#i think when i started writing this fic i was heavily inspired by the netflix show the crown and wanted to put a freshly anointed Mia

[watchmegetobsessed]

BULLETPROOF

A/N: *screams in excitement* its here!!! its finally here!!! im so happy i finally got to finish a longer fic without hitting rockbottom with it. this one was very easy to write, i think i was heavily inspired by the night agent series on netflix lol now im very excited for yall to read it!!

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

WARNING: gun use, getting shot, blood, stalking, bullying

SUMMARY: Being Eroda's first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It's tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who's been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The wine is nice. The salad is tragic, probably the worst you’ve ever had. You wonder how dessert will turn out to be, could be good or poisonous at this point.

The company?

Well, at least he is not staring at your breasts.

Going out with Jaiden sounded a lot more fun when he asked you out in the library, but now that you’ve been listening to him speak for the past thirty-two minutes, you’re counting it, he appears to be just another douche who wants to brag about you at the next frat party. He probably thinks he is doing well and he might get lucky once you leave the restaurant, but there are two reasons why that won’t happen.

One, you spotted some tomato sauce on his left hand before he left to the restroom and when he came back it was still there, he did not wash his hands and then touched the garlic bread. You’ve pushed the basket out of your view discreetly after that. It’s already a very strong point, but the second one is the real deal.

There is absolutely no way the three agents, one by the door, one by the window and one at two tables from you would be okay with assisting to your hookup. Well, it’s not that they would have a choice, if you think of it. But think about it: even if he weren’t a pig, this is how it would go.

Arriving to Jaiden’s building you would be told to wait outside with Morrison, while Jackson and Styles go up and check out Jaiden’s place. Then they would come down to get you. If the mood weren’t dead by this point, you’d have to go up and start the action with one agent down in front of the building, one by the front door and then the worst, you just know Styles would stand by the bedroom door like a statue, listening closely to everything happening inside.

Then when it would be over you’d have to leave with the three men around you and return to your place. Madness. Pure comedy.

“What do you think?”

Jaiden’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts about the ridiculous daydream of tonight and you realize you have no idea what he’s been talking about in the last seven minutes.

“Um, sorry?” you clear your throat, reaching for the wine.

“I was asking you about how…”

You look over his shoulder and spot Styles through the glass door, zoning out of the conversation in record time.

He is wearing civil clothes, all three of the agents are, that was the deal when you’re out somewhere, with friends or on a date which happen once in a leap year, to be honest. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over, simple, dark jeans and trainers. You wonder if this is actually his style, if this is how he dresses when he is not on duty, when he is running errands or meeting up with his friends for drinks. You only see him when he is responsible for protecting you at all cost, he’s been head of your security team for the past two years and it’s been a rollercoaster of a ride.

He was a real pain in the ass at the beginning, he would jump at every possible noise, he dragged you out of class once because someone’s pen clicked louder than the usual. Fuck, you lost count of the times you screamed at him, asking what was his problem, if he lost his mind and every time he just stood there, like a fucking rock and then just nodded at the end and carried on with his nonsense.

It took some time and lots of communication to find balance. You realized he would never listen to you when you’re screaming from the top of your lungs and you had to accept that he is just doing his job. So you sat down with him and your father, the president of Eroda to talk about boundaries.

Things have been better since then and the two of you actually work well together. Most of the times.

He was next to you at every major event, ups and downs, he drove you home after you confronted your last serious boyfriend about how he cheated on you with three different girls, you sobbed like a baby and couldn’t even open the lock on your front door. He took the keys gently from your hand and did it for you. When you woke up in the morning the fridge was stocked with your favorites. You never asked, but you know he did it.

He has attended concerts and parties with you, shadowing you even when you had to get tampons in the middle of the night. You bet he knows what brand and size you use too at this point. As much as he’d gotten on your nerves millions of times… you like the guy. He is straight forward, always speaks his mind if asked, he sees things in a very rational way. He’s ambitious and hard-working and most of all, trustworthy.

He might actually be your best friend.

How tragic, you consider your head of security to be your best friend! This must be the end here…

“You’re really not listening, are you?” Jaiden laughs, but it’s dry, he looks pissed when you look back at him.

“Sorry, it’s been… a long week. And honestly, I kind of lost interest when you started talking about football, since I know nothing about it.”

“Wow, okay, so what were you expecting? Brainstorming about possible ways to stop the climate change?” he scoffs and you actually think about just standing up and leaving.

“No, but on a date you usually talk about things you both like. I guess we have nothing in common, then. So why don’t we—“

“You really know how to make people feel stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shoot up, this is getting interesting.

“Just because daddy runs the country, doesn’t mean you’re above us all. Don’t have to be such a snob.”

“Oh, it wasn’t even me being a snob,” you retort with a forced smile as you grab your bag from the table and from the corner of your eyes you already see the agents moving. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I think we’re better as… I would say friends, but it wouldn’t be true. Bye, Jaiden.”

You stand and plan to march past him to meet Morrison and Jackson to head out, but Jaiden is not done, it seems. He jumps to his feet and his hand grabs your upper arm, pulling you back. He barely just opens his mouth when Hell breaks loose.

Morrison is first to get his hands on him, yanking him away from you while Jackson tears his hand off you, then it gets twisted behind him and Styles arrives, smacking your date up against the wall.

The whole restaurant is staring at you and you just want the ground to open beneath you.

You stop at your front door out of instinct, already knowing they have to sweep through the place before you could enter. Styles stands beside you and waits for Morrison and Jackson to return. When it’s confirmed you walk in, a blank look on your face.

“Have a nice night, guys. Thank you for tonight,” you tell them in a robotic voice. Morrison and Jackson says good night and you hear the door closing, but you know you’re not alone.

Styles stands by the door and you can feel him watching your every move as you put your heels away and take your earrings out.

“Are you gonna give me a lecture about choosing guys more wisely?” you ask, finally facing him. He’s standing with his hands clasped together at the front, his usual pose, but it’s a bit odd without his usual suit.

“No,” he answers shortly and you wait for him to say whatever is on his mind. “Just wanted to ask if you’re alright.”

“My arm is fine, you don’t ha—“

“I wasn’t asking about your arm.”

You stare back at him in silence, everything just dawns on you all at once and your chest feels like burning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out, but then a tear rolls down your face.

You see the change in him instantly. His eyes soften as he walks over to you, his gaze frantically searching your face, probably trying to figure out what to do. They don’t tell agents how to deal with young, crying women who feel like they are going to die alone.

“I’m fine, really,” you say again and he pulls out a tissue from his pocket, handing it over to you.

“He was a douche. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“How many disastrous dates have I been on in the past year?” you ask with a shaking voice. He doesn’t answer, just clenches his jaw. “You know damn well that it was my eleventh. You were there at all of them. I can’t help but start to think that something must be wrong with me and not with them.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. They were… weird guys. They were the problem, not you.”

“So then it’s just my taste that’s trash, right?” you let out a bitter laugh, hoping that making fun of yourself would help, but it doesn’t. It never does.

“Finding the right person is hard. You have to give it time.”

“I’m impatient, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have. The first day I met you.”

There it is.

That teeny tiny smile that barely just curls up the corners of his mouth but it drives you insane. Because it’s so rare, it’s so intimate and every time you see it the urge to kiss it gets harder and harder.

Yes, it’s such a cliché, but you do have a crush on your bodyguard. You fought it, you really did, but one day you had to realize there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you’re just trying to live with it but moments like this make it really hard not to overstep certain boundaries. For one, you really shouldn’t have feelings for someone whose job is to protect your life at all cost. Your father would have a heart attack if he found out you’re hooking up with an agent. And two… he might be nice to you, a real friend, but you feel like there’s no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Hell, sometimes, on your worse days you even question his friendship. What if it’s all just the job for him? To take care of your fragile little soul?

You’re awfully lonely.

“Get some rest, you have an 8 am class in the morning.”

He steps back and the smile is gone just like that.

“Yes sir!” you salute him, to which you just get a bored look before he takes one last look around and walks out to check in with the night shift agents outside your door.

You’d rather spend this Saturday evening locked up in your bedroom, watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn, but tonight is one of those occasions where you have to make an official appearance as the president’s daughter.

You’ve definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, nothing went as you planned so far and you even had a fight with Styles because he ended your morning run earlier when a group of obnoxious fratboys appeared on the football field next to the running track and they accidentally threw a ball in your way.

You have not talked to him since, haven’t even seen him, but you know for a fact he will be coming with you tonight. He is there at every official event, never missing one.

There’s a soft knock on the front door just when you’ve finished getting dressed. You shuffle over to the door and opening you find yourself facing Styles in his usual suit, a change from the workout clothes he wore in the morning.

Fuck, you want to act grumpy still, but he looks especially good with slightly more tamed than usually and he is freshly shaven.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Not yet. Come and help me, please,” you say as you turn around, but you notice he is not following you. “Come on, I won’t bite your head off.”

With a tiny frown he finally moves and follows you into your bedroom where you grab the diamond necklace you want to wear tonight.

“Can you put it on, please?”

He takes the necklace, holding it so gently, you have never seen him handle something with so much care.

Maybe only you.

You turn around and hold your hair up as he reaches around your neck and you bit back a moan when his fingers brush against your collarbone. He fidgets with the clasp for a few moments before taking a step back once it’s done.

“Do you think I can make an early Irish exit tonight?” you ask, stepping into your heels and he offers you a hand that you gladly take to help the process. Once you’re done you head out, Styles following you right behind.

“Don’t think the president would appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know him well, I think I can have a pass from him.”

It’s another event where you feel absolutely useless, you’re just there so your father could show off.

“…And this is my daughter, Y/N. She is studying law!... She is top of her class, yes… Isn’t she a lovely young woman?...”

The smile on your face starts to hurt when you decide to take a break from all the guests that you know nothing about but they all seem to be very familiar with you.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit,” you tell Styles who’s been your shadow all night, three other agents watching your every step as well from different points of the room.

“Let me che—“

“I think there’s no danger out on the balcony, everyone has been thoroughly checked here, I’ll be fine for five minutes.”

You have a staring match for a minute where he weighs in on your words before finally nodding.

“Five minutes,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Start the fucking clock,” you mumble under your breath.

As you stand by the railing, staring out into the night you feel more deflated than ever. Like you’ve lost every ounce of energy and the urge to just scream is quite tempting. This is not the life you dreamed of, but it is what your father always wanted and you sometimes feel like a terrible daughter for being so displeased. You do have privileges others would never get to experience, but you’ve never felt lonelier and more out of place. The way here showed you how shallow your friendships have been, now only have about three people you consider your friend and one is your bodyguard, one is studying in Switzerland and the third is… Wait, there’s no third. That’s it, you have two friends.

You hear Styles stepping closer and you already know what he is about to say.

“I know my time is up, but if you dare to remind me, I’m pushing you off this balcony.”

Turning around you face him, ready to fight him for some more time, but you’re surprised to see him with that tiny smile on his face.

“You’re really moody today,” he states, but it’s not one of those smartass comments he usually makes, he is teasing you.

“Surprising?”

“A little bit. Are you… Are you still upset about your date?” His face turns serious.

“I was never upset about the date specifically. I was upset because… Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Stop being so fucking polite,” you groan.

“I can’t be rude to you, I would lose my job.”

“You’ve been rude to me on several occasions! Especially at the beginning!” you accuse him.

“I was never rude. I was honest.”

“Jesus, you are so annoying,” you roll your eyes that earns a smirk from him.

“That’s not my job, but I tend to be that often.”

“I might be moody, but you’re awfully cheeky tonight. What’s gotten into you?”

You head back inside, Styles following you.

“Don’t know, guess I’m just in a good mood.”

“Alright, then I’ll need a drink to put up with this new side of yours.”

And that’s what you did, but you didn’t stop at one drink. You didn’t plan to, but you successfully got so drunk Styles had to rescue you out of the venue before your father saw you. After all, you did make an Irish exit.

In the car you can tell Harry is not in the same good mood, he looks rather pissed as he drives you back home, constantly checking the mirrors to see if Morrison and Jackson are behind you.

“Aw, did I make your job harder?” you pout, but then start laughing as you look at his hard stare. His profile looks annoyingly beautiful and you just want to draw the slope of his nose with your finger.

“No, but it would have been nice if I didn’t have to bring you out through the back door on my shoulder, because you kept running away.”

You start laughing as he recites what happened just about fifteen minutes ago when he was trying to chase you down to get you into the car and away from anyone that could ruin your father’s political career if they saw his daughter running around drunk.

“Don’t be so pissed, your eyebrows will glue together one day, you pull the together way too much,” you snort out a laugh as you slide lower in your seat.

It’s an hour long drive and of course, you fall asleep soon. When you open your eyes next, you see that you’re already in the garage of your building.

“Come on, you need to get to bed.” Styles opens the car door, but you’re still half drunk and half asleep, so you just mumble something and close your eyes back. “Y/N, you can’t spend the night in the car.”

“Says who?” you breathe out.

For a few seconds nothing happens and you start drifting back to sleep when you feel an arm behind your back and one under your knees. You faintly realize that you’re being carried up to your apartment and when you force yourself to open your eyes, you realize that it’s Styles.

“Mm, is this also in your job description?” you groggily tease him, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mr. Styles. Harry. Can I… call you that?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he answers and then waits in front of the apartment while it’s checked out. With the last bits of your energy you study his face that’s now dangerously up close. He is carrying you like you weigh nothing, his strong hold keeping you safe.

“Oh, don’t tell me stuff like that,” you chuckle, your eyes closing as you push down a yawn. You hear the agents coming out of your apartment, saying it’s clear before Harry starts walking again and a few moments later you’re laid down on your bed.

“You have to change, Y/N,” he tells you, pulling your heels off your sore feet. Groaning, you sit up and he helps you up to a standing position before turning around to walk out, but you stop him, pulling him back by his hand.

“I can’t get this off alone,” you say, nodding down at your dress. You catch the hesitation in his eyes as he weighs in the situation and steps back at last.

You turn around and move your hair so he can access the zipper. He doesn’t move instantly and you’re almost about to turn around when you finally feel his touch on your back. He places one hand to your shoulder blade, holding the dress in place while he pulls the zipper down with the other.

Slowly.

So slowly, it’s almost like foreplay.

Especially since you have no bra underneath, so the lower he gets the more skin he is able to see. The silky dress loosens around your body and you know he is looking at your bare back. With one hand you keep the dress to your chest, but the other one lets go of your hair as you turn back around to face him. 

The alcohol is working eagerly in your system and you’re feeling blunt and risky as you hold your chin high with a half smirk.

“Where did your cheekiness go, Harry?”

“I’m gonna go now.” He gulps hard as he backs away towards the door, but you follow him.

“Am I that scary? That you’re running away?”

“Y/N, stop.” He looks into your eyes as he finally stops and his green irises appear dangerously dark as he stares back at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently as you keep walking towards him until you’re just inches away from his chest. “Have you never thought of me like that?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t see disgust on his face and it’s enough for you to keep pushing.

“Because I have. Several times. On nights when I knew you were outside and then other times when I didn’t know where you were but I was hoping you were thinking of me.”

He is still completely silent, though his eyes are throwing fireworks your way when one of the straps of your dress slips down your shoulder.

“I want you and I want you to want me too, Harry,” you whisper as you move even closer, your hand that’s holding your dress pushing to his chest while the other moves up to the base of his neck. His skin is burning and you’re desperate to feel it underneath his crispy dress shirt too. 

But before you could close the gap, he pulls back and it’s like a slap across your face.

“Go to bed, Y/N. You need to sleep.”

“But think about it, you could brag about fucking the president’s daughter, wouldn’t you want that? You’d be the man, Harry.”

Your words are like venom as you look at him, your chest heaving, your heart hammering under your hand. 

“Stop talking before you say something you might regret,” he warns you.

“So you’re not man enough to fuck me? How should I trust you with my life then if you can’t even make me come?” you call after him when he is already out of the bedroom.

He freezes and the words sink in as you stare at the back of his head. You expect him to turn around and lecture you, to tell you how cheap you sounded, but instead he just walks out of the apartment and leaves you to your spiraling, drunk thoughts.

You realize you never actually knew panic and terror until you wake up the next morning, realizing what you did last night. That you have to face Harry after you almost begged him to fuck you and then said he is not man enough to be your guard because he didn’t have sex with you.

You have an afternoon yoga class on Sunday that you very much consider canceling on just so you don’t have to face Harry, but you can’t hide in your apartment forever, you’d have to meet him again sooner or later. So when it’s time for you to leave and you hear the knock on your door you open it with shaking hands, relief washing over you instantly when you find DeLuca standing in front of you, no trace of Harry.

That means you have some more time to figure out how to deal with the situation you got yourself into. Yoga actually helps you find some peace of mind, but only until you leave and catch on Jackson’s radio before getting into the car, Harry’s voice asking for a report.

He is working and he’ll be at your apartment, meaning that you have to go through the most awkward situation ever in about fifteen minutes. 

It all happens as if you were in a movie. Arriving at the garage Jackson opens the door for you, DeLuca rounds the car and right at that moment the doors to the elevator swing open and Harry walks out with two other agents. Your mouth goes dry and you’re getting ready to fake your death, but things take a turn then.

“DeLuca, take her to the second floor, it’s been cleared. Jackson, Morrow, come with us.” Harry instructs the agents and you realize something is wrong.

“What? What’s happening?” 

There’s an apartment on the second floor for the agents, like their own little headquarter and it’s usually the safe place they take you to whenever something looks suspicious. Harry looks at you, worry etched onto his face as he places a hand to your back and leads you over to DeLuca.

“There’s been a security alert while you were away, we need to check the whole building.”

“Alert? What kind?” 

“Someone tried to get into your place,” is all he says before he passes you over to DeLuca and disappears with the other agents.

