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goldfish-afterhours · 4 months

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Genshin Characters as Fairy Tales

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x Gn!Reader

Type/Genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/fluff

Warnings: Not all fairy tales have happy endings—major character death

Notes: Man why are fairy tales so sad

Diluc

Cinderella

On the night of your 18th birthday, your father holds a grand masquerade ball, inviting everyone in the kingdom

You, however, had little to no interest in such things. While the party was happening inside, you decided to take a stroll in the gardens

Who knew there would be monsters lurking in the dark that got past the guards?

Before it could devour you, someone sliced its head off with one fell swoop

Standing in front of you was a man with red hair, a black masquerade mask obscuring his eyes

You thanked him and offered him a reward, but he declined. Upon seeing your disappointed expression, he suggested just spending the night talking with him, since he didn’t know anyone at the ball

The two of you sit outside, talking about anything and everything as the night grows later and later

Just as the clock struck twelve, the masked man jumps to his feet, muttering something about how he has to get home

You try to persuade him to stay, or at least tell you his name, but he dashes off so fast you can’t catch up to him

All he left behind was your memory of his soft smile…and a black mask, dropped in the grass

You scour the entire kingdom for him, holding up the mask to every person you meet in hopes you find him, but to no avail

But a crazy idea pops in your head

Deep into the night, you stroll down the main street, unarmed. Just as you expected, a group of hoodlums threaten you, demanding money in exchange for your life

And just as you expected, the man with red hair returns to save you again

For saving your life twice, you insist on giving him a grand reward

You bring him, the son of a deceased and disgraced ex-government official, to the castle, and the two of you live happily ever after <3

“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again. But putting yourself in danger was much too reckless.”

“That’s how much I wanted to see you again~”

Kaeya

The Little Mermaid

Kaeya, a merman, falls in love with you, a pirate

He’s always swimming beside your ship, listening to you sing with your shipmates of treasure, of good alcohol, of friendship, of love

Gives away his voice to have legs and be with you. He doesn’t want to just listen to your songs—he wants to be the one you sing them to

Cruelly, you fall in love with someone else

His brother, in an attempt to save Kaeya, presents him with a dagger, saying if he is able to kill you then he’ll be able to return to the sea as a merman

But how can Kaeya kill the one he gave up everything for?

How can he even dare imagine hurting the one he loved with his entire being, that he would be willing to walk on glass everyday for?

Throws the dagger into the water. As the sun rises, he watches you, laughing together with your lover, as he melts into seafoam

And as much as it pains him, at least he can see you happy one last time

You don’t see him as he is carried away by the wind

“No matter what…I hope you live happily.”

Childe

Little Red Riding Hood

He’s the Big Bad Wolf, and you’re an herbalist making your deliveries of medicine to your patient in the forest

At first, he’s too nervous to approach you, afraid he would scare you away

But one day, when he sees you shivering from the frosted air, he steels himself enough to offer you his red scarf

The smile you gave him as you wrapped the scarf around yourself was almost enough to heal the years of loneliness from his isolation in the woods

The two of you become friends: Childe shows you all the best spots to pick herbs, and you tell him stories of the outside world

The villagers fear him, a man-eating beast, so he never ventures out of the forest

Childe loves the sound of your voice, and he loved listening to your stories, especially this one story about how the Sun and Moon were lovers in a tragedy, separated in the sky

Protects you from the hostile wild animals in the forest

When the two of you realize you were in love with each other, you made no haste in moving into his cozy cottage

But when the villagers realized their beloved herbalist was in the clutches of the detested wolf, they all swore you had been tricked

They stormed the forest, armed

You come back to your cottage from picking herbs, just in time to see the villagers point a rifle at him

Even with your skills, there is nothing you can do but cradle him in your arms as his blood stains the grass red

“C-Can you finish the rest of the story? I want to know…if the Sun and the Moon ever meet again.”

Zhongli

Sleeping Beauty

In the wild overgrowth once known as the country Liyue, there exists a legend of an almighty god who had fallen into a deep slumber

To save your country, you set out to search for this missing god

The terrain is harsh, overrun with trees and thistles and bushes blocking your every way

But occasionally, you will stumble upon a statue, vines and moss adorning the structure, helping you to believe that perhaps there really was a civilization who lived here in the past

The wild guides you up the cliffs, into a cave where you find a dragon sleeping, his breath slow and shallow

There was something so lonely, so sad about this sleeping dragon, trapped deep in the country of a long-gone civilization, only able to wait for someone to come

You put your hands on the sides of his face, and, as if to reward him for all his years of waiting and to tell him he is no longer alone, you kiss his forehead

The moment you do, his scales scatter away like droplets in a summer rainstorm

You were no longer holding a dragon, but cupping the face of a man

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing amber eyes that glowed like the moon in the darkness of the cave, and you knew you had found your missing god

“Oh…you have found me. How long I’ve been waiting for you.”

Xiao

Beauty and the Beast

With each passing day, Xiao can feel himself transforming more into a monster

The weight of his sins grew heavier and heavier, covering him with ashes and feathers

Soon, there were rumours of a half bird beast flying over the village at night, searching for its next meal

You, an orphan that had been treated as an outcast since birth, was chosen by the villagers to be the sacrifice to quell the beast’s anger and hunger

But after being brought to his decaying castle, Xiao makes it clear he has no interest in eating you

In fact, he gives you free reign in his home, allowing you to go wherever you pleased

At first, he tries to scare you, tries to get you to stay away from him

But when you see him feeding the chipmunks outside, and the songbirds feel safe enough around him to perch on his shoulders, you no longer feel afraid

The two of you slowly warm up to each other. Xiao’s favourite thing to do is listen to you read

When he can’t fall asleep at night from the pain, he asks you to read him stories so he can fall asleep to the sound of your soft voice

You come to realize he’s not a monster but a hurt, scared boy who only wants to wake up from this nightmare he’s been trapped in

The two of you enjoyed your peaceful life together, until one day a hero from your village stormed Xiao’s castle, determined to either save or take vengeance for you

Xiao, who flew over the village every night to make sure no danger came to the villagers, could not bring himself to defend himself from this naive boy

As you hold his still body, you kiss him goodbye

To both you and the hero’s shock, the feathers stabbed into Xiao’s body dispersed, swirling into the sky

The feathers kept flying away until the beast you were holding in your arms became human again

“You’ve awoken me from a terrifying dream. Thank you.”

please comment/reblog if you’ve enjoyed! <3

#listen I did not expect it to get this dark #my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin au #genshin headcanons #genshin angst #Diluc #Kaeya #Childe #Xiao #Zhongli #Diluc x reader #Kaeya x reader #Childe x reader #Xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

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misshoneyimhome · 3 months

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「2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ FOLLOWERS CELEBRATION」

“We were on a break!" I Nico Hischier (🔥)

Summary; Breakups can be tough, but taking breaks can be even more challenging, especially when you're unsure about your position in the situation

Tropes & warnings; Strangers to lovers, romantic relationship, breakup, drama, sadness, one-night-stands, mention of alchohol consumption, potential trigger for your inner season three and four Ross/Rachel, exes to lovers

Other notes; time jumps, first time writing about Nico Hischier 🙈

Word count; 2.8K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the tangled sheets and the aftermath of a night that held no solace. The stranger beside you, a fleeting connection in a sea of faces, seemed oblivious to the storm raging within you. The weight of guilt and regret settled like a heavy fog, and a single tear betrayed the depth of your emotions.

Nico. His name resonated in your mind like a haunting melody, a constant reminder of what once was. His smile, his laughter, his handsome face – they all lingered, refusing to be erased. The breakup had left wounds that refused to heal, and the bitter echo of "We were on a break!" reverberated in your thoughts like a cruel mantra.

The night with the stranger was meant to be an escape, an attempt to drown the memories of Nico. Yet, as you lay there, it became evident that no amount of distraction could erase the ache in your heart. The bitterness of the past clung to you, casting a shadow over the weak attempts to move forward.

The room held a heavy silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of the outside world. The stranger stirred, oblivious to the turmoil within you. And as you wiped away the silent tears, you couldn't help but wonder if the choices made in the dark were only intensifying the ache in the light of day. The journey to healing seemed like an uphill battle, and in that moment, you longed for the simplicity of what once was – the warmth of Nico's smile, the comfort of his laughter, and the love that had slipped away in the chaos of a break.

Nico Hischier, the charismatic Swiss captain of the New Jersey Devils, had effortlessly stolen your heart from the very moment your eyes met. His sweet accent, like a melodic symphony, echoed in your ears, and his undeniable charm had woven a spell around your soul.

The journey from strangers to a close couple had been swift, but as quickly as your relationship had blossomed, it had evolved into uncharted territory, creating tension and cracks in the once-solid foundation.

Your story with Nico began at a New Year's party, where chance had intertwined your paths with those of the Devils players, and the night unfolded like a fairy tale – you talked for hours, shared intimate details, and danced as if time had no meaning. And unlike the Cinderella tale, the enchantment didn't fade at midnight; instead, Nico mustered the courage to seal the night with a tender kiss as the clock struck twelve.

The relationship developed rapidly, and within a few months, you found yourself proudly donning his jersey in the stands, passionately cheering him on. Through playoffs and the highs and lows of life, you became his emotional anchor. Your days were filled with being a supportive hockey girlfriend, oscillating between regular work hours and being a constant presence in Nico's life.

Then the off-season arrived after the Devils fell short against the Hurricanes, and from mid-May, a new chapter unfolded, offering a glimpse into a different lifestyle. Nico's plans to return to Switzerland for the summer became the focal point, and you were set to join him. Plans were in place to meet his friends and family, adding another layer of connection to your evolving story with the Swiss hockey star. The anticipation of the upcoming journey to Switzerland brought a mix of excitement and nervousness, as you were about to step into the world that had shaped the man who had stolen your heart.

