#I have trousers that aren’t quite the right shade but in my search I haven’t found one that looks right enough online either so they’ll do

[yaminerua]

Genuinely looking into the idea of trying to throw together a budget Rimmer cosplay for September now asdfhhjjdssfhk

[jimlingss]

Moirai [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

➜ Words: 7k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Not bad.”   The old woman twirls her the point of her quill all over your parchment, giving check marks with the flick of her wrist while you hold in your sigh. Of course, it’s not bad. You’re probably as old as she is if you count your other life. You might be in the body of a seventeen year old, but you’re smarter than one. Probably.   “Fix your posture,” she barks a beat later without sparing a glance and your spine straightens on instinct. “It seems like you can move onto the next volume of philosophy social theory.”   “What? Uh, I mean, pardon? I thought I was finished, Lady Devon.”   “Learning is never finished. The faster you learn that, the better Queen you will make for the empire someday.” The Viscountess, the one assigned to oversee your princess training, shuts the textbook. “But we will move on next time. It’s time for your dance lessons.”   You hold in your groan.   On your sixteenth birthday, instead of being gifted diamonds or laced dresses from the best seamstress like any child of a duke would receive, you were shipped off to the royal palace.   It was the worst present ever. And you once got soap in your other life.   Ever since, you’ve been officially considered the Prince’s fiancée. Not much different from how the game was set up when the main character enters the stage. So you’ve long given up on trying to avoid this, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t happy about it.   You might be free from your parents. But unlike the Devereux estate, proving your worth only gives you more to do. None of your tutors or mentors are ever satisfied with your performance. If you show your capability, then they push you further and further to see your limits. You can’t run away or swing your sword either — the tolerance in the castle is at zero.    “Excuse me.” Lady Devon gets up from her chair and walks to the door with a grace that only fifty years in high society can bring you. “The dance tutor should be down the hall and coming shortly.”   You hum and cordially smile. “Please, take your time.”   Her wrinkled eyes pin on you until the door shuts. Only then do you breathe a big sigh, tension released in your body and your back slouching into the chair again. But you don’t waste much time getting comfortable.   Instead, you jump to your feet and rush underneath your bed.    In a spooled pile in the dusty back is a make-shift rope you tied from spare clothes. It took three nights to rip and weave together, but it was a surprisingly fun activity when you envisioned this moment — knotting the end around your balcony railing and throwing it overboard.    As strict as the castle is, that doesn’t mean you’ll give in so easily.    Even you deserve a break once in a while.   An older man in a frilly jacket enters the room. His eyes dart around before they land on you out the balcony doors, standing at the other side of the marble railing.    His jaw drops. Brows raise. “My lady—!”   Oh shit. It’s now or never. With your eyes shut tight, you jump.   Your dance instructor’s shout echoes through the palace and you peel your lids open when the impact of the landing doesn’t come. When your feet don't touch the ground. It’s then and there that you realize that you’re dangling midair, the clothing rope in your grasps.   You didn’t make it long enough!   Oh fuck! Fuck!   The cloth rope starts to slip from your grip, between your fingertips and you brace yourself. It’s just the second floor of the castle. You’ll survive if you fall, right? Right?!   Your teeth grit and your scream is soundless as you let go.   But instead of slamming into the ground, you tumble on top of something much softer yet still firm. Something that lets out a pained groan, that’s quite warm.   You bolt upwards and your eyes double as you realize that something is someone. By sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you’ve fallen on top of a dark-haired man and pinned him onto the ground.    “S-Sorry! I’m so sorry! My deepest apologies.”   You bow your head and slide off of him as he sits up while gripping the back of his head.   The two of you look at one another, eyes meeting—   The moment is interrupted by a shout. “Lady Anastasia!” The sprinting stomps crescendos in volume, coming closer and closer and you start to panic, not sure where to go, where to hide.   But then the person in front of you reaches out, grabbing a hold of your forearm.   You frown in confusion, about to shake him off until you find your fingertips becoming translucent. The palace guards slow down right where you’re sitting on the ground, yet their pupils move past you as if you were part of the stone wall.    “The Crown Princess must be this way!”   The parade of guards sprint past.   The man lets go, undoing his invisibility spell.   “You…” You fall back. “....ended up learning magic?”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth curls. “So you do remember me.”   “O-Of course, I do.” How could you not? There’s been only two encounters with him in the past seventeen years, but even before your first meeting, you’ve already had his name imprinted in your mind. For reasons that are perhaps not positive ones. But he looks different now — different from how he was at ten.    You suppose seven years would do that to a person.    Taehyung is dressed in a white blouse, darkened trousers and a navy cape embedded with gold around his broad shoulders. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was the prince. A height that towers your own. Cheeks that are no longer plump but chiselled with his sharper jawline. Eyes that aren’t impoverished. He is less like the pitiful boy than you remember him.   You try not to stare for too long, but by the smirk on his face, you know it’s too late.   You get up and dust your blue gown off.   “Do you need a place to hide?” he asks with a small smile, catching on quick as the guards’ shouts fade. “If you are, I know just the place.”   You cross your arms and look up at him. “Lead the way then.”   Taehyung grins, brown irises lighting up and his lips tugging into a boxy smile that catches you off guard. But he swiftly turns on his heels and you’re left trailing behind him.   The castle grounds stretch across the horizon. If someone didn’t know their way, they could get lost forever and potentially starve to death. You know Taehyung’s been largely confined to the Western towers while you’ve been managed closely in the Eastern wing. It was pure coincidence that he happened to go this way and you happened to try to escape at the exact same time.   A coincidence that you left your paths and crossed, a coincidence that you landed right on top of him.   It’s definitely not a part of the original story.   You wonder if you should deviate from the storyline so much. The first time Anastasia and Taehyung are supposed to meet is weeks from now after he lures her in and tries to convince her that she needs his help to keep Prince Jungkook around.   Taehyung most certainly did not bring Anastasia to a quiet corner of the garden, far from the stone walls, a private place that’s shrouded in trees with a welcoming white bench.    “I come here often to read,” he murmurs as he gazes up at the canopy of the tree providing shade, listening to the leaves rustle. “It reminds me of someone special.”   You know that person is his mother.   Taehyung gestures to the bench and the two of you sit next to one another, looking out at the beds of pansies, orchids and marigolds.   “How have you been?” you pipe up, curiosity nibbling at your skin.   You haven’t seen him in so long. You can’t help but wonder if he’s in the same mindset as the Taehyung you know from the game — pained, lonely, blood thirsty.    But you aren’t scared of him or what he might do. You feel hurt for him.   Taehyung smiles to himself as if he knows what you’re thinking. “I’m fine. Frankly, I’m much more interested in your situation and why you would jump out a window and have the whole castle looking for you.”   You sigh, not sure where to start. Maybe the beginning.   “Actually...I’m the Crown Prince’s fiancée.” The words are muttered out of your lungs, uncomfortable on your tongue. But when you peek at Taehyung, he simply smiles, seemingly not surprised. So you inhale a breath and allow yourself to slouch. “I’m going under what they call ‘rigorous princess training’. But it’s really awful.”   He grins. “Is it?”   “They never give me a break,” you whine. “I’m supposed to go to dance class, but I know I’m going to step on their feet so what’s the point?”   As you turn your head to look at him, you realize the game animation and drawings really didn’t do him any justice. Taehyung’s shaped up to be a handsome man.   You clear your throat. “Since when did you learn magic?”   “A long time ago. It’s nothing special.” He glances at you. “Although, I never had it blown up in my face yet.”   His words tickle a memory in the back of your mind — the night at the Solar Festival.   He smiles as your eyes connect. Taehyung gazes tenderly at you as if your irises are the most interesting kaleidoscopes, like he’s searching for something deep within your soul. Your breath hitches, heart pounding within your ears and you quickly turn away, wondering what this weird tension is.   Or shit — maybe this is the beginning of the co-conspiracy that will lead you to your doom.   Instantly, you stand on your feet and grab the skirt of your gown. “It was nice seeing you again, Prince Taehyung.” You bow your head and muster a polite smile. “I should get back before I get into any more trouble. I appreciate the help you have offered me today.”   You spin around, prepared to strut off. But then your arm is held back.   Gently. By Taehyung’s grip.   You turn to look at him.    “When’s the next time I’ll be able to see you?”   You frown in bewilderment. It takes a delayed moment for an answer to come out of your throat. “Will you be going to the debutante ball?”   The corner of his mouth turns and he bows. “I will be now.”   He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles before you slip away and weave out of the gardens. For some reason you’re left with a strange feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach.   //   There’s a scolding of your lifetime waiting for you when you return and you muse that you finally found someone worse than Edith and your own mother. The tutors are even more brutal with their discipline and you know there’s only one person who can help you, one person you can escape to readily.   “My lady,” a young girl speaks up and you stop right in front of the door. “Lady Devon said you were supposed to be studying embroidery for the rest of the da—”   “Am I not allowed to visit my own fiancé?” Your timbre holds firm and you look down at the flinching girl. God, it’s just too easy to play into the villainous role that was set up for you sometimes. “And who are you to tell me what to do? I think you’ve forgotten your place!”   “My apologies!”   You scoff and your knuckles rap against the surface. There’s a muffled ‘come in’ and you throw open both doors.   Jungkook is sitting on the sofa in front of his desk with papers in hand. He looks up expressionlessly as you strut inside. “Anastasia. What brings you here?”   “I have matters to discuss, Prince Jungkook.”   “Very well.” He looks to the attendants at the doorway. “Please bring in refreshments.”   They bow their heads and within the next minute, a pot of tea with two cups and several tiered cake stands full of pastries and tarts are set down. The doors shut shortly after and you count.   One. Two. Three.    The coast is clear and you immediately flop on to the sofa across from Jungkook’s, kicking off your shoes and slumping with horrible posture into the soft furniture. Jungkook, likewise, throws down the papers in hand with a grin.   “You should’ve come sooner,” he complains. “I was getting tired of reading reports and letters from advisors.”   “Yeah, well, I was busy.”    You lurch forward to grab a sweet fruit tart and stuff your face. Jungkook might laugh while watching you, but no one gives desserts to you in this place. Not like they did in the Devereux estate either, but at least they didn’t watch closely at every single thing you chewed.   You don’t care if you can’t fit into those tight dresses.   Jungkook pierces a strawberry on top of the cake and chews in his cheek. “I heard you ran out on princess training again.”   “Hey. The last time I did that was months ago. Plus, you’re not the one to speak. You’re the lucky one here. Why do you get to do whatever you want and I can’t?! It’s so unfair!”   “That’s because two days after you came, you dueled me and won. What kind of Crown Princess wins in a sword fight over the Crown Prince?”   You burst out laughing. No one really expected you would win. They were already horrified when you held the sword. You suppose they’re just trying to get rid of those rumours and make you into a dignified, soft-spoken, honourable lady that will win over the public with her gentleness.   Yeah right. Like that’s gonna ever happen.    “You should’ve just been better. You’re the Crown Prince.”   “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and it’s because of you that I had to go under more training with the royal knights until it felt like my bones were going to fall off,” he mutters and you snort.    The two of you devour the table like children starved on sweets and once you’re full, you lay down on the sofa as if you’re a stuffed pig ready to be roasted in an oven. Jungkook smacks his lips together and eats the last strawberry.   “Are you at least ready for the debutante ball?”   “It’s just dancing.” You turn to look at him. “What’s there to prepare for?”   The ball happens every other year for the girls in the empire as a coming of age ceremony. It’s a celebration that everyone looks forward to. But for you, this year, it signifies the beginning.   “You better not step on my toes,” Jungkook warns.   You scoff. “You better not step on mine or else I’ll throw a ladybug at you.”   “That was one time!” he yells and you laugh.   You gaze at the ornate, painted ceiling of the study.    Jungkook doesn’t know that the debutante ball is the start of everything. It marks you turning eighteen. It’s where the game begins and where he’ll meet the heroine. It’s where the gears will set in motion.   You’ve long given up on trying to run away from the storyline. Perhaps it was when you came to regret being unable to prevent Taehyung’s mother’s death. Maybe it was when you turned around at the Solar Festival and decided to sit by him. But whatever the case, you decided to stay and fight, to find a way to survive instead of escaping. It still startles you when changes are made that are so different from the original game, when it deviates far out of your reach and control.   But one of the biggest changes and probably the best is your relationship with Jungkook.   Unlike Anastasia’s, you and him are not just polite on the surface. There isn’t a wide distance. You don’t yearn for him. He doesn’t disregard you. Rather, you’re friends.   And you hope that fact doesn’t change. That he never becomes an enemy.   From here on out, all the efforts you’ve put forth for the past seventeen years will finally come to fruition and show its effects.   You hope you tried hard enough.

