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softykooky · 4 years ago

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sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.

You’re such a fool, Y/N.

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.

“And I need to go.”

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

They would wait a bit longer.

Everything would be okay after dinner.

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.

You cry for Y/N.

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

He knocks again.

Nothing.

A third time.

Complete and utter silence.

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones.

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.

“America.”

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.”

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.

“What are you talking about?”

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.

“There’s been an accident.”

taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx, @thebleuprince, @dreamer95, @jinana-iactium, @holaaaf, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re, @katbonv, @embrace-themagic, @jiminmochee, @fanoffandomss, @mwitsmejk, @mrsfortune1306, @raadia, @kookima, @bonesfordayss, @dinoboysindahouse, @jiminie-lovely, @queenceline22, @jikooksgirl19, @somewhereinthestarss, @kookieskiwi, @lynnfanficreblogs, @vintageroses10,

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tpwkay · 4 years ago

Text

Medicine (h.s.)

You’re finally given permission to cover the song you’ve wanted to perform for years and a special surprise during your performance sweeps you off of your feet.

Word count: 11.5k

Rating/warnings: NSFW - A lot of this is plot but there is smut as well. Contains explicit language and consensual sex acts between a man and woman. This is a story written in the 2nd person (“self insert"). This isn’t written to be exclusionary, it’s just my preferred style! Author’s note can be found at the end!

"Ladies and gentlemen, I cannot thank you enough for coming out tonight to listen to me and the band. We've got a couple more songs coming up for you but I just wanted to take a minute to tell y'all how much we appreciate you." You gesture to yourself and the band behind you as the lights on stage come up a bit. "We wouldn't be where we are without your support. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you!"

The crowd cheers and you can't help but experience an insurmountable feeling of joy. It never gets old. You'd been in the spotlight for a few years now, already at the end of touring your second album, though the size and scope of venues this time around was much, much larger. There was nothing that compared to being able to sing your own songs and have a crowd of thousands scream them right back at you.

Being an up-and-coming singer and songwriter in the genre of country music hadn't been easy. Girls your type had been a dime a dozen, hoards of Taylor Swift-wannabes covering "Teardrops on My Guitar" during open mic night. You held nothing against them; there was a path to success for everyone, but yours had been, well, different.

It was a karaoke cover of Brooks & Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie", a song that you'd been singing since you were a toddler, that had gotten you noticed by a recording artist one night while out with your girlfriends, which led you to where you stand now, performing in front of thousands. You were liked for the range of your voice, with it's easy easy transitions from the sounds of pop to country and rock, in addition to the way you performed, and your take-no-shit attitude towards the entirety of the industry. People liked that you were forward and left nothing on the table, though you had to admit that it was mostly an act, a means of coping with the pressure of working your way to the top.

///

"It's refreshing!" Jax, your manager, had shouted one day, arms flailing as you had argued that maybe your attitude was going to get you into trouble one of these days.

"Aren't you, as, you know, my manager, supposed to be the one keeps me in line?"

"You aren't out doing coke, killing anyone, public indecency and all that," he had shrugged. "Far as I'm concerned, you are in line. People talk about you because of your attitude. They like it! They like you. Why is that so hard for you to accept sometimes?"

"Maybe I just haven't been caught doing those things," you grinned, effectively dodging his question. Fame hadn't helped break down the walls that you'd long ago built around yourself. If anything, you had done some reinforcing, built a moat even, in an effort to ensure that you protected yourself from getting too close to anyone that would only end up using you in the end. You had seen the way people in life had been used, and what it ultimately led them to, and you had promised yourself long ago that even if it meant being known as the Boot Scootin' Bitch, you would protect yourself and your heart at all costs.

"Your momma would tan your hide for much less than any of those, you know. Hell, you should be more afraid of her than you are of me or anyone else… 'cept maybe God."

///

You shake your head, working the memories free from your mind as you grab a bottle of water from the platform on which the drum set rests.

There's one more song of yours to sing before you performed a new cover, the one you had been looking forward to for months. Although you'd gotten permission to perform it not long into the start of your tour, the set list had been rehearsed already and every other detail ironed out around it. You'd convinced Jax and the crew to let you slot it into the last concert of the tour, Austin, Texas. These folks knew their music and for some reason, they liked you so you were thrilled to be able to share something new with the crowd that had welcomed you to their city with open arms.

You grab your guitar off its stand and slide the strap over your shoulders, adjusting it as you step forwards to the mic stand. A shimmering blue shirt catches your eye in the crowd and you do a double take because surely it can't be Harry because he's—

And it's not him, of course, though the fashion of the gentleman in the pit area would surely catch his eye as well as it's right up his alley. It's not him - it can't be him - because you know exactly where he is right now and it's not in the pit of your Austin performance.

A grin stretches over your face as you think of him. You strum the first chord of the first song you'd ever written about him, although there had been many more since. He probably knew this one was about him, having come just after your first meeting.

///

A friend of yours was good friends with Kacey, who had been the guest artist that night. Her name had been added to the VIP list and in the summer of 2018, just as you were hitting your own stride in your career, you tagged along with her to Harry Styles' live tour performance in your hometown of Nashville.

If you were being honest, prior to his concert, you hadn't heard much of his solo work, apart from the various huge hits like his Kiwi or Watermelon Sugar and a few other ballads. You liked his sound, seemingly influenced heavily by rock stars of days past, but you'd had other influences to worry about in your own side of the industry.

Sure, he had country music connections through the likes of Kacey Musgraves and Cam, and legends like Stevie Nicks, but his pop and soft rock style was pretty far removed from most country playlists that you yourself had graced. Your genres just didn't cross paths and the two of you seemingly operated in different realms of the music industry, topping your own charts and breaking your own peer's records.

Of course, you hadn't been completely oblivious to The Harry Styles. One Direction had been too big of a deal to ignore and you'd often found yourself bopping along to their old hits, singing along as they played amongst the other nostalgic pop hits to which you listened.

The concert had been in June, a hot sunny day followed by a perfect breezy evening. Downtown Nashville was always busy, but that night the city seemed to buzz, bright with music and life. After meeting for drinks at Acme on the River, you allowed yourself to luxuriate in getting lost in the crowd that milled about on Broadway. It was a surprising thing to not be recognized in your hometown, but you weren't one to complain about it. It was one reason that you value your time in Nashville over other music-centric cities like Los Angeles - it seemed that people here respected the private lives of musicians. There was an odd fan here and there, but you'd lived a majority of your "famous" life in Nashville in relative peace.

You were early to the venue, your friend having wanted to have a chance to see Kacey backstage. You were excited to finally meet the star - though you'd been around the block of fame a bit already, there would always be people that you never had an opportunity to meet in passing. You had been greeted at will call and had been led backstage.

The arena was alive with excitement. At that point, you yourself had never toured a venue that large, so the experience of being backstage and seeing the operations first hand were thrilling and a bit overwhelming. In her dressing room, Kacey pulled you straight into a hug, gushing about how excited she was to watch your career take off. She insisted on sharing her personal cell phone number with you, urging you to call her to get together on a collaboration. You were in shock leaving her room, blown away by her kindness and the way the music industry worked in the most bizarre of ways, when you turned a corner and ran smack into a tall, solid, smiling Harry Styles. His arms had come out quickly to steady you on your heels boots.

"Fuck," you swore, shaking your head at your clumsiness. "I am so sorry. What a great way to introduce myself."

He laughed and the sound flowed through you, warm and sweet like a cup of tea with honey. "Y'alright?" His eyes looked you over, and you couldn't help but notice the way they lingered.

Your cheeks blushed and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. "I'm the one that should be asking you that. I don't think your adoring fans would be very happy if I took you out with a textbook tackle right before you're due to go on stage." You took a moment to give him the same appreciative glance he had already given you, admiring the way his deep blue custom-beaded suit jacket fell open to reveal a black dress shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his chest.

"Ah, 'm fine. Lil' thing like you couldn't do too much damage to me, even in those heels. Don't think they'd be very happy though," he said, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the already-rowdy crowd while offering his hand. "I'm Harry."

You laughed as you introduced yourself, shaking his hand.

"I've heard that name before, but I'm sorry to say that I don't recognize you. You don't seem like one that's easy to forget."

"I sing, write music," you shrugged, not sure how to explain to a superstar that you were on the way up, yet still somewhere much farther down the fame totem pole than him. "Country, mostly. Not sure if that's on your radar."

"The new stuff's not, but I may have to change that." He was tapped by one of the event producers, needed for another pre-show procedure. "Where will you be tonight?"

"To your right, in the pit."

He smiled and you had almost immediately fallen in love with the crinkles that appeared under the corners of his eyes. "I'll look out for you. It was wonderful meeting you. Oh, shit, wait, just remembered— may I?" he gestured for the phone that was in your hand and you unlocked it before passing it to him.

You watched as he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. He paused for a moment before he grinned. "Hi Harry, it's you from before the show. This is a message to remind you to text this number and ask the owner of it out on a date. She's the one with the beautiful smile and great tackling skills. You won"t have forgotten her. 'Kay, bye!"

You laughed at an almost embarrassing volume, blown away by his cheek.

"Why not ask 'her' out now?" you pondered to him as he handed the phone back.

"What, and risk getting shot down? Wouldn't want to be sad and disappointed through my whole show, now would I?"

"It would make the ballads a bit more emotional," you had reasoned with a grin.

"Ouch! They're already filled with emotion, love. You'll see, I'll sing 'em right to you if I have to. Gotta run, thank you for letting me use your phone, that was a very important message!"

You laughed again as he took off. "Harry!" you had shouted to get his attention in the busy hall. He turned quickly, a small smile on his face. "She definitely won't say no, but you can wait until later to ask if you want to."

His grin stretched wider and he'd pumped a fist in the air before turning and jogging down the hallway.

You liked to joke with anyone who knew the story that your life had changed that day all because you met Kacey. Which wasn't a complete lie - it had been her dressing room you'd come out of before slamming into Harry in the hallway.

///

Singing the last lines of one of your songs, your stomach began to flutter in a bit of nervousness and a lot of excitement. Performing the next cover was something you had been looking forward to for months, and the moment that you got to share it with your fans was finally here.

You retreat from the mic stand to pass your guitar off to a stagehand, taking another sip of water to settle yourself.

"Doing alright?" Wyatt, your drummer, shouts over the pounding bass drum and you give him a thumbs up before turning back to face the crowd.

"I've got one more cover to play for y'all tonight," you say, grasping the mic stand to keep your hands from shaking. "I've been working on getting permission to play this one for quite awhile now. I fell in love with it the first time I heard it played and now here I am, performing it for you all. It's an unreleased piece by a very, very good friend of mine, but his performances of it are all over the internet so some of you may know the words. This song is called Medicine."

The song starts out with a steady bass line and the rhythm centers you a bit, steadying any nerves that still linger. The intro gives you a minute to shake out your shoulders and get comfortable at the mic stand once more like Harry does at each performance. You catch yourself having fun mimicking him and feel thankful that you're able to perform one of your favorite songs of his. When the bass drops in pitch and the electric guitar riffs, you slide in close to the mic stand.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine," you sang the opening lines, already settling into the sexy rock sound of the song you and the band had rehearsed relentlessly over the last few weeks. No, the genre wasn't one you normally dabbled in, but part of the fun of performing was taking chances, risks. You had to admit, you liked the sound a lot. It tempted you to branch out a bit more on your upcoming album.

The opening lines of the first verse throw you back into thoughts of meeting Harry that first night. You hadn't imagined what would follow the concert, let alone have the foresight to see it bringing you to this very moment in time.

///

You had been standing outside the arena after the concert, ears buzzing and heart thumping still from the incredible show Harry had put on. As soon as he disappeared from the backstage hall earlier, you had immediately saved his number to your phone, still in disbelief over the night's events.

Your heart had soared when your phone began to vibrate, not in a text message but in a voice call. Harry's name appeared on the screen and your friend had nudged you, clearly approving of the night's turn of events.

"Harry," you answered, ready to praise him halfway to Sunday on his performance.

"Let me take you out," he interrupted you. "Right now. Please? Anywhere you want to go."

You laughed and paused. "Yeah, okay. I might know of a place."

There was a lot of shuffling on his end before his voice came back on the line. "Might've had to do another fist pump."

"Told you she wouldn't say no."

"Where are you?" You heard the smile in his voice, already familiar with it.

"Demonbreun and John Lewis, headed towards the park."

"Give me 10, I'll pick you up." He paused. "Be careful, okay?"

"I'll stick with the hoards of your fans milling about, maybe ask some of them for the hot gossip on you while I wait."

"Don't believe anything they say," he said, and you could tell he was still smiling as he hung up.

He and his driver arrived shortly after, Harry's hair damp and covered with a baseball cap, dressed down in black pants and a simple loose white shirt, tattoos peeking out everywhere you looked. He exited the car and opened the back door for you, helping you balance as you stepped up into the large Suburban.

"We'll go to Pecker's," you said to his driver, laughing as Harry snorted next to you. "Shut up, it's just a bar. Take a right up here onto 24 and it'll take us all the way to Fairfield. It'll be on the right."

He looked at you and smiled before reaching out to hold your hand in the middle seat between you.

Taking Harry to Pecker's had just felt right. It was where you'd been discovered, where all of your adventures had started, and you weren't sure why but you wanted to share that small part of you with him after watching him up on stage that night.

"Won't people recognize you? I looked you up before the show, you're apparently a pretty big deal around here." He had asked, smirking, sipping on the locally-brewed beer that Clint, the regular bartender, was serving that night.

"Locals are pretty good about not interrupting our normal lives. Pecker's isn't as well known to tourists either, so it's a good hideout. This is where a lot of producers, executives and all the other professionals come to unwind." You ignored his comment on your fame and had taken a sip of your margarita instead. "Unless, of course, there's a drag show scheduled, then it's a bit of a madhouse."

Harry laughs into his drink and you grin. "So," he started after a pause, twiddling with the rings on his right hand. "What'd you think?"

"It was incredible," you said without hesitation. "Truly one of the best live shows I've seen in a long time, country acts included. You've got such a magnetism about you that people can't help but want to watch." You blushed a bit, alcohol and the quick comfort of him loosening your lips. "The whole water spraying trick was hot," you admit, making him blush. "And don't tell Stevie, but I think I might prefer your version of The Chain."

"Sacrilege! That's some incredibly high praise," he said, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Earned and deserved," you said, tilting your glass to his. "Honestly, Harry, you're an incredible musician. There aren't many out there that have the whole package like that."

"What about you? You seem like the whole package."

"I don't know if I'd say that. If you looked me up, you've likely seen what they say about me. 'My attitude won't get me far' and all. But I don't think it's my attitude, so much as it is my willingness to take the risks that others won't. I'm not out here to make music that's just there to be sold. Hell, I couldn't care less about the money. All I want is to create music that makes me feel fulfilled, and I think that honesty scares them." You twirled your finger in the condensation of the glass in front of you. You glanced up to his face finding his eyes already on yours, holding your gaze steadily. "It doesn't scare you, does it?"

"It's the most refreshing thing I've heard in a while. Not many people in the industry are fearless in the face of failure like that."

"I'm definitely not fearless; I just refuse to change who I am to make a buck."

"Who are you then?" Harry had asked, and telling him your story was easy. You couldn't understand how it was so natural, opening up to a stranger, but as the conversation wore on, you realized how similar you and Harry were in terms of the way you conducted your professional lives and that was without apology.

And you also realized, as the evening continued and you and Harry crept your bar stools closer and closer to one another, feet and knees bumping, his fingers tracing the ridges of your knuckles as you shared life stories like long lost friends, that you didn't want it to end.

///

"He's acting like a gentleman," you continue, changing up the lyrics slightly as you finish the first verse. The line always made you smile and you let yourself briefly flash back into your reminiscing about the night you'd met Harry, and how, even though he had acted gentlemanly upon dropping you off for the evening, you wanted to be anything but a gentlewoman.

