#your long-suffering cinderella who never lost hope

[minorfamilysupremacy]

said it once, saying it again outside of tags: the person you are when you're being abused is not truly reflective of who you are. in an abusive situation, you are in constant survival mode. you are behaving in ways that you think a) are going to please the abuser and b) are going to keep you from being hit, berated, or otherwise punished. you do not get to be who you really are because that is legitimately dangerous. it creates a vulnerability you cannot afford. you need to act with your self-preservation instincts in mind first and foremost, and self-preservation often conflicts with authenticity and honesty. so when you're looking at those texts, judging build for being such a thoughtless, hateful person, try to understand what it's like mentally to have your back to the wall for months or years on end.

[dimdiamond]

Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 1

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite, who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310, @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria. Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 1806

Additional note: I'm afraid I'll disappoint some of you. No more newspapers... The articles defined the setting of the story. From now on, it'll be a regular fic.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

June 2021

Ivar yawns, rubbing his eyes, when he suddenly hears the front door open. The next moment, Ubbe shouts, "Hey baby bro, we're home!"

Slightly confused, Ivar looks at the time on his computer. Stunned, he blinks repeatedly, shakes his head and checks the time again, now looking at his watch. "Guess I lost track of time," he mumbles as he realizes it's really 5:30 pm. He clears his throat. "I'm coming!"

Yawning once more, he wheels to the kitchen. Hvitserk waves at him with one hand as Ubbe greets him with a grin and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd ignores him, as usual.

"Hello boys!" Lagertha smiles as she also enters the kitchen. "Did you go to the beach this afternoon?" It's a rethorical question, since sand can be seen on the tanned skin of his brothers, shirtless and wearing only swimming shorts.

When she looks down at him, her smile becomes softer. "Ivar, you seem tired. Did you work all day long?"

He nods, glad that for once she called him by his first name and not by one of those stupid nicknames that she likes but that make his skin crawl.

"Yep," he shrugs without smiling back, "I made good progress. The new version of your website is almost done. It could probably be online by the end of the week."

His stepmom flashes him a beaming smile. "Great, thanks!"

The conversation then moves on to the subject that everyone in Kattegat has been talking about for the last few days: the midsummer party thrown by their neighbor Harald Hårfager. Every June, it is Kattegat's not-to-be-missed event, to which every resident hopes to be invited.

Lagertha is invited every year, yet rarely attends; his brothers wouldn't miss it, not in a million years; Ivar never went.

He listens with half an ear as his brothers prattle on about the upcoming party, while taking a seat at the large, wooden kitchen table on which Lagertha has just put cakes and drinks.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Do you think Marit will attend this year?"

"Hopefully the music will be better than last year."

"Can't be as bad! What was the name of that reggae band?"

For a fleeting moment, Ivar entertains the thought of attending as well. Not that he's dying to, but… Sometimes, he feels a little bit like Cinderella in this house.

Don't get him wrong, it's not that bad.

First, his stepmom is not–

Wait, wait, wait, is Lagertha technically his stepmom? He's not sure. After all, she wasn't when his parents were alive, she was just his father's first wife. Anyway, she may be his guardian now, but he sees her as his stepmom and he honestly doesn’t give a shit if it's a little weird.

Where was he? Oh yes, Cinderella.

So obviously, Lagertha is not a wicked, haughty and abusive stepmom like this Lady Tremaine of the fairytale.

Actually, even if it pisses him off to admit it, she's pretty nice, patient and composed. Does he love her? Let's not exaggerate – he doesn't. She may love him though, which is a little bit uncanny, if he's being honest. He was the favorite son of her nemesis. Shouldn't she hate him? He would, if the situation was reversed.

The truth is, when he was younger, he tried, he really tried to hate her, blaming her for everything and anything. When too much pain prevented him from sleeping, he let his imagination run wild. There, bound to his bed of suffering, he could see Lagertha cutting the brakes on his mother's car, causing her crash, causing her death.

Of course, even then, he knew deep down that Lagertha had not killed his mother; that the story he told himself was just the product of his endless nights of insomnia. But what can he say? He needed this. Because blaming Lagertha rather than admitting that his beloved mother was at fault – by being distracted, or by falling asleep, he'll never know – was easier for the heartbroken boy he was.

Anyway... So yes, Lagertha is definitely not an evil stepmother like Cinderella's.

Also, he doesn't sleep on a sorry garret, on a wretched straw bed either.

Actually, he has a very large room on the main floor, with a king-size memory foam bed, a walk-in – well, a wheel-in for his case – closet and his own, huge bathroom, fully equipped for his special needs.

Sure, the bathroom and the dressing room were already there when his parents were alive; however, the memory foam mattress had been Lagertha's idea.

Anyway... So yes, he can't exactly complain about his sleeping conditions, unlike Cinderella.

And obviously, he's not forced into servitude.

Actually, one might think so, but no, he's not. Sure, sometimes he works for his stepmom, like today. But so do his brothers. When she had taken them in, she was a powerful businesswoman, working twelve to fourteen hours a day. Once she had become their guardian, she had rearranged her working time and learned to delegate; but even so, she had often run out of time. Therefore, it had seemed normal to them – yes, even to him – to help her out, each of them according to their skills and abilities.

So, while Hvitserk almost always does the grocery shopping, while Sigurd vacuums and does the laundry, while Ubbe mows the lawn and trim the bushes, he, Ivar, runs her company's website and sometimes even does the accounting. And since he loves computers and numbers, it's not exactly a problem.

Anyway... So yes, he's not a slave in this house. Unlike Cinderella.

So, yes, to sum it up, he can't really complain and he's by far not Cinderella. And he knows it.

But... Yes, there's a but...

Sometimes, he feels trapped, as poor Cinderella must have felt.

Sometimes he feels like a spectator of a life he doesn't belong to.

Sure, he doesn't have to be homeschooled – but gods, he's glad he is. The reasons for him to be continuously bullied by classmates are endless. The simplest ones being: he is a cripple, an orphan, the son of a dead mob boss, the smartest one in the whole damn school, let alone his class. Take your pick. It's no fun, no fun at all. Being home alone is preferable to that alternative.

Therefore, barely leaving the house except for medical appointments, he has no friends. He doesn't do sports either – obviously – and yeah, he lives a lonely life, filled with video games and Netflix series. And he's okay with that. Well, most of the time.

Sure, his brothers, or at least Ubbe and Hvitserk, always try to include him as much as possible. But the truth is that because of his legs, there are many, many things he just can't do.

And the other truth, the less pleasant one, is that he partially did that to himself. He cut himself off from a world that hurt him, yet he still misses this world sometimes. At times, he blames himself. Because his life, honestly, is hardly what you would call a life, is it? Not when you're sixteen.

That's why sometimes, like now, he feels this longing, almost a need, to live. To really, truly, fully live. And that's why, for a brief moment, lulled by the light chitchat of his brothers, he considers attending Harald's midsummer party.

But he knows better. This life is not for him, never has been, never will be.

And so, shaking his head, he chases the thought away and, placing his hands on his push rims, he's about to leave the kitchen while the incessant babbling of his brothers goes on.

"I can't wait."

"Don't tell me! As every year, the most beautiful girls of Kattegat will be there."

"Remember that burger food truck? Best burgers ever!"

"I've heard Y/N would be attending this year."

"There'll be booze and girls! Sounds like Valh–"

Wait. His mind goes blank.

Fuck.

What? Did he hear right?

As he replays his brother's words in his head, it's like there's an earthquake happening inside of him.

Fuck.

He stops breathing. Blinks, then clamps his eyes shut.

Fuck.

When he finally manages to draw air into his lungs, he swallows loudly before asking in a weird, high-pitched voice, his heart pounding in his chest, "What– What did you say, brother?"

Hvitserk turns his head toward him and shrugs. "I just said there'll be boo–"

"No, not you!" Ivar snaps at his brother, pointing his pointer finger at Ubbe. "You, what did you fucking say?" Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Lagertha frowning – 'no curse words in this house, boys'– and even if he barely contains an eye roll, he still mouths a quick 'sorry' at her before rewording his question, impatience coursing through him. "What did you say, dear brother? Who did you say would attend?"

Stunned, Ubbe looks at him with wide eyes. "Y/N? I said Y/N would come. That's what I heard anyway. She's Harald's niece. She was here once, right? Remember her, baby bro, huh?"

But Ivar is no longer listening, the blood draining from his face. Y/N... Y/N... Fuck. Finally. Fucking finally. After so long... He may see you again. Wow.

I'll go! I'll fucking go!

He barely contains the words, suddenly acutely aware of the deafening silence in the room, his brothers shamelessly staring at him.

With her brows furrowed and her lips turned downward in a slight frown, Lagertha takes two steps forwards before crouching down in front of him. "Are you all right, sweetie? You're a little pale."

He barely hears when Sigurd giggles, "A little pale? He's greener than an alien!"

Lagertha shoots Sigurd a dirty look and then gently cups Ivar's cheek. "Do you know her, Ivar? Do you know Y/N?"

Overwhelmed, self-conscious, freaked out, caught off-guard, he doesn't know how to respond. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? His brothers will mock him, for sure. What is the point of telling the truth? What good would it do? On the other hand, he could really use some advice. Yeah. Sure. Advice from Sigurd. Just the thought of it is enough to make him sick. Fuck, what is he going to do?

Rushed words are out of his mouth before he can even gather his thoughts. "No. No. I don't. I mean, yes, I think I do but–" He's being pathetic and he hates it. So after a sharp intake of breath, he shakes his head and eventually replies in a flat, calm voice, the white lie rolling off his tongue. "I know her, but I thought Ubbe was talking about someone else. Sorry."

With these words, he hastily leaves the room, his eyes riveted on his knees, his heart still drumming in his chest.

Y/N. Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

Ivar's taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings

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hi! i just came across your page the other day and i’ve read all of your drabbles and stories multiple times lol! so for my ask, i would love it if you did a college AU with popularjock!jk and have it be similar to the movie ‘A Cinderella Story’. some angst with smut and a happy ending if possible! oh and bestfriendjimin! as well :) hope this is not too much to request! ily

At the stroke of Midnight

Pairing: Jungkook x f reader

Summary: One popular boy + One 'uncool' girl + One school dance + One necklace left behind = A cinderella story.

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Cinderella au / A Cinderella story au / comedy / popular jock jungkook / best friend Jimin

Warnings: Suggestive language / sex 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Word Count: 4k

Beta reader: @casuallyimagining

A/N: I am so sorry this has taken me so long! I had no clue about this film, so writing this entailed some research and me watching the movie...twice haha. I really hope I did it justice for you and you enjoy it. Thank you for the request!

"So, what's prince charming saying now that's so much more important than your best friend?" Jimin pouts, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

You flush slightly. "He wants to meet." Grimacing at the words.

"And that's a problem, why?" 

You bury your head in your hands. "Because I'm me and I'm certainly no one special, what if he's disappointed?" You groan, the dilemma churning your gut and making you feel like your breakfast could make a second appearance.

"Hey," Jimin scoots closer to you along the bench and throws an arm around your shoulder. "No best friend of mine gets away with speaking about herself like that. You are lovely, and if he thinks you're anything other than amazing, there's something wrong with him and he needs to be studied in a lab." 

You laugh in spite of yourself, hearing Jimin’s words rattle around in your brain, knowing that you should not be this hard on yourself. You lean into his snug embrace.

You open up Tumblr and stare at the conversation between you and @gameoverguk. Your favourite gaming blog you’ve followed for ages, by chance seeing your gaming fan art and following you back was one thing, but conversing with him and finding out that he also attended your school was a completely different matter. Trying to solve the equation of who this mysterious creator might be is harder than you thought. And the way he converses with you, so open and honest and sweet, that had to narrow it down surely?

Something slams into your back, pain immediately in its wake. You and Jimin turn to see the popular boy of your university, Jungkook, gawking at you and his best friend Taehyung in hysterics. 

Jimin looks down in the grass behind you at the offending apple and calls, “Hey, watch it guys.”

“Really sorry!” Jungkook calls over, a slight dusting of scarlet across his cheeks but looks like he’s also fighting a laugh. It burns you how someone so smug can still be so handsome, and you hate yourself for even thinking about him in any way other than the airhead jock that he is. 

Taehyung jogs over and picks it up, still somewhat amused. “What, didn’t your crystal ball tell you that was gonna happen?” He says to you, loud enough for everyone in a mile radius to hear.

You cringe inwardly, attempting to fight your embarrassment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the top athletes in this university? And you can’t even catch an apple.” Jimin snarks in your defense.

His face drops as he looks like he’s about to take a step towards you both.

“Tae!” Jungkook calls, an air of command in his voice, breaking the tense air as he looks away from you ruefully. Walking off with Taehyung following, eating his apple and laughing between bites.

“Ignore them.” Jimin says sternly. “Speaking of, are you working tonight?”

Your face falls into an unamused expression, as if he even had to ask.

You were working so much you were almost taking residence at your step-mums 'magic shop', as everyone called it.

He smiles at you, his nose wrinkling, and you can’t help your face softening.

“Ok, ok, my bad. Can I swing by later? I need some more incense.”

You shrug, grabbing your bag and chucking it over your shoulder. “Sure. I’d be glad of the company to be honest.”

“Ooooh, maybe we could do a seance?” 

You glare at him and head off to class causing his melodious laugh to ring out around you.

Sitting in the bleachers after class, with your sketchpad and pencil, the perfect view of the city line and the departing sun staring back at you, you sketch away. The pencil etching fast across your paper as you manage to block out the sounds of the team practicing and their bodies crashing against each other.

Long after you've lost yourself in your landscape, fingers grey and shiny from shading, you neglect to hear some of the team members leaving, climbing over the seats and headed in your direction. That is until your pad is snatched from underneath you as you frantically grapple for it, without success.

"You know, this isn't where the nerds hang out." Taehyung smirks at his two other buddies, clearly impressed with himself.

You let out a bored sigh. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize you owned the bleachers." Your words drip with sarcasm. 

His face drops and a mean glare spreads across his features as he throws your drawing pad in the air. You watch helplessly as the pages flutter in the wind as it flies away and disappears under the stands. 

"Have a nice night." He says quietly, an attempt to be intimidating, as him and his friends leave.

Your veins alight with fury, hands balled into fists at your sides. You wanted to stamp your feet like a petulant child. This isn't fair. Why you?

It's only then you notice Jeon Jungkook standing on the field watching. Embarrassment suddenly extinguishes your angry flames as he breaks your gaze first, walking off under the bleachers. You grab your bag to leave for work before you suffer any more humiliation.

As you reach the last step you yelp with surprise as Jungkook appears suddenly in your view, you manage to steel yourself before tumbling into him.

You stare at him, wishing he'd get on with it and tease you so you can go...but it doesn't come. Instead he hands you your sketchpad, gently dusting off the pages.

You take it, a hesitant, "thanks," ghosts from your lips.

"I'm sorry about him." He says quietly.

You shrug. "Not your fault, I guess."

Seconds tick by as you both stare awkwardly at each other, unsure what else could be said.

"You're pretty. I-I mean, it-it's pretty." He stammers, tapping the unfinished sketch in your book. "You're very talented." 

Your cheeks flush an undignified fuchsia as you duck your head slightly, letting your hair hide you. "Thank you."

He offers you a weak smile before giving you a halfhearted wave and jogging off across the field, leaving you watching his back, perplexed at the exchange you've had.

You stare at your messages, every moment he can see you're online and not replying makes your cheeks flush crimson and makes your mind run frantic.

Meet me at the Happy Holidays dance.

Could you?

It’s the first holiday dance your university has put on--one you had no intention of going to, because you frankly didn't need the added teasing from the popular kids. It is a masquerade ball however, so no one had to know it was you, you could fall pleasantly under the radar.

Were you really considering this? 

What did you have to lose? You can hide behind the comfort of your mask. If he discovers it's you, it's his problem if he doesn't like that, Jimin is absolutely right.

Ok. Where will I find you?

You press send and chuck your phone down, throwing your head in your pillow to scream. Did you actually just do that!? No taking it back now, it's out there. 

When you hear your text tone sound you scramble quickly back to it.

By the old sundial outside. At 10.00?

You grin dorkishly at your phone, typing a quick reply.