The time you spend on the second floor feels like forever, but it’s actually only twelve minutes. They sweep through the whole building and check the system, trying to find out what happened, but the cameras only caught a man in a black hoodie who stopped at your door, fidgeted with the lock for a while but couldn’t get in so he left. When it’s safe for you to return to your own place you’re walked back by two agents, but the tension is still thick. 

You hear Harry doubling the agents for the rest of the day and night and he checks your apartment one last time himself again when his phone rings and you know it’s your dad calling from the tone he answers the call.

“Yes, sir. Passing the phone over,” Harry says after the briefing of the situation and then holds the phone out to you.

“Dad?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t here.”

“Alright. We’ll have some extra agents around you for a while. I know you don’t like the guardedam, but we have to do it until we find out who it was.”

“Okay.”

You talk a little more and then you give the phone back to Harry, because your dad wants to have a few words with him. He listens carefully for a while and then walks out of the apartment, leaving you wondering what else there could be, but your dad could be a little too overprotective, so you’re sure he is just fussing about the situation.

You’ve just finished making yourself a cup of tea when Harry returns. He would never admit it, but you can tell this incident is stressing him out. 

“Everything alright with my dad? He didn’t tell you off or anything, right?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But you won’t like what I’m going to say. You need to have an agent in here with you until we get to the bottom of this situation.”

“Will it be you?” The question rolls off your tongue before you could even think about it. 

“If you want me, yes.”

“I feel the safest with you.”

It’s the truth. Even though the things you told him, screamed at him, don’t agree, he is still the one you trust the most around here to have in your apartment with you.

“Okay,” he nods. “I have to talk to the team, so–”

“Wait!” you stop him from leaving, knowing well you need to have this conversation. Swallowing hard you leave the tea on the kitchen counter and round the island to get closer to him, but still keep some distance. “I want to… I want to apologize for last night. My behavior was… Unforgivable.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you give him a hard look. “I had too much to drink, I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. So… I’m sorry.”

He stares back at you for seconds that feel like forever before he finally nods and you know it’s not just a meaningless reaction to get you out of his hair.

“Okay.”

“We’re… we’re good?”

“Yes. But I really need to go now.”

“Alright,” you clear your throat as you watch him walk towards the door, but he turns back one last time. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

And with that, he is off to do his job.

You spend the rest of Sunday studying and you get so focused on your textbooks and notes that you totally forget about Harry’s return and you don’t even notice it. So when you wander out of your bedroom after your brain has been fried from everything you studied, you almost scream when you see Harry standing in the living room by the window.

“Holy shit!” you snap a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart.

“What happened?” He moves fast like a cat, instantly checking the room for possible dangers.

“Nothing happened, I just… forgot you’d be here,” you admit with a soft chuckle as you head out to the kitchen. “It’s kind of creepy how you’re just standing there.”

“I can see the street from here as well,” he answers, as if it was such an obvious thing to say.

As you move around the kitchen, heating some leftovers up you catch him looking at you, or to be more precise, your legs that are almost completely bare thanks to the cotton shorts you’re wearing. 

Last night was a disaster, but now that the shame has settled in you, something else has been lingering in the back of your mind. The sense of hesitation you experienced when you were trying to seduce him embarrassing yourself has been on your mind. How he didn’t move away instantly, how it looked like he was fighting himself, so it gives you the idea that a tiny part of him does look at you the same way you look at him. 

The way he is looking you up is another boost to the theory. 

“Any news about the intruder?” you casually ask, ignoring his stare that quickly slips away from you when you speak up.

“Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

“Do you think… it’s something serious? Like someone is after me?” Leaning onto the kitchen island you play with the spoon in your hand as you look at him, waiting for his response.

“I wouldn’t go into guessing. I’m more of a–”

“Of a fan of factual planning, I know,” you finish his sentence with a smile. You’ve heard it from him several times, word by word.

Grabbing the bowl you round the island and stop a few feet away from him.

“I really do trust you, Harry. With my life.”

You feel like you had to let him know again after last night. The way you questioned his ability to protect you was not fair, he gave you no reason to believe he is not the best person for the job. There’s a reason why he is head of the team.

“Thank you,” is all he says. He is back to his distant self that only focuses on work. You know in times like this it’s better to play by the rules and retreat.

“I’m gonna head to bed soon. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

Everything falls back to a somewhat normal routine. Following the incident your team almost doubles, but nothing actually happens and the building’s security system gets an update so three weeks later you’re back to your usual with only slight changes. 

Like how there’s an agent in your living room during the night.

There was a discussion about positioning someone inside your apartment and they explained to you why it’s better to have someone with you during the night. You understood and agreed to do it under one condition: you have to approve of the agents that can take the position. There are three of them and of course, Harry is in that team.

He’s been taking up the inside position as much as he can. He never asked you, but maybe he figured you know him the best and feel the most comfortable with him inside.

Most of the time he hangs out in the living room. He doesn’t stand by the window all the time, you’ve caught him sitting in the armchair, walking around, stretching his limbs. To make it less miserable for him you spend a lot of time in front of the TV, mostly to hopefully entertain him at least a bit now that he’s stuck with you more than ever. For days, he didn’t even look at the screen, but lately you’ve caught him following the show several times, so you’re religiously keeping this habit up. 

The awkwardness has faded, but it definitely taught you a lesson. You better not get drunk when Harry is around and that’s like… all the time. 

Everything seems to be back to it’s extraordinary normal that you’ve been used to for the past few years. 

Today is a special day, however. You’ve been part of a case study competition, your criminal law professor suggested you enter and you’ve worked insanely hard on your case for the past three months that earned you first place. They are holding a little award ceremony today and it will finally be your moment. You will be in the spotlight because of something you worked hard for and not because your father is the leader of the country. 

He promised to be there and watch you accept your well-deserved award and you’re excited to make him proud. 

You started the day early and channeled your excitement into a long morning run before spending the noon at a salon to get your hair and nails done for the occasion. You might be the president’s daughter, but you’re a woman after all and you love a good pampering before an event. 

Now you’re sitting in you closet, trying to figure out what to wear, all the outfits you’ve tried on but decided against are lying on the floor around you in piles. You start to think you should have gone shopping, but then you find the perfect dress, a simple, but elegant black dress with a deeper back cut. You pair them with a pair of designer heels and some statement earrings to bring some light into this quite dark set and you’re all done. 

When you walk out of the bedroom Harry is standing by the window in his usual black suit white shirt attire. His eyes snap over to you and this time he can’t hide how he checks you out from head to toe. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a twirl.

“You look… very professional,” he answers. It’s not what you expected, but you know he meant it in the best possible way.

“Has my dad’s plane landed?”

“I haven’t gotten any news from his team yet, but I’m sure he’ll be there on time. Shall we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling out of breath. An unsettling feeling sinks into your gut, but you brush it off as Harry helps you put on your coat and you leave the apartment in the ring of agents.

Because of your attendance, the event’s security has been obviously raised and a group of agents have been at the venue long before your arrival, checking every corner so when you’re finally there you can walk in without having to wait in the car. 

The competition had several different fields so there will be more students awarded today, the room is full of winners, their proud professors and parents as well. You take your assigned seat and nervously look around, searching for any sign of your father, but there’s none, so you’re left with just waiting.

It’s killing you, so you text him but you get no response. He should have landed by now to make it in time, his silence is raising concern in you now.

“Harry? Can you please reach my father’s security team?” you ask and nodding he takes a few steps back as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Something is off, you can feel it in your guts and you fucking hate it. It takes forever for Harry to turn back to you, right when everyone starts clapping, because the dean has entered the stage to start the ceremony, but you’re only looking at Harry.

“What did they say?”

“Y/N, he is… He is not coming.”

“What?” It feels like a punch in your stomach and you wish Harry would say it’s just a joke, that he is about to walk in any moment, but the look on his face tells you it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper as you turn back to face the stage, your throat closing up while you fight your tears.

It was the first thing you asked from him in so long. You’ve been there for him every step of the way and today you just needed your father to be here and be proud of you, but he ditched you. There’s been an ongoing joke on the internet that it will always be the country before you for your dad and you even laughed about it before, but now it’s your cruel reality.

You watch the winners get called on the stage one by one and the willingness to do the same dies in you with every passing moment. 

“Y/N?” Harry taps your shoulder and you snap out of your thoughts only to realize your name has been called. 

“Fuck,” you mumble as you stand from your seat, three agents moving with you, taking their places as you walk up to the stage and shake hands with the dean. Every first place winner has said a few words, so now it’s your turn at the microphone, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how to talk. Looking around you see the sea of faces, everyone is waiting for you to finally say something. Your eyes land on Harry and he gives you a tiny nod and somehow you find your voice.

You manage to say a few sentences about the importance of your study and thank the school for the opportunity before you walk off the stage. You’re expected to return to your seat, but instead, you’re heading to the restroom.

The dam breaks and tears start rolling down your face. You completely ignore the protocol, that an agent has to check the room before you enter and a hand pulls you back before you could rush into the ladies room.

“Y/N, I need to–”

“I don’t want to have the fucking toilet checked, I want to have some fucking privacy!” you snap at him, tears rolling down your face and you’re very close to start sobbing like a child. Harry looks back at you with shock on his face, this time he can’t even mask it, probably because he has never seen you like this.

“Okay, but–”

You don’t wait for him to finish, just push your way inside and don’t stop until you reach a sink that you can lean onto, the sobs finally erupting from your chest. 

Betrayal, disappointment and helplessness wash over you, pulling you right into a possible emotional breakdown, though you’re still fighting it as you open the tap and splash some cold water into your face.

You didn’t realize Harry followed you inside, so when you feel a hand on your back you almost get a heart attack.

“Hey, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Harry holds his palms up when you jump back, gasping for air because of the panic and crying at the same time.

“I s-said I-I wanted p-privacy!” you sob shaking your head.

“I can’t just let you walk in here alone when you can barely breathe!”

“I don’t want to do this! I don’t fucking want to do this!” you cry, leaning your back against the cold, tiled wall as you let yourself fall apart for the first time in forever. You’ve been trying to be calm and collected as much as possible, but so much has piled up on you that your father not showing up was the last straw, the cherry on top.

“Y/N, calm down, take a deep breath, okay?” Harry tries to calm you down, but you just keep shaking your head and sobbing. 

“He didn’t come! It was the only thing… I asked from him!”

“I’m sure he has a reason to–”

“I don’t fucking care! He doesn’t care about me! No one fucking does! I’m just… I have no one left! No one!”

“Don’t say that, Y/N. There are people who care about you.”

“Who? Who cares about me!” you scream at him, finally looking into his eyes and his gaze pierces into yours as he answers.

“Me. I care about you.”

“It’s your fucking job to protect me, it’s not the same!”

Your chest is heaving and you must look like a complete mess, but at this moment nothing really matters. Harry looks back at you like you just seriously hurt his feelings, like what you said was just as disappointing as your father not showing up. Long moments pass by without him saying anything and you start to think he’ll just walk out like he did that night you got drunk, but then he steps closer, definitely crossing the line of comfortable distance.

“If you think you’re just a job to me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you beg in a whisper.

“Don’t call me a fucking liar,” he snaps back and it’s the first time you hear him swear. His pupils have swallowed his irises and his breathing is almost as wild as yours as he stares at you, practically burning a hole into your face. 

“You left me that night. Without a word. I told you I wanted you and you walked out. That does give me a certain message.”

“You were drunk out of your mind, telling me to fuck you. I would have never forgiven myself if I touched you. I had no reason to believe you wouldn’t regret it in the morning and ask to never see me again. That would have been the end of my career and the end of… me.”

Though your cheeks are still soaked from your tears, his words have stopped your crying and now you can’t even tell what you’re feeling. You have no idea what to do or say, how to react and you can’t believe how this situation is turning out to be. 

“I still want you the same,” you whisper, your mouth deciding on what to say because your brain is in complete shock. 

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, his eyes fall closed and you can tell he is fighting himself, so you want to push him over the edge. Reaching up you cup his cheek in your hand, he doesn’t move at first, but then he leans into your touch and that’s when you push yourself away from the wall to get closer to him, but he pulls away.

There’s a second of devastation, but when he reaches to his earpiece you realize someone is talking to him.

“Copy. We’re in the restroom, give me the fastest route out.” He talks into his wrist before his eyes snap up to you.

“What happened?” you breathe out, feeling like your heart cannot take another shock at this moment, but you’ll have to deal with it anyway. He listens to the answer they give him through his com before talking to you.

“We need to get out. The guy who was at your apartment was spotted in the building.”

“What? Is he armed?” Harry takes your hand in his firm hold and gently, but confidently pulls you towards the door. 

“We don’t know, he ran away, DeLuca and Jackson are after him, but we need to get you out of here.”

Your pulse is higher than ever, you feel dizzy and your brain is definitely shutting down, too much has happened in just minutes, you’re on survival mode. Harry must have noticed your state, because before he could open the door he turns to you, taking your face in his hands.

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m right here.”

“Okay,” you nod, blindly believing anything he says.

He then opens the door, steps out first to check what’s happening and returns to get you and you’re on your way to flee the building.

Circled by agents you follow Harry through hallways you’ve never been to until you somehow get to a back entrance. Your car is already there, waiting for you and you get in the back, lying down onto the seat, remembering that’s what Harry asked from you the last time you had to be rescued out of somewhere. You catch his face before he shuts the car door and he gives you a small nod. 

You don’t experience much of what goes down at the venue, they take you to a safe spot and you wait there with three agents while the rest of your team is either in the venue or at your apartment, making sure there’s no one there. 

Almost an hour goes by when Harry returns and you look at him, feeling on the edge to finally know something.

“We lost him. Your apartment is cleared, let’s get you home.”

You can tell he is beating himself up for letting the guy slip away and you already know he will put his walls back up.

He does one more check in the apartment himself before letting you inside. 

“We are doubling the security for tonight and then we’ll talk about the changes tomorrow,” he lets you know, following you inside. 

“Okay. Are you gonna stay in here?”

“Most likely,” he nods.

“Are you blaming yourself for tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes talk for him. 

“You couldn’t have spotted the guy anyway, you would have been with me either way.” You walk closer to him, but keep some distance, sensing his distress.

“I wasn’t focusing fully,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Nothing happened, you–”

“Y/N,” he stops you from talking. “I’m responsible for your safety. Today I put that responsibility behind my feelings and that cannot happen again.”

“Is this your way of saying… you don’t want me the way I want you?” Now you’re moving closer, you need to reduce the distance between the two of you, it’s like something is pulling you towards him, a force that you’re not strong enough to fight. 

He stares at you for long seconds, taking a deep breath before he speaks up slowly in a calm manner.

“What I want does not matter when your safety is at risk. Let me… Let me do my job, let me do what I have to do to keep you safe. Please.”

It’s like he’s begging you, pleading for you to understand and… let go of him. And as much as you want it all to be different, you can’t go against his will and intentionally hurt him, there’s nothing you can do other than live with the pain. Like you always do.

“Okay,” you whisper and try your best to swallow back your tears, you’ve cried enough today. 

Harry exhales, like he’s relieved you’re not putting up a fight and to your surprise he cradles the back of your head and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss to your forehead. 

“I have to take care of a few things, Morrison will be in here until then, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod weakly. His hand falls from the back of your head and you watch him turn around and walk out of the apartment. 

You’re on autopilot. Have been for weeks.

Following the award ceremony things turned upside down once again. On one hand everyone has been on edge, because they couldn’t track the guy down, so your security has been doubled since then. Agents follow you everywhere, making it impossible to have a normal human interaction, not that you had plenty of friends to hang out with before. But still.

Your dad called that night and gave you some grand story about why he couldn’t make it to the ceremony, you told him it was fine, because you had no energy to lash out on him and you haven’t had a decent conversation with him since then. You can’t say it bothers you, it’s like there was a switch inside you that now allows you to give zero fucks about what your father does. You’ve canceled two events you were supposed to attend by his side, using the mystery intruder as an excuse, saying that you don’t feel safe out in public. You could tell he was annoyed, but didn’t question it. 

And then there is the Harry situation. Or the lack of it, if you’d like. It’s been hurting like hell, but there’s nothing you can do other than keep your promise of letting go of him. It’s just really hard when you spend so much time with him and have him in your apartment almost every night. 

You don’t watch TV anymore. You can’t bear being in the same room with him with no one else around. It’s hard enough to know he is on the other side of your bedroom door. You go back to coexisting, you silently follow his orders and not give him a headache when you know he already has a lot on his plate, he does his job in peace and everyone is happy.

Or not, but it doesn’t matter. 

The school semester is nearing its end and you’re already planning to ask to stay here for the summer. You know your dad will flip, but you’ll at least try to make a deal with him to attend events in the summer if it means you don’t have to move back home that doesn’t even feel home anymore. 

With your finals coming up you spend most of your time in the library. Surrounded by heavy books, hundreds of pages of notes, you’re working your ass off, because this is the only thing that could make you forget about your misery for a while. 

It’s a Friday afternoon, almost evening and you’re still very much working on a paper in the almost entirely empty library. It’s a great time, because most students avoid the building on Fridays, more interested in parties than books, so it’s a lot more peaceful. It’s your way of distraction from the fact that you have to make an appearance tomorrow for your dad and you can’t bail out of it this time. 

There are three agents near you and two more at the entrance, but Harry is not working now. He will probably take another night shift, not that you keep track of when he works…

You’re too focused to notice the group of people that come in, but when you spot a figure approaching you and the agents around you move instantly, you finally lift your head up from the book in front of you. You’re surprised to see Jaiden coming in your way, stopped by the agents.

“Jaiden?”

“Um, I just want to talk to her,” he says to the agents and you nod your head to let him through. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to give you something, thought you might be interested,” he shrugs as he passes you over a paper and with that he is already on his way, leaving you puzzled.

