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tonystarchive · 9 months

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IRONDAD & SPIDER-SON WHUMP MASTERLIST—PART 1

Last Updated: September 2023

As promised, here is my long overdue Irondad Whump Masterlist! This list took an embarrassing amount of time to compile and over forty pages in my Google Docs (!!!!!).

Due to the sheer amount of fics, I will be posting in parts. Within these posts, each fic will categorized by its most prevalent trope/theme.

I hope the work from these talented contributors brings as much whumpy joy to you as they do to me!

Also, a very special shoutout to my most treasured Irondad authors iron_spider, for_the_night, madasthesea, losingmymindtonight, AdVitemAeternum, MotherKarizma, and so many more! This post is dedicated to you. ♡

Adoption/Tony Stark is Peter Parker’s Biological Father

5 Times Tony Acted Like Peter’s Dad by for_the_night

Summary: “And the one time he actually was." *Featuring an award evening, nightmares, a father-son field trip, appendicitis, and a very special gift—oh, and SO many forehead kisses.*

Alive and Healing by Watermeloness

Summary: “‘...bank robbery gone wrong in Queens. We’re receiving live footage from the crime site, where a 15-year-old teenager has been severely injured. Witnesses report a young boy getting shot after trying to stop the perpetrators. The last we’ve heard, his state is critical and he’s being rushed to…’ Statistically, there are a lot of 15-year-old teenagers in Queens. The city is filled with 15-year-old teenagers that are all brave in their own ways. This doesn’t have to be their teenager. But Peter is not picking up his phone.”

Dad Is Just A Word (You Give It Meaning) by madasthesea

Summary: “Father's Day, two years after May dies. Peter has something special to give and something important to say.”

For Want of a Dad (In Need of a Son) by GhostInTheBAU

Summary: “So, have you given the camping trip any more thought?’ Ned asks, and he groans internally at the change in subject. He'd much rather go back to talking about his non-existent love life, thanks. The trip is during spring break—a four-day long trek out into the wilderness, camping and hiking and gathering who even knows what, learning all about nature and the great outdoors. But the real kicker? It's an event specifically designed for fathers and their sons, which is something Peter doesn't have, and something he will never be. Not again." Or: Peter longs to have a deeper relationship with his mentor, a more meaningful connection; but he's managed to convince himself that the only reason Tony Stark spends any time with him at all is purely because of his enhancement. Because of Spider-Man.

Homebound by AdVitamAeternam

Summary: “Shortly after Homecoming, Peter starts having panic attacks. Tony happens to have some experience with those. What do you do when everyone around you has a tendency to die? What do you do when the last person, the most precious, the one you absolutely cannot lose, maybe wants you? Do you give in, or do you run? Do you take what they offer, or do you keep them as far away from the disaster that is your life as you can?”

I Love You More Than Anything Series by iron_spider

Summary: “The highs and lows of Tony unexpectedly becoming a single dad at 31—from Peter’s early baby years, all the way past the defeat of Thanos”

I’ll Always Protect You (Even If You Don’t Want Me To) by JAWorley

Summary: “So much changed with Peter’s body chemistry after the bite that new things are still coming up that surprise him. One day he and Tony are having a fight and Peter is so stressed out he ends up having a seizure. Seizures… great, so that’s a thing now, and Tony has decided that the best thing is for Peter to stop being Spider-Man. The more the seizures happen, the more protective Tony becomes. All Peter wants is to have his life back." Or: May asks Tony to take joint custody of Peter to help with the Spider-Man thing and this new stress seizure issue. Peter learns that sometimes parents do what’s necessary even if it’s not a popular choice with their kids.

Questions of Science, Science and Progress (Do Not Speak As Loud As My Heart) by l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r

Summary: “I had to find you, tell you I need you. Tell you I set you apart." Or: Peter stays with Tony for a few weeks, and the pair get into all kinds of shenanigans. And maybe, just maybe, those few weeks will usher in something more.

These Days I’ll Sit On Cornerstones by Finny3120

Summary: “Tony was ill-prepared to find that the vigilante he'd recruited was a 14-year-old boy. He was even less prepared for Peter Parker to be mute. But Peter hasn't spoken since his uncle died. And the more Tony works with the teen, the less it matters to him. He hears Peter just fine.”

You’re Stuck With Me by for_the_night

Summary: “I’m adopting you. I don’t care what you have to say.’ Peter gaped. Of all of the entrances he’d expected from Mister Stark after being alone in a hospital room for hours, that wasn’t one of them." Or: Peter gets taken to hospital with a ruptured appendix and Tony comes to a daunting realization of just how little hold he has on the kid outside of Medbay.

Alternate Universe

My Baby, My Baby by SpaceCowboysFromMars

Summary: “Silence falls over them like a warm blanket. Distantly, there’s commotion down on the street as people walk home from clubs. Peter thinks Tony might be his best friend in the whole world. After a long, peaceful moment, Tony says, voice dripping with warmth, ‘Night, kid.’ ‘Goodnight, Mr. Stark." Or: Tony and Peter in the middle of the night, in five alternate universes.

Visiting Hours by Sara (ctrsara)

Summary: “Boss?’ Tony jolted out of his half-asleep state. ‘What’s up, FRI?’ ‘There is a visitor here to see you.’ Tony jumped up. Anyone he knew would usually call or text first, so he was immediately on alert. ‘Who is it, FRI?’ ‘I need you to have an open mind, and know that I do not believe this person is any threat.’ Oh, yeah, that made him feel better. ‘Excuse me? How about you let me decide that, Watson?’ He started walking towards the door, activating his watch gauntlet. ‘Wait, Boss.’ He was annoyed, but he trusted his AI enough to stop and listen. ‘I also need you to know that I have performed biometric scanning, and this person is who they appear to be. However, they insist they’re not from our universe, and that is the part I don’t understand." — In a universe where he never invented time travel, and never brought anyone back, Tony Stark gets a late-night visitor he never could have expected. Prompt taken from @idk-bruh-20 Irondad fic idea #97 on Tumblr. Idea from @derpmallow.

What The Heart Knows by AdVitamAeternam

Summary: “When Peter wakes up, his head is being assaulted by a sledgehammer. He has no idea where he is. He has no idea what happened to him. He has no idea who he is, other than ‘Peter.’ But then, he looks over at the man who is scrutinizing him with worried eyes, and he knows who the man is. That's his dad." Or: The one where Peter gets hit over the head really, really hard and has temporary amnesia, and makes a very reasonable assumption based on the data presented to him.

Angst

A Far Green Country by madasthesea

Summary: “He just wanted Peter to be happy. More than anything in the world, he wanted Peter to be happy. Oh, Tony thought as that realization sunk down into the pit of his stomach and took root. I love him.”

A River To Skate Away On by frostysunflowers

Summary: “Peter has survived a spider bite, a building falling on him, turning to dust and being a teenager. He can handle anything. Except being forgotten.”

Agape by canon irondad (tomlinsoul)

Summary: “It's Tony's first date night with Pepper since the Snap, and Peter can't wait to spend some quality time with his little sister. Too bad a pair of hapless intruders, head trauma, and a panicked helicopter ride throw a spanner in the works." Whumptober 2022 Day 8: Head Trauma + Day 7: Seizures + Day 19: Repeatedly Passing Out + BTHB: Big Brother Instinct

Broken Heart Syndrome by iron_spider

Summary: “Tony is clearly really upset, the kind of upset that Peter’s only seen the likes of a couple of times, and it’s too close after everything happening to really talk about it. He can definitely see that now. ‘I’m sorry,’ Peter says. ‘I’m sorry, I should have answered—’ ‘Yeah, you should have answered!’ Tony yells. His bottom lip is trembling and he shakes his head, his eyes wild. He runs his hand over his forehead. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll know for next time,’ Peter says. He doesn’t know what’s gonna make this better. Probably nothing. ‘There better not be a next time,’ Tony says, dropping his hand from his face. ‘God, like this? Pete, no one knew where he was but you, and you—you kept it that way so nobody knew what the hell was happening, and you—you weren’t answering, kid, and that asshole sent me all that shit plucked directly from my nightmares, and I was trying to be strong for May because she was worried, too, and you—and you, I—I thought I wasn’t gonna ever—I thought—Jesus, Peter, you don’t think, you don’t—’ Tony bends over, clutching at his arm and breathing hard through his mouth.”

Dead In There, You’re Dead In There by iron_spider

Summary: “Peter, you’ve been acting insane for the past however many days and it’s giving me an ulcer, what’s going on, what did I do? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll fix it.’ Peter is still stalking around, and Friday is listing off his injuries, from a concussion to broken ribs to a sprained ankle, and Tony feels sick looking at it all. ‘You’ll fix it,’ Peter says, glancing over at him with pure disdain, the look bookended by matching explosions somewhere behind them. ‘Yeah it’s something you can’t fix, if it happens, nope, can’t fix it, it would just—but you’re just saying—’ Tony starts forward towards him. ‘Pete, explain to me what’s happening, please.’ ‘The protocol, the protocol,’ Peter insists, waving his hands through the air. Tony shakes his head. ‘The protocol?’ ‘The Avalon Protocol, Tony,’ Peter spits out, with venom.”

Dead-Eyed by iron_spider

Summary: “Hey,’ Tony says, fast, into the phone. ‘Everything alr—’ ‘Hey, no, I don’t know where he is,’ MJ says, in a rush of breath. ‘I don’t know where he is, Tony, and I know I have access to that tracking thing, but it feels weird for me to do that, and it doesn’t feel weird for you to do that, so you should do that. And find him and tell me what’s going on.’ ‘Okay, calm down,’ Tony says, getting up and stepping back from his workstation. ‘You know you can’t tell me to calm down, because I’m calm, and I’m always calmer than you because you’re like, inherently, not calm. At all, about anything, but especially about your family—’ ‘Okay, this is not calm,’ Tony says, starting to pace, even though he’s not calm either, she’s right. She sighs loudly in his ear. ‘When was the last time you saw him?”

Earthly Dust From Off Thee Shaken by ExpectoPatronum

Summary: “It had started with leaving his bedroom light on at night before he went to sleep. For a while, that had been enough. But then it wasn't.”

“Forever” by WithACherryOnTop

Summary: “Peter could feel the darkness creeping up on him again, like it had only moments earlier in the Avengers Compound bullpen. ‘‘ony.’ ‘Just go to sleep, bud.’ Tony gently scratched his nails at the nape of Peter’s neck. Peter collapsed bonelessly in Tony’s arms, all evidence of the tears, crying, and sobs hidden except for a stained shirt and the boy’s even, congested breaths. Tony wiped a hand over his face, a bit flustered. ‘Wow. That went way worse than I expected." Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel and/or Sony. I do not give permission for this work to be copied and/or posted to any other sites.

Gonna Pick Up The Pieces by orphan_account

Summary: “I don’t want to talk to you,’ Peter says. He’s been hiding for the better part of an hour, sitting in the cabin’s laundry room, wedged between the washer and the dryer. Something about the sounds coming off of them calms him, weirdly. The swish of water, the rumble of the motors, cotton rubbing cotton, the button on a pair of jeans dinging the side of the barrel. ‘That’s bullshit,’ Tony says. ‘You always want to talk to me.’ As true as that usually is, this time it rings discordant and tense. Peter clenches his jaw. ‘Not really,’ he says. ‘You just sorta assume that.’ ‘Of course I do. I make for lovely conversation.’ ‘Eh.”

Head’s On The Fritz by augustheart

Summary: "Hello?’ ‘Tony?’ ‘The one and only. What’s up, kiddo?’ The answer rises up in Peter's throat. Stops at the back of his tongue and wobbles there, heavy and leaden. He wants to spit it out, to cough it into the unbearable silence, to not be loud—but, to be steady. ‘I—’ he says. He trembles. ‘Can you—come over? Please?" Or: Tony makes things better

Hold Me Together by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Peter still doesn’t feel quite solid. Sometimes Tony can’t believe he’s really there either. They cope.”

I Have You by sweetspiderstew

Summary: “Tony has Peter all to himself, and there's nothing else like some good quality time in the workshop, but little mishaps happen, and there's a lot of hugging.”

I’ll Be Right Here by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Peter has a nightmare, and Tony goes to be sure he’s okay. It’s not the first one of its kind.”

It Came At Night by Marvelous_Writer

Summary: “What’s supposed to be a normal weekend visit to the Compound turns into one of disaster when unexpected visitors show up." (Set after Spider-Man: Homecoming) Whumptober Day Five: Gunpoint

It’s Time to Leave (and Turn to Dust) by hopeless_hope

Summary: "We’re going to help you, I promise, but you’ve got to trust me. Do you trust me?’ Peter looks at his mentor, fear written across his face. He raises a shaking hand back to Tony’s chest, and Tony places his hand over the kid’s. Peter closes his eyes and feels the hard surface of the arc reactor against his palm. Peter doesn’t like soft things, but this isn’t soft. It’s solid and steady and strong and feels like a truth he can believe in. It feels like presence. ‘Yeah, I trust you." (In which Peter has trouble coping with the events of Infinity War, but a certain Tony Stark is there to help.)

Meltdown by inkinmyheartandonthepage

Summary: “You said two-thirty,’ Peter said, acting as if he hadn’t heard Tony. ‘I forgot that you changed it to two thirty and not three.’ Tony took a step towards Peter. ‘Hey, Pete. It’s fine. You’re not that late kiddo. Hell, I’ve been to board meetings hours late.’ The joke didn’t land, and Peter’s eyes started to well with tears. He took in a hiccupping breath. ‘Oh god. I forgot. I forgot." Or: Peter isn't coping after Titan and has been doing everything to keep busy and not think about it. Everything comes to head when he forgets that a time was changed in his busy schedule leading to a meltdown.

Mine, And Yours by crowkag

Summary: “Is it Peter?’ He was met with loaded silence. The anxiety spark became an anxiety plunge and twist. ‘Happy. Is it Peter?’ ‘It’s… well. Who else would it be, right?’ ‘Hogan.’ He hated this. The spark, the plunge, the twist. The tension creeping from his shoulder blades, clawing down arms both flesh and metal, somehow, someway, and bunching up inside his palms. The hysteria of it all. ‘It’s—alright, I won’t sugarcoat it. The kid’s alive, but he got shot, Tony. Twice." Or: Tony reunites with Peter in a less-than-ideal manner.

Relax, Just Breathe by hailfire_73

Summary: “Tony,’ said Peter, lifting his head from the glass, his stubbornness spent. ‘I don’t feel so—’ ‘Do not,’ said Tony, through gritted teeth, and meeting Peter’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He had just one hand on the steering wheel as he drove them into the night. ‘Finish that sentence.’ Morgan leaned over, hung out of her booster seat, and whispered, ‘It gives dad attacks." Or: The Starks go on a road trip that goes wrong when Peter gets food poisoning from questionable carnival food.