The dress is a deep wine red.   The layered tulle skirt poofs out in the shape of a bell, spilling from your waist. You turn around in front of the mirror while picking at your translucent sleeves, noticing that the fabric sways with each of your movements. Your hair is in a half-updo with flowers, pinned up as curls drop over your left shoulder. It’s better than what Joan could’ve ever done back at the estate. But altogether, it’s a magnificent yet imposing look.   You gotta admit, in this get up, you feel like you could cackle and step on the main character’s hand with your pointed heel as she cowers in front of you. Being the villainess is the easy way.   “My lady…” the younger servant steps back with the tape measure.   You nod at her. “It’s acceptable. There’s no time to dwell either way. The Prince’s fiancée shouldn’t show up late.”   “Of course!”   The entourage of servants follow as you stride down the castle halls. The muffled violins become clearer the closer you get to the main ballroom and there at the doors, Jungkook’s already standing there with a cordial smile. He wears a navy jacket with golden buttons, trousers to pair and white gloves that matches the sash over his body with the royal emblem.   The maids bow their heads, taking their place at the sidelines and Jungkook offers you his arm which you take. The pair of you stand in front of the doors.   “You actually look decent for once,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth.   You scoff quietly. “I’ve always been this beautiful.”   “You always look like you’ve just rolled in mud or hay.”   “And you’re beginning to sound like Lady Devon.”   Jungkook snickers as you jab him discreetly in the ribs. At the same time, the squire finally makes his announcement — “His Royal Highness and Lady Anastasia!” — and the doors open.   Your expressions wipe over with only the corners of your mouths pulled and you enter together.   You make sure your back is straight. That your head is raised. Chin out. Steps light. Every scrutiny and detail about perfect posture is displayed right into your body language and the pair of you stop momentarily at the stairs with your plastered smiles.    Everyone watches as you both descend the stairs.   It’s quiet — some older women awed behind their feathered fans, men sipping their glasses of bubbling champagne. But their gazes are loud as Jungkook guides you to the middle of the cleared floor.   Nearly eighteen years of lessons have led up to this moment.   Jungkook kisses your knuckles and you slip into position — right hand in his, your left on his shoulder as he mimics you. The mellifluous violins in the corner start to crescendo and you follow Jungkook’s lead, stepping from side to side, back to front.   “Looks like you’re not stepping on my feet,” Jungkook murmurs as the two of you begin to take bolder steps and sweep across the ballroom floor.   “I might’ve skipped dance every chance I got but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do it.”   “Touché. Just keep smiling.”   “I am.”   “You look too concentrated.”   With his criticism, you fix the furrow of your brows and your smile tries to widen. It feels a bit stiff and psychotic, like you’re forcing yourself to pretend you’re Rose from Titanic who went with Jack to dance when in reality, this is as fun as watching paint dry. “Better?”   Jungkook grins. “Sure.”   The music continues as you dance, but while you maintain your bright expression, your eyes flicker through the thick crowd. You spot the King who sits in a grand chair at the back. He nods along with an approving expression and your parents are standing by him too. Your dad seems to be getting a comment in every other minute while your mother appears wholly satisfied.    You’re happy at least someone’s enjoying this debutante ball.   But you don’t look at them for long, not when you’re focused on searching for a girl you have yet to see in the flesh. The main character. The heroine of the game. You know she’s in the room tonight.    You know she’s watching right now.   Yet, as your eyes travel through the surroundings, instead of trying to find the girl, your mind strays for someone else — Taehyung. He said he would be here tonight. But you don’t see him…   “Anna, it’s over,” Jungkook mumbles and you snap back to attention, giving a curtsy.   The Prince bows as well and the music continues to a jovial tune. The people around start to enter the floor, dancing with their partners and from your peripheral vision, the King approaches.   He’s gotten old since the first time you met him. Each strand of his hair has turned gray, wrinkles deepened and eyes slightly protruding. Yet the man is still dignified and the righteous King of the empire with his commanding, aristocratic presence. But you wonder if he aged so quickly because of the Queen’s sudden death years ago, an event you know shook the Royal family.   “Your Majesty.” You curtsy again, pulling the edges of your dress.   Jungkook smiles. “Father.”   “Very well done job, you two.” He smiles. “I’m confident that the pair of you will lead this empire well.”   “Thank you, Your Majesty.” You smile cordially at the older man. “You’re too kind with your words. I can only hope that one day we shall live up to your legacy.”   He laughs merrily from the pit of his stomach and even though you and Jungkook both know you’re laying it on thick, there’s no harm done. “Spectacularly spoken. I’m sure you will.” The King turns to his son. “I heard you were managing the finances in the Southern provinces well.”   “I was actually going to seek council on that issue,” he exhales and in the meanwhile, you notice a few potential ladies-in-waiting looking at you. You try to ignore them, but their stares are too pointed. They’re outright gawking at you and you grit your teeth, knowing there’s no other choice.   “If you’ll excuse me.” You dip down and the King nods.    As Jungkook continues talking to the King, the both of them striding to his throne, you’re trapped in small talk.   “I believe we’ve met once before. I am Countess Ashburnum.” — “I am Lady Herington, my husband is Baron of Herington.” — “Oh my! You absolutely look beautiful in your gown.” — “I know a seamstress who makes the best lace dresses in all of Ashea!”   The conversation drones on and on with the circle of women and you make short replies while maintaining a friendly smile.   It’s only when your eyes boredly wander off do you notice a girl eating at the refreshments table.   She’s out of place. You can tell with how her eyes dart around the hordes of people and she fidgets alone, dressed in a yellow dress that looks like it’s been sewn from sunflower petals but worn at the hem as if it’s someone else’s. But as unremarkable as her presence is, her features are soft — eyes rounded, lips pouty and cheeks full.   You’re beginning to understand how someone can be described as lovely as a rose.   “If you’ll excuse me, there’s some few other people I need to meet.”   “By all means.” The ladies dip down and you nod your head, beelining through the people to the refreshments table. But it’s hard to get through with the amount of people that want to stop and greet you.   You watch the girl in the meanwhile.   You don’t blame her for appearing so awkward, like she’s not sure where to go or who to talk to or what to do. If this is who you think it is, then she’s just a baron’s adopted daughter. She hasn’t been to many social events. She hasn’t been exposed to high society. And it’ll be a world that’ll be difficult to adjust to.   You remember in the original game, Jungkook just chose her because she looked out of place and he wanted to get away from dancing with you. But considering your relationship with Jungkook isn’t sour in any aspect, a catalyst might be needed to continue the plot.   If you start the encounter, then perhaps you’ll have control over it.   “The desserts are delicious, aren’t they?” you pipe up beside her, stuffing your cheek as you look out at the crowd.   The girl is taken aback at someone initiating a conversation and her excitement is practically tangible. “Yes, they are! I like the strawberry cream one.”   “Ah. I’m more of a fan of the fruit tarts.” You turn and meet her eyes with a smile. “What’s your name?”   “My name is Lucienne, but my family calls me Lucy.”   “Your family?”   “The Helena family. My father is Baron of Liza,” she says and that’s enough to confirm it. This is her. The heroine. The main character. The one who will take your place, become the Crown Princess and be with Jungkook. And if such a thing is inevitable, then you can make her perception of you different from how it was in the original game. Just like you did with Jungkook.   “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then.” You curtsy and she does as well after a delayed moment. “My name is Anastasia Loretta Devereux.”   Her eyes widen. “You’re the Crown Princess! Oh my goodness, I just watched you dance! It was amazing.”   You smile and this time, it's more genuine. The heroine’s personality traits are dependent on the player, but it looks like in this world, she’s pretty excitable, extroverted and innocent. If you weren’t so secretly tense, you’d muse that you might actually make a good friend tonight.    “Thank you and thank you for coming. I hope you’re enjoying the ball.”   “Yes, I am, your grace— I mean, my lady.”   “Please, you don’t need to be so formal with me in private,” you tell her even though she insists otherwise. The conversation starts to slow and you scramble for ways to continue it. How did you use to get girls to like you back in school? What the hell did you use to do again?    The answer comes a second later— “I love your dress.”   Lucy’s eyes light up and she looks down. “Really? I actually sewed it myself.”   That revelation has your eyes turning into saucers and your sociable facade falls. “What?”   “It’s not much,” she giggles. “The servants were taking down some dusty curtains back at home to replace them, but I thought it was such a waste, so I washed it and hand sewed it myself. I was afraid it would look shabby for tonight’s ball.”   “N-No, it’s amazing!” She looks like she’s straight out of a fairy tale. She is straight out of a fairy tale! Even Snow fucking White would feel outdone. “You have some real talent.”   You wonder if the girl sings to squirrels in her spare time. You wouldn’t put it past her.   She beams. “Thank you.”   The violins seem to dial down into a waltz piece and several more people enter the floor with their partners in hand. You turn to Lucy with a smile. “You should dance.”   “Oh, well, I’m not much of a dancer.” She brushes a strand of her hair loose from her bun behind her ear. “And I wouldn’t know who to dance with either…”   You hum and at the exact same time, someone with doe eyes unsuspectedly passes by. You steal the opportunity when it’s handed to you— “Jungkook!”   The Prince turns at the familiar call of his name, one without any title to it. His brow is quirked and you take Lucy’s hands, pulling her along with you as she remains stunned. This is it. This is the first meeting.   For you, it’s like you’ve dragged your best friend down the school hallway to talk to her crush. But for them, you wonder if it’s a life-changing moment. One of the ones where time seems to stop and fireworks are bursting in the air and their breaths hitch and their hearts sycroniz—….   Probably not by the confused look on their faces.   But you’ll take it!   “Prince Jungkook, meet Lucienne. She’s Baron of Liza’s daughter and she goes by Lucy.” You turn, hand gesturing out towards him. “Lucy, meet Prince Jungkook.”   “N-Nice to meet you, Your Highness.” She curtsies and you can feel her nervousness by the way her hand shakes in yours.   “Likewise.” Your fiancé turns to you with a skeptical brow raised. “Seems like you’ve made a friend tonight.”   You plaster on a big smile. “I know right.” He and you both know you don’t like to play nice and hence, don’t have friends at all. So it’s an oddity for you to bring around someone you met five minutes ago. But you don’t let Jungkook ask too many questions. “You should dance with her.”   “Pardon?”   “Why not?” You push the girl towards him and she nearly stumbles into his frame. “Ball’s are all about dancing and Lucy here’s looking for a partner and I know you have to get that practice in!”   By the narrowing of his eyes, you can tell Jungkook’s suspicions of your intentions or what could possibly be up your sleeve. You wish he was as dumb as he was seven years ago. “Anastasia.”   “Umm...I really don’t have to, Your Highness.” Lucy bows her head, placed in an awkward position and you internally apologize to her, but you gotta do what you gotta do.   “Come on,” you continue to pressure Jungkook. “You’re not going to leave her hanging, right?”   Jungkook exhales out of his nose and he looks like he’s not going to let this go so easily, but for now, he relents. He bows slightly and takes Lucy’s hand. “Will you have this dance, Lady Lucienne?”   “Yes…?”   Okay. It’s not a storybook, fairy tale moment or anything like the game, but this is as good as it’s going to get. This way, your engagement with Jungkook can smoothly end, Lucy will take your place and you’ll be able to survive in peace while supporting them like a secondary character instead of the villainess.   With your arms folded, you stand at the sidelines and watch them dance together.   It’s stiff at first, but soon, Jungkook’s murmuring something to her and she’s laughing.   They look like the picture perfect couple. Even others are nudging each other and watching the pair. A smile tugs on your features, but your observation as an audience member soon is interrupted.   “Would you like to dance, my lady?”   It’s a husky timbre, one that startles your senses and has your head whirling around.   You didn’t know you were waiting for him until he appeared, until a feeling of ease that you didn’t know existed washes over you. Taehyung has his arm extended, a tender smile on his face. His dark brunette hair is combed to the side and he’s dressed in a black jacket with a navy cape draped on his left shoulder, not any less handsome than the others in the room.   The corner of your mouth curls. “If you don’t mind me stepping on your toes.”   Your hand slides into his palm and he grasps your fingers. “I don’t.”   If Jungkook and Lucy had eyes straying then you and Taehyung have eyes turning — most don’t know who he is when he’s never shown up to any social engagements, but few do and while they’re shocked, already whispering tales of scandal, you don’t notice.   You’re far too mesmerized by him. By the fact that he’s here, that he’s looking into your eyes, guiding you along the ornate ballroom floor. The skirt of your dress sways as he twirls you carefully, the two of you synchronized to the rest of the dancing crowd.   “I didn’t think you would show up,” you murmur once you’ve landed back into his arms again.   “Were you waiting for me?”   “I decline to answer.”   The corner of Taehyung’s mouth tickles into a smile. “Well, looks like it was a good thing you skipped out on that dance lesson since you obviously didn’t need it.”   You grin, scoffing lightly. “That’s because you’re a good lead.”   “You’re a good partner,” he replies as the music diminuendos. You wonder since when the pitiful boy you knew became so sly and mischievous. Or maybe he was always this way and his mother’s passing simply made him quiet. “And of course I would come if you were here.”   Your brow lifts. “And why is that?”   Taehyung hums. “Let’s just say, I’ve been meaning to get a chance to speak to you for a long time now.”   You wonder what he means. If he’s simply planning to build rapport to conspire with you. But your relationship with the royal family and Jungkook is known to everyone as being decent. The Taehyung in the game also never went out of his way to meet Anastasia either.   It was always her. Anastasia’s choices led to her being used as his pawn.   Taehyung breaks your train of thought as he leans in close to your ear, “I’m always scared of getting you into trouble, but you can’t when everyone’s here. We can chalk it up to a coincidence that we met and danced, right?”   “That’s the bastard’s son, isn’t it?”   Your ears suddenly tune into the murmurs, words hidden behind gloved hands and feathered fans.   If people didn’t know Taehyung before, word was spreading like wildfire. “The one who was born from that maid.”   “You mean the King’s first son?”   Your head turns when there’s a heavy set of eyes placed upon your form and you realize the King is sitting on his throne, expressionless. He’s staring at Taehyung who hasn’t noticed, or maybe has and yet chose to ignore.   Taehyung’s right.    A ball like this is truly the exception. The only time you and Taehyung would ever be able to meet in public.   His eyes meet yours once more and you realize the reason Taehyung never sought you out. He never looked for you because he was afraid of what that would mean for you.   How the slander and hatred of his name would attach to yours.    The dance ends as the turmoil inside of you overboils. Your mouth parts to speak, but Jungkook approaches and interrupts. “Taehyung?”   The younger brother has his eyes wide and the older smiles. “Good evening, Your Highness.”   Jungkook laughs. “What’s with that? Actually, no, what are you doing here? You never come to these things!”   Maybe because he’s not allowed to.    You haven’t seen the half-brothers interact before. But you wonder how much Jungkook really knows about Taehyung — probably not a lot based on what you know in the original storyline.   The two brothers had to fight each other to the death in a civil war.   Jungkook came out victorious.    And knowing that future makes you feel queasy as you look at the both of them being friendly together.   “I just thought it was time to change that.”   “You should’ve appreciated not having to go for longer. These things can be so boring. You’re honestly the lucky one,” Jungkook says.   Taehyung’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Am I?”   “I wish I was in your shoes sometimes,” Jungkook sighs and turns to you. “Anna. Anna? Anastasia!” You’re startled, brought out of your trance and Jungkook grins. “I was going to ask you how the dance was.”   You loll your head to your shoulder. “Taehyung’s a better lead.”   Jungkook’s jaw drops in offence and he scoffs. “He’s probably too nice to say anything badly about you.”   You roll your eyes and glance to his side, wondering where the main character went. Lucy should be here or at least beside Jungkook. Or maybe something went wrong….   “If you’ll excuse me, Your Highnesses.”   You bow, eyes already set off on the crowd. You don’t notice Taehyung reaching out, brows lifted, expression distraught that your moment together was so short. But by then, you’re already gone.   You look around, searching for the girl in the soft yellow dress.   But instead, your arm is yanked back roughly. You spin around to meet wrinkled but stern gazes. The ones that can only belong to your parents — the Duke and Duchess of Devereux.   Even if you’re in the castle now, you’ll never be able to be free of them.   They pull you out to the hall and into a nearby private room meant for quieter conversations for the guests. The doors shut and the silence simmers tensely around you.   You muster a smile. “Mama, papa, how have you bee—?”   There’s a sharp sound that echoes throughout the empty space and you’re shaken, breath staggering when you find your head whipped to the side. Your right cheek is numb.   She just….slapped you.   You turn to her, voice shrill. “What was that for?!”    “How could you dance with that man?”   “What?”   “Did you know you could ruin your entire marriage by associating with the likes of that man? Everything you’ve worked for, Anastasia, everything that your father and I set up for you and the Devereux house could be ruined.” Her voice sends chills to your spine, quiet, deadpanned and yet full of venom. “Do you know who he is? He’s the bastard son. Do you want to get on the wrong side of the King? Or are you trying to show that you favour him as the next heir instead?”   “What?”   They’re jumping leaps and bounds, thinking ten steps too ahead.   “Do you know how much trouble that would cause?” Your father pipes up behind her, his voice low. “It could get the entire family executed for treason.”   From the corner of your eye, you see your mother’s hand raise again. But you clutch her wrist before she has the chance to slap you another time.   “Once is enough,” you spit through gritted teeth. “You don’t want people outside to know, do you?”   She yanks her hand out of your grasps. “Ingrate. If you’re not careful, everything the family has done for you will be gone in an instant. Don’t you know everyone in that room is watching your every move? You are the only heir of this household. You are the Crown Princess. The future Queen. Every decision, every choice, from what food you choose to put in your mouth to what colour you decide to wear, it affects not only yourself but everyone.”   You know. You know the burden on your shoulders better than anyone else.   But is one dance with Taehyung not even allowed?   Your mother rounds the table and sits down on the sofa. “Not to mention, you allowed another whore to dance with your fiancé. She’s just a measly baron’s daughter. There’s no royal blood in her.”   “Neither does our family have any,” you mutter.   The Duchess whirls her head around in absolute shock.   The Duke is the one who intervenes, level-headed yet stoic. “You must be the Crown Princess, Anastasia. You must keep that status and causing the King to be unhappy will do nothing to help.”   “There are other ways to stabilize our family status,” you reason with him. “I don’t understand—”   “No matter how talented you are,” he says slowly as he paces to your mother’s side, “even if you can wield a sword better than most palace knights, this is the only way.”   Your staggering breath inhales through your mouth and out your nose, frustration, torment suffocating. You want to leave this place. Leave the castle, leave the Devereux name, leave these duties burdened onto you. The scrutiny that comes along with the wealth and power.   You want none of it.   You might be Anastasia. But you’re also Y/N.   Wanting to survive and living a long and fruitful life was your goal even before this lifetime. And as selfish as it may be, you cannot fulfill that wish while maintaining your parents’.   You can’t.   You can’t fight to be the Crown Princess if you want to live. You can’t see yourself into old age if you’re executed. You can’t keep Jungkook close and Taehyung at a distance. You can’t run away, but you can’t ground yourself and stay either. Everyone! Everyone wants something from you, everyone is expecting you to play some kind of role — daughter, survivor, saviour — and you don’t know what to pick and choose. What decisions to make and how to make them.   And because of this indecisiveness, the half-hearted middle ground, you couldn’t save Taehyung’s mom.   “It’s because of your narrow mindedness that you’ve pushed yourselves to only one option.”   You turn and leave the room, slipping away before they can say another word.   If you choose happiness — the happy ending of Jungkook and Lucy with your survival and support, an ending where you will be able to stand in the background, the Devereux house will fall. If you choose to follow duty and selflessness — you will die and ruin their name anyway.   You’re not so sure why it’s so hard to make a choice. In the original game, the Duke and Duchess cut ties with you anyway. They threw Anastasia away when she needed them most.   But even with that resentment, it still hurts.   You exhale, escaping to the terrace and leaning against the stone wall to look up at the stars.   Your own words echo back to you and you wonder if you’ve narrowed yourself down to only two options. You wonder what other possible way you can have it all. If it’s even possible….   Or what fate has in store for you.

