absolutely had to be made

6

Happy Pride Month! <3 Wanted to do something special for it with my kids!

Hello - Newt x Reader

Prompt: A little drabble! Soulmate AU where everyone is born with the first words their soulmate says to them tattooed on their wrist. Reader is completely fed up with her quest to find her soulmate, as the only hint she has is the incredibly vague black letters that have always been stamped across her wrist.

Warnings: Swearing, bullying, use of alcohol, harassment and unwanted advances

God, you hated your soulmate tattoo.

What sort of a soulmate tattoo was “hello”? You had detested it your entire life. What vague-ass higher power had decided when they gave you your tattoo to stop at “hello”? How would you know for sure when you met your soulmate? Couldn’t they have elaborated a little bit? Just a few more words? A proper sentence that you could actually recognize your soulmate with? But no, you were stuck with the most common greeting in the English language tattooed permanently into your skin. Hello. What absolute bullshit.

Every time someone greeted you with that simple phrase, your eyes would narrow, you would square your shoulders, and you would spit back the most distinct and unmistakable response you possibly could. You were not going to be the soulmate couple that had “hello” on both of your wrists. Your lucky, lucky soulmate probably had something ridiculous, like “Whatever you say,” or “Did you know that a hippopotamus’s sweat is red?” because you absolutely had to stand out, and you made sure that your replies to “hello” always did. There was no other way to be sure that anyone and everyone who said “hello” to you wasn’t your soulmate.

What a useless tattoo.

All throughout your school years at Ilvermorny, you were completely embarrassed to show people your tattoo. Unfortunately, when your classmates found out, they had great fun sending people you had never spoken to before up to say “hello” to you.

Your reaction was always hilarious, so they kept doing it. Your responses ranged from “Go fuck yourself,” to “Nice try guys, but I’ve already spoken with her before,” to straight up punching one student right in the jaw when he got a little too friendly with his hands as he delivered his “hello”.

You started to feel a little bad for your actual soulmate as your replies increased in hostility. They probably had a particularly colorful quote of yours. “Go to hell,” perhaps, or maybe “Who the fuck put you up to it this time?”

When you graduated, your defensive nature had thankfully melted a little. You had switched to solely offering people fun animal facts whenever they said “hello” to you, and it was far less stressful. “Seahorse mates hold each other’s tails so they don’t lose each other,” was a favorite of yours, as was “Cows have best friends.”

One evening, you were at a bar with your roommates Queenie and Tina, and you were in no mood for advances from anyone. You had decided to date, as many people with soulmates do, just to pass time while you waited for your soulmate to arrive, but your recent significant other had found their soulmate and left you in the dust. It was incredibly depressing, and you just really wanted a drink.

A man waltzed up to you, sliding into the chair beside you and offering a hand to shake. “Hello,” he said with a grin. You looked over at him, as annoyed as you were drunk, and reached out to flip his arm over and look at his wrist.

“Alright, let’s get this over with I’m not in the mood to think of a fun fact,” you grumbled, pulling back his sleeve to look at his wrist.

It wasn’t really with disappointment that you read the words “I’m so sorry I ran over your dog,” in black ink on his wrist, and you patted his hand drunkenly.

“Good luck with that one, buddy,” you slurred, getting to your feet and heading toward the door. He blinked after you, bewildered, and then returned to his drink.

Such was a usual encounter for you, and by the time Tina dragged a certain magizooligist into your home, you were sick and tired of your goddamn animal facts.

“Queenie, (y/n)!” Tina called out to you. You peeked your head around the corner where you were helping Queenie mend dresses, and you saw with a pang of confusion that Tina had brought two men along with her.

Queenie voiced your amazement, grinning and chirping “Teenie! You brought men home!”

You approached your friend, not bothering with the fact that you were clad in only a slip, and you blinked at her in disbelief. “Who are they?”

“This is a no-maj, and this is Mr. Scamander. He’s responsible for his injuries,” Tina said wearily, pointing her finger at the sweaty, overwhelmed man who offered you a disoriented half-smile before fixing his gaze back on Queenie, who giggled.

Mr. Scamander gave you a little wave. “Hello,” he said.