Scars Can Heal And Reveal Just Where You Are by parkrstark

Summary: “Jesus Christ, Pete,’ the voice says again, and it's not just a voice. It's a voice that belongs to the shadow. The shadow is light in the dark. It's warm. ‘What are you doing on the floor? You're lucky you're by your bed or else it would have been you breaking my fall.’ Peter blinks at the shadow and can't tell if he's comforted or irritated by the new company. ‘What? No quip about me breaking a hip?’ There's silence. ‘Peter?"

Shots Ring Out by itsluckyyou

Summary: “Peter Parker had training. Training to deal with robbers, petty crime, and possible alien invasions. Nothing could have possibly trained him for this, though." Or: There's a shooter wandering the halls of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

The Pills (They Gotta Go) by searchingforstars

Summary: “Tony. What are these?’ Tony glances up. Sees the packs of pills clenched in Peter’s fist. He’s sure some of them must be dust judging by the force that Peter is holding them with. ‘My pills?’ ‘Why are they sitting at the back of the pantry?’ Peter asks, voice dangerously low." Or: Tony decides taking his medication is optional. Peter strongly disagrees.

We All Have A Hunger by MotherKarizma

Summary: “Morgan,’ he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Hey—hey, it’s okay, I’m just…’ ‘You’re sick.’ She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. ‘I’ll get Daddy!’ ‘No!’ Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five-year-old. ‘No, you don’t have to. I feel better now. You don’t have to tell him.’ Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. ‘Petey…’ Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop. But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: ‘Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?’ ‘But…’ ‘Morgan. Promise.”

We’re Here by An_Odd_Idea

Summary: “Comfortember prompt 3: Nightmares Peter has nightmares about when Thanos stabbed Tony on Titan”

Who Needs a Happy New Year When You Can Have a Happy Forever? by searchingforstars

Summary: “Peter's already feeling insecure about his place in Stark family holiday traditions, but it turns out it doesn't really matter because New Year’s Eve is significantly less fun when you’re a pair of PTSD-riddled superheroes, anyway." Or: Tony has a panic attack in a Burger King.

Without You (I Was Broken) by parkrstark

Summary: "How did you get shot? You just webbed me up 5 stories from being shot!’ ‘D-Didn’t know it was coming.’ ‘Dammit, Peter! This isn’t the first time your spidey sense hasn’t worked. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt because Rhodey told me I was being insane. Why didn’t you tell me it wasn’t always working? You shouldn’t go out into battle like this when your powers are being wonky and—’ ‘You’re here.’ ‘What?’ ‘You’re here.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t...I can’t really feel the danger when you’re around."

187 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ

Harry Styles x British Royal!Reader

Her Royal Highness Princess YN, daughter to Prince Charles and late Princess Diana, Prince and Princess of Wales, younger sister to Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, and granddaughter to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and His Royal Highness Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh would’ve never thought to meet Harry Styles by accident—by literally running into him. And Harry Styles would’ve never considered meeting the Princess of England again after that seemingly fateful afternoon.

faceclaim: Saoirse Ronan

author’s note: I still can’t comprehend the immense feedback and support this series got so far! Thank you so damn much for that, it seriously means the world to me <33 Attention: this is long. Like, really long.

series masterlist

;

sunflowerbutterfly Why am I still part of this circus.

Liked by murderbane, archielives, gingerprince and 4 others | 10 comments

archielives 🥺🥲

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I should’ve hidden in your suitcase when you left for the states 💀

↳ archielives I should’ve just grabbed and taken you with me.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly That’s categorized as treason, my friend. Would’ve made you the enemy of the state but not the Will Smith kinda type💀

↳ archielives I don’t care. The President of the United States would’ve understood it.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly … you mean the 🍊? I don’t think so. President Obama? That’s another story.

liked by archielives and murderbane

gingerprince What did Granny do this time?

↳ MacMark Better question: What did she not do?

↳ gingerprince Touché.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I’ll text in our group later ❤️

↳ MacMark Should I bring you something, lovely? Cookies? Lemonade? I think I saw some strawberry lemonade on my way up.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly That would be actually kinda sweet, Meg 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

liked by MacMark and gingerprince

murderbane Who do I have to murder?

liked by archielives, sunflowerbutterfly, MacMark and 2 others

↳ sunflowerbutterfly No one, Mer.

↳ murderbane I would do it.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly No, you wouldn’t because you’re not even capable of killing an insect.

↳ archielives YNN is not wrong.

↳ murderbane I hate you both.

liked by sunflowerbutterfly and archielives

;

“So, let me repeat that to get that straight into my head,” Meredith started while YN sipped her cocktail through the colorful straw accompanying it, chin propped up in her palm. “You have Harry Styles’ number for a week and a half saved in your phone and still didn’t call him? Are you sick, YNN?! Do I have to call an ambulance?” Her voice raised a couple of octaves, but YN only could shrug her shoulders half-heartedly. “It is complicated, okay?” More didn’t leave her mouth before her lips closed around the straw again, and the princess took a long sip, feeling the alcohol seeping into her body and letting her feel lighter. The burdens, usually resting on her shoulders, almost flew above her now.

She knew that alcohol never was the solution, but sometimes even YN couldn’t resist the tempting liquid.

Mer watched her over the edge of her own glass, blonde brows furrowed, and forehead wrinkled. “I saw the pictures, YNN. It didn’t seem complicated in that Starbucks or that park.” Her voice was softer now, and YN felt as if she wanted to cry right on this very chair, in this packed bar, somewhere in London. A thought seemed to strike her best friend while YN started to nibble listless and without appetite on a mozzarella stick. “What did she say?” The princess didn’t need to ask who Meredith meant by she. There was only one she who could ruin her week, and it certainly wasn’t Camilla. Her father’s wife was a nuisance on worst days, but nothing more.

Shrugging, YN let the mozzarella stick fall back into the basket before wiping her hand with the tissue lying next to it. “Rambled something about he isn’t a proper association for a princess and that I have to think about my family and my position.” Her voice was laced with unbelief and something resembling… rage. The latter was unlike YN because she usually was truly a peaceful individual, always searching for a way to solve conflicts—without hatred and anger.

Meredith choked on her cocktail and coughed to get the liquid out of her windpipe before taking a deep breath. “She lost her mind,” her friend decided, and YN laughed joylessly while Mer furrowed her brows even more. “What was her reason for this rubbish?” The blonde princess pulled the straw out of her glass and let it fall onto the tissue next to her hand before grabbing the drink and taking a bigger sip than necessary. “He is a singer, and, most importantly, it’s the way he dresses. His fucking clothes, Mer! Utter bullshit,” seethed the internally boiling woman, and Meredith couldn’t help it but chuckle softly at her rare outbursts, even though the topic wasn’t something she could laugh about. Meredith emptied her beverage and showed a final nod. “It’s official. The Queen of England threw her mind out of the window. No wonder Archie left this shitshow. Sorry.” YN hummed softly; the sound got almost swallowed by the sea of noises around them and the beating music in the background. “Don’t need to apologize, love. It’s true—my life is a shitshow. Think about it. I’m never utterly and truly free, even though they try to mask it that way, but at the same time, ordering me around and trying to control which people I am allowed to consider friends. Utter. Bollocks.” YN fell silent, emptying her cocktail and letting the glass hit the table a tad too hard. “No wonder my mom lost her mind.”

Sadness etched its way into her mind, and the feeling of longing wasn’t an unusual companion for the young woman. In such situations, she missed her mother more than she already did every day of her damned life. YN believed it would be easier to handle if Diana was still alive and still by her side to guide her through the strong tide of protocols, rules, and demanding people. Diana would help her escape from time to time—fully escape. But all of it was a silly, childish dream because her mother was dead, and no power on earth could bring her back.

Camilla would know how to prevent that.

A soft hand clasping hers pulled YN back into reality and out of her spiraling mind. Her eyes found her best friend, a worried and apologetic expression on her face. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded. “You are not your mom. You won’t live like her because I’m here, and I’m here to help and stay. And that’s why I’m telling you to call this angel of a man. I’m sure his personality will brighten up your day. Think about it: He gave you his number. He wanted you to call.” YN swallowed dryly at that thought and lowered her gaze, her pointer finger following the edge of her glass. “He said he wants to see me again. That day of our first meeting,“ the princess confessed to her best friend, and just as anticipated, Meredith almost freaked out but remembered where they were and lowered her tone. “Are you freaking kidding me?! YNN, that’s… that’s amazing! And so sweet!” But the excitement soon died down at the face her friend showed. “Oh no,” the Brisbane mumbled, while the blonde only pulled her shoulders up to her ears—a clear sign of her spiraling thoughts and rising anxiety. “What if he only wants to see me again for the tabloids, the paparazzi, his impact on social media? What if he only sees the princess when he looks at me, the titles, my family, the attention he can gain through me? I experienced all of it, and it never seemed as if that were their intention. Never.”

She really had stood last in line while the universe had distributed the luck a human had in life. She always found the assholes within the sea of individuals. Or maybe she was a magnet for such people; a screaming, beckoning light in the dark ocean that was their miserable life until they could ruin a person. It was exhausting.

Meredith cocked a brow. “Do you really believe a single word you just spat out?” She looked up from her empty glass, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Mer. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to think and what not. It’s a mess up here.” She pointed to her head and shook it. “I probably don’t believe a single word floating through my mind, but the fears are there anyway. I can’t turn them down or even off. And that’s probably why I haven’t called him yet.” Her best friend sighed while she softly patted YN’s hand. “What about a deal? You gonna call this poor man who is definitely sulking somewhere in England, asking himself what he did wrong because his phone still isn’t ringing, and if he turns out to be an asshole like everyone else, you hit me up, and I will end this bastard. Deal?”

Swallowing, YN nodded, and suddenly, Meredith pushed the basket with the mozzarella sticks right in front of her. “Perfect. And now, you’re gonna eat those damn sticks because they’re part of your culinary journey in becoming a peasant—and because I paid eleven pounds for these bastards.”

;

sunflowerbutterfly Hi, I’m YN, and that’s 100% me.

By the way: Behold and witness my immaculate photoshop skills. ✨Digital art is my passion✨

Liked by murderbane, archielives, and 3 others | 4 comments

murderbane Do I have to move my ass over to Kensington?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly …no.

↳ murderbane Call him. NOW.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Stop screaming, I’m sensitive!

archielives Call him. NOW.

liked by murderbane

↳ sunflowerbutterfly WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

↳ archielives Call him.

↳ archielives Now.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Remind me again not to send you anything for your birthday.

↳ murderbane I will send you something, Arch!

liked by archielives

;

It took her another day to finally take the phone from its station.

—

Harry had just ended a fresh verse for a new song that had stuck in his head ever since that day, as his phone started to vibrate, announcing an incoming call. His band members had never seen him react this fast; usually, Harry barely acknowledged his phone when writing songs inside the studio, but in the past almost two weeks, he had acted differently, and not only Sarah suspected something.

“Yes, hello?” He sounded out of breath, his heart jumping in his chest and up to his throat. “Mr. Styles, this is the Royal Palace of Kensington. Her Royal Highness, Princess YN, would like to talk to you. I’m connecting the call now. Have a good night, sir,” the authoritative, nameless voice explained without waiting for even a second if that was alright. Well, it certainly was, and probably no one in his right mind would decline a call from the palace, so it made sense. Still, it felt odd to the singer, but those thoughts vanished immediately as a short beeping sound announced the connected call.

Silence settled into the line before her voice spoke up. “Uhm… hi? Oh gosh, is this even the right number? Shit. Uhm… if you are not Harry Styles, then I am truly and immensely sorry for bothering you, and even if you are Harry Styles, I am sorry for bothering you so late. Shit, I did not check the time before deciding this, I-…” Harry chuckled lowly and closed his pen. “YN?” His voice asked softly into his phone and let her pause. “It’s me, and it’s totally fine. You didn’t wake or disturb me,” he promised with a gentle smile spreading on his lips.

Sarah and Mitch, who had wanted to go over some things, now sat awfully still and quiet in the studio and listened to him with wide eyes.

A deep, relieved sigh traveled through the call. “Oh God, for a second, I seriously thought I gave them the wrong number. I am too bad with numbers. This always ends in a catastrophic disaster, so please, keep that in mind if you ever want me to calculate something. I am not even able to remember my own phone number correctly, which I have owned since 2009. And now I’m rambling. Gosh, I am so sorry. And now I’m apologizing again. Universe, please send some help.” The last sentence was definitely not meant for his ears, but her whispering was too precious, and Harry was glad he had heard that. It made her even more human—and so, so relatable. “I keep that in mind,” he grinned, leaning back into his chair but turning a tad serious now. “I thought I’d never hear from you.” He almost mumbled the words, not wanting to pressure her in anything or make her feel guilty. Another sigh reached his ear. “I know, and I’m sorry for that too. I had a lot of responsibilities, and after a day that started at four-thirty in the morning and ended way past ten in the night, I didn’t feel like I would be great company. And… well, I am not self-confidence in person, so that came on top.”

Harry felt his heart leap in his chest at her words. So she thought about me too, the singer grinned before standing up and moving to the cushioned corner in the studio. “I totally get that, don’t worry. I just thought… well. I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that I made a mistake or offended you in any way, I wasn’t aware of.” The brunette heard a chuckle, and he had to laugh softly as well. “Maybe we should decide right here, right now, to just jump into the cold water in any case of doubts and episodes of overthinking,” YN suggested with another chuckle, and Harry thought that he had never grinned this wide in his entire life. “I think that’s a great idea. Maybe we should toast to our deal with another coffee.”

He swallowed hard after the suggestion, which had slipped out of his mouth without a second thought on how that sounded, but her answering voice, instead of the beeping sound of an ended call, saved his rapidly beating heart from exploding. “Smooth, Mr. Styles, exceptionally smooth.” He could hear her grin from the opposite end of London. “What about a day trip? Just… getting out of London and maybe somewhere more peaceful? Don’t get me wrong, I love this city with my entire heart, but-“ Harry continued her sentence. “-but the paparazzi are horrible.”

He knew that feeling all too well.

“Yes! Exactly this. So… Would you be up for it? We don’t have to drive far. Maybe Reading? Oxford is a bit farther, but not as far as Brighton or Portsmouth…” Harry had to admit that he loved to listen to her ramble, slipping into the depths of her mind. It was the most adoring thing he had ever witnessed, and he hoped instantly to hear it even more often. “We can go wherever you want to go,” he returned and meant it with every single part of his being. “Reading, Oxford, Cambridge, Brighton, Bath… Road trips are fun.” He could hear her smile again—she almost always let a very short, very quiet chuckle out while forming her lips into a smile. It was strange how fast he had caught up to one of her habits. Harry had to ask himself what else he could explore when spending more time with the princess. Everything in his body tingled at the prospect of more time with YN.

