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#but there is always the found family trope I am sure I can shove in there somewhere
stardustmorozov · 3 years
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What is this brilliant AU you are speaking so mysteriously about??? 👀
So, ever since our talk of a Young!Aleksander and my semi-rewatch of The Secret Of Moonacre, I thought of writing an AU on it for our favourite Shadow Summoner, though I can't yet decide on which side of the story I want him...
And it would be a reader insert of course, but my brain doesn't seem to want to plot... 😔
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ragingbookdragon · 3 years
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Even Though We May Be Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through, I Was Made For Loving You PT. 1
Batsis x Kyle Rayner
Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language
Author's Note: I realize the other story didn't follow the whole, dating the brother's best friend trope, so I decided to remedy it. And what do you get when you cross a hopeless romantic with someone who's new to love? Perfection. That's what. Enjoy! -Thorne
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Saturday mornings, in Dick’s opinion, were meant for sleeping in and quite possibly going to IHOP when everyone finally crawled out of bed at ten. They were not meant for being shoved in the side by a little brother.
“Golden-boy,” a voice grouched from beneath the bedside. “Your phone’s been going off for an hour. Either put it on silent or answer the goddamn thing.”
Dick let out a tired ‘pfft’, rolling onto his stomach, face buried in the side of the bed as he looked down to the floor. “Annoyed much, Little-wing?”
“I am going to shove that phone so far up your—”
Reaching over, Dick put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”
Where are you?
“Still in bed,” he responded, sentence ending in a groan as he stretched. “Why?”
You were supposed to be on the flight back to Gotham two hours ago.
Dick’s eyes went wide, and he sat up, gaping at the bedside clock. “It’s today.”
It is today. I can’t believe you forgot it was today.
“Oh my God, it’s today and we missed our flight.” He stumbled out of the bed, barely registering the shout from Jason as his foot landed in his brother’s stomach. “Jason, get up! It’s today!’
“What’s today?” his little brother griped, rubbing his abdomen.
“(Y/N)’s coming back!”
Jason’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly finding his bag to change out of his nightclothes. “Christ, I can’t believe we forgot that (Y/N) was coming home today!” he looked at Dick. “This is your fault.”
“My fault?” Dick yelped. “How is this my fault!”
He scowled. “Big brother wanted everyone to be with a sibling for the night, so they’d be together and be punctual but you and I both know neither of us have any concept of time.” His scowl grew. “I knew I should’ve bunked with Cass. She’s on time no matter what happens.”
Dick threw Jason’s sweatshirt at him. “Dress now, bitch later.” He put the phone back to his ear. “We missed our flight, but we can drive there.”
Your car’s in the shop.
“Shit,” he hissed, spinning in a circle to help his brain circuit enough to think of something new. “Uh-uh-uh—”
“Kyle!” Jason shouted, pointing at him. “Kyle’s like thirty minutes away from Manhattan! We’ll go to him for a ride!”
Dick grinned. “We’ll find Kyle.”
You sure Kyle’s at home?
“Pfft, Kyle’s always home on the weekends. He’s lazy.”
Just get here. (Y/N)’s plane is going to land in less than four hours.
“We’ll be there,” he said. “Is Diana coming too?”
Of course. She is (Y/N)’s mother.
“Nice. Alright, see you in Gotham, Bruce.”
Love you boys. And be careful. I’ve already heard that Cass, Tim, and Steph got into a fender-bender with Damian and Duke.
Dick blinked. “They’re…they’re legitimately driving separate cars? How’d they hit each other?”
Don’t ask.
The line went dead, and Dick looked at his brother. “Ready?”
Jason nodded. “Already got an Uber to Kyle’s place.”
“We could always just Uber to Gotham?” he offered, and Jason recoiled with a shocked look.
“And pay a ridiculous amount of money instead of just paying Kyle’s gas? Fuck no, big brother.” He shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets. “C’mon!” he chirped, rather excitedly. “Our baby sister’s coming home!”
***
When he swung the door open to yell at whoever was pounding on it, he wasn’t expecting to see two of his best friends grinning like idiots. “Wha—”
He’d barely gotten a word out when Jason shoved a bag of fast food in his hands. “Get dressed. You’ve gotta drive us to Gotham City.”
Kyle blinked, glancing down at the bag before looking at Dick. “Why?”
“Our sister’s coming home, and we overslept and missed out flight outta here.”
“And you came to me…why?” he asked.
“Because you have the functioning car.” Jason retorted, antsy on his feet. “C’mon Kyle. We have to hurry! (Y/N)’s coming home!”
Figuring it was better to agree than to argue, Kyle relented, handing back the bag of food before he disappeared into his apartment, reappearing moments later, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a graphic tee, and his usual slim casual jacket. He took the bag back and started digging around in it.
“Who’s (Y/N)?” he inquired, biting into a breakfast burrito as he locked his front door behind him.
“Our baby sister.” Jason said.
“I thought Cass was your baby sister?”
Dick nodded, getting out his own breakfast from the bag. “She is. But (Y/N)’s like…the OG baby sister.”
Kyle blinked, glancing over at him as he pushed the elevator button. “That makes no sense.”
“He means that (Y/N) was around before Cass was.”
“And she isn’t with you guys why?”
“She’s been on Themyscira for the last few years training with her grandmother and the other Amazons.” Jason answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, stepping onto the elevator.
Kyle merely stared at the two brothers who were looking back at him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Wait, your sister’s an Amazon?”
“Yep.”
“Who’s her mom?” he asked, stepping between them.
“Wonder Woman.” Dick said.
Strike two. “Who’s her dad?”
“Batman.” Jason responded.
Believe it or not, Kyle went three for three punches to the gut. “Bruce and Diana had a kid together?”
“Yeah.” Dick murmured. “I think it’s also why B’s so insistent against inter-team-relations.” He nudged Jason behind Kyle. “First time he attempts dating a coworker he ends up with a baby.”
Jason snorted. “And all those lessons about, ‘Children, whatever you do, don’t date anyone on your team. It’ll only lead to babies and limited visitation’.” He laughed again, then he frowned. “I don’t think any of us have followed that lesson.”
Dick opened his mouth to make an excuse but all that came out was a pitiful, deflate of air followed by, “That’s actually a good point.”
The elevator dinged and they watched the doors open before walking out towards the parking garage. They climbed into Kyle’s car, Jason in the front because his legs were longer than Dick’s, and Dick was a contortionist anyways so if anyone deserved to have their knees in their chest, it was him.
Halfway through the drive Kyle asked, “You guys are paying for my gas, aren’t you?”
All he received was unsure responses and he merely sighed.
***
He figured he should’ve just dropped Jason and Dick off at the airport in Gotham and drove home, but he couldn’t help but want to see just what the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman looked like. He imagined a little girl dressed in a Batman suit three sizes too big and wielding a sword and a lasso way too heavy for her. It made him smile, the way that the two brothers gushed about (Y/N). From their praise, she was their world. Kyle had to see her though, because nothing was going to satiate that curiosity of seeing the big Batman’s daughter.
He watched Dick and Jason crane their necks like birds as they looked around. And honestly, the family shouldn’t have been that hard to find considering that every time Kyle was around the entirety of the Batfamily, they were like psychos on steroids—he very much so understood why the entirety of Gotham’s villains became flighty when every member of the Batfamily was out patrolling.
Kyle wasn’t expecting a voice to crack over the airport, loud and bubbly. “Brothers!”
All three of them stopped, even him who wasn’t even a sibling, looking over towards the call and Kyle’s jaw dropped as a young woman sprinted over to Dick and Jason, slamming into them with the weight of a train. The three of them collapsed into a pile on the floor, but they were laughing so Kyle assumed the siblings were alright.
“Princess!”
“Baby girl!”
“Oh, I am so glad to see you both!” she exclaimed. “I have waited so long to come home!” she was on her feet in moments, pulling them to theirs as if they weighed nothing. And Kyle knew Jason weighed a lot—he’d been crushed under his best friend before in fights.
Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at Kyle who immediately felt his heart lurch under her sharp gaze. “Who is this you have brought?”
Jason gestured to him. “(Y/N) this is Kyle. He’s a friend of Dick and mine. Kyle, this is our little sister, (Y/N).”
She huffed laugh. “I am not little, Jason. I am twenty-one.” Reaching out, she immediately pulled Kyle in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It is good to meet you, Kyle.”
“You too,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm as she pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.
“Any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.” (Y/N) smiled. “Are you a superhero as well?”
He couldn’t help but toss a quick glance towards Jason who nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Green Lantern.”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened in wonder, and she let go of his shoulders in favor of grabbing at his hands until she found his ring. She stared at it, murmuring quiet, ‘ooo’s and ah’s’. “That is simply amazing!” she chirped, looking at him, and then she silently gasped, raising his hand near his eyes. “Oh…your eyes are almost the same color as your ring.”
Her smile made Kyle’s heart beat a little faster as she expressed, “They are beautiful.”
They gazed at each other, too captivated in the moment to understand that the family had gathered around them by then. Someone’s hand curled around (Y/N)’s wrist and she looked over seeing Dick tugging her hand away.
“C’mon Princess, let’s go get your things on the belt.”
She smiled and followed, giving a small wave to Kyle, who returned hers shakily whilst grinning like a dope.
Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he gasped, holding his side as Jason muttered, “Don’t ever stare at my sister like that again.”
Kyle blinked, glancing at him. “What’re you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you goddamn skirt-chaser.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Kyle spluttered.
“You’re thinking about it.” Jason warned, pointing a finger in his face. “Make a move on (Y/N) and I’ll kill you with your own ring.” Kyle recoiled just as she and Dick were coming back, both holding a suitcase.
“Father!” she called, glancing at Bruce. “Dick and I have retrieved my luggage.”
He smiled at her. “Let’s go put it in the SUV then.” He paused, looking over the large group. He and Diana had ridden together, and since his children had fender-benders, they’d picked up Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian; there wasn’t room for (Y/N) too.
“Father? Is something the matter?” (Y/N) was staring at him with concern.
“There’s not enough room in the SUV for you too. Maybe we—”
“There’s room in my car for (Y/N)!” Kyle blurted out, smiling nervously at Bruce. “I can follow behind you.”
Before anyone could screech ‘NO!’, mainly Dick and Jason, (Y/N) lit up like the morning sun. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” she grabbed onto Diana’s arm. “We should all stop for ice-cream though! Mother, what do you say?”
She smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her head. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea, daughter.”
Kyle grinned and held out his arm for (Y/N), her giggling as she took it. “You know, I don’t live in Gotham, (Y/N), but I do know a good gelato store around the area.”
“What is gelato?” she asked, and he groaned.
“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.” He started off, pilling her along, leaving everyone behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”
Jason’s face pinched and he looked over at Bruce. “Can I break the no-kill rule just once?”
Bruce blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter laughing along with Kyle, both looking like newlyweds already. “Believe it or not, I’m strongly considering it.”
“Bruce.” Diana admonished. “Let (Y/N) and Kyle become friends. You know she doesn’t have many outside this family here.”
Dick growled. “Except Kyle doesn’t want to be friends with (Y/N), Diana. He wants to be her boyfriend.”
“They just met though?”
“Yeah, and Kyle’s a propose on week two type of man,” Jason griped. “Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster.”
“I don’t know about you guys, but (Y/N) and Kyle said gelato and you guys are just standing here.” Tim said. “Can we go now?”
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brokenbutnotquiting · 3 years
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Nancy Drew: Curse of the Exasperated Parent (I)
Chapter 1 of my first multi-chapter fic.
Summary: When a curse that threatens everyone in Horseshoe Bay comes to light, Nancy needs to work with two partners who just cannot seem to work together, babysit three kids who think she is their mom, juggle feelings for her impromptu baby-daddy and so much more, to find a way to save everyone.
A word of caution: this one will be as slowburn as I can possibly make it, with loads of upcoming jealousy, a hell lot of fluff, as many tropes as I can manage to fit into it, and an honest attempt at writing three very different and very perceptive kids who are #nace as much as I am.
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The pounding on her door only got louder the more she wanted to avoid it. Nancy squinted at the clock on her bedside table, and groaned out loud at the intruder. 6:15 a.m.
6. Fucking. 15. In. The. Damned. Morning. On a Sunday.
"For fuck's sake," Nancy cursed, getting up and trudging down the staircase to the front door. She didn't bother with any robes, because honestly, if she was going to be irritable with being woken up at the crack of dawn after a particularly long night at the Claw, then the intruder on her sleep can damn well be uncomfortable at her being barely clothed.
She grasps the door handle when the door almost breaks down from the pounding it is taking, and Nancy was completely prepared to give the intruder a piece of her mind— hell, she has her mouth open and the first syllables almost out— but the words dry up as soon as she realises who it was that had chosen such violence against humanity.
Detective Tamura stood on her front porch, fist raised no doubt to cause some more havoc, his face haggard, eyes wild and bloodshot, hair mused, and with an overall look of someone who has, quite subtly gone round the bend. Or at the very least, been hit by a truck. Or so it looked.
Nancy huffed at the man, but he barely acknowledged her and almost shoved her aside as he rushed inside before she could invite him in. Not that she had thought that far.
"Detective," she followed Tamura to her kitchen, how he knew the layout to her house she didn't bother asking.
"I need your help." He said. And that was how Nancy knew that the world was surely coming to an end. She wanted to gloat. Oh, she really did, but, something about the desperation leaking from the always calm and collected, and competent—she would deny ever saying that—detective, stopped her from making any comments. She merely gestured for the man to take a seat, and went forward to make a pot of coffee.
Tamura sat down with a soft groan, and took out three files which he had hidden somewhere inside his jacket. Opened one and pushed it towards where Nancy was perched.
A man, of perhaps thirty, with a toothy smile stared at her from the picture pinned on the top beside the picture of a baby with an equally toothless grin. She looked over the name, the address, and the general info silently. Nancy glanced over to Tamura who was openly staring at her with a peculiar expression she couldn't really place. She raised her brow at him.
What is this about? She asked him with a silent look.
"His wife came over, hysterical, claiming that her husband had sleep-walked into the Gorham Woods under some sort of trance, and she had barely blinked but he wasn't there anymore. This baby was." He said in a voice that relied just how frustrated he was to even entertain a claim like that.
"His wife claimed that her husband just somehow turned into a baby?" Nancy asked. Even with all her experience with the supernatural, she found this a little hard to believe, but then, this happened in the Gorham Woods, so perhaps it wasn't such a ridiculous claim.
"We did a DNA test between the baby and their daughter, for a potential half-sibling match. It was completely possible that the man had cheated and chose this weird way to let his wife know and perhaps leave his family. The results claim a father-daughter match between the one year old baby boy, and the barely six-year-old daughter."
"So it's a potential curse," Nancy murmured.
Tamura continued after a short breath, "two days after this case came around, another wife came bawling about her husband turning into a baby, barely two years of age. One day after that, a man came with another baby, this time of three years, claiming that it was his girlfriend. The DNA reports support their claims."
Nancy nodded. "I know you believe in supernatural occurrences, and I wholeheartedly didn't, but this case has..." He shrugged helplessly.
She could understand his predicament. One year ago, even she would have scoffed at the idea of curses and supernatural entities, and ghosts and vengeful sea spirits, but after everything with Lucy, Tiffany Hudson, the Aglaeca, the Wraith, fire spirits, and list keeps growing, Nancy felt like a de-aging curse that randomly turned grown people into babies was right up her alley and definitely not Tamura's.
"I might know someone who can help look into it," Nancy said with a steaming cup of coffee as she set another cup in front of the haggard detective. She knew a trip to the Historical Society was overdue anyways. She wondered what the rest of her friends would say to this case. What Ace...
Nope, Nancy decided. She wouldn't call him about this. Not yet. There was no need to ruin his vacation with more of the things he had left the town for.
She took a deep breath followed by a calming sip. "Take a nap, detective, I will give you a call once I get a headway."
He didn't complain. Nancy could see the exhaustion in every move, as Tamura took a few sips of the coffee, gave her a nod, and took off.
Nancy wondered if he would be quite this docile the next time she met him. She probably would regret this, but she sort of missed his quips. This dejected newly-but-reluctantly-accepting-of-the-supernatural man just didn't light the same fire to prove him wrong as did the previous version of him. And she sort of missed him.
With a sigh, but with the thrill of a new case spreading through her, Nancy took the case files to her room. Setting her coffee cup down, she spread the files on her bed, and took her phone to send in messages to Bess, George and Nick separately to meet at the Claw around 10. She carefully avoiding the group chat which had over a hundred unread messages— updates from Ace and Bess's excited replies, which Nancy was sure was excited enough for all of them combined.
She had a hunch she would probably regret not telling Ace, and her heart ached at not having had him with her, but Nancy knew him. Ace was clever. He would come back, whenever that was— he had barely said goodbye so she didn't have a return date to look forward to, and if she were still working this case, he would join in with the same ease he did everything with. But maybe she would solve this without him, and then she would have something to talk about without having to sit and listen to him tell her all about the romantic parts of his vacation.
Yes, Nancy reasoned. That would be for the best.
But the universe worked in mysterious ways.
What Nancy didn't know, and certainly couldn't comprehend at that fateful Sunday morning— her life was going get a lot messier before she got to the best part.
Two days later, as if the curse had a personal interest in causing havoc in the life of Nancy Drew, it claimed three more victims, all at once, stranding Nancy with three very tiny selves of Bess, George and Nick. By the pattern of the curse—Nancy really should have guessed earlier— they turned to the ever perceptive, every talkative, four-year olds.
And thus ensued never-before-seen Chaos.
And THAT was what Ace came home to merely one week later— to three four-year-old kids clinging to Nancy as she opened her door to stare dumbfounded into the pale blue eyes of her favourite hacker. Although the presence of the three kids wasn't what almost brought Ace to his knees. It was the dark-brown haired girl with pigtails who detached herself from the fiery redheaded woman, the girl with the braids and the boy still holding onto her leg, to jump into his arms with a squeel and a soft, "dad."
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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years
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Funny Little Ups and Downs
Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.
Word Count: 3,824
Pairing: Loki x Sigyn
A/N: Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Cozy wrote something happy! I actually wrote the majority of this over three months ago, then got stuck on the ending and forgot all about it until a few days ago. It’s inspired by “I Love Melvin,” a silly little musical from 1953 starring Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor that employs my favorite trope of all time: the main character’s little sibling bonding with the romantic interest. It’s fun, it’s cute, and I just had to write it. Consider it an apology for all the angst I’ve been throwing your way XD
Warnings: None
Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname
If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)
Read it on Ao3!
Spring in Asgard was truly something to behold. The last dredges of winter melted into memory, leaving behind a crispness in the air and a radiance in the land as vibrant life bloomed across the planet. It was a kind of brilliance that one could hardly resist, and so it was no surprise that the palace gardens were alive with activity— novice warriors sparring in the field, strolling couples engaged in lively conversation, giggling children chasing each other through the labyrinth of brick and shrubbery.
It seemed the very universe was mocking him.
Loki held his head in his hands, huddled in a despondent heap at the edge of the garden bench. It was truly amazing how quickly the sweet spring air turned foul. The day had started with such promise, and now …
“Hi your Highness!” Loki jumped when the little girl plopped down next to him without a warning, crumbs spilling into her braids as she munched on a cookie.
He sighed. “Oh, hello Milla.” He couldn’t say he particularly cared for company at the moment, but he couldn’t find the energy to shoo her off.
Milla studied him, chewing intently. “Are you crying?” she asked.
“Of course not!” Loki bristled. Was he now so pathetic that he was garnering the pity of a child? He huffed in indignation.
She patted his arm as if in consolation. “It’s okay to cry, Prince Loki. I cry all the time.”
Norns.
He swallowed the temptation to shove her away and abandon the bench, electing instead to change the subject. “Did Sigyn send you?”
It wouldn’t have been the first time she delegated her little sister to the position of messenger. Perhaps Milla was here with some kind of news, that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and Sigyn wasn’t getting married after all. But deep down, Loki knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. If that were the case, Sigyn would have come herself.
“No,” Milla said, dashing what little hope he had against the brick walkway. “I saw you leaving from my window. You looked sad.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Was Sigyn mean to you?”
It was such a childish question that Loki laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. Sigyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body. It was something of which he was in perpetual awe. It didn’t matter how badly her day had gone, how grievously she had been wronged—she always had a kind word or a sweet gesture and an eagerness to help. There was a grace about her, a grace that Loki had never seen from anyone else in court.
The way she had broke the news to him, pushing him into the hallway outside her apartment before he even had the chance to knock … it was cruel, but it wasn’t a cruelty she had chosen. He understood that at least.
Loki heaved another sigh. “It wasn’t her fault.”
For a moment, Milla was quiet. He turned away from her. It seemed he really was that pathetic.
“Sigyn got all upset after you left,” she finally said. “She went running upstairs and hid in her room. Now Daddy’s mad because Prince Sverrir is coming over and she’s not ready.” Sverrir. Loki dug his fingernails into his palms. Milla didn’t seem to notice his tension.
“Do you know Prince Sverrir?” she asked.
Loki grit his teeth. “I’ve met him.” It was astonishing how his opinion of the Vanir Crown Prince had changed from aloof indifference to outright hatred within a matter of words. Loki had known Sverrir since they were both children, when Vanaheim’s royal family had come to Asgard for a few weeks to celebrate the millennial anniversary of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War. He had found him to be tiresome as a boy, a trait that did not improve upon adulthood. Loki had avoided him when he could.
Sverrir had only become relevant to him within the last few years, when after one royal visit he began to express an interest in Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir. At this point, Sigyn and Loki had been seeing each other in secret for quite some time, and while a public courtship was still out of the question, Loki had no intention of allowing the foreign prince to pursue what he already called his own.
The court was appalled when it discovered that Sverrir had been hiring harlots and bringing them into his chambers—his guest chambers, the very rooms in which the Asgardian royal family had so kindly allowed him to stay! His insistence that he had never even interacted with the ladies of the night, let alone allowed one on to palace grounds, fell upon deaf ears and Sverrir was forced to return home to avoid further scandal. Loki remembered watching him cross the Bifrost, with his unnatural posture and his idiotic attempt at regality, certain that they’d seen the last of him.
But now here he was again, back with a few years distance and an ailing father, and suddenly every woman in Asgard was ready to fall at his feet. Which would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he decided upon the only woman who didn’t want him in return.