Sure. See you then.

You call your number one speed dial, two rings in and Jimin's voice sounds. 

"I was just going to call you, how strange. Listen, do you remember that time I-?"

"I'm in need of some urgent assistance. I just agreed to go to the holiday dance!"

He cackles excitedly on the other end. "I'll be right over!"

As you step out of Jimin's car you have to lift your ice blue dress up to avoid the floor...and tripping. How Jimin pulled this costume together in time, you'll never know, he's taking that secret to the grave. 

You swallow the nervous lump in your throat and adjust your matching lace mask, making sure it's comfortable.

"Ok, go get him tiger." He roars, as he swipes a clawed hand in front of you.

You giggle at his silly antics and take a deep breath before giving him a final nod and heading into the dance.

From the moment you walk in, you want to go home. This is a bad idea. He won't be interested when he finds out it's really you.

You have no time to continue your anguished thoughts as you get swept up in the crowd, fighting your way through to grab a drink. Standing to the side and surveying everyone's costumes, noticing a lot of dark or bright colour choices, you being one of the only people in a pale colour, making you stand out more. Something you were definitely hoping to avoid.

A few songs later and the clock in the hall catches your eye, noticing you had fifteen minutes until you meet your mystery man.

You head outside, footsteps echoing along the cobbled floor, and see that the outside is empty save for a few smoking and talking. 

You get to the large, metal sundial and wait. Stomach churning from the butterflies that swarm wildly inside. 

"Blue hour artist?" You hear your Tumblr tag spoken behind you and freeze. 

You're about to meet him, come face to face with the person who understands you more than anyone, who opens up to you in ways most people wouldn't and who's creativity knows no bounds.

You turn slowly, not knowing who to expect but definitely not who you're faced with.

"Jeon Jungkook!? You're 'game over guk'?" You ask, your mouth popped open in shock.

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "that's not fair, you're wearing a mask. How will I know who you are?" 

You stare at him, trying to find words to answer his question, but the fact that it's him stood before you blows you away.

How could this be? The person you've been talking to online is the complete opposite to Jungkook and yet, here he is, one and the same.

"You'll h-have to guess." You try to get yourself together.

His mouth stretches into a toothy smile. "Ok, how about we play '21 questions' to help me guess?"

You nod, playing with your fingernails out of nerves.

"Do you want to sit down?" He asks, looking over at one of the benches.

"Um, no, I'd rather walk, if you don't mind?" 

"Oh, sure." He agrees eagerly and you head off down the pathway around the building. 

A few awkward side glances between the two of you and he finally asks, "Do we have any classes together?"

"No." 

"Ok, narrows it down slightly."

You take this opportunity to look at what he's wearing and he's every part the Prince charming. In a white satin shirt, with light blue trousers and a one shoulder half capelet to match, complete with silver, trim detail. Surprisingly similar to your choice of dress, what a strange coincidence.

"You take art I assume?" He asks, into the comfortable silence.

You nod. "That's an obvious one." You refer to your Tumblr page full of your fan art and projects.

He smiles bashfully and your stomach flips at the sight, feeling like a true-life Disney princess with heart eyes and birds singing above your head.

"I don't know many girls in art." He admits,

 "Ok, what about outside uni, do you go to any popular hangouts?"

Your cheeks flush, knowing you're admitting how dorky and uncool you are. "Nope."

"Ok, harder than I thought." He laughs, revealing his perfect teeth again. "Do you have a job?"

Nodding again, you play with the hem of your lace sleeve, channeling your nerves into the action.

As you're about to answer, your heel gets stuck in between the paving stone, causing you to buckle. Panic strikes you. You cannot fall over and embarrass yourself! Not when finding out who you are will be embarrassing enough. Luckily, you steady yourself against a nearby lamppost before falling on your face but at the cost of leaving your shoe stuck in the ground.

You tuck your leg up under your dress, steadying yourself against the street light, directly underneath the assaulting brightness, illuminating you like a spotlight.

Jungkook rushes over to your lonesome blue stiletto and retrieves it before crouching on one knee in front of you.

You stare at him, eyes wide and alarmed by his sudden closeness as he holds out your shoe in the most sincere way.

You bring your foot down and arch it back into its rightful holster. As you do, his fingertips graze your ankle, sending a flush of heat cascading up your body and neck, stopping only at your hairline. 

He lingers there, looking up at you with huge doe eyes, but with a severe intensity you've never noticed from him before. 

His fingers skate up your leg slightly as he rises, sending a delicious shiver through you. His fingers tips hint at your hand, you yearn to reach out and hold it, as he stands mere centimeters away from you. His intoxicating scent swirling around you like your own personal hurricane, taking your composed state and tearing through it, leaving it whimpering weakly on the ground. His face is too close to yours and yet not close enough. You feel feverish from his proximity and yet you need him closer to sate your heat.

Your breast vibrates from the aggressive pounding of your heart. Having him here on his knees in front of you, something not even acceptable in your wildest dreams and yet, here he is. 

The person you've gotten to know so well, such a contrast to the person you've seen around campus. But then again, he seems to like the person he's gotten to know too, maybe he won't be as disappointed when he realises who you are? Maybe you can kid yourself into thinking that.

A chiming sounds in the distance, barely there and yet it creeps further into your subconscious.

"Your phone is ringing." He whispers, his breath tickling your face, as his eyes still blaze into yours.

'My phone. My phone? Oh, my phone!' Your muddled thoughts clear themselves enough for you to understand his words. You pull it out of your little silver handbag and see Jimin's number on screen.

"Hello?" You ask, staring dreamily at Jungkook who is rooted firmly in his spot.

"Ok, I apologise if you're throat-deep around prince charming’s dick but I really need to make it home before midnight so my dad doesn't turn me into a pumpkin...and by that I mean, pounded, pulped and pressed into pumpkin pie." 

You snap out of it suddenly, realising Jimin's words and not wanting him to get in trouble because of you. "Of course. I'm coming, right now."

Jungkook's eyes flit back to reality with a deep frown. His hand clasps yours as you hang up and tuck your phone back into your bag. Your legs, already moving towards the front entrance where he would be waiting.

"Wait," Jungkook's pleading pierces right into your chest, feeling your resolve bubble up to the surface, enticing you to stay and see where the night takes you. But you don't.

"I can't, I have to go." You say, gently slipping your hand from his and jogging elegantly to the front parking lot.

When you see Jimin's dads silver Rolls Royce, you're suddenly eager to get in and share your news.

"So...did you meet him!?" An excited Jimin shakes your arm as you close the door behind you.

"Yes. You will never guess who he is." You fasten your belt and Jimin pulls off quickly, both of you wincing as he narrowly misses a barrier post on the way out of the campus.

"Who?" 

You smile to yourself, heart fit to burst. "Jeon Jungkook."

Jimin's foot taps on the brakes, lurching you forward.

"I'm sorry. What?" He turns to you, eyes wider than you've ever seen them. "As in, popular boy, sex god Jungkook?"

You scoff. "Who told you he was a sex god?"

"I'm making assumptions. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." He grins as he elbows you in the ribs and sets off driving you home, while excitement rapidly blooms inside you.

You dropped your necklace.

You read the words over and over, unsure what your response should be. You needed that necklace. The simple silver chain holding the tiny teardrop pearl. It was all you had left of your dad. When he died, your step-mother sold most of his things, including gifts he bought for you. This was your last, most cherished item. The only reason you were allowed to keep it is that you were wearing it at the time and you haven't taken it off since. Losing it had your chest aching. You stared at Jungkook's last message until sleep over took you.

Monday morning. Eyes gritty and burning, you wake to the sea of sleep trying to entice you back to its darkening depths but you fight your fluttering eyelids and get ready for a new day.

How are you going to look at Jungkook now? You should tell him who you are. Yes, you'll do that and get your necklace back and it'll be happily ever after. 

Only it won't.

From your experience happily ever after doesn't happen for most people, even accomplished, brilliant, beautiful people. You're entirely average and ordinary, why would it happen for you?

By the time you get to campus, your manic mind has been changed numerous times. You decide to wait until you see him, which you spend every moment of your arrival scanning the faces that pass you.

"Hey, hey, Jelly Bean. Looking for me?" Jimin's cheerful face comes into full view, distracting you.

He's clearly unimpressed with whatever expression you're portraying currently, as he pouts and turns to the sea of faces. "Clearly, I no longer matter, now you've got big dick Jungkook."

You hush him loudly, looking around to ensure there were no listening ears. "Firstly, I'm begging you, stop talking about his dick and secondly, stop being stupid."

He laughs at your stressed rant. "Ok, ok, jeez. Is he meeting you this morning?"

Your body tenses, knowing, already hearing the lecture he's about to scold you with.

"You didn't tell him, did you? He still has no idea it's you!?" He sighs, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, typical Jimin fashion. "I swear to god...If you don't tell him, I will."

Your head snaps over to him as you walk side by side into the building, glaring menacingly in his direction. "You wouldn't dare."

He shrugs. "Try me, scaredy cat."

You huff and scrub at your tired eyes. "Let me just get through my classes then we shall discuss this."

He laughs as he tussles your hair and heads off in the opposite direction.

Your day passes fairly quickly, even though your struggle to stay awake during lectures only grows.

You do not see Jungkook, which is not unusual as you're not even in the same wings of the building most of the time.

Jimin's frantic waving has you puzzled as a deep frown creases your brow as you walk towards him, his jumping and pointing most unusual. It's only when you see a set of hands directly in front of you and feel your necklace land on your chest as it's draped across your collar bones, that you stop in your tracks. 

Those hands, warm at the back of your neck and a mouth next to your ear saying, "I told you I'd look after it and return it." Unmistakably Jungkook's voice whispers in your ear making you quiver.

When his hands are gone you look down and find relief washing over you with the familiar feel of your necklace, having felt bare and empty without it.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" He asks, stepping in front of you with a big bunny smile.

Wide eyed with shock, your mouth gapes open with the slow realization that he is, in fact, talking to you. "How-how did you…" Words fail you as you frantically think of any way you might have let slip your identity but coming up empty.

"How did I know it was you?" He asks, mouth pulled on one side in a smile. "When you dropped your necklace as you left the dance, I recognized it instantly. "

"Wh-what?" You squeak out. You attempt to swallow your confusion enough to form a coherent sentence. "On what planet would someone like you notice anything about someone like me."

A look of hurt flashes across his face, almost as if you'd slapped him as he takes a step towards you, a hair's width away now. "How could I not notice you? You're beautiful and smart, you don't follow the crowd and you're kind to everyone, I've noticed everything the last two years. I've just never spoken to you properly because….well...what do I have to offer someone like you, with endless talents and interests, a charming personality to boot and just when I think that's all there is, I discover something else about you. I'm just the school jock, popularity gets me opportunities, I don't have to work hard for anything...I feel...inferior to you. Worthless."

Your heart aches, hearing the words you feel escaping his mouth. How could that be possible? How on earth could he be so utterly mistaken, so completely wrong about himself?

"But gameoverguk is nothing like that person you're describing. If that's truly who you are?" You question quietly.

He nods, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, I'm a gamer geek, I'm good at sports, I enjoy bike rides on the weekend and finding new food spots and I'd really like to take you out sometime...if you'll let me."

You feel your lips stretch into an undeniable grin. "Nice to finally meet you Jungkook. I'd love to."

As you aim the plastic machine gun, keeping it steady in your armpit and pointed towards the screen, you and Jungkook race through the game, taking down your enemies at every chance. When your team name, "Blue Hour Gamer" flashes in neon letters on screen as the winners, your hollering and hooting fill the arcade. 

You don't even care that people are watching, not when you jump up and high five each other or when that high five turns into a hug, or when that hug very quickly turns into a kiss. You don't care.

You pull away quickly, embarrassment finding its way to dust your cheeks scarlet. Until you feel his hand press your lower back to him, your bodies crushing together and moving in perfect sync, making their own rhythm and inviting you to sing with it.

Heat blazes inside you like a wildfire, capturing everything else in its path and turning into thoughtless ash in the wind. Nothing else mattered, just him, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, caressing so gently and yet setting your skin aflame.

Before you knew it, you were at his small, studio apartment, realising you had no clue he lived alone but thankful for that just the same.

When your back finds the bed, you sink into it, disappearing into a cloud of euphoria as he roams your body, slow and meaningful. Every touch makes you feel things you never have before, and every movement brings you closer to the edge of the precipice. 

The way his mouth feels on you as he explores your body sends sparks of electricity racing through you. The way he feels inside you with each perfect, controlled movement lights you up like the sunrise after dark, warming you with its rays as you stare off the cliff edge and brace yourself for the impact. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks deeply into your eyes, something so sweet and pure in the action that your chest swells with emotion. His forehead touches yours as he moves in perfect time with your pounding heart. Suddenly you're falling, everything going past in a rush before crashing onto a sea of ecstasy, writhing and moaning until your climax subsides and his has joined in unison.

A tender kiss on your head, his arm winding around you, pulling you to him and encasing you in the perfect safety net is enough. Maybe he'll be your happily ever after, after all.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

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Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest  from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

My Queen - Aragorn x reader

Hi, can you write something with Aragorn where Arwen did sailed to the Undying Lands, and a couple of years after being crowbed he decided to visit his old friend (the reader) at her hometown because he realized he wanted her as his queen? 

of course @danihow​! thanks for your request! the easiest way for me to do this story was in a lot of short snapshots, if you will, so here!

Type: Imagine Pairing: Aragorn x reader Summary: once Arwen had left for the Undying Lands, Aragorn needed a Queen Warnings: tiny bit of angst Word Count: 1254 words

Aragorn twisted his rings around his fingers. They’d symbolised power and strength to other people, but right now, all he felt was lost. Weak. Broken.

He supposed that Arwen leaving was for the better. He would have broken her heart by dying far earlier than she, and she was destined for something better than a subservient queen. 

But he did need someone to reign at his side, and he had almost no time to find that person. 

Suddenly, he thought of Y/N Y/L/N. They’d parted ways only a few days ago, after their incredibly long quest to Mordor. She was simply a mortal woman, friend of Gandalf, but she was absolutely beautiful. 

Y/N held her own in battle admirably, and she had such warmness to her that made everyone feel so joyful.

He knew, then, that he wanted Y/N to be his Queen.

---

Y/N sighed, hiding in the massive crowds of people in Gondor, watching her friends of more than a year standing in full view. 

The hobbits. Gandalf. Gimli and Legolas. Aragorn.

Nothing hurt more than such a handsome man be so kind towards her, and she could do nothing, because he was already in love with someone else.

Y/N couldn’t stand to watch anymore. She turned, slipping away through the crowds. Sure, she was happy for them, but she should have put a stop to her immature feelings earlier. They could do nothing but cause pain.

Greeting Legolas, Aragorn thought he saw a familiar spot of h/l h/c hair in the masses, but it was lost just as quickly. 

He turned back to Legolas with his ready smile, but almost knowing how Y/N hadn’t wanted to be here, how she would be a week or a month’s journey away soon, broke his heart.

He couldn’t stand to greet the crowds any longer and, with a pain deep in his eyes, excused himself with some made-up duty, slipping away just as she had.

Just as his hope did.

---

Y/N slammed the tankard on the bar top with unnecessary force, but there was no anger in her eyes. A tear fell swiftly from her cheek, sinking into some crack in the wood of the table.

“Another.” She pushed a gold coin over the table. “Please.”

She drank and drank, until she could barely see her fingers before her face, dragging herself to a room in the inn and falling asleep.

The pain was worse, now that she was alone.

Why did you give me hope, if only to tear me down? she asked Aragorn mentally.

Of course, he didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t there, and he never would be.

She could’ve blamed Arwen so easily, but she didn’t. How could she, when all that she’d done was fall in love? No, better to blame herself. Better to bury that pain, deep where it could never be found again, where it could never hurt her again. 

Y/N had been stupid to think she had a chance at a future. She would never be more than this - broken. Crying. Lost.

She turned over so she was looking out the grimy window, at the night hidden by the thick fog falling over her home.

It didn’t feel like home. Home was Aragorn. But she obviously wasn’t that to him.

She couldn’t barge into his life like that - it wasn’t fair. She would rather be the one to suffer.

