin, “I don’t think this is how you search someone.” Her heart was hammering in her chest as she found the courage to bring her eyes up towards him again.

“You could be hiding something,” He said simply as he traced one of his hands down to her left boob, earning a yelp from her as he pinched her pink nipple, “Strip the rest of the way and bend over.” He said as he took a wide step back. He cocked one of his hips out, resting lazily as he waited.

She could feel her fingers twitch in anticipation as his gaze burned through her skin, like he was examining each exposed inch of her. She darted her eyes from left to right, peeking at the dirt road but she knew that no one else would be coming out this way.

She slowly rolled her shorts down her thighs, bringing her panties down with them. She hoped that by keeping her clothes rolled up together he wouldn’t try and run off with another pair of her underwear. Her heart hammered roughly in her chest as she gripped her ankles and bent over, fully exposing herself to him. She was glad for the night sky, for the odd position so he couldn’t see the way her face was burning.

“God,” He breathed out slowly, sounding far closer to her than she expected, “You’re telling me he’s never touched this?” He asked her seriously. She jolted forward, shutting her eyes tightly as he brought his palm down against her wet cunt. Her legs burned from the position, but she stayed still in fear that he may pull away.

“No,” She whined softly, “Gator, c’mon.” She whispered out, although she wasn’t really sure what she wanted. Her body reacted on an instinct, purring as she pushed her hands up to her knees and rocked herself back against his fingers.

“Whatcha want baby?” He teased her as he dragged his long fingers through her wet folds. She exhaled deeply, curling back as he lightly brushed against her clit. She didn’t care about anything else right now, just about how badly she wanted him.

“You,” She responded as she desperately turned around, “I want you.” She breathed out, sure that her eyes were wide and crazed as she stepped closer to him. His eyes traveled down to her lips, watching her mouth as she spoke.

“You don’t want your pretty boyfriend?” He knitted his eyebrows together as he tilted his head, feigning confusion as she felt like she’d been slapped. She remembered how wrong this was, how terrible her actions were.

She teetered back and forth for a moment before she couldn’t control her want anymore. She didn’t care about Hugh at the moment, and didn't want to think about him. This could be the last time with Gator. She just needed one more taste before she was done.

“Gator,” She sighed deeply as she gripped at the material of his vest, “Please.” She begged him softly, fluttering her eyes up at him as she tried to pull him closer to her. Despite it being so hot earlier in the day, she was growing chilly from the cool air dancing against her bare skin.

“You look pretty begging,” He grinned as he tucked her hair behind her shoulder. She lingered against his touch, feeling like a cat who wanted more pets, “Get on your knees.” He said briskly, cupping his hand over her shoulder before he forced her down.

She yelped softly as she hit the ground hard again, her knees already reddened from their previous encounter. She thought of how he always enjoyed marking her up, even though it was in places no one else would see.

She moved her hands to his thighs, eagerly clawing at the rough material of his pants before she reached to undo his belt. She could feel her heart hammering roughly as she inspected the gun on the side of his thigh, thinking about the time he’d made her suck on the head of one of them.

“I thought you didn’t want to do this anymore?” He questioned her as he gripped her chin, giving her a soft squeeze, “What changed?” He asked huskily as he stared down at her, his brown eyes even darker as she wiggled her way closer to him.

“I want you.” She whispered pathetically as the rocks dug harshly into her knees. She pouted her lips out, hoping to convince him as she nuzzled her face against his skin. His lips curled up, looking satisfied with her answer as he gave her face one last squeeze before he released her.

She felt nervous suddenly, thinking about how she hadn’t done anything like this for three years and he had certainly slept around in the time since she’d been gone. She unzipped his belt, tugging his pants down just enough to stare at the large bulge that greeted her.

She ran her fingertips across his boxers slowly, her eyes watching in fascination as she thought of the way he used to roughly jerk his hips against her hand and the prettiest sounds that left his lips. She pulled his boxers down, giggling at the way his cock popped out.

He was large, even longer than the ones that she’d seen in porn when they’d watched it together. He was slightly paler than the rest of his body and his tip was a nice pink that seemed to match the color of his lips.

She wrapped her hand around him slowly, enjoying the way he throbbed against her palm as she spread some of his precum down the length of his cock. Her eyes felt heavy, similar to the way he felt in her hand as a sigh left his lips.

She kitten licked around the tip of his cock, savoring the taste of his precum on her tongue. She slowly flicked the tip of her tongue against his slit, enjoying the guttural moan that left his lips. She could feel the heat spreading between her legs as she desperately fought the urge to move a hand down and touch herself.

She slowly wrapped her lips around his pink tip, feeling a little encouraged by the way he slowly began to pet through her hair. She forced her jaw to relax, struggling for a moment as she tried to grow accustomed to how he fit inside of her mouth again.

She slowly bobbed her head up and down the length of his cock, squeezing her thighs together at the rough moans that Gator was creating. It sounded better than any song she’d ever heard. She hollowed her cheeks, determined to hear more of those sounds as her desperation to please him rose.

Gator’s fingers slipped through her dark red locks, gripping her strands tightly as he slowly pressed his hips forward. She shut her eyes tightly, gagging as his tip slid against the back of her throat. She gripped a hold of his hips, trying to pause his movements for a moment so she could recollect herself.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, trying to calm the rough way her heart was beating as she picked up her movements again. She swirled her tongue around the ridges of his cock, earning another groan from him as she slowly pressed more and more of him into her mouth. She enjoyed the way he felt in her mouth as she flickered her tongue around his ridges, enjoying the sensation of him.

His cock felt heavy in her mouth as her lips burned from the stretch of him. She slowly dragged her eyes up his abdomen, up his chest until she was greeted with his features. She felt herself moaning around his cock, her clit throbbing as she took in the look of pleasure on his features. She had seen his expression wrinkled up into pleasure hundreds of other times, but somehow this felt different.

He huffed deeply as he rocked his hips forward, moving slowly as she continued to keep a steady pace around his cock. She could feel her movements becoming a little quicker, longer as she tried to fit more of his cock into her mouth. She moved her fingertips to his pink balls, squeezing them softly in her hand to earn another groan from him.

Drool began to leak from the corners of her lips as she bobbed her head with his languid thrusts, her fingers digging into his thighs as he rutted into her mouth. She was fighting the urge to gag as his tip pressed against the back of her throat with each of his movements.

She kept her eyes peeled to his features, drinking in the image of him as his brown eyes fell onto her again. She could feel a giddy feeling forming in her chest as she dragged her tongue along his heavy cock. She liked the way he was watching her; she had always enjoyed being the center of his attention, always craved it. She used to hate when he'd attract the attention of other girls. She had wanted him to herself at one point.

She thought that he was the most handsome person she’d ever seen. She stared at the way his eyebrows knit together as he tilted his head gently back, how wide his lips parted as the sounds rolled off of his tongue. She had an urge to kiss every inch of his skin, to feel his cock dragging inside of her walls instead of her tongue. She pushed his cock further inside of her mouth, desperate to impress him as she rolled her tongue against the base of his cock.

“Fuck,” He spit out as he fisted her hair tightly, squeezing roughly as his movements became more sporadic. She gagged this time, spit leaking free as he fucked into her mouth, “Jesus. Shit, shit.” He cursed as he pressed his hips forward harshly, dragging her roughly by her hair as he pressed roughly into her mouth.

She gagged hard, blinking away the tears in her eyes at the sudden intrusion as his salty cum filled her mouth. She closed her eyes, continuing to flick her tongue across his cock to ensure that he wasn’t leaving anything behind. She felt crazed suddenly, remembering that this could be the last time that he touched her like this.

She stood urgently, gripping a hold of his shoulders for support as she slammed her lips against his. He molded easily the way she had a few days previous, one of his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.

She stood on her tippy toes, moving her palms to his jaw to get better leverage as she slowly rolled his spunk off of her tongue and into his mouth. He groaned in response, his nose brushing against her cheek as their tongues molded against one another's.

She moaned as she rocked her hips forward, her thighs wet with slick as she desperately wanted to feel him touch her. He bit down on her lip, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he gently tugged on her mouth. She whimpered in response, her eyes gleaming over his cocky features in lust.

“You gonna go home and touch yourself, yeah?” He mumbled as he dragged his hands against her hips. She breathed out roughly against his mouth, sharing the same air as him as he pressed his fingers lightly against her clit. She nodded her head desperately, praying for him to do something to her.

“Yeah,” She flicked her tongue out against his mouth again, urging for him to kiss her again, “Whatever you want.” She told him truthfully, offering herself up freely. She’d do whatever he asked right now. He just had to say what.

“Send me a picture,” He bit his bottom lip as he gripped her soft face again, his fingertips digging into her skin as he roughly tilted her eyes up towards him, “Let me know if your boyfriend can taste me on your tongue.” His lips grew into a menacing smirk before he pulled away, taking slow strides backwards until he reached his vehicle.

She was beyond frustrated, her clit throbbing between her legs as her jaw dropped in surprise. She watched the way he sent her a playful wave, how he paid no attention to the way she shyly tried to cover herself as he quickly drove off.

Her hands shook as she dressed herself again, taking a moment to search for where Gator had tossed her bra aside. She felt dirty, her thighs wet and sticky as she took the uncomfortable ride back to the house. She didn’t know how she was supposed to face Hugh again, or how she was supposed to have any dignity. It was like she wasn’t in control of her own actions.

She didn’t have to carry her shopping bags far, as Hugh walked out of the house as soon as she stepped out from the truck. She paused, nearly tripping over the ground as she examined the way Hugh was walking. She felt worried, already feeling a lump in the back of her throat as she was sure she’d been caught.

“What happened?” She asked instead, horrified as she tilted Hugh’s cheek to look at the bandage on his skin. She shook her head in disbelief, hoping that it wasn’t anything that Bruce had done to him.

“Fish flew off,” August answered as he clasped Hugh on the shoulders, giving him a soft squeeze as he laughed, “And the hook got stuck in his cheek.” He replied, grinning wickedly as he twisted his finger into a hook and pressed it against Hugh’s cheek.

“Your father hasn’t stopped laughing,” Hugh replied pitifully as he swatted August’s hand away, “He can’t even look at me now, he just laughs.” He spit out as he pouted his lips out in dismay. Daphne covered her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, Hugh,” She drew out softly, although her mind was still focused on how she could still taste Gator on her tongue, “I’m sorry.” She said a second later, trying to hide her laughter as she was suddenly overcome with emotions. She was glad she was at least laughing and not crying like she wanted to do. She felt the need to scrub her skin clean.

“Now you’re laughing.” He whined, sounding like a small child as he brought his hand up to his sore cheek. She shook her head, blinking away the tears that had formed in her eyes as she thought of how ridiculous she was being. She felt jittery with her worries as she thought about how hurt he’d be if he knew what she had been doing.

“No, no I’m sorry,” She giggled softly as she gently touched the bandage on his cheek, “Oh, it happens to the best of us. I have a scar from a snake bite on my ankle.” She offered, trying to make him feel better as he pulled his face away from her.

“Oh yes,” Hugh said sarcastically, “Compare a snake to a little fishy.” He said teasingly, his hazel eyes sparkling as he watched her. She held a smile to her lips, trying not to think about how she didn’t get the same butterflies that she got when Gator looked at her.

“Just think,” She said softly as she moved her bags to one hand and used the free arm to hold onto his bicep, “Now you’ll always have something to laugh about with my dad.” She reminded him, although she knew it wouldn’t make up for the many memories he already had with Gator.

#Gator Tillman #Gator Tillman smut #Gator Tillman x oc #Every Little Thing #Daphne Williams #Gator x Daphne #Fargo fx #fargo season 5

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kaedeakeshisworld · 2 years

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Misunderstanding

cw: Y/n being wife material, a shopping session to end the day, Leo and Y/n are the it couple for some reason insert emoji here, a little bit of a heated argument, reader-chan leaves Leo unannounced, Haruki is such a wonderful man ( still defending his boss though)

wc: 2819

gist: Y/n is going to confront Leo about the conversation she overheard when he was in his office. Is he going to tell her the truth or is he going to brush it off because it isn’t about her?

c/s: here you have it the second chapter of this story( the next chapter is already written, I just need to finetune it!)

I no longer run a taglist! If you would like to be updated on my works only, follow @kaedeakeshisworks and turn on post notifications.

Leo is still working, he hasn’t quit his office yet. You’re getting a bit bored here. Perhaps you should go home and sort your life out because the week is starting. Huh! You shouldn’t be thinking about that.

Instead, you check the time on the clock. It's almost one pm. You’re getting hungry so you decide to check the cupboards, see if there is something that can temporarily soothe your hunger. Well some corn crackers, there’s chocolate chip cookies too. I find this odd! He is so fit. Why does he have such items in his flat? That’s none of my business. I don’t live here. Why should I care? Meh, you really want something solid now like… italian flavours in a light meal. Let me think! Pasta? Hell no, postprandial somnolence is going to hit me so hard. I won’t do a single thing throughout the day. Also, my body and my brain do not understand the concept of naps. Instead, I do nap roulette and go to bed with no wake up alarm. Who knows when I will wake up? In three hours or five? It remains a mystery to me. Telling myself I will sleep for forty minutes has only resulted in me waking up in the early morning. Find the problem? It’s me, obviously. Maybe a salad? That is not enough for me. Well, I have to cook for this liar too. Hey, I have to calm myself down jumping to conclusions so fast? I haven’t even confronted him yet.

A jar of sun dried tomatoes, fresh ciabatta bread from the bakery, burrata in the fridge.

A pesto verde jar. A loaded toast would be great! I’ll finely chop some onions and squeeze lime juice on them for a bit of crunch. I’ll make some cucumber matchsticks for a side dish. Water is also needed.

But first, a salad made with lettuce, peach, avocado and some roasted sweet potato. A simple dressing sauce with olive oil, salt, maple syrup and balsamic vinegar with it is a delight.

One for you and the other for him. You plate everything, put it on a tray and head to his office. In front of that door, you wait a little to check if he's no longer on a phone call. Doesn't seem like it's the case. You knock on the door and hear his voice.

"Honey, come in."

He’s so focused on his work. As soon as you put this on his desk, you hurry to leave that room. You know better than to stay there.

"Hi handsome, I got you some lunch. I hope you don’t mind me barging in your work space…"

"Not at all, sweetie. Don’t stay there, come closer."

You go towards him

"Where may I put this?"

He points towards the table facing the sofa

"I’m going to have a break. Would you honour me with your company?"

Do I or don’t I? I shouldn’t be here, I gotta go before my stomach grumbles. Also, I don't want to be with him now. What should I do?

"Y/n answer me, will you?"

"Uh…" Your stomach betrays you by its growling noises.

"I’ll take that as a yes I’ll be back with your food since you brought mine. Please have a seat."

He comes back shortly. Serves you your food, you thank him. He kisses your head and sits facing you on the opposite side of the table.

"Thank you for this wonderful meal. It’s really good. I love the sweet and salty combination especially when it comes to salad."

Congratulating me now! Wow, you are bold. I wonder what his response to my question will be?

"Ah it’s not much, I just whipped up something quite fast!"

“No seriously. Whenever I am fully absorbed into work I tend to forget to do the most basic things such as eating.”

“It can happen sometimes.”

“So…”

“Yes, darling”

I meticulously prepare my lie. Trying my best to sound confident with my words, right?!

“I was wandering through the hallway” you scratch your head “and I overheard you say ‘how is my son going’ on the phone?”

“And?”

Be fucking for real in this moment. Just confirm or deny what I'm asking? Is it that hard?

“Can’t you read the room? Why would I ask you this?”

“Out of curiosity?”

“Don’t you think you have a little bit of explaining to do?”

“Love," he leans back on his seat and sighs before carrying on "if there’s something I need to tell you I will do it in due time. However, I do not recall talking loudly on the phone. So, I take it you were… secretly listening to my private conversation. It’s just a speculation, don’t get offended. If you do and question me then I hit the bull’s eye”

“How dare you, Leo? I did not do that?”

“You’re sure about that. Let me see… Ah you heard the lady’s name, right?”

You avert your eyes. They observe the ficus bonsai plant. You look at it for a good minute. Darn it! I thought I was cautious enough. Was he aware of my movements behind that door? Did I make too much noise? What am I getting stressed about?

Your silence corroborates his suspicion.

“You shouldn’t worry about her. You’re the one I am with and I am obsessed with you if this can reassure anything. She’s a relative of mine so there is no use in hating her or ‘my son’.You’re so cute when you’re angry. I would like to see that side of yours more often. I know how to put it to work.”