And when returning to New Jersey after the heavenly escapade in Switzerland, filled with cheese, chocolates, and breathtaking mountain views, your new every day life began to settle in. Nico's insistence on you moving in with him was swift, almost as if it were a natural progression in your fairy tale love story.

Your Prince Charming had practically designated a spot for your belongings one day, not bothering to ask if you wanted to or not. But, of course, you did. Nico was your perfect match, and in his eyes, it was a no-brainer. Your laughter at his jokes, the way you looked out for him, and the comfort of letting him be the little spoon – it all made you irreplaceable in his life.

However, then the picture-perfect life started to lose its lustre, as real life, unlike fairy tales, doesn't guarantee happy endings. Your once-charmed existence evolved into a routine, despite the unpredictable nature of the NHL schedule. Home games became routine evenings, weekends were consumed by hockey-related activities, and your entire world revolved around Nico and the sport.

And as much as you cherished these moments, a year into this life, you began to yearn for space. Space to spend time with your friends, to be yourself without the shadow of being "Nico Hischier's girlfriend”. You longed to carve out a name for yourself in your career and beyond.

The public nature of your relationship had altered the essence of who you were, and the playoffs, with their demanding schedule and emotional toll, added to the growing knot in your stomach. A sickening feeling crept in, signalling that you needed to address these issues before losing yourself completely.

And the breaking point came after yet another heated argument with Nico, a recurring theme over the past few months. The fights revolved around your plea for space, a need to reclaim your individuality, while Nico seemed unable to understand your perspective. The echoes of his constant questioning and insistence on having you around filled the air.

In the midst of the argument, Nico's frustration erupted. "You knew how this was going to be, y/n… I thought you understood," he shouted, his words hanging heavy in the charged atmosphere.

"I do understand, Nico. All I'm saying is that I also need to be myself, just for a little while – not just your girlfriend," you tried to reason, but the words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"I don't get it! So, what are you saying, that I can't have you AND my career? You know I can't make that choice, y/n!"

"That's not... that's not it! I just need some space..."

"Like how? Move out? Not be with me?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want – maybe, we should just take a break or something..."

A heavy silence enveloped both of you as you caught your breaths, the weight of the words lingering in the air. The moment of truth arrived when you uttered the words that cut deeper than any knife could – but a painful decision you believed was necessary.

"You want a break from us?" Nico's dark eyes bore into yours, tears threatening to pool in the corners.

And as if your heart was being wrenched out, you nodded through the tears streaming down your face, making your skin puffy and swollen. "Yes," you whimpered softly. "I need a break from us, Nico. I need some time to think things through."

So, the following day, you moved out, leaving behind the life you had built together for the past year.

Nico's attempt to downplay the impact of the breakup fooled no one, especially not his teammates who knew him inside out. So, when the team faced another defeat in the playoffs, and the off-season loomed, the guys rallied together for a boys' night out, urging Nico to let loose and forget, even if just for a night.

In their minds, they believed that if Nico had truly moved on, he wouldn't be inclined to seek any distractions. However, to their surprise, he was more than willing to embrace a night of diversion. The usually focused and committed captain seemed eager to shake off the weight of the recent events, if only temporarily.

So, as the night unfolded, laughter and camaraderie echoed through the air, the boys watched as their captain navigated through the night, wondering if this temporary escape would provide the solace he needed or if it was just a fleeting distraction from the wounds that were still healing.

Two weeks had passed since the decision to take a break from Nico, and during that time, you delved deeper into your feelings. And as a more profound emotion stirred within you, you found yourself missing him more than anything. Armed with newfound clarity about your concerns, you decided it was time to face him again.

So without announcing your visit, you knocked on the front door of what was once your shared home, hoping to catch Nico off guard. You didn't want him to have the chance to prepare for your heartfelt admission that you had taken the time needed to be sure about wanting to be with him.

However, it turned out you were the one in for a surprise.

A perplexed Nico opened the door, and you greeted him with a soft, sincere smile. "y/n... what, what are you doing here?"

"Hey, sorry I just come around like this, but I just couldn't wait... I just wanted to tell you that-"

And then, you saw her.

A half-naked woman behind Nico, casually wandering around his condo in his shirt, her messy hair indicating she had clearly spent the night. The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, words failed you. The sincerity in your eyes shifted to confusion and hurt as you struggled to comprehend the scene before you.

"What?" Nico responded, his tone suddenly cold and seemingly heartless, as you stood there, baffled and hurt, your mouth slightly agape and your brows furrowed.

"You... you slept with someone?" Your voice carried a mix of firmness and vulnerability, a tear forming in the corner of your eye.

"Yeah, so what?" Nico spoke back. "Why do you even care about what I do?"

The shock hit you like a wave. While you had suggested a break, you hadn't anticipated that Nico would interpret it as a full-fledged breakup.

"Nico! I said I needed some time and space... and you just sleep with another woman!" you almost shouted, your accusation only adding fuel to the fire within him.

"So, what! We were on a break! Remember?"

"Yes, a break... that doesn't mean a breakup!"

"What?" Nico almost laughed mockingly. "What's even the difference... you didn't want to be with me – YOU broke up with ME... you expected me to just sit around and wait for you? Hell no!"

A part of you acknowledged that you were losing this battle. In a way, he had a point, and a semantic distinction couldn't salvage the situation at this point. Yet, stubbornness kept you from admitting defeat. Instead, you shook your head in disbelief and stormed off from his apartment, leaving the echoes of an unresolved argument behind.

The off-season was an agonising period. Not only had you parted ways with Nico on bitter terms, but you found no solace or distraction from the pain and heartache. Alcohol, casual hook-ups, and even late-night talks with your girls no longer sufficed. You were a broken mess, grappling with the aftermath of a painful breakup.

But resilience bubbled within you. Despite the turmoil, you knew you had to pull yourself together, rediscover the strength that defined you, and slowly navigate your way back to life.

So you put on your game face, dressing to impress as you reconnected with friends, curbing the wild party nights, and almost regaining the cheerful persona you once wore effortlessly. And with a burst of energy and a rejuvenating self-care trip to the hairdresser, you confronted the mature step of acknowledging that, since you were the one who made the decision, you had to face the consequences.

And the consequences led you to accidentally run into your ex at a small local coffee shop. A place you both used to love.

The encounter was unexpected, sending a jolt through your carefully rebuilt exterior. And as you stood face to face with Nico, a mix of emotions flooded in – regret, nostalgia, and the undeniable ache of a heart still on the mend.

Nico, equally taken aback, found himself frozen in place as he locked eyes with you. His internal dialogue urged him to keep walking, to ignore the familiar beauty that stood before him. Yet, his body seemed to defy his intentions, anchoring him in place after grabbing his coffee, while you were just about to join the queue.

There was a soft moment when your eyes met, a tender connection that transcended the past bitterness. It felt as though the anger had dissipated, leaving behind the remnants of broken hearts and emotions in need of care and love.

But despite the tenderness in the air, you couldn't shake off the nervousness, an anxiety about what he might say. Was he still angry? Did he need to unleash the pent-up frustration?

Surprisingly, Nico had processed those emotions during the summer. His training had served as a cathartic release, and the distance from the city had allowed his mind to gather its thoughts. He acknowledged that you had every right to feel the way you did. His demanding sport and schedule had consumed much of your time, leaving little room for the attention you deserved. He knew that now.

Moreover, he admitted to himself that sleeping with someone else hadn't made him feel any better. In fact, it left him with a sense of remorse. The void he thought could be filled was only accentuated by the absence of what truly mattered – the connection he had lost with you.

He had missed your kisses, the feel of your body, and the warmth of your smile. The void left by your absent laughter felt overwhelming, and he found no comfort in any other woman. All he wanted was to win you back.

"Y/n..." he began, attempting to navigate the conversation.

"Nico..." you replied, a light smile trying to form on your lips as you observed his facial expression.

And just as you were about to speak, so was he.

"Oh no..." you chuckled lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You go first..."

"Y/n... I'm sorry – shit, I don't even know what to say, I'm just..."

"Wait," you softly interrupted. "You're sorry? Nico, if anyone should be sorry, it should be me... I broke up with you, and then I got mad at you for trying to move on... I'M the one who's sorry," you admitted, almost on the verge of tears, unable to believe that he had opened up like this.

"But Schätzi..." the nickname rolled off his lips, a familiar warmth in the midst of the conversation. "I- I didn't even fight for you..."

You could sense he was struggling with the words, yet his expression and body language conveyed volumes.

"What do you mean, Nic... I pushed you away – I ran from our relationship..."

Tears once again trailed down your cheeks, and Nico's admission hung in the air, creating a strange and charged atmosphere between you two.

Amidst the aromatic blend of coffee and the gentle hum of brewing, the two of you found yourselves engaged in a battle of apologies, each trying to outdo the other in expressing remorse for the breakup. It seemed almost foolish, and the weight of the situation suddenly struck you both as laughter bubbled up.

"You did what I asked of you... because you're an amazing boyfriend, and I don't deserve you – I know that," you confessed with sincerity, offering him a soft smile as you poured out your emotions. "But, I do hope I can make up for it and not have you hate me..."

"Hate you? Schätzi, I could never hate you..." Nico spoke softly, taking a step forward as his large form entered your personal space.

You looked up at him, a mix of confusion and comfort washing over you.

"Really?"

"Shit... no way – I love you; I still do and most likely always will," he declared, flashing you half a smile.

And you couldn't help but wonder what you had done to deserve such a man.

"Nico... I love you too," you spoke softly, almost timid.

Again, a brief moment of silence hung in the air between you as you kept your eyes locked.

"So..." Nico broke the silence. "Does that mean I still have a chance with you?"

"Oh baby, I'm the one who doesn't deserve another chance with you... but if you'll have me, I'm all yours..."

"Of course, I'll have you!" Almost tossing his coffee aside, Nico pulled you into a heartfelt hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he embraced your figure. "And this time, I'll never let you go."