///

After enjoying drinks late into the evening at Pecker's, Harry had insisted on having his driver take you home rather than allowing you to call an Uber.

"Such a gentleman," you commented as he opened the car door for you once again.

"Maybe my gentlemanly actions have motives," he said, sliding his hand along your lower back as you step past him and into the car. Your grin matched his smirk as he shut the door and you decided that he'd been right - not calling an Uber was the right thing to do.

The car ride back to your apartment building was too quick and before you knew it, he was at your door again, offering a hand for you to hold for balance as you exited the car. Neither of you let go as you walked through the lobby towards the elevators.

"You're uh— You're welcome to come up, if you'd like," you said, suddenly shy but not wanting to chicken out on asking for what you wanted, asking for some continuation of this sweet but likely brief meeting between you two. "For a drink, I mean, or to keep chatting, you know."

Harry smiled and glanced around the empty lobby. His hand in yours smoothed up the length of your arm, over your shoulder, and came to rest at your jaw. "I'd love to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to." He leaned towards you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and your skin burned at the contact of his lips. "But I want to do this the right way. Don't want you to get the wrong idea of me."

"What if I want the wrong idea of you?"

He laughed, the sound open and honest and it had given you hope. "You called me a gentleman earlier and I have to admit that I liked it, coming from you. Would like to keep up the facade that I am, even if it's just for a bit." His face searched yours, each of you trying to read the thoughts that were flying through one another's minds. "You have beautiful lips," he whispered suddenly, his accent thicker than it had been all night.

Your mouth quirked into a smile, unable to do anything but preen at his compliment. "You do too," you replied, just as softly.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please, yes." Before the words had settled he was kissing you, slowly and with too much care, like you would break if he wasn't gentle enough. It was over much too quick but you knew you would remember every moment of it for the rest of your life.

"Christ, I'd wanted to do that all night." His thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, smiling when you leaned into the touch. He glanced up as the elevator doors swung open and gently nudged you towards them. "Thank you, truly, for a wonderful evening. I promise to give you a call soon."

"I'll send Kacey after you if you don't!" you laughed, stepping into the lift.

"Good night darling." He winked and the doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the delicious ghost of his lips on yours.

///

"Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline, think I'm gonna stick with you," you finish the first verse as Ryann rips through the chords on her guitar. You loved that the song built slowly, and even though that meant a quieter beginning, it promised an explosive end.

Though the crowd had been hesitant at first, you can see that the first few rows of them are nodding along, countless phones out recording the performance. You know that somewhere out there at your request is a member of your press team, professionally filming the cover. You may only be doing it once, but you were determined to make sure you would never forget it.

///

You had enough time at home to check some of your social media accounts, shower and get comfortable in bed before your phone rang again. For the second time that day, your heart soared seeing Harry's name light up your screen.

"If you're going to say that you're downstairs because you've reconsidered my offer for that nightcap, I'll need a few moments to prepare as I'm currently in my pajamas," you said as a greeting and you were met with his warm laughter once again.

"No, no, I had to go back to the arena for a bit anyways, pack up and all of that," he said, still chuckling. "I just— I wanted to make sure you weren't offended by me declining your offer. Because I wanted to— I didn't want the night to end there. There's something about you that's… Transfixing. And I don't want to ruin that and make you think you're just a fling."

"That's quite a compliment," you said, a bit awed by his words.

"What was it you said earlier, "earned and deserved", yeah?" He said, quoting your toast to him at the bar, making you grin. "I want you to be more than that. I'd like to get to know you, the gentlemanly way."

"Okay. Will we have a chaperone at our next date then?" He laughed but didn't correct your referral to that evening as a date. You had snuggled a bit deeper into the sheets, still disbelieving that all of this had been the result of being dragged along to a concert.

"No chaperones," he chuckled, "but yes, I do want to take you out again, if you'd let me."

"Hmm," you jokingly pondered aloud, as if answering with anything other than a resounding "yes" was on your mind. "I suppose I could fit something into my schedule."

"I hope that's a yes."

"Of course it's a yes! I didn't want the night to end either. And don't you dare say that you just did another fist pump," you had laughed, hearing the familiar shuffling of the phone on his end of the line.

"Me? Never!"

"You're adorable," you had said, a smile stuck on your face.

"And you're beautiful. Two can play this game."

There had been a comforting silence between you for a moment before you had spoken up again. "Harry?"

"Yeah, love?"

You had blushed at the pet name but loved the way it sounded being directed your way. "Thank you," you had whispered.

"Should be me thanking you. Sleep well sweetheart." You'd fallen asleep with your phone in hand, hopeful that you wouldn't wake up the next morning to realize it had all been a dream.

///

It hadn't been a dream, and here you were, nearly two years later, performing one of the songs that Harry himself had sung the night that you'd begun falling for him.

The second verse continued quickly and you let the lyrics wash over you as you sang, loving the way the rock energy of the song sounded with a bit of your band's country influence.

"Here to take my medicine, take my medicine, rest it on your fingertips," you sang, holding your pointer finger in the air much like Harry did every time he performed the song before bringing it to your lips as you sang the next line. "Up to your mouth, feeling it out, feeling it out."

///

Beginning to date Harry - properly date him too, not just make FaceTime calls to one another from across the world and sending texts back and forth until the wee hours of the morning thanks to the differences in time zones, sharing everything and more with one another as best you could digitally - had been the most exhilarating experience of your life, and you had performed in front of sold out crowds and accepted awards on live television. His tour was due to stretch on for almost another month throughout North America and the next time you saw him was when you'd been invited as Harry's guest to his show in Chicago just a few weeks after you'd met.

While he had put on an incredible show for the United Center, there had been moments that felt like he was performing just for you, glancing over to where you stood in the Friends and Family area, meeting your eyes and grinning. By that point, you could sing along to every song of his and you knew he loved it, loved watching you dance along to the music that he had created and was performing.

In a moment where you were thankful for the differences between the genres in which you two performed, you hadn't been recognized at all by his fans. You'd both talked about wanting to keep things quiet as you got to know one another, and you hadn't wanted a relationship with him, an already incredibly famous artist, to somehow influence the trajectory of yours. While it had been easy when you were apart, being together without seemingly being together was difficult. Especially in that moment, when all you wanted to do was curl up into him and soak in the post-show bliss with him. Instead, you sat on the couch with him, a cushion apart from one another, holding his hand tightly while you chatted about the concert.

"Someone is gonna notice that you looked to my side of the pit constantly all night," you said and he grinned guiltily.

"I like knowing you're in the crowd," he shrugged. "Besides," he scooted closer and threw his arm around you before dragging you in close, "you look incredible, how could I not want to stare at you all night?"

"Anyone could walk in," you pointed out, watching as his eyes followed your lips.

"Just want a little taste," he said, moving in closer, "Haven't I earned a kiss from my girlfriend after all of that work up on stage?"

Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you looked at him and he seemingly realized his slip-up.

"I mean— What I meant was— Shit," he scrubbed a hand over his face but you could tell he was hiding a grin. "Wasn't exactly how I wanted to ask you, but… Will you officially be my girlfriend?"

"Yes, H. I'm all yours."

"Love it when you call me H." He pulled you in for a kiss that you both lost yourselves in, finally able to experience the feeling of one another after being denied it for so long. When a knock at the dressing room door came, Harry had to all but drag himself away from you, hair disheveled and lips swollen, scowling at the door.

You threw your head back and laughed as he stalked over and pulled it open with a flourish.

"What?"

"The hell's your issue?" you heard Mitch ask before Harry widened the door so he could see you laughing on the couch. You raised a hand in greeting and Harry's scowl deepened as Mitch chuckled, taking in both of your disheveled appearances. "Oh, shit, hey, sorry. Uh, car's ready when you are. See you tomorrow bud."

"Harry!" you chided once he'd closed the door in Mitch's face, giggles still bubbling out of your mouth. "He was just being polite."

"Interrupting arse is what he is," Harry said, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. "Where were we?"

You threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body as close to his as possible, hoping that he'd thought to lock the door before returning to your embrace. "Right about here, I think." With a hand on your hip, sliding under your shirt to reach warm skin and one at the back of your neck, Harry kissed you until you were breathless and not only wanting more but very seriously needing it.

"Come back to the hotel with me," he murmured against your lips as you ground your body down on him, reveling in the way the action made him throw his head against the back of the couch and exhale sharply.

"You sure?" Your hands smoothed over the chest of his skin, tracing the dark swallows with your fingertips as you rolled your hips.

He shuddered at the light touch and gripped your hips tightly, pressing his up as you pressed yours down and the action made you sigh, the pressure a delicious tease of what was hopefully to come. "Absolutely," he said, his grin telling you he was pleased with the noises he was causing you to make. "Want you so bad, like I won't be able to breathe right until I properly have you."

You leaned in to kiss at his neck, his shower-damp curls tickling your cheek. "The feeling is mutual. Adored watching you up on stage tonight. Have I told you yet how much I love seeing you perform?" You nuzzle at his neck, urging him to tilt his head back farther, exposing more of his skin to you.

"Yeah, you have, but tell me again," he sighed, his hands running up and down your back.

"It's like when you get on stage no one else before or after you matters," you said honestly, letting your lips against his skin hide how truthful you were really being, spilling all of your thoughts about seeing Harry up on stage. It was scary, feeling so deeply for him already. But you wanted him to know, at least in part, what it meant to be able to watch him perform. "Something about your live voice just makes my breath catch in my throat, I can't get enough of it."

Harry breathed deeply for a moment, working to center himself while you nosed at the curls around his ear and heaped praise upon him.

"It's like you connect with every person out in the crowd, like you're singing just for them. You can tell that you're having fun and people want to join you in that. They know you love the attention," you whispered and he hummed in appreciation (or agreement), the sound low in his throat. "They'd stay out there all night for if they could, screaming about how much they love you."

"And you feed into it, playing it up for them. You know exactly what you're doing when you get to act a little bit naughty up there, driving them all mad," you said with a smile.

He chuckled and you could hear and feel the sound rumble through him. "Played it up for you tonight. Did it work?"

"You mean did it make me want to jump your bones the second you came off stage? Yeah, it worked."

"Fucking hell," he said, holding you close with his hands on your butt as he stood up. "Our first time is not going to be in a dressing room so we need to go now."

He let you slide down his body and held you steady as you balanced on your legs. "Would be pretty fitting though, don't you think, given how we met and what we do?"

"Yeah, but then I'd think about it every time I was in one. You wanna torture me relentlessly?" He pulled you tight against him, kissing you once more before separating to grab his bags.

"Yeah, relentless torture sounds like something I might be into."

He glanced up at your words, eyes dark and hungry, a smirk on his lips. "Careful what you wish for, love."

///

The bass line increased behind the riff of Ryann's guitar and you leaned into the mic stand, eyes closing as you continued singing the first bridge. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted, and when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

There were a few fans of yours and Harry's who apparently knew the words as they helped you out, screaming the unwritten word that finished the sentence: "tasted."

///

Harry was quick to say goodbye to everyone on the team before pulling you quickly through back hallways and down quiet staircases, sneaking quick kisses when he was sure there was no one around. You were both out of breath when you finally climbed into the car, grinning like kids getting away with sneaking around.

The hotel ride was quick, mercifully, but Harry had been anything but patient, his hand at your knee creeping up slowly, closer and closer to the hem of your dress, toying with the hem while he chatted with the driver.

"I'm gonna head in first with Martin and Eric will loop around and drop you off at the side entrance. I would wait in the lobby for you but this hotel hasn't been the best in the past with uh— containing sensitive information, we'll say, so Martin will meet you on your floor to get your stuff, then bring you up. Is that okay?"

"You sound like you've done this before, Styles," you said with a wink, using humor to cover the nerves that had settled in the pit of your stomach.

He blushed and you loved knowing you got under his skin so easily. "The band used to stay here when we toured… and I was young and dumb once, yes."

"Just giving you a hard time, H."

His grin stretched as he leaned over to peck your lips once more. "See you in a minute, love."

Harry climbed out and the driver took off once again, slowly circling the block. "He's quite taken with you, you know," he said, glancing up in the rear view mirror as he parked the car at the curb. He got out and opened the door for you in the empty street then used his keycard to unlock the heavy side door of the hotel.

"Thank you," you said, both for his actions and his omission about Harry. Sure, you had talked to him as often as possible over the last weeks and had yourself been on the receiving end of his attention, but it felt validating to hear that Harry's feelings for you may have gone a bit farther than just a small crush if people around him had also noticed his behavior.

Harry's bodyguard was waiting by the elevators and escorted you to your room to gather your luggage, then led you to Harry's door.

"Car'll be around about 9 tomorrow morning, H. Flight's at 10:30." He turned to you. "I understand you have business to continue here in Chicago?"

"Yes, meetings tomorrow and then I fly back to Nashville in the evening."

"There'll be a driver ready for you tomorrow as well. He's been instructed to take you wherever you need to go and he'll stay until you depart. Have a nice evening," he nodded at Harry, who was smiling in the doorway, before departing.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I could've managed by getting an Uber," you said, stepping into the room past Harry to set your bags down and kick your shoes off.

"I didn't, was Martin's idea; says he doesn't want anything to happen to the one thing that's made me so happy these last few weeks."

"Oh yeah? I'm the one thing, huh?"

"You're everything, honestly," he replied a bit sheepishly, taking your hands in his. "Think I might like you a bit more than I already should. Lettin' my heart get a bit ahead of my head, I suppose."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," you said softly and he beamed.

He moved his hands up to cup your face, pulling you close for a sweet kiss that quickly turned insistent, heat rising between the two of you. Harry slid his hands under the hem of your shirt to rest where your spin ended and yours wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to you as you stepped behind you towards the bed. His long legs tangled with yours and you tumbled backwards, laughing as you hit the plush bed and Harry collapsed on top of you.

He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at you with a smile, pushing the hair that had fallen into your face aside. "Hi baby," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Missed you," he said, leaning down for another sweet kiss.

"We were apart for like, eight minutes," you giggled between his kisses, your laughter giving way to a sigh as he moved to press a kiss to your nose, your cheek, your chin.

"Doesn't matter," he breathed into the crook of your neck, pressing small open mouth kisses to the soft skin there, "Any time apart is too long."

"The two weeks left of the tour will fly by. You should enjoy them while you can."

"Wish you could come with me, love performing for you." He kissed his way across the base of your neck, collarbone to collarbone as his fingers trailed to the small straps on your shoulders. "Would you like to take this off?"

"Please," you sighed, desperate and aching for the feeling of his skin against yours.

Your first time sleeping with Harry had been exactly what you'd wanted and expected - hot and fast, admittedly over a bit more quickly than either of you had wanted, but worth the weeks of wait.

Harry's skill set hadn't ended at singing and playing instruments. If anything, his vast experience using his hands and mouth only helped him excel in other pastimes that also utilized those parts of his body. To both of your delights, he had proven his adeptness in all areas multiple times that night, and once again in the morning before he had to rush into the shower, dragging you along with him simply to get more time together before you were forced apart once again.

///

You had spent the next two months away from one another, Harry having wrapped his tour and immediately beginning work on his next album. You'd spent your own time mixed between writing and recording an upcoming single. You had already written a handful of songs that were inspired by him and you'd wondered, albeit a bit nervously, if the sentiment was shared. When he stopped in Nashville on a long layover, pushing his flight back even longer to stay with you for another night, you'd tried to pry the information out of him. Unfortunately, no amount of sexual teasing or denial had convinced him — he, however, had you singing like a canary almost immediately, teasing you in the best way about how easily you opened up for him, telling him all about the music that he had already inspired.

You had been FaceTiming him late one night weeks later, both tired from long days spent in the studio. He had suddenly gotten shy, biting at the skin around his fingernails.