You quickly change the topic of this conversation

“Let me take this to the kitchen.”

“No way! Let me do the work. I'll take this, put it in the dishwasher and I’ll call it a day concerning work. We’re going out. I’m going to give you the attention you need. The only thing left for you to do is to go get dressed.”

You go directly to his closet and pick one of his silk button up shirts. You chose a maroon one. Get black high knee boots and let your hair down.

“You look stunning!!”

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad either.”

“You got jokes, huh. C’mon let’s go!”

A skincare shop; your safe haven, numerous smells flood your nostrils and you can try new products.

Oh, body oil and a whole new set for shower and bath routine. I have to check this out.

Skincare shops that let you try their sample products are a must. Of course, sanitising hands before touching my face is necessary. The smell of the store floods your nostrils.

The extensive sort of products never cease to amaze you. A papaya one draws your attention.

The worker informs you that it is a new arrival and it progressively makes success. You open it. Honestly, the smell is divine. It makes your skin shine and they also have body yoghurt for it.You need to get at least two you put in your basket.

“May I please get the whole set for this fragrance twice.”

“Coming ma’am. Is there anything else you would like to have?”

“Not for the moment. If need be I’ll ask.”

“I get it.”

Next comes the argan body oil. Some body butters for a change you get an aloe vera one, honey and the last one is cocoa butter. You pay all this with one of Leonard’s cards.

You got a ton of compliments. Each time those came from men, Leo’s embrace tightened around your waist. You interpreted it as ‘I’m reminding you that you are only mine and I am yours. Don’t forget that’

But when women showered him with praise specifically because he looks like that. You were fuming inside. Bitches, don’t touch what doesn’t belong to you. Girl, you better get your hands off of my man before I start swinging. But he politely declined them, leaving them horrified with his comments

“I already have a wonderful lady by my side as you can see or maybe you don’t since you keep insisting like that. I can’t do women like you: you may ask why? The answer is simple” he leans closer in their ears to disclose the secret

“You simply cannot keep up with my high libido! When you are able to endure a sex marathon, let me know. I’ll gladly call you back. That is if I am on interested in someone else.”

He intently ogles your figure after he's done with his monologue. And he leaves them there, by the way these ladies are often well off and they’re just ten years older than him but he tried it twice. He thought it was better for him not to do it ever again.

"Why is everyone gone?"

"Because I am the one renting the store for two hours. You can get anything you need."

There is one employee mainly attending to your needs, picking up the clothes you tell him to and you also listen to what he has to suggest.

Your eyes spotted the perfect dress.

It's a black spaghetti strap dress with a vertiginous slit that is probably on your hip bone and goes a tad bit up. You have to try this on. It is the dress!

When you enter the dress room, Leo goes after you and sits on the main sofa while you go change.

The first item you tried on was a midnight blue baby doll dress, there wasn’t much shine to it. It enhances your cleavage and makes your legs look superb with the peep toe suede black shoes. Fairly discreet but effective, nice!

You draw the curtain and ask Leo.

“What do you think about this one?”

It takes him a good minute to utter his opinion upon this outfit.

“I think it looks pretty on you but we both know you’re less likely to call it your fave fit.”

“You’re right! I’ll try some more on.”

You draw the curtain back and try on a scandalous pair of jean short shorts. Honestly by the look of it, you’re pretty sure this will leave your buttcheeks without any supervision whatsoever but it doesn’t hurt to try something new? You pair this one with a crochet crop top that leaves nothing to the imagination concerning your pierced nipples. It’s small, you got some underboob hanging but damn it looks good. This fit completed by sandals or mules would be perfect. You’ll get some later.

You draw the curtain again for your eyes to land on him. You do a little slow spin for him to check out what you’re wearing. When you’re done you don’t miss his smirk as well as his change of tone.

“What do we have here?”

You play dumb, he knows exactly what this is about so just say it.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“So you wanna play like that…”

“Play what? I don’t get what you’re saying.” You continue “I think this is a great outfit for summer so I’m getting this one.”

His eyes for some reason are still glued on your nips.

“You never informed me you had pierced nipples?”

“You never asked about it so why would I?”

"Behave!"

“Oh!” you giggle “You’re really going to do that here?”

“Do what?”

“Great, keep playing dumb. I like that.”

Next item is a golden tulle peplum dress, adorned with a black belt that highlights your cinched waist. Majestic embroidery on the hem of it. You put your hands on your hips and strike the Josuke Hijikata pose.

"That's a business woman type o’ fit. We’re getting that one!"

"And… my opinion?"

He eyed you up and down. He motioned his left hand for you to do a 180. You oblige. He bites his lower lip. I can't wait to be next to her in that dress. Good Lord, have mercy on me! I don't think I deserve her sometimes.

"I know you like it."

"A little bit."

"You can always grow to like it. We don’t have to get it now. Maybe later when a few important dates come up."

"Yeah, let’s do that!”

This black spaghetti strap risqué-ish dress. Woah. This is trouble. No panties already because of the slit. Let me just see his reaction.

“Uhm… what do you think?”

“Sit on my lap.”

You do. His hand lands on your hip bone and he strokes it, painfully slowly.

“What are you doing, Leo?”

“Nothing honey. I am appreciating the gift before my eyes. Won't you let me?”

“I'm your gift.”

“No underwear too? My goodness, you're a menace.”

“You wanted to see lacy panties?”

No answer for this one. You get up and leave to try the other item. He calls the employee.

“Please, I would like to have the catalogue for this specific dress.”

“I'll bring a copy to you right away. Anything else?”

“I want this dress in cobalt blue and black.”

“Noted and added to your item list, sir.”

This is the last one I'm trying. A strapless trumpet dark olive green dress. I feel like a princess. It's so long, I’d have to pair this with stripper height type heels because the only other option is to get it tailored. Yeah, the last one might be it.

"Here I am."

A little twirl to showcase this lovely dress.

"You look absolutely stunning!"

"I’m getting this one tailored."

"Great idea."

Shopping is done for this you don’t know the cost because Leo insisted that you shouldn’t know. That’s only if I don’t figure it out myself.

In the car

I’m going to stop this semblance of tangible peace. I have to. I won’t back down until I know who she is to Leo.

“So, won’t you tell me who she is?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Aura? Who else could it be?”

"No, I’m not. It simply doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, that's between her and me.”

Why is he trying to keep the matter private? I… I thought there were no secrets between us but apparently I am undoubtedly wrong. Where did I sign up for this type of suspicious behaviour? He does not budge one bit when I want to know this person’s identity. What is he trying to hide?

“Want to keep this going?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, yes you do. You. fucking. do. Leo!”

“Why are you making a scene all of sudden, Y/n?”

"It is my legitimate right to."

"This is something out of your control, get over it!"

You know what. Good for you I’m out this shit

Leo leaves the car without looking at you. You can sense he’s over it. Your persistence is something he might not like as of now.

I ain’t changing for nobody. He better tell me who she is before I find it myself.

“Haruki please, take me home.”

“Yes, ma'am. I just have to inform sir Burns that I am doing it.”

He reaches for his phone and looks for Leo’s number in his contacts list. As he is about to press the call button, you stop him from doing it.

Haruki has never experienced someone grabbing his arm in such a way. He looks at your hand and then his eyes make contact with yours. Well, this is definitely something out of his reach yet the least he can do is listen to what you have to tell him.

“Please, don’t! He’ll come looking for me and I don’t want him to. I would like to be alone.”

“Understood.”

You provide him with your address. It’s a short silent car ride of twenty minutes. You’re on your phone checking a few emails you have purposely ignored up until now. You redact them and program them all to be sent by this evening at eight o’ clock. The car finally stops moving. Haruki quits the driver’s seat to open the door for you. But first, he gets your shopping bags.

“Thank you ever so much Haruki.”

“There’s no problem. My pleasure.”

He also gives you his card to let you know you can call him.

“I don’t know what happened between you and the boss but if there’s anything I can do to help you. Please, do not hesitate calling me!”

“That is very sweet of you. Drive back safely, Haruki.”

“I will.”

And just like that he leaves you at your door. You send him a message right away to let him know your number that way he can save it. But you didn’t expect this peculiar message from him.

Ma’am, it is none of my business to interfere between you and the boss but I have to let you know that he doesn’t cheat on women. He is not of that kind. Have a wonderful evening!

Haruki

Chapter 2 of After all, it's not bad idea to get a Sugar Daddy

Let me know what you think about it! Any kind of feedback is welcome!!(ps don't be rude)

m.list

2023 @ kaedeakeshisworld

Translations/ modifications/replicas/property of my work are strictly prohibited.

#poc! reader #black female reader #sugar daddy leonard burns #reader insert #leonard burns x black reader #fire force x black reader #leonard burns x you #leonard burns x y/n #leonard burns smut #fire force smut #black reader smut #enen no shouboutai smut #fluff

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itsbansheebitch · 1 year

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I can't even. This article doesn't even make him look good. He admits he's still messaging minors. He is so disconnected from reality.

“Quickly, please name five famous male gay celebrities from the ages of 20 to 25,” he says. “You can’t because they don’t exist.” - James Charles

Remember this is the guy who defended Colleen Ballinger and called Adam McIntyre a liar. He was fine with a 30 something year old sending lacy underwear to a 13/14 year old. He could easily date someone older, but he CHOOSES to message minors. This is so disgusting and spits in the faces of everyone he's affected.

He complains about being "canceled" but then is dead silent when Adam, Johnny, Becky, Oliver, Ella, Alex, and more come out about their stories. Not to mention the victim blaming in this article. he is AN ADULT he should know better! I don't care if he's in his 20s, as someone younger than him, I find his behavior to be REALLY WEIRD at BEST.

Not to mention Colleen's Ballinger's lawyer may or may not have defended Armie Hammer, Prince Andrew, Brian Singer, Danny Masterson (and maybe Bill Cosby, can't confirm though). :/ The lawyer also sent a cease and desist to to the WRONG email. The email of a fan account of the H3 Podcast (Ethan's Basement). That's some Onision energy lol (Wrong Chris Hansen)

I'm so done with YouTubers (Especially OG ones) being creeps and predatory. Someone needs to crowdfund a lawsuit fund for these kids. Some of these kids have JUST turned 18. Colleen and her family KNEW that Trent was at LEAST creepy towards kids, enough for them to warn him against messaging people under 18 years old. He literally told Oliver that when HE WAS 13 YEARS OLD. You don't even want to know what else he messaged them.

I want to add that Johnny, Becky, and Oliver are not "Weenies" (one of the group chats), however, this does not make their experience any less valid, in fact I'd say it is even more horrifying since that means THERE ARE EVEN MORE VICTIMS.

This situation is insane and my heart goes out to those effected. Both the "direct" victims, those speaking out AND those staying silent. My heart also goes out to former fans of Colleen, I know how it feels to find out a creator isn't who you thought they were. I hope you all find peace. <3

It should also be said that Colleen has children. She has a family channel, a vlog channel. I'm not saying she or her family should be harassed, but we need to hold them accountable for their actions. If Adam is telling the truth about being sent Trisha Paytas' nudes at ~15 years old (which I have no reason to believe otherwise, however, I am open to the truth no matter what side it come from) then Colleen may have committed a FEDERAL CRIME.

This isn't YouTube drama, it's crime.

#youtube apology #youtube #ukelele #colleen ballinger #james charles #makeup community #adam mcintyre #armie hammer #prince andrew #brian singer #danny masterson #h3 podcast #h3h3podcast #h3h3productions #family channel #onision type beat

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beautifulletdownfics · 4 years

Text

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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mintaka14 · 4 years

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This is a bit of something that got in my way while I was working on the ML ballet AU. Turns out I still have a grain or two of Lila salt in me. Quickspinner’s Out of Your League (from the All That Remains collection) needs the credit for a bit of backstory that I had in mind here. And yes, this is Lukanette. Always.

Lila wasn’t above using her mother’s sense of guilt to her own advantage. She also had no problem with feeding that guilt. A few sighs and teary comments when her mother (yet again) had to cancel on Lila to deal with something at the embassy, or a subtle reminder about all the times Lila had been left on her own in their apartment was all grist to the mill, and Lila had to admit that it had paid off in a big way this time.

Her mother had pulled every string and favour at her disposal for Lila’s birthday party, and Jagged Stone himself was going to be putting in an appearance. Lila was jubilant.

She watched the ballroom at the embassy – how her mother had managed that one Lila didn’t know, and honestly didn’t care – filling up with her classmates and everyone she’d ever met, and she allowed herself a satisfied smile.

Of course, Marinette wasn’t there. Lila had had an enjoyable month of it, tormenting the goody-two-shoes over it, and the beautiful part was that no one had even caught a hint of what she was really doing. She hadn’t been so crass as to leave Marinette out of the party invitations, oh no! She had handed the girl a gilt-edged invite with her most charming, and insincere, smile as she made a point of telling Marinette how much she hoped that Marinette would be there. Their classmates had eaten it up with a spoon, falling all over Lila to tell her how generous and forgiving she was, given the way Marinette had been so hostile to her, and all the while Lila had smiled sweetly and watched Marinette twist in the trap.

If Marinette begged off the party, she was the bad guy for refusing Lila’s olive branch. If Marinette came, then Lila won, and she would get to watch Marinette swallow her pride and suffer all night, or crack and create drama. Either way, it was all good, and Lila had had fun making little digs and comments about the party in front of Marinette for the weeks leading up to it.

As Lila accepted everyone’s tributes and praise, greeting each new arrival with becoming diffidence and subtly trying to gauge the worth of each gift that they piled on the table at the entrance, she came to the conclusion that Marinette had decided not to put in an appearance. Her smile grew wider.

“Lila!” Alya had arrived, and swept her into a hug, surveying the ballroom, and the tables of food, with an impressed eye. Behind her, Nino grinned and bobbed his head in greeting. “Amazing party, girl. And I can’t believe you got Jagged Stone to come!”

Lila gave her a modest smile. “It’s all about who you know, and Jagged was more than happy to come when he heard it was for my birthday.” She looked around as if searching for something, and made her eyes wide and hopeful. “Did… did Marinette come with you?”

Alya shifted uncomfortably. “Er… Marinette couldn’t make it. But she asked me to wish you a happy birthday.”

Oh, no, she didn’t, Lila thought, suppressing the smirk that pulled at the corners of her mouth. Alya, you liar.

She forced her face into a sorrowful pout with just the right touch of hurt. “It’s okay. It would have been nice if we could put aside whatever this grudge is that Marinette has against me just for once, but I guess not…”

Alya and Nino smiled awkwardly. And then her mother touched her arm, a harried expression on her face as she drew Lila away out of earshot for a moment.

“Lila, sweetheart, there’s some bad news,” her mother said anxiously, and Lila felt her smile slip a little. “We’ve just had word that Jagged Stone had to cancel at the last minute.”

“What do you mean, Jagged Stone cancelled?” Lila almost shrieked. A few heads turned towards them, and Lila brought herself back under control before they could overhear. “Mama, you need to fix this. Get him back!”

“Sweetheart, I can’t. His agent said it was unavoidable, and they’re paying the late cancellation fine in the contract. At this late notice I can’t get anyone else to come instead.”

Lila let her eyes fill with tears – she’d practised tearing up in front of her mirror, but in this case the tears were very real.

“Mama,” she insisted, and the harried lines on her mother’s face deepened.

“You’ll still have a lovely party,” her mother said weakly. “The food is wonderful, and you still have the DJ for entertainment.”

“But I told everyone that Jagged Stone was coming!”

“I’m so sorry, darling.” Her head turned towards the doorway, where an aide was waving a phone at her. “I have to go take this call.”

The moment that her mother had turned away, Lila’s mouth pinched with anger and frustration, and she barely stopped herself from stamping her foot.

“Hey girl, is everything okay?”

She heard Alya’s voice call out to her, and she smoothed out her face, spinning around with artificial enthusiasm. Several of their classmates were clustered behind Alya, and she turned a smile on them as well.

“So,” Alya continued, “we’re all really excited! When’s Jagged getting here?”

Lila gave a moue of only slightly exaggerated disappointment.

“Can you believe it?” she sighed, one hand fluttering up to her chest. “Jagged had to cancel. It was last minute, and I’m so worried it’s because that awful throat condition of his has flared up again.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh no! You can’t tell anyone about it, no one is supposed to know, but that was why he couldn’t do the zoom call with the class last month like he’d promised.”