[katymacsupernatural]

A Royal Crush Part 11

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1100 Words

Story Summary: Jensen and Y/N meet at a masquerade ball. Immediately sparks fly, but Jensen isn’t revealing the truth about him. The truth that he comes from royalty. What happens when Y/N finds out?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

The main level of the palace was filled with people milling about, showing off their fancy dresses and expensive tuxes. You stepped a little closer to Jensen, the skirt of your dress brushing against his sleek black trousers.

“How many people are going to be here?” You whispered, not wanting to move from the top of the steps quite yet.

He turned you to face him, his hands comforting on the bare skin of your arms. His forest green eyes searched yours, trying to reassure you. “Most of the nobility from our country. Along with those visiting from neighboring countries as well. I don’t know the exact count, but you need not worry. You’re my guest, which means you’re the guest of the King and Queen as well.”

You nodded, even though you didn’t feel assured. There were beautiful women down there, so many that were better suited to be at his side than you were. But you forced a smile on your face, taking Jensen’s offered hand as you descended the staircase.

People stopped and stared, some pointedly staring straight at you as they whispered. You wanted to shrink back behind Jensen. Instead, you squared your shoulders, facing them head-on, hoping that you wouldn’t trip and fall on your face.

You were saved from more scrutiny when two doors were held open, the King and the Queen stepping out together. All talking ceased, as everyone’s attention turned to the Royal Pair. “Thank you for coming,” The King started speaking as Jensen guided you around the people to stand by his parent's side. You stood their nervously as the King continued. “As you can see, our son, Prince Jensen, has returned home from his excursion abroad. And he has brought with him this lovely young woman, Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

People started murmuring once again, and as you looked up you saw a familiar face blending into the crowd, glaring daggers at you. It was the woman from the newspaper, Henrietta. At least that’s what you thought her name was. “We are holding this ball in honor of both of them, and hope you will help us in welcoming Miss Y/L/N to our wonderful country.”

The Queen clapped her hands together, and suddenly everyone started moving south, to a huge pair of open, heavily decorated wooden doors. You stayed back with Jensen, quietly pointing out that woman. “I don’t think she likes me,” you whispered as the King and Queen went on ahead.

He immediately recognized who you were pointing at, frowning in annoyance. “That is Henrietta. No doubt she thinks you stole me out from underneath her. Just ignore her. She means nothing.”

You nodded, walking beside Jensen to the already crowded ballroom.

Chandeliers hung every ten feet or so in the gigantic room. Shiny crystals softened the light, creating little shadows against the wall. Four sets of glass doors were on your left, leading out to a balcony overlooking the Royal Estate. To your right was another room, a fabulous buffet laid out, silk lined tables for sitting, along with a bar. A six-piece band was in the very front, on a pedestal. As soon as they noticed the King and Queen had entered, they started playing a soft, classical tune.

“This is the fanciest thing I have ever seen,” you whispered, your hand tightening on Jensen’s arm. “Are all of your parties this fancy?”

Jensen reached over, taking two flutes of champagne from a waiter, handing you one. “I think they outdid themselves this time. Just for you.”

“For me?” You repeated just as a couple of older men came up to Jensen, pulling him into a conversation about renewable energy sources. That left you to stand by him, awkwardly waiting for his attention to return back to you. Too unsure to move away as people still stopped to gawk at the American Jensen had brought home.

“My, aren’t you just the prettiest,” an older lady said as she came to stand in front of you, joined by three or four more. They were all dressed in simple gowns, navy or gray seemed to be their colors of choice. Their hair was varying shades of gray, their faces lined with wrinkles. But they seemed nice, and interested in you.

“Thank you,” you answered, not sure whether you needed to curtsey, or call them by a certain title. “You’re too kind.”

The first lady to speak, the shortest one of the group, chuckled softly, looking to her friends for confirmation. “We haven’t been called that very often. Might you give a couple of old biddies your time and sit with us?”

You glanced back at Jensen, who was still deep in conversation and you nodded. Better sit with these women than someone who might not be as nice. The short woman led the way, taking over a table in the dining room. You sat down next to her while the rest fanned out, taking over the rest of the seats, sending a young man running.

“I bet you’re wondering who we are. We won’t confuse you with our titles. You can call me Mrs. McNeil. I am Jensen’s great aunt. These are my friends Mrs. Tinstein, Mrs. Wildrop, and Mrs. Reynolds. They are all Duchesses as am I, but that’s not what’s important. We want to know more about the girl my dear great nephew is smitten with.”

“I’m not sure he’s exactly smitten with me,” you tried arguing, but Mrs. McNeill shook her head.

“Nonsense my dear,” she insisted. “A man doesn’t drag a girl halfway across the world to meet his parents, parents that are King and Queen unless he is completely smitten. And I know my sweet little Jensen. He is head over heels.”

You couldn’t help blushing at the thought that it might be true. Sure, all of this might be overwhelming, but it didn’t mean that your feelings weren’t growing for him as well. “I just want to know more about your intentions,” she continued. “Are you after his crown and money, or…,”

“Of course not!” You spoke quickly, throwing your hands up in the air, almost knocking the waiter over as he passed behind you. “I didn’t even know he was a Prince at first. I swear, I just like Jensen because he’s kind and funny, and sweet.”

“And I think you’ll do him great,” she said before standing up. “But I just needed to make sure.”

She left along with her group of friends, and you finished off your glass of champagne before standing up. You were going to go find Jensen, see if he wanted to dance. Leaving the dining room behind, you began searching for him, freezing when a certain blonde haired woman came striding forward, her eyes full of fury and hatred as she stared your way.

