#today is my birthday so i decided to make this lovely and colorful moodboard for you guys !! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[aktrickster]

[giveemhales]

Moodboards for Sterek AUs: 27/?

For @averysterekspring (themes: pink moon and werewolf culture)

Pink Moon

Derek had never been one for romance, and Stiles was okay with that.

They had been dating for almost a year now. They had first got together the summer Stiles had come home and decided to stay in Beacon Hills, and it was now April.

In that time, Derek had made few romantic gestures. He would remember the important dates, like their 6 month or Stiles’ birthday, but he never did more than a small gift and some kind words. He had even literally asked that they not do anything for Valentine’s Day.

Stiles understood that romance clearly made the wolf uncomfortable, and he accepted that. He toned down all the wild acts of romance he wanted to do for Derek, and acknowledged that they could show love to each other other ways. Stiles was honestly just thankful that Derek was even willing to be in a relationship with him, so he honestly was rarely upset by the lack of romance.

But that lack of romance is why he was so confused when he came to Derek’s apartment and the first thing he saw was pink rose petals littered all the way down the hall. He had a brief moment of panic where he wondered if maybe there was some sort of monster that shed rose petals, but quickly dismissed that as ridiculous.

Stiles followed the petals to the kitchen, where he was met with a surprising sight. Derek stood holding a bouquet of pink roses in front of the dining table, which was also covered with rose petals, along with some candles and a delicious smelling meal. Stiles desperately racked his mind trying to figure out what reason there possibly could be for this, but came up blank.

Derek looked tense and Stiles became genuinely worried he had forgotten an important date or something. So he did what he did best. He rambled. “Okay, this looks really great but I don’t know what it’s for and if today is an important date I swear I will make it up to you and I love you and you can’t go into your headspace where you start doubting that just because I’m a dumbass who can’t remember things are because I swear to god I’ll fight you and then we’ll both be upset because I’ll obviously lose and then you’ll have to comfort me and-“

“Stiles!” Derek barked, cutting off his ramble. “You didn’t forget anything. It’s... it’s the pink moon.”

“I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if the moon was pink, dude.” That honestly wasn’t what Stiles had meant to say, but it did seem to make Derek relax so he counted that as a win.

Derek snorted. “The moon isn’t actually pink. That’s what the full moon in April is called. Some people say that it’s because of a pink flower that blooms at this time of year. But my mom always told me it was because of werewolf tradition. Today is basically... well, I guess the best way to put it is that it’s our Valentine’s Day. But it’s so much more than what Valentine’s Day is for humans.”

Derek looked nervous again as he began fidgeting. Stiles decided to spare him. He walked up to Derek, giving him a searing kiss before he took the roses and set them down. After that, he pushed Derek down in his seat and then sat across from him.

They both began digging into their food, the taste so good Stiles actually moaned (which totally wasn’t for the heated stare he knew it would get him from Derek).

Finally, Derek seemed to relax, as he started speaking again. “When my mom explained the pink moon to me, she mentioned the human phrase “rose-colored glasses.” She said humans sometimes used it negatively, to call someone naive, but it basically meant having an optimistic view of the world, always seeing the positive rather than the negative. She said that’s kind of what the pink moon was about, but never a bad thing. She said when you found your mate, you would see the world bathed in pink, like there really was a pink moon. It wasn’t that you would ignore the bad, it was just you would see beauty everywhere, you would never doubt that there was good.” Derek took a deep breathe. “That’s how you make me feel.”

Stiles stared at him in awe. He had never heard Derek talk that much about his family.

“I guess I never told you told you or the pack about the pink moon because I suppose I have some commitment issues, and celebrating the pink moon is essentially declaring that you want to be with your partner. I’m so afraid of losing you, but... I know what I want. The fear I feel when I think about losing you is just proof that I want forever with you.”

Stiles teared up at the words but tried not to show it, worried he would spook Derek, so instead he just gave a watery smile. “I feel the exact same. So, tell me, what does one do when celebrating the pink moon?”

“Well, one of the main traditions is the presence of pink flowers. Other than that, it’s mostly just romance. But also... Well, I don’t know if it’s really a tradition, but my mom would always full shift. She would play with us kids before bed, and then she would stay as a wolf the whole night and struggle with my dad. I don’t know if it’s just something she did but... yeah.”

Stiles couldn’t help how his jaw dropped. He heard the words Derek wasn’t saying. Derek would only shift for training and fights, no matter how much Stiles or the pack begged. Derek explained that it was difficult for him to do because playing and being pet as a wolf would basically be like him rolling over and exposing his belly. It was the ultimate sign of vulnerability and submission.

So Stiles understood what Derek was really saying. That he was offering a show of complete and utter trust.

Stiles leaned slightly forward so he could grasp Derek’s hand. “We can do whatever you’re comfortable with. I would love to experience that with you, but it’s all up to you. No matter what, just you sharing this with me means the world. I love you so much.”

