#if Louis really had good feelings for Simon he could have said so much more but he kept it diplomatic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avatar-anna · 4 months

Note

I feel like we haven’t seen much of youngmom reader super pregnant with her 7 babies??? Maybe I just don’t remember but I’d love to see y/n throughout her pregnancies! If not it’s okay I love ALL YOUR WORK!! ❤️

Baby Fever

Young Dad! Harry Styles x Young Mom! Reader Masterlist

i was too tired to include charlie. sorry!

Simone

Y/n sighed as she looked over her figure in the mirror, her shoulders slumping at the sight of her unbuttoned jeans and swollen belly. Looking down, she glared pointedly at the bump, saying, "Damn you, Harry."

She tried to button up her jeans one last time to no avail, then fell back on the bed behind her. It was Harry's, Y/n didn't feel comfortable enough to call it hers too, even though he insisted his home was hers now. The mattress was plush enough for her to sink into, and the sheets were softer than soft, she just felt like she was a guest staying in someone else's home.

It didn't help that she was alone most days. If Y/n had thought Harry had a busy schedule before all of this, she sorely underestimated the hectic schedule he had on a daily basis. The first half of her pregnancy, Harry was gone on tour promoting One Direction's latest album. When he came back to London, he was gone almost all day for interviews and late night talk shows and performances at radio stations. Work seemed neverending, and when Harry did eventually trudge through his front door, he was pretty much dead on his feet.

It was a weird situation that they were in, but nothing about their relationship had ever been typical.

Not really caring what kind of important meeting or interview he was having, Y/n pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she landed on the right person.

"Y/n! It's good to hear from you! How've you been?"

"Put him on the phone, Louis. I need to talk to him. Please," she said, adding please after realizing how harsh she sounded.

Louis was quick to do as she asked, though. Y/n could hear him rustling and calling out until he eventually found her boyfriend.

There was a time when Y/n didn't think she could call Harry that. She'd always liked him. Since the day they met, they were both absolutely smitten with each other, anyone could see that. But when she found out she was pregnant, things shifted. Y/n and Harry's relationship catapulted into chaos, and before they could even have the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, they were suddenly nine months away from being parents.

Over time, they got to that place they'd been in before Y/n got pregnant. They had the boyfriend-girlfriend conversation, and now they were happy.

Well, for the most part.

"Hey, love, what's up? Everything okay?"

The sound of Harry's voice soothed and frustrated her all at once. Tears, which had been an unwelcome side effect of her pregnancy, began to well in her eyes.

"My jeans don't fit anymore."

There was silence between them, Y/n's words floating between them until it was eventually broken by Harry's laughter.

"It's not funny!" she insisted, even though she began to giggle alongside him.

"Baby," Harry said once his laughter subsided. "Why are you trying to put jeans on anyway? Are you going somewhere?"

"No, I've just gained so much weight. I feel like a blob, and you're partly to blame."

Y/n knew the baby bump was coming, she knew there would come a time when jeans and tops wouldn't fit and she'd have to buy clothes that were more accommodating to the baby growing in her belly. She just didn't expect to be this emotional about it. It was probably just the hormones.

"I'm sorry, baby," Harry said, a note of seriousness in his voice that Y/n appreciated even though she knew she was being slightly unreasonable. "I still think you're the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on."

Groans of protest and disgust erupted from Harry's side of the phone, followed by teasing at Harry's sappy words. "I came in here for privacy! Don't complain when you hear shit you didn't want to hear!" he told his bandmates. He mumbled something about never getting a moment alone anymore and nosy pricks, which made Y/n giggle as he presumably found a new place to talk to her privately.

In a hushed voice, he said, "I don't like it when you cry, baby."

"I wasn't planning on it," she sniffled. "I know I should've anticipated this, but now my belly sticks out and nothing fits me and I look horrible."

"No you don't," Harry said, not missing a beat. He didn't have to see her to know she looked just as gorgeous as she always did. Baby bump or no baby bump. "Put your sweats back on, love. I'll bring home dinner and we'll watch a movie."

"Really?" Y/n asked, and Harry could all but imagine her watery smile. "Because the baby's craving hot wings, and I know you don't like them."

Shaking his head, he promised, "Don't worry. Text me what you want. I'll be home soon."

"I—Thank you. B—Bye."

Harry's breath hitched, his phone still pressed to his ear even after she'd hung up. He knew what Y/n had been about to say, at least he was ninety percent sure he knew. He could only hope she was going to say, "I love you." Neither of them had said it to each other before, not wanting to get lost or caught up in the emotions of having to baby together. But Harry knew. He'd known for some time now. He just didn't want to scare her by just how deep his feelings went.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, Harry went back into the green room where the rest of the boys were. He took the ribbing they gave him for being "smitten" and "whipped." But he didn't care. Y/n was waiting for him to bring her dinner, and that was really all he could think about as the minutes ticked by until he could go home.

*.*

Collette

Y/n couldn't help the slacking of her jaw as she watched her husband.

Sure, she'd seen him a number of different ways—working out, doing handiwork around the house, performing onstage, dressed for a red carpet—but here, as he wore a tiara and held a tiny teacup with pretend tea in it and sat across from his daughter, Y/n had never been more turned on in her life.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Yesterday it was the way her husband had offered to go to the grocery store for her, and just an hour ago it was how he hummed to himself while he made breakfast for her and Simone. Shirtless. By now, Y/n was fairly used to her attraction to Harry, but it was as if every little thing he did turned her on.

She'd read about this in a couple articles online and pregnancy books, that some pregnant people sometimes became extremely horny due to the hormonal changes happening in their bodies. When Y/n was pregnant with Simone, she never really...felt that way. Perhaps it was because she was so nervous and overwhelmed by the situation at hand, but now she was feeling it tenfold.

Needing to distract herself, Y/n went upstairs to the nursery to fold laundry. To nest, as Harry liked to tease. They'd been working on the nursery together for weeks in preparation for their second baby, and now it was nearly finished. Y/n and Harry let Simone pick out some of the decorations, like the fuzzy lion rug and Winnie the Pooh themed pillows and pick out toys she thought the baby might like. And now it was pretty much done, all that was needed was for the baby to be born.

Y/n had gone upstairs to distract herself, to keep Harry out of her line of sight so she wouldn't openly drool in front of Simone, but now she was alone with her imagination which was starting to run a little wild. She folded the baby clothes carefully as her mind stubbornly wandered. Harry's hands, his arms, his broad shoulders and sharp jaw. He was all she could think about, and the more she thought about him, the more she wanted him.

Would he want me?

They'd never really hooked up when Y/n was pregnant. Things were different then, more complicated, but Y/n didn't think Harry would be into her when she was significantly more round than usual. She didn't feel sexy or attractive, and she could only imagine Harry felt the same. They kissed and cuddled in bed, but since they found out she was pregnant, they didn't do much more than that. Y/n could only guess it was because she was showing now.

Later that afternoon, Y/n was in bed resting, the baby in her belly moving around a little too much to be comfortable. Simone was napping, and Harry was taking care of some things downstairs. Overall, it was a pretty relaxing day.

Minus the horniness, but Y/n tried to push that down.

She'd been doing a pretty good job of it until Harry burst into the room, sweaty and grimy and without a shirt, the article of clothing in question in his hands and covered in dirt and oil stains.

A flare of heat went straight to Y/n's cheeks as she subtly crossed one leg over the other, her stare zeroing in on her husband's chest. Before she could be caught, she blinked, meeting his gaze.

"What...What happened to you?"

"Your car needed an oil change," Harry said, as if that explained everything. "Might have run into some hiccups along the way, but it should be good to go."

It was enough to shake her from her lust-filled haze. "Why couldn't we just take it into the shop?"

Harry shrugged again as he headed for the bathroom, ditching his clothes as he went. Was he trying to kill me? you thought helplessly, your crossed legs doing nothing to soothe the ache between them.

"I did it. It's fine." Then the sound of the shower filled the bedroom, and steam slowly began to roll past the bathroom door. "The baby still kicking?"

His voice was echoey and faint, and Y/n didn't need much encouragement to imagine her husband all soapy and wet as he rinsed off. He didn't even invite her to join him. If this was what pregnancy did to her sex life, she was never getting pregnant again.

"Y—Yeah. A little."

"I'm sorry, Mama. You know, I read something about babies kicking at this stage. It..."

Y/n wanted to listen, but she just couldn't. She wanted him so bad she could barely think straight. And it frustrated her to no end that Harry probably didn't feel the same. He just breezed right past her when he came into their bedroom, barely even looked up as he shuffled into the bathroom for his shower. Every inch of her body was lined with need for him, and he...he just kept ignoring her.

Harry was still talking as he shuffled out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips. The man standing before her was one big walking, talking tease—rivulets of water running over ridiculously prominent muscles, tattoos that she just wanted to touch, or kiss, or maybe lick, skin slightly pink from the shower, and that towel that seemed to be hanging onto him by a thread. If only she could just—

"Mama? Everything okay?"

Blushing, Y/n tried to pretend it wasn't taking everything in her to not jump him. "Yep. Perfect."

"Are you sure?" he asked skeptically. "You look a little flushed. Should I get you a cold towel—"

Y/n couldn't take it anymore. Unhindered by her baby bump, she sat up and surged forward, planting her hands firmly on Harry's shoulders and kissing him. To her surprise, he didn't recoil and instead rested one hand on her waist and one in her hair, pulling her closer to him.

His skin, still warm and a little damp from his shower, had never felt so delicious against hers. She wanted him to rip her clothes off, she wanted him to use a little force and push her back onto the bed, she wanted him to be rough with her. Tightening her grip, Y/n sunk her teeth into Harry's lip, hoping to get some kind of reaction from him.

"Mama, maybe we should—"

"Fuck, nevermind," she huffed, pushing Harry away from her. Falling back onto the bed, Y/n tried to make herself comfortable. She would've put her back to him and rested on her side, but her belly wouldn't have made that very possible.

"Y/n?"

"Go away."

"Baby, what—what's wrong? I just—"

Y/n, who had been pointedly not looking at Harry, glared harshly at him. "I get it. You find me repulsive now that I'm pregnant, which, can I just say is despicable—"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, confusion furrowing his brow.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Y/n wrapped her arms around herself. "You won't—I mean you haven't—Okay, I'm just gonna say it. I'm horny all the fucking time, and you're—you barely even touch me!"

"That's not—" Harry sighed, running a hand over his face. "That's not even remotely true, Mama."

"Don't Mama me," Y/n said, not believing him entirely.

"Let's get one thing clear, Y/n. I don't find you repulsive," Harry said, inching closer to Y/n on the bed. "I—I don't even think that's possible."

"Then why won't you have sex with me?" Y/n asked, and when he began to laugh, she swatted at his arm. "Don't laugh at me! You don't get it!"

Before she could even think to protest, Harry hauled Y/n on his lap. She tried to stubbornly push him off, but he held her steady, on hand tilting her chin to look at him. "I've been worried about the baby."

"Huh?"

"The baby, darling. I didn't want to, like, hurt you or her or anything by, you know...going too hard." Harry's cheeks flushed, but he pressed on. "You really thought it was because I didn't want to be with you."

Y/n's nod was shame-filled at the hurt in his voice. "I can barely get you to wrap your arms around me, and these hormones are driving me absolutely insane, H."

Gently, Harry kissed the top of his wife's cheekbone. Smoothing back some of her hair, he said, "You honestly think I could resist you, Mama? It's been torture."

"Yeah?"

"Baby," he said, leaning Y/n back toward the bed. "You really think you're not an absolute dream right now? You think I don't want my mouth all over these gorgeous tits? You think I don't want my hands all over you? You think I'm not aching for you all the time?"

"I didn't think—"

"If you think for one second that I don't find you irresistible, then I'm a terrible husband." Harry made sure Y/n was comfortable against the pillows before kissing her once, then pushed the t-shirt she wore past her chest. "I'm sorry, Mama. I've just been looking out for the baby, I swear. Let me make it up to you?"

"H—How?"

"We'll be gentle. For now," he added at Y/n's squawk of protest. "I really don't want to do anything wrong, so let me just love on you, okay? Let me show you how fucking breathtaking you are."

Harry kissed a line down Y/n's entire body, and she struggled to keep it together when he made it to her thighs. Her breaths suddenly became unsteady, Harry's chuckle making her squirm when he finally moved her underwear aside.

Before he went any further, though, Y/n called his name, making him pause. "You really think I'm beautiful. Even with the belly?"

Eyes softening, Harry shimmied back up the bed to kiss Y/n on the lips. His mouth was soft against hers, but firm, a promise in them that she accepted happily. Harry's tongue was both familiar and reassuring against hers, warming her up from within.

"Believe me when I say that I've never seen anyone more beautiful than you, Y/n," he murmured. "I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise."

Blushing, Y/n beamed before kissing Harry repeatedly all over his face. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said. "Now I really need you to fuck me."

Chuckling, Harry pushed his hair out of his face. "Let's start with make love, okay?"

Y/n wanted to pout, but she knew that was perhaps the safest option. It was sensible of Harry to look out for the baby, but now he had some making up to do. So she nodded and settled further into the pillows, kissing her husband once more before letting him worship her.

*.*

Maeve and Julian

"Just like that, Mama. That's perfect!"

Raising an eyebrow at her husband, she asked, "Are you even taking pictures of my face?"

Harry peeked his head from behind the camera. "Well...not right now, but this shot is perfect, I promise. Just a couple more seconds."

Y/n humored Harry just as he asked. He'd been really set on doing an at-home pregnancy photoshoot. Nothing extravagant, just her in a pair of jeans and a bouquet of flowers. Y/n of course said yes, but perhaps she was a tiny bit incentivized by a bubble bath and a back rub from her husband.

She tried to remain still, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. "Simone! Easy!"

Harry looked over to his daughter. Simone played on the lawn where Harry decided the photoshoot would take place, spinning around and around in circles until she fell down in a heap of giggles. The second time she'd done it made Y/n nervous Simone would make herself sick, but Harry put a hand up to keep her where he wanted her.

"Come here, peanut! Let's take a picture with mummy," he called out, beckoning Simone over.

Simone rushed over, face flushed and eyes bright. She looked so much like Harry in that moment—big, squinty eyes, cheeky smile, crinkled nose—that Y/n nearly did a double take.

Setting down the bouquet of flowers, Y/n quickly shrugged on the loose robe she'd worn before Harry insisted on her taking it off. It was light and airy, perfect for the hot flashes she got on occasion, and perfect for what she imagined Harry had in mind until he told her his idea.

"Just trust the vision, Mama, he'd said before offering to untie the strings himself.

Once it was on, she reached for Simone and hoisted her up. Y/n ignored her husband's warning, opting to kiss her daughter's cheek instead. It was so important to Y/n that Simone didn't feel left out or upset about a new sibling when Y/n and Harry found out they were pregnant with Collette.

So far Simone had been positive about having another baby sister in the house, but Y/n was still cautious, still conscious of her oldest daughter's feelings now that she was pregnant again. And baby bump seemed to be growing bigger by the day, and she wanted to hold and cuddle and play with her daughter as much as she could before she couldn't do much more than waddle around.

"I'm sitting on the babies!" Simone giggled, making Y/n laugh too. Harry had stopped his protests, which told Y/n that he was back to snapping his pictures.

"What do you think, little melon? Should we get baby Collette in the picture too?" Y/n asked after Harry had snapped photos from a few different angles.

"Will you at least sit down?" Harry asked, exasperated by Y/n trying to overexert herself.

"You worry too much," she told him, but did as he asked anyway after taking Simone from her bouncer.

Collette nestled against Y/n immediately, her little cheek squished and lips puffed out as she rested on her mother's chest. Simone stood over Y/n and Collette, peering down at her sister's face curiously.

"She's sleepy, Mommy," she said, reaching down to gently hold Collette's hand.

"Yeah, it's almost nap time," Y/n told Simone. Then, to Harry, "How are we doing, Daddy? Collette's going down and I have to pump."

"Go ahead and put her down. Simone and I will play for a little bit, won't we, peanut? Maybe take a couple more pictures?"

"Yeah!"

Simone was always game for anything Harry suggested, as if each word that came from her father's mouth was pure gold. Y/n admired how much she loved her dad, but sometimes they could be a troublesome duo, Simone asking for something and Harry giving in without a thought.

After Harry trotted over to help Y/n to her feet, she shuffled inside, heading up to the nursery to lay Collette down for a nap. She planned to set Collette down in her crib, but something made her head for the rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room instead. Settling herself down with the baby, Y/n began to rock back and forth, humming idly as she waited for Collette's eyes to close.

It didn't take long, but Y/n kept on holding her daughter anyway, content to rock back and forth and rest her legs after the trek up the stairs. She'd never admit it to Harry, but being pregnant with two babies instead of one this time around was taking a toll on her much sooner than her other pregnancies. Her husband was already a mother hen when Y/n was pregnant, she didn't need to add fuel to that well-kept fire.

"Isn't that a sight."

Looking up, Y/n found Harry at the foot of the nursery, looking at where Collette slept soundly against her bare chest. Y/n had undone her robe once more for skin-to-skin contact with the baby, something she liked to do when she was alone. It made her feel more connected to Collette somehow, and she found that Collette fell asleep easier that way. It was a lazy afternoon, there wasn't much Y/n needed to worry about—it honestly felt pretty perfect.

"She sleeps better this way," Y/n said by way of explanation.

"I believe it," Harry replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that Y/n pointedly ignored.

"Where's Simone?" Y/n asked, still rocking.

Harry gestured behind him with his camera. "Downstairs watching a show. We agreed on two episodes before bathtime."

Y/n raised an amused brow at their daughter's negotiation tactics, but decided not to comment on it. "I'll come down in a bit. I still need to put her down and pump."

Grinning, Harry said, "You couldn't get out of that chair, could you?"

"It's a comfortable chair," Y/n said with a shrug, not wanting to let her husband know he was spot on.

"Oh, I know," he said. "I've fallen asleep in that thing more times than I care to admit."

Coming into the room, Harry carefully took Collette from Y/n, kissing her head before laying her down in the crib. Once she was settled and Y/n's clothes were righted once more, Harry reached a hand down to her. She let him help her up, even let him tie up her robe again, resigned to his fussing.

"You need to take it easy. The doctor said early labor is common with twins."

"I know, I am," Y/n reassured. "How can I do anything but take it easy when I have my own personal nurse?"

Harry looked at his wife flatly. "Ha. Ha. Now get your cute butt to our room so you can pump and then help me with bathtime."

"Simone's really quite reasonable—"

"She insists that I do it wrong," Harry said, genuinely confused by his daughter's antics.

Kissing his cheek, Y/n checked on the baby monitor once before leaving the nursery. "I'll be as quick as I can, then I'll show you how it's done."

Harry followed her out, heading for the stairs while Y/n went to their room. "Mum of the year!" he said before jogging down to Simone.

Too right, Y/n thought, a smile spreading across her face.

*.*

Geneva

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, babydoll?"

"How does baby sister get in your belly?"

Y/n's eyes widened as she looked down at where Maeve was pressed against her side. They were relaxing by the pool, watching from the shade as Harry tossed the other kids and splashed around in the shallow end. Maeve had joined in on the fun before, but she'd waded out of the pool a few minutes ago for a break from the sun. Her little cheeks were red, long brown hair stringy from the chlorine. Y/n brushed Maeve's hair away from her face as she tried to come up with an answer. Coming up short, she rested her hand on her protruding belly.

"Why are you asking Maevie?"

"Daddy said baby sister is in your belly," Maeve said, poking Y/n's baby bump with a sun-warmed finger. "But how did it get there?"

"You know...that's a great question," Y/n said, raising her hand to shade her eyes as she looked over to where Harry was waist-deep in the pool. His dark hair was plastered to his neck and shoulders in a curly tangle, water droplets glistening on his tan skin.

To this day, Harry was still the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Now that they were stuck at home, he took his brief moments of alone time in the form of working out, but only after baking had gained him a few pounds. Y/n never minded, she loved his body any which way it looked.

Eyes dipping down to his waist and below, she definitely couldn't hide how much she appreciated his body now.

"Mommy!"

Shaking herself out of her stupor, she looked down at Maeve, who was clearly determined to get to the bottom of the baby in her mom's belly.