Read Part 12

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278  @bebravekeeponfighting  @brindz30 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537   @deansgirl215   @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller  @krys198478 @librarygeekery @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk   @ria132love @ruprecht0420     @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

A Royal Crush Tags: @newtospnfandom @linki-locks11 @imascio08 @joseyrw @randomstuff-idontwannatalkboutit @destiel-equals-life @deansgirl215 @mysterious-398 @iamabeautifulperson18 @karouwinchester @meganywinchester @crazysocklovingfangirl @xristina-gkika @ronnie248-blog @missbosstown @topthis808 @closetspngirl @mirandaaustin93 @webcraft4eveh @voltage-my2dlove @carryon-doctor-lock

Forever Tags: @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove   @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498  @closetspngirl   @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280   @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek  @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice   @maui137 @mogaruke @musiclovinchic93  @nanie5   @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25   @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman   @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek   @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

[fanpom-imagines]

Request by Anonymous: Hi hi, I would like to request a Turn: Washington’s Spies Oneshot? Possibly Benjamin Tallmadge x Reader? I haven’t got a topic, just make it in the Revolution days, but the rest is up to you! Thank you!

Imagine being part of the Culper Ring and reporting to George Washington and Benjamin Tallmadge directly.

Masterlist

Fandom: Turn: Washington’s Spies

Words: 2145

Warnings: Oh my God our Tallboi was requested and I am so happy! thank you anon, also some flirty Ham, but that’s just Hamilton and we love him for it

(Female Reader)

I ran through Washington’s camp in haste as I made my way to the building where the General resided in. As I weaved through the people in camp I was starting to feel more and more grateful for the fact that my disguise had consisted of trousers rather than a dress or a skirt of sorts. It made it way easier to travel since I wasn’t one of the spies who had to blend in on the daily, only when order to, but even that was rarely. I usually acted as the messenger for General Washington and Major Tallmadge, and occasionally I would send messages to and from spies to make sure they weren’t seen interacting with one another.

I made it to the front of the large house, but the guards stopped me.

“Halt, what business do you have here?” The guard on the right asked, clad in blue identical to the one next to him.

I pulled off my hat and revealed my face to them. They automatically recognized me seeing me many times before and the one who had spoken before opened the door and I swiftly moved inside.

I walked forward deeper into the house after hearing the door shutting behind me and made my way towards the stairs to make my way to Washington’s office to give him his letters of intel from the Culper Ring. As I made my way upstairs two other guards saw me.

Seeing me they once again were about to ask what I was here for, but saw my face again and in seeing me so many times come and go from the building they knew that I was here to deliver another message. Though in a strange way it was a good disguise. The guards and the soldiers and people residing in the camp always thought of me as just a messenger who brought intel from general, to general, or captain to captain, or a messenger from Congress, or even Mary Washington’s messenger, and as ironic the situation seemed no one had a clue about the ring of spies that was cultivated. Though to keep my disguise I did many times have to send messages not only for the spy ring, but also personal messages and such. Thankfully, many did not look into what a women did and instead ignored me most of the time because I just wore clothing that was more practical since I traveled so much and had to be fast on my feet since I entered enemy territory quite frequently.

The guard on the right knocked on the door and announced my arrival while the other on the other hand just looked ahead stoically with his back straight and legs together.

Focusing my attention back upon the two doors I waited for the guard to open the door before entering in. When I entered the eyes of the men inside fell upon me. Inside stood Colonel Alexander Hamilton and Major Benjamin Tallmadge in front of General George Washington himself who smiled at the sight of me and with his hand ordered me to come closer.

“Good evening (Y/N), I trust that you have brought me my letters once again?” I heard General Washington ask.

I smiled and bowed at the others in greeting before nodding a yes to him. He beckoned me over to where he was sitting and I pulled out the many letters hidden between the secret pouches in my clothes, which were to make sure that even in the unlikely event that I Would be searched or my coat was taken and searched no letters of importance would be found or at least would be very difficult to find, and handed them to him.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” Washington said as he gave me a gentle smile in gratitude.

“You’re welcome General.” I was about to make my way out, but before I could even make another step towards the door he stopped me.

“Don’t leave just yet; I need you here for now till I write my responses and then you can go and send my replies to these letters back to the senders,” Washington told me as he motioned with his hand to come back to my original position which was next to him.

As the three of us, Hamilton, Tallmadge, and I waited for Washington to look over and read the letters we gave him some space and moved farther away from his desk to do so.

“So (Y/N), any suitors since we last met?” I heard Hamilton say in a teasing voice as he turned to look at me cheekily. “Asking for a friend of course.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully which earned a chuckle from him.

“Sure, for a friend. Yet, I cannot seem to think of any friends you may have.” At my reply Hamilton faked shock.

“Oh, you wound me woman,” He sighed out dramatically.

“By God, Alexander you are so dramatic,” I giggled out at his attics which earned me a smirk from him.

“All for you, my lady,” Hamilton said giving me a flirtatious wink.

As our voices died down I glanced over to Benjamin to see him glaring at the Colonel with cold, hard eyes. Then his eyes made it to mine, but quickly averted at realizing so.

“Hamilton, please let Miss (Y/N),” I heard Washington say as he looked up to give a light glare to the said man, but it was all in good fun. “Here you go (Y/N),” the General said as he stood up and folded the letters while doing so. He handed them to me and said, “I will still need you to come back later today, I will call for you.” I just nodded in reply and gave him a slight bow and nodded my head in farewell to the two men.

I made my way out of the mansion and went through the camp, but as I passed by one of the many look alike tents. Something, or rather someone, grabbed me quickly and pulled me into the tent. I kicked whoever was behind me in between their legs with my heel. I heard a yelp and a curse come from behind me and I turned around ready to punch whoever was behind me.

But I stopped at seeing Caleb with one hand stretched out to stop me  from hitting him while the other was in between his legs protecting his nether regions. At realizing it was Caleb my eyes widened and I started to apologize profoundly to him.

“Oh my God Caleb, I am so sorry. Are you okay?” I asked in concern as I held his shoulders in concern.

“I’m perfectly fine just trying to test your reflexes is all,” he winced out.

I rolled my eyes at that, oh the male ego is definitely something. I smiled at him playful as he started to regain himself, and he returned the smile with a mischievous one of his own.

“Caleb what are you doing here?” I asked him as I went up and hugged him in greeting as it has been quite awhile since I had seen him.

“I couldn’t let Tallboy have you all to himself for too long, now could I?” he joked as he pulled away from me. I felt my cheeks start to burn slightly at his comment, but I quickly brushed it off as I sat down on one of the chairs in the tent while he took another one.

“So how has my favorite girl been?”

“Tired,” I sighed out slouching back in my seat. “The General has me running from spy to spy then back here twenty-four-seven. I can barely keep my eyes open some days.” I say and for emphasis I rub my eyes and let out a yawn.

“I know what you mean. I think all this spy business is having me age way more quickly than I should be. I may be seeing gray hairs soon when I look in the mirror next morning.

Caleb and I went on chatting for a while till the two of us heard footsteps coming closer to the tent. Caleb and I looked at one another then at the entrance of the tent I went to grab my hidden blade while he went for his gun by his side, but we both let out a sigh of relief at seeing Benjamin entering with his eye sore of a blue coat.

“Hello Tallboy,” Caleb greets and the two friends come together for a hug, and then lean back from one another. “Oh look at you! All dressed in blue,” Caleb says as he fakes wiping away tears and I laugh at his antics, “They grow up so fast, don’t they (Y/N)?”

I shook my head in reply and stand up from my seat as well.

“Ignore him Ben,” I say to him which earns a chuckle from him and I go over to hug him which he gladly returns with a tight squeeze.

“Oh look at you two love birds,” Caleb scoffs out at us. At his words though Benjamin and I quickly pull away from one another in embarrassment at realizing we may have held one another for a little bit too long.

I cough to ease the tension and turn to Ben, “So Ben what is it you’re here for?”

“Oh, right. The General asked me to find you and to give these to you so you can leave as quickly as possible.” Benjamin said as he handed me a wad of letters which I took from him, but as our fingers brushed I blushed slightly and looked at him as he did the same.

But of course the third party of the tent had to voice their opinion, because you know, it’s Caleb Brewster and it’s his duty to.

“Jesus! The two of you should already be walking down the aisle with those eyes you’re giving one another,” He exclaimed out and without another word he quickly left the tent and disappeared.

That left just the two of us in silence.

“Well I-” the both of us started out, but realized that the other wanted to speak and then said, “Oh, go ahead,” once again in unison.

I laughed at this and insisted for him to go on first, as I had insisted and he coughed uncomfortably and took a step towards me.

“(Y/N), I know we haven’t seen much of one another lately, with how busy things are, but I was,” his voice seemed to thin out and get lost and he took another breath to calm himself down and I could see his pale cheeks starting to grow a pale shade of pink. He coughed once again to clear his throat and continued, “I was wondering if you would allow me to court you?”

I stared wide eyed at the man in front of me, but then my face had broken into a wide smile, “Aren’t you supposed to start to write to me first?” I asked him teasingly.

“Well, yes, but since we’ve known one another for so long and the fact that writing to one another is just so we could get to know one another better-,” I cut his rambling off with a wave of my hand.

“I was just poking fun Benjamin, I would love to be courted by you.”

I heard a relieved sigh come out from between his lips as he looked at me with a large smile, “Oh thank God, I thought you were going to say no.”

“How could I ever say no to such a handsome and brave soldier dressed in tacky blue colors?” At my question he let out a huff of laughter and pulled me closer by my waist.

I was slightly surprised at his boldness, but I nonetheless put my arms around his waist as he did mine. Our faces were closer together this time as we stared into one another’s eyes.

“May I?” Benjamin asked as he searched my eyes hopefully.

“Of course.”

With that he pulled me closer by the waist in a feverish kiss, and I had to admit for a man who I don’t think has had much experience with women. He was quite talented at kissing. He pulled me even closer and planted his hands on my waist and my arms made their way up to his neck to wrap around it.

At last the two of us pulled away from one another and rested our heads together in breathlessness.