That night, Derek does shift, and Stiles swears he has never felt as much love as he does in that moment.

(After they cuddle through the night with Derek in his wolf form, he makes Stiles swear to never speak of it to any of the pack. Stiles keeps it to himself, honored to have been able to share this with Derek, and looking forward to the next pink moon. He wondered if he could figure out the importance of the other full moons too...).

[tipsydipsydo]

『© tipsydipsydo』

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Thank you.

「Information: Only the unique combination of pictures, the colour schemata and editing of the moodboards is my intellectual work! I don’t own the pictures themselves and all credits are going to the rightful owners!」

➸ Blog Navigation

A post where you'll find all my other themed Masterlists of my writings, my personal sideblog, my fic-recs blogs and so much more!

➸ My Networks

This is a list of all the networks where I got accepted as a writer in their community. Please check them out! 

➙ Information!

All the showed (anonymized) persons on my Moodboards should only symbolizes specific scenes, situations, outfits, jewelry or cosmetics! Nothing of this should make you feel excluded when you have a different skin color, hair color/structure, body shape or gender!

My scenarios and fics should be open for everyone to read, that’s why I try my best to write gender neutral and male scenarios/fanfics as well!

(Some scenarios or fics could still be personalized for specific groups of people or communities where I think they deserve some more attention and love! For example because there is a lack of writings for them etc.)

What I want to say:

We all are the same equal in our own unique existence!💓

I love all of you guys!🤗💓

» Gender «

↬ Female: ♔ [♔-Reader]

↬ Male: ♚  [♚-Reader]

↬ Gender neutral: ♕  [♕-Reader]

» Genre Key «

↬ Fluff: 🌸 

↬ Angst: 🌧 

↬ Hurt and Comfort: ☔

↬ Serious Themes: ⚠️🚫                                                                                

 (For example sexual assault, (mental) illnesses, traumatic experiences, rascism, antisemitism, islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia etc.) 

➙ We can’t take those things easy and I’ll not accept that someone “joke” about it!                                                                                                 

↬ Comedy/Crack: 🌞 

↬ Soft Smut [sweet vanilla~]: 💋 

↬ Hard Smut [kinky stuff~]: 😈 

   ┃ ➙ [💋😈]: kinky smut with feelings ;)             

[Information]

I made a list where I explain what kind of sexual content I’d write, how I interpret different kinks (especially how the Dom-/Sub-Dynamic in my fics work) and with what kind of Smut I’m not comfortable.

 ┃➙ My sexual content Rules!                      

» Other useful symbols «

↬ Scenarios: 💭

↬ “Connected to” (connected to an other scenario/fic/series): 🖇 

 ► Kink-Scenario 😈💋  [♔- Reader] 

[What kind of dirty secret(s) could the boys have?]

 ► Halloween Costume-Scenario  🌸💋😈 [♔- Reader]

[You’re wearing a scandalous Halloween Costume for a Halloweenparty...]

 ► Their favourite Make out-/Sex-Songs: Hyung Line Maknae Line  💋😈   [♔- Reader] 

[Which songs would bring the boys right into the mood?] 

 ► Honeymoon-Destinations: Hyung Line Maknae Line 🌸 [♔- Reader]

[What cities/countries would they choose for their honeymoon-trip?] 

 ► When the boys have a crush on you!

     ▸  Their feelings for you! 🌸  

        ▪ here [♕- Reader]

     ▸  Their dirty thoughts about you! 💋😈 

        ▪ About him  [♚- Reader]

        ▪ About her   [♔- Reader]

► Easter Special 🌸💋😈

[You’re wearing a sexy bunny outfit for them on Easter Sunday!]

    ▪  Easter with her! [♔- Reader]

    ▪  Easter with him!  [♚- Reader]

» Series Key «

↬ Finished: 💯

↬ Ongoing: 💬

↬ Long Term Project: 📅

↬ Paused: ⁉️

↬ Uncompleted: 🗑

(the last one will hopefully never happen...)

 ▲ ▼ ▲▼▲

► Naughty Days ‘til Christmas 💋😈 [♔|♚|♕-Reader]

This is a spicy Advent Calendar for Christmas: The Boys bought an Erotic Advent-Calendar and every day they unpack another sexy Accessory with the Reader. Of course they try all the products! 💬

(24 Smut-Drabbles with female/male/gender neutral Readers) 

► BTS Dog Hybrid-Series   🌸🌧💋😈  mostly [♔-Reader] BUT [♚/♕-Reader] possible!