---

Aragorn swiped the fifth map off the table, slamming his hands back on the wood. They shook, and he cursed himself yet again, not caring when his advisors stared at him.

Why had he never, in the year he’d known her, asked Y/N where she lived?

She’d mentioned when they met in Rivendell that she lived around there, in a small fishing village, but Aragorn couldn’t find it. Of course, he didn’t want to go riding around that entire area like some prick of a Prince Charming looking for Cinderella - not that Y/N wasn’t a beautiful woman worthy of being loved.

But he supposed that if he really wanted Y/N, if he wanted to get those damn ‘advisors’ off his back as they harped on about a Queen yet again ...

“I could be gay,” he grumbled to himself, sweeping his old cloak over his shoulders with some element of satisfaction. “Did you ever consider that?”

“No, because you’ve been pining over Y/N for three years,” one of his advisors pointed out.

Aragorn rolled his eyes, removing his crown, his jewellery, anything that made him royal. He was Strider once again, and he was going to find Y/N, if it was the last thing he ever did. 

---

Y/N wrinkled her nose at the revolting smell of the decaying fish by the docks, walking as far away from the barrels as she could, with her arms filled with nets.

The pile in her arms was so high she couldn’t really see where she was going, and so it came as no surprise to her when she ran into someone. The force and suddenness of the collision threw Y/N off her feet, her body hitting the wooden deck hard, and her nets falling on top of her.

“I apologise,” a vaguely familiar voice said coolly, though all Y/N could see of the speaker was a silhouette. “Could you help me? I’m looking for-”

At that moment, the person who’d run her over brought her too her feet, taking the nets off her with a special delicacy.

“-Y/N Y/L/N,” they gasped, stumbling back. 

Y/N tilted her head to the side confusedly, taking in the person before her. They were covered in a dark cloak, the hood so large she couldn’t see their face. Judging by size, it was a man, probably mortal rather than Elf, but she didn’t know who he was.

“I’m sorry, do I know you ... sir?”

He threw back his hood, and this time it was Y/N’s turn to blanch, reeling back in shock at the man before her.

“Aragorn?” 

This had to be some cruel trick. It had been two years since the night she had almost drunk herself to death, giving him up along with her heart and happiness. There was no way he’d be here now.

“You haven’t changed,” he said, smiling melancholically. “I always painted you right in my dreams.”

“You dreamed about me?” Y/N asked, touched, as she took one step closer to him. As if he would disappear again.

“Every night.” Aragorn swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

He reached out his hand, and Y/N took it, letting him squeeze her fingers with silent promise.

“I’m sorry too,” she returned. “I was a coward for running away.”

“And I was an idiot for letting you go.”

Y/N had to laugh then, dropping his hand gently. “When did we get like this?”

“I don’t know,” Aragorn answered. “I really don’t. But ... I’m sorry. And I always loved you.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Y/N barely managed to say with all the blood rushing to her face. “Especially since I though you never did.”

“I still do.”

Y/N finally opened the dam of emotions - the pain and anger and sadness, but the overwhelming love topped it all. And she was far better for it.

“I want you to be my Queen, Y/N,” King Aragorn II Elessar declared, with a hilarious amount of formality for a stinky fish village.

“And I have never wished anything more.”

Y/N let him kiss her hand, and she let herself smile.

A/N - hey! i’ve had a shitty few days :) sorry for taking so long to update!

[catboymingi]

always there

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: fluff it’s pure fluff; best friends to lovers

word count: 3.4k

warnings: nausea/throwing up mention briefly (it’s the paragraph after y/n’s first period, so you can just skip that one entirely!)

some things take a little longer, but that doesn’t make them any worse.

mingi had been there for you all your life, being your neighbour ever since you were a baby. he was there for you at age four when you picked a fight with the kindergarten bully (who was a head taller than you) because he said your braids were stupid, and he was there to finish it when your lack of physical size made it seem like you were losing. he was almost angrier than you, because he loved your braids, and he had secretly asked his mother to teach him how to braid hair so he could give you braids even when you came into kindergarten without them. the last time when he got a reward for good behaviour from his parents (which was needed because he could be a real pain sometimes and needed a motivation to act better) he’d asked for colourful hairbands, because he thought you looked cute with them, and he’d seen his older sister always have a few around her wrist in case she’d want to put her hair up randomly, so he picked that habit up as well, having a few brightly coloured hairbands around his wrist at all times.

he was there when you got the grade’s best test for the first time, and when you continued to be better than any other classmates in your tests from then on, fuelled by the sense of accomplishment you’d felt, and he was prouder than your parents because yes, that was his best friend, his smart best friend.

he was there at age seven when you made a memory box and buried it deep in your garden, and he was convinced he would keep what he wrote on his ‘wish for the future’ note, even though he refused to tell you what it was because you were first supposed to know when you were eighteen, because that’s when people graduate and you’d decided the two of you would dig it back out once you had your graduation reports, and you put a sign on the place which you sternly told your parents had to stay until that exact day or you would move out and find new parents to adopt you.

mingi was there when you learned to do the splits at age nine, and he was next to you when you succeeded the first time. and then he was there when you insisted on teaching him, showing him all your stretches and what he had to do to be able to do the splits, painfully unaware of the fact that he had a... complication between his legs that you lacked. but all the days of sore muscles were worth it when he succeeded after weeks of trying, because the proud smile you gave him when he finally did a full splits made him forget about all the pain he’d ever felt.

he was there when you joined a dance team at age eleven, and he was the first one you showed the full choreography you’d learned, not your parents, or your dance teacher, but him. you were the reason he started dancing as well, because when he saw you get so lost in the music and when he saw how passionate you were, he just wanted to share this experience with you. so again, you taught him, spending late night talks during your pyjama parties (at times where you’d promised your parents you would definitely be asleep already - they knew better, but they were happy you were so close) laughing about how you were his personal trainer, and how he had to pay you in cookies. and he did, once more insisting his mother taught him something - this time how to bake your favourite cookies, with rainbow sprinkles and lemon frosting - and surprising you greatly when he came over with a massive box filled with these cookies.

mingi was there when you got your first period at age thirteen, running around shirtless until your parents came to pick you up from school because he had sacrificed his shirt to spare you the embarrassment of your bloodied pants being out in the open for all to see. this time he asked his older sister, because she was the one he’d ask about ‘girl things’ rather than ‘mum things’, insisting she tell him exactly what a period is like and what he could do to make you feel better, and even though he was a little squeamish about knowing there was so much blood involved he ignored that because he wanted you to feel well. as soon as his sister had informed him that it hurts, a lot, and that in her case heat and pressure helped, along with not having to move, and that she was very moody and had a lot of different cravings, mingi went off to the supermarket with the pocket money he’d saved to get himself a new game for his playstation and bought all your favourite snacks (they totalled to like 10€, but he was in all honesty willing to spend all 40€ for you), ringing on your doorbell and telling your mother he was there to take care of you now, which earned him the sweetest smile from her. she adored him, as did everyone who saw how he was ready to do anything for you, who saw how close you were. so she let him in, and he took the route to your room which he knew as well as the route to his own, which he could walk even when he was very tired and it was very dark, and plopped himself on top of you, hugging you tightly and saying that he wasn’t going to let go of you until you felt better, blissfully unaware of the fact that your periods would last eight days, regularly, eight days of suffering, but also eight days of being babied by your best friend.

he was there when your pain got so bad that you had to throw up, following you to the bathroom even though it was really gross and holding back your hair (that he still loved to braid) and rubbing your back and doing all he could to make you feel better. he still had those hairbands around his wrist from when you were four and he’d asked his mother to teach him how to braid hair, and they came in handy now when he carefully tied your hair back so it wouldn’t get in the way in case you had to throw up again.

mingi was there to bail you out of detention at age fifteen, which you’d only gotten because you beat up a guy at least a head taller than you and twice your weight but surprised by your determination when said guy had said that your best friend was ugly and stupid and that he’d never get a girlfriend with that face of his.

“say something like that again and you’ll be lucky if you even still have a face people can recognise”, you threatened, and his nose had been bleeding a lot and he’d had several scratches from when you used your long girl nails to your advantage and as a weapon (you knew being scratched with them really hurt because mingi had informed you about that fact one time you accidentally scratched him bloody when trying to pry something from his hands). you were supposed to get a week’s worth of detention, but your best friend, who secretly would’ve done the same for you, convinced the teachers that you’d never do it again and convinced you to - insincerely, but you knew how to fake - apologise to the dude that had just gotten a thorough ass beating, and a few pleading puppy eyed looks later you were free to go home.

he was there on your eighteenth birthday when the two of you decided to go to a club because now you were both allowed to (he’d turned eighteen a few weeks ago, but had waited with this experience because it wouldn’t be as fun without you), and he was there to beat up some dude way older than you that in his drunk haze had tried to grope you, seeing red and resulting in the two of you getting kicked out but you didn’t want to stay there anymore anyway, you wanted to go home and watch a silly rom-com with him as you usually did, knowing that with him nothing bad would happen. he took you home, knuckles bruised but insisting it wasn’t a big deal and that that guy had it coming, and you spent the night cuddled into each other as he braided your hair again, something he’d gotten even better than his mother at during the years, knowing all kinds of fancy braids.

mingi was there on your prom, the day of your graduation, having asked you to be his friend-date because he knew he wouldn’t want to go with anyone else, even though there were certainly girls who hoped he’d finally get over his obsession with you. and you’d agreed because you felt the same way, and you didn’t regret it one bit when he came over to pick you up in a tux, looking fancier and more handsome than you’d ever seen him look even though he seemed so embarrassed. he treated you like a princess all night, dancing with you and swirling you around and running off briefly when you told him your feet hurt from your heels only to return with a pair of sneakers he’d put on the backseat of his father’s car because he had once again asked his sister about what to keep in mind, and she’d informed him that you’d wish you’d brought sneakers after latest two hours of prom in the murder machines called high heels. and of course he’d brought sneakers, then, thoughtful as he was, and he insisted on putting them on for you like the prince had done with cinderella, and after that you kept dancing with him, grinning widely and convinced that no one else at this prom had a better date than you because that simply wasn’t possible.

then, when you were tired from dancing, he french-braided your hair, and neither of you cared that he’d put in a neon pink hairband which didn’t at all match the formal attire you were wearing, because it was mingi and you’d have accepted whatever he put into your hair, you just loved him like that.

he was there that same night, four in the morning, when you’d returned from prom and changed into pyjamas and sneaked into the garden to dig out the memory box you buried when you were seven, and even though he was so embarrassed about what he’d written down back then he still wished for it, and he thought that maybe he could tell you, now, and make his wish become a reality. the sign you’d put was still where you’d put it, falling apart slowly due to the years, but you didn’t pay it much mind as you dug out the little metal box. you laughed when you saw the things you’d put in there, each of you having put a 2€ coin which back then felt like a huge amount of money because seven-year-olds don’t know how the adult world works yet, and which you’d put as “savings for your first home together”. most other items were equally silly, and it was first when it came to the little notes with your wishes that mingi started being quiet, and you noticed immediately, of course you did, worrying a little.

“are you okay?” he nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t.

“do you want me to just ignore these notes? we can do that, you know, it’s all fine.” but he didn’t want you to, part of him really wanted you to read seven-year-old mingi’s wish, because it was still just as true. he just wanted to read yours first.

you’d wished for mingi and you to be best friends forever and ever and ever, and he smiled. it wasn’t exactly like his wish, but at least you’d wished for him to be in your future as well.

“can i read yours now?”, you asked softly, still wanting to make sure that he absolutely didn’t mind and that it wouldn’t make him feel bad, caring for him as you always did.

“go ahead.” he was nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, a habit he’d had ever since you were young and you’d started stealing his clothes and wearing them better than him, and you took the flashlight from his hands to be able to see what he’d written.

“seven-year-old you had an awful handwriting”, you told him, “it’ll take me a while to decipher these hieroglyphics.” but you were smiling at him before your brows furrowed in concentration, trying really hard to see just what he had written, but it was impossible, single letters being the most you could make out.

“i’m sorry”, you told him, because now you wouldn’t even know his wish for the future and that kind of made you sad. you didn’t know if mingi still remembered it, either, so you feared it was lost, that seven-year-old mingi’s wish would remain nothing but a wish, unlike yours.

“i remember what i wrote”, he informed you quietly, and, when he saw your sad expression, told you: “i wrote that i want to marry you when we’re big.” you looked at him surprised, face half-lit by the flashlight which you were now pointing directly at him because you weren’t really paying attention to the item in your hand after what he’d said, and which you first thought to lower once he was covering his eyes to prevent being blinded.

“i’m sorry!”, you exclaimed before pointing it at his stomach, wanting to still be able to see his face but most definitely not wanting to blind him. then you looked at him, and he looked so vulnerable there that you just wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him as you always did.

“i still kind of do.” his voice was even more quiet now, and you knew he wasn’t joking by his tone, because you knew the way his voice sounded with any feeling he felt, because you’d seen them all, been there with him through them all. and this was the voice he’d used that time he told you that he couldn’t come to your birthday party because he was sick, even though you’d planned a big exciting getaway with him, complete with going to the movies and the arcade and getting late-night ice cream and everything. you’d just come over to his place that time, spending the day in bed with him and he promised he’d make up for it later, but this voice was the ‘i’m scared i’m about to make you feel really really bad’ voice he used when he didn’t yet know things would be okay. like now.

“i know we’ve always just been best friends, but you’ve always been the only girl i could imagine myself growing old with. and the older i got, the more i realised that i just really want to grow old with you.” you nodded, showing him that you’d heard him while you thought of what to say. you had definitely thought of him similarly, and while you thought it was normal best friend behaviour to want to grow up with no one but your other half it occured to you now that you maybe just hadn’t noticed yourself falling for him, because it had happened so gradually. but he’d always been there, through everything, and you wanted him to always be there through the rest, too.

“i don’t think i want to marry you”, you told him slowly, and his face fell for a second before you continued, “yet. you’re just my best friend, and i think marrying you right away would be a little hasty. also our parents would kill us.” you managed to make him smile with that, the smile you loved so much, the smile that always managed to make you smile as well, no matter how bad you felt.

“maybe we should start with dating and see where that takes us?” you saw the surprise on his face, being able to tell from his expression that he hadn’t expected anything like this, and you knew he was going to double check. and he did, of course he did, because this was mingi and you knew him and knew how he acted, because you knew him better than anyone else.

“you really want to date me?”

you nodded. “there’s never really been anyone else, i guess. even though i didn’t realise. but you’ve always been so perfect and i knew no one would be able to reach your standards, so i didn’t even bother. really, who else would learn how to french-braid or do the splits for me?” you smiled at him, taking one of his hands into yours and squeezing it gently, softly.

“i think everyone’s been seeing us as a couple anyway”, you then added, laughing at how you literally went to prom with him as your date and still thought you were just doing normal best friend things. and he laughed as well, the anxiety that had built up in his chest slowly disappearing because you were right, because whenever you went to a restaurant or anything with him they’d address you as his girlfriend, and though you’d always laugh about it that’d secretly make his heart skip a few beats ever since it first happened.

“so are we?”, he checked again, but because it was late and your mind was clouded by happiness and sleepiness you didn’t immediately get what he meant.

“are we what?” your eyes were big and round and looking at him confused and he wanted to hold you, to protect you, to never let go of you ever again. and he wanted to kiss you, for the first time not scared about that thought and the implications it held for your friendship.

“a couple? now?” you could tell he was embarrassed, but he was so adorable, so beautiful and soft and he was the only boy you’d ever had eyes for, and you didn’t have to think twice about what to answer.

“if you want?” and you knew that he’d misinterpret this as you doing it for his sake only, so before he could reply to that you added: “i’d love it”, and you smiled at him with your eyes competing with the stars in how bright they were shining, and if mingi had to pick who was shining brighter and more beautifully his choice would be you, without a doubt.