“I have to admit you’re quite good at kissing, but I think you made need a little bit more practice,” I told him jokingly which earned me a chuckle from him.

“Do I now? Then who should teach me?”

“Well, me, of course.”

[demonic-activity]

Love the player, hate the game

Malec fanfic // read here on AO3 // based on this brilliant ask // brilliant beta @brooklynxmagic

Because Alexander Lightwood would never cheat ♥ 

“You’re cheating.”

Magnus’ voice cuts icily through the loud and excited chatter in the loft. His eyes are narrowed, flashing with anger and betrayal.

Alec feels his heart stop for one second before it starts beating furiously in his chest.

“Wha… Magnus, no I would never.”

“Oh you can drop the act Alexander,” Magnus hisses, and he leans forward over the table, something dangerous and predatory to his expression and the way his body moves.

Around them, the room has gone quiet and his siblings and friends shift uncomfortably in their seats. Jace clears his throat and almost imperceptibly shakes his head.

Fuck. Alec desperately wants to wipe his hands on his trousers, since they’re sweating out a seemingly infinite supply of perspiration, but he’s afraid it would immediately give him away, what with Magnus’ unrelenting gaze focused on him so closely. For a fleeting, almost hysterical moment he wonders if it’s possible to get dehydrated just from sweaty palms.

He tries his best placating voice, “Magnus don’t be crazy,” shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’ve never even done this” he gestures between them “before and by the Angel, I barely know what I’m doing!”

“Typical shadowhunter,” Magnus says, mockingly, “Such hypocrites. Oh I think you know perfectly well what you are doing. I’ve been counting your every step and there’s definitely foul play. Don’t give me that incredulous face, you’ve been having a little something on the side, haven’t you?”

“Babe, c’mon, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Liar,” Magnus huffs, jabbing his finger accusingly. “I saw you stuff it in when you thought nobody was looking.”

Alec’s mind is going a hundred miles per hour; he doesn’t know if he can keep this up any longer. He inhales once, deeply, trying to keep a steady voice. “Why? Why would I do that, betray you like that? It’s all just for fun, right?” Alec meant for that last part to be a rhetorical question, but Magnus latches on to it.

“Funny. That’s not the impression you gave when I landed on Marvin Gardens with two of your hotels.”

Alec scoffs, “You earned that back thrice over by now!”

Magnus’ eyes gleam as he says, sweetly, “Exactly, my dear Alexander, which begs the question…How are you still afloat, especially considering those taxes that hit you pretty hard last round?”

The rest of the group watch their exchange with increasing nervousness, eyes shifting back and forth between the two of them.

Alec swallows, hands pretty much dissolved into puddles at this point, “Beginners luck?”

“Right. So if I were to search your trousers right now I would find nothing?”

“Well, not nothing.” The reply comes automatically and he blames in on gin and gin alone.

Simon coughs loudly, barely keeping from suffocating mid-margarita.

Alec can’t help the left corner of his mouth turning up as he continues to hold Magnus’ gaze, but he can see a similar twitch on Magnus’ face and Alec thinks he might be saved.

That turns out to be a serious miscalculation. (Not like the “miscalculation” of paying Jace with a couple of tens instead of hundreds; it’s not his fault if they’re similar shades of yellow and Jace is generally too eager to count).

Suddenly, Magnus leans back in his chair, leisurely folding his hands over his chest. “Alright,” he simply says.

Alec quirks an eyebrow at this sudden change of demeanor.

Magnus smiles at him and it’s somehow so much more terrifying, “So what you’re saying is that you aren’t able to repay my $750 loan yet?”

“See for yourself.” Alec gestures at the meager amount of bills before him. “What you see is what you get.” And Alec flashes him a grin, “I’m a simple man.”

“Hmm,” Magnus hums noncommittally.

“No worries, it’s a, how do you say this? An IOU?” He quirks his head, “You trust me – to pay you back – right?”

Jace is shaking his head even more vehemently now and Izzy and Clary are whispering amongst each other, Simon has gone completely - unnaturally - still.

Magnus gives him another one of his smiles, alarming in its sugar-coated sweetness. “Of course.” And as he drums his fingers lightly on the oak table, he continues, tone casual, “Since we’re in such a trusting and transparent relationship, I feel obligated to point out that you just rolled a five right before this conversation. Now I’m sure you can do the simple math, but let me help you out. I believe that five puts you on Boardwalk. My Boardwalk.” He quirks his head, as though in deep thought, “Hmmm rent, plus a hotel, oh dear, oh dear, I do believe that would mean you’ll be paying me $2,000.”

This is met by a chorus of gasps from the room.

Alec can only just bite back a loud groan and Magnus himself is still sporting a neutral expression, but his eyes belie him - they always do - and now they shine wickedly as he looks down at Alec’s sad little stack of cash. Magnus tuts, “Except, oh no, it looks like you won’t be able to afford that after all.” His eyes snap back up to Alec’s, “That is… if that truly is all you have?”

Magnus lifts a single elegant eyebrow and Alec grits his teeth. Well damnit. Catch, meet 22.

“Fine.” Alec bites out, hating his own stubborn ass, as he pushes his last few bills over to Magnus and flips over all his cards, mortgage side up. He plucks a few more bills for that from the bank – with a little more aggression than necessary – and gives Magnus a look as to say You happy? But Magnus’ gleeful look as he counts his obscene pile of fake money is just…all telling and quite disturbing if Alec is completely honest.

Next to him, Simon groans excessively loud. “Alec, noooo! Now he’s going to be absolutely invincible.” And insufferable Alec adds in the privacy of his own mind. He gets up and mumbles, “I’m gonna get another drink.”

It is all downhill from that moment on.

Alec sits next to Jace slumped low on the couch, watching it all unfold. It’s just Simon, Clary, and Magnus left in the game and it’s not lost to Alec that they all had a mundane childhood (never mind that Monopoly had not been invented yet when Magnus was born). How Simon hasn’t declared bankruptcy yet is anyone’s guess, but Clary is tenacious and almost as fanatic as Magnus. Izzy, it turns out, is a pretty disastrous choice for bank. His sister may be crazy talented in many, many things, but finance isn’t one of them. The rate at which she’s downing margaritas is not exactly helping either. Chaos is soon ensuing, Jace has started shouting unhelpful comments at Clary, second-guessing her every decision. Izzy is pretty much asleep at the wheel – almost literally, just dozing off before snapping to attention and just doling out money left and right, completely arbitrary. Simon is making a lot of money from Clary, profusely apologizing while doing so, which just seems to be increasingly irritating her. And there is Magnus, with still that crazy almost maniacal gleam to his eye, desperately trying to determine Simon’s strategy, which seems to be altogether absent.

Alec is just observing it all from a far. “You know,” he comments nonchalantly to no one in particular, sipping his gin, “Monopoly was created to show that unchecked capitalism was a bad thing. Not to mention,” he adds, “the game is actually named after a mundane financial crime. Quite bizarre if you ask me.”

From the table he can hear Magnus mutter under his breath “Barely know what I’m doing, my ass.”

Not much later, when the shouts are getting louder and the chances of serious bodily harm higher, and someone somehow managed to flip the board, Alec sighs and finally gets up.

Everyone is long gone when Magnus and Alec have found their way to the couch together, halfway lying down, curled up and making out enthusiastically. Apparently, capitalistic board games get Magnus excited in more ways than one, but Alec isn’t exactly complaining this time. Magnus presses him further into the couch and Alec grunts when something painfully pierces his side. He plucks a pewter battleship token out from under him, tossing it away without bothering to open his eyes. His head is swimming, his senses full of MagnusMagnusMagnus and he vaguely registers Magnus’ touch darting lower and lower down his front, till it reach his belt buckle and Alec makes a needy little noise, lifting his hips off the sofa. Alec is so grateful for Magnus’ nimble fingers as he works his belt open with one hand, moaning when he feels Magnus’ hand finally skimming the waistband of his boxers, only to dazedly open his eyes in confusion as Magnus’ weight is suddenly lifted off of him.

“AHA! I KNEW IT!” Magnus exclaims, frantically waving three $1,000 bills through the air and Alec drops his head back in defeat.

“Alexander Lightwood, you are a liar and a cheat. And I don’t know whether to feel proud of abhorred that you took to the rotten heart of this game so quickly.”

Alec licks his lips, “You’re not… mad?”

“What makes you say that darling? Oh but we’re definitely done here,” Magnus says as he gestures between their two half undressed bodies.

Alec squints his eyes close and groans as he mourns the lost prospect of tipsy couch sex. “Fuck, Magnus.”

“Oh come on Alexander.” Magnus grins. “You and your siblings weren’t exactly going soft on me either.”

“We’re shadowhunters, we give no quarter.”

Magnus scoffs in reply.  “Next weekend then?”

“Magnus! You’re crazy if you think I’m ever letting you play that game with us again. You’re lucky I’m not burning that board to a crisp this very second.”

His boyfriend raises a hand to his chest in mock affront, though Alec fears it is only half in jest.

They just lie quietly for a moment, too tired to do anything else but still too high on adrenaline to fall asleep.

“Sooo,” Alec tries one more time, “You sure there wasn’t still an IOU I can cash right now?”

“Oh, I think we’re way past IOUs.” But Magnus’ expression has turned fond and he’s caressing Alec’s cheekbone, settling closer to him on the couch.

Alec yawns. “You’re right. I already owe you so much, it would seem silly to keep count.”

To that, Magnus gives a little whine of disagreement. Alec drops an uncoordinated kiss to his head. “Way too much to ever repay. But it’s a debt I gladly accept, and will carry with me wherever I go.”

[ma-sulevin]

The Use in Being King

Day 2 of @alistairappreciationweek is all about Alistair as a king. In my self-indulgence AU, Alistair breaks up with Sophie Amell after the Battle of Denerim and ends up ruling Ferelden alone for a few years. Here he’s dealing with the pressure of being king, the stress of Teagan, and a still-mending heart.