There was a ripple of sympathy and concern through her classmates, but then Alix made a sceptical noise at the back of the group.

“Throat condition? But you said it was sunspot interference with the internet connection.”

“No, I was trying to keep his throat problems secret-“

“It was Clara Nightingale you said had a serious throat condition, and that was why she had to cancel helping out with the charity auction like she’d told you,” Alix interrupted.

“No, that was Jagged-“

“If recall accurately,” Max spoke up, “and I do, Clara Nightingale had the throat condition. I could have Markov replay the conversation,” he added helpfully, and Lila spun around in dismay.

“No, that’s not-“

“There have been a lot of cancellations,” Alix said in growing suspicion. Lila could see the faces around her registering confusion, and there was a growing murmur as her classmates tallied things up. She had to stop this before they came to the realisation that…

“What about that interview you promised me with Ladybug?” Alya was asking her, her voice sharp. “The one that got cancelled because of an akuma, except I could never find anything about that akuma, and you never rescheduled. And that meeting that Nino was supposed to have with that director?”

Nino wasn’t saying anything, his face hidden by his cap as he stared at the floor. The muttering was growing louder now as more people were working things out and the number of promises mounted up.

“Oh my god,” Juleka mumbled behind the fall of her streaked black and purple hair. “He was right.”

“Who?” Rose asked, but Alix was talking again before Juleka could answer.

“You didn’t need to fib about Jagged Stone being here to get us to come to your party, Lila,” Alix said as the expressions turned to disgust and disbelief.

“But I didn’t!” Lila protested, and for once she had been telling the truth. “I swear, Jagged really was coming. You have to believe me!”

“I said it was a bit hinky that Jagged Stone would have agreed to play a teenage party like this,” Alix told the group around her.

“I’m not lying!” Lila insisted, her voice growing shrill as the expressions turned to disgust and disbelief. “He did a signing for Chloe.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Chloe, and the mayor himself roped him into that.”

“But my mother works for the embassy! And I saved his kitten!”

Again, Alix snorted, and Alya had her arms folded now, frowning.

“You know, I couldn’t find anything about that online, or about Jagged even having a kitten. The more I think about it, the more I wonder why I believed that in the first place.”

“You believed Marinette,” she couldn’t help the slight snarl at that name, “when she said she designed stuff for Jagged and he came to her house.”

“But she didn’t say that,” Nino pointed out. “We saw all of that for ourselves. But now I think about it, I haven’t seen anything that proves you’ve even met him.”

“But I have! He really was coming, and he was going to sing Happy Birthday to me! He just had to cancel.”

“Sure, Lila.”

After all the stories Lila had spun, and the lies and embellishments, how could it be the truth that they refused to believe? The group drifted away from her while Lila stared after them in open-mouthed shock. She was left in a spreading circle of isolation at her own party.

The only person who acknowledged her existence was the tall boy with the blue hair over near the buffet table. Lila frowned, trying to work out where she knew him from. He was older than her class, and the ripped jeans and scruffy hoodie were out of place among the smartly dressed guests, but he looked familiar, and what was he doing at her party anyway? He raised the vol au vent in his hand in an unsmiling salute.

Lila made her way over to him.

“Now, where do I know you from?” she asked with an attempt at coyness, in spite of the fury still seething through her at her classmates’ revolt. His expression didn’t change.

“We’ve met before. I’m Juleka’s brother, Luka.”

Juleka’s brother. Marinette. She had a sudden memory of the steps outside the school and an older boy with blue hair and a guitar slung over his back, coolly warning her about what would happen if she messed with Marinette or his sister. Her eyes narrowed.

He said, “I just wanted to say Happy Birthday, and I’m sorry to hear that Jagged fell through on you.”

“Jagged?” Lila sucked in a breath at that. “What do you know about Jagged Stone?”

“You underestimated Marinette,” the blue-haired boy said calmly. “It’s all about who you know, isn’t that what you said, Lila? It’s all about connections. Except Marinette’s are real.”

She let out a smothered shriek.

“Marinette did this! How could she-“

Luka was shaking his head. “Marinette didn’t do a thing. She’s been trying so hard to take the high road, and she’s not vindictive. I did warn you, though, what would happen if you threatened someone I care about again – just because I don’t want to play your kind of games doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t.”

“Then you turned them all against me! You-“

“I didn't even need to do that,” Luka said, and gave her an infuriatingly composed smile. “In the end, all I really needed to do was tell my dear old dad how you treated his favourite designer. I didn’t even have to bend the truth to do it, and the music just played from there.”

Lila’s mouth fell open. “Jagged Stone… is your father?!”

“Surprised the hell out of me, too,” Luka muttered, and finished the pastry he was holding. He dusted the crumbs off his hands.

“Connections,” Luka said, and shoved himself away from the table. “I have them too, and I’m more than willing to use them for Marinette’s sake. Thank you for the lovely party.”

He gave her a little wave and walked away, leaving her standing there in the ruins of her reputation.

#Lila salt #Lukanette endgame

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scrabbleknight · 3 years

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Just skimmed (sorry if that's insulting or anything) through your fic and DANG it was amazing. I have a few questions about its version of Season 2: 1. What transpires in the three temples? 2. How would Sasha react to Anne and Marcy's betrayals in True Colors? 3. How would the Boonchuys react after Sasha tells them what happened in Amphibia?

YOOOOOOOOO

I've been waiting for someone to ask stuff about the fic since the finale and you're the first. Thanks for the ask, dude! 🙏

To answer your questions:

1. The 3 Temples 🏛️🛕🏯

The 3 temples will be a bit different in terms of their trials and theme (for narrative reasons). I don't know what they are yet though :I Also, all 3 girls will be there from the beginning, and Anne's temple will be the last one.

Marcy's temple will have one change and that's the jumping puzzle. It was too obvious in canon and really, they didn't even need to read the script to figure out the only 2 green tiles were safe. Also, it talked about envy for some reason??? For SatF, I want it to be more illusion-based and Marcy has to be the one to break them out. I might try to bring the envy thing back.

Anne's temple will be the same. It'll actually be a good trial since she's not as nice as canon now. In the show, the trials was just a way to show how good Anne was and it didn't really expand her character in a meaningful way (bcoz she's already that good). So now, the same trials would have greater impact!

For obvious reasons, Sasha's temple will have the biggest change. In canon, the theme was about "strength with persistence". I've decided to change that because it doesn't fit the story I want to tell. No offense to canon btw! It did it's job well. But "persistence" is not the trait I want to talk about. I have a few ideas but nothing concrete yet. Also, the trials will differ!

2. True Colours ⚔️🔥

This is where all of Sasha's lessons and her villain redemption finally reaches its peak! Much like canon, Anne reveals her betrayal and Marcy reveals the truth in this super tragic way. The trust is broken. But how does Sasha react?

At Anne: Sasha would be pissed. She trusted Anne and gave an olive branch and everything. She goes on angry rant and for the first time ever, Sasha is the one who cuts Anne out.

And Anne agrees. Anne knows early on that what she was doing was horrible and accepted that. By this point, she's tired and depressed (unlike canon!Sasha's controlling jealousy). So she reveals her plans: she's going to send all 3 of them home, and leave Grime in charge. Everyone gets what they want (except for Marcy, ironically).

And after that, they go their separate ways. At least, that's the idea. Anne was never a good planner. Sasha's concerned over Anne easily giving up but is too angry and refuses to make amends. That is, until the Marcy reveal.

At Marcy: Sasha is betrayed. All this time, she's been holding the guilt to herself, blaming herself for what happened when in reality, it was Marcy's doing. Marcy knows how much Sasha was hurt but refused to tell the truth until it was forced. Sasha opened her heart about it, and Marcy just laughed it off. When the reveal occurred, you can see the exact moment both girls break into pieces.

But Anne? Anne feels betrayed the most. Anne was always closer to Marcy than Sasha and to realise that not just one, but two of her friends are liars? It shatters her. That she can't trust anyone? That everyone around her had been using her (Grime included but he got better)? That this world is her Hell.

Then BOOM! Calamity powers. Have you ever watched Naruto? You know that time Naruto fought against Pain and completely lost it when Hinata died? How he entered into a berserk state? Yeah, Anne gets that. The powers are called "Calamity" for crying out loud.

3. The Boonchuys 👨‍👩‍👧🐸

Now, I'm still not sure how and who gets sent back home in True Colours. Right now, I'm actually pushing towards Marcy being sent home, you know for the irony of it. Marcy was the one who wanted to leave and in the end, she's the only one that comes back, without her friends at that. But for the sake of the question, let's assume Sasha gets sent home and goes to the Boonchuys.

Sasha tries her best to explain. She does the same thing Anne does (drawing on some paper, but hers suck) and obviously, leaves out some parts. She doesn't want to worry the Boonchuys any further.

Mommy Boonchuy (yes, I'm calling her that) wants to know more but it's Daddy Boonchuy's level-headedness that keeps her from going emotional. They talk about wanting to call CPS (child protection services) but Sasha says "NO!" because it'll get awkward between her parents and her. So she just lives with them but, like, secretly.

It's tough initially because Mommy doesn't like Sasha and was against her wearing her daughter's clothes but they have a talk and they'll get better. She even starts acting like Sasha is her own daughter and it does get awkward (since Mommy is basically just using Sasha to fill the void and Sasha does the same). It's unhealthy to say the least, but gets healthier!

Daddy Boonchuy is the same as canon. I, uh, don't really know what to do with him.

#amphibia #amphibia au #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #marcy wu #satf #sasha and the frogs #ask answered #amphibia fanfic #mrs boonchuy #mr boonchuy

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roundedloaf · 3 years

Text

Truth of The Divine character thoughts!

Nils: i want to stab you with a rusty hammer. go fuck yourself

the rest (actual detailed thoughts!) under the cut

Luciana: This is the character that felt most like she was doing things (or not doing things) because the plot demanded it. Especially after Cora’s self harm in front of Ampersand. Why was she not making an effort to reach out to Cora? As a reader we don’t really much sort of read on this, and I would have liked a bit more.

A lot of the book is concerned with that direct absence of care, hell the book starts with Cora being unable to access mental health treatment, Nikola isn’t getting help for his addiction, and Ampersand doesn’t even know how to reach out. Kaveh is the opposite of this, he is the only character that has a proper supportive family and has been able to utilize help to come out the other end a better person.

so like i understand why from a plot perspective that had to happen but i would have liked a bit more explanation/interaction there

Cora: oh sweetie :(

In the first book, she slightly had the same issue with Luciana in this book where she felt more like she was doing things because the plot demanded it than for herself, whereas in this book her character far more drove the plot.

i don’t really want to talk to much on the details of the mental health stuff rn, but I thought it was well handled and appreciated reading it

I do hope in future books we explore that connection back to her family again, and to Olive especially.

Ampersand: i read this book in like 2 days, back to back reread of Axiom’s End, and I was surprised by how much more distant/how little he felt like he was in this book. In the middle chunk of the book we learn a significant amount about Ampersand from Nikola. My brain keeps getting stuck on the idea of him as a xenobiologist, and the responsibility and realization weighing on him from a planet he declared not-people, to then come back find them people and know your own will cause their downfall.

Ampersand is also a huge liar, this is sort of there in the first book, but the interactions with Nikola (who ill assume is being truthful) reveal the absolute level of his lies. He’s incapable of realizing when others would find information important, and can be very short sighted in a number of ways. In some of his lies to Cora it felt like he didn’t know how not to lie.

There’s such an interesting contrast between the different components of his character in this book, his power versus his shame versus his lies versus his attempts to help cora versus his inability to give up obelus versus his shock at Cora hurting him. Ampersand is actively a shitty person for a significant portion of this book, but a wholly tragic figure too.

Nikola: Such an entertaining character, I love his speech his clear love for humans, and his contrast at being so open, even when that openness is for things humans find horrible.

I love actively Nikola loves. He invented faster than light travel just for his symphite. Kaveh shows him kindness in a way his own culture could never bear, and he falls in love. Nikola is tragic because things could have been different, but the world wasn’t.

Kaveh: He didn’t hear the fifth bullet.

(i refuse to look up the proper quote)

Kaveh’s role in this book is to be the one good character. The one person with his shit together enough for active caring. The person who gets to say this could be different. That people can care. Of course he died.

I really like that he comes at this from a totally different perspective than the other characters. He does not give two shits about first contact except in that it affects people, that politicians will twist it to do harm and that he likes these people back.

I felt a little uncomfy at a couple of points about his relationship with Cora, but I think that’s less about him than the situation that Cora was in.

(Maybe thats part of the point, it would be so easy for him to be bad, and he chooses to make the effort. But he only has that ability because of the support he has had.)

#truth of the divine #noumea series #noumea

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jbuffyangel · 4 years

Text

The Domino Falls: Arrow 1x12 Review (Vertigo)

It’s officially 1 year today since Arrow went off the air and I thought what better way to mark the moment than by chatting about the show we all love with a review!

We have begun the slow and steady climb to more Felicity Smoak content

and “Vertigo” is a monumentally HUGE moment in Oliver and Felicity’s relationship. One little meet up at Big Belly Burger is what tips the dominoes over for Oliver Queen.

Let’s dig in...

Olicity

Let’s get right to the good stuff. Of course, there’s other stuff that happened in this episode, but do we care? Only a little. Oliver is on the hunt for The Count – the man responsible for the Vertigo epidemic and Thea’s looming drug trial. The Count is in my Top 5 of best Arrow villains. Of course his first episode coincides with an Olicity milestone. That rat bastard worked the hardest for our ship.

The judge has decided to make an example out of Ms. Queen in hopes of deterring others from trying Vertigo. Seriously, does that ever work?

So, he chucked Thea’s plea agreement right out the window. Big Bro in The Hood is hoping to serve up a bigger fish – THE FISH – to help get his sister off the hook. Oliver is generally anti innocent people dying from illicit drugs, so there are unselfish reasons at play too.

No one knows the identity of The Count, so after roughing up the streets and getting nowhere, Oliver reaches out to Alexi Leonov. We met Leonov in 1x03, but for those who need a refresher - he leads the Starling City chapter of the Bratva. This is the first time Diggle meets Leonov, discovers Oliver speaks Russian, is a captain in the Russian mob, and can fake kill someone.

It was a big day for John.

Leonov sets up the meet with The Count and Oliver attempts to buy some Vertigo off him, sans mask and arrow. The cops show up and Oliver tries to run down The Count as he escapes, but is stabbed in the chest with two syringes full of Vertigo.

Never fear, Oliver has his magic herbs from Lian Yu which apparently can cure drug overdose. (Maybe share with the rest of the world?) Vertigo makes him momentarily murderous (more than usual) and he screams a lot.

THE POINT OF ALL THIS EXPOSITION IS ALL ROADS LEAD TO FELICITY SMOAK.

Diggle and Oliver think it would be wise to have someone analyze the Vertigo… for some reason. This leads our dynamic duo to Queen Consolidated and to our favorite blonde hacker.

Felicity rambles about Oliver’s haggard appearance (re: see drug overdose) and a cat being tased (she connects those disparate dots, I assure you). He offers yet another ridiculous lie and we embark on one of the funniest scenes in Arrow’s history.

Arrow struggled to find its footing for a long time, but “Vertigo” is the beginning of the writers settling on to solid ground. If you ever have to wonder why the show focused on Oliver, Diggle and Felicity as the core characters you only need to watch this scene for the answer.

The chemistry between all the actors is amazing. Arrow is not known for its humor (especially in Season 1), but between Emily Bett Rickard’s perfect delivery of another one of Felicity’s awkward and inadvertent sexual slip ups,

Stephen Amell’s inability to stay in character as he laughs right along with us,

and David Ramsey’s stone cold straight man reaction –

this entire scene is comedy gold.

I vividly remember watching it live, laughing my ass off, and wanting more of EVERYTHING these three have to offer. And that’s exactly what we’re going get.

“I ran out of sports bottles” reigned as Arrow’s funniest scene for a solid two years (until this episode), but it also marks the worst of Oliver’s terrible lies to Felicity. It’s so bad even Diggle has to remark on it in the elevator. Oliver’s lies are horrible, everyone knows Felicity doesn’t buy a word of it, and their need for her help is increasing with every day. Something has to change.

As we discussed in 1x11, Oliver is prone to distrust and very reticent to change his mind – ever. He’s been burned so many times in the past it’s difficult for him to view anyone through a trusting lens.