It’s a QR code so you grab your phone and read it and a website starts loading on your screen. When it finally loads, you feel all the blood rushing out of your head.

It’s a site basically dedicated to you, where people can send in anonymous comments and stories about you for everyone to read them. There are quite a few, a big chunk of them obviously from guys you’ve gone on dates with, dragging you through mud, a lot of them stating things that never even happened. 

You just scroll and keep reading them in total disbelief and then you hear laughter. You look up and see Jaiden with a group of fratboys, having a blast seeing you go through the site before they hoard out of the library. 

Your head is spinning and you feel like throwing up as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible. It’s a struggle not to start sobbing on your way home, neither of the agents ask what’s wrong, because they are not your friend, they are there to keep you safe, but not from assholes, apparently. When you arrive to your apartment you see Harry already waiting by the door, but you avoid looking him in the eyes as you rush inside, wanting to lock yourself up in your room preferably forever. 

The tears start rolling down your cheeks when you hear someone coming after you and you know it’s Harry. 

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, keeping your back facing him so he can’t see your face.

“Then look at me, please.”

You don’t move, just stand there, silently crying and there’s no way of fooling him, he knows you better than anyone and your shoulders are shaking as well. Slowly, you turn around for him to see your face.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, but he still keeps some distance between the two of you.

“Nothing, I said I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, Y/N, don’t… don’t bullshit me, okay? Tell me what happened!”

He won’t give up, he won’t leave you alone until you say something so you pull your phone out of your pocket, open the website and hand it over to you. You watch him scroll for a minute before he looks up at you.

“We’re taking this down and we’ll find whoever did this,” he firmly says and before you could react he is already giving orders through his com. “They are on it. we’ll find them, don’t worry.” “Okay,” you breathe out and you turn around to lock yourself up in your bedroom, but he stops you.

“Y/N, wait!”

You look back at him, not even trying to mask how tired, defeated and hopeless you’re feeling. You must look like just a shadow of the person you used to be and the sight of you is probably just as depressing as you feel because it breaks the professional boundary that’s been between you and Harry.

He moves across the room and pulls you into his arms and you just start crying and sobbing uncontrollably while he holds you tight, gently rocking you from side to side to soothe you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair and you just bury your face deeper into his neck, probably totally ruining his shirt, but neither of you cares about that right now. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you sob, melting into his embrace, because it feels like the only safe place for you.

“I know. I wish I could help you. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Just please don’t leave me, not tonight, please!” you beg and fully expect him to pull the wall back up, but instead he just holds you even tighter.

“I would never leave you, Y/N.”

The amount of times you had to fake laugh tonight is ridiculously over the roof. It’s another evening where you’re just a tool, something your father can brag about but you hold no influence or whatsoever. 

You’re sipping on some champagne, but you’re careful with the alcohol consumption this time. Though you’re not sure how another situation like that last time would turn out now. Especially after that night after the website fiasco.

After soaking his shirt with your tears the two of you sat on the couch, you remained in Harry’s embrace and he talked you through it, until you momentarily forgot about what happened and somehow you ended up falling asleep. When you woke up you had a blanket over you and Harry was standing in his usual spot by the window, like a hound, watching out for danger. When he realized you woke up he walked you into your bedroom, tucked you in and sat beside you until you wófell back asleep. 

The website was down by the morning and the school was informed about it as well, taking matters into their hands to punish those who created it. You didn’t want to know the names, you just wanted to forget about the whole thing. 

That night changed things between you and Harry. You didn’t feel that wall between the two of you though there was still some distance, but it felt like you could overstep it easily. It’s like you’ve been dancing on a fence, still not sure which side you want to land on. You’re not planning to pressure him to choose, having him this close is already more than you had before so you’re happy to prolong it for as long as possible. 

You have no idea where the conversation is heading around you, you’ve zoned out of it long minutes ago. It’s not that you don’t understand what politicians, influential people tend to talk about at events like this. It’s more about how you recognize some of them know nothing about the field they work at and still hold the power. 

And you lost interest too. 

Holding your champagne flute your eyes wander over the room until they settle on Harry. He is by the window, what a shocker, examining the sea of guests around you, watching out like a hawk until his gaze meets yours and his expression softens. 

“Bored,” you mouth to him and you catch the smirk he tries hard to cover up.

“You got this,” he mouths back to which you frown, making him laugh.

His laugh.

You’ve been gifted with it more in the past few days than in the time you’ve known him and it’s definitely one of your favorite things in the entire world.

“Break?” you mouth once again and he just nods, moving instantly. 

Five minutes later you’re out on the balcony with him, two guards standing by the door inside. 

“This should be considered torture,” you sigh.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teases you.

“I’m not, I hate it here. Look around.” You stand beside him, staring inside at the sea of guests. “What am I doing here?”

“Supporting your dad.”

“I think he is fine without me,” you shrug, nodding towards him, he is standing in a circle of men, all of them pretending to be having a marvelous time, but you know for a fact at least two of those men would backstab him the first given chance. It’s all so pretentious and you’re tired of trying to be part of it for him.

“What would you like to do?” Harry asks.

“What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything, any job, anywhere, what would it be?”

You’ve never really thought of that before. A life that’s entirely what you want it to be is so far out of your reach that you never let yourself daydream about it. So now you take some time to think it through before sharing it with Harry.

“I would probably have a riding school,” is what you tell him at last. He looks at you surprised.

“Like… horses?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly, keeping your eyes ahead, staring at the people inside. “I used to ride a lot when I was smaller and I loved it a lot.”

“But you never do it anymore, why?”

“I wasn’t exceptional in it, never won any competitions so my dad thought I shouldn’t keep doing it. He talked me into quitting and I started learning French instead.”

“You speak French?” he asks in shock.

“No,” you chuckle, finally looking at him. “I was mad at him for making me quit horse riding so I never put any effort into my French classes, I can barely introduce myself.”

“Wow, such a rebel,” he chuckles quietly.

“What about you?”

“I don’t speak French.”

“I know that,” you roll your eyes. “I meant, what would you want to do if you could do anything?”

He curls his lips into his mouth as he thinks about it, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I think I would be living on a farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yeah. You know, growing stuff and keeping animals. I love the thought of growing everything I need.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “I hope you get to do that one day.”

“I do too,” he nods and the two of you just stand there, watching the mingling and dancing guests.

It’s a moment you want to last longer, you feel close to him, like you’ve finally jumped off that fence and you’re running away. Together. 

So at last you decide to give him a little push.

“I wish we could be dancing there too.” 

Your voice is quiet, barely audible through the noises coming from inside and when he doesn’t say anything for a while you start to think he didn’t even hear it, or that he is ignoring your words because he doesn’t want to deal with them.

But then his hand gently takes yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I would… love that.”

Your chest feels like bursting and you wish you could just jump into his arms, but you know you can’t. So instead, you just stand there, enjoying this tiny, hidden moment that’s burning into your memories forever.

It was hard to focus on your conversations before, but now, after you’ve shared that special moment with Harry it’s kind of impossible.

You’re making your rounds around, chit-chatting and smiling as pleasantly as possible, but in your mind you’re still out on the balcony, holding hands with Harry.

Talking about him, you haven’t seen him in a little while. You look around, searching for him once again, probably for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, but you see no sign of him.

“Morrison, where’s Styles?” you ask the agent beside you.

“Your father asked to see him, Miss,” he informs you. 

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, Miss, I’m sorry.”

You try not to think much of it, but when you finally spot him in the crowd your stomach drops, because his expression is anxious and angry at the same time, though he is trying hard to mask it. But you know him too well.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, instantly ignoring the conversation you’ve been in before. 

“Can’t talk right now, but we better leave.”

You don’t question him, just follow, though the way he is acting now is freaking you out. He is right next to you as you make your way out of the room, getting farther and farther from the rest of the guests.

“What happened?” you finally ask when you’re walking down the hallway that leads to the entrance.

“I don’t want to turn you against your father,” he answers, but now you’re just even more keen on knowing what’s going on.

“Harry, tell me!” you demand, stopping abruptly.

Not too willingly, but he comes to a halt as well, turning to face you as he leans closer.

“Your father kept it a secret that they got a letter yesterday in which someone threatened to hurt you today. He kept it from us, because he knew you wouldn’t come tonight if you found out.”

“What?” All the blood rushes out of your face as his words process. 

“He strengthened security for your sake and thought it would be alright, but I don’t want to risk it, we need to get you somewhere safe until we get to the bottom of this whole thing.”

“Okay,” you nod, a shiver running down your spine at just the thought of that letter your father hid from you. 

You’re nearing the exit when your father’s voice beams through the hallway, just when you’re already seeing your car outside.

“Y/N! Where are you going?!” 

He is rushing towards you with his own security team circling him and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I’m leaving!”

“And you didn’t think of at least saying goodbye?”

“I’m not doing anything for you anymore. Not when you’ve intentionally put me in risk just so you could use me at another event!”

The look he gives Harry says it all. He is pissed that Harry told you about the threat, that someone went against his will.

“It’s not that serious, Honey. We have everything under control.”

“Is that so? Then who sent the letter?”

“We don’t know it yet, but—”

“What if it’s the same guy that’s been stalking me? What if it really is something serious?” You’re finally lashing out on him, something you probably should have done a lot earlier, but you didn’t have the balls. You’re done being the obedient, supportive daughter to a father that’s not returning it at all.

“We doubled security and I have people working on it! No need to–”

“Don’t tell me what I need and don’t need to do! I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore! You knew I would panic if I found out about it but you chose to hide it so you could use me tonight to show people how great of a family we are when in reality, you give no fucks about me!”

“Y/N, that is not true. I didn’t want to stress you out, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Lie. That is such a big fucking lie.

“I’m done. I’m done with you. Call me when you’re ready to be my father.”

Turning around you’re on your way out to the car, you hear your dad calling after you, but Harry stops him and it’s the first time you hear him talk so harshly to your father.

And then all hell breaks loose. But it’s not because of Harry’s way of talking to the president.

You’re approaching the car confidently, eager to get away from your dad and the madness that surrounds him, Harry is following you right behind and as you keep your gaze on the car suddenly you realize.

It’s not yours.

Everything happens so fast, but at the same time it’s like it’s in slow motion.

A guy jumps out of the car and points a gun right at you. The agents around you launch forward, but he is several feet away, so they don’t reach him before he pulls the trigger and shoots at you. In that moment you believe you’re about to die. Gasping in surprise you completely freeze, but then get pushed to the side with so much force you smash against the wall, pain jolting through your left arm instantly as the shot of the gun rings in your ear.

You fall to the floor the same time the agents tackle the shooter. From the corner of your eyes you see how your ad is being dragged away from the scene before he could get hurt as well, even though he is shouting your name, it’s protocol to rescue him and take him to a safe place right away.

As you look to your right you see another person on the floor and your heart skips a beat when you realize that it’s Harry, and a pool of blood is underneath you, growing rapidly each second.

He took the shot that was meant for you.

The rest is a blur. You start screaming and try to reach him while two agents pull you up from the floor to take you away from the scene as well, your arm hurts like hell, but you just keep screaming for Harry. 

At last you catch his face, you see him gasping for air, pure panic and fear all over his face, he looks at you one last time and you see a tear rolling down his face before you’re dragged away.

The constant beeping. It just keeps going and going and it’s driving him crazy. 

Crazy enough to finally open his eyes.

Harry is more than confused about his surroundings, the hospital room looks sterile, but nice, very nice if you ask him, so he knows he is at some kind of private facility. It takes a couple of moments for the pain to set in but when it does, it comes with all the memories as well.

He was shot in his chest when he pushed you out of the way, he remembers the pain he felt then which was a lot worse and more intense than the dull, pressure like feeling in his chest right now. He remembers lying on the floor and looking at you as two agents pulled you away and he knows he said his goodbye in that moment, because he was convinced he would die.

He didn’t. 

Now he is lying in a hospital bed, the machines hooked onto him keep beeping and tracking his vitals and when he turns his head slightly to the left the beeping intensifies because he sees you sleeping in an armchair next to his bed. 

You look awfully uncomfortable, but still breathtakingly beautiful, your left arm is in a cast and you’re cradling it to your chest. As if you could sense his wandering gaze, you start moving around and you blink your eyes open at last, seeing that Harry is finally awake.

“Hey,” he breathes out, barely finding the energy to speak, but you burst into tears right away as you fall forward, one hand coming to the side of his head, the other one holding his hand on the mattress.

“You’re awake, oh my God, I really thought I lost you!” You sob and try to take in the sight of him conscious and talking, something you didn’t think you’d ever see again when you saw him lying on the floor three days ago.

“I’m okay, I’m right here,” he exhales as his other hand comes to take your hand by his face. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Harry, you were literally shot and you’re asking if I’m okay?” you laugh through your tears, finally cracking a smile from him as well. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“I’m fine, just broke my hand, but it’s okay. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

“Kind of. But it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? The bullet missed your heart by one millimeter. Doctors said it’s a miracle you survived.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not bulletproof,” he tries to joke and it makes you laugh and that was his only intention. 

You’ve stopped crying, but you wouldn’t move from beside him. You’ve been in this room since they brought him out of surgery and refused to leave since then. He reaches over and wipes your tears off your cheeks before cradling your face in his palm. You gladly lean into his touch and then turn your head to kiss into his hand without hesitation. 

You fill him in on what happened. Tell him about how he was rushed to hospital and the guy was caught and it was confirmed he sent the letter and he was the one stalking you at your apartment and award ceremony as well. You were afraid it was someone you knew, but apparently he was just some psycho who wanted to hurt your dad by hurting you.

It was a wakeup call to your father. One that he desperately needed after the stunts he has pulled lately, so you had a long talk outside of Harry’s room when he found out you were here with him. He apologized for everything and promised to be better. You told him his words mean nothing, you need to see the change in his actions. 

He has visited every day since then and you discussed the future as well. A future that will bring lots of change.

“You saved my life,” you quietly say, still kind of in shock about what happened.

“I would do it again,” he replies. 

“You won’t be able to work again because of it,” you tell him. The bullet grazed his lung as well and the doctors said he might never be able to reach the same physical limits like before.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t lose you and that’s what matters.”

His words sink in and you have to fight your tears again as you rest you lean closer, until your faces are just inches away.

“I don’t want to feel again the way I did when I thought you died. I don’t want to keep my distance, I… I love you and I want to be with you.”

Harry exhales heavily, his eyes fall closed and when they open again you get lost in them.

“I love you too. And I want to be with you too, always have.”

You let out a laugh that’s mixed with relief, happiness, pain and so much anticipation before you push closer and finally press your lips to his.

Years of built up tension and passion is set free as you kiss him and he returns it just as eagerly. It’s not at all how you imagined your first kiss, not with a cast on your arm or Harry lying in a hospital bed after being shot, but none of it matters in this moment, only him. There’s no more playing around, pushing each other away, this is end game and you both know it. 

“So…” you mumble against his lips, “Will you move to a farm with me?”

“Moving? Aren’t we rushing a little ahead?” he chuckles, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face before pecking your lips shortly.

“No. I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s do what we always wanted to do.”

“What about your life? Your dad?”

“I already told him I’m stepping back from my first daughter duties. He is okay with it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have much saying in what I do after almost getting me killed,” you joke, though you both know how serious the matter was.

“And you’re sure you want to move on… with me?”

You smile at him softly, it’s so typical he is questioning your decision even after everything that happened. He surely needs some time to adjust to this new version of you and him where there’s no wall between the two of you, just love.

Leaning down you kiss his lips softly.

“There’s no one else I would do it with, Harry.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[ecstasyhighway]

YOU & I | an ellie williams fanfic series

this is a fic that will be posted and mostly updated on wattpad @ecstasyhighway this ff is heavily based off of you the netflix show and inspired by a ff on here which i cannot remember who wrote it but if yk lmk so i can give proper credit.

there is not smut in this little part here but its a filthy ah fic that will become darker as it goes on.

MEN DNI - 16+ i fear (im 17 so if u feel uncomfortable reading from a minor who will be 18 at the end of the year then u dont have to read this i really dgaf.)

ch 1 ch 2

silly story and more ff info under the cut

Ellie had seen you walking around the music store she worked at... her attention automatically shifted from the customer in front of her to you. Your hair, your curves, your eyes. Everything about you was just...

"hello? did you hear me?" the woman raised her voice slightly to get her attention,

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts and focused on the clearly irritated woman in front of her.

"yea my bad, what was that..?"

The lady rolled her eyes and started asking questions about guitar lessons for her son or daughter or some shit, she wasnt really paying attention to the nonsense floating from her mouth.

"yeah, im not the one you go to about that, uhhh my buddy Jesse is in the back, he can help you"

"thanks" and with that, she headed towards the back, muttering words under her breath.

Ellie's attention quickly turned back towards you. She examines you closely. Watching you grab a vinyl from the shelf, Call Me If You Get Lost, is what you had grabbed. Ellie wants to walk over to you, and talk to you but shes scared. What if she says the wrong thing? What if she freaks you out? What if you think shes a weirdo.. She turns away to stop looking at you, her cheeks are red and shes shaking, she is just so nervous and she's not even planning on talking to you... She puts her face in her hands and begins to calm herself down.

"Hi! hello"

A voice chimes from behind her, she turns around and a lump forms in her throat.

Its... you.

———————————————————————————

YOU & I | ellie williams.

this is a DARK fanfic. Based heavily off of the show you on netflix and inspired by a fanfic I saw on tumblr. This story has adult themes, sexual themes, stalking, thoughts of killing (no actual killing just thoughts), themes of hate, ellie has slight mental issues (obv shes stalking) age gaps (only 3 years and they're adults). idgaf how old u are this is dark and you have been warned, i am not responsible for any type of reaction you may have to this as ive given you a warning. I will give warnings at the beginning of chapters that might be too dark. again you have been warned.

important - ellie might be a tad ooc, shy!ellie, switch!ellie if you squint. this is a lesbian ff.

