#also got a black and white page with flowers and a little write up but it dont fit post aesthetic right now so maybe later

[loverboybitch]

1940s horticulture magazine showing wildflowers i got at a market today.//.

[sevicia]

you WILL perceive my OC process / thoughts / ETC . had an idea for a game the other day while in the shower (they weren't kidding that shower can think) . two main characters they are sisters , you start playing as the older one ETC , and the idea is that she is withdrawn , nervous , responsible and insecure about where she is in life (she is about to start college this is important to the plot but not for what I'm talking about rn) . first instinct was to give her short spiky black hair

first thing I drew (did a couple alt hairs tho) but I felt like the expression did not match what I was going for at all (she is the type to try her best to look calm and reliable) , and neither did the clothes which I drew with the beauty of the opossum in mind . very prevalent today for no reason still a wonderful animal . I did like the hair though and I wasn't ready to give up on the opossum vibe (lol) , so I decided to do a paper doll type thing and start drawing by clothing layer so I could go slowly and think about what she'd be wearing

did not have the willpower to try & make the hair look the same in the paper doll version , didn't wanna overthink her expression either so I really ended up with a completely different character . . . who I really like !!

I have always wanted to do a story set in a cold climate , really had an idea for a different character back in high school (blonde, earmuffs, cheeks are always pink), but gave up on her when I just couldn't figure out what I wanted her to look like . . .

I got the idea for this character to be either in the 3rd or 4th year of high school , she's pretty much an outcast out of habit at this point , enjoys taking walks and being in places she has no business being in . I thought of her being talked to by a teacher (librarian?) on the subject of not just her grades but mostly her behavior at school, gives me the chance of saying if there is something bothering her and affecting her behavior then there is something she needs to get over but I really dunno how to write (think) about something like that ;_;

^ her & her bag . . . NOTHING IS TO SCALE !!!!!!! she has:

- notebook: ripped the used pages from a previous notebook and just kept the empty ones, the thing is beat up to the point the spiral's coming off and the corner of the cover is peeling off ... the cover design is a cloud castle with rainbows , a bundle was on sale and while she doesn't really like it , she doesn't particularly dislike it either .

- pencil case: heart-themed , the fabric is starting to fray after years of use . in it she has: a highlighter, a ballpoint pen, a regular pencil (chewed up), a tiny colored pencil, a container + sharpener combo, and three erasers: one of them is just a formless little thing, the other is a brand new one that she doesn't really wanna use because it's brand new, and the last is one of those useless decorative ones, shaped like a flower. no white-out because she is very very brave .

- water bottle: literally just a plastic bottle she bought a while ago & keeps washing & reusing . getting more & more crumpled up by the SECOND . . .

- strip of paracematol: self explanatory . doesn't get headaches TOO often, just often enough to justify carrying a strip of it around lol

- juice box + tupperware: her mom cuts apples for her and always gets her apple juice cause apples were her favorite fruit growing up ... she really prefers oranges now but doesn't have the heart to tell her . tupperware also has soda crackers . must be mentioned that this is NOT her lunch, just a snack. she gets free lunch at the school cafeteria ! only tasty less than half the time tho ....

- library card: she uses it a lot and has been doing so for a very long time . usually reads non-fiction about unexplained events (she likes ones involving forests the most), but is starting to enjoy horror & sci-fi a bit more lately

- Frankenstein (borrowed from the library): her current read, which she is really enjoying , though she's not sure if she is really getting the "message" of it . happens a lot with fiction books, which is why she doesn't read a lot of them

- flashlight: permanently borrowed from her dad (he insists he's gonna ask for it back eventually so she needs to take good care of it), she uses it for exploring. it gets dark pretty early and the library closes pretty late, so she just goes wherever she wants while her parents think she's at the library . they believe her because she does spend a lot of time there and she keeps feeling guiltier and guiltier ...

- opossum plushie: pretty much her best friend, she carries him everywhere . very soft fur , nice and squeezable too !!

OK ramble over for neow maybe . . .

MILA

[imhereforscm]

When you have time by chance, could you write a huedhaut fic? Preferably fluff or anything you want. TY! so much, hope you're doing well.

"I'll never let you go"

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: I wrote this the moment I woke up, sweetie😚😚. Also, please hold Huedhaut, the boy needs it🥺🌹 Btw, I recommend you looking up "pavilion aesthetic" on Pinterest. You will NOT be disappointed! I hope you enjoy, dearest!😘😘

You eagerly made your way to the lush gardens of the mansion, the soles of your shoes smacking the tiles of the floor as you moved through the halls.

Stepping foot in the garden, you inhaled a deep breath and the intoxicating aroma of the flowers filled your lungs.

You looked around and it didn't take you long to spot a familiar figure in the distance.

You walked to the pavilion and surely enough, the man you came here for was sitting there, reading a book between the flowers surrounding the pillars of the pavilion and basking comfortably in the gentle morning light of the sun.

"Good morning, isn't it?" You said and at your gentle voice, Huedhaut looked up from the black letters of the page and his sapphire eyes met yours.

"It is pleasant, indeed." He nodded softly and smiled a smile he only could with you by his side. "I wasn't aware you'd come over." He said.

"I wanted to surprise you." You replied, your bright smile putting the morning sunlight to shame.

"It surely was a wonderful surprise, darling."

"What are you reading today?" You asked him, coming to sit on the chair opposite of him.

Huedhaut hated anyone who disturbed his reading, especially to chat with him, but you were one person he could never deny. Your sweet face was always welcomed and you could have anything if only you asked. He already gave you half of his stars, therefore half of his existence, so anything else you wanted of him was possible. "It's like the books you humans call classics, but from the Heavens."

A question you've thought of before, but was long forgotten returned to your mind. "I'm aware of Earth's classic literature, but... How is literature in the Heavens?"

He smiled gently at you and dragged his chair backwards, making room between him and the table. "Don't be a stranger, come here, I'll tell you."

You got up from your own chair and made your way to him, a little curious as to why he needed you so close to answer your question. But you trusted him, so you followed his words, which were the melody of his vocal cords.

Once in front of him, Huedhaut took your hand in his and pulled you close gently.

"What are you...?" But you stopped your question there, having found yourself seated on his lap.

Huedhaut opened the book with both hands, now having its pages visible to the both of you. "I figured that'd be easier. Do you agree?" He asked, his hot breath grazing your neck and making you feel slightly warmer.

You nodded. "Yes. And I like it too."

He chuckled softly, seeing how your ears began to adapt a soft shade of reddish colour. "Good." He flipped through the pages, coming upon one with a bookmark. "As far as you know, in the Heavens we lack any of the technology humans have, even in its simplest form." He began speaking, his lips touching the skin on your neck by your close proximity. "Aside from that, the themes the writers of the Heavens occupy themselves with are the same as the ones human writers tend to work with. Insanity, arrogance, greed, love, mourning..."

You listened closely as he explained and you watched his beautiful hands holding the book, his elegant fingers curling delicately against the hard cover and the white pages. "Than I guess one could say, humans and gods meet on that aspect."

He paused a little to consider your words and you felt his lips forming a smile. "I think that's a beautiful way to put it."

"Also, can't gods move their quills with their powers?" You're pretty sure you've seen Ichthys doing that, in a desperate attempt to deal with Zyglavis observing him to make sure he was working. "So that means gods just write and don't have to fret over grammar and spelling, they just think and their thoughts move to the page, right?"

"That is a truth," Huedhaut agreed. "gods can do most things—if not everything—with their powers. But that's exactly what makes us grow bored soon enough. So all writers have picked a quill and do so on daily basis."

"For fun?"

"For fun." He confirmed. "We can... Read this one together if you want." He said, his voice falling low and his fingers readjusting on the pages.

You smiled, seeing the signs of his shyness. He could be smooth with his comeback and his sarcasm, but when it came to loving you, he feared displeasing you. He feared doing too much and suffocating you. He feared doing too little and making you think he doesn't care. He wanted to do just the right thing for you.

"I'd love to." You said and relaxed more on his lap.

Huedhaut used a hand to hold up the book and the other went down on your stomach, encircling it softly. "Will you hold the other side?" He asked, his voice pleasant and refined, obviously content you agreed to read with him.

"Of course." You said, holding onto the other end with your one hand, while the other touched Huedhaut's one around your stomach. "You know..." You began to say, the sight of your hands holding the book this way making a connection between the information in your head. "Doesn't that look like the red string of fate?"

He snorted. "The red string of fate?"

"Yeah, because we're connected by the two ends. And the book is red too!"

"Imaginative as ever, I see." Huedhaut chuckled. "I like that." He said, his sapphire eyes impossibly gentle. "Promise to never let go?"

"I promise... I'll never let you go."

[themaethpost]

Now Presenting: Matías D'Angelis, the librarian.

Full name: Matías Gabriel D’Angelis.

Age: 32 years old.

Birthday: 23rd November.

Sexual orientation: Pansexual.

Pet: Juno, the black kitty.

Personality.

Birth chart (big three): Sagittarius sun, Scorpio moon, Gemini rising.

MBTI: INTP-T.

Patron Arcana:  The Hermit.

Upright: Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance.

Reversed: Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal.

Minor Arcana: Six of Cups.

Upright: Revisiting the past, childhood memories, innocence, joy.

Reversed: Living in the past, forgiveness, lacking playfulness.