Seven different stories about the boys in a world where humans and hybrids exists, an unique ethnicity of humans they’re able to shift their shape into a dog.    ⁉️| 📅

► BTS “We’re all the same equal!”- Series 🌸💋🌧⚠️🚫 [♔|♚|♕-Reader]

 We all deserve the same love, no matter if we’re are chubby, thin, tall, short, have white or colored skin, are a female, male or an other gender. It simply doesn’t matter. And the boys would still love us. And they would teach us to love ourselves.  ⁉️| 📅

 ► Disobedience [Hoseok x Reader x Namjoon] 😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: You are sexually frustrated, annoyed and bored, which is why you started to mastubate without the permission of you boyfriends, Namjoon and Hoseok. Even if they promised to take care of your needs tonight. But you don’t feel like waiting anymore. But you also didn’t expect that Hobi will catch you with your pastel blue dildo deep into your pussy...  

► l’innocence indécente [Jimin x Reader x Jungkook] 💋 [♔- Reader] 

Synopsis: Jungkook and Jimin want to try something new with you... and you have to admit that you like it. A lot... 

► Prey  [Jimin x Reader x Taehyung] 😈💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis:

► Birthday Princess [Yoongi x Reader x Taehyung feat. Jungkook] 😈 [♔- Reader] 

Synopsis: You have Birthday today and your two boyfriends make sure that you will be sexually pleased to the ultimate maximum...

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: Your Boyfriend Jimin bought you something very specific as your birthday present. You should use it as a preparation tool before you’ll get the real birthday gift tonight... 

 ► Halloween Special 💋😈  [♔- Reader]

 ► Easter Special 🌸💋😈

     ▪  Easter with her!  [♔- Reader]

     ▪  Easter with him!  [♚- Reader]

► My Fake-Texts Masterlist  [Semi-active/inactive] [♔- Reader]

Note: At the beginning of my blog I was more focused on making fake texts (simply it was easier and more comfortable for me back then because I was a bit insecure about my language struggles) but now it’s not my main thing anymore. That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to make fake texts in general anymore but right now I like the “real” writing much more! So I don’t know when I’ll make new fake texts. 

► Improvisation 🌸💋😈 [♚-Reader]

Summary: This wasn't planned. Well, the whole world didn't planned to deal with a damn pandemic in 2020! If everything would have gone "normally", you would be in Seoul with Jin right in this moment and just enjoy that you're finally able to be close to Jin again. But now you two are stucked at home, Jin in his dorm in Seoul and you in your apartement in your town, far away from him. So you have to improvise for now on, how you want to deal with longing emotions and urging sexual desires... 

► Strawberry Kiss  🌸💋 [♕-Reader]

Summary: It's Friday Afternoon and when Jin comes home from work, the freshly baked strawberry cake smells deliciously. But he decided that a taste of you is even sweeter, especially when you're not wearing any underwear underneath your thin summer dress...

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

►  Home  🌸🌧  [♕-Reader]

Summary: You finally managed to spend your two semesters abroad studying in Korea! However, after some unfortunate circumstances, you want nothing more than finally be able to fly home again. But your Roommate Namjoon has some ideas to make your year abroad still wonderful...  

► Precious  🌸💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: Today is your birthday and because your last few weeks have been terribly stressful, you want nothing more than to be able to sleep in in your day off. However, Namjoon has to go to practice all day long, that’s why he has found a very gentle method of waking you up to unpack your presents together...   

► Disobedience ft. Hoseok 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Business Trip 💋😈 [♔- Reader] 

Summary: It's a stressful life to be the CEO of a big and international known company. Always hopping onto the next flight to a new investor or business partner, all around the globus. But sometimes he can't fix his little problem alone, so you need to help him out with some naughty stuff through these rough times of his job~   ► Jar of Kinks 💋😈 [♔- Reader] 

This Two-Shot is based on my own Jars of Kinks. 

I identify myself as a Switch. That's the reason why I decided to write a Two-Shot to my "Jar of Kinks". So I'd be able to write both Dynamics, with Dom! Yoongi and Sub! Yoongi as well. In this Index you'll find the links to the Oneshots, combinded with their summary and their individual warnings. 

► Touched 💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: This week was just so awful and shitty, every muscle in your body hurts and you're absolutely exhausted from this horror week. But Yoongi has an Idea to relax you and make you feel so loved in a way, that couldn't make thousands of compliments.

►  Netflix and Chill  🌸🌞 [♕-Reader]

Summary: Hoseok and you are best friends, especially because you two share an unique passion for which you get sometimes quizzycally looks from others. Like every friday night you meet up to watch some series on Netflix together and massage and fondle the hair of each other. All the same, all innocent as ever. Until it comes to an certain situation and you realize the true meaning behind “Netflix and Chill” faster than you expected.   