"Hey, stop that. What's the matter H?"

"Wanna ask you something," he mumbled, but a smile was peeking through where his fingers were still at his lips. "Jus' don't know how to."

"Baby," you sighed, "you can ask me anything. Y'know that."

"I know, I know." He paused and took a deep breath before a wide smile stretched across his face. "Would you maybe want to come home with me this Christmas? To London? Wouldn't be for long, maybe just a couple nights, I just wanna introduce you to my mum already, she's been pestering me nonstop lately 'bout meetin' you and Gem's joined in on it now too, so it's two against one when they call and I've told them that—"

"Harry," you said chucking, trying to interrupt his nervous rambling.

"—and she actually called me Harold last time she told me to bring you 'round and that got me a bit worried so I—"

"Harry! Of course I'll come with you. I'd absolutely love to."

You met him at the airport weeks later, desperate to pull him close and kiss him silly in the confines of his darkly tinted car, but you refrained, knowing how seriously Harry took the protection of your relationship from the press. You may not have been able to see anyone straining to capture pictures of you two, but you knew there was always the chance.

It was an entirely different story, however, when he'd finally pulled the car past the mechanical gate and into his private drive. You both reached for each other immediately, arms tangled and shifter knob pressed uncomfortably against your side, but perfectly content so long as his lips were against yours.

"Fuck— I missed you— so much," he muttered between kisses. He pulled away, forehead resting against yours, sly smirk pulling at his lips. "Mum won't expect us for a few hours at least."

"What is it that you're insinuating, Mr. Styles?"

"That there's plenty of time to give you a tour around the house, that's all," he said innocently. He gave you a sweet smile before hopping out of the car and coming to the passenger side where he helped you out and picked up your bags.

You were eager to be given a house tour, more than keen to learn all of the things you could about his London life. The house was decorated in a way that made you smile - eclectic but with a definitive air of cohesive taste. It suited Harry to an absolute tee. From the artwork that decorated the walls to the mismatched but homey furniture, you could tell immediately that this was Harry's sanctuary - every inch of the home screamed his name.

"It's incredible," you said as he led you into the largest room, the master. He walked over to the dresser that sat under the window and pulled open the top two drawers.

"I know we won't be here long, this time around, but I cleaned out a few drawers for you here, if you want to unpack some things. And there's space in the closet for you too," he nodded towards the door on the other side of the room, dragging a hand through his hair as he talked, "I had too much in there anyways and some of it needed to go and I wanted you to be able to leave some things, if you felt comfortable, of if Mum drags us out shopping and you don't want to take it all home now you can leave it here and-"

"You- you cleared out a drawer for me?"

"Well, yeah," he said, resting his hand on the back of his neck. "Made some space for you in the bathroom too, though I doubt it'll be enough, with all that you bring along to fix yourself up." He paused and thought for a moment. "I know how our lives are. I just wanted you to have some of your own space here; want you to feel as comfortable in my home as I do. Is that too much?"

"H," you said with a sigh, your lips curling into a smile, "it's perfect, and so thoughtful. I'm sorry I haven't done the same for you in Nashville yet."

"'s alright, love. I've already got a toothbrush there at least. I can take some time when we fly back to come and help if you'd like me to. As long as you don't end up wearing all the clothes that I leave there," he chuckled.

"You know me too well," you said, reaching for his hand. He lifted your entwined fingers to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles.

"You do look good in my clothes," he confessed, pulling you close to face him. "Look good in my house. But you always look good anyways."

"Said the pot to the kettle," you said with a smile. "I like being here already," you shrug, hands resting on his shoulders. "It feels like you, like home. Thank you for inviting me," you add, as though the measly voicing of your appreciation is enough to convey what you truly feel.

"You're welcome anytime, if I'm here or not."

"You trust me that much?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll get you a key and everything." He leaned down to kiss you slowly, relearning the map of your lips and mouth, before pulling away. He laughed when you made a noise of protest.

"The bathroom's over here if you'd like to freshen up." He had pulled at your hand, stepping towards the other open door in the room. "Figured a shower might sound nice after a long day in an airplane. Besides, I've gotta clean up before we go to Mum's anyways."

"Gonna join me?"

"Yeah, thought I might, if that's okay." His smirk had been wicked as he pushed you the rest of the way into the bathroom. He dropped your hand to reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head quickly. As he reached for the buckle of his pants, he had met your staring eyes. "See something you like, love?"

You definitely had, though you didn't think your attraction — physically or emotionally — for Harry had stopped at something that was as weak as "like." Getting to know him over the last six months had made you worry that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else like him, anyone that made you feel like he did. You had fallen for him, desperately hard, and the realization of it as you stood in front of his half-naked self almost embarrassed you.

"Babe? You alright?" he asked as he stripped down to his boxers.

"Yeah, you just got me all distracted," you had grinned, pulling your sweatshirt and remaining clothes off quickly before joining Harry under the warm spray of the water.

Meeting Harry's mom that evening went better than you could've ever dreamt it would. The two of you got on like old friends, and Harry had stared, almost in wonder, at how easily you seemed to bond with her. And then he had stared in horror as Anne offered to pull out the photo albums filled with pictures from Harry's childhood, particularly when Anne offered up the album filled with photos from Harry's and Gemma's emo phases.

As the evening wore on, you caught Harry on more than one occasion glancing your way, cheeks bright from the red wine he was sipping on and eyes warmly reflecting the bright Christmas lights. He always looked like he was a split second away from saying something, only to shake his head and look away with a small smile.

Later, in bed, Harry pulled you close to him. He was laying on his back, you on your side, and you threw a leg over his waist, soaking in all of the cuddles you could get on this short trip together. The room was only illuminated by the ambient light coming in through the blinds.

"Mum liked you a lot," he murmured, gently stroking the skin at the base of your spine, "said I should hang onto you".

You returned the gesture, running your fingertips along the lines of ink that make up his many tattoos. "I liked her too. She's wonderful, I see where you get it from now."

"Hey now, 'm wonderful all on my own!" He tickled your side and you couldn"t help but arch towards him, shrieking and laughing at the touch.

"Stop that! You are an absolute pest, you know that?" you said, grinning up at him.

"Ah, you love me," he whispered, and his joking tone made you smile but the way he pulled you tighter as he said it made you brave.

You let the weight what you were about to say wash over you, aware that things were going to change forever with just a few words. "I do love you, Harry," you whispered, moving up his body to press a kiss to his lips.

"Thank God," he had said, wrapping his arms back around you and pulling you on top of him. "Cause I love you too."

Leaving Harry after that had been even more difficult. All you wanted to do was be with him, but you had too much coming up with the future release of your album and Harry was still in the midst of doing his own writing and recording.

It was your professions, along with the desire to keep your relationship private, that kept you apart. You weren't sure how you did it, but your relationship had withstood the distance and odd-hours. The only step now would be deciding if, when, and how to confirm the suspicions to tabloids and fans alike that you were an item.

The wait was killing you. All you wanted was to show off to the world that Harry was yours.

///

The bridge of the song was followed quickly by the chorus and the heavy guitar and pounding drums had you rocking on your feet, body swaying into the mic stand as you let yourself get lost in the lyrics. "If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive."

The crowd was even more into the song now, many picking up on the words quickly and screaming them along with your singing. The rock and roll vibe of the song was coursing through you and the crowd, the arena electric with energy already.

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

You remove the mic from the stand and dance towards one end of the stage, singing as you move to the beat. "We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

///

You had been on the phone with Harry one day in July, nearly five months after the release of your album, having him help you decide what the setlist of your tour would be when it began in November.

"I wish I could cover one of your songs."

He had laughed and slurped his tea, the sounds comforting to you, even over the phone. "That'd be a bit obvious, wouldn't it love?"

"I don't mean cover Golden or Kiwi," you said, tapping your pen against the pad of paper in front of you. "What about one you wrote for 1D? What about Perfect? Or Stockholm Syndrome! That was always one of my favorites."

"Getting permission on those might be a bit more difficult, s'not just me that's gotta sign off on it. Besides, do you really wanna be the artist that covers a One Direction song on her own headlining tour?"

"Guess I'll stick with singing along to them in the shower then."

You were both quiet for a moment, lost in your own thoughts.

"What if I covered Medicine?" you asked suddenly, realizing it was the perfect compromise, not to mention your favorite song that Harry himself performed oh his own tour. The rock sound wasn't a far cry from the roots that country music had and you knew it would sound great. "Even if it was just for one stop!"

"Hmm," Harry mused. "It would sound great with the band, I'll give you that. But videos will go around, people will know it's my song you're singing and they'll connect the dots about us."

"H, I'm ready for that if you are. I love you, and I'm ready to be able to share that love that I have for you with the world. Sneaking around has been fun but I want people to know how proud of you I am and how much you're loved and appreciated. Half of our fans know already, it's just a matter of us confirming it. I think that we could really-"

Harry was laughing at your rambling on the other end of the line. "Alright, alright, you drive a hard bargain, love. I think you're right, maybe it is time we stopped sneaking around. I'll try, but Jax and everyone else still have to agree to it too. It might be easier to convince everyone if it's just a one time thing. Pick another cover, something you'd normally do, in case it takes some time to work things out."

"I'll ask him right now! Thank you Harry!"

"I just have one condition," he said, and you could hear the grin that was surely pulling at the corners of his lips.

"What's that?"

"I get to perform it with you," he had said, and the smile already on your face widened exponentially. "If we're finally gonna make "us" public, may as well do it with a bang."

///

In the moment after the chorus, an 8 count beat is carried by the drummer and guitarist. For this performance, and the only performance you'd put on of this song, you had rehearsed the 8 count repeating once between the chorus and the next verse, as you needed a bit of extra time to announce your guest performer.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you shout into the mic, grin wide and face beaming already at what was about to take place. "To help me finish this performance, please help me welcome my very good friend, Harry Styles!"

Harry emerges from behind the stage holding his own wireless mic as much of the crowd screams - he may not be a country artist, but he was absolutely known worldwide. You step back with a wave of your arm, smiling as he begins the next chorus. His performance is for the crowd but he's singing the words directly to you.

"Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes, tingle running through my bones," he sings, voice smooth like whiskey, and the crowd adores him, eating out of the palm of his hand. "The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I'm OK with it."

You can't help but dance as he sings, his voice and the energy of the crowd propelling you to move. He watches you, eyes no longer on the crowd, as he sings the next lines. Immediately, heat pools low in your belly at his glance and the words.

"I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it. And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you…"

You gyrate your hips at the unsung line of "ride it", listening with a sly grin as some in the crowd scream the two words that go unsung.

///

After giving him a key, Harry had moved some of his clothes to your apartment in Nashville some time while you were away on the first leg of your tour. He had found the city to be incredibly welcoming and inspirational for his upcoming album and had decided to stay there for a spell while you continued to tour around the country.

You had scheduled a short break between your concerts over New Years, wanting to be able to grab at least one or two nights at home with him to celebrate the holiday before you were back on the road again.

"So fucking glad you're home," Harry panted, pulling your shirt over your head before attaching his lips to yours once again. "Missed you like crazy."

"Missed you too," you moaned as his lips moved downwards, across your neck and over your collarbones, down the valley between your breasts. Before he could reach around to unhook your bra, you reached for his shirt, as desperate as he was to see and touch what you'd been missing.

As he pulled the half-unbuttoned blouse over his head, you pulled your leggings off and reached for him, pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He unbuttoned his pants as he scooted up towards the middle of the bed, shoving them and his boxers off in one swoop.

You climbed on top of him, hurriedly reaching to kiss him as you rubbed your clothed center along the length of his hard cock.

"Fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back to allow you room to kiss his neck. "Desperate aren't you, darling?"

"Want you so bad it hurts," you whispered, sucking a bright hickey right where it would absolutely be seen by anyone.

You moved to continue kissing down his chest but he stopped you with a hand under your arm. "Not gonna last long, love. Wanna be inside you."

His cheeks and chest were flushed bright red, lips puffy and pupils blown wide. This was when you loved him most, being able to have him like no one else did. The same feeling always hit you at certain moments, particularly ones of domesticity, like when you watched him back the car out of the driveway or when he stood in the kitchen in the morning in nothing but socks, boxers, and his ratty old robe, singing along to old big band jazz as he waited for the coffee to brew. There was Harry Styles the musician, Harry Styles the actor, and Harry Styles the performer, but then there was your Harry.

"Yeah, okay," you sighed, moving off of him quickly to remove your bra and panties. You climbed back onto the bed and threw your leg over his hips, straddling him. He immediately reached for you and pulled you flush against his chest, his lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss.

You rocked your hips against him as he held you, your slick arousal gliding along his length, drawing a moan from both of you.

"Baby, please," he panted, and you could only mod in agreement, lost already to the sweeping feeling of your close release.

His hands rested on your hips as you positioned him at the entrance between your legs. You groaned in harmony as you worked down him slowly, the only sound in the room was your shared heavy breathing and gasps.

"Fuck me," he sighed as you set a slow pace, rocking on top of him to reach each spot that you know will get you there.

"Workin' on it," you grin. A quick swivel of your hips hit at just the right angle and you tossed your head back, repeating the movement over and over again until you shuddered with a final snap of tension, your orgasm rolling over you as Harry helped you move, hands tight on your hips, to wring all you could from the release.

"You look so beautiful right now, like a fuckin' angel," Harry said, voice low and gravely, accent thick with need.

"How's that line go?" you said as you slowed down, smirking when a harsh rock of your hips caused Harry to moan. "'Turns out she's a devil in between the sheets'?"

"Fuck," he groaned again, eyes closed tightly. "Can't just go reciting my own lyrics to me while I"m buried in ya like this, love."

"And there's nothing you can do about it," you continued, singing the line of his song this time, and his hips buck up into yours harshly.

"You're gonna pay for that," he had said, quoting another of his songs, before he had flipped you over onto your back and set his own brutal pace.

///

Like he can read your thoughts, Harry beams and wags a finger in your direction and the crowd screams at your chemistry together. You grab your mic from its stand and take a step towards Harry to sing the chorus together.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive." Harry dances off to the side of the stage, performing once again for the crowd.

You dance at center stage with your wireless mic, too excited about performing with Harry that you can't stand in one spot. The music and Harry's energy make you want to move. "You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it."

"We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh! La da da da da!" Harry throws his head back, singing along in his own world and you can't look away from him. He really was a rockstar and getting to share the stage with him like this was an experience you'd never forget.

"You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

There's a great pause in the lyrics where the guitar, keyboard, and drums play together, increasing the tension of the song. You and Harry take off towards opposite ends of the stage, both reveling in the performance for the crowd as you dance and stomp to the beat. Eventually, with a slide down the keys of the keyboard, the instrumental quiets into just the steady beat of the bass line joined by the hi-hats.

You and Harry urge the crowd to clap along as you both return to the middle of the stage to sing together once again. He always said that this portion of the song was one of his favorites to perform, the repeated line from the bridge ending abruptly with the lights going out before flashing back on, the added theatrics of the performance elevating the climax of the song completely. Having rehearsed that Harry would sing the following chorus alone, you let yourself get lost in his gaze as it settles on you.

You stand facing one another behind the mic stand, once again singing more to one another rather than to the crowd. You step closer towards him as the lyrics progress, nearly chest to chest now with your voices sharing one another's mics. "I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm—"

Before you can sing the last word of the line and the lights can blink out as rehearsed, Harry leans forwards and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. The crowd erupts with screams as the lights above the stage go dark.

You can feel rather than hear him say the words "I love you" against your lips and you have just enough time to repeat them back to him before the drums and guitar pick the beat up once again, the lights flashing back on brightly. He moves away and continues to sing the chorus that follows as if nothing had happened. You're a bit stunned, not having prepared for his relationship-revealing public display of affection to happen during your performance of his song but it was perfect and he knows it. Your smile is wide and you can't help but stand rooted where you are and laugh at what has just finally happened.