Likes: Tea enthusiast, patchwork quilts made by his grandma, salamander stoves, when books are well-lived (coffee stains, worn out pages, annotations), open windows in every space he is in, black and white checker tiles on his bathroom, when Juno sits on his chest and purrs, thunderstorms, mint chocolate in every single way it could be ordered, blue soft cotton shirts, reuniting with the guys for friendly football matches on Fridays, when schools have a Library day and all the little kids say hi to him, the private section of the library where he only has access, knuckle and jaw kisses, foot massages, ivy growing on the side of his building, sealing cards with fancy wax, cooking for his loved ones, sunbathing at the river, brown corduroy jackets.

Dislikes: The sound of the kettle when the water is boiling, having to make his bed in the morning, when Juno climbs the trees near his balcony to sleep and has to wait for her to come back home, abrupt change, being so swamped in work he doesn’t have time to see his loved ones, the fact that his grandma is way too old now, when people lose their library card and has to do all the paperwork again, being late to things, bad grammar, feeling like he’s losing a debate.

Abilities: He’s a great swimmer and knows how to knit even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s incredibly good at crosswords (maybe because he spend his whole life with his nose in books), knows how to recycle paper and turn it into beautiful notebooks where we lays down different play plots ideas he wants to full-on write but is too afraid to actually do it.

Favourite food: Milanesas a la napolitana.

Favourite drink: Mint Iced Tea.

Favourite flower: Calla lillies.

Appearance.

Height: 6’1 ft or 185 cm.

Weight: 163 lbs or 74 kg.

Hair: He’s got dark brown hair with truly defined curls that he styles with a bit of hair wax, only a little bit, just for his curls to hold on for the entirety of the day. It’s a lot of hair but it’s not long per se, just really shaggy all over.

Eyes: His kind, sleepy, black eyes are so soft letting everyone see how he spend all night reading instead of getting a good night’s sleep. He also has dark circles under his eyes but his smile always hides them. A few wrinkles appeared when he turned 30 but they’re not super noticiable. 

General description: Even if he tries to hide his slender body with his clothes because he’s not that proud of his lack of muscles, his back is well defined and big, just a bit bony, but its decorated with a ton of little dark freckles that also appear in his chest, legs and arms. His most noticiable feature is his beautiful roman nose and that well-defined jawline. His eyebrows are kind of bushy but he combs them with a little spoolie brush his grandma gave him, and a few freckles appear all over his face when summer arrives and sun touches his face. He’s got veiny (cold) hands.

Fashion sense: Matías really likes layering. White or back cotton shirt, button up shirt, some dress grey or black slacks and Oxford shoes are his go-to outfit for work, depending on the weather he would usually wear a cardigan or a turtleneck sweater too. He would never leave without his watch on his left wrists and he isn’t that much of a fan of jewellery. Another outfit that’s pretty common for him is his soccer attire, jersey and sport shorts with his worn out cleats. In the privacy of his own home is very rare for him to wear a shirt and he prefers to walk around in his comfy blue square-pattern cotton pants.

A brief look into his life.

Occupation: The National Library of Maeth is gigantic to say the least and he’s been working at this place for the past ten years or so, he doesn’t even remember anymore. They have different sections and long, long corridors full of knowledge and fictional stories with space to sit down and read for hours. He’s the one to go for recommendations, to find an specific book or to check one out. Remember, you only have one month and it has to be returned in perfect conditions!

Love interest: 

Yasue Kumagai.

Family and friends:

Elsa Torrente D’Angelis, grandmother. 

Sergio D'Angelis, father.

Paz D’Angelis, half sibling. 

Juan Cruz D’Angelis, half sibling.

Anshelinah Circe, best friend.

Tomás, Marcos, Cole, Shuhei, Emilio and Draigh, his friend group.

Fiorella, Van, Josefina and Dario, co-workers.

Miscellaneous facts:

He baby-talks ridiculously to Juno. It’s super embarrassing. 

He’s a tea connoisseur. Has a big box with different flavoured teas from all over the globe.

Surprisingly, he loves to go on outdoor adventures even more so if it means he’ll get to jump down big rocks to a body of water or zip line from mountain to mountain. 

He likes to visit his grandma at least once a week, whenever he can at least to say hello and drink a cup of tea with the lady.

He wants tattoos but is afraid of needles and sharp things. 

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

WIP Titles Tag Game

I was tagged by @flock-from-the-void. Thanks!!!!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I have. a great quantity of WIPs. more than I should, actually. its a problem. Or things I would classify as WIPs that I still think about at least once every 5 months. So there are going to be categorizes, for simplicity and also so I don't get lost in the maze of google docs files and notebooks and scrivener files. As follows: Scriviner Files, Google Docs, & actual notebooks.

(note: most of these do not have more than 1k words in them, or in the case of notebooks, most are less than 1/3 of the way full. I have lots of ideas but they're in my head)

Scriviner Files:

Frost & Fire REVAMP

Echoes of Blood (I haven't the slightest clue what this was)

Ashes of the Morrowwood

enna's prequel

One of Copper and associated works

Silence and Secondhand Souls

The Adventures of Evelyn Harker

sci fi thingy

Starr's story REWRITE

There shall now be a cut, because uh. LONG.

Google Docs:

Royalty AU

ONE OF COPPER ONE-SHOT: BALL

Elemental // Draft 0

Starr's Story Draft 0 (Camp NaNo April 2022)

Untitled Document #1--AU Prompt Fill

Vampire Hunter Steampunk Story-Victorian Era?

Assassin's Code

Bladesinger

Froost & Fire

Knight Story

Mascardae Ball Fic

Nightblades

Nine's A Storm

Raven

Silent War

WIP: Elven Story // Draft 0

A Dragon's Apprentice (NaNo 21)

Actual Physical Notebooks:

Black Notebook--One of Copper 2 (or, the very beginnings of it, anyway)

Purple Dragon Notebook--One of Copper (the entire draft 0 takes up about all but the last 10 pages or so, and thats just lore notes to fill up the rest)

Brown Notebook--NaNo ideas and notes on the stuff i did do for it

White Geode Notebook--misc wip stuff, mostly little snippets of backstory stuff.

that one moleskin notebook my uncle gave me for my birthday--that's the frost & fire notebook, with all the random notes and ideas in it

Rainbow Unicorn Notebook--Space Sci Fi Mail Carriers Story

Teal Notebook--Its got the original notes and rambles for Silence and Secondhand Souls in it, which was really fun to reread just now, but other than that its mostly empty.

Black Notebook (1)--Misc WIP ideas and snippets and such.

Cat Notebook--Lots of longer form snippets and short story like stuff, the beginings of enna's prequel story, and random experimental ideas.

Flower Map Notebook--the first bit is my original ideas for the morrowwood story i mentioned in the scriviner docs section, and then the rest is a lot of random experiments with my d&d characters, most of that stuff is for my one character named Lexi after Certain Events that happened in the campaign, and then ideas for what a prequel about Ana and Redari's backstory could look like.

Space Notebook--This one is almost completely full. Its a bunch of random ideas and snippet type things, for most of my main WIPs.

Moon Notebook--Rewrites of older stuff I wrote, contintuations of older stuff I wrote, and scenes that I haven't gotten around to properly writing in Frost & Fire yet

okay, thats it. mostly. there's a lot. too much, actually.

I shall tag, with absolutely zero pressure, @talesofsorrowandofruin, @did-i-do-this-write, and anyone else who wants to play!!!!

[paperworkanddogs]

Headcanon dump

Ludwig writes in his journal every day. If for some reason he can’t write that day, he’ll try to make up for it the day after. He’ll outline his day, thoughts and feelings, sometimes he’ll sketch things he’s seen or project ideas. He’s decent at buildings and plants, not humans or animals. Most of them are leather bound or heavy cloth covers. Some of them have flowers or leaves pressed into the pages. If he’s in the field or travelling, he’ll have a smaller journal that he will fill up and put in the library with the other bigger journals.

Black Dog is a trained guide dog, he comes into work with Ludwig most every day. Since Ludwig has poor eyesight, sometimes stairs in a shady place or without visional markers for the steps or a dark night can make it difficult for him to walk. Black Dog gets Sundays off and Ludwig is trying to train Malva to be a guide dog but he’s easily distracted.

Ludwig’s office is the most impressive and used room in the house. A couch for the dogs with pillows for their little heads is across from the desk. It’s also the only locked room in the house since he keeps personal documents, government paperwork, and his computers there. His personal home keyboard is custom made with important keys in blue and yellow. It’s very loud with keys that click like old typewriters and Ludwig tends to type very heavily on them.

All his furniture is heavy dark wood from the Victorian Era.

Somewhere in the back of his closet are two boxes full of smutty magazines, bought on impulse in the late 1920s.

He has chronic dry mouth from smoking and medication, he drinks a lot of water through the day.

He does not do online bills if he can help it. All mail goes into a box inside the house through the week and he answers everything on Sunday so he can drop off letters in the post box on his way to work.

Most of the time he speaks French with other representatives unless they start with English or ask him to speak a different language.

During the Cold War, he kept an illegal pistol in his nightstand. He’s since moved it into a proper gun safe with locks. He owns two hunting rifles and goes hunting throughout the autumn for deer and boar, and processes the meat himself. His dogs love going with him.

His work clothes are all as plain as possible, so he can wear them across multiple decades. He only wears black slacks and ties, and white shirts to work. 

He used to have a live-in maid from the time he got his own house until the Great Depression when he had to let her go. 

Ludwig attended university in Bern, Switzerland in the late 1880s for a law degree, when things were calmer under Wilhelm 1. When he died less than a year later, Ludwig moved back to help with the short reign of Friedrich III and never felt comfortable enough leaving the Empire to go back to university.

[tuulikannel]

5, 14, 15, 19!

5. where do you buy books?