And yet, Oliver told his deepest and darkest secret to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yes, Diggle had soldier skills Oliver would find useful as a partner. He knew John could hold his own in the field, but it’s not just about his abilities. It was also about the person Diggle is. Oliver did his homework and realized he needed John to survive. There was a wellspring of humanity in John that Oliver wasn’t able to access inside himself. He was subconsciously reaching out for help - like a moth to a flame.

It is the same with Felicity. Yes, Oliver needs her abilities – perhaps even more than what Diggle has to offer. (It’s not like Oliver Queen can’t handle himself in the field). But he is also drawn to Felicity’s warmth, kindness, humor, compassion and openness. Oliver’s heart is encased in iron and welded shut. He doesn’t know how to open it back up. It’s been dark and alone for so long. And yet, Oliver returns again and again to this brightly shining light and why? Because he craves it.

Something has to change. We need that final push, the first domino to fall, so Oliver can make that final step and tell Felicity who he really is. Diggle was easier. He’d fought a war before. Oliver also knew about Andy’s death. Remember – Oliver brought Diggle onboard when he needed help with Deadshot. Manipulative? Yes, but it worked.

Felicity is trickier. I’m sure Oliver has done his research.

Well, yes that kind of research, but also into her background. There’s no dead family member requiring retribution. No war zone she’s recently returned from. She’s an MIT graduate with a penchant for hacking working at a global conglomerate as a wildly overqualified IT tech. The girl doesn’t have so much as a parking ticket. The leap to vigilantism would be rather big.

I also think a fair amount of his hesitancy to involve her in anything related to The Hood is the danger. Diggle can handle himself. Felicity is a different story. Oliver is constantly battling the need for Felicity’s help versus the risk he’s putting her at by asking for it. The lies are to protest Oliver’s secret identity, but also to shield Felicity from it.

Whether it is Oliver’s own distrustfulness, his inability to see an angle to reel Felicity in, his desire to protect her or all three – it doesn’t matter. He continues to lie to her. Oliver isn’t ready to make that big leap either.

Source: yet-i-remain-quiet

Until… Felicity asks to meet him at Big Belly Burger. Oliver waits for her, looking out the window on a rainy night, thinking of Yao Fei.

Oliver feared Yao Fei betrayed him and was really working for Fyers, but neither was true. He convinced Fyers of his loyalty by pretending to kill Oliver. (So that’s who Oliver learned it from!) Yao Fei wakes Oliver just as he rolls his “dead” body into the waterfall. He also slips Oliver a map with a location marked with the words “Survive.”

Oliver doubted his trust in Yao Fei, but in the end was shocked to find out he had it right all along. Yao Fei was exactly who Oliver thought he was – a good man. That final and literal push cemented Oliver’s belief in his friend and to trust his gut.

There will probably always be a debate as to when the writers began the shift towards Olicity. “We DiDn’T dEcIdE uNtIL sEaSoN 2,” is the standard story, but I’m a firm believer it began in Season 1 and often include this scene in my massive pile of evidence. The last scene in the episode either tees up the next or contains a lot of emotional significance. Felicity beings to carve out a lot of final scene time as the series progresses.

The last scene in “Vertigo” is romantically lit with rain drops shimmering on the window. Oliver and Felicity are meeting outside the office and ALONE. Soft instrumental music plays in the background. It feels more intimate than any scene they’ve shared before.

Source: andjustforthismoment

I still cannot get over Oliver “The Sex God” Queen waving at Felicity Smoak like a giddy school boy and then shaking his head over how completely uncool he looked. We watched this man leave a criminal suspended in the air with an arrow through his hand in the first scene and in the last he acts like a puppy. THE RANGE.

It’s clear Felicity is a little nervous as she exhales walking in. Is she nervous to be meeting with Oliver or nervous about what she has to say? Both. She tips her hand a bit by thanking Oliver for meeting her at Big Belly Burger. She did not want to have this discussion at the Queen mansion. (THE PLOT THICKENS).

It seems Oliver and Felicity are having similar conundrums about each other. Felicity is uncertain if she can trust Oliver and has been debating for weeks whether or not to tell him the full truth. SOUND FAMILIAR? Felicity has far more evidence of Oliver’s untrustworthiness. There’s no rambling this time. She lays out the cold hard facts which is Oliver Queen is a big, fat liar and she knows it. He knows it. They both know it. Felicity Smoak is nobody’s fool.

And yet, she trusts him. Even though Oliver has given her no reason to. Even though there are clearly things he’s not telling her. Even though Oliver has yet to show her the same trust. There is something Felicity sees in him which tells her Oliver is worthy of it. It is an unsubstantiated truth. Felicity is going with her gut and her gut says Oliver Queen is a good man.

This doesn’t stop her from asking him the simple question though. Felicity needs that little bit of reassurance before she makes the final leap.

At first, Oliver plays it off in his smarmy, smart ass and flippant way. It’s the Ollie Queen façade that always works with L*urel, Tommy, Lance, Moira and Thea.

It’s an act that’s never worked on Felicity. She sees through it now just like she’s always has. Her smile fades. Felicity breaks eye contact with Oliver and doesn’t hide her disappointment. She is tired of the games and lies. Felicity wants to talk to the real Oliver Queen. That’s the only man she will share this secret with.

All it takes is five seconds of Felicity’s disappointment for Oliver to drop the façade like a hot potato.

He even apologizes and promises Felicity he is worthy of her trust. Then, Felicity lowers the boom and hands him The List.

It is difficult to surprise Oliver Queen, but this one has him reeling. She hands the book to Oliver, the same book Robert gave him, but he hesitates taking it. He has no idea where this is going, so he defaults to his standard operating procedure and lies.

Oliver is not doing a stellar job covering his “my world is upside down” reaction, so I highly doubt Felicity believes him, but she lets it slide for now.

The more information she shares with Oliver the worse it gets. Felicity begins to fill in all the missing pieces to Walter’s disappearance and the guilt is pointing directly at Moira.

This is not the first time Oliver has reason to doubt his mother, but every time he’s able to reason away her involvement in anything nefarious. If he can’t do that on his own then Moira provides very plausible explanations (LIES), which allow Oliver to continuing looking at his family with a blind eye. But this? This is impossible to easily explain away. Particularly since WALTER was beginning to suspect his own wife.

Source: green-arrows-of-karamel

If The List cost Walter his life then Felicity is risking her own by showing it to anyone, particularly a Queen. She is literally putting her life in Oliver’s hands when she handed him that book. The first domino falls, but it’s not Oliver who pushes it over. It’s Felicity. She gives Oliver the truth when he’s given nothing but lies. Felicity trusts him absolutely when he’s done nothing to show he’s deserving of it. She risks everything while Oliver continues to hide everything.

Felicity shocks Oliver no differently than Yao Fei shocked him. We’ve been waiting all this time for Oliver to make that final step and in the end it is Felicity who gives their relationship the necessary push over the waterfall. It’s a cold awakening, but he can see things clearly now. She is like a flashlight illuminating all the answers clouded by his distrustfulness and hesitancy.

Felicity reveals so much of herself in this moment. First, she is willing to take risks if the cause is worth it. Giving Oliver that book took real courage. Second, the girl can keep a secret. She never said boo about anything related to Moira or Walter during Oliver’s little visits. Not even a hint! Three, Felicity Smoak sees clearly all the things Oliver is blind to.

This serves as an important lesson for Oliver. Felicity knows so much more than he ever gave her credit for. Most importantly, his gut was right about her and he was wrong to ever question it. Two mistakes he will never make again.

And now everything will change.

Thea and Moira

I’m not gonna sugar coat this for you guys. I was one hundred percent okay with Thea going to jail. Season 1 Thea is a pain in the ass. A couple episodes with her sitting in the slammer would be a welcomed break from the teenage ‘tude.

L*urel and Lance work out a sweetheart deal for Thea after the judge basically said he would throw the book at her. Thea will serve 500 hours of community service under the watchful gaze of L*urel Lance at CRNI. And Thea flat out refuses.

Now, typically I am a fan of anyone who tells L*urel Lance to go screw herself, but even this was too much for me. Thea wants to go to jail to stick it to her mother because she’s still convinced Moira cheated on Walter.

She didn’t cheat on Walter, Thea! Your mom just kidnapped him. So it’s fine.

Oliver decides to drop the Robert “I’m not the man you think I am” Queen bomb on Thea and tells her their father was a big hoe. Thea refuses to believe him and Moira is ticked because Oliver told the truth. Queens don’t do that EVER.

Moira: He loved you. No matter his faults. He loved you.

Thea wants to know why Moira took all the punishment for Robert’s sins and her answer is very simple. She was trying to protect Thea’s memory of her father. Moira Queen is as shady as they come, but her desire to protect her children is always the driving force of any decisions she makes – good, bad and the ugly.

Moira: One day I hope you’re lucky enough to have a daughter and then you’ll know why.

This is the essence of motherhood. We will serve ourselves up on a platter and take the brunt of their hurt and anger if we believe it protect or help our children in the long run. Right or wrong - it’s just the gig.

Source: queensarrow.

L*urel and Lance

L*urel and Detective Lance are really Thea’s only hope of avoiding significant jail time and, despite their history, Oliver has no problem groveling at their feet if it means protecting his sister. Luckily for Oliver, this week L*urel likes him, so she’s willing to do Thea a favor.

But her reason for wanting to help Thea turns out have very little to do with Oliver. It’s about Sara. When L*urel looks at Thea she sees all the wild abandon of Sara with all the red flags.

L*urel: For so long you and I have blamed Oliver for Sara's death, but Sara is to blame too.

Detective Lance isn’t too keen on helping Oliver or Thea, but L*urel calls out her father on his hypocrisy. He had no qualms about bailing Sara out after she shop lifted. The youngest Lance daughter seemed to get herself in to trouble long before she ever stepped onto the Queen’s Gambit and her father always helped her avoid the consequences of her actions. Until those consequences finally caught up with her.

This is the first time L*urel lays any blame at Sara’s feet. I find it wildly disturbing whenever I agree with L*urel, but damn it she has this one right. Oliver wasn’t the only one who cheated. Oliver wasn’t the only one who lied. Oliver wasn’t the only one who was selfish. Sara was all of those things too. Just because she paid for those mistakes with her life doesn’t erase the choices she made and the pain she caused. If someone held Sara responsible without destroying her life, like L*urel is trying to do with Thea just maybe she would have never gotten on the boat. Maybe.

The game of “What if?” is a torturous one. It never gives any definitive answers. But Detective Lance refusing to help Thea to stick it to Oliver isn’t fair. L*urel is right. Sure, it may hurt Oliver, but it won’t bring Sara back.

More importantly, it doesn’t hold Sara responsible in any way. Detective Lance is treating Sara the same in death as he did in life. She wasn’t a saint anymore than Thea is – no matter how much Lance romanticizes his memory of his daughter. L*urel and her father don’t resolve the Sara issue, but Lance helping Thea is an important step towards his acknowledgement of the truth and putting some of the blame where it belongs.

Stray Thoughts

Oliver is shirtless and handcuffed in the bunker is an absolutely wasted opportunity for an Olicity sex scene. Pretty sure I read a fic that started like it though. Source: @olivergifs

Bratva Oliver is cold, calculating and stylish. I don’t know what it is about that jacket you guys. It doesn’t things to me.

I say this as a person who was very anti murder throughout the show, but sometimes it’s great to watch Oliver do a little violence.

“Whoever you fear, fear me more!” As vigilante lines go this was a damn good one.

“I’m not the one going to prison.” Give it time, Moira. Give it time.

McKenna Hall makes her first episode appearance as the rotation of female guest stars continues while show desperately searches for a love interest Stephen has chemistry because it ain’t Katie Cassidy. (Psst! You found THE ONE already!!! Call off the search!)

Just for you multifandom folks out there McKenna is also Qetsiyah on The Vampire Diaries.

Why doesn’t Oliver give a sketch to the police of The Count? That could be helpful.

“I don’t need the bow.” Yeah, but you need to walk straight!

Musings of the Kiddo

Kiddo: How many times does he do this to her?

Me: Lie? A lot. She was very patient with him.

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

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noszkass · 3 years

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garrison "grady" oliver knox jr.

thirty two. podcast host. amateur sleuth. casey deidrick.

grady: [looks deeply into your eyes; pats your knee, sympathetically.] grady: “i don’t care.”

content warnings: mentions child neglect, parental abandonment, missing parent, (suspected) death of a parent, alcoholism.

dominant traits. opinionated, surface level arrogant, judgmental, creative, sarcastic, invasive, blunt/crass, antisocial, stubborn, self-aware, unyielding, grudge-holding, mouthy (read as: "brutally honest"), insensitive, protective, intuitive, reactive, self-reliant, observant, adaptable, impulsive.

fictional parallels. connor welsh (htgawm); jess mariano (gilmore girls); jughead jones (riverdale); stiles stilinski (teen wolf); nancy drew (cw nd); veronica mars (vm).

○ his name is grady. no one calls him garrison, not anymore. not since his mother was around. i say around, and not alive, because she isn't dead. just missing. a town native who moved away when she was pregnant with him, but brought a lot of the darker parts of miriam's well with her. he was raised on unfinished stories and embellished half truths about the place his mother grew up in─the place he eventually called home at fourteen─and, ultimately, is probably responsible for his interest in all things unexplained. and his father, well... his father is around georgia, somewhere, he supposes. they haven't spoken for a while. believe it of not, a relationship with your son doesn't cure at the bottom of a bottle.

○ his life pretty much always baseline sucks and his attitude and demeanor mirrors that. which is fine since grads is the type of guy who makes more acquaintances than he does friends. and even more enemies than that. he will casually put his nose in your business because "that’s my job" and he makes no apologies for who he is.

○ when he was younger he wanted to be a journalist, a photographer, and novelist and you can tell. too curious for his own good and heavily believes in not only checking his sources, but questioning everything. he's not afraid to stand up for the things he believes in or for the people he finds deserving of it, and has very little issue or care to what what consequences these actions might breed. he also may or may not be a coffee addict.

the corner booth at the local diner; twilight zone background noise; the smell of coffee seeping from moist skin; sweeping honesty; not only is the truth out there, but it also probably sucks; ring around the rosie was about the black plague; anti-social social club; dry sarcasm over milkshakes; swear jar that has his name on it; the company misery loves; mean nerd aesthetic; late nights in the studio with great music and a constant opinion.

plot hooks.

○ his family. well, his mother's family. the people she left behind, whatever's left of them. possibly an aunt (preferably his mother's twin, who he had no idea existed, so imagine that shock) who took him in when she went missing at fourteen and any potential children she might have? because cousin relationships are great and no one has your back or will kick your ass quite like family. can't imagine them being well off, more like town trash and maybe this aunt was the best of them. ○ veronica mars needs clients. ACAB indeed, but sometimes people need solutions to problems that a corrupted small-town government isn't capable (or willing) to get them. what does that mean? for the low price of [insert negotiation here] this knox boy will go out of his way to find the answers you need. husband fucking the secretary? photos will hold up nicely in divorce court─not to mention i'm a ~fantastic photographer. you get the idea. sure, it's not the prettiest (or cleanest) job, but it's easier to make money off liars, thieves, and cheating spouses than you might realize. especially in a small town with such an ugly history. ○ the unlucky barista/cashier/counter girl. it'd be nice to have a little back-and-forth relationship with someone who might work for his aunt? i imagined [his aunt] owns a coffee shop or cafe (or something of the sort) and he's always in there helping himself to free coffee and snacks and likes to poke and prod this person when he's bored via asking a million intrusive questions or just being his curious, obnoxious self. taken by noor ♡ ○ co-hosts of the night shift. well, it's not the doomsday podcast, certainly not with their following, but like a lot of people who find their way to miriam's well, they share the same basic general interest (unsolved mysteries, serial killers/true crime, paranormal/ghost hunting, lore, extraterrestrial, etc.) except, grady also likes to use his platform to bitch and moan about other things that happen in town. some topics more pointed than others, and often about public officials he has no business putting on the air and his fellow casters probably hate him doing. no one likes a target on their back. ○ pizza buddy + longtime friend. someone (preferably someone he considers close/from when he first moved to mw) who will go with him to flying saucers at two am for "out of stock" garlic knots (and/or an employee he bribes with🍃for said knots 👀) because he's an actual human garbage disposal and he hates himself just enough to like the aesthetic and that entire plot sounds fucking awesome?? bonus points if they both used to work there when they were younger, and now this shit is habit/a bastard tradition at this point. ○ doomsday descendants. characters who are part of the families who have abduction histories that he can interview and broadcast on his podcast─also pick their brain about every little detail and absolutely get on their nerves in some way or another.