“Bath is a bit far for only a day trip, don’t you think? And… do I need to prepare something special for a… road trip?” The princess spoke the word as if it meant traveling to the moon, and Harry had to cock a brow. “Your Royal Highness, do you try to let me know that you never experienced the magic of a road trip?” His voice had gained a teasing tone, the nervousness finally disappearing. Her groan made him laugh under his breath. “Do not dare and tease me about my lack of experience and knowledge! Meredith—my best friend—is not particularly hyped for long car journeys, and Archie—my other best friend—didn’t have a driver’s license until he moved to the States. And asking my two shadows always seemed kind of… odd. Not to mention my family, even though Harry would have done it if I had asked really nicely.”

The other Harry—it was funny thinking like that about himself—hummed, interested, listening intently about her life and family. He only had known the things made public, and even those were probably straight-up lies. Well, most of them, at least. “I would never think of it,” he grinned before humming again, deep in thought now.

“We would need a good playlist for the road.”

He could hear her scribble on paper.

“Consider this done,” YN decided, and Harry thought further.

“Snacks and drinks, of course.”

“That’s my job as well.”

“You can cook?” He didn’t intend to sound this surprised, but YN gladly only laughed wholeheartedly. “Yes, I am capable of following recipes and actually am able to cook and bake without them—without poisoning everyone around me, thank you very much.” Harry fully ignored Sarah’s and Mitch’s stares at his loud laugh escaping him now. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m providing the drinks. Is it true that you love strawberry lemonade, or is that just a straight-up lie created by tabloids to boost beverage production?” He waited for an answer while already planning to ask his mom for her recipe. “This one is, surprisingly, very true. But don’t believe the things about my morning routine if you ever stumble upon them. Who drinks Earl Grey with raw eggs? Is that even a helpful concoction in the eyes of the beauty industry? I believe not.“

It was official: Harry could listen to her all day long and wouldn’t get tired of her voice. Quite the opposite was the case—he craved more and more of those soft sounds leaving her lips.

“I can outdo this easily. I only have to say three words: bull testicles moisturizer.” Her escaping laugh was almost like music in his ear, and he wanted to write songs about it.

Harry, deep breaths. The century’s biggest crush is showing.

But it was too hard when she was not only stunningly beautiful but also funny, intelligent, and one of the gentlest and most compassionate human beings walking on this planet.

“Tabloids only hire a certain kind of people, don’t they?” YN still laughed but took a deep breath. “Okay, back to the topic at hand: do we need a picnic blanket? I mean, it is still February, and the last snow only melted yesterday, but… I don’t know, the thought seemed so enticing in my head, but it is probably not manageable without getting a horrible cold. Which I cannot cast upon you, fine sir, and I am not allowed to get sick any time soon either.” Harry could hear incomprehensible mumble reaching his ear, and he already figured out what that meant. “Busy schedule?” He desperately wanted to know more about her life; maybe he could help her a bit, and if it would just contain road trips here and there, he would do it. “Kind of. The birthday of my uncle—Edward—is coming up, and Granny is head over heels for the idea of a ball. Nothing big or fancy like the Royal Caledonian Ball in May, but still something I have to attend in a fancy, uncomfortable dress and torturing heels,” she explained with a soft groan, and Harry smiled at her being so completely normal. If the world only knew that… “How about that: We will leave the picnic blanket for now, but we’ll take it on a road trip another time?” He had spoken the words without thinking—again. He wanted to hit himself.

“Are you already planning another trip with me, Harry?” In his panicky screaming mind, he couldn’t process her tone, or if YN smiled, so he stammered around it. “I… It shouldn’t… I didn’t…” But her gentle laugh silenced him, though he could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks. “I was only teasing you, Harry. I’d be honored to have a road trip companion. So… When do you think we can do it? I’d love to say we could leave right away or tomorrow, but I’m visiting a children’s hospital.” His heart almost jumped out of his chest, and Harry had to take a deep breath. “What about next week? Tuesday? Most tourists will be around during the weekend.” He tried to think about anything that would make this day impossible to maneuver around it. “Tuesday sounds perfect. Do you want my number? Just in case something comes up?” Harry swallowed, eyes widening, but he nodded even though YN couldn’t see it. “That would be great, though there won’t be coming anything up.” He would know how to prevent that from happening.

After he had scribbled down her number next to the verse he had written earlier this evening, there was a short silence between them before YN cleared her throat.

“…Harry?”

He perked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you were my collision partner in that Starbucks.”

The singer could hear her smile appearing again—and he smiled as well.

“Me too, YN.”

;

haroldsmind He can’t stop writing. Wonder why that’s so. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with those phone calls he always accepts within a millisecond, nope 👀 Sincerely, Mitch (yes, I stole his phone for this post)

Liked by annetwist, gemmastyles, pillowpersonpp and 3 others | 5 comments

jefezoff Or that free Tuesday he demands he needs 👀

gemmastyles Phone calls? I need details? 👀

annetwist Mhmmmm 😇

haroldsmind And I wondered where my phone was. Thanks, man.

liked by mitchrowland, jefezoff, and pillowpersonpp

↳ mitchrowland I had to do it.

↳ haroldsmind And why’s that?

↳ mitchrowland Capturing it for the future so I can say “I told you”?

liked by pillowpersonpp and jefezoff

pillowpersonpp Don’t mess this up, Haz, thank you.

↳ haroldsmind I don’t know what you mean.

↳ pillowpersonpp Don’t act dumb, I want to meet her.

sunflowerbutterfly And suddenly, a bouquet of flowers appeared on my doorsteps 🙊🥺

Liked by MacMark, gingerprince, archielives and 4 others | 6 comments

archielives Excuse me while I cry in my pillows (out of pure happiness)

liked by MacMark and murderbane

MacMark Mhmmmm? 👀

↳ sunflowerbutterfly 👉🏻👈🏻

↳ MacMark I want to hear everything after that horrible family dinner tonight.

gingerprince Okay, yeah. Interesting. Do you mind pointing me in the direction of the suitor, so I can play out the big brother act?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I seriously don’t know what you mean.

↳ gingerprince I call bullshit.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Ah ah ah! Don’t let Grandmother dearest hear that. She could get the impression the Americans rub off on you 💀

liked by MacMark

↳ MacMark What a shock it might be if she learns that Harry was already like that before we even met 👀

liked by sunflowerbutterfly

;

YN would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t nervous as she climbed into the waiting Jeep after Bernard had pulled up in front of the palace. He had handed her the keys with a smile—he knew just as well as she that she hadn’t driven her car ever since returning from Oxford—while Aaron and Egil situated themselves in the black Audi behind her. At least she would have some privacy before picking up Harry, so she could try and calm her nerves a bit.

“Everything will be fine. Everything will be okay. It’s nothing. Just a day with the hottest and most handsome and wonderful male individual gracing this earth with his presence. It’s nothing unusual, YN. Nothing to worry about.”

She tried to calm herself with the newfound whispered mantra but failed miserably, even until the last intersection she had to cross. It was as if she was back at square one and as if the nightly phone—and even FaceTime—calls didn’t happen for the last six days. It was maddening.

Stopping at the given address marked the point of no return, especially because the door leading to his property had already got opened, and Harry bloody Styles appeared in all his handsomely glory. He held a basket in hand on which two thick blankets laid, neatly rolled up, and an umbrella in his other hand—you never knew in England. Harry turned after closing the door and spotted the described Jeep immediately—plus the sleek black Audi waiting behind it.

“Hey,” the man smiled after putting the basket in the trunk and climbing into the car seat. YN released a relieved sigh and returned the smile. “Hey,” was all she could return before—in an impulsive reaction—she leaned over the middle console and pressed a featherlike kiss on his cheek. He chuckled after YN pulled herself back onto her side of the car, cheeks trying to challenge a hydrant. “I guess the flowers arrived?” The princess nodded with another smile and started the engine to leave London behind for the day. “They did. And… and they are breathtakingly beautiful. Thank you. How did you know that periwinkles and cream roses are my favorites?” A curious expression settled on her slightly concentrated face as she maneuvered through the heavy London-ish traffic, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from staring and watching her. “I didn’t,” he grinned softly. “I just went into that flower shop, saw the florist unpacking a fresh box of cream roses and periwinkles, and thought, They look gorgeous, I have to send her them, and the rest is history, as one would say.”

She could feel how her cheeks proceeded with their goal to be just as similar as a hydrant while turning onto the A40, heading to Oxford. They had decided upon her beloved city of scarce freedom two nights ago while talking about their respective lives, and YN had sucked every word of him up like much-needed oxygen. But somewhere along the FaceTime call, during which she had settled in the comforts of her bed, the princess had fallen asleep, and Harry still couldn’t comprehend the burning but soft, warm feeling that had spread through his body at the sight of her peaceful sleeping face—because his voice had guided her into slumber. He still felt privileged because he had seen her in her most vulnerable state so far: in the comforts of her home no one outside her family and friends had ever seen before and her trust to let him see her sleep.

Don’t try to talk yourself out of it, Harry. This crush is still there, and you are falling even harder for this woman.

It was probably very true.

“Then you must be a wizard—or the Fates had their fun,” YN grinned, eyes quickly jumping up to the rear mirror before changing the lane, black Audi still behind her. She could never outrun them, not even if she took lessons with the Fast and the Furious cast. “You know, I can drive us as well.” But at his words, the princess settled into an even more comfortable seating position—almost slouching in the driver’s seat. “Nah-uh. You can drive us back home if you like, but maybe I won’t let you then either because it was my idea.” She paused, and her thumb softly stroked over the steering wheel. “And I missed driving, to be quite honest. Haven’t done it since returning to London full-time.” Harry slouched as well; long legs outstretched and an elbow propped up on the small space next to the window. “So, this is a drive along memory lane?” He asked, and YN nodded with a radiant smile. “It totally is, yep. I always took this road when driving back on Sundays if my presence was needed in good ol’ London. Same car, same black Audi behind me, with the exact same men inside it. But this now… this is much better.” Harry could witness the transformation from that radiant smile into a shy one and—again—couldn’t stop staring.

YN chuckled, embarrassed, and shook her head softly. “That sounded too cheesy, even for my standards,” she mumbled, but suddenly, she felt a warm, much bigger hand enveloping the one resting on the gear stick, lacing their fingers together. The princess only spared a quick glance down but was taken aback at how good their hands looked together; how they fitted almost perfectly. She had never thought that this was possible—that her brain went into overdrive just at the mere sight of two hands together. Or that her stomach fluttered like a tornado of butterflies at the feeling of his warm skin pressed against hers in the most innocent but intimate gestures this world had to offer.

But there was probably always a time for firsts.

“Not too cheesy,” Harry almost whispered, and YN couldn’t stop but push their fingers closer together, getting a better hold on them and reveling in this unexpected feeling. “Okay,” she grinned softly and pointed her finger in the direction of the audio system. “Would you mind? I’m a bit… preoccupied.” Laughing, Harry watched her as she helplessly shrugged her shoulders; one hand at the steering wheel and the other clasped in the soft embrace of his hand. “Of course.” He touched the display to wake it up and was suddenly faced with a fully prepared playlist. Instead of looking through the titles YN had put on there, he only started the list and widened his eyes as the first tunes of Heart Of The Country by Paul McCartney filled the car.

“Where did you…-“ Harry couldn’t even end his question, too stunned he felt, and YN reveled in his expressions. “I wasn’t an A-student for nothing.” The satisfied grin was accompanied by her thumb gently caressing his hand—YN could not not cave into that desire. “I took my research very seriously,” the princess nodded proudly, while Harry leaned even further back into the seat and shook his head unbelievingly. “You constantly amaze me, Your Highness,” he finally spoke as Heart Of The Country ended, and Bridge Over Troubled Water started. YN granted herself one very quick look over to him, saw his slightly blushed cheeks, the small smile on his lips, those mesmerizing eyes settled entirely upon her, and looked back to the traffic in front of her.

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

She really wasn’t sure.

His following chuckle would’ve swept her off her feet if she didn’t sit already.

“It’s more than just a good thing.” So much more.

;

ynismyqueen Excuse me while I sob uncontrollably.

SHE WAS ONLY A HANDFUL OF FEET AWAY FROM ME.

I BREATHED THE SAME AIR AS SHE DID

‼️AND HARRY WAS WITH HER‼️

Liked by royalistsbitch, yn_harryshipper, yourfan1, hsfan1, and 358 others | 99 comments

royalistsbitch I spilled my tea.

yn_harryshipper WHAT?! IS MY DREAM REALLY COMING TRUE

↳ ynismyqueen I THINK SO??!!! They sat SO close to one another 😩 And their expressions were EVERYTHING 😩

↳ yn_harryshipper screaming crying dying right now.

hsfan1 another account posted the pictures of Harry, but I can’t find them anymore!!! 😭

↳ hsfan2 perhaps you mean harrystylesfanpage?

↳ hsfan1 Yes. YES! Thanks so much!

liked by harrystylesfanpage and hsfan2

yourfan1 Can somebody recall a day in the past months where she looked this happy???

↳ yourfan2 Nope.

↳ ynismyqueen Only the day she met Harry in that Starbucks

↳ yourfan1 True! I missed her smile 🥺

↳ yourfan2 +1

↳ ynismyqueen +2

harrystylesforever I probably died, and this is just the afterlife where all your ships become a reality.

Liked by ynismyqueen, yourfan1, hsfan1, hsfan2, harrystylesfanpage, and 1,219 others | 311 comments

hsfan1 i kinda love the content, but i kinda feel bad because those photos violet their privacy, urgh

liked by yourfan1 and 113 others

↳ yourfan1 Same, bestie, same.

hsfan2 Look at how they sit 😮‍💨

ynismyqueen Still not over these two. And it’s so sweet that they do it here in Oxford because Oxford means so much to YN 🥹❤️

↳ yourfan2 Had the same thought. She probably showed him her favorite spots in the city 🥺

harrystylesfanpage We’re really rooting for these two now. Haters gonna hate soon, but we don’t care. We love a happy Harry! And a happy YN!

;

sunflowerbutterfly Who needs cooks when they have a cooking Harry? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Liked by murderbane, gingerprince, MacMark, and 3 others | 4 comments

MacMark Harry Styles is in the palace kitchen, and nobody thought to give me a heads up?