The words resonated with sincerity, a promise made in the midst of coffee shop sounds and the sweet aroma of brewing, sealing a chapter of heartache and opening a new one filled with hope and renewed love.

#2️⃣5️⃣0️⃣ followers celebration #nico hischier imagine #nico hischer x reader #new jersey devils imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine

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iww-gnv · 2 months

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What has the world come to when even a princess can’t earn a living wage? The fictional Cinderella may have left behind a life of labor, but the actors playing her and all of her fairy tale friends in Disneyland haven’t. Now, they’re seeking to unionize under the Actor’s Equity Association so they can continue to whistle (and earn a living wage) while they work. The union is currently seeking to represent 1,700 Disneyland employees who—close your eyes, kids—play Minnie, Mickey, Donald, Goofy, and the like around the park and in parades (via CNN). After just three days, the union says it already has over 30% of employee support, but that it is waiting until it has at least 60% approval before filing for a representation vote with the National Labor Relations Board or seeking recognition of the union from Disney.

#news #labor news #disney #disney news #behind the magic #actors equity association #actor's equity association

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jungkwok · 3 months

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so this is love | knj fluff | bts disney series

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

pairing: namjoon x reader

tags: fluff duh, princecharming!namjoon x reader, based off plot of 'Cinderella'

word count: 486 words

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

In the grandeur of the royal palace, you find yourself a princess married to Prince Namjoon. The magic of your love story extends beyond the fairy tale, and every day feels like a dream. Yet, amid the opulence, there is a secluded garden that captivates your heart, hidden away from the prying eyes of courtiers.

One afternoon, as you meander through the palace corridors, Prince Namjoon spots you gazing longingly at the entrance to the secret garden. His eyes, filled with love and curiosity, follow your every move. Sensing his presence, you turn, and the corners of his lips curl into a warm smile.

"Are you curious about the garden, my love?" he asks, his voice a gentle caress. You nod, the anticipation evident in your eyes. With a twinkle in his eyes, Namjoon takes your hand and leads you to the garden's entrance.

The moment you step inside, a serene world unfolds – vibrant flowers in full bloom, the soft rustle of leaves, and the sweet fragrance of nature in its purest form. Prince Namjoon, always attentive to your desires, watches as your eyes light up with wonder.

"Shall we dance, y/n?" he suggests, extending his hand towards you. The music, as if summoned by his words, begins to play softly, carried by an unseen breeze. You place your hand in his, and the two of you sway in a dance only the enchanted garden knows.

As you move together, Prince Namjoon looks deep into your eyes, his gaze filled with an unspoken emotion. "In this secluded haven, away from the constraints of the world, I want you to know that you are my greatest treasure," he confesses, his voice a symphony of love.

Overwhelmed by his words, tears shimmer in your eyes. "And you, my prince, are the beating heart of my fairytale. With you, every day feels like a happily ever after," you respond, your voice a delicate melody.

The dance continues, a dance of hearts intertwined, emotions laid bare. Prince Namjoon leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. The world around you fades, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the enchantment of your love.

Breaking the kiss, Namjoon cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "I love you more than words can convey. You are my Cinderella, the one who has brought magic to my life," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You return his gaze, your heart echoing his sentiments. "And you, my prince, are the embodiment of all my dreams. With you, I've found a love that transcends any fairy tale."

In that secluded garden, surrounded by the whispers of nature, Prince Namjoon and you share a moment that transcends time. As the dance continues, their love story blooms like the flowers around them, an everlasting testament to the magic woven into their hearts.

#bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts oneshot #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon oneshot #bts fantasy au #namjoon fic #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x you

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esther-dot · 3 months

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Cinderella

Cinder-Jaehaerys 5k by @wendynerdwrites

A gender-flipped Cinderella Story

Lavender's Blue 4k

Once Upon A Time, in a faraway kingdom, Sansa Stark was humming a song while she swept the floors of Winterfell. Her face was covered in dirt and ashes. Her hands were dry and wrinkled from washing clothes and doing the dishes. But her hope and kindness had not been damaged by all those years of being ordered around by Ramsay Bolton and his girlfriend of the week.

The Weirdwood, the Wolf, and the Glass Slipper 5k

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a girl who loved her father very much….A Cinderella version of Jon/Sansa, mixing elements from the Cinderella stories as told by the Brothers Grimm and the film Ever After.

Together All the While incomplete 28k

Sansa Stark wanted to keep her household together. She borrowed a dress. Prince Jon wanted to escape his fate. He stole a horse.

Cinderella gifset by @yenstarkofrivia

Allerleirauh

Past Our Satellites 140k

Inspired and loosely based on the tale Thousandfurs (from Allerleirauh: All-Kinds-of-Fur) and Cinderella by the Brothers Grimm Rough summary of the tale for those who are unfamiliar with it: "A king promised his dying wife that he would not marry unless it was to a woman who was as beautiful as she was, and when he looked for a new wife, he realized that the only woman that could match her beauty was his own daughter." (from Wiki)

Princess Furball 9k

When Sansa's father announces his intent to marry her, she attempts to trick him out of it, demanding impossible gifts. When her father inexplicably succeeds in fulfilling her requests, Sansa fakes her death and flees her father's kingdom in a coat of many pelts. Sheltered by her trusty direwolf, Lady, Sansa is found by the prince of a foreign realm, who christens her "Furball". The former princess hides out working in the king's kitchens as a curiously humanoid animal as war looms. But things change when two kings and a prince die…

Swan Princess

The Little Bird Princess 18k @captainbee89

When Rhaegar defeated Robert Baratheon on the Trident, he only spared Ned out of love for Lyanna. And on the condition that Stark's eldest daughter would one day wed his son and quell the fighting between the North and the Crownlands for good.

This isn't my idea (this is my idea) of fun 10k orphaned

Their eventual marriage is meant to strengthen the Northern/Southern alliance, but Jon Targaryen and Sansa Stark can hardly stop bickering long enough to make peace with each other, let alone their kingdoms. But it only takes a few meddling parents, suggestive friends, and a jealous sorcerer's magic spell to show this couple that what they've been dreaming of has been there all along.

Moodboard and ficlet by @otp-that-was-promised

Every summer since they were children, Princess Sansa and Prince Jon are brought together in hope that they will fall in love and marry, uniting their two kingdoms. When they meet for the first time, the royal children take an immediate dislike towards each other, but as the years pass they gradually fall in love.

Snow White

Younger More Beautiful Queen 1k by @captainbee89

If the rumours were true, Jon Snow would be Sansa's cousin, a suitable match in both name and blood. Together, they could bring the whole of the seven kingdoms together peacefully. With Jon, Sansa would be Queen. As Queen, Sansa could order the death of Joffrey as revenge for Ned Stark's death. And what of her other children? Tommen and Myrcella would be taken from her, labeled as bastards and stripped of all their prospects. How dare this silly little girl be the more beautiful Queen she had feared? She would not have it.

The Dragonknight 7k

The day that Sansa got her moonblood, Queen Cersei's magic mirror named her the most beautiful woman in the world. There was only one thing to be done with the imprisoned Queen of the North... the child had to die. Cersei hadn't counted on her twin's soft heart or the wolf in the woods.

Little Red Riding Hood

Throw me to the Wolves 2k

Winter had been hard on Old Nan and everyone in the village worried about her, so it was decided that Sansa should make the trip to her cottage on the other side of the woods to bring her some bread and ale. On her way there, she meets a stranger…

In the Company of Wolves 10k incomplete

Fair of face and kissed by fire, Sansa Stark is a force to be reckoned with—with a feisty spirit to match the flare of her flaming hair. Still, there’s no shortage of suitors vying for the hand of the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark—but despite all their clever plans, Sansa vows she will only marry for love. A chance encounter with a mysterious stranger in the woods, sets her on a path of passion and dangerous intrigue. Is Jon her salvation or her damnation? Perhaps he is both.

Red Riding Hood Gifset by @dcbicki

The Steadfast Tin Soldier

Tin, Paper, Snow 17k incomplete

“Brave soldier, never fear. Even though your death is near.” The flames danced as high as a dream in a million, billion colours- scarlet, orange, purple, even blue, casting rich shimmering shadows on their faces and their hands and their hair. He steadied himself, stood upright, held onto her for dear life. "Would that we were made of glass," he thought. "Tin doesn't do well here. Nor paper." Higher and higher, the flames rose, crackling, singing. Tin, Paper, Snow, they whispered. It's time to let her go.

12 Dancing Princesses

Drifting through the halls with sunrise 3k

They were selfish girls, it was their choice that sentenced these men to death, month after month. The cycle would continue, soon the girls behind her would forget about the man on the stone steps, they would don their masks and new shoes and dance until the sun rose over the Narrow Sea.

The Little Mermaid

only a salt kiss remains ficlet by @flibbertigiblet

He was drowning, and then he was not. (He hears her before he sees her, his angel.)

wish i could be 10k by @theshipshipper

"Oh dear, you look cold," Queen Cersei said softly, floating next to her. "Come, come. Let's get you inside." The Queen led her into the dark cave, offering her a seat. "Now, then. I'm told you're here because you desire to be with your Prince?" She flicked her hand and an image of Prince Jon erupted from thin air. "Hmm. I see now... Quite a handsome fellow." Sansa couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. She'd wondered how he was faring after the shipwreck and ached to check for herself. She was relieved that he seemed alright. "My sweet summer child, you have it bad," Queen Cersei informed her, a smile in her voice. She blinked. "I -- what?" "You're in love," she clarified with a laugh before swimming towards a tall shelf in the corner. "I know exactly what you need."

Mermaids Have No Tears ficlet

Little Mermaid AU, specifically the Hans Christian Andersen version.