#halfmoonrp #ch: garrison knox #type: blurb #this is a mess

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stillebesat · 5 years

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Stille’s Sanders Sides Master Post (Updated September 9th, 2022)

Here’s my official Master Post of my Sanders Sides Fics!

All of them can also be found on my Ao3 account NikaylaSarae. ^^;;

For Tumblr, the links to all my stories are below the cut. <3

Enjoy!

The Brilliant 3 A.M. Idea -Roman gets an Idea at 3am and must tell Thomas. -Inspired from Image posted by: organisoitukaaosteoria, Fic request: darude-sanderstorm

The Nest -Patton misplaces his cardigan and finds it in an unexpected spot. Inspired from series of text posts by: the-zebra-dragon and arc852, Fic request: sidewritings

That’s How You Know -Roman is feeling low after not getting a part he auditioned for and desperately wanted. The others step in to cheer him up. Song!Fic -That’s How You Know from Enchanted

Out There: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -Logan finds himself alone in the apartment. So he does something he usually doesn’t do. Sing. Song!Fic -Out There from Hunchback of Notre Dame

Deep Heart: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -When Logan leaves the others in Patton’s room, Virgil takes matters into his own hands and ends up revealing a secret Patton wanted to keep hidden. (takes place at the end of Moving On ½) Inspiration from This Post Courage, Braveheart: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -Virgil had known since he was young that his chances for living long were slim. Still, he had hoped to have lived a little bit longer.

A Sweet Discovery -It’s 2 a.m. and Tiny!Logan is on the prowl for sweets. Tiny!Sides

It Takes Two -When Logan can’t convince Thomas to not give into peer pressure in a potentially dangerous situation, he turns to the Side he thought he’d never go to for help. Virgil.

Found in the Glitter -Working backstage is not always the easiest, especially when Virgil manages to get on the new guy’s nerves. Theatre AU

A Rainbow Connection -Roman’s on the run, desperate to escape the man who’s been able to control his entire life just by looking into his eyes. Hopping from airport to airport, Roman unexpectedly runs into the person who gave him the key to slipping from the Cobra’s mental control; Thomas Sanders. Song!Fic

Shades of Truth: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - -Everyone has secrets, Roman knows this. But after dealing with Deceit in the most recent video and discovering that Virgil doesn’t like liars…he decides to come clean with a secret he’s been hiding from the other Sides.

Meeting Einstein -It’d been a horrible no good very bad and awful day, and all Patton wanted was to play with the puppies in the local pet store to cheer himself up. Instead he finds something completely different.

True Colors -There’s a place in the mindscape that Roman only goes to as a last resort when the criticism from the others becomes too much. Unfortunately, it’s becoming an all too frequent occurrence.

A Work of Art -After a rough night of public humiliation at the hands of his old rival, Roman just wants to take a shower and get some sleep. His roommate has something else in mind though.

Contained-Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -You know what they say about Creativity. It’s best if it’s locked away.

FreeFalling- Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -Sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith. Winged!AU

The Butterfly Effect- Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 -Roman has three chances to change his life for the better. Three chances to fix past mistakes. Three chances to totally screw it all up. But who said life is worth living unless one takes a little risk?

The Training Program-It’s five a.m.. Virgil hasn’t yet slept and Thomas is summoning him. That couldn’t be good.

A Hero’s Rescue Part 1 Part 2 -After being defeated in battle, the last thing Roman expects is to have a soaking wet hero show up at his doorstep.

The Beginning -Creativity has an idea. A wonderful, awesome idea. Now…if only Creativity could focus enough to make the idea a reality.

Little Lies - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 -All he’d been looking for when he’d revealed himself to Thomas was a little less work. One less secret to hide. One less thing to keep Thomas from knowing because his host didn’t want to know. To say it had backfired for Deceit was a bit of an understatement.

White Lies - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -Sequel to Little Lies -Deceit has been stuck in his ‘role’ as Dilyn for almost a year now. It’s about time he changed that.

CatScratch - Virgil’s learned to expect a lot of things helping the police solve murders, but he never thought that they’d actually find something that could crack his own unsolved case.

The Finish Line - After years of training, Logan Star is finally going to accomplish the one goal he’s had since his first High School track meet. Beat Roman Prince.

Growing Pains -Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -For the past year Logan has been fighting to keep a part of himself hidden. Only now, thanks to Roman, he’s been compromised.

The Grade -Patton: I’m sorry I graded your tests in magic marker, but I just felt like it.

Seeking Warmth -If he’d known he’d be spending the rest of eternity freezing to death on Earth, Deceit would never have left Hell in the first place.

Spilled Milk -Logan never expected to get in the middle of a fight while at the self-checkout of a grocery store.

Egg-stenuating Circumstances -Why is it that the simplest of quests for Roman always end up more complicated than they should be?

The Rise of Deceit -With the Dragonwitch destroying the kingdom, the Crown Prince has a difficult choice to make.

Tattered -Part 1 Part 2 -Left to fend for himself, Roman can’t trust anyone…right?

Raindrops and Cookies -Most people would only be focused on getting themselves out of the rain. Patton isn’t most people.

A Special Delivery -Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 - “The stork brings the baby to deserving parents.” He whispered, quoting the words from memory. “All the lost, forgotten, and alone.”

In These Tangled Webs: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 -It should be easy admitting to your roommates that you’re not entirely human. Only in Logan’s case it’s not. Not when he discovers that Patton is afraid of Spiders.

The Old Hoodie - 2 sentence prompt –Thomas glared at Virgil, eyes filled with hate, and held out Virgil’s old hoodie, obviously expecting him to take it and go back to who he used to be. “I don’t trust Dark Sides.“

I Miss The King: Part 1 Part 2 -2 sentence prompt -“I miss you… I miss the King” a sigh “Apparently, it’s the same for me.”

Infinitesimal -Logan isn’t quite sure why Roman thinks he needs his help at three in the morning.

To Break A Curse: 2 sentence prompt -Logan looked at Roman, eyes dark. “I need you to really think about what you’re saying, because you’re going to hurt Virgil even more if you do not.“

Shutting Down -Having your phone die shouldn’t be that big of a deal…right?

Anxious to Touch - Virgil ca’t be around the others without hurting them, so he has to stay away. Only Deceit won’t let him do that.

The Path: A Tale of Trick or Treating - Remus(1) Patton(2) Emile(3) Remy(4) ???(5) Logan(6) Roman(7) Virgil(8) Diva(9) Duke(10) Prince(11) Picani(12) Logic(13) Deceit(14) ???(15) -2nd person pov. -You’ve been trick or treating at the Sanders Side’s homes for as long as you can remember, but this year things get a bit more…complicated.

The Interview: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize.

Virgil’s Interview: -It’d been his dream to work for StoryTime! since he was a kid, and now finally, Virgil may be able to make it come true. Note: Virgil’s pov of Chapter 3 in The Interview.

The Olive Branch -They used to celebrate Christmas Eve without Anxiety there to ruin things. But this year Roman plans to change that.

These Black Wings -An hour ago Patton had been loved, wanted, celebrated. Now? He’s on the run for his life thanks to the large black wings that sprouted from his back.

Chimney Sweep -Sure. It’s great to be able to see visions of missing children…but being able to find them still alive is another thing entirely.

Meeting Romeo -A Prequel to A Work of Art. -It was unfortunate really, but someone had to tell the Romeo standing on the street that his Juliet he’d come to listen to day after day no longer lived in the apartment complex. It might as well be Virgil.

Dance with Me -Patton’s never had a father figure to bring to his ballet class for Valentine’s Day like all the other kids before. But this year…he might.

A Midnight Conversation -All Virgil expected when he stepped out onto the balcony was to have a quiet moment to himself. Note: Virgil’s pov of ch 2 of White Lies.

Warm Fuzzies -Two Sentence Prompt: Remy thought that he didn’t deserve love, not after everything he’s done. But, when Emile walked through the door to room 127, Remy’s heart skipped an unexpected beat.

A Shadowling’s Happiness -Two Sentence Prompt: “Where the hell are you going!?” “To the subconscious, and you can’t stop me.”

Scales- Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Epilogue -Deceit hadn’t expected his absence from the Mindscape to be noticed by the others…until Logic knocked on his door.

Mother’s Day -Janus has never liked Mother’s Day.

Wanted -Remus knew one thing for sure. No one would ever want to Want him.

To The Moon - A Vague AU Prompt. -This wasn’t at all how Patton expected their wedding night to go.

The New Hire- Roman has never known his brother, Logan, to break a promise. Until now. Note: Roman’s pov of Chapter 4 in The Interview.

Be My Dad- A Vague AU Prompt -Janus has no interest in being a parental figure to a kid, but trying to convince the universe of that is another thing entirely.

Moonshot- Was it too much for Logan to ask to have just one date not revolve around sports talk?

The Sweater- Emile had said he was making a sweater for a friend. Only he neglected to tell Remy that this friend wasn’t exactly…well…human.

October ThirST -After seventy years of searching for his Soulblood, Virgil is highly doubtful he’ll find them tonight.

Lemon Drops -Patton just wanted to go somewhere where he wouldn’t be judged, wouldn’t disappoint…wouldn’t…screw up another relationship. (Takes place after SvS Redux)

The Path: A Promise Kept -sequel to The Path: A Tale of Trick or Treating -Trick or Treating may be cancelled this year, but that won’t stop you from keeping a Promise.

The Chaos Twins -prequel moment to The Sweater -Everyone has their hobbies, though Emile wishes his roommates’ hobbies were a little less…explosive.

On the Run -prequel moment to the Sweater -When life gives you an escape attempt, you run as fast and as far as you can to get away.

Nitemear -It’s not considered running away if you’re merely trying to find a more defensible position.

The Key is Confidence -Confidence. That was the key, his father had told him, to getting away with anything.

Among the Branches -Getting woken up at the crack of dawn by your landlord can’t be a good thing. Fractured Trust- Trust is a tender thing, easily made…and just as easily broken. Written for the Two sentence prompt -"Why don't you trust me Roman?" Patton asked tightening his grip on Roman's shirt. "P-Patton I-" Roman stuttered out fearfully.

A Mini’s Pep Talk -It shouldn’t surprise Roman, at this point, that on top of an already no good really really bad day he ends up getting attacked by another Side’s Mini-Me while looking for his own. (Takes place after SVS Redux)

The (K)nightmare -They say that the brain uses Dreams to help understand and solve problems one faces in the waking world.

Demon Comfort -Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -Lurking under a Human’s bed should be downright dull for a Demon of Logan’s rank. And yet…he can’t help but be intrigued by his human charge.

First Contact - Things would be so much easier if only their human, Virgil, would talk to them.

Meeting Virgil (5x1) - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -Five times Remy tried to give Virgil a child and the one time he succeeded. A Special Delivery Prequel.

Catch Me (If You Can) - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick.

Beneath the Moon - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 -After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman…Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the…supernatural.

Hello Darkness (My Old ... Friend?) - Part 1 -Is it possible to search for something…for someone…when you don’t even remember that they’re missing?

Dance Break! -Roman suddenly jumped up, a sparkle in his eyes, as he turned, seeking out the first person he can find and holding out his hand. “Dance with me!” (Written with @kieraelieson)

Christmas Eve -Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 -Of all the barriers that Janus expected to have to overcome in order to get his son a pet for Christmas, encountering his Ex, Roman, working in the pet store had never once crossed his mind.

Code: Blanket -Part 1 Part 2 -A friendship doesn’t stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble.

An Unconventional Defeat -Patton knew that heroes started out young, far younger than villains ever did. But this young?

Into the Fray -It wasn’t like he shouldn’t have expected this. It seemed like any plan involving him and Virgil had a tendency to well…go astray.

No Longer Alone -Growing up in isolation away from people has been all that Virgil’s ever known. That changes today.

A Restless Christmas Eve -Even if it had been five years since he’d appeared in the real world, this still felt like it should have been a Virgil problem and not a Deceit one. He’d never had issues staying asleep before. Let alone ending up wide awake, feeling like he needed to–to–just move. Get out. Because of a stupid storm.

Out Camping - Part 1 Part 2 -A Father and Son Camping Trip.

Sanders Sides Art Portals AU- Deceit Roman Patton Logan Virgil

#stillemasterpost #stille stories #master post #Sanders Sides #Virgil #Roman #Logan #Patton #Janus #Remus #Remy #Emile

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memo1005 · 4 years

Note

can you (or someone else who sees this ask and wants to) pls break down why azula wasn't abusive to zuko? because i keep seeing people say that and it's SO fucking irritating but I don't know how to properly explain why that's wrong

Hi!

First of all, I am not a psychologist or a psychiatrist, and my thoughts are my own, and they’re based on online reading, but I will give my two cents.

For me, Azula and Zuko’s relationship is a prime example of toxic sibling rivalry, not abuse. If one was to adopt a strict black and white view on it without any sort of bias then one can say that Azula and Zuko were mutually abusive to each other by the end of the war especially after all the violence they used on one another. Imo, it is not so easy to conclude this--that they were abusive to each other or Azula was abusive to Zuko--because violence and repression of empathy were vital in their culture, and Ozai actively encouraged their rivalry. Both children thought it was the norm.

Let’s divide Azula and Zuko’s relationship in terms of childhood and teen years.

During their childhood, one can see that Azula was definitely a smart mouth and a very mischievous child. In Zuko Alone, they are in the school-aged years, but being 11 and 9, they are not at their full development (thanks for the correction @captain-azoren). Their inductive and deductive reasoning is just developing. So when Azula taunts Zuko that he is weak or he will never catch up to her, it is not Azula herself who formulated these thoughts. She is parroting Ozai. Even though Azula was a precocious child, I find it hard to believe she came up with these thoughts on her own.

For it to be abuse, there must also be intent to harm. I doubt she also had the intent to harm at that age. For me, those words from Azula were meant to let the audience know what Ozai thinks of Zuko privately because she is privy to Ozai and so she parrots his words to Zuko.

When Azula brings up the subject of Zuko’s death as per Ozai’s orders, she is being a child, a child who doesn’t understand the gravity of Azulon’s order because, in the next breath, she says that maybe Zuko can find a family in the Earth Kingdom. Imo, she did not think it seriously will happen, and at that point, she does not fully understand that death is not abstract.

From online sources, for a sibling rivalry to count as abuse, there must be an enduring pattern. Now, Zuko says, “Azula Always Lies”, but we don’t know how often that happened. Zuko Alone is an episode meant for the audience to empathize with Zuko, but it is also an episode where we learn that Zuko is biased when it comes to his sister. Because even when Azula tells the truth that Ozai is gonna kill Zuko, he doesn’t believe her because of his own bias and he repeats the statement to himself for comfort. So while it was a comforting statement to him, “Azula Always Lies” is not in any way, accurate.

Young Zuko did not also fear Azula like an abused victim would an abuser. In Zuko Alone, he didn’t shy away when he called her a liar or that she’s sick. He gave as good as he got. They reciprocated each other’s toxicity. Also, Zuko did not want to play with her in one flashback, but he was fine when he was already in her presence, and they had good memories too (laughing about burning the Earth Kingdom and playing in the gardens). Even as a teen, Zuko did not fear Azula. He even taunted her when she was mentally struggling in their last Agni Kai. Their toxicity was mutual.

Now, let’s move onto their teen years.

Some people already say that Azula smirking during the Agni Kai is proof of abuse, but I’ll repeat a previous statement I’ve made in another post: Is that so important to note? Zuko himself did not react when Azula was falling to her death in the Southern Raiders nor did he react when she was crying and hurt on Sozin’s Comet. So yeah, Azula smiling during his Agni Kai isn’t special especially when you note everyone else in that scene is smiling too aside from Iroh. That’s FN culture for you.

The first time Azula and Zuko fight on Azula’s ship, Azula taunts Zuko (along the lines of “Why would Ozai want a failure back?”). Now that has harm to intent especially since Azula was 14 at that point, but is that so important to point out especially when in the next second, Zuko attacked her? With the same intent to harm?

In their teen years, Zuko definitely had more antagonistic feelings toward Azula than Azula did him. She extended him olive branches in Books 2 and 3 which he did not recognize as such. She was very civil toward him when he came back to the palace and actually did behave like a sister to him in The Beach.