↳ sunflowerbutterfly We sneaked in. No grand announcements possible 🤷🏼‍♀️

↳ MacMark Aha 👀

gingerprince You are lucky I’m not there.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly 🙄💀

↳ gingerprince But seriously, YNN. I wanna have a word with him if this continues.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I don’t know what you mean, Henry Charles Albert David.

↳ murderbane COULD YOU PLEASE STOP WITH THE SELF DENIAL?!

liked by gingerprince

↳ gingerprince Thank you, Meredith. What she said 👆🏻

liked by murderbane

↳ sunflowerbutterfly I hate you both. If you’ll excuse me, I have a guest.

archielives YOU GO GIRL!!!

murderbane Will the cooks keep their mouths shut?

↳ archielives They will. They adore YN to pieces.

haroldsmind Chef Harold is here to save the day👨🏽‍🍳

↳ sunflowerbutterfly Well, the food is already smelling (and looking) delicious

↳ murderbane I can’t see the first reply, but I’m sure it’s Harry, so here is the 1,000,000£ question of the evening: Do you really mean the food or the cook only inches away from said food?

liked by archielives

↳ sunflowerbutterfly 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

↳ archielives Those emojis won’t save you, dear.

liked by murderbane

;

“Do you need anything else, Your Highness?” One of the cooks asked after Harry had divided the spaghetti between two plates—the plain white ones, not the fancy porcelain with the white gold designed edges—and YN shook her head while Harry gathered the two plates and a bottle of wine. She already held the two mugs in hand, out of which they would drink it. Who needs fancy glasses made out of crystal? “No, Chef Laurent, but thank you. You all can head home and to bed—we will be just fine. But please don’t lock the freezer, that would be really great, and I would appreciate it on an entirely different level.”

Who knew, maybe she craved ice cream at night?

The chef of chefs nodded and started to usher everyone out of his realm. “You know it is only Laurent, Your Highness,” he scolded her with a smile, but YN shrugged. “And you know I told you I would start using only your name if you drop the title as well. Good night!” YN coaxed the bottle out of Harry’s grasp, smile on her face, so that he could use both hands for the plates, and guided him back to her apartment after passing the several stairs to the second floor of the east wing. It was far enough away from her brother, Kate, and the kids to be quiet enough but not too far away if YN felt the need for her eldest brother’s hugs or advice from her sister-in-law. And so the entire second-floor wing belonged to her—including the attic above her six-room apartment.

“They really love you,” Harry said, and the princess cocked her head slowly from side to side, unsure. “Maybe. Maybe they are just friendly because they have known me my entire life and always had to keep up with me stealing the cakes out of the cooling room. Maybe they are just friendly because they get paid to be. Who knows.” She always had a hard time believing that people actually liked her for herself and not for the title, her family, or position—the latter containing connections and relationships with powerful and influential people. She had learned early in her life that it wasn’t her title that contained said things because even with a title, one could be as insignificant as a stone in the mud.

Her uncle Andrew was only the most recent example. The thought alone made her skin prickle in the most unpleasant of ways.

But Harry thought differently about the kitchen staff. “I believe they do. I’m not blind; I saw their faces when we entered, and you greeted them. They love you. They would cook you the grandest dinner in the middle of the night if you’d ask. And, to be honest, it doesn’t surprise me a bit.” They had reached the last step and turned right to pass the long corridor and finally reach the french doors to her very own realm. “Why doesn’t it?” YN had to ask. Harry grinned down at the blonde, and if he didn’t carry their dinner, he would stretch a hand out to push that blonde strand out of her face and behind her ear, maybe steal a quick touch of her soft skin. But instead, she did it herself with a hectic move which he knew that it screamed insecurity. “Because you, YN, are a compassionate and loving person. You treat people with unbelievable kindness and tend to them if they need you. I saw those pictures from your trip to the hospital—every single one of these kids, and even their parents and the staff loved you. They respect you. It’s who you are. And it’s inevitable to fall to your feet.”

He swallowed before turning again and walking to the mentioned doors, the princess closely next to him. She opened one of them without a single word and let them into her sacred halls. Harry let his eyes wander again—they had been up here shortly before going down to the kitchen and making dinner—and he still couldn’t grasp the coziness of this place. Everything seemingly screamed “YN” in every octave and sound he could imagine. He may not know her for long, but it was enough to picture the perfect home for the woman now striding to the small coffee table in front of the fireplace to clean it off books and paperwork. Two comfortable-looking pillows found their way onto the softly looking carpet; two fluffy blankets followed just as closely. He carried the two plates over, settled them onto the table, and plopped down next to YN on the ground, watching her as she skillfully decapitated the wine and poured it into the two mugs.

She finally looked up to him again because even while sitting, Harry almost loomed over her. “Which one do you like?” The question got asked with both mugs in hands, raising them now onto eye level, so Harry could inspect each of them more closely. “A fancy and noteworthy selection, miss, and a tough decision.” She nodded, suppressing her grin. “Indeed,” YN answered with the most serious tone she could master. “I will happily take the I survived my trip to New York City mug if you don’t mind.” The princess handed the white mug with the yellow cab over to the singer while taking a better hold of her own mug Meredith had made for her birthday three years ago. The dark blue “YN’s Rule #16 - Never mess with a Princess’ coffee if you want to live” still made her chuckle every time she looked at that mug. She may have graduated with honors, but she definitely had pulled many all-nighters with Mer to watch every single episode of NCIS. She still was a young woman with a burning passion for tv shows and Hollywood movies, after all.

“An excellent choice, sir,” YN grinned before taking the first sip of some white wine she had found in the kitchen—and which suited their dinner if one could believe a world-known chef. But then, she turned serious again, swallowing dryly before opening her mouth and asking the boiling and tickling question. “You said something about it being inevitable to fall to my feet. Does… does this statement include… well, you?” Only a second after the question mark had left her lips, the princess felt the blood rushing into her face, and her lungs stopped working entirely while her heart working overtime. Almost hectically, the blonde turned to their food and tried to find the manual on how to use a fork again in her brain. But emptiness was all that greeted her up there. “I’m sorry,” YN whispered then, not daring to raise her gaze. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It is none of my business, I suppose, so… forget I ever asked.” The muscle in her chest ached, and YN wished desperately to reverse the past twenty seconds to return to the fluffy mood they had created with those silly mugs.

A warm finger underneath her chin guided YN’s face gently into another direction, pushing her to look Harry right into his handsome face, those sea green eyes intently wandering over her face before they stared right into hers. “If you allow it.” His voice was a husky whisper in the silence of her living room. YN blinked slowly, not daring to move too fast in utter fear she would destroy this moment when moving too suddenly. “What?” Her voice had never sounded this breathless in her entire life. Harry softly grabbed her chin with his thumb, his pointer finger still resting underneath it. “If you allow me to fall to your feet, I will happily do it. I’m probably already at your feet without even knowing it, hoping to have the honor to get to know you better, spend more time with you, show you how you deserve to be treated every single minute of every single day. To cook for you after a road trip, full of singing along the playlist, in that massive kitchen downstairs, while you’re sitting on the counter, reaching for every spice I need, adorable smile on your pretty face. To show you my kitchen and living room where we could play Monopoly all night long while eating Chinese takeout, reading the notes of our fortune cookies out loud. To take you out to a proper sushi restaurant because takeout sushi doesn’t count. Convincing you there that green tea and sushi are a delicious combination. I will do all that and more if you allow it.”

Harry stopped for a short moment to take a deep breath and tried to soothe his rapidly beating heart. Forgotten was the steaming pasta next to them, the wine in their silly mugs, the unfamiliar environment the singer found himself in.

Only YN had space in his mind.

Only YN was important now.

“Will you allow it, YN?”

And her barely observable nod was everything he had ever wanted.

;

haroldsmind Incognito 101: how to pull off the sunglasses-hat-combination without a single ray of sunshine.

Liked by pillowpersonpp, gemmastyles, annetwist, jefezoff, and 5 other | 8 comments

gemmastyles I think I just hyperventilated.

↳ annetwist Deep breaths, love 😇

↳ gemmastyles Don’t be the calm one now, Mom!!!!

jefezoff So, this is where you disappeared to today 👀

↳ mitchrowland I told you 👀

↳ jefezoff I know, but I thought it couldn’t be true 👀

pillowpersonpp Excuse me, I have to get my worldview in a new order.

sunflowerbutterfly I just entered this magical realm and suddenly faced myself. That’s surprising.

↳ sunflowerbutterfly (No, it is not because you asked very lovely if you could post this one here.)

↳ haroldsmind 😊

liked by gemmastyles, pillowpersonpp, annetwist, and 2 others

↳ gemmastyles He is using emojis. I’m repeating, he is using emojis.

↳ haroldsmind 🙄

liked by gemmastyles and sunflowerbutterfly

;

Lying between pillows, blankets, and comforters spread over the fluffy carpet in front of the now crackling fireplace, YN held Pride and Prejudice securely in her hands. Harry laid beside her, propped up on one arm, eyes fully taking in the woman next to him, while her lips moved and let the words of her most favorite novel out in the air.

“But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself.”

The singer smiled at the sight of her closing eyes with a deep, comfortable sigh escaping YN and letting the old book slowly rest on her chest. The cover, though… “Wait. Is this the same book…?” Harry didn’t even need to end his question because YN turned her head, eyes opening, and her slight grin gave him the answer. “It looks so old. I remember thinking the same, especially while holding it, but I thought Harry, she would never bring an old book to a Starbucks.” Now, her grin held a piece of secret knowledge, and the princess sat up in their self-made coziness. Harry followed her close, still resting his weight on one hand that rested closely behind her back, and looked over her shoulder to see what she was doing. Her fingers let the pages fall back into their usual position and opened the first page. The tips of her fingers softly stroked over the old, yellowish paper until they reached the printed year of release. His eyes fell on the black ink above her finger, and the singer felt as if his eyes would pop out of his head.

“What the….-“ His voice died down, and he scooted closer, not thinking about it further, and not even the pressing feeling of their legs against each other could pull him out of his disbelieving daze. “This can’t be…” But her chuckle proved otherwise. “It is,” she grinned, and Harry stretched out his hand to intently grace the surface of this first edition. “And you brought this first edition to a Starbucks? Seriously?” YN chuckled again and let her thumb tenderly stroke over the cover after closing it. “It’s a bit… no, very posh, I know. But I never owned another copy of Pride and Prejudice because I never think about it when I’m in a bookstore. And… I’m biased in buying another edition, to be quite honest. They were my firsts, you know? Thanks to them, I fell in love with literature, with books, and the written word. It feels like betraying my one true love.” YN chuckled with a head shake.

But Harry understood it and nodded his head. “It’s like for me with music, with my guitars, my piano. I understand. It’s still more extra than I have ever thought could be possible.” YN shoved him playfully to his side, and the singer laughed loudly, the princess following close. “Better carrying one first edition volume rather than all three, don’t you think?” The brunette grinned up at the woman still sitting upright on their makeshift island of comfort. “True,” he agreed, and after YN had put the book on the soft cushions of the sofa next to them, she settled back onto their island, head slowly resting on Harry’s outstretched arm.

She moved her face to look up at him, furrowing her brows in question. “Is that okay?” The man hummed in agreement at the almost whispered ask—soft expression settling on his face while watching the blonde woman, settling closer to his body without even thinking.

“Was there ever a time when you wanted to do something different than what you do?” Her question pulled Harry back to her after losing himself in the view of her right next to him, head resting comfortably on his biceps. One shoulder got shrugged, and he was quiet for longer than intended because YN had started to play with a loose thread on his hoodie. “Before everything—before X-Factor and finding the boys, starting the band, going solo—I thought of attending university as my sister did. Maybe something along law, sociology, and business. But then everything changed, and I remember how I once sat in my room, trying to figure everything out, and thought how music had changed my life and, finally, that music was the one thing I wanted to do. Plus, I never was a good student, so university would have probably been a struggle throughout.”

While talking, Harry had looked upwards to the ceiling, but now, his gaze settled back on YN, realizing that she had observed him while telling her all these things. And at the sight of her bright blue eyes, which always reminded him of a spring or summer sky, he had to ask something. “Do you mind it?” Creases formed on her pale forehead as YN knitted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?” Her voice was quiet, not to disturb the peace they had found after dinner. “Do you mind I never went to university? Never graduated and earned degrees?” The princess propped herself up on one arm and starring down onto the brunette with still knitted brows. “Are you asking me if I mind that you’re a singer?” At his nod, YN sighed gently and, with her fingertip, booped his nose. “Of course not, silly,” she smiled. “I actually admire you and your decision to do what you love, to follow your heart. It’s more than I have ever done.” Now it was her turn to shrug her shoulder. “My decision to study literature was the only thing in my life I actually decided myself without getting pressured into it.”

Now thinking more closely about it, YN decided that her life was not only sad but pathetic.

“What would you do if you had the choice?” Harry’s question let YN settle back closely next to him—he was so perfectly warm and invitingly comfortable to snuggle up to, and his arm the best pillow in the world. She didn’t need to think long about it. “Probably something with literature. Maybe an editor—finding new talents in the writing industry, publishing them, giving them a voice. Or maybe something with art.” The easel in the other room almost screamed for her undivided attention. Harry looked surprised but impressed. “I didn’t know you painted,” he said, and YN hummed, moving her head slowly closer and closer to his shoulder. “Few people know about it. The public does not belong to this circle of knowing people, though. There are few things they don’t know about me, and I revel in every single one of them—my painting and drawing are a part of it.” Harry chuckled at the mischievous glimmer in her blue eyes. “You little devil,” the singer whispered, a grin tucking at his lips, and, without a second thought, pressed a tender kiss to the princess’s forehead and hairline.