Gifsets: Part of Your World by @tatesharon The Little Mermaid by @swainlake The Little Mermaid by @dcbicki The Little Mermaid by @sardoniyx

General

Jonsa fairytale ficlet and gifset by @thewindsofwolves

Even though Sansa is now fourteen, she still feels a special enthousiasm for magic. And as Jon likes nothing more than pleasing Sansa, he shares the same enthousiasm. Then, as they are both bored during the great annual Christmas party hosted by Sansa’s dad, she asks her cousin to make one of his trick so the night can be less boring. Taking her outside, he brings her to the well, and asks her one of the ribbons she wears in her hairs. He asks her then to close her eyes and make a wish, before dropping the ribbon into the well. I wish we could go into an adventure.

The Snow Queen and the Huntsman Gifset by @dcbicki

Jonsa x Disney gifset by @amandapeetshusband

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALE - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON SIX - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - THE GIRL IN GREY -- next week -> POLITICAL MARRIAGE/MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

#jonsa #jonsa fic #fairytale au #dot fic list #cinderella au #swan princess au #snow white au #little red riding hood au #the little mermaid au

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olreid · 1 year

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and the thing about the lore so far is that everyone's backstories are already so frankensteined and stitched together and formed from so many different composite narrative parts.. the stepmother is from cinderella and pinnochio and the juniper tree and the wolf is from little red riding hood but also the three little pigs and the stock narratives are combining and growing stronger and more durable via that combination, creating narrative architectures that are harder and harder to escape.. even if they get dropped into a new story they can't escape from these plots that have already been put into motion, these antagonists who jump from tale to tale with ease. even if they come back as completely different characters, in a world where all stories are one story, how far away from their narrative origins can they reasonably expect to get?? death doesn't free you up, it just shuffles you around!!!

#theyre in the soup!!!#neverafter #neverafter spoilers /

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artist-issues · 3 months

Note

If all of the Disney Princesses live in Snow White's world, do you think the Magic Mirror would still declare Snow White as "The Fairest One of All"?

Yes, I do. I think Snow White is Fairest of All because her beauty is the outward version of her purity and innocence. And there’s no other Disney Princess who has more purity and innocence than Snow White.

I mean, the closest you could get, story-wise, would be Aurora. She’s magically gifted with rare beauty that’s symbolic of the rebirth of springtime. That’s quite the beauty classification!

She’s pretty innocent and pure, too—the tiniest glimpse that she might not be as pure as Snow White is the fact that she’s willing to complain about her lot in life, or about the fairies being overprotective, and has a little mischief in her. But even that is kind of a stretch.

What isn’t a stretch, though, is Snow White being so full of love to give that it splashes everywhere. Aurora’s scenes with the animals are all about her confiding in them and playing with them. But Snow White is decidedly motherly with her animal friends. She doesn’t just get their friendship and company—she gives. She teaches them how to clean, and helps them when they’re lost, that sort of thing. Even more loving with the Dwarfs.

So Snow White does good, and that’s part of the beauty of what’s inside of her causing her outside appearance to be beautiful. Aurora, as wonderful as she is, doesn’t do a lot of good. She makes very few decisions that show how loving and kind she can be.

Other than being respectful and obedient and obviously super-fond of her fairy caretakers. It takes a special kind of love to obey three old women who tell you that you have to abandon all your animal friends and the one true love you just met to run a kingdom, instead. I would’ve said “no, I’m not going, and here are all my suppressed bitter feelings about how you keep treating me like a child.”

But even though she’s devastated, she gives up the dream that just came true and fulfills her role as crown princess, instead. I don’t want anyone walking away from this post seeing any shade thrown on Aurora. The purpose of her character was very symbolic.

She wasn’t supposed to grow and change. She wasn’t even supposed to inspire change in others. She was supposed to represent Value. That’s it. She’s precious to everyone around her. She’s worth protecting, sacrificing for, and saving. She’s everyone’s daughter, everyone’s dearest, she’s all the gentleness and beauty and hope for the future, personified.

I could do another post analyzing Sleeping Beauty (though to be honest with you, it’s such an old and incredible fairy tale that I’d be a little intimidated.) But anywho, to answer this question, Snow White would still be Fairest of All because, I think, in the story, ther purity and innocence is what makes her so outwardly beautiful, and none of the other princesses are as pure or innocent. Aurora and Cinderella come close, and then Belle.

EDIT: It would be cool to see them all in one place, though, wouldn’t it? Not for, like, Pocket Princess antics or anything like that. Or anything too sprawly and intertwined, like Once Upon a Time. But if there were a way to neatly, carefully tell a story with that many princesses, and what they inspire in others, and why they befriend and what they teach to one another…without it being a total talking-head-fest…that would be neat.

#Sleeping beauty #Snow White #Belle #beauty and the beast #asked #answered #AU #princesses #Disney princesses #Disney AU #fairest of them all #magic mirror

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princesssarisa · 2 months

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In Heidi Ann Heiner's Cinderella Tales From Around The World, I've now read the variants from Germany, Belgium, and France.

*Of course the most famous German Cinderella story is Aschenputtel by the Brothers Grimm. If you don't know it from reading it, you probably know it from Into the Woods, and if you don't know it from there, you've probably heard of it in pop culture. Too many people mistakenly think it's the "original" version of Cinderella. But there are other German Cinderella stories too – all similar to the Grimms' version, but with differences here and there.

*In nearly every German version, and in both of the two Belgian versions the book features, the heroine gets her elegant gowns and shoes from a tree. It throws them down to her, or opens up to reveal them, after she either recites a rhyme underneath it or knocks on it.

**Some variants, like the Grimms', have the archetypal "father goes on a journey and asks for gift requests" plot line, and the heroine gets a hazel twig, which she plants on her mother's grave and which grows into a tree. But in other versions, the tree is seemingly a random one, which either a dove, a dwarf, or a mysterious old man or woman advises her to ask for finery.

**That said, there's one exception: a German version called Aschengrittel, where the heroine meets a dwarf who, like the fairies in some Italian versions, gives her a magic wand to grant her wishes.

*As in the Egyptian, Greek, and Italian versions, it varies whether the German versions have the heroine abused by a stepmother and stepsister(s) or by her own mother and sister(s), whether her father is alive or not, and whether the special event she attends is a royal ball/festival or a church service. In both of the two Belgian versions, the heroine's abusers are her own mother and sister(s).

*While in the Mediterranean versions, the heroine's future husband is always either a prince or (more rarely) a king, in the German versions he's occasionally a knight or a rich merchant instead.

*Other typical German and Belgian details are (a) the (step)mother forcing the heroine to sort lentils, seeds, or grain, usually by picking them out of the ashes, which is usually resolved by birds doing the job for her, (b) the prince (or king, or merchant) having the palace or church steps smeared with pitch so that the heroine loses her shoe, and (c) the notorious detail of the (step)sisters cutting off parts of their feet to make the shoe fit, which is revealed when either birds or a dog call out that there's blood in the shoe.

**One Greek version has the prince catch the heroine's shoe by having the church steps smeared with honey, but the Mediterranean Cinderellas usually lose their shoes either by accident or by choice, while in Germany and Belgium it's usually the prince's doing.

**The foot-cutting episode is clearly typical of German and Belgian versions, but the Grimms' other notorious detail, where the stepsisters' eyes are pecked out by doves at the end, isn't typical. The Grimms themselves added that grisly detail to give the story a more "moral" ending with the stepsisters appropriately punished.

*The Grimms' footnotes for their version are included in this book. They mention several other German variants, including two that continue after the heroine's marriage and have the stepmother and stepsister try to murder her, and one where the stepmother starts out as the heroine's childhood nurse and murders the girl's mother by pushing her out a window, then claims she committed suicide.

*The German, Belgian, and French Cinderellas aren't quite so cunning and unfazed as the Greek and Italian Cinderellas. Now we see more heroines who cry over their hardships, and/or who beg to be allowed to go to the ball/festival or church, and whose magical help is more given to them and less in their own control. One notable French exception to this pattern, though, is Madame d'Aulnoy's cunning and self-reliant Finette Cendron.

*France doesn't seem to have the same pattern of culturally-distinct oral versions of this tale that other countries do. Instead, the French examples in this book are nearly all literary versions, and each one is almost completely different from the others.

**Of course the most wildly famous and important French Cinderella is Charles Perrault's Cendrillon. This is the Cinderella we all know best, with the fairy godmother, the pumpkin coach, the magic only lasting until midnight, and the glass slipper.

**Published in the same year as Perrault's version was Madame d'Aulnoy's Finette Cendron. This is an interesting, much longer variation that starts out as a Hop o'My Thumb/Hansel and Gretel story, where three sisters are abandoned in the woods and nearly eaten by an ogre, only for the clever youngest, Finette, to outwit him, but then turns into a Cinderella story when the older sisters abuse Finette after they make the dead ogre's castle their home, but Finette follows them to a ball in finery she finds in a chest.

**Another French literary variant is The Black Cat, which starts out as a Cinderella tale, but then has the heroine be stranded on an island and give birth to a black cat son (long story), then turns into a Puss in Boots tale as the cat helps his mother. Yet another is The Blue Bull, where the heroine runs away from her stepmother with her only friend, a magical bull, only for the bull to be killed protecting her from lions, and which then becomes a Donkeyskin/All Kinds of Fur-type of story, where she becomes a servant at the prince's palace and gets her ballroom finery from the bull's grave.

*Perrault and d'Aulnoy's versions are the only two Cinderellas so far where the heroine has a fairy godmother. Yes, in some others there are fairies or mysterious old women who help her, but the concept of a fairy godmother seems to have French literary origins.

*These same two versions, Perrault's and d'Aulnoys are also where we first see strong emphasis on the heroine's virtue and kindness, even to her cruel (step)family. While some oral versions do have her forgive them in the end, these literary versions not only have her do that, but have her constantly be gracious and kind to them (Perrault) or save their lives even at great personal sacrifice (d'Aulnoy).