"Right. Sorry babydoll." Y/n hoisted Maeve onto her lap. "Mommy and Daddy...love each other so much. So...when mommies and daddies love each other, they...make a wish on a shooting star...for a baby."

"Really?"

Y/n tried not to laugh at her own ridiculous response as she nodded. "Of course. And then our wish came true, and in a few months, we'll have baby sister."

"Oh." Maeve seemed to think about it for a moment, a small finger on Y/n's belly. "And you wished for me and JuJu too?"

Y/n nodded, holding Maeve's cheeks in her hands. "Absolutely. We wished so hard we got twins!"

Maeve scampered back to the pool a few minutes later, calling out to Harry to help her put on her water wings so she could jump in the pool. Content to watch all the fun from her lounge chair, Y/n stayed back, smiling faintly at all the giggles and squeals of joy as Harry repeatedly tossed one child after another into the pool.

Now alone, she thought about Maeve's question a little more in-depth. As far as she and Harry were concerned, they were done having kids after the twins. Four kids was just the right amount of chaos, and things were finally getting back to normal—or as normal as they could be amid a global lockdown—after the separation.

Not that anyone else in their family seemed to be, but Y/n and Harry were surprised to find out she was pregnant again. At the time. Of course, in hindsight, there was a night when Harry and Y/n couldn't keep off each other. It had been after the first night they'd really spent together as a couple again, and after that, it was as if a dam had broken and Y/n and Harry were reliving their honeymoon phase.

But surprised as they were, they took it in stride. Both of them were nervous about Y/n having a baby in such serious circumstances, but they would take the proper precautions to ensure her and the baby's safety. They were ready for this, ready to do it all again.

"You know Maeve asked me where babies come from today?" Y/n asked later in the evening.

Everyone except for her and Harry were fast asleep, tuckered out from a long day of playing in the sun. Harry had just come back from tucking the twins in and singing them a song like he always did, and now he and Y/n were side by side in their shared bathroom as they got ready for bed.

"Did she? Wait—Can you help me?" Harry asked, gesturing to his red shoulders and back.

Y/n picked up the aloe lotion she kept around just for this reason and squeezed some into her hand and began spreading it over her husband's back. "Not in those words, but she asked how her baby sister ended up in my belly."

"We've never gotten that question, have we?" he mused. "What did you say?"

"That we wished on a shooting star," Y/n shrugged, then explained her short conversation with their daughter about how babies ended up in bellies.

Harry became quiet for a moment. He'd been listening as she rubbed lotion onto his shoulders, but this was different. No one else would've been able to notice his subtle change in demeanor, but Y/n did. She'd known him long enough to read every shift of his posture and line of his body.

"What is it?" she asked, turning him around to face her.

"I just...I just barely stopped short of wishing on stars to have all this again."

Things didn't immediately go back to normal when Harry moved back in. Y/n put on a good front for the sake of the kids, but it was awkward. Neither of them knew how to act around each other, and it took a few weeks for Y/n to trust that Harry was back for good. Even when they had to quarantine, she worried he'd check out, turn to his music for peace of mind. Harry knew all of his wife's reservations, of course, and he didn't blame her for having them. He'd left, that was a choice he made. At the time, he'd done what he thought was best for his family, but he knew now that he only put more distance between himself and his kids, his wife, and he'd regret every minute they spent apart for a long time.

"I love you, H," Y/n said, cupping his cheek in her hand. It was scratchy under her palm, as Harry had taken to being more lax about shaving during lockdown. "I—We would not be...here if I didn't want this, all of this, with you. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded, eyes closing for just a moment. Harry knew he would've been spending his days in a guest bedroom if Y/n wanted that from him. But they worked past their issues, were still working on them, in some ways.

"I know," he promised. "It just hits me sometimes how lucky I am to have you. Not just as a wife and mother, but you, Y/n. I can't—I couldn't handle a single moment without you."

Looking away, Y/n fanned her face, blushing furiously at the tears that welled in her eyes. "You know I get emotional at the drop of a hat, you ass."

Harry merely smiled, letting the somber moment pass. Taking her hands in his, he led her out of the bathroom. "Doesn't make what I said any less true."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n said, "Whatever. Let's go back to talking about how you played mermaids for two whole hours with Simone and Collette."

"I still don't really get it," Harry said, pulling back the fluffy comforter of their bed back. "The girls changed the color of their tails every two minutes. And why does a mermaid need to control fire? Talking to animals I get, but what good is fire underwater?"

Harry looked genuinely perplexed, but Y/n could only laugh. Her husband indulged in almost every one of his daughters' whims, and games where he had to pretend to be a mythical creature was no different. She wouldn't be surprised if packages filled with mermaid paraphernalia arrived in the mail within the next few days so that everyone could really get into character.

She didn't think it often, but right then, Y/n wondered what people would make of the Harry Styles pondering the continuity of his daughters' favorite pool game.

*.*

Natalia

Harry: At the grocery store. Need anything?

Y/n: Your dick, please.

Harry: So...is that in the same aisle as the condoms or...?

Y/n: Don't be mean. I need you.

Harry: That's why I'm going to the store, baby. You asked me to pick up snacks for you this morning for your cravings.

Y/n: I changed my mind. The kids are napping and/or playing in their rooms and/or watching tv.

Y/n: Come fuck me.

Y/n: Please???

Harry: As soon as I get home I'm all yours, baby. I promise.

Y/n sent an image

Y/n: You're really saying no?

Harry: Mama...

Harry: That's from the pregnancy shoot we did.

Y/n: Ass. I'm putting my clothes back on.

Harry: Don't you dare.

Harry: You really want me to abandon the cart? I was just grabbing the pizza bagels you liked.

Y/n is typing...

Y/n: Get the pizza bagels. THEN come home and fuck me.

Harry: Got it. Get ready for me, Mama.

Y/n: !!!

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crystlizabeth · 5 months

Text

Thinking about Simon and his Stallion!wife How while in Vegas for their anniversary Simon decided he wanted to spoil her. The couple had been walking around the stores he watch as her eyes laid on a Louis Vuitton. “You wanna go in?” He asked pulling her closer to him by the hip.

“I don’t think so.. we’ve already spent enough..” she spoke her voice was hesitant as her arm wrapping around Simon’s waist.

He simply rolled his eyes and walked towards the store. Simon loved spending his paycheck on her, yes she was grown and made her own mine but what’s the fun of having her spend her own money on herself when he was with her. Nothing was to much when it came to her. The Chanel, Dior, hell even H&M bags His hands he carried her bags proudly, his gorgeous wife holding on to his bicep her pretty freshly done nails holding his arm.

Now he kneeled in front of her fastening the heel around her ankle, his eyes scanned her calf tattoo the pretty details, soon his eyes met hers her dark eyes looking down on him a smile displayed on her glossy lips. He stood up watching as she tucked her boho twist, holding her hair as she scanned the heel.

“What do you think?” The sales lady asked.

“Not really a fan of I’m honest.. do you happen to have wedge sandal, the starboards? I’ve had my eye on them for a while” She asked her tone excited while looking down at the small lady.

Simon watched as the lady looked up at his wife Her light eyes a bit nervous, “well umm..” she muttered, yep definitely nervous.

“Oh Honey I don’t bite.” She teased her hands meeting her hips.

“Well ma’am I don’t think we have your size..”

“On thats to bad..”

“I’m sorry I bet you could order them online!” The sales lady said.

She looked over at Simon then back at the lady “it’s alright hun, no worries.” She spoke sitting back down.

He could tell she was sad more disappointed, he helped her take off the heels it’s was and unsuccessful shop. Yet Simon now knew what she wanted, and he be damned if he didn’t get them for her.

He spent that night scrolling through his hope even making a few calls and ended up finally finding a store that had them.

It was weird especially on holiday not to wake up with her husband not in bed with her was new but not out of the ordinary. She ended up getting a text saying ‘Be ready for brunch I’ll be back soon gorgeous.’ It wasn’t long before he got back and she saw the bag in his hand.

He loved the face she made her jaw slightly dropped “Si?” She spoke fastening her gold hoop, Simon’s eyes scanned her body the white sundress she wore hugging her body the bottom being ruffled and stopping at the top of her knees, the top of it in a U shape her cleavage showing the sleeves also ruffled. Shit she looked good.

Simon cleared his throat before speaking “So you know those wedges you wanted.”

She gasped “you did not!” She smiled walking over to him quickly.

Simon hanged her the bag watching her place it on the bed Opening them “oh my lord, they’re so pretty aint they!” She smiled her eyes scanning the shoe.

Simon smiled as she let her arms wrap around his neck her lips kissing his multiple times. “Ugh! I love you so much. Baby! You didn’t have to!” She spoke between kissed knowing damn well he just spent twelve hundred dollars on them.

“But I did.” He spoke simply, his hands wandering soon feeling up her ass.

She hummed “what if we just do lunch instead brunch is for white suburban moms anyway.” She joked.

“Might make you mom…”

“Simon you impregnated me now I will rain hell.”

He chuckled pushing her against the bed, “yet you still beg me to cum in that pretty cunt of yours huh?” He spoke bitting her lip.

“You better get this dress off me, and that don’t mean rip it.” She spoke the feeling of Simon’s hands already at work.

“If this is a thank you I might just buy you another pair.” He smirked against her lips.

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

Sorry for any spelling errors but I figured y’all used to it reading my stuff!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #ghost simon riley #ghost x black reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x black reader #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #ghost x you

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alarrytale · 10 months

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I remember that comment Louis made maybe a couple of years ago or so when he said Simon flew him by himself after one of the shows to give him a dressing down (scolded him). That really sticks in my mind because I think that demonstrates how he was really controlled while in the band. The other boys too of course, but this seemed extreme to me. My guess is his insecurities really grew after that because he did change even his movements. So it’s hard for me to feel so hateful towards him with things that have happened during 1D because even that one experience shows a lot on how controlling of all the boys’ images management was. Even the interviews had moments where you can tell they had to catch themselves, which was always so sad to see. L’s insecurities with his voice was really ingrained in him from the start also. From things we’ve seen too, he’s an anxious person. Even his 1st couple of shows from this tour you could tell he was more nervous. Well and of course he actually said that he was going back to old habits again and started to loosen up after that. Personally I just think picking up flags at concerts is a Harry thing, while Louis’ thing is the barricade. Every artist is just different in their shows and add their own flare to their experience. No one wants a cookie cutter experience between every artist they see. It’s what sets them each apart for their audiences. The most important part is Louis and Harry have both made it a safe place for all their fans and themselves too. We’ve also seen Louis write and sign rainbow flags a bunch of times during various signings he has. So it’s not as if he won’t touch a rainbow flag. As you said, I do see him making a lot of progress. Honestly seeing his theme for this festival consumed in rainbows is such an experience. Didn’t think we’d see this much from him. And you’re right, seeing him feeling more comfortable and confident himself is a great thing to see! (PS.. I will say the barricade stresses me out sometimes when I see it because fans have really been taking too many liberties with it and at times it does make it unsafe for him. Though his body guards are good about at least the choking situation that seemed to trend for a bit)

I agree with all you say, anon!

Louis has been put under a lot of pressure to fit a certain image for a long time. It caused him to feel insecure and self-concious. As you say, he sometimes go back to old habits. It's so ingrained in him. But he shakes it off, more and more. And that's a good thing!

#i think we got to trust louis with the barricade thing. i think they do risk assesments #so it's as safe as it can be #fans know they will be ostracised if they cross the line #solo louis #louis image #barricade boy #afhf

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bobmckenzie · 2 years

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1, 3, 5, and 7 for Louis! :)

♡ @eternally-smitten

@eternally-smitten

hi Natalie, and tysm!! I hope you and your f/o’s are doing well! (I’ve been loving seeing your posts about your new guy Simon lol, new f/o’s are so exciting!!)

1. Talk about the first time you and your f/o met. How was it like?

Louis and I met on my first day working for the Ghostbusters! It was a very quick introduction by Peter as he was showing me around the firehouse, but I found Louis very endearing and my interest was definitely piqued. Louis was totally caught off guard and flustered, he thought I was a knockout and was not expecting to have this sort of reaction to the GB’s new assistant :’)

3. Did it start off as a small crush for you, or did you quickly fall head over heels? How about vice versa?

I fell pretty quickly! After a week or so working there, it clicked why I liked my job so much: because I was looking forward to seeing Louis and hoping he would talk to me every day LOL. Louis was pretty similar–he was physically attracted to me right away but didn’t realize that it would become more than that, or how quickly it would happen.

5. When you first started crushing on them, what qualities of theirs stood out to you? Was it their smile? Their eyes? Their way with words? Anything else? How about vice versa? (It can be any trait. Personality, appearance, etc.)

What stood out first to me was just how cute he is, how I couldn’t help looking at him whenever he was in the room, how just his presence made me smile for some reason. But the second quality I noticed was what really did me in: how nice he is. He’s just as busy as everyone else at the headquarters, but he always makes time to stop and have a real conversation with me when he sees me–and I can tell he’s actually interested in what I have to say, which only makes me even more flustered 😅

Louis first noticed my looks–he liked my height, my hair, and just simply thought I was pretty. The more he tried to get to know me, he grew a fondness for my shy demeanor, too. What really made me stand out to him after a few days, though, was that I would stop by his desk when he talked to me, and that I really listened to him and actually made an effort to talk to him first sometimes. So we kind of fell for each other for the same reason :’)

7. You’ve just come to realize you have a crush on your f/o. How was it like when you encountered them again after that? Were you able to keep your cool around them, or was it awkward? How about vice versa?

Oh I was a MESS. I realized it while I was getting ready for work one morning and the whole way there I kept debating with myself if I should go for it and ask him out or not. On one hand, he seemed to like me well enough and if he didn’t want to go out, I knew he’d let me down gently. On the other hand, there was a good chance he was just being nice and had no interest in me, and then it might always be awkward between us. When I finally got to work and saw him I had psyched myself out so badly (and on top of that I was looking at him through a new lens now that I admitted my feelings to myself) that I could barely hold a conversation with him and ended up pouring coffee on myself skdjfsjkf

When Louis realized his crush on me was more than just attraction he wanted to go for it, but figured he should test the waters first and try to find out if I was single–it didn’t go so well. he invited me to a party he was throwing and said I could bring a date along if I was seeing someone. When I said I wasn’t, he was just about to ask me to come as his date–then Janine piped up and excitedly offered to set me up with a friend of hers 🤭 I was too awkward to say no, and also took the whole thing the wrong way and figured it meant Louis had no interest in me if he wanted me to bring a date along. So instead of asking me out he got me a date to his party with another guy LOL

#sorry got rambly with these ones lol 😅 what can i say i love pining!!#ask #louistag

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windermeare · 2 years

Text

Ciao! 저는 밀라노에 도착했습니다

My story in Milan, part one.

Hello again, everyone. Back with your favorite Valentine guy; me. This time I'll tell you about my little journey in Milan a while ago.

I was there for a business trip, it was obvious. To have a vacation during the busiest months of the year? Couldn't be me. Anyways, I arrived in Milan around a day before PradaSS23 took place, it was the event that I was invited to.

I visited this one restaurant, I actually went there twice because man, Italian food is no joke and that place served the best. I had a great culinary experience during my time there. Plus, that restaurant also offer a very picturesque view of Milan Cathedral. It was so mesmerizing, I couldn't stop taking pictures and I can still remember the details of the view vividly.

Some people might have already known how much I enjoy whiskey and wine. I ordered a white wine at this very same restaurant, and oh boy I didn't expect it to be THAT strong. I read the comments online that some Italian wine could probably stronger than what is usually served in Korea and yeah, I can vouch for that. But still, it was a really, really good wine.

Drinking Italian white wine in a blushing light, I think I did my job well as a tourist.

On the day of PradaSS23 show, I was wearing a jumpsuit and a casual jacket. The original look was rather simple, so I suggested my team that they could probably add a bit more jewelry and they came up with a necklace. Surprise, surprise, the necklace hung around my neck was actually a belt. Yes, a belt! It turned out to be one of my most favorite looks of all time, I owe my team for that (and for everything else).

When they gave me the sunglasses, I tried to put it on my head like a bandana instead of wearing it. I asked my team how did I look like that, and they cheered—their approval meant a lot, maybe I should consider a career in styling later.

Later on, I went to the show with my stylist which also was my most faithful companion during my Milan trip, Mr. Kim! He rode in the car with me. As we were approaching the building where the show took place, I saw a large crowd of people were there in the streets. It was… normal, I guess? Considering the names lining up to sit front row at the show and I am beyond honored to be one.

It was my first fashion show ever, and I felt the loneliness soon as Mr. Kim departed from me. Thank god, I spotted a familiar face—Song Kang-ssi was there! I immediately greeted him and everything. Both of us met Win Metawin soon after and then I was reunited with my team right before the show began; they had to discuss some things with me, and I truly did appreciate the gesture since it was my very first time attending such event.

The show was great, turned out I had enjoyed it more than I imagined I would be. If you asked me which part of it all was my favorite, I wouldn't be able to answer but if you asked me which one is the most memorable… I think it was the moment when I went backstage and met Miuccia Prada herself. Raf Simons was also there, they greeted everyone warmly. I had a good time talking with them, and I also gave them the gifts I have prepared before. I also met some other new people such as Louis Partridge and the Goldblums, they were very kind and I'm glad to made them an acquaintance. Hopefully, we all will see each other again.

The moment I got into the car on the way back to the hotel, I really needed a minute to just sit… and think. Wow, did it all really happen? Everything was so surreal! As I have said before, I was feeling kind of lonely because I usually do things like that with my bandmates but now that I was doing it all alone, I was overwhelmed at first. I miss my bandmates, and I almost didn't know what to do but when I saw my fans in the crowd and it might sound way too cheesy but they washed away my worry and my anxiety. I saw them and I suddenly didn't feel alone at all anymore.

Grazie, Czennies and Valentines.

Anyways, I had a schedule to shoot some video for Prada back at the hotel. It was very fun.

The next day, I visited Prada's boutique in Milan and was greeted by their manager, Signorina Laura whom was very kind to accompany me through and through.

The show, the new friends, and the wine—overall, it was all memorable to me. I think I will remember my adventure for a long time.

My little Milan journey hasn't ended here yet, stay tuned for part #2!

PS: click here to know more about my experince at PradaSS23 show.

#재현 #PradaSS23

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sweetsubharry · 4 years

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Do you know any Larry fics with relationship during or post the band

yes I do! ^-^ (As a forewarning, under the read more is 47 fics! So this is quite a long post! I just couldn’t narrow them down!) I’ve split them into three sections; x factor, during the band, and ‘hiatus’ :)

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!!

X factor era

I'd give up forever to touch you by blankiehxrry

just your typical xfactor fic with a bit of a twist

Just Ask Me To by TellMeThisIsNotLove

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers.

“Of course I’m telling the truth!” Harry doesn’t even care that he sounds exasperated.

“Oh my god.” Louis grabs the wall behind him as if looking for support. His body slides down against it until he’s sitting crouched on the floor.

He mumbles something but Harry can’t really figure out what it is. He crouches down, and looks desperately at the breaking boy in front of him.

“You’re telling the truth,” Louis whispers. “You were not supposed to–”

“I was not supposed to do what? Tell me please,” Harry urges, taking Louis’ hands gently in his.

Or the X Factor era canon fic where they learn how to be a couple and that not everyone is going to be on their sides especially those with plain white t-shirts and saccharine smiles.

horizontal like a quarter to three by orphan_account

The worst part is that Louis just wants to get really rough with him. He's wanted it right from the start, and it doesn't make sense, because Harry's always been so gentle and understanding and sweet, and yet all Louis wants to do is fuck him up.

nonstop earthquake dreams of you by lumineres

And there's heat behind it, blazing, plasmatic, like stars crashing together, like an explosion in space, like a supernova, like a black hole--everything else sucked out of existence. There's no bed and there's no pillow and they're not lying down, just floating somewhere, somehow, and there's no room and there's no X Factor house and there's no Niall snuffling or Liam's deep, even breathing and there's no wind or traffic outside and there's no hum of the heating unit and it's all just Louis. All encompassingly Louis.

or, harry falls hard and finds louis already at the bottom

Could you love me anyway by SadaVeniren

Dear Mistress Lorin: I’ve been reading your blog for a couple weeks now and was hoping you’d give me some advice for something that happened with me and my boyfriend. I’m really worried that I hurt him.

aka Harry and Louis begin playing ping pong during the X-Factor Tour. It quickly gets out of hand.

no we're not friends, nor have we ever been by blankiehxrry

louis and harry get frisky in the xfactor house

give you my fever by beautlouis

And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis, it's driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release. “I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy.