Loki groaned, rubbing his temples. Besides him, Milla prattled on.
“He’s very dull, isn’t he?” she was saying, brushing the cookie crumbs off the front of her dress. “The last time he came over he just sat in the parlor and talked about how much Sigyn would like Vanaheim. I don’t think she was all that interested. And he kept calling me Mina!” She scowled at the ground, as if Sverrir was there, sitting at her feet, before turning back to Loki. “I like you better. You’re nice to me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”
“Yeah!” she grinned, tapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “You know my name, at least. And you gave me my good-luck charm!”
She pulled the charm out from under her top, fastened to her neck by thin strip of leather. It was nothing special, just a simple wooden carving of a cat’s head that he had whittled himself during his time serving as diplomat in Alfheim. He didn’t have near the talent for woodworking of the Elven carvers, but he was patient in his practice. By the end of the trip, he had spent hours upon hours working on the carving of a wolf’s head, Sigyn’s favorite animal, to give to her upon his return. Milla’s cat had been something of an afterthought. Still, he hadn’t been able to hide his smile at the way she squealed in delight when he presented it to her, and Sigyn had seemed more touched by the fact that he thought of her sister than at her own gift.
“Has it worked for you?” he asked.
“I think so,” Milla said, running her finger across the cat’s ear. “Good things happen when I wear it.”
Loki laughed bitterly. He could use a bit of that now. “Have good things happened today?”
She didn’t look up. “I’m still waiting to find out.”
A silence fell over the two of them, heavy and stiff. He wondered what Sigyn was doing, if she was still hiding in her room as her sister claimed. She had been waiting for him that morning, ready to push him out into the hall with shaking hands the moment he arrived at her doorstep. He knew immediately that she had been crying—if her swollen eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the little hiccupping gasps that peppered her words certainly were.
“You can’t be here right now,” she had hissed. “If Father sees you, he’ll lose his mind!”
“What happened?”
“Sverrir made an offer for my hand. My father—Loki, he accepted.”
It had taken a moment for those words to sink in. When they had, he had demanded to speak with her father.
“Loki—”
“He can’t do this! He can’t sell you off like cattle—”
Only he could, and they both knew it.
“Prince Loki?” He turned away from his thoughts and back to Milla. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, her voice suddenly very small. “Is Sigyn going to marry Sverrir?”
Loki found he couldn’t answer. There was a threatening lump in the back of his throat, making him unwilling to trust his voice. Sigyn … she was always supposed to marry him. He had been sure of it from the moment he met her, back when they were taking their lessons together. He had pretended to trip when walking by her desk and spilled his potion all over the floor just to have an excuse to talk to her. Thor had rolled his eyes when he heard of it (“could you not just speak to her like a normal person?”), but Sigyn had laughed and offered to help him clean it up, just like the angel she was. And when class ended, he offered to walk her back to her apartment.
Sigyn had smiled, that shy little smile she seemed to reserve for only him. “I’d be honored, my prince.”
Loki was smitten.
And now he was heartbroken.
“You know she doesn’t want to marry him, right?” Milla asked, tugging at his sleeve. “She doesn’t even like him.”
Loki inhaled. “Marriage isn’t just about who you like.” Sigyn had explained this to him just now in the hallway. Her family may have been prestigious in her great-grandfather’s heyday, but a series of poor investments and bad choices had set them on a steady decline. Her marriage to Sverrir would secure their position permanently. Her father would condemn her to a life of loneliness to maintain their status. And Sigyn would accept it, because she was far too good a person to refuse. “You have to think about your future, and your family, and Sverrir is a prince—”
“But you’re a prince too!”
“I don’t have a throne.” Loki sighed. He had never been jealous of Thor’s position as Crown Prince, not really—kingship came with hundreds of little hinderances and headaches that Loki was perfectly content to live without. But if he could stand before Sigyn’s father, not as Odin’s forgotten son but as Asgard’s future ruler … well, he wouldn’t be having to stomach discussion about some Vanir prince, that was for sure.
Milla yanked on his sleeve even harder. “But Sigyn loves you.”                        
Loki’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”
“No.” She said. “But I know she does. She reads your poems every night before she goes to bed.”
He flushed crimson. “Does she?” Oh, those poems. He had never considered himself to be much of a poet, but there was a soft sense of familiarity in words that he had never found anywhere else. And Sigyn … how could one not write about Sigyn?
He never had the courage to read them to her in person, silly, romantic things that they were. Instead he kept to leaving them hidden in spots where only she would find them—wrapped up in her napkin at dinner, buried in her bag at the healing ward, slipped into her dress pocket as they danced. She never said anything about them to him, but he lived for the way she’d squeeze his hand after he passed one to her.
Milla nodded, grinning. “She has them all in a little book, and she keeps it under her pillow.” Loki smiled too at the image, just for a moment, but then reality came crashing back down. She could hold on to as many poems as he could write—it still wouldn’t change anything. He buried his face in his hands once more.
He felt another tug at his sleeve, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with a creased brow. “You love her too, don’t you?” Milla asked. “That’s why you’re so upset.”
Loki huffed. “What I want doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does! It has too!” she insisted, shaking his arm. “You can make it matter.”
“Make it matter?” Suddenly, looking at her there, with her braids and her “good luck” charms and her childish hope was too much to bear. “What would you have me do?” he snapped. “Kidnap your sister?”
Milla flinched. “No … But—”
“There isn’t any ‘but.’ Your father will never allow her to settle for me when there’s a superior option. My father will never care enough to intervene on my behalf.” Norns knew he had tried. But Odin had nothing to gain from a marriage between Loki and Sigyn, and if Odin had nothing to gain, he saw no reason to act. “It’s useless to pretend otherwise. Now are you just going to sit here and bother me all day or do you have somewhere else to be?”
She gulped, abandoning her place besides him on the bench. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ll go.” Loki watched her slink off back towards the palace, head down like a whipped pup. Somehow, he felt even worse.
Dinner was miserable.
Loki picked at his food out of a sense of courtesy, with no real appetite to be found. How could he eat, when four seats to his right Sverrir was regaling his audience with descriptions of his perfect bride-to-be? The prince hadn’t yet mentioned Sigyn by name, but he didn’t have to. Loki could see the way his gaze lingered on her table as he described her “perfect form.”
It made him sick.
He had still barely touched his meal by the time many of the merrymakers had moved to the dance floor. Sverrir had gone, too—Loki watched him practically slither across the room to Sigyn’s side to ask her for a dance, watched Sigyn’s nearly imperceptible nod in assent. Now, they commanded the whole of the floor, gliding through the steps as flawlessly as a couple could, Sverrir grinning ear to ear and Sigyn the epitome of quiet repose.
Loki wished he could return to his rooms. He didn’t want to sit there, watching his heart spin and twirl in the hands of another man. But he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from her. Her sea-blue skirt matched Sverrir’s cape as it twisted about her, giving her the appearance of some sort of oceanic goddess. He wanted to hate the color, but of course it was beautiful on her. Everything was beautiful on her.
“Prince Loki!”
He was startled out of his despondent silence by the child shrieking his name. Loki barely had the chance to turn around before Milla was upon him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull him to his feet.
He frowned. “What are you doing up here?”
“Come on!” She yanked at his cape. “You have to dance with Sigyn.”
Wary of making a scene, and too flustered to push her away, Loki stood. “Milla, I—”
“You have to,” she insisted, giving him a push towards the dance floor. “Go! Dance with her!”
He stumbled forward, but the little girl kept corralling him down the podium stairs, towards Sigyn and her aggravating prince.
“Milla!” he hissed. “Can’t you see she’s already dancing with someone?”
“Who cares?” she hissed back, shoving him again. “Dance with her!”
And so Loki made his way down to the dance floor, cheeks burning, holding himself with as much dignity as one could after a literal child herded them like a sheep away from their meal. Luckily, few in the the ballroom seemed to be paying him any mind.
One of the positives of being the forgotten son, he supposed.
Sverrir and Sigyn were in the middle of the floor, still wrapped up in the music. At least, Sverrir was. Sigyn was holding herself as if someone had strapped a wooden board down her back. He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen her so tense. The sight made Loki stiffen.
With a sudden burst of confidence, he tapped on the Vanir prince’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, not bothering to hide the tightness in his voice. “Would you mind if I cut in?”
Sverrir started. “Oh. Uh—” he glanced back at Sigyn. “Do you mind, darling?”
She shook her head, features still perfectly neutral. Only then did Loki notice that, while she was wearing blue, the ribbons weaved through her braids were emerald green.
“Oh!” Sverrir seemed surprised, but quickly shook it off. “Well, then, of course not!” He stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards Sigyn as Loki took his place in her arms with a rigid nod.
For a moment, they only stared at each other, slowly swaying to the notes of the waltz in silence. Sigyn looked away first, turning to watch her feet on floor as if she were a girl in pigtails still learning to dance.
Loki swallowed the desert on his tongue. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Well enough, I suppose,” she murmured. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, her features twisted in an attempt to hold back the tears. “Loki—I’m sorry.”
There was a lump in the back of his throat. He wished he could hold her to his chest, cup her cheek and promise her that everything was fine. Instead, he only shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I just …” She inhaled. “I wish things were different.”
Don’t we both?
“Is he kind to you at least?” he asked. He would at least be able to rest easier knowing that Sigyn was well cared for, and as irritating as Sverrir was, Loki had never seen anything to suggest that he was cruel. Although … he almost wished Sverrir was a beast of a man—horrible, vicious, barbarous— just so he could have another reason to despise him.
Sigyn shrugged. “He talks a lot.”
“Oh? About what?”
“Absolutely nothing!” she cried. “I’ve never heard of a man who could go on so long without a single thing to say. It makes my head ache.” Sigyn sighed. “But Father finds him interesting.”
Loki scoffed. “Your father would be fascinated by grass growing.”
She laughed. “Probably.”
They danced in silence for a while longer. He liked the silence—the soft, soothing movement was almost enough to make him forget why this night was different from every other he had spent dancing with her. But soon enough, the song came to an end, and he made ready to bid her farewell.
A familiar voice cleared his throat, rasping across the hall. The hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to face the royal podium, where Prince Sverrir stood, smiling over the masses.
“Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention!” he called. “I would like to make an announcement.”
“Here we go,” whispered Sigyn. She reached out to grasp Loki’s hand.
When the crowd thronged around the podium had appeared to reach a size to his liking, Sverrir continued.
“As many of you know,” he said. “My father’s health has been failing for the past several months, and he has voiced that it is his greatest wish to see me married before he passes. Therefore, I am overjoyed to announce my engagement to one of your very own Asgardian ladies—” He stretched his hand out towards Sigyn, grinning widely as the rest of the nobles whipped around to follow his gaze. “The lovely Lady Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir!”
The ballroom erupted into applause. Sigyn sighed, but quickly masked it with a gracious smile, letting go of Loki’s hand in order to make her way to the podium.
To her fiancé.
Loki didn’t even think. When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side, he was acting off pure instinct.
“That’s impossible!” he cried to the crowd, to Sverrir. “Completely impossible, your Highness. She can’t marry you.”
The applause fizzled out as quickly as it begun. Confused whispers began skating through the onlookers.
“Loki!” Sigyn hissed. “What are you doing?”
Above them all, Sverrir frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Prince Loki,” he said. “Lord Yngvarr had given me his permission, and Lady Sigyn has accepted. Why can I not marry her?”
Loki didn’t blink. “Because she’s already married to me.”
The crowd exploded into outraged gasps.
Besides him, a wicked grin was blooming across Sigyn’s face.
Sverrir seemed to have been rendered incapable of response. He stood stuttering on the podium, any words he did manage drowned out by the commotion of the entire court processing what was turning out to be even more of a scandal than the last time the Vanir prince came to visit.
Until finally one voice cut through the chaos.
“Liar!” yelled Yngvarr, pushing his way through the crowd. “My daughter would not betray her family in such a manner.” He turned back to Sverrir, fuming. “Your Highness, I’m afraid Prince Loki seems to be playing a prank, and a decidedly unfunny one at that, at the expense of my daughter’s reputation.”
Loki opened his mouth to protest his offense, but before he could find the words, yet another voice joined the foray of madness.
“It’s not a prank, Daddy!” Milla grinned, materializing seemingly out of thin air to pull at her father’s sleeve. “It’s real! I heard them talking about it a week ago.”
Yngvarr whipped around so quickly that one of his whiskers caught on his shoulder plate. “What?”
“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Prince Loki came through the window! They were talking about how they were going to get married as soon as possible, because they love each other so much and they’re soulmates and … and …” she trailed off, seeming to only just be realizing that every pair of eyes in the ballroom was on her.
“And what?” snapped Yngvarr.
Sigyn stepped forward. “And I’m pregnant!”
The roar was deafening.
She turned back towards Loki with a smirk. He could only gape at her.
“What?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?”
Loki didn’t bother trying to find words. He just planted his lips on to hers. “I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away. He had never meant anything more in his life.
She laughed. “What now?”
“Well,” he said, grinning as he offered her his arm. “It seems we have to get married. After that—” he stopped abruptly. There was something in his pocket, something that he knew hadn’t been there before, bulky and solid. Frowning, he pulled it out to find the rough carving of a cat’s head tied to a loop of worn leather.
He looked up again in confusion. His eyes landed on Milla, beaming at him from across the room. She winked.
Good things happen when I wear it.
Loki smiled, slipping the charm back into his pocket. Next to him, Sigyn tugged at his arm.
“After that?” she repeated.
“After that?” he shrugged, smirking. “We improvise.”
69 notes · View notes
wizkiddx · 3 years
Note
i saw that you at least used to write for harry could u do another? like maybe im just a basic bitch but 'only one bed' trope or sm
Summary: honestly just me shitty attempt at the only one bed thing ahah with Harry Holland x reader
no warnings I don’t think apart from my ramabling :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
God you were groggy. It had been a long 16 hour flight and you were well and truly completely over this day. Once you’d had some proper sleep, no doubt you will be beyond excited to explore the forest and beaches of this remote island in Indonesia. You were certain it was beautiful, even if you’d arrived in the dead of night so you couldn’t see any of the majesty yet. It was one of the joys of being Tom’s makeup artist - travelling the world and being paid for it? A literal dream. 
Except maybe the previous 24 hours. The Holland name carried a lot of weight in the world, but not enough to control typhoons across the tropics - there were some limitations to his power. And yes first class lounges were nice but none had beds to crash on during the 6 hour weather delay. The four of you (Tom, Harry, Andrew and yourself)  ended up camping out in a out-the-way corner. Tom got the long sofa; Andrew in one of those weird egg line chairs; you and Harry splayed on the floor. Why you’d had to get up at 4 am to catch a flight that was now not departing till 12 hours later actually hurt to think about - especially because you’d all gone out for a meal the night before that had inevitable went a lot later than planned. 
Two connecting flights with a very angry baby later, the four of you were checking in to the only hotel on the island - which was now almost exclusively filled with the production team for Tom’s newest movie. It wasn’t especially big-budget with massive million pound overheads, instead a smaller scale indie film (that you privately thought might earn Tom a number of accolades). But yeh, shooting on an island that received almost no tourism meant everything was different to the usual. None more so than for Tom and his team (including you) who he normally would look after very well, with the nicest hotel rooms or rental homes. 
The hotel was basic, you’d known that before you arrived but seeing is believing is it not? Most entertaining though, was seeing Tom’s face. Andrew was a well travelled older guy, he had stayed in some shitholes in his life. Equally you and Harry had both travelled when you were younger (you through inter railing and him in australia), so had stayed in hostels before. But for Hollywood star Tom Holland? The way he tilted his head to the side as if to say ‘really this place?’ did lift your spirits momentarily. 
Andrew had got his key first, bidding you all good night with a grunt, then Tom - who still seemed confused as to the whole arrangements. It left you and Harry at the small dingy reception, the warm glow of an old lantern-esque light fixing illuminating the place. The guy behind the desk was a smiley local and greeted you warmly, if incorrectly.
“Ah and finally the couple I see!” He spoke with a thick accent but still very clear English which had you questioning if this was just a translational error. Harry looked at you instantly, his eyes wide which made you scoff - him joining in, shaking his unruly curly mop emphatically.
“No no we um… we aren’t together.” All the while Harry pointed between the two of you, communicating through actions rather than just the language, given that you were both the very typical Brits abroad who hadn’t learnt the language of the place they were visiting. 
“Still under Holland name?” The guy asked in a perplexed manner, flicking through a book filled with cursive scribbles and scanning to see if he’d made a mistake. He checked one, then looked up nervously before checking the same page once again- you saw where this was going. ”We, we only have couples room down for you though? 3 double rooms is the booking for Holland.” 
It was late, you both stunk of a combination of plane and BO, you both just wanted your individual and respective beds. 
“Well can we get another room then?” Harry didn’t quite snap but there was still an impatientcy to his voice, which came out whenever he was a little agitated. Seeing the slightly worried look the mans eyes, you leaned onto the desk with a genuine smile. 
“Sorry we know its last minute and its not your fault, we’ve just had a really long flight.”
“I am terribly sorry miss but we are only small hotel and Hollywood has filled us up. I have no other rooms. I am truly sorry sir, ma’am.” The guy went from looking worried to terrified as Harrys jaw tensed up, you naturally squeezed his arm to try and ground him, instantly deciding that you’d just work it out. 
“No no it’s not your fault, don’t worry we’ll figure it out. Can I just get the key?”
Harry stepped back and let youtakeover proceedings, signing all the insurance documents etc and asking the man about the breakfast arrangements and such, though you saw him furiously typing on his phone and by the buzzing in your pocket- presumed he was messaging the group of you Tom, Andrew and himself. 
Once finished the guy pointed you on your way, up two flights of stairs and down a hall. The whole time Harry was muttering about how useless the other two were for not replying and also for making the wrong booking in the first place. If only you hadn’t been the last two to checkin, then it would’ve been someone else’s problem.
He felt especially guilty just because you were the only girl-  he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, hence why he was trying to locate his brother so they could share tonight till they got it figured out. The tension, combined with sleep deprivation, was palpable as you both walked in silence toward the room - Harry was trying to formulate a plan in his head as they did so. And honestly? You just couldn’t be bothered to deal with it. So, once you reached the door 57 holding the physical key (old school, rather than a key card) you just decided to address it. 
“Will you chill please?” 
“Well if my idiot broth-“
“Oh leave him be for god sake. If you’re okay with it I really don’t mind sharing with you tonight?” Not bothering to laugh at his slightly shocked expression with mouth hanging a little open, you fiddled with the key until the lock clicked open. From the entrance you had a pretty clear view of the whole room and… well, lets just say dated would be a fair expression - when compared to what you were used to? The floor was tiled and the bed was a small double, with some funky and slightly washed out prints of blue and red on the cover. The pillows looked a little limp, more like glorified pieces of cardboard than anything fluffy and comfortable. The walls were that yellowy magnolia shade that everyone in the UK had gone insane for in the 80s and there was an old school wooden wardrobe in the corner. 
Home for 5 weeks. 
With a shrug of your shoulders you entered, dumping your personal and work suitcases by the far wall carelessly - the higher priority action being to collapse on the bed. Doing so with an overdramatic huff, you let your eyes close but payed special attention to the delayed footsteps of Harry as he entered, then the slight creaking noise as he perched on the other side of the bed - no doubt looking at you, at least slightly fearfully. 
The relationship between you and Harry was complex to say the least. Well no… it should be, not on the face of it. You had met through work and made friends. And you wished it was that simple but alas, nothing ever really is. When you’d first worked with Tom you were in the tail end of a relationship you had long since forgotten about - literally meaningless, not worth the time and effort you’d put into it. From the start you’d had a feeling Harry was more interested in you than the average co-worker (even if your job and therefore co-workers were anything but normal and average) but you were in a relationship so nothing ever came. 
Then almost as if synchronised, just as you got out your relationship, Harry threw himself in the deep end with a girl he’d met through his family friends. Then the roles were somewhat reversed, you now spent a good chunk of your day just entertaining yourself with thoughts of the curly headed, slightly awkward, very-passionate-about-tea-making Holland. The cliche is so real - your always want what you cannot have. 
However, a couple months ago his relationship had fizzled and faded away leaving both of you in a sort of no mans land. The sort of not wanting to ruin the friendship situation. The subject was never broached by either you - except you assumed he was being tormented in a similar way to how you were by his big brother and Andrew. Never publicly, yet whenever you found yourself alone in a room with one of them (being Tom’s makeup artist that happened often enough) there would always be a sly dig. The chemistry was  so ‘obvious even a blind man could see it’. Somehow though, weeks of this and your were still stuck. Stuck in the middle. 
“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice was gruffer and hoarser from the long journey but you could hear the self-consciousness and naivety in his tone, without having to peel your eyes open and look at his face. 
“I know your not a murder and plus, we shared the airport floor this morning… this is pretty much the same.” He hummed in acknowledgement so you carried on “and plus your pint sized.” That earned you a playful shove in the side as you sniggered, before pulling yourself up so you we now sitting next to him, legs hanging off the edge of the bed. His brown eyes searched deeply into yours, as if physically checking for any hint of regret or hesitation. “Don’t even dare offering to go on the floor.” 
“Okay okay okay!” Holding his hands up in surrender, you both laughed, breaking the peace of the late night of the remote Indonesian island. Once an impressive yawn interrupted you though, Harry proclaimed it was time for bed and shooed you into the bathroom to get changed and sorted. 
Honestly you were too tired and lazy to dig out your cleanser and skin stuff, instead opting to just splash a bit of water on your face before swapping into your pj shorts and an old tattered oversized tee. Once done you and Harry swapped, him coming out a couple minutes later in basketball shorts and a black loose fitting tee. 
It wasn’t awkward so to speak, more a sort of excited-tense atmosphere, which there was no doubt Harry was mainly responsible. The boy was jittery and on edge, which to put simply, you didn’t have the energy to reciprocate. 
With a quiet wish of goodnight to each other, Harry flicked off the bedside lamp and you both rolled to your respective edges of the bed, a large space of no mans land between you. In the middle. You know the first time you share a room with someone and you overthink everything? When you don’t want to move about or fidget too much in case it disturbs the other? When your listening intently to their breathing, in the hope it’ll even out and only then will you feel able to fall asleep yourself? 
Well it doesn’t work when both of you are doing it. When both of you are professional over thinkers. 