You let out a slow puff of air, your frustration resurfacing as your hand shot forward to grab his wrist. “Merlin’s Beard, just show me the goddamn tattoo,” you grumbled without thinking. You were in total shock when you slipped his sleeve back and found yourself face-to-face with your own words.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he looked just as startled. A hush fell over the room, and you felt your face grow hot. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled apologetically, unable to drop your gaze from his.

“That’s quite alright,” he said softly, his lips twitching upward in a small smile. “It’s quite the conversation piece,” he teased, and you found yourself chuckling.

“You had better be worth all the trouble my ridiculous tattoo has caused,” you teased back. The other three people in the room were watching the two of you, completely taken aback.

“I think for the most part people usually find me to be more trouble than I am worth,” he confessed, his eyes sparkling.

You dropped his hand at last, your face red and your heart pounding with embarrassment. “We’ll see about that,”

This is such a silly idea but I had to write it down so here u go

def not my best work but I hope u enjoy!! I literally didn’t even proofread this so it’s probs full of errors and bad transitions but pls enjoy this dumb little drabble!! (two fics in two days, who am I and what have I done with puk)

Mother’s Day

REQUEST: Can you write like a super fluffy blurb where it’s mother’s day and Harry and your kids just wake you up with cuddles and kisses and (like your other one-shot My Love, My Life My Always) he shares a pic of you and your kids cuddling and laughing and its pure fluuuffffff


A few of you have also been asking for fluff recently, so here it is! Sending so much love to you all. x


“C’mon, bugs…nice an’ quiet now.”

“We know Daddy, yeh don’t have to keep remindin’ us,” your little boy explained, causing you to giggle quietly from your place in bed.

Usually you would be up and out of bed already, preparing breakfast with Harry before you needed to go wake your twins up for the day. But Harry had made a huge fuss the night before about you getting the chance to sleep in—however, your sleep schedule had been to synced to your children and your morning routine that you had been laying in bed awake for a half an hour now.

You closed your eyes and tried to stay as still as possible when you heard your bedroom door open slowly. Harry’s steps were paired with another set of quicker ones, and it took everything you had in you not to flip over and look at your loves.

“Daddy, can we wake her up now?” Your son whispered as quietly as he could manage, which was still pretty loud.

“Yes, go wake her, loves.”

You waited a few seconds, hyperaware of your breathing and whether or not it would be fast or slow enough.

Suddenly, you heard two pairs of little feet pattering against the floor as your babies ran into your bedroom.

“MUMMY!”

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hard to say | (m)

Originally posted by jitamin

pairing: park jimin x reader, highschool! jimin, bestfriend! jimin
genre/warnings: smut, fluff, slight angst,
words: 11,163
summary: You’ve had feelings for your bestfriend Jimin for as long as you can remember, but you always thought they were unreciprocated. What if it turned out they weren’t…?
note. this is a (sort of) remastered version of the same story I wrote for Kyungsoo here, called Just Friends. Whenever I think of this story, I just see Jimin lmao, and I couldn’t help myself but to rewrite it. For more information, read here.

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archiveofourown.org
Show Chapter | Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Finally I present to you the final chapter of umfb&mha! It has been such a wonderful wild ride writing this fic and I want to thank everyone who has supported it and me from the bottom of my heart. You have made it absolutely fantastic and I have had the best time in the world. 

Hopefully I will be seeing you all soon for the start of Part 2 of the Rivals series, ‘Of Bright Stars and Burning Hearts’!

See you next level 

Rey/Kaz xxx

9

bias moodboard: kim namjoon

thank you @jacksoons​ for tagging me! i don’t know many people on here, so i’m going to tag my mutuals to show my appreciation for following me, don’t feel like you need to do it though: @vitaminjin​ / @lilacnamjoon​ / @artychim​ / @yoongiart​ / @gayminyoongi​ / anyone who wants to do it!

6
Train Rides: Young!James Potter x Reader *Smut*

A/N: Okay, so, this wasn’t suppose to go out until after ‘Wait For Me’ part two, but I’m like, physically and mentally not able to write that right now, and I don’t know why, so I just decided to finish this. Oh and also, I decided to post this tonight instead of tomorrow cause it was basically done, ops. 

If you didn’t read the title, this is a smut, this is also my first attempt at writing smut so, it may not be fantastic. I apologize if it doesn’t go into great detail or anything, like I said, I’m new to writing smut so this was really awkward for me to write, but I had to start somewhere, soz.