"If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive," he sings, smirking at you while you blush across from him.

You join him in singing the last lines, your right hand joining his left hand where everyone can see your fingers entwine.

"You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it. We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh!"

You urge the crowd with a waving hand to join in and they do, singing along with you and Harry. "La da da da da! You get me dizzy, oh, you get me dizzy, oh!"

The drums and guitar end the song on five quick beats and the crowd erupts once again in screams. You immediately jump towards Harry, throwing your arms around his neck in a close embrace. His hands wrap around your waist to hold you close, and you can feel him smile where his face is pressed close to your jaw.

"How was that?" he asks, chuckling against you.

"It was perfect, you're perfect. Thank you, H. For everything."

"Can take you on a proper date now, yeah? Wanna show my girl off to the world."

"Yes, please!" You can't wipe the smile from your face as he sets you down and Harry continues to beam at you as the crowd continues screaming, reeling from your shared performance.

Harry nudges you gently before turning back to them, lifting his and your arms high in the air and leading you in bending for a bow. He steps away from you and turns, opening his arms wide to you for the crowd to praise and you laugh, tearing up at his gesture and the overwhelming emotions of the performance while you take another bow just for yourself.

He pulls you into another hug and you can't help but angle your face up towards him, wordlessly asking for another very quick, very public kiss.

He glances down at you, smiling. "You're gonna love this now, aren't you?"

"Course I am. love showing them you're mine."

He leans down to peck your forehead, your nose, and finally, your lips, as the crowd goes wild. "Love showing them you're mine. You've got a show to finish, love. Go kill it."

///

Ahh! So much fun! This has been such a joy to write and I appreciate you taking the time to give it a chance! It’s my first (of hopefully many) Harry fics - reading all of the stories here has been immensely inspiring, and I’m so looking forward to writing more!

Tagging my love @morganlatte who is a wonderful hype woman and beta reader. Thanks buddy!

Anyways! Thank you for reading! My love language is words of affirmation (aka I have a praise kink) so leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined!

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles story #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #one direction fanfiction #harry styles x you #reader insert fic #my writing #wow!#that was so much fun #i'm so in love with it

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 4 years ago

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Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years ago

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Seeds

remember guys! you can ask me to tag them on future updates

Summary: The idea of a soulmate is well known, they will come to you one day, either as a lover or a friend. A single bond made of invisible thread is what will let you feel their emotions, joys and worries, to experience their pain and for them to feel yours.

But beware, for not all blessed unions are meant to be, if you were to hate and push them away, a slow death shall consume them and a garden will bloom within their chest, the flowers will fight and push to feel the sun from the outside, a poetic dead of a broken lover. A beautiful dead for your hollow existence.

You know that your mother was never a good person, or so you have been told.

Miranda meet her when she came from the city to the village, four months pregnant and with the false story of being “sick”, her sickness? She decided to cheat on her rich husband and she wanted to have you away from prying eyes and possibly abandon you here. Your birth giver was upfront about how "Having a bastard could ruin my lifestyle!", Mother Miranda smiled sweetly and had Alcina give your mother refugee and help during the birth, the Lady agreed and housed the woman.

On the night of your birth, Alcina held you in her arms, begging Miranda to let her keep you, but she denied. You were hers and hers alone.

As for your mother? Only Miranda knows what happened to her, but you suspect, that her body is buried somewhere in the forest, alone and forgotten, you couldn’t care any less.

Miranda was the one to raise you, to love you, the one who would be there when you were sick, to kiss your tears away when nightmares woke you up. She was the one to break your body apart and scream in our face how much of a failure you were, just like Alcina or Donna or those pesky lycans running amok outside, but within your failure, she saw minimal success, you were quick to learn how to care for her experiments, which were the signs of cadou rejection and how to treat it, at least, you could be useful until she placed you in the mansion the villagers were building for you.

You have seen so many people been brought to the lab, so many lives being taken for a selfish reason, that you grew numb, there was no anger or pain, you felt no grief when the test subjects saw you and begged for help, you did nothing for there was nothing inside you.

You are surprised when Miranda begins to show interest in a kid, you know he was brought here years ago and somehow had managed to survive the horrors your mother put him through. Interest grew into an obsession and then into pride, hope, you will forever remember how hard Miranda screamed when her golden child came out a failure too, cursing at the skies and asking why? He had been so close to being her perfect little boy and he turned out to be yet another fuck up.

But she doesn’t throw him away, her favoritism shows when she moved him from the medical area into a room in her private chambers, never allowing you to go close to him, slapping you and kicking up a storm whenever she saw you too close to his door, even if you were passing by. But you never resent him, you can’t hate him or her, all you can do is nod and go away.

But curiosity is something hard to get rid of, and so you waited for days almost a month until Mother left to meet up with Alcina, using the moment to sneak into his room. A beautiful room, compared to yours, he had a big bed with a canopy, the thick curtains prevent you from seeing him, it feels like a fairy tale when you part the curtain to peer inside.

Truly like a fairy tale...a beautiful boy lays there, his golden hair is going gray, probably out of stress. He has a couple of scars on his face and some new ones on his arms. You feel like reaching inside and kiss him to break the spell, but it feels...wrong, like if you could tarnish him even further by touching him, like if your mother would appear and toss you aside for laying one of your dirty hands on his skin. No matter how bad you wish to be his Knight and save him, the terror you feel over defying Mother Miranda’s orders makes you stay still.

And then, it happened.

It began as an agonizing stab in your chest, it made you trip backwards painfully slamming your head against the wall, gasping for air when the pain as a needle began to pierce through you slowly making its way to your heart, a pitiful sob left your mouth, rendering you useless while your body overcomes the initial discomfort. It takes all of your willpower to get straight and look up at the ceiling through your tears, the light it's blinding and it leaves you dizzy, almost ready to empty your stomach.

Karl Heisenberg, age eleven, lays on his luxurious-looking bed, his entire body shakes painfully, breaking through his mouth, and the fever that's racking his body is the only thing keeping him from noticing that, his soulmate is standing a couple of steps away from his bed.

But how do you even know this?

Because Miranda told you about the concept of someone blindingly loving you for all eternity, who would be your other half and the missing piece to your broken existence, Dimitrescu once said that those stories were silly little fantasies, that love should be won over and one should prove to be the right person for someone else and not just have it “hand it over”.

You used to dream of the day you would feel the connection between yourself and another person, of being able to experience their joy when their eyes fell on you. But this is far from what you wanted, what you always wished for! All you can feel is pain, radiating from so many places in your body, rendering you useless, overwhelmed with anger, grief, sorrow for “yourself”.

Everything quickly piles up, so consumed by what Karl is feeling that you don’t hear the tray that falls and the porcelain plates that shatter, you vaguely register the sting of Miranda slapping you and the distant sound of her screams.

She drags you out of the room and into the cold world outside her home, across the heartless forest and you wonder...if you might end up like your mother, buried under some tree to be forgotten. But Miranda keeps walking until she throws you at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu, speaking to the tall woman and leaving you under her care, forever.

When you were younger, you used to fear the Lady. She was imposing and so strong, a self-made matriarch, but she's so careful when helping you up and guiding you through her beautiful home, her hands are so kind when she helps you to undress and sit in the tub filled with warm water, racking her fingers through your messy hair...so this is what a mother truly is like?

She only leaves you alone when she goes to fetch anything you could wear, looking displeased when she hands you a maid's uniform "We must send for the seamstress, I cannot have you wearing those shabby clothes" that, for some reason gets you to smile.

Later, her movements are soft as she runs a brush through your hair, the fire makes the wood crack and explode, filling the room with a nice warmth, something you never lacked off but that never truly permeated your body.

"Y/N, care to explain why mother Miranda was so angry, earlier?" you hear the concern in her voice, a bit of worry hidden in a stern tone.

Alcina can see you shrink a bit, as if ashamed of what you had done “I saw the kid mother keeps in her chambers” it comes out like a whisper, scared of Miranda appearing at that moment to slap you again “I think he’s my soul mate, Alcina!”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckles lightly and smiles when you turn around to look at her ”Your soul mate, some dirty man-thing? Oh my sweet girl I hope it isn’t real and you were just revolted by the sight of a man!”

“But I felt his pain and his emotions...it was scary, but maybe he will love me!”

“Just because you can feel what he feels, doesn’t mean everything will be alright. That’s why those romances are so volatile, darling! There’s no real reason for them to work beyond being stubborn and tell yourself that it will work out” the lady is classy and gracious in her movements as she poured herself another glass of wine “That the other person at the end of your bond will fall to their knees the moment they see you, but in reality, they might resent your sole existence and end up killing you!”

“Killing me?” that comes as a surprise, you have never heard of this.

“Yes...a cruel and unjust dead” Alcina brings you to her lap letting one of her hands spread over your small chest with a sorrowful look on her face “Your lungs will get infested with flowers, a bouquet of throe will bloom within your body, each day the garden will grow and fight to see the sun beyond your mouth and it will rob you of all air and kill you in no time”

She sees you wonder about it, a million questions that you wish to ask, everything falling apart when her curious daughters come into the room, moved by the rumors some maids had shared about their mother adopting another child. All too eager to know their new sister.

After that day, the topic is never brought up.

You grow and learn everything under Alcina’s guidance, the woman is hellbent on making a lady out of you. She teaches you how to read and write, about math and how to sing, applauding when you show her the gift the cadou in your stomach gave you, Midas' touch.

Her daughters and your self-appointed sisters, all laugh and joke around you, treat you like if you were another human when you are no different from their mother, another failed creation, a remainder that Miranda was cursed to not have what she wants. But the love of your little family drowns those thoughts, leaving the happiness of your existence in a nice home and the ever-presence of pain and resentment in the back of your head.

As you grow you notice, each cut and wound that leaves a scar on your skin turns to gold when made by you, but looks as pale lines when made by Heisenberg. You can’t help but laugh when the idea of being a piece of pottery repaired via kintsugi pops in your head, and for a moment you ask yourself if Heisenberg also has golden scars to match yours?

You cry the day when you finally leave the castle, trying hard to convey your love for your mother and sisters with hugs and kisses, in low whispers, promises of coming over as much as you can. The Lady kisses your forehead and sends you off with some final words of advice.

"Never lower your head and always do your best, remember you have us and we would never let you fall"

You are eighteen when you become the miracle worker of the village, crafting medicines with alchemy, signing at the church when the congregation asks you to, turning anything into gold with your touch, smiling with grace, and claiming to have been blessed with a precious gift by Mother Miranda to help the poor and keep the village off absolute agony. In the end, everything tastes like vile and ash, the forced smiles and the sweet tone of your voice make you gang behind the long veil that covers your face.

The days when you sing at the church, are the only ones when you can feel all his hatred directed at you, each painful stab making your eyes tear, yet you keep on making the people happy with hymns crafted before you were even born. If you could let him feel how similar your anger for Miranda is, perhaps the pain in your chest would dissipate, but you can't because you are hollow.

Among the villagers you are Lady Y/N L/N, the golden touch child, you are adored and blindly loved, Miranda smiles radiantly whenever she hears nothing but good words from her cattle, how much they dote on you, ready to serve without a thought, the eagerness to work under you. You may have been a failed vessel but you are a success as a flycatcher, bringing the sheep down to the slaughterhouse to be sent to the other Lords.

On meeting day, the pain and emotions that you feel seem to amplify the closer you are to Heisenberg.

As you sit beside your adoptive mother, your smaller hand in hers, while Mother Miranda speaks and praises each one of her children, lingering a bit too much on her golden child. The pressure in your chest grows, it feels like when you submerge in the tub as if your lungs were being crushed under an invisible force, ready to cough and gasp for air.

Across from you, he sits, posture closed and annoyed beyond belief when Miranda asks him to stay a bit longer after the meeting is done, you feel relief when Lady Dimitrescu gets up, opting to ignore Heisenberg in favor of bringing you back to the castle for your scheduled visit.

You two aren't even halfway through your journey back when you notice you are missing something, a small gift for today's reunion, a bag of fine jasmine tea.

"Mother, I need to get back. It seems I misplaced something, you go ahead!"

There's no time for Alcina to respond before you volt back to the church, the soft lace of your veil beautifully flying behind your hurried steps, slowly dropping your speed the closer you get to the entrance of the building, from it you can see Miranda, she as shed her mask off and is touching Heisenberg's face the way you have seen brides or wives touch their husbands' faces.

A pulse of repugnance and despise make you stumble back, pressing your back against the outer wall, it feels like the first time you met him, it's blinding and leaves you disoriented for a second, a hand flies up to your mouth when a wave of nausea hits you. He's not only pissed, he feels filthy and is suppressing a murderous intent behind a mask of indifference.

The sensation grows and grows until it's crushing you. One look up and you see him standing before you, a hand caging you between him and pillar.

"What are you doing here, freak? The tall bitch sent you to spy on me? tell her to fuck off" this isn't the first time you hear his voice, but it feels like it, even if his words are filled with malice, they taste like bitter wine for you.

"NO!...I mean...no, Lord Heisenberg. I came back because I lost something, a small bag"

"So you are afraid the dog stole from you, are you calling me a thief?" your mouth opens to explain to him once more, but the burly man only growls and steps away "Think whatever you want, I can't care any less for whatever the scum thinks of me"

Later, in the solitude of your home, you will call yourself an idiot, asking yourself why you reached for his empty hand when he turned around ready to leave, why you didn't revealed who you were, why you didn't cried when the man slammed your body against the wall.

"DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME, BITCH!" Heisenberg's tobacco infused breath hits your face, the painful stab of hatred felt like if your body were being torn apart "I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE LIKE YOU, YOU MAKE SICK!"

This time, when he turns around to leave, you don't reach out, you stay there, gasping for hair and coughing like if you were drowning, a slick sensation in your throat makes you gag and cough harder than before, both of your hands are cupped over your mouth, scared at the idea of throwing up.

Thank God you don't.

The moment passes and your body calms down, but your eyes grow wide when you see what made you gag.

A single yellow carnation petal covered in spit rests between your hands.

-----

Yelow Carnation: rejection and disdain

tag list: @happygalaxymilkshake @mightybeeb @kittyb2000

#re8 #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader

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0613magazine · 2 years ago

Text

210514 Rolling Stone - j-hope

j-hope on Growing Up in BTS, His Next Mixtape, and More

"We wanted to make music that can give people more strength," says j-hope, in the first of our digital cover stories starring each BTS member

One of BTS’ many high-profile fans, Late Late Show host James Corden, says the group is “at their core, a force for good.” With his dimpled smile, warm manner, and fierce stage presence, 27-year-old rapper, dancer, songwriter, and producer j-hope embodies the group’s combination of fundamental goodness and overwhelming talent; even his choice of stage name radiates positivity. In the first of Rolling Stone‘s breakout interviews with each of the seven members of BTS, j-hope looked back at the group’s early days, reflected on his musical future, and more. He spoke from a studio room at the Seoul headquarters of the group’s label, HYBE’s Big Hit Music, wearing an olive coat over a crisp white T-shirt. His energy was restrained compared to his relentlessly buoyant TV interviews, but his high-watt smile was never far away.

Did you wake up and come straight here, or did you get a chance to do anything else this morning? I went to the bathroom! [laughs]

So what have you learned about yourself over the course of this pandemic year? It was an opportunity to learn how precious our ordinary lives were. I had to think about how my life should go on and how I should just stay calm and focus even during these times. It was a time to reflect on myself a lot.

And what did you take away from that reflection? The takeaway is I have to do what I can do best. Time goes on and life flows on, and we just have to keep doing music and performances. I just thought that I have to make music that can give consolation and a sense of hope to other people. You know, we’re just people, like everybody else. So we feel the same way as everybody else. So we just wanted to make music and do performances that other people can resonate with and that can give people more strength.