I used to work in a bookstore (for over 10 years), so at that time I naturally bought pretty much all my books there, and I'm still in the same habit. ^^ In general, I do prefer physical stores to online stores. Its more fun to browse there. Sometimes I buy books from Adlibris (a Swedish online book store, which is pretty big in Finland too).

14. do you ever mark/dog ear books you own?

…no. Or, I'm sure there are occasions that I've done this in the past... >_> I'd still say no. I own a gazillion of bookmarks, tho most often there just some random piece of paper stuck in-between the pages. ^^;;

15. recommend and review a book.

……a book? As in only one? What am I to choose…

I'd like to pick something from C.J. Cherryh or Clifford D. Simak, couple of my favorite authors, but maybe I'll choose instead Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes (published in 1966). It's a beautiful book, I think… moving, but quite sad. I think I'll start with the back cover blurb:

"Charlie Gordon, IQ 68, is a floor sweeper, and the gentle butt of everyone's jokes, until an experiment in the enhancement of human intelligence turns him into a genius. But then Algernon, the mouse whose triumphal experimental transformation preceded his, fades and dies, and Charlie has to face the possibility that his salvation was only temporary."

Now… one thing I would like to point out is that this so-called 'salvation' isn't so black and white to begin with. Is being smart really the only thing that matters?

Out of curiosity, I checked 1-star reviews on Amazon. There's three kinds of them: 1) those who didn't like the swearing/sexual references and who had bought this book for kids (I mean… what about it made you think it's a children's book?), 2) those who found it too hard/boring to follow (I'll refrain from any comments), and 3) those who complain about spelling errors. The last thing is hilarious to me. This book is basically Charlie's diary, and like I said, his IQ in the beginning is 68. He doesn't know how to spell (in the beginning). So yes, there are spelling errors. A lot of them. Here's the first sentence: "Dr Strauss says I shoud rite down what I think and remembir and evrey thing that happins to me from now on." If this kind of writing gets on your nerves, maybe you should skip this book. XD

19. most disliked popular books?

First I couldn't think of anything but…… there's this pretty popular (I think?) fantasy author, Tad Williams. And I do like him too! Some years ago I got this urge to read some proper fantasy, and I ended up rereading his Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn series, and I loved it just as much as I did back when I first read it. And then I noticed he had just decided to continue it (after 25 years or so, impeccable timing from me, isn't this!) The little book that connects the old trilogy to the new trilogy(?) is called The Heart of What Was Lost and… it's so bad. So bad. ;_; People and places just had common names with the old, familiar things, and that's all; change the names, and it could have been just any other (quite mediocre) fantasy book, set somewhere else. The world-building, part of what had made the original series so fantastic, wasn't there either.

And people love that book! There are reviews under such titles as "Magic of Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn Recaptured," "An Excellent Re-Introduction to Osten Ard," "A great followup to Memory Sorry (sic.) and Thorn trilogy!" and "Williams hovers on the edge of greatness," and I'm just like, have we read the same book? O_o I personally found it bad as a book, and awful as a continuation to that series! (Sorry if it's your favorite book. >_>)

(Also, the followup series… it's okay~ish, but again, nowhere near to the original series either. I've only read the first two books. The third part has apparently come out last year. Maybe I'll read it some day. Or maybe not, we'll see.)

Huh. Ok, rant over. ^^;;

[metsavahtg]

01

03/19/23

Shannon said I should start a diary. I figured since my writing is illegible at best and eldritch at worst, I could benefit from doing one online. I will convince a friend or two to start one with me. Then 40 years into the future, we can go back and look at past memories. Assuming we will still be friends. It can be a communal memoir to our youths!

Lets see, Shannon said I should talk about the things I did in a day and things that made me happy. She also said I should pick pretty flowers and pictures and quotes and whatever and write them or add them into the pages as I go along of what she envisioned a notebook. I guess I can just upload photos.

Starting yesterday morning (seeing as it is past midnight now), I woke up at around 9:30ish. That’s the time my alarm was set for, but I had been sleeping a little longer. I had done my morning routine quite fast this morning, as I had a meeting with Shannon at 10:40. I didn’t need to rush, I just wanted to read a little before I had gone. I did. I was just starting The Master And Margarita by Bulgakov. It’s good so far. Thought provoking. I had biked to the meeting. Lacuna isn’t a large town, large enough not to walk in the snow, small enough to risk biking on icy, unplowed roads. The meeting only lasted an hour. During which, we talked about the ever so amazing universal issues that is family, we talked about the Library, the book club, school, whatever else we thought of talking about. I remember thinking I should update the library app on my phone. I was home by 12:00 and made myself a sandwich for lunch. I had had toast and jam for a late breakfast. Of course I only noticed the note from my mother then. It was placed on the island, and written in black sharpie on it was something about doing homework or letting the dog out. I forget which. I read some more, I browsed pinterest some, finally made a good-reads account, and planned the next book club meeting. By this point it was probably like, 4:15 or 4:20. I only know because I needed to go for a walk around the brush with Hero. Hero is my and my mothers English Springer. He’s the best. The walk, for the most part, was uneventful. We needed to stop once, but most of the rest was perfect scenery and flowing water. After that, mom got home, we made tacos for dinner, watched White Noise on Netflix, then went to bed. 

And here I am now. Finishing entry one of something my therapist suggested I do. I feeling like a more socially able version of Even Hansen. Or, rather how he is described. I’ve never seen the play, however I would like too. 

Over & out,

Georgia 

[littleblondesoprano]

9-11, 26, 32, 38, 45-49, 67

Oh damn, thank you, friend!! :D

9. What CD did you play to death as a kid?

Shania Twain's Up (Red Version)! Shania and Brittney were two of the artists I was allowed unsupervised. I would listen to Eminem, Guns n Roses, and Metallica in mom's car; I'm pretty sure we burnt out Curtain Call in her old Acura.

10. Hike to a mountain top to watch the sunrise or drive out of town to stargaze?

11. What song has the most relatable song lyrics to you?

The one that immediately comes to mind is I Am the Fire by Halestorm. I get chills.

26. Did you enjoy high school?

I did when I hit end of Sophomore year, just transitioning into Junior - from then on I had fun! That's when I was doing Honors Choir, All County & State, Musicals, and my class schedule loosened up + I got Pumpkin, so I had much more freedom.

32. What song is stuck in your head?

Oh GOD - yesterday it was Bo Burnham's 'Country Song' but today it's Nightcrawler by Judas Priest.

38. What’s your favorite flower?

Oh I love them all! I'm not picky with flowers, but I do have a special place in my heart for roses, baby's breath, and daisies. (Also tulips)

45. Are you a romantic?

Yeah! Big and little R romantic.

46. Do you have any tattoos or want to get one?

I do! I have a caduceus on my left forearm with the words 'Type One Diabetic' in pretty cursive. I do want more though! I want a black and white lineart one of the Rider-Waite 'High Priestess' card on my left shoulder/bicep area. I also want, on my right elbow area, some bats! Then, on the inside of my left bicep, I want the words: 'Sempre Avanti' in a pretty script. I also found one that's an eye surrounded by clouds - it looks fucking cool - that I want on the back of my right calf. Also maybe a moon right beneath my ear? Undecided on that one.

Eventually, and I try not to think about it bc it makes me sad, I want Fluffy's pawprint on my right shoulder blade too.

47. Biggest pet peeve?

Popping gum, or people eating with their mouth open.

48. Favorite personality trait about yourself?

I am a delight. In every sense of the word.

49. Sum up your type in three words.

Creative, Intimidating, (very) Pretty.

67. Do you often dream or have nightmares that you remember when you wake up?

I do! I have like three separate notes pages on my phone where, after I wake up, I go to write down my dream. I take screenshots of that, afterward, so I can look at them properly later and copy them into my dream journal for analysis, and just, ya know, fun.

Most of the time I remember them, thankfully, bc that's how I get messages. The Universe Says Things to Help, and I am so incredibly grateful for it.

[la-undercover-latina]

Keeping up with the Biersacks

A/N: So I tried to keep it as in chronological order as possible. If there’s anything that I’m missing, feel free to shoot me an ask.

P.S These are only the ones I wrote. @youlightmeupfinn also writes stuff for Amber, so make sure to check her page too 😊

P.P.S I do not own the images used in this

Amber Nicolette Lee-Biersack

Amber Nicolette Lee-Biersack is the only child of Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear. Born on December 8th, 1987.

She is the godchild of Nikki Sixx.

Amber developed anger problems during her parents divorce that only got worse during Pamela and Tommy’s sex tape scandal.

She started White Rabbit with Ella Sixx when she was 22 and Ella was 16.

Amber is her father’s mini me. She has his curly dark brown hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin, and also is decently curvy. She also has a natural aptitude for drums and piano, and her father’s generally positive but outspoken attitude as well. But don’t let that fool you, she also learned how to kick some ass from the Kings of the Strip.

Amber met her husband Andy Biersack in 2011 before Warped Tour started that year. Prior to dating Andy, she was in her “hoe phase.”

Andy and Amber got married in 2015, and have 3 children: Addison Ella Biersack (born in 2016), Thomas Christopher Biersack (born in 2020), and Rosemarie Andrea Biersack (born in 2022)

Ghost Whisperer Pt 2

This Is Gonna Hurt

Basket of Black Roses

Sunglasses at Night

Amber And Andy Meeting

End of Slutty Summer

Down Goes The Singer

Andy Meeting Heather and Tommy

Andy Meeting Nikki and Taylor

A Mötley Thanksgiving

Private Parts

When We Were Young

Home Sweet Home (Collab with @youlightmeupfinn)

Greek Temper

Porn Star Dancing

Tattoo for Addison

That’s MY Champagne

A New Surprise

Daddy’s Kitten

Dirty at Download

Father’s Day in Florida

Addison “Addy” Ella Biersack

Born November 24th, 2016

Addison is the oldest child of Amber Lee and Andy Biersack. She is her dad’s mini me. From her height, porcelain skin, to her crystal blue eyes. The main physical appearance she got from her mother being her dark curls.