As smuts go, please do not read this if you’re uncomfortable with sexual situations, it’s tots fine to skip out on this one, my dude. 

Anyway, Enjoy! ♥

Word Count: 1504

Warnings: Mild Smut, Fluff(ish)

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A Game of Thrones - a rant of sorts

You know, I still see hate for Sansa, for what she did in A Game of Thrones, namely tell Cersei that her father was planning on sending her and Arya back to Winterfell. People hate on Sansa so much, because she thought she was “in love” with Joffrey and they think she betrayed her father. And that she essentially was the reason Ned was killed. #whatthefuckguys #comeon

Well, my friends, let me tell you some things here, that other people have probably said before, but I’m bitter so I’ma do it anyway 😂

First and foremost, Sansa was an 11 year old girl, naive and innocent and full of dreams, raised to be a lady, having drilled into her head that she would marry a knight/prince/king/whatever and have babies and all that jazz. If I look back to when I was 11, I still hoped I would actually turn out to be a princess, so hey, I can relate. When she was faced with the possibility of losing all that, without her mother there, she went to the first person who thought would understand - Cersei, who had, until that point, treated her right. In her eyes, she wasn’t betraying Ned, because she didn’t understand the gravity and consequences of what she was doing, because, again, she was and 11 years old with absolutely no clue as to what was happening behind the curtains.

Secondly, let me present a list of the batshit crazy fucked up decisions that my buddy Ned (an Adult™ and Warden of the North, which was kind of a big boy position) made:

1. He went to Cersei and told her he knew about the lineage of her kids. He made the mistake of assuming Cersei was submissive and scared of Robert. Despite evidence of the contrary. *facepalm* (I mean, Littlefinger showed him the amount of spies the queen had, seriously Ned wake the fuck up; he also knew that Robert made no secret of the fact that he still loved Lyanna and had absolutely zero love for Cersei, which should have made him question “hmmm, I wonder if Cersei is bitter about this”)

2. He refused Renly’s help when it was offered. Renly told him he’d give him 100 men, and advised him to take Joffrey from his mother and keep him as a bargaining chip. Which made fucking sense. Renly knew the workings of the court, knew the people and despite not being the rightful heir to the throne (as the younger brother to Robert and Stannis), he made a fair point (I don’t remember for sure if it was Renly who said it, but the point still stands) that Robert himself wasn’t the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, having taken it by force from Mad King Aerys and the Targaryens. Ned was like “nah my dude, this is dishonorable fuck it”

3. He also refused Littlefinger’s plan. Which again, made fucking sense: recognise Joffrey as king, stand as Regent until he came of age, make peace with the Lannisters, wed Sansa to Joffrey, have Cat release Tyrion and preserve the peace. It would have given him time to come up with a different solution. But nooooooo, this was treason. Well, he also fucked up because he trusted fucking Littlefinger jesus h christ.

I mean, I love Ned with all my heart, but damn boi you stupid

Also, let’s not forget something that Catelyn did. “Something”, I say, as if it wasn’t fucking huge: she captured Tyrion, the only proof she had being a dagger that he owned and that was used to try and murder Bran. By capturing Tyrion, she determined Jaime to attack Ned in King’s Landing and kill his men, and then flee to Casterly Rock to Tywin and thus start the march towards Riverrun and essentially start the fucking war. This determined Robb to call his banners and march towards Riverrun as well, in defence of his mother’s House. All because Catelyn felt that someone who wanted to murder someone else would use a weapon that could very easily be traced back to them. IT STUPID.

Ned’s precious honour killed him. And the actions of his wife. Not what Sansa did. So can we all pls lay off her kthxbye

gracelesschoice  asked:

What if Voldemort didn't offer Frank or Alice Longbottom a chance to sacrifice themselves for their child, his offering to spare Lily was only a whim based on a prior request to do so. What if he killed Alice and Frank without hesitation, and was able to kill defenseless little Neville. Then just to be safe, he tracked the Potter's down too. What if Snape didn't find out in time, and Lily was murdered without thought, and Harry shortly after.

What if Voldemort went after Harry and Neville, and gave no one a chance to die for them? What if both Chosen Ones died as children?