What you’re saying reminds me of the message of “Life Goes On,” which is a beautiful song. That song came from thinking about what can we do during this time, during the Covid pandemic. It’s about the stories that we can tell at this point in time. It motivated us to really talk among the members about what we are feeling. So I feel that it’s an important song.

In some of your lyrics, you’ve revealed that there is sometimes a sadness behind the smile that everyone loves. How do you balance the positivity that you present to the world with the more complex emotions you may experience in real life? Things are really different from how it used to be. I just try to show who I really am. I think that’s the most comfortable for me. Everybody has, you know, different sides from what they show. Of course, I do have a burden and a pressure as an artist. I just take them in for what they are. I just try to express that I’m going to overcome these difficulties.

If I express those things, I think that also gives me a sense of consolation as well. We have been communicating with our fans ever since we became artists, but now I think it’s become more natural and comfortable. Before we tried to only show them the good side, the bright side of us. As my name is j-hope, I only tried to show the bright side of our group and myself. But as the time passes by, one cannot feel the same way forever so I also felt other emotions. I tried to express those emotions through music or dialogue, to express them in a very beautiful way.

One of those songs is “Outro: Ego.” What were you thinking when you wrote that one? It’s really about self-reflection, reflecting on who I am, my ego, as the name implies. It’s about the life of Jung Ho-seok [j-hope’s real name] as an individual, and the life of j-hope. And the conclusion that I draw from this inner reflection is that I believe in myself and I believe who I am, and this is my identity. And then these are the challenges that I have faced, and I’ll continue to face these challenges and do new things by relying on who I am.

In 2018, you released the mixtape Hope World, which was a major artistic achievement. What are your favorite memories of working on it? You know, looking back, I think it was really pure, innocent, and beautiful that I could do such music at those times. When I work on music right now, I have an opportunity to go back to those emotions and think, “Oh, those were the days.” I think it really has a good influence on my music that I work on now. Through the mixtape I learned a lot, and I think it really shaped the direction that I want to go in as an artist, as a musician. I’m really just grateful that so many people loved my mixtape. I am planning to keep on working on music and to try to show people a [style of] music unique to j-hope.

What are your thoughts on a second mixtape? Right now, the goal is to get inspired and make good music. Nothing is decided yet, so I’m just going to keep working on music. I think my style of music will not greatly change, but I think it will be more mature. I will try to contain stories that I really want to tell in the second mixtape.

You just released the full version of the song “Blue Side” from Hope World. Was that just something you had the whole time, or did you finish it more recently? It wasn’t a full version at that time, so I always had the thought of going back to that song and completing it. I always had that in mind. I think it was like two weeks or one month ago that I finally came to think that “Oh, I want to finish this song.” As I mentioned earlier, I really look back onto the emotions that I have when I worked on the mixtape.

When you started as a trainee you hadn’t rapped at all. You’ve obviously come a long way and developed some serious skills — what was that learning process like? I still think I have some shortcomings. I still think that I have a long way to go, to learn more things. I have to find my own unique style. But I think I could only come this far thanks to the other members. When I first started training, all the members were rappers in that crew. So when you go into the house, beats were dropping, and everyone was just rapping in freestyle. It was kind of not easy to adapt at first, but I really tried hard to adapt to that new environment. And I think those were good times and good memories, and it was really fun as well.

You were very young when you began as a trainee. What’s it been like to grow up in BTS? I think during my training, life was far apart from being ordinary. Because other guys, my friends, would do schoolwork at school and go on field trips and build memories as a student. And of course I chose this career, my own path, giving up those things. Maybe I could feel unfortunate to not to have experienced those things, but I was chasing my dreams. And meeting the members during our trainee days was really amazing, because it is just amazing that different people who were so different could come together to form a group. And I really want to thank those guys, and I sometimes I feel like I really want to go back to those days.

What do you think when you look back at BTS’ earliest videos, when you all had this almost tough image? Back when we had released “No More Dream,” our music embodied the battle against prejudice and oppression. So naturally, such values carried over to the style and visual aspects of the release as well. You could say it was our identity and the image that we also portrayed at that moment. But we can’t forever dwell in that static state. As time flows, things change and trends change, as did our tendencies in music. We took into account the influences around us, including, of course, our audiences. These influences guided us toward our own change in musical style and concepts.

You’ve all said many times that when you first got together, there were conflicts because you had different backgrounds and different values. What were some of the key differences that made it tough early on? We were just really different from the beginning, so it was awkward. It did take time to get used to it. We were living together, but we had to make sure we each had our own personal spaces. Eventually we learned to understand each other, and now we’ve been doing this for so long together that we have this sort of harmony, an understanding of each other that allows us to have the kind of teamwork we have. And each of us has different roles and different things we do in the music, so we also try to help each other in what we’re doing and try to help each other become better.

Source: Rolling Stone

#2021 #bts #j-hope #rolling stone

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sugawara5 · 3 years ago

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a world without you

genre: angst

warnings: suicide mentions

summary: the love story of you and dazai osamu. and it's ending.

note: i wrote this at 2 in the morning so I might repost to fix stuff. Sorry for any errors, I'll fix them later or smth idk. I got too poetic oops. (if you actually read this- ily)

word count: 1.1k

=============================

The first time you met, he’d grabbed your hand with a devilish smirk, asking you to commit double suicide with him around ten seconds into knowing you. His silver tongue drawing you into him so much that the expression on his face when you said yes was etched infinitely in your mind.

“But not yet-” you had said right after. “I’ll only die with you when I fall in love with you.” You knew it was your fault, your words that had ended you up here. His smile did not falter when you spoke of your condition, instead he pulled you to your feet and had you experience memories so vivid you couldn’t ever forget them. “The only thing better then committing suicide with a beautiful person, is commiting suicide with a beautiful person you love.”

You remembered staying up till two in the morning, dancing to whatever song came on, eating old take out, laughing your hearts out. He grabbed your waist gently and twirled you around his living room, dipping you every now and then. The sharp pain on your hip from when he had accidentally dropped you and the long stream of apologies falling from his mouth felt like it was yesterday.

You remembered him taking you on little adventures throughout the city. Sometimes it was cafes, other times it was trails he had found in a park. He’d never failed to show you something that spiked your curiosity and made you want to kiss him for being so amazing. You remembered how he’d grabbed your arm and pulled you into a Ferris Wheel telling you about how he’d jump from the top when the fireworks started. But when they did, he was too busy talking to you about what he was going to show you tomorrow then to remember his words. That was the moment you had finally started wanting to fulfill his wish. You were falling in love.

You remembered him giggling for ten minutes straight after you had touched one of his ticklish spots, and how he had immediately tried to find yours. Both of you were in tears by the end of the day, your ribs aching from laughing so much and your arms limp next to you. He had wrapped you in his arms right after, nuzzling his face into your neck, speaking softly into your collarbone every now and then.

You remembered every single time he smiled at you from across the room and waved you over, introducing you to his coworkers or bragging about you to random strangers in the store. It had always embarrassed you. But oh- the things you would do to have him do it again just one more time.

You remembered his hands on you. The gentle kisses he’d lain on your lips, his hair messed up from the night before and his bandages unraveled on the floor. You’re so beautiful, he had said, taking you into his arms and laying your head on his bare chest. The cold biting your skin, but his warmth enveloping you from the other side. And for a while, everything was ok.

“I love you, Osamu.”

Oh, how things had gone from there.

Everything became a memory. No more waking up in the morning with him beside you. No more holding his hands while walking around the shore. No more laughing at the TV at midnight. Gone, it was gone, everything was gone. Forever.

You didn’t know why it happened yourself. Why Dazai Osamu never showed up to your house the next day like he always did with food and a flower he picked on his way to you. He had just disappeared from your life.

He didn’t pick up his phone, nor did he reply to your texts. You knocked on his apartment door but no one answered. You called the agency, they said he wasn’t at work. At first you thought he might have needed to do something important, you knew how he was, always full of surprises.

But the grand finale he threw your way was nothing but cold and bitter abandonment.

Weeks had gone, and you hadn’t heard a word from the burnette. You knew that he was really, truly, gone. And it was finally settling on you. You hated the feeling more than anything in the world. You didn’t want it to settle on you. You wanted to stay in denial forever because then, at least you had hope that he’d come back. Even if that hope was so obviously fake.

And then the day came.

A single email, sent to you at noon on a rainy day. Sent by an unknown. But you knew exactly who “unknown” was.

Dearest-

I’m sorry.

Though it was me who offered, I have to back out of my request.

I’ve come to realize you cannot die, you have a whole life ahead of you to live. I’ve only spent a while with you but I can say with determination that I’ve never met anyone as vivid and fascinating. You are alluring to me, pulling me back again and again like some drug I took to feel something and ended up being addicted to. But it is impossible for me to keep tasting you like this. It’s dangerous, and will end only in tragedy worse then this one.

I cannot have you dying, love. I cannot imagine taking away such a beautiful creature from the Earth for my own selfish desires. What will this world do without your smile? Without your words? Without your touch? A world without your existence would hold some meaning- possibly. But what would that meaning be?

A meaning dull and rusted compared to what it was before, yes.

I apologize again but I will not commit suicide with you. It seems to me, almost like a crime. A horrendous crime even my inhuman self wouldn’t dare to commit. I cannot meet you again either, it will lead to complications. I hope you forgive me over time. If you do not, I understand.

I doubt a day will go by without you crossing my mind. I shall dream about holding you in my arms. About laying kisses on your body and going to sleep with you. Till the end of time, I shall think of you darling. Of reaching you. Of meeting you. And of loving you.

It ended there, no signature. You felt empty as you closed the tab and trudged to your empty, cold bed. It felt as if you were laying on ice, only the distant remembrance of warmth existing, a memory you never expected to experience again. Not in such a brilliant and aweing way at least.

How painful his words are, you thought as you closed your eyes. How beautiful and how painful.

#dazai #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #im sorry its three am #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #gojo satoru #dazai bsd #anime #send help

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felassan · 3 years ago

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Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’(

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets.

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene 👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan 👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died.

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

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A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

#dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dark fortress spoilers #dark fortress spoiler #dragon age #bioware #fenris #spoilers #spoiler #dragon age: dark fortress spoilers #dragon age: dark fortress spoiler #the Fenaissance #feels #gpoy

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bamf-jaskier · 4 years ago

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What the fuck is up with Triss and Geralt (in the books)

Hello! and in today’s wtf post, here is a summary of the relationship (or lack thereof, sorry Triss) of her and Geralt’s relationship in the books.

TLDR: At the end of the day, Triss and Geralt have a clearly described mutual attraction to each other through all the books. However, Geralt’s attraction to Triss does not compare to his love for Yennefer and as such, despite Triss and Geralt sleeping together once, they set boundaries and relegate each other to friends. Geralt never fully stops being slightly drawn to and sympathetic towards Triss and Triss never fully falls out of love with Geralt.

CW for minority graphic depictions of violence (standard for the books)

More under the cut:

So, let’s start out with their backstory. Here’s a snippet describing their hook-up from Blood of Elves.

Then Geralt of Rivia appeared. A witcher leading a stormy life, and tied to her good friend Yennefer in a strange, turbulent and almost violent relationship.

Triss had watched them both and was jealous even though it seemed there was little to be jealous of. Their relationship quite obviously made them both unhappy, had led straight to destruction, pain and yet, against all logic… it had lasted. Triss couldn’t understand it. And it had fascinated her. It had fascinated her to such an extent that she had seduced the witcher – with the help of a little magic.

She had hit on a propitious moment, a moment when he and Yennefer had scratched at each other’s eyes yet again and had abruptly parted. Geralt had needed warmth, and had wanted to forget.

No, Triss had not desired to take him away from Yennefer. As a matter of fact, her friend was more important to her than he was. But her brief relationship with the witcher had not disappointed. She had found what she was looking for – emotions in the form of guilt, anxiety and pain. His pain.

She had experienced his emotions, it had excited her and, when they parted, she had been unable to forget it. And she had only recently understood what pain is. The moment when she had overwhelmingly wanted to be with him again. For a short while – just for a moment – to be with him.

So Geralt and Triss had sex once, and it is important to note that while CDPR took the interpretation that this meant Triss had assaulted Geralt and used that in their games, this is not explicitly said in canon. The single line “she had seduced the witcher – with the help of a little magic.” is also likely to be referring to how mages use transformation magic in order to alter their appearance to be more beautiful. This is mentioned by Fringilla in Baptism of Fire:

She herself had regularly ridiculed the crude image painted by gossip and propaganda of the typical sorceress from the North: artificially beautiful, arrogant, vain and spoiled to the limits of perversion, and often beyond them.

Even then, Geralt has a pattern (similar to Yennefer as well with Istredd) of sleeping with other people such as Fringilla herself in Lady of the Lake when him and Yennefer are on a break. So it’s important to note for their relationship in the books, that there is nothing in the text that says that Triss assaulted Geralt and that is simply another literary interpretation of the relationship and not directly canon.

Sometime after their hook-up Triss is presumed dead at the Battle of Sodden but goes to Kaer Morhen in order to teach Ciri magic. Here is Geralt and Triss’s reunion in Blood of Elves.

“I’ll take your horse,” offered Geralt, reaching for the reins. Triss surreptitiously shifted her hand and their palms joined. So did their eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” she said naturally. “There are a few little things in the saddle-bags which I’ll need.”

“You gave me a very disagreeable experience not so long ago,” he muttered as soon as they had entered the stable. “I studied your impressive tombstone with my own eyes. The obelisk in memory of your heroic death at the battle of Sodden. The news that it was a mistake only reached me recently. I can’t understand how anyone could mistake anyone else for you, Triss.”

“It’s a long story,” she answered. “I’ll tell you some time. And please forgive me for the disagreeable moment.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’ve not had many reasons to be happy of late and the feelings I experienced on hearing that you lived cannot compare to any other. Except perhaps what I feel now when I look at you.”

Triss felt something explode inside her. Her fear of meeting the white-haired witcher, which had accompanied her throughout her journey, had struggled within her with her hope of having such a meeting. Followed by the sight of that tired, jaded face, those sick eyes which saw everything, cold and calculating, which were unnaturally calm but yet so infused with emotion…

She threw her arms around his neck, instantly, without thinking. She caught hold of his hand, abruptly placed it on the nape of her neck, under her hair. A tingling ran down her back, penetrated her with such rapture she almost cried out. In order to muffle and restrain the cry her lips found his lips and stuck to them. She trembled, pressing hard against him, her excitement building and increasing, forgetting herself more and more.

Geralt did not forget himself.

“Triss…Please.”

“Oh, Geralt… So much…”

“Triss.” He moved her away delicately. “We’re not alone… They’re coming.”

So they have a (bit) of a spicy post-death reunion where Geralt says some very nice and heartfelt things things that make Triss especially horny. Triss almost orgasms from a hug and kisses Geralt to avoid moaning (can you tell this series was written by a man yet?)

Then later, Geralt and Triss have a conversation about Geralt needing to reach out to Yennefer because Ciri’s trances and magic are becoming overwhelming. In fact, in this scene, Triss is pretty shaken up because she was just in a joint-trance with Ciri. So, post-trance in Blood of Elves Geralt brings up their past hook-up:

“You have to get help from another magician. A more gifted one. More experienced. You know who I’m talking about.”

“I do.” He turned his head away, clenched his lips.

“Don’t resist. Don’t defend yourself. I can guess why you turned to me rather than her. Overcome your pride, crush your rancour and obstinacy. There is no point to it, you’ll torture yourself to death. And you are risking Ciri’s health and life in the process. Another trance is liable to be more dangerous to her than the Trial of Grasses. Ask Yennefer for help, Geralt.”

“And you, Triss?”