Her godparents are Ella Sixx and Jake Pitts.

She has her Grandpa Tommy (Poppa) wrapped around her pinky finger.

Addison is also a regular guest on The Andy Show, mainly dolling out the punishments via the nerf guns, or just being adorable for the camera.

She loves the story of how her parents found out that her mother was pregnant. How her parents were on tour together and her mother, despite her father and godmother’s urgings, still performed on tour. The only nod to taking it easy being that she didn’t use the contraption inspired by her father’s drum kit that spins.

She also enjoys going with her whole family to hockey games, and always begs Andy to play hockey either at home or at the rink.

Bedtime Memories

You ate him?!

Pissed off Biersack

Addison the Flower Girl (Follow up to Pissed off Biersack. I’m collaboration with @youlightmeupfinn)

Thomas “Tommy” Christopher Biersack

Born September 13th, 2020

Named after both of his grandfathers, Tommy is the Biersack family’s little troublemaker. He definitely took after his maternal grandfather in his personality.

After Addison was a carbon copy of Andy, Amber was thrilled that at least one of the couple’s children looked more like her.

The couple announced their pregnancy with Tommy when Andy went on Brittany Furlan’s show Worst Firsts. The couple decided to keep the same godparents for Tommy as the had for Addy.

Even from a very young age, Tommy is demonstrating his love of music. And just like his sister, the couple decided to introduce it as soon as they could.

In addition to music, he also loves going to hockey games with his family, just not as much as his big sister.

Nightmares

Rosemarie Andrea Biersack

Born February 26th, 2022

TBA for everything else

[rumblelibrary]

Can I have something super soft and sweet with Andrea? I need some content from my cottagecore husband. You can decide whatever you want to do with it!

The Perfect Day [Andrea Marowski x fem!Reader]

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N: thank you for making me write this lifesaver <3

The soft chirping of the birds woke you up. You stirred lightly, a smile coming across your lips as you felt the soft lavender scent over your young husband skin. You slept holding hands, your forehead against his chest as your eyes got used to the bright light outside the window.

The soft cotton sheets clung around your naked bodies along with some heavier quilted duvet, legs tangled as he breathed slowly still deep into his slumber.

You observed him into his simplest nature, he looked so much younger when asleep, his features perfect as kissed by the gentle morning light.

You slowly moved your hand away, he frowned but with time you mastered the art of leaving the bed without awakening him. He huffed, face buried into the pillows as he rolled onto his stomach covering the warm spot you left. Your hand gently onto his soft hair caressing them away from his face. The time seemed to be something unknown to you.

After adjusting the covers over his shoulder you shivered into your nakedness, your hands grasping onto your white nightdress pulling it over you to cover your frame before adding up a burgundy cardigan belonging to Andrea to protect you against the goosebumps your body suffered for leaving the warm comfort of his presence.

You stepped into the kitchen quietly, breathing in the soft smell of a new day. Your hands went immediately to unveil the dough that was covered by a cloth and you left to raise during the night, it was now ready to be baked and you’ll have your warm bread for the day. Andrea spent the day before picking up the mature fruits from your trees, so it was easy to wash them and cut them while you put on the pot for your morning tea.

You hummed softly a song that Andrea was rehearsing with his violin for few days, now helplessly stuck with you, your hands unveiling the pie you prepared the day before cutting some slices.

Before anything else you moved away going to your garden standing barefoot onto the cold stone of the steps, you hugged yourself enjoying the view before slipping on some comfortable shoes and settling the table. The summer day was amazing and the morning breeze made the heat unnoticeable. A white table cloth with fresh flowers and then your started going back and forth from the kitchen to the garden bringing dishes and plates

You blinked surprised as little Anthony, the 14 years old son of the local baker, passed by with his bike waving at you. He blushed as you just looked so calm and relaxed.

“Got the mail and the newspaper Mrs Marowski” he said as he hopped off his bike to hand it to you. You picked one of the peaches you got into a basket nearby handing it to him I return “Thank you Anthony, have a good day”

He smiled and nodded vehemently as he rushed off back to his duties.

You looked down onto the mails: an invite to a concert in London, something from your parents, something in polish coming from Andrea’s family and a voluminous yellow envelope that was coming from Andrea's favourite music shop in London and by the weight you could tell it was some new music sheets. Also a note from your seamstress telling you that the new winter coats need the last fittings.

You were about to check the first page of the newspaper as a loud meowing made you jump.

Andrea was standing in front of you, soft khaki pants with a loose white shirt, your cat draped onto him, a beautiful grey British short hair who was staring at you.

“Did Laszlo woke you up?”

“Did you doubt it?” Andrea asked with a chuckle as he leaned closer to you, a kiss resting onto your lips as the cat jumped off his arm.

“I hate to wake up on an empty bed, even if your table setting is the best” he assured as he smiled at you tangling you into another kiss.

“Mh, the tea” you just reminded yourself as he chuckled 

“One more, one more” he begged between chuckles stealing another kiss before letting you go inside and he proceeded to give the annoying boss of your cat the food he deserved and demanded.

He sat on the chair enjoying the soft breeze as you brought a small tray with the tea to complete the set up.

He hummed softly opening the package coming from London gleefully as he admired his new music sheets.

“Your presence is required to see a new concert, I think they want to show off to have you as solo violin” you said showing him the invitation while sitting with him. He admired you, he stared at you with a soft smile “I will have to hear my agent first” he said as he meant you. You always had a good gut feelings and often kept him from taking random impulsive decisions.

“There’s something from your family too” you added and he smirked 

“You read it first” he said as he was helping you with polish and you sighed softly using one of your butter knives to open the letter. His hand quickly went to your cookies taking one happy bite as he still stared at the music on paper.

His eyes darting up only to look at you focused onto the paper scribbled by his parents and you nodded explaining to him a letter that was mostly about every day updates

“This word” you signalled as he leaned in lightly in to read it as there was only one point you didn’t seem to grasp not even by the words before or after it.

He chuckled loudly almost chocking onto the crumbles covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?”

You asked as he blushed deeply.

“Oh no, they hated my knit work? Is it that?”

He shook his head as you frowned at him waving that letter expecting an answer before your mind went onto the worried train of thoughts.

“It means” he licked his lips, eyes shining “It means pregnancy, not literally it is a more discreet way to say it, more like expecting something, but they mean that, my mum wants to know when she can call herself grandmother”

You blushed deeply as you looked down, you are such a young couple and you’re actually enjoying this phase, now it is not like every little delay of your period didn’t make your heart do the backflips, but to be asked so directly felt weird.

“Don’t worry about it, she means it in a good way, they adore you and they keep saying how you brought some sense into me”

He smiled taking your hand gently kissing the back of it.

“We have Laszlo for now it is more than enough” he joked to light you up and you giggled “Indeed” you said as you looked around finding the cat running after some butterflies. Andrea always complained that Laszlo hated him, Laszlo was your cat even before the polish man came into your life, but truth to be told they were best buddies: the cat would always check where he was and Andrea was the first to always feed him.

“I was thinking we could go to town today, I promised Ursula to play for her tea party with some friends coming all the way from Edinburgh and maybe we can go past the bookshop and buy some flour and whatever else. I could plant some pumpkin seeds, I love your velvety pumpkin cream for autumn”

You smiled as he really can’t wait for the colder season even if that meant to see you more dressed and clothed he also loved to nuzzle with you in front of the fire.

“Agreed” you said and he smiled proudly as you handed him the letter from your family and he sighed softly but proceeded to read it like you did with his.

He was way better at English, but mostly spoken English, he still hated to read and you picked books for him too even if he always puppy eyed you into reading for him.

He read quietly the letter as you ate some pie. He frowned lightly as he spelled out loud some words, sometimes he did it to learn the difference from a word that he knows and how it was written.

When you both drank your tea and he finally indulged into the local news he hushed you to get dressed “You take the longest to get ready, I’ll clean up” he said winking at you making you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

So you did, you went to wash yourself and braided your hair into an updo hairstyle, a light white dressy shirt and a long pleaded skirt for you as you also prepared the clothes for him.

As you redid your bed and he walked inside after clearing up the kitchen you couldn’t help but adore him into his little routines, the way he shaved and got prepared, the way he wore the clothes you figured out for him with happy delight. He loved how you looked after him, he felt loved, the small attentions like that one put him at rest, he relaxed and he felt babied and he loved it.

He picked the case of his violin handing it to you using it to pull you closer and steal another kiss. You chuckled as he leaned in to kiss you again, and again, and once more.

“Andrea” you whispered as he chuckled softly kissing you once again, he smelled so good, his skin soft and perfumed thanks to his aftershave oil.

How could you resist him?

“Two minutes” you whispered leaning back down the violin over your vanity to be able to wrap your arms around his neck letting out a soft yelp as he fell over you on the bed.

Useless to say that it wasn’t two minutes and not even twenty, your trembling legs around him and the way you guided him to give you just what you wanted from him always drove him crazy.

After a short nap you really had to begin to get going, he helped you to dress up slowly zipping up your skirt and you had a new rush of pleasure just by buttoning up his shirt covering his chest peppered with hickeys.

You locked the house and he pulled out his black bike putting the violin box in the basket on the front along with your white one “I prefer when we go with one” he complained but you chuckled “yes, but if we buy few things we will have to go by walking” you made him notice and he sighed nodding.