*x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first

During the band

Sweet Baby by jishler

“Haz,” he said, “do you like being held down?”

Drawing a shaky breath, Harry finally looked Louis in the eyes. “I think so.”

Nothing You Can Do (But You Can Learn How To Be You In Time) by Teumessian

A Canon Compliant Semi-AU. Louis braids Harry’s hair. There are good times, bad times, fancy houses, supportive bandmates, secret boyfriends, small rebellions, bigger revolutions, some nail varnish, ribbons, cute clothing, and a Pinterest.

make me feel like i am breathing by crybaby

His eyes are already looking a hint distant as Louis gets comfortable on his knees, running a hand up the hairless expanse of Harry's milky thigh. Harry always starts dipping at the sight of his vibrator, bubblegum plastic with flecks of glitter in the pink. His cheeks pink to match the colour and his eyes go wide, his lips chewing.

(Prompt: how about louis fucking harry with a vibrator backstage before they go on?)

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

Just Give Me a Reason by Mr_Stylinson

"Why do people hate me?" is a question Harry is more than desperate to figure out the answer to after reading through negative comments on Twitter about his "What Makes You Beautiful" performance on Red or Black. But this new addiction could potentially decide his fate as a part of One Direction unless the other boys are able to convince their youngest member that his value is defined by far more than a bunch of dumb online comments.

The Pedal's Down, My Eyes are Closed by dancingontheceiling

Louis and Harry bang it out in the dressing room after performing "18" and "No Control" for the first time at OTRA Brussels.

i'm missing half of me when we're apart by orphan_account

Louis can just picture what he looks like right now. Curled up on the big bed in their LA house, wrapped up in one of Louis' sweatshirts, crying his heart out, face red and blotchy, eyes sore, fingers twisted in the blankets as his chest tightens up.

Fallingforyou by gayilystrong

Harry's sick on Tour, which leads to naps in Louis' bunk. Louis of course needs to take care of his baby.

vocal rest remedy by tippytoetomlinstyles

Harry is sick and sad and on vocal rest. Louis helps him get over his sadness by cheering him up the only way he knows how.

Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back) by orphan_account

It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right.

It Feels Right When The Pink Matches His Lips by orphan_account

He adores pink, and pretty colors. He likes deciding what color his nails should be and whether or not this lipstick matches his shirt. He likes rummaging through Jade or Leigh's closets to try on the pretty clothes they have or their make-up drawer out of curiosity.

But the media doesn't. They call him awful names, spewing out article after article. So, he stops. He stops wearing pink, stops painting his nails, stops experimenting with make-up, and Louis notices.

[Featuring Harry as the unconfident member of the biggest boy band in the world and Louis as his very supportive boyfriend.]

Every Move You Make by sunniskies

After the debacle at the Brits, Louis decides he needs to keep better track of Harry.

Obligatory Sickfic by WhoopsImASinner

Harry gets off stage after the Live Lounge and is more than a little upset about how sick he is. Louis takes it upon himself to get his boy home and cheer him up.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

But I'm Only Human (And I Bleed When I Fall Down). by brooklynbis

Harry wasn't an idiot. He wasn't gullible enough to believe that everyone was going to love him, hell, he was expecting for people to not like him. But a few tweets from Twitter really can be enough to trigger a whole bucket load of emotions.

_______________________

AKA Harry has a lot of emotions, management (particularly Simon) are pieces of shit, Louis is an amazing boyfriend as per, and Liam, Niall and Zayn are all very protective over the youngest member of the group.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Make Tea, Not War by adventuring, howdoyouwhisk (popsongdelusional)

"Is he the messiest?"

"Yes."

"Does he do the washing up?"

"Never."

"Does he make his bed?"

"Never."

"Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?"

"Nope!"

Or: Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.

Are We In The Clear Yet? by highlinson

The thing is, it’s not anything new. He’s gone through it a dozen times, at least. It shouldn’t scare him, still. Should never have scared him in the first place. Yet he’s trembling as he makes his way through the crowds.

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

We'll All Float On Alright by dancingbean

Harry has a really bad day. Louis is there with cuddles and kisses and scented candles.

You live in my heart by styleztomlinson

As soon as they’re done with their set, Louis only has one thing on his mind and that’s to get out of there as soon as possible.

or,

Harry is sick during their performance at the iHeartRadio festival. Afterwards, Louis takes cares of his baby, and dotes on his husband.

Cause If You Let Me, Here's What I'll Do by stylesforstiles

Five times where Harry is Louis' baby

When the Points Add Up by iwillpaintasongforlou

Louis is physically incapable of following the rules, and Management is smart enough to know his weak spot: Harry. One stunt too many leaves Harry exiled to a room by himself all night and Louis rallies the others to devise a plan to get Harry his cuddles tonight no matter what Management says.

There's a Hole In My Soul, Can You Fill It? by stylesforstiles

Sometimes Harry is so tired. Louis always wants to fix it.

Susceptible to Getting Hurt by page394

"I've always wanted to be one of those people who didn't really care that much about what people thought about them... But I just don't think I am." - Harry

Just What The Doctor Ordered by everyroad

A short little thing about a sick Harry who really just needs his Louis.

Baby, I'm perfect for you by nancy01

Harry broke down in tears. Like loud, ugly, fat tears that made his shoulders shake and his hands come up to hide his face. He made Louis worry, he made Louis scared, he made Louis angry and worst of all now Louis' going to be disappointed in him and think he's being childish and pathetic. well done, have you made yourself proud?. now even louis isn't going to like you, you've pushed him away to.

Louis sighed."Sweetheart, come here." He called with wide opening arms.

Harry doesn't think he's ever moved faster in his entire life. Louis arms wrap around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in close, as Harry buries his neck into Louis' shoulder to try and source maximum comfort.

Paps become to much for Haz, cue protective boyfriend Louis

Never Let You Fall by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry slips on stage and gets a minor concussion, and Louis insists that he spend the night in the hospital just in case. He then turns into a protective baby lion because that is his Harry and he'll be damned if anything happens to him on Louis' watch. Harry rolls his eyes a lot but doesn't really mind.

Breathe by dontlietomehoney

Harry has an asthma attack and Louis is scared to death. What follows after though, scares both boys, pulling them apart and bringing them together.

Your Reason To Be by KellanCougar

The X Factor was only the start. With their management willing to do anything for headlines, including manipulation that could threaten Harry's very life, Louis fears he will lose everything he loves and be powerless to stop it.

And We Linger On by stylesforstiles

Harry is pouting. Louis takes care of him

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

that boy's got my heart in a silver cage by orphan_account

The whole thing is addictive somehow, and not just because of the way that it makes Louis feel, like Harry is his and he'll do anything he says—but because of the way Harry reacts to it, even in public, twisting in his seat and tripping over his words and once even briefly hiding his face in Louis's shoulder because he's so flustered, causing the girls in the audience to squeal and shout.

if we got nothing, we got us by tumsa

Harry is Louis' baby and he's sick as well.

Okay by JustAnotherShadow503

Harry is frustrated.

It's been almost two years since he and Louis got back together, and nothing has changed. Well, they have changed, and their situation has gotten a lot better, but their sex life? Vanilla. Completely and utterly vanilla.

Harry really thought that after Louis' dirty talk when they got back together, they would get into some kinkier shit, but nope. Louis still makes love to him and calls him sweet names, and that's nice, Harry absolutely loves it, but sometimes, he gets this itch that making love can't scratch.

Or, the one where Harry and Louis try to start a dom/sub BDSM relationship, and nothing goes according to plan.

Gentle Sin by userkant

Harry gasps. He gasps at what must be a sudden pain, or maybe at his sudden orgasm that has him tightening around Louis, forcing Louis’ own release, or maybe all of these things are connected.

Or, Louis discovers a few things about Harry.

A fic about kink exploration and pleasure-pain featuring baby boyfriends, tenderness, and gentle dom Louis.

I'll Look After You by stylesforstiles, TrynaGetStylinson

Harry's had enough with the mobs. He just needs someone to tell him it will all be ok.

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

leave you drowning until you reach for my hand by orphan_account

If Louis told him to do something that he really didn't want to do, it would be different, but Louis's never done that, never asked anything of Harry that he couldn't handle. Except—except maybe this; to obey him without praise, reward, approval, or even mere acknowledgement.

Beneath the Suits by someonethatsfunny

Harry and Louis had a bit of a ritual when it came to award shows. And that ritual didn’t lend itself very well to after parties or being around other people in general. Nope. They were much better off alone where they could have their own private celebration. So what happened after the AMAs then when Niall and Liam head to an after party and Harry and Louis were nowhere to be found? Well, obviously we can't be sure, but it was probably something along the lines of ....

During ‘hiatus’

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private plane.

Things Are Pretty Good From Here by ItIsWhatItIs9194, Teddy1008

Harry's just released "Sign of the Times," and of course, Louis can't help but want to let his sub know how proud he is of him with more than just words.

They basically fuck.

head head heart by turnyourankle

After Dunkirk has wrapped filming, Harry struggles with his inability to reach subspace. He tries taking the matter in his own hands before Louis intervenes with a plan of his own.

Model's Own by Domeaspreadsheet

Harry hadn’t wanted him to see the Another Man shoot until it dropped, wanted it to be a surprise. He’d already come home with his hair chopped off, how many surprises could there be?

Louis pulls up Harry’s instagram, the notifications for three posts coming through right after the other. Harry was off at a spin class, and here Louis sits, staring at Harry’s face, the three covers forming a neat line, all so different, yet all so very Harry. He zooms in on one, knows he must be seeing it wrong, but no. Harry is wearing a collar. On the cover of a fucking magazine.

Beside Me Like a Silhouette by Domeaspreadsheet

“Quite the ruckus from someone who thought they were coming home to a sleeping household,” Louis says on an exhale of smoke.

Oh. Harry has been set up.

“Well, maybe if I hadn’t thought you were bailing on me I would have tried harder to be quiet,” he huffs.

Louis levels his gaze at him. “Is that so?”

Harry nods.

“Very well. You have fifteen minutes to shower and put in the plug I left on the bathroom counter. No need to dress afterward. When you come back, kneel next to the chair on my right. You may go.”

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

i'll be your sunflower by scagnetism

“What do you think’s gonna stop us now?” Harry says cheekily, laughter in his voice as he looks up at Louis. “Something’s gotta get in our way like always, doesn’t it?”

“Ha,” Louis grins, kissing his cheek and holding open the door for him as they make their way toward the car. “Nothing’s gonna interrupt us this time. ‘S gonna be perfect, just like Pumpkin.”

Or, a few interruptions aren't going to stop Harry from having a perfect pregnancy and having the family he and Louis have always dreamed of.

Take Me for a Spin by QuickedWeen

The night of the Pride of Britain Awards 2016. Louis goes to the ceremony and out to the club afterwards, but what is Harry up to?

Baby, Honey by lovelarry10

Harry's been talking about sex and babies on stage too much for Louis' liking, so he decides to give him what he wants...

Or the one with the aftermath of Harry's Detroit concert...

Half Fragment by coffinofachimera

Louis and Harry share a night together through the phone.

As always I hope you enjoy these! Make sure you read the tags and stay safe lovelies ❤

#sub harry #bottom harry #dom louis #top louis #larry stylinson #larry #fanfiction #fic rec #larry fic #larry fic rec #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry fanfiction #larry fanfic rec #Lottie fic rec #ask lots

232 notes · View notes

sunfloweradoring · 4 years

Text

the one with the playlist

Strap yourselves in! This is big one, but I hope you enjoy! K xxx

masterlist

word count: 5k

It was certainly not the first time we’d been parted. Indeed, it was almost more common for one or both of us to be jetting off to some new location than staying in our own flat. However, that fact did not, in any way, alleviate the pain and sorrow the pair of us experienced with each prolonged separation. In the almost four years since we met at that stupid party so much in our lives had changed - yet the biggest constant was the feelings Harry and I shared for one another.

That’s why I found myself tearing up more than usual this Wednesday night.

“I’ll call you every day.” Harry reassured, glancing up from his almost completely packed suitcase to my eyes as I sat on the other side of the bed from the object. I tried my best to give him a convincing smile, nodding softly. “Baby...” His tone seemed to send me over the edge that I’d quite frankly been teetering on for the last three days. He abandoned his packing, pushing the suitcase down to the end of the bed before crawling towards me. Within a second he pulled me against him, his lips pressing kisses to the top of my head as my cheek squished against his chest.

“I’m just gonna miss you, ‘s all.” I muttered into his jumper, my fingers clutching desperately to the material as if I could hold him against me forever instead of letting him go on tour.

“I know, lovie, I know. And I’m gonna miss you too, so much. But before you know it we’ll be together again!” His voice picked up a little towards the end. “You know, you’re gonna visit me in America, and we get two whole weeks together then, and then it’ll only be a little bit until I’m home again.”

“But then you’ll go again.”

“You’re pretty shit at taking comfort, have I ever told you that?” I giggled quietly as his fingers playfully prodded at my sides. I squirmed in his grasp in attempts to escape his attack.

“Just let me be sad!” I laughed, sitting between his legs when he finally released me. His eyes lingered, darting between mine and my lips. The silence that took over was one completely void of awkwardness. “I love you.” I almost whispered the words as I crawled up his body, swinging my right leg over his left, straddling his waist. His hands pushed up my thighs, curving around my waist as he pulled me forward into him again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” I could feel his smile against my neck before I let out a little whine of annoyance.

“You know how much I hate it when you call me that.”

“Yeah, that’s why I do it.” I pulled back, hands on his chest as I inspected the smirk spread across his features.

“Arsehole.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“Yeah, but you love me.” His hands dropped from my waist, grasping my bum in a squeeze.

“Don’t know why.” I mumbled teasingly, glancing my eyes up to meet his as he let out a small ‘heeyyyyy’. I released another laugh, leaning forward to steal a quick peck from his lips. “I’m joking, my love. You know I love you because you’re the sexiest, funniest and all round best person in the world.” My lips ghosted over his, allowing me to detect the subtle darkening of his eyes as lust overtook him.

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

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” I asked for what was probably the fifth time in the last thirty minutes.

“Yes, woman, Christ.” Harry replied in fake exasperation.

“Alright, alright, I just don’t want you calling me, crying, because you didn’t bring enough knickers.” I smirked, stepping out of the apartment.

“Don’t wear knickers. Imma man.” He grumbled in return, delivering a playful slap to my bum before locking the door. “You don’t have to take me to the airport if you don’t want to, honey.”

“But I do want to.” I grinned, getting into the car as he loaded up the boot with his numerous bags. As he reached out for the passenger door’s handle, he gasped.

“Wait, hang on one sec, I forgot something.” He said, holding his finger up before jogging back to the door, unlocking it and disappearing inside before I could chastise him for his forgetfulness. Not two minutes had gone by before he reemerged, locking the door once more. To my surprise, though, his hands were just as empty as they had been when he left the car moments before. When he entered the car I shot him a questioning look. “What?”

“What did you forget?” I asked, pulling my seatbelt across my body and fastening it.

“Oh, nothing, realised I actually did have it already.” Harry said, his lips quivering slightly. In the last four years I now knew this to be a tell-tale sign that he was trying his utmost to keep the smirk that was fighting its way onto his face at bay. Of course I wanted to dig deeper, get a truthful answer from him, but I knew we were already running out of time to get to the airport on time for his flight.

“Okay... you weirdo.” I giggled, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

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

The lump in my throat was growing every second I watched the five boys (well all young men now) checking off their things with the tour manager.

“Alright, I think we’ve got everything. Let’s hit the road, again!” He spoke, quietly chuckling to himself as he put his clipboard away after a final chat with Zayn.

“It’s actually on the road again.” Louis sarcastically remarked, pulling his rucksack onto his shoulders before hugging his sister Lottie. Harry and I exchanged a look and laugh before he approached me, pulling me into a hug.

“I’ll call you everyday.” He repeated the words from last night into my hair as he squeezed me as hard as he could without hurting me.

“I love you so, so, so, so, so much!” I spoke, head nestled into his neck.

“I love you more, angel. I’ll see you soon, yeah? Keep my side of the bed warm for me.” He pulled away, eyes momentarily scanning over my face, noting the well of tears in my eyes I was refusing to release in front of him. His lips pressed to mine, and even though it was but a few seconds, the kiss we shared held so much passion and love I felt my heart race. Pulling away, we looked at each other once more before he dropped his arms from my body and retrieved his bags. “Bye, love.” Despite the wink he shot in my direction, I couldn’t help detecting the slight break in his voice now.

“Bye, baby.”

Before I knew it, the whole tour party of was gone and out of sight, just leaving us loved ones that had come to wave them goodbye.

“God, I still can’t believe it, every time they go.” Louis’ mum piped up, receiving a hum of agreement from the rest of us. “So proud of them.”

“Yes, so, so proud.” Liam’s mum replied.

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

The silence that greeted me as I unlocked the door was no where near as comforting as the silence Harry and I shared the night previously. This silence was almost eerie, confirming that, yes, I was alone once more. I sniffled back the tears that I had finally allowed myself to shed in the car on the way home, wiping my eyes with the back of my sleeve.

Slowly, I made my way up stairs, pushing open the door to our bedroom. It seemed far less chaotic than it had been for the last couple of weeks now that it was relieved of Harry’s many bags. I missed the mess now; it had told me that he was still here. Without turning on the light, I trudged to the bed, flinging myself onto the duvet, laying like a starfish on the covers as I let out an exaggerated huff slash groan. I glanced up in the direction a small rattling noise came from. On the pillow was an object I couldn’t quite make out in the dim light of the room; it certainly hadn’t been there earlier when I left the room to take Harry to the airport. Maybe this was what he was being so secretive about then. Pulling myself up, I flicked on the lamp beside the bed, discovering a CD with a sticky note attached.

‘For when you miss me and may forget how much I love you, here are all the songs that remind me of you (I’d know, seeing as I wrote them about you ;))

All my love, H xxxxx’

Another wave of tears hit me as I stared at his scrawl across the pink paper. How could I miss him so much already? Shooting up from the bed, I clambered out of the room and into the office where the computer was. I dropped into the chair, fiddling with the CD before slotting it into the machine. My heart seemed to skip with anticipation, my eyes darting all over the screen as I waited for it to load. Finally the songs came onto the screen; I was surprised to see how many of them there were, but I couldn’t help the grin on my face at the first four.

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

Stole My Heart

Under the lights tonight, you turned around And you stole my heart, with just one look When I saw your face, I fell in love Took a minute girl, to steal my heart tonight With just one look, yeah Been waiting for a girl like you

Harry’s PoV

“So remind me how you know this guy again?” I questioned, leaning forward to push my head between the driver’s and front passenger’s seat. Louis huffed out a breath, shaking his head in annoyance.

“He’s just a friend, mate. Does it really matter how I know him? It’s free alcohol. You should be bloody grateful seeing as you’re fresh out of the womb.” Niall snorted at Louis’ reply, earning a punch to the leg from me.

“No need to be snarky.” I muttered, watching as the car pulled up to a large house that already looked like it was breaking at the seams with too many people.

“He’s just butthurt that he and Caroline broke up. Mate, you were punching. It was gonna end at some point!” Zayn chimed in. The five of us hopped out the car, making our way up the steps and into the house.

“Best behaviour, everyone, Simon said we could do some good networking here. There might be some people here we could need.” Liam said, the four of us completely ignoring him as we pushed through the crowd. Almost immediately we lost Niall - no doubt already in search of some alcoholic beverage. I decided not to join him, knowing full well that Zayn was right. I’d never tell him that though! I was definitely feeling a little low after the short rendezvous with Caroline Flack came to a somewhat abrupt end, and if I went straight to the drink like Niall, it was probably not going to be pretty. Instead, I followed Zayn who was talking to a group of three that he already seemed to know.