“i want. and i want to kiss you, too.” but he didn’t do it, no matter how much he wanted to, not until you’d verbally confirmed that he could, because even though you were probably his girlfriend now he wasn’t going to assume that you’d want the same things he wanted, he was going to make sure that everything he did would always be okay with you, he was going to protect you from all the hurt in the world.

but as soon as you told him he could he pulled you in, not wasting a single second as he placed his lips on yours softly, still careful, still scared he might hurt you. but he didn’t have to worry, you only pulling away so you could move onto his lap because the sitting knee-to-knee opposite each other kind of position wasn’t the best for comfortably kissing and also because you wanted to be closer to him. the flashlight was rolling somewhere on the ground behind you two as you dropped it, because you’d much rather have mingi’s soft hair in your hands, and when the two of you felt like you’d kissed enough to make up for years of unspoken feelings you leaned your foreheads against each other, and you got the chance to look into his beautiful, beautiful brown eyes, the eyes that always made you feel so warm and safe.

“i’m your girlfriend”, you told him quietly, to confirm it to both him and yourself because it still felt so unreal.

he started smiling widely, and though you weren’t able to clearly see it due to the flashlight pointing anywhere but to the two of you you could hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his grip around you tightened ever so slightly.

“you’re my everything.”

[carewyncromwell]

Judging by this picture of what looks like a stained glass slipper, I’d say we’re about to continue the Cinderella AU!

One of the best ways to deal with an anxiety attack is to ground oneself in the present situation. A common technique is the 54321 Method, which Carewyn doesn’t display here, but she does end up (without realizing it) evoking the idea of grounding by accenting her physical presence and encouraging Orion to take deep breaths. 

All of the lines Orion spouts while Carewyn runs away are ones the Prince in Disney’s animated version of Cinderella cries, when his mysterious lady love runs from him. It amuses me to no end how in so many magical Cinderella adaptations, it takes whole minutes for the clock to strike twelve -- in the case of the animated/live action Disney versions, so many that we even get a full chase scene for the pumpkin coach in that time. 😂

Trigger warning for a brief mention of suicidal thoughts. 

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Orion led Carewyn down the hall at a run, unable to break free of the happy adrenaline that pulsed through him. Some people in the hall outside the ballroom eyed the young king and his enchantingly striking partner curiously as they passed, but neither of the two paid them much mind. Orion rounded a corner with Carewyn, passing a large gold-trimmed grandfather clock as it tolled 11. Once they’d gotten around the corner, he opened a wall and pulled her into the secret passage behind it, out of sight from anyone who might pursue them. 

Once through the passage, Orion dashed up a flight of stairs with Carewyn, up, up, up, toward the upper levels. At last, when they reached the top of the stairs, he opened another passage, which opened up onto the landing of the battlements on the top floor of Florence’s castle. 

The cold winter wind gushed around them, tiny traces of snowflakes trailing through the air as Carewyn and Orion stepped out. As soon as they were outside, Carewyn gave a start at the odd smell that touched her nose. Curious, she moved out to the edge of the ramparts -- and she gasped.

The sea. 

The odd smell was the salt of the spray from the Southern Sea, only a few miles from the back of Florence’s palace. It was so dark out that Carewyn could hardly see the lightless buildings between the palace and sea, and yet she could still make out the ethereal white sea foam in its grayish black depths. Its waves rushed at the shore, sounding like some kind of resonating whisper that never needed extra breath to sustain itself, and its growing and shrinking waves sparkled in the moonlight. 

Carewyn exhaled, her lips spread into a wide open smile of awe. Orion came up behind her, watching her. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Carewyn couldn’t take her eyes off of it. “It’s...it’s breathtaking.”

Orion slowly approached her, his eyes trailing along her shoulder and down her back with an oddly unreadable look. Once he’d come up just behind her, he very slowly extended a hand. It lingered uncertainly in mid-air for a moment, before it tentatively made contact with her back, exposed by the cut of her dress.

Carewyn flinched, unable to hold back a gasp of both surprise and pain. Orion pulled his hand away at once.

“Forgive me,” he said. His voice betrayed some anxiety.

Carewyn looked at him. Orion’s unflappable face had lost a lot of its color under his mask and his black eyes flickered the way her white horse’s would when it was nervous. 

“I can't see any injuries,” he explained, “but I can feel them there all the same.”

His eyes narrowed a bit upon her face.

“...Who...who delivered those lashes to your back?”

Carewyn’s blue eyes rippled with sorrow. “Orion -- ”

“Who?” Orion asked again. His voice was tenser than she’d ever heard it. 

Carewyn couldn’t look him in the eye. She tore her gaze away, looking out toward the sea again as she clutched the railing with both hands. 

“...My grandfather,” she said at last, very softly. “I...‘acted inappropriately.’”

Orion did not respond. The silence dragged, to the point that it had become deafening. When Carewyn finally felt brave enough to look back over at Orion, she saw that he’d migrated to the railing himself a short ways away, clasping his hands very tightly together as he looked out at the sea. His head was bowed, his face largely obscured by the darkness, but he was taking very deep, heavy breaths. 

Carewyn’s heart clenched. She moved to him, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder. 

“Orion, I’m -- ”

“Don’t say you’re all right.”

Orion’s voice was very soft, but harder than Carewyn had ever heard it before. It made her stiffen, her grip on his shoulder faltering -- her partial withdrawal seemed to affect Orion, making him whirl around and seize her hand in both of his, as if desperate to keep her close. 

“A whip is a tool only used to cause pain -- a tool with no other use besides that,” he said. He spoke in a faster, tenser voice than normal: one that, although misty as ever, was turbulent in a way Carewyn had never heard. “Therefore it can never be used to spark any good in this world. It leaves scars that never heal -- that designate you as subhuman and your suffering as insignificant -- that make people cringe at the sight of them, wondering what crime you’ve committed or what lowly status you must be, to have earned them, when truly it says more about the person who inflicted them on you than it ever could you -- ”

“Orion...” Carewyn whispered.

Orion’s eyes were flashing with an odd emotion, one hard and blazing like a flame under a shell of hard black diamond. It took Carewyn a moment to realize it was anger. 

“You’re so strong,” he said, his shaking voice very hushed and rambling even as his breathing grew more irregular. “You’ve always been so resilient, and I don’t want to demean that, but -- but you shouldn’t have to be that strong! You shouldn’t have to downplay the suffering you’ve gone through! You shouldn’t have to stay locked in the dragon’s keep and endure, and I shouldn’t have -- ”

He choked. His black eyes pulsed with emotion as he clutched more desperately at her hand and he gasped for air. 

“ -- I never should’ve left you to him! I should’ve taken you away, far away, regardless of what you told me, regardless of the consequences, regardless of what your family or our countries or anyone else might do or say -- ”

“Orion!”

Carewyn pulled her hand out of his and brought both of her hands up to his face, cradling his cheeks. Orion trembled in her hold, breathing very heavily and his hands clutching at the air in front of him. 

“Orion,” she whispered, “shhh...shh, shh...”

She moved in, placing her forehead against his.

“Breathe,” she said as gently as she could, slowing her breath and speech down to try to  subconsciously encourage him to follow suit. “Breathe...I’m here...I’m here...”

Orion inhaled and exhaled shakily. At first his eyes were locked on hers, flaring with more of that anger, anguish, and anxiety -- then they fluttered shut, and he threw his arms out to wrap both of them around her, cradling her against him with his arms crossed over her back and clutching at her shoulders. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to follow her rhythm as he focused on the softness of her skin and the warmth of her voice. 

Finally, after a few minutes, Orion had finally regained his center of balance, his breathing softening and returning to a normal rate. He exhaled heavily through his nose, opening his eyes again to look at her. 

Carewyn offered him a weak smile, both feeling relieved that he looked better and wanting to comfort him, but Orion’s face -- although once again calm -- still looked very grim as he pulled back only just enough that their foreheads were no longer touching. His gaze trailed over her smile and then around her eyes, dipping into the corners. 

“Can you ever forgive me?” he murmured. 

“Forgive you?” repeated Carewyn, upset. “For what?”

“Everything. For not fighting for you, for not being able to help you fight off your beast, as I promised...for being the son of the man who led the army who killed your brother...”

“Orion,” Carewyn said very firmly, “your father had no hand in Jacob’s death. He died long before he ever saw battle. And I told you to go. It’s a good thing you did. If you hadn’t gone, then you wouldn’t have been able to convince the King and Queen to come here, to consider peace...”

She trailed her thumbs gently along his cheeks. 

“I should be the one apologizing to you. I should’ve told you what I really was a lot sooner.”

“I don’t think you lied anymore than I did, my lady,” Orion said rather coolly. 

“It’s not the same thing,” Carewyn insisted. “Every lie you told you told so that you could pursue diplomacy and peace. Every lie I told...I told out of shame. I’d only pretended to be a lady to help get you out of trouble, at the start, but then afterwards...well...I didn’t want you to look at me differently...even though I knew deep down you would, once you learned the truth.”

Orion reached out his hands and, mirroring Carewyn, took hold of her face tentatively in return. 

“You’re right,” said Orion. “I do see you differently.”

He leaned in, touching her forehead with his again. 

“Before, I merely saw you as a wonderful contradiction -- a lady who was born to a family of wealth and cruelty and yet was kind and selfless almost to a fault. Now...I see you as akin to a diamond: a sparkling, precious gem, fashioned only under the hardest, most unforgiving pressure and more resilient than nearly anything else on Earth.”

Orion moved in even closer, so that their noses touched.

“A gem symbolic of purity and light...of perfection itself,” he murmured.

His gaze flitted from her eyes to her lips and back. Although he’d moved in close enough to kiss her, however, he hesitated. 

Carewyn could sense his intent, and her cheeks darkened with a blush as her gaze fell down to his lips. 

“I hardly think I’m perfect, your Grace.”

Orion sighed, his lips spreading into a slightly tired smile. “Your standards truly are exhausting, my lady. If you cannot meet them, I know that I surely never will...”

He made as if to pull back, but Carewyn held his face in place. Her eyes met his again, rippling with an intensity they didn’t have before. 

“You needn’t worry about meeting my standards, Orion Cosimo Amari,” she said softly. “You clear them...easily.”

And before Orion knew what was happening, she’d leaned in and placed her lips up to his jawline in a tender, lingering kiss.

She pulled back after about five seconds, her eyes shining warmly up at him despite the seriousness of her face. 

“I cannot stay,” she murmured, “but -- ”

Before she could say another word, Orion -- his black eyes shining with a desperate kind of longing -- tilted her head up and swooped down to cover her lips with his own. His breathing through his nose was soft but heated as he cradled her face in both of his hands, cherishing the feeling of her lips on his and being enveloped in her arms. 

He broke the kiss after about thirty seconds, his black eyes half-lidded on her face.

“Carewyn, I...”

Carewyn briefly rested her forehead against his, her own face tinged with a warm flush under her robin mask, before reluctantly pulling back.

“I can’t stay,” she repeated even more gently. “The illusion the Baroness gave me will fade at midnight -- so just...just stay here. Away from the ballroom. At least until after midnight...by then, the spell Rakepick cast on you will have worn off.”

Orion’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“When the lady dressed as a lioness ‘mistook me for someone else,’” he said slowly, “she’d placed a spell circle on my back. Is that so?”

Carewyn nodded. “The spell’s terms were that you’d be targeted by every weapon in the ballroom. So long as you don’t return there until after midnight...you’ll be safe.”

“But I was there with you before, and I was not harmed,” said Orion with a frown.

“The spell can only affect you. Jae guessed that if anyone else would get hurt when the weapons attacked you, then the spell wouldn’t activate...so he and his comrades, and Talbott and Badeea, they served as human shields...”

“...As did you,” Orion whispered, his eyes widening in realization. “When you kept stepping in front of me and staying close to me, while we were dancing...you were protecting me.”

Carewyn offered a rather self-effacing smile. Orion’s hands quickly returned to the sides of her neck, cradling her jawline. 

“Carewyn....” he said, his calm voice touched with both adoration and the slightest edge of anxiety, “you saved my life. All while not knowing for certain that you throwing yourself in front of me wouldn’t result in you being harmed...”

“Well, I certainly hoped I wouldn’t be,” said Carewyn, attempting dry humor. “I couldn’t exactly make sure that Lord Malfoy and my grandfather wouldn’t hurt you if I’d died...”

Seeing the look on Orion’s face, she then became much more serious.

“Orion...after I learned the truth about Jacob...when I was back at the Cromwell estate...I lost myself. I lost my drive, my spirit...my reason for living. Everything I was, and everything I thought I knew, both about myself and about the path I’ve always walked.”

Her eyes fell down to Orion’s shoulder, becoming darker.

“Knowing that Jacob, the only thing in my life that gave me a reason to keep fighting and keep enduring, was dead...I lost all will to live. I didn’t just feel like I deserved to die...I actually wanted to. I deluded myself into thinking that at least then, the pain would stop. At least then...I could be with Jacob and Mum again.”

Her lips then spread into the saddest, softest smile. 

“...But when your note arrived...when I read your words, reminding me of the song you taught me...even after all of the lies, even after I pushed you away, even though you were set to be crowned King and I’d never see you again...it reminded me of how much joy I’ve known, even without Jacob there with me. The memory of you, and my friends, helped pull me out of that despair. And then when I found out what Grandfather wanted to do to you -- found out that he planned to destroy you and everything you’d ever dreamed of, for Florence and Royaume...I couldn’t do nothing, I just couldn’t.”

Her eyes gained a stronger, more passionate glint as she met his again. 

“You saved my life, Orion. You helped me fight my beast, just like you promised. You gave me hope when I was most ready to throw everything away.”

Orion’s black eyes were very wide upon her face. As he stared at her, his eyes softened, melting in a strange blend of sadness, affection, and pride. 

“Carewyn...”

Carewyn leaned in to kiss him chastely on the lips. 

“I know it’d be impossible for us to make a life together,” she said seriously, “but I told you I’d fight for you...and I always will.”

Orion considered her for a long moment. Carewyn found herself straining to hear any sound from below -- any marking of the time -- it had been 11, before they’d headed upstairs --

“I must go,” she said yet again.

But when she made as if to leave, Orion clutched her hands in his.

“Please,” he implored her, “stay.”

“I can’t,” said Carewyn. 

“You will be safe here in Florence. I wouldn’t allow Charles Cromwell to get within ten feet of you again -- ”

“Grandfather can’t know I’ve been here,” Carewyn said very firmly. “The King and Queen of Royaume have treated him as a confidante for years -- he’s invested a lot of money to make sure they rely on him. As long as our family’s money and status are intact -- as long as Grandfather’s place at their side is intact -- he will have their ear, and they will trust his word. And I know Grandfather will use every penny he has to sabotage your efforts for peace, until his dying breath. Imagine how he’d twist you ‘kidnapping’ his precious granddaughter and turning her against her own family. Don’t forget: the last time Florence harbored a fugitive from Royaume, we got a War that’s lasted fifty years.”

Her eyes narrowed. 

“So...I must return to Royaume. I must make sure that the King and Queen have no idea that Bill and the others helped me get here with one of their coaches without their permission. I must make sure that Grandfather has no idea I was ever here.”

Orion’s face was full of pain as he squeezed her hands. “Carewyn, I can’t let you return to him -- ”

“I won’t,” said Carewyn. Her lips spread into a smile. “Don’t you understand? You gave me my life. The Baroness and Talbott broke me out of my tower, and I’m never going back. As far as Grandfather will know...I simply escaped while he and my family were away.”

Orion’s eyes widened. Then they softened visibly. “...Just as KC and Bill Weasley originally planned.”

Carewyn beamed. “And just as my mother did, before me. It might not be easy for me to be on my own, but I know I’ll find a place somewhere, to make my own way. And maybe when you and King Henri are able to make peace...I’ll be able to find my way back to you again.”

Orion’s black eyes melted, gaining a proud warmth. In a spontaneous move, he swept in again and kissed her fully, heatedly. Carewyn brought a hand up to the back of his head, cradling the base of it under his ponytail -- after a wonderful, soft moment, she used the grip to gently break the kiss. 

Orion smiled almost shyly. 

“Forgive me,” he said. “In that moment, you just looked so beautiful.”

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “I'm under an illusion, Orion.”

Orion shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. However surreal your appearance is, your eyes blazed with such courage...like a wild stallion, fearlessly running through an open field with no fences.”

He kissed her again, more chastely. 

“It was stunning.”

Carewyn smiled through a dark blush, her eyes closing modestly. 