► Disobedience ft. Namjoon 😈 [♔- Reader]  

► Little Swan  😈 [♔- Reader]

Sneak Peak: Laying open, completely helpless and so vulnerable in front of him. Presented like a meal on a silver tablet. His meal, his prey. Your wolf is starving, licking his lips with an animalistic and devilish smile at the sight of your parted pussy lips. Revealing his most desired things, this swollen and sensitive clit and this pretty tiny pussyhole. Clenching around nothing, literally begging to get filled with his fat cock and stuffed up with his cum until it’s leaking out of his little sweet swan...

► Mustang v8 💋🌞 [♔- Reader]  

Summary:  You kinda have a thing for the sound of the engine of a Mustang. How bad that Hoseok’s new car is a Mustang and that your Boyfriend looks super hot while driving!

► Study Break  🌸💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: College wants to kill you right now. Exam Phase and then you have to write a 20 page long scientific work! Jimin and you barely see each other, you gave yourself completely to your studies. Until some specific needs some attention again...   

 ► Poolside Kisses 🌸💋😈 [♔- Reader]

Summary: Jimin said, you should pack a swimsuit into your suitcase when you're going to visit him in Korea. You thought, you'll go bathing somewhere privately, maybe just with the boys or so... and not going to a pool party of one of Jimin's Idol friends where you'll not know anybody! Since then you hate yourself that you only brought your new bikini to Korea that reveals more of your bare skin that you're used to... 

► Mousse au Chocolat 💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: You are Jimin’s favourite dessert...

► l’innocence indécente ft. Jungkook 💋 [♔- Reader]

► Birthday Gift [Seokjin x Reader x Jimin] 😈 [♔- Reader]

► Dirty little Secret  

Summary: Whenever you leave your apartement for work, you're carrying a dirty little secret to your workplace as well. To be more specific, you wear inconspicuous sex-toys underneath your business attire to keep your sex-craving libido under control. Nobody noticed something and everything went well... until now. Until your Boss and secret crush, Park Jimin, bursts into your office unannounced and hears something buzzing which definitely doesn't come from your phone. Even worse, he sees a certain remote-control laying on your desk that seems to be surprisingly familiar to him... 😈 [♔- Reader]

► The Definition of Art  🌸💋 [♚-Reader]

Summary: You’re under Taehyung’s total mercy. Tied up, bare and trembling you lay spread out in front of your boyfriend who loves to turn you into his personal piece of art... 

► Deflowered 🌸💋🌧  [♔-Reader]

Summary: You're getting married tomorrow and you want to say goodbye to your mare. There you met the stable boy Taehyung for the last time, who's your best friend and childhood crush at the same time. You will experience a stormy night full of love and passion and you'll give the biggest proof of love to him...

► The hands of a sinner 💋😈

(The Idea of this Fanfiction has two versions: for female and male readers!)

For her! [♔- Reader]

For him! [♚-Reader]

Summary: Since Jungkook got his hand tattoos, you’ve found out that they have a stronger effect on you than you would like it. You also have good reasons not to tell him that you are developing a kink for this tattoos. And these reasons getting confirmed... 

►  Goddess of the sun 💋 [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: Jungkook is the best servant for his Queen and Goddess 

► The walls 💋😈  [♔- Reader]

Synopsis: You don’t know why but today was the first Day you realized how buff and bulky Jungkook’s Biceps are. And the fact that they look delicious when they’re tensed up…

► l’innocence indécente ft. Jimin 💋 [♔- Reader]

► Der Geliebte  🌸 💋 [♔- Reader]

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings... 

 ► The laundry hamper  🌸 🌞 💋 😈 [♔- Reader] Summary: Jungkook has a crush on you since you moved together for college but the poor boy is way too shy to confess his feelings to you... rather he would search through your laundry hamper to get a shirt which smells after your very personal scent and tries to calm his racing heart... and other nerves. He didn’t thought to get catched by the person who already stole his whole heart in the most embarrassing situation...

This is probably the most important information on this blog 💌  

Don't be shy around me!  

You can feel absolutely free to talk to me, to stuff my inbox (even when you just want to ramble or to fangirl etc.) and my PMs are always open too! So don't hesitate to get in contact with me, you're not awkward or weird, okay?💕💕  

I'm pretty curious about you guys too and Im always up to become mutuals or even friends, okay? 🤗  

Love you, Tipsy 💜

 [Dates]

Published: 27th December 2019

Last Update: 10th August 2021

[freddiesaysalright]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 3

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change. 

Word Count: 2.8k (sorry it’s short)

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @namelesslosers​, @headl0ng​, @captvianswaan, @folietracksix​, @baltimoresweethearts​, @killer-queen-87​, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update! 

Warning(s): Mild descriptions of abuse

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Chapter 3 here we go!!!

Eleanor and Miranda were immediately all aflutter, speaking so much and so rapidly that if you hadn’t been standing beside them, you would not have believed it was only two people making so much noise. You couldn’t keep track of who was saying what. 

“A ball?!”

“What for?”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Is it a special invitation?”