After nearly half an hour though, the conversation was getting a little boring, and I was certainly struggling to keep up the façade of interest. I cleared my throat, gaining the attention of my peers. “Um, sorry, just gonna excuse myself, gonna get a drink.” I muttered.

“I’ll follow, be right back.” Zayn agreed, quickly following me. “Oh my god, did you hear them? How on earth can someone complain about not having enough rooms in a 7 room house for like twenty minutes?” He questioned, a laugh escaping his lips as we were out of earshot of the trio.

“I mean, if you fill half of them with your weed plantation it’s definitely going to affect the potential of the others, isn’t it?” I joked. “Now where the hell is kitchen?”

“I think,” Zayn spoke half the sentence, nodding his head in the direction in front of us. Together we continued pushing through the crowd of people that somehow seemed to have multiplied even in the short amount of time since our arrival. “Please don’t start growing a weed plantation in your house, Harold.” Zayn teased, finally entering the kitchen. “Ah the others are here.”

“Lads!” I heard Louis shout as we appeared. I didn’t answer Zayn’s joke because, leaning against the fridge was a girl. God Harry, that is not just ‘a girl’. I’d never seen anything that could even come close to her beauty. Just looking at her face I could feel my heart rate increase tenfold. Her brown hair was slightly waved, pushed back over one shoulder, accentuating her high cheekbones. She wasn’t wearing anything that was particularly noteworthy, but she made the simple outfit look like it was being modelled for the runway. Suddenly I noticed that I had yet to speak; that in fact, no one had said anything because Zayn had become a little shy with the presence of this stranger. I tried to adopt the most upbeat, unfazed tone.

“Hi!” As Liam introduced us I felt myself move forward towards her. I stuck out my hand. What the fuck am I doing? Who shakes hands at 17 - especially when they’ve just met the most beautiful woman in the entire universe?! Her hand slowly slid into mine; the softest, most delicate hands I’d ever felt - and that’s including my own mother who it seemed applied Cath Kidston hand moisturiser every waking moment. I thought quickly, moving down and placing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Y/N.” I smiled, making eye contact for the first time.

Wow.

Never in my life have someone’s eyes felt like they were looking straight into my soul. Her cheeks flushed a pink shade, causing mine to match.

“And you, Harry.” She returned, maintaining the eye contact.

Shit, Harry, this is deep. You can’t fall in love this quickly, can you?

When I got home that night, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. She clouded every thought, her touch still seeming to cause flames to run over my skin. As I sat on my bed, I grabbed the scrap of paper that was beside the bed from a piece of junk mail I’d opened this morning. Rummaging around I found a half blunt pencil, scribbling less than ten words onto the crumbled paper:

When I saw your face, I fell in love.

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

They Don’t Know About Us

They don’t know about the things we do They don’t know about the I love you’s But I bet you if they only knew They would just be jealous of us They don’t know about the up all nights They don’t know I've waited all my life Just to find a love that feels this right Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

It must have been my continuous sniffles that prevented me from hearing that the front door had opened and closed, allowing Harry back into the apartment. My arms encircled my shins, pulling my legs up close to my chest as I sat on the little bench by the window in our bedroom.

Things had just gotten too much as of late. With three new projects of mine coming out this year, with Harry working what felt like around the clock with the guys in the studio to produce another album, the press seemed to think it was their role to shit over everything. At every opportunity media outlets took it upon themselves to dig their way into our private lives we tried so hard to keep just that: private.

“Baby, what are you doing up here? I thought you had an interview on the phone at 6? Why are you in the dark?” All of Harry’s questions felt like a tonne of bricks, causing more tears to well up in my eyes, and eventually cascade down my cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? What are the tears for?” Not a second later he was by my side, kneeling down beside the bench, hands pulling on mine gently.

“I’ve had enough.” I cried, allowing him to pull my body around so he was kneeling now between my legs.

“Enough of what, my love?” His voice was soft, gentle, matching the feel of his caresses over my hands.

“I know we’re not s-s-supposed to r-read about ourselves in the n-news, but-” My hiccups became too much, completely cutting me off.

“Shhh, lovie, take a breath, yeah? Calm down, it’s okay. I’m here now.” The look in his eyes broke my heart; his pupils were swimming with concern and anxiety at finding me in this state.

“They were talking about how you’re really close with all of these women, like Cara and Caroline and all of that... And you know that picture that paps took of me like three weeks ago and I was crying because of something stupid on the phone outside of the set?” Harry nodded in confirmation, not wanting to cut me off in my flow. “Well according to them that was me crying about you cheating on me with all of these girls and how I felt trapped in this relationship and all that. They said I was calling someone to find another place to live for a bit or something. I know it sounds stupid, Harry, trust me, I know; because I know you’d never cheat on me, and I know they’re just you’re friends, but at the same time, this constant bombardment from the press is just so tiring! I just want to go outside and not be followed.” By this point I’d slowly sunk to the floor, tears continuing to flow freely from my eyes; but he was there to hold me. My head rested on his shoulder, nose pressed into his skin whilst his hands ran soothingly up and down my back.

“I know it’s hard, baby.” Harry spoke softly, his breath washing over the side of my face. “But it’s our life, yeah? We’ve just gotta live it the best way that we can and fuck them and what they think. They’ve got no idea what goes on behind closed doors; they have no idea how much we love each other; they’ve not got a clue what stupid stuff we talk about in the middle of the night when we can’t sleep. But trust me, I’ve waited too long for this to let them come between them. You’re the love of my life.” My heart fluttered at the end of his mini rant, a small smile playing on my lips.

“Really?” I croaked, lifting my head enough to catch his gaze. The previous expression that had evoked such sadness within me was now replaced by one that filled me with delight; he looked so in love, his eyes were shining in the darkness of the room, his lips only inches from mine.

“Yeah, of course. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. What we have... just feels... right. You know?” I nodded in agreement, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“I’m so in love with you, Harry.” I muttered.

“And I’m so in love with you.” He finished his declaration with my name.

The rest of the evening was quiet, peaceful; he sat beside me as I lay in the bath, his fingers intertwined with mine. It didn’t feel weird at all to be lying in front of him completely naked, he knew everything about me; every curve and bump of my body, every thought in my mind; everything.

“Wanna know something funny?” Harry asked gently. I nodded, swirling my free hand in the cooling water. “I was trying to write a song for you... well about you, all day and I was struggling so much,” He chuckled, looking down at our hands. “The boys were starting to take the piss, saying I wasn’t a real songwriter because I literally sat there for hours and didn’t write a single word. But in the fifteen minutes we’ve been here, I think I’ve got something.”

“Can I hear it?” I asked hopefully, sitting up a bit to lean my head on the side of the tub, mirroring the positioning of his.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat a little, shaking his head as if he were about to belt it out, but in what must have been the softest I’d ever heard his voice he smoothly sung:

They don’t know I've waited all my life Just to find a love that feels this right Baby they don’t know about, they don’t know about us

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

Strong

Think of how much love that's been wasted People always trying to escape it Move on to stop their heart breaking But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

“What are you even talking about, Harry?” My voice was hoarse, not from shouting (because that was something I refused to do), but from the hours and hours we’d been going at each other in this fight. “You’re taking this way out of context and trying to put words into my mouth!” Exasperation and frustration were clear in my words as my hands sat on my hips, sending Harry a slight glare as he stood on the other side of the living room.

“I don’t think I am, love,” The pet name in this context seemed a little sarcastic as his voice was definitely louder than usual, but not yet shouting. I think he’d exhausted himself an hour or so ago. “I think I’ve hit the nail bang on the head.”

“All I said was that I would appreciate more time with you; that’s all! What I didn’t say is that I don’t think you should be going out with your friends and reducing the amount of time you spend on tour.”

“That’s not something I can do, Y/N! I’m not in control of that! I can’t just go to management and say ‘oh yeah, my missus has got the hump, can we just cut out some of those dates?’“

“Harry, please!” Now that he was starting to get away with himself, clearly becoming more and more angry by the minute, I needed to clear the air. “That’s not something I’m asking from you.” I repeated, my voice cool, calm and collected. “I’m just asking you to consider spending some more of the time you have in England at home. You’ve been out nearly every night the last two weeks with various people-”

“I’ve always invited you to come too!”

“Harry please don’t interrupt me.” I begged.

“You’re being unreasonable.” It was clear to me now that he was definitely not prepared for an adult conversation, so I decided it was a good time for me to go upstairs and give him time to cool down.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, I’m gonna leave you.” Before I’d even made it four metres to the stairs, Harry’s hand had grabbed my arm; I was about to say something about man-handling me when I caught his expression.

He looked broken, eyes filled with fear as his lips were parted. “Please don’t leave me.” His voice had absolutely no hint of anger anymore, just pure terror.

“Leave you? No, Harry, I meant leave you alone to calm down. I was just... going upstairs.” I trailed off, eyeing him in confusion. His hand let go of me, both palms cradling his temples.

“Fuck,” He breathed.

“Why would you think I’d leave you?” I asked, stepping closer to him as he started pacing around the room. When I received no answer I called out his name.

“That’s just how it happened to my parents.” His voice was so quiet I almost missed it. My heart sunk.

“Hey,” I walked over to him, allowing my arms to go around him as I rested my head against his chest. I could hear his heart thumping against his ribcage frantically. “That’s not what’s going on here.” I explained. “It’s just a little fight, yeah? Nothing we can’t come through.” His arms were tightly holding me against him, his cheek against the top of my head.

“I just thought you’d leave before something happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, just to leave before I broke your heart or something.” He muttered, sounding almost like he was too scared to even say it.

“No, Harry. No.” I shook my head, tightening my arms around him. “I love you so much, too much almost.” I let out a little laugh. “I wouldn’t do that to either of us.”

“Would be a waste.”

“Yes, a waste.” I agreed, looking up at him. “I’m not running away from this... from us. I never want to do that.” I reassured.

Hours had past; apologies had been exchanged, promises made and kisses traded. I walked out of the kitchen, holding two glasses of wine to find him hunched over the journal I’d brought him for Christmas last year.

“What you writing, superstar?” I teased, sinking into the sofa beside him. Without words, he tilted the pages for me to look at his writing:

But there's nothing I'm running from You make me strong

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

Night Changes

We're only getting older, baby And I've been thinking about it lately Does it ever drive you crazy Just how fast the night changes? Everything that you've ever dreamed of Disappearing when you wake up But there's nothing to be afraid of Even when the night changes, it will never change me and you

The night had been absolutely beautiful. Harry had arranged to take me out to a fancy restaurant for our fourth anniversary, wining and dining me like he was trying to make a good first impression on an initial date.

We walked the short distance from the restaurant back to our home, fingers laced together, the warmth in our bodies from the, perhaps too much, alcohol we’d had with dinner.

“Thank you for tonight, lovie.” I smiled up at him, his features somewhat shadowed by the darkness, but subtly illuminated by the various street lamps.

“It was my pleasure, baby. Thank you for the best four years of my entire life.” My skin flushed before I leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“How is it that you can still make me blush and feel all gooey inside after all this time?” I wondered aloud. Harry shrugged, a smirk on his lips as he turned into our driveway.

“Just a god really, aren’t I?” He shot me a wink, letting go of my hand to unlock the door. I laughed, shaking my head at him.

“I can tell you one thing that’s never changed.” He raised his eyebrows at me in question, holding his arm up to keep the door open.

“After you,” He muttered, watching as I ducked under his arm and into the house.

“You’re still a cocky bastard.”

“I can assure you, madam, my parents were married.” I spun around, looking at him before we both burst into a fit of giggles.

“Stop it! You’re still 17 I swear!” I chortled, kicking my heels off by the door (a problem for me to sort tomorrow).

“Yeah, but you love it though, don’t you, sweetheart?” His lips were centimetres from my ear, hand squeezing my bum playfully.

“You’re such a flirt.” I countered, a wide grin on my face.

“Just for you.” He winked again, taking off his jacket and hanging it up before mirroring my actions with his own shoes.

“You know what else is for you?” I asked, attempting to adorn my best sultry tone.

“Hmm?” He hummed in return, eyes flickering over my body.

“All of this.” I muttered, gesturing to my body. “These,” I continued, my index finger playfully stroking down my breasts. Suddenly Harry was advancing on me; but I was faster. I let out a small shriek, spinning around and running up the stairs.

“Hey! Come back, you pest!” Harry shouted after me. I could hear his footsteps chasing after me. “You’re gonna pay for that!”

“Thank you again.” I muttered, lips slowly trailing over his naked torso, the sheets pulled up under my armpits to cover my own bare skin.

“I’d do anything for you.” He smiled, watching as my lips made their way from his pectorals, up his sternum, to his neck and eventually to his lips.

“You’re the love of my life.” I replied, laying my head against his skin after our kiss. We lay there in silence for a few minutes, just soaking in each other before I heard him softly humming a tune I’d not heard before.

“What’s that?” I asked curiously, propping myself up on my elbow.

“Just thought of it.” He replied, turning his head to look at me. “I wrote some lyrics the other day, and I think they’d go with that.” I looked at him in a way to encourage him to go on. He playfully rolled his eyes at me before clearing his throat, gently singing the words to the tune he’d just been humming:

But there's nothing to be afraid of Even when the night changes, it will never change me and you

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #one direction #one direction imagines #fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble

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damn-behzinga · 4 years

Text

A Painful Memory

Ethan Payne (Behzinga) X Reader

summary - The Sidemen Roast is all fun and games until someone jokes about Ethan’s friend who passed away two years ago.

warnings - mentions of suicide, death, therapy, swearing, my terrible writing

request - hi hope your well idk if you are doing requests right now but if you are could you do an ethan or harry one where u are in the audience at the sidemen roast and one of them targets a roast at u but it’s really mean and triggers something?! :) thank you xx

masterlist & request info

The Sidemen decided to do another Sidemen Roast but with other people. They had gotten a bunch of new friends to roast them but needed one more to complete the set.

They all chose their audience members, close friends and girlfriends to watch the scene play out. Whichever of their closest friends were available really.

The evening had gone well, a few roasts that made the crowd and the Sidemen burst out into laughter and a few that made them cringe or gasp. But overall it was going well. Until Louis stood up to start his roasts. He was a newer friend and they thought it would be interesting to have him, roast people, he had only just grown close with.

It was already a little off when he made a race joke that JJ and Tobi managed to awkwardly laugh off. But no one was expecting the words, "No wonder Ethan's mate killed himself, I couldn't bear to deal with Ethan either.".

It wasn't a secret between his close friends that Ethan lost a friend to suicide. Ethan was very lost after it happened because he was the one that found them. But Ethan kept it a secret not wanting the public to know or anyone outside his close friends and family. So how the fuck did that guy know?

Everyone sat in shock and Ethan didn't know how to react. He picked up his bottle of water and took a shaky sip, Tobi touched Ethan's shoulder to show his support but Ethan flinched away.

JJ was the first to speak up, kicking the guest off stage and announcing they were taking a short break. Ethan quickly ran off stage and you immediately stood up and chased after him.

"Ethan?" You called after your boyfriend but Ethan continued running.

Ethan suddenly stopped and looked around the room, making eye contact with you, a loud sob escaping his lips. You cupped his cheeks and stroked them softly, a small way to calm him during the tough times. Ethan continued to cry and you helped him slowly lower himself to the floor.

"It's okay, love. I'm here, I'm here." You whispered, rocking him gently after you pulled him into your chest.

The words kept repeating in his head, the entire crowd knew now. Everything hurt.

"I didn't know he was hurting!" Ethan sobbed. "I didn't want to find him."

You closed your eyes to stop the tears from falling and you continue to stroke his arm and head, trying to soothe him in any way you could. It happened two years ago but Ethan had never fully gotten over it. Nightmares plagued with the image of his dead friend's body, and days where Ethan would go into a deep state of mourning, not knowing where he went wrong.

"No one is going to judge you." You muttered lightly. "None of this is your fault."

"It was my fault, I didn't help him." Ethan cried into your neck.

"Ethan what happened to him was not your fault, none of this is your fault." You said sternly. "The crowd aren't going to say anything about you or your friend, not anything negative anyway."

"Now they all know," Ethan whispered

"Ethan, Jacob was an amazing guy. He was so funny and he was creative and handsome. What happened to him was tragic and we can't let that constantly hold you back. You are strong and you shouldn't have gone through that but you did and we can't change the past. Let's just look forward to the future ahead of us. Remember him for who he was, not how he ended." You said honestly. "Seeing you so beat up over him hurts me so much."

"I just wish it wasn't him," Ethan said quietly.

"I know, I know." You replied, rocking him softly. "But we need to move on because you are hurting over this and you can't even say his name without being upset.

"I think I need to talk to a professional," Ethan said softly.

"I think you should too." You agreed honestly. "But we can sort that out tonight after the shoot. You are going to go into the bathroom and take deep breaths and you are going to go back on that stage and get roasted by your true friends. Sound good?"

Ethan nodded and you smiled at him, helping him up and pushing him into the toilets.

Simon entered the hall soon after a frown evident on his face.

"Is he all right?" Simon asked.

"He will be." You stated back.

"We've kicked Louis out. None of us knows how he found that out." Simon explained. "Thankfully, everyone in the audience is our friend so they know that Ethan can take a joke and that he doesn't want to talk about Jacob."

"He's going to go see a therapist." You said. "He thinks it'll be good for him."

"That's good. That's good." Simon sighed almost relieved.

Ethan exited the toilets and sent Simon a small smile.

"You got this," Simon whispered.

Ethan nodded back at him, a small smile of thanks decorating his lips. The three of you walked back to the main area before you gave Ethan a quick kiss and returned to your seat. Everyone watched Ethan walk in, none of them knowing how to react. It was quickly replaced as Freezy started clapping for Ethan and soon everyone else joined in. The shoot quickly continued as normal, the roasts becoming funnier by the second. Ethan quickly went back to his happy mood, feeling a new sense of joy as his friends continued to joke and laugh.

#ethan payne #behzinga #sidemen #behzinga x reader #ethan payne x reader #behzinga imagine #ethan payne imagine #behzinga fanfiction #ethan payne fanfiction #sidemen imagine #sidemen fanfiction

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anythingandeverything1d · 4 years

Text

SNL

You were lounging on the couch trying to watch the bachelor while Harry was anxiously pacing in front of the tv. His head was down and he was talking to himself. You sighed loudly trying to get his attention but he continued pacing and practicing. “Babe.” you tried. Again, nothing. “Haz.” He didn't even look your direction. “Harry.” He actually turned his back to you. “Harry Edward Styles.” you said louder. His head snapped up, his green eyes full of anxiety as they set upon yours. “Babe what are you doing?”

“Practicing. I have SNL to film tomorrow.” He turned to go back to what he was doing but you stopped him again.

“Harry.” He looked up again. “I asked what you were doing. Not what you think you're doing.” You stood up, walked over to him and held tightly onto his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to them. He sighed and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I just want to be good. I don't want people to doubt me.”

“Since when have you cared what people think?” you asked while tracing lines in his back.

“I don't..I just - ugh. I have loved SNL for so long. I want to be the kind of person I enjoy seeing on the show. I want to be funny.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “Haz you are funny.”

“No everyone thinks its cute I try to be funny. I want to actually be funny.”

“I think you are actually funny.” you tap his nose. “You make me laugh everyday.”

“Yeah but your my girlfriend you have to laugh.” He half smiles and kisses your forehead.

“I don't have to do anything just because I’m your girlfriend.” Harry was a little calmer so you stepped and pulled him to the couch.

He sighed and stood back up. “Im not good enough for this. I don't know how to be funny.” He had tears in your eyes and your heart lurched a little wanting to make it better.

“Harry don't ever say you're not good enough. You're freaking Harry Edward Styles. You were in the BIGGEST boyband in the world. You topped charts with your solo career. You've traveled all over the world, seen things people can only dream of seeing. You get to do what you love. Harry your incredible. You're a down to earth person. If you just be yourself and don't worry about what you think people are going to think of you, you will kill SNL tomorrow. I promise.”

You stood up and circled your arms around his waist. You placed a gentle kiss to his lips and he smiled. “But what if people don't think I’m funny?”