I think it’s hard to say Azula was abusive to Zuko because imo, all of Azula’s actions at 9 were of a child so I don’t really count that. We also don’t know the extent of it and because the episode Zuko Alone is not a reliable narrative. Imo, Azula and Zuko were not together enough for it to be abuse, and they likely drifted away from one another entering their teen years and then Zuko was gone.

From one source, “Squabbles, jealousy, unwillingness to share, and competition are normal sibling behaviors. Fighting between equals can be, too. Rivalry is reciprocal and the motive for is for parental attention versus harm and control.”

So sibling rivalry makes more sense to me than abuse because Azula and Zuko were both being toxic to each other to gain Ozai’s attention and in Azula’s case, Ursa’s too. If you take Ozai away, there would be no sibling rivalry or Azula and Zuko being toxic to each other.

ETA: Just to summarize if one subscribes to the view that Azula abused Zuko then everything should be neutral, and those same rules should also apply to Zuko, but I doubt many would be comfortable to say that about Zuko because people coddle him too much and often erase his complexity. He did do war crimes like Azula; he grew up on violence like her and did not hesitate to engage in that even in Book 3.

But since there are other factors in play, and we don’t know details aside form Zuko Alone, I would conclude it was toxic sibling rivalry instead.

Other blogs like @wish-i-was-fiction @wingsfreedom @eshusplayground @captain-azoren @salixj likely have more metas/thoughts on this.

@wingsfreedom also rec’d this meta

#azula #atla #avatar: the last airbender #zuko #my asks

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kittysuicoffee · 4 years

Text

Marinette runaway chapter two

it’s been a few months since Marinette went missing and a lot has happened during though months. the first day that Marinette has went missing the police came to her school to question all the students and teachers about her and where she has gone to. Most of the students was helpful but others were not so much miss. buster's class was the only on that didn’t have anything nice or helpful to say about the missing girl.

All they’re response about the girl was that she was a bully and she just doing this for attention, the only two who have anything nice to say about the girl was Lila Rossi and Adrien agreste. they both said that Marinette was sweet and kind to help anyone in need and she was willing to do anything for the class without asking for anything in returned.

when the police question Lila about this morning interruption she explain that Ayla had something out for Marinette so she made up some lie that would get the said girl in trouble the police nodded not sure to believe her or not. the police ended their investigation saying they will be back to ask more in the near future.

it’s been three weeks when the police found Marinette’s phone in the trash and they found some interesting things on it the fact that the class truly didn’t believe that Marinette has went missing to the amazement of the police the only one that stuck out was Ayla’s texts they were full up with the downright hurtful texts its seems like the police needed to have another word with Ayla...

“I’m telling you Marinette didn’t runaway her parents are just hiding her away! Question them not me! Ayla exclaimed officer Maxx didn’t look impress “listen Ms. Césaire we have already questions Marinette’s parents already they were for helpful to us telling us everything we need to know and her school life.”

“okay and!?”

Maxx looked annoyed “look I just come to ask about yours and Ms. dupain-cheng relationship with each other, before ms.Rossi came to your school.”

“why does this have to do with Lila?” Ayla said narrowing her eyes officer maxx shook his head

“this have nothing to do with her. We’re just trying to understand what happened to her.”

Ayla still looked suspicious but decided to go along with it she begun to start from the beginning

“me and Marinette met during the first day of school I was the new girl their but me and her become quick friends and during the few years I known her is was the best girl I could ever asked for. But then she changes when Lila came around, she was accusing Lila of being a liar and other things to then, she started to hurt Lila and our friendship started to go south after that. I don’t know what the problem was Lila a great girl if Marinette have just given her a chance none of this would have never happened.”

“I see.” Maxx said he signed looking at the tape recorder than back to her.

“what?”

Officer Maxx looked at her

“Ms. Césaire I would like to show you something is that okay.”

“sure.” Ayla said uneasily

Maxx smile “now before we brought you in ms.Rossi came to us with some information about you and Ms. dupain-cheng relationship the way she put it make it seems like you two was never friends.”

Ayla looked shocked “w-what?”

Maxx pick up a tape recorder

“now do you know what this is?”

“yeah it’s a tape recorder.” Ayla said not sure where this is going Maxx nodded

“good now I want you to listen to this.” As Maxx said this, he push play on it.

Ayla was surprise she didn’t know how to feel after listening to her so called best friend on the tape recorder this has to be a joke right Lila never lied to them once but this was a straight up lie she and Marinette been friends on the first day of school. The class loved and cared about Marinette they had a strong relationship but… the words that came out of Lila mouth were all lies

“w-hat is this? This is some kind of joke did Marinette parents paid you to do this…” Ayla said her voice quiet maxx shook his head “no Ms. Césaire this is not a joke.” And just with those few words Ayla world started to break.

Adrien was miserable not only was his miraculous was taken away from him, but his best friend had went missing. Missing out of all the people that he care about why his best friend had to go missing why does everything bad had to happen to him, out of all people he had to get the worse of it his mother disappeared, he has an uncaring father that will not give him the time of day, plagg gone forever and now his friend is gone. He wanted to cry but he can’t sit here and cry forever he must find Marinette and bring her home everyone misses her very much the first step is to get his father to help look for her. With that Adrien got off his bed to go look for his father to help with the search party he walked out of his room with determination “Adrien you can’t go in there.” Nathalie said stepping in front of Adrien but his didn’t stop him “Nathalie please move I have to talk with father about something especially important.”

“is this about your missing classmate?”

Adrien eyes went wide how did Nathalie know?

She shook her head than said “your father doesn’t have time deal with stuff like that.”

“b-but…” Adrien was cut off by Nathalie “no buts Adrien now we have to talk about the up and coming events for….” Nathalie words die in Adrien ears don’t have time don’t have time he never had time for him he only care about himself that all he cared about himself anger was the only thing that he felt that day anger at himself and at his father. He couldn’t take it anymore he just walked away as he did Nathalie called after him just ignore her and walked back to his room, he has to talk to someone, and he know who to talk to.

Coraline was happily skipping though out the little town school just got out and she was heading to her new home it been a month snice she left her old life but she was happy plus couldn’t just leave this place after Oliver and Michael show her around this place she decided stay instead of going to her designated place. “I’m home!” Coraline exclaimed with a bright smile

“welcome home dear.” Ms. beauty said with a bright smile of her own Ms. Beauty was an elderly lady that Coraline live with she is an overly sweet old lady she was also the grandmother of Oliver and Michael “how was school dear.” she asked as she walked up to the young girl Coraline skipped to her “school was great me and Oliver got a good grade on our project!” she said happily “oh that wonderful dear.”

“I’m going to my room now.” With that Coraline left when she gots to her room, she signed she taking off her bookbag and walking to her bed to sit on it taking out her phone she check Paris news “so far no akumatizion so far…”

“that a good thing, right?” Tikki said looking at Coraline

“yeah it is but why do I feel so weird about it.”

“what do you mean?”

Coraline looked at her kwami “Tikki it’s been a month since I left and nothing, they should have some high emotions but nothing none from my class. My parents will try to keep clam especially my mother and my father would try but I don’t know I guess a part of me hoped something will happen. “she confesses looking down Tikki looked at her and signed she petted Coraline head with a smile “it’s okay Marinette your old class showed their true color. Its time to move on.”

Marinette giggled and kissed her kwami “remember Tikki my new name is Coraline not Marinette she long and gone now.”

“oh sorry” Tikki giggled “still getting used to the name.” they both laugh laying back on her bed she was thinking about what Tikki said and she was right it was time to stop thing about it. Marinette is dead and gone now now its Coraline bellamy now and nothing would change that.

“Coraline! Abby is here to see you!” Ms. Beauty called “coming!” with that Coraline left her room to see her friend.

Lila was over the roof when she heard that Marinette had went missing now nothing will stop her from taking over the school. But there was a problem thanks to Ayla big mouth now she was under suspicion by the police now she must come up with a really good lie luckily for her. She knows that the police were idiot so they will believe whatever she says first was the what was Marinette like and where she may have gone to Lila told some truth in her lie about said girl next was to throw Ayla under the bus in which she did it was so easy to do because she know that the class already hate Marinette thanks to her it would be no problem to convince police she had nothing to do with Marinette. To say this was a good thing now she just has to sit back and watch the fireworks and if Ayla turn against her well, she ends up like Marinette lonely and friendless.

Lila was unaware that her plan will backfire in her face hard.

here is the long waited chapter two of Marinette runaway I hope you like this chapter give me some feedback on it and what I need to change from it or not. I’ll work on the chapter three when I get a chance. on I proofread it and edited it if there any place where it don't make any sense or its a run on sentence or any misspellings please let me know so I can fix it!

#ml salt #class salt #does this count as ml salt?#sorry it took so long

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leothelionsaysgrrrr · 4 years

Note

‘we’re not rivals, it’s not poetic, it’s just a drink.’ for our trash boys Rex and Cyrus (idk it just made me think of them haha)

This has been sitting in my inbox for almost two years I am so sorry 😬

——

It took only a single look at the poor bastard, sprawled out over the bed in abject exhaustion, breathing heavily with his mouth wide open, for Rexus to know definitively what must be done.

He lifted a handful of olives from a pouch on his belt, popped one into his mouth, and launched another across the room, where it instead bounced off of Cyrus’s forehead.

Shit.

Rexus froze. The man stirred, grunting and shifting around, but didn’t wake, and Rexus had no sooner relaxed than he readied another projectile. The tip of his tongue slipped out the side of his mouth as he concentrated hard on his target, rocking his harm forward and back again a few times before he let it go.

Closer this time, but the olive hit his upper teeth and settled onto his chest, instead. Clearly less than ideal, since not only was he down to his last olive, but the disturbance had caused Cyrus to close his mouth completely. Ah, well. He did need the man conscious if things were to go as planned, he supposed. He raised his arm one more time, and threw the final olive as hard as he could at Cyrus’s face.

The sound he made as he jolted awake alone was worth the effort.

Rexus snickered to himself, and chewed on his fingernails while watching the man scramble out of the bed and hunt fruitlessly for something he could use as a weapon.

“Oh, relax, will you? It’s only me.”

There was a pang of recognition in the way Cyrus just...stopped. Rexus had found his half-hearted disguise of simply not shaving his face or trimming his hair quite effective since adopting it, but it seemed there was no mistaking his voice. It was almost flattering, really. Still somewhat groggy, Cyrus blinked hard a few times, and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms, leaving behind a mix of an almost hopeful disbelief and seething, unadulterated rage that the former would not, in fact, hold water.

“I..wh...WHAT?!?” Cyrus finally blurted out, his voice rising an amusing octave or so as he threw his arms out to the sides. “What the fuck???”

Rexus beamed, and braved the Orlesian’s confused anger to pull him into a strong hug, and slapped him hard on his back a few times. "And I am positively thrilled to see you, too!”

Amid muffled, profanity-laden protest, Cyrus fumbled for a good spot for his hands to push, hard, sending Rexus staggering backward, and held the space between them with an angry, pointed finger.

“I have NEVER been thrilled to see you!”

Kaffas, but he was a terrible liar.

“What an incredibly rude thing to say, Guillaume."

“Cyrus.”

Every. Time.

“Of course, that’s what I said.”

If Cyrus rolled his eyes any harder, they’d have threatened to roll right out through his mouth. A rough downward shake of his hands followed, as if trying to rid himself of Rexus’ hug residue, often the last thing he did before saying precisely what he was about to say.

“Why are you even here? I told you last time I never wanted to see your fucking face again.”

Rexus folded his arms in front of him, and tapped a terribly unconvincingly pensive finger against his chin. “Did you?”

He had. And the time before. And the time before that. The last several times, actually, now that he thought about it. Cyrus caught the knowing glint in his eyes, apparently, if the clench in his jaw and the audible squeezing of his fists were any indication. Watching the muscles in his arms tense and one fist slowly start to raise, Rexus scoffed and raised his own, half in anticipatory defense and half to give the appearance of simply shrugging him off.

“Now, now...” he said, and took a step forward. Closing the distance wouldn’t be that easy, as Cyrus’s eyes grew rounder and rounder, his fist somehow able to ball even tighter and pull backwards like an archer nocking an arrow. His whole posture wafted a distinct sense of I’ll do it, I mean it!, and Rexus...Rexus was already bored.

He took another step, and Cyrus made good on his silent threats, though the rush was beginning to wear off now. Rexus dodged the sleep-addled swing easily, and pressed a flat palm against the air between them when he raised it again. “No, none of that.” Evidently speaking to him like he was some sort of child did little to assuage his aggression, and Rexus skipped backwards with both of his hands raised in front of him, now fully on the defenssive. “That’s all ancient history by now, yes? Let’s just...go downstairs for a bit, have a drink, and maybe you’ll feel better.”

Truthfully, Cyrus should have expected him to say something like that, but his face scrunched into that distinctively unattractive mess of an are you fucking kidding me? look. The same one being able to accurately predict had won Rexus several lucrative bets. At least the disbelief returned to the forefront, and his fists slowly began to relax and lower. One of his hands found its way to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he always did before asking Rexus a question to which he undoubtedly already knew the answer.

"You...broke into my room, in the middle of the night...to get a drink??”

Rexus laid one hand over a low chuckle, as though it would do any better at keeping it in his mouth than his teeth. “Honestly, would that really surprise you?” It was a rather tame accusation, if he was being perfectly honest. Also, partly untrue; Rexus would gladly admit his alleged deeds if he’d actually done them - well, no, even that wasn’t always true - but he would rise from the dead out of sheer indignance to defend himself from decidedly false ones.

“And I didn’t break in; I was already here.”

Cyrus stared at him like he was as crazy as that sounded, now that he heard it out loud.

“What?”

“Innkeeper here is a bit, uh...” Rexus twirled his finger next to his head and whistled, crossing his eyes. “Nuts. Forgot he already rented this room, apparently. I suppose that means it was you, in fact, who broke into my room.”

Clearly, the finger and the whistle hadn’t had the desired effect, as Cyrus continued staring blankly after he finished, long enough to make Rexus wonder if perhaps he hadn’t finally broken the poor man.

“Bullshit,” he spat. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” He flattened his hand over his pocket, with, Rexus noted with great amusement, a momentary widening of his eyes - begging whichever divine being would listen that whatever he expected to be there would be there. It was, and he produced a small iron key, waving it triumphantly in front of him. “I have a key, you idiot.”

“Oh, dear...” Rexus gasped, and slowly dragged the hand that covered it from his mouth to his pocket, where, after several unsuccessful attempts and a few undignified grunts, produced a key of his own. “So do I.” He pointed to a ratty canvas rucksack, haphazardly tossed in front of the nightstand on the side of the bed opposite the door. “That’s my pack, there.”

If Cyrus believed even a sliver of that, his face was no indication. It never was, though, and he always did. Rexus, assuming that look was meant to convince him he wasn’t convinced, simply shrugged, slowly pacing around the room. “I was just minding my own business like a good boy when you staggered in, fell over, and passed out on the bed before I even had time to turn around. I must’ve stood in that corner for ages before I said to myself, ‘Rexus, this...is a sign.’” He leaned against the bedpost, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ll assume you remember the rest.”

“Like the Void.”

So much for being convincing, he supposed. Not that he’d expected to be. He had expected Cyrus to stay angry, but...perhaps it had just been that long since he’d seen him, but the tense creases in his brow when he looked at him like that weren’t the same. They didn’t irresistibly beg to be traced into funny little pictures as they tensed even further at the audacity it took to draw trees on his forehead when he was angry. This time, it was just that, just...angry. And it stayed angry.

“That’s...this is ridiculous,” Cyrus finally barked. “You want a drink so bad, you go yourself. Do whatever you want. The only place I’m going right now is back to bed.” With the kind of resolve one has spent years mastering and even more years waiting for a chance to use it, he turned to do exactly that, but, perhaps realizing he’d left himself open for it, faced Rexus again a split second later, pointing a taut finger. “That wasn’t an invitation.”

Rexus snickered to himself, but found himself forced to do it. Even after all this time, some things just...would never change. The thought tasted bitter in his mouth, that Cyrus would just be relegated to the pile of people who would always be angry with him, even more so because none of them, especially not him, ended up there without cause. More still because only a few short years ago, he’d have shrugged this off without it lingering in his mind in the slightest. Whether that was out of frustration that it lingered now or regret that it hadn’t before, he couldn’t say, which was perhaps worst of all.