“Will the prince be there?”

“Oh, do say the prince will be there!”

Your own mind was spinning with similar questions. But there was one at the forefront.

“Silence!” Frank interrupted harshly. “The invitation says the whole town has been invited - upon the prince’s request - to attend the ball in honor of his birthday. The king added that he hopes any and all eligible maidens will attend, as the prince is ready to marry.”

“Marry!” gasped Eleanor. 

“You mean - he’s really looking for his wife?!” added Miranda. 

“This is the moment I’ve been waiting for,” he said. “This could be the chance for you, my daughters, to prove your worth. One of you must win his heart.”

You saw your step sisters deflate at their father’s words. Your heart was moved with pity. But, there was still something you had to ask.

“May I go to the ball?” you blurted out. 

Frank’s eyes widened when he looked at you, as if realizing only just now that you were present. Clearly, he had not meant for you to hear. 

“You?” Eleanor sneered. “A servant?”

The sympathy you felt a moment ago evaporated. 

“It says any and all eligible maidens,” you reminded them. “That applies to me. And it is the king’s wishes. The king’s wishes are as good as orders, don’t you think?”

You kept your tone even and cool, fearful Frank might mistake your suggestion for impudence. But you knew better than to outright question him again. 

“Father, you can’t -” Miranda began, but Frank held up a hand to stop her. 

He smiled at you in such a sinister way it sent a chill down your spine.

“Certainly, Y/N, you may attend the ball,” he said.

You blinked, honestly shocked that you had persuaded him. He kept his hand in the air when his daughters tried to protest again.

“If you get your chores done,” he said. 

You beamed. “Oh, I will!”

“And,” he said, making you hesitate. “If you can find something suitable to wear.” 

“I will, sir,” you assured him. “Thank you so much!”

You hurried away to finish your chores for the day. Frank watched you go, a scowl forming across his lips. 

“Father, you don’t really mean she can go to the ball, do you?” asked Eleanor. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Frank spat. “Of course she isn’t going.”

“Then why did you -”

“Don’t worry about her!” he cut across Miranda harshly. “Her attendance is conditional, and don’t forget, I set the conditions.”

He grinned to himself as his daughters exchanged worried looks. 

Before you went to bed that night, you went to your mother’s old room. Frank had left it untouched since her death. Her wardrobe was large and varied, so you knew you would be able to find something in there to wear to the ball. You scanned through the gowns, trying to decide on a color. A soft pink caught your eye, so you reached for it. You pulled it free from the rack and held it up, examining for any flaws. Technically speaking, there were none. It was just out of date.

“So much for that idea,” you sighed.

You started to hang it up again, but stopped. You could sew. You altered dresses for your step sisters all the time. Surely you could make some adjustments to this gown and look good enough for the ball. You looked over it once more, noting to yourself all that you could reasonably do within the next 24 hours. You bit your lip. You would need more time than that.

The clock in the hall chimed. You would have to get up in a few hours to do your daily chores. A rash idea came to you - stay up through the night and fix the dress, do your chores quickly, and get a short nap before going to the ball. You could miss dinner if necessary. Through a yawn, you nodded. 

Taking the dress to your room, you started in for the night. 

***

Gwilym awoke the morning of the ball feeling light and excited. He had interacted with a few people from the town before, but nothing to this degree. He wanted to truly get to know his people, and be a better leader to them. His father was right about things changing - Gwilym wanted to be more of a servant to his people than a sovereign. 

He went down to breakfast, joining his father and his friends. The younger men were reading letters from home, while the king was signing some documents. 

“Good morning,” Gwiylm greeted cheerfully as he took his seat. 

The butler placed a plate in front of him while a footman loaded it with food. 

“You’re awfully chipper,” the king said. “I hope that means you’re ready for your ball.”

“I am,” Gwilym assured him. “This is the most exciting birthday I’ve ever had.”

Suddenly, Rami choked on the bite of food he was eating. Gwilym reached over and clapped him on the back, while Rami cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. Through watery eyes, he offered an apologetic glance around the table. 

“Good news from your wife?” Ben wondered. “Or is it…”

Rami shook his head. “No, it’s good. She...she’s still pregnant.”

“Alright!” Ben cried excitedly. 

“That’s fantastic!” Gwilym agreed. 

Both of them knew that Rami and his wife had been struggling to keep a pregnancy. It concerned them both so much, they had a doctor examine them for any problems. The queen required a small surgical procedure, after which there were supposed to be no problems. Rami even hesitated coming to Gwilym’s party in case they got bad news again, but his wife insisted he go. Now, he sniffled as he looked at the letter.

“She made it past three months,” he explained. “The doctor said that’s a sign the baby should make it.”

“That’s wonderful, Ram,” Ben said. “Really, being a dad is the best, you’re gonna love it!”