“What about me?” She swallowed with difficulty. “I’m not important. I let you down. I let you down… in everything. I was… I was your mistake. Nothing more.”

“Mistakes,” he said with effort, “are also important to me. I don’t cross them out of my life, or memory. And I never blame others for them. You are important to me, Triss, and always will be. You never let me down. Never. Believe me.”

She remained silent a long while.

“I will stay until spring,” she said finally, struggling against her shaking voice. “I will stay with Ciri… I will watch over her. Day and night. I will be with her day and night. And when spring is here… when spring is here we will take her to Melitele’s Temple in Ellander. The thing that wants to possess her might not be able to reach her in the temple. And then you will ask Yennefer for help.”

“All right, Triss. Thank you.”

“Geralt?”

“Yes.”

“Ciri said something else, didn’t she? Something only you heard. Tell me what it was.”

“No,” he protested and his voice quivered. “No, Triss.��

“Please.”

“She wasn’t speaking to me.”

“I know. She was speaking to me. Tell me, please.”

“After coming to… When I picked her up… She whispered: ‘Forget about him. Don’t torture him.’”

“I won’t,” she said quietly. “But I can’t forget. Forgive me.”

“I am the one who ought to be asking for forgiveness. And not only asking you.”

“You love her that much,” she stated, not asking.

“That much,” he admitted in a whisper after a long moment of silence.

“Geralt.”

“Yes, Triss?”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“Triss…”

“Only stay.”

“All right.”

Okay this scene makes me feel a lot of emotions because Triss knows she has to let go of Geralt and she genuinely wants to because she values her friendship with Yennefer more. But like she said, she can’t forget. And it’s also important that in the same way Triss asks forgiveness, Geralt is asking forgiveness too. He knows that he slept with Triss while still in love with Yennefer and while, like he says, he doesn’t think his mistake is unimportant, he is not going to pursue a romantic relationship with Triss.

This scene is so important because it sets the boundaries for the two of them. Especially at the end with Triss asking Geralt to stay the night with her platonically, it’s them trying to re-gain their friendship without the romantic aspect. Triss is a pretty insecure character in the books. In fact, in an interview when asked what immediately came to mind when her name was mentioned, Andrzej Sapkowski said: insecure and red-headed. So her setting these boundaries for herself is important and Geralt setting these boundaries is important as well.

After this, Geralt stays as as close friend of Triss, even comforting her when she recounts the Battle of Sodden (which btw is one of my favorite book Triss moments in the series, it’s so powerful).

Then, Triss is traveling with Ciri and Geralt and gets very bad food poisoning and basically has to be nursed back to health by the two of them and Geralt has to literally hold her as she shits herself in the woods. So it’s nice that he’s being a supportive friends but also it’s a gross situation.

On the road, when asked by Yarpen who Triss is to Geralt (Triss is currently very sick and asleep) he replies in Blood of Elves:

“Who is this Triss to you?”

“What difference does it make in this situation?”

“In this situation – none. I asked out of an inappropriate curiosity born of the desire to start new rumours going around the inns. But be that as it may, you’re mighty attracted to this enchantress, Geralt.”

The witcher smiled sadly.

You can tell that there is a still a lingering sense of attraction. But it’s not love and it pales in comparison to what Geralt feels for Yennefer. So it’s important Geralt keeps up the boundaries he set earlier. But it’s not just Geralt who has trouble letting go. When Triss is in the worst part of her fever she says this to Geralt:

“Oh, Geralt,” she sobbed. “I so regret… I so regret that what was between us”

“Triss, please.”

“…it should have happened… now. When I’m better… It would be entirely different… I could… I could even—”

“Triss.”

“I envy Yennefer… I envy her you—”

“Ciri, step out.”

“But—”

“Go, please.”

It’s hard for the both of them, in my opinion Triss far more than Geralt but they both struggle.

It’s important to note that at the end of Blood of Elves, Yennefer also finds out the whole story about Triss and Geralt from Ciri:

There was a subject which the girl [Ciri] instinctively and carefully avoided. But one day, she got carried away and spoke out. About Triss Merigold. Yennefer, as if casually, as if indifferently, asking as if banal, sparing questions, dragged the rest from her. Her eyes were hard and impenetrable.

Now, the next time Geralt and Triss meet, Geralt and Yennefer were invited along by Philippa to attend a mages’ meeting on the island Thanedd. Here is their meeting from Time of Contempt:

They went over to Triss, who was shimmering in shades of blue and pale green. On seeing them, Triss broke off her conversation with two sorcerers, smiled radiantly and hugged Yennefer; the ritual of kissing the air near each other’s ears was repeated. Geralt took the proffered hand, but decided to act contrary to the rules of etiquette; he embraced the chestnut-haired enchantress and kissed her on her soft cheek, as downy as a peach. Triss blushed faintly.

So, Yennefer knows that they slept together but they all seem to be able to co-exist together which is good. Yennefer and Triss even have a sem-nice conversation about Ciri together moments later:

“They’re on excellent terms,’ Yennefer warned her gravely. ‘Be careful, Triss. Don’t breathe a word to him about–about you know who.’

‘I know. I’ll be careful. And by the way…’ Triss lowered her voice. ‘How’s she doing? Will I be able to see her?’

‘If you finally decide to run classes at Aretuza,’ smiled Yennefer, ‘you’ll be able to see her very often.’

‘Ah,’ said Triss, opening her eyes widely. ‘I see. Is Ciri…?’

‘Be quiet, Triss. We’ll talk about it later. Tomorrow. After the Council.”

“Tomorrow?’ said Triss, smiling strangely. Yennefer frowned, but before she had time to ask a question, a slight commotion suddenly broke out in the hall.”

This is an important conversation, because Philippa set up the Thanned meeting as a way to arrest Nilfgaardian mages such as Vilgefortz and Francesca and Triss was in on this planned coup while Yennefer was not. However, I don’t want to get too off-track, so back to Geralt and Triss’ relationship!

Triss in Time of Contempt, mentions to Geralt that Yennefer is member of the mage’s council and asks Yennefer why she hadn’t told Geralt yet and this is Yennefer’s reply:

“No, darling,’ said the enchantress, looking her friend straight in the eyes. ‘For one thing, I don’t like to boast. For another, there’s been no time. I haven’t seen Geralt for ages, and we have a lot of catching up to do. There’s already a long list. We’re going through it point by point.’

‘I see,’ said Triss hesitantly. ‘Hmm… After such a long time I understand. You must have lots to talk about…’

‘Talking,’ smiled Yennefer suggestively, giving the Witcher another smouldering glance, ‘is way down the list. Right at the very bottom, Triss.’

The chestnut-haired enchantress was clearly discomfited and blushed faintly.

‘I see,’ she said, playing in embarrassment with her lapis-lazuli heart.

‘I’m so glad you do. Geralt, bring us some wine. No, not from that page. From that one, over there.”

Then, Geralt asks Yennefer once he and her are alone and says:

“Sure you didn’t go a bit too far?’ he asked coldly. Yennefer’s eyes flared violet.”

“Don’t try to make a fool out of me. Did you think I don’t know about you and her?’

‘If that’s what you—’

‘That’s precisely what,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘Don’t make stupid faces, and refrain from comments. And above all, don’t try to lie to me. I’ve known Triss longer than I’ve known you. We like each other. We understand each other wonderfully and will always do so, irrespective of various minor… incidents. Just then it seemed to me she had some doubts. So I put her right, and that’s that. Let’s not discuss it any further.”

So underneath this exterior, there’s definitely some tension and we see Yennefer’s possessive side come out. Needless to say, Triss isn’t going anywhere near Geralt romantically while Yennefer is in the picture. However, it is important to note that Yennefer still highly values Triss’ friendship, going so far as to daydream about her being in their lives if Yennefer and Geralt were to ever retire.

Then, during the coup on Thanned, Geralt’s leg is horribly injured and Triss is the one who saves him (although she did help cause the coup in the first place). From Time of Contempt:

Now Geralt could see nothing and hear nothing. He was sinking, submerging into something warm. He thought Vilgefortz had gone. He was astonished, then, when a fierce blow from the iron staff struck his thigh, smashing the shaft of his femur.

If anything occurred after that, he did not remember it.

‘Hang in there, Geralt. Don’t give up,’ repeated Triss Merigold endlessly. ‘Hang in there. Don’t die… Please don’t die…’

‘Ciri…’

‘Don’t talk. I’ll soon get you out of here. Hold on… Damn I’m too weak, by the gods…’

‘Yennefer… I have to—’

‘You don’t have to do anything! You can’t do anything! Hang in there. Don’t give up… Don’t faint… Don’t die, please…’

She dragged him across the floor, which was littered with bodies. He saw his chest and belly covered in blood, which was streaming from his nose. He saw his leg. It was twisted at a strange angle and seemed much shorter than the intact one. He didn’t feel any pain. He felt cold. His entire body was cold, numb and foreign. He wanted to puke.

‘Hold on, Geralt. Help is coming from Aretuza. It’ll soon be here…’

Triss basically drags Geralt to Tissaia and begs for help. Tissaia reluctantly gives help and Triss teleports Geralt from Thanned to Brokilon to be healed by the dryads and tells only Dandelion where he is and keeps Geralt’s location a secret. Both Yennefer and Ciri are missing after the coup.

However, once Triss fully commits herself to the Lodge of Sorceresses, she puts their well-being above all her previous connections. In The Tower of Swallows, she is even willing to let Geralt die as he didn’t serve the purposes of the Lodge:

“The information,” Yennefer said dully, “for his life. Save him, Philippa.”

“No, Yennefer.”

“Because it's not in the interest of the Lodge.” A purple fire kindled in the sorceress’ eyes. “Did you hear that Triss? There, you have your Lodge. You see their true colors, their true interests. And what do you think of them? You were a mentor to the girl, almost – as you put it – a big sister. And Geralt…”

“Do not attack Triss’ relationships, Yennefer.” Philippa retaliated with her own fire in her eyes. “We will find and rescue the girl without your help. And if you succeed, that's fine, a thousand thanks, because you will have saved us the trouble. You tear the girl out of the hands of Vilgefortz and we will be happy. And Geralt? Who cares about Geralt?”

“Did you hear that, Triss?”

“Forgive me,” said Triss Merigold dully. “Forgive me, Yennefer.”

“Oh, no, Triss. Never.”

While Triss takes many steps to try and find and save Ciri, she does nothing of the sort for Geralt and it appears that she has abandoned much of their friendship (and Yennefer’s) in favor of The Lodge. Despite this, Triss still showcases jealously whenever someone else mentions being involved with Geralt.

For example, in Lady of the Lake, Fringilla is summarizing her seduction of Geralt and his responses and says:

“December came,” she continued. “Then Yule, then the New Year. The witcher calmed down to the point where Ciri’s name no longer showed up in every conversation. The monster hunting expeditions, which he regularly undertook, seemed to completely avail him. Well, maybe not completely…”

She trailed off. She thought she had seen Triss Merigold’s blue eyes flash with hatred. But perhaps it had just been a reflection of the flickering candle flames.

Seeing The Lodge like this is a turning point for Triss and she regrets joining The Lodge and her actions in The Tower of Swallows and says as much to Nenneke in Lady of the Lake:

“I cannot go madly hurrying after Ciri to help her, I cannot run like crazy to save Geralt and Yennefer. Not only that, there is a war, which you have sent your girls… A war, that Jarre fled to and I am refused the possibility to even stand on a hill. To once again stand on a hill. Knowing this time, I’d made the right decision.”

“Everyone has their decisions and everyone has their hills, Triss,” the priestess said quietly. “Everyone. You cannot escape your own.”

This arc of jealously, betrayal, and love comes to a head when Triss accompanies Ciri and Yennefer to Rivia to try and rescue Geralt from an uprising. Yennefer rounds on Triss and the two of them have an absolutely vitriolic fight. From Lady of the Lake:

Triss averted her face, determined not to give Yennefer any excuse. She did not expect it to work. For a long time she had been sensing Yennefer’s anger and aggression growing stronger as they approached Rivia.

“You, Triss,” Yennefer mischievously insisted, “do not blush, do not sigh, do not drool or wiggle around in your saddle. Or is it that you think because I agreed to your request that I want to have you with us? That I was interested in seeing you spend a meeting with an old love? Ciri, I asked you to go on ahead. The two of us need to talk!”

“It is not a discussion, it is a lecture.” Ciri dared to argue, but under the threatening glare from violet eyes, she immediately recoiled, clucked and galloped off on Kelpie on the road ahead.

“You’re not going to meet a loved one, Triss,” Yennefer continued. “I am not so noble or stupid enough to give you the opportunity, or him the temptation. But just for today. I could not deny myself the sweet satisfaction. He will know what role you play as a member of the Lodge. He will thank you for that with his famous look. And I’ll be looking at your quivering lips and trembling hands, I will listen to your lame apologies and excuses. And you know what, Triss? I will faint with delight.”

“I knew,” Triss grunted. “That you would not forget, that you would take your revenge. I agreed to this, because I was actually at fault. But one thing I must tell you, Yennefer. Do not count too much on fainting. He knows how to forgive.

“He knows what was done to him, of course,” Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “But he will never forgive you for what was done to Ciri. And me.”

“It is possible,” Triss swallowed. “He may not forgive. Especially if you insist. But he won’t fly into a rage. He won’t lower himself like that.”

“Yennefer flicked her horse with her whip in anger. The animal whinnied and leapt and the sorceress swayed in her saddle.

“Enough talk,” she snapped. “More humility, you smug viper! He is my man, mine and only mine! Do you understand? You have to stop talking about him, to stop thinking about him, you have to stop admiring his noble character… As of right now, right now! Oh I want to grab you by your matted red hair…

“Try it!” Screamed Triss. “Just try it, you vindictive bitch and I’ll scratch out your eyes! I…”

The both fell silent when they saw the cloud of dust as Ciri galloped back towards them.

That fight was particularly ugly and it’s built out of a lot of repressed feelings and betrayal over the course of the story that these two refused to properly address. However, the two of them put this aside in order to work together and fight together in the end of Lady of the Lake, but this post is not for analyzing Yennefer and Triss’ relationship so I won’t link the quote.

#holy shit this post turned out ridiculously long #so kudos to anyone who makes it through the end #also now I want to do analyses for all the characters' various relationships like Yennefer and Triss #the witcher #meta #triss Merigold #geralt #triss #the witcher books #Andrzej Sapkowski #the time of contempt #the tower of swallows #baptism of fire #blood of elves #the lady of the lake #myposts #wtf series

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seventfics · 3 years ago

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Lionhearted

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Talking in your Sleep Relationships: Cirilla/Morvran Voorhis (+ background Emhyr/Geralt) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Before her future reign can begin, Cirilla has to commit to the trust exercise that is an arranged marriage. If only her sleep would be peaceful.

Read on AO3

* * *

“...Cirilla?”

Ciri stirs fully awake at a gentle touch over her shoulder. It is a miracle she does not lash out instinctively and break something. Her limbs feel tight, aching by how tense they’d become in sleep. The faint shadows of a nightmare still dance behind her eyes. She hears the clopping of hooves, the horses of the Wild Hunt approaching—the cold blast of winter hits her as if naked in the snow.

Pure imagination. The bedroom is warm-lit by a hearth. It is summer, and she is safe. She is more than safe.

The touch that rose her pulls her back from the lingering vision of doom. She turns to light eyes, pinched in worry.

“Sorry..." She draws the sheets closer, her wild hair a fan over her face. The room is warm, but a chill runs under her skin all the same. "Did I disturb you?”

Morvran studies her. He sits a comfortable distance away from her. The monstrously-large bed makes that easy. “Not really.”

Slowly, her muscles unwind from their tense curl. A minute passes, and she’s tired again. “Don’t let me keep you awake,” she says rolling on her side, and then, almost a whisper, “you know, you can call me Ciri.”