Gosh, we didn’t want to pull our punches today, did we. Okay, well, I guess here we go–

Because Voldemort wasn’t gone, because there was not a sudden flood of peace–they didn’t send enough Aurors to take down Sirius Black.

Instead of standing laughing in the street when they came to arrest him, Sirius ran. He Apparated away and went to find Remus, because they still had work to do.

That first meeting, after Remus got the news of Peter’s “death,” of everyone’s, was a difficult one. It was outside the wreck and ruin of the little cottage in Godric’s Hollow and that only made it worse. It had been the only place Sirius had been sure Remus would go that night.

“What a Halloween, eh, Moony?” he said from the bushes and Remus almost cursed him right there, until Sirius managed to shout and dodge and wave his hands enough to explain that they’d switched the Secret Keeper. Sirius started laughing when he saw Remus start to believe him, and it wasn’t the mad laughter of a man who had lost everything, because Sirius hadn’t, not quite.

When Remus buried his head into Sirius’s shoulder, outside the slightly smoking shell of Lily and James’s home, they both cried like the children they were.

In a different world, they would have had this reunion in the scarred confines of the Shrieking Shack, thirteen years too late. In a different world, Sirius would have been gaunt, grimy, gasping with demented fury. Remus would have been washed out, threadbare. They would both have looked far too old for their ages, but there would have been a boy with messy hair and his mother’s green eyes staring accusingly out at them. In a different world, Harry would have hated Sirius until he understood, and then he would have loved his godfather for the rest of his life.

If you asked them, the boys crying on Lily and James’s doorstep, or the skeleton of a wanted man and the wan ghost with the beast living under his skin– if you asked them which world they preferred, they’d have an easy answer for you.

But what did happen, in this story where they buried the Chosen Ones too early and there was no love to bring them back? They kept fighting. The war did not end. Voldemort had seven Horcruxes and he thought he was immortal. For now, he was.

In this world, there was no prophesied boy. Love was not magic; it was only soft touches and quiet words, promises they could not promise to keep. An extra piece of chocolate tucked into a packed lunch. A mother’s favorite earrings passed down and down, hand to hand. Love was not magic. It did not resurrect.

Halloween Night 1981 was one more night in a long fight, to almost everyone. This was not the first time whole families had been lost. This was not the last time they would bury children.

But that night, Augusta Longbottom withered. Peter Pettigrew shivered, somewhere, welcomed into plush halls with open arms. Petunia Dursley found only the milk on her doorstep in the morning.

When Remus took Sirius back to one of his safe houses, Remus drank the same way he had in that other reality–in mourning and not any kind of celebration. But this time, he did not drink alone.

Only Dumbledore curled in on himself over lost opportunity, knowing exactly how much hope they’d lost in those two houses, now empty, now cold. He knew about the prophecies, Sybil Trelawney’s hoarse forgotten promises. He knew how powerful Tom had become and he knew how much weight they had been hoping to put on the shoulders of those two lost boys. He knew Harry had had his mother’s eyes.

(Albus did not know, however, about Neville’s first word or that Harry had refused new, magical toys to instead chew and slobber on Lily’s favorite, soft old doll, which she had carried from a Muggle world to a magical one.

Dumbledore thought about the war that night. It would save lives, this old man and his tired soul, that this was how he mourned. But there were more opportunities lost here than a war one day won; there was a grief here that had nothing to do with strategy.)

“We are lost, Minerva,” Dumbledore said.

Professor McGonagall was trembling, thin and severe with it. “You don’t think that,” she said and she was right. But it was a night to believe thoughts like that. In the morning, there would be new plans, new hopes, but not on this Halloween. Dumbledore took out a lemon drop and sucked on it. Minerva found the fire whiskey. The sun rose, eventually. They called a meeting of the Order the next day.

There was no prophesied boy, but there was still this–dozens of shadowed young faces looking up at Albus and not running, even at the very end of the world. Dumbledore looked out at his chess pieces, pawns and queens; his children and his friends; his collateral damage. He had the beginnings of a plan swelling in his chest.

It would take them decades to get their hands, quietly, on every Horcrux. Tom Riddle had to think they were secret. He had to think he was safe. It would take them almost decades, but one day he would be mortal again.