*Now that I've read Finette Cendron, I can see its slight influence on Massanet's opera Cendrillon. In Finette Cendron, instead of Perrault's choice to have the slipper taken from house to house, all the ladies are invited to the palace to try it on, and Finette's fairy godmother sends her a horse to ride there – just like Cinderella's fairy godmother transports her to the slipper-fitting at the palace in the opera. Finette Cendron's Prince Cherí also falls deathly ill with love for the mystery girl, but is cured when he finds her. (A recurring theme in many different variants, which I forgot to mention when I covered the Mediterranean versions.) In the opera, this has its parallel when Prince Charming faints in despair over the seeming failure of the slipper-fitting, and before that when Cinderella herself becomes gravely ill because she thinks she'll never see her prince again.

@adarkrainbow, @ariel-seagull-wings, @themousefromfantasyland

#cinderella #fairy tale #variations #germany #belgium #france #the brothers grimm #charles perrault #madame d'aulnoy #cinderella tales from around the world #heidi ann heiner #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: suicide mention

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thewertsearch · 10 months

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I never really thought about it before, but John was throwing bombs around earlier, on this planet covered in oil. He's honestly pretty lucky that it took this long for it to catch fire.

Is this... is this fixable? Has Jack just destroyed another planet?

The whole world revolves around its Heir.

Alright. What do you have to say for yourself?

AG: I was the one who put you to sleep. [...] EB: you can do that? AG: Yes, that seems to 8e the limit to what I can do to your primitive species.

For now, at least. I'm sure you're working on it.

...hey, never mind her psionics. Can Vriska steal luck between sessions? Because that would arguably be worse.

EB: why would you put me to sleep and put me in this predicament? AG: John, soon you will understand that you are meant to rise to gr8tness. AG: This can't possi8ly happen unless you are challenged.

Again - Sburb is challenging enough without you making things worse. Exactly how miserable do you want John to be, before you're finally satisfied?

Oh, right.

There isn't an upper limit. You're just going to keep pushing and pushing and pushing until someone who cares about John realizes what you're doing, and puts a stop to it.

EB: if you're seeing my future, and you know those things are the outcome, then why are you going back and… EB: i guess, involving yourself with these events? see what i mean? [...] AG: You are going to 8ecome a gr8 hero, that much is sure. AG: 8ut I want to 8e the one responsi8le for it!

Well, this is nonsense - but it's very Vriska nonsense.

I'm reminded of the Discworld novel, Witches Abroad. The villain of the story is a fairy godmother, who uses her magic to turn the people around her into characters from various fairy tales - Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty and the like. These people are then forced to follow the 'plot' of the story they've been shoved into, whether they like it or not.

She's accrued plenty of wealth and influence from doing so, but her primary motivation is to feel important. Lily derives enormous satisfaction from being the cause of the stories around her - of being the one behind the curtain, the fulcrum around which the narrative turns. At the end of the day, it's pure ego.

Vriska is the same. She's trying to mold John's journey into The Thief's Apprentice, a story with herself at the center. She doesn't really care about this action's effect on the timeline, and she'd certainly never admit that she didn't really have any agency in this event.

All that matters is that, as far as Vriska is concerned, this is her story now.

#full liveblog #homestuck liveblog #act 5.2 #2969 #s84 #*furtively adds lily to my vriska chart*

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johnwickb1tsch · 1 month

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The Night Nurse ~ Chapter 10

A John Wick x Helen Fic

Masterlist / Chapter Map

Author's note: It's been a minute since I posted on this fic, I'm so sorry!! I lost a good chunk of this chapter to an untimely computer update (fuck you very much Windows) and I was so frustrated I just had to let it sit for a while. BUT I finally managed to re-write it, so here we are! I hope you enjoy! 💗💗💗 (Oh and the illustrations here are from the turn of the century version of Afanasyev's Russian Fairy Tales, the book John hid his marker in, in JW3...you'll see why.😉)

Times gets tough

Oh, they get tougher

Hold on to me

I got you, darling…

-I’ll be your man, The Black Keys

The walls of his library were lined with built-in bookshelves, filled to the brim with antique and vintage books. A single leather reading chair sat in the corner with a lamp and a small table. A larger table took up the center of the room with a proper book cradle. Helen breathed in, reveling in the magical smell of old books. She realized that this must be where John gets some of that intoxicating scent of his, bottom notes of leather and parchment paper. The chair in the corner looked well-worn, and she imagined him spending hours of his downtime just sitting and reading away the day.

For the umpteenth time, it squeezed her heart to the point of pain.

Throughout the course of the tour, they did not let go of each other once. John didn’t seem to mind handling books with one mitt of a hand, the fingers of his left laced tightly with Helen’s.

“Do you still have your book of Russian fairy tales?”

“Yes.” Gingerly he pulled it from a shelf, resting it in the cradle on the table.

They perused the book together, Helen leaning against his shoulder. He was warm, and solid as a tree, and for a heady moment it was difficult to concentrate on the antique tome, no matter how beautiful. The illustrations were utterly gorgeous, and she mentally kicked herself into focusing. She thought about a young John toting this beloved book around the world with him like a Lost Boy with his teddy bear, and the thought succeeded in tying her up in inextricable knots.

John turned to a page of an illustration of a lovely peasant woman in the woods, holding a torch made of a glowing human skull. “Oh, who’s that?” asked Helen.

“That’s Vasilisa the Beautiful,” answered John.

She hovered her finger over the first line of Cyrillic, careful not to touch the paper. “What does it say?”

John read it aloud, his voice low and all for her, and she sighed a little, not understanding a syllable. For some reason hearing him speak another language so easily, and something about the lilting cadence of the language in his deep voice, the soft shh and musical ya sounds of the Russian words inspired a curl of lust in her belly, a small thrill zipping down her spine. She shuddered lightly, and prayed he hadn’t noticed.

He absolutely noticed, his pupils blowing wide with desire. Doggedly, he kept them fixed upon the page below.

“Is that, ‘Once upon a time’…in Russian?”

“Something like that. This is a Cinderella story about a young woman who outsmarts her wicked stepmother and the Baba Yaga with her determination and the help of her magical doll. It’s one of my favorites.”

He’d seen a bit of himself in Vasilisa as a young man, straining under the yoke of his unforgiving masters. He turned the page to reveal a witchy old woman riding in what looked like an upright log. Helen couldn’t suppress a grin. “Oh look, it’s you, Baba Yaga.”

John snorted at that. “I still don’t know what idiot started that damned nickname,” he groused.

Actually, he suspected it was Marcus, but he’d never found out for certain.

“It sounds fierce, at least.”

His lips twisted in a smirk, and he couldn’t help himself from turning to look at her, then. Their faces were torturously close. “Think I should get some flaming skull torches for out front?”

“Yes, I think the neighbors would love that,” she deadpanned, and more felt than heard John’s responding chuckle.

He turned the page to a new illustration of a strapping knight on a black horse. “Oh hello, handsome. Who’s this guy?”

John narrowly resisted the urge to ask if she had a thing for men in black, even as that telling warmth clouded his brain.

“That’s…Night.”

“The night Knight?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” Her lips twisted in a cheeky smile. “Nice. I like him.”

“You would.”

“I have excellent taste, John.”

He found himself looking at her mouth again, thinking her taste would be excellent. For the umpteenth time, he managed not to kiss her by the skin of his teeth. By the way she was looking at him...maybe he didn't need to be exercising such restraint. But maybe that was the excellent wine talking

Maybe he really was an idiot.

“So...in reward for being clever Baba Yaga gives Vasilisa one of the skull torches. She takes it back to her house, and when she lights the candles her wicked step mother and awful step sisters burn up.”

“Oooh. And she lives happily ever after?”

“Well...she marries the tsar, for what that's worth.”

Helen wrinkled up her nose, communicating her opinion on that. “Overall, I give it a nine out of ten.”

John couldn’t help it then. He actually grinned, showing teeth. “Glad you liked it.”

“Thanks for sharing with me.”

“My pleasure.”

She was still leaning on his shoulder, and was it him, or had she somehow sidled even closer, her body pressed to his side? Her eyes traveled leisurely from him to the book to the chair in the corner. It was then that she noticed that the bookmarked novel on the side table was a mass-market paperback she recognized quite well.

He’d taken her recommendation on the Codename Villanelle spy thrillers, despite teasing her about her taste in books, what felt like a lifetime ago that fateful night in the subway. The fact that he was on the second one touched her to no end, and she squeezed his arm.

“Aww, you’re reading about Eve and Villanelle,” she purred. “You like them?”

“Yes. You were right, they are fun.”

“Taking notes from Villanelle?” The Russian spy was wickedly clever at finding ways to kill her targets.

“Maybe. That poison hair stick was something. Think I could pull it off?” Helen reached up to curl a lock of his dark hair around her finger with a smile, and John couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of her touching his hair.

He was hopeless.

“Oh, definitely. You could so rock the man-bun.”

John rolled his eyes at that, reluctant to admit that he often did when training.

Helen looked back to the book, now with what John was learning to recognize as a sly glint in her eye. “I’m on practically the same spot in that book,” she noted. “Want to read me a chapter?”

John looked at his reading chair, the comfortable old soldier that it was. It was also the only place to sit in the room, and he went a little cross-eyed at the thought of Helen curled up in his lap in it.

There would be zero reading done, of that he was certain. He would debauch her for the first time in that chair, and maybe again on the table for good measure.

A virulent heat licked at his collar as he imagined it. Fuck him, but she was making him blush.

“Sure. Let’s take it to the living room,” he proposed, ignoring her lips pursed in a theatrical pout.

Minx. She knew exactly what she was doing to him—and he was increasingly unsure why he wasn’t just letting her have her way.

He scooped up the paperback book, her hand still firmly clasped in his other while he led them back to the recessed living room. He set the book down on the couch. “Want another glass of wine? I’m going to clear these dishes.”