“...How do I look to you, exactly?” she couldn’t help but ask. 

Orion beamed, his black eyes sparkling under his magpie mask. “Like Artemis.”

Carewyn blinked in surprise. 

“Shining white hair, a smile kissed by mischief...paler than the moon, with eyes that shine like stars.” Orion’s grin broadened. “You look how I always imagined the goddess Artemis to look, when I heard the tale of her and the hunter Orion as a boy.”

Carewyn’s lips spread into a broader, emotional smile. Somewhere down below, she just barely caught the sound of a bell, and her smile flickered and died at once. She immediately bolted for the door to the secret passage, but Orion stopped her again.

“11:45, my lady,” he said soothingly. 

“It took us a good ten minutes to get up here,” said Carewyn. “I must go now -- ”

“Then we’ll go back together.”

He took her hand and followed along behind as she ran back down the stairs of the secret passage, back toward the ground floor. Despite herself, Carewyn kept trying to shake him off. 

“Orion, you should stay here -- I can make it back to the ballroom by myself -- ”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Grandfather and Lord Malfoy will be looking for you -- if you stay here, in this passage, they probably won’t find you -- ”

“Probably.”

Even with his placid agreements, he remained at her side. Once they reached the end of the passage, Carewyn whirled on him, putting her hands up to his chest to stop him. 

“I must go on alone from here,” she said very firmly.

“Must you?” asked Orion. 

“It’s nearly midnight...just wait until the twelfth strike, and you’ll be safe -- ”

“And yet you will not be, if you’re still here,” Orion said very solemnly. “I can’t let Charles Cromwell or Lord Malfoy stop you from leaving -- they’ll know it was you, who kept me from the ballroom...”

“Orion, there’s no time!” said Carewyn anxiously. “The only way I can get back to the coach in time is through the ballroom. I won’t be able to shield you -- if you enter the ballroom before midnight, you’ll die.”

Orion’s eyes had grown very small and dark with thought. Then, little by little, they lit up with an idea. 

“Carewyn,” he said seriously, “run away from me.”

Carewyn’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Run away, when I pursue you. No matter what I say or do, while I chase you...no matter what happens, just keep running for the carriage. Ride back to Royaume, and don’t look back.”

His black eyes were very serious. 

“Promise me.”

Carewyn was stricken. Her face had lost a lot of its color as she clutched the front of his white-feathered doublet. 

“No! No, I can’t -- ”

“It will be all right, Carewyn,” Orion soothed her. 

“It can’t be all right!” she argued. “If you follow me, you’ll die -- !”

“The weapons in the ballroom will target me, yes,” said Orion. “But I’ll have a keen eye open for them, and I shall dodge them...just as you helped me dodge them before.”

“You can’t possibly dodge them all, even if Jae and the others are still in there!” Carewyn was beside herself, her hands clasping desperately at his chest. “Orion, I can’t let you -- ”

“It must be done, Carewyn,” whispered Orion gently. 

“Orion, I can’t lose you!” Carewyn implored him. Her eyes were flooding with tears. “Orion, please -- I can’t -- ”

Orion, mirroring a gesture Carewyn had used before, clutched the back of her head, cradling it gently, and he placed a tender kiss to the crook of her neck. 

“It will be all right, Carewyn,” he murmured against her skin. “Trust me.”

Carewyn felt sick. She knew every second she hesitated was one less than she needed to get back to the coach, where Bill, Charlie, Talbott, and Badeea were no doubt waiting, and yet her fear for Orion’s safety threatened her very stability. She’d done everything she could to try to protect him, the way she couldn’t for Jacob -- if she lost him too, she didn’t know what she’d do...

She looked into his gentle, calm eyes, vainly trying to fight back her tears. Despite the painful lump in her throat and the clenching of her heart, she saw the lack of fear in his features -- the man who, not long ago, had been so anxious he could hardly breathe was absolutely fearless in the face of Death. 

Carewyn Cromwell didn’t trust anyone. She’d never had faith in anyone...not since she’d lost Jacob and been enslaved to Charles Cromwell, a man who trusted and believed in no one but himself...

And yet in this moment -- as impossible as she knew it would be for her to do -- she knew she had to try. 

And so, her eyes streaming with tears, she swept in and kissed Orion fully. She caressed his face, trailing a hand through the bangs under his coronet, as he clutched the back of her head tenderly. 

After a minute, they broke apart, and Carewyn pushed open the door of the secret passage, dashing back out into the hallway, straight for the ballroom. After giving her a minute’s head start, Orion started his pursuit, calling after her. 

“No, wait -- come back!”

Following Orion’s instructions, Carewyn didn’t stop. She ran down the hall, right through a crowd of people and back toward the ballroom, as he chased after her. 

“Please come back!”

Orion’s voice sounded odd in Carewyn’s ears. Such words would normally have sounded tense, breathier, anxious -- but instead, every word rang out very clearly. 

As Carewyn made her first step into the ballroom, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back. Seeing her hesitation, Orion raised his voice.

“I don’t even know your name -- how will I find you?”

The completely out-of-character sentence shocked Carewyn back to her senses. 

This was an act. This was a ploy -- another lie, for them to get them to their goal. He wanted everyone to hear him. He wanted to make it sound like he didn’t know who she was, but that he didn’t want her to leave, like he was trying to stop her from going. Carewyn just wasn’t sure exactly why...

In that moment, however, she knew that didn’t matter. And so she ran, even despite the fear thumping in her chest. She could see Jae pushing through the crowd, trying to reach Orion’s side -- from the other side of the ballroom came Barnaby and Tulip. 

As Orion dashed through the ballroom, Carewyn could see many figures all over the room stiffening abruptly, their eyes glowing red as they faced Orion. Her heart seized up with terror as she ran, looking back constantly despite herself.

Jae, please -- please, reach him -- !

BANG. 

The first gunshot came from the far left side of the ballroom, fired from one of Royaume’s lesser lord’s pistols. Orion was able to dodge it by ducking around a pillar. 

As the ballroom devolved into terrified screams and Jae and the other bandits tried to hold off and overpower as many of the armed Royaumanian lords and ladies as possible, more gunshots rang out from other sides of the room. 

BANG. BANG. BANG. 

Orion dodged both the gunshots and the fleeing masses with artful grace by sliding underneath the refreshment table, his eyes returning to Carewyn.

“Wait! Please, wait!”

Carewyn’s heart clenched at the sight of Orion avoiding the shots. Once again, he proved himself to be so much more than he first appeared --

Still, though, he was catching up -- and, Carewyn realized, the faster she could get across the ballroom, the faster she could get Orion out of harm’s way. 

And so she pushed through the crowd, running as fast as she could. She pushed right past KC and McNully, both of whom gave her confused looks, but nonetheless seemed to have caught on. Thanks to Jae, they were enough in the loop to know Orion was in trouble, and although they didn’t understand Orion’s ploy, they knew better than to prevent Carewyn from leaving. 

BANG. BANG. 

As people ran to try to avoid the gunshots that would never have hit them anyway, Carewyn tried desperately not to look back. She couldn’t afford that hesitation. 

I can’t let him die -- I can’t -- 

“Halt!”

In the midst of all the mayhem, someone seized Carewyn’s arm, yanking her back. Carewyn whirled around, her face losing all of its color at the sight of white-blond-haired, albino-peacock-dressed Lord Malfoy. 

“His Majesty ordered you to stop,” he said in a very dangerous voice, his gray eyes flaring with loathing. 

Carewyn’s heart flared with terror and she wrenched against Lord Malfoy’s grip, desperately trying to get free. 

“Let go! Let me go!”

Orion, seeing Carewyn’s distress, tried to dash over. Unfortunately his distraction had caused him to ignore his surroundings.

“NO!” screamed Andre. 

It was only thanks to the Prince of Royaume that King Henri’s ceremonial blade was not plunged through Orion’s chest. Instead it slashed his side, causing him to hunch in on himself with a sharp hiss of pain.

Orion getting injured, even superficially, made Carewyn’s eyes lose all of their light. 

“NO!” she screamed. “NO!”

And to make matters worse, somewhere underneath the sound of panicked screaming, there was a terrible BONG of a clock tolling the hour.

It was midnight. 

Carewyn lashed out against Lord Malfoy’s grip, but he held fast, his teeth bared. 

“A lady with the ability to enchant a King enough to lead him to his doom,” he hissed, as the clock made its second strike. “Clearly you are behind this conspiracy -- ”

BONG. Carewyn could feel her face tingling, and she fought harder against his grip. As Malfoy glared down at her, his eyes seemed to slowly widen -- the illusion around her face was flickering like a candle, making her real hair and eye color at points easier to see.

“What...?”

BAM. 

Out of nowhere, Bill Weasley -- his face obscured by his antler-decorated stag mask -- had appeared and punched Lord Malfoy right in the face. The strike was so strong that it knocked him completely off his feet and forced him to let go of Carewyn. 

Andre had successfully put the King of Royaume in a headlock to restrain him. Erika, who KC and McNully had both flagged so as to prevent her from being affected too, pulled out her own ceremonial sword to forcibly disarm the King. As King Henri blinked rapidly and shook his head, Erika shouted at Orion over her shoulder as loudly as she could over the fifth stroke of midnight. 

“Get out of here, King Cosimo!” 

Orion, his hand sliding off of his side, turned his focus back to Carewyn and plowed after her just as before. 

“Wait!” he cried again, echoing his earlier sentiment as if nothing had happened. 

Bill grabbed hold of Carewyn. “We can’t wait -- the Cromwells already left, but Malfoy and Rakepick -- ”

“I know!” said Carewyn, her voice fiercer than she meant. “Come on!”

Carewyn broke back out into a run out of the ballroom, Bill at her heels. Bill pushed and shoved their way through the hallway full of people, clearing a path for Carewyn as the clock struck eight. 

Despite the shallow wound to his chest, Orion kept running after them, continuing to play his ruse. Lord Malfoy, having recovered from Bill’s punch at last, likewise tried to pursue, but before long he found himself circumvented by Skye not-so-subtly tackling him to the ground. 

“Don’t want you getting shot, Lord Malfoy,” she said in a voice that clearly communicated that she wouldn’t have minded one bit if he had been. 

Bill and Carewyn finally made it out the front doors to the top of the grand stairs when the clock struck ten. It was also there that they were halted again, this time by Rakepick stepping on the wide skirt of Carewyn’s gown. The movement made Carewyn lose her footing, making one of her stained glass slippers come off as she stumbled down the stairs. Rakepick then took advantage of her disturbed balance to grab her by the wrist and hoist her back up onto her feet. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” said Rakepick, her voice dripping with disdain. 

Carewyn brought a hand up as if to smack her, only for it to be caught too. Bill halted and backtracked back up the stairs, his brown eyes flaring. 

But when Rakepick looked Carewyn in the face, the illusion flickering and dying before her eyes, she stilled, her face losing all of its color.  

“You,” she whispered in an oddly fragile voice. 

BONG. 

At long last, the final stroke of midnight had come. Carewyn was exposed, recognized, by the magician her grandfather had hired, even despite her best efforts. 

But before Carewyn could even think of doing anything, Bill wrenched Rakepick off of his friend with one hand and threw her to the ground. Then he looped an arm around Carewyn’s waist, hoisting her up as if she were his little sister, Ginny, and ferried her right off her feet to the coach. Once he’d handed her off to Talbott and Badeea inside, Bill leapt up onto the boot. 

“Go, now!”

Charlie in the driver’s seat barely needed any encouragement -- he flicked the reins and set the horses off at a run before the coach door was even securely closed. 

Rakepick stared after the coach from her place sprawled out on the stairs, stunned. She didn’t even see Orion watch it go himself from the top of the stairs with a smile. 

Once Carewyn’s coach was out of sight, Orion looked around, and a sparkle of orange diamond and shimmering paint caught his eye. When he looked down, he found Carewyn’s discarded “stained glass” slipper sitting innocently on its side at the top of the stair. He wiped the small amount of blood on his hand off on his black doublet sleeve, before he gingerly bent down and picked up the hand-painted shoe, his smile spreading into a full grin as he headed back indoors. 

His improvised plan had worked all right so far. Maybe...just maybe...the Fates might favor him and Carewyn, after all. 

[gryffindorcls]

Meant To Be:  Chapter 2 (Trust)

IT’S DAY TWO OF LOVESQUARE FLUFF WEEK 2020!!!

Thank you @lovesquarefluffweek​ for organizing this event!

Welcome back!  Today’s prompt is “Trust”.

Enjoy!

—

<--- Previous    Next ---->

AO3

FanFiction

Chapter 2: Trust

When Adrien awoke that morning, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He was both restless and content at the same time. The reaction he’d received from his lady the night before filled his heart with warmth and hope, but he was still afraid to tell her the truth about his feelings. Nonetheless, he was excited to see her again.

Just like the day he’d fallen in love with her, everything reminded him of Ladybug. He saw her in the vibrant colors of the sunrise. He felt her in the warmth of the early morning sun. He heard her in the joyous laughter of children making their way to school. She was all around him.

That morning, he did his best to concentrate on Miss Bustier’s lesson, but his mind was in the gazebo at the park.

The song he’d written for his partner repeated on an endless loop in his brain. His fingers itched to play it for her again. There was more to his composition, and he wanted nothing more than to share it with Ladybug.

He became so consumed by his thoughts that he began to hear his song being sung by a soft, clear voice.

“That’s my lady’s voice.” Adrien’s mind buzzed with excitement. “If only she was actually here. Maybe I’ll hear her singing it for real one day.”

He closed his eyes and thanked his brain for allowing him to hear Ladybug sing his song. He became lost in the vivid daydream as he rested his chin on his hand and sighed.

A nudge to the arm snapped him back into reality.

“Dude,” Nino whispered, “What’s with you today? You alright?”

Adrien nodded. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired.”

“What were you and Marinette doing last night that got both of you so out of it? You two weren’t together, were you?”

“Marinette?”

“She’s been half asleep since she walked in this morning. You didn’t notice?”

“No, I didn’t.” Adrien turned his head to see Marinette draped over her table, humming softly.

His brain came to a screeching halt.

That was his song.

She was humming his song.

Marinette was humming the song that he wrote for Ladybug.

“Why are you looking at her like that, bro?” Nino muttered without moving his lips, “It’s weird. Someone is going to notice.”

“Someone already has,” Alya said quietly with a grin, “So there is something going on between you and Marinette! I knew you two would figure things out eventually.”

Adrien squinted at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Nino, Adrien, and Alya,” Miss Bustier called out, “There are still five minutes left of this class. Please be quiet and respectful.”

“Sorry, Miss Bustier,” they said in unison.

Adrien’s heart pounded against his chest. His thoughts raced as his mind desperately searched for the answer to an unknown puzzle.

“The only person I played that song for is Ladybug. Marinette couldn’t possibly know it.”

The last few minutes of class crawled by slowly. Adrien’s leg shook under the table while anticipation built up in his gut. When Miss Bustier finally dismissed the class, he whipped around in his seat and gently grabbed Marinette’s arm.

When their eyes met, the rest of the world melted away. For a fleeting moment, they existed in their own bubble.

And then she said his name. “Adrien.”

He swallowed against a dry throat. “Where did you hear that song?”

Marinette opened and closed her mouth several times. “I..uhh...what?”

Adrien’s heart was ready to burst at any second. Knowing the answer to his question felt like a matter of life and death.

He took a deep breath and repeated himself. “Where did you hear that song?”

She looked away. “I...um...I heard it last night.”

“Where did you hear it?”

“Someone was playing a piano in the park next to my house.”

He didn’t know why, but her response disappointed him. “Of course. She lives next to the park...that makes sense.”

He sighed. “Okay...um...do you know who was playing the piano?”

“No.” Marinette shook her head.

“Oh.”

“But I wish I did.”

His heart thumped again. “Oh?”

She closed her eyes. “Yeah, it was so beautiful. It sounded like whoever was playing that piano had a pretty strong connection to the song.”

Marinette looked up and smiled. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight that poured through the classroom windows, causing a familiar ache to fill his chest.

Adrien quickly became lost in her essence. Without thinking, he lifted his hand and ran his fingers down her cheek. He felt her shiver under his touch, and all the air rushed out of his lungs. Everything about this moment felt right, but a fogginess in his mind prohibited him from knowing why.