He’s had lots of practice keeping a straight face when trying not to fall asleep in council sessions. The trick, he’s found, is not to blink too much. Blinking makes him want to keep his eyes closed, and he’s promised Teagan he won’t fall asleep in the middle of another meeting, not after the first time.

Another trick is to pretend to take notes and just doodle little mabari all over the paper instead. The scribe takes the real notes, and Teagan takes better ones than Alistair does even when he actually tries.

It doesn’t usually matter. The issues are almost always trivial, or ones he just needs to sign. He takes more of an interest when it comes to the Wardens, or to the alienage, and at least they listen when he puts his foot down. It took them a while to realize he was actually going to be the king and not just a puppet.

But sometimes… he wishes he was just a puppet.

He calls the meeting to an end when it’s clear no more work is going to get done, and the council files out with only minimal grumbling. Teagan remains behind, as is his way, waiting until they’re alone before he brings up the same thing he always does.

“Have you looked at the dossier I gave you?” His tone suggests he knows what the answer will be, but Alistair gives him his best unimpressed look and answers anyway.

“Haven’t found the time,” he says and grins when Teagan barely manages to suppress an eye-roll.

Teagan still sighs. “You--listen, it’s been long enough, Alistair. Ferelden needs a queen, it needs heirs, and you have to stop dragging your feet and be a man about this.”

Alistair’s grin vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by an ache behind his eyes. It always seems to come when talking to his uncle--especially about Ferelden’s need for a queen.

Just because Teagan is right doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it.

“Just look at it, please. The Cousland girl would be a very good match for you, we think, and she’s--”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Alistair demands, voice sharper than usual. It makes Teagan swallow whatever else he was going to say, eyes widening and cheeks turning pale. It’s Alistair’s king-voice, the one he rarely finds he has to use.

It lets everyone know he’s ready to be serious.

“Er--” Teagan hedges. “Myself, of course.” Another pause. Alistair grits his teeth together and feels his headache growing stronger. “Eamon. The rest of the council--”

Alistair rubs at his forehead for a moment before running his fingers through his hair. It makes the front stick up a bit, out of the style from that morning, and he ignores the way Teagan frowns at it. “I’ll look at it later, Uncle.”

Then he turns and walks away, leaving Teagan -- and his notes -- behind. The door slams behind him, unintentional, but he can’t bring himself to feel bad. He lifts his chin and lengthens his stride, his shoulders square enough that even the boldest of nobles won’t stop him if they see him.

He’s tired of being king. So tired. This is nothing like the life he imagined for himself when Duncan recruited him to the Grey Wardens, nothing like the life he imagined for himself when he first fell in love. This life is nothing like the one he wants.

He’s nearly jogging by the time he makes it back to his room -- his chambers, too big to really just be called a room -- and those doors slam closed too. He shucks the fine clothes expected of him as king and slips into more comfortable, more simple, trousers and tunic. He laces up a pair of sturdy boots and leaves his rooms a mess behind him.

He keeps his head down this time, but he still walks quickly. He finds people are less likely to notice him when he dresses like a regular person, though it’s becoming less reliable the more times he tries it.

No one stops him as he leaves the main part of the castle, and he makes his way to the stables without interruptions.

He stops just inside the door and takes a deep breath. He lets it out with a smile and makes his way through the hall around to the back.

Here, away from stray breezes and curious strangers, is his favorite part of the whole city. He’s been working on breeding and training more mabari to add to the army, and though he hasn’t taken one for himself yet, he still loves to come watch the little ones play.

He picks up speed and then slides to a stop, dirt clouding around his feet, when he sees that he isn’t the only visitor to this place. A woman stands before him, her elbows resting on the half door that keeps the puppies in their stall, her chin in her hands. Her dark hair is long, spilling over her shoulder and blocking her face from him.

She doesn’t look up until he starts walking again, his footsteps echoing dully around the stable. She jumps and stares at him, eyes impossibly wide, and she hurries to stand straight. She fumbles into something that’s half curtsey, half bow, and Alistair struggles not to sigh.

Instead, he waves his hand dismissively. “None of that.” She freezes, head still bowed, and then she stands up straight and clasps her hands behind her back. “I see I’m not the only one who enjoys watching them play.”

She relaxes immediately, a wide smile springing to her face. Alistair’s eyes drop to her dimples, then -- against his will -- to trace down her body. She’s dressed in riding clothes, in men’s riding clothes actually, that look rather fetching on her. He tears his gaze away, but she’s already turned back to looking at the pups.

He moves to stand next to her, a respectful distance away, and mimics her posture. He props his elbows on the door, leaning down, and rests one foot behind him on the toes of his boot. The mabari mother glances up at them with tired interest, but dismisses them as harmless and lays her head back down. One of the puppies pounces at her, landing across her neck, and she heaves a great sigh that makes the woman giggle.

Alistair glances over at her again, smiling when he sees the soft expression on her face as she watches the pups play.

She doesn’t look familiar to him. The Denerim citizens aren’t supposed to be able to just wander into the castle, especially not this late in the day, but he didn’t get word that they were going to have any visitors -- did he?

He forgets to look away from her as he’s searching his memories, and she glances over at him with her lips twisting into a small smirk.

“I used to have a mabari,” she offers finally, giving him that bit of information instead of her name or anything that would help him identify her. She looks back down. “Oliver. We sort of grew up together, and he…” Her voice catches, and she clears her throat before trying again. “He died during the Blight.”

She’s frowning now, and Alistair’s heart seizes in his chest.

“Oh--I’m, I’m so sorry,” he stammers. She looks back at him, eyes wet but cheeks dry. “I didn’t, uhh…”

She smiles again, and he relaxes somewhat. “It’s okay,” she says, softly. She extends one hand as though to comfort him, but quickly pulls it back as her cheeks turn a lovely shade of rose. “It’s been a few years, but I still miss him.”

Silence falls again. Alistair stares down at the pups, still so young. One is sleeping on his back, snoring, little paws up in the air where he fell in the middle of wrestling with his brothers.

An idea springs, not quite fully formed, into Alistair’s mind. These are too young, but…

“Here, look.” He grabs for the woman’s elbow but releases it before he has time to get embarrassed. She follows him easily enough, deeper and to a different stall, where six older mabari pups rest without their mother. They’re in a little pile, all snores and big ears and wagging tails, and they don’t perk up until Alistair starts to speak again. “These are old enough to be imprinted.”

The woman freezes. She stops breathing even, just for a moment, then she turns her whole body to face him. “No.” The objection leaves her lips in a gasp even as her eyes begin to shine. “I -- you can’t.”

Alistair fights back a laugh and presses a hand to the center of his chest. “I can’t? No one else has told me that.” She bites her lip, wavering, so he pushes a little more. “What’s the use in being king if I can’t give away mabari to beautiful women?”

She turns even pinker at that, but he seems to have won her over because she nods rapidly.

“I can’t guarantee anything, but…” he steps back and opens the stall door, pulling it back enough so that she can slip inside. He closes the door behind her, trapping her with the puppies, and she immediately drops to her knees and extends her arms.

The pups erupt into activity, scrabbling all over each other to reach the new human. They’re all a pretty uniform brown color, black noses and inquisitive brown eyes, little stumps of wagging tails all ready to be petted.

She scoops them up and coos to them, kissing their little faces when she can pull them close enough. One is trying desperately to get her attention, little yips leaving its mouth, its front paws up on her shoulder. She scoops it up as soon as she sees it, holding it like a baby and rubbing her face against it.

Alistair leans against the door and smiles, chin resting on his hand, watching her cooing over the pup. Drawn by the noise of voices and little barks, the kennel master emerges from wherever he spends his nights. He nods a greeting at Alistair and comes to stand next to him, looking down at the strange woman.

She gazes up at them with bright eyes, a question on her face as plain as the hope that tints her cheeks pink and makes her lips twist up at the corners.

The kennel master grunts at her. “Looks like she’s chosen ye,” he mutters. If Alistair hadn’t spent so much time here, he’d think the man annoyed. The woman blinks at him, her eyebrows starting to draw together. “Ye’ll have to take her with ye now or there’ll be no comforting her.”

The woman stands up, the other puppies scattering from her sudden movements, the one in her hands still licking at every inch of skin she can reach. She clutches the puppy a little closer, letting her front paws rest against her shoulder, and turns to Alistair.

“Thank you,” she breathes, voice serious.

He opens his mouth to brush away her thanks, but the kennel master interrupts by shoving a bag of supplies at the woman.

“Collar, food, bone,” he says, voice gruff to hide the sadness that comes from saying goodbye to one of his mabari. The woman takes the bag and slings it over her shoulder, mumbling thanks and praise as Alistair steps away and lets her out of the stall.

The pup starts to squirm as soon as the woman starts to walk, and she struggles to contain her for a moment before smiling apologetically. “I need to get her settled in,” she says. She looks from the kennel master to Alistair and back again. “Thank you.” She dips another little half-curtsey half-bow, the dog gives a little yip, and then they disappear together.

Alistair watches her go, then turns to the kennel master. “Who was that?”

The older man starts, then frowns. “Why would I know?” He shakes his head and turns away from Alistair, shuffling back to wherever he’d appeared from in the first place.

Alone, again, Alistair runs his hands through his hair and pulls lightly on the strands. He should probably just… go to bed.

---

“Did you read that dossier last night?”

Alistair’s right eye twitches at Teagan’s words, both because of the irritating reminder and at the answer he knows he’s going to get in trouble for: “...no?”

Teagan sighs and rubs his temples where his hair is already graying, but he doesn’t look surprised at all. Just… resigned. Tired, with lines around his eyes when he looks back up to meet Alistair’s bland expression. “Well, it’s too late for that now,” he grumbles, and Alistair’s eyebrows shoot up.