MEN DNI I WILL FIND YOU.

reader is afab and 20

ellie is 23

modern au

jessie, dina, joel, tommy, maria, most of the main tlou cast is in this (not everyone will be mentioned or even really have a place in the story, just know they are present)

based in New York (obv)

i am not a professional writer, im simply a girl who writes shit when shes bored, do not expect me to have an upload schedule. I get drained v fast and i want to enjoy writing, its not a job with deadlines. so with that my grammar might be bad, spelling might be ass and if there is any math it will probably be wrong, it might be written in third, or first person i be fuckin up with that but yall will be fine.

YOU & I | ellie williams.

story created and written by @ecstasyhighway

tlou and the characters belongs to Neil Druckmann and Naughty Dog

the story of "YOU" belongs to Netflix

Story was ib by a ff i saw breifly but i don't remember who wrote it so, if yk pls lmk so i can give proper credit

THIS IS FICTION. DO NOT DO THIS SHIT IRL BRUH ITS ACTUALLY WEIRD ASF. AGAIN THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL. thank yew

uhhhh yeah enjoy ig and i do appreciate any supportive criticism as i am not a professional writer and shit could just be wrong.

also im new to tumblr fanfic writing so yeah 😭.

[basedonconjecture]

Author Ask Tag

thank you for tagging me @ofcrowsanddragons & @thedissonantverses <3

What is the main lesson of your story?

If I had to distill it down to a single point it’s that identity is self-determined. We are a patchwork of influences from culture, family, experiences and a plethora of other things but no one can tell you who you are but you.

What did you use as inspiration for your story?

Since it’s a canon re-telling of Veilguard, that’s probably the largest source, haha. I’m fascinated by the Crows and the politics of Antiva, at large. Others are doing some truly fascinating work fleshing out Antiva as a setting for their fics that I’m truly in awe of, honestly. For me, personally, I really want to preserve that level of soapy drama that's baked into the Crows as we see them in the game so I'm looking at Italian historical figures largely through other fictionalized versions of them (Showtime's "The Borgias" and Netflix's "Medici" but also lighter fare like Casanova since romance is featured heavily in it as examples). My brain is often circling around Machiavelli, as well, and there's some ancient Roman philosophers floating around the proverbial vision board. By and large, however, I'm pulling a lot -- a lot -- from Shakespeare (the title of my last posted chapter is a reference to Julius Caesar and I had a real Neve-With-the-Conspiracy-Board moment there and there's a half written sleep-deprived breakdown of why somewhere in my phone's notes if anyone's ever curious lol) for, what I think, are obvious reasons. There’s a heavy theatrical element to the Crows and the storylines attached to them in canon but also the way Shakespeare moves people around each other, obscures information from them that is obvious to the audience, masked players, and identity etc. It’s grand monologues and tight interpersonal scenes where there’s as much being communicated in what’s not said as what is. There’s a play-within-a-play aspect to Lucanis’ companion quest line that I loved from the jump so I’m just…expanding on that with my Rook de Riva. Leaning into the aforementioned melodrama. 

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help them grow as a person?

At outset, Selora is half trying to prove her worth, essentially. She’s spent most of her life with the Crows purposefully flying under the radar, actively making herself look like an underachiever, to work with Viago all with the belief she was an essential Crow because of it. Getting kicked out sent her into a tailspin in trying to get back and really undervaluing herself (struggling with her identity outside of Being A Crow) but, along the way, through the people she meets and the much harder lessons of leadership, she learns to trust her own inner voice, it becomes less a matter of clinging to a life she knows and more claiming her right to be there. She loves the Crows, she loves Antiva, and the people there and probably falls closer to Teia in being a bit idealistic about it. There’s probably a few topics I will touch on tangentially (particularly in regards to family and what repairing those kinds of dysfunctional relationships can look like) but if there’s anything I can impart it’s to take up space. Whatever else they come away with, I do hope that’s among them.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Oh, gosh. It’s currently at 15 -squints- and we’ve not even recruited Davrin, yet. I’n hoping to cap it at 50 which will require some finagling on my part, likely, but it’ll take however many chapters it takes.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Dragon Age: The Veilguard rookanis fic posted on Ao3, that you can read here :)

When did you start writing?

I wrote my first book at 6 years old! It was for school, alas, but pretty much as soon as I started reading I started writing. I’ve been a storyteller in one medium or other my whole life. It was a regular hobby starting in middle school, when I started also doing forum roleplaying (I have no idea what the current terminology is these days) and has followed me all the way into my 30s now. I used to write little skits for different drama groups from middle school into college as well as original fiction, poetry, etc. I have completed one full length fantasy novel and the ever growing incomplete novels gather dust in various WIP folders.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr?

Write. I know it’s oft repeated but it’s the most consistently universal advice I’ve ever run into. Writing is a muscle, it has to be built and can only be done by doing. Even just aiming for a few words a day (like 50 or 100) can really help! I will personally also set a timer as opposed to having a word count goal, like a 15-30 minute sprint, and whatever comes out is what I get done for that day. You’d really be surprised how often that gets the pistons firing to write more without feeling like I’m burning myself out. 

But! Some other advice: if you’re feeling really unmotivated and nothing else (consuming other media, listening to playlists, etc.) seems to be helping, try changing up your environment. I don’t necessarily mean going to a coffee shop or something (writing in public is impossible for me, personally) but I am sometimes way more productive writing on my phone, for example, or writing by hand than sitting at my laptop or PC. Seriously, try changing your environment or your mode of writing.

---

tagging: @mythals-whore, @introvertedfangrl, @dymme, @operative-arrow and anyone else! (sorry if you've already been tagged, haVE ANOTHER)

[otrtbs]

Hiiii how are you??

I wanted to ask if you were inspired by the Goldfinch when you were writing AHB? Maybe inspired is a big word but yk, did it leave a mark on your work? Because recently I read the Goldfinch and I couldn't stop thinking about you and your work. Maybe it's just because of the paintings idk but I wanted to know. Also, what did inspire AHB? Like when did you first have the idea? How much time did you take to actually start writing? Did you do a lot of research?

Anyway, hope you have a great day!!!

hello my friend!!! i'm good how are you??

first of all, how did you like tgf??? did you love it or did you love it?? to me there is only one book ever. screw shakespeare, the bible? idk her. the iliad?? that's NOTHING. there is only the goldfinch by donna tartt. and it absolutely inspired so SO much of ahb! welty's death in tgf heavily inspired regulus' death in ahb! the amsterdam of it all inspired ahb! the way donna tartt writes about art and love and death!!!!!!>>>>>>>> the art swaps were also very heavily goldfinch inspired. yeah. that book is in my bone marrow. absolutely

also super inspired by money heist on netflix and the documentary 'this is a robbery' i would say those are the big three that went into ahb!

but as for inspiration, i was an undergrad art history major looking for more outlets to express my love of the subject and someone becoming rapidly obsessed with the marauders with each passing day. originally, i just looked for art heist jegulus fics on ao3 to read, or just art fics w jegulus in general, and then took a stab at writing one. i would say that planning-wise i just thought really hard about writing the fic for a solid month and then actually opened a google doc one day haha. research-wise, i mainly pulled from experience. i had been in art galleries and museums spaces as a student, a volunteer, and an employee since i was 16. and additionally, i was in university studying the subject so most of the research came from class readings/discussions/assignments or experiences i had working in art galleries/museum spaces!! so while there was some research done for the fic (art-wise) it was mainly information pulled from what i was already learning for school! <3

i hope this made semi-sense!! and i hope you have a great day as well!!<3

[hippolotamus]

23, 34, 45

Hey there! Look at me saying 'ask me stuff!' and then disappearing... Okay, let's get down to business.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to? I would love to write a magical realism au. TBH I kinda die over everything from @mostlyinthemorning / houdini74's Everyday Magic series. Clever and genius. (For the 9-1-1 folks: go run to @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels works. I'm especially fond of The Monsterfucker's Symphony)

34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life? My therapist would probably be rather interested in this answer, too... So I'm gonna cross fandoms with this answer. I like to think there's a little bit of me sprinkled across all my fics, but lbr there's more in some than others. I identify greatly with my Patrick in If, Then. He doesn't know what he wants but he knows he doesn't want to stay where he is.

Then there's my current 9-1-1 WIP... I am Eddie, Eddie is me. When Heartstopper came to Netflix last year... it cracked something open in me that needed dealt with. In a *big* way. So, I took the realization of repressed queer feelings and queer grief, and placed them on my lil Texan marshmallow.

Generally I would also say I heavily relate to David Rose and Evan Buckley's 'not enough, too much, i'll take whatever crumb of loveaffection i can get' struggles.

you spoke to me so sweetly and i wish you all the love you're looking for, darling are also inspired by my life events.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic? More deliberately choosing my words, cutting down on duplicate wording, improved dialogue tags. An unexpected benefit when I started using a beta reader regularly... it instilled a sense of patience (although people that know me might argue that). When you can't post something immediately, because you're waiting for it to come back, makes an enormous difference.

questions for fic writers

[yeahlenas]

yelena belova | best fanfic recommendation list

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

welcome to my masterlist of yelena (and natasha) centric fanfiction - there’s not too many out there, but i suspect the tag will explode after the movie finally comes out. but until then i thought i’d share with you the works i’ve found and that i enjoyed immensely!!

this list includes fics with yelena as the main character (not too many), and others where yelenat is the main pairing (romantically/platonically), or yelena is not the main character but still is important and featured.

hopefully this list will give you some new epic content and inspiration for your own works! (cause let’s be honest the internet needs more of these incredible characters)

my own works:

starting this off with some shameless selfpromo hehe ≧◡≦. i never really wrote fanfiction before the character of yelena came and gave me so much inspiration and motivation!! 

if i had to perish twice (edge of tomorrow au) 

status: completed 1/1 words: 19,549 

a loooong and good one (unbiased) to get you started!! this is by far the longest piece of writing i’ve ever done and i’m super proud of it! this is an au of the movie edge of tomorrow, and yelena is the main protagonist. there is also implied stucky and a lot of the avengers show up throughout. yelenat is the main pairing! you don’t have to watch the movie to understand it (i hope), i’ve tried to explain it in the fic to the best of my ability! (that being said, watching the trailer helps and ofc the movie is the very best option, it’s on netflix!)

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26082565

i tend not to weep

status: completed 1/1 words: 3,166

natasha and yelena’s cover is blown, and when they escape their plane is shot down - injured yelenat, hurt & comfort and angst.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27334447

i’ll be the actress (starring in your bad dreams)

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,610 

two russian assassins walk into a bar. it doesn't go how either of them had planned. 

a crossover with killing eve, in which yelena meets the mysterious character of villanelle during a mission.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617044

you’ll have a good time with all of these amazing fics:

drip (that’s the sound of your ledger) | LOVE THIS ONE

“ There were whispers, after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s fall. They followed Natasha wherever she went, until she could ignore them no longer. 

Welcome back to the Red Room.”

status: completed 13/13 words: 86,222 author: songofdefiance

THIS. this fic came out of nowhere and hit me until i was down (and then some more) with the pairing of nat and sharon which i didn’t know i needed!!! great twists, fun adventure, and yelena is giving me all the feels in this one. high re-readability!! the entire fic is incredible and 10000% worth your time - it is also the first in an incredible series, and yelena features more heavily as we go along. i wish i could read it for the first time again!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

part one of the this won’t end with a whimper series: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4156134

black widow: from brooklyn with love

“Rosa Diaz thought her past was dead and buried somewhere out in the Siberian tundra. But when Natasha Romanoff shows up at the 99 with a smile and a bundle of secrets, she knows she has no choice but to finish what Red Room started.”

status: completed 12/12 words: 37,573 author: wonderlander090

i love brooklyn99. i love yelena and natasha. the genius of wonderlander090 wrote a fic of everyone together and it’s SO MUCH FUN! features badass ladies, red room feels and overall epicness.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387431

black widow

“After she released every piece of her secrecy to the world, Natasha Romanoff flees to get back her feeling of being a competent spy. Unfortunately, her old enemies have resurfaced, and have plans that force Natasha to meet old partners and old horrors. “

completed 17/17 words: 58,155 author: clarkesjade

the author’s wonderful take on the black widow movie. personal stakes, dark enemies and espionage with the great trio of nat, yelena and bucky against the world.

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284406

taipei

“Yelena is nowhere to be seen, and considering the circumstances, Natalia knows far better than to presume that means she made it out.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 1,518 author: novoaa1 (@ultralightdumbass)

yelenat banter, the best banter there is!! in which yelena and natasha’s paths crosses on a mission. 

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994090

part of the chance encounter series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809355

remember when we used to play?

“Natalia loves Yelena as fire loves innocence. It destroys and ruins and is doomed.”

status: completed 1/1 words: 2,315 author: hellotomyoldheart (@hellotomyoldheart)

a couple thousand words to step on my heart a couple thousand times :)) a yelenat with red room feels, and just a shit ton of feels in general lol help

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664936

youth (makes fools of us all)

“In 1994, a young Widow is assigned an important mission playing the wife of the Red Guardian. In 1994, two students are selected to accompany them.In 1994, against all machinations of the Red Room, a family is made.“

status: completed 1/1 words: 4,871 author: sanctuaria (@aleksandrachaev)

no words for this beautiful piece!! with the release of the new trailer something like this is canon now, and the entire idea of pretending to be a family and then natasha and yelena becoming one in their hearts is just OWWW, run me over instead, it’d hurt less

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954776

what a wicked game to play (to make me feel this way)

“after you win the games, you lose.” hunger games au.

status: complete 1/1 words: 60,545 author: taylorswift (not THAT ts haha (at least i dont think so??))

this is a clintasha au, so don’t expect tooo much yelena. i love the relationship between yelena and nat in this one though, so here it is!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24957505

you made it this far (just a little bit more)

“I'm dead, Yelena says, I killed myself in that room, Natasha didn't need to shoot me for that, and isn't sure it translates.”

status: completed 1/1 series 3/3 words: 35,939 author: notcaycepollard (@notcaycepollard)

yelena is the main character in part 3 of this time travel fix it series. feels a bit au because (obviously) a lot of things were changed and their lives end up being very different. very happy take on everything and if you want some good old serotonin and good times for our characters, this one is so good!!

read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27913387

part 3 of the a flame in two cupped hands series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538677

the end (for now) (◕︵◕)

as you can see i get all my yelena fics from ao3, i think that site is just so wonderful and easy to navigate!! i’m updating the yelena tag often, and i’m constantly looking for new good fics to share - so if you’re interested, bookmark this/follow me for future updates! if you have any personal favorites from ao3 that i’ve missed, or from other sites, do not hesitate to share them with me so i can update the list!!

(also i tried to tag the authors i could find on tumblr but idk if it worked?)

[morningstargirl666]

oh heyyy omgg director's cut on Falling for you (sorry I'm so late in sending this!🥺)

Lol I was late responding to the previous ask so honestly no need to apologise.

The first concept for Falling For You sparked during the Klaroline AU season in March this year? I think? Around the same time I wrote the first chapter of Divided We Fall. They were planned out together, but I didn't post FFY until later in the year when I had two chapters written. The reason I waited to post, which is something I rarely do, is because the chapters had turned out shorter than what I normally write (around 3k instead 8k+) and wanted to give @certifiedceraunophile more to chew on. This fic was first and foremost written as a gift for her, because of how much an amazing person she is. I was immensely grateful for her support at the time, new to the fandom and with few people who I knew, so repaid her the only way I knew how.

(with lots of feels and pain lmao)

The first visuals that came into my head was a snippet of dialogue, which hasn't been written into the fic yet, but was used as the fic summary. Klaus asking "Did you miss me?" while the walls are covered in blood, dead bodies at his feet, and a very peeved Angel of Death!Caroline debating the pros and cons of hauling his ass back to hell.

As the rest of the fic formed, I'm honoured to say I feel the most proud of this fic. I never rushed or forced the writing for it, only working on it when the mood struck, and although its unproductive to do that all the time it worked well for FFY, creating what I like to think is my best work. It's not like TBBW, which has a bunch of OCs and separate character arcs - this fic is solely focused on the Klaroline and I loved the change of that. I also deliberately scattered canon references everywhere, making parallels to the progression of Klaus and Caroline's relationship in canon and in the fic, bringing something both new and familiar to the chapters.

I listened very attentively to srishti's favourite tropes and prompts, and have great confidence that I know how to break her now 😂🤣 You can see it in how I write Klaus and Caroline interact, in the intimate gestures like holding each others hands and Klaus kissing her on the cheek (I swear I’m squeezing in a nose kiss at some point just for you, srishti). Klaus is also totally whipped for Caroline in this fic, and in a unique spin, it’s actually Caroline who is the most powerful one out of the two instead. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t equals - Klaus is powerful and deadly in his own right, something you will start to see from chapter 4 onwards as he rises through Hell’s ranks. 

Another thing I should mention, is this fic is heavily inspired by the Lucifer TV Series which I absolutely ADORE. Like I love it so much and if anyone out there hasn’t seen it, you need to add it to your watch list NOW. It got cancelled at s3 and the fanbase was so powerful and loved the show so much they managed to get Netflix to renew it for two more seasons - like seriously the P O W E R. There’s a lot of elements I used in FFY that are common tropes in Lucifer fanfiction, like the wing grooming scene (I guess that’s popular in all angel au’s but still) and I often listened to the season soundtracks when writing (I highly recommend checking them out, season 5 had a musical episode and it was awesome not gonna lie). 