His hand remained on her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Have your eyes always been that blue?”

Marinette’s face turned bright red. “I...I...uh…”

“What’s going on here?” Alya’s voice pierced a hole through their bubble, forcing both him and Marinette to break apart.

Nino looked at his girlfriend. “It kind of looked like they were having a moment.”

“It’s nothing,” Marinette mumbled, her eyes glued to the floor.

Alya laughed. “That sure didn’t look like nothing.”

“I have to go.” Without taking the time to put anything into her backpack, Marinette scooped all her belongings into her arms and rushed out of the classroom.

“Wait!” Adrien hopped out of his seat only to feel someone’s hand grab his wrist.

He turned to see Alya looking at him with a stoic expression. “We need to talk.”

“But I need to go and find Marinette. She looked upset.”

“No, I’m serious. Before you see her again, we really need to talk.”

Nino nodded. “She’s right, dude. It’s important.”

Adrien’s eyes darted between his friends. “Aright, I’m listening.”

“Are you in love with Marinette?” Alya asked, letting go of his wrist.

He scratched the back of his neck and released a nervous chuckle. “We’re just friends.”

“That’s not what I asked, so I’ll say it again. Are you in love with my best friend?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I’m really going to need you to answer the question because I’ve seen Marinette cry far too many times over the past few months, and she deserves the best.”

“Why was she crying? Is she okay?”

“Are you in love with her?”

Adrien was at a loss for words. “I...uh…”

She crossed her arms. “You already broke her heart once, Agreste. It wasn’t your fault last time, but I’d really like it if you didn’t do it again.”

“What are you talking about? How did I break her heart?”

“You broke her heart by not noticing what was right in front of you the entire time. You broke her heart by not seeing her.”

Adrien closed his eyes and tried to process Alya’s words. “Are you telling me that Marinette had a crush on me?”

Alya sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I never blamed you because you have every right to make your own decisions when it comes to who you want to date. You chose Kagami, and Marinette respected that. We all did. All she ever wanted was for you to be happy. However, if you’re going to walk around pulling stunts like that and claim that you’re not in love with her, then we’re going to have a problem. Do I make myself clear?”

“I...uh...yes?”

“Good. I don’t think I can handle seeing her that sad again. If you love her, just tell her. If you don’t, please don’t make her think that you do.”

Adrien wanted to cry. “I never meant to hurt her. I promise! I really care about her. I’m sorry.”

Alya’s expression softened. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. The past few months have just been really hard, and she’s come such a long way. Haven’t you noticed that she doesn’t stutter around you anymore?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s because she moved on so you could be happy with Kagami. But if you’ve finally realized that you’ve had feelings for her all along, that’s wonderful. I just want you to be honest with her. She’s suffered enough already.”

“That makes sense.”

“You know you’re my friend too, right? I want to see you happy, as well. I think being honest about your feelings will make things better for both of you.”

Adrien nodded. “I think you’re right.”

She chuckled. “Oh, sunshine, I know I’m right. I have to go now, but I’ll see you after lunch.”

Alya picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She made her way towards the classroom door, Nino followed suit.

“Wait!” Adrien called out, desperate for answers.

Alya stopped in her tracks and turned around. “Yes?”

“Marinette is dating Luka.”

“No, they went on dates, but she turned him down when he asked her to be his girlfriend. She told me that even though he’s nice, being with him didn’t feel right.”

“But you said she moved on. Or does she still have feelings for me?”

“It broke her when you started dating Kagami; however, between you and me, I don’t think she ever stopped loving you.”

“Thanks, Alya.” Adrien stood up, grabbed his belongings, and walked towards the door. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Of course. Just...do me one favor. Please don’t wait forever to figure it out.” With a smile, she turned on her heel and walked down the stairs into the courtyard.

Nino patted his shoulder. “She’s right, you know.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t know what to think about all this right now.” Adrien ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe Marinette had a crush on me. She always told me that she only thought of me as a friend.”

“I gotta be honest, it was more than just a crush. She was head over heels in love with you. I know she tried to tell you hundreds of times, and she wasn’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I feel terrible. I had no idea. And then today...I don’t even know what happened. It was like everything made sense for a second, and then it got all foggy again.”

“You straight-up touched Marinette’s face and asked her about her eyes. And the way she looked at you...wow. I think she fell in love with you all over again. It was like watching Cinderella or something.”

“It kind of felt like we were in a fairytale if I’m being honest.”

“You had a magical moment, my dude.”

Adrien laughed. “I really wouldn’t be surprised if there was magic involved somehow.”

Nino crossed his arms. “What are you going to do about it then?”

“I don’t know.” He bit his lip. “I’m really conflicted right now. Do you remember that girl I was in love with before I started dating Kagami?”

“Dude, no.” Nino shook his head. “The girl who rejected you like a hundred times?”

“Yeah, I may or may not have recently realized that I was still in love with her. That’s why I broke up with Kagami.”

“If you’re not actually in love with Marinette, you gotta be more careful, bro.”

Adrien buried his face in his hands. “I know! I feel so stupid now. I’ve always felt like Marinette was more than just a friend, and when our eyes met today...I don’t know. Something just clicked, and I don’t know why.”

“So, does that mean you are in love with Marinette?”

“Nino, how can I be in love with two people? What am I supposed to do? I’m a horrible human being!”

“No, you are not. You are a teenager who is confused about love. You are no different than the rest of us. Go home, eat lunch, and relax. Spend some time thinking about everything.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m guessing you need to go catch up to Alya, and my bodyguard is going to start texting me any second now. I’ll see you later.”

“Good luck, bro!” Nino started walking down the stairs. “I’ll see you after lunch!”

Adrien waved. “Bye.”

He took a moment to compose himself before making his way to the car. Once he hopped into the back of his family’s vehicle, Adrien’s mind began to race.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

***

The second her trapdoor closed behind her, Marinette collapsed into a heap on the floor.

“Tikki!” she called out, “What am I supposed to do now?”

The tiny red being flitted over and nuzzled her cheek. “Oh, Marinette. I’m sorry.”

“I was so sure about Chat last night, and then Adrien started looking at me like that today. All of those feelings for him came rushing back.” She sat up and looked at her Kwami. “HE TOUCHED MY FACE, TIKKI!”

“I know.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I think he likes you.”

“But that doesn’t help! How am I supposed to ignore my feelings for him if he reciprocates? And what about Chat? How can I be in love with two people?”

Tikki floated in front of Marinette’s face. “It may not make any sense right now, but I promise that everything will be okay soon.”

Marinette slumped. “How do you know that?”

“Life has a funny way of working itself out. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

“But what am I supposed to do about loving two different people? This is why I didn’t let myself fall for Chat when I was still actively in love with Adrien. It doesn’t feel good, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Trust your heart, Marinette. It will show you the way.”

“Okay...I’ll try.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Marinette sat quietly for a few minutes and thought about everything that had happened over the past twenty-four hours. Each passing thought brought her to new levels of confusion. She found it strange how even though Chat and Adrien were two different people, loving them felt the same. Everything about both boys felt so familiar, and she couldn’t figure out why.

A loud grumble from her stomach interrupted her thoughts.

Tikki giggled. “Are you sure you were talking to your heart just now? If you were, I’m not sure that it’s supposed to sound like that when it answers.”

“I think I’m hungry,” Marinette laughed, “I did skip breakfast today.”

“Then maybe you should go downstairs and get some lunch. I’m sure your parents would love to spend some time with you.”

Marinette nodded, went downstairs, and walked into the kitchen. She was greeted by a wonderful smell and her mother’s smile.

“Hello, sweetheart!” Sabine greeted cheerfully, “I didn’t even hear you come in. How was your morning?”

She looked away. “Uhhh...it was…”

“Sabine, is our daughter home yet?” Tom’s voice boomed, cutting off Marinette’s response.

“Yes, I am, papa,” Marinette replied.

“Oh, thank goodness! Could I ask you to do me a favor once you’re done eating lunch?”

“Of course! What do you need me to do?”

“I need to know what kind of tablecloths to bring with me to tomorrow’s wedding in the park. Could you measure the tables for me? I have a tape measure that you can use.”

“Sure thing, papa, but there’s a fence around the venue. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get in.”

Tom leaned in and whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. I have a key, but shhh. Don’t tell anyone.”

Marinette laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”

After sitting down for lunch with her parents, Marinette retrieved the key and the tape measure from her father. While making her way over to the park, she swore she could hear Chat’s melody being carried by the wind. A surge of emotion swelled in her gut.

“Trust your heart, Marinette. Listen to what it has to say. Maybe it’s telling you to follow the music.”

As she walked across the park, the music grew louder, and when she reached the entrance, she found that the gate had already been unlocked.

[bookishable]

deathly hallows book moments

warning: this one’s a rollercoaster ride of emotions, read at your own risk.

‘the idea of a teenage dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid hermione or a friendly blast-ended skrewt.’

“i don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

‘he felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.’

ron: why do i have to clean my room? mrs weasley: !!! WEDDING !!! ron: theyre not getting married in my damn bedroom

“we’re coming with you. that was decided months ago—years, really.”

“if i picked up a sword right now, ron, and ran you through with it, i wouldn’t damage your soul at all.” “which would be a real comfort to me, i’m sure”

harry waking up on his birthday forgetting he was 17

“accio glasses!” although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom towards him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

ron giving harry a book called twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches for his birthday

“i’ve learned a lot. you’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.”

‘the rest of her speech was lost; harry had got up and hugged her. he tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them’

“are you planning to follow a career in magical law, miss granger?” “no i’m not, i’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

“it’s time you learned some respect!” “it’s time you earned it”

hermione: when we were little we heard stories like snow white and cinderella ron: what’s that, an illness? harry: rip me i never got read any stories

“a brutal triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of a damper on the wedding.”

“merlin’s beard, what is xenophilius lovegood wearing? he looks like an omelette.” excuse me why wasn’t auntie muriel like this in the film

“he used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, then run on to the dance floor, hoist up his robes and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his—” “yes, he sounds a real charmer”

harry suggesting that xenophilius lovegood’s deathly hallows necklace is the cross-section of the head of a crumple-horned snorkack

“vot is the point of being an international quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?”

‘harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where ron could stick his wand instead.’

harry reading lily’s letter and noticing that they wrote their g’s the same way as each other, i’m sobbing

‘the letter was an incredible treasure, proof that lily potter had lived, really lived’

KREACHER’S GODDAMN TALE

kreacher hitting mundungus over the head with a saucepan “perhaps just one more, master harry, for luck?”

“if anyone shouldn’t go, it’s harry, he’s got a ten thousand galleon price on his head—” “fine, i’ll stay here, let me know if you ever defeat voldemort, won’t you?”

‘with a twinge of regret that had nothing to do with food, harry imagined the house-elf busying himself over the steak and kidney pie that harry, ron and hermione would never eat.’

‘not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.’

the sign outside the wreckage of the potters’ house, covered with messages left for harry

the child who had the nerve to say “nice costume, mister!” to mr tom riddle the dark lord voldemort, what an icon

“after you left, she cried for a week. probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. there were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. with you gone… she’s like my sister, i love her like a sister and i reckon she feels the same way about me. it’s always been like that. i thought you knew.”

“you’ve sort of made up for it tonight, getting the sword. finishing off the horcrux. saving my life.” “that makes me sound a lot cooler than i was” “stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was, i’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

ron single-handedly fighting off five snatchers by telling them he was stan shunpike

“he must’ve known i’d run out on you.” “no, he must’ve known you’d always want to come back.”

“i just think it’s a bit spookier if it’s midnight!” “yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives”

“death’s got an invisibility cloak?” “so he can sneak up on people, sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking…”

luna decorating her bedroom ceiling with paintings of her friends (i’m not crying, you are)

POTTERWATCH

“we’re all human, aren’t we? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

“i’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit, and i’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”

hagrid throwing a ‘support harry potter’ party

“the fact remains he can move faster than severus snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to”

“no! you can have me, keep me!” this book went from making me smile to shattering my heart in around three pages

‘hermione was screaming again: the sound went through harry like physical pain.’

ron’s ‘passable imitation of wormtail’s wheezy voice’

“so young, to be fighting so many.”

‘ron said, “blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.’

‘he seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to teddy lupin as sirius black had been to him.’

“he was never free, never, the night that your brother died he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. he started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there… it was torture to him, if you’d seen him then, you wouldn’t say he was free.”

“i’m going to keep going until i succeed—or i die. don’t think i don’t know how this might end. i’ve known it for years.”

“i got this one for asking her how much muggle blood she and her brother have got.” “blimey, neville, there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”

“yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to gamp’s law of elemental transfiguration,” said ron, to general astonishment.

“why would harry potter try to get inside ravenclaw tower? potter belongs in my house!”

‘harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice, and affection for minerva mcgonagall gushed up inside him.’

harry using the cruciatus curse on amycus in front of mcgonagall because “he spat at you”

mcgonagall dueling snape and sending a swarm of daggers at him

“where’s professor snape?” “he has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk” minerva i love you

neville throwing mandrakes over the walls

“is this the moment? OI! there’s a war going on here!” “i know, mate, so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

‘and percy was shaking his brother, and ron was kneeling beside them, and fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.’

‘a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting professor mcgonagall.’

harry stunned the death eater as they passed: malfoy looked around, beaming, for his saviour, and ron punched him from under the cloak. “and that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!”

trelawney using crystal balls to knock out death eaters ‘with a movement like a tennis serve’

“are you a wizard, or what?”

“you must kill me.” “would you like me to do it now? or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?”

‘this cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery.’

‘he was tiny in death.’

‘he felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have had the strength to stop looking?’

“we’re all going to keep fighting, harry. you know that?”

“i am sorry too, sorry i will never know him… but he will know why i died and i hope he will understand. i was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”

“until the very end”

“this is, as they say, your party.” harry had no idea what this meant; dumbledore was being infuriating.

“it is a curious thing, harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.”

“do not pity the dead, harry. pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

“of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

‘the scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that professor mcgonagall could make such a sound.’

ron breaking voldemort’s silencing charm “he beat you!”

“i’ll join you when hell freezes over, dumbledore’s army!”

harry calling voldemort tom riddle like “yes, i dare”

‘tom riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken’ where please, movies?

‘mcgonagall had replaced the house tables, but nobody was sitting according to house anymore’

peeves’ song voldy’s gone mouldy

‘tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled harry with the same balm as phoenix song.’

harry FIXING HIS DAMN WAND

“i’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

“if you’re not in gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you, but no pressure.”

albus complaining that everyone is staring and ron being like “it’s me. i’m extremely famous.”

‘the scar had not pained harry for nineteen years. all was well.’

[lifewellnest]

How to Be Happy About Your Earthly Life : Key Tips

Being truly happy is a sentiment you experience without a tinge of pretension It’s being joyful in the midst of your current life situation. Happiness is that thing which drives us to achieve whatever we desire and to be our best in that chosen path.

It is not much a surprise to know that researches have revealed the relationship between happiness and success. Happy people largely succeeds in life regardless of their set goals.

It’s true that somehow we can be contented and blissful with the kind of life that we were blessed with, however, negative emotions plague us with the ‘what ifs’ in our head. What if I was born wealthy? What if I was more intelligent? What if I have that kind of life? What if I have a different set of parents?

So how do we really find that very elusive happiness? That very genuine joy inside our hearts so at least we can be fueled to work for a better life and be self-determined? It’s definitely never an overnight process, in a sense we can’t just reset or rewire our brains to feel happy and to just have happy thoughts and fly away (like Peter pan). It takes practice my dear friend. It’s a habit and a mindset that we need to develop. And so I have here some key points. Go over it and try to process 🙂

Gratitude is the Key

Not everyone is given a sort of a perfect life. Remember happiness is not guaranteed by a seemingly perfect life. Many are able to find a spouse or a partner but later realizes that they want to be out of the relationship (the case of Stripe, Hope for the Flowers). Some are born filthy rich and yet can’t find life’s meaning (take the case of Gautama Buddha when he was still a Prince). The pursuit of happiness whether it’s long-term or short-term means reorienting your brain to focus on what you have and NOT on what you don’t have. Sometimes we exert all our effort searching for happiness in the wrong direction and we just get lost. You fail to be happy because you did not search within. How about changing that mindset? Check out what you’ve got, be grateful about it and feel the happiness filling up your heart 🙂

Develop a Mantra for the Day

Learning to speak to yourself (in a good way) is very essential to be happy. Choose a positive Mantra for the day which you will repeat to yourself. It may be…”You are such a great person, so unique and one of a kind! You are awesome in many ways!” This will certainly bring you to a good mood, you’ll be able to uplift your spirit. This will eventually create good vibes that will surely be felt the whole day. The universe will surely return the favor by giving you the goodness that you desire and that will surely make you happy 🙂 Make it a habit!