These dozens of faces–they were mortal now. Alastor Moody could feel mortality in the aches of old broken bones; Andromeda rewrote her own last name, refused to fear sea serpents, and refused to pretend that the serpents could not swallow any one of them whole. Remus and Sirius felt empty, gaping holes in the seats around them, and they made crude, expansive, joyous toasts to friends’ memories.

When Molly first reached over and held Arthur’s hand, they knew this was something that could not last. That was why they held hands, held on, held tight.

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This Whole Time

Word Count: 2,482

***************************************************************************************

“Absolutely not. There is no way you are dragging me into a muggle dress shop to sit around while you try on dresses,” Sirius shook his head. “Please, Pads?” Y/N stuck out her bottom lip, giving him the pouty face she knew her best friend couldn’t say ‘no’ to. Sirius groaned. “Why does it even matter?” “Because your my bestest friend in the whole wide world and I need your opinion!” Y/N cried dramatically, throwing herself into Sirius’ lap. “Bit dramatic today, aren’t we, Love?” Sirius muttered with a roll of his eyes. “Sirius,” Y/N whined, burying her face into his stomach. “Y/N, why don’t you just have William go with you to pick out the dress?” Sirius asked, reaching down to gently play with her hair. “He can’t see my dress before the ball!” Y/N exclaimed, shooting up from his lap. “And besides, he’ll just tell me I look good in everything. You’ll give me an honest opinion,” she added. “You do look good in everything,” Sirius laughed. “I know that,” Y/N gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “But you’ll tell me which one I look best in. And I need that. And I need you there to support me because you’re my best friendddddd,” she pouted, throwing herself across his lap once again. Sirius shook his head, unable to believe that he was about to agree to this. “Fine,” he huffed. “Let’s go.” “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she squealed, sitting up and throwing her arms around him before jumping up and bounding to the door. “Are you coming or not?”

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Worth The Risk {Part 11}

Bucky x Reader
Summary: Bucky knew that all Steve wanted was for him to get along with her, but was it really worth the risk?

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 04 / Part 05 / Part 06 / Part 07 / Part 08 / Part 09 / Part 10 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 

Word Count: 2376
Warnings: angst

A/N: Look who finally finished part 11! But also real talk though, seeing a professional doesn’t make you weak or lesser as a person. BUT not all types of help work for everyone and I strongly encourage anyone going through stuff to find a way of support and recovery that works for them. Take care of yourself, you guys <3

Originally posted by pxggycxrters

You’d been hunched over your desk, absorbed in your work when a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Leaning back in your chair, you set down your pen and listened. The knock sounded again and you called out to FRIDAY, letting Sam in.

He’d been visiting you regularly over the past few days and as he entered the room you noticed the disapproving look he threw you. You weren’t surprised; you knew exactly why he was upset. He hated it when you buried yourself in work, yet there you were doing just that: anything to distract yourself.

You let out a small sigh and closed the binder in front of you, turning to face the older man.

“Hey.” You greeted, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Hey,” he replied. “How are you doing?”

Sam took a seat on the edge of your bed and you shrugged. There was a pause and you opened your mouth to speak, but Sam beat you to it.

“I brought you something.”

You hadn’t expected that.

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Irate - 2

(Part 1) | (Part 3)

Summary:

Y/N’s curious, clumsy, and has a knack for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time. Bucky’s a hot-headed prick with a dark past and communication issues. Both are paired for training, and neither party is all too thrilled.

Word count: 791


You find the training room at precisely 6:28 a.m.

You’re rehearsing every possible angry excuse in your head. You’re new here. It’s not your fault the hallways are like the fucking labyrinth. It’s not like anybody was kind enough to provide you with a map of the place. And six a.m.? That’s less than four hours after your absolutely wonderful trainer had made it very clear that he was far from happy with having you as his trainee, which doesn’t leave you with a lot of time to sleep.

When you look around the room though, you realize it’s empty, and you almost sigh out of relief. There’s no need for excuses when there’s no one to give them to. Plus, Bucky can’t be mad at you when he’s late himself.

You decide to wait for five minutes, then scan the room one last time. He’s not here, and you doubt he’s going to show up. You’ve got better things to do anyway, like go back to sleep, so you’re not going to wait around any longer.