To this day my greatest ambition is to get srishti to watch it. Because if you can’t drag your friends kicking and screaming into other fandoms, what is the point? 😂😂😂

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (chapter one)

A/N - Hi guys! So I made a post about this a few days ago but I decided, since I finally remembered the fucking password to this blog, that I’d rework some of the writing and plot points in Smoke and Roses, and republish it! I really hope you enjoy more this time round! 

Fic Summary: Holland Van-Ness is a PR manager. At only twenty three years old, she is smart, sharp and straight edge; and the best in the business at what she does. But when she gets involved with the reckless Motley Crue, her life changes forever.

DISCLAIMER:: I would like start by saying I do not condone any of the actions portrayed by any member of Motley Crue, any member of their crew, or any OC. This work is fictitious, and is in no way meant to glamorise drug or alcohol abuse. ‘Smoke and Roses’ is based on the events of Netflix’s ‘The Dirt’, and the autobiography of the same name, and follows the both of them closely, and will include details regarding the aforementioned abuse that may be triggering to some readers. The timeline in this fic also differs slightly from real life and The Dirt. With all that being said, proceed with caution, and enjoy!

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Holland.

In her grogginess, she seriously considered rolling back over and ignoring it, but just when she thought it was done, it started to ring again; long, and loud, and tearing her back from the comfort of sleep.

Holland groaned. She rolled begrudgingly out of bed and made her way across her bedroom, where her phone was hung upon the wall opposite her bed by the window. Whoever was calling her better have had a damn good reason to be bothering her at nine AM, and on a Saturday of all days.

“Hello?” She said tiredly into the receiver, running a hand back through her dark blonde hair to push it back from her face, “Holland Van-Ness speaking.”

“Ahh, Holly,” a voice, irritatingly cheerful for the time of day, greeted her on the other end. “It’s Doc Mghee.”

Well, that certainly peaked her interest, and Holland was suddenly wide awake. Though she had known Doc for years, he rarely called for a chat, which could only mean one thing; he had a job for her. “Doc, good to hear from you,” she responded warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It had been a year or so since Holland had last spoken to the infamous manager. He had been a close friend of her Father’s before he passed away, and had been the one to help her break into the music industry when she was a mere eighteen years old. That had been five years ago; and Holland was eternally grateful. She owed a massive amount of her success to Doc. “Tell me,” he said, “how soon are you able to get to LA?”

Holland raised an eyebrow at the question even though Doc couldn’t see her. “Doc, if I’m going to make a trip to LA, I should know what it’s about.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m getting to it. I’ve found you a band.”

“Oh yeah?” Holland had expected that, of course. She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached over to her dresser to fish for a notebook and pen. “And… what band might this be?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Doc chuckled again, and Holland didn’t like the way he seemed to be deliberately avoiding answering her question. “But just hear me out, alright? I think this might be just the challenge you’ve been looking for.”

Holland felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Part of her thought she knew exactly who had had in mind, and he was right; she didn’t like it. “...Go on,” she pressed him after a moment.

Doc chuckled for a third time. He sounded unmistakably nervous. “Motley Crue.”

For a moment, Holland was silent as she digested this information, and then she laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Holly-”

“Are you crazy? Doc, you seriously want me to fly all the way out to LA to be their PR manager? That’s career suicide!” 

“Holly,” he went on pleadingly, “these boys need help. If anyone can sort out their shit-show of a public image, it’s you. They’re on the verge of real success here, but my God, their image has got to be fixed. They need you, Holly. Just come to one show. If you think they’re beyond help, I’ll pay for your flight back. But just give them a chance. These kids need some sense talking into them and they don’t listen to me.”

“Kids?” Holland scoffed. “They’re not kids, they’re grown ass men!”

“Look, the choice is yours,” Doc sighed heavily, “can I expect to meet you at the airport or not?”

“Dammit Doc…” she groaned loudly, making it very clear to him exactly how she felt. “Fine. I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Holland heard Doc cheer. “Holland Van-Ness, you are a star!”

The line went dead as Doc hung up. That time, it was Holland’s turn to sigh. She’d heard stories about Motley Crue that were rivalled only by her nightmares. In the six months since they’d debuted, they’d singlehandedly caused more problems than any other band Holland had managed, and she had had to put up with some serious shit. From their very first gig, Holland had decided they were trouble, and she had sworn to herself that she was not going to get involved with them or any other band like them. Apparently, that was not a promise she was going to be keeping.

Holland padded sleepily into the bathroom, where she lingered for a moment to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair. She paused by the sink to take a good luck at her reflection. She looked a damn sight better than she had done five minutes ago, but there was an emotion in her eyes that Holland didn’t immediately recognize. She realised after a moment, that it was fear. 

She drew in a shaky breath. When she told Doc working with Motley was career suicide, she hadn’t been joking, and that thought scared her more than anything. If she didn’t have her job, what did she have?

She rushed back into her bedroom where she dressed quickly and threw a few essentials into a small suitcase. Anything else she needed, or had forgotten, she supposed she could buy once she landed in LA. Holland had worked with a menagerie of bands; from small, local acts to headlining musicians. She had helped all of them maintain a fairly respectable public image. But now, in the cab on her way to the airport to meet Motley freakin’ Crue, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was completely out of her depth.

She made her way through customs fairly quickly and within the hour, found herself in a less than comfortable aisle seat on a four hour flight from Miami to LA. That sinking feeling remade its home in her stomach as the plane started its ascension, and Holland found herself gripping the arm rest, so tightly her knuckles strained white against her skin. She was at least comforted by the thought that when she inevitably wanted to return home, she wouldn’t have to pay for the flight.

As the plane made its way through the sky towards LA, Holland tried to catch up on the sleep that Doc had so cruelly taken from her but it was nearly impossible over the roar of the engines and her own feelings of anxiety, and so eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to watching the clouds whizz by the window. Before she knew it, LA was upon her, and she found Doc waiting for her by the luggage claim.

When she saw her old family friend, all her frustration momentarily drained away and she embraced him in a tight, if not brief, hug. “It’s good to see you, Holly,” he told her with a smile.

“And you!” She said. She looked anxiously over his shoulder, expecting to see the band stroll through the duty free stores towards them. “They’re not joining us?” She asked him.

“Relax,” Doc assured her quickly, “they’re not here. I thought you’d want to get some brunch and get settled in first.”

Holland smiled weakly, reassured. “That sounds great.”

She collected her suitcase and allowed Doc to carry it out to the cab for her. She could have carried it herself given that it wasn’t too heavy, but she was exhausted after her busy morning, and was secretly grateful for his help. When they got into the back of the cab, Doc looked as though he was going to start with some pleasantries, but when he turned to Holland and saw the look on her face, he knew she was ready to talk business. He could tell she had a lot of questions, and motioned for her to start.

“Alright,” she said, folding her hands casually on her lap, “first and foremost, where am I going to be staying? You didn’t mention a hotel or anything in your phone call.”

Doc grimaced and didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. “Once again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “you’re not going to like it.”

Holland’s face fell a mile. “Doc…” she deadpanned, “tell me I’m not going to be staying with them.” She looked at him intently but Doc said nothing, which only confirmed her fears. “Are you serious, Doc?” She asked him furiously, “working with them is going to be bad enough!”

“The money’s not bad,” he reminded her, hoping to diffuse the situation but she only scoffed.

“Yet clearly not good enough to buy me a hotel room,” she scowled. “Why the hell do I have to stay with them?”

“Holly, these boys aren’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before,” Doc told her. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder with them than you have with any other band. You’re going to need them to trust you, Holly. And this is the way to do that.” He gave her a look that Holly recognized and understood almost instantly. It was the same pleading look her Father used when he wanted her to cooperate.

Even so, she groaned loudly. “Alright, fine,” she relented. “I’ll stay with them.” She sighed, turning to look out of the window to avoid seeing the triumphant grin on Doc’s face. “So, what are they like?”

“They’re…” Doc trailed off. He glanced out of his own window, as though the street passing by would inspire him. “They’re a handful,” he settled on eventually, “self centered. Arrogant. But, they’re talented as Hell, and I think they’ve got it in them to be good kids. They just need a little push in the right direction.”

Holland hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. A beeping sound came from Doc’s pocket. He sighed, pulling out the small pager. A scowl passed over his face.

“Aw, crap,” he mumbled, “sorry, Holly. We might have to put that brunch on hold.” He slipped the pager back into his pocket and fed another address to the cab driver, different to the one he had initially given.

“Why?” Holland frowned, “what’s happened?”

“What’s happened is you’re about to start your job a couple hours early,” he said grimly, “there’s been a fight.”

Holland found herself rolling her eyes. “Of course there has,” she grumbled, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. When working with Motley Crue, she should have expected nothing less.

[queenxxxsupreme]

I wanna hear more abt ur inspiration for darceria

Omg I love love love this question so much!! Also I apologize for how long this is. I just really loved this💕

So with Darceria I had been messing around with characters in my head the second I decided I wanted to write a fic about my baby Geralt (which happened to be when I was watching Betrayer Moon). At first, she wasn't an oracle because I hadn't even thought of that, of making that group of essentially magical beings. I'll explain that a little later. She was originally really insignificant. She wasn't a princess of a fallen kingdom, she wasn't blind, she could see the future. She was bland and I didn't like that. I wanted more. I wanted to make her more interesting and give her shape and definition.

So from there, I made her blind. I have shitty eye sight myself and it's progressively getting worse so I was sort of playing off of that. I've messed with blind characters before and when I say that I mean that I have written out different characters with different personalities, different traits, and different love interests that all were blind. None of those characters were lucky enough to make it further than rough drafts and charts and essentially they've been left in two binders that I keep with all my ideas for characters and plots and fics because seriously I think of new ideas every day and if I acted on impulse more than I already did, I'd have an insanely high amount of fan fics going at once.

(Fun fact, Wattpad is where I started and at one point on that platform I had close to fifteen stories going at once. That number has since been cut to ten after I finished a few stories. Yes I have an issue and yes I acknowledge it 😂🙈🤦‍♀️)

So back to Darceria. I decided to make her blind because I knew it would be difficult to write for her and I love the challenge. I also knew her being in the time period and the society she is in would introduce quite a few conflicts just because of her being blind and conflicts/problems are what drive stories in my opinion.

The oracle half of her character came from a relatively new idea I had in the last year for a Sam Winchester x OC fic. The character was blind and could see the future but how she saw the future was more prophetic and more physical. She'd have nose bleeds and she'd cough up blood and wake up covered in blood in her sleep. That physical part ended up turning into a character for a Pietro Maximoff x OC fic I have going on Wattpad right now. That character just isn't blind.

But when I thought of giving Darceria some sort of supernatural-y power, seeing the future came to mind. I thought it would really really awesome to take her sight but give her the ability to see the future. Sort of poetic/sort of psychotic on my half 😂

Oracle means a few different things but the meaning I took it as was a priest or priestess acting as a medium through whom advise or advise was sought from the gods. I really liked this so I started messing around with what an oracle would look like in the world of the Witcher. I thought about how an oracle would be useful and the first thing that came to my mind was a mage. Mages are advisors to kings and queens. They are heavily knowledged in science/magic and politics. Rulers depend on them for a lot and seek their advise. We saw in season 1 how important mages were to rulers. I highly doubt that without Fringilla's help Nilfgaard wouldn't have gotten as far as they did or it would have taken them much much longer to do so.

I sort of created oracles as the sister to the witch. They naturally have visions, naturally see things that have yet to happen. They have instincual feelings that they can trust. Like when it comes to chosing maybe going down this road or that road, they can sense which would be the wiser choice. It's a part of who they are genetically. But they also have strong magic genes too. They can cast spells to help see the future and that sort of thing. The oracles are just focused more on seeing the future and preserving the kingdom for the long run. (I have so much I want to say about this last sentence because of Darceria and her role in the fall of Romavek but EEK I CAN'T SPOIL)

I wanted to make oracles rare, to make them less known than witches and mages because having just anyone be an oracle would suck the fun out of it in my opinion. So I made it so that oracles are born every half century. They are also extremely rare in the story just for the simple fact that Romavek is the only known place to ever inhabit oracles. Romavek was very secretive and very solitary, even more so than Cintra. Romaveks (as we will see in future updates) very rarely left their country, their kingdom. They had no reason to. They didn't participate in wars unless absolutely necessary. I won't go much further into detail about that because I don't want to accidentally spoil anything.

I also wanted Darceria to be important, to have a destiny of her own that didn't involve Geralt entirely. So that's how I decided she'd be an oracle, a super important piece to Romavek culture and hierarchy.

When I was messing with her characterization, I played around before she was an oracle about the possibility of her being royalty. We know Geralt has sort of a bad habit of finding princesses and rescuing them/killing them (RIP Renfri my baby). So I thought hey what if she's a princess. Well then I saw quite a few different little stories where the OC or reader was a princess to a currently ruling country like Cintra or Kovir or some made up country. Whatever. So I was like well damn I don't want my story to be just another Geralt x princess!OC stories.

So she became a blind princess born with the gifts of an oracle.

As for her personality, I really like writing soft characters who know when to be tough. I am also a sucker for just writing asshole characters. Luckily, Darceria was not an asshole character of mine. She's soft and and she's quiet. She's observant and careful and nurturing. She doesn't like being babied or treated like she's nothing more than her disability. She's very independent but at the same time, she relies heavily on Zephyrina at times. Darceria is also cunning. She uses her disability to her advantage when needed. Like in the proglue, we see her faking being completely blind when she runs into Thominson and spills his drink on him. She fakes being more blind than she actually is to anger him, to get him out of the room. Also she has a very upsetting childhood. Though she was a princess in a thriving kingdom, her childhood is sad and depressing and tragic in a sense. Again we will see more in the future 🙈 I don't want to spoil anything!!

She's observant even though she is blind and she is observant through her other senses. Her "sight" as she explained to Ciri in chapter 1(I think) is very similar to how the creators and writers of Daredevil wrote how he sees in season 1 of Daredevil on Netflix. He sees fire. Darceria sees shapes of objects through sound and she feels them when she touches. Her senses are highly advanced, very much like Matt Murdock/Daredevil.

And as for her physical appearance, the white eyes was something that I thought was really cool. I was watching Supernatural when I saw Abbadon's eyes flicker to white. I thought it would be super cool for Geralt to come across a being with eyes that are different than everyone else's. He could sympathize with her, with how everyone stares at her when they see that her eyes are empty and white.

I absolutely love dark red curly hair (@ Natasha Romanoff) I hadn't seen very many redheads in the first season with the exception of Visenna (Geralt's mom) and Coral, the ginger mage who clenched her fist and kills an entire squadron of Nilfgaardian soldiers at the Battle of Sodden. So when I think of Darceria, I usually picture Scarlett Johannson as Natasha Romanoff in Iron Man 3. (fun Fact: Zephyrina's face in my head looks like Adelaide Kane)

Dareceria's name came to me in a really funny way. I was researching different midieval names and when I didn't like any of those names. Then I came across Daria. It's Polish and means kingly. I didn't like how close it was to Dara so I started adding different things to the end of the name. There was Darialene but that was what too much of a tongue twister and didn't flow off the tongue as nicely as I wanted it to. Dariara came across and in my head I pronounced it Dar-ee-air-ee-uh. So it's not that hard to pronounce but again when you say it out loud it doesn't flow nicely. Then I changed the name completely to something else entirely. Then I went back to Daria and started messing with it more. I messed with it for probably three days before finding Darceria. I personally think it fits in well with the names in the show.

I'm so glad you asked this @wayward-dream !!! I really really loved answering this💕💕sorry it ended up being so long though! I hope I answered you properly and I hope this makes sense!! Ask more questions if you need to please!!! I love answering this

[ofravensandgenesis]

World Building Through Character Creation and Background NPCs

Entry 03. I was thinking over how to build out more plot points for both the underlying bones of original fiction, and also fleshing out ideas for some of the arcs in my ACABH fic. Honestly, adding more characters within reasonable limits seems to really help with that. Even if they’re just characters with a name and a few lines of description, or even just one line of description, it makes for a great springboard point to start tacking on more details. From those details, it’s a lot easier to build out the world around them in various layers. Like for the original fiction world I’m building out right now, creating the character Corwin Blackwood with the helpful input from my friends on how the name sounded, resulted in spinning up a huge chunk of the underlying world order. Originally I was going with just a two-sided state of tension and conflict, but Corwin’s family brings with it a third side that’s caught in the middle—people minding their own business that aren’t actively affiliated with either side. In terms of mechanics, the Blackwoods’ existence brought in some specific broad categories of magical beings, a rudimentary idea of various magical systems with an as of yet undefined overarching universal magic system, and social conflict regarding differing points of view relating to said beings and affiliations with them.