Of course, Rexus was telling the truth this time, but what had he ever done before that would have Cyrus believe him now? Nothing, that’s what. Nothing, and he would go on not believing him until the sun burnt itself out unless Rexus did something very, very unlike himself, very quickly.

He breathed out a long sigh, adjusted his belt, and tented his fingers in front of his chest to signify that this time, he was serious.

"All right, I didn’t want to have to do this, but...” he began, and drew in another deep breath, which would have been exaggerated if he hadn’t actually needed it this time. “Look. Cyrus. I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. I wasn’t expecting to run into you here any more than you would’ve expected to see me, but...I’m glad. It’s been a long time, and I am glad to see you. Truly. You and I? We’re not rivals. It’s not ‘poetic’. It’s just a drink. No hidden motives, no jobs, no roping you into anything else, just...a drink. With a friend. That’s all.”

Cyrus stood sort of limp beside the bed. His head hung somewhat to the side, lazily wandering back and forth, like he was far too exhausted to properly shake his head no. Or, perhaps, because he didn’t really want to. Rexus could hope.

“Besides, in all fairness, I paid for that bed first, and at some point I’m going to need to sleep myself. Do you truly want to be in my bed when that happens, or would you rather have the chance to be in a different one?”

Now, Cyrus could shake his head just fine. And maybe, just maybe, with a hint of a smile.

“Fine. Just a drink.”

For now, that would do. Rexus smiled, probably the kindest smile he’d ever given him, and offered his hand. Not without some lingering reluctance, Cyrus shook it, and Rexus gestured for him to lead the way.

#DOUBLE SORRY because this is stupid long and took forever to do haha #but i love these two #and i love rex recognizing and coming to terms with the fact that how he treats people needs to change #thanks for letting me steal your boy again :)#oc: rexus leventis #cyrus #thereluctantinquisitor

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mystery-star · 5 years

Text

Threshold of Space - Chapter 7 Assumptions

Pairing: Spock x OC

Warnings: swearing, bullying, allusions to sex, slight violence, angst, slight PTSD

Words: 6775

All Parts:

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

Much to her annoyance, Nicole kept assuring her that Pavel was the right man for her and she was sure that probably half of the Academy now thought she was with Pavel. But somehow Carissa was glad that no one knew the truth.

When the day was finally over, Carissa was halfway in the library when she realized that her boyfriend must be waiting for her. So she turned around to meet him outside as they had agreed. To her surprise, Spock was nowhere to be seen. Someone knocked into her from behind and she almost fell over

“Oh sorry” she had to bite back a groan when she heard Oliver Moore’s voice. “Didn’t see you there”

“No problem, nothing happened”

“That’s good. Just imagine your Russian boyfriend would have needed to come and punish me… Suddenly Bennett isn’t good enough anymore, huh?”

“Leave me alone”

“Or are you fucking two at the same time? Naughty. What would poor old Professor Bennett say if he knew you’re replacing him with a younger one?” she snorted and looked away “Hey” he shoved her “I asked you something”

“Just go away”

“What if not? Will I get into trouble with one of your boyfriends, huh?” he tore her bag away and threw it on the ground

“Just because you don’t have anyone doesn’t mean you need to need to make fun of me. I bet you’re just jealous.” he glared at her

“Take that back, you whore”

“Only if you say you’re sorry”

“I’ll make sure that you will be sorry” he quickly grabbed her and without thinking, Carissa kicked him between the legs

“Let go of me!”

“Only when you apologize!” he turned her around that her back faced him and painfully twisted her arm upwards

“Stop, you’re hurting me”

“Hey uh, what you’re doing?” another cadet asked “Cut the crap”

“Piss off or you’re next” Oliver snarled and the other male did exactly that. “And you apologize and I might be gentle with you”

“What is going on here?” they were approached by a professor and to Carissa’s dismay it was Moore’s uncle.

“She attacked me and I had to defend myself, uncle” Oliver lied.

“Is that so, Wiley?”

“I uh… did not attack him. I might have said something that offended him and then he… ahhh” she cried out when Oliver twisted her arm even more.

“That’s enough, Oliver, you’re breaking her arm. You don’t want to get into trouble because of her” luckily her classmate listened and let go of her. Instantly she rubbed her arm and felt tears in her eyes. “As for you, Wiley, you’ll come with me”

“Sir, I-I did not do anything wrong. I was just standing here when he accidentally bumped into me and started taunting and insulting me about my boyfriend. I told him that just because he has no one, there is no reason to make fun of me. And then he lost it”

“You kicked me between the legs”

“As I see it, this was only a method to defend herself” Carissa felt a smile on her face when she recognized the voice. The other males turned around to the Vulcan behind them

“What would you know about this incident?” the older Professor spat

“I was- as you humans would say- lucky enough, to observe the last part of Cadet Moore and Wiley’s controversy from afar. Which is why I have seen with my own eyes that the first act of violence emanated from Cadet Moore whereupon Cadet Wiley unsuccessfully tried to break free from him”

“Well maybe, Spock, you should let me handle this since you’re not a professor anymore. So get lost and don’t intrude in other people’s business”

“I take it you know of a Vulcan’s aversion to violence so I could not walk by as if nothing had happened. Now that I am involved in this matter I refuse to leave until it is cleared up” he crossed his arms Carissa’s mouth twisted into a smile.

“Is that really necessary?”

“I believe I have made my position clear to you or would you like me to repeat my previous words?”

“I would like you to let me handle that matter alone!”

“Then allow me to assist you and officiate as a witness and neutral judge”

“Don’t you have anywhere else to go?” by now, a group of students was already watching their discussion with great interest. “I’m sure a man who’s as smart as you has a lot of things to do”

“That is correct and right now it is my task to elucidate the incidents of earlier. I am sure that you can profit from my intellect” Carissa bit her lip to not burst out with laughter.

“Are you calling me incompetent?”

“That would be a rushed and probably untrue conclusion. I merely referred to the obvious fact that your brain is second to mine” also Professor Moore now crossed his arms and glared at the taller Vulcan.

“Why don’t you just go back to where you came from? Oh wait, you can’t. Your planet was destroyed. Whoever it was, I’d like to thank them, they have freed the galaxy from a great plague” this was going to end badly, Carissa knew that. “I’m sure you only landed here because the Vulcans didn’t want you. But know what? No one wants you here either…”

“Professor Moore, let us not forget the reason we are here is the controversy between Cadet Moore and Wiley”

“What? Are you not willing to talk about your planet? Or the fact you don’t belong anywhere? Does it make you feel sad? Or does it not even bother you? After all Vulcans don’t feel, am I right?”

“The motive of your resentment towards me is unknown to me”

“Oh come on, Spock, strain your Vulcan brain a little”

“If this is a reference to the fact that I have taken your position as professor for the first and second year cadets, I can assure you that it was never my intention to… how do you say? Hurt your pride. Besides, if this is the case I do believe that we should rather discuss this in private”

“Why? Are you afraid you could lose a debate in front of everyone?”

“Since afraid is referring to an emotion I can assure you that this is not the case” Carissa didn’t like this at all but she had no idea what she was supposed to do and hoped another Professor would interfere.

“At least that explains why you’ve never made yourself any friends…”

“Contrary to your belief I have friends. I am just careful enough to choose them wisely”

“Come on, Spock, we both know that’s not true. You don’t have any friends. You will always be alone, no one wants you”

“Vulcans do not lie. Besides, we had better discuss this in private because I am most certain that our dispute is upsetting the cadets”

“What do you know of feelings?”

“Professor Moore, I do not know when our conversation got out of control but I would like to come back to the actual matter”

“Oh I can tell you when it got out of control. The moment you decided to show up and felt the need to assume an air of superiority” he poked his finger into Spock’s chest who only cocked up an eyebrow.

“Uhh” Carissa said “I really don’t mean to take sides… but the reason we are here is because of Oliver and me”

“Fine, you’re free to leave”

“But uncle, she attacked me”

“This is at odds with the truth, Cadet Moore”

“Are you calling my nephew a liar?”

“I am simply pointing out the fact that his statement is not consistent with my observation” which was, as Carissa knew, a very formal way of saying ‘yes’ for Spock anyway.

“Well Spock, I officially give a damn about your observation, your opinion or your help. Cadet Wiley, Oliver, we’re going to my office”

“If I recall correctly, Professor Moore, you have allowed Cadet Wiley to leave”

“I changed my mind because you distracted me from what I was doing”

“I will allow myself to speak my mind”

“Oh do that Spock, it’s not like you ever hold yourself back…”

“I cannot help but note that you are willing to believe whatever your nephew is telling you”

“Are you implying that I am playing favorites? This is impudent” to everyone’s surprise he hit the Vulcan square in the face.

“Go get him” Oliver hissed. Everyone was looking at Spock, waiting for his reaction.

“I do not imply things, I only word my observations and thoughts”

“What is going on here?” Carissa turned around to see Professor Bennett coming towards them “What are you doing, Professor Moore, Commander Spock?”

“We were simply having a discussion between two old colleagues. Didn’t we, Spock?” he nudged his side with his elbow.

“Unfortunately, I beg to differ”

“Is that so?” Bennett turned at Carissa “Cadet Wiley, could you please tell me what is going on here, seeing as they are not capable of doing so?”

“Oh err…” she found herself telling what had happened since Oliver had bumped into her, feeling embarrassed with everyone looking at her

“Fine. I suggest we forget everything that has happened. Cadet Wiley, Cadet Moore, you both apologize to each other and consider it done” then he glanced at the two officers “And the same applies for you two. You should know better than to being a squabble in public. You’re supposed to be a role model…”

“Oliver, I am sorry about my comment”

“And I’m sorry too…” he looked down and leant closer “that you’re a whore. You’ll pay Wiley” then he walked away, directly followed by his uncle after he threw a last glance at Spock. Bennett ushered the other cadets away before he left too. Carissa slowly rubbed her arm and looked down

“Are you hurt, Carissa?”

“No I’m fine, Spock, thanks” she whispered, not wanting to look at him.

“I apologize for my behavior, I did not want to attract attention”

“I said I’m fine” she repeated and picked up her bag.

“Carissa, I cannot bring you to my apartment now because there is something I need to do first”

“Oh okay. I guess I’ll wait in the library” to be honest, she was glad to hear that because she didn’t want the other cadets to see how she left the campus with Spock. At least not right now.

“Then I will come and meet you there when I am finished” she nodded

“See you later” she went back inside and walked to the library, sitting down next to Nicole

“Hey, I thought you’d be leaving with your boyfriend” she said, nudging her side

“He’s got stuff to do right now. I’ll wait here”

“Does that mean Pavel’s coming here?” she only sighed and realized that now Nicole would learn the truth if she wanted or not.

“Nicole, Pavel is not my boyfriend”

“What? Why? I mean why didn’t you tell me? Who is it then? I really don’t know anyone else from the Enterprise really who come into question. Lieutenant Sulu maybe?” Carissa said nothing again “Alright, you leave me no choice” she typed something into her PADD “Let’s see who else is serving on the bridge of the Enterprise… Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Chapin, Lieutenant 0718 what the hell? Is that an android? Good that were all males. Okay, let’s break this down and see who we can exclude. We already said that it can’t be Kirk and I suppose you’re not dating someone called 0718 and we all know that you can’t honestly have a relationship with a Vulcan unless you’re one too. So that leaves Chapin and Sulu. Hmm… I’ve got absolutely no idea who this Chapin is, so I suppose you don’t know him either. As for Sulu, I think he’s more you’re type. Oh come on, Carissa, show me at least some reaction…”

“Nicole, please stop” Carissa sighed

“Then tell me who it is”

“You’ll see him when he comes here, isn’t that enough?”

“No, I can’t focus now”

“Well once you know you’ll be asking questions anyway…”

“Fine alright… just tell me, is he among the ones I already listed or not?”

“Yes, you mentioned him”

“So it is Sulu?” a cadet opposite them cleared her throat

“I heard he’s gay”

“What? Sulu?”

“Alright it is Chapin then… probably”

“But who is this Chapin?” the other cadet asked. Great, now even strangers were interested in her love life.

“I don’t know. Carissa, you tell me?”

“What do I know?”

“Ahh you’re trying to talk yourself out of it…”

“Nicole, you’ve already spent the whole day claiming I was with Pavel and it turned out it wasn’t the case.”

“Wait, was that a hint that it isn’t Chapin?”

“Yes it was” the other cadet said, got up and took a seat on Nicole’s other side “Show me the list… it has to be someone else then. Are you even sure it’s a man?”

“Yes. She said it’s a boyfriend. I still believe it’s Kirk somehow, given your history. Wait a second, didn’t you say he was on the Vengeance with you? Maybe he’s asked you then? Oh yes, that would be typically Kirk to ask you in the middle of a fight”

“Yes but I don’t know what you mean with keeping quiet about her but I imagine that Kirk would not do that”

“Damn, you’re right… hey, what’s your name?”

“Alisha”

“What year are you in?”

“Second”

“Oh okay. I’m Nicole and that’s Carissa. We’re third years”

“Nice to meet you” Carissa only murmured in agreement.

“But hey, what about the Commander?”

“He’s Vulcan, remember?”

“Oh right, I forgot”

“Guys I’d really love to do some homework right now. You’ll see him anyway and I know that I’ll be getting thousands of questions tomorrow…”

“Okay. I’ll drop this now. But tomorrow, you are in for a looooong questioning. And I still think it’s Pavel…” Carissa chuckled and focused on her work again, yet she couldn’t concentrate as she wanted because she was curious how her friend would react upon seeing her boyfriend. After all she had excluded him from the list almost immediately Two hours passed and suddenly she got a feeling that Spock had forgotten about her. Meanwhile also Nicole was starting to think that “You know, if I wasn’t so curious who it is I would’ve long gone to get dinner”

“Actually I’m hungry too…”

“But if we both leave he won’t know where you are. I mean you must have told him to meet you here?”

“Yeah”

“And what if you tell me who it is and when he comes here, I can tell him you’re in the canteen? Or maybe you’re back by the time he arrives…” Alisha said. Somehow Carissa wasn’t too happy to tell someone she didn’t really know but since she had no idea how long it would take her boyfriend to get here she decided it was better to eat something now. So she gave a nod and leaned towards Alisha to whisper the name in her ear. Her eyes widened “What? No way! How’s that even possible? I want to be there when you answer the questions!”

“What? Who is it?” Nicole insisted “Tell me”

“Although I’d like to see your face… it is only Carissa’s decision”

“Oh Cassie please”

“I told you you’d see him…” she grinned as she got ready to leave.

“Okay I’ll just guess again. Alisha seemed surprise, so it’s probably someone we don’t expect… so definitely not Pavel” she packed her things as well. “Shit, it has to be Kirk… somehow… maybe he just wants to protect you by not telling everyone that you’re with him… Or it’s Sulu. Maybe he’s just bisexual” on the way to the canteen Nicole kept rambling about the whole matter but luckily she became silent once they reached the canteen and stood in the queue to get their dinner. “Let’s go here” Nicole said, walking past her and sat at a table near the entrance so that she could face it. The brunette shrugged and took a seat opposite her. She had the impression that Nicole wasn’t actually focused on the food and only stared at the entrance. Every time someone entered, there was a curious mien on her face and Carissa’s head shot around. It mostly were cadets, sometimes teachers. After a while she didn’t even turn around anymore. Suddenly Nicole’s jaw dropped and she raised her eyebrows, then she shook her head “Ah never mind”

“What?” Carissa asked, turning around again.

“Our dear old friend Professor Pointy-ear just entered. But whatever he’s doing at the Academy, he must have gotten hungry” now she could indeed spot her boyfriend talking to one of the cooks who didn’t seem very pleased. Once he had his plate, he walked straight past them to sit at the next table. Carissa frowned. Of course, he probably didn’t want to sit with her in public but it still hurt that he acted as if he had not even seen her. She glanced past her friend and stared at Spock who at least nodded at her now. At this she couldn’t help but smile as she looked back to her plate. With a frown, Nicole turned around and shrugged “What’s up with you? One second you look like you’re about to shoot laser from your eyes, the next moment you’re as happy as a lark” she only shrugged and cleared her throat “You know…” Nicole suddenly said “I am starting to believe he forgot about you”

“No he hasn’t”

“What makes you so sure about that?”

“I just know him” she said

“Yes you’re right. He’d first need to go to the library, find Alisha, get told that we’re here. And only then he can come here”

“Yeah” she chuckled.