“I hope it’s a strapping young boy,” the king interjected. “Should remind your people that you’re a king now.”

Rami chuckled. “They can keep calling me Prince Rami, I don’t mind. And as for the baby...boy or girl, as long as they’re happy and healthy I couldn’t care less.”

 Gwilym looked at the king, who seemed to be softening. Then the latter met his own son’s gaze.

“You see, Gwil?” the king asked. “The joys of marriage?”

“I do,” Gwilym replied. “But part of that joy is because Rami loves his wife so much.”

“You really aren’t going to let this love thing go, are you?” the king asked, defeated.

Gwilym shook his head. “Not a chance.” He looked at his friend. “Congratulations, Rami. That’s great news.”

“Thanks, Gwil,” he replied.

“Yes, all health and good fortune to your wife,” the king added. 

“Thank you,” Rami answered. 

They continued breakfast, and Ben told Rami all the great parts of fatherhood that he had to look forward to. And for the first time, Gwilym did feel a pang of jealousy at the happiness of his friends. He seemed resistant to his father, but all he wanted was a partner like Ben and Rami had found for themselves. He hoped beyond reason that whoever was meant for him would appear tonight. And then he could say to his father and everyone else - “At last, I’ve found her!”

***

By some miracle, you had finished your dress before breakfast. You stood up through a yawn and went to help Elsie get breakfast ready. You’d probably kick yourself later, but it was worth it. The dress was beautiful, and looked like the style you’d need for the ball. 

A pleasant surprise came when Frank told you he and the girls would be going to town today to shop for new gowns for them to wear. You nodded, and assured him everything would be done by the time they returned. Once they were gone, Elsie came over to you. 

“Y/N, my dear, go up to bed,” she said. “Robert and I can handle the chores.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, yawning again. “I can help, I really don’t mind.”

“We’re sure,” she said. “Go on and get some sleep. Tonight could be the most magical night of your life. Don’t spoil it by being tired.”

You agreed and shuffled back to the servant’s quarters. You crawled into your bed and shut your heavy eyelids, dreaming of the joys the ball would bring. You dreamt of music, dancing, your gown, and the face of Gwilym. Perhaps he would be there, and he could see you at your best. 

Your eyes snapped open. Gwilym was having a ball according to his friends. There were people coming from all over. Could it be that he was the prince, and was inviting the townspeople to his birthday? How had you not put it together before? Gwilym was the prince!

Your heart sank. If that was the case, you had to give up any hope of him. A prince could not be with a servant. Even if by birth you were a gentleman’s daughter, you no longer held that place. Frank had robbed you of it. Gwilym was out of your reach. 

You fell asleep despite your heart breaking at the thought of not being enough. You were just too tired. You slept just a couple hours before Elsie came to wake you. You would need some time to appear fresh when Frank got home. 

The girls demanded your help in getting ready, and you obliged. They ordered you around to pick up their sashes and necklaces and ear bobs and petticoats - just to find the perfect look for the evening. You even helped them put on some rouge and style their hair. They looked beautiful. But, you knew what they were like on the inside. You wondered if Gwilym would have the chance to meet them. And if he did, would he see their true nature?

The ball was set to begin at eight o’clock. Your step sisters were ready by seven, so they had time to have dinner before leaving. While they ate, you went up to get ready. Elsie helped you into your dress, but you did your own hair. You pinned it back, away from your face, the way your mother always liked it. You admired yourself in the mirror a moment. A jolt of nerves went through you. You still didn’t look like your step sisters. How would you compare to all the other fine ladies you were sure were attending tonight?

You shook your head. You couldn’t think about that. You couldn’t think about Gwilym. You were just going to go and have a good time. Take a well-earned break. And if you met someone there, then very well, but if not, you promised yourself you wouldn’t be too disappointed. 

***

Gwilym stood still while his valet finished with his clothes. There was still about an hour before the ball would start, and he would be meeting all the noble women his father invited. And yet, your face swam into view in his mind. He had barely stopped thinking about you since seeing you that day at the cemetery, and then again at the tavern. He still felt flush each time he recalled you wishing him good luck. Well, he certainly needed it tonight. Especially if you turned up.

***

At half past seven, the carriage was pulled to the front to take you all to the palace. You came down and couldn’t help but smile. Frank looked you over and scowled. 

“What is this?” he demanded. 

You faltered, coming to a stop about a yard away from him. Something in his face frightened you. 

“It was my mother’s,” you said, turning to show him. “I’ve updated it to match the current style, but -”

“Stop!” he cut across you. “There are very few things that are left of your mother’s, and you chose to take one - without permission - and ruin it?!”

“I haven’t ruined it, I just -”

“You stupid, selfish girl!” he shouted, crossing the front hall in just three strides. He was so close to your face, you had to take a step back. “You really think I’d let you go to the ball now? When you have defaced the property of my dearly departed wife?!”