His name is all about his role in the story, with the meaning of his first name being “heart’s friend,” and having had a close if tempestuous friendship with the main character. The last name of Blackwood automatically brings to mind a haunted forest, and as inspired by a Netflix Castlevania fic called Baba by Crownofpins on Ao3 as recommended to me by a friend, and the Blackwoods’ home-locale and name makes me think of the Belmonts. So it was easy enough to consider the Blackwoods tentatively as a family of exorcists/monster-hunters/etc in this rough draft. (The Baba fic is pretty awesome btw, it’s got great elements of old Slavic folklore, obviously Baba Yaga for example, among other things. I shan’t spoil it ofc, but I thought it was a lovely read. Adult content warning for the fic ofc, read the tags, etc.) There’s other external factors that helped bring him about, including other recent media consumption on my part also again in thanks to my friends for recommending them, including Mo Dao Zu Shi and The Legend of The White Snake. (Content warning: Both of those works contain adult content, etc.) They’re both stories of Chinese origin that focus on romances that contain supernatural elements, with The Legend of The White Snake being an old classic tale of folklore. But what’s really fascinating to me is the mythology system that’s at play in the stories—I’m so used to “medieval” fantasy settings being European-influenced landscapes and civilizations, it was really cool to see a more involved Asiatic-inspired one. I’ve certainly seen Asian-mythos-based supernatural movies and series before, but not in this specific niche that’s more fantasy-adventure-ish. Usually the ones I’ve come across are much more heavily leaning into the martial arts category of movies as I’d classify them, or set in more modern-based times. That’s probably just a sign I need to go out and find more content of this sort to consume, honestly. But how the above two works treat the whole spirituality/magic/supernatural aspect is admittedly a huge inspiration point for me for how I’m hoping this original fic’s world will be built, and provides a great starting point to go and try to research more into stories and myths relating to those elements. It also happens to fit in neatly with me being interested in trying to learn a bit more about some of my heritage and culture, being partly of Chinese descent. That’s another thing I know I want Corwin to explore as an additional main character: what does it mean when you’re a part of multiple cultures as a person? What’s that experience like? How does that fact shape how he interacts with his world? I know it has a huge impact on how he’s perceived socially and allows him greater access to magical training via one side of his family having the history for it, and it interests me to think of exploring that in writing. What I’m not certain of is what name to label this general cluster of magical beings as—are they demons? Yaoguai? Spirits? There are associations with each word and name, and giving them a newly made up name would mean severing those ties for better or worse. There are definitely classical monstrous elements in that group, but also a lot of diversity, holding up yet another mirror to the run of the mill humans of that world. What is this group of magical beings specifically in this world’s build? Are they humans that have cultivated themselves spiritually enough to transcend, or is it a reincarnation gig, or something else? I’ll probably have to make another OC or import ideas from mythology to explain where they’re from. With regards to the FC 5 fic though, I’m currently listening to more of the in-game dialogue and commentary as provided by DanaDuchy on their account/channel (also: thanks to DanaDuchy for providing the rest of us such wonderful resources on this and other games/works) and boy the dev team did a wonderful job of just adding more of those little details to help make the setting feel alive. Like it’s honestly really cool to hear the NPCs talk about how haunted the King’s Hot Springs Hotel or the Catamount mines are, how Casey at the Spread Eagle makes the best loose meat/steamer/etc sandwiches and burgers in the entire county, the stories behind the Whistling Beaver Brewery, etc. It’s also pretty grim to hear the tales of all the people the cult’s taken and some of the things other people have seen the cult do, namely killing civilians in gruesomely inventive fashion. Which raises as an interesting problem for me as a fanfic writer is trying to figure out A) how much did the Seeds know about these particular clusters of mass murder, B) did they permit it if they knew about it ahead of time, and C) what purpose does it serve? Currently the answer to A is more than enough because the Seeds not knowing wouldn’t fit this AU nor their character builds in it to go well with the level of importance that the themes of responsibility and consequences carry both in the meta of the fic and in-world for Joshua personally. So that means for B, the Seeds are definitely permitting the additional senseless acts of cruelty noted in the dialogue and conflicted-conversations among the Peggies. Certainly they’re aware at least to some extent if not fully aware of the entirety of it, but I would assume based on the Heralds’ personalities that they all do like to know what their people get up to. They all seem like they would want to know the details of what’s going on for various reasons. I’m leaning towards having the particularly senseless murders be a mix of some acts the Seeds ordered, some acts they left open to interpretation to their followers who then took it to a dark extreme, and some acts were instigated by the followers alone. Basically: humans being humans during chaotic dark times and doing terrible, bad shit. Which leads to the conclusion for Joshua that the Seeds should be more disciplined about keeping their followers in line and not sinking down to this level of pointless evil. He’s not wild about their more purposeful evil acts either and is intent on trying to get them to stop the worst of that, but there are darker gradients of black and grey morality for him there to be more outraged by. So that pretty much wraps up C with the answer of “not much” other than humans being terrible to each other. Perhaps from the villainous perspective it helps terrorize the people of Hope County and whittle down the number of people the cult has to fight now or later, but overall that is still straight up mass murder. ...hm, that reminds me, I need to go tweak a line in a past chapter regarding the population of Hope County. I had it too low for there to be a reasonably-sized if small county aside from the cult’s numbers. Hm. I have the cult at around 1,800ish souls, with their goal being 3,000 total based on in-game commentary from nameless background NPCs, and the line from the Book of Joseph “A few thousand pure souls, whose mission would be to start over and repopulate the earth.” Doing a little quick search, there are some counties even in Montana that according to past censuses had 3,000 or less people in them. For it to feel a bit less likely that the Resistance and civilian population would be easily overwhelmed, it probably should be somewhat higher than the cult, since the county’s numbers will include those who cannot or do not want to fight—that being the old, the young, the ill, etc. Plus if the cult’s being quite so gruesomely wanton in the murdering sprees, that means they aren’t out to absorb the entire county, just most of it. But the cult must also be expecting losses on their side as well since this is a violent conquest they’re undertaking and all of Hope County’s armed to the teeth, if not as necessarily heavily as the cult itself seems to be. We’ll stick the vague number at around 2,400 civilians who are not in the cult for now then and add that to the notes—plus some of the cult’s population is certainly from the county itself pre-Reaping, not including increases that happen during the Reaping with all the active brainwashing, kidnapping, etc. Hm, given some of the generic-NPC-dialogue of how people were forcibly turned to being obedient members of the cult who actually did turn on and shoot their once-allies (and in that dialogue, the brainwashed were also long-time pre-Reaping neighbors of the speaker,) that makes Pratt’s situation in-game all the more interesting. He definitely recognizes the Deputy, whereas it sounded like the aforementioned brainwashed-individuals did not recognize their once-neighbors and friends at all. Pratt’s capable of thinking independent thoughts and he’s remained lucid enough to observe his surroundings and plan an escape, despite going on what sounds like a very dark “hunting trip” Jacob may have taken him on to hunt “deer” which sounds definitely like he was hallucinating in a bad way per his own lines. Jacob apparently isn’t a guy to miss out on using easy symbolism for his enemies, specifically the Whitetail Militia. That was probably not the only “hunting trip” Pratt and the other converts have been on, and that would potentially suggest that the converts are still possibly hallucinating much like how the Deputy is during the first portion of Jacob’s boss fight with the destroy-the-music-beacons visual effects, after exiting the Wolf’s Den. Is Pratt seeing something like that scene though? He doesn’t seem to be triggered by the music box or in the scenes where the music starts playing certainly. He’s surely been exposed to Jacob’s conditioning or at least the trials, and the list his name’s on would strongly suggest he passed his trial, dark as that is. Who did he kill as his sacrifice? Is he perhaps more immune to the Bliss effects? It seems to vary in intensity of how effective it is and how it effects people, based on their susceptibility to it—some factors may include addictive tendencies, personalities, etc, looking at generic-NPC-dialogue in Faith’s region. The sparkles that show up on the screen in addition to the red edges do lend themselves to interpreting that Jacob uses Bliss as part of the brainwashing regime, in addition to the hallucinations Pratt, the Deputy, and others seem to experience. (Also the Judges disappearing in Bliss clouds during the first half of Jacob’s boss fight, etc.) Either way, with the mention of no one expecting Jacob to go easy on Pratt, it seems like Pratt was more resistant to the brainwashing and breaking than Jacob expected, even in light of there being potentially more torment lined up for Pratt than the average captured civilian. (I suspect aside from Pratt’s involvement with the officers who tried to arrest Joseph, Jacob in particular is more likely to not think kindly of police men, given his time in Juvie and the events leading to him being sentenced to doing time, setting him on the path to joining the Army and the ensuing tragedy, and separated from his brothers when they were younger. Also possibly the lack of perceived protection from policemen in the times prior to their father Old Mad Seed’s arrest.) However, it could also be that Jacob deliberately set Pratt up to test his loyalty to Jacob and the Project by giving Pratt the opportunity to help the Deputy escape, instead (or a little from column A, a little from column B.) That music did come on awfully fast after the breakout after all, and perhaps Pratt hadn’t made his sacrifice yet. Maybe the Deputy was meant to be his sacrifice, in a less murderous way of just leaving the Deputy in Jacob’s hands. Seems like Jacob would have mentioned it if the Deputy was meant to be Pratt’s sacrifice by leaving them in the cage to their fate, but on the other hand it would fit the game’s plot and Jacob’s theme real well. Plus Jacob’s a cunning bastard and able to plot this kind of scheme out quite readily, I would say. This all probably means I need to flesh out more of the fic’s world with background NPCs here and there a bit more for the plot. That being said, I’m all excited to be borrowing with permission AU versions of some of my friend’s OCs for this. It’s definitely a new addition to the plotting that I hadn’t started out with, but feels like they’d fit in well with the plot overall. Two of the OCs will have a significant impact on Jacob as a character across his entire timeline in the past, present, and future. It’ll be an interesting challenge to deal with that, since while I do want to try to interpret the characters as close to their original canon lines and outlooks as possible, I feel this addition does open up more preexisting lines for Jacob that do fit the hints we get of his internal workings from in-game. It’ll mean he’s got more development in certain areas of his psyche and mental state, but a little bit of twisting here and there still keeps it all in line with the initial interpretation this AU’s got for him. I do feel the addition of the OCs will help bring Jacob to be more emotionally involved than he potentially was to begin with before the real-world-now with the intended future events of the fic, and this creates much more potential for up-close-and-personal levels of emotional exploration for the entire lot of them, both positive and negative emotions. ...oo, we might get to see Jacob actually losing his cool on-screen externally as a result of possible plot happenings. That could lead to an entire mess of the entire Seed family being angry and yelling at each other, creating emotional development. It’s really quite fascinating to try to work out how to get a group to actually get along well with characters like Faith, John, Joseph, and Jacob who are often at odds with each other. All while dealing with their rampant personal issues. Still something to study and test out for other original writings—haven’t quite learned how to take that kind of group dynamic apart and construct something from that inspiration yet. But definitely learning as we go. Back to listening to more NPC dialogue recordings though.

[thepokyone]

Locked

(gif not mine)

Pairing: Loki x Reader (ft. the Avengers)

Content/Warnings: Angst; fluff; Clint being a bit of a jerk

Words: 1603

A/N: Well, the long awaited sequel to Spinning has finally arrived. I kinda drew inspiration from Imagine Dragons’ song Next To Me for this fic, so make sure to check out that song because it’s honestly awesome. Anyways, enjoy!

Part 1

For several moments, you weren’t completely sure if Thor was planning on attacking or congratulating Loki. Jane seemed to be thinking along the same lines, moving to place a restraining hand on Thor’s chest, but the thunder god finally relaxed and gave his brother a beaming smile. “Well congratulations then, brother!”

“Thank you, Thor,” Loki said smoothly, pulling his sleeve back down. “Though, if you don’t mind, I would like to get to know my soulmate, so if you could take your friends elsewhere…”

“Oh, right, of course. Come Jane, Darcy. Stark has put in a new microwave, it even speaks to you!” Thor said happily. Jane looked amused, as did Darcy, who sent you a discreet thumbs up before pulling the door shut behind her.

Your fingers tapped nervously against your thigh. “So…”

“Would you like to sit?” Loki offered, waving towards the couch.

“Sure, yeah.” You accepted the invitation, taking a seat on the couch and tucking a leg under you. “So you’re stuck here, huh?”

“There are worse fates, I suppose,” He mused, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “What about you? Where are you from? I’ve been reading up on Earth’s geography, though I can’t promise I’ll recognize the place.”

“Well, you know where Thor was first banished to? New Mexico? That’s where I live, I went there for college which is how I met Jane and Darcy,” You explained. “We’re a pretty unlikely group of friends, to be honest.”

Loki’s lips flicked upwards into what could almost be called a smile. “I had noticed. So you were there when Thor was mortal?”

“No. I was actually visiting family and missed all the action, believe it or not. Just my luck.”

“It’s probably for the best, I did try to kill him. I’m thankful that you weren’t there to get caught in the crossfire,” He admitted.

“That’s one thing I don’t get. Why do you hate Thor so much? I mean, it’s obvious that he cares about you,” You pointed out.

That gave Loki pause. “I suppose we just never really gotten along. He’s Thor, the oh-so-perfect Asgardian prince, and I’m Loki, the frost giant who will never be good enough.”

“That’s not true,” You said softly, honestly surprised he had confided in you like that. “Loki, adopted or not, the two of you are brothers. It’s obvious that Thor doesn’t care that you’re a frost giant, he just cares that you’re his brother. And for the record, I don’t care that you’re a frost giant, either.”

He didn’t appear to be convinced. “We’ll see.”

You ended up moving into Stark Tower a couple weeks after meeting Loki. Both he and the other Avengers wanted to make sure you were safe from external threats, which considering your soulmate was Loki, was probably a good idea. It was only natural for you to want to, anyways, since that’s where your soulmate was, but the fact that you were hanging around a gang of superheroes took some getting used to. Not to mention the fact that one of the most hated men on Earth was your soulmate, but that was a whole other can of worms.

There was a learning curve when it came to being around super spies and technical geniuses, but you ended up learning pretty quickly. In fact, there were three things you learned within your first week. One: never leave food unattended, otherwise it will get eaten. Two: don’t attempt to sneak up on Natasha. It didn’t end well for Tony and you doubted it would end any better for you. And three: never leave Clint and Loki alone in a room together.

Understandably, Clint didn’t particularly like Loki. Saying Clint loathed Loki would be a more apt phrase. Unfortunately, this meant Clint would pick a fight with the god of mischief which ended with Clint getting his ass handed to him or Loki stalking away to sulk for a few hours.

About three weeks into you moving into the Tower, however, things went a bit too far. You had spent most of the day with Natasha, the two of you having a girl’s day getting to know each other better, and when you returned you were intent on going straight to find Loki. He could usually be found in his room, or the library, or even the common room on the rare occasion that he was feeling like speaking with the other Avengers. However, he was nowhere to be found.

“Have any of you seen Loki?” You asked, addressing Tony, Clint, and Steve who were discussing their latest mission. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

Clint choked on the water he was drinking, causing the other two men to give him confused glances. Tony shrugged. “No, I haven’t. I’m sure Reindeer Games is around somewhere, just use your compass. That is what it’s there for.”

“I saw him in the library this morning, if that helps,” Steve offered. “But I haven’t seen him since, sorry. Clint?”

The archer cleared his throat. “Oh, um… no. I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s probably just with Thor or something,” You said with a shrug. “Thanks anyways, guys.”

You gave them a wave before wandering off, deciding to just chill in your room and watch some Netflix, though you couldn’t rid yourself of the distinct feeling that something was wrong. You had been encouraged (mainly by Steve) to follow your gut, especially if you thought something wasn’t right, so you glanced down at your compass and started walking in the direction it was pointed.

It took a little bit of trial and error to figure out what floor Loki was on, though you figured once your compass stopped wobbling uncertainly that you were in the right place. You were surprised that he was on the floor devoted mainly to training and gym activities and followed the compass on your skin towards the showers.

He wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and the floor was quiet as the Avengers were all off eating dinner. “Loki?” You called, padding through the shower room. There was no answer. “Jarvis, have you seen Loki?” Perhaps you should have asked the AI first.

“He appears to be in the sauna,” Jarvis responded promptly.

“Well what’s he doing in there?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. You jiggled the handle of the sauna door - it was locked. Something was definitely wrong. “Jarvis, can you unlock the door to the sauna?”

“Of course,” Jarvis said, the lock clicking a moment later. You yanked the door open, immediately assaulted with a wave of nearly nauseating heat.

You barely had to go in to find your soulmate, slumped against the wall by the door. “Loki? Are you okay?”

He stirred at your statement, glancing up at you warily. You let out an audible gasp at his appearance - his skin was completely blue and his eyes were red. The heat must have forced him back into his natural frost giant form. “No.”

“Jarvis, turn off the heat in the sauna,” You ordered, crouching down to drape his arm over your shoulder and heave him up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You had to half-drag Loki out of the sauna, and he was heavier than he looked. “Here, lean against the wall,” You ordered, yanking open the curtain to the nearest shower and turning it on, making it as cold as possible. “Get under the water.”

He managed to stumble over, and you got significantly doused whilst preventing him from falling face-first on the tile. The icy water seemed to revive him. “Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, it’s me,” You confirmed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” He said, still leaning heavily on you.

“Here, we need to get your shirt off. It’ll help cool you down,” You ordered, and you jumped as his form flashed and a majority of his clothes vanished, sans what appeared to be a pair of swim trunks. “I thought you couldn’t do magic?”

“I can do some. Not a lot. Don’t tell Thor,” Loki admitted. He seemed to be regaining his strength, at least enough that he was speaking coherently once more, and it was only now that he realized his skin was blue rather than its normal pale color. He looked down at himself, then back at you, then at himself once more.

“It’s okay,” You assured him.

“I look like a monster,” He spat, disgust in his voice. “It’s not okay. Not to mention you should have frostbite from touching me.”

“Well, you don’t want to give me frostbite, do you?” You asked. His head gave a brief shake. “I figured as much. I believe you have more control than you think you do, Loki. And I don’t think you look like a monster.”

He snorted. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll prove it.” You pulled him down into a kiss, only moderately surprised when he didn’t jerk away and instead wrapped an arm around your waist to deepen the kiss. His lips were cool, moving in perfect sync with your own.

Later, after you had punched Clint for locking Loki in the sauna, you’d claim that you and Loki had your first kiss out in Central Park and not under an icy shower. But the two of you knew, and many months later Loki admitted to you that that moment was when he realized he had fallen in love with you. You smiled, said you knew, and told him you loved him too.

Life was good with the man you loved. And you never had a directionless compass again.