He waited for you as you pedalled your way to the town centre, he was swaying in front of you and you raced a bit against each other until the stone bridge that welcomed you there.

“See you at Ursula’s” you said and he nodded leaning in to kiss you one more time, he indulged into that kiss a littlest as he opened his eyes slowly, a smile playing over his lips.

“My wife” he said, sometimes he repeated it like he had to remind himself. You chuckled as you kissed his cheek and you go parted.

You knew Ursula liked to pared Andrea off, you let her do it, she came with time to like you, she saw how much good you did to Andrea, how much balance you gave to him, his behaviour was stable, he settled down.

You stopped to the local grocery store taking up some spices, some cinnamon in particular as you knew how much Andrea loved it on sweets, few little cooking and baking items you missed and then off to the bookstore.

“Hello hello” you said as the old man there greeted you “The books you ordered arrived” he said as he moved his shaky legs into the back of the shop bringing you the easy books in polish you ordered to practice some reading. You smiled looking at them as Andrea gave you the titles of books that made his youth and also few new ones for him. You added to that stock a new cooking book and few novels for Andrea and his English. The old man was the sweetest, he kept the booster open no matter the weather and politics and he always made sure to find anything you might be looking for.

He helped you tie all your buyings together onto the bike so after paying you just pushed it walking through the town, just enjoying a good time around giving yourself time until you made it to Ursula’s home.

Well, you called Ursula’s but Janet as always there even if her presence was always quieter you teamed up with her most of the time letting Ursula enjoy her time with Andrea.

You smiled stopping in your track as you heard the soft sound of the violin, you closed your eyes breathing in, like you could enjoy the music through the air.

You adjusted your dress and smiling to yourself, the moment sinking in slowly.

Your husband, your life, the idea of coming back home together, cuddle on the couch, listen to his words, having his honey eyes on you.

A natural smiled appeared on your lips.

After few moments you decided to keep going, you pulled your bike  letting it rest against the fence, Janet appearing at the doorstep to welcome you in.

Your perfect day.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Just The Way You Are// D.M.

Request: Hi can you do a draco x reader where they are in a relationship and her parents are like as**oles and they always bother her about her weight so one day she is with draco and makes a comment like “maybe i should stop eating so much” or something like that and Draco is like WHAT and tells her that she is beautiful and all that and he is like really worried Thanks!!

A/N: MY 100TH FIC!!! MY 100TH FIC FOR HP!!! Of course it has to be Draco!! I didn't think I would ever reach 100 fics as well as get over 1000 followers yet here I am. I am so thankful to all of you who have read everything but have also motivated me into continuing to write even when I doubt my own abilities (which is a lot). Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I hope I have done your request justice! I enjoyed writing this, I ended up writing it all in one sitting. Please read the warnings before you read! And as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: food, weight issues, shitty parents, swearing (I think) BUT DRACO IS CUTE DAMMIT.

Word count: 2k

Every morning in the Great Hall, breakfast is served at seven am sharp. This gives the students enough time to eat, socialise and let their food settle before classes begin promptly at half past eight. It also gives the students time to read over any mail that should fall with the Owls upon their arrival at eight am.

As your family owl drops a letter inscribed with the familiar handwriting of your mother, you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or burn the letter without reading. You knew that it would be filled with her usual criticism rounded off with a few sweet lines about the renovation to the house or how your cousin was doing so well on her internship abroad.

You flip the letter in your hands a few times; wondering whether the Howler from your mother would be worth it once she never got a reply from you. However, you eventually decide that the Howler would not be worth it and that your mother’s vitriol is better off read in silence.

Rolling your eyes, you try not to let the letter affect you so much. Her words are always poisonous and toxic, but this time, she cuts you where it hurts.

“My dear, how on earth is the Malfoy boy supposed to stay with you if you continue to gain weight? I’ve enclosed a new diet regiment for you to follow – stick to it, this is not an option.”

You scrunch up the letter and the included diet regiment in your hands. Crunching them up until they resemble litter rather than the foul words scrawled onto parchment.

You had never felt you had issues with your weight; there wasn’t any need to necessarily – the meals at Hogwarts were scheduled and there was enough exercise done through the day in order to get to classes on time, and this was before the weekend walks to Hogsmeade or the ambles around the Black Lake with Draco.

You don’t feel like there should be an issue with your weight, but your mother’s words are venomous barbs that stick into your brain. Her words on replay in the forefront of your mind.

There was no real excuse for the way your mother harked on about appearances and reputations. Your family hailed from an ancient line of witches and wizards; even going so far as to state that your ancestors were among the very first to attend Hogwarts when the founders were teachers.

So for your mother, everything since then had to be perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect manners.

Perfect weight, apparently.

Any appetite you had before has now dissipated. It’s funny how three lines of a letter is enough to put one off their morning meal.

You felt like a rule change should be implemented at Hogwarts; no mail until the evening - that way students don’t have the time to sit and worry about the thoughts of their parents.

Pushing your plate away from you, you bring out your reading book from your bag. Flipping through the familiar pages, you find the dog-eared corner from where you rounded off last night before falling asleep.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages having read the story over a thousand times before, but the niggling voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously similar to your mothers has you reading the same paragraph over and over again.

A kiss being pressed to the top of your hand is the first greeting from Draco. The next is a quiet good morning as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

You smile at the blonde-haired teenager, looking up from your book, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Love, is everything okay?” Draco asks; immediately spotting that something is off.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Draco chuckles; not entirely convinced but happy to wait until you come to him. “It’s because you didn’t stay with me last night.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ve stayed in your dorm the last three nights; it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.”

Draco shrugs; leaning over to peck your cheek, “Let them, I don’t care.”

“You will when we get caught out by Snape on a random inspection,” You comment with a light laugh.

Draco smiles broadly at the idea of the Head of Slytherin ever completing a random inspection of the dungeon. He grabs a slice of toast from the rack and reaches for the marmalade.

His eyes wander over the lack of food in front of you, “Already eaten?”

You nod, smirking, “And all alone as well since you take so long in the mornings.”

He laughs, “It takes time to look this good, darling.”

“Sure it does,” You comment, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He hums against your mouth happily, but all too soon, you pull away, “I’m off to the library before class, I want to get ahead on the History of Magic essay. I’ll see you later.”

You drop another kiss to Draco’s mouth before hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and departing from the Great Hall.

Draco shakes his head at your retreating figure; something about you was off, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. He wasn’t going to pester you as it would only make things worse, but he knew he had to address it before you lost yourself from overthinking.

Draco bites into his toast; already thinking of the ways he can talk to you.

----

Your days are always filled with little highlights; seeing the first flower bloom after a long winter or reading your favourite part of your book without being interrupted or it’s finding Draco waiting outside your classroom after every lesson of the day.

You find him waiting opposite the door to your class; leaning against the wall with his robes open, showing the white buttoned shirt underneath. His rebelliousness highlighted in the undone top button and untucked shirt. You shake your head as you make your way over to the teenager that made your heart stutter.

He grins, holding his elbow out to you, “Lunch, my love?”

“Lead the way.”

The Great Hall is loud upon your arrival. Students shouting, laughing, grabbing for food from the centre of the tables. It’s a ruckus, but it makes you smile as you take a seat across from Draco at the Slytherin table.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Draco asks with a frown at the sight of your plate.

You nod your head; your mother’s words from this morning making another round in your head, “I’m not overly hungry.”

The frown doesn’t leave Draco’s face, and through lunch, he glances between your face and the plate, wondering what’s changed for your appetite to have disappeared.

Draco walks you to your next class after the bell rings signalling the end of lunch.

He pauses outside the classroom, keeping a tight grip on your hand. His other hand reaches up to caress your cheek; a rare form of PDA from the Slytherin Prince who was more than happy to kiss and hold hands but would rarely show his feelings so openly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?” He asks; concern alight in his eyes.

You hold his hand to your cheek; pressing a kiss to the palm, “I would.”

He nods silently. Kissing your forehead, Draco turns away, striding to his next class.

Guilt stirs within you like a lead balloon; weighing you down for the rest of the day. Even the ringing of the final bell of the day wasn’t enough to lift your mood.

Draco continues to meet you after every class; his arm always ready for you to slip yours through. But he’s quieter; more sombre as he leads your through the bustling corridors and staircases.

At the end of the day, he escorts you to the Great Hall. The level of noise quieter from lunch but still loud as students discuss their plans for the evening over the food laid out on the long, wooden tables.

Dinner is a feast by any standard, and Draco tucks right in, piling food onto his plate – ravenous after a day filled with exam preparation. You take your time with your meal; selecting more and more vegetables as you think back to the letter and diet regiment now burning a hole through your bag.

Draco sighs as he watches you pick at your food. He reaches over, checking your temperature with the back of his hand on your forehead, “Well you feel fine,” he murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve picked at your food all day, and you’ve become more distant as the day’s gone on.”

“I’ll talk to you about it in the common room,” You state.

“You will?”

Nodding, you promise,  “I will.”

Draco makes his way through the rest of the meal; drawing you into a conversation after conversation about how the day has been. When his plate is empty and yours has been pushed to one side, Draco stands from the bench. He takes one last drink of his pumpkin juice before holding his hand out to you.

The walk to the common room is quiet; you think over the letter in your bag, wondering about the reply you’re going to send back to your mother. One cross word from you and you wouldn’t be surprised if she, herself, showed up in Dumbledore’s office demanding punishment for your insolent words.

It was tiring, you realise, to be her daughter.