* * *

The final battle is over. It has been for a peaceful few years. And yet, her mind stays restless, ready for the next enemy to come tearing through her life. So far it’s only been arrogant old men with predictable ambitions, which is pitiful compared to the ageless Aen Elle that had chased her through time and space, and the world-ending White Frost waiting at the end of it all. Really, they should step up their game if they want to make her sweat.

Her dreams made of frost and blood do most of the work for them. It's inescapable. Exhausting.

Every time she wakes from snow clogging her lungs, she sees Morvran had stirred awake in the night, and she apologizes with genuine-felt guilt.

Her husband is always polite about it, which is hard for her to accept at first. Experience tells her to expect a confrontation, or a fight about affecting him with her sleeplessness. But Morvran—she discovers quickly into their spousal arrangement—is quiet company, even if sometimes he seems a little on edge himself. A soldier's nervousness lies behind his gaze. The General without a war to fight. At least she’s not the only one struggling with peacetime.

They say that marriage forges a bond between two souls. That is what her father—of all people—tells her on one of their joint-breakfast mornings.

“There is a responsibility there," Emhyr says with enviable composure. "He is the only one’s opinion you must consult and rely on with matters of state.”

Ciri nearly scoffs. “Not even yours then?”

“Not even mine. Do you not trust him?”

She thinks long after that, a little angry with his nonchalance. Of course she doesn't. Of course it's not that easy. Ask any other lady or princess what their marriage gave them and see if any one of them bring up the word trust. Her father is biased. His own marriage had been sown by destiny's hand.

And yet, after the whispers of dark dreams rouse her at night, she does trust Morvran to be near, to remind her with his presence that she is no longer a child running from great and powerful enemies anymore. She is the daughter of the Black Sun. Nothing can touch her now.

Would be nice to sleep well again on her own soon, though.

Emhyr accepts her silence and sips his tea while it is still warm. He doesn't say anything about the dark circles under her eyes, and she doesn't talk about why they're there.

Geralt visits not a day after, the first time after her marriage, and he sure won't let it go unaddressed.

“I'm fine, Geralt. Haven’t slept well is all.”

That is all she's willing to say, not wanting to bother him too much when he'd arrived so happy to greet her. But it’s Geralt. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself.

"Haven't slept? You know what that does to your clarity of mind. And are you doing anything about it? Is it the mattress? I tell you, they make them too soft in the south. You need a little firmness to stop you when you're tossing..."

His fussing calms her heart. The opposite would be just as true. If he panics, all her own worries neutralize as she remembers how to think straight for him. They are each other's pillars.

So he frets, and she waves him off, feeling a little better by the second.

Tea together in the garden is a relaxing surprise activity with him, although now that he's brought up the topic of modern furniture and poor craftsmanship, Geralt is grouching about how uncomfortable the chairs are.

“They’re meant to keep your spine straight," she says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, and it’s crap. Doesn’t fit all of me.”

“That’s because you’re carrying fifty pounds of armor and steel. You might not want to rest all your weight on it actually.”

Geralt purposely leans back on his chair, the wood giving an alarming creak. “Are you calling me fat?”

She laughs at him so hard the Impera keeping guard from the garden's entrance twitch their heads to them. They act like a sign of joy from her is a terrifying dragon come to burn the palace down.

“I miss that,” Geralt mutters with a fake pout.

“What? My laughter?”

“Your…ease with it. I know being empress is nothing to scoff at." At the mention of her future court, Ciri touches her imperial diadem—both a symbol of her patrimony and a wedding band. Geralt tracks the gesture. The sigh he gives is heavy and long. "I mean, shit, this whole marriage thing attached to it isn’t what either of us planned for."

The metal warms under her rubbing thumb. "None of what's happened in our journey ever has been."

A witcher's path is unpredictable. One lives by the day and learns to adapt to what comes. And she's doing that still. Adapting like a witcheress. Soon, she'll have to start thinking more like an empress.

"The General," Geralt starts, and she refocuses on him and the serious set of his brow. "He’s a good man at least. A little…eccentric I think, but he is one of the better ones in Emhyr’s court.”

Now it's her turn to grumble, “I know. It’s annoying. I wish I could have a reason to hate him but he’s so…ugh, mannerly!”

This time Geralt laughs, and for a moment, Ciri is a witcher’s child in the wilds again, punting her father’s shoulder for a dumb joke he's pulled at her expense.

She stops suddenly when a familiar figure, all shoulders and dark colors to contrast his light hair, comes through the garden gates. 'Speak of the devil' might be a rude thought to have, yet it perfectly encapsulates how luck draws its cards on her this morning.

“Geralt of Rivia!” comes Morvran’s happy voice. “I thought I heard the rumble of bickering servants on the way here. Now I understand what displeased them so.”

“I’m not wearing their black-and-white cotton traps and you can’t make me.”

Ciri blinks between them. It surprises her how well Geralt gets along with him, and how openly joyous Morvran is being about his company—and yes, she would call him joyous even as his face is subtle in expressing it. Breaking courtly address would normally upset her recently-made husband no matter the suspect. And yet Geralt, who does not mean to do it intentionally, receives no such berating speeches on etiquette and formality. Actually, Morvran shakes his hand the northern way of greeting. Maybe he's good at adapting too.

“Of course not, sir witcher," Morvran says with his other hand raised in acquiescence. "There is no dire interrogation to fulfill at this hour.”

"Don't threaten me with a free clean shave again." To her, he offers a parting, “Alright. I've taken up enough of your time, I’m gonna head out.”

Her heart sinks at the cursory goodbye. This is her father in all but blood leaving her secure little bubble once more, to be a witcher without her. She is not a child anymore—he doesn't ruffle her ashen hair, though she dearly wants him to for old time's sake. It would mess up her diadem and the intricate plaiting of the braids behind her head.

She is not a child anymore, and yet she is already melancholy at the quick turn of his back.

"See you later, Geralt." Her words are a promise. We will see each other again.

As he steps into the flower path that winds back to the guards, Morvran calls out, “His imperial majesty is currently in a meeting.”

Geralt stops. He looks, for some reason, abashed. “What? Why are you telling me that?”

“I thought you would be privy to that information." Morvran shrugs in dismissal. "Va faill."

It's almost funny how fast Geralt stomps out of the garden. As Ciri observes the exchange, all her previous heartache is swept under the rug. There is something she's not picking up. Fortunately it's not all she has to talk about to her present, lingering company.

“It’s weird that you two actually get along.” At her words, Morvran turns to her with open surprise.

“Geralt of Rivia is a genial man," he says, his hands meeting behind his back as is Nilfgaardian custom in public. "I believe anyone would be glad to refresh their acquaintance with him.”

Ciri, who was not raised with said customs and is instead being tutored in them with little success, snorts. Loudly.

“You just like that you can rope him into joining a riding competition on a promise of free food.”

Under all his Nilfgaardian powder, Morvran blushes. She can see it in his ears.

She laughs at him too.

* * *

It’s another night of bad dreams. Her memories have toyed with her enough that now she is witness to futures she cannot control. Geralt alone on the Path, the Empire at war with itself from her negligence, all of her old friends, her family, broken apart and dying as she lives on.

She wakes slowly, not in a startle or a choked breath. Her body aches worse than if she had.

Morvran is already awake beside her, a frown set upon his lips.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Between waking and the dissipating fear of her nightmare, Ciri is caught completely off guard. “I...didn’t, no.”

He doesn't explain any more, choosing to give her space as he's done for previous interrupted nights. Part of her wants to ask more. She wants to hear what she had said—what nightmare had she been speaking into existence. Did he recognize anything? Did he want to ask, but simply refrain out of properness?

Whatever it is she uttered in fever sleep, she lets it go. Talking about it now would be worse, somehow. Like making her nightmares a real, concrete thing.

Sleep still fights her long into the night. It does not come a second time. Which is good, as she opens her eyes to a timely assassination.

The weapon under her pillow slides into her hand not a breath later. She always keeps something sharp and deadly there. Good habit, both her fathers would say, for different reasons.

Before the assassin can strike, Ciri blinks in between time. They are dead where they stand, frozen mid-step, collapsing the very next instant time moves for her.

In the commotion that follows, everyone wakes. The emperor looks as regal and rested as always and Ciri envies that as her hair resembles a rat’s nest, mussed from the fear-sweat of her haunted sleep. At least Morvran is just as unkempt as her. They make quite the competition for most messy bedhead, side by side. And though the hours stretch on, from private meetings to argued suspicions, Morvran looks in his element. Her element.

Put an enemy in front of them and they will beat it down until it’s rid of.

Her mind is driven to this new task. Securing entry points, questioning any guards that had slack. Her edges feels frayed—sticking to Morvran like a shadow as they move from room to room, servant to official, order to action, way past sunrise. Her angry expression turns any worried servant away from asking for her imperial majesty to eat.

The assassin had tried to kill him. And no one seems to be that concerned since her own head is still attached to her shoulders. Not even Morvran.

Things calm down well past noon. They both return tired and dry-eyed to their arranged room.

She touches his sleeve and holds his weary gaze. “If you die I won’t forgive you.”

Morvran nods, like she makes sense. “I would never plan on it. It would upset your father.”

For a second, Ciri doesn’t know which one he means, and that makes her smile stupidly, at its pure truth.

She wipes her grin off before Morvran has a chance to politely appreciate it.

* * *

“You’re antsy.”

Ciri hums, taking a bite of her deviled eggs. “I'm not antsy.”

“You are bending the good fork.”

She stares down at her hand and finds that Emhyr is right and the fork is just a little twisted at the neck.

"I'm sure someone's job is to fix it. Just, call them."

Nothing in her posture or her expression could possibly tell Emhyr what sits heavy in her head, short of him being a mindreader. And yet, somehow, he pieces everything together correctly to ask, “Would it be so terrible for you to like him?”

Ciri sighs, looking up at the ornate chandelier, begging it to crash down on her and get her out of this conversation. Because she already does like Morvran, quite a lot, and it is terrible. She would hate to admit to her father that he is right. He’ll never live it down.

Of course, she doesn't need to say anything at all. Her godsdamned mind-reading father already knows. When did he learn to read her so effortlessly?

...Has he been consulting Geralt?

However it may be, Emhyr clears his throat and straightens his fork on his side of the breakfast table. “Some people," he says as she sulks internally, "are fortunate and marry the one they love. Others find a way to make it work.”

At his following pause, Ciri straightens in her seat to meet his gaze. His silences are always weighty and grave.

“I hope that he is worth the work,” he ends.

Then the moment passes, and he's eating again. Leaving her to contemplate alone what it means that her father, the emperor, might actually want her to be happy with the man who would share her rule once she is officially crowned. It's...it's trusting. It's too much to think about so early in the morning.

Being who she is, however, Ciri returns to the source of her sulk and the many questions it created.

“So, have you spoken with Geralt?”

Emhyr drinks his tea very slowly. “Of course not. Had he anything important to relay to me?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “I'm sure you know he came to visit recently, but you don’t ask me what we talked about?”

“Whatever it is you two get up to does not concern me.”

She hums, sipping her own tea. “It’s funny I guess, I thought you asked of him through Morvran.”

Emhyr sets his cup down, narrowing his eyes in thought. As he studies her, she keeps on sipping her tea until it’s finished. “Just curious,” she adds before parting for the day. Give him something to puzzle over that isn't her.

* * *

'Did you know you talk in your sleep?'

Only two nights of the next seven does she stir awake. Not from bad dreams, exactly. Not from dark memories or anxious fears either. Ciri rubs her face now, frustrated, pulled from sleep again for no apparent reason.

Morvran is awake beside her, as he always is. His face is not pressed with a frown, though. She can't stop thinking on his words so casually spoken the night an assassin tried to take him from her, and settles back onto her enormous pillows.

“...What did I say this time?”

“Oh,” he blinks at her, and it’s sleepy and lazy, not at all very general-like. “Something about a swallow. That you miss it. Did you used to own a bird?”

She closes her eyes briefly, oddly at peace with her sleep talking. He had listened to her secret fears for all these nights, her haunted screams, and made them his own secrets.

If she could trust him to know that, then, it is not so difficult to trust him with the more simple things.

“No. Swallow was the name of my sword. I carried her with me everywhere.”

“Ah. Where is she now?”

“I gave her to Geralt before I came to be here. A witcher’s sword is not something I can wield from a throne.”

He touches his hand to her cheek, the first time he’s breached courtly etiquette with her. It is warm and callused.

“I am confident that sir Geralt keeps Swallow sharp and oiled so that the blade stays strong. I am...sorry,” he says with more awkwardness.

She covers his hand with her own, a little laugh escaping her when he blinks rapidly at her returned touch, like he had not expected it at all. “It's alright. I entrusted her to him.”

Marriage forges a bond between two people.

#morvran x ciri #rarepair summer bingo #tt #myfics

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tepidtrashpile · 4 years ago

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covering taeyong’s parts

I am HEATED.

tldr: i don’t usually do stuff like this but i’m highly caffeinated and have nothing better to do so prepare for a (very convoluted and long) rant cause omg im so fucking mad.

so for those of you who don’t know, nct 2020 had a resonance vlive/concert last night (dec 26/27) and taeyong and jisung were unable to perform due to a back injury (herniated disk) and knee injury respectively.

I’ll mainly be talking about taeyong in this just due to his extrEmely large presence within NCT and also jisung was there to vocally cover his parts.

(also not to take anything away from jisung, however in the sheer amount of screentime and tracks ty is in, him missing is much harder to disguise within a performance with or without vocals)

in order these are the members that covered ty’s parts in each song (tbh i may be forgetting some, but the point is look at how hard they had to work to even fill ty’s dance position within the concert, the boy is in like 50% of their performed tracks)

nct u - boss - sungchan

nct u - the 7th sense - shotaro

nct u - light bulb - yangyang

nct 127 - touch - haechan (first part), johnny (iconic ty and mork), yuta (pulls up in the chorus to fill in ty part to the stage right of jh)

nct u - make a wish - jeno (first part), jaemin (basically rest of the song)

nct 127 - kick it - mark (usually the center parts), jaehyun (first rap), yuta (end dance break), johnny (mark stepped on him rip lol)

nct u - misfit - johnny (start), sungchan (end)

nct 2020 - resonance - jeno / jaemin (?) - dude idk im having trouble keeping up at this point

// I want to make it very clear that NCT would not be where it is without taeyong. I’m not suggesting that he is replaceable in any way, shape or form. however as a person with two parents in the performance industry - and im sure that many of u understand just from general life experience -- the show mUst go on. when you have a presence as large as ty missing, it is undoubtedly going to take a toll on the overall energy and performance but i personally think that the boys fucking killed it -- especially with such a short turnaround from learning that ty would not be performing. (jaemin said that jeno legit had one HOUR to practice the beginning of maw (and by proxy the beginning of resonance) and that amount of talent and skill is unfuckingbelievable) but I digress.

// there is nothing wrong with being disappointed that taeyong cannot perform. (get well soon ty!) he is an incredible performer and human being. there is nothing wrong with seeing (and understanding) that another member filling ty’s part is going to FEEL different, even if they do a phenomenal job. there is nothing wrong with feeling the difference in energy and performance -- there is obviously ANOTHER PERSON doing the part that we are accustomed to. there is nothing wrong with having a conversation and discourse about the performance. however... there IS something wrong with putting down members and harshly criticizing their performance in a malicious way. constructive criticism is one thing, but a lot (not all but an overwhelming amount) of what I have seen in the comments and the little bit of twitter i have been on has just been bashing members (one in particular) about their performance.