YN closed her eyes at the feeling of his lips against her skin; relishing in it because it had been long since her heart had fluttered like an excited bird in a cage, shortly before it would get opened to release the little creature into freedom. “It’s a lonely life,” she suddenly whispered, barely above her breath, because the princess had never admitted this part of her mind, not even to Archibald or Meredith. “Tell me about it.” Harry’s response was just as quiet as hers. “There isn’t much to tell. It is just… lonely, especially when one of your parents is already long dead and your father has a new wife you never warmed up to, and when you are constantly surrounded by people who do not care for you. I’m barely alone. And yet I feel incredibly lonesome. I have Meredith, of course, but she has her own wonderfully successful life, and I am so immensely proud of her and her achievements. Archibald escaped this life because it was easy for him—too far behind in succession to have a realistic chance. But I cannot… leave. I have to stay and hope to not lose my mind like my mother somewhere along the road and do something irrational and destroyingly.” YN stopped to breathe deeply; trying to fight down the rising tears. “I’ve never expected to be so lonely and to feel like I am trapped constantly,” she finally muttered, feeling Harry’s arm slowly enveloping her shoulders and tightening his hold on her. But it didn’t hurt—quite the opposite: she felt protected in the best possible way.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered into her blonde hair, feeling her shrug under his arm and hand. “I should be used to it by now, but sometimes the feeling and thoughts return like a crashing wave, and I have to figure out how to prevent being dragged down under the surface by the current and thrown into the ocean. I never intend to become a delicious snack for sharks.” The singer laughed under his breath at the comparison but tightened his hold further nonetheless. “If you ever consider finding a job, let me know. You would be a great songwriter,” he tried to lighten up the mood but meant it at the same time because YN was good with words. Probably better than many people in the industry. “Don’t be silly,” she laughed against his shoulder. “I would write novels, short stories, or children’s books—fewer rules, more creative freedom. Songs have to rhyme, have a rhythm, and I am not good with either of those. I preferably enjoy music made by others than me—yours, for example.” YN lightly nudged the man into his side, and while she tried to nuzzle her face into the soft fabric of his—deliciously smelling—hoodie, her eyes fell on top the small clock settling atop the still crackling fireplace, but the flames slowly died down, the wood already half-eaten.

Her eyes shot open, but YN didn’t let her body shoot up in panic. Instead, the princess hummed interested, acknowledging, and Harry made a questioning noise somewhere deep in his chest.

“Do not panic—“

“It’s never soothing to start a sentence like that.”

Giggling, YN looked up and reached for his lips to put her fingers on top of them in order to silence the man. “Shush.” She could feel him smile against her fingertips. “Do not panic, but it’s already half past six.” Her voice lowered itself as if it was forbidden to be still wide awake. Now it was Harry’s turn to look at the clock with wide eyes. “How did that happen,” he asked, curiosity clear in his voice. “I don’t know. Do you mind? Is it bad? Do you have an early morning?”

She should’ve checked earlier—or asked him before they even drove to Oxford, to begin with.

His headshake soothed her bubbling anxiety. “No, of course not. Everything is alright. It just didn’t feel like we spent more than eight hours talking and reading. And I don’t want to… to let this end already.” YN watched how his eyes jumped over every inch of her face, desperately trying to remember every mark and freckle. “Hey.” Her soft voice and even softer skin of her knuckles caressing his cheek let him stop. “I will not disappear, H. I will be right here.” The nickname had slipped without thought, and the singer felt his body burn and heart racing. “Okay,” he mumbled with a dry mouth. “I am only a phone call or text away. And if I don’t react immediately, don’t worry—I will call or text back, pinky promise.” YN moved her hand off his cheek and stretched her pinky out for him to grab with his own. He did it without hesitation. “Same goes for you, y’know?” The princess nodded slowly before taking another glance at the clock.

“I can drive you home if you want,” she suggested, but the knitted brows of the singer let her stop right away. “That’s not how this works. I’m the one who brings you back home. I won’t let you drive alone back here, in the dark and cold. Nope, not gonna happen.” YN sighed with a smile tucking at the corners of her mouth. “Well, okay, fine gentleman. At least let me call you a cab and bring you down to the gate then.” She would’ve loved to ask Bernard if he could drive him so he wouldn’t have needed to wait in the cold, but she didn’t want to wake the poor man in the middle of the night.

This was something Harry could live with, so he nodded and waited until YN had peeled herself off his shoulder to stand up. The brunette stretched a hand out, palm facing up, and the blonde took it without hesitating a second, letting him pull her up, and the woman couldn’t stop her wandering eyes from resting on his strong biceps hidden by his sunflower-yellow hoodie. Calling herself out mentally, YN averted her gaze and slipped back into her sneakers, waiting next to the French doors, and wanted to open them, but Harry was quick to hold the door close. With a questioning expression, the princess looked up, raising both eyebrows, watching the man who stared her down.

“Coat?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, it will not take hours.” And she tried to open the door again. But Harry was as persistent as she loved to be. “Coat. I won’t let you out without another layer.” Another eye roll followed, but the woman finally rounded him to grab her hanging coat. He turned as well to help her slip into the thick and soft fabric before Harry gave her a once over and suddenly grabbed right over her shoulder to retrieve a scarf. “Oh, are you bloody kiddi…-“ But he had already started to wrap the article around her neck; his concentrated expression made the princess chuckle into the fabric. “Satisfied?” She asked Harry as he seemed to be done, and the singer grinned down at her covered form, plucking the scarf to its perfect position. “Now? Yes,” he agreed and finally let her open the door while slipping into his coat himself.

They walked the stairs in comfortable silence, and as they slipped out the front door, YN shrieked at a sudden movement to her right. She clung to Harry’s side, fingers burrowed into the arm of his coat, eyes wide in shock as they stared at an already working Bernard. “Your Highness,” the driver chuckled while bowing swiftly. “Bernard!” YN pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart and inhaled the cold early morning air deep into her lungs. “I thought you’d still be at home.” The middle-aged man and Harry nodded to each other respectfully before he looked back at the princess. “Your brother and sister-in-law have appointments to attend, but there is still much time in case you need my service, princess.” YN quickly looked from Bernard to Harry—she let go of the poor man’s arm as it dawned on her that she still clung to it—before looking back to her favorite driver. “Actually…,” the blonde started. “Would it be possible to get him home safely? We forgot the time, and I do not want to dump him into a cab.”

The singer tried to protest because he didn’t mind taking a cab, but the driver was faster in his response. “Of course, Your Highness. Mr. Styles.” YN rolled her eyes with a smile and led Harry to the shining black SUV. “How does he know who I am?” He only dared to whisper the question. “He has two sixteen-year-old daughters, plus barely anything is secret within these walls. The bush radio never sleeps,” she whispered back, chuckling softly as they arrived at the back door.

Harry opened it while Bernard had already situated himself behind the wheel and started the engine, his eyes resting on the blonde’s face. She smiled up at him. “This was by far the best day in a very long time,” YN spoke first and let his face settle into her memory, saving everything she could put in a folder up there. But instead of saying something himself, Harry grabbed her hand softly and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her middle. He could feel her arms encompassing his neck and how she leaned her hairline against his jawline after he had bent his head a bit. “I‘ll call later,” Harry murmured and dared to touch her temple with a feather-like kiss. “Get some sleep first,” YN mumbled back and pulled gently back. “Text me when you get home, okay?” The man grinned tenderly at the evident concern lacing her voice. “Will do.”

With that, he got into the car, and after one last look at her, Harry closed the door, and the vehicle ventured off the palace’ grounds, leaving a squealing YN with reddened cheeks behind.

;

This one got… long. Holymoly. But it’s here! I hope y’all enjoyed it as much as I did while writing it. As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

Taglist: @tinyhrry @feestyles @r3vivedbur @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @oh-its-jennyyy @butdaddyiluvvhim @cwiphswmwasohmm @agustdpeach @keriberry @sleutherclaw @formulasatellite @princessmiaelicia @rororo06 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @venomsvl @maraudersrry @theroosterswife24 @lovurryy @indierockgirrl @lazybot @laura-naruto-fan1998 @awesomebooklover17 @ihavelovedyousincewewere18 @illicithallways @mrosales16 @b-reads-things @bugg06 @grapejuice-rry @happyeverafterjunkie @famedrs-blog @beata1108 @0oolookitsme @panicattheeverywherekid @majasophieanna @blueleonor @supersanelyromantic @bookscoffeandotherstuff @astranva @harrystylesishot @estaticheart @onecrazydirectioner —I hope I got everyone!

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for-all-time-imagines · 7 months

Note

The plant asks are a soul feeding lifesaver thank you 🙏. Can I get a ~Marigold~ for all the lovebrush boys?

Plant Ask Prompt List

🌻marigold: how jealous do they get? how do they react when they get jealous?

Alkaid

Whenever Alkaid feels jealous he's never angry towards you or the other person, thinking it's an internal problem that he needs to sort out. Is he feeling this way because he has a hunch that he's lacking? Should he take notes of what the other person is doing and emulate it to make you happy? In a way he puts you in a pedestal since he places a great deal of trust on you and nothing is ever your fault, pointing the blame to himself if something goes wrong. He will still step in if he notices you're beginning to get uncomfortable, but it takes a while before his mind completely clears up. Later on he will bring it up and then apologize, vowing to do better next time so he doesn't feel that way again, not quite realizing that being jealous on occasion is normal and he shouldn't take it as a bad thing as long as he never goes too far.

Ayn

Ayn tries not to let the jealousy get to him most of the time but it can't be helped that there are days where the little things can set him off: it happens when the other person stands too close to you, talking to you too familiarly, even worse if they're touchy as if they have no concept of boundaries. At the very least he makes an attempt to keep the jealousy under control by deflecting, letting you know beforehand that you're responsible for your actions and there's no way in hell he is going to leave you room for forgiveness if you choose to make advances, regardless if you meant it as a joke or not. Admittedly it's not the best method to keep his thoughts at bay, but it does the job. Afterwards you'll notice that he is pouty which is not something a few reassurances can't fix.

Cael

Cael has never really felt it before due to his upbringing so when the jealousy surfaces for the first time, he isn't sure how to categorize the emotion. All he knows is it makes him see red and the sudden urge to deal with the other person through any means possible is overwhelming his senses. Considering how much it would take for him to get to the point of jealousy, it also takes a while for him to calm down, and his thoughts of how to keep you away from all harm (both figuratively and literally) are getting sorted into the part of his brain that consists of actions he should never act upon no matter what. Ultimately, his jealousy is rare and unfamiliar, so strong that can make him act purely on impulse, which undoubtedly will thwart all his future plans and break your trust if he doesn't keep himself in check.

Clarence

Clarence isn't a jealous person by nature. He doesn't mind seeing you grow closer to others because he wants you to have as much agency as possible with your own actions. If someone is bothering you, he knows you can handle yourself so he doesn't interfere but should you use your voice to ask for help, you can count on him to be there within a moment's notice. Typically just his presence is enough to send them running although he isn't above threatening the other person if they refuse to back off after the first time. His choice of words are deliberate and seemingly dangerous but he would never think of inflicting harm to them unless he has no other choice. It takes someone truly formidable for his threats to be serious, thankfully the person bothering you is far from that.

Lars

When someone gets too close to you Lars pretends to be jealous for the laughs. Aside from that you've never seen him actually get jealous over the course of your relationship but that's far from the case when you weren't together yet. It's not as if he ever doubted that he stood a chance with you, if anything he knows he has a shot if he makes the most of his time with you. Problem is his chances are few and far in between; he has to work harder if it means freeing up a fraction of his schedule to see you, and even then there's a possibility that he will see you basking in somebody else's company as soon as he enters the room. There are moments when he wonders what it's like to have less responsibilities, to have more freedom to do what he wants, but he quickly pushes the feeling down before marching to your side.

#for all time #for all time imagines #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles imagines #x reader #alkaid mcgrath #ayn alwyn #cael anselm #clarence clayden #lars rorschach #alkaid mcgrath x reader #ayn alwyn x reader #cael anselm x reader #clarence clayden x reader #lars rorschach x reader #plant ask prompt list

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imagines--galore · 11 months

Note

20 (reader being the one dying), loki laufeyson, sfw (smut/lemon/lime wise)

Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. So how had it all gone so wrong? Pairing: Loki x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+. Romance. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mention of blood and near death so be warned folks. A/N: YAS! Finally! I Loki prompt! Thank you for sending it in! Also can someone say absolute devastation :3

"All clear on my end." You spoke into the comm as you gave one final cursory glance around the room before exiting. "All is well here." His voice sounded in your ear as well as from next to you. You looked up to where Loki was exited the room next to the one you had been checking. He fell into step beside you as you heard Natasha reply on the other end.

"Everything looks good from here." Natasha said from where she was monitoring from the jet. "Alright, you two head on back. I'll call Cap and tell him this mission was a bust. Probably a false lead." With that the comm went silent.

"So, how does it feel? Being in the field as an Avenger?" You asked your partner, prompting him to glance at you form the corner of his eyes, before turning his gaze to the front once more. "So long as I do not have to wear the symbol I shall be fine." He as talking about the Avengers Symbol you had very recently added to your uniform. You were proud of your status as an Avenger. It meant you were a symbol of hope for those who were oppressed or in danger.

You had explained the meaning of it to Loki ages ago.

Perhaps he thought he still did not deserve to be see as such. Not when he had wreaked havoc and disaster on Midgard a few years ago. Even though he had been under mind control, he still thought he was at fault. That he should have fought harder against the puppeteer.

You, however, begged to differ.

————————–

Ever since he had been banished to Midgard to atone for his sins by Odin, you had seen just how much he regretted the destruction he had caused.

Unintentionally but still people blamed him.

Odin had sent him here to help. To be a part of the Avengers like his brother and fight the good fight. Keep the people of Earth safe. Odin had put a damper on his abilities and while in essence he was an immortal, he could get hurt. The Avengers had not been happy about the situation. Somehow, Thor had been able to convince them that it would be helpful to have someone on their side who had intimate knowledge about the being behind the Chitauri.

And Tony, ever the person to one-up everyone around him, had stated that if they were going to allow Loki into the mix, then it would do the Avengers good to have some other members as well.

And so you had been initiated into the Avengers.

And since you had no prior history with Loki, you hadn't seen anything wrong with befriending him.

Or trying to.

At first Loki had been hell bent on being rude to everyone who spoke to him and generally being unpleasant to be around. However, you had persisted. And soon even his lonely self hadn't been able to fight off his desire to at least have someone he could call a friend on Earth.

That had been the first step, and slowly he had begun to form some form of acquaintanceship with the rest of the Avengers. There was certainly no deep conversations had between him and the rest of them, but at least the urge to kill had receded. Somewhat.

And during that time, you had been shocked to discover that you were falling for the Asgardian.

Then again, maybe the realization should've come sooner. Given how you would spend a lot of time together when neither of you had any other engagements, but when it came to your emotions concerning Loki?

They were a little difficult to categorize.

It had taken a little while before you realized the true extent of your feelings for him. And even though you knew you had them, there was nothing you could do about it.

He saw you as a friend. Nothing more.

Which sucked, but you weren't about to jeopardize your friendship with him for the sake of your feelings.

So you stayed silent.

————————–

You were on your first mission with him, and so far it had been going well.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't have even thought that.

Because at that very moment multiple figures appeared from various dark corners of the room you and Loki were going over. "We might be a little Nat. We got company." You spoke into the comm as your body dropped into a fighting stance. Beside you Loki stepped a little in front of you, as if intent on shielding you.

Of course, you could handle yourself.

But just knowing that he wanted to keep you out of harm's way was enough to make you roll your eyes at him in a fond manner.