“I didn’t know -”

“Silence!” he snapped. “I will not allow you to defend this behavior. Take off the gown at once.”

You stepped back again, but he followed. 

“I don’t have anything else,” you said meekly. 

He snarled, reached out his hand, and grabbed a handful of the bodice, right at the chest. He yanked down hard, pulling you so much that you stumbled. You heard a long riiiiip as the dress came apart at the seams. The front was completely torn away, revealing your corset underneath. You gasped and moved to cover yourself, but his next move came for your sleeve. He jerked it away from your arm and tossed it to the floor, along with the piece from the bodice. He repeated with the other sleeve. He took the sash next and wrenched it away. 

You felt hot tears of humiliation and shame run down your cheeks. You kept your arms in front of you and sank to the floor. 

“Stop it,” you croaked out. “Please.”

He raised his hand and you shrunk away, fearing he might truly strike you. 

“Father,” Miranda said. “We’re going to be late.”

Frank slowly lowered his hand to his side. He glowered at you. 

“Clean up this mess,” he ordered. “And never again presume to have a claim on things that belonged to my wife.”

Your lips trembled as he swept away. The girls followed him out. You kept your eyes fixed on the floor questioning what had just happened to you. It didn’t seem real. But the pieces of the dress sat on the floor just feet away from you, clear as crystal. When you heard the door close, you buried your face in your hands and let out a sob. 

***

Gwilym waited to be announced. The king went first, followed by Rami, since he was king of the neighboring country. Ben was announced next, since he was a visitor and prince. And then Gwilym. As he stepped out into the ballroom, he scanned the crowd, hoping to spot you. All he saw so far was glittering jewels and satin gowns. He sighed before making his way forward to begin introductions. 

He had asked Ben and Rami to be on the lookout for you as well. When the first half hour was over, he took a break and went to his friends. 

“Any sign of her?” he asked. 

Rami shook his head. “I haven’t seen her.”

“Me neither,” Ben said. “Sorry, mate.”

Gwilym sighed. “She must not be coming.”

“There’s still some carriages outside,” Ben said encouragingly. “She could be on any one of them.”

“Yeah, don’t give up just yet,” Rami said. “You’ve got all night.”

Gwilym nodded. He knew he mustn’t be over anxious, but couldn’t help feeling sore. Where were you? What could have kept you from this?

***

You escaped the house and fled to the garden. That was where your mother always took you for comfort. Your father loved to garden, and you always remembered him in this place. In truth, it was a place that was cherished by both your parents, and you needed to feel close to them now. You flopped down onto one of the benches and cried some more.

“It’s no use,” you sobbed. “God, it’s hopeless.”

You brought your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them. Your tears splashed into the fabric of your ruined dress. 

“Now, my dear,” said a soft voice to your left.

You whipped your head up and faced the source. There in the garden stood a plump woman in a white cloak. Her silver hair hung around her face in delicate curls. She had a metallic glow around her as well that drew you in. In her right hand, she held a staff with a sapphire the size of a fist at the top.

Fear and amazement kept you frozen where you sat. She didn’t appear to be a threat, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t. And yet, you felt like you knew her somehow.

“Wh-who are you?” you wondered. “How did you get in here?”

“With magic, my dear,” she said, beaming. “As for my identity - I’m your fairy godmother.”

“My…” your brow furrowed. “My what?”

“Your fairy godmother,” she repeated kindly. “And I understand you are in desperate need of some help.”

[chameli]

2020 Content Creator Tag

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag 10+ other creators to answer the questions! 

2020 was the year I finally got back into making gifs (which I had stopped doing a few years ago). Back in the day when the Bollywood fandom was in full swing, I used to be an active content creator but I lost my mojo after everyone left. After finding HD videos and torrenting films (also Tumblr increasing the size limit), I feel happy and comfortable doing so again. I love seeing everyone’s work on this site, especially those who gif unique content.

First creation and most recent creation of 2020: The first set I made was back in May of Divya Bharti. My most recent creation was published today.

One of your favorite creations from 2020: Definitely this one. Juhi looked simply breathtaking and I had a lot of fun making this set. And of course, all my aesthetic sets.

A creation you’re really proud of: It will always be this one. Also my witchy!Baekhyun AU, SRK Rainbow, and SRK/Juhi film logos.

A new style you tried this year and a gifset that uses it: Definitely making lots of big, vibrant gifs. As for new styles, my soundtrack series.

Your favorite coloring: @singinprincess​ ELKDTAL Smile PSD and @crazybollywood​ Juhi Chawla PSD. I use these two a lot and they work beautifully especially with 90s films. I’m a huge fan of vibrant coloring.

Your creation from 2020 that received the most notes: The Duplicate Text Posts lmao. But I love this set and I’m super proud of it.