God knows how long it took till you gave up, favouring sleep over your worries and concerns. So you flipped over, no doubt rocking the whole bed, turning to face his back that was still huddled almost teetering off the edge of the bed. The only light within the whole room was that coming under the actually scarily large gap between the floor and the door to the hallway. It was just enough to see the back of Harry’s curls and you must’ve fallen asleep trying to trace all the torturous and windy routes of the strands.
///////////
In the morning the process of waking up didn’t come easy to you as normal for many reasons; the long day prior; the jet lag; the weird surroundings. So you stayed in this sort of blissful haze for probably longer than you should. Half aware but not really; half asleep but not quite. In the middle  of sleep and alertness. Therefore it took you longer than it should have to notice the extra weight on the dip of your waist. Not anything alarming, just a presence you were absolutely not used to. It was only when you shifted a bit to lie further on your back, that enough of a stimulus from the added pressure made you actually open your eyes blearily. And sure enough, a limp hand looked to have casually and unconsciously been thrown over your side. 
As if in slow motion, you traced the arm backwards - first with your eyes, but then having to twist your neck too. Only then could you fully see the browny ginger haired boy who was lowkey spooning you? It was certainly a way to fully wake you up, breath halted to a stand still in your lungs, in fear of disturbing him and having to confront what would almost certainly be an awkward situation. 
There was still a safe hands width distance between the two of you except for the rogue arm. Harry’s head was placed to the edge of his pillow, mouth slightly parted as his breathing slightly tickled the wispy hairs on the back of your neck. He looked so peaceful and calm - a difference to the normal Harry who, even on a good day, took great pleasure in meticulously picking things apart and being a bit cynical. It was part of his ‘charm’; but seeing him like this was a type of vulnerability he rarely chose to show. 
To be fair he was asleep, he dint realise he was exposing himself in this way.
Finding yourself a little transfixed (a bit creepy but hey) on the natural curves and definition of his face, you ever so carefully rolled over in the bed to face him. It stopped you from craning your neck and gave the sleepy boy a slight nudge, making him tense his arm a little more tightly round you. 
He settled quickly though, giving you ample opportunity to just observe what was going on . Both right in front of you… and what the hell was going on in your head. Because to be honest it was an overwhelming amount of emotion thoughts for the early morning. 
Somehow you must’ve eventually drifted off once again because the next thing you were aware of was a shuffling from immediately next to you. This time though, you were instantly aware of exactly the situation you found yourself in and chose to keep up the pretence of sleep - a little interested in how Harry would play it. 
You heard a small gasp, having to suppress a chuckle at what you imagined Harry’s sleepy and panicked face looked like. That lasted a couple of moments, before you felt him painstakingly slowly peel his hand from your waist and if you were being 100% honest… you heart sort of sank. 
What you had been expecting?- you don’t know and really there was really no reason to be disappointed. Yet, you still felt this deflated and disappointed feeling, hit your chest especially hard. Perhaps it was because of your focus on that emptyness that you forgot you were supposed to be pretending to be asleep./.
Because when he had delicately brushed the side of your face to tuck a rogue bit of hair behind your ear - your eyes flickered open.  Like a rabbit caught in headlights, Harry froze, his hand still hovering over your jaw. Equally, you didn’t know what to do. Because really… do friends tuck hair behind the others ears? And do friends look at each other with this matched expression of confusion and fear? 
It took a painfully long time (though in reality was probably only a matter of seconds) before the boy retracted his hand, suddenly sitting up from his reclined position down at you. Mirroring his actions, you both ended up sitting, facing the opposite wall, bodies closer than they needed to be in the double bed. Both still very much in the middle. 
“I er-“
“-No no don’t… was nice of you” He had been about to apologise which you didn’t want to hear. You didn’t want to hear ‘ I didn’t mean it’ - you wanted him to mean it. In response Harry nodded jerkily, and from your peripheries, noticed he was searching your face for any sign of emotion.
“Still can’t believe this all happened… I-I didn’t disturb you too much did I?” He sounded really nervous. You were never like this with each other. So static and forced. 
“No no… I slept really good actually.” Your register was quieter, waiting till you’d finished speaking before looking over at him with a self conscious smile. 
“Ah I’m glad… I um-I did too.” The silence returned and the atmosphere just felt sharp. It felt like you were quite literally walking either side of a knife edge. It made you chew on your bottom lip, playing with the slightly frayed edges of the vintage quilt. 
“Y/n- I look…” He’d bolted upright and voice was more raised than normal for the morning. “This is gonna sound so fucking weird, especially cos we’re literally in the same bed but... but I was thinking we could maybe go on a hike or something together?” What he seemed to be suggesting didn’t match the level of panic that was conveyed in his body language which confused you. And what the bed had to do with it… was yet to make sense in your head. 
“I think Andrew said we’re getting some tour of island this afternoon so-“
“ I kinda meant just you and me.” 
The penny dropped and it had you focusing all energy on processing what was happening - understandably causing Harry to only worry more with the lack of response. “I’m sorry if I’ve ruined ever-“
“No I-I….I’d really like that too.”
“Oh er… well… really?” The sheer shock made you giggle, feeling the two of you sliding back into the normal dynamic.
“Normally a boy has to buy me a drink before he gets in my bed but….” A mischevious smirk that spread across your lips gave Harry the final confirmation that just maybe you were interested too, making him scoff and quietly chuckle.
It was odd; mainly because this was the two of you being incredibly vulnerable and honest with each other - something that you hadn’t allowed yourself to be for fear of messing things up. And then one lazy morning, both with morning breath and slightly puffy eyes, it changed. For the first time when you looked at him, he really saw - and vice versa. You were still in the middle of something, yet it was completely different. 
This time you were in the middle together figuratively as well as literally. In the middle of the bed, closer than you needed to be, but not wanting to retreat - while you both just looked shyly and bashfully at each… Eventually you lips hesitantly met in the middle. 
125 notes · View notes
khaleesiofalicante · 3 years
Note
HI, IT'S ME! YOUR LOCAL CHAOTIC WEIRDO!!!!! I'M BACK AGAIN LIKE I AM TWICE EVERY WEEK
IT'S MY BOY DAVID THIS TIME! WHY AM I SO HYPER! MAYBE BECAUSE THEY KISSED! AND I HAD TO SUPPRESS MY SCREAMS BCAUSE IM IN CLASS AND THE REST OF MY FAMILY IS OUTSIDE MY DOOR (NOT LITERALLY OFC)
OK OK OK OK OK OK
MAX AND DAVID ARE AT THE LONDON INSTITUTE YESYESYESYES
He rather liked that part in a story – when the hero fell, and everything seemed bleak. It always meant that hope was just around the corner. Because darkness never lasted. It was always followed by light. There was nothing more beautiful than that kind of sunrise.
THIS
I literally live my life by this analogy
AHHH DAVID IS ON HIS TRAVEL YEAR AND MAX IS WITH HIM
SCREAM
well i can't scream because my mom is sitting right there and I have class in 4 minutes so imma smile really wide
“Are you planning to read the entire library during your travel year?” Max chuckled.
“Of course not,” David replied. “I will need longer than a year to accomplish that goal.”
Me.
Wait
does max not being able to make portals have something to do with his lineage?
like
demon parent
ok so my programming class started 2 minutes early but screw programming I'm gonna be studying minds not this shit
ok that's a very bad attitude for someone who needs good grades in this year
Max was always hungry.
this is so me
KIT
KIT
KIT
KIT
KIT
KIT
TY
THEY MENTIONED TY
also if David doesn't become an institute head in the future THEN WHAT'S THE POINT
“Where is the kitchen?” Max interrupted.
max is such a mood
He had told Max that he had centuries to perfect his magic, that there was no need to rush it. Max had given him a noncommittal nod and nothing more.
HE'S GONNA MAKE THE BEST PORTALS YOU'LL SEE
“I won’t tell the Consul,” Kit winked.
At the mention of the Consul, David straightened up. He had been trying to get into Alec Lightwood’s good graces for years now. He didn’t think sharing a room with his son would do him any favors.
DAVID UDUCDFUHKDUHVUHSDH
PLEASE IF WE DON'T GET A CUTE ALEC AND DAVID SCENE SOON
KIT CALLED TESSA MOM
oh my god
Word was that Mr. Herondale had gone back to his obsession with brewing tea.
JACE
I have so many emotions right now but all I'm gonna say is that I'm so so proud of Rafael
“Do you not want to sleep with me?” Max asked.
UH-
WELL-
DAVID STOP THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AND ALL THE SHIT
STOP IT
OH MY GOD THE ONE BED TROPE
MAX IS IN HIS ARMS I'M ABOUT TO-
takes a deep breath don't scream. everyone outside this door thinks you're taking programming class
OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY
AWW JULIAN PAINTED PORTRAITS FOR THE INSTITUTE
The one of Will Herondale and Tessa Gray – A love that had transcended reality and lasted a lifetime.
The one of James Herondale and Cordelia Carstairs – A love that had started with a lie and then blossomed into nothing but happiness and devotion.
The one of Lucie Herondale and Jesse Blackthorn – A love that had been so powerful that it rewrote the past.
The one of Jace Herondale and Clary Fairchild – A love that had walked through hell and shaken up the heavens.
And then there the final one. The one of Kit Herondale and Tiberius Blackthorn – A love that had survived distance and darkness and doom.
This omg...
He wanted a love story. The kind he read in the books. The kind he saw in these portraits.
But he wasn’t a Herondale. He wasn’t sure if he was destined for that kind of love.
HEY
DON'T THINK LIKE THAT
The first part though
same
He might have been a little too excited. It was biologically impossible to control yourself when you find a stranger reading your favorite book in the whole world.
SO TRUE
“I see you already made a new friend,” Max said.
He sounded a little…odd. As if he was not pleased that David had made a new friend.
honey...
take a guess
can I jump in and bash their heads together?
“You are thinking of conjuring chocolate syrup, aren’t you?” David chuckled.
“How do you always know what’s on my mind?” Max chuckled back.
Because I know you, David wanted to say. I just wish I knew what’s in your heart too.
OH MY GOD I CANT WITH THIS
“You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup! You get chocolate syrup!” Max was yelling, standing on the chair.
They residents laughed harder, and David shook his head fondly. He hoped one day Max would pursue a career in theatre. He was a born showman.
can I have chocolate syrup?
also, the way David is just so fond of him like DYUSDGYJCDYUJM
“By the angel, do you have to be a drama queen about everything?” the boy next to them muttered – not so quietly.
David blinked. That was uncalled for.
But Max being Max was completely unfazed. “Of course I do. My Bapa would be personally offended otherwise.”
exactly you rude little shit
Max often pretended like people’s words didn’t hurt him - just as he pretend that fire doesn’t burn or wounds don’t bleed.
wow ok stop calling me out
Is max jealous??????
is he??????
how are people so good at languages like damn
TY
TY
TY
TY
“Oh my god,” Max groaned. “Is he already telling people to check on me?”
LMAO
using mundane medicine...
that's risky
but it's also something that WILL help
can't warlocks tamper with the blood samples?
A part of him wondered if that’s why he had agreed to send Max away to London – at least for a week. Because sometimes you didn’t want other people to see you were hurting.
alec I really goddamn hope you're dealing with this well
some of whom had even decided to die than get help from a warlock.
alright then gets my knives but you chose this :D
Nobody brought a book down for breakfast if they didn't like to read.
yes but sometimes also to seem busy so people won't bother you or you won't look alone.
“I know,” the boy said as he walked past them to the gate. “I sat on the stairs and thought about life for a few good minutes.”
his family is the one who took over David's previous institute (i can't spell that. marse- marselli- wat??) methinks.
The gang always visited whenever all of them were in the city together. They would have so much fun! Of course, the 'fun' mostly entailed Rafael stopping Georgia from drinking random potions she found in the stalls, Selena stopping Lexi from opening a psychic booth to help people talk to Raziel and of course David stopping Max from running to the gambling booths.
LMAO, I CANT WITH THIS-
Rafe: I am anxiety.
me at any given moment
EW TESTICLES HE'S EATING THOSE-
ok maybe I'm the only person who's really picky when it comes to food and doesn't eat the majority of things
“Anything on Magnus Bane?” Max asked.
“No,” the woman snapped and shoved some of the letters into a bag and hide it under the table. “Leave Magnus Bane alone!”
“Appreciate your loyalty,” Max winked at her and started examining a diary.
I like her.
"Everyone should be participating in this" -my programming teacher
me, an intellectual: participating in what?? goes to the class web THE FUCK IS THAT
“Something for the shadowhunter?” the woman smiled. “Perhaps an unpublished snippet from the Beautiful Cordelia?”
“Do you have any love letters?” David asked.
“Hmmm,” the woman went through the pages. “I do have a correspondence between an Iblis demon and Christopher Lightwood? Would you be interested in that?”
if u don't mind I would love to see both of those-
you know I just remembered I have a computer assignment I need to submit by the end of this week fml
“Never fall in love with an immortal,” she giggled again. “We don’t like staying in one place.”
SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
MAX WHERE ARE YOU
why are we using x and 3 in programming class what the heck is going on
“I’m not just some warlock,” Max said, his voice low. “I’m Magnus Bane’s son.”
GIVE HIM THAT NECKLACE BACK
we usually have programming once a week on our physical school days and those are fun because my and my friend are continuously passing notes and talking to each other through writing
The scene where Max fought off all the evil people who tried to steal his valuable belonging. He would fight without breaking a sweat and throw magic fireballs at everyone and then get his necklace back. And then he would kiss David in front of everyone and it would somehow rain all of a sudden.
But life wasn’t a movie or a book. Life was just life.
life's boring
fuck life
I just heard a student ask "why are we not taking out the values of b and c" BESTIE I THOUGHT WE WERE DOING PROGRAMMING AND NOT ALGEBRA?????
“I know there wasn’t anyone to protect you before,” Magnus Bane had said. “But we are here now. We will protect you. This will protect you.”
He hadn’t wanted it back then. He didn't even want it even now.
He didn’t want something to protect him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to cover his scar. He didn’t want to hide it. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It wasn’t a mark of a victim. It was the mark of a survivor.
So, David had smiled and given the bracelet back.
“I never wanted to be protected,” David had replied. “I only ever wanted to be loved.”
The warlock had smiled at that and given David a hug. It had felt different than other hugs he had experienced since he had come to New York.
It wasn’t just the magic. Magnus Bane carried so much love inside himself you could literally feel it through him.
I'm gonna cry during my programming class (where we're doing variables apparently all of a sudden??)
this is so beautiful
“I wasn’t talking about Bapa,” Max said now. “I was talking about the other one.”
David chuckled at that. “Oh, yeah. He is definitely going to kill you.”
what flowers would you like at your funeral?
so Jackson has family troubles
I've definitely got that
yeah I know what it's like to be jealous of someone else's perfect family
JACKSON WTF
Is he trying to ruin max's relationship with his family???
oh hell no
JACKSON THE AUDACITY
“One stolen necklace, One broken nose and One bruised cheek,” he said. “And you’ve been in London for less than a day.”
kit seriously? but is he wrong though?
“This is what I get for falling for a Lightwood-Bane,” David sighed and walked through the portal.
WELL AT LEAST HE'S SELF AWARE
Jackson...
in some ways, I can empathize with him. my younger self anyway. but Jackson this is not how you do things
There was a moment of silence and then Magnus Bane giggled.
“I do love it when the quiet ones go feral,” the warlock grinned.
MAGNUS
NOT.THE.TIME
(me too)
“David!” Mr Herondale gasped. “Is your hand okay?”
yup that's Jace y'all
David hated violence. He hated fighting – which he was often not allowed to say out loud considering he was a shadowhunter.
But it was the truth. He hated hurting people – or even things. It made him feel sick.
“It’s alright, Chouchou,” Mr Herondale ran a hand through David’s hair. “Next time, just-”
“Use my words?” David asked.
“Just don’t get caught,” the man winked.
and that is why I would never want to be a shadowhunter.
I know saying that doesn't do anything but when I first read tsc I wanted to be a shadowhunter really badly and damn that was some time ago but now...violence of any kind is my biggest trigger idek why. and I hate that so much because what kind of a person gets triggered by loud voices and fighting EVEN ON SCREEN??? I usually just push myself to watch stuff because it's dumb. I refuse to see trigger warnings before reading a book or watching a show because damn it, I should be able to stand those things I'm, not a child. and it may be doing me more harm than good but I shouldn't feel like this in the first place
okay...that was long
ANYWAY
“David, I appreciate you standing up for Max,” the Consul said. “But next time, please try not to punch anyone in the face.”
“Yes, sir,” David nodded. “Because it’s wrong.”
“Because it means more paperwork for me,” the Consul groaned and then straightened up. “But yes. Absolutely. Very wrong. No punching people!”
LMAO ALEC
Jackson...
oh
oh
oh
I was wrong then
He was grinning. Magnus Bane must have raised hell in the shadow market.
that must have been fun
Max was doing that thing where he was not trying to pout but he was mostly definitely pouting. It made David want to kiss him. But then the Consul spoke, and David reminded himself he didn’t want to be the third person to get punched in the face this evening.
well-
“I understand that Jackson has been through a lot. But that’s not an excuse for him to hurt those around him. I learned that lesson the hard way. So, you shouldn’t excuse his behaviour.”
someone's trauma and pain is never an excuse to hurt others
but that doesn't mean we should invalidate their trauma either
“You can stay back and try to help him. I won’t stop you,” the man got up now. “But if he tries to hurt you-”
“You will unleash hell?” David chuckled.
“Worse,” the other man grinned. “I will unleash Lexi.”
that is much much worse
Books brought him comfort in so many ways. Just holding one in his hands automatically made him feel better.
oh my god
he gets it
I always have a book with me when I'm out even if I'm not gonna get the time to read it because just the weight and comfort of it in my hands or in my backpack brings me so much comfort and helps with my social anxiety so much
no one understands when I try to tell them that
you get it...
someone gets it finally
AYYY IRENE
“David, it’s very sweet that you want to protect Jackson,” Kit pointed out. “But literally no one is buying that. Not even Irene.”
The lynx purred on his lap as if she agreed with Kit.
“I could break into a liquor cabinet,” David said a little indignantly.
David is the nicest you can get
David wouldn’t. Apparently, everyone already seemed to know that - even the lynx he had met five minutes ago.
we are solving something in class and it's really quiet because we're all doing our work (I'm reading the fic so-) and this one person had their mic open and they kept on whispering their steps and it was so weird I cant-
BUT YES DAVID IS A CINNAMON ROLL. EVEN THE LYNX KNOWS
“We were talking about shitty fathers,” Jackson pointed out. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“I’m gonna need something stronger than red wine for this conversation,” Kit chuckled.
I remember that bitch
David used to do it when he was a child. He used to pretend his life was a story. He used to pretend everything that happened to him was happening to some other boy – a boy who wasn’t real. A boy who lived inside a book. Because it hurt a little less when you pretend like it wasn’t happening to you.
But the pain was still very real.
OK YOU CAN STOP CALLING ME OUT NOW
“I fucking hate ogres,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Was your father an ogre too?” Jackson asked.
“He was more like a harpy,” Kit snorted. “He was always flying and fleeing. I didn’t know how deep his talons were in my head until it was too late.”
you really like traumatizing all your characters, don't you?
I really fucking hope the ogre got what he deserved
and if the angel is dead then fuck everyone
“I mean, there was that time when Sebastian Morgenstern turned my father into the endarkened, and then he went around killing people. So, I would say he was more like a zombie,” the man was explaining now. “The zombie father tried to kill me but my brother killed him first.”
“Good lord!” Jackson said in shock.
Kit chuckled softly. “Boy do shadowhunters need therapy.”
they really do
He knew about those from New York. He knew Mr Herondale and Miss Fairchild went for one together.
YES GET THEM THERAPY
“Yikes,” Kit chuckled. “I’d prefer something classier. How about London Boys?”
“None of us are from London though,” Tiberius pointed out.
“The Beatles are not actually beetles, Ty,” Kit chuckled. “It’s just for pizazz.”
damn guys
Then the idea of a band turned into a possible YouTube channel where they would react to cute animal videos.
YS DO IT
“When people do awful things, really awful things, at one point we stop being surprised. Like what Valentine did to his children or what our fathers did to us or what those women did to Rafael. We might have been shocked or disgusted. But it wasn’t unrealistic, was it?”
“I guess not,” the boy said.
“Even when they did the most unimaginable acts of cruelty, it somehow managed to fit into our imagination. We accepted that the world can be unrealistically cruel. The kind of cruelty we will never understand. But why isn’t it the same for kindness? Why is that when someone is too kind, we automatically feel uncomfortable? We judge their intensions or think they are just pretending to be nice. We think they are being unrealistic. Why is that?”
we get so used to cruelty that kindness feels weird
“But that’s how our life works, doesn’t it? It’s a giant ball of what ifs and could have beens and if nots. What if my father had loved me instead of hurt me? Could I have been kinder if I was hugged instead of being abused? Would have I been a different person if not for my trauma? Our lives are an endless collection of theories about our real selves. The one didn’t we never had the chance to become.”
THIS
I used to spend a bunch of time on the what-ifs but those are useless. so screw the what-ifs and live in the present
“I guess we’ll never know, Jackson. None of us will never know how we would have turned out if things had been different for us. We never got the chance to be who were meant to be. Instead, we became who we had to become to survive what we went through. We will never know our true selves. We only know the version of us that made it through all the trauma.”
“Christ, that’s depressing,” Jackson said.
“It is,” David nodded. “But we made it through. We survived. I think we should focus on that.”
you survived. that's what matters
“There is nothing wrong with wanting to be rescued,” David smiled.
I wish I had heard this before...
maybe I don't always have to be strong. maybe it's ok sometimes just want to be saved.
I'm so happy that both Jackson and David found each other
David had learned Gaelic. Jackson had learned how to play the piano.
They had laughed and lived and loved and learned.
And they had survived – one day at a time. The London Boys.
they survived.
I know I'm always key smashing and screaming but these words, these lines, all these chapters mean so so much to me.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” David asked, hugging Jackson closely.
“No,” Jackson replied. “I will FaceTime you like a normal person, you weirdo!”
David laughed at that. “I prefer letters. They are more emotional.”
“I’ll text you,” Jackson countered. “With emojis.”
oh to have someone write me letters.