He needed to clear his head, and he felt Helen look at him with some disappointment that felt a little bit like being stabbed.

“Can I help you?”

“No, this is your night off. Sit, relax. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” She seated herself on the couch with only the book for company.

She watched John practically flee into the kitchen, and wondered if she’d done something wrong.

Regaled by the sound of clinking dishes and the faucet running, Helen looked around at John’s shelves. They were rather bare, though she noticed he had a bit of a CD collection on display. It plucked at her nostalgia for the days before everything could be so easily accessed via the hand-held computers known as phones but so rarely used for actually talking.

Standing, she decided to be nosy and thumb through them. He seemed to favor classics, from classical music, to rock and blues. There was very little on the shelf dating from past the 90s, and that made her smile for some reason.

“See anything you like?”

She turned to find John with two freshly-filled wine glasses in tow. He set them on the coffee table, before joining her at the built-in cd tower.

“Some good stuff here,” she agreed with a Chili Peppers cd in her hand. The fiery pool with the ocean in the background on the cover tickled the nostalgia center in her brain for sure. “Who are these guys?” She pulled out a black and white album with a high contrast photo of a guy with glasses, and a bearded dude.

“Never heard of the Black Keys?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, honey.”

She chuckled. “Ok, do not pull the my taste in music is better than yours card. I will leave.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he defended with a sly close-lipped smile. “I reserve that card only for books.”

She snorted in answer, and found herself gravitating closer to him, even just standing there looking at his music. She just couldn’t help it.

That really was some good wine he served with dinner.

She watched as he popped open the jewel case, feeding the CD into the slot of his player. He hit a couple buttons, and the speakers erupted with a very bluesy distorted guitar riff. It was loud, and John laughed a little as she jumped—conveniently, into his arms.

“Sorry.” He turned down the volume slightly, his arms circling her waist almost of their own volition. It felt so easy, being with her. Maybe from the very moment they’d met, it just felt like she should be in his arms, and acting on it made something loud and uneasy always clamoring in the back of his brain to go quiet. She swayed her head and shoulders a little to the beat; it was impossible not to.

“John?” she asked from beneath his chin, brushing the soft scruff of his beard with her nose. It filled him with a tingling warmth, in the very marrow of his bones, a pleasure in this closeness that just seemed too good to be true. It was like a drug, better than cocaine or heroin or anything else he’d ever tried, and he didn’t know how he would ever let her go.

“Yeah?”

“They made you learn ballet at your…school, but do you like to dance?”

He’d spent so much time in night clubs, hunting, and acting as backup muscle for Tarasov while he closed business deals, but it wasn’t a setting he really enjoyed. He wasn’t sure he really classified the writhing and arm waving one engaged in at the club as dancing. He was familiar with other dance forms, but they didn’t come up often in his life.

“I feel like you’re actually asking me a different question,” he teased, leaning into her to reach out to skip to a different track.

“I am?”

“You’re asking if I want to dance with you?”

The first metallic notes of Dan Auerbach’s guitar rang out, and John swayed to the beat, a hand on her svelte waist pinning her close. With a smile she moved with him, her other hand finding his.

“Do you?”

He looked down at her with a glint of mischief in those shining dark eyes, and so much warmth that a flood of heat washed through her from her hair follicles all the way to her toes. This man. She really would follow him anywhere. Maybe the wine they’d drank lubricated this thought process, but she knew that didn’t make it any less true.

John knew that his answer to any question that involved an activity with her would be a resounding yes. Groceries? Yes. The dentist? Fine. Just hold his hand. He was broken for her.

“Of course I do.” He lifted his arm to guide her in a turn before pulling her close again, and she simply couldn’t help it. The joy in her heart soared.

Then the vocals in the song began, and Helen couldn’t help the fuzzy warmth that spread in her chest. Need a new love? I’m ready. Want my time? I’m willing.

There wasn’t a huge amount of open space in the living room, but John was very good at making do, leading her in steps to the beat, throwing in fun checks and turns and behind-the-back maneuvers that made her giggle. She knew she sounded drunk. It was on him though, far more than the wine. He made her happier than any one had in a very long time. Maybe ever, if she was being honest with herself.

To make things even worse, the chorus of the song rang loud in her ears with the infectious guitar riff: I’ll be your man. Mmm, I’ll be your man. She didn’t know if he picked this song on purpose for the lyrics, or the intoxicating rhythm, but she felt it in her bones, and in her heart, and every cell of her being; she was so attuned to this man.

She almost tripped when he attempted to twist her up like a pretzel in a figure-eight step, but he caught her, laughing with her as he held her close.

“I’m not that good,” she apologized, clinging to him more than she really needed to. He was just…so solid, and if she was being honest all she really wanted to do was climb him like a fucking tree.

His arm around her waist was like a warm band of iron, and he smiled gently down at her. She felt herself melting like chocolate in the sun, her knees gone weak beneath her.

“That’s ok. I’ve got you.”

She couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped from her throat. Because, she knew it was true, and not just here being silly dancing in his living room. She realized she trusted him not to drop her no matter what they were doing, or what they were facing. That kind of faith in another person, much less a man, was a rare and precious thing.

“John…” she said softly, looking up into his warm dark eyes from so very close. She wasn’t sure if she was asking a question, or if she just needed to cite his name like a prayer, invoke him like a saint in her personal pantheon. Maybe it was madness, but wrapped up in his arms like this, he felt like something to believe in.

Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, those full lips she’d coveted since the moment they’d met, if she was telling the truth.

This was the moment that John’s will to fight it broke at last. He felt it inside, not like a hard snap, but a definite release, like a boat coming unmoored, being swept down a swift stream. There was no more resisting. He was lost to her.

Pulled like a magnet, he finally leaned in that fraction of distance to press his lips to hers. His kiss was like a sunrise in her heart; warm and bursting, soft and sweet. She couldn’t stop herself from standing on tiptoe with a low moan, looping her arms around his neck as she pressed her body against his. It won her something like a deep growl that thrilled her to her toes, and greedily she wanted more.

She teased the seam of his mouth with her tongue, begging entrance he gladly granted. She felt the tremor in his arms as he held her, so tightly that he nearly lifted her from the floor. He kissed her like a starving man offered a life-giving meal, and her fingers fisted in his hair at the back of his head, holding him to her, holding on.

His heartbeat a thundering timpani in his ears, John felt like Helen’s lips on his was the answer to a question his heart had been asking his whole adult life. She was the air he breathed, the sustenance necessary to live, and the desire to drink her down, to eat her up, was a dogged, insistent demand from the darkest depths of his soul.

He never wanted to let her go.

With a ragged breath he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, his fingers digging into her sides. She might have bruises later.

She didn’t mind.

She wanted his hands, rough or gentle.

She wanted all of him, and if he didn’t return his mouth to hers she was going to scream.

“Helen,” he panted. “I—”

The tinny electronic sound of his phone ringing in his pocket interrupted what might have been a foolish—or a life changing—confession. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, knowing he had to answer it. That was the deal with the devil he’d signed, when he didn’t really have any better choice. He was on call all the time.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

She nodded, but did not extricate herself, leaning on his shoulder while he pulled the device from his pocket. It was Viggo Tarasov, and his heart dropped like a stone. It was rare that the boss Himself called. He absolutely had to answer it, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like what his pakhan had to say.

With a heavy heart he lifted the phone to his ear, his other arm still wrapped possessively around Helen.

“Da?”

“Good evening, John.”

John fought to keep the impatient snarl out of his tone, but feared he failed royally. “Evening, Viggo.”

“I’ve just heard some interesting things about your latest adventures about town. I think we need to talk.”

That was probably the understatement of the century.

“When?”

“Now.”

Of fucking course.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Good.”

Viggo hung up, and John clenched the phone in his fist, fighting not to throw it across the room. He knew Helen heard every word for the way she sighed with disappointment, snuggling into the bend of his neck. The sensation of her front molded to his was heaven, and he didn’t know how to let her go.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized with lips to her forehead. “I have to go.”

“I understand.” There was some consolation, in that she sounded as devastated as he was.

“You’ll be ok here? My house is your house. Help yourself to anything you want.”

She made a kittenish little sound that sent all his blood straight to his groin. “What I want is leaving,” she informed him with a pouting lip, tugging on the front of his shirt.

He couldn’t stop himself then from stealing another kiss, a deep and probing thing that left her breathless and starry-eyed.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he told her.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” John wondered what Viggo had in store. If he was in trouble, or if his boss would send him out to teach the Medvedev boys a lesson tonight. He didn’t want to go hunting that night. Everything he truly wanted in the world, he realized, was standing right in front of him, looking up at him with melted toffee eyes. He cupped her cheek, memorizing every detail of her all over again.

He realized with a startling clarity that he could never get enough of her.

The intensity of his stare sent a thrill jetting down her spine. “John…” He worried her a little, when he got like this. She wasn’t afraid of him, exactly—but some little intuition in the back of her brain sang out that something bad might happen.

“It’ll be alright,” he told her, sensing her unease. “I have to change.” He kissed her forehead again, and disappeared up the stairs to his room.

Helen plopped down on the couch with a sigh, crushed with disappointment but knowing this was how it was, and she understood more than ever now that it wasn’t his fault or his choice. She picked up the Villanelle book, No Tomorrow, stroking her thumb over the cover, but not cracking it open.

When John stalked down the stairs he was wearing one of his slim-fit all black suits again, his hair slicked back from his face. He looked beautiful, and predatory, sleek as a panther stalking in the jungle, and fierce attraction warred with dread in Helen’s breast. She had a feeling that someone might die tonight, and it was so strange to think in those terms with such a sense of acceptance.

At least she knew John’s prey would be no one innocent.

“Don’t forget you owe me a chapter,” she said in a sing song tone as he approached, waving the book, trying to lighten the pall that had fallen upon the room.