“Then they don't think youre funny. What are you going to lose? You love SNL. Its been a dream of yours to do and now youre actually doing it. It doesn't matter if youre good or not because youre going to have fun doing it.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. I just want to feel prepared...”

“Then lets practice. Come on.” You turned the tv off and dragged him to the piano. “Preform your monologue for me.”

Harry stood there anxious and nerves but you nodded and pushed him along. He smiled and took a deep breath. “It is so great to be here hosting Saturday Night Live for the first time.” You smiled and asked him to continue. “I am so excited to be here as more than just a musical guest. It-it feels” he stumbled and looked at you.

“What does it feel like?”

He thought and then smiled, “Kinda like the feeling when you know I found out you liked me as more than just a friend. Like when we are taking things to the next level.”

You smiled and laughed. “I love that. So restart from It feels like..”

“It feels amazing to be here. Just like the feeling of finding out someone likes you as more than just a friend. SNL and I are taking things to the next level.” You grinned and gave him a thumbs up while taking a drink of water. “And just like all my serious relationships, we are all going to spend one incredible night together.” You spit the water out of your mouth choking and laughing. Harry laughed as you wiped your mouth with his sleeve.

“Is it too much?” he asked worried he had crossed a line.

“No. I loved it. It was a very you type of joke.”

“Okay are you sure...you are dating me..I don't want to make you feel a certain way..”

“Harry keep it seriously I loved it.”

He nodded and continued on. “This is a new territory for me. I get to do some comedy tonight but I do want to make one thing clear to everyone. My priority is the music. It goes music, then comedy.” He smiled as he said the next part, trying not to laugh at his own jokes and that made you smile even bigger. “Well let's me honest. It goes music, then fantastic hair, then comedy, and then family and then friends.” You laughed and could tell he was feeling more confident in himself. “But ultimately I am a very serious musician.” Harry gave you a very serious face you and laughed harder wiping a tear from your eye.

“Harry-” you started but he interrupted.

“And nothing says serious musician like talking and playing the piano.” He sat at the piano next to you and smiled, bumping your shoulder. “Oh yeah that feels good he” he started playing some keys while he continued talking. “You know.” he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “In Britain we play piano on the other side of the road.” You laughed again and he took that as a sign to continue. “Now you know that I’m not in a boyband anymore. I’m in a man band now.”

You stood up laughing and trying to catch your breath. Harry was laughing at his own joke but more at your reaction. “A man band” you cried. Harry laughed and looked confused.

“I am a man.” He argued.

You smiled and took a breath. “I know but Ive never heard that before. It was a good one. Continue.” you told him catching your breath.

He cleared his throat and looked at you. “I was in a band called One Direction. How crazy would it be if they were here tonight.”

Your mouth dropped. “How did you arrange for tha-”

“Well they're not here. But wouldn't it be crazy if they were though?” You smiled and rolled your eyes sitting next to him again. “They're not. But I love those guys. They’re like my brothers. Niall, Liam, Louis, and uh -oh yeah Ringo.” You smacked his arm laughing but he continued on. “Yeah thats it. We're just so grateful Simon Cowell grew us in those test tubes.”

“Harry!”

“You know for me its not about the fame or the money.” you nodded your head. “Its about the music, and the art. The art and the music and the music and the art. I believe that music is universal in language. Especially music performed in English because thats the only language I understand. Now maybe some of you aren't convinced I’m a serious musician. You may be asking yourself is he really playing that piano right now? Well if in doubt take a look. Read them and weep. I love being here at SNL, so much history.” He paused and looked at you. “I have learned so much this week so heres a few secrets about the show. Did you know they put make up on the boys too?” you laughed and he smirked. “That is funny. In fact the make up team is so talented, I’m actually Kate McKinnon. And heres a secret about the Rockefeller Christmas tree. It’s Jewish. And also, everyone thinks the cast does a lot of cocaine.”

“Oh my god Harry-”

“They don't. Thats why the shows not good anymore. Except tonight. I think im just about ready to take you home. Mmm yeah that is music. We've got a great show so stick around well be right back.” He stood up and waved. You clapped and stood up, wrapping your arms around his body so that you were climbing up his back. You pressed a kiss on his cheek and laughed.

“Harry that was so good. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Did you like my jokes?”

“I loved them. I think you're going to momentarily disappoint One Directions fans but they will talk about that moment for weeks.”

“Which part the boys being there or Ringo?”

You laughed and shook your head, “All of it.” Harry sat you down and you hugged him tightly again. “Im seriously so proud of you.”

“Don't be too proud yet. I haven't done it yet.” He blushed but still held his smile.

“Babe you're going to be amazing. I don't even doubt it.”

You pressed your lips to his and he smiled, kissing you back. “Thanks for being the best cheerleader.”

“Anytime Haz, now can we finish the bachelor please?”

Harry nodded and scooped you into his arms, carrying you back to the couch. “Which fool do we have tonight.”

“Still Peter. He’s playing games though telling all the girls he loves them.”

“Psh what a fool.” Harry kissed your face over and over and you laughed. “Do you really think I’m that funny?”

“I think you are hilarious.” You kissed him again and smiled before turning your attention back to the tv.

Harry smiled and nodded, all the anxiety he originally had was gone. He seemed more confident as he settled into the couch with you. “Im gonna kill this monologue. I’m going to be the best host.”

“Yes you are.” you smiled brushing his hair back from his face. “If the music thing ends up failing at least you have comedy.” Harry laughed shaking his head and watched tv.

“Im just glad I have you here through it all. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shhhh its about time for the rose ceremony.”

---

Got this request. Hope you enjoy!

xoxo

#harry syles #Harry Styles #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles snl #one direction #directioners #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagines

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antoxsmith · 4 years

Text

Toxic (Part 1)

Warnings - Drama, Heartbreak

Pairings - Negan x Reader

Summary - Negan is as possessive as could be and she thought she was ready to let him go. She was wrong.

NEGAN MASTERLIST

I am in AO3 as @antoxsmith:)

Also angry Negan is daddiest.

What do you call a man that would kill another guy out of jealousness?

Toxic.

What do you do when you’ve come too deep and you don’t know how to stop him?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Or at least, she thought so. She had tried to talk to him, leave him, cry, even compared the situation with her killing one of his wives.

But did he care?

Of course not. Negan was not one of those men who cared.

First it was Liam, the cute boy about her age that had a crush on her since he heard her play the guitar. But he never tried anything more than a friendship. At least for Negan, that as enough to send him to a suicide mission out in the woods. Three men died that night and Liam was the only one that didn’t do anything wrong.

She exploded that time, but Negan said it wasn’t intentional, that the group just needed someone to be in charge. And she believed him as the fool she was.

Then, it was Louis. He was a little bit older but not as much as Negan. Louis was a straight-up flirt, with those lovely blue eyes he had, he could’ve made her melt; but she was way too much into Negan to even notice. Then, one night he disappeared. She found out he was sent to one of the other communities and not long later, news came about his passing mysteriously.

“What the fuck, Negan?” were the words she said when she walked into his office, leaving a letter with a punch on the desk. It had been written by Louis, and it said that he was ‘scared for his life’ and that ‘he saw a man following him all over the compound’, sent just days before he was killed.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked, his hands over his chest with his fingers intertwined, only looking at the letter for a half a second before realizing what it was. He looked up at her as if he was trying to read her thoughts, and of course, with jealousness.

“Don’t change the subject!” she raised her voice. “Was this you?” she asked without leaving his eyes, still leaning over the desk.

Negan just sighed slowly and held his gaze on hers. “Why…” he stood up. “… do you care…” he walked around the desk without leaving her eyes, closing the distance between them. “… so much!?” he raised his voice at the end making her flinch.

“He was my friend” she said now looking down, his voice reminding her who she was talking to. She couldn’t stand up to him, not yet.

Negan kept looking at her with a serious gaze, but after a second he smiled cockily as always. His left hand went up to her chin and made her look at him. “Do I need to remind you who is in charge here, honey?” he asked softly, tilting his head.

She swallowed hard, with fear. She just moved her head no.

“That’s so good, really good” he said without letting go of her skin. “Now, sweet cheeks, I am going to answer your question even though I shouldn’t have to” he said before being quiet a few seconds, his tongue playing with his front teeth seductively. “I didn’t do it” he said, then let go of her chin, a dark look in his eyes as he invaded her personal space.

The next time there was no way he could deny it. She heard him. She heard him telling Simon to ‘kill that mother fucker in his sleep’, and that was how she found her friend Javaad dead the next morning. She didn’t say anything. About it or… to him. She literally didn’t talk to him for days. Then she went out on a run with Simon trying to avoid him, but…

“Why are you stopping? We have to take advantage of the light!” she said, coming from the back of the RV and leaving the guns she was cleaning.

“Negan said he didn’t give you no permission to go out” Simon said simply as he turned around the RV going back to the sanctuary.

“What? No! Wait, we have to go there I know there’s something in that gas station!” She said feeling anxious not wanting to go back to Negan.

“I am going. Later” he said, only looking at her for a second before turning back to the road. “You shouldn’t try to run from him,” Simon advised.

And yeah, she shouldn’t have tried.

As soon as she had arrived at The Sanctuary, Negan had called her into his office. When she entered the room, Sherry was there and Negan was kissing her neck.

She looked down to the ground when she saw that little scene, and coughed trying to get his attention. He looked up, but didn’t stop till he wanted to, his lips on Sherry’s skin for some more time. Then sent Sherry away after whispering something to her.

“Close the door.” was the only thing he said. She obeyed.

He was sitting there with Lucille right in front of him on the desk. She just stayed there then, standing like a fearful idiot that couldn’t even look at him in the eye.

“What the fuck is it about you that you are trying to drive me nuts?” he asked like he was so full of her shit.

“Me?” she asked confused and angry, looking up to him. “You are the one killing everyone close to me” she said with sad eyes.

“I am no-“

“I heard you the other night when you sent them to kill Javaad.” She stopped his lie. “Don’t deny it, please.”

Negan looked angrier now. He moved one finger signaling for her to come closer. And again, she obeyed. She walked around the desk and stopped next to him, looking down to the floor with sadness.

“He was trying to get with you.” was his only justification. She felt her blood boiling in angriness. “Just as Louis and Liam.” He said looking at her.

“What!?” she asked when she heard that. “But you said you didn’t!” she yelled, disappointed. Negan furrowed his eyebrows and stood up, rising in front of her and making her feel little.

“What was that again?” he asked with his hand on his earlobe in a sarcastic move. “Thought I heard you yell something” he said sarcastically.

She put her hands over her face. “Why would you do this to me?”

“To you!?” he raised his voice. “Well fuckity fuck I was right. Those fuckers were too important if it hurt you so bad” he raised his eyebrows.

“What?” she asked truly confused. “What the fuck, Negan?” she raised her voice too, looking up to him. That was the first time she ever talked back to him like that and he looked truly surprised. “I didn’t do anything with them and I wouldn’t because… because…!” she couldn’t say it. She moved her head no and ran her fingers through her hair, turning around.

“Because?” he asked with his sarcastic tone, leaning on the desk, as if he didn’t care but oh, he did. She had never yelled at him like that and it concerned him, but he couldn’t understand why she was so angry.

She turned to see him; her eyes full of tears. “I want out.” She finally said, her hands in fists trying not to lose it. She felt as if she was responsible for her three dead friends.

“You want- What!?” he asked as if he was afraid of something. But she didn’t even notice. She was already walking towards the door.

Negan was way faster. He put his much larger hand over the door right in front of her face making her close it strongly, and turned her around by holding her forearm with far more strength than he intended to.

“You can’t” he said leaning in towards her.

She looked at him with a comical look. “Where is the ‘you are free to go anytime you want’?” she raised one eyebrow as she cleaned up her tears. He didn’t answer and with that silence, she tried to open the door again but he didn’t let her.

“What the fuck Negan!?” she asked now getting anxious.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said in a calm tone that only did hide a tremendous amount of angriness. And she could see it in his eyes.

“I said I want o- “

She shut up when he hit the door behind her with his fist, getting scared.

“There’s no ‘out’ of this!” he snapped.

“Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with you right now but- “

“You did this! You can’t blame me over it!”

She opened her mouth when she heard that, truly surprised. “I didn’t d- “

“That fucking Louis was always trying to get into your panties and you played the fool! Am I supposed to let that slip!?”

“Wha- “

“And then Jawad or whatever the fuck is his name gave you flowers right in front of everyone in the garden!” he claimed as if he was in his right. “Fuck!” he screamed this time, hitting the door again and now truly scaring her to the point she covered her head thinking he would hit her. That was when he snapped back to reality. “No, no, sweet cheeks I wasn’t…” he put one of his hands over hers making her gasp and flinch.

“Please just let me out. We can talk later.” She said as if she was a robot.

He sighed softly, then nodded. “Go” he simply said, turning around, almost embarrassed even though she was too scared to notice. She quickly ran out of there and went to her room. “What the hell was that?” she asked to herself once there, her chest going quickly up and down. She was genuinely scared, confused, surprised and weirdly excited. Negan had never acted like that with her.

Maybe it was solely because she knew… things. Maybe it was because he had confessed to her a lot of shit about his past. Maybe he was just… as confused as she was.

“What the fuck?” he asked to himself once alone in his office.

But the fact that she left him with his thoughts was not a good thing. He started convincing himself that nothing about her was that special. And in the end, he was sure about it. So, the next day, when he called her into his office again, it wasn’t for what you could call an explanation.

“Come here” he simply said, patting his lap, after looking at her standing in front of the desk for what felt like an eternity in complete, dead silence.

She looked confused but she moved, looking at his eyes as she did. Once she was next to him, she stopped and sighed.

“Negan, I don’t think I- “

“I didn’t ask.” He cut her off in a serious tone.

She bit the inside of her mouth and obeyed. Softly, she sat on his lap trying not to feel like a toy. Before, she used to like it a lot; for him to tell her what to do. She thought it was sexy somehow. But in these circumstances?

He put his arms on her hips, the difference of sizes very obvious.

She looked up to him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t know” she shrugged as if she was a kid.

He caressed her thighs softly still looking into her eyes as if he was trying to read something in them. “Are you leaving?”

She looked confused. “I… guess so” she nodded, looking as if she was dying for him to just say something else, to not let her go. She looked down then, playing with his jacket’s zipper. He didn’t look surprised.

“Then there’s a spot for you in The Hilltop.” He simply answered. “We will need your room clean by tomorrow morning. There’s someone else coming for your spot” he didn’t remove the hands on her hips.

“My spot’?” she asked confused. “I-I thought- “

“Yeah. There’s not another room available for her and since you are so eager to go then it’s what you would call perfect timing, doll” he explained as if he didn’t care.

She felt her heart break right there.

“Just like that?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes” he said coldly but his looks said otherwise, still studying her face.

“So, all of this…” she stood up not caring about his hands trying to pull her down again, and forced her way up. “For nothing?” she asked, eyes now full of tears.

“All of what?” he asked oblivious looking up to her from his seat, raising one of his eyebrows.

She just moved her head no. “Just- Just… Just get away from me” she said and ran out of the room not wanting for him to see her cry.

He stayed there, looking at the door and suddenly, he felt like he hadn’t in years.

Like shit.

Part 2 HERE

#negan #The Walking Dead #the walking dead negan #negan x original female character #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan x oc #twd #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG181!

- Little nice touch: the fact that time was passing normally inside of the house… immediately felt through the sound of the clock in the background, marking the passage of time:

(MAG180) SALESA: [SAD SIGH] [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ANNABELLE: I did say this might happen. SALESA: You did, you diiid. Well… so much for my big reveal… Shame.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [CLASSICAL MUSIC IS PLAYING; LOUIS SPOHR’S “SECHS DEUTSCHE LIEDER FÜR EINE SINGSTIMME, KLARINETTE UND KLAVIER, OP. 103: N°2 ZWIEGESANG”] [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY AND LIQUID BEING POURED] SALESA: Hmmm.

(I still have the reflex of associating the sound of a ticking clock with Elias’s office, so I was expecting Big Talk from the get-go! Aaah, I wonder if we’ll “hear” Elias’s office again, before the end…)

As they discussed, time was quantifiable again, existing outside of Jon&Martin (even when they were sleeping), not solely as events succeeding to each other. … On the other hand: it’s concerning that the tape’s case number was still “########-21”: time passes and is quantifiable on a day-to-day basis, Martin was able to conclude that it was daytime thanks to the light, but there was still no date inside of the house. It’s a “little bubble” of normalcy and time, but still existing in the middle of a chaos.

- In the same vein as last episode it was also neat how we could already understand that this space was operating differently, since Jon&Martin needed to physically take care of themselves again:

(MAG180) SALESA: Ah, well. We can talk after they’ve slept, I suppose. Urgh! And had a bath. And some food. No rush. [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY MOVING] We have all the time in the world.

(MAG181) [CLICK–] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] […] SALESA: Come in! Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? [SALESA CEASES THE MUSIC] ARCHIVIST: [UNCOMFORTABLE] I, er… We… slept. I, I don’t know… H–how long’s it been? SALESA: About seventy-one hours by my clock. […] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane.

They slept, drank and ate! (But did they bathe. We don’t know if they did bathe. Though, Salesa would have probably commented on it again, if they didn’t.)

And on the one hand, I’m laughing really hard that they needed to sleep for three whole days to compensate for time spent in the apocalypse (that’s a long nap.), on the other hand… that’s weirdly optimistic for the rest of humanity trapped out there: I was fearing that if Jon&Martin managed to turn the world back, everyone would just collapse and die on the spot from exhaustion/hunger/thirst but, no, it seems like they could recover in this case?

- More on the differences between Jon and Martin later, but I like how it was quickly clear that Jon was less in control than his usual, and very aware of it: Jon was “disorientated”, his sentences were more hesitant, while Martin was quick to notice things, bouncing off from Salesa’s or Jon’s sentences, able to make small jokes. I loved and got sad over the Beholding one, since:

(MAG181) SALESA: How’re you feeling? MARTIN: [BLOWING AIR] ARCHIVIST: Disorientated. It’s like, hum… li–like I’ve lost my sight o–or, uh… SALESA: Well, you have, haven’t you? [HE CHUCKLES. IT ISN’T THE FRIENDLIEST SOUND] Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Well, I–I wouldn’t exactly say I, I “work” for it… MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose.

They were actually talking about two different levels, each correct in his own way? Back in season 4, Martin had already pointed out to Jon that working in the Archives meant working for Beholding (MAG129: “I just– I worry. You’re working for someone… really bad!” “Yes, I’m not an idiot, Jon, but it’s no… worse than working for something really bad, so…” “At least, The Eye hasn’t gone after our own. Lukas has vanished two people!”); but on the other hand, Jon… has tried to distance himself from The Eye and what he wanted (by stopping to take live statements, by refusing to indulge in any contentment induced by the apocalypse, by deciding to stop the smiting spree): “working for” is both true (as a neutral stance, since they were tricked into working for Beholding through the Archival contract) and wrong (“working for” also implies some level of active participation?). It reminds me of Melanie’s stance about it (MAG150: “I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. […] Because this place is evil, Jon! And so… doing this job… Helping it out… even in small ways, i–is in some way… evil too! Every time we try to use it to do good, it just seems to make everything worse, and… and I will not be a part of that anymore. […] If I’m… just another cog, er… Maybe I can’t leave the machine, but from this moment? I–I–I’m not turning. I’m… jammed.”), and makes me wonder whether Martin and Basira’s ties to Beholding have been more or less protecting them in the apocalypse… Basira said that she thought she had been protected from the first wave because she was in the Institute, and Jon told her he couldn’t ensure her safety if they went their separate ways, and it didn’t prevent Daisy (who had been bound to the Archives by her own archival contract since season 4) from losing herself to The Hunt, but I still wonder if their ties to the Institute will factor in at some point…

- Blowing kisses in Martin’s direction for being a Polite Boy… and also absolutely doing with Salesa what he did with Peter and Simon – he KNOWS how to play older and potentially terrible men like cheap whistles and/or to get information out of them, and how to get them to like him!

(MAG120) MARTIN: W… what… What are you doing here, mister Lukas? PETER: Please, call me Peter. MARTIN: N–no. No, I think I’m okay.