I love writing letters
once at the end of a school year, I wrote little letters to everyone in my class anonymously. even the people who had been mean to me. that was like 1-2 years after my transfer to that school and everyone practically hated me but I wanted to do something nice because who knows what someone is going through. I ended up not putting them in people's desks...
I threw them all away :)
but writing letters is superior
I often write my feelings down and give the letter to someone rather than talk to someone
if you receive a letter from me or a custom-made gift...you have reached my ultimate friendship
oh my god. THIS IS HOW I SHOULD TALK TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS ABOUT MY FEELINGS
It's kind of been a mess between us and I want to talk to her but I didn't know how to.
this is why i shouldn't send asks-
JACKSON CATCHING UP ON MAX AND DAVID
“You know what it means,” Jackson grinned harder. “Also, if that wanker tries to break your heart, I will break his face.”
“You know he is the Consul’s son?” David giggled.
“I’ve done it once and I will do it again,” Jackson shrugged. “He better treat you right.”
"wanker"
I HAVE A BRITISH ONLINE FRIEND AND THEY CALLED OUR AMERICAN ONLINE FRIEND A WANKER
AND OUR OTHER BRITISH FRIEND JOINED IN
WHILE ALL THE NON-BRITISH PEOPLE WERE LIKE "huh"
Lexi had cut her hair even shorter. Her girlfriend apparently got something called an undercut.
“Just in case someone dared to assume we were straight,” she had winked at him.
how many years has this fake dating been going on...
CENTURION SELENA
fterA the twins went to bed, David stepped out of the institute and went looking for his heart.
"went looking for his heart"
OH FUCK I FORGOT TO JOIN MY CLASS
MAX STOP DEPLETING YOUR SELF GODDAMN
And then somewhere along the way, Max’s heartbeat had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.
Max, with all his chaos and drama and danger, had become the steadiest thing in David’s life.
oh my god that's a parallel from canon
“Tell me why.”
“Ain't nothing but a heart break!!"
Max-
Max could make fireballs that killed demons on the spot. He could summon things from anywhere. He could heal people with his eyes closed. He was one of the youngest warlocks allowed to visit the spiral labyrinth.
Max was a warlock in every sense. A good one. A great one even.
he is so talented...
Only idiots would underestimate Magnus Bane’s power.
EXACTLY
He is probably going to be Consul like next week.”
David chuckled. “Next week?”
next week????
“Yeah, his smoking habits,” Max rolled his eyes.
Rafael wasn’t the smoker in the family. He knew who it was, but David would never open his mouth. It wasn’t his secret to tell.
this keeps on getting better
“It’s my hair!” David laughed.
“And you’re my David!” Max argued. “I say you are not allowed to grow your hair.”
MY DAVID
MY DAVID
MY DAVID
“I don’t want to downworld-splain it to you.”
Max blinked and then laughed. “You don’t want to what?”
“Downworld-splain,” David mumbled. “It’s when shadowhunters explain downworlders how to be downworlders.”
they were SO close to kissing
I'm gonna get in there and lock them in a closet together and tell them to FUCKING GET WITH IT
Remember who you are. Remember where you stand.
remember who you are. remember where you stand...
I know this is supposed to be about portals.
OH MY GOD THEY KISSED
THEY KISSED
IM SO CLOSE TO SCREAMING CLASS AND EVERYONE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM BE DAMNED
OH MY GOD DAVID FELL
reminds me of when alec fell down the stairs-
OH MY GOD I'M GONNA SCREAM
WE'RE GONNA GET MORE MAVID CONTENT SOON I'M SCREAMING INTERNALLY UYDRVFY7VSDU7UYVFSDUYGCADUYIGJCDSHJKGDVCSUGISDVHVF
ok, I have a computer assignment to get to and tests to study for. BUT I LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO SO MUCH!! THEY FINALLY KISSED I'M SO HAPPY!!!!!
Also I know I tend to go off track and you can totally ignore that. i just go crazy. BYEE
This live blog gives me so much life you don't even know. I am go glad you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing you rant about it. It's refreshing lol.
And I looooooove the lil anecdotes you share in between. Also wtf is a programming class like nobody wants to learn programme what kind of hetero nonsense I-
FINISH YOUR ASSIGNMENTS AND STUDY FOR YOUR TESTS I'LL SEE YOU SOON :)
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themonkeycabal · 3 years
Text
Wandavision Ep 5 Spoilers
Wherein I watch Wandavision at a stupid hour of the morning because I do not sleep like a regular human being, and sometimes I have things to say.
Previously on Wandavision, we all discovered that Darcy Lewis and Jimmy Woo were the BFFs we never knew we needed and now can't live without. Also Wanda reminded us that she's really scary.
We should be in the 80s now, right? Ahh the 80s. Leg warmers, Aquanet, and MTV.
Baby shenanigans with crying twins. Wanda tries to magic them to sleep and it doesn't work. "Maybe we just need some help." And in pops Agnes without waiting for them to answer the door. As you do in a sitcom hell. She's got a headband and leg warmers on and is on her way to jazzercise. Of course. Is the point of Agnes to really anchor us in a decade? Asking for real. She's very "this is the era, and these are the tropes, let's all play along now."
Vision is very protective of the babies, to such a degree and with such intensity that Agnes literally forgets her line and nervously asks Wanda if she wants her to take that again. Well, then. Agnes very super a lot does not want to be wished to the cornfield. 
The babies stopped crying during the whole "should we do this scene again" interlude. Vision noticed the weirdness and is trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda is trying very hard to pretend everything is normal. Agnes is being super duper bizarre in the background. And suddenly the twins are like three years old. Agnes has given up and got into the liquor. I don't blame her.
Opening credits. Okay, I'm sorry, 'baby' Vision is almost more stupidly funny than I can take. Like … what? I think I want that as my new icon, though. Also the credits are too long. I think they were very proud of their theme song, so we have to hear it all. These are my least favorite so far. Very 80s, but meh.
In the real world, Monica is getting x-rays and giving a report on being yeeted from Wanda World.
Jimmy Woo and Darcy are there to greet her at the end of the exam. "This is Doctor Darcy Lewis." Yes, she is! Still very proud. She's also the doctor of encouraging people to wear pants, shoving a pair at hospital gown-clad Monica. Erik's no-pants phase was very scarring.
The medic comes back and says the medical tests didn't work or something. The medic wants to do x-rays again because the first came back blank and also she's going to have to do another blood draw. Hmm. Monica is still somehow affected by Wanda World? Unclear on how that would work. Some sort of weird witchy radiation-like energy? Monica says 'no' to more needles and also wants to put pants on. Just let the woman have her pants.
Now we're on to a briefing with the acting Director of SWORD whose name I don't remember. He's very "government suit" bland, I have a hard time caring about anything he says. Also, does anybody else pronounce the 'w' in SWORD in their head when they read it? Like I cannot make my brain stop doing that. "s-WUH-ord'.
"Our initial theory had Wanda Maximoff as one of many victims. We now know she is the principle VICTIMIZER!" Settle down there, acting director guy. Why not say 'subject', 'suspect', 'perpetrator', or boring old 'cause of the anomaly". VICTIMIZER! Geez then. I'm going to guess his solution will be a tactical nuke or some such rot.
Jimmy gives background on Wanda.
Acting Director Guy: "The twins were subsequently radicalized, volunteering at Hydra." Jimmy Woo: "That's an oversimplification of events, but yes." I'm giving you heart-eyes Jimmy Woo.
"After unspecified experimentation with the mind stone, Maximoff gained telekinetic and telepathic abilities."
Then a weird aside where the Acting Director — who shall now be known as Acting Director Dick — wants to know if Wanda had a code name or a something, seeming to imply that not having one made her a bad guy?,  and then he points out how the first time she used her powers it was against the Avengers. He totally just ordered a tactical nuke from "overreacting-government-douchebags r us".  I hate this particular character trope, the government heavy who never listens to anybody and is always ready to napalm the suburbs because reasons. It's so tedious.
Jimmy points out that Wanda earned the Avengers trust and then became an Avenger herself, thank you very much. Acting Director Dick doesn't care, he's decided Wanda is a terrorist and he'll turn half of New Jersey into a glass parking lot to get rid of her. Sure am glad he's in charge of some sort of mysterious and powerful agency.
Jimmy Woo is not a fan either, and he walks back over to his new bestie and tells Darcy that while he tries not to speak ill of anybody … Darcy interrupts "then allow me", and she has no trouble saying that Acting Director Dick is, in fact, a dick. That's my girl.
Elsewhere AD Dick is blathering on about how they don't negotiate with terrorists. Well, since Wanda hasn't made any demands, or released a manifesto or anything …. Monica also points out Wanda is not a terrorist. AD Dick twists her report to make Wanda sound as terroristy as he can. I'm bored with him now.
Monica argues with him a bit and say she doesn't believe Wanda World is a premeditated act of aggression. I vote Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica wait until AD Dick is alone, and then they shove him in a locker for the rest of the season. If anybody asks he had to run back to sWUHord for meetings or something, "Darn, you just missed him. I'll tell him you're looking for him. Great. Buh-bye now".
AD Dick needs to make his big jackass point that Wanda is the most terroristy terrorist who ever terroristed, so he shows off footage of Wanda breaking into a SWORD facility to steal back Vision's body. Because that seems terroristy and not at all like some sort of emotional breakdown. As far as I can tell, she just busted open a few doors, but didn't hurt anybody. I think AD Dick doesn't know the meaning of the word terrorist.
And, yes, then she resurrected Vision in an idealized sitcom world in a small city in New Jersey. That's exactly like something a terrorist mastermind would do. Mmmhmm. Is it nice for the people trapped there with them? No, clearly not. Agnes and Herb in particular seem aware and are scared. They need to be rescued and Wanda needs LOADS of therapy. But Director Nuke the Site from Orbit over here isn't going to make anything better. Darcy, sister, shove that asshole into a locker stat.
Jimmy notes that stealing Vision's body is a violation of the Sokovia Accords. And while I appreciate his dedication to maintaining the Accords … well, I mean, look, it's body theft and all. It's not a great look; I absolutely allow that. But you can just sort of stop there. Though, that's very the Sokovia Accords "if this guy dies, his body must go to a shadowy government agency. for safety. yep."
Also Vision had a living will, where he didn't want to be used as a weapon. Sure, okay. Because I'm sure SWORD was just totally not doing anything at all with his body. Nope. Look, I'm totally a SHIELD girl and even I wouldn't necessarily trust SHEILD with that. So, who is SWORD to me? Pfft. I'd give him to Thor or something and ask him to be buried far far away. I'm just saying. I'm supposed to trust Johnny-Come-Lately S-WUH-ORD?
(In my head now is an inter-agency rivalry where SWORD is like "We have rocket ships!" and SHIELD is like "lol, our lead scientist got eaten by a rock and survived on an alien world for like six months". "But rocket ships?" "We've traveled through time a dozen times in the last year alone. We're a bigger chaotic disaster than you can ever hope to be".)
AD Dick undermines his own "SHE'S A TERRORIST!" thesis by saying she acted out of grief. And then he dismisses everybody. "Work the problem!" Uh … whut? Fine? What is the problem? That she's a WILD MURDERY TERRORIST who must be stopped! or a grief stricken woman who stole her technologically advanced boyfriend's body and probably should be talked down? Acting Director Lack of Clarity.
Jimmy wants to know how Wanda could have resurrected Vision without the Mind stone and Darcy wants to know what Vision will do when he figures it out. Fine questions, friends, fine questions. Monica is just like "acting director dick used to be a buddy but now I kind of want to punch him and am very conflicted. oh and wanda kind of freaks me out but also i feel bad for her" only she says all that without words.
Tommy and Billy are now about like 5 or 6 or something. I'm terrible with kids ages. They're up to shenanigans. Oh, they found a lost puppy dog and they're giving him a bath in the sink. It's all super adorable.
Vision wanders in and greets his family all formally and in his human face. He says he has a premonition someone might pop over. He's not a fan of sitcom neighbors either. And there's Agnes now with a dog house. How does she know whether to enter through the front door or the back door?
The dog tries to burn the house down by licking an electrical outlet? so they name him Sparky (harr harr) and Wanda magics him a collar with Agnes right there. Vision's all "wtf darling?" and she points out Agnes didn't even notice when the boys went from babies to five-year olds, she certainly didn't notice the magic collar. Agnes is trying very very hard not to notice anything. Poor Agnes.
Wanda says she's tired of hiding her abilities and Vision is Very Concerned. He's starting to figure things out.
They tell the boys they can't have a dog until they're 10, so the boys grin at each other and age themselves up to 10. That is all very unsettling. Agnes "Let's just hope this dog stays the same size." as she screams internally "save me!"
Real World. Jimmy's hustling back to the science room with coffee for Monica and Darcy. Monica is asking for some sort of wild mobile bunker to help her get back into Wanda World and Darcy's like "well, yes, but also no". But Monica knows an aerospace engineer who'd totally make it for her.  
"I can't guarantee the Hex won't just mind wipe you as you go in." "What's the hex?" "Oh, it's what I'm calling the anomaly because of it's hexagonal shape. It's starting to catch on." Darcy's so proud, but Jimmy's like 'not so much' but he's too polite to say.
Monica's determined to go back in. Jimmy wants to know who the kids are, if they've id'd them or the babies and Monica's all "oh, no, those are legit Wanda's." Darcy says if she can make stuff with her mind, and all the props and whatnot in the Wanda World are real then she's wielding an insane amount of power. Monica is sure she could have taken out Thanos if he hadn't cheated and snapped her. Jimmy thinks Captain Marvel could have done it. Monica very much doesn't want to talk about Captain Marvel.
Monica has an Idea!
Ah, she wants to see her outfit from Wanda World, which is now in the real world. So, is it real matter Wanda created, or is the perception field bleeding over to make them all see that outfit in the real world. That would have been hella awkward if Monica got yeeted out of her clothes.
Monica confirms they're real then steals Jimmy's gun and shoots them. Ahh, she was wearing a kevlar vest when she went into Wanda World, and that changed shape to be her super fly 70s outfit. "Wanda is rewriting reality." Changing things to fit the hex. So they'll send in something that doesn't need to be changed. Um. Sure. Fine. I don't know what that means, or how that would help in this context, but I'm sure I'll find out.
Meanwhile, Vision is at work, and all his coworkers are amazed at the actual computers. Golly shucks. Computers. Hey, so, computers have been around since the 40s. ANYWAY.
"Should we surf the internet?" We're progressing rapidly through the 80s. Oh, lol, Darcy sent an email. And the whole office creepily reads it out loud. Vision is very weirded out. As well he should be. He wipes the computer with his glowy synthezoid powers and then he glowies Norm when Norm tells him 'none of it is real'. Norm wakes up "please help me. what day is it? how long has it been?". Oh dear. Poor Vision. This is all going to go so very badly. Norm gets very freaked out begging Vision to "stop her". Vision resets him.
At the house the boys wonder where dad is, and Wanda tells them it's Monday and he's at work. Except the boys are all "um, no, it's Saturday". Wanda, your house of lies is tumbling down! You shouldn't have let them grow up so fast. Babies don't ask inconvenient questions about why Daddy needs some space from Mommy and her questionable choices for their shared reality.
Wanda takes the opportunity to impart the 80s family sitcom trope of the weekly life lesson about how family might fight, but they still love each other and family is forever. One of the twins asks if she has a brother. She does. He's far away. But, Sparky goes barking at the door. Wanda looks far away herself. She goes to open the door and Sparky runs out.
Monica has sent in a drone from the 80s. Well that wasn't really a thing. But, how does the 1980s rc plane look more high tech than the 2020s drone they sent in first? Talk to your design team, SWORD.
Anyway, Wanda spots the drone, but she's keeping it out of the broadcast, because she's the editor and director and producer of Wandavision, of course.
Monica announces herself and tries to get Wanda to acknowledge her. Whoops. Wanda's eyes go glowy. AD Dick says "take the shot" and Monica's all "what? no, the drone isn't armed." Except of course it is, because AD Dick is a monumental dick, and he's got a backup drone pilot who takes the shot. Wandavision goes off air. And, oh no, there's a breach at the Hex!
Lol. It's Wanda coming through, dragging the mangled corpse of the drone with her. That was entirely deserved, AD Dick. I hope she shoves it up your ass, dick.
"The missile was just a precaution". AD Dick backpedals quick, like a coward. You gave a three second attempt to talk to Wanda before you pulled the trigger, I don't like you. "You can hardly blame us."
Wanda warns him to stay out. "You won't bother me, I won't bother you." Okay, well, he does kind of have a point, in that there's a whole town of people who are stuck as bit players in Wanda World. That's not very nice. I mean, surely she could have found a nice empty spot somewhere and created her sitcom utopia. That's at least a fair criticism.
Monica tries her best to talk Wanda down. It doesn't work particularly well.
"What do you want?" "I have what I want and no one will ever take it from me again." And she mind controls the soldiers training their guns on her, to turn them on AD Dick. Whoops. And Wanda goes back to her world. The Hex glows all red as she goes.
And we go to commercial. Lagos Brand paper towels. "For when you make a mess you didn't mean to." Wow, so that was brutal. Wanda's not mad at you, Monica. She's just carrying a lot of guilt. Ouch.
Back in Wandavision, the boys are looking for their dog. They find Agnes hiding in the bushes with the dog. Poor Sparky apparently ate some azalea leaves and died. The boys are very sad and Wanda warns them not to age up. They can't run from their feelings. Oh Wanda. "It's too sad," Billy says. "You can fix anything mom," Tommy cries, "Fix the dead". Yikes.
Wanda "I'm trying to tell you there are rules in life." Poor Agnes is trying not to have a total meltdown. "We can't reverse death. No matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever."
Billy and Tommy try to talk her into bringing back Sparky. And Vision turns up. Well, this is just brutal.
Vision is entirely outside of Wanda's control. "I spoke with Norm. I unearthed the man's suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight." Yikes. "He was in pain, Wanda."
Okay it's kind of funny they're arguing over the end credits. Vision is very very pissed. "I'm scared." Aww.
Wanda insists she's not in charge of every life in Westview. "I don't know how any of this started in the first place." Huh. Is that really true? Because she's pretty sure of it now. Somebody or something convinced her into a sitcom world and now she's just like "yeah, this is good"? really asking.
Ding-dong.
"I didn't do that." 
Vision: *doubt*
DING DONG
Wanda goes to answer the door.
In the real world, alarms are blaring but Darcy notices a new revelation on Wandavision.
Wanda Word — and it's Pietro at the door. See! I knew it had to be Pietro who'd be the surprise guest thingy. I mean it's hilariously X-Men Pietro (Evan Peters, like @lewstonewar suggested), but Pietro nonetheless. There's nobody else it could have been.
Darcy be all WTF? "She recast Pietro?" lol
Okay, Wanda seems legit shocked. I don't think she did that. And I super really don’t think she’d make him sound like a NYC cabbie. 
And end.
Well. I mean, I'm not sure what to think. Wanda insists she's not controlling everything. I don't think she created Pietro. But, she totally stole Vision's body and created the kids and seems mostly happy in her sitcom universe and she can traverse the Hex, which obviously suggests its her doing. Dunno. I have questions about Agnes and her convenient timeliness here and there.
The mystery continues.
Disney wants to know if I want to watch Age of Ultron next. How poorly you know me, Disney.
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mimiri22-6 · 3 years
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DUCKTALES (2017) ‘LET’S GET DANGEROUS’ LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
It’s here! It’s here and it couldn’t have come at a better (and worse, but I’m not worrying about that rn) time! This morning(I stayed up till...7? I don’t remember just how long I stayed up earlier, BUT this morning, I found out some shitty stuff about some youtubers I thought I could trust and I felt really betrayed. I won’t lie, I cried, or as much as I can cry cause I apparently can’t even do that right-AND this is a lot for an intro that isn’t needed! Onto my source of escapism today!
IT’S HERE!~
Bradford, more like Bitchford!
BULBA WORKS FOR MCDUCK ENTERPRISE!! HOW MANY MOLES DOES SCROODGE HAVE!?
That awkward moment when you insult the person that does your finances to his face when you can’t hang up
Oh my god, they’re so bad at secrets. That and Louie and Huey are smart, well, Huey’s smart, Louie’s clever
OH HE HAS TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GLIDE! THAT’S GONNY BE A PLOT POINT! I BET GOSALYN WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THAT!
NO INTRO! WOO, IT’S GOING TO BE A LONG ONE!
OH, I’VE HEARD ENOUGH ABOUT THIS BITCH TO KNOW I SHALL HATE HIM WITH EVERYTHING IN ME!
As a great snake once said, ‘Sssssssssssuuck up!’ Taurus Bulba, more like Taurus Bitcha!
Man, no one likes Bradford. Like, no one...Nice
I hate this bull bitch
OOH! TOWER!!! YES! AND MORE MONOLOGE CATCHFRASES!
Oh, LP, never change
Careful Dewey, he has a limited supply of those
HE DOESN’T KNOW! HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW? FENTON IS SHIT AT KEEPING HIS IDENITY!
WHAT!? CANARD HAS NO CRIME!? HOW THE HELL-WHO’S THE MAYOR!? HOW!? (I hope it’s Owlson)
Ooh, the computer has some sass!
THE RAMROD!!!(I really need to watch the OG series)
Haggis. I’ve heard of that. I don’t hear much else about that. Scrooge, you have bad taste. Does all of the UK have bad taste?! It seems like it.
HEY! I’M WITH HUEY, HOW DOES IT WORK! If I was presented with this kind of technology, I would be asking the head scientist everything I could rap my head around!
WHAT!!?!?!??!!!! SHEEP’S WHAT!?!?!!!! NOOO!!!!! NO, I REFUSE
They’re movers. I’m calling it, they’re movers.
Called it.
He face planted! where was his pillow!
GOSALYN! IT’S HER! SHE’S HERE!
She’s So Cool!
Really Scrooge?
BITCH! CARASMATIC BITCH!
OWLSON! YES! SHE’S SO GOOD!
HOW does Huey fit all that under his hat!?
Also, Huey’s right
SHE’S BACK!
KEEN GEAR!!!
HE IS NOT UPSTANDING! HE’S A MURDERER BITCH!
AWW, DEWEY! Looking for someone you love duo!
LP talking sense! THAT’S YOUR FUTURE DAUTER, DRAKE!