The Slytherin common room is silent when Draco leads you through the door; all students either still eating in the Great Hall or ambling about the castle. You settle on the black leather couch in front of the already lit fire; you hum at the warmth it gives off – holding your hands out to warm them through.

Once your hands are warm enough, you lean back into the couch. Feeling Draco’s eyes on you, you shift your head, facing him with a small smile.

Draco tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You sigh, opening your bag and pulling out the letter. Handing it to Draco, you say wryly, “Dear old mama wrote, that’s what.”

Draco scans over the letter; getting to the three lines that have played on your mind all day and have affected your eating habits so quickly.

Draco folds the letter carefully into the three; he folds it ever so neatly before ripping it to pieces in front of your eyes, leaning forward and throwing the tiny pieces into the fire.

“I hope you don’t believe a word she’s written.”

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I should stop eating so much.”

Draco leaps up from the couch; spreading his arms wide, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your weight – you do not need to lose, you do not need to gain. You are perfect the way you are. I love you to pieces, but darling, your mother is an awful person. What sort of person sends that to their child?”

He kneels on the ground in front of you, “I will love you no matter what. The sky could be green, and the clouds could be purple hedgehogs, but even that would not distract me from my love for you.”

He gestures to the pieces of parchment now turning to ash in the flames, “Everything about you is beautiful; from the top of your head to the tip of your toes – there isn’t anything about you I don’t adore. Reply to your mother if you must; tell her that you’ve let me read the letter and that I absolutely disagree with her words.”

Draco surges forward, kissing you soundly. He shifts slightly, beginning to press you into the couch, “I love you – just the way you are.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[tragedykery]

my heart overflows (on paper)

also available on AO3

summary:

@maileeweek2022 day 7: free day

A letter Mai writes to Ty Lee, and one Ty Lee writes to Mai.

tags: unsent (love) letters, fluff

word count: 740

———

Dear Ty Lee,

I wish I could tell you how you make me feel. How your smile makes warmth blossom in my chest, how, when your hand brushes mine, I have to fight the urge to reach for it. (It happens so often I’m getting the idea it isn’t always an accident on your part. Or is that self-absorbed of me to think?) I wish I could tell you in a way other than ink on paper, but any time I try, I fumble, and the words lodge themselves in my throat. (I’m afraid, I think. Afraid you will reject me, even though I suspect that fear is ungrounded. I’m afraid of opening up.)

Yesterday you told me a secret, in the garden, with the sun shining on your freckled cheeks, but the mischievous look in your eyes sparkling even brighter. It was more a secret for the sake of telling me one, I think, but your words still made me blush. Of course people have complimented me before, but no words have ever felt as genuine as they did falling from your lips, warmth in their simplicity as you spoke. I think you look beautiful, Mai.

The moment made my fingers itch to write a poem about the constellations of your freckles and the stars that twinkle within your eyes, about how, even against the light of the setting sun that spins your hair into gold, your smile still shines the brightest. It was like all those years ago, how this all started with one simple poem. Oh, how I wanted to burn it. (Or I didn’t, but I felt like I had to, and back then I didn’t know the difference.)

That was how it started, these letters, written in secret and hidden from the person they are addressed to. I wish I could give them to you, tell you what I feel. Tell you how I want you. Maybe one day I will be brave enough.

———

Dear Mai,

You’re sleeping as I’m writing this. The sunlight is starting to filter through our bedroom windows, but I’m being as quiet as I can, opening the drawer slowly so it doesn’t creak as much while I get my pen and paper out. You look beautiful like this, so peaceful. I’d try to describe it, but I’m no poet, not like you are. I can’t spin words into a tapestry in the way you do, coherent and beautiful and making you feel so much with so little. I ramble, over-explain and use too many words where only a few would suffice. (Maybe there’s some irony in that sentence.)

Your hair looks so soft. I could ask how you get it like that, but it’s more miraculous to wonder. I want to tuck a strand that has fallen in your face behind your ear, or press a kiss to your forehead, but I don’t dare disturb this gentle peace. The book you gave me years ago lays on my nightstand. I’ve read every letter and every poem in it, but sometimes I run my fingers over the spine as a way to calm myself. I open it and marvel at the craftsmanship, the time you must have put into it. Bound by hand, stitched together with the careful work of needle and thread, the curling script, the pressed flowers tucked in between every page.

Most of those flowers don’t grow here, to my knowledge, so I wonder where you got them. Did you send letters to our friend in other parts of the world and ask them to pluck every beautiful one they saw? Or did you spend hours walking through the forests of the island, discovering places I’ve never been, to find this beauty in nature and take it home with you? It’s a silly thing to think about, I know, but I can’t help but wonder.

You’re starting to wake up. I’d better finish writing, so I can tuck this letter away before you see it. Maybe I will give it to you, once, together with all the other letters I’ve addressed to you over the years. Just like you did to me. I tell you almost every day, but there’s something different about writing it down, seeing it black-on-white in front of you. But I love you, dear Mai, and I hope you know, even as we get older, that will never change.

[nationalharryleague]

In the Long Green Grass

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: the fluffiest fluff with husband!harry  

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi everyone!! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate!! this is my Secret Santa (run and organized by the lovely lu (@meetmymouth​) gift to the sweetest angel who walks among us miss hasibi (@peachybloomss​)!!! I hope you enjoy it my love!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what everyone thinks in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!! 

*** 

You were stirred by the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff outside the home as the early morning sun streamed in through the windows. A small huf and whine left your lips, always one to ask for just five more minutes in bed, before you climbed from underneath the warm plush blankets and your toes hit the icy and worn wood floors beneath you.

The buttery yellow sunlight thwarted your plans to fight yourself back to sleep for those last few moments, prompting you to reach out your arms in a longing stretch. You released a light and sleepy hum of surprise when your arm hit a tiny furry body, and not the arm of the man who loved to sleep late in the bed beside you. Peeping one eye open, you made eye contact with Piper, Harry’s small jet black cat with glowing green eyes who was laying next to you, curled up on sheets that still held the indent of his body in them.

Piper wore a face of annoyance, obviously blaming you for interrupting her precious beauty sleep, and her eyes followed your body as you forced yourself out of the bed with one goal: find Harry.

Harry had a habit of disappearing, especially in a new place where there was just so much to explore. He was a wanderer (and an aquarius); always on the move, carried along by a thought or idea he just couldn’t resist. It was hard for him to sit still, a trait he probably picked up after tour after tour after tour, never allowing himself the luxury of rest or relaxation after it was never allowed to him. That was why you had insisted he needed time away from the city, finding a perfect spot in a small cottage that sat on the edge of a cliff along the ocean with a back garden full of sweet smelling flowers and tall cushony grass.

You tiptoed carefully down the spiral staircase that lovingly let out groans underfoot, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, into a kitchen that looked straight out of a fairytale. It was small with moss green cabinets and large bay windows that filled the space with light that kept the seemingly hundreds of plants in the house happy and thriving. A cool ocean breeze came in through the open windows of the small breakfast nook, bringing along the scent of a fresh pot of coffee that sat on the butcher block countertops like it had been waiting for you to wake all along. While you felt a jump of excitement within you for the coffee, it still hadn’t been what (or who) you were looking for, even though you were very glad you found it.

A sweet cup of coffee was thoughtfully prepared in a tea cup you had found in the cabinet with small wisteria flowers painted around it’s rim. You knew Harry would poke fun at your cup choice if he were there. “Tea cups are for tea,” you could hear him say, perking up the edges of your mouth into a gentle smile as you sipped it carefully. But the flowers reminded you of the beautiful wisteria tree that flowed in the wind and scattered it’s petals all over the back garden; you just couldn’t pass it up.

It took you quite a while to find him, even with the new found caffeinated energy running through your system. You had run into the two other cats at the house, both rather chubby tabbys named Jack and Gus, that called this back garden home on your search and you obviously had to say good morning. The two rubbed themselves up against your legs, begging for a scratch behind the ear and a bit of attention, and you obliged. Who were you to deny them of it?

The garden the cats got to call home was a dream. It was filled with every variety of colorful flower imaginable and blanketed in a sweet air that always hovered over the space. Your favorites were the small peachy blooms that smelled of sugary perfume. A stone fence ran the perimeter of the yard, a white picket fence in the middle opening to a swath of overgrown grass that swayed in the wind on a hill. If you squinted, you could see the house of the couple you were renting the cottage from, but they were far enough away it felt like you were the only people around for miles.

When you spotted a Harry-shaped hole in the tall grass up the hill, you had a sneaking suspicion you had found your missing husband.

The tall grass squished beneath your feet as you climbed the hill, creating a soft padding below, and the long blades tickled against your bare legs as you made your way towards him, still only dressed in one of his perfectly worn t-shirts from the night before.

“There you are,” you hummed happily when you reached him, standing above him as he layed in the grass. “I thought that I lost you.”

He looked like a renaissance painting as he laid in the grass that was dotted with small pink and purple wildflowers. His curls had gotten a little longer during his much needed break and they splayed out around his head in delicate ringlets like a halo. The light from the still rising sun bounced off his slightly dewy skin, giving him a glow that lit him up even more than usual. Stubble danced across his cheeks and jaw, framing his perfectly pink lips that held a gentle smile as he looked up at you from the ground. And his eyes squinted slightly, shielding his pupils from the ever growing brightness of the sky, creating delicate little wrinkles around his sea glass green eyes that looked so vibrant in the light.

A worn book that you hadn’t seen before, bound in dark green leather with gold detailing, sat on his chest; Poems for Lovers: A Collection was embossed delicately across the cover.