(MAG151) SIMON: Let’s start over. Simon – Simon Fairchild. Peter asked me to look in on you and… have a small chat. Well! A big chat, really. Answer all those… nagging questions. MARTIN: Simon Fairchild. [PAUSE] [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] Wait, “Simon Fairchild” as in… SIMON: As in “all those people who said I did horrible things to them and their loved ones”? Yes. They have been in, haven’t they? I’d hate to think I’m underrepresented in here, not when Peter tells me that that… “bone” fellow has at least half a dozen. MARTIN: N–no, no, [NERVOUS CHUCKLE], not… not at all. Y–you’ve sent plenty of people our way. […] Right. SIMON: Sorry. Too “big” picture? I get that a lot. MARTIN: No, it’s… [INHALE] Thank you. This has… actually been quite helpful.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Mr.… Salesa? SALESA: Mikaele, please. Come in!

(MAG126) PETER: He managed to convince himself that he could get his ritual off first, which would have made all of this a… bit moot, but that’s not really an option anymore. So it’s down to us. You and me. The dynamic duo.

(MAG151) SIMON: And he’s not at all certain the world as we understand will come out the other side. MARTIN: And let me guess – you think he can’t see the “big picture”? SIMON: [INHALE] I see why he likes you! MARTIN: [SIGH] […] I thought you said that the maths doesn’t work. SIMON: Oh, you are a quick one! […] And this has been fun! [INHALE] Now. [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] If we’re about done– MARTIN: We’re not. Sit back down. SIMON: Boooold~ [CHUCKLE] [CHAIR SCRAPES ON THE FLOOR] I like it.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Uh… Well, I–I mean, you say that, but when you stop to think about it, it was literally our employer, Jon, so… Mmh! ARCHIVIST: I, I suppose. SALESA: [FRIENDLY CHUCKLES] I like this one! [SHUFFLING] Come on, sit down, have a drink. [CLINKING SOUNDS OF GLASS AND ICE] MARTIN: You’re… sure? What time is it? I– Oh, huh. Huh! I can actually ask that question here! SALESA: You can indeed. MARTIN: And the sun’s high, so… SALESA: Good eye…! Martin, was it? MARTIN: Uh, uh… Yes. […] [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! […] MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! […] MARTIN: Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it.

I love Martin’s ability to get what he wants by weaponising his politeness/social niceties/a sense of familiarity.

- How Dare You, Salesa.

(MAG181) MARTIN: [SCOFF] In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous…! SALESA: Ha! I do like this one! [SOUNDS OF CROCKERY BEING PUT DOWN] Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his– MARTIN: Ah, uh… SALESA: –younger days of course.

That was SO RUDE (who, in their right mind, would like to be compared to Leitner), and:

* Martin’s comment was quite interesting given that he never got directly involved with a Leitner, unless there is a Secret Story incoming from the time he worked at the Institute library, before the start of the show? But statements-wise (the ones Martin recorded, at least), the “DIG” book from MAG088 hadn’t been identified as such… and Martin had however speculated that Dexter Banks’s book, destroyed by Alexia in MAG110, was “a Leitner”. And it was a Web one.

* Not a direct experience, but he witnessed someone use one:

(MAG158) MARTIN: … That’s a Leitner. PETER: It is! MARTIN: And the, hum… the blood on it? PETER: That’s Leitner too! MARTIN: … Riiight… PETER: Do you want to see how it works? MARTIN: Uh, n–no; no, I’d really rather you didn’t mess it up– PETER: No, I insist! Watch. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Very impressive. PETER: I’m reading. Shush.

… And had been the one to discover the body of Leitner himself, alongside Tim, at the end of MAG080. Martin, especially Martin, wouldn’t want to be compared to Leitner given how he lived his life and how he ended.

* “In my experience, open books can actually be pretty dangerous” says Martin, who WANTED TO TOUCH THE BOOKS:

(MAG113) MARTIN: Ooh! Ooh! There’s a book in this one. ARCHIVIST: [HASTILY] Don’t…. touch it! MARTIN: Ooh… OH! Right. Yes. ARCHIVIST: Let’s… not touch any books we don’t know. MARTIN: Right.

(The books, and the plastic explosive. Arsooooon!)

- … So, Martin hadn’t had a direct first-hand experience of how dangerous ~open books~ could be, but meanwhile, someone who had a direct encounter with a Web one withdrew from the exchange and only chirped in when prompted, and to be distrusting of the Spider person. Jon wasn’t having a perfectly excellent time at the moment, uh?

(MAG181) SALESA: You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: Oh, you know Annabelle? [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … Sort of. You do know she’s part of The Web? SALESA: [SARCASTICALLY] No? I assumed the thread holding her head together was due to a childhood knitting accident! [CHUCKLES] MARTIN: Ha!

* … I’m REALLY, REALLY, ABSOLUTELY NOT SURPRISED that Jon, especially Jon, would want to avoid any “gift” from a Spider-person, given how 1°) he read enough statements about Hill Top Road to know that Raymond Fielding was making the teenagers eat apples full of spiders to turn them into eggs sacks (don’t accept the Spider’s food!), 2°) it mirrors guests bringing gifts to Mr Spider in the hope of not getting devoured. Was Jon internally panicking during their stay, fearing that Annabelle would take Martin like Mr Spiders had taken the gifts and the people bringing them, including Mr Horse’s son…? (I doubt that Martin made that “guests” comment on purpose; I’m still not sure he knows the details of Jon’s childhood encounter with The Web? He knows that Jon hates spiders and is wary of them, that he has suspicions about Annabelle Cane, but did Jon tell him the whole story about the book?)

* … However, that brings to mind the lighter again: Jon “I don’t intend to accept anything by [Web-related individual]” has kept the Web-design lighter since he realised it had been delivered to him in MAG036, had been unable to question it when prompted by Gerry (MAG111) and Daisy (MAG136), complete with static-indicating-that-something-supernatural-was-going-on in the latter case… So, hum. Jon, your lighter. Think about your lighter, Jon. Was it a gift, and for what, Jon. Is it a 100% Web-flavoured gift, or is there a bit of something else (Desolation, Agnes) in that one making it more acceptable, Jon.

* Uh, so quite strangely, we got confirmation that Annabelle does look like the description we previously had of her, with her head injury:

(MAG069, Darren Harlow) “With a sudden, unexpected motion, he charged at her and slammed his full weight into her side. The attack took her completely off guard and she fell hard against the edge of the broken window, the side of her head making a god awful crunching sound as it hit. […] I looked at the crumpled form of Annabelle Cane just as it started to get back up. I could see the side of her skull had been caved in, and beneath the wet mess of blood and bone, I saw a mass of dull white cobweb.”

(MAG123, Angie Santos) “As he told it, she was young, rail-thin underneath an oversized brown hoodie, which she kept pulled up, trying to cover up a network of pale stitches that stretched over one side of her head. […] All through it, she just kept staring at him, hands pressed into the pockets of her hoodie – occasionally pushing long, spindly fingers out against the fabric, smiling to herself.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “It was almost six months ago when the woman came to our door. She looked like a film student, and at first I took her for a fan. […] I was about to ask her to wait while I checked with him but as I started to speak, she turned her head, revealing a mass of white thread, criss-crossing all over the side of her temple, standing starkly against the dark brown of her skin. She told me to sit down. And I did.”

… Which is… rather distinctive, so how come Jon apparently got a bit of trouble recognising her immediately when she opened the door?

(MAG180) [DOOR OPENS] [MUSIC CAN BE HEARD PLAYING MORE CLEARLY] MARTIN: Oh. Oh no, uh… [FOOTSTEPS] ANNABELLE: Good morning. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT GRUNT] MARTIN: Uh… Yes… ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. ARCHIVIST: Oh. And who exactly– MARTIN: J–J–Jon. Jon. ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: I think… Hum… Annabelle? Annabelle Cane? ANNABELLE: Come on. He’s very excited, you know. [FOOTSTEPS AS SHE TURNS TO LEAVE] MARTIN: [FAINT GROAN] So, do we… follow or…? [PIANO CEASES] ARCHIVIST: I… I suppose. [FOOTSTEPS] [DOOR CREAKS] [STATIC RISES ABRUPTLY, WITH A GLITCH, AND FADES] ARCHIVIST: Oh… MARTIN: Oh, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh. [PIANO RESUMES] [DOOR CLOSES] [FOOTSTEPS ECHOING AS THEY GO] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: So… Annabelle, what are you playing at, what are you doing here?

Was it Jon recognising her but not making a fuss about it? Being so used to relying on his powers that he didn’t even have the reflex of connecting the dots himself? Was Annabelle’s head covered, or was she showing another side of her head?

- Letting The Web do whatever is confirmed as the most popular tactic to deal with it, uh.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Honestly, I’m… still not exactly sure why I’m here. But… you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what She asks!

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG148) BASIRA: Or that we were being stalked by some freaky spider woman. Don’t tell me you didn’t know about that! ELIAS: Ah, uh, y–yes… W–well… To be honest, I’d… advise you to leave that one – well alone. BASIRA: Oh yeah? ELIAS: Uh! Look, look, look. I’ve… been doing this a long time now and, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about The Web, it’s that it plays its own game. All you can really do is… hope it doesn’t get in the way of whatever your plan is. Because the Spider usually wins…!

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: O–kay. [SIGH] It’s just… The Web can be subtle, you understand? MELANIE: And? For all you know, its plan is to paralyse you with indecision…! ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] MELANIE: Leaving you… sitting here, terrified that… everything you do is somehow all part of its Grand Plan… And who do you think that fear is gonna feed? ARCHIVIST: Yes, well. [INHALE] You are… not the first, to make that point.

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. ARCHIVIST: … “And”? SALESA: And sometimes she cooks. ARCHIVIST: She “cooks”? SALESA: I don’t know what you want me to say, it’s a big house and I don’t see her much. Can’t even say which corner she’s made her nest in! Whatever she’s doing… all I can do is hope it doesn’t wreck my little oasis. And if it does… then I hope that by keeping her in good graces, she’ll at least do me the courtesy of killing me first? MARTIN: Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! […] She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! […] ARCHIVIST: I… It’s going to be difficult to relax, with a spider lurking around. MARTIN: [SIGH] SALESA: … It gets easier with practice.

I mean, as mentioned by Salesa, there is still the risk that Annabelle will kill him or make him suffer worse, and has just been using him for her own goals… But also: not worrying about it means not feeding The Web? Unlike Jon, who spiralled so heavily into paranoia during season 4, worried about being trapped in The Web’s plans, about being potentially influenced and threatened by it.

I love how Salesa depicts Annabelle’s arrival and behaviour towards him: it’s… absolutely spider-like? She entered the house, made herself at home (she even has a “nest”), and gets rid of the insects. She had told Martin&Jon that Salesa was waiting for them:

(MAG180) ANNABELLE: Come on in. He’s waiting for you. […] I’m just helping out around the place a little bit. Making myself at home. You know how it is. MARTIN: … Jon, I don’t like this. ANNABELLE: You can relax, Mr. Blackwood. You’re safe here. […] Well. There you go, then! Just in here. [OPENS THE DOOR] Your guests are here, Mikaele. [PIANO CEASES] SALESA: Hoo-hoo-hoo! Excellent! Come in, come in! Ah, a pleasure to meet both of you. Thank you, Annabelle! ANNABELLE: You’re quite welcome. [PIANO RESUMES] Have fun.

… but it was initially her who just Informed Salesa That Yep, He Has Guests Coming, Lucky You, and Salesa rolled with it.

- On the one hand, Salesa is going with the flow hoping that Annabelle doesn’t intend to make him suffer much even if she needs/wants him dead, and sounds pretty rational about it… But on the other hand, OOFT, BIG RED FLAG that Salesa, who sounds like his situation is still on his terms… was and is at the same time shown as a heavy drinker, who could potentially die from over-consumption:

(MAG141) FLOYD: He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: Well Martin. It’s about ten in the morning, more or less. [PAUSE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] MARTIN: … And you’re drinking. SALESA: Of course! Even in my little bubble of peace, I find drinking after dark leads to some rather morbid thoughts. […] And when I realised that the power moves with the camera, well, hm!, let’s just say I loaded up a truckload of supplies and went on some journeys of my own, before I found… this place. [MORE CLINKING GLASS AND ICE] No reason to not live the apocalypse in style…! [STIRRING NOISES] In the end… I find myself quite happy. I’ve supplies, for a good few years, and then I… plan to take my own life. I think perhaps that’s the greatest blessing the camera can bestow: I – can – die – here. Escape this place. Not yet, of course; and maybe the wine will do me in before I have to take matters into my own hands, but still… it remains a comfort. Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink […].

Which. Is self-destructive on its own, and clearly indicating that Salesa hasn’t been quite as fine as he likes to pretend (assuming his role, hiding himself behind it with his friendliness and knack for stories), but also concerning when associated with Annabelle’s presence:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Looking back, of course… and remembering the crunch of used syringes beneath my feet, I realise that addiction… is one of the strongest vectors of control there is.”

We-oops.

- Did Annabelle gossip about Jon&Martin here and there?

(MAG181) SALESA: Annabelle tells me you work for “The Eye”. […] Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! […] You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway.

He knew about the compulsion from Gertrude, as well as the nightmares induced by giving a statement (MAG115: “So I suppose if it’s a statement you’re wanting… it’s no inconvenience to me. I don’t sleep well anyway.”), Annabelle apparently introduced Jon&Martin a bit (and had warned him that they would pass out when entering his “little bubble”)… but what about Jon’s title as “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London”? It was Jon’s way of introducing statements from season 1 to 3, not Gertrude’s (“Gertrude Robinson recording.”)

Did Annabelle make him listen to a few tapes? Specifically the ones about Salesa? Or did she report the way Jon used to introduce himself, a lot, to the point of Salesa internalising it as a way to chide and make fun of Jon?

- Oh JON…

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? SALESA: [DEEP AND LONG CHUCKLES] The look on your face! [CHUCKLES] Look, he’s so confused! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] ARCHIVIST: Martin! MARTIN: [LAUGHS] So–sorry, sorry! Y–you did look kind of funny, it was… li–like, like you were flunking an exam or something! SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Yes! Exactly that! MARTIN: [CHUCKLES] SALESA: Your powers won’t work here, Jonathan Sims, Head-Archivist-of-the-Magnus-Institute-London! The Eye can’t see this place…! [SILENCE BUT FOR CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] ARCHIVIST: … So what now? SALESA: Ah, no need for the suspicion, I’m not going to hurt you…! You’re quite safe! I’ll tell you soon enough; like I said, I have no secrets. But it will be… in my own time. ARCHIVIST: … Right. SALESA: You know, Gertrude once used that little trick to ask if I was trying to sell her a forgery? Admittedly I was, so I don’t hold a grudge; but I didn’t much care for the experience. Anyway. For now, just relax, and no doubt I’ll get there eventually; I haven’t had anyone to talk to properly in months! MARTIN: I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…! MARTIN: Uh…! Yeah, that sounds familiar. ARCHIVIST: I’m trying to be less cryptic…! MARTIN: I know, I know.

* That was incredibly rude of Jon, technically, so I laughed altogether with Salesa&Martin! Jon… is not used to people refusing to answer anymore, uh? But, on the other hand: YIKES that Jon is not used to people refusing to answer him and that he would try to rely on his compulsion… on someone who had been pretty chill and friendly so far, and wasn’t actively hiding anything or saying that some topics were forbidden. Jon was cut from The Eye in there, so it’s really… him, and him alone, who still has the reflex to ask / order people to give him an answer? It’s him and him alone trying to rely on his powers to gain control of a situation, when said powers weren’t currently influencing him? He wasn’t asking/ordering for The Eye or pushed by The Eye? I wonder if the few days he spent in the house helped him a bit to think about the habits he grew as Archivist, what had become a reflex that he had to let go of…

* Keyboardsmashing over Salesa cheerfully explaining that Gertrude had compelled him to check if he was trying to swindle her, and that he was, so he found it fair. Though, “I don’t hold a grudge”: he might have been a bit more pissed at the moment? I remember his MAG115 statement, where he was clearly annoyed and frustrated and toying with her, after one of his artefacts caused damage in the Institute – I like the permanent ambiguity, in Salesa’s words, making you wondering if he’s absolutely sincere… or “playing his role” of the good-natured and jovial merchant, who does awful things but is above feelings like regrets, heartbreaks or annoyance. There is definitely a bit of unreliable narrator vibe to his whole persona?

* Sarcasm was through the roof, tho (Annabelle’s knitting accident, Jon’s face when failing to compel, Annabelle being cryptic), but AHAH for Martin joining him – he’s getting to see many new deluxe Jon faces! (Pretty sure Martin must have found Jon’s bewilderment super cute?)

- I love how Martin can be laughing and the instant afterwards be firm about words that could cross a line:

(MAG181) SALESA: So what’s it like out there? I assume the Archivist must be a rather… powerful position, since you seem to be travelling through it pretty freely? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… Uh… Hum… MARTIN: … Jon? ARCHIVIST: Uh, sorry, I–I just, uh… Hmm. MARTIN: Uh, i–it’s bad. Really bad. [SIGH] It’s, it’s all carved up between the powers, and everyone has just been, sort of… scooped up and chucked into their deepest fears, it’s just… it’s just nightmare after nightmare after nightmare, and… I… uh… Why are you smiling? SALESA: I’m sorry. You’re quite right, it’s inappropriate. It’s simply… [INHALE] I have spent the last decade preparing for this to happen. Not just something like this, but almost exactly this situation. There was every chance, in fact, the great likelihood… that I was wasting my time, and throwing away years of my life on a ridiculous precaution. But I was right. I. Was. Right. … And now here I am, safe, warm and comfortable while out there the whole world screams! I don’t mean to sound… uh, uh, a–as if I’m happy that people are suffering– MARTIN: Good, ‘cause it does sound a bit like that. SALESA: … Then I apologise. I’m just not sure I can fully communicate the sense of… of vindication that I feel, all those long nights I spent wondering if I was paranoid or overreacting. But no! I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense?

* So, unlike other avatars, who were able to tell on sight that Jon had a “powerful position” in the new order, Salesa deduced it from facts! That was a nice touch.

* … Worried over the fact that Jon… didn’t seem able to describe the apocalypse spontaneously. Was he trying to “know” about it from inside the house, once again hitting a blank wall, just like when he tried to compel Salesa? Has he lost the habit of just… storing, remembering and using information regarding what he experienced? It’s interesting that there was no static at all during the whole exchange: Jon was indeed unable to use his powers there.

* LOVE HOW QUICKLY MARTIN REACTED when he saw Salesa’s reaction; Martin was probably gauging him? He had been quick to ask for smiting (and was even planning for the possibility when they were at the door of the house), so… did Salesa dodge a bullet. (Martin, please.)

* Salesa has been shown to be quite prideful, uh? “I made it”, “it will be… in my own time”, “I was right”… (And I can’t tell whether he’s absolutely sincere about that pride! Is it, genuinely, an absolute comfort, or is he grasping at straws because what’s the point of being right when you’re alone and basically waiting for your death with a few luxuries?)

- So, confirmation that Annabelle does know about their journey! It was rather obvious but technically… we didn’t know for sure, since Martin had bullshitted a bit when reporting her words to Jon:

(MAG166) MARTIN: Just, what do you want? ANNABELLE: I want to help you, of course. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … No. Thank you. ANNABELLE: It’s a hard place to find yourself in, maybe I can be of some… assistance…! MARTIN: You can assist me by giving the… “creepy phone” thing a rest…! ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all?

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Help us with what? MARTIN: ‘xcuse me? ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what? […] So. What did Annabelle say? MARTIN: She offered to help, but she didn’t say what with; she… asked us where we were going. I didn’t tell her, but… [SNORT] it was pretty obvious she had a good idea.