Huey knows somethings up
Jesus Christ, Drake just can’t get a break with getting absolutely crushed by everything and everyone
HE KNOWS!
...Good acting, murderer
Two faced bull.
wat
HEY! That’s how I imagine a lot of fiction. It’s cool to think that those worlds exits out there as far away universes
YEAH! GET STABBED, BULB!
DRAKE COMING TO THE RESCUE!
The action in this show is actually Really good
YES! GOSALYN ID THE REASON FOR THE GLIDING! You hear that? It’s symbolism
That shot with LP holding both of them is going to be A Lot of people’s BGs now
YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO SAY THAT!!!
OH! That’s such a smart way to have the OG villains without it being more people living out their childhood dreams from watching the show
C’mon DW, you can do this.
FENTON-oh bye Fenton
Gosalyn has two idiot dads
Drake acting like a dad already, so good
I’m not sure what to make of Launchpad’s family assignments
‘Let’s get dangerous, it the safest way possible’ because he cares. And Launchpad putting the helmet on Gosalyn? *chief kiss* Funny stuff
BRADFUCK!
He’s on board with killing because he already has it in him and has no capacity to care.
Oh my god Launchpad. Never Change!
C’mon Huey, you can do better. Figure ‘im OUT!
Oh boy, Louie knows how to pick locks...
HAHA! She’s also sassy, man she’s good
He remembered the commercial, but not the giant robot? Relatable
‘You know who else banters? Family.’ Oh my god, Launchpad NEVER CHANGE
BUDDY! OH MY GOD THEY’RE FREINDS THIS IS HILARIOUS
NARUTO RUN! YEAH!
Am I the only one out of the loop as to why Bushroot is...like That? He’s so...grey...like his colors have been drained. He was apparently a lot of peoples favorite because of his backstory. Why is he a shadow of his former self??? Why Am I Always So Far From The Loop?!
WOW. The boys are really starting to ware on Bradford.
‘You guys have other clothes?’ LAUNCHPAD NO!
‘young lady’ Drake unknowingly falling into becoming a parent is just great
OOH, Lanchpad and Gosalyn interaction! Yes Please!
‘Nice night.’ 100/10 THE BEST FUCKING JOKE I HAVE EVER WITNESSED!!! HANDS DOWN!
DW NO! SLEEP IS IMPORTANT! *shoves the fact that I slept from 7am-2pm less than 3 nights ago behind me* Also, IT’S BEEN DAYS?!!? I have to admit, that was not executed clearly enough. Probably the only problem I have with the episode
‘das unexseptible, i cant excempt tat’ Drake. Drake, you’re so sweet. That line made me soft.
THAT’S THE SONG! THE SONG OF LEGENDS TOLD! SHE’S HUMMING IT TO A SLEEPING DRAKE! GUYS! GUYS! GIVE ME ALL THE REASONS WHY I SHOULD WATCH THE OG SHOW! PLEASE! I HAVE SO MANY OTHER SHOWS I NEED TO WATCH AND I SO WANT TO MOVE DWD TO THE TOP!!!
I A SOFT! I AM LAUNCHPAD! AND HOW FUCKING LONG IS THAT LIST ON HIS HAND AT THIS POINT! As someone that writes on their hand for reminders, he just has a bunch of words grouped up and extremely smudged on his hand.
I love how the tv show villains are confused about DW’s lack of showmanship
And then he died. Damn.
Gosalyn’s immediate concern and switch to stealth is A+ storytelling. I didn’t even catch it the first time through
Launchpad’s face and rise to what i will assume was a yell of glee was precious! That look just screams ‘FINALY! SOMEONE ASKS ME ABOUT SOMETHING I KNOW AND LOVE WITH MY WHOLE HEART! AND IT’S SOMEONE OTHER THAN MY BOYFREIND DRAKE!
Oh my god, it’s lodged in his weird throat. Gross.
Well, even I can tell that’s a reference to something
Aaaaaaannd Bradford has been found out. Yes!!!
And now the kids are dead
I wonder how many times David said that line. I played a character with a catchphrase and I had to try and say is different every time. It was hard...She said it 17 times. Not Groovy.(god I hate myself.)
Oh, B plot villains. Cool.
Launchpad coming in with the pep talk, yeah!
And DW’s back in action!!! WOO!
I found out that the original voice actor for Quackerjack reprised his role. He must of had a blast recording his lines again!
Neverminded, Gosalyn has two nerd dads
ALL OF THEM SAYING THE LINE IS PURE SERITONIN!!!!!
UH. UH! DRAKE IS STRAGHT UP BEING STABBED! MULTIPLE TIMES!! IN HIS TORSO!!!
God, they really are nerds
‘Why were our heads so round’ HA AHAHAHAHAAAH!!! *WHEEZE* I LOVE THIS FUNKY DUCK SHOW!
‘unless’ Aw. Aw man. I knew how it would end, but man, it hurts.
Hugs. Soft sorrowful hugs from your future dad
Where’d Bulba go? He just kind of disappeared.
‘Bradford? F.O.W.L??’ Nice going guys
‘Our reality just got a lot more dangerous’ idk why, but I really like that line
Drake out of the suit and Gosalyn Knows Him! YES!!!
‘Look, you got knocked down, beat up, and blown up today, but what matters is that you get back up’ I
I am Soft. Just, So Soft. And it would take too long to describe everything I’m feeling
He’s so nervous and he can’t find his words and they’re so sweet! Doc, I have diabetes now. Cause: Found Family Trope
Launchpad, he hodl.
LP! NOT YOU TOO! SLEEP! SLEEP NOT WHILE DRIVING! GUYS, NO!(Shit, they’re made for each other!)
ADVENTURE FAMILY ON THE CASE! YYEEEAAAAH!!!!!
Altogether, another great ep
...
WAIT! THERE’S ANOTHER ONE ALREADY! i HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN! FU
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bubbashawn · 4 years
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No Nothing
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author: Lol I don’t know where this came from and also cheers to three days in a row of writing. Don’t expect this to become a thing anyways hope you like it. Am I just doing every trope ever? Yep and what about it 💓
synopsis: Shawn has always taunted you because you’re his best friend’s sister, but even Brian can tell it’s tearing you both apart.
warnings: Baby swears and all that but mostly just 2.5k of two people being stupid 😂
Carrots. You hated carrots, they were your favorite growing up and Shawn Mendes, the boy living down the street, ruined them for you.
“Hi carrots,” he would smirk down at you, “how’s it going?”
“Would you stop calling me that?”
“Mmmm no, no can do, sorry carrots”
Brian had called you that when you were a baby and that was fine, but his imbecile best friend Shawn? No way. Your brother had met the Canadian boy in school and honestly it was shocking you didn’t know him already. Pickering wasn’t exactly a big city so most people knew each other, but Shawn and you didn’t meet until Brian and him were besties.
At first you didn’t mind Shawn, he was nice enough and got your brother to leave you alone. But once that nickname set in you were officially not okay with each other. And it wasn’t like you could just ignore him because he’d show up everywhere. At hockey practice Shawn would constantly be shooting pucks your way, shouting that fateful nickname.
“On your right, carrots!”
You despised him. Until you didn’t. Maybe it was the day when he jumped into the car when the Craigen family drove Shawn home from the rink, his cheeks flushed pink and a bright white smile on his face.
“Hi carrots”
You didn’t respond that day with a snarky comment, caught up in his honey colored eyes. He had noticed you were sure but he was lost in conversation with Brian long before he could comment on your dazed state. Or maybe it was the day during freshman year when your sophomore boyfriend dumped you for the senior (who ended up leaving for college 4 months later), Shawn had approached you like you were glass and his step might shake the ground so much you’d crack. He hugged you that day, no teasing or prodding, just holding you together.
“Hi carrots,” his hand ran along your spine, “you okay?”
You just hid your teary eyed frown in his shoulder. The two of you stood there until Brian pulled you both to the couch in the basement and started playing a Harry Potter marathon. Your brother didn’t normally let you in on ‘bro time’ but he knew Shawn wouldn’t leave your side, though the boy would never admit it.
After that day the two of you came to an agreement, settling on harmless taunts and yet Shawn wouldn’t give up the nickname.
“You’re still my carrots, always will be.”
Everything was decent and the two of you were comfortable in the new mutual friendship you’d built. Shawn had told you a month later he’d be leaving for tour. You were 13 and he was 15. Before he left the Mendes and Craigen Clans got together for a farewell dinner, everyone was shocked by the lack of bickering between you two, even more so when he ate your carrots and you ate his tomatoes. The alliance was working.
Shawn came and went through Pickering, just like your boyfriends, except they actually remembered you. Shawn hadn’t even tried to see you when he was home, not that you cared of course, but you did miss his laugh. And his smile and him and maybe even that terrible name.
-
You wouldn’t see the famous boy until your graduation, 5 years after his goodbye dinner. Maybe it was because he rarely was home or maybe it’s because he didn’t visit the Craigen home and more than likely it was because you would leave when Brian mentioned Shawn making an appearance. You don’t know why you did it, you just did.
Graduating was all you looked forward to in all honesty. You had your friends and you had hockey but you didn’t care for that anymore because you wanted to get out of Pickering. Nothing was going to stop you now that you’d be attending university in Australia, that had always been the plan and now you were about to make it happen.
You didn’t even notice the tall boy until you stood from your arranged seat to collect your diploma but his shout was louder than anyone else’s.
“Go carrots!” He smiled right at you.
Shawn was looking at you for the first time in half a decade and he was a new person. He had grown substantially and his dorky figure had filled out. Honestly you gave yourself props for crushing on him before he got hot. But damn you weren’t complaining. You wanted to stare at him and ask all your unanswered questions with your eyes locked with his, but your ticket out of Canada was far more important than your childish crush. So you stepped forward walking along the grass up to the podium and shook hands with the staff of your school before walking back to your seat.
“Carrots!” His stride was fast to keep up with you as you ran towards your friends, “you went and grew up on me.”
“Says you, rockstar,” a new found confident tilt in your voice, “you cannot be the same imbecile from my childhood.”
He smiled brightly, ‘rockstar’, his new nickname. He loved that you gave him a nickname. He felt so comfortable talking to you and he missed the banter you two had always shared. Shawn missed you.
“Rockstar? Huh, I like it,” he pulled you into his chest, like he did all those years ago, “I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t go all soft on me now, I’m already dealing with Brian.” You laughed.
“Hey! I’m being serious here, really I did miss you, carrots.”
“I missed you too.”
It all felt serene, just smiling at one another. That is until your aforementioned brother tugged harshly as his arm wrapped around your waist.
“My baby sister is all grown up!”
“Brian!”
“If you think you can steal her away to catch up, think again Mendes!” He shouted at his best friend.
He just watched them happily, his own hand placed on Aaliyah’s shoulder.
“This dork’s time is reserved for me and only me until 6:30 tomorrow morning.”
You just laughed again, trying to pry his sturdy hands away from you when he started tickling you. But Shawn was confused, no longer laughing with the siblings.
“Why 6:30?”
Brian tensed against you. He knew of Shawn’s crush on his baby sister and though he wasn’t happy at first, he knew Shawn wouldn’t hurt her and that was what he really cared about. That and you wouldn’t have anymore shitty boyfriends who’d never treat you right.
“I didn’t tell you?” Shawn’s face fell at Brian’s tone, “she leaves for Australia tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” He choked on his words, “w-why so fast?”
“I want to grow accustomed to the new lifestyle and country itself before starting the spring semester.”
“O-oh” Shawn hated how his voice stuttered.
You felt his eyes on you the entire night up until you sent your teary farewells to your friends as they went home. You turned to say your final, most important goodbye of the night. But Shawn had already slipped through the door tucked in with the graduated hockey team. No hug. No smile. No nothing. Not even a “bye carrots”.
Shawn didn’t show up at the house the next morning nor when you hugged Aaliyah at the airport. Even Karen and Manny tearfully hugged you before you checked into security, but their son was nowhere to be seen.
-
Australia was everything you wanted and more. The beaches were to die for and the sun was tanning your skin well, not to mention you loved your school. Everything was perfect on all fronts but one. You hated how much Shawn’s dismissal bothered you. He didn’t know when he’d see you again but he brushed you off like you were some chip on his shoulder. You hate that it bothered you and you hate that he hurt you.
Shawn knew that he was an asshole before Aaliyah told him that you asked for him. His mom for God’s sake kept eyeing him like he was a hurt puppy and Shawn knew he looked like one too. Tour had started up again in Portland after your graduation and he was content with performing, it was his safe space. But he was just wanting to be in Australia with you.
“Hey Brian,” Shawn had to rush before his soundcheck because he wanted to know when you would get there.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Carrots is coming to the show, right?”
“She’s not sure,” he offered a short smile to Shawn, Brian blamed him for his sister’s reluctance, “she has a chem exam tomorrow.”
“O-oh, okay. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
“Sure thing, now get out there, rockstar!”
Shawn froze and Brian knew he messed up. But the famous Canadian boy ran off after stumbling and started his soundcheck. He was a mess, so bad that Andrew called a break. He didn’t do that, not since the Handwritten tour.
“Shawn? What’s going on?”
He just sat there on one of the speakers off stage, dropping his head in his hands. Brian knew he had to do something because Shawn wouldn’t be able to pull it together without his baby sister pushing him along. Shawn just watched his friend walk off to the side, phone pressed to his ear.
“Y/N?”
-
You had no intention of driving the long 3 hours to Shawn’s arena. You had a hot cup of tea, your roommate thought it was gross saying “it’s so hot out though,” and the Harry Potter disk was calling your name. But Brian called and said Shawn needed you and that made the drive feel far longer than ever before.
Arriving at the Qudos Bank Arena 15 minutes before the concert was not the plan, but you hadn’t put into account the countless fans pushing and shoving their way past you. When you finally reached the side door your hair was disheveled, your strap had fallen down your shoulder, and your cheeks were flushed the same way Shawn’s always were.
“Hi,” you smiled at the security guard, “I’m Brian Craigen’s sister and I need to get through.”
He just laughed and turned away. Well, okay then. You stepped away from the door and called your big brother.
“Brian?”
“Y/N? Are you here yet? Kind of in desperate need.”
“Yeah, I am but security won’t let me in. I’m at door,” you looked around, “5A, I think.”
“Ok, I’m coming with Andrew. Give your phone to the guard, would you?”
The two men on the phone had a short conversation ending with the security guy apologizing profusely and opening the gate so you could slip into the venue. You didn’t know where to go but soon that anxiety settled when your clumsy brother ran right into you.
“Brian! Ow!”
“Sorry! Okay, so I’m taking you through to Shawn’s room,” he looked down at you, “yeah?”
“O-okay.”
-
Shawn’s dressing room was a disaster, you knew he wasn’t neat but this was on a whole new level. His wardrobe was thrown around and you sent a sympathetic glance towards Tiffany, his stylist, before finally glancing down at Shawn. He was curled over his legs on the couch, fingers pulling at the poor worn out curls. He looked like a disaster and your heart ached a little at the sight.
“Rockstar?”
His eyes whipped up and he froze as he took you in all the way from those stupid converse you refused to let go of, thought they were 2 sizes too small, all the way up to your signature red hair.
“C-carrots?”
Before you knew it, Shawn had jumped from his position and folded himself against you and your memory again flashed back to freshman year. You were enveloped in everything distinctly Shawn. His smell and his curls that tickled you. The tapping of his fingers against your spine. This was your Shawn, not that boy who failed to say goodbye 5 months ago.
“Hi bud, how are you doing?” You whispered in his shoulder.
“Better now, thanks.”
“I’m still a little mad at you,” he tensed up, pulling you impossibly closer, “no goodbye, no hug, no nothing, Shawn.”
“I’m sorry, carrots.”
The two of you crashed onto his couch in his previous spot but a different position. Shawn was almost at ease, neither of you mentioned the hand with that swallow tattoo still resting on your hip. He just looked at you and you looked at him. This was good.
“What’s going on?”
“What?” He seemed startled by your sudden question.
“Why did Brian think that it was important for me to be here? Why am I here, Shawn?”
He pouted and he just wanted to hold you but Shawn knew that you deserved an explanation for why he’s been so confusing.
“I can’t think straight without you around,” you went to interrupt but he cut you off, “let me say this and then you can go home if you really want to. Most of the tour I was fine with you not being there but when I knew you could be here and you chose not to? I don’t know, i-it threw everything off. And Brian would kill me for saying this but, carrots you drive me crazy. I mean you always have but I don’t know it’s different now. I always liked you, always, and Brian didn’t like the idea of me anywhere near you so I just deflected you. That’s why I started picking on you, calling you carrots. I just knew I couldn’t like you. But I really do, Y/N, I just can’t let you be mad at me.”
He looked at you, your face shocked and that’s when Shawn started to backpedal.
“Hey, relax okay? Nothing has to change your still my best friend’s annoying little sister. Nothing will be different,” Shawn pauses, “if you don’t want it too. I mean you don’t have to like me or anything just because I really li-”
You cut him off and you don’t care how cliche it is but everything fell into place. His lips were soft, not that you had thought they wouldn’t be. Shawn was so shocked he didn’t move until you pulled away, mumbling a short “sorry.” And the. He placed his lips against yours, finally, his hand cupped your jaw and everything was different between you two.
“Hey,” you pulled away slightly, your nose still pressed to his, “you didn’t call me carrots.”
Brian barged in right as Shawn was about to speak.
“Okay, I’m trying to be a ‘cool’ brother or whatever but no tongue when I’m around, deal?”
“Deal,” Shawn’s eyes still focused on you, “definitely a deal.”
“Yeah, yeah. Shawn you need to be on stage like now.” And with that Brian left.
“Come to the side stage?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” And you wouldn’t because Shawn was smiling at you like you were his world and maybe you were.
“Hey carrots?” He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door, “I really like you.”
permanent tag list: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela
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Text
In Place
Title: In Place
Word Count: 4274
Summary: A year later, Roman returns to the Sanders’ abode for Christmas. And maybe he’s still trying to figure out where he’s supposed to fit. Companion piece/Sequel to Homeward but can be read separately. Romantic!Parents!Logicality, familial!LAMP
Warnings: Feeling out of place. Fluff. Christmas clichés and tropes. Occasional undercurrents of angst, but it’s mostly holiday found-family fluff, tbh. Patton is Latinx in this but it’s only really mentioned in passing.
A/N: Is this chock full of clichés and tropes? Yes. Am I sorry for that? Nope. Do I have mixed feelings about how this fic actually turned out? Yep. C’est la vie. Happy holidays!
December 23. 10:43 AM.
Roman looks over, his mouth quirking into a small, appreciative smile as Logan hands him a mug full of a steaming liquid. Roman’s folded up in the chair by the window, watching the late morning snowfall drift in large, lazy flakes towards the blanket of snow already on the ground. His first snowfall—in the middle of the night outside a broken down car with Virgil—flickers through his mind for not the first time in the past week.
Had that really been a year ago?
“Thanks, Mr. Sanders,” Roman says. A quick glance and deep inhale of the contents of the mug indicate it is coffee. He takes a tentative sip, an odd and unexpected note of affection squeezing his chest as he realizes that they remembered his usual of three spoonfuls of sugar.
Logan inclines his head. “You are welcome.” He has a mug in his own hand—and the faint scent of coffee drifts in the air around them. “How did you sleep?”
“Long,” Roman replies with a sheepish smile. “But it was good.”
The corner of Logan’s mouth twitches in something like amusement. “Still not as long as Virgil.” He glances towards the stairs and shakes his head.
Roman laughs a little. Virgil had yet to emerge from his room today. The college student quickly brushes the bangs falling into his eyes back into his hair. The brief moment of calm is interrupted by the sound of music drifting into the living room from the kitchen: a song that Roman recognizes as soon as the trumpet line kicks in, even before the lyrics.
“Feliz navidad. Feliz navidad. Feliz navidad, prospero año y Felicidad.”
Patton suddenly appears from around the kitchen doorway, dancing and singing along into a whisk. He’s in blue pajama pants and a gray t-shirt with a cartoon cat on the front. Roman can’t help the smile that breaks across his face, and though Logan rolls his eyes as Patton dances his way towards him, the spark of affection is evident. Almost as if it’s routine, Logan sets his mug of black coffee down on the side table right before Patton grabs his hand and pulls him into a dance in the middle of the living room.
Roman sips his own drink and watches them. Patton continues to sing in Spanish, and Logan matches his dancing at every step. Roman thinks it might be salsa. Or merengue. He doesn’t remember much from his dance lesson days. Logan and Patton, though, are actually…. Quite good.
Roman laughs as Virgil emerges from the stairs a moment later, confusion and bewilderment flashing shamelessly across his face as his dads dance to “Feliz Navidad” in the living room. Patton glances over towards the foot of the stairs and grins. Virgil shakes his head, says something about “too early for this”, and turns as if to go back upstairs.
Patton breaks from Logan and grabs Virgil’s hand. “C’mon, kiddo”, Patton chimes brightly at the same time that Logan says something about it being “nearly 11 o’clock”. Virgil trips a little as his dad pulls him to join the two of them dancing. Virgil lets his dad spin him around once and then stumbles his way towards the kitchen with a barely contained smile and a note about making sure breakfast doesn’t burn.
He shrugs his shoulders at Roman from across the room before he disappears through the kitchen doorway.
Patton rolls right into Logan’s anticipating arms as they dance together again until the song ends. Logan presses a small kiss to Patton’s head as the song fades out.
“You guys are really good,” Roman says.
Patton grins. “Thanks, kiddo.”
“I suppose it is mostly Patton’s side of the family to thank for that,” Logan adds as he returns to his coffee cup on the table beside Roman. “Patton has known how to dance like that for as long as I’ve known him. I picked up a few things from his family over the years.”
Patton leans over and kisses Logan’s shoulder. “You also took dance lessons before our wedding to surprise me. I’m sure that helped, too.”
Logan hums noncommittally. “The wedding was nearly exclusively your family, after all. The last thing I wanted was to embarrass myself. Dance lessons seemed like a practical investment, given the situation.”
Virgil’s voice from the kitchen interrupts the conversation. “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Shopping, I believe,” Logan calls back to him. “Patton and I have a few more things to get. You and Roman are welcome to come along.”