"Lets see how many of them we can each take down." You challenged, prompting Loki to smirk as a pair of twin daggers appeared in his hands. "As you Midgardians say: Its on."

It was almost as if the both of you had rehearsed it. Every punch, dagger swipe, kick, dodge was in perfect synchronicity. You watched his back, while he kept yours safe. You were a team.

But more then that, you were protecting the man you loved. It didn't matter that those feelings were not reciprocated. You knew the truth of your feelings as well as the depth of them.

You threw a roundhouse kick, catching the last of your opponents in the jaw and sending him flying back. Landing on your feet your eyes found Loki. He was fighting off two assailants at once. And since that required his full attention, he did not see one of the already downed attackers pull out a dagger.

But you did. The weapon seemed to gleam in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened in horror as the attacker pulled his arm back and-

"Loki watch out!"

You saw the dagger flying, saw it cutting through the air towards Loki's still turned back.

Thunk!

Loki pivoted on his feet, his eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

You were there.

You were standing there.

You were standing where the dagger had been a mere second ago.

The dagger which was now embedded in the middle of your back.

His horrified eyes met your terrified eyes. A broken gasp fell from your trembling lips before your body shuddered. You jerked forward. His arms shot out to catch your limp body.

"Y/n!"

His voice sounded just as horrified as he looked. Pain radiated from your back spreading through your chest until every nerve in your body screamed with the pain. You felt Loki shift, which was followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Apparently he had been taking care of his would be killer, who now lay dead with a dagger in his eye.

Loki's arms wrapped around your shoulders, keeping your body up to prevent the dagger from moving or causing any further harm.

A whimpering sob fell from your lips as you tried to keep the pain at bay. "Widow! We need evacuation immediately. Y/n's hurt!" You heard Loki all but scream at Nat on the other side of the comm. Nat's voice echoed in your ear but you couldn't really understand what she was saying.

A pitiful laugh fell from your trembling lips. "Does this mean I win?" You spoke in a hoarse voice, a weak smile playing on your lips as your eyes found Loki's.

"You stupid stupid fool! Why did you do that?" He sounded so afraid. And he looked it as well. You didn't like that look in his eyes.

Raising a trembling hand you laid it against the side of his face. "Because you're worth saving Loki." You wanted to think of anything but the pain. Anything but the darkness that now beckoned you.

And speaking to Loki kept it at bay.

"My life is not worth you giving up yours Y/n." He argued back, now sounding angry. A shudder ran through your body, prompting you to press yourself closer to Loki, as you fought through the pain. He held you tighter, his face burying in your hair as yours pressed in his chest.

"Since I'm dying, can I win this argument?" You asked your voice weak. He shook his head as he cupped your head to tilt it back, allowing your eyes to meet.

"You're not allowed to die Y/n. I forbid it." He growled at you, despite the tears shining in his eyes. You only smiled sadly. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time Loki. I'm sorry I won't be there to help you anymore."

Tears fell from his eyes as he shook his head. "No, Y/n, no don't say that." Your tears of pain turned to tears of sadness, hearing the absolute torment in his voice. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you Loki."

The darkness was starting to cloud your vision, and you could barely hold on to the light. "Tell me what?" His voice was almost desperate as he cradled you close.

"That I love you."

A final exhale of breath, before your world went dark, Loki's stricken face the last thing you saw.

And his howl of absolute anguish the final sound that echoed in your ears as you slipped into the welcoming darkness.

————————–

The first thing you became aware of was just how heavy your body felt. As someone who went on missions almost every other week, you made sure to stay in peak condition.

So why did your entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck?!

A soft moan fell from your lips as your eyes blinked open. The unfamiliar ceiling confused your already foggy mind. Where were you?

You turned your head to the side, bleary eyes hardly making out the heart monitor machine that stood at your bedside. The steady beeping sound made sense now. You shoulder felt the most stiff of all, prompting you to raise a hand to it and let out a small groan.

"Damn."

"She's awake! She's awake!"

The sound startled you to almost jump to your feet, but your body protested too much and you fell back again.

————————–

Later you learned it had been Thor who had cried out like that.

For the time being, you were surrounded by doctors and nurses, checking your vitals and explaining just how injured you were.

The dagger had managed to catch a few pivotal arteries and had nearly reached your heart.

Small miracles.

Though there had been significant blood loss, you were on the mend. It would take some time for you to recover completely, but at least there wasn't any permanent damage.

During your stay in the Hospital Wing of the Tower you hadn't been lonely for a second. Either the medical staff was around, or one of the Avengers.

All except Loki.

He hadn't been to visit you since you woke up and though Thor had told you how he hadn't left your side while you were in a medically induced coma, as soon as you had woken up he had disappeared.

At first you had been confused at his behavior, but as the memories of what you had thought to be your final moments started to come back, you began to feel a little queasy.

You had confessed to Loki.

You had told him you loved him while you bled out in his arms.

After saving his life.

What did it mean? Did his distance mean he did not feel the same way? Obviously he didn't feel the same way. But he could do the courtesy of coming to see you at the very least. You had saved his life.

So it was very quick that your sadness of not having him around turned to anger.

A week or so after you gained consciousness, you woke up in the middle of the night to feel a hand enveloping your own.

Normally you would have the person in a choke hold with a knife at their throat. But you recognized that silhouette, recognized the voice as it began to speak.

It was dark, so he didn't know you were awake as he spoke. "-fault that you're here. I should've been more aware of my surroundings." You had never heard him speak so softly before. "But when I'm with you, everything else simply fades into the background and all I am aware of is you."

You felt as if your heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was a good thing you weren't hooked to those monitors anymore. "It is absolutely ridiculous that I have become so dependent on you that I cannot imagine my life without you. Banishing me here was the single good thing my father has done by me." He admitted as you felt his other hand come up to brush a finger against your cheek.

It took every ounce of your strength to not shudder at the sensation.

"I hope one day I can accept your feelings for me Y/n. And I hope I can one day no longer be a coward and admit my feelings for you as well. You deserve so much better then me and I-

But you had heard enough.

Turning your palm over you grasped the hand that held yours and pulled yourself up in a sitting position. Only for you to throw the other arm out to catch s surprised Loki from the back of his head and pull him down to meet your lips.

There was initial shock on his part, but your lips were warm and insistent against his. It didn't take long for his lips to begin responding, albeit a lot more eagerly then your initial kiss. So much so that you were nearly laying on your bed once more while Loki hovered over you. One hand was still clasped within yours, fingers intertwined, while the other cupped your chin.

Finally, you both pulled away and your eyes met. You rather liked the dazed look he had as you smiled up at him. "Maybe you should leave it up to me to decide who I should love or not." You said firmly giving him one of your no nonsense expression.

He smiled in response, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear as he nodded.

"As the Lady commands."

Before fusing your lips once more in a loving embrace.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x oc #marvel #thor #loki imagine

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cx-boxbox · 2 months

Text

Big Things Are Coming, Scorpio

(Lando/Oscar, T, ~4.2k)

For someone who doesn't believe in magic, Oscar sure does hang out in Lando's shop a lot. It's almost like he's not there for the crystals or the potions at all, but of course, Lando doesn't know that.

Lando's a witch, Oscar isn't, and there is a love potion involved... or is there?

I would be a terrible person if I didn't write a wlw version, so I put it under the cut for whoever might be interested.

“Big things are coming, Scorpio.” Lando scoffs to herself as she almost violently refreshes Co-Star. “Oh, that’s bullshit, that is. ‘Big things’ could mean literally anything!”

Someone behind her clears their throat, startling her. With a high-pitched scream that she will deny letting out for the rest of her life, Lando flails as her chair, which was already precariously balanced on two legs, tips backward and dumps her onto the floor in a vaguely witch-shaped pile. Her phone somehow bounces off of her face, which just adds damage to her pride.

“Lando?” A familiar face appears over the counter to stare at her. “You alright?”

“Oscar!”

Scrambling to her feet and brushing herself off, Lando puts on her most winsome smile, bats her lashes, and holds back a wistful sigh. Oscar looks as nice as ever, especially with that adorably concerned expression on her face. Concern for Lando. Ugh, she’s swooning.

“I’m fine, but more importantly, what brings you back here?”

Oscar fixes her with a blank look. “Clearly, I have to make sure you haven’t managed to kill yourself every once in a while.”

How romantic.

Lando leans forward on her elbows. “I mean, for a non-believer, you’re here pretty frequently. Or have you finally changed your mind? My love potions are the best in the country for a reason.”

Technically, love potions are considered dark magic—they’re in the same category as curses and things like that because they can potentially take away one’s autonomy—and having those available for purchase technically categorizes the metaphysical supply shop as illegal. But Lando never claimed to be the strictest follower of rules anyway.

As for her being a witch, she would keep it a secret from other supernaturals and humans alike, but she’s terrible at keeping secrets, and Oscar’s just the sweetest girl. Not to mention, she’s also very much convinced that Lando is just keeping up a farce because magic surely cannot exist when there’s science—humans and their silly beliefs—and that she might be a little crazy in the head.

Lando is perfectly capable of being crazy and a witch at the same time, thank you very much.

“Ehh,” Oscar says with a shrug, in lieu of a proper response. She picks up a crystal and examines it. “What’s this one allegedly for?”

“Green aventurine is for luck,” Lando recites. This is stuff she learned a decade ago, before she left the nest to find herself and settle in. Her mother made sure that she and her siblings knew the basics of witchcraft like the back of their hands.

“Luck… I could use some of that,” Oscar mumbles to herself. She shakes her head, and the swoopy ends of her wolf cut bounce with the motion.

Lando tilts her head curiously. “Why? Project gone wrong?”

“Something like that. Nobody’s listening to my ideas, and everyone keeps brushing me off. Just because I’m the newest member of the team and a woman doesn’t mean I’m fucking dumb!” Oscar throws her arms into the air for extra emphasis before sheepishly lowering them back down to her sides. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to blow up in front of you.”

Oh, Lando doesn’t mind at all. She was actually busy eyeing the stretch of Oscar’s sleeves around her biceps, and she coughs once to hide the fact that her eyes enjoy straying a bit too much. “Don’t apologize, Osc. Y’know, when I was a fledgling witch, everyone doubted my abilities too, but then I brewed the most discreetly potent uglifying potion known to my kind and slipped it in one of the coven elders’ tea. He had warts in places I don’t even want to think about, and he couldn’t sit properly for days.”

“Hm. Too bad I can’t just give my boss warts.”

“Hah, you definitely can. That brown bottle on the shelf behind you contains just enough for one dose. Just make sure you don't get caught.” Lando looks Oscar up and down. “Yeah, nah, you wouldn’t stand out at all, aside from, y’know, being a woman and looking extremely queer. Can’t guarantee you’ll be respected any more, but at least your boss would suffer.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies dryly. She looks skeptical at best, but she places the bottle on the counter next to the aventurine. “I’ll take one of these then. And maybe this crystal too. For luck, apparently.”

Lando claps her hands in excitement because what a development this is! Oscar has never bothered with purchasing anything from her shop before! “Perfect! Let me wrap these up for you, and you can just put as much as you think your goods are worth in the till for me.”

“That can’t be a good way to run a business,” Oscar remarks as she digs through the pockets of her unforgivable drawstring jeans—but hey, they come with pockets, at least—and comes up with a twenty-pound note. “You don’t take card?”

“Oh, I do. I just knew you had cash in your pocket, so.”

“Huh.”

“Sometimes, I send the customer along their way without asking for money in return, and when they come back because they always come back, I ask for payment based on how satisfied they are,” Lando adds. She drops the neatly wrapped parcel with the giant purple bow directly into Oscar’s waiting hands and maybe lets their fingers brush. Just for a moment. “It’s not like sourcing objects and ingredients is that expensive, anyway. Well, unicorn horns and dragon scales are near impossible to find these days, but I don’t use those as often. It’s unethical too.”

Oscar blinks at her in disbelief. She does that a lot. “Um, okay, whatever you say, Lando. I’ll be back next week either way, whether you’re scamming me or not.”

“You just say the sweetest things, Oscar!” Lando chirps, and the blush that colors Oscar’s cheeks is payment enough for a lifetime’s worth of sage bundles and love potions.

As soon as Oscar walks out the door, Lando folds herself into her chair, letting it tip backwards to rest on two legs instead of four once again. Perhaps Co-Star will give her a better reading now.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Your life is about to change, Scorpio.” The app crashes on Lando, who is incredibly tempted to chuck her phone across her shop. “Frickin- update? I just updated it yesterday! Useless piece of shit-”

“I hope you’re not talking about your supplies. Or me, for that matter.”

Lando glances up, pleasantly surprised to see the object of her interest peering at her. Ooh, she's in her leather jacket today too. Delicious. A bisexual witch’s wet dream. “‘Hi, Lando. How ya goin’, mate?’” she mocks in a terrible Australian accent.

“I don’t say that.” Oscar rolls her eyes for good measure. “But hi, Lando.”

“And the loveliest of hellos to you, Oscar. How’s your boss?”

She shrugs. “No idea. He didn’t come in at all this week. Kept nagging us through the online portal, though.”

Lando hums thoughtfully. The poor lad was probably too horrified by the results of the uglifying potion to even show his face. “And did the crystal work?”

“No idea,” Oscar repeats before her face suddenly brightens. For a woman of so few words sometimes, her facial expressions so easily betray her emotions. “I did get another assignment, though. They want me to lead the next project because they ended up testing something I suggested last week, and to everyone’s surprise, it actually worked.”

It’s rare that Oscar says so much at once, but she continues detailing this new thing she’s working on, which Lando can very confidently say she knows nothing about. Engineer-y, science-y things that have nothing to do with alchemy tend to fly right over her head.

“I’m probably boring you,” Oscar says, gauging the blank look in Lando’s eyes. There’s a twist to her mouth when she gestures to the incense burning on the counter and points out, “I guess our interests don’t exactly align.”

“You’re not boring me!” Lando quickly exclaims. She widens her eyes convincingly and looks up at Oscar from beneath her eyelashes. That move always works on men and women alike. “I just have no idea what you’re talking about, but, um, I like listening to you talk…?” Her voice trails off into a meek little thing at the end. “And how boring would it actually be if we were interested in the same exact things? I wouldn’t get to tell you all about the uses of all these different crystals and impress you with my bountiful knowledge of witchcraft, and you wouldn’t get to impress me with all your fancy friction and force things.”

“That’s basic physics, Lando.”

“Which I never had to study!” she protests. “I’m also very easy to impress.”