Tag List:  @the-crime-fighting-spider @micachu1331 @esoltis280 @ilvermornyqueen @teaand-cookies @alittlebitofmagic @bluebird214 @lovely-geek @fleurs-en-ruines @loki-god-of-my-life @awesomehaylzus @ldyhawkeye @ldyhawkeye @small-wolf-in-the-snow @the-bleeding-rose @momc95 @loki-laufey-son @hp-hogwartsexpress @haven-in-writing @alivingfanlady @micachu1331 @little-miss-mischief1 @pepperr-pottss @t-talkative @lady-loki-ren @usedtobeabaker @val-kay-rie @inn-ocuous @xclo02 @ex-bookjunky @stone2576 @dkpink123 @loki-laufey-son

[themagiciansreccenter]

Author Spotlight: @highkingmargooffillory

Every week we are going to be interviewing a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

Hey humans or magical creatures of the internet. I’m Ella but online I guess I go by Margo. I’m an 18 year old university student in the United States (East coast). I dance and speak French fluently. I started watching the magicians after the first season came out on Netflix and heard about the show from a BuzzFeed quiz (crazy right?!). I go by MargoWicker on ao3 and that’s where I post my work. I love creative writing (fanfic) because it is a way to create a diverging story you can control based off of an amazing foundation the show creates.

How long have you been writing for?

I’ve been writing for just over a year for The Magicians (unless we’re counting that random stuff I wrote back in the beginning of high school) and I can’t say I’m all that great. *nervous laughter*

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

I joined a Magicians discord and got inspired by all the lovely talented writers who make up part of the discord channel. I also felt so compelled by the story and what goes on in the show. I think the visuals in particular played a large part of wanting to write based off of that because they are so enamoring. It’s some quality cinnamon topography (cinematography).

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

My favorite characters to write are Margo and Julia. I think they interact with their environment in such an interesting way. They're also my favorite characters in the show so I suppose I’m biased. They're also easier for me to write in that I relate to a lot of the aspects of their personalities. I love Margo’s tough bitch exterior and Julia’s intense personality. Also they’re strong women of color. Woo!

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

Yes. Some weird limbo area where everyone can exist at Brakebills and live their lives for a second. I also like a limbo area of Fillory. Basically, I like a place where my narrative can play out without an ouroboros of ass fucking it up.

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

I’m working on a multi-chapter piece with Julia and Margo. It’s angsty yet romantic but I am working on incorporating all the senses into it. Hopefully it'll be out before the end of October. It’s a better version of the fic I referenced in my Five @ Five.

How long is your “to do list”?

Moderately long I suppose because there are a few things I’m still working on and I come up with ideas too often. I also write in spurts and forget that I’m working on things.

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

I think my favorite was Good Liquor Gonna Carry Me Down (Julia/Quentin at Brakebills) or Drinking Partners (Margo/Julia finding themselves at Brakebills) because they’re so imagery heavy.

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

Either Good Liquor Gonna Carry Me Down (Julia/Quentin) or Golden Slumbers (Julia/Fen) probably because they’re less popular ships. It's kind of funny how I didn’t even write Quilia for my self, but I ended up liking it. Honestly though I’d take any appreciation.

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

Its pretty ridiculous but I love to prewrite everything and set up the story. I rarely end up with anything mildly of quality if I just go with a stream of consciousness. I don't have many superstitions though or I just haven't noticed them.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

I will write during both. I think because I like my fics to be suspended in a time bubble, it seems like canon narrative is less of an issue. That said, I do pull from ongoing canon during the season and I think that comes out in some of my writing. I think I am most heavily influenced from any character development in my writing.

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

I wrote one piece of smut called Strawberry Wine and learned that it is (at least for me) surprisingly difficult to write about sex without making it all Fifty Shades (lame) or cliche.

Are there any themes or tropes that you particularly like to explore in your writing?

I think I like hurt/comfort and romance tropes the most. The romance I use most often is femslash just as a personal relatability aspect. I do tend to use at least one party scene in my writing as well as lighting (usually morning light).

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

I’m inspired by the entire body of work from the magicians fandom. There are too many great writers for me to reference them all and if I did I’d be afraid to leave people out. I do have to say I use more visual imagery (like shows or photos from the show) to work off as I am a more visual person.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

I am not reading any fic in particular, I just tend to scroll through ao3 and read it all in one go. I have just been reading about economic colonialism for class. Does that count?

I really need to get back into reading books for fun.

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

Tropes aren’t always a bad thing if used well. Also don’t feel like you need to pander to a certain audience. Write for yourself! (That was a solid 3 pieces haha)

Cringe time:

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

I think I tend to overuse some sentence styles. I gotta work on my phrasing and sentence variety to keep it interesting. Also this isn’t really a word but I feel like I write in passive voice or I’m not that great with picking a good verb tense but who knows.

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

Dear god this is embarrassing. It's a Wattpad fanfiction that I still have access to, and it’s an angsty Grace Helbig (youtuber) and Chester see (Youtuber) fanfic. The writing isn’t the worst and the topic isn't either, it just IS cringy.

Rapid Fire Round:

Self-edit or Beta? I tend to self-edit (need for speed) but beta is the most helpful.

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes? I appreciate likes but comments are the nicest to receive.

Smut, Fluff or Angst? To read? Fluff To write? Angst all the way

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn? I write quick and dirty but I prefer slow burn (I’m working on it)

Favourite season? Season 3. It fucks me up the most

Favourite episode? I hate this question. FIllorian Candidate or Consequences of Advanced Spellcasting but I really love them all.

Favourite book(The Magicians books)? Second, because I love Julia and her background.

Three favourite words? I don’t know.

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

[creideamhgradochas]

Thanks to the lovely @writingruna for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Lizzie, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

I was nineteen when I first started writing fanfiction, but I’ve been writing my whole life. My parents have stories I ordered them to write down from when I was two or three.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

In fanfiction, I like writing reader insert more than OC’s. I started writing fanfiction – and have continued – to practice writing without having to world-build. It gives me an opportunity to grow as a writer without worrying about accidental plot holes, which I have written plenty of.

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

When writing fanfiction, I like to toe the line between canon and AU. I always try to keep my characters in character, but I don’t mind putting them in situations that don’t exist canonically or ignoring deaths that occurred canonically. Actually, I pretty actively ignore canon deaths.

Working on original works, my favorite genre is young adult fiction with a focus in mystery and spy craft. I read a lot of Sherlock Holmes as a child.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

I actually started as a Supernatural writer, and I have deleted a few of those stories and will never speak of them again – specifically a horribly written story centered on the game 2048 that a friend asked me to write.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

Unfortunately, in the middle of the night. It is horrible for my real life, but it’s quiet and peaceful and I find it easiest to focus.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Underneath the bitter cynicism of being a college aged millennial in a dreary economy, I am very much a Romantic Era writer. I am all about finding beauty where there really isn’t any and emphasizing. I find most of my inspiration in dark moments that can bring good. I am well aware the world isn’t always beautiful, but I like to choose to see the beauty wherever I can.

7) In your Where Do the Flowers Go Series, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

My favorite scene in Where Do the Flowers Go actually hasn’t been posted yet. There are ten more chapters in the series, and there is a scene between Bucky and the reader that I not only loved writing, but that I love in terms of character growth. It’s a turning point in the series, and a turning point in who the reader is viewed to be.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I haven’t, but I think I should have. Although it’s not something I talk about openly on Tumblr – mostly because I’m not asked – I have a pretty severe anxiety disorder and some brain damage from a concussion in high school and I stutter when I get anxious. It’s something I didn’t realize wasn’t “typical”. In my story Babadook, the reader stutters when she gets scared. Now that I know it isn’t the way everyone reacts, I worry I might have offended some.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Wanda. I absolutely adore writing characters who speak English as a second language because their dialogue is challenging. Also, I have a huge crush on Elizabeth Olsen and my little bi heart needs me female x female loving in the fanfiction world. I enjoy writing Illya from Man from U.N.C.L.E. for mostly the same reasons.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Probably Frank Castle? I was asked to write a few Frank drabble during one of those three-day writing games I run when I get stuck and I have actually never seen Daredevil or The Punisher or any of it. Thanks to an amazing friend, I managed to pull it off, but I felt sort of guilty for accidentally writing a character I didn’t know well.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Where Do the Flowers Go Series?

Where Do the Flowers Go is based on an original story I wrote which is loosely based on the myth of Hades and Persephone. The idea is meant to reference the loss of flowers when Persephone descends into the underworld and references a specific chapter in the series itself, although it has not yet been posted. I would love to answer this question in more detail once I have posted the remainder of the story.

12) How did you come up with the idea for the Where Do the Flowers Go Series?

Where Do the Flowers Go is actually based on an original story I wrote which is itself based on the myth of Hades and Persephone. Since I haven’t posted the final ten chapters, I don’t want to give away too much, but there is a specific aspect of the myth that always fascinated me which I incorporated it into an original work about the KGB and a Chicago socialite. I would love to answer this question in more detail once I have posted the remainder of the story.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

I have a few much older stories that I started when I was fifteen and sixteen that I have since decided not to write. In most cases, it’s because I had a good idea for a short story and tried to stretch it novel length and it just got really bad really fast, but in a few cases I just no longer felt invested in the story I had started.

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

Definitely! I would love to turn Fell for You into a mini-series. I originally wrote it because I had fallen down the stairs at work and really bruised myself up. I am clumsy to the point that it’s not a “quirk”, it’s something people worry about. It could be fun to recount a few more of my more disastrous moments.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Yes and no. I don’t regret any of my endings, but I think the ending of Change of Plans was a little unrealistic. I created a plot hole and actively didn’t fill it because I liked the ending anyway.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

This question is the hardest to answer because there are so many and I am so aware that I am going to forget some and end up feeling guilty. However, the three I am closest to both on and off tumblr are @buckyywiththegoodhair, @captainpunk, and @bucky-plums-barnes. These three women will listen to me rant for hours about fanfictions and original works, they’ve always been willing to read anything and everything I write, and they are constant cheerleaders both in writing and in life. I would not be where I am and trying to finish my novel without these women. On top of it, all three are amazing writers. Nicky creates such stunning imagery that her stories just swallow you whole. Talya has heart wrenching emotion in her stories that is so hard to capture. Genny has this ability to interact with everyone in every story she writes and make it feel completely personalized.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Just Say It. I had a story in my head that I wanted to tell and I – inexplicably – tied to Not Really Anyway and it just couldn’t measure up. Not Really Anyway is a fic I am amazingly proud of and should have stood alone.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Neither, actually. I usually have Netflix on. I’ll play a show that I have seen before and don’t need to pay attention to, but that can provide background noise. I get unease in complete silence and I also don’t want my other people to overhear me talking to myself when I try and work through dialogue.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Stole the Show. I still cry when I read it. I don’t write angst very often, but it’s not because I am not good at it.

20) Which part of your Where Do the Flowers Go Series was the hardest to write?

I removed the part of the series that was hardest for me to write. At the end of the undercover operation, I originally wrote an arrest scene and then I couldn’t post it. Although I knew Zadie was doing terrible things, she was doing it because she truly thought it was right and, deep down, she was a good person. I cared about her as much as the reader did and I couldn’t bear to put anyone through watching her arrested.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

Both. Depending on the complexity of the storyline, and the inspiration. Since my concussion, I have begun to lean more heavily on general outlines, but I do not always use them.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

That I would find such a community of friends and other writers – and that other people would enjoy my writing. I never imagined I would make such close friends and find so many people who admired what I did.

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Stole the Show. It is the only angst story I have ever published and it was painful to write, but I have never been more proud of a story that I was of Stole the Show. I know that female x female fics have a smaller audience and so I didn’t expect it to get a lot of attention, but I experimented with the style and wish it had more of a chance.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Naked Confessions! It was the second Pietro story I wrote and it was one of those stories that you write in two hours in the middle of the day because the idea just hits. I did a single edit and posted it thinking it might get a few notes and it is by far my most popular story.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Yes, although actively and with permission. The readers in Clair de Lune and My Queen were both actively written to resemble the friends I wrote them for. Additionally, a lot of background characters in stories are modeled after other writers on tumblr. I would ask favorite colors or middle names and incorporated details into the stories as “shout outs”.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

I have a had a few followers create fan art of Where Do the Flowers Go and I straight up cried when I saw it. As a writer, all you want to do is touch your readers and make them feel something and it was such an honor and inspiration to have this actual proof that I had done so.

In that same strain, it’s always a compliment when other writers come to me for advice or want me to beta for them. I’ve been writing for more than twenty years and I am proud of what I can do, but it’s such an honor when someone else wants me to teach them what I’ve learned.

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I’ve actually been really lucky on tumblr so far, and I have yet to get anon hate. I think I once had a follower ask me why I was taking so long to post, but it was more from a place of concern that something was wrong in my life than anything else.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

There a few close friends that I share most of my ideas with. Specifically, @captainpunk puts up with so much more than anyone else from me when it comes to ideas. I have texted her at two in the morning with random thoughts and she always betas everything I write. She’s even been there to help me plan a lot of my original works as well. She has been my biggest supporter and my biggest cheerleader from the first day we met.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?

A few close friends, and of course the friends I’ve met on tumblr. Strangely enough, my parents know, although I have actively never let them read any of it.

30) What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?

Zadie from Where Do the Flowers Go. She’s the minor character I spent the most time with and I ended up just absolutely loving her – despite what she does. In creating her, I realized she would only do what she had done if she truly thought it was the best thing to do and she just became this very genuine, very loving character that I hadn’t expected her to be.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Again, it’s @captainpunk most of the time. I go time blind when I write and when everything falls into place, I can write for seven or eight hours without stopping, but most of the time I struggled to get through more than two or three paragraphs at a time and Talya on the sidelines sometimes cheering and sometimes yelling can always get me to focus.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

Relationships – whether romantic or platonic – between very hard and very soft characters with bonus points if the only reason the soft character is soft is because the hard character is hard and when the hard character disappears the soft character turns out to harder than the hard character. I really hope that makes sense.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I don’t remember what it was called, but it was about Dean Winchester and @tralfamadoreian5 made me read it.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Fluff. Life is hard and unfair and scary enough without stories about life is hard and unfair and scary. The world needs more happy endings.

[drbobbimorse]

I was tagged by Wham_Bam_Sam on wattpad to do this little tag game. Thanks! I figured I’d just do it on here instead because I know way more people on here than I do on wattpad. 

Rules: reveal 10 things about yourself, tag 28 people (optional), tell a joke (optional), post a spoiler to one of your stories (I cut three of the rules cause they either made no sense, like give the tag a title, or were very obvious, like paste the rules).

Ten Things About Me: 

I love and adore sharks (I’ve swam with nurse and lemon, possibly swimming with tiger sharks this summer; we’ll see if I can afford it. Dreaming of swimming with whale sharks as they are my absolute, all-time fave)

I used to want to be an actress and even got my AA in Fine & Performing Arts before switching to my current career path

My current career path is to be a mortician/funeral director. I just started my capstone class this summer and, as long as I pass it, I’ll be taking the National Board in September (don’t expect to see me much beyond my queue because I have an exam every single week, I already want to die)

I’m a huge as nerd. Across comics, literature, cartoons, movies, film, etc. I think it goes without saying but, because of 2, I’m a big theatre nerd, too

I have very eclectic music tastes. I listen to pretty much everything from classical, jazz, big band/swing, to today’s pop-rap, alternative, rock. Only genres I don’t listen to really are rap, country and death metal. To go with this, music is a massive contributor to my writing. A lot of my stories (which have since died, RIP) have songs for titles or chapters inspired heavily by music

I’m absolutely obsessed with true crime stories. When I had cable, I was always watching shows on the ID channel but I also love history crimes. Two personal faves are HH Holmes and Jack the Ripper (so basic, I know) but there’s one that’s really close to home (literally, really close to my home) and that’s the unsolved murder of Sister Cathy Cesnik. There’s a whole Netflix series about it, The Keepers, that came out last year. Check it out!

I’m bi. I’ve known I’m bi since I was 14 (shout out to Halle Berry for my sexual awakening) but now I’m wondering if I’m also ace or biromantic ace. I’m not out to my family, at all and I probably never will be, but I am out to most of my friends

I grew up Catholic and now I’m agnostic. A big part of my turning my back on the Catholic Church and organized religion in general was my realization that I was bi and, much like there is today, the attitude was that I would go to hell because of my feelings. This is also why my family doesn’t know. They aren’t conservative Catholics but they...ugh, they have that attitude of “I don’t care what gays do, I just don’t wanna see it”. Pretty sure they’ll never understand or accept it so they’ll never know.

I am a proud descendant of Italian immigrants, via my maternal great-grandparents. They immigrated from Sicily in the early 1910s and assimilated in the American way of life. No one on that side of the family speaks Italian anymore. I took in high school and I want to learn it, become fluent and go to Sicily some day, but its slow going lol

Because I couldn’t think of anything for a tenth interesting fact, I’m gonna piggyback on the last one and tell y’all a fun story. Apparently, my great-grandfather was actually in the mafia! :O lol My Gram says he was a soldato who went around the neighborhood and collected money for his capo. After he was arrested for fighting during a collection, my great-gram made it swear to leave the business or she would leave him and he’d never see his kids again; he got out and they had to change their name. It didn’t matter though cause they got divorced and she remarried later on. Now, my Gram is 92 with dementia so we take every story she tells us with a grain of salt, but I always found this one hella interesting lol

Tagging: I’m gonna try to tag all the fic writers I know so you guys probably won’t have to tag anyone lmao @jones-fp, @missjanuarylily, @chlobenet, @darknightfrombeyond, @wild-stdreams, @emiliachrstine, @spectralarchers, @recklessyouthinme, @susiesamurai, @stevensgrnts, @yourpalmoony, @abcbarricadeboys, @chuck-hansens, @whittymores, @thetenthdoctorscompanion, @eventualprocrastination, @deutches, @whindsor, @fraysquake, @rhaenystargaryen411, @itscapokaybye, @thisismexxo, @quaking084, @hennigshelleys, @httpscoot, @god-dammit-barb, @kisaageckos (27, one short!)