Roman glances outside again. From his position in the chair, he can see down the street a ways to the corner. Mr. Picani’s inflatable snowman is in the same position it was from Roman’s exhausted memory last year. Across the street, two small children are having a snowball fight. Roman snorts when he sees a man emerge from the front door—bundled up in a coat, scarf, hat, and gloves—wielding a nerf gun. The two children shriek excitedly and take off running towards the back yard.
It leaves an odd feeling in Roman’s chest.
“I’m down,” Virgil replies. “Roman? You in?”
Roman blinks and looks back at Logan and Patton. Patton tilts his head, his brow furrowing in something like concern. Roman offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Yeah. I’m in.”
December 23. 4:10 PM.
Roman grabs a glass ornament from the vendor’s table and turns it over gently in his hand. The cold December air causes the breath of wonder that escapes his lips at the intricately designed object to form a small cloud in front of his face. Roman tucks his nose a little further into his scarf.
“That’s hand-blown,” the vendor—an elderly gentleman with frazzled gray hair and pink cheeks—tells him.
“It’s beautiful,” Roman tells him sincerely. He sets it gingerly down in the box he’d pulled it from. He glances over his shoulder as the bell above the door to the puzzle shop jingles, signaling Patton’s emergence from it. He looks left, then right, then crosses the walkway towards the ornament stand that Roman and Virgil had been perusing. Virgil, at the other corner of the table from Roman, looks up as his dad approaches.
“Is your father nearby?”
Virgil eyes the not-at-all-subtle way that Patton is hiding something beneath his jacket. He shakes his head. “I think he went to the bookstore to get something for Corbin and Sloane. Why?”
Patton pulls a blue plastic bag from beneath his gray coat and opens it. Virgil peers in. “I got your father that hand-carved chess set he’s been eyeing for a few months. I’m gonna go hide it in the car. I’ll be right back.” He gives a bright smile to Roman before rushing off towards the parking lot.
Virgil shoves his hands into the pockets of his black coat and crosses the few steps towards Roman. “Dad is terrible at hiding things. He gets lucky that father doesn’t really go looking.”
Roman’s mouth quirks into an almost-smile. “Didn’t you say something about one of them eating part of that gingerbread kit last year?”
“That was dad.” Roman doesn’t miss the look of warm affection in Virgil’s eyes, even as they both start walking towards a bench to take a seat. They pass by a chestnut stand and the earthy scent is almost enough for Roman to forget just how cold it is outside.
A father wearing a Santa hat with a young girl dressed like Elsa on his shoulders passes by. Roman gives her a deep bow before he takes a seat on the bench, and the girl grins brightly at him, giving him a regal wave in return. He sees Virgil glance at him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Neither does Roman. Instead, the two of them sit in companionable silence and watch families, couples, and individuals bustle around for their last-minute Christmas gifts.
People watching had always left Roman feeling vaguely uncomfortable, especially around the holidays. In the back of his mind, he realizes it’s mostly when he notices families and couples holding hands that he gets that odd feeling in his chest again. He doesn’t know what it means. It’s like a part of him is reaching out for something that he cannot find, or that he does not know how to name.
“Don’t think so hard, Princey,” Virgil chimes lightly. “You might blow a fuse.”
Roman huffs an affronted breath. “Excuse you, thinking is my specialty.”
“Is that what you were doing when you sang Mariah Carey at the top of your lungs that one Thursday—”
“As a matter of fact, it was!”
“All the more reason you should do less of it, then.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk, Charlie Frown.” There’s no real bite in Roman’s voice. The familiarity of the banter with Virgil eases some of the discomfort from a moment ago. Virgil pulls his hands out of his pockets to hold them up in mock surrender.
When he really thinks about it, Roman figures it’s a bit of an odd relationship. Just over a year ago, Roman really only knew Virgil as someone from his English 100 class. Now? Well. Roman considers Virgil his best friend. It had been a fast year: a whirlwind of undergraduate classes and exams and papers, a summer internship for Roman in New York with a magazine and one for Virgil at home with a graphic design company. They’d visited each other twice that summer, and though Roman would never admit it, he was certain that was the only thing that kept him sane.
The start of their sophomore year, Roman and Virgil both had abysmal roommates and elected to move in together. More tests, more essays, more stress. Another set of finals. And then suddenly it was Christmas break. And Virgil had acted like the idea that Roman was going with him to Maine was a given—something that was really saving grace for Roman, who wouldn’t have dared to ask.
From his very first time meeting them a year ago, Roman loved Virgil’s dads. They were everything his parents hadn’t been, and a shining example of the kind of love Roman hoped to find with a guy one day himself. But every time Roman was near Virgil and his parents…. It left an odd weight on his shoulders. As if Roman was trying to squeeze into a space he wasn’t actually wanted in.
“What?” Virgil asks suddenly, from beside him.
“What?”
Virgil shrugs, his gaze flickering back to look at the people bustling by when Roman looks over to meet his gaze. “I know that look, Roman.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Virgil arcs an eyebrow and looks at him again. “They’re glad you’re here. They’re not just, like… tolerating it, or whatever. You know that, right?”
Roman freezes for a second, then tries to recover. “Who? My adoring fanbase?” He waves at a baby that is staring at him with huge eyes beneath a beanie cap in a stroller as his mother talks with a friend.
But for some reason, Virgil doesn’t seem willing to let it go. “My dads.”
Roman glances quickly at him. “I know.”
“Do you?”
Virgil’s question doesn’t get answered as they both see Logan emerge from the bookshop with a bag in his hands and starts towards them. Roman finds himself grateful for the interruption. But he doesn’t miss the quick glance that Virgil throws his way anyway.
December 23. 8:01 PM.
Patton stands in the middle of the living room, the lights from the Christmas tree reflecting in the lens of his glasses, and steeples his fingers in front of his face. He looks thoughtfully at the otherwise bare tree, and Roman can see the wheels of thought turning in his head from his position on the couch.
“I think,” he says slowly, “that it needs more lights—”
“Absolutely not,” Logan interrupts flatly and immediately. “Patton, you put six strands of lights on that tree. I draw the line at seven.”
Virgil snorts from where he’s sitting at the bottom of the steps. He’s got both hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Roman’s sits on the coffee table. He likes to let his marshmallows soak for a moment before he drinks it. He’s got a red blanket pulled across his lap.
“We do have one more strand,” Virgil says with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Seems like it would be a waste to just not put it on the tree at this point.”
Logan shoots a look at his son as Patton gasps. “Exactly! We can’t have one lonely strand left, Logan.”
Logan releases a long, suffering sigh, but even he can’t contain the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he looks otherwise stoically at his husband. “Very well. Why you insist on personifying inanimate objects but refuse to do so when it resembles a human form, I may never understand—”
“Is this still about me eating the gingerbread man last year?”
A beat of silence. “Perhaps.”
“He’s made of gingerbread, Logan.” Patton grabs the strand left untangled on the floor and hands one end to his husband. “He wants to be eaten. It makes him feel fulfilled.”
“I see.”
Patton and Logan work together to wrap and connect the final strand of lights around the base of the tree. Patton beams, satisfied at their work, as Logan steps around and snakes an arm around his husband’s waist, pulling him in and kissing the top of his head. He then turns his attention to the green storage container sitting beside the coffee table. He pops the lid off to reveal it’s contents—shrouded in brown and tissue paper. Ornaments. Apparently, sentimental ones.
Virgil pulls himself to his feet as Logan sits on the couch and Patton sits cross-legged on the floor. Roman decides to take his cue from his friend and tosses the blanket off his legs, standing up as well.
“Aw, I remember this one!” Patton exclaims as he unwraps one of the ornaments. “Logan, this was from the first time we spent Christmas together.”
Logan gingerly takes the square ornament from his husband’s hands and dangles it from one of his fingers. Roman can see a picture of Patton and Logan together inside of it. “Yes,” Logan muses. “I remember this. We were sophomores in college. You’d heard about my… situation and asked if I wanted to join you for the holidays.” He casts a quick but gentle look at his husband before turning his attention to the tree and carefully selecting a branch to loop through the string.
“And this was from our vacation two years ago,” Patton explains, carefully finding the hook at the top to hand off to Virgil.
Virgil makes a face as he takes it. “Was this from that one middle-of-nowhere restaurant that gave me food poisoning?”
Logan studies it for a moment from across the room, then pushes the frame of his glasses up his nose a bit. “No,” he says. “That one is from the Christmas Tree farm in Vermont that your dad wanted to stop at in the middle of July.”
“It’s never too early to celebrate Christmas—Oh!” Patton cuts himself off as he unwraps the tissue paper from another one. “Virge, remember this?” Patton brandishes the blue and purple sphere to show his son before he hands it off to Roman.
Roman takes it reverently, arching an eyebrow at Virgil. The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks in an affectionate smile at the object in Roman’s hands. “Yep,” Virgil says.
“It was the first Christmas gift you ever got me,” Patton says. “Your first year with us.”
Virgil huffs a faint, embarrassed laugh. “Not my best gift.”
“You had only known us for a few months,” Logan replies. “We were all getting to know one another still. You could not have been expected to get a particularly personal gift. And besides, it now holds significant sentimental value.”
Roman glances down at it. It was relatively unassuming—a perfect sphere, swirls of blue and purple colors, and the year it was bought printed in silver calligraphy—but Roman is careful when he hangs it off a branch. He loops the pine through the yarn tied at the top of it and stops a moment to ensure it will hold securely before he turns his attention away from it. Patton is already explaining and reminiscing about another ornament that he’s slowly handing off to Logan.
Roman can tell from the fond if slightly rote responses from Logan and Virgil that Patton’s rehashing of memories through these ornaments was probably a regular event whenever they decorated the tree. Roman hardly minds. He listens to Patton’s stories with more than polite silence—he enjoys them. Last year, Patton and Logan had waited until Virgil was there to decorate the tree as well. But Roman had elected to help Patton with some things in the kitchen so that he could lead the tree decorating. He hadn’t really elected to take part in it.  
He felt like he was witnessing a surprisingly intimate moment with this family and the odd feeling from early returns to his chest. It squeezes a little harder this time, and Roman feels out of place and uncertain. Like he’s intruding.
“I think that’s it,” Patton says nearly an hour later, peering into the empty storage box from his place on the floor.
“Hold on,” Virgil says. “I’ve got one more.” The college student rushes from around the tree and disappears up the stairs. Logan quirks an eyebrow at Roman, who simply shakes his head. He has no idea what Virgil is talking about.
Moments later, Virgil comes back down the steps. Hanging from his forefinger is a gold string loop fastened to a small ornament. A red car. One that looks remarkably like—
“Wait,” Roman says, frowning.
“Look, it’s the closest I could find,” Virgil says with a slight shrug. “It’s supposed to be Maximus.”
Roman stares at Virgil, confused. He, evidently, isn’t the only one. “The horse from Tangled?” Patton asks from behind them, having not moved from his position sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“My car,” Roman replies, but he still doesn’t understand. Why did Virgil get an ornament version of his car?
Virgil carefully threads it onto one of the few unadorned branches towards the top of the tree. “Yeah,” he replies easily. “A reminder of last year. Your first Christmas with us.”
Roman stares at it as Virgil steps back to survey the addition. Roman feels his friend nudge him with his elbow, but he can’t speak past the sudden lump in his throat. He doesn’t think he’d trust himself to speak right now anyway.
“I think it’s great,” Patton chimes in thoughtfully. “I had been looking for some way to add you to our Christmas memories when we were shopping today but nothing seemed to fit.”
Logan gives an affirming nod. “Agreed. I had been doing the same without success. Although sentimental ornaments are, admittedly, not my strong suit. That is a more than satisfactory addition to the family Christmas tree.”
“More than satisfactory?” Virgil quips teasingly. “Well, now you know you’re an approved Sanders.” Logan rolls his eyes in response.  
But Roman still doesn’t know what to say. The red car ornament looks like it fits. It blends into the wide assortment of random objects and shapes that had been turned into ornaments full of meaning and memory. And all Roman can do is look at it and realize that they all wanted to place Roman amidst that smattering of love put on display in their living room.
“I… are you sure?” Roman finds himself asking, in a voice that sounds too small to be his own.
He’s not really asking about the ornament. An ornament is a temporary seasonal decoration but it feels very permanent to Roman. A part of him tries to tell himself that he’s reading too much into it, but he knows. He listened to Patton share memories about every single object on that tree, he saw the warmth in all of their eyes with each one that got added and Roman knows—even if a part of him wants to deny it—that being added to this tree signifies a lot more than just. Decoration.
So he asks. Are you sure?
“Of course we’re sure, kiddo,” Patton says as he pushes himself to his feet. He steps up beside Roman and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a moment.
“Roman,” Logan adds, both serious and uncharacteristically gentle, “you have a place here. With us. For as long as you want it.” Startled, Roman glances at Virgil’s father. There’s something aged and knowing in his eyes and Roman suddenly feels more seen than he has in a very, very long time. He blinks quickly against the heat in his eyes and tries to clear his throat.
“I…” Roman tries.
“And we hope you’ll want it for a long time,” Patton adds with a small squeeze to Roman’s shoulders. “Because like it or not, you’re part of this family now. The tree is just…” Patton trails off, waving a hand at it, seemingly at a loss for how to explain his point.
“It’s a symbol,” Virgil adds in. “Of what’s already been true for a while now.” He’s giving Roman a quiet, knowing look. Almost a placid I told you so.
Roman casts a look towards Virgil and hopes he understands everything he isn’t sure how to say in this moment. “Thank you,” Roman says, despite the gap between the words and what he means behind them. They are the only words that come to mind. He wishes he could think of more.
Patton laughs slightly—warm and reassuring—and gives Roman one more squeeze before he lets go. Roman glances at Logan, seeing him smile faintly and incline his head. There’s a brief pause of silence before Virgil jumps in.
“So. About that gingerbread house?”
December 24. 9:40 PM.
“Roman! Get in here!”
Roman rolls his eyes at Virgil’s teasingly aggressive shout from the living room, then laughs at Patton’s immediate admonishment. He finishes pouring the popcorn into the large bowl before tossing the bag into the trash.
“You got it?” Logan asks, standing beside him as he slides the tray of hot chocolates off the counter to balance on his arms. Roman has to stop himself from laughing at the man—Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever quite get used to seeing Virgil’s father in a unicorn onesie. But somehow, Patton had convinced them all to wear them in the name of tradition.
Roman’s had been a slightly-early Christmas present from Patton. His new Beauty and the Beast themed garment was now his favorite thing he owned.
Roman picks up the bowl and nods. “Yeah. I’m good. You good?” He nods to the tray balanced across Logan’s arm.
Logan smiles. “I have enough practice from my barista days. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”
The two of them head out from the kitchen and into the living room. Virgil is sitting on the floor in his skeleton onesie with a violet blanket pulled across his lap. Patton sits on the floor beside him—in a cat onesie of his own—and thanks Logan when his husband hands him one of the mugs from the tray. Roman sits on the couch, folding his legs up as he lowers the bowl of popcorn into Virgil’s lap in front of him. There’s an exchange of mugs, snacks, and light teasing as everyone settles in.
“So what are we watching?” Roman asks as Logan loads the DVD.
“Muppets Christmas Carol.” Patton reaches for the remote to adjust the volume up a bit in preparation.
“It’s the best of all worlds,” Virgil adds in.
“Yes,” Logan muses, padding to the light-switch to turn off the lights in the room as the movie starts up. “Virgil’s favorite holiday story is Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Patton’s fond of the Muppets. I appreciate some of the more sophisticated humor. And I have a feeling you will be fond of the music in this movie.”
“Watching this is a tradition,” Patton adds. “We just didn’t get to last year given… circumstances.”
Virgil cranes his neck back to look at Roman on the couch above him as Logan takes a seat beside Roman. “That’s one thing about this family. So. Many. Traditions. So get ready. There’s no going back now.” He says it lightly. Easily. And Roman knows without asking that Virgil is a far cry from complaining about it.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Roman says with a small but sincere smile. “I’m right where I want to be.”
He sees Logan smile a bit from behind his mug as he takes a sip. Patton glances over at him. “Good. You’re a perfect fit.”
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Author Interview: Victoryindeath2 (by TolkienGirl)
Thank you @thelonelybrilliance!
1.     What fanfic trope do you think the AU has a unique spin on and why?
So seven card stud is the best and funniest strip poker/crossdressing fic you will ever find.
Definitely love how we grow the found family trope, particularly in regards to Maedhros and Gwindor, which I shall say more on in the question below. It is our own platonic version of the ships passing in the night trope—Maedhros and Gwindor are never mentioned as having met in canon, let alone spoken of in any way that might hint at their having any basis for friendship. I myself have never read any fics where there was any sort of bond between them. However, all of the authors love canon Gwindor greatly, and he fit so well into our plans and now has became more important and dear than we could ever imagine, so much so that I have to stop and remind myself that Maedhros and Gwindor are not brotp in canon. It’s honestly one of my favorite departures from the original Silm!
2.     What are your three favorite friendships between people who are NOT related to each other?
My most FAVORITE friendship between unrelated characters is unquestionably the friendship between Maedhros and Gwindor. Maedhros gives Gwindor hope, freedom, and another little brother to love and guard, and Gwindor gives his Russandol the older brother he never had, good simple understanding without judgment, a care that doesn’t yield to Maedhros’s judgement of himself and fights against Maedhros’s frequent (understandable) self-pity and self-hatred. They could not have made it out of the thrall camp without each other, nor saved as many people as they did. Even now, Maedhros is one of the few solid good things Gwindor has to steady himself with as he tries to adjust to a world where he is not a slave, Maedhros is the person who turns Gwindor’s words back on him to say, you must think better of yourself! And Gwindor is now, as he was back in the thrall camp, the hand that Maedhros can bear to cling to when he is most hurt, frightened, and sad.
Ah...sometimes I like to dream about Gwindor getting to be an older brother figure to Mae back in Formenos and city days...the things that might have changed for the better...
There are many other good friendships but two in particular stand out: Finrod and Beren and Haleth and Luthien. Beren has lost his whole family and people, has suffered injury and been an outcast, thrown out of Doriath, separated from the young woman he loves, and here comes Finrod, some pretty boy from back East who has lots of noble ideas in his head, probably an awful lot of naivety at their meeting, but also a brave, loyal, laughing heart. So far we haven’t explored their friendship in as much detail as some relationships, but rest assured that....it will feature heavily in the future. I really hope that we can drop in little stories of their early friendship as we go along. For now, the fic Clarity has some of my favorite moments between them! I am very excited for the future with them!
As for Haleth and Luthien—well they are such contrasts aren’t they? Haleth, grim, younger than Luthien but more versed in the cruelty of the world, and Luthien, bright and eager to go out into the world and find Beren, unafraid for now of what it might have in store for her and her loved ones. They are both strong-willed, determined young women though, and I adore every moment between them. Haleth, always bringing what word she can of Beren to Luthien, protecting her secret, teaching her to fight, being slightly taken aback at the thought that yes, Luthien is her friend. And Luthien having nothing but respect for Haleth. The most recent fic between them was honestly the sweetest, cutest thing!
3.     What is a “missing scene” that you wish could be written into the AU during the past year (1852)?
You know what I would want? A little scene between Fingolfin and Finrod, set after Maedhros has been rescued and Fingolfin is very tired and Finrod tries to tell him to go to bed or something and then Fingolfin confesses that he misses his brother Finarfin very much and then probably apologizes because of course Finrod must miss his father greatly and he shouldn’t have brought up the subject but Finrod is like, it’s okay, and then encourages Fingolfin to tell stories about their boyhood together, and it’s all sort of soft and sad and healing for the both of them <3
4.     Which character has made you cry the most as a reader and/or writer?
As a reader? Ahahaha Maedhros wins by a long shot. I cried so many times during his Angband days, but also in fics both in Mithrim and Formenos, when he was younger and had no idea of what was in store for him. Shoutout to any soft scene between him and his brothers, particular him and Maglor. Give me them holding each other or playing with each other’s hair while being sad and I just—weep. I am not so good at regulating my emotions lol
As a writer, well, I don’t usually cry over my own works, but recently I got very emo when re-reading of the armature and the reinforcement (let us move lightly). It’s hard to see young happy recently-married Feanor and Nerdanel, with baby Maitimo on the way, and to know how Feanor will change and their family will fall apart in years to come. Also, I played myself by having the actor Lee Joon Gi in mind as a model for young Feanor’s mannerisms :/
5.     Update us on the state of Caranthir’s kitchen and garden.
If this is a poorly concealed “where the heck is that fic you have been promising us,” well, I stick my tongue out at you.
Jk I’m gonna go work on it after I finish these questions lol. Let’s just say that with everything happening right now, Caranthir has probably been stress cleaning the kitchen, and it would be immaculate if it weren’t for certain people being difficult. As for the garden, if you think its crooked layout does not bother Caranthir at least once per day, you would be wrong. I’m sure that in a month or so he is going to want to dig the whole thing up and get out little stakes and strings and drive everyone crazy by being extremely particular about the makeover.
Bonus: Describe what would happen if Gwindor met Feanor
OH MAN OH MAN. GWINDOR WOULD FULFILL MY FANTASY OF GIVING THAT MAN A FIST TO THE FACE
I mean look I have this strange love for Feanor and he is tragic in many ways and I mourn his loss and the person he could have been and sometimes was, but also—
He was a terrible dad. As we have all seen. As Gwindor has sussed out and had some confirmation of. If the Gwindor of right now could go back in time and meet Feanor sticking needles into Mae, I’m pretty sure he would have murdered him then and there, or at least, beat him into the ground and then been like, hello Nerdanel, ma’am, I am your eldest son’s guardian angel in the flesh and I am moving in with you to be a barrier between him and his dad and if he so much as looks at Mae wrong I will throw him in his own forge fire.
If the Gwindor of right now could meet a resurrected Feanor—things would be bloody and Feanor would be told what for in the strongest of terms probably while being shoved against a wall, an arm against his neck, and then Gwindor would be like cool now that you understand just how terrible of a person you are and how you should probably burn in hellfire, you can go to Maedhros and beg his forgiveness and tell him how is a much better person that you ever were or could be and that it is up to him to ask you to stick around even though I, Gwindor, would prefer you to never see him again, but like, Maedhros probably wouldn’t want that so I will have to deal and you will have to shape up or I will ship you out
GET YOU A FRIEND LIKE GWINDOR
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asterekmess · 4 years
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I've started reading Sterek fic again after years away from fandom (purely because of your posts btw) and there is an alarming number of Stiles being pushed/kicked out of the pack and treated horribly but he still goes out of his way to help and forgives all with random Sterek thrown in at the end. I did not miss that nonsense at all. Why is that so popular?