Oscar looks at her so fondly, it hurts. “I’ll still try my hardest.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lando mumbles, sniffing haughtily to mask the way her heart flutters at Oscar's words. She checks her phone, notices that it’s still updating Co-Star, and promptly throws it over her shoulder and definitely doesn’t wince when she hears it crash into something. Oscar, on the other hand, jumps and stares with her brown eyes wide.

“Did today's horoscope reading piss you off or something?”

“It keeps telling me the vaguest bullshit!” she whines. “How am I supposed to let it guide me on a day-to-day basis when it won’t tell me anything useful?”

“I mean, you can always just… not?”

Lando gasps, affronted. “No, no, mate, I’m not taking advice from someone who doesn’t believe in horoscopes.”

“Do what you will, then,” Oscar says with a sigh. “I’m just saying that my life is perfectly fine without an app dictating my every action.”

“And mine isn’t,” Lando retorts. She’s trying to get the love of her life to maybe look at her in a way that isn’t only friendly, for fuck's sake, and she hasn’t the slightest idea how to begin, so naturally, she looks to the stars for guidance. “But enough of that. Aside from letting me know that the potion and crystal worked-”

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“-and wanting to see more of my beautiful face-”

“You are really pretty, yes.”

“-what are you here for?” After a beat, Lando makes a flustered noise and flaps her hands at Oscar, who looks quietly amused at her antics. “You can’t just say things like that, Osc! I’m fragile.”

“The truth, you mean? Fine, I’ll lie next time.”

Lando blinks. Next time!

A blush is slowly settling into Oscar’s cheeks at Lando’s continued silence, and she reaches up to run a hand through her shaggy hair and scratch the back of her neck. “Um, you mentioned love potions last week? Hypothetically, if you’re not making things up, how do they work, exactly?”

Lando blinks again. “Love potions? The hell do you need those for?”

“Irrelevant,” Oscar immediately answers. And then, “I’m just curious.”

Refusing to think too much into it, Lando clasps her hands together and begins, “Well, I won’t tell you the specifics on how to brew a love potion because I don’t want to risk a non-witch attempting it and fucking it up. A fucked up love potion bears serious consequences, and my shop is already ‘illegal’ enough without others getting seriously harmed in the process.” She tips forward in her chair and uncrosses her legs for good measure. “You spike exactly four drops into the drink or food of whoever you want in love with you. Hm, oh, have you studied basic chemistry?”

“Of course I have. But what’s that got to do with love potions?” Oscar asks, and she looks properly curious now.

“Turns out we do have something in common! Except I was tutored by an alchemist… anyway. Administering a love potion is like doing a tie... what is it?"

"A titration?"

Lando clicks her fingers and points at Oscar, who blinks at her, bemused. "Yes! A titration- 's not exactly the same, but the accuracy needed is still there. Any less than four drops results in infatuation, more than four results in obsession. If that person is already in love with you, four drops won’t exactly do anything, can’t make someone fall in love with you if they already are, but more or less than that will still put a problem in your hands. Love potions are virtually undetectable, which makes them so dangerous, and how potent they’re made determines how long they last.”

Oscar exhales. “Whew.”

“Mhm. I keep the things that could get me in trouble off the shelves, so if you ever need a love potion, you should let me know beforehand, and I’ll brew a fresh one just for you.”

“I don’t have your number, though. Or do witches communicate by smoke signals?” Oscar asks, sarcasm bleeding into her voice.

“No, silly. Smoke signals are for wizards.” Lando produces a pen from the pocket of her apron and neatly scrawls a series of digits across a sheet of purple stationery. “You've been coming by for over a year, and you've never asked me for my number? I don't know if I should be offended or not... and wait, you’ve literally seen me use my phone!”

Ah. Speaking of her phone. She grimaces and slides off her chair to look for her phone, cursing out loud when she sees that the screen is cracked and that there’s a dent in the corner. It’s nothing a little repair spell can’t fix, but it did also leave a sizable hole in the display case behind her, and now there are glass shards on her amulets.

Oscar nods at the phone. “Right. Good luck with that. I’ll see you next week?”

“Count on it, Osc.”

Lando hates to see her leave, but watching her go is always a pleasure, especially when she drives her motorcycle here instead of walking from wherever she works, presumably. As Oscar swings a leg over the bike to mount it and revs the engine, Lando twirls a tendril of her hair around a finger and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth while she carefully observes through the window. It’s terribly attractive.

Motorized vehicles have nothing on her fastest broom—why remain grounded when she can fly instead—but she isn’t terribly picky about what she rides… not like that, oh my God.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Things will get worse before they get better, Scorpio.” At least it’s something substantial this time, but Lando doesn’t feel very comforted about her predictions today. She pockets her phone and shuffles over to the shelves near the back, humming to herself as she lights a stick of incense and sneezing when the smoke gets in her nose.

Everything gets dusted and put in its proper place. Little jars of oils are gently set out on the shelves, and bundles of sage and other herbs are stacked in neat piles. It’s not the most glamorous part about owning this shop, but it's peaceful, and Lando likes these small tasks as much as she does making potions and performing rituals.

“Lando?”

“I’m back here!” she calls out, smiling when she spots that familiar head of fluffy brown hair weaving between the displays. “How can I help you today, Osc?”

“Hey.” Oscar glances around. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought back here.”

“Ooh, that’s what she said. But yeah, you’ve only ever been in the front of the shop, and I don’t blame you because that’s usually where I am,” Lando responds with a cheeky little wink.

“Uh huh. Um, this is me letting you know that I’d like a love potion, by the way. And before you ask, I didn’t try texting the number you gave me because knowing you, you probably wrote the wrong one by accident. I didn't want to call someone that isn't you and risk sounding insane by asking for a love potion.”

“...”

“No offense!”

Lando brushes Oscar aside along with her slightly wounded pride and swans over to her work bench in a flurry of black fabric. She rolls up the sleeves of her dress. “Take a better look around,” she sniffs, feigning hurt. “I won’t be long.”

Oscar opens her mouth, like she wants to say something else, before closing it with a snap and nodding. Hopefully she’s aware that nothing she can possibly do or say would ever make Lando truly upset with her.

Hm, that’s a lie.

She could request a love potion because she’s in love with someone who isn’t Lando and wants her affections returned. And Lando loves her too much to deny her that request, especially since Oscar rarely asks anything of her, so she begins gathering ingredients from various jars for a love potion.

“I hate being in love with a woman,” she mutters under her breath as she takes her trusted knife out. “I’d do so much for her, and she doesn’t even believe in magic… wait.”

Oscar doesn’t even believe in magic. Lando can work with that.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It’ll all be okay soon, Scorpio.” Lando stares at the words on her cracked phone screen, wondering whether she should trust today’s horoscope reading or not. Co-Star hasn’t exactly been wrong, per se, but it really needs to stop making her read between the lines. She’s dyslexic, for fuck’s sake!

The matter of Oscar’s love life still weighs heavily on her mind, along with the guilt of sending her home with a vial that doesn’t contain a dose of love potion at all. A placebo, if you will. Lando did brew an actual love potion just in case she couldn’t follow through with her own stupid plan—tricking Oscar was far more difficult than anything she has ever faced—but she still ended up handing her a bottled up shot of vodka instead. It’s clear enough and odorless enough to resemble a love potion. She hates that she had the completed potion in her cauldron and everything, the most potent one she’s ever brewed, yet she selfishly couldn’t bring herself to give up the love of her life just like that.

Her actions may make Oscar hate her if she ever finds out, but she’s willing to take her chances.

The bell tinkling merrily fishes her out of her misery, and she wearily lifts her head off of the counter to greet whoever just came in with the fakest cheery voice she can muster.

Much to her dismay, Oscar is the one who peers back at her with a worried look on her face. It’s a really nice face. Too bad Lando isn’t the one who gets to stare at it for the rest of her life.

“Are you okay?”

No. “Yeah, everything’s mint.”

“That’s debatable because you don’t look okay.”

Really. What gave that away? Lando lets her head thunk back onto the counter, and a few stray curls that escaped her bun fall into her eyes. She blows at them. “Didn’t sleep at all last night. Was thinking about too many things… and I hate thinking!”

Oscar makes a sympathetic noise. “Anything I can do to take a couple of those things off your mind?”

“You can tell me what’s in that bag.”

As if suddenly remembering that she’s holding something, Oscar sets a small paper bag on the counter. She nudges it encouragingly towards Lando, who probably looks like a deer caught in headlights at the moment.

“My family’s visiting from Melbourne,” she explains. “My grandma likes baking, and she couldn't make the flight, so she made my parents bring me some stuff too. They’re rum balls—non-alcoholic ones, despite what the name suggests.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I know you don’t have as much of a sweet tooth as I do, but they’re good, I promise, and-”

To save Oscar from embarrassing herself any further, Lando bites into one and chews, all under far too much scrutiny. She swallows. “Jesus, you don’t have to stare at me like that. Makes me too nervous to eat.”

“Sorry,” Oscar says, glancing away. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Maybe.” It was a sweet gesture. Lando frowns at the remaining half of the brown sweet in her hand, examining it. “Are you sure it’s non-alcoholic?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It… burned like alcohol does. Oscar, I told you that witches are sensitive to alcohol. And seafood. Did you-” Clocking the lack of a distinct alcoholic taste, she puts two and two together, and her eyes widen at what might be going on. If her assumptions are right, she should be more offended than she currently is—she would be if anyone aside from Oscar attempted to feed her a potion—but all she feels is elation and a tiny spark of hope. “Osc, I need you to be super honest with me, and I’ll be super honest too.”

Oscar looks a bit nervous now, but she nods reluctantly. “Sure.”

“Did you, by any chance, spike this with the ‘love potion’ I gave you last time?” Lando asks, trying to keep her voice neutral. Unfortunately, she has never been as good at doing that as Oscar, so a bit of excitement bleeds into it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Shh. It’s fine. Seriously. Better than fine, actually, if it was intended for me. I suppose I should apologize too.”

“Huh?”

Lando paces back and forth and bites her nails, but as soon as she drops her hands, a torrent of words come flooding out of her mouth. “I didn’t really give you a love potion. And even if it was a real potion inside that bottle, the witch that brews the potion would be the first to notice its presence, so I would've known immediately if you were trying to give me my own brews. Forgot to tell you that bit. Sorry. In fact, all this is what’s been on my mind recently. Just me being a selfish idiot. But, ugh, I couldn’t think about anything other than you being in love with someone who isn’t me because they won’t love you like I love you- wait, you are in love with me, right?”

Finally, Oscar’s expression settles back into one of calm exasperation. Familiar ground. “Yes, Lando. I’m so in love with you that I asked you for a love potion that I didn’t think would actually work to use on you because I was that desperate. And it looks like we’ll never find out because it wasn’t a love potion to begin with.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that none of this is a farce?” Lando cries, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you that I'm a frickin' witch if that’s what it takes- mmph! ”

She’s rudely interrupted by a pair of hands yanking her forward by the front of her apron and a pair of lips pressed firmly to hers. Oh.

Before Lando can even react, Oscar pulls away, red-cheeked and breathing deeply. “Erm.”

Helpless to do anything else, Lando makes a noise in the back of her throat because she loves this dumb, smart woman enough to drag her into another kiss. It’s better this time, their lips slotting together perfectly. After a moment of hesitation, Oscar puts her hands on Lando’s waist to pull her closer, and Lando, made clumsy by the warm mouth on hers, helplessly stumbles and falls into her chest. They nearly knock over a shelf full of candles.

“Please be my girlfriend,” she gasps in between kisses. "Oh God, please."

Oscar smiles against her lips and runs a gentle hand up her back, playing with the hairs at the nape of her neck. “I honestly thought you were never going to ask.” Another kiss. “I thought I was being obvious about how I feel about you, but turns out you’re just oblivious.”

“Hey!” Lando protests, stepping backwards. She still ends up very much trapped in the circle of Oscar’s arms. No complaints there. “Okay, fine, maybe I am, but Co-Star didn’t prepare me for you potentially loving me back. Though when I think about it, it didn’t prepare me for much at all…”

A faint shattering sound by Oscar’s feet makes them both look down, nearly bumping their heads together in the process. Green shards litter the carpet, remnants of a crystal that has been drained of its beneficial properties.

“Was that your aventurine?”

Oscar feels around in her pocket and raises an eyebrow when she comes up empty. “Huh, I suppose it was. Must’ve used up all its luck." She smiles and kisses Lando's cheek. "Eh, it’s not like I need any more of that when I already have everything I could possibly want.”

And, oh, that is by far the most romantic thing that Lando has ever heard, and she covers her face to hide how giddy Oscar's words make her feel. She peeks between her fingers and tilts her head questioningly when Oscar peels one of her hands away from her face and places a ten-pound note in her palm. “What’s this for?”

“Consider me a satisfied customer. I don’t suppose I’ll need to pay for the ‘love potion’ too?” Oscar asks, sounding a little smug.

“I already told you that it’s just vodka, and you can have your money back. Take whatever you need as long as you keep kissing me as payment. For the rest of our lives, preferably.”

“Lando, that’s really a terrible way to run a business.”

“Funny, that- oh, wait, I still need to check my daily horoscope!” Lando scrambles for her phone and opens Co-Star, shoving her new girlfriend’s face away to give it her undivided attention. Oscar makes a disgruntled noise.

“Lan-”

“You finally managed to find love and get yourself a girlfriend, Scorpio. Fucking congratulations.”

#landoscar #twinklaren #my fics

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sophieinwonderland · 5 months

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Hi, I saw your post when discussing Ptsd and DID, in which you mentioned that ptsd isn't a dissociative disorder. Which isn't entirely wrong but it's also not correct.

C-PTSD is a dissociative disorder and is often if you look at Dissociation as a spectrum just prior to DID/OSDD, and just after the likes of maladaptive daydreaming. This is because those with DID, with a disorder, face long time frames of continuous abuse which result in Cptsd. Yes not always does that lead to DID however depending on when the trauma takes place it can develop into DID/OSDD as a result.

In conclusion, disordered and non disordered forms of plurality are completely different, in several papers when this community is discussed endogenic systems are always looked at as an entirely group of their own, the only similarity being that of the prescence of more than one personality.

Just thought I'd add this, I don't mean this in a bad way or to attack and I just thought I'd point it out. As I said in a way yes your correct but I think the anonymous asker was showing more cptsd than ptsd. As cptsd is much more prominent in Disorders such as DID.

Thanks for sharing this. I think you might be confused c-PTSD though.

C-PTSD is a distinct disorder within the ICD-11. It's not the same as the PTSD dissociative subtype in the DSM-5.

Here's the DSM dissociative subtype for PTSD:

And here's the ICD-11's required features for cPTSD:

I highlighted the only portion of the essential features that referred to dissociation. But it's notably in an example section as one type of problem in affect regulation and isn't actually a requirement itself.