Spoiler: Hmmm, I’ve been trying to figure out which story to give a spoiler for and it was really hard. I wanted to do Safe & Sound but, because I don’t even know what’s gonna happen beyond s3, that’s not really possible. Life Left To Go isn’t really a spoiler-y sorta fic; the last two movies are gonna be very straight forward. I can’t really give spoilers for Gone Girl or my Dunkirk fic cause I don't have them fully planned out, so that just left Pray for the Wicked and Blood & Whiskey. And, because I am hella indecisive, I’m gonna give y’all a spoiler for both fics! How nice am I? ;)

PFTW: this is a rough idea I’m toying with but I’m thinking of making my OC Alice a vessel for Gabriel so, at the end of s13, he doesn’t die. Instead, he possesses Alice and, as he did as Loki, covers his presence so no angel can detect him so s14 would be a lot of Gabriel posing as Alice, which will strain on her relationship with Sam

B&W: Beth is going to die. I will say that it’ll be in s2, although I’m not entirely sure when, but she is going to die. But that also won’t be the end of her! I promise, Beth will be back in s3! I just gotta wait for it to air and have free time to watch it a few times so I can think of what role she’ll play

[araliyaintheskywithdiamonds]

A Million Eyes You Are The Brightest Blue - A CrissColfer Fic

Loosely based on this prompt: “You broke into my apartment drunk thinking it was your friend’s house and I should call the cops but my cat kinda likes you so we’re good” AU

Bc I can’t seem to stop writing, and was suddenly inspired to write a NYE fic. 

Word Count: 2215 AO3

*Title from A Great Big World’s This Is The New Year 

This is the third New Year’s Eve Chris has spent alone. He’s actually gotten so used to it that he no longer feels that sorry for himself. Living in downtown LA should’ve meant that he’d have made at least some friends, but clearly that hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a struggling college student slash writer who holes himself up in his too-small apartment, and gets his groceries delivered to his doorstep.

Maybe. Probably.

Chris has already set himself up for the night- several cans of diet coke are set out on the coffee table, along with some boxes of Thai takeout and all three Lord of the Rings movies lined up on Netflix. He’s about to settle himself on the couch, from where he probably won’t move for at least four or five hours, when there is an almighty crash in the hallway.

Chris’ heart almost stops, and in a flash of panic, he grabs the television remote, wielding it like like a weapon. He sits as still as he can, keeping his ears out for any more noises. This is it. This is totally the night he dies. He can almost imagine the headlines- Innocent Man Brutally Murdered By Thugs On New Year’s Eve: A Tragic Ending To The Year-

An excited yelp and a hiccup startle Chris out of thoughts of his imminent obituary, and he frowns in disbelief when he hears someone cooing animatedly, as if to a baby.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable- Jules totally didn’t say she had a cat- who are you, my lovely-”

Whoever it is, sounds either raving mad or incredibly drunk, and seems to have found Brian. Oh god. Brian. Brian, who must now be in the hands of a cold-blooded killer. Brian, who could just as well be about to join Chris in his fast-approaching grave.

Scrambling to the kitchen, he fumbles for a knife from the drawer, and picks up his phone, fingers already on the number 9. Pointing the knife away from him, he tiptoes over to the opening to the hallway.

Heart thudding in his throat, breathing shallow and fast, Chris is totally prepared to use the knife against a ferocious attack, but what greets him is not a psychotic serial killer who gets distracted with house pets before a murder. Instead, it’s a completely harmless looking man, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with a purring Brian in his lap.

Chris drops the knife.

It makes a clattering noise against the wood, and the burglar slash murderer slash cat whisperer looks up at him. Chris is immediately greeted with a blindingly enthusiastic smile.

“Heyy, man! You a friend of Jules?” he slurs, Brian falling out of his lap with a disgruntled yelp when he makes a move to get up and greet Chris.

Chris immediately backs away, brandishing his phone as a warning. “I am going to call the cops right now, if you don’t get out of this apartment.”

The man’s face falls almost comically, and for some reason Chris feels bad. The guy looks genuinely heartbroken.

“Wait, why? I know Jules, she’s like one of my best friends!”

Chris would probably feel like he was talking to a toddler were this guy not clearly a grown man in at least his early 20s, and also a very hot grown man at that. Which is totally an inappropriate thought to think about a felon, since breaking and entering is a felony in California, but Chris really can’t help himself.

He shakes himself out of rather un-PG thoughts of those dark curls and stubble, and brings his mind back to what the guy just said. “Who is Jules? Why would you think Jules lives here?”

The man’s (weirdly shaped yet insanely attractive) eyebrows furrow in confusion. “This isn’t Jules’ house?”

Chris groans exasperatedly. “No, this isn’t Jules’ house. Clearly, in your inebriated state, you’ve come to the wrong apartment. Broken and entered, actually.”

The man leans heavily against the wall. “I didn’t break anything. The door was open.”

Oh. Shit. Chris must’ve left the door open when he got his food from the delivery boy. Maybe not a felon, then.

“I’m Darren.”

He’s introducing himself, why is he introducing himself? Chris just wants to get back to his warm blankets and thai food, not make friends with a drunk stranger, no matter how hot he is.

“You also need to leave.” Chris means it in a firm way, but it just ends up sounding mean. Darren pouts and Chris winces. He looks like a puppy left out in the rain.

“Why?” Darren whines, and then his eyes flicker with recognition. “Oooh- are you with someone? Am I interrupting something?”

Chris flushes. “No, I’m not with anyone right now-”

“Wait, you’re alone? On New Year’s Eve?”

Chris stomps towards Darren, ignoring the fact that he could very well be walking straight to his death (what if he was just a really good actor?), and holds the door open wide. “Yes, I’m alone. And that’s not actually a bad thing. Maybe I want to be alone!”

Chris tries to make it sound confident and assured, but it ends up sounding painfully defensive.

Darren pouts again, and Chris almost melts. “Don’t you want company? I could be your company!”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Jules or someone?”

Darren waves his hand airily, thereby removing his anchoring on the wall, leading him to stumble precariously. Chris grabs his waist on instinct, ignoring how well it fits under his arm.

“Nah, I won’t miss much. Everyone’ll be smashed anyway.”

“Like you are?”

“I could sober up!”

Darren sounds almost hopeful, and Chris wonders why on earth he would be. In his ninja turtles t-shirt and shapeless pajama bottoms, Chris doesn’t really look like the most interesting person on the planet.

“I should be calling the cops.”

Darren waggles his eyebrows. “But you haven’t, even when you could have.” His grin is like the cheshire cat’s.

Chris can already feel himself caving. “Won’t your friends miss you?”

“Nah, they saw me yesterday. They’ll live.”

“You’re still drunk. I don’t want to have to babysit you.”

“Then catch up. We’ll both be drunk, and then you won’t have to babysit anyone.”

Chris narrows his eyes and lets go of Darren’s waist, wincing when he falls against the wall with a thud. “Why are you doing this?”

Darren looks confused. “Why am I doing what?”

“Why are you offering to hang out with me when you don’t even know me?”

“That’s how you get to know people. By hanging out?” Darren says it like he’s telling Chris that water is wet.

“But why me?”

“Well, I feel like you’d be more interesting than my drunk friends that I see like, every day, and plus you’re like, beautiful- in a surreal, elfin way.”

He’s drunk, Chris tries to assure himself. He’s drunk and he probably didn’t mean that.

“How are you still able to use words like that?” he asks instead.  

Darren shrugs, and leans his arm against the door so that it falls shut with a soft click. “I’m not that drunk.” As soon as he says it, his arm gives way, and he’s falling to the floor in a heap.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Clearly, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

He tries to ignore the swooping sensation in his stomach when Darren whoops with glee.

***

“That is a lie.”

Darren’s sprawled over his couch, legs tangled with Chris’, while Chris watches from the other end. It’s probably weird, because they’ve literally only just met, but Chris is ready to start doing weird things. He’s also partway drunk, so it helps.

“There is no way you haven’t ever had a boyfriend.”

Chris raises his eyebrow and downs the rest of his glass of rum and diet coke. “Not a lie. No one wants to date me, and even if they did, I wouldn’t know. I barely ever go out.”

“But you’re like-” Darren gestures wildly. “Gorgeous.”

A pink blush joins the alcohol-induced redness on Chris’ face. There cannot be any way he looks gorgeous right now.

Darren however, is on a roll. “You’re also super fucking smart- you write for fuck’s sake, and you’re funny, and kind, and you let me into your house without even knowing who I was.”

“I’m also stupid, then.”

Darren’s gasps indignantly. “That was like the best decision ever! I am so glad you actually let me stay! I’ve never spent a New Year’s with someone like you.”

Chris suddenly feels sick. He sets down his empty glass, and curls up under the blankets. “I think I’ve drunk enough for one night.”

Darren seems to notice the change in the atmosphere. “Okay, then. I think you’re sufficiently caught up anyway.”

Chris suddenly feels bad, and decides to ask about Darren’s family. Darren’s eyes light up and it’s enough to ward away images of Darren with other people on New Year’s Eves, doing things that make Chris heart ache to think of.

***

“Do you have sparklers?”

Darren’s looking through Chris’ cupboards, and Chris is hoping that there’s a sufficient amount of healthy food in there so that he won’t be judged.

“Why do you want sparklers?”

“It’s New Year’s!”

“And?”

Darren stares at Chris like he’s sprouted two heads. “You light sparklers during New Years.”

“I know that, Darren.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Oh, and it’s back. The lost puppy face.

“Is it safe to light them inside?”

“We’ll go out on the balcony! Please?” Darren looks so excited that Chris finds himself caving, once again.

“I might have some left over from Hannah’s birthday party.”

Darren squeals like a little girl, and Chris tries not to think about how he’s already told him all about Hannah, and their relationship. He also tries to ignore the fact that no one he knows in LA has ever been close enough to him for him to even mention his sister.

Chris retrieves the sparklers, and suddenly Darren’s grabbing his hand, leading him out to the open balcony. The air is cooler that he expects, and sends a pleasant shiver up his spine.

“Seven minutes to midnight,” Darren whispers, and Chris startles.

Oh yeah. This is happening. He’s on a balcony with a gorgeous stranger (not a stranger anymore, Chris reminds himself), and they’re about to count down to the New Year. Said stranger also swings both ways, a useful tidbit of information Chris garnered when he told Darren he was gay, fully ready to kick him out if he even got the slightest whiff of homophobia.

They’ve got the sparklers and matches at the ready.

The mood is suddenly serious, standing out here in the open, wind whistling in their ears. There’s a distant pulse of music from one of the other apartments.

“Are you wishing for anything?” Chris asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true.”

Darren’s eyes glow amber in the moonlight. “Can I tell you if it does come true?”

“Are you that confident?”

Darren holds his gaze, lifting up Chris’ unlit sparkler to light it with a match. It fizzles to life immediately, bright and brilliant between them.

“More like hopeful,” he replies, using Chris’ sparkler to light his own. They’re one of the long ones that go on for several minutes instead of several seconds. They take turns drawing patterns in the sky, until Darren’s phone pings to let them know it’s almost midnight.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” Chris whispers into the darkness. He doesn’t know why he says it.

“Neither have I.”

Chris turns to look at Darren in surprise. “That’s impossible.”

“Really. I always clear out as soon as they start the countdown.”

“Why?”

Their sparklers glitter closer to the ends of the sticks, and Darren gently takes Chris’ hand in his own to hold them away from their bodies.

“I guess I’ve never really wanted to have a New Year’s kiss that’s meaningless. They say the person who you kiss at New Years is the person you’ll spend the rest of the year with.”

“And you’ve never met someone you’d want to stay a year with?”

“I have.”

“And?”

They’ve somehow moved closer together, so that they’re sparklers are touching and there’s barely a hair’s breadth between their bodies.

“And I really don’t think a year’s enough.”

Fireworks explode out from behind them. Chris recognises them as the ones that are lit at Grand Park, in downtown LA.

“We missed the countdown-” Chris starts, and suddenly Darren’s kissing him, one hand cupping his jaw, and the other twined with Chris’ where their sparklers share a flame.

Darren’s kissing him, and it feels like the world just stopped turning.

Darren’s kissing him and all he knows is how soft his lips are and the feel of his hair under his fingers and the smell of sparkler smoke.

Darren’s kissing him, and Chris really just needs to know. He pulls away to rest his forehead on Darren’s, gasping slightly. His lips still tingle from the memory of Darren’s touch.

“Who was that someone you said that a year wouldn’t be enough with?”

Darren’s lashes brush Chris’ cheeks as he steals another kiss.

“You.”

[itsclydebitches]

God I want so bad to like the dandelion and geralt friendship, it's too mean and just unnecessarily aggressive in the show and I hate dandelion in the game (Though I barely know him but I cannot accept on of the first quests with him cause he literally planned to fuck over a woman he already fucked over once before, and going around to all the women he fucked over when looking for him OOOOOOOO NO) so I rly should read the books lmao, they sound like they really care about each other

For me personally, as someone interested in the portrayal of gender in media and whose knowledge of that absolutely colors readings of character interactions, both Netflix and the TW3 failed to do anything inspiring. Worse, they erased what little complexity we started out with. The game is very focused on Dandelion's playboy nature, to the point where it becomes outright insulting to the women associated with him. To my mind there's nothing inherently wrong with Dandelion sleeping around, it's not even a problem to make the flamboyant guy into that caricature (no matter how stereotypical it may be), but it is discomforting to, as you say, provide this list of women who didn't merely have short-term relationships with him, but were "fucked over" in one manner or another. Women who are waiting for him to return because they believed his lies. Women who are presented as so stupid they can't see past the ridiculous trick he and Geralt are pulling. Women presented as "too" feminine because they want him to do awful things like read to them from romantic stories. Women who are so dense Geralt can make comments about Dandelion's sister having a different father and mother, but they don't pick up on that... It all just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. They're presented as his foolish toys, not his equal lovers. We could have easily gotten a character who just liked sex. Likes hedonism. He's happy enjoying his time with a variety of people and they, in turn, are happy to share that with him. Instead, TW3 presents most of the interactions as conquests, demeaning the women in the process, with Pricilla presented as the mythical, not-like-other-girls woman who therefore deserves Dandelion's actual love. Insert a non-ironic "I can change him" meme here.

In contrast, Netflix presents Jaskier as a little less of a womanizer (so far), but his relationship with Geralt is so shockingly aggressive that I honestly didn't think I was watching the same characters at first. Geralt hates Jaskier's music? Acts like he thinks he's stupid? Is so immersed in his own grief that he lashes out to the extent that he drives Jaskier away? Outright hits him? It's another characterization built on a simplistic understanding of masculinity, in this case not that one man is a womanizer, but that the other, as the tough one of the duo, must be cold, unfeeling, violent, and aggressively dominant. We know ("know") that deep down he's a softie, but a real man — a real witcher, a real action hero — never shows that unless his back is up against the metaphorical wall. Both the game and the show strip Jaskier and Geralt of their complexity, reducing them to a sterilized version of their assumed character types, rather than the original versions that had far more depth. And I don't want to present Sapkowski's work as super progressive from a Western perspective or anything — it's really not, particularly when it comes to how he writes women. That's it's own can of worms... — but for someone who's not really a book fan, the Geralt-Dandelion dynamic was nevertheless one of my favorite parts. The super tough monster hunter unambiguously loves this flamboyant bard and they have philosophical discussions together while helping the local people? Sign me up! And yeah, the Netflix dynamic is its own kind of relationship, it's even one that that audience can (obviously) get super invested in (we love a tsundere), but it's definitely not their relationship — which is what the creators claimed they were adapting and what anyone with a passing knowledge of the books has been led to expect. Which is why the claims of, "But it's only been one season. They're going to develop" fall flat to me because there was no need to start the two in a worse place — to bank so heavily on those gendered stereotypes — when the books never needed that. Do we really think development can only occur through one character starting by hating the other? Or at least pretending to?

I know I've used this example in another post somewhere, but imagine if Harry met Ron on the train and just... really disliked him. Ron forces himself into Harry's presence and is way too annoying about it. He's a tagalong, a nobody, a complete simpleton, talking too much and is way too invested in Harry's fame. (And not in the way book!Ron legitimately struggles with later on. Just in a... “”Wow, this guy is actually the worst” way). Harry spends the entire first movie trying to ditch this guy, or very grudgingly putting up with his presence, going so far as to hex him for the talking about The Boy Who Lived and getting so cruel he drives Ron away before they can go after the stone together. We know, because they're both main characters, that they "really" love each other, but the movie has largely failed to show that. Harry Potter fans would rightly be like, hey... what the fuck lol. This isn't Ron and Harry? At all. You've not only erased the fantastic dynamic they had, you've completely messed with Harry's character by turning him into the very thing he's not supposed to be: a stuck-up, judgmental, overly critical celebrity. What were you thinking? And if people were like, "But it's only the first movie. There are six more on the way!" you'd know it wouldn't really matter. Even if the rest of the movies turn them into the best friends they were always supposed to be, we've lost the original start to their tale. Their future interactions will always be colored by this beginning. And the entire fandom, a good portion of who will only ever see the films, has run with this canon, filling up the community with a thousand "Harry initially can't stand Ron" fics, fanart, and headcanons. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that enjoyment, but fans of the books, particularly those who know the movie was trying to pass itself off as a faithful adaptation, aren't wrong to be frustrated by such a needless change, the impact it's had, and go, "Why didn't you just have Harry smile at Ron on the train and buy him sweets? Why couldn't they just have been friends like they were written?" even if you can simultaneously understand why this new dynamic is interesting and compelling all on its own.

ANYWAY yeah, I would recommend the book dynamic over all others. I'm really only a short story fan, but within that Geralt and Dandelion's interactions are absolutely some of my faves 👍