Celebrate Life and Be Hopeful

Life is not just about suffering, yes it is filled with challenges. But remember, life will definitely be a bore without these obstacles. It is when we overcome our challenges that we experience happiness! Indeed each has his own battle to win but it’s entirely how we approach the issue that really matters. So just go on…strategize and attack the problem however you think it’s appropriate. But after the battle..celebrate..appreciate your ‘self’. Either you treat yourself to an ice-filled beer or a steaming hot coffee or a nice spa or a delightful meal in your favorite diner…it’s your call! Celebrate these little victories and be hopeful about life.

Work, Work, Work

I am absolutely not referring to employment or your gainful job. What I mean is learning to get out of your shell to find ways to be productive! Idle people are sad people because their thoughts often revolve around insignificant things. Happiness is achieved with actions and not just thoughts. There are definitely millions of ways to be busy even if you are stuck at home or in your room 🙂 We need to engage and be happy with the many things that we can do…you are a person with gifts. You just need to explore by looking inward and in that case understand what really will make you happy. It can range from doodling a portrait, creating good recipes or even re-painting your home. You see all of these productive activities can make you a happy person 🙂

Never Compare Yourself with Others Around You

Recent studies have revealed how the workings of the social media have triggered our brain’s survival instinct best to protect and keep us safe. This negates our ability to feel elation, contentment and bliss as we witness how others are making it ‘big’ in their lives (as they consistently post about their ‘good life’) while we fall below societal expectations.

This brings me back to those years (early 90’s) when incidentally I was invited in an expensive hotel to witness the induction of a popular fraternity at the University. I sat with some member-students who brought along their elegantly dressed girlfriends. One of them asked me if I am from the same school, I said ‘yes’. And without batting an eyelash they all exclaimed “oh, we thought you were from another school!” 🙁 Suddenly I was Cinderella after the clock struck 12 🙂 You see, it is not ourselves who robs us of our right to be happy! It’s perpetrated by people whom we look up  in awe while they judge us down.

Nobody wants to feel bad about themselves. It’s time to STOP HURTING YOURSELF! Get rid of those negative emotions,develop the power from within and perfect those skills & abilities. Soar high and don’t be pulled down by envy and resentments, they’re but toxicities in life.

Key Takeaway

Happiness means learning to understand yourself, appreciating what you can do and what you’re good at and believing that everything will be alright. Those spiraling negative thoughts and worries must be set aside. There are things that we cannot control so never allow it to plague your mind. Happiness is a choice, it is not sourced from others. The pursuit of happiness is not as difficult as you think…it’s just within you my friend 🙂

[aion-rsa]

The Old Guard: How the Immortal Quynh Was Brought to Life

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

You may think you haven’t seen Veronica Ngo before, but you have, especially if your stream Netflix. Like her character Quynh, the immortal partner of Andy (Charlize Theron) in The Old Guard, she’s been all over. She was the radio propagandist Hanoi Hannah in Spike Lee’s Da 5 Bloods; she also played Tien, the Inferni Elf assassin pursuing Will Smith in Bright, as well as and the Kung Fu assassin Mantis in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon: Sword of Destiny; her tour de force, Furie, is on Netflix too. Made in Vietnam, Furie was submitted to the Academy Awards as an International Feature Film entrée. Beyond Netflix, and in a galaxy far, far away, she played Paige Tico, the rebel martyr and Dreadnought bombardier who was the sister of Rose in Star Wars: The Last Jedi.

Like with many Asian stars, crossing the Pacific loses something in translation. Veronica’s Vietnamese name is Ngo Thanh Van. In many Asian cultures, the surname is first, and the given name follows. This confounds IMDb, which in a flailing effort to resolve this difference, labels her with a name that she’s never been credited as – ‘Van Veronica Ngo.’ Nevertheless, in Vietnam, Ngo is a longstanding celebrity. She caught the country’s attention in 2002 as a pop singer, going by her initials NTV. Two years later, she began acting for TV, and had a major break with Vietnam’s biggest martial arts film, The Rebel, in 2007.

The Rebel was Vietnam’s highest grosser at the time, demonstrating that Vietnamese cinema could deliver its own style of gritty brutal action. Since then, she’s appeared in a variety of movies, including two more major actioners, Clash and Once Upon a Time in Vietnam, and even directed herself in two fantasy films: The Lost Dragon, a goofy rom-com about heavenly fairies in modern Ho Chi Minh City that was released for Tet (Vietnamese New Year) and Tam Cam: The Untold Story, a classic Vietnamese legend that begins eerily akin to Cinderella, replete with an evil stepfamily, a prince, a ball, and the fitting of a lost slipper. It then takes an entirely different direction as a tale of reincarnation and undying love. This is a lushly CGI-heavy movie reminiscent of the fantasy films coming out of Mainland China lately. Ngo cast herself as Di Ghe, the evil stepmom, and she’s far worse than Cinderella’s.

Ngo spoke to Den of Geek about The Old Guard along with some of her other projects.

Den of Geek: I’ve been a fan of yours since The Rebel. Let’s start there. 

Veronica Ngo: The Rebel was my breakthrough movie. It was the movie that gave me the title of the first female Vietnamese action star. I got supported by the Vietnamese people. They encouraged me to do more action movies and since then I have become the only female action star in Vietnam.

How did you land the role for Quynh in The Old Guard?

When the movie had filmed for two weeks, my agency in America called me and said that The Old Guard wanted me to be a part of it. They said Charlize Theron watched Furie and was really interested in inviting me to her project. During our conversation through Skype, Charlize and I found our mutual voice to acknowledge the fact that women like us work hard to fulfill the roles in the Hollywood action movies. After that 45-minute-long discussion, and with the empathy we had, Charlize felt safe to give me the role.

How was working with Charlize?

For me, Charlize Theron is a talented and extremely brilliant woman. I admire her for the high standard of movies she has played in. Now, having a chance to work with her, I understand why she reached that position in Hollywood. With her outstanding talent, great beauty, and unpredictable ability, I do admire her even more. 

The original comic book character of Quynh was Japanese, but you had her changed to Vietnamese. How important was that for you?

I think it is very important since this is the time when I speak up with my own voice and represent Vietnamese talent. I believe we have a lot to show, and because I have this precious chance to connect with a Hollywood movie like this, I would love to show my race and my background in the film industry. Also it is very important to see that the movie made by Hollywood has diverse choices so we can learn together and grow better.

How does Hollywood action choreography compare to how it is done in Vietnam?

Working with an American action team has its advantages. Their team joined big projects so they have the experience and creativity to come up with spectacular fighting scenes. Before The Old Guard, I have worked with other Hollywood action movies, so I am not that surprised with their professionalism.

Furie was such a physical role. How did you prepare? And did you suffer any injuries during filming?

Furie is a movie that I had to prepare physically for over two months. I did have a very big injury during the first week of shooting. I hurt my kneecap and I couldn’t walk for a week. After I hurt myself, the production had to stop filming and wait for my recovery. At that time, I was very scared that I might not walk again. That is why I planned to do it as my last action movie. But luckily, I am all recovered now.

How did you feel when Furie was submitted for the Academy Awards?

I am very proud to hear the news that Furie represents the Vietnamese cinema submitted to Academy Awards. It’s a payoff to all the hard work that we put into the project. There are many people involved. We want to be heard – representing the people, the culture, and the love from Asia to the world.

What martial arts do you practice?

Through all the years I have been an actress, I have trained in many different kinds of martial arts. For each project, I only do my training for that. And if the character requires a specific style, I practice for that. 

And how was joining the Star Wars galaxy?

The journey to Star Wars: The Last Jedi was a great experience for me. From being shocked to hear the news of my role until flying to London to start the shooting days, it was a journey [worthy] of being cherished. I felt blessed to be chosen and treated specially. I was fully supported to do my job well.

What’s next for Veronica Ngo?

I am currently producing a sequel to Furie in Vietnam. I hope the world can watch more Vietnamese movies and support us. Thank you. 

The Old Guard and Furie are available on Netflix.

The post The Old Guard: How the Immortal Quynh Was Brought to Life appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[deatcmgod]

Todoroki Shouto x Reader (Cinderella AU) - Part I

(Y/n) (L/n) lived a happy life alongside her parents. Her father was a wealthy baron who taught her how to read and write, providing her knowledge about the wonders of the world. Her mother was a sweet, simple lady who taught her how to have courage and be kind. Telling her that even if life goes wrong, she will continue to smile brightly and to believe that every impediment in life is a phase that one must endure. Together, they loved their daughter dearly. As her father would always find time to spend with his family, even missing his daughter and wife when he was away for business trips.

Making friends with the animals, a home, and a loving complete family. (Y/n) thought that her life was perfect.

That was until, her mother died by the time she was ten years old. It brought despair and sorrow over them especially her father who became depressed. (Y/n)'s father did everything to make life better for his child but he realized that the girl needed a maternal figure so he re-married a woman named Ayame, who had two daughters on her own, namely Hanako and Kaede. (Y/n) adjusted when they first arrived to their home, and together they all lived peacefully. 

Soon her father went on a business trip, but a few days later, they received a letter concerning (Y/n)'s father that he died of a sickness and a funeral shall be arranged upon his body's arrival. This news alone devastated (Y/n) as she wept during the night, realizing that she'll no longer be able to see her father come home alive and well.

As time passed, her stepmother Ayame and her daughters showed their true colors. They began to abuse (Y/n) by making her do all the household work, and letting her suffer by mistreating her akin to a servant. (Y/n) could only obey and endure the wickedness of the three, she's willing to comply every task just to distract her from her heart grieving the loss of her parents. Despite the maltreatment she's been getting from her stepmother and stepsisters, she still encompasses kindness and treasures what her mother said to her.

"(Y/n) hurry up with the breakfast will you?!?" Hanako, the stepsister with red hair yells from the other side of the room.

"You're so slow and tardy! Maybe that's why Father left you!" Kaede, the other stepsister with black hair says, earning a chuckle from their mother.

"Now, now, Ladies we know that she deserves the loss of her parents but we also need to mind our manners. Remember that we must be prim and proper to impress the prince" Lady Ayame spoke, taking a sip from her rose tea.

A few moments later, (Y/n) enters the room with three trays, two on both of her arms and the third tray on her head perfectly balanced. Despite the dirty clothes and her ash-covered face (due to her setting up the fireplace as she cooked the food) she manages to serve the food in time yet her step-family was too impatient and demanding. She carefully placed the trays on the table and arranged them in order.

"I'm sorry, I had to-" (Y/n) was cut off by Kaede.

"Just shut up, we don't care what you did earlier and it's your fault for being late! Geez you're such a slowpoke" Kaede said.

"And look at you! You look ugly with what you're wearing, and you're face is covered in cinders! Maybe we should call you Cinder(Y/n)!" Hanako said as they gave out a laugh, (Y/n) could only hang her head down in shame.

"Leave this dining room (Y/n) and change into a neat clothing. You look hideous with that outfit of yours, and after breakfast you must head to town to buy some goods. Better hurry or I might make you clean the whole house" Lady Ayame ordered and (Y/n) nodded her head before leaving, she heads upstairs in the attic. 

Her room was in the attic, where it was cold and dusty but she managed to clean the whole room and arranged it to her liking. (Y/n) stares into the mirror infront her where observes her appearance. Her face was covered in ashes, her (h/c) locks tied messily into a bun, and her attire was dirty. She had to clean the horse's stables, feed the farm animals, water the garden plants, and set up the fireplace to cook food.

She's tired deep inside, with all these work piling one by one. Her stepmother and stepsisters would not even give her a rest in between, the only time that she can rest is during the night where they go to sleep. Every day (Y/n) still retained her positivity to believe in her dreams and to never stop being kind. She took her own mother's words by heart.

"If it weren't for what you've told me before, Mother.....I would have lost hope over everything" She mutters, giving a sad smile to her reflection before changing into a new set of clothes. After changing she goes back downstairs to clean the dining table.

She knows that they were in the music room where Hanako would practice her 'singing skills' whilst Kaede would practice her 'painting skills'. But she doubts that they have a certain special skill. 

Oh wait, they do have a special skill.

That is, 'being talentless'.

"Time's ticking child, hurry up and eat" Her stepmother spoke from the music room.

"Yes, Madame" (Y/n) replied before heading to the kitchen with the trays in her hand. There she was greeted by her mouse friends namely: Denki and Kirishima, and their fluffy-yet-spiky-tsundere dog named Katsuki. (Y/n) set the trays on the dishes and knelt down towards her animal friends.

"Hello there Denki and Kaminari, you too Katsuki" She greets the two mice as she gave the angry dog a pet on the head. The dog somehow calmed down and enjoyed the petting that was until he suddenly growled as he saw the evil house cat named Monoma. The cat just strutted away therefore angering the explosive dog, making him bark.

"Come on, Katsuki don't be like that. Monoma is not worth your time, here why don't you eat?" She says, grabbing a container, filling it with dog food then placing it on the ground. Katsuki barked in delight and started eating. She does the same for two mice, giving them small slices of cheese and earning a happy squeak from the adorable mice. 

(Y/n) also started eating the leftovers which were only a small amount but she finished it all and added them to the dishes. She washed the dinnerware and wiped the corners of the sink before cleaning up and heading to town with a basket.

As she passed and bought goods from some shops, she bumped into her two friends: Uraraka Ochako and Yaoyorozu Momo who were also servants. 

"(Y/n) hello! It's been a while since we last saw you" Momo greeted.

"Hello to you too girls, I've been busy actually" (Y/n) replied with a nervous chuckle.

"Is it your stepmother and stepsisters again? They've been abusing you for a long time! If you'd like, you can leave them and live with me instead" Uraraka said.

"Ah, I'm afraid I cannot do that Ura. I cannot leave my home for it is my parents'...And I wouldn't want to be a bother to the both of you" (Y/n) said.

"But they've been mistreating you badly (Y/n), you deserve to live a better life and home...I'm sure that one of us could provide that for you" Momo spoke, with worry and certainty. But (Y/n) just gave them a smile.

"Thank you for the offer guys, but I will still stay at my home....But don't worry, maybe someday I'll be free from them" (Y/n) said. Just as the two were about to speak, a loud trumpet roared through the streets putting everyone to a stop. An army of royal guards with their horses came through the streets and stopped by.

The Royal speaker pulled out a scroll and cleared his throat before speaking,

"Hear ye, hear ye! On this day, tonight a royal ball shall be held at the palace!," Everyone's head perks at the mention of a ball. 

"At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the Prince shall choose a bride. Furthermore, at the behest of the Prince, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner is invited to attend" The people gasped and some ladies jumped in excitement.

"Oh my gosh, did you hear that? We're all invited!" Uraraka spoke as she happily bounced up and down. Momo and I couldn't contain our smiles and giggled at our friend's actions. After the announcement, she bids farewell to her friends before heading home. 

She enters the music room and told her stepmother and stepsisters about the royal ball, earning a squeal of excitement from the sisters before frantically running upstairs to their rooms, her stepmother grinned mischievously as she plans to pamper her daughters and if the Prince falls in love with one of them, they are sure to get married and she would earn the riches of the kingdom and be in power. 

So she orders (Y/n) to prepare her daughters' ball gowns. The (h/c)-haired girl obliged and went to her stepsisters' shared room, she cringed at the mess that they have made. Countless of dresses and gowns were scattered all over the place, as well as jewelry pieces on the floor. 

She sighs internally, 'For sure the Prince would find them unpleasant if he finds out that they're irresponsible' she thought.