Has Teagan given up? Has Ferelden accepted that he’s going to die on the throne -- sooner rather than later, thanks to the taint -- alone?

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat, trying to distract that train of thought before it makes him want to forget whatever Teagan has planned for him and climb right back into bed.

He almost misses the rest of Teagan’s explanation: “...she’s here now, waiting to meet you.”

“No.” Alistair doesn’t hesitate. He knows he isn’t interested.”

Teagan stands a little straighter. “You don’t have to marry her today, Alistair,” he says, voice sharpening. “You just need to meet her and Teyrn Cousland, eat breakfast, and then we can send them right back to Highever if you want.”

Alistair resists the childish urge to whine. If he’d been asked before if he wanted to meet the teyrn, he would have given an unequivocal no. But since they’re already here, it would be rude to ignore them. It might even cause some sort of political scandal that would involve apologies and gifts and a lot more work than a simple breakfast.

Teagan sees the moment Alistair gives in and claps his hands together. “Excellent. They’re already waiting.” He grins, an annoying little expression that Alistair wants to wipe away.

He doesn’t.

He just follows behind Teagan through the hallway to the lovely hall with the large fireplaces that they use for smaller dinners -- and, apparently, breakfasts. Two soldiers stand guard on either side of the door, and they both bow low before opening the double doors to allow Alistair and Teagan to pass through.

A conversation is already taking place, hushed tones between siblings that Alistair can still clearly hear.

“You shouldn’t have brought her.” The man, Teyrn Cousland -- Fergus? -- hisses, annoyance and exasperation clear in his tone.

“I couldn’t very well leave her with the maid,” the woman says, sounding more amused than Fergus, and Alistair actually freezes mid-stride at the sound of her voice. Teagan bumps into his back and makes a little huffing sound at the interruption. “And, anyway,” she continues after a pause, “he gave her to me.”

Teagan pushes at him again and Alistair finally starts moving, aiming for the head of the table but keeping his eyes on that woman from the night before. She and Fergus stand quickly, and as Alistair moves to be able to see their faces, he sees the mabari pup sitting at attention in one of the chairs.

His face breaks into a wide smile, and when he looks up he sees Fergus and the woman both bowing to him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, your majesty,” Fergus says, and stands straight. He glances at Teagan, then back to Alistair. “May I present my sister, Ophelia Cousland?”

Ophelia. Ophelia. Oh fee lee ah.

She shoots her brother a dirty look, not at all concerned with propriety in front of the king who waved off her curtsey the evening before. She’s wearing a dress today, a fine one from what he can tell, but he finds he prefers her riding clothes from their last meeting. The dress looks wrong somehow, and when she smooths her fingers over the corset and smiles back at him, he realizes it’s because she’s uncomfortable.

“Lia is fine,” she corrects, still smiling. Teagan stiffens a little and clears his throat at Alistair’s side, but Alistair ignores him.

“Lia,” he echoes, and her smile grows, showing him her dimples once more. He looks down at her mabari who perks up a little under his attention, cocking her head to the side and letting out a tiny bark. Even Teagan has to smile at that. “It’s nice to see both of you again. Does she have a name yet?”

Lia’s face turns that lovely shade of pink again, but she doesn’t look away as she answers: “Princess.”

Alistair can’t help the little chuckle that burbles out from the center of his chest. “A fine name,” he says, still smiling, and he can’t help but think that maybe -- just maybe -- this isn’t the worst plan Teagan has come up with after all.

[Ophelia/Alistair masterpost]

[charlottelouisepage]

Hello my beautiful people,

We have finally reached the end of January and as we all know January is a longgg month, with Christmas and New Year a distant memory and with summer feeling like it’s way into the future, I already feel so proud of myself for what I have achieved and accomplished and there’s so much more to come.

Every month I will be taking you through the products/bits and pieces that I have been using and loving within beauty, fashion and lifestyle.

A lot of my favourites this month were either Christmas presents or things that I purchased during January.

Beauty

I’m going to start off my January favourites with my top beauty picks and this first product is something that has been on my beauty wishlist for a long time now. I was sent a sample size of the Emma Hardie Moringa Cleansing Balm from feelunique.com after having made an order with them in December. I love trying out sample sizes of products before I commit to the full sized versions. I have used many cleansers during my life, but never have I used a cleansing balm and now I am starting to wonder why not? This is simply amazing. The tag line, ‘a little bit goes a long way’ applies to all of the beauty products featuring in this post, particularly this one. To use this all you need to do is take a small amount and rub between your hands, then in an upward, circular motion massage it into the skin (you can use it over your eyes and lips too), I normally do this for around 30 seconds to a minute, so that I don’t miss an inch of my skin. Take a warm face cloth and gently wipe away all of your makeup and dirt from during the day. It’s as simple as that. It smells like you have just been in a spa and leaves your skin feeling refreshed, clean and super soft. All the things that you would want from a makeup remover.

  Another product that I have been dying to try and test is Liz Earle’s Superskin Concentrate for night oil that I received for Christmas and so far has been a skin saviour this month. This oil is aromatic just like the Emma Hardie Cleansing Balm and again has that spa feeling. The thing that I love the most about this product is that it is suitable for all skin types, so no matter what problem your skin has it will work for you. For example I have oily/combination skin and for me it re-balances the skins and gives it some much needed radiance. It also plumps up more mature skin. The version that I have is in a rollerball making is easy to apply and I have no product waste.

  Next we move onto a nail product and my nails have been in need of some TLC for a long time. If you follow me on Instagram (@charlottelouisepage) or Snapchat (@clpage90) then you would have seen me going to a spa earlier in the month and getting shellac for the first time. The lady who did my nails recommended that I use the award-winning CND Solar Oil Nail and Cuticle Conditioner every day on my nails to keep them growing and healthy. I have been using this religiously since I got it and I haven’t looked back. It can be quite pricey, but as I have been saying a little bit goes a long way and know that this will last me for months to come.

  For makeup I don’t have a lot of favourites this month due to the fact that I have been wearing the same makeup products (or no makeup whatsoever) all month long. One thing that I have been reaching for on a daily basis is the Tanya Burr Cosmetics Birthday Suit Eyeshadow Palette. Seriously guys this is my go-to day-through-night palette and it fits nicely inside my handbag. My favourite shade is Toast.

Fashion

You will see a theme running through my fashion favourites as they are all gym/sports related and that’s mainly because I have jumped on the health bandwagon and joined the gym (which I am immensely proud for doing and never thought it would actually happen). I was in desperate need of some new trainers and came across my dream pair at my local Nike Outlet. Outlets are a great place to find a range of usually heavily discounted trainers. The ones I have are the Nike In Season TR5 trainers in black/grey/white combo, so they are super comfy and go with everything. They are specifically designed for training and going to the gym. They tick all of the right boxes for me and I literally haven’t taken them off since getting them. I think the RRP was around £70 and they were reduced to £30. I also had a gift card, so only ended up paying £15. My first real bargain of 2017!

  This next item is what I call a marmite item, you will either love them or hate them. Of course I love them and I found them unexpectedly whilst shopping with my sister in New Look. I was after some new joggers and from afar over on the sale rail I spotted these bad boys. They look very similar to an Adidas pair that Kim Kardashian West sported recently and I was won over. They are a more fitted pair of joggers, but they are very flattering and I fit into a size 10! Stay tuned because they might just feature in an upcoming outfit post. They aren’t available online, but I have linked some similar ones below.

Another thing I have been searching for is a new hoodie and at the same time I purchased the marmite trousers (their official name) I came across this gorgeous pink oversized hoodie. I love the oversized, boyfriend fit of this and even went up a size to make it extra warm and cosy, even though it has a fleecy lining inside. The colour is another thing that drew me to this hoodie and most of my recent purchases have been in this colour. I know this is going to be the perfect pink for spring. This colour is no longer available online (check your local store), however I have linked the bright pink option.

Lifestyle

A Christmas present to myself was the Happiness Planner (I bought mine from Anthropologie) and it has been the best purchase. If you want to get your life more organised and you love writing lists like I do then this is so worth the money. I have the 100-day one, so you don’t feel obliged to write in it everyday if you struggle to keep a diary.

Joe Wicks aka The Body Coach is somebody who has really motivated me throughout this month and his latest offering, Lean in 15 – The Sustain Plan has pushed me into joining the gym, cook more (I have already cooked several of his recipes) and generally look after myself better for a happier, healthier and leaner lifestyle. I will never get tired of reading this book and plan on buying his other two books.

A special mention has to go to my most used product this month and that’s my Nutri-Ninja 900w Personal Blender (not pictured). This was my main Christmas present and I seriously cannot stop using it. It makes everything from smoothies and juices to soups and sauces. I love experimenting with it and trying new flavour combinations. This has been the leader in me having a healthy outlook on life and getting more fruits and vegetables into my diet.

Items I have mentioned

Emma Hardie Moringa Cleansing Balm

Liz Earle Superskin Concentrate for night

CND Solar Oil Nail and Cuticle Conditioner

Tanya Burr Cosmetics Birthday Suit Palette

Nike In Season TR5 Trainers

Similar Black Slim Leg Joggers/Similar Black 3-Stripes Joggers

New Look Pink Oversized Hoodie

The 100-Day Happiness Planner

Lean in 15 The Sustain Plan by Joe Wicks The Body Coach

Nutri Ninja Personal Blender 900W

What are some of your favourite products from January?

Thank you so much for reading.

Charlotte

xoxo

January Favourites Hello my beautiful people, We have finally reached the end of January and as we all know January is a longgg month, with Christmas and New Year a distant memory and with summer feeling like it's way into the future, I already feel so proud of myself for what I have achieved and accomplished and there's so much more to come.