The smile he paid her was filled with melancholy; she felt it like a knife between the ribs. “I won’t,” he assured her, taking her hand to press his lips to her knuckles. He paused, looking down at this beautiful woman seated on his couch, with her legs that went on forever and the warmth in her eyes all for him. There was nothing he wanted more, than to stay there with her. To lay her down and kiss every inch of her perfect flesh. He probably should have told her that, but he just sighed, and let her go.

“I’m going to leave this here, just in case,” he said, all business as he showed her a blocky black automatic pistol. “There’s one in the chamber. All you have to do is pull the trigger. It has a long trigger pull but please do not touch it unless you need it, and be very careful.” He stashed the Glock in a drawer beside the couch. “I’ll leave the alarm on. If it goes off I’ll get an alert on my phone.”

With wide eyes she nodded. “Do you…think the Medvedevs will come here?”

“No, or I wouldn’t leave you here alone.” He honestly thought this was the safest place for her. “But…” One never knows.

“Okay.” He could tell that he managed to scare her a little, and he hated himself for it.

“I’m being paranoid,” he tried to assure her. He dared add, “Because you’re precious to me.” She softened then, and stood to wrap her arms around his neck once more. Embracing her was as intoxicating as kissing her, and again John warred with himself as to how he was going to leave.

“Come back to me,” she demanded softly, kissing the soft scruff of his cheek.

“Always,” he answered without allowing himself to think about it, pressing his lips to hers in a long, gentle kiss filled with all the yearning in his heart.

Reluctantly, he slipped from her grasp, and didn’t look back.

She watched him go, admiring his tall dark form even as he was leaving her.

She heard the roar of the Mustang starting in the garage, and the trail of its growl as it prowled across the driveway, disappearing down the street into the night. She couldn’t help but feel like her heart sped away with it.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x helen #helen wick #john wick the night nurse #keanu reeves

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shakemeetsworld · 9 months

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I saw this and had a lot of thoughts and feelings about it, so I decided to write something up.

Ok yes, I completely agree with the female side of this. They were not looking for love and marriage but something greater than themselves and the small worlds they occupied. I think Cinderella was open to marriage and love to get out of her miserable existence, and wanted to go to the ball not only to get out of the house, but because every eligible maiden in the kingdom was to attend. And she’s a rule follower, clearly, since she obeys her stepmother and stepsister’s every command. (Granted if she didn’t she’d be thrown out probably.)

The men on the other hand, I’m not convinced all of these men wanted marriage, or only wanted marriage. The Beast basically wanted to be left alone. He knew he had to find love to break the curse but by the time Belle came along he seemed pretty resigned to that never happening. While his staff clearly wanted Belle around to hopefully break the spell, I don’t think the Beast agreed to trade her for her father for that reason. He was scared of the outside world and its judgment of him, and found Maurice’s intrusion threatening. And by that point had become so beastly that all he knew was anger and violence. (A great metaphor for the only acceptable masculine emotions and actions.) So he kept him and then her as a prisoner until his staff said, maybe this could do something and he gave in to them.

With Prince Eric and Prince Charming, I think marriage was what was expected of them because of their titles and the time periods. Eric seemed much more interested in adventure and exploration than in romance and marriage. And when he thought he’d found the woman that saved his life it was just the thing to do to marry her. And the King was the one pushing Charming to get married and set up the ball for that purpose. We don’t really get much personality from him so I can’t say he didn’t want that but we don’t get a sense that that’s his sole goal.

I completely understand that Disney and fairy tales give people unrealistic expectations of love. And yes to us now it’s ridiculous to “fall in love” almost instantly. But we forget that most of these tales come from a time when your options were limited or decided for you. And marriage wasn’t about love necessarily, it was procreation and expectation, and for the woman security. Eric found a girl who cared enough to save him so of course marrying her makes sense. Then when he finds out it's also the girl who also seemed to enjoy adventure like him and captivated him for the last few days, well win-win. Charming found a woman he could stand for more than 10 minutes after meeting all the women in the kingdom, so sure she’ll do. The Beast and Belle are more realistic because it’s clear they got to know each other over a longer period of time. It feels like months have probably passed. And they found similar interests with the library. That being said, they all waited until they found someone they genuinely liked, even if they knew immediately. The timeline is unrealistic and so is the image of perfection that’s created with these romances. Things in reality won’t be perfect and the connection won’t be immediate. But I also feel like these stories of “true love” also gave me a desire not to settle.

I understand the point that this post is trying to make, and it is a good one. There is much to be said about most things being shown through the male gaze and patriarchy. And yes, as a society we forget/don’t care about the wants of women. But I honestly feel like using these fairy tales as an example of that misses the point of many of these stories. Sure Ariel married Eric, but a life on land and then a life with him was what she wanted in the story. The whole story is about what she wanted. And how she had to give up her voice to be heard. And yes Belle was kept as a prisoner at first, and her story can be likened to Stockholm Syndrome of course. Though once the Beast learned to love her he let her go and she chose to return. As a little girl growing up with these stories, sure I learned that love and marriage is the goal. But I also learned from Belle that it’s ok to be different, to want more for your life than what you’ve been given, and to fight for what you believe in. First she fought for her father’s wellbeing and then stood up to the town to defend the Beast. I learned from Ariel that curiosity can take you to great places, that there’s always more to learn, and that we don’t need to be afraid of what we don’t know. Cinderella taught me that even when life is unfair or hard, to try to have a positive attitude and hope for a better future, and to ask for what you want. She asked to go to the ball and tried so hard to make that happen even when the odds were stacked against her.

And honestly these men taught me things too. The Beast taught me that people can change when given support. Prince Charming and Prince Eric taught me to never give up searching for your dreams.

We absolutely need to talk more about the wants and desires of women. And we need to stop putting marriage as the end goal for everyone. But let’s not put these fairy tales in an anti-feminist box without exploring the nuances. And maybe let’s use more real world examples of how patriarchy erases the desires of women and makes them into objects for the purposes of men and their desires. Because there are plenty of those, and by using real examples we give kids (and adults) more practical and tangible problems to be aware of.

#disney prinesses #ariel #belle #cinderella #little mermaid #beauty and the beast #disney #feminism #marriage #women's desires #fairy tales #ariel x eric #ariel x prince eric #belle x beast #belle x adam #cinderella x prince charming

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iznsfw · 1 year

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hi, can u write a wonyoung x male reader fluff?

Even Princesses Cry Sometimes

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male/Female Reader Fluff

2,123 words

Categories | short, slightly angsty, idol!Wonyoung, caring!reader, tears and cuddles

Very short and late, but who cares?

Maybe I'll catch up with Yujin and Yuri some of these days.

It’s always another day, another front she’s putting up. Another disguise. Of course, only you know about the partial artificiality of it all. When she tries to put on a brave face throughout her schedules, or tells a particularly rude fan to take care of themself despite their scathing words, part of your heart just aches with the knowledge. Like you, she’s still so young - no eighteen-year-old has to bear with the pressure of the world burdening their shoulders like rocks.

No eighteen-year-old has gone through as much as Jang Wonyoung has. You want to make it easier for her, but she almost never lets you. She’s built such a great wall around herself that even you, her partner, can’t break through. Even if you summoned all the might into your fists and beat around its bricks, it would take long before you can even make a hole.

For the wall to be broken, the one who built it must reach out.

Gaze at the television and wonder when that will happen. It’s rarer than anything. But there she stands, gorgeous as always. Her dark hair flows in the night, and the blue dress that drapes around her form makes her look like a princess. With the colors and her makeup, she can easily pass as a Korean Cinderella. No, she can’t be Cinderella - Wonyoung never needs someone to save her. She was never a damsel in distress, which is why she’s expressed her dislike for the tale so many times:

(“It’s so… fucking odd, jagi-ya,” laughed Wonyoung, over a pack of potato salted-egg chips, while she lounged with you on the sofa. The TV was on, the classical Cinderella was playing, and Wonyoung was… well, unimpressed. She ran through her locks of messy curled hair and added, “I understand the situation. I really do—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted truthfully, but not without a smile. Oh, never without a smile; Wonyoung is your happy pill, no matter what she says.

Wonyoung laughed loudly, pushing you in the chest hard. Laughter overtook her tiny frame. “Fine, fine!” she admitted. “I don’t, but see here… this is fucking ridiculous. It’s just- ugh!” She rolled her eyes and gave you an exasperated look. “But you get me, don’t you? You get what I mean?”

There was a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes of hers. Something told you that the question was born not out of frustration, but was instead from caution nested in the swindle of circumstance the universe had blown her to. Was Wonyoung afraid she would offend you? Had the headlines and tabloid articles created a phobia she’d never dare tell anyone - not even you?

But then your lips found her forehead creased with lines of worry, and you felt them relax beneath the touch of your love. Wonyoung settled into your arms as if she were your little songbird, and you were the only nest she found that would not break.

“I do, hon,” you told her. “I do.”)

Fine, you’d settle for her being no one because not one princess out there can match Wonyoung in everything she does. She’s the perfect girl, the perfect idol. She’s pretty, talented, and charismatic enough to attract all of her success by herself. No girl her age is at the point of success she has at her fingertips. But it’s something that can easily be snatched from her with just the wrong move. Everyday is a challenge for her; too much smiling equals to her being too flirtatious, but little smiling and winks mean that she’s too reserved and self-centered to take notice of the people around her. In everything she does, begrudged people find a way to twist it around into a bad light.

You admire how resilient she is. Much to the shock of her admirers and fanatics, it isn’t exactly ideal to live a life being so closely watched. Not even with all the wealth she possesses. The way she has learned to cope with it independently teaches you more life lessons than any seminar could. But you want to remind her sometimes that she doesn’t have to be strong all the time with you. You can take her falls. You have each other, don’t you? Isn’t that what partners are for?