Bitter thoughts cloud your head again, and you mutter to yourself as you turn to exit the room, “If he couldn’t be up at six in the morning, why didn’t he just set a later time? What’s up with that attitude anyway? Why is he so–”

Bang!

You feel it before your brain can ever process what happening. The bullet whizzes past your ear, so close that the rush of air it leaves as it goes raises the hairs on the back of your neck. The sound registers later, and you jump, whirling around with eyes wide.

“Tip number one,” Bucky says, standing up from where he was crouched behind the pile of sandbags. “Always be aware of your surroundings.”

Your heart feel like it’s caught up between two paddles of an intense game of table tennis. Your eyes narrow dangerously at how relaxed he is, just standing there, disassembling his gun as if hadn’t just shot a bullet inches from your head.

“Are you insane?” Your voice is so shrill it sounds foreign to your own ears. “You could have killed me!”

Bucky shrugs. “But I didn’t.”

You can’t believe your ears. Steve you can handle. Sam’s nice enough. But this guy? He's– he’s an absolute psychopath! It hasn’t even been twenty minutes into training and you know exactly how you’re going to die: with the contents of your brain splattered across the pristine floor of the training room, all thanks to Bucky Barnes.

The look on your face must speak for itself, because Bucky’s expression changes from nonchalant to serious again, and he strides up to you until he’s closer than he needs to be and his hand is grabbing your wrist firmly. Every fiery insult that’s manifested inside your head dies tragically somewhere on the way to your lips.

Bucky pulls out a roll of boxing wraps from his pocket and starts wrapping your right hand. “Tip number two,” he says, voice dangerously low this time. “Shoot where you aim.” He moves onto your left hand. “Misfiring can be fatal.”

When both your hands are nicely secure, he steps back. “You’re not ready for a gun yet. We’ll start with the bags.”

Turns out, you’re probably not ready for the bags yet either. When Bucky tells you to have your best at it, the punch you throw is so pathetic, you wince on behalf of your trainer.  For a moment he just stares at you with an impassive look on his face. Then his eyes close and his hand passes over his face as he inhales sharply. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a tick in his jaw.

He positions your hands so that they’re right in front of your face. “Drop them,” he explains, “and you drop your guard. And when you punch, all the power should come from here.” His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel how cold they are even through the fabric of your tights. You flinch.

He steps away, and you try again. This time, you can feel the strength behind your punch, and you swell with a little pride. So you’re not that bad.

Two hours later, Bucky’s showed you a whole lot more about punching. You’re drenched in sweat and your arms feel like they’re going to fall off. When you can’t do anymore, you stop, dropping your arms to your knees and taking a moment to catch your breath.

When you glance up at Bucky, he nods, then studies his watch for a moment. When he look back up, a lazy smirk manages its way across his face.

“Do it again.”

(You’ve decided. You hate Bucky Barnes.)


tags below cut: 

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please, if you don’t want to be the best in school, and looking after yourself and enjoying yourself is more important to you than getting high grades, that is absolutely okay. what is absolutely not okay is making those who do want to do their best feel like shit because of it.

3

Banna Appreciation Week 2017

“Thank God.”

“Yes, thank God. And you.”

Tatiana Maslany really is everyone! 

Not Fair

Originally posted by capitancassian

Originally posted by prettycatz

Summary: Bard is planning to marry Sigrid to one of the heirs of the two other Kingdoms and you’re absolutely livid.

Pairings: Thranduil x Reader

Word Count: 1,093

A/n: I legit had this idea stuck in my head and I could not go to sleep without writing something. I think everyone is a bit out of character in this.

Master List Part 2


Pain is all you see on Sigrids face. It was obvious she had absolutely no say in this and that made you angry.

“No,” you say loud enough for the three kings to hear. Everything goes silent and Sigrid turns to you with a hopeful look in her eyes.

“Y/n?” Thorin asks confused. 

Each king of the three kingdoms were currently sat at a round with their most trusted advisor and their heir. In Bard’s case, his eldest daughter. Being Thranduil’s most trusted, you were sat between Balin and King Elf. You and Tauriel were the only elves that the dwarves could stand and you were the only elves that could stand the dwarves. It was a win win situation.

The three had discussed forming an alliance by marrying off Sigrid to either Fili or Legolas and you were not happy. She was a mere child. She should not be forced into this especially because she had no say in the matter.