That’s very sweet of you, and I’m happy that you’ve found a love of fic again!
So, this trope. I...I love this trope. A lot of fans do, obviously.
I’mma put this under a read more, just because I tend to ramble.
First off, I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s a lot of...side-splitting within the sterek fandom? At least, for those of us who aren’t fans of Scott. You see a lot of “Hale Pack” versus “McCall Pack” stuff. A lot of that comes about because people don’t like that Derek lost his Alpha status (I definitely don’t like it) but also because Derek never actually joins Scott’s pack. He is always on the fringes, whether because he gets put there or because he puts himself there. It’s not hard to separate him from Scott’s group, because he was never a part of it to begin with.
For Sterek shippers, we usually want Stiles to be in Derek’s pack (some people who don’t mind Scott, or even like him, also like to make Stiles a sort of bridge between the two packs? Belonging to both and neither at the same time?) but that is kind of difficult to make when it’s so much more specific in canon about Stiles being in Scott’s pack.
I’ve seen lots of people argue that Scott never had an actual ‘pack’, just a group of friends, or that Lydia and Stiles were never part of his pack, and I don’t know enough meta to say whether that’s right or not.
I do know that throughout the show, Stiles (whether we like it or not) considers Scott his best friend. Many fans of Derek can’t reconcile Derek and Scott ever being close friends because of their history together, and that creates a sort of break. How can Stiles be friends with someone his partner hates, and how can he date someone his best friend hates?
So, writers do their best to separate Stiles from Scott’s pack within their fic. Sometimes it involves the rest of the pack also dispersing and Scott getting left alone, and sometimes the rest of the pack sticks with Scott and Stiles and Derek go off to be their own pack.
When it comes to Stiles getting ‘kicked out’ of the pack, I think it’s important to note that part of that is just the hurt/comfort of it all. How many of us have been cut out of friend groups, or family groups, and had to make our own way and wished there was someone on the outside who would take us in? So, we write that happening, giving Stiles that dream we wish for by having Derek help get Stiles back on his feet, or support him so thoroughly that he never hits the ground in the first place.
Another part has to do with how much more difficult and convoluted it can be to write him peacefully leaving Scott’s pack (since we’ve already established that in these situations, Stiles staying in Scott’s pack is a no-go). There’s so much more to explain when he’s still buddies with everyone and just...leaves anyway? Of course, it can be (and has been) done, but a lot of writers don’t want to put in the extra effort (I am one of them, tbqh).
Another part has surely come about from that scene in the rain. For a lot of Stiles fans, this was the absolute breaking point. Stiles had been kicked out of the pack (I haven’t seen the actual episode myself, so I try v hard not to bring it up in meta, bc I don’t know what the fuck I’m on about) and it became a catalyst for a lot of fics that show Stiles getting shoved away, put on the edges so much like Derek had been, and the two of them finding each other instead.
Now, on to the point of your message. The cases where the trope ends with Stiles forgiving Scott and whoever else was involved in him getting removed from the pack. Obviously, this would be a case by case basis. Every writer has their own reasons and we can only speculate most of the time about why they wrote something a specific way.
Some people like Scott, and want to see him grow. So they use the fic to work out their frustrations with his and Stiles’ uneven friendship, and end it with some forgiveness and leave the characters with the chance to grow back into better friends. Some people like those around Scott and don’t want to have to leave them out of the rest of the story just because they’re part of Scott’s pack and Stiles has left. So, even if they don’t particularly want Scott to be Stiles’ Alpha, they still want Stiles to be able to be close to and interact with Scott’s pack, which requires a bit of forgiveness. Another option, is related to how people perceive Stiles himself. We all project on Stiles’ character a lot, I think. Whether it’s projecting our own personality or just the personality we wish we had, we all do it, so we’ve all got very different perceptions of Stiles’ personality and behaviors.
Some see Stiles as ruthless, take-no-shit badass who will destroy you if you piss him off. The kind of genius who would hack into the local police department and screw with your permanent record. Most of the time, those ‘kinds’ of Stiles’ don’t do any forgiving, and usually they get some kind of revenge. Some see him as a really sensitive, broken, love-starved guy who just wants some fucking friends, damn it. Who would give anything for them and is always willing to help others, even strangers, because being helpful is just so integral to his character. Those ‘kinds’ of Stiles’ usually go running back into the fight to save people who’ve screwed him over, they forgive and they forget because they don’t know how to do anything else. Some people (myself included) see Stiles as a very broken and insecure guy. Not insecure about his body (though, yeah, I’ve written some stuff where he is) or about his own intelligence, but insecure about his relationships with other people. Also, as someone very loyal, to the point of immorality. They see Stiles as a guy with a select group of people that he actually gives a fuck about, and for those people? He is ride-or-die, with you to the end of the line, step into gasoline for you loyal. In those cases, Stiles often forgives people because he can’t bear the thought of not having this person in his life anymore, he isn’t capable of letting go, even if it’s for good reason. He helps them because they’ve been burned into his heart and he cannot watch them hurt or suffer. They are family, and he will burn the world down for them, even if he also kind of hates them?
So, there’s lots of reasons that he would do that, but I understand how frustrating it can be to see it over and over again, especially when you’re really displeased with certain characters (ethan or aiden or scott or peter, etc). The best I can suggest is to block certain tags. Using Scott as an example, rather than searching only for “Scott is a bad friend”  or “Scott is a bad Alpha” fics, which would massively cut down on the available fics for you, while also missing ones that may have that content without it being tagged, instead try blocking the opposite tag, so that at least you won’t be getting the fics that have “Scott is a good friend” or “Scott is a good alpha” as a main point of the fic. Again, this will definitely miss some, and you’ll still end up with untagged instances of it, but it will definitely cut down on it. Took me ages to actually think to do it, but I’ve been much happier reading fics since then.
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drwcn · 4 years
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haha this kid has it hard. There is not a single functional romance in this entire family. None. I wrote a little something :) I do take prompts, I just might not be very timely to respond, depending on my inspiration reserve and work schedule/exams etc. Again, btsf!verse (or post btsf!verse if you will, that’s where my brain is at these days), but can be read independently. Hope you don’t mind.  
Warning: this is a fluff piece but a servant gets slapped in this. she is a minor, a trope frequently scene in historical dramas and traditional households. 
When Jin Ling was seven years old, he developed his first crush. In the many years to come, he would develop many crushes - pretty girls, tall boys - but his first crush was on one of Jinlintai’s servant’s daughter, an older girl with shiny braids and soft dark eyes. And because he liked her, he found all sorts of reasons to see her (read: pester, command, annoy). 
Jin Ling was a menace, and xiao-Rui had up until this point in time tolerated his behaviour, but this last straw was the one that finally broke the camel’s back. 
Clack!
Jin Ling didn’t know the right vocabulary for it yet, but an older him would reflect on this as the moment he “fucked up”. The yin’er congee splattered across the marble floor and up the hem of his brocade robes, staining it. Beside the upturned cherry-wood tray, the jade bowl and ivory spoon laid in pieces. 
Oops. 
Jin Ling wouldn’t have panicked, because truly this was no big deal. He was sure the kitchen had lots of other bowls and could whip up another congee in no time. But then xiao-Rui slowly knelt down, curled up into a ball and began to cry. 
Jin Ling felt all the calm instantly evaporate from his small seven year old body. Oh no! Crying girl?! What to do, what to do, what to do???? 
What did father do when mother cried??? Ah heck, what was he thinking? Mother didn’t cry. Crying was beneath Mother. 
“What’s going on here?” A harsh voice echoed from down the hall. Jin Ling blinked, surprised. Nobody here ever dared use that tone of voice with him. At Lotus Pier maybe, he and his little sister Jiang Rao would get reprimanded for being particularly naughty, but that was usually their mother and she never needed to raise her voice to put the fear of immortals in them. Jin Ling swallowed nervously, looking over his shoulder, praying that Jiang Yanli didn’t somehow magically transport herself from Yunmeng to appear behind him. 
She didn’t. Thank the gods. 
From spring to fall of every year, Jin Ling spent his time at Lanling under the care of his uncle Lianfang-zun who he would one day succeed. After several months, Jin Ling had come to realize that his Uncle A-Yao was itching to spoil him due to having no children of his own. This meant outside of his daily lessons in cultivation and etiquette (sprinkled with just a little bit of politics), Jin Ling was allowed to run wild, something he was rarely allowed to do at his a-niang’s Lotus Pier unless his a-die championed on his behalf. Jiang Yanli was a gentle mother, sweet, soft-spoken, and loving. But everyone under the sun with half a brain knew Sect Master Jiang was a woman made out of diamond, forged by the war, beautiful and unbreakable. Up against her, even with his father and his two uncles backing him up, Jin Ling had no chance.
The voice that called out belonged to an older woman, a momo, neatly attired in pale orange and earth brown - servant’s colours - with her grey streaked hair tightly coiffed back into a severe bun. She walked briskly, back straight and face grim, until she came all the way up to them and their mess. [momo - an older female servant]
Once she saw who he was, she quickly relaxed her posture and curtsied deeply, “shizi*, shao-gongzi*, I apologize on behalf of the servants for not tending to your needs that you must trouble yourself to come down to the lower units. What may I do for you? What has this undisciplined yatou done to upset you?” [1)shizi = heir, 2)shao-gongzi = young master, 3)yatou = girlie, referring to a young girl, or a servant girl].  
Jin Ling blinked, much confused. Surely, he was the one causing the upset. He certainly wasn’t the one crying. 
“Uh....” 
“Oh no, you stupid girl, that’s Qin-zhangshi’s yin’er congee and her favourite bowl!” The momo yelled angrily. [zhangshi 长事 - head of staff] 
Qin-zhangshi? Oh yes, that was his aunt Qin Su, Jinlintai’s Head of Staff who handled all the internal affairs. This would be the duty of the Lady of Lanling if his uncle A-Yao had had a wife, but he didn’t, hence the burdening of his only sister to rise to the task.  
“Zhao-momo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” xiao-Rui squeaked as Zhang-momo pulled her up by the ear. A second later, a loud clap was heard and she cried out in pain. Zhao-momo had slapped her soundly across the cheek, leaving red to bloom where her hand had been.  
That jostled Jin Ling out of his trance. “Hey!” He exclaimed, using all the power of his seven-year-old barely-cultivated body to shove the momo out of the way.
After that he barely remembered what he did. 
-
Qin Su was having an exceptionally good day. Jinlintai for once was running like a well-oiled machine, so much so that she felt in the mood to call for a bowl of yin’er congee as a mid-afternoon snack. It was one of her favourite treats...but it was taking a rather longer time than usual to get here. 
Before she could ring to see what was the hold up, the door to her study burst open, revealing her seven-year-old nephew, a servant girl he dragged by the hand, and a flustered Zhao-momo, the supervisor of the kitchen staff.  
The front of Jin Ling’s robe was ruined by a large patch of food stain - congee from the looks of it. The girl, sobbing, had clearly been struck, and Zhao momo.... 
Qin Su took one long hard look at the situation and was instantly reminded of what Jin Zixuan had been like at this age. As Qin Cangye’s daughter, she had  crossed path with him frequently all her life. She wasn’t quite sure how Meng Yao might’ve behaved at seven, and xiao-Yu had always been too timid for a Jin, but this...this had Zixuan’s bullshit all over it.  Though, Qin Su internally rolled her eyes, even without his father, Jin Ling had plenty of bad examples to learn from: 
Jiang Cheng, for one, never outgrew awkward, not with the way he still stared at Wen Qing every cultivation conference. At least it was difficult for most people to discern between his deathly stare of murder and his thirsty stare of sexual frustration. 
Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun, as saccharine and grossly in love as they were now, only learned to communicate after one of them faked their death for a year. 
xiao-Yu visited Qinghe every month and stayed for most of it. Qin Su never asked him what he did there, and frankly she didn’t want to know. 
As for a-Yao, if Zewu-jun didn’t do more than play his goddamn instruments and talk about philosophy every time he invited A-Yao to Cloud Recesses, Qin Su was afraid her poor brother would soon physically combust.  
Thus, with the full fondness of a doting aunt and the exasperation and wisdom of a woman who once almost married her own brother, Qin Su said, “A-Ling, my sweet dear, that is not how you treat a lady, and certainly not how you treat a lady you like.” Jin Ling dropped the girl’s hand like a hot potato. “San-gugu! I don’t - that’s not - I mean - I -” [san-gugu = third auntie] While she left the boy sputtering, Qin Su turned to the older servant. “Zhao-momo, you may return to your duties. You’re an efficient supervisor; I’ve always liked that about you, but if I hear of you hitting another one of the girls again, you and I will have words, am I clear?”  “Yes, Qin-zhangshi. Of course, of course.” Zhao-momo backed out the room and fled.  Softening her tone, Qin Su waved the girl over. “Come, child, come closer and let me take a look. My, you are pretty one. Now, now no more tears, or you’ll redden those lovely eyes. Oh geez,” she clicked her tongue as she tilted the girl’s face to examine it. “It’s a bit swollen. Luoti,” She looked to her handmaid. “Bring her down to get some ice and ah...some cream. For the inflammation.” “Yes, ma’am. Come on, xiao-Rui.” 
“Thank you Qin-zhangshi! Thank you Qin-zhangshi!”  Luoti led xiao-Rui away, shutting the door behind them with a click. Jin Ling, shame-faced and embarrassed, stood before his only aunt with his head bowed low. “Gugu...you’re not - you’re not going to tell a-niang on me are you?”  His uncle never tattled. If Jin Ling did anything wrong, Uncle A-Yao would give him a stern talking to that would often turn to a long boring lecture. But then after, Uncle A-Yao would simply have a word with his a-die, and his a-die would just give him another Jin-styled talking to and then brush the whole thing under the rug so his a-niang would never find out. (She still does though, more than half the time, like goddamn magic.) Now his gugu, his gugu was the best, the absolute best, and he’s yet to receive any kind of reprimand from her. 
Well there’s a first time for everything - as his da-jiujiu would say. 
Qin Su rose from her dais, came up to him and lifted his down-turned chin so he could look her. “A-Ling. Are you going to tell me what happened?” “Uhm....”  “Hm?” “Will you tell mother? I promised her I would be good.” And I haven’t been.  
“Of course I will. She is your mother and deserves to know about your well-being. But, remember this: honesty will grant you forgiveness, but dishonesty will only see to punishment. Your a-niang has always been fair with you and your sister, hasn’t she?”
The boy visibly sagged. “I was bothering xiao-Rui. And I made her drop her tray. The congee spilled everywhere and the bowl broke,” confessed Jin Ling. 
“And why did you do that?”
“Because...” 
“Because?” 
Jin Ling grumbled something incoherent. 
Qin Su sighed. Taking his hand, she said, “Let’s get you changed, my love. And then after, you and I will have a long talk. Don’t worry, it’s not one of your Uncle A-Yao’s boring lectures. If you’re good, maybe we can go to town and I’ll let you pick out an apology gift for poor xiao-Rui. How does that sound?” 
Jin Ling nodded fervently, his smile wide. 
Qin Su chuckled, thinking that while her generation may have been thoroughly fucked over by the circumstances of their youth, there was no need to continue that tradition. Not when the times have been so peaceful. Tonight, she will write to her lovely sister-in-law who will surely have a good laugh over her son’s antics.   
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sweet-sammy-kisses · 4 years
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The Annual Shipping Polls
Fandom: Batman/DC Pairings: Dick/Tim, Bruce/Diana, Roy/Kory/Jason, Stephaine/Cassandra, mentions of fandom Kon/Tim, fandom SuperBats Summary: Dick is brooding, Jason is amused, Tim is confused, Damian is annoyed, Stephanie and Babs want to knock some heads, and Cass and Diana are all-knowing. Author notes: This is my first time writing Dick/Tim and I owe a huge thank you to @iphoenixrising who’s amazing Tim stories got me longing to write my own Tim stories. 
Like many things Jason will claim that it was all Roy’s fault he discovered it first and after laughing for several moments sought out Jason.
It was the annual shippers poll that happened once a year where fans of superheroes would vote for their favorite ship as they went head to head to see who would win. There was favorite slash, female slash, het, poly and superheroes, and their villains.
When it was first discovered an amused Lois sent the links to Clark.
Diana had been amused.
Bruce grunted and glared.
Clark feared just a little for his life.
SuperBats had won favorite slash pairing while WonderBat had won for favorite het pairing and The Trinity had won for favorite poly pairing.
It stayed like that for many years until other heroes started appearing Wally and Dick to their amusement learned that they were a much loved BirdFlash and one of the few that could give SuperBats a run for their money but sadly always came a little short of beating them. Nightwing/Starfire was a much-loved pairing and one year managed to defeat WonderBat only for the WonderBat fans to come back next year and claim their crown.
To Barry Allen's shock and Leonard Snart amusement, ColdFlash was undefeatable as the fans' favorite hero/villain pairing. No one was really surprised when those two actually did end up together.
Roy had been checking to see where the Outlaws ranked and was pleased to see that they had won favorite poly pairing. "Finally, good to see that people have some good taste."
Continuing on Roy fought back the laughter when he saw that Nightwing/Red Hood had made it pretty far. "Oh, this is priceless." Roy printed out he wondered how long it would last before Jason used it for target practice.
Moving up the list Roy was waiting to see that once again SuperBats was named as the top slash pairing only to stop and stare. "No way."
But it was there SuperBats was in second place.
"JASON! SOMEONE BEAT SUPERBATS!" Roy shouted with glee.
Jason was at Roy's side in a second all but shoving him out of the way he was a little bummed to see that Bruce and the boy scout were no longer number one, he loved using it to annoy Bruce. Jason loved the little twitch Bruce developed when Jason brought it up. "Who beat them?" Jason growled out. "It better not be me and Dickie!" Jason could do so much better than Dick. 'So could replacement but for some reason, he is hooked on him.'
Roy's body hummed with amusement, "A new version of SuperBats."
For several moments Jason could only stare at the computer screen as he processed what he had just read. “Oh, this is just too good.” Forget teasing Bruce this was glorious.
+*****+
Diana Prince -Wayne wasn't at all surprised when Jason breezed into the cave a mischievous look on his face. She knew that she shouldn't play favorites and she did her best not to but Jason out of all of Bruce's partners had a special place in her heart. "I take it that you have seen the outcome of the latest results of the annual polls?" She knew that Jason loved to tease Bruce about the fact that people loved the Batman with Superman he had even gone as far one year to cover the cave in fanfics and fanart of the couple and even got Babs to have the bat computer play Superman's theme for every little thing.
A small smile appeared on Jason's face she was one the few people that he genuinely liked to see. Personally, Jason thought Diana could do better she is fucking Wonder Woman after all! But for some reason that Jason couldn't understand she had fallen in love with Bruce. 'Bruce is one lucky son of a bitch.' "I did indeed but I am going to wait until everyone is here to tell the wonderful news."
"Just go easy on Dick, he is still in denial." Diana already knew she was curious about the outcome of these polls and she knew what had Jason so happy.
Jason knew that Diana had a point, he wasn't blind he saw the glances Dick tossed Tim’s way when he thought no one was looking, the longing and desire to fix things. Jason knew that Dick’s feelings for Tim were far from brotherly but he wouldn't act on them. Dick still carried guilt when he made Tim think that he wasn't wanted anymore when he took Robin from him and gave it to Damian, Tim was just starting to come back to realize that they did want him and Dick wouldn't risk Tim running away again.  
"Alright, I won't tease Dickie too much," Jason promised.
"That is all I ask of you." Diana smiled serenely at him before pulling out a copy of a much loved Jane Austen novel, "Something to keep you entertained until the others get here."
Taking the novel Jason pressed a kiss on Diana's cheek, "And this is why you are my favorite."
+*****+
Dick Grayson stepped one foot in the cave and saw that Jason was already there, the grin on his face promising a good time for Jason and humiliation for anyone but him. Dick knew what day it was today but he never cared much about it, unlike Jason who loved it, mostly because he loved to tease those who won.
Jason grinned at the look of dread on Dick and Tim's face, the grin that grew as Bruce looked even more gloomy than normal.
Stephanie's hand in hand with Cassandra entered the cave with a bounce and a wide smile on her face, "Guess who won favorite female couple?" She beamed at Cass who returned it with a small smile.
Tim smiled at them, he was happy his favorite sister and Stephanie had found happiness with each other. "Like there was any doubt."
Stephanie preened, "It just shows that people have good taste."
Tim did not like the look on her face, it matched the one Jason was wearing.
“It would seem that after many years ranking at the top SuperBats has been at last defeated!” Jason announced.
Bruce grunted he didn't understand why people shipped him and Clark together but he was curious as to who finally dethroned them. ‘Maybe this will finally stop Hal and Barry from sending me SuperBats fanfiction and artworks.’
An unholy gleam appeared in Jason's eyes, the look that he aimed at Dick and then Tim before pulling up the article on his phone, “Yes folks, it has finally happened the long regaining SuperBats has been defeated by another that has been gaining on them for years. Congratulations Superboy and Red Robin.”
“WHAT?!”
Dick’s enraged bellow sent bats flying as Tim could only stare at Jason.
"Kon and me?" Tim could understand why people shipped them, best friends to lovers was a very popular trope but he didn't think that he and Kon had that big of a following. He felt kinda flattered even if he never thought of Kon like that. No his heart belonged to only one person.
An annoyed look appeared on Damian's face, he didn't understand why Todd and Brown made such a big deal about these foolish polls. "Ridiculous, if anyone should have defeated father it should have been Grayson and Drake they have been pining over one another for years it is sickening."
Dick and Tim both paled, both had been so sure that they hid their feelings for each other so well that no one else in the family knew, let alone their crush.
"Silly." Cassandra moved away from Stephanie coming to stand between Dick and Tim she took their hands in hers.  "Love each other. Stop denying it."
“I couldn't have said it better. Everyone is tired of the two of you pining for one another." Babs voice echoed around the cave, no one was surprised that she hacked the comm system.
Rising gracefully to her feet Diana took Bruce's hand in hers. "I think that we should give them a few moments alone."
Never one to deny his princess Bruce led Diana from the cave. 'At least now I don't have to put up with Jason decorating my cave with all that artwork of Clark and I.'