The fall of the princess is televised, put out there for everyone to pick apart and make fun of. Worst of all, you aren't able to catch her.

Wonyoung is happy to find out that her group, the monster rookie idol band IVE, won a lot of medals and marked new milestones. But now tears slip down her beautiful face. The camera focuses on her. It loves her, craves her - every bit of Jang Wonyoung is too pretty to not be captured and immortalized; of course it does. She sees it and tries to stop, but the fat drops of grief - grief for what could have been, what should have been; grief for her young self who wasn’t and isn’t able to enjoy the last few years of her childhood - continue to pour down like rain.

As the colorful confetti falls from the roof of the grand stadium, she falls, too, and the members start to take notice. Yujin leans over to ask if she needs a tissue, and Jiwon rubs a comforting hand on her back. But none quench the need for a hug she has buried deep inside her heart. She needs someone beyond her friends slash co-workers. She needs you.

Wonyoung looks around. There are only crowds and crowds of noisy fans and cameras flashing. But her observant eyes scrutinize every corner in the large room for any sign of you. There’s still hope in her heart that you’ll come dashing into the show to help her. Sort of like a knight in shining armor in a children’s fairy tale.

Jagi-ya? Where are you? I need you right now, please. You can’t leave me here.

Then she remembers: her life may be glamorous, but it isn’t a fairytale. She’s only one girl, in a massive crowd of people she doesn’t know, trying to make it through the night. Her thoughts are making it more than difficult though. They consist of the pain she went through to get here: those dark nights where she practiced till her legs felt like they were going to snap, the harsh scolding she received from teachers, days when her schedules were so packed that she didn’t even have the time to eat or even breathe…

Wonyoung’s makeup is stained with her own sadness. She’s gorgeous - that’s an indisputable fact, she’s talented, she’s young and successful. But what are the hardships she had to bear and all its blooming fruits worth if she doesn’t have you?

She’s torn up from the inside. She needs you now, more than anything, yet you are nowhere to be found. But it isn’t your fault. She’s been too reserved and private after all, dealing with her matters and affairs by herself. It’s only natural that you would think that she can handle her tears. Compared to everything she has to handle, tears are merely a little thing. You’re already used to the idea of her being self-reliant, so why would you show up now?

Her phone buzzes all of a sudden. One click at the side of the costly phone case, she’s able to see your messages.

You | 11:47 PM | Hey, princess?

You want to take the night off a little early? Watch some clueless? :)

And she thought you’d never come.

Wonyoung crashes between your rounded arms. This time, you don’t worry about messing up her hair, which must have taken hours to curl. You don’t hold yourself back from taking her in your arms, although the stylists warned her not to ruin the pretty blue dress. No, you bury your face into her neck, kissing it over and over. You’re happy to see her; only meeting her less these past few weeks has made you lonelier than you’d like to admit. And you know that she’s happy too; her tearful, beautiful eyes sparkle when she gazes up at you. But you also know that, although she would rather die than admit it, she’s been missing the comfort of someone caring for her.

She’s a princess, and you’re her knight in shining armor. Wonyoung rarely needs you, much less a knight to come save her. But she appreciates your love. She’ll hide it behind blushes and playful circles of her eyes, but she loves you. It comforts her that you do, too.

People are staring. The cameras start flashing. The same fear gathers up in Wonyoung’s heart again, but this time, she shoves it aside. She’s not going to hide her love for you anymore. She won’t let anyone get in her way.

The wall has finally broken and deteriorated.

Wonyoung seizes your face in between her slim hands, and kisses you deeply. It surprises you; her full lips are extremely soft, brushing over your pink ones and locking them with hers. Her eyes close, but your eyelids remain parted. This time, you’re the one scared. You aren’t scared of your own reputation, but for Wonyoung. What will the media do when they find out she has a partner already? Oh, how they’d villainize her! How they’d paint her into a promiscuous, indifferent queen bee!

“W-Wonyoung,” you stammer, when she finally stops. “The, the media—”

“Darling, please. I don’t care anymore. I just want you.”

Her words feed into a phone-installed recorder nearby. The woman holding it looks horrified, but Wonyoung simply gives her a coy wink. You smile; that’s the Jang Wonyoung you know.

You smile sincerely. Brush the tears from her face with your thumb, and realize just how much you love Wonyoung. It’s like destiny tied your threads together from the beginning. You were just a fan of her back in Produce 48 because you love how brave she was to put herself out there, despite being your age only. Hell, you couldn’t do that. When she met you at a fanmeeting and discreetly passed you her number, you were on top of the world. It was straight out of a fanfiction.

But all fanfictions end. That can’t be said about you and her. You’re best friends, lovers, and frenemies all at once. Your relationship is built around deep friendship, and that’s why you’re certain that the love you share with Wonyoung will go on forever.

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. It’s only you and her in this stadium. All the others are faceless ghosts, nothing to worry about. “Movie night?”

Wonyoung smiles giddily. “You bet!”

For the first time in years, Wonyoung completely cuddles up in your lap. Thank your parents for having tall genes; if you were any shorter than Wonyoung, you would be the one seated in her lap. It would be the other way around.

You still keep CDs, so you’re able to watch Clueless with her on the television. She’s raptly watching the iconic chick flick, mimicking the main character with “As if!”s and laughing afterwards. But you’re more interested in her rather than the film itself. Wonyoung is the prettiest when she’s happy. The companies love her trendy poses when she shoots magazine covers or photos, but her most charming self is this:

Half-moon eyes, mouth stretched into a giggly grin, and her hand becoming the resting place of her cheek as she laughs over and over at the comedic timings of the movie. Her brown hair in its uncurled natural state resting at her shoulders, which are not trapped in one of the stage outfits anymore, but rather a big, gray sweatshirt that was once yours. You want it back, but she looks better in it than you do, so you speak nothing about it.

Wonyoung falls asleep just when Clueless is about to reach its conclusive end. With strong, trained arms, you carry her over to your shared bed and tuck her to bed. She stirs a little, but she doesn’t open her eyes. She only smiles, knowing you have her back now, and beckons you under the sheets.

Slide under the comforter and wrap a protective arm around her. Moments like these make you happily remember that Jang Wonyoung isn’t merely just an idol, but your girlfriend. Your little spoon. Your baby rabbit. At the same time, you match all her curved puzzle pieces, and act the role of being her partner, big spoon, and a caring person who won’t let any hunter find her.

You’re made for each other. And as you snuggle closer to Wonyoung, your puzzle pieces connect. You promise, silently, to never let go.

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 21 days

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I wish if the ml writers really want the whole princess and knight thing they'd do it like Ariel from little mermaid especially since they both similar enough. 1) they're isolated 2) curious about the outside world 3) parents don't want them out. The whole meeting their love interest should just be a bonus, not become the whole personality like the writers did for Adrien in s4 and 5. :(

I have mixed feelings about the knight and princess thing. I'm big on messing with gender roles, so I like it in theory. I actually saw the art before I saw the episode that it's in and loved it because I thought that it was fan art. Then I realized that it was official art and I liked it a lot less because it didn't fit the story. Adrien wasn't a helpless princess. He was a knight, too.

Little did I know that the princess and knight art was apparently foreshadowing just how badly the writers were going to botch the ending.

Damsels in distress of any gender aren't a bad thing in and of themselves. It's perfectly normal to see a character get trapped and need outside help or to have a character start in a position where they have no power. The reason why Damsels in distress are so looked down on is a mix of the gender stereotyping involved and the way that they're traditionally written as having no agency. Adrien is, sadly, a perfect example of the second issue. He's the pretty arm candy who couldn't possibly help himself. He just needs to wait around and, one day, a big strong knight will save him!

This would make some sense if Adrien didn't have a miraculous, but he literally wields one of the two most powerful miraculous in existence. He has the ability to escape his prison when he's trapped in London. He just doesn't because he's a poor helpless maiden who needs someone else to save him, making us all wonder why the writers gave him a miraculous in the first place.

Let's compare Adrien to Disney's Cinderella (the 60's version, not the 2010's update which was somehow less progressive than the original). The original Cinderella does what she's told because she has no way out. She's a victim of prolonged child abuse with no wealth or personal belongings, very similar to Adrien at the start of Miraculous. But when Cinderella is given a way to magically get out? She immediately takes it, just like Adrien does. And when she's locked away with no way to escape? She still tries to get out! She bangs on the door! She calls for help! And when help comes? She grabs it, leading herself to freedom.

That's how you write a good Damsel in distress. You give them as little power as possible while also making them an active part of the story. They're someone who wants to change their reality, who might even try to change their reality, but who truly can't due to circumstances beyond their control. It's a very relatable situation for many people and why Cinderella is my favorite fairy tale.

For Adrien to fit this role, season five needed to take away his power and they honestly could have done that. When he learned that he was being shipped off to London, he could (and arguably should) have told Ladybug that he was being forced to leave Paris. This could have led to him giving up the ring for the safety of the city. A selfless, noble act that no one could fault him for. After all, it's not like Ladybug has other heroes that she could call on! If Chat Noir isn't around, then she could easily be screwed.

Then, when the final comes and Ladybug has to fight alone, it's not because Adrien is too weak and frail to fight off the nightmare dust that literally every other teenage character in the show manges to fight off. Instead, dust or no dust, he literally cannot escape his prison. He has to rely on Ladybug because he has no other choice. We could even see him trying to fight his way out, thinking of her all the while.

Instead, we get Adrien once again failing to use his love to win the day. Between Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, and this mess, I'm not sure what the show is trying to tell us, but it's nothing good. It amazes me that some people think things are going to get better for our poor kitty.

I mean, they might! This show has never been anything close to consistent about anything, so he could surprise us all next season. But it would still be a massive, unexpected shift and you're better off expecting more of the same.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt #adrien deserves better

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oh-saints · 1 year

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sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

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Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

“Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

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“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

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“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

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“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

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