As far as I know, c-PTSD can be both dissociative and non-dissociative like normal PTSD.

It's a bit more complicated than that, I realize. After all, some conceptualizations would say PTSD is inherently dissociative and that all trauma flashbacks are forms of dissociation. Which while I agree is somewhat valid, opens a lot of doors in what we consider dissociative disorders.

As it is right now, I think it's accurate to say that PTSD and c-PTSD are disorders that are associated with dissociation, but are not categorized as dissociative disorders themselves.

#syscourse #psychiatry #psychology

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reptilia2003 · 1 year

Note

why do you hate pitchfork?

why do I hate pitchfork?

first off, I think music criticism as a whole is kind of odd. I do like being able to hear what other people thought of albums! But the way most criticism is constructed takes something that’s mostly subjective (taste) and tries to make it objective. I understand that ratings make for an easy way to categorize music, but theirs are confusing.

Take for instance this review of the latest little simz album—if you read it, you’ll find they criticize basically nothing. https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/little-simz-no-thank-you/

It gets a 7.7. You can read pitchfork reviews that lavish similar amounts of praise and get 9+, and you can find ones that get 6.5. (Many have noted that they tend to knock female artists for things they don’t knock male artists for.)

taste is subjective, rating albums numerically is hard, and makes no sense a lot of times (looking at you, 5.7 rating for grammy winning album the new abnormal. not that grammys mean anything either but i think this shows that two different groups of “experts” can have wildly different opinions)

I’d say my biggest beef with pitchfork is that it seems to pride itself on being pretentious and inaccessible. (I say this as someone who is kind of pretentious about music! I look at my Last.fm and collect vinyls and listen to a lot of things that people who are Pretentious Music Enjoyers listen to!) I have no problem with big and complicated words being used in criticism—I think it’s actually good, it can help describe things in a way that simpler language can’t. But theirs ends up coming off as arrogant and almost masturbatory. We get it pitchfork—you’re Cool and Smart and Know Things and you’re therefore the Authority about music.

Take the first paragraph from their review of Alvvays’ Blue Rev. what is the point of this meandering treatise on the genre of power pop, besides to assert that they Know Things?

They follow this up with this line. So it turns out that all that stuff they just said about genre is actually unimportant! Great! Thanks for wasting a paragraph on showing off your Understanding of genre.

This attitude also tends to attract a certain type of reader. When they polled readers for their favorite 200 albums of the last 25 years, here’s what they came up with

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of fantastic albums in this list. But three radiohead albums in the top five says something about your audience. (And I own two of those three on vinyl, so I fully realize I’m also the type of person I’m talking about here. but I think that also makes me more qualified to criticize it.) We go through neutral milk hotel’s in the aeroplane over the sea, sufjan stevens’ illinois, Kanye’s yeezus, Frank ocean’s channel orange, lcd soundsystem’s sound of silver (another one I own), and madvillain’s madvillainy before we get to any album made by a woman (lana del Rey’s Norman fucking rockwell, coming in at #17). This is pitchfork’s audience, and it’s who they cater to and this greatly influences how they think about music.

tldr halsey was right.

#also sometimes they give albums that I like bad ratings and it makes me mad 😌#retract your 5.9 for Sam’s town RIGHT NOW

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 7 months

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Defiance | Resilience

I had an IdeaTM if you feel like writing (: So at the end of Defiance, right? Logan realizes what happened, he was being manipulated by Orange, yadda yadda. Afterwards, he refuses to talk about it. He's just overall very cold and closed off, because maybe if he grips his emotions tight enough and keeps a firm enough control over his mind then nobody will be able to take him over like that again. The others become pretty concerned for him, because they haven't seen him this detached since the early episodes. And they're probably also a bit annoyed that he's shwing such indifference. Eventually somebody snaps, and Logan figuratively grips the jar that is his emotions so tightly that it shatters in a messy explosion that cuts everyone and ends in him completely vulnerable, apologizing for everything he thinks he's done wrong. And then idk what happens, comfort :D – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: allusions to mind control/mind manipulation

Pairings: none

Word Count: 2292

Logan's acting weird.

Now, Roman's the first to admit that he's a harsh judge of what Logan's doing, at least out loud, but that's their thing. Creativity vs. Logic and all that, Right Brain vs. Left Brain. They're used to getting on each other's nerves, egging each other on, getting into pointless arguments that don't mean anything and are just for fun and to make each other stop being stuck-up idiots all the time. Yes, Roman can admit he's a stuck-up idiot most of the time! Granted, he's putting it on, more likely than not, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's doing! It's a role, it's his role, it's the one he and Logan have perfected in their banter back and forth.

At least…it used to be.

Now, though, when Roman tries to start one of their stupid inane debates, Logan just shuts him down immediately. Not even a moment to entertain whatever point Roman's trying to make, immediately just telling him that he's wrong very bluntly or ignoring the obvious joke setup he's trying to volley. Even when he makes a big deal out of not understanding something very simple, Logan doesn't even humor him anymore, he just tells Roman he's wrong and what the right answer is. Sometimes he does it without even looking at him. He's categorically refusing to commit to the bit and that is a cardinal sin.

And okay, maybe Roman could pick his moments a little better, and not right in the middle of a meeting or something where everyone else is trying really hard to be productive—okay, mostly everyone else, thank you, Remus—and Logan's got his hands full trying to help everyone else. But that's the point! Another thing those arguments help do is get the others to snap out of it! 'Cause they'll just get into little squabbles themselves that aren't productive and then if they watch Logan and Roman get into one, more often than not they realize that whatever they were on about isn't helping anyone either and they all get to have a laugh at themselves, calm down, and actually start talking like adults! It's a foolproof plan that works 87% of the time, according to Logan!

But lately, that percentage has taken such a steep nosedive that Roman's not sure the plane has any survivors left.

Now, he just gets shunted to the outside of the conversation. He'll get told off by not just Logan, but everyone else when they see how upset it makes Logan. Which he doesn't understand, they've talked about the jokes he's not supposed to make and the buttons Logan doesn't want him to push and he's not, he's staying away from those. He's picking literally the softest balls to throw, they're so plush and fluffy, and Logan's burning them out of the sky with a flamethrower. He's even tried to go up to Logan after the meetings or whenever these happen, trying to ask what he's doing wrong, Logan used to like these, what can he do better, but Logan just turns him away and says he doesn't have time for jokes.

Which is how Roman knows Logan's really acting weird.

Logan's favorite long-running bit is that he doesn't understand any sort of joke. That doesn't mean he finds them funny, but he gets why other people would find them funny. He loves playing the ironic straight man for the others because then he's included in the joke but he doesn't have to pretend to be something he's not. Other than the straight part. But Roman can remember how much he was trying to stop himself from smiling the first time they did the overexplain bit in front of the others, he used to love that bit—and he's not trying to say that Logan can't change! Tastes evolve, people grow, it's just a fact of life, but it's—he's getting worried.

He tried to go confront Logan—gently! He wasn't trying to corner him or anything!—and ask if he's genuinely okay, but Logan just thanked him for asking and changed the subject. Which is a lie of omission if Roman's ever heard one. Or not heard—you get it.

So he tried the sneakier route and he found out that Logan's not met up with Virgil or Remus for their watch parties where they analyze horror stuff, he's not been on his usual walk with Janus through the peaceful part of the Imagination. He's not even been downstairs on weekend mornings to help Patton with the baking. Then he realized that Logan's favorite mug isn't getting used anymore—he's not being a stalker, okay, one of his household chores is to clean the dishes that are hand-wash only and Logan's mug is hand-wash only—and instead he's using this plain white mug that isn't even big enough to hold a decent amount of coffee. And he called off working on his own projects with Roman, like, eight times now.

So, yeah. Logan's acting weird and Roman's worried.

Now, if only he could get Logan to stop glaring at him…

"Shit, Princey," Virgil mutters, "you've been using all one of your brain cells on this, huh?"

Roman doesn't take the bait. He just looks at Logan with what he hopes is the please understand how sincerely concerned I am as someone who cares about you face as Logan's jaw sets and he folds his arms.

"Perhaps this would explain why Thomas has been having such a hard time working on the finale," he says coldly, "his Creativity is clearly focused on the wrong thing."

"Hey, wait," Remus says, frowning, "why is being worried about you the wrong thing?"

"Roman's right," Patton adds, crossing his arms too, "that's—that's a worrying amount of things, kiddo."

"I believe I have asked you not to call me that."

"Right, right, sorry, Logan."

Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If this is all this meeting is supposed to be about, I ask that you leave me out of them in future unless there is something pressing to discuss."

"This is pressing!" Roman takes a small step forward despite the way Logan's still glaring at him. "You're not alright, Logan, I know you aren't—"

"Oh, because you're always an excellent judge of me, aren't you?"

Okay, ouch, but fair. "Logan, I didn't mean it like that—"

"Then why don't you say what you do mean," Logan interrupts, before he stops himself and takes a deep breath. "I apologize, that was untoward."

Roman just waves him off. Logan looks for a moment like he might say something else before his expression hardens and he turns away.

"If that will be all—"

"Hold on, L," Virgil says, sitting up and reaching over the banister to touch Logan's shoulder, "we're not gonna leave it like this. As much as I hate to say it, Roman's right. You've been off since we had that whole weird thing with the orange mist, are you sure it isn't—"

"It's fine," Logan spits out, shrugging Virgil's hand off, "it is not affecting me anymore, any influence it had was eliminated when the switch was thrown."

A quiet hiss comes from his other side as Janus exchanges a look with Roman. Roman just shrugs helplessly—he's just brought the problem up, that doesn't mean he knows how to solve it, that's what he needs everyone else's help for. Janus nods in understanding and moves to get in front of Logan again.

"Logan," he says quietly, "if this is affecting Roman's ability to focus, then shouldn't that mandate that we reassure whatever irrational worry he's worked into his head so that we can all get back to work?"

"I think you somehow got both of us with that one," Virgil mutters, "irrational worries are my thing."

Roman doesn't even care because Logan's still trying to leave. Whatever hushed conversation he's having with Janus is getting louder and louder and out of sheer desperation, he moves forward to talk to Logan himself—

Suddenly he's flying across the room. His back hits the wall with a slam and he slides to the floor, dazed.

"Holy shit—"

"Roman!"

Remus appears in front of him as Roman blinks, dazed. He cups his hands around Roman's face and looks at him hard. Roman clumsily pats his wrist. "Hey, 'm all good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, wasn't that bad."

"Janny?"

"He's telling the truth."

"See?" Roman swats lightly at Remus's shoulders. "Lemme up. I'm fine."

"You get hit in the head too much, Princey," Virgil mutters, still sounding slightly baffled that Roman just flew across the room and smacked into the wall.

"You get used to it."

"I'm pretty sure that's a bad thing. Back me up, Logan."

When no response comes, Roman shakes himself off and gets up, immediately letting out a soft noise of concern when he sees the tears streaming down Logan's face. Janus has two of his hands on Logan's shoulders, a third one gently around his wrist. Roman holds his hands up and cautiously approaches, stopping when Logan lets out a whimper.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs, "I'm okay, I'm not mad. I'm not even hurt, see?"

"He's not lying," Janus says, the hands softening as Logan starts to wobble, "come sit, sweetie, let Roman be a mother hen for a second."

"I think that's Patton's thing."

"No, he's Papa Cock!"

"Never say anything like that again, Remus."

Roman tunes them out in favor of crouching in front of Logan. After a moment, he reaches out and lays his hands palm up if Logan wants to take them. "I'm not mad, really, Logan. I'm just worried. You—are you okay?"

Logan looks down, tears still brimming fat and heavy in the corners of his eyes and he slowly shakes his head and sniffles. Roman holds his hands out a little more and Logan takes them, squeezing tentatively. "I'm sorr—sorry, Roman."

"It's okay, it's okay—"

"It's not," Logan interrupts, glaring as if on sheer willpower alone he could make himself stop crying long enough to speak, "it's not okay that I just did that, or that I—that I've been rude to you and—and that I'm not using my favorite mug anymore—"

"Shh, take a moment," Janus encourages, rubbing his back, "shh, shh, there you go…"

Logan sniffles again. "I just—I'm just—I—"

Over on the staircase, Virgil makes a quiet oh sound. "He's scared, Princey."

"Of me? Am I making it worse?"

"No, not of you—not directly, anyway." Virgil comes around and sits at the base of the stairs. "L, can I—is this helpful?"

Logan nods and Roman brings his hand up to kiss Logan's knuckles.

"He's—he's afraid of the orange thing coming back," Virgil continues, "given how easily it affected him last time, he's afraid—oh, L, it's okay."

"It will use me to hurt you again," Logan mumbles around hitching breaths, "and I—I don't—I don't want to hurt you, it's—but it's so much stronger than—than me when I'm—when I'm—like th-this, so—I'm—Roman, I'm sorry!"

"Shh, hey, hey, hey—" he kisses Logan's hand again— "I'm not mad, I promise, see? It's okay to be scared, that thing that happened was really scary, but the rest of us are here, you know? We'll help you."

The others make their noises of agreement as Logan starts to scoot toward the edge of the couch. Roman opens his arms and lets Logan crash into his lap, wrapping his arms around him and holding him closer.

"There, is that better? You just wanna hold onto me a bit?" Logan nods into the crook of his shoulder. "Hey, that's it. We can sit here. That's cool."

"You're sure you're—you're okay?"

"I'm a big dumb brick, remember? I'm a tank."

"Y're not dumb," Logan mumbles, "you f'gired out all—all of this, you're—y're smart."

"Here, here," Virgil echoes, "now, this looks like cuddle-puddle territory to me, am I right, Logan?"

"Mhm."

"You heard him," Roman hears Remus cackle, "everyone on the mattress!"

A massive fluffy thing poofs into existence beneath Roman and Logan and Roman immediately lies them down, chuckling as Janus takes one of the blankets and tucks them in. Logan snuggles a little deeper into his chest and he rests his cheek against the crown of Logan's head.

"We're here for you, okay?" He rubs Logan's back. "Whatever color you're feeling."

"Yeah?"

"I'll out-stubborn you on this too," he threatens playfully just to hear Logan's snuffling laugh in his ear.

"Okay, okay, I believe you."

"Good. Now—hey, Remus! Keep your elbows to yourself!"

"Shit, sorry."

"Language!"

"How come I get language and Emo over there didn't?"

"You snitch!"

Roman just cuddles Logan closer as their eyes drift closed. Out of the corner of his eye he thinks he glimpses something orange floating near the top of the stares and glares until it goes away.

You stay away from my Logan.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #fic

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