Dick and Tim avoided looking at one another as the cave emptied as their family left them alone.
"Do I need to worry about you going after Kon with a chunk of kryptonite?" Tim found himself asking the last thing he wanted was for Kon to be in danger.
'Now that is an idea.' Dick was tempted, oh was he ever tempted to take some and hunt down Kon and ask him what his intentions were towards Tim. 'No Tim would be mad at me.' Dick forgot the idea right away.
Dick looked at Tim and was once again blown away at how beautiful Tim was. "All I want for you is to be happy and if that is with Kon then so be it."
"Kon and I are friends, best friends but just friends." Tim wanted to say, 'How can I be in love with Kon when I am in love with you?'
"You're in love with me?"
Tim's eyes widened in horror as he realized he had just said that out loud. Slapping his hands over his mouth Tim took a step back.
Only Dick followed his moves smooth and seductive until he had Tim pinned between him and a workbench. "Answer me baby bird. Are you in love with me?"
Tim was tempted he could nerve strike Dick and high tailed it out of the cave but he knows that Dick will just follow him. "I have been for so long. Before I even knew what love was."
Reaching out a hand Dick cupped Tim's face and nudged his head up to look him in the eyes, "I love you too, pretty bird. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to push you away not when you have just returned to us." Dick explained.
Tim was sure that his heart was pounding so loudly that Dick could hear it. "Kiss me?" Tim pleaded softly.
Dick's face lit up in a smile, "Nothing would make me happier, pretty bird." Dick had dreamed of his moment for so long and nothing he had imagined was like the real thing. Tim fit perfectly against him like Tim was made just for him.
+*****+
Jason grinned as he heard Bruce mutter about "slideshows" and "protection" this turned out even better than he thought and if Dickie got one his nervous he had tons of Baby Bird and Superboy artwork saved away for revenge.
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launenji · 4 years
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Center of Your Universe - A KNJ Fanfic | Prologue
Pairing: idol!Kim Namjoon x idol!Reader Status: Ongoing Word Count: 3031 Genre: Rivals2Lovers. Fluff. Eventual implied smut and angst. Slow burn. idol!AU Summary: It’s 2019 and Kim Namjoon is conquering the globe with his Bangtan brothers by his side. However, BTS can’t seem to shake their top girl group rival from chasing their names across music charts and award nominations worldwide. Now, the boys have no problem with that in any way; in fact they’ve come to respect the girls of HELIOS and their never ending climb to fame that seemed to match their own success. The only real “problem” Namjoon sees is that HELIOS’ confident, fearless, and overall badass of a leader seems to absolutely hate him. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it does keep him awake at night. A/N: Hello! After a year of diving into BTS and reading fanfics about the boys, I wanted to write my own with the beloved Rivals2Lovers trope, because who doesn’t love that good shit? So this is my first official fanfiction, this will be ongoing although I’m not sure how many parts I’ll be producing, but I have the entire story line written out! I also am fairly new to how kpop fanfics are generally published on tumblr, but I’ll do my best. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have creating it! Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3
Prologue: Definitely a (fan)Boy with Luv
March 2019 There was an unspoken rule that came about RM of BTS’ personal life, and that was to live as Kim Namjoon as soon as he steps foot in his hometown of Ilsan. RM existed while he was at work in Seoul; busy with performance schedules, writing lyrics, producing beats, recording content, and basically leading the biggest boy band of the generation to great heights of fame and success. That’s who Kim Namjoon is on a near daily basis. So when Namjoon can find the time to take a few days off and head back to his childhood home for some much needed rest, he’s only Namjoon; a regular twenty five year old guy who loves long walks among nature and grabbing drinks with old friends. And right now he was Namjoon; a regular twenty five year old guy at his parent’s home, dressed in a tank top and sweats, head bopping to his latest musical discovery on Spotify as he pours an entire bag of chips in a bowl for a mid afternoon snack in preparation for some much needed catching up on his netflix shows. Pausing the song on his phone and housing his earbuds in their case, he shimmies over to the couch with his bowl of chips in a small celebratory dance for these rare days where he can go home and actually relax. No pressing schedules to attend, no pulling out his hair to create the right lyrics for their next song, no band/roommates screaming and chasing each other around their shared Hannam apartment after yet another failed prank attempt; just him alone in the house ready to kick back and finally relax.
Armed with his snacks, drink, and the tv remote, he makes himself comfortable on the couch and finally finds that one show he’s been dying to catch up on. However, just as he’s about to press play, the front door swings open with a loud bang. “PUT. THE REMOTE. DOWN.” 
A shrill voice echoes through the family apartment as the newcomer rushes in, hastily chucking her bag and keys on the counter before skidding to a stop between Namjoon and his only source of rest and relaxation for the night. Kim Kyungmin, loving younger sister to BTS’ beloved leader, stands before him with arms folded and with an unyielding glare. “Just because you’re home for the weekend doesn’t mean you can hog the tv the whole time you’re here, hand it over.” She extends out her palm, fingers flexing for the remote. Namjoon groans. “Minnie, I was LITERALLY about to watch my show, can’t you just record what you want to watch and watch it later? Y’know, when I’m usually not here?” Namjoon scoots to the other end of the couch in an attempt to continue on with his planned afternoon of relaxation. However Kyungmin manages to lunge for the remote and swipe it away at the last second, holding it above her head much to her older brother’s annoyance. “Not when you’re watching something you can literally watch anywhere else.” She shifts her pointed glare at his phone then at him before plopping down in his original spot on the couch, quickly switching through the channels to find the show she’s desperately looking for. “That doesn’t solve my solution to you recording your show and watching it later.” Namjoon points out, shoving a chip in his mouth as he watches his sister reach her designated channel. It’s a Knowing Bros episode that seemed to have just started. “If I do that then I can’t react to the episode in real time with Miyoung.” Kyungmin states matter of factly, thumbs flying across her phone as she texts her friend in question. Feeling defeated, Namjoon gives up his quest for his solo Netflix and Chill night he originally planned and settles to watch along with his sister. At least it was a show he actually did enjoy, especially when he was able to be on it with his members at one point. He reminisces his time on the show as he watches as the cast banter over some new found popular trend, the guests of the episode haven’t seemed to arrive just yet. “So who’s on the show this time?” In an immediate response to Namjoon’s question, the classroom door on tv whips open revealing four of the most recognizable women in Kpop; Lee Yuna, Chung Sumi, Han Hyojin, and their leader, Y/N L/N “It’s HELIOS!” Kyungmin lets out a high pitched squeal that Namjoon cringes away from. HELIOS. Arguably the most famous idol girl group to come out of Kpop history to date and BTS’ current standing rivals in the game. Namjoon internally scoffs; okay, so maybe the term “rival” seemed a little too harsh for their relationship to the girls. Let it be clear that there was no beef between Kpop’s fastest rising boy and girl groups despite what the media may try to spin about them. Namjoon and the boys actually do respect the ladies of HELIOS to a high regard and honestly believe that they deserve every inch of recognition and success they’ve received over the years. If the boys of BTS can understand anything, it’s the struggle of trying to make it in such a competitive and demanding environment that is the world of Korean entertainment. Much like them, HELIOS came from humble beginnings; hailing from a small entertainment company established by one of the most respected music producers in the industry. Despite debuting a couple years after BTS, HELIOS grew to be a well known name among teens and young adults. Their unique take on the “girl crush” concept and their unconventional practices of flourishing naturally as an idol group captured the hearts of many, and soon became a trending topic alongside BTS. Namjoon saw many similarities between BTS and HELIOS in the way they’ve grown to their current point of success. Much like the boys, HELIOS liked to connect with their fans personally, most of their viewership grew from watching their growth as an idol group on social media. In fact, the girls each had their own social media accounts and were good at posting daily doses of their lives on and off stage whenever they could. Their fans felt like they could really relate to them on a personal level; recognizing that, at times, these four beloved idols were just girls following their dreams. Other times, their fans were often reduced to a squealing-to-near-tears mess, as currently exhibited by Kyungmin. Namjoon was surprised she hadn’t started frothing at the mouth at this point. “Ugh! I just love them sooooo much!” Kyungmin groaned, voicing out her text message before tossing her phone aside and giving her undivided attention to the tv. On screen, HELIOS stood at the doorway as the hosts of Knowing Bros gaped in awe at their presence. The three women stood strategically in formation with you front and center. Namjoon let out a quiet sigh through his nose. Now while BTS and HELIOS had no history of any animosity towards each other (actually the only interactions they’ve really had was congratulating each other on a job well done in between set switches), the only “problem” Namjoon could find was that you, HELIOS’ renowned leader, seem to hate his fucking guts. He has voiced his concerns plenty of times to his members, especially after passing you and the girls by during music shows. You had a tendency to give everyone but him the time of day, and Namjoon didn’t know why. “You’re probably looking too much into it, hyung,” He remembers Jungkook telling him after another failed attempt to talk to the fellow leader. “I mean, you never talk to her, so I don’t think she has a reason to hate you.” “He’s right,” Jimin pipes up from across the dressing room. “It could be the way she is, after all she always looks like she’s got a 1.5 meter pole stuck up her- Ow! What!? I was just kidding!” His remark was short lived with a swift smack to the back of the head and a warning glare from Hoseok. Though it was rude to say, Namjoon couldn’t deny that, to a certain extent, you did look a little uptight most of the time. 
Watching closely on screen, he studied your resting bitch face-like expression. Despite being dressed in a standard school uniform that admittedly made you look cute, you looked like you were ready to take names and kick some ass while poised in your signature power stance. One hand over a hip cocked to the side as your sharp gaze trailed over the Knowing Bros cast before walking in. Even your movements seemed powerful, as if they were carefully calculated with one foot strutting in front of the other in perfect sync with the sway of your hips, not that he was paying attention to that specific detail. His eyes quickly shifted over to your other members as they moved more naturally on to the set and waved their hi’s to the hosts. Everyone gave their applause as the girls took their place at the podium in front of the classroom. “Please introduce yourselves!” Clearing your throat, you throw on a smirk before making a creative introduction. “Hello, we are from the “Top Tier Global Rising Stars” High School.” The other girls share similar smiles as you before dropping into their standard greeting. “2, 3, Shine On! Hello, we are HELIOS!” The studio erupts in applause and awes of amazement welcoming the girls. Namjoon looked over to Kyungmin with her knees drawn to her chest and chin resting on top, staring intently at the tv. “What? No more weird orgasm sounds for your favorite girls?” That earned him a hard smack to the face. “Shh!” Well, this was his day off to relax. So as he slumped lower into the couch, Namjoon carried on watching the show alongside his sister. About 10 minutes into the show’s friendly banter, Namjoon realized that wasn’t much he knew about the ladies that made up HELIOS until now. For instance, he learned that Lee Yuna was actually the eldest of the group, being the same age as Yoongi. Their fans, appropriately named HALOS, dubbed her as one of the most beautiful women in Korea as she joked about her nickname “The Universal Beauty” to rival Seokjin’s title of “Worldwide Handsome.” 
He also learned that the second youngest, Chung Sumi, was actually a naturally talented rapper who freestyled over beats she found on Youtube and posted them on soundcloud during her highschool days, which prompted her to be the first signed trainee at their entertainment company. It reminded him slightly of his underground rapping days leading up to his own path to an idol.
He even learned that Han Hyojin, their own maknae, could basically do anything from singing to rapping to dancing, making her a deadly triple threat for her young age. She could definitely give Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook all a run for their money. But what intrigued him the most was your backstory, something that you never revealed until this point. “So Y/N, you’re not actually from Korea?” Kang Hodong inquires. You shake your head in affirmation. “But you speak Korean so well!” Seo Janghoon chimes in, “Where are you from?” “The States, California specifically.” You respond, prompting a stock sound of amazement over the broadcast. “Another idol from California!” “Speak English for us! Come on!” This causes you to scoff, shaking your head. “What would you want me to say?” “Introduce yourself in English!” Yuna urges you with a bright smile, a round of cheers in the room encourages the idea. Namjoon stared in awe as he watched you introduce yourself in your native tongue to the camera. You seemed more comfortable and natural talking in English and it captivated him in a weird sort of way. Both Kim siblings kept their attention on you as the cast prods on with questions about your personal life and Namjoon can’t help but feel much more admiration for you as an idol and leader who’s made it this far after hearing your story. You share to the cast that you were nothing short of ordinary growing up. You’ve lived a normal life with your hard working parents and siblings. You were an average student with no strong ambitions to pursue for the future. The only passion you did have growing up was dancing, and it brought you as far as signing with your company to become a trainee after graduating high school. Without anything else to lose, you eventually made your way to Korea in hopes to find a suitable career that included dancing, however being an idol was totally out of your range. “So you initially didn’t want to be an idol?” Kim Heechul asks earnestly, you give a small shrug. “I didn’t think I was really cut out for it.” You answer cooly, then turn to your members with a soft expression. “But training with my members made me realize that I could do it and make something out of it.” Your girls return the heartfelt smile, something only Namjoon could completely recognize as a genuine bond between members. It tugged at his heartstring seeing this; despite your cold demeanor, you actually do care immensely for the people around you, which he could heavily relate to. If Kim Namjoon wasn’t impressed by you before, he surely was now. However that still doesn’t change the fact you can’t seem to stand him whenever he’s around you. The show finally cuts to commercial, giving Kyungmin enough time to call her friend and squeal about the events of the show. “And she was a cheerleading captain during high school! Can she BE any cooler!?” Namjoon watched incredulously as his sister took her conversation to her room for a quick break. He remembered teasing her once, when his fame with BTS began to rise exponentially, to never ask him for autographs or connections to any idols she may find herself gushing over in the near future, because he swore he’d never do it. Kyungmin only scoffed at her older brother’s feigning arrogance. “Oh please, you’ll never catch me drooling over any idol group at your expense.” If only she could see herself in a few years giving into the HELIOS craze and buying every single piece of merch she could. The look on Namjoon’s face was unbelievable when he came home one day to find Kyungmin framing a huge poster of your face to put in her bedroom. Her piercing glare stopped her brother from prodding any further with her newest obsession. “Not one word.” And with that, she carried your framed face off to her bedroom where it hangs next to her doorway. Well at least she hasn’t asked for your autograph. Not that he could get it anyway, you would definitely reject him if he even so much as breathed in your general direction. Despite finding out his sister was a die hard HALO, he was proud that she at least had good role models to look up to. However, the idea of her number one bias being the very person that hated him wouldn’t stop bothering Namjoon. Would he ever figure out why you just flat out disliked him? Should he even care at all? Why should he? It’s not like you two were friends. Did he want to be friends with you? Namjoon is pulled out of his inner monologue by his sister walking back into the living room with her hand over her mouth and eyes wide at something currently on her phone. She honestly looked like she was ready to cry. He rolled his eyes at her, now that’s just being a little too dramatic. “Alright, what is it now?” 
Kyungmin wordlessly turned her phone towards her brother, revealing your personal twitter profile and your newest post. It was a new concept photo of you with the silhouettes of the rest of HELIOS behind you. Dressed in shades of burgundy and maroon, you held a finger to your red painted lips. The caption that goes with it is simple and vague, but gets its point across. “HALOS, you ready? One more time~ D-10”
Namjoon counts down the days quickly in his head, leading up to what seems to be your comeback date. Coincidentally, it’s the day after BTS’ planned announcement for their own comeback; Map Of The Soul: Persona. 
He sits back and bites the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. If HELIOS was releasing their new album the same time BTS is, then you will most likely be promoting on music shows within the next coming months too. That meant more chances to pass you by in the studios and more time to figure out what the hell was your problem with him. Was it weird that the thought alone made him a little excited for your comeback more than his? His eyes caught sight of the show that just returned on air, now with you on screen teaching the hosts the moves of your latest single. He felt his cheeks heat up just a bit as he witnessed you sway your hips to the beat of your song before forcibly ripping his gaze away to look out the window instead. Yeah, it was pretty weird, and he really needed to stop dwelling on you so much. But that night, he laid in his bed, unable to get you out of his mind. 
Even though he told himself to not get hung up over you, here he was under his covers at 3 AM scrolling through your Instagram, looking at every single selfie, candid shot, and freestyle dance video you’ve posted since your debut; still thinking about the fact that even though you intrigued him, you still didn’t like him. Eventually he scrolled back to your teaser photo he saw earlier that day, brows furrowing at your post before locking his phone out of frustration. Okay, he had to stop. At this rate he was going to turn into his sister, another  HALO sucked into the HELIOS craze. But was that really a bad thing?
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wiener-soldiers · 5 years
Text
tipsy (i) - peter parker
summary: you lost five years of your life to the blip. five years without your family, your friends, and without really being alive. your dad’s solution? send you and your friends on a fully-paid vacation to spain. no superheroes stuff, no villains; just pure, teenage fun. how eventful could one week be?
words: 1.1k
pairing: peter parker x stark! reader
warnings: drinking (not really underage if they’re legal in that country), typical teenage stuff, young love and pining
parts: part one, part two, part three
a/n: ooey gooey teenage fluff
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Basic-(Y/N) did not come out often.
She was often reserved for the two months of the year where you aren’t worried about grades and school and being stuck in an Infinity stone or whatever happened; summer.
And when summer rolled around, the VSCO-loving, Instagram-whore, Basic-(Y/N) made herself known.
You weren’t really one to try to keep up with ever-changing Instagram trends (not that you are a “not-like-the-other-girls’ trope, you just had more important things to worry about), but during the summer, everyone, most especially your dad and your best friend, encouraged you to let loose a little bit more.
So, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fiddling with the friendship bracelet that Morgan, your stepsister, had made for you a few days prior, and readjusting your incognito airport outfit.
“You’re overthinking this,” your Dad says as he leans on the door frame to your bathroom, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he watches you decide whether or not you will be joining your friends on a trip to Barcelona, Spain.
You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “Yeah well, I don’t know why you’re letting me go to Spain with my friends. You’re planning something, aren’t you.”
“I am not!” he defends himself.
“Dad, you wouldn’t be paying for this trip unless you had some kind of motive,” you scoff, “Flying a bunch of teenagers to a country where we are legal? You are definitely up to something.”
Your Dad sighs before pushing himself off the threshold and walking towards you, arms open in an embrace. You quickly step into chest and breath the scent of whatever new cologne he’s wearing as he straps his arms tightly around you. You both stay in that position for a while before your Dad pulls away, ducking his head to look at your face. You stare back up at him.
“Look, kid,” he starts, “I know the Blip was hard for this family. You disappeared and came back with a new baby sister and a family who still mourned but tried to still carry on.”
Your eyes water at the thought of Morgan, the sister you cared about so deeply despite not being there for a lot of her ‘firsts.’
Your Dad smiles softly at you as you bury your head into the t-shirt he wore underneath his blazer. He rubs your back and continues, “But sweetheart, you gotta be a kid again. That grape took so much of your teenage years away and as a Father, isn’t it my job to bring it back?”
“But the drinking—”
“All of you would technically be legal if you hadn’t Blipped, except for that Brad kid. Wasn’t he like, two feet tall before?”
You laugh at him and shake your head, “I don’t know, he was really nice to me after I came back. Super understanding—I guess the trip felt like it’d be more fun with him?”
Your Dad gives his signature Tony Stark eye-roll, “Whatever, better be a good kid if I’m paying for him to go to Europe.”
The two Starks laugh in the bathroom in each other’s embrace when a buzz from your back pocket prompts you to pull away.
“Lemme guess, it’s Parker?”
You roll your eyes at the mention of your best-friend, “It is not—”
You cut yourself off at the sight of the text:
pete :)  may says u should be at the airport like 4 hrs before the flight? u still coming to pick me up or what?
“It was him wasn’t it?”
You collect your stuff and playful shove past your Dad, “He was just complaining that you take too long.”
--
Peter Parker had a long couple of months.
In an attempt to regain some of his teenage years back, he had agreed to go to Europe with his class to try to live a normal life—or some semblance of normality.
Instead, he spent his time fighting Mysterio and whatever Inception-shit that guy pulled off.
You had not been on the Europe trip as you and the rest of the Starks spent several months off-the-grid in their Upstate cabin, learning to be a family again. Peter understood the situation just fine: you had been Blipped and came back with a kid-sister. He was glad that you go to spend time with your family and adjusting to life again.
He still missed you though.
However mere weeks after the original Europe trip, Peter couldn’t say that he was expecting the text message from a group chat that he got.
(y/n)     im not in hiding any more yall. lets go on a trip
ned      the last time i was on a trip i literally almost died
betty    a trip? to where? we could come visit you upstate!!
(y/n)     don’t bother im moving back to the city with the fam. and i was thinking something…farther?
ned      florida?
mj        who in their right mind you want to go to florida?
flash    me
mj        my point still stands
brad    canada?
(y/n)     beautiful country but i can only take trees for so long. dad’s thinking spain? barcelona has sick beaches
ned      not all of us can afford spain…
betty    and ned’s original point? last time we were in europe we almost died
(y/n)     first off! a few things are gonna be different! one, ill be there. two, the avengers have resettled, my dad’s moving back into the city so threats can be handled by them. and three, dad’s paying for the whole thing. says we need a PROPER vacation. not like your europe trip that sounded like hell
peter    cmon guys i think it’ll be a good idea. we could all use a hard reset before school starts up again.
That’s where Peter found himself; sitting on the couch playing iMessage games with you as an episode of Law and Order played aimlessly in the background. His suitcase lied on his lap to make sure that May couldn’t sneak the suit in there when he wasn’t looking. Everyone needed a real vacation; he was just happy Mr. Stark felt the same way.
“No suit this time?” May asks from in front of him. He looks up and finds her holding the suit with eyebrows raised.
He shakes his head, “Mr. Stark said he’s got all threats under control and that we should just be kids and enjoy our trip.”
She nods understandingly and presses a kiss to Peter’s head, “That I can agree with. But if anything goes wrong, you call Happy okay? He’ll come get you.”
Peter shudders, “I can’t believe you’re dating him.”
“I wouldn’t call it dating per se…”
“May!”
A loud honk from the open window separates the two of them. Peter winces slightly before looking at his phone, only to see a text from you from a couple of minutes ago.
(y/n) <3    expect a honk! warned you lol
“That’s my ride,” Peter says before embracing May.
“Be good,” she says affectionately.
Peter nods against her, “Aren’t I always?”
taglist:  @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape @httpmcrvel @lionheo04
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