(MAG181) SALESA: So what of you two, what, what, wh–where are you going? You seem to be travelling with some purpose…! ARCHIVIST: Did Annabelle not tell you that? SALESA: She said you were travelling to the Tower, the, hm, “Panopticon”, she called it? Whatever that might be; she didn’t say what for. [SUSPICIOUSLY] Nothing that might cause me trouble, I hope? MARTIN: We’re going to try and end this. Turn the world back. ARCHIVIST: Martin…! MARTIN: Wh–what? Okay; maybe he can help. We could use some support and it’s, it’s not like he wants the world to stay like this either! SALESA: You are right. To a point. [INHALE] I would welcome a return to the real world. Eh! To be the only man to weather the greatest disaster in history of reality, utterly unharmed… What an achievement that would be, quite the boast! But alas, no, [INHALE] I can’t help you. MARTIN: What? Why not? SALESA: I have nothing to offer. Well, except perhaps some… basic provisions. I have food, drink, a few luxuries, but none of that would help you out there, and I’m certainly not going to follow you. No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…!

* Annabelle at least knew their destination already; which means she might have a good eye on the map, and would know that (according to real-world geography) they’re also coming closer to Hill Top Road…? Also: was she expecting them to change their mind about their initial plans to turn the world back? Or did she not tell Salesa because she assumed it was doomed already, or in order to not worry Salesa too much?

* … I keep hearing Salesa and going “Welp, that’s someone who is VERY depressed and also good at hiding it”: the way he jumped with such curiosity and passion on Martin&Jon’s current journey, the fact that they had a “purpose”? It feels to me like someone who currently doesn’t have any, is missing company, and wants to hear about anything that could manage to break his routine.

* Martin had mentioned with Helen already that they were lacking allies, and he&Jon just separated from Basira… So he really craves any help they could get, uh… AND AT THE SAME TIME: Martin is very good at weaving truths when he’s trying to manipulate people; he did that with Elias to make Elias accept (/feel like he had decided) that Martin would stay behind at the Institute in MAG116, he did that with Peter all through season 4 (believing in The Extinction, wanting to stop it… but also, loathing Peter and refusing to serve his plans)… so was he trying to do the same with Salesa, sneaking into his good graces and pretending to be absolutely transparent, nothing to hide sir!, before evaluating whether Salesa was a threat to be disposed of or just harmless?

- … So, Annabelle had been there for at least a month, so she definitely banked on them finding this place on their way… or did she find ways to influence their journey in order for them to walk by the house…?

(MAG181) SALESA: It’s an odd situation, but not a complicated one. Shortly after I decided to stay here, she arrived; wandered in from the chaos out there and told me she was going to stay with me. I didn’t get this far by pitting myself against The Web, so I welcomed her in. […] ARCHIVIST: … Alright, I… [INHALE] I guess we can stay. Just for a bit. SALESA: Excellent, ah! I haven’t had guests since the world ended. ARCHIVIST: [FLAT] Lovely. SALESA: Oh, saying that, I suppose there was that insect thing that stumbled in here a month or so back… MARTIN: Oh, uh, uh, in–“insect thing”? SALESA: Some creature of the Crawling Rot. Anyway, it didn’t actually make it into the house before Annabelle managed to get rid of it. So, I refuse to count it as a guest. MARTIN: Mmm. ARCHIVIST: I suppose that makes sense…! SALESA: Of course, I can’t actually stop things crossing the border into my hideaway, as you both discovered. Another reason I’m content to leave Annabelle to whatever schemes she might be weaving.

Or did she influence Salesa in taking residence there? The fact that he would be there and that Jon&Martin would come close enough for Jon to notice that the whole area was weird (and that they both agreed to take a look) is… a lot of coincidences. Jon “baited” Basira when they were close enough, and they then hunted Daisy; and as for Helen, she has been explicitly following them – those weren’t coincidences, but intended. On the other hand, the current layout is a bit more suspicious?

… It also takes us back to the start, for a Web-affiliated person to go against a Corruption-thing. We had witnessed this since season 1: spiders attracted by worms because they’re food (as Martin suspected in Carlos Vittery’s building), a spider warning Jon of the incoming Prentiss attack (end of MAG038), big spiders eating worm corpses in the tunnels under the Institute…

(… Salesa mentioned that Annabelle was cooking, WHAT IS SHE COOKING. DID SHE COOK THE CORRUPTION THING… DID SHE FEED THEM ALL WITH THE CORRUPTION THING…)

- Aaaaah, I’m having so many feelings over Jon asking so many questions and being so curious!!

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: What is… this place? SALESA: I just told you. It’s my little bubble. My silver lining on an otherwise cloudy day. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] That’s not an answ– SALESA: Now tell me […]. ARCHIVIST: … So, you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions? SALESA: [SIPPING FOLLOWED BY CONTENTED SIGH] … I am an open book. […] ARCHIVIST: What is this place, how did you find it? SALESA: [SLIGHTLY CURT] I didn’t find anything. I made it. ARCHIVIST: [COMPELLINGLY] Tell me what happened. SALESA: … “No”. ARCHIVIST: I– Uh… Wh… Wh–what? […] How big is your safe zone, is it… is it always the same size? H… How did this happen? SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Look at him! Not three days without his master spooning knowledge into his head, and he can’t bear it! I thought ignorance was meant to be bliss? ARCHIVIST: [FRUSTRATED SOUND]

Same as last episode, that was Jon! It was Jon being himself and curious… Georgie had pointed out that it was Jon’s personality (MAG093: “If your job is asking questions, I mean. You were always the one who pushed too far, and asked smart-arse, awkward questions. I always was surprised you never got punched.”), even before the influence of The Eye – and now, we have the additional dimension that Jon might have grown a bit too accustomed to, indeed, Knowing things, and to getting people to answer him whenever needed or desired… But still. It feels like he was back to his roots?

(And Salesa was doing his best to frustrate him, cutting him off or commenting on it, pfft.)

- While Jon was more pressuring and blunt, I’m reeling over Martin who sugarcoated his approach a bit (joking with Salesa, sometimes agreeing with him or not antagonising him too much while having clear limits)… and got Salesa to give up his story:

(MAG181) SALESA: Of course I know she’s with The Web. ARCHIVIST: … And that doesn’t bother you? SALESA: Not especially. And even if it did, what good would it do? MARTIN: … Uh, so what’s the deal with you two anyway? […] Mm-mm… SALESA: … Anyway. Let us talk of happier things, or perhaps just take a moment to enjoy not being out there…! You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you like. MARTIN: Uh, that’s… very generous…! […] I thought… What about Annabelle? SALESA: She keeps… mostly to herself, and when she does talk, it’s usually more of the sinister monologue variety– MARTIN: Ah! SALESA: –or cryptically telling me I’ve got “guests”…![…] I am here. And I am safe. MARTIN: [SIGH] I mean… I guess that makes sense? […] SALESA: No, I think the best thing I can do is to welcome you to stay in my sanctuary as long as you wish…! MARTIN: … Oh, well. [EXHALE] Thank you. I–I think we just might. Jon? […] Look, fo–for what it’s worth, I’d, I’d also quite like to know how this all happened? SALESA: … Fine. I’ll tell you how it happened. But you must sit quietly while I tell it. MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Don’t worry, I have had lots of practice. SALESA: … And you? ARCHIVIST: [DISGRUNTLED SOUND] MARTIN: He’ll behave. SALESA: … My story is not a long one.

(GRUMPY JON WAS SO CUTE… JUST LIKE AN ANNOYED CAT…)

Martin has had experience with Peter and Simon, knows how to be strategical, and it worked. Salesa was clearly craving to give his story, to be the centre of the attention (the main star of the show?), and Martin… played the right cards to get him there?

There was no static, Salesa pointed out that Jon couldn’t use his Eye powers here, Salesa insisted that his statement was on his own terms… but I still wonder if he wasn’t compelled a bit? We didn’t learn much, it had a bit more flourish than our usual (but it’s not unheard of: avatars were shown to be very happy to portray themselves at their best during them), there were some potentially unreliable bits here and there (not unheard of either), but it was also… pretty coherent. Flowing naturally. A long tirade going straight to the points.

Could Salesa have been influenced by Martin? Simon had made it clear that Beholding had compelled him (through Martin) to give him his piece. Or was it… the tape recorder, somehow? It turned on when Jon&Martin were arriving (so, when a discussion would happen), and turned off after Salesa was done:

(MAG181) SALESA: Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening. [CLICK.]

So it was there for Salesa’s statement. Did it compel him?

- I like how we technically didn’t learn much through Salesa’s statement! Well, not much factual info, at least: we already had gotten a recent-ish written statement from him (MAG115, from January 2007); we knew that he had been Leitner’s assistant and had fled when he understood what Leitner was dealing in, that he initially mostly wanted to use his list of clients and had ended up dealing in supernatural artefacts almost coincidentally, that he let (rich) people acquire the artefacts they wanted and too bad for them if they caused them misery, that he was getting angstier between 2011 and 2014, culminating in the last mission to retrieve the camera, and that he had then vanished, presumed dead.

But I feel like we mostly learnt about his personality, in contrast to MAG115 (in which he was a bit more on the defensive, given that the Institute and/or Gertrude was going at him for a Slaughter artefact that had… got out of control) and MAG141, in which Floyd Matharu, who clearly kinda liked and respected him (“He was a good boss.”), had given us another look on Salesa: someone who was tired, who had lost people and was growing tired of this life. I find it really interesting to compare MAG141 and MAG181 since, in this episode, Salesa is clearly putting on a show of his own story:

(MAG141) FLOYD: Once found him pouring over an old photo album. The ship was there in the pictures, but a different captain, different crew. I asked him who they were, and he just looked at me, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept, and for a second I felt like he was seeing someone else, not me. But then he just shrugged. “Dead now,” he said, “doesn’t really matter.” […] I followed slowly, unsteadily, but got there just in time to see Salesa throw both him and what looked like a blank rug over the side and into the ocean. Then he collapsed against the railing, a look of intense exhaustion passing over his face, and I left him there. He was drunk for the next two days, and we kept sailing on towards Cape Town. We no longer had anything to deliver there, but no-one was really sure what else to do. Whenever there’d been similar disasters before, Salesa was quick to make a new plan, let Captain Gaultier know what the next steps were. It was one of the reasons the crew trusted him so much. He just always seemed to know what we needed to do next. This time, though… felt different. He was distant, quiet. His words, when he spoke to you at all, were blurred with alcohol and regret. Nobody knew what the plan was, so we just kept going.

(MAG181) SALESA: But the years, they wear on you, and as I talked to more and more people versed in that secret world, more acolytes and would-be cultists about “rituals” and “destinies”, I began to come to a conclusion. As the number of people in the world grew, and the amount of fear grew with it, I began to become convinced that it was only a matter of time before one of them… succeeded. Before the world was transformed into… Well. You’d know better than me…! So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! […] Staging my death was a… comparative, erm, afterthought. In some ways… just a happy accident. And so I waited, and lived out my days in comfort. For the longest time I thought that, well… maybe I had simply entered normal retirement really dramatically! But then… well… I was right.

* “a happy accident”, says the person living with a Web person who knew he was there and threw Jon&Martin at him. (What happened, back then? Why the explosion, why did Gaultier report that they had been “betrayed”? Was someone else after Salesa, or “helped” him hide? If Gertrude was behind the explosion, it would have been mentioned at this point… Was it Annabelle, to ensure that Salesa would be a reliable trump card in the apocalypse?)

* It had been addressed during Arthur and Gertrude’s discussion, and has been a reccurring theme in the series: who really are these characters?

(MAG145) GERTRUDE: What was Agnes like? ARTHUR: … What? GERTRUDE: Well, for all The Web bound us together, I never actually met her. What was she like? ARTHUR: I… [PAUSE] I don’t know. Not really. You got as many answers to that as… folks who met her. Never really knew what she felt ‘bout any of it! Not really. Not in her own words. Guess that’s the thing about being the… Chosen One, or… I mean, Agnes was always quiet; but even if you spend all day, every day, throwing out commandments and… laying down parables… At the end of it, you’re always just the… point of someone else’s story. Everyone clamouring to say what you were, what you meant, and… your thoughts on it… all don’t mean nothing.

Is the real Salesa the self-serving and self-centred man who explained his story to Jon and Martin, all about money and then self-preservation, not giving any retrospective thought about his crew and the people who were following his orders and yet died because of it? Is the real Salesa the “good boss” Floyd had described, who was clearly nostalgic and affected by the losses throughout his life (why keep pictures of the deceased, if they hadn’t mattered at all)? Or is the truth somewhere within the mix, every statement a bit of it – how these characters used to be perceived, how they want to be perceived right now, how they acted then and how they act now?

* There is a bit of a parallel with Jonah, with the way both reached the fatalistic conclusion that someone would eventually manage to bring forth the apocalypse:

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “Why does a man seek to destroy the world? It’s a simple enough answer: for immortality, and power. Uninspired, perhaps, but – my God! The discovery, not simply of the dark and horrible reality of the world in which you live, but that you would quite willingly doom that world and confine the billions in it to an eternity of terror and suffering, all to ensure your own happiness; to place yourself beyond pain, and death, and fear. It is an awful thing to know about yourself, but the freedom, Jon, the freedom of it all…! I have dedicated my life to handing the world to these Dread Powers, all for my own gain, and I feel… nothing but satisfaction, in that choice. […] Of course, this desire did not manifest overnight. When Smirke first gathered our little band – Lukas, Scott and the rest – to discuss and hypothesise on the nature of the things he had learned from Rayner… I felt what I believe we all felt: curiosity, and fear. But as he compiled his taxonomy and codified his theories on the grand rituals, I began to develop a very specific concern. Smirke was still so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of their patrons: I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be… an inevitable transformation, was to bring it about myself. So what began as an experiment… soon became a race.”

Both came to the conclusion that an apocalypse would be likely to happen, and both of them worked on a way to mitigate the effects for them and them only, instead of ensuring that others wouldn’t succeed. … And in both cases, it doesn’t feel like they realised how they might have been used rather than in control: Jonah could have just NOT LAUNCHED ANY RITUAL when he discovered that anyway, a ritual would never work unless all the Fears were to be brought through together; and Salesa… had a few holes in his story? Admitted that there was an “accident” leading to his official death, allowing him to go into hiding? Is drinking heavily while having a Web-person as housemate, who explained how “addiction is one of the strongest vectors of control there is”?

- I wonder whether Salesa knew what had truly happened to Leitner, or not at all?

(MAG181) SALESA: … My story is not a long one. Not the parts that you care about, at least. The Powers I first learned about from Jurgen Leitner – you’re familiar with him? Then I don’t need to explain further. When I say I was one of his assistants, you know exactly the kind of education that would be. Terrifying, fascinating, misguided. The man was a genius, and an idiot. It didn’t take me long to see what he was blind to his whole life: that trying to control the Fears was a good way to get yourself killed, or worse. … I left long before he got what was coming to him, and tried to forget what I knew.

He probably assumed that Leitner had died when his library was attacked? Not brutally pipe-murdered by Elias.

(And sidenote, but: Salesa wasn’t presented as an avatar but he also joins the list of people in season 5 not even mentioning Jonah at all as an agent who matters, while Jon was identified as A Big Deal in the apocalypse. I don’t know if Jonah is still in any state to know and watch these things (merged with the Panopticon? Trapped within his old decaying body at the centre of the tower?), and he was certainly not able to see anything inside of the camera’s domain, but I hope that it Stings.)

- I’m not so surprised that Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along, since they both sound aware of their “role” in the overall narrative frame:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Now, I believe the tradition is to tell you the story of my life; the sinister path that led me inevitably to the sorry state in which I now find myself. Well, let it never be said I do not dance the steps I am assigned.”

(MAG181) SALESA: I lived my life, and I lived it well – successful, wealthy, and a little bit feared…! Smuggler to the rich and famous! There wasn’t an art dealer or curator out there who didn’t pretend not to know me! But the trouble is, once you’ve seen backstage, it’s hard to believe in the show anymore. You understand, I’m sure. You can never quite shake off the desire to have a peek…! To see what’s waiting in the wings…! […] Again, I made a lot of money, and remained untouched. It’s the sort of thing to set a man thinking about his life, you understand? I began to think hard about the world, about my place within it, and about fear! About the figure of the merchant, the trader who deals in strange and dangerous goods – how it can be found in so many myths and fables, dealing in second-hand nightmares. And how rarely the merchant themself is ever punished in those stories. […] To tell you the truth, I got a real kick out of playing my role. To think of myself as a purveyor of curses, walking softly through the most dangerous edges of reality, so that the rich and arrogant could buy their own doom.

(+ in some ways, Peter, too: “Thinking about it now, perhaps one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did was that I was, at the end of the day, predictable. A ‘known quantity’. I had my little patch, sending my poor lost sailors to their Forsaken end, but I rarely stepped outside of it. When I think of all those I met who travelled in this secret world we found ourselves in – Gertrude, Simon, Mikaele, even Rayner… there are plenty whose lives might well have been easier with my death, but it was rare that I strayed outside my habits.” (MAG159))

- So, who was the thing/person Salesa was “working for”?

(MAG181) SALESA: Sometimes people would come to me for solutions, protections or talismans to ward off the attention they had already called down on themselves. I sometimes did what I could to help, but I had to be careful. I could never afford to forget who I actually was working for.

Himself? The Fears, given how he made them more impactful by digging out and spreading cursed artefacts?

(Also, aaaah, I’m guessing that Noriega had been asking for help, back in MAG016, while he was suffering from Angela’s curse and had met with Salesa…)

- Salesa reminded me a bit of Leitner, and he would haaaaaaaaaaaate it? Leitner also wanted to take on a “role” and it… had backfired very badly:

(MAG080) LEITNER: I… thought that I could control them. That I alone had the knowledge to contain them. Back then, I believed they were simply books. Horrifying, powerful, yes; but with rules, limits that could be charted. … I was a fool. I had no idea what forces lay behind them, or that they had other servants that might come searching. […] I saw myself as a guardian, a reverse Pandora, gathering the evils of the world and locking them away. And so I branded them with my seal. I told myself that if any should escape such a mark could help me retrieve them. But I think, in my heart, I dreamed of my work becoming known. That “The Library of Jurgen Leitner” would stand as a symbol of courage and protection. Hubris. I suppose it is fitting punishment that my name has become a watchword for evil, spoken by those who only know it as marking the darkest, most terrible of secrets. My name has become a curse.

Is the merchant truly never punished in all these stories? Quite clearly, Salesa has it waaay better than the people out there (he’s not trapped in a personal nightmares, forced to relive terrible experiences over and over again)… but it’s also such an empty existence, with him having become what he used to loathe – as someone who felt like he was punishing the rich, he’s now living in luxury (Upton House, playing the piano, listening to classical music, drinking alcohol in the morning in nice crockery and assuming that said alcohol might end up killing him)…

- Aaaah, I love how the way the camera works does feel like it makes sense within that universe:

(MAG181) SALESA: So I began to plan for my… retirement. I spent most of my fortune preparing. Some on supplies, but mostly hunting down an artifact that I hoped might give me some… protection. One I had sold right at the start of my career: an old broken camera. One that through some… quirk had the ability to hide you from the Powers…! It was in the possession of another scared old man, one who had long been running from his own supernatural debts. I believe it operates as a sort of, uh, battery, charging itself on all the quiet worries that come from living in hiding, and then when the sanctuary collapses, eh!, all that fear flows out at once. … No doubt if my oasis breaks before I die, The Eye will get quite the feast from me. But in this new world, I would hope it has other things to keep itself busy. […] it hid me from The Eye, which, in the new order of reality, also protects where I am from the hellscape all around us. And when I realised that the power moves with the camera.

I also like that… just like a regular camera, it puts some distance between the one who is protected and anybody else, cutting them from reality. It explains why everything went to hell on that island after they took the camera (MAG141) and might be a curse in itself: feeding from the fears of the people into hiding… and anticipating their demise? (We also got told how Salesa could “end”, if it happens offscreen: if Annabelle’s plan is to use the camera without him… either she’ll be charitable and kill him, or tell him in advance for him to kill himself beforehand, either she will just leave with the camera, and Salesa will have it worse than everyone else.)