// let me get the easy part out of the way here. jaemin and jeno killed it during maw. yuta’s dance break, mark’s center time, jaehyun covering ty’s rap, and johnny stepping up to get stepped on (hehe i’ll stop now don’t mind me) were all surprisingly refreshing. yangyang covering lightbulb was (imo) one of highlights of the concert. for a rapper who often doesn’t get the recognition that he deserves he did a PHENOMENAL job covering the entirety of ty’s parts in his own way and conveying his emotions. yes, the members weren’t the same as taeyong, however, they added their own twist and their own personalities to it. it is in fact BETTER to do this and be remembered for their own style than attempt to emulate someone else’s performance. it is the sign of a great artist to take something and make it your own.

// now, onto the two newest members. i will be candid about this. the biggest difference I felt within the performance was when sungchan and shotaro were covering ty’s parts. tbh this is to be expected (?). i’m not trying to put down the boys but the reality is that they debuted 2-3 MONTHS ago? all of the other members covering ty’s parts have had significantly more experience in every aspect of performing. jaemin and jeno may be about the same age as chan and shotaro but they have upwards of 4 years more experience (debuted anyway, and anyone can tell u that practicing vs the real thing can be a very daunting change) than the other two. the other members have performed in front of a live crowd, they have had time to deal with criticism and learn from it. they are just in every way more experienced, and although we expect great things out of all the members, it is simply unrealistic to expect the same level of performance out of members with 2 years less experience than anyone else on the stage.

aneway...

shotaro covered one of the hardest parts in nct history - taeyong’s 7th sense. in every way - the rap, the technicality of the dance, the sheer charisma ty brings - this was a daunting task. him being a rookie DID show in the performance. this isn’t a bad thing. the tone of his rap did sometimes lack nuance and the level of sophistication that we know taeyong to have. however, i do think shotaro was the right choice for this song. you have to give rookies experience for them to grow, and a concert like this (even without a live crowd) is a great time to do it. (i’ll get into logistics later but bear with me)

the sad reality is that we’re probably not going to have large in person concerts for at least the next year and it will be a long time til travel, concerts, and simply life return to what they were before covid. it will be a very long til the boys get to perform on a stage with the energy of a crowd in the same way they have up til now.

now sungchan. my poor bb sungchan :(

sungchan covered ty’s part is boss (and a little bit in misfit but johnny covered the first part and its more of a hype rap song than one with designated dance moves and centre parts). the dance (in boss) may not be the most technical but this is an unfORGETTABLE song when it comes to taeyong’s part. the beginning “nct leggo?” *chefs kiss*. from what i’ve seen sungchan is the one receiving the most criticism (read hate) about his performance. look, i’m not going to argue that out of all the members who filled ty’s part he was the weakest. (im not trying to hate, but imo his performance was the weakest, u can disagree with me). he definitely less comfortable with covering taeyong’s part than anyone else was - including shotaro. i think most of the criticism is coming from the fact that he just looked anxious and unable to throw himself into the choreo and when comparing him to taeyong (who again just -- idk he’s unexplainable) his performance does fall a little flat. imo the rap was okay, his tone is actually somewhat similar to ty. i really think that most of the hate is stemming from the execution of the choreo rather than the rap. HOWEVER... calling him “stiff as a board” and commenting “cap” emojis does absolutely nothing except spread unnecessary hate. sungchans position is NOT as a dancer. he is only listed as a rapper. shotaro, however, is listed as both a dancer and a rapper. not to say that these listings are the end all be all of a member’s position, but because they are so new they are a decent representation of what SM thought their strengths were. we would love our idols to be aces at everything, but they are human and humans have their strengths and weaknesses. compared to taeyong, and also shotaro, sungchan does not have the technical ability nor the confidence while dancing. I’d like to believe that anyone who analyzes their performances and takes an objective view can understand where i am coming from.

tldr: you are placing unrealistic expectations on a rookie who’s main position is NOT main dancer. you are asking him to fill the shoes of arguably one of the most charismatic and talented rappers, leaders, and centers of 4th gen kpop... as a ROOKIE. his performance is most likely going to show cracks of being relatively new to the stage. its okay to acknowledge that, but don’t be fucking rude when discussing his performance.

// the amount of posts i’ve seen calling sungchan “untalented” “stiff as a board” just im so fucking over it. yes, his performance had its weaknesses but name-calling and just straight up hate does nothing to help a performer and just ruins everyone’s mental. you can bet your ass that every single one of these boys has worked their ass off, given up unimaginable things, and faced challenges to get where they are today. not to mention that (in particular the case of sungchan and shotaro) these boys are young. the other youngest/newest members have had about 2 years (yangyang, xiaojun, hendery) to become accustomed to the criticism and also hatred that comes with being in the spotlight. sungchan is less than a MONTH older than me. shotaro is just a year older than me. my best friend is legit older than both of these boys. idk your age but think about yourself at their age, or where u think you’ll be at their age. they have accomplished SO much and are so young. they’re 19 and 20 and in an internationally recognized band. we know that a lot of these boys (and idols) do read our comments. i don’t care how much media training you’ve received, how strong your mental is, getting called untalented and being hated on is going to take a toll on your mental. along with that, what is the NEED? to spread hate? to show that “huhu, im such a big deal that all these people are responding to me”. like, legit wtf do u gain from this?

// when you are a performer you do open yourself up to criticism, it is part of the job. but criticism and hate are two very different things. to get where nct is today, every single member has to be humble enough to accept guidance AND constructive criticism. we all know how much the boys value nctizens opinions and take them into account when performing. when you are a performer like that you also have to criticize your own work. no matter what profession you are in, no matter what you do, you analyze ur own work and attempt to make it better. i can all but assure u that shotaro and sungchan (and all the boys) know their strengths and weaknesses, know when a specific move, performance, or other area of their ability is not up to par (or they just want to improve which is imperative to success in the music industry)

just be a decent human being. put urself in all of the boy’s shoes and think “hmm how would i feel if some stranger on the internet said this about me” before you make hateful statements.

again, there is nothing wrong with having a discussion and understanding that humans have strengths and weaknesses, but don’t just put someone down because u feel like it.

in case you aren’t convinced to be a decent person, have a more logical (?) approach -- not that u should have to shown a dissertation to be a decent human but i digress.

(think about how many other songs the rest of rap line has to perform, logistically, who else are you going have cover the entierty of boss and 7th sense.)

rap line is: taeyong, mark, lucas, hendery, jeno, jaemin, yangyang, shotaro, sungchan, and jisung (?).

everyone except lucas and hendery (and jisung but bb was injured :( ) covered ty’s part in some aspect. in fact, people not in the friggin rap line helped cover some of ty’s rap (johnny, jaehyun, haechan im looking at you) and other members covered dancing and center parts when they were asked to.

mark is in just as many tracks as ty and was RUNNING around to get to the next song this entire concert. you can legit see his outfit change with jackets and hats. he filled in for ty in kick it (group effort but u get the point) but in 7th sense just to the way that the song works and the dance etc etc, you can’t have mark doing his part as well as ty’s without it falling flat and taking a huge toll on mark. same with boss, marks filling just as big a role as ty and like, legit how do u give this boy mOre lines than he already has. (u can see that sm did a similar thing with jeno and jaemin in the beginning of maw, jeno covers the first part and then jaemin the rest of the song because jaemin can’t leave an open space at the vEry beginning of the song) (10/21 total performances)

lucas isn’t in as many as say mark but he is in boss and make a wish (boss being very hard for him to cover ty’s part, and jeno and jaemin covered maw. if i’m being completely honest i don’t think lucas has the same tone or technical ability to fit into ty’s parts in the songs as much as say - sungchan on a pure technical and tone pov (6/21 total performances)

hendery, similar to lucas isn’t in an absurd amount of tracks but still enough to tire a guy out lol. because of him performing full choreos in other songs it doesn’t make sense for him to learn a completely new choreo while simultaneously having to memorize and practice the others songs. also, in a similar vein of lucas, i just don’t think hendery is the first choice when choosing someone to cover ty’s parts (dont kill me hendery and lucas stans lol) (6/21 total performances)

jeno while jeno isn’t in the sheer number of performances as other members, he does end up covering ty’s starting part in maw (see reasoning for jaemin above). this by proxy means he covers the maw part in resonance. while he does a fantastic job covering the starting part, asking him to learn the entirety of boss or 7th sense would be a fuckton of work. u can legit see him yEEt himself out of camera view after his part - not to mention again that he had an hour to practice lol (6/21 total performances) 7/21 covering

jaemin - first off u can literally see jaemin’s energy fall throughout the final song the boy is so tired by aneyway... it makes total sense for him to cover maw as he already knows the choreo and it take less effort than learning an entirely new song. also, when ur comparing popularity/center time between jeno and jaemin vs. hendery (even lucas sometimes) they simply have more, and when u aRe in the center u have to expend more energy becAuse u are holding the performance together (6/21 performances)

yangyang let me get my yangyang simping out of the way, but this boy is so fucking talented and his rap deserves more praise. lightbulb compared to other songs ty is in, is a more melodic and emotional based song. there is no choreo, therefore the person covering the rap just has to focus on the rap itself rather than the rap AND the choreo. imo this was the best possible choice for someone to cover ty’s part in lightbulb (6/21 total) 7/21 covering ty’s part

shotaro shotaro is only in 4/21 performances. it simply makes sense for the rap line member with the fewest songs to perform to learn a a full choreo. as stated above, 7th sense is the more technically difficult of the songs that required learning and covering a full part. assigning shotaro (the dance line member) to the more challenging choreo is just the easy choice -- especially if ya’ll gonna come for sungchan’s dancing skills, give the damn song to shotaro smh (4/21 performances) 5 when covering 7th sense

sungchan tied with shotaro for the fewest performances (just by nature of being the newest members) in the same way that it makes sense for shotaro to learn a full choreo, it makes sense for sungchan. reasoning for the assigned songs above. (4/21 total performacnes) 5 with boss

// the songs where they didn’t have a designated member cover most/all of taeyong’s parts were in the 127 songs as well as in baby don’t stop (ten and taeyong duet). 127 is the most veteran of the nct subgroups, and is in general just more accustomed to filling in parts (ie winwin - screw u sm lol). they have johnny who trained as a rapper who can fill in, jaehyun, haechan, and yuta have all proven that they can cover rap with more a sing-rap style and mark can take/cover parts when it is logistically possible.

// in 127′s songs although ty does often take center and many lines, in general 127 is just a more well rounded group. (don’t come for my ass). in the same way that dream has an undeniable chemistry, 127 is the same way. when you work with the same group of people for an extended period of time without many (if any) changes you just build better chemistry. in nct u taeyong takes more of the spotlight just due to his charisma and raw power. think about it. which performance suffered more due to taeyong’s absence: touch / kick it or make a wish / boss / 7th sense.

also: because 127 is a fixed unit all the boys know the choreo and have consistently performed it at concerts allowing for member to step in where they know they are comfortable without the amount of discussion it might otherwise take in a rotational group

// take a second to think about a certain performance without taeyong in it. it may just be me, but i think 127 fare much better without their leader than any rotational group without taeyong very (firmly ?) bolstering the performance in the center. (taeyong doesn’t hold all these titles for nothing, he is truly another breed)

// in baby don’t stop they didn’t even attempt to cover taeyong’s absence. idk if that was ten putting his foot down and saying that he didn’t want someone covering the part or if it was more of a choice based on marketing and fanservice. baby don’t stop is truly ten and taeyong’s song and idk if even pairing 10 with a dancer with ty’s vocal in the backtrack would have received positive feedback.

if you have somehow made it this far props to you lol. a rant that started because i wanted to defend sungchan has turned into a long analysis of members... whoops.

tldr: just be a decent human being. everyone in nct is human. a talented, multifaceted, human with strengths and weaknesses. being a nctizen doesn’t mean not being proud, disappointed, happy, or any other emotion about the boys. but it does mean treating the boys and other fans with respect.

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wherethingscomebackx · 5 years ago

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Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

It’s that time again!

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2019 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) Foolishy Laying Our Hearts on the Table by @runaway-train-works (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

24.) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers (126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

23.) all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie (310k)

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

22.) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2 (25k)

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

21.) You Have to Retreat to Advance by @2tiedships2 (18k)

“What am I going to do, Perrie? I can’t go on this retreat by myself. My boss literally said he wants to meet my omega.” Harry paused. “Okay, not literally but he definitely expects me to be bringing him.”

“Don’t people go on these things by themselves?” Perrie asked.

Harry shrugged. “Of course but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“My boss is expecting to meet my omega! I don’t have an omega!”

“Is this a paying gig?” Perrie asked.

“You mean paying an omega to spend the weekend with me? I’m sure the resort has nice amenities. Does that count?”

“I take that as a no,” Perrie said with an eye roll. “It’s okay, Louis might be willing to do it for free.”

“Who’s Louis?”

Or the one where Harry is expected to bring his longterm omega to the company's mountain retreat. Since he hadn't told anyone that they'd broken up months ago, he now has to find someone willing to play the part.

20.) A Darker Shade of Love by LittleSpoonStyles94 (750k)

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

19.) You Still Make Sense to Me by @amories (37k)

Harry, Louis, and their family navigate life together through the years.

18.) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon (119k)

“I’m sorry your highness, I think I misheard you, did you really say that you are hoping to meet your husband?” Oh god, Louis panicked. Was Prince Harry gay? Was he even allowed to be gay? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed to have a selection from a group of men, right?

Prince Harry looked partly like he wanted to laugh, but also very, very nervous about what he had just admitted, “Yes, sir, you heard correctly”

Or Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

17.) waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds (59k)

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

16.) Call Answered by @vondrostes (249k)

The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

15.) Counterbalance by @louandhazaf (44k)

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

14.) Everywhere and Nowhere by @2tiedships2 (16k)

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

13.) Swallow The Knife by whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

12.) and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in woe by ihavetoomuchfreetime (70k)

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

11.) thinking about the t-shirt you slept in by @absoloutenonsense (52k)

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

10.) Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

9.) Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo (76k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

8.) Pain makes people change by Deidei (113k)

An organization called Canis Lupus existed solely for changing humans imprisoned in their wolf form back to their human form. Some people after experiencing some traumatic event can only ‘’protect’’ themselves from the pain by forgetting everything. To do that, to feel safe, they shift into their wolf form.

Which they'll be stuck in forever should no one intervene.

Louis Tomlison went through a traumatic experience at the age of twelve in which he lost his mother, to make the pain go away he shifted into a wolf and fled. He survived in the wild as a wolf for five years until Canis Lupis caught him... Though he wasn't alone, he had a pup at his side.

7.) Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (113k)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

6.) Enemies with benefits by ssii8 (267k)

Where Harry is captain of basketball team and Louis is captain of football team and they hate each other. But somehow this doesn't stop them from having sex.

And everything is perfect until they start to feel something more.

5.) Ready To Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

4.) Close to Nowhere by @angelichl (34k)

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

3.) Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl (40k)

They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

2.) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

1.) All My Colours by IceQueenRia (267k)

Green… yellow… red. Red! RED!!!

Some people were born Dominant and others submissive. Sixteen year old Louis Tomlinson was a submissive and was proud to be so… until he was forced to his knees for the first time. The man before him was every subs nightmare, an abusive Dom, the kind who didn’t believe in the colour ‘red’ unless it was in the form of blood.

There were others, but Louis was the ‘favourite’ and he was the one the Dom liked to ‘play with’ the most. In fact, when the rescue team arrived, Louis was the one currently providing ‘service’ to the Dom.

Louis, Zayn and Niall are abused subs. Liam Payne is their devoted new Guidance Counsellor who just wants to make Niall smile and hear Zayn speak. As for Louis, he knows his guidance won’t be enough to help the boy heal. No, Louis Tomlinson needs something very special and very specific. He needs Harry Styles.

#larry #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomlinson #fic rec #larry fic rec #one direction #1d #one direction fan fiction #larry fan fiction #larry is real #larry fic #dom/sub fic #alpha/beta/omega verse #1d fan fiction

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