“You’ll never lose me,” he mumbled up at you, a gravel in his voice like it was the first time he had used it that day. You had been married for almost two years and had been together for five, but your cheeks never failed to redden when he spoke sweet nothings like that. “Good morning, angel,” he said softly, reaching his hand up for yours.

You moved to place your hand in his, but ended up only linking your pinkies together in the process; a light tug from the man below you signaled for you to join him on the ground. You couldn’t resist, sitting yourself down with your legs crossed in front of you on the slightly damp ground next to him, pinkies still locked together.

“Morning,” you greeted. “I missed you in bed. Piper isn’t much of a cuddler,” you chuckled while absentmindedly playing with his fingers, twirling his wedding band.

“She’s not very nice, is she?” he smiled, opening his eyes fully to meet yours as you strategically moved your body to block his delicate eyes from the sun. “I’m sorry my cat’s a bitch,” he joked. “She still thinks she’s my number one girl.”

“I tell her I’m sorry that I stole her spot in bed all the time, she never listens. Won’t even have a civil chat with me about it,” you teased sarcastically.

Harry let out an enthusiastic giggle at your words; it was high pitched, and came from his belly in loud bursts of air. His cheeks scrunched up and forced his eyes closed because he was smiling so wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes once again. His laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in.

You two must have looked insane, sitting in the grass in a field in the middle of nowhere just after dawn, laughing like idiots. But you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Well, a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

As your gigges died down, you turned your attention to the book resting on his chest. “You ditched me in bed for a book?” you teased, letting the remaining laughter escape your body.

“I couldn’t sleep and I found it on one of the bookshelves. I thought it would be nice to read in the grass and watch the sun come up.”

“You should have woken me up. I could have thought of a few things we could have done to tire you out.” A smirk played on your lips as you tapped your chin, pretending to think, as you watched his eyes grow in amusement from your innuendo.

“You looked too peaceful sleeping. Also, drool and bedhead don’t really turn me on if I’m being honest.” It was your turn to react to his teasing.

Your jaw dropped in feigned offence and your finger flew over your shoulder to point back at the cottage. “I can go back if you’d like your privacy,” you said incredulously and with dramatics, until a few chuckles broke through and your resolve softened once again.

“Oh no no no,” he spoke with a grin, “come here,” moving the book and tapping his chest for you to rest your head on. You turned yourself around to lay yourself on the ground, placing your head on his chest and listening to his steady and calming heartbeat.

“How are your poems?” you asked, referencing the book he was now holding in his hands.

“They are very good. I’m glad I found it.” His voice reverberated under your head as he spoke, and you rose and fell softly with his breath.

“Read me your favorite.”

“Okay,” he began, thumbing through the pages as he held the book above both your heads. You listened as he let out a small “ah, here it is,” before he dramatically cleared his throat. “You might remember me talking about this one already, but I love it.”

You knew he loved it before he even began reading anything. He loved his poetry, especially when they were about love. Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart, often saying to you and interviewers “I just love love.” He loved falling in love with you and becoming a team, just as much as you did with him.

“It’s called The Wait,” he spoke gently, his voice taking on a deeper and more enunciated quality. You recognized the poem immediately, as it was the one referenced on his pants for the Vogue cover shoot. He had dedicated it to you then, and was doing it again now in the grass. “It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet of kisses off her mouth and put them into a dawn-colored vase in my heart,” he began. He spoke slowly and smoothly with the consistency and sweetness of honey. “But the wait was worth it,” he continued. “Because I was in love.”

You couldn’t help but think of your own story as he read. He had chased after you for years, with you always insisting that he was your best friend and you were afraid to ruin that. But gradually, your best friend became your lover, and your lover became your husband.

“I like that one a lot too.” You spoke softly and with reflection. “It reminds me of us.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite.”

You two layed in the grass for hours, not a care in the world, as he read from the book. Every poem took you two on a journey into a love story, one that for the two of you only existed on the page, but told of a very real love that couldn’t have been dishonestly written.

But with how you felt in the moment, with the joy and loving warmth you felt in your belly, you were sure you could write a million poems about the love you had with him.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!! 

[lil-pine-mha-drabbles]

can i request tokoyami or tetsutetsu with a

s/o that has adhd? :)

Tokoyami x Reader with ADHD.

There are so many different types of adhd and I didn’t want to disrespect anyone with how I wrote it so I placed in my own adhd. This is ligit how I act every day and I apologize if it’s not what you were looking for.

Also I saw you said s/o instead of boyfriend or girlfriend so I tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible. I usually only write for female readers so I will try my best with this.

I really hope you like it! Here are some people that inspire me! @alpha-bnha-boys and @random-mha-thoughts

There are 1140 words to read below the line!!

————————————

Weeks ago you were sitting on the couch in the common room with Tokoyami when you got this sudden urge, his feathers looked so soft. You slowly reached out and touched your boyfriend’s face as he flinched and froze up. You petted his black feathers as he coo’ed for the first time. He cuddled into you, his head in your lap as you pet around his cheeks and under his chin. You continued the head pats for a while, heard some chirps you’ve never heard from him, and you smiled brightly at his cute sounds. After that first day it became an unspoken rule that after a long day, Tokoyami would lay in your lap and you would both relieve stress through it.

When you were with your classmates you were loud and fast talking, speaking your mind quickly to get to the point before anyone shushes you. Although most times you were shushed by everyone, except for Tokoyami and Kaminari, that’s why they were your closest friends.

You stared out the window of Aizawa’s class and watched some birds fly outside, reminding you of your boyfriend. You looked around a bit at the room of bored teens and an equally bored teacher and decided that you should listen.

After three minutes of listening you started doodling little eyes and flowers into your notes, little faces came to life on the page as you sketched their tiny little noses, and you imagined the little car you drew to drive off the page and down the side of the desk and then wondered if it would crawl up the desk next to you or go under the seat.

Your eyes followed the path you thought best for the small car until it “rolled” up the ceiling and “fell” on your desk. You then decided you wanted to speed run the whole path again and your eyes darted around the room to match what path you made earlier, restarting whenever you got it too wrong.

You were pulled out of your “car racing” when your boyfriend patted your shoulder.

“Yeah?” You turned to him, he sighed when he looked at your notes covered in drawings.

“Schools done for the day, it’s time to go to the dorms.” He gently grabbed your bag and you got up excitedly.

“Can we make ramen!?” You asked him excitedly, and you could’ve sworn his beak shifted in a small smile.

“Okay.”

You talked about the most random things as you passed the school buildings on the way to your rooms. Sometimes Tokoyami had to pull back the conversation to bring you to a conversation he was still interested in by a few phrases,

“Can we go back to that one thing, I’m still thinking on the topic”

“Oh, wait, we were talking about the other thing. Can we go back to that I’m still confused.”

He always made sure you knew he was still interested and if you wished to skip over a subject, all you had to do was say the word and he wouldn’t bring it up again.

You became a little quieter when you reached his room and opened the door for your birdbrain.

You looked at his black nails and watched how the color was chipped in some places.

“We need to paint them again,” you said as you shut the door.

“Paint, what?”

“Oh, your nails. They’re getting all chippy again.” You crawled into his lap when he jumped unceremoniously onto the bed. He carded one hand through your hair and you held the other, plucking off little pieces of each nail until the whole hand was clear of the black polish.

When you dropped his hand another came in its place and you started on that one. Since his hand would be at an odd angle if he played with your hair this time, he picked up his poetry book and read some aloud. He told you which ones he wrote before he read them and at the end of each one you dropped his hand and clapped lightly to the wonderful words.

When you finished re-painting each nail, he wrapped up the poem he was reading and gently put the book back on the side table. The room was rather bright, and considering brightness keeps dark shadow in line, you didn’t bat an eye the first time you came in his room. White walls some pastel stuff and of course, a lot of black.

You sat up excitedly and patted your lap, he turned suddenly and flopped down onto your thighs. “Where’s dark shadow? I’ve barely seen them today.”

“They usually calm down when you’re around so I’m not sure where they are.” That was his last full sentence before he melted into a chirping mess. He coo’ed and shrilled gently and it made your heart soar.

While one hand pet your boyfriend you took a picture of him to send to Kaminari who would most likely laugh. You hugged Tokoyami when he said it was time for bed and kissed his beak which in return, nuzzled your face gently.

You slept soundly that night. Something watching you protectively from the shadows.

When you woke in the morning, a package was on your desk, brown paper packaging tied with white string, in the bow of the string was a dried rose. You knew it was from your lovely boyfriend before you had to open it, he always gave you dried roses to keep or do as you please with it. You smiled and untied the ribbon, the box opened suddenly to reveal pictures on every wall of the box. One of you and him at the beach, he looked very bashful in his swim-trunks and sunburned shoulders, one of you both cuddled on the couch with the fireplace, that was taken at his parents house it must’ve been taken by his mom because his dad was in the background and you and Tokoyami were dead asleep. There were countless others that made your face break into a smile, Tokoyami was a hopeless romantic.

“Do you like it?” You jumped a bit when Dark Shadow’s voice spooked you.

“Yes I do. Where were you yesterday?” You asked incredulously.

“I was making this for Tokoyami. It took forever by the way.” You smiled at your boyfriend’s quirk.

“Were you watching me last night? I felt weird.” They nodded quickly.

“We want to keep you safe.”

“That’s fine, just tell me next time you’re going to do something like that.”

A knock on your door had you turning your head, and you watched as Dark Shadow slunk under it.

“Hi!” You hugged your boyfriend when the door opened.

“Hello, love. Did you like the gift we made?” You pulled Tokoyami onto your bed and hugged him excitedly.

“Yes! Thank you.”