“Sigrid is not going to marry any of your heirs,” you say. 

“Y,n-,”

“No. She is not an item to be sold. If you cannot handle a simple treaty without turning it into a marriage than you do not deserve being kings,” you say coldly.

“We are only making the alliance stronger,” Bard argues making you stand angrily.

“Then don’t marry Sigrid off like some. Some. Prize! If you want someone to get married. Then marry me off! I’m the King Thranduil’s most trusted advisor you can ask for nothing better.”

“We can’t marry you off by force-”

“There it is! You are forcing Sigrid to marry of these to men and yet you are giving me the choice! You are being absolutely ridiculous!” You shout.

“Y/n!” Thranduil exclaims and you flinch, turning to look at him. He was absolutely livid.

“We will call this meeting to an end for today. Y/n. Stay here,” Thranduil states. You take a seat, waiting for the reprimand.

Once everyone leaves, Thranduil stands.

“How dare you!” He hisses, pacing.

“I was only trying to save Sigrid from a fate she did not ask for,” you argue, standing in front of him. He was way taller than you and it was a bit intimidating.

“You have no business in what is discussed between kings. Do you really think yourself so high that you can speak back to kings as if you had no respect for them?" 

That makes you flinch as if he had hit you. You were his best friends since you were elflings. Born on the same day of the same year and you thought he though you a close friend. You were wrong.

"My lord-," 

"Leave. You are no longer welcomed in my council or my home,” he replies, coldly. You stiffen a bit before bowing slightly.

“As you wish, King Thranduil,” you say before taking your leave. You make your way back to your chambers, trying and failing to choke down your tears. For him to do this is outrageous, but you had no time to think about it now. You put whatever clothes you had in your pack, leaving anything that Thranduil has gifted you with. 

When you place your weapons on your back, there’s a knock on the door. You open it to find Legolas. He looks at you then to your bed.

“Are you going somewhere?” He asks with a raised brow.

“I am no longer welcomed here, apparently. It’s what I get for speaking out against kings,” you tell him, going back to your pack.

“Father didn’t mean it-,”

“Oh he meant every word, Legolas. It does not matter that we’ve been friends since we could walk he banished me and I will take that punishment without a fight,” you say, grabbing your pack and checking the room for anything you left behind.

You only see the things gifted to you including your favorite dagger. You nod at your decision and turn towards the door, walking past Legolas.

“And where will you go?” Legolas asks as you step over the threshold.

“Anything is better than here,” you tell him and with that, you’re off.

You make your way towards the front gate, but before you reach there, you hear a voice calling your name.

You stop in your steps and turn towards the source. It was not Thranduil, that was obvious. If it was, you wouldn’t have stopped.

You find Bard and Sigrid. The sight of Bard makes you frown. The nerve he has to talk to you right now.

“What is it?” you ask him, glaring. “Where are you going?” Sigrid asks, quietly and that makes you stop glaring and you sigh.

“Away. I am no longer welcomed here,” you tell her. “It’s because of me isn’t it?” she asks, stepping closer. You walk up to her and clasp her hands in yours.

“No. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly to your father. My mouth is what got me in trouble,” you tell her, but you can see it in her face that she blames herself.

“All because you defended me!” she exclaims.

“And I would do it over again if I have to,” you tell her, squeezing her hands as a tear of frustration slips down her cheek, ”I would even trade my life if that meant that you would have the freedom to choose who you want to marry.”

Sigrid looks down at the floor and you pull her into a hug.

“I am sorry that I cannot be there tomorrow to help you, but I must leave,” you tell her and Bard clears his throat.

“Actually. I was going to send Sigrid home with the guards. I made up my mind and realized you were right and I wish that I had seen it sooner that way you wouldn’t have had to fight for her and you wouldn’t have been banished,” Bard says, scratching the back of his neck.

You wanted to murder that man, but you couldn’t think about that now.

“I will take Sigrid to Dale. I do not trust your guards as far as I could throw them,” you say, releasing Sigrid and wiping her tears away.

“And, if you want. There is a place for you to stay,” Bard says and you just nod, leading Sigrid to leave. You take one last look around, wondering if you were ever going to walk these halls again. You shake your head and make your way to the stables not realizing that there was currently a king regretting his decision.


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