"Oi Cinder(Y/n), stop daydreaming and start helping!" Kaede's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Alright Kaede" She replied as she assists Kaede with the hoop skirt. Once she wore the hoop skirt, she helps the girl in putting on the yellow ball gown. "I look beautiful in this gown!" Kaede exclaims as she checks herself in the mirror.

"Nah you look like a pig, you were never beautiful" Hanako snickered, Kaede giving her a playful glare and throwing her a pillow towards her.

"Cinder(Y/n), help me with the corset!" Hanako calls out to the (h/c)-haired girl who just finished fixing Kaede's gown, (Y/n) then hurries to Hanako. She grips the lace and pulls it back to tighten the corset into Hanako's desired tightness.

She helped the girls with their hairstyles and makeup, even wiping their shoes clean with a cloth before placing it on their feet. The two sisters hurried outside, leaving (Y/n) to clean their room but it only took her ten minutes to do so. The idea of attending the royal ball kept her motivated, she just wants to have fun at ball. Enjoying her time with her friends while eating appetizers from the royal buffet and waltz-dancing. Maybe this could be her chance to experience freedom even if it was limited, or so she thought.

"Alas, I have no dress nor gown.....How will I attend the ball?" She spoke as realization hit her. She has no gown to wear for the ball, but she can make one however there's no time left for her to do so. The carriage will be here soon to pick them up. Much to her disappointment, she decides not to attend the ball so she walks outside from the stepsisters' room and go towards her own.

As she walked to the long stairs to the attic, she was met by Denki and Kirishima who were squeaking loudly to catch her attention. (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows and knelt down infront of them.

"What's wrong Denki, Kiri? Did Monoma do something bad to both of you?" She asks, the two mice seemed to understand her as they shook their heads. Then they both scurried off to her bedroom door and (Y/n) followed. 

She was confused as to why her mice friends were in such a hurry but all her confusion came to a stop when she opened the door and gasped. A wonderful peach dress in a manikin was displayed infront of her. The dress had frills and lace with a pink ribbon tied around the waist. Her other small animal friends surrounded her, anticipating her reaction. (Y/n) bent herself near the dressing table to where her small friends were and gave them a delightful smile.

"Did you guys make it for me?" She asked and they nodded. "Thank you so much! I was worried that I could not go to the ball because I didn't have anything to wear, but now I can and I'm grateful for what you've all done" She added before trying on the dress. The female mice also helped her in fixing her appearance, especially with the make up and the hair. Denki, Kirishima and the male mice helped in polishing her shoes. The female birds placed silver jewelry on her neck and ears. And as she looked onto the mirror, she smiled as how gorgeous she looks.

“I look wonderful” She smiles warmly infront of the mirror.

------------------------------------------- End of Part I ---------------------------------------------

A/n: Okay so I decided to separate this fic into two parts because my phone is not doing well but don't worry, I'll be writing the second part soon. Hope you guys enjoyed it! I just came back from a two-year hiatus (since I've been an author in Wattpad) so please bear with my mediocre writing. Bye my moonbeams!~

[expshared]

a little bit o’ spring anime season retrospective, a little late 👇

I’ve only watched 2.5 series involved in the Isekai Quartet but I was thirsty for Re: Zero content so I tuned in to this. I’mma be honest: this was fun. Crossovers are fun. I really enjoyed seeing funny skeleton man and Goddess of Dumbass interact, and I think equal time and attention was given to all parties involved, and that made it fun, too. It was accessible for someone like me whose knowledge of these shows was only tertiary and even if it had its questionable moments (Darkness I hate you so much), the sum is an enjoyable package. I question if this show could work with any other quartet of isekai heroes because all other isekai protagonists are boring af.

Watching Fruits Basket again makes me realize that I absorbed too much of Tohru Honda into my personality when I was impressionable and wee and never figured out that it was bad. Anyway this was a nice new coat of paint on a beloved series. The updated designs are nice to look at and the care given to the new material is evident. But it is considerably less…fun than the first incarnation and can I be honest? As a manga reader, knowing what I know about how the little love triangle pans out and watching it from the beginning? I just don’t like Kyo like I did when I was 12. Which, uh, wasn’t that much to begin with. Tohru deserves the world and the anime has a lot of work to do to convince me that Kyo can give that to her.

Fairy Gone takes its place alongside The Lost Village for being the biggest waste of time. In its favor: I liked the main character’s design and that she wore pants. Its sins: horrible clunky CGI I could not make out, way too many proper nouns, infodumps every episode, butt rock, a general disinterest in its main cast and their secrets. It expected me to care about a bunch of stuffy old men and their machinations when there were friends-to-enemies girlfriends in the background they weren’t even considering. I don’t remember who the assistant attorney general prime minister of Not-England is and I don’t care. The fact that this gets another 12 episodes is baffling, how anyone could anyone listen to another 12 episodes of dull political cud-chewing is beyond me.

Carole and Tuesday makes La La Land look like a plastic bag tumbling underneath a highway. Carole and Tuesday should win the Oscar for best everything. Carole and Tuesday is the best contemporary musical by a mile. Watanabe has been waiting 25 years just to make this show, and it’s a delightful cross section of everything that’s made his shows successful in the past—the slice of life futurepunk of Cowboy Bebop, the zaniness of Space Dandy, the ensemble cast of Samurai Champloo. It’s a pleasure to watch. I love seeing these girls underestimated and then blow everyone out of the water, it’s a consistent delight. The soundtrack is amazing and everything on it sounds genuine and legitimate—probably because it is. Netflix shouldn’t be keeping this one all to itself.  

Hitoribocchi was a sweet little gem of goodwill. Strange, anxious Bocchi’s quest to make friends with her equally strange classmates was funny, empathetic, and endearing. I love this cast of weirdo misfits and who among us doesn’t secretly hope their friends don’t forget about them when they’re sick oh thank goodness it’s not just me.

Senryuu Shoujo was a little cute, a little funny, a little heartwarming. It’s forgettable but a nice kind of forgettable, where you fondly remember it for five minutes and then move on with your life. It’s a short form series so if you’re in the mood for a quick n’ light shoujo about pining and misunderstanding, this is an easy recommendation.

I think I set my expectations too high for Sarazanmai. I wanted it to be the takedown of yaoi tropes like Yurikuma so gleefully pitchforked yuri tropes, but that wasn’t its project at all. It was Ikuhara’s most visceral work, but also, I feel, his most grounded in reality, which is a weird fucking thing to say about a show wherein three boys turn into kappas to go up the concept of someone’s butt. This was, decidedly, my least favorite Ikuhara title, which isn’t to say it’s bad. It’s just not Penguindrum or Yurikuma. Its scope felt smaller, its commentary less biting, its reveals less….revealing. Stand By Me is a bangin’ ED, though, I will Stand By That.

Kono Oto Tomare suffers from not knowing who its main character is. Surely it’s Megane Senpai, who starts the show off? But it’s not, it’s most assuredly Delinquent Guy, who is the emotional heart of the show and who definitely has something going on with our third main character, Prodigy Girl, leaving Megane Senpai the third wheel. This show just doesn’t start with its feet underneath it—it hobbles along an ungainly fusion of shoujo and sports anime and doesn’t do either tremendously. It does, however, have a heart, and this cast did eventually grow on me and I want to see them succeed. Protip: if your show is about an activity, please feature the activity. There is very little actual koto playing in this show and this is one of its biggest missteps. It’s a serviceable show, but not a great one.

I don’t drop a lot of anime but I dropped Cinderella Nine at episode 5 because it was just too ugly. It was so bad that I began to doubt there was an “on model”. There was just nothing going for it—the character designs were awful, the animation would pass as a power point, and the sportball was nonexistant. Non Non.

Dororo really let me down. I didn’t care for its ending at all, and in fact, sort of felt as if it nullified all the hard work of the prior 23 episodes. Having Dororo and Hyakkimaru part is a terrible decision. Nothing was learned. The payoff was not rewarding. Would have to point to Aldnoah to find an ending in recent memory I disliked more than this one. >:(/10

The show I was most hyped for every week was Demon Slayer. It didn’t start out swinging—Tanjiro’s origin story is unfortunately pretty par for the course in terms of shonen heroes, and the years-long training arc and time skip right after it was not the most inviting beginning. In fact, that’s where I dropped the manga when I tried reading it a couple of years ago. But ufotable makes this serviceable and by the fourth episode or so, I was completely sold. Something I loved about the manga was its unique artstyle and use of patterns and gradients—any other studio would have sacrificed both. Watching a fight scene in Demon Slayer is a joy. Characters ping pong around each other and footwork is fancy and weapons feel dangerous and the techniques look cool and require Tanjiro to puzzle them out. Also, Tanjiro is such a good boy. He drinks so much respect women juice. Every time an episode ends I’m disappointed I don’t have more to watch.

[lightcracked-blog]

FAIRYTALE AESTHETICS

Bold for what applies totally to your muse, italic for what applies in some circumstances / some verses (or for what applies but your muse wouldn’t like to admit it ). Repost!

THE SNOW QUEEN

brand new snow boots.  the boy next door.  windowsill flowers.  skating on the pond. the beauty of a snowflake. a sharp pain in your eye. a broken mirror. frosted windows. a sudden difference in a loved one.  ice-cold lips upon your forehead. a pale hand against the glass.frozen flowers. the depths of midwinter. offering a sacrifice. deep, cold water. a flower garden.  an unexplainable feeling of something being missing. dreaming of love. soft silk,summer air. desperate escape from a castle. a friendly raven. autumn leaves falling all around you.  a knife pressed against your cheek. running for your life as time runs out. northern lights gleaming overhead. an impossible puzzle to decipher.  winter passing, to become spring. seeing the world through whole new eyes.

SNOW WHITE

desperately longing for a child. a drop of blood in the snow. a heartfelt wish. loss of a mother at a very young age. uncertainty and foreboding at a grand occasion. sweet singing echoing around castle walls. white doves. a terrible enemy in the guise of a friend or family member. hair as black as ebony.  skin as white as snow.  lips as red as blood. a practitioner of darker magic. bitter vanity. an arrow in the dark. the heart of a deer. running terrified into a dark forest. depending on the kindness of strangers.  a magic mirror.  an apple fallen from a pale hand.  a slumber like death.  a glass coffin in the middle of a wood. all the king’s horses, all the king’s men. true love’s first kiss. the sense of contentment that comes with justice having been served to a terrible person.

CINDERELLA

a blessed childhood.  a kindly heart. little mice in the walls. bluebirds. sweet and pleasant dreaming. a lifetime of scorn from your own family. being treated like a servant. invitation to a fabulous ball. barely daring to be excited. a gown ripped to shreds.  crying in the courtyard. white horses.  a lizard in the grass. coach and footmen.  glass slippers.  eyes meeting across a crowded room. the first dance with the one you love. your heart feeling like it is bursting with joy.  walking arm in arm with a beloved one.  a wonderful evening.  the first blossom of love. the stroke of midnight. a desperate rush to be home. a secret underneath a loose floorboard. smashed glass, hopes shattered. the happiness that comes with finally having been seen for whom you truly are.

THE LITTLE MERMAID

the shimmering ocean floor.  brilliant blooming coral.  fish with bright and shiny scales. the figurehead of a ship. sea-spray striking your face. the wind rustling in your hair on the top deck. a violent and vigorous thunderstorm. heart pounding with mingled terror and excitement. strange ripples on the water’s surface.  love at first sight. a desperate bargain struck. your legs trembling as you try to walk. a terrible ache in your feet like blades with every step you take. the softness of the sand.  an unrequited longing. the heartbreak that comes with seeing the one you love walking arm in arm with another. a blade held tightly in your hand. a kiss pressed to your sleeping lover’s forehead. loving another more than you love yourself. unbearable suffering. sea-foam drifting on the surface of the ocean.

RAPUNZEL

a desperate craving for something which cannot be satisfied by anything else. being caught in the act of doing something criminal.  making a bargain for the sake of another person’s welfare. a tall stone tower in the center of a forest. sweet singing from a window far above you. gently running a brush through your long hair.  an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night. the bittersweet joy that comes with experiencing tenderness that you have never known before. cruel eyes watching from the shadows. pleading for another’s life.  breaking the rules in order to prevent something terrible from happening, even though you’re frightened. finding someone beloved and long thought lost, and holding them tightly. your hand clasped tightly in the hand of another.  knowing that you’re safe at last, as long as you’re together.

TAGGED BY: @somecrazylads   thank you!!!!  TAGGING: @weapondanced / @fireloved / @hiccoras / @cchilyoja / @softestmood / @duskrot / @bloominghands / &&. anyone else who would like to!

[deceitxingenue-archive]

FAIRYTALE  AESTHETICS.

Bold for what applies totally to your muse, italic for what applies in some circumstances / some verses (or for what applies but your muse wouldn’t like to admit it). Repost!

THE SNOW QUEEN.

brand new snow boots. the boy next door. windowsill flowers. skating on the pond. the beauty of a snowflake. a sharp pain in your eye. a broken mirror. frosted windows. a sudden difference in a loved one. ice-cold lips upon your forehead. a pale hand against the glass. frozen flowers. the depths of midwinter. offering a sacrifice. deep, cold water. a flower garden. an unexplainable feeling of something being missing. dreaming of love. soft silk. summer air. desperate escape from a castle. a friendly raven. autumn leaves falling all around you. a knife pressed against your cheek. running for your life as time runs out. northern lights gleaming overhead. an impossible puzzle to decipher. winter passing, to become spring. seeing the world through whole new eyes.

SNOW WHITE.

desperately longing for a child. a drop of blood in the snow. a heartfelt wish. loss of a mother at a very young age. uncertainty and foreboding at a grand occasion. sweet singing echoing around castle walls. white doves. a terrible enemy in the guise of a friend or family member. hair as black as ebony. skin as white as snow. lips as red as blood. a practitioner of darker magic. bitter vanity. an arrow in the dark. the heart of a deer. running terrified into a dark forest. depending on the kindness of strangers. a magic mirror. an apple fallen from a pale hand. a slumber like death. a glass coffin in the middle of a wood. all the king’s horses, all the king’s men. true love’s first kiss. the sense of contentment that comes with justice having been served to a terrible person.

CINDERELLA.

a blessed childhood. a kindly heart. little mice in the walls. bluebirds. sweet and pleasant dreaming. a lifetime of scorn from your own family. being treated like a servant. invitation to a fabulous ball. barely daring to be excited. a gown ripped to shreds. crying in the courtyard. white horses. a lizard in the grass. coach and footmen. glass slippers. eyes meeting across a crowded room. the first dance with the one you love. your heart feeling like it is bursting with joy. walking arm in arm with a beloved one. a wonderful evening. the first blossom of love. the stroke of midnight. a desperate rush to be home. a secret underneath a loose floorboard. smashed glass,hopes shattered. the happiness that comes with finally having been seen for whom you truly are.

THE LITTLE MERMAID.

the shimmering ocean floor. brilliant blooming coral. fish with bright and shiny scales. the figurehead of a ship. sea-spray striking your face. the wind rustling in your hair on the top deck. a violent and vigorous thunderstorm. heart pounding with mingled terror and excitement. strange ripples on the water’s surface. love at first sight. a desperate bargain struck. your legs trembling as you try to walk. a terrible ache in your feet like blades with every step you take. the softness of the sand. an unrequited longing. the heartbreak that comes with seeing the one you love walking arm in arm with another. a blade held tightly in your hand. a kiss pressed to your sleeping lover’s forehead. loving another more than you love yourself. unbearable suffering. sea-foam drifting on the surface of the ocean.

RAPUNZEL.

a desperate craving for something which cannot be satisfied by anything else. being caught in the act of doing something criminal. making a bargain for the sake of another person’s welfare. a tall stone tower in the center of a forest. sweet singing from a window far above you. gently running a brush through your long hair. an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night. the bittersweet joy that comes with experiencing tenderness that you have never known before. cruel eyes watching from the shadows. pleading for another’s life. breaking the rules in order to prevent something terrible from happening, even though you’re frightened. finding someone beloved and long thought lost, and holding them tightly. your hand clasped tightly in the hand of another. knowing that you’re safe at last, as long as you’re together.

tagged by: Stolen like your chocolate brownies (nom)

tagging: Who ever wants to do it!