“Did he tell you what he had to do?”

“No”

“That’s bad because otherwise you could have go looking for him”

“He will find me” Carissa said. Nicole gave a shrug

“So… what is he like?”

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Your boyfriend of course”

“Nicole, I promised to tell you tomorrow”

“Yeah but you don’t have to tell me who it is now. Just tell me what he is like”

“I’d rather not discuss that now”

“Why not?”

“Be-because” she glanced to Spock again who was working something on a PADD. Her friend followed her gaze

“Oh, right Vulcan’s hearing. But hey, I doubt he cares anyway. What does he know of love? They surely only do arranged marriages, I mean that’s most logical.”

“Nicole, please… not now” she buried her head in her hands.

“Cadet Summer, I would like to inform you that your statement about arranged marriages among Vulcans might be true for most of us but there are certain individuals who are in a relationship which is indeed based on the feeling of love”

“A-are you talking to me?” Nicole stuttered turning back to Spock who had looked at from his PADD

“Indeed I am, seeing as there is no other Cadet Summer who made a statement about Vulcan relationships”

“Look, Professor… Commander, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you” she turned back to Carissa “Damn, you were right that wasn’t a good idea…”

“In contrary, I did not interpret your statement as an insult. However, I would like to express my apologies for interrupting your conversation but I was sensing your friend’s discomfort at your words”

“Well uh, thanks then” Nicole said “Come on, let’s go it’s getting far too awkward here” she hissed

“It was not my intention to cause you incommodity through my intervention, so please allow me to clarify the matter”

“Clarify? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Nicole muttered as Spock got up and took a seat next to Carissa.

“After it has occurred to me that you were urging Carissa to tell you about her relationship I found that I could not sit and watch from afar since it was causing her discomfort that traces back to my omission to let her know I am sympathetic to not keeping our relationship secret anymore” Carissa looked at him in surprise. He really was okay with her friends knowing?

“And simply said this means?” Nicole said with a frown then her face lit up “Wait! You-you’re not… oh fuck. How? How did that happen?” the brunette chuckled

“It’s a long story and you said we can discuss this tomorrow”

“Yeah I guess I need some time to… digest that. I must admit, I would have expected everything… but not that. Well, something tells me it was kinda obvious but still…”

“Your friend seems to be quite confused”

“She is. She’s spent the whole day thinking I was dating Pavel Chekov and even viewed a list of the Enterprise’s crewmembers who work on the bridge to find out who else it could be”

“Then I apologize for not having told you more clearly that you may let your friends know. I thought you would come to this conclusion when I offered to meet you at the Academy today where cadets would inevitably see us together”

“Well uh, I kind of thought that but I wasn’t sure if you’re really okay with it. I wanted to ask you first”

“But seeing as our relationship does not need to be kept secret anymore I figured that you would realize I had nothing against you letting your friends know”

“Well that’s sorted out now. Thanks for stepping in, I wouldn’t have known how to break it to Nicole”

“Are you referring to the fact that you were puzzled as which words you should use or the fact that you could not foresee her reaction?”

“Both, I guess” she giggled.

“Okay” Nicole said “My brain’s tired, I’ve got zero idea what you have been talking about but uh… if you want me to leave I can go”

“Please, feel free to remain with us”

“Alright. And I know I promised no questions today… but from what I just saw you two are really close. I mean you only got together a couple of days ago and somehow that’s disturbing me. He’s Vulcan after all and well… I don’t think they’re um… yeah. And I’m probably not making much sense right now”

“Your argumentation is indeed missing important parts but the overall question can be filtered out”

“Yeah at least if you’re question is why we act like we’ve known each other for a long time?”

“Yes, you don’t seem like a couple that just got together, and he is Vulcan after all, I don’t think they are like that in the beginning” Carissa looked at Spock

“Do you mind if I tell her the truth? I mean everything about us?”

“It would be illogical to not do so and lie especially since Nicole is starting to making conclusions herself already”

“But do you want her to know?”

“I know that it is your wish to tell your friend everything and therefore I could not ask a lie of you. Besides, I will have to tell my friends about us as well, thus I have to accept the fact that the truth cannot be kept secret”

“Okay” Carissa nodded

“Wait, you’re able to understand that? Was that a yes or a no?”

“Technically it was neither” Carissa said “He tried to say that it has to be but as I understand it, he actually is okay with it” she glanced at her boyfriend who confirmed.

“Isn’t that… I don’t know, annoying to interpret all those messages all the time?”

“You get used to it. Plus, I’ve figured out a system. It’s usually the last sentence that counts because that’s the conclusion of what he said”

“Ah that makes sense”

“Anyway, to answer your question… but you need to promise me that you won’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“Sure”

“Alright, the thing is, we did not actually come together on Sunday… at least not for the first time. We have been together before and we separated”

“Wait, so one year ago… after the mission at Vulcan… the boyfriend that broke up with you…. was him?”

“Yes” Nicole glared at the Vulcan

“Consider yourself lucky she didn’t tell me the truth back then. Because I would have beaten you senseless, professor or not. Do you have any idea what it did to her? You left her when she needed you the most”

“It is good to see that you are such a loyal and supportive friend and I believe I am much obliged to you for taking care of her when I have made a mistake”

“That was sort of an apology and a thank you”

“Apology accepted and you’re welcome. God Carissa, I just hope I’ll never be alone with him. I mean I need you as translator” Carissa chuckled

“Sure. Maybe we can spend some time together this week? I mean after I’ve told you everything” she looked at Nicole who gave a fierce nod “Unless you don’t want that”

“I believe it would be advantageous to hold such a meeting because something is telling me that your friend is determined to assure herself of your happiness with me”

“Great. Shall we find a date right now?”

“Why not?”

-oO0Oo-

Somehow Carissa was quite glad when she they had finished eating and she left the Academy with Spock

“I’m sorry I didn’t wait in the library. But we were hungry and I didn’t know when you’d come”

“There is no need to apologize, after all you had let Cadet Baker know about your whereabouts so that I was able to find you”

“You’re right. Is your apartment far?”

“No, it is a walk of 8 minutes and 48 seconds”

“That’s really not much” they walked the greater part of the way in silence. Once they arrived, Blacky came to greet her and Spock told her that she could have his room. “And what about you, where will you sleep? You don’t have a couch or something like that”

“I think I will be able to find an occupation during the night”

“You’re planning on staying awake? No, you’re not doing that because of me. You know what, I’m going back to the Academy to get myself a sleeping bag and then I just sleep on the floor”

“I am in favor of your first idea but I will not allow you to spend the night on the floor”

“Fine then I’ll get you a sleeping bag for the floor”

“Carissa, I believe I am capable of organizing a sleeping bag myself”

“But not today”

“Then I will spend this first night awake. This will not be any problem for me, I promise you that”

“Fine, if you insist… would you mind if I use your shower and get changed?”

“Not at all” after her shower, she put on her new pajama and joined Spock in his kitchen. “The thought that you must have lost your PADD when the USS Vengeance collided with your dorm tower has just occurred to me”

“Oh yeah. But I’ll get a new one from the Academy in a couple of days. Besides, maybe the data can be saved somehow or something from my private PADD.”

“How do you get by until then? I am sure that Starfleet Command expects your report in the course of the week and you will need a PADD to file it”

“I’m sure I’ll find a solution”

“I believe I have found one”

“Which one?”

“I can lend you the PADD I have used during my times of teaching at the Academy”

“But don’t you need that?”

“No, I have received a new one when I resigned to become First Officer onboard the Enterprise”

“Oh, okay. That would be nice”

“If you give me your password I will be able to retrieve your data for you as well”

“Really? I’ll have everything?”

“Maybe not everything. Only what is saved on the Campus server”

“That will be almost everything then. Can you also retrieve my conversations, messages and all?”

“I will try to save as much as I can”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” she kissed his cheek and sat down on the second chair. Blacky jumped into her lap and she started stroking his fur. “And thanks for having me here and looking after Blacky yesterday. It really means a lot to me”

“I must admit, it is indeed pleasant to have you at my apartment, even if it only is temporary and I would like you to… make yourself at home, as you would say” she chuckled

“Believe me, you don’t want to have me behaving like I behave at home” he raised an eyebrow “And speaking of making myself at home… I uh… don’t want to keep you from your evening routine and all. I mean, you don’t need to spend all the time with me if you don’t want to”

“I usually only am here in order to eat, finish work, mediate or sleep”

“Oh well… that explains the furnishing and decoration. Or rather lack thereof. No offense”

“None taken. Is there any routine that you have in the evening?”

“Not really. I mean, I ate at the Academy, went to my dorm and got ready for bed. Sometimes I did some homework, something for myself or talked to Nicole or we played a game before we went to bed”

“If you are interested, I own both a Two- and Three-dimensional chess board”

“Oh hell I suck at 3D chess, you know that. But we can play the other one. With advantages for me of course” since Spock was much better at chess than her, they always agreed that she was allowed a certain advantage like two moves instead of one or that Spock had less pieces. Yet, she had never won, and it was quite frustrating to know that she couldn’t win even if she had advantages. He got up and retrieved everything, setting it down on the table

“Which convenience do you wish today?”

“Uh… can I get your pawns?”

“This would only hinder you from getting your other figures into the middle of the board. May I suggest that your pawns can be reused once when I captured them instead?”

“Alright but you still don’t get your pawns” they put the figures on the board and started playing. By now she already knew his strategy a little and sometimes she could tell when he set up a trap. Not even ten minutes later her king was already in check “Damn” she muttered and after she quickly moved him out of the way

“If I were you I would reconsider that move” Spock only said. She frowned and put the king back, staring at the figures as if they’d tell her the solution. In the end she couldn’t see anything she could do (except for sacrificing her Queen by capturing the knight that held the king in check) so she just moved her king to another square where he was safe. For the next two moves, Carissa had the feeling to have escaped a Check Mate, but four moves later it happened

“What did I do wrong?”

“You should have sacrificed your Queen to rid yourself of my knight, seeing as this was the only way to save your king in the long term”

“But-but… I can’t plan ahead that much… besides, I think the whole purpose of the game is ridiculous… you have to deliberately sacrifice your other figures just to save the king. That’s not fair, it’s not what you’d do in real life. Besides, the king just is a real pussy and doesn’t even deserve to be that important” she crossed her arms and let out a huff. “I’ll organize another game, one where you need luck as well to win, then at least I don’t feel so stupid when I lose because I know it wasn’t just because I’m a bad player”

“You are not a bad player, Carissa. Of course, you could optimize your strategy but you have much improved your performance since our very first game”

“So I’m not a complete failure?”

“Absolutely not. I am certain that you could beat the Captain if you exerted yourself”

“That’s nice to know. Seems like I need to play chess with another human again because you’re right, we’re no match to you or a computer… but I’m gonna get a game of luck anyway and we’ll play that too” he cocked up an eyebrow “Yes I know you don’t believe in luck but you’ll see that you need luck to win a dice game or whatever”

“And do you think it would make you feel better even if you know that you won merely by luck?”

“Yes it would” she muttered and let out a yawn

“Would you like to go to bed?”

“Maybe” she mumbled and got up “Oh err. I guess I should warn you that I’ll probably get nightmares. And since this is a unfamiliar place it can be that I totally freak out even when I wake up” she looked down in embarrassment “It might be silly, but I used to have a bunny plushie, which I had since my childhood and whenever something like that happened, I could just cuddle him and it calmed me down. But-but it was in my dorm and now it’s gone”

“Would you describe my odor as soothing and familiar?”

“I-I guess so. Why?” he got up and pulled off his shirt, handing it to her

“Then I am certain that this will help you” she glanced at him before sniffing his clothes and she felt a smile on her face.

“I’m sure it will. Thank you” she placed a kiss on his cheek “Guess I’ll go then” she mumbled

“Carissa, wait”

“Huh?”

“If you wish me to retrieve your data on my old PADD for you I require your password”

“Oh sure. I’ll write it down” she got a piece of paper from her school supplies and wrote it down “Thank you and good night. Or do you need anything from your room?”

“No, I have everything that I need. Good night, Carissa” she went to the bedroom and closed the door after she made sure that Blacky was inside as well.

-oO0Oo-

Of course she had been right about the nightmares and she awoke with a jolt. Instantly, she her hand was feeling for her plushie and she gasped when she didn’t find it. When she remembered what had happened to it she felt tears in her eyes. Trying to distract herself, she threw a glance at the time on her alarm clock. 2.55 AM. Although it was dark she was sure to have seen a silhouette moving in the corner of the room. A second she considered calling her parents, when she remembered that they weren’t here. She took a deep breath.

“I’m fine. I’m safe” she told herself and buried her head back in the pillow her fingers digging into the blanket after pulling it up halfway over her face. Suddenly she remembered Spock’s shirt which she pressed against her chest and curled herself up around it, holding onto it like it was her life ring. Tears were in her eyes and before she knew it, she was silently sobbing because of her dream. There was a strange sound that alerted her and she only wished to be back home or at least in her dorm. When she heard a knock at the door she shot up, frantically looking if there was a place to hide. On the other hand, would someone who wanted her evil knock? When she heard Spock calling her name she breathed out in relief and sobbed his in return. The door opened, her boyfriend entered and took a seat on the bed. Instantly she scrambled up and wrapped her arms around him, nestling against him as close as she could

“Am I right to assume that a nightmare has unsettled you?”

“Yes”

“Do you think it would help if you told me about it?”

“I can do that” she sniffed “I don’t remember everything… but I was at the Academy with Nicole and I guess it was Alisha… they left and I wanted to do something else. That’s when I saw A-admiral Marcus. And he was shaking hands with someone. I-I think it was Nero. They talked and somehow I couldn’t hear them but I knew that they wanted to destroy the Enterprise. So I tried to leave and warn you, but they saw me and dragged me onto a ship’s bridge. I guess it was the Vengeance. Nero set up a transmission and I saw the Enterprise. Marcus told me that he only wanted to know who my boyfriend was and they’d let the Enterprise go. But I couldn’t tell them and one of them said that there is nothing I could do to save you – I mean the Enterprise – and the Vengeance started firing on you and we all were driven towards a black hole. Nicole and Blacky were on that other ship as well. I-I tried to tell Nero and Marcus to stop it and told them what they wanted to know but they said it was too late now and-and I could do nothing except watch how you all died. Then I was back at the Academy and everyone kept asking where Nicole is, so I tried to lie and say she went home be-because I had the hope you would all return somehow. Then we were told that Admiral Marcus was dead and I was blamed for it because the Vengeance crashed and I was on the ship at the time. So I had to go to a trial which was led by Khan and he threatened to kill me if I lied. And I guess then I woke up” he said nothing for a while

“I do not have much experience with nightmares but I believe it could help if you list everything that was illogical or could not happen in any case” she sniffed and did as he said

“I guess it’s better” she said after she was done “But Spock. Can-can you stay here for a while and distract me? Tell me anything that has nothing to do with this”

“The illustration of the giraffes on your nightclothes is inaccurate”

“Why that?”

“Their tongue should be blue rather than pink and the tip is not round but pointy” she felt his forefinger stroking over one of the giraffes on her pajama trousers

“I’ve heard about the blue tongue before” she said “But I think pink fits the color of the cloth and the giraffes better. Besides it’s cute. Just look at their eyes. Or the ones that are cuddling” she looked down and pointed at two giraffes who’s necks where touching.

“As a matter of fact they are engaged in a combat that is supposed to establish dominance”

“What?”

“This is a ritual known under the name ‘low intensify necking’ in which the males rub their necks against each other and the one that has a more secure stand wins”

“Oh” she let out a small giggle “Do you think we should tell the manufacturers about this?”

“I can imagine they would not be pleased to hear of this”

“Hmm. Well we can take care of the tongue ourselves… we can just color them with a blue pen. And then I’ll take a red pen and draw a heart above the fighting ones so that it looks like they’re in love anyway” she mumbled as she leaned her head back against his chest and placed a hand over his heart.

“If the accuracy of the illustrations is that important to you I will see to it that you receive the writing supplies you asked for”

“No, it’s fine. I was joking. But you better not try and make the changes while I’m asleep” she chuckled “Because if you do, I’m gonna draw on your face while you’re asleep” a yawn left her mouth “Did I ever tell you how glad I am to have you?”

“You have made hints in that direction before” his hand started stroking her head and she instantly felt calming down.

“If you do what with Blacky he starts purring”

“I have made that discovery yesterday evening”

“A pity I missed that”

Next Chapter

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