Also explains why Jon didn’t “know” anything about Salesa’s fate after talking with Floyd, and why he might have been drawn to him? Since he was a blind spot for Beholding, someone hidden from it. It’s quite interesting that we’ve seen so many different ways to get a (temporary or permanent) protection from Beholding? Gertrude was cutting eyes from pictures all around her (and Elias admitted that she had grown quite good at hiding from him); Leitner had the A Disappearance book, preventing Elias and Beholding from seeing him; Eric and Melanie discovered that gouging out their eyes freed them from the Archives; and now, Salesa pointed out that the camera was even specifically anti-Eye – thus, Jon not being able to use his powers around it… Was it initially a Dark artefact? Or an Eye one, just with a delayed reaction (as the fear of “being watched, being followed, having your deepest secrets exposed”)?

- CRIES, because it was to be expected that Jon wouldn’t fare for long in this place:

(MAG181) [PACKING NOISES] MARTIN: You’re sure we can’t stay longer? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. MARTIN: Yeah, but if… [INHALE] If you’re that connected, that… dependent, what happens if we actually, y’know, do manage to– ARCHIVIST: We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I just need us to be moving on. MARTIN: Hm… […] Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

And he reminded me a lot of how he sounded during his partial withdrawal (from live statements), in the second half of season 4: raspier voice, tiredness, the feeling unwell…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: … Still feeling weak. Restless. I want to be proactive, but there hasn’t…! That hasn’t been going quite so well for us lately.

(MAG152) HELEN: Hungry, are we~? ARCHIVIST: That’s not…! I haven’t done anything– HELEN: Yet. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.

(MAG154) MARTIN: No, ’t’s fine, I ju– You just surprised me, that’s… Jesus, you all right? You… you look like hell. ARCHIVIST: Oh! Uh, right, I, em… ki–kind of weak. Hungry, I–I guess, sort of. I–I’ve been trying to a–avoid, being, hum… Sticking to old statements?

(MAG155) ARCHIVIST: I feel weak. Like I’m… fading away. Do I restrain myself, keep my appetite in check, even at the cost of my life? Or do I try to rationalise what I am, like… Ms. McHugh? I find myself… hating her, her… callous self-deception. But am I so different…?

Except that, back then, Martin hadn’t directly witnessed it – Jon went without statements after MAG159, for three weeks at most (after taking Peter’s live statement), and he sounded mostly fine if eager to read when they received Basira’s statements. Here, it feels like Jon’s degrading state went much quicker and more impressively… and it was a reminder of Jon’s connection to The Eye. Jon cut the conversation short, but they really will have to talk about it, and about how setting the world back, as of now, really sounds incompatible with Jon’s survival…

(Sob at Jon’s “moving on”, because it echoed MAG180’s title: back then, “moving on” had given the feeling of… reaching another chapter, accelerating after a stagnation? But now, “moving on” means returning to the apocalypse, the Fears, their journey towards the Panopticon, and did they learn anything that could help their quest inside of the house? The camera could be useful, maybe, but then…)

-I am HOWLING at Martin’s outburst of rage towards Annabelle because AHAHAH, who used to accept her tea and be a ~polite guest~?

(MAG181) SALESA: Did you sleep well? Have you had something to eat? Annabelle said she’d shown you the pantry? […] You’re sure you won’t have a drink? We definitely had some tea around here somewhere. MARTIN: Uh, I… already had some, thank you, uh! Some of us know how to be polite guests. ARCHIVIST: [SHARPLY] I don’t intend to accept anything offered by Annabelle Cane. […] [FOOTSTEPS] [A DOOR CREAKS OPEN] ANNABELLE: All packed? ARCHIVIST: Mm. MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. MARTIN: Oh, pffft! All week, you scuttle around with… with food and drinks and all that other stuff, whatever we need, and just when we need it, but if we actually try to talk to you, you’re gone. ANNABELLE: [SMILINGLY] I’m very busy…! ARCHIVIST: Martin, don’t… bother, we–we’re not going to get any answers out of her. MARTIN: You–you’re joking, right? She’s been lurking at the edges of this whole thing since the beginning, and now we can finally actually talk to her, and…! What, you’re just going to pass? You don’t have any questions, nothing at all?

WHO usually provides food and drinks to get some results with people?

(MAG053) MARTIN: I was just going down to the café, did you want a sandwich? ARCHIVIST: Uh, that, that depends. Are you… hum, are you going to keep hovering around me if I go to the canteen? MARTIN: [SIGH] I just worry. You needed five stitches after you “accidentally” stabbed yourself with a breadknife. If you’re still claiming that’s what happened. ARCHIVIST: I am. MARTIN: Then you’ll forgive me for worrying when you use sharp knives. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Fine. I’ll come with, just… give me a second to grab my coat.

(MAG069) MARTIN: … Look. Jon… when was the last time we all just… talked? Just talked, without all of this– ARCHIVIST: Thank you for the tea, Martin. MARTIN: … Oookay. Fine. [DOOR OPENS] He’s not wrong, you know. [DOOR CLOSES]

Annabelle is just doing The Usual Martin Things, and Martin accepted it at first, probably thinking that it could put her into good dispositions to talk, except that tactic is NOT working with her and he’s SO PISSED about it =D Oh, Martin…

I’m super amused at Annabelle having so much fun being domestic and taking care of the guests while looming in the background; it’s an interesting dynamic where you can clearly feel like… everything is happening on her terms, and Martin and Jon don’t have any control over it. (And Martin is SO annoyed at the lack of control, ooooh Martin…)

(- And this is how Web!Martin can still w- (No but, seriously, I thought about how spiders can be territorial and usually don’t share the same living area?))

- I adore how you could HEAR Annabelle’s smile while she was clearly having fun.

(MAG181) MARTIN: Oh! Finally showing your face? ANNABELLE: I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. […] ARCHIVIST: Look. I–it’s no accident we finally meet face-to-face in the one place I–I can’t get any answers out of her. ANNABELLE: [SMUG] I’m sure I don’t know what you mean…! MARTIN: … Why are you here? Mm? What’s your game? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I just value my privacy. MARTIN: Fine, fine! Why did you call me before? ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…!

Not committing to any answer, and it was driving Martin mad, uh.

- LOVING HOW MARTIN IS JUST “RESENT AND REMEMBER”:

(MAG166) ANNABELLE: He is more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? [PAUSE] And you’re not sure what that means for you. MARTIN: [INHALE] I’m hanging up now. ANNABELLE: Does he even need you at all? MARTIN: Bye! [BEEP] [SIGH] [LOUDER, CLOSER HOWL] … I know, right?

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Perhaps I thought you could use a friendly voice…! MARTIN: “Friendly”!? You told me Jon didn’t need me! ANNABELLE: Objectively true. MARTIN: [AGGRAVATED SIGH]

(Jon was out of it for most of the exchange, but… If he had been in a better state of mind, he might have reacted to this: Martin hadn’t told him about that part of the phone call, Martin hadn’t shared that with him in the following episode. So, that was new information… unless he had already “known” about it from Martin’s mind and didn’t tell Martin?)

And! We! Still! Don’t! Know! What Annabelle! Wanted! To Achieve!

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: And more importantly, perhaps I thought you might need a little bit of righteous indignation to help you power through the next steps. […] For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. The call was… clumsy. There were so many things to keep track of at the moment. I must confess it did lack my usual… nuance. ARCHIVIST: And perhaps you’re now just trying to humanise yourself so we underestimate your next move…! ANNABELLE: Perhaps.

* What was that “righteous indignation” about? At this point, Martin was already pro-smiting. Did she want him to focus on his resentment towards her? Did she want to prompt a conversation between Jon&Martin, as it happened in MAG167, leading to Jon admitting to Martin that he was his “reason”? I still feel like if that exchange hadn’t happened, Martin would have had it way worse in the Lonely house a few episodes later…

* It feels like the “Jon does(n’t) need Martin” might be about two different things? It’s objectively true that Jon would still be fine without Martin… but would he keep going on his quest without him? Jon said that Gertrude likely would have given up (implying that his difference with her is that he had “a reason”, in Martin). And Jon himself had told Martin, that it wasn’t just about what he needed in the “survival” sense; it was… about what he wanted for himself:

(MAG159) ARCHIVIST: Listen – I know you think you want to be here, I know you think it’s safer and w– … well, maybe it is… But we need you. I need you. MARTIN: [DISTANT, VOICE ECHOING] No, you don’t. Not really…! Everyone’s alone, but we all survive. ARCHIVIST: I don’t just want to survive!

- Martin and Being Manipulated~~

(MAG126) MARTIN: But if I could just explain– PETER: And how do you think Jon’s going to react, to that explanation? Hm? Do you think he’ll accept it calmly? Come through with a well-considered, rational response– MARTIN: That’s not fair– PETER: –or would he assume he knows better than you and do something rash? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like being manipulated. PETER: That’s fair. But I’m not wrong.

(MAG181) MARTIN: … I, I don’t like being manipulated. ANNABELLE: Then we probably aren’t going to be friends. MARTIN: Urrrgh! [SIGH]

(And both times, about Jon.)

- Jon was exhausted, but also kind of fatalistic over the fact that they couldn’t do anything against Annabelle anyway; had Salesa been right when he had told them they would get used to it? And in a way, Jon being less angsty over it… might be good for him – not spiralling into paranoia, being just aware that anyway, he can’t know anything for sure about Annabelle. (… Or is the feeling of powerlessness feeding her anyway?)

(MAG181) MARTIN: So, so that’s it, then? We, we’re just going to leave her here? ARCHIVIST: Yes. MARTIN: We could make her tell us. ARCHIVIST: No, we couldn’t. I don’t have my powers, if it came to a physical fight I really don’t rate our chances…! MARTIN: Hey, I can handle myself! ANNABELLE: But can you handle me? [SILENCE] MARTIN: … I don’t like you. ANNABELLE: I know.

GNIIIIIIIIIIIIH over Martin just. Being absolutely too honest and just telling her, to her face, that he doesn’t like her. Martin, you rude brat.

I got Michael flashbacks, too, because it wasn’t the first time that:

(MAG079) MICHAEL: I think I might also kill you. It would be easier than killing the Archivist; none of you are protected down here. MARTIN: No, no, now hang on… MICHAEL: You are going to try and help him. And I want to see what happens without you there. TIM: Martin… MARTIN: No, no, okay, because there’s two of us and there’s one of you, okay. He’s not killing anyone! TIM: Martin, look at his hands! MARTIN: Oh.

MARTIN WAS READY TO THROW DOWN.

- YIKES over what Annabelle has ~in mind~:

(MAG181) ANNABELLE: Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…! MARTIN: I wouldn’t count on it. ANNABELLE: I would. MARTIN: [SIGH] ARCHIVIST: That’s the trouble with old houses, I suppose. Full of spiders. ANNABELLE: You boys better take care of yourselves. I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon. Here! Why don’t I show you out?

* Was the “open-minded” a reference to the fact that her own head was opened and is currently stitched together thanks to spiders.

* So, they’re meeting again “soon”… at Hill Top Road, maybe?

* Annabelle is implying that they were refusing something about her, as if there was currently an offer on the table – what was it? Was it about the fact they were antagonising her? Jon didn’t trust her (or at least raised the possibility that she could be trying to make them underestimate her; she had explained that “I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans” in MAG147), they were wary of her… and were they right about it? She made sure they drank and ate, she encouraged them to be well; she needs them functioning and still going, but what for? I’m still really curious about Annabelle; it felt to me that she needed them to reach a certain conclusion by themselves, and that they have failed so far… Or is it way more sinister than that, is she waiting for them to ask for her help regarding Jon’s current state?

* Overall, it feels to me like she’s focusing on Martin more than Jon, as if Jon was a “given” in her equation but Martin a more active and rebellious piece?

- Ooooh, Salesa… he really was craving for company, uh.

(MAG181) SALESA: Aaah! You are off, then? [FAINT SOUNDS OF MUSIC IN THE BACKGROUND; LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN’S “9TH SYMPHONY: FINALE”] ARCHIVIST: … Yes, uh… MARTIN: Uh, thank you, for all your hospitality. SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. SALESA: Ah, such a shame. And you’re sure I can’t give you a little something for the road? Uh, food, wine? MARTIN: Uh, no, thank you. Uh… [SIGH] Nice things, they… tend not to stay nice out there. SALESA: [SCOFF] True enough.

And sob about the fact that Martin has learned to not trust “comfort” too much. (What about the tea he had stored in his own bag? And the bandages he used on Jon didn’t turn against them either, so a few things stayed safe.)

- I love how Annabelle and Salesa seem to be getting along with their cruel humour:

(MAG181) SALESA: Well: best of luck I suppose. And if in the end, you can’t save the world… you know where I am. ANNABELLE: Actually, he doesn’t. SALESA: [CHUCKLES] Of course. What a shame. [INHALE] Well then, I guess it really is goodbye. Travel well. Don’t be Strangers! [MORE CHUCKLES, LOWER AND DARKER]

(SOB, Salesa, “Don’t be strangers” had been copyrighted by Georgie in season 3 already!)

… Really curious that Annabelle seemed to already know that Jon would quickly forget about the place, as soon as they would leave; in the same way that she predicted that they might pass out when entering the domain protected by the camera. She… knows… stuff… and understands how things work, uh…

- Cries about Jon just fading from conversation, it REALLY was time for him to leave:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I–I–I’ve been, hum… Uh, these last few days I–I’ve been… getting weaker. Dizzy spells, vagueness, you’ve seen it. Being cut off from the Eye, i–it’s not good for me. […] MARTIN: You don’t have any questions, nothing at all? … Jon? Jon! [CLICKS HIS FINGERS IN FRONT OF THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [DISTANT] Wha… Oh, yes, uh, sorry… Look. […] MARTIN: God, fi–fine. Fine! [BAG IS GRABBED] Come on, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [VAGUE] Mm… Oh, I’m… sorry, what? MARTIN: We’re leaving. […] SALESA: You are sure you won’t stay a little longer? You’re more than welcome! ARCHIVIST: N–no, I, uh… I got to, hum… leave. MARTIN: What he said. […] Y–yeah, uh, come on, Jon. Let’s go. ARCHIVIST: Mm, what? Oh. Yes, ri–right. Yes…

Jon prompted their departure, but it sounded like he forgot about it multiples times during the conversation… He was absolutely drained and ready to collapse, uh?

(Or is it linked to his other memory losses, such as forgetting his bully’s name, or that he had gone for ice-cream with the assistants for Martin’s birthday? I think it really was exhaustion in this particular case (head empty), but…)

- … Jon’s sense of humour…

(MAG181) MARTIN: Feeling better? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Yeah. I’m afraid I am…!

“Afraid I am” – said he, who is currently back to feeding on fear.

- I’m glad that Jon apologised for making them leave, was aware of what Martin had to give up for him, but also that Martin was clear about his Priorities (and differences from Salesa, who was satisfied being protected and safe in his “little bubble” while others are suffering) and absolutely not holding it against him:

(MAG181) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… It would have been nice to stay. MARTIN: [WISTFULLY] Yeah… I’d almost forgotten what it was like, you know? A bit of peace, eh! ARCHIVIST: I mean, you could have… MARTIN: No, don’t say it, Jon. You know I never would. I–I can’t just “forget” about all the people out here! Besides, I’d rather be trapped in a post-apocalyptic wasteland with you than spend one more moment in paradise with her. ARCHIVIST: [FAINT CHUCKLES] That might just be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!

… But it also makes me worry about the alternatives Martin didn’t mention: what about “spending time in paradise without her nor you”, or “going back to the normal world without you”…

- I personally interpreted the last scene as the camera taking back the memories with it, since it was supposed to protect itself and the perimeter around it from The Eye, and Jon knowing/remembering about it would mean giving Beholding access to it:

(MAG181) [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Ah… Pity. MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s, uh… It’s going away. That… peace; the, the safety, the memory of ignorance… MARTIN: That’s… [INHALE] Yeah, I guess that makes sense. [STATIC FADES] Do you… remember any of it? Wha–what Salesa said? Annabelle? ARCHIVIST: Some. I–I think. It’s, uh… Do you mind filling me in? MARTIN: Wait, you need me to tell you something for once? ARCHIVIST: I guess so! It’s, uh… It’s gone. Like a dream. … What was it like? MARTIN: … [SIGH] Nice. It was… It was really nice.

(“Ignorance” both as willingly ignoring something you’re aware of, and not knowing what’s happening out there…)

But CRIES about the tinge of nostalgia, at the fact that Jon had been so hopeful during MAG180 while discovering this place (… and was now walking out of it with mixed feelings), and the fact that… these nice memories are stored within Martin, and Martin only.

… And the tape which recorded Salesa’s statement.

- WHAT ARE THE TAPE RECORDERS…

(MAG181) SALESA: Hmmm. [SHUFFLING] Interesting… […] Now tell me, do you know why there’s a tape recorder here? I noticed it just now, but I don’t believe I actually own one. ARCHIVIST: … Uh… Not really. MARTIN: They sort of just … follow us round? SALESA: Hmmmm. Interesting. Did you carry it in? Things shouldn’t be able to manifest in here like that. ARCHIVIST: … You had one in your… bag, I–I think, Martin, did, did you drop it here? MARTIN: Uh… I, I don’t think so…! SALESA: … Very well. In that case, we shall leave it to be. It’s hardly valuable, and it’s probably best not to upset whatever it might be involved with. Besides! I have no secrets to hide. […] Anyway, no more stories, I think. Let us relax, and talk, and drink, and… not worry about who might be… listening.

Jon had already told Tim back in MAG114, but the fact that this place was an anti-Eye zone kinda confirms they’re not Beholding? But outside of that…

* It’s interesting that Jon immediately asked Martin if it was his. Did Jon have his own in his pocket and could tell it wasn’t his? When did Martin acquire one: was it the one drifting alongside him in the water (or not water), in MAG163? Or was the one in MAG170 different?

* We’ve seen with the mention of the Corruption creature that people can go inside of Salesa’s property. We’ve seen that Jon was cut off from Beholding, but what about other powers? Jon was still fearful of Annabelle – so The Web could still be active inside of it? Is the recorder Web, another power?

- Why did Annabelle want them there? Was it for them to learn about the camera, to use later? To close the Salesa chapter? To give them some respite, for funsies? To introduce herself properly while in control of the situation, where Jon couldn’t compel her? To make them lose time because something was happening outside?

- It’s getting clearer and clearer that there are maaaany holes in Jon’s pseudo-omniscience: he’s unable to see inside of the Panopticon. He can’t see the future. He can’t know about The Web’s plans due to it being too fragmented and complex. He doesn’t know about Melanie&Georgie. He couldn’t know about Salesa’s “little oasis” since it was safe from The Eye.

What else is he missing from the big picture?

- So now, what’s coming next?

* If it was indeed Upton House, they’re getting pretty close to London, and with a slight detour, Oxford (and Hill Top Road) could be on their way; given how Annabelle told them they would meet again “very soon”, they might revisit the house… well, Martin would be visiting it for the first time. It was already weird before the apocalypse; how is it as a place, now?

* We still haven’t seen Georgie&Melanie, so they could be coming soon, unless Jon is reuniting with them in MAG189, right before the hiatus, in the same way as they managed to trap Basira in MAG176 as the ending to Act I… (And as usual, where are they? Unlike Annabelle, Jon had been able to hypothesise that they could be in London (MAG164: “Hm! I’m… I’m not… sure, I–I can’t really see Melanie o–or–or Georgie. […] if they were dead, I– I think I would know that, I just… I–I don’t know… where they are, w–what they’re doing. L–London, maybe?”). Are they in the Institute? Behind Helen’s door? Protected because Melanie cut her connection to The Eye and Georgie can’t feel fear, putting them off Beholding’s radar?)

* Basira was supposed to meet them again at the Institute; given that Martin&Jon stayed at Salesa’s for a while, I wonder if she’s ahead of them, now…?

* Last time we saw Helen was in MAG177, and we know that she was usually spying on them…Was she able to materialise her Door into Salesa’s house, or not even? I’m guessing she could be popping up soon, if she couldn’t get her hands on Jon&Martin for a while… (Oh no: given how she liked to casually torment them, she probably witnessed Daisy’s death and bring that topic back on the table just for funsies…)

I’m a broken record, but wow, MAG182’s title is concerning (WHEN IT SHOULDN’T BE…). Spiral (and Helen), Corruption or Lonely stuff? And with the second meaning, a discussion about Jon’s status in the apocalypse? (I’m also thinking about The Admiral ;_;)

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