[anyoneseenadam]

Hii

Can you please write something for fenrys? first meeting maybe? And the bond clicks? Thank you 🥺🥺

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: implied smut, kissing and nudity, lil bit of blood and injuries but mainly pure fluff

a/n: fenrys is my fave and u can tell in the fic omg!! i hope you enjoy it cause it’s probs my fave one i’ve written yet :))) (i also made it a teensy bit ddlg but that’s just cause i want Fenrys to baby me lol)

——————————————————————————

Shit

Fenrys pressed his hand to the wound in his side, feeling the slow pump of blood seeping between his fingers as he stumbled through the woods. He had won the fight. The other guy now lying in the dirt, however not without consequence. And he wasn’t entirely sure he would stay alive unless he could find a healer soon.

He stopped to lean against a tree, breathing heavily as he held himself together. He transformed into a wolf, moving faster, and trying to pick up a scent, any scent, that could possibly help him, when he caught the sweetest smell he ever had. It was a female, smelling like peonies and blackberries, sweet but with an underlying smoky smell. She smelled of long days in flowers fields and even longer nights beside campfires, evenings spent curled in hand woven blankets and mornings spent drinking dark coffee and eating sweet toast.

He whimpered and began running in the direction of the scent. If he wasn’t so focused on not bleeding out he may have stopped to consider why the scent was pulling him in the way it did. He would have considered the direction he was running into, the direction of his future, his past and his present. But he just kept up, going as fast as his injured body would allow, concentrating on the sweet smell and putting one foot in front of the other.

He felt the change almost immediately, the cold snow and rough bark being swapped for cool moss. The pine trees swapped for tall, oak trees teeming with life. The silence of a frozen forest swapped for the rustling of bushes as nocturnal animals moved silently under the guise of darkness. The chill of the snow-covered woods swapped for the warmth of a summer evening. He pushed between two bushes and found himself facing a clearing, in the middle of which stood a wooden cottage, the wood dark and the roof covered in more moss, flowers growing from every surface and ivy peeking out of the crevices in the house. He stumbled down the path to the cottage, turning back into a male and crossing a small bridge over a stream that separated him from the intoxicating scent he chased.

He let out what he could only describe as a bark, calling for the female that carried the scent he was growing addicted to, collapsing onto his knees, feeling his conscious fade as he held to the side of his stomach, searing pain replaced by fiery veins as his head swayed. He barely heard the door open, only noticing the scent get so much stronger. He attempted to look up, the movement making his head spin as he collapsed, the last thing he saw, a girl in the halo of the moon.

--

Fenrys awoke in a foreign bed. An unbelievably comfortable bed, but foreign all the same. He pushed up on his forearms, gritting his teeth at the reminder of his wound.

The room he was in was dark, not just in light source, but also in décor. The window was cracked open with lacy curtains half closed, there was a tall bookshelf sat next to a desk with leather-bound books lining it, and tall candles flickering and casting the room in a golden glow. The bed he was in was small, clearly just for one, but so soft. He had blankets surrounding him and copious amounts of pillows, some that appeared hand made. In fact, upon closer inspection, a lot of the room looked handmade. Art covering the walls depicting crying women or bloody scenes that he presumed had been done by the owner of this house, given the pallet and assortment of brushed he saw on the windowsill.

And then there was that scent. It was stronger here and he pressed his face into a pillow tentatively, breathing in through his nose as he picked up on the deeper undertones. Fresh picked daisies, melted wax, the pages of old, worn books and something he couldn’t describe. Something so intoxicating he felt tears spring to his eyes, his body reacting in an unheard-of way, so overcome with emotion from scent alone.

He heard footsteps approaching the closed door and hastily put down the pillow, sitting up straight and readying himself to fight whoever it was if they were an intruder. But when you entered he faltered.

Mate. The word clanged through him as he came face to face with an angel. You were wearing a dark brown broderie dress with white hearts lining the hem, your feet bare and toenails painted black. Your hair was falling around your face, messy and untamed, and you had dark smudges around your eyes, makeup that accentuated your features and made you look like a character from the scary books he read as a boy. However right now you looked more like a teddy bear.

He briefly remembered the tail of a witch he had read. An evil witch who lured men into her house with whispered words and sweet kisses, only to steal their hearts and use their blood to keep her skin young and eyes bright. This girl however was no witch, you had elegantly pointed ears and a graceful way of moving that only came from being Fae. He watched as you moved to his side, silent on your feet, putting a tray down beside him before moving an opening the curtains further, letting in more natural light.

“How are you feeling?” your sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. His mind coming to a halt as he heard you speak.

“I- er fine..?” His voice was rough, and you smiled, a reserved smile. Moving to his side and sitting at the edge of the small bed he was on, pouring him a glass of water from a small decanter you had brought through.

“(Y/n.)” you answered his unspoken question.

“Fenrys.”

He muttered a thanks as you passed the glass to him, noting the crystals that hung around your neck and adorned your fingers.

“Crystals?” he asked, and you looked down, playing with the rings you wore nervously.

“My mother taught me about their meanings, they’ve always helped me.” You bit your lip and Fenrys decided he would never meet anyone as cute as you again, it simply wasn’t possible.

“Me too, my mother used to carry them everywhere.” You smiled at him shyly, a beat of silence passing between the two of you as he listened to the birds outside.

“Can I see your wound? I want it make sure it’s healing properly.” You asked and he nodded, pulling the blankets down slightly, grinning as your eyes widened as you took in his physique.

“I’m presuming you’re the healer I have to thank for letting me see another day.” He flirted playfully but you shook your head,

“I’m not a very good healer I’m sorry, but I did stitch it up and it should do the rest itself.” You pressed gentle fingers against the skin surrounding his wound and he glanced down, seeing it was already practically healed.

“You still saved my life.” He said, completely serious and you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I’ll let you rest.” You said quietly, standing to walk away and he smiled, feeling more at ease than he ever had since the war, watching his little mate leave.

--

He woke up again a few hours later, wound completely healed and puckering into a scar. Standing he stretched his arms above his head, not bothering with a shirt as he left the room in search of the girl that had occupied his dreams.

The rest of the house was alike your room, tall candles and worn books everywhere. He passed a kitchen filled with copper utensils and a living room with an old armchair, a half-filled mug left next to it, but still no you. He saw the front door was cracked open and wandered over to it, pulling it open and stepping into the fresh air, barely feeling the chill on his body as he found you kneeling on the moss-covered ground facing away from him.

You were muttering under your breath and as he got closer he saw you were cradling a small bird with a broken wing. He watched as you closed your eyes, the ground and air seeming to still as you called upon your magic, a soft white light flowing from your hand into the bird until its wing was healed and it could flutter away.

“I thought you said you weren’t a healer,” he broke the silence and you turned to him with a small smile.

“I said I wasn’t a very good healer.” You replied, standing with green stained knees, your hair now piled atop your head and lip gloss coating your soft lips.

“What are you then?” he came closer to you, unable to resist holding his mate, even if you weren’t aware yet.

“My mother said we were natural faeries.” You said, looking at him shyly, “we derive our power from the earth, crystals, sea water, dirt, fire, stuff like that.”

He hummed, “So technically you could have any type of magic?”

“I guess, but I’m not very good at magic,” you muttered, hands fiddling with your rings again as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fenrys?” you asked, all pouty lips and wide eyes.

“Have you realised yet darling?” he asked, and you bit your lip. He knew he could tell you, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I- we’re mates I think.” You were practically shaking, and he didn’t know why he suddenly had this burning desire to scoop you into his arms and protect you against the horrible world that was out there. He nodded with a smile, watching as awe took over your stunning face.

“Can I kiss you princess?” he asked, and you felt your face heat up, looking down as he pulled you closer. “Have you ever been kissed before angel?” he asked, his face hurting from the grin that was spreading over his face when you shook your head.

He tilted your head up to his, looking deeply into your eyes as your breaths came out quicker. “Not many people can find our cottage, my mother put up wards when she got ill, our family wasn’t well liked by the king. You probably only got here because we’re mates,” You muttered.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked again, running a soft hand over your head, smoothing your hair away from your face as you nodded sweetly.

He smiled before leaning down and kissing you gently. Pulling away and feeling as smug as a thief when your lips followed his, pouting at the loss of contact so quickly. He chuckled at your put out expression and leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you gasped against his lips, quickly beating your own in a battle for dominance and taking his time exploring your mouth.

He laid you down that morning and took you for the first time in the soft moss. Then again in your even softer bed. Now you were sitting in his lap, eating strawberries of a bush you had in your back garden as he pressed dizzying kisses into your neck, both of you still as bare as the day you were born, Fenrys having forgot how much he missed skin to skin contact, when you suddenly remembered.

“Fenrys?” he hummed in response, completely enamoured with the feel of your soft skin against his rough calluses. “Why were you hurt last night?”

“I didn’t tell you my job did I angel?” he asked, the pet name making you giggle as you shook your head, “I work for the queen of Terrasen.”

You gasped, “But she was killed!”

“Oh angel, when was the last time you left this cottage?” he asked, worry coming over him as he realised you had been holed up alone for so long.

“Not since my mother died. She said the king was dangerous and that he would hurt me if he found me,” your bottom lip was wobbling and Fenrys quickly kissed it away, shushing you as it dawned on him just how innocent his little girl was.

“No baby, he’s gone now, the new king of Adarlan is a very kind man and the Queen of Terrasen is wonderful,” he promised, “Will you let me take you to meet them?”

You nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his lap making him groan. He nipped at your ear lobe and you squealed as he pushed you down. You could meet them another day, today he was too busy with his little mate.