A creation you think deserved more notes: This one because every single song is a bop. My SRK Vampire moodboard because it was pretty unique and original. And finally, this one because these two are hot as hell.

A creation with a favorite scene/quote: This one, for sure.

A new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: None because I mainly gif Indian cinema.

A creation you made that breaks your heart: None.

A ‘simple’ creation that you really love: This one because it catapulted me back into the scene, plus I found an HD version of the film (which changed my life). This one because he’s so, so beautiful and I love his smile. Also the famous arrow scene from Baahubali 2 because I’m obsessed with it.

A creation that was inspired by another one (add both your creation and the one that inspired it!): I can’t think of any, just one or two old gifsets I decided to remake.

A favorite creation(s) created by someone else: @curryaboo mishti set and @singinprincess Aur Kya gifs come to mind. But I have SO many favorites!

Some of your favorite content creators from the year: @singinprincess​, @smudgedhenna​, @desicinema​, @aadhiskanmani​, @shahrukhkhan​

And for good measure, another a couple more creations of yours that you love: Rao’s birthday post because I worked SUPER hard on it, Asoka aesthetics, Mirchi vs Baahubali 2, Main Koi Aisa Geet Gaaon set, Juhi in Lootere, and SRK in Wah Ji Wah.

I want to thank everyone who likes/reblogs my work and leaves nice comments in their tags. Your encouragement means a lot to me and I’m super thankful for all the support! Thank you to everyone who provided suggestions (I promise I’ll get to them soon!). I hope to make lots of creative content in 2021 as well!

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl

Summary: What happens when Merriell “Snafu” Shelton has to get creative during a quarantine to make sure his girl has a very happy birthday?

Word Count: 3868

A/N: Reposting bc the original moodboard was too hot to handle according to the community guidelines ... 🤦‍♀️

Warnings: Smut (18+ please), but this is also tooth-rottingly fluffy at times

* * * * *

You eyed Merriell warily once more, unable to stop yourself from asking him for the third time in a row if he was sure he didn’t want to come along.

“Sometimes, baby, ya make things exceptionally difficult fo’ da wrong reasons. Now, go.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

Mer closed his eyes in a prolonged blink as his hands moved to his hips. He opened them slowly and fixed you with a stare before he said, as if he were talking to a child, “Don’t ya think dat’s why I need ya to go by ya’self today?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking for a moment before it dawned on you that he was trying to surprise you.

“Ohhh. Okaaay,” you said, giving him an exaggerated wink.

He laughed and lowered his hands, closing the distance between you so he could give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Take ya time or all ah dis is in vain.”

“Two hours?”

He nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

“Two hours,” you confirmed with a resolute nod.

With that, you flounced out of the house, your mind working to figure out what he was up to as you hopped into your car. Since the quarantine had begun, you and Merriell made sure to get outside, driving to an old walking trail about 20 minutes from your house. It was nice to include the outdoors in your routine, although that often meant it was just a new backdrop for Merriell to seduce you.

You absent mindedly rubbed at your back, wondering if your scratches from the tree he fucked you against last week had fully healed. Either way, it was worth it.

Even though you missed Merriell, it was nice to be alone. By the time you made it back to your car, almost three hours had gone by. That was an hour more than he had insisted he needed for your surprise, so you drove home quicker than usual, unable to stifle your happy grin as you blasted your radio, cheering when 50 Cent’s In Da Club came on, leaving you to decide that maybe a quarantine birthday wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You cut the engine and walked up the stone path that wound its way from your, well from Merriell’s detached garage and as you rounded to the front porch, you stopped in your tracks. Merriell was sitting on the porch, his arms spread out across your well-loved blue bench. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, just for you. You loved the way that man looked in a fitted black tee.

“Hi-ya, baby. Nice walk?” he asked as he brought his glass of whiskey to his mouth and took a long drink.

“It really was! And did you have a nice afternoon? Did you dooo anything special?”

Merriell smirked, “Stop fishin’ fo’ information ya ain’t gonna get til I’m good and ready.

“Speakin’ of which … put dis on,” he said, leaning forward and dangling a black sleep mask from his thick index finger that you mostly used for sleep.

You quirked your brow and stepped forward and pulled the mask on. You heard him finish the last of his drink before he stood and took your hands to guide you into the house.

“No peekin,” Merriell warned as you grinned.

“I’m kinda excited, to be honest.”

Merriell leaned over and kissed your temple, which was still sweaty from your long hike.

You knew by the distance you walked that you were at least in the bedroom, but when he closed a door behind him, you knew you were in the bathroom.

He lifted the blindfold from your eyes and you looked at him curiously as he moved to stand in front of you, his hand coming under your chin to lift it gently so your eyes were locked on his. His other hand rested on your waist, and you watched the movement of his mouth as he began to speak.

“Now, listen. I hate dat I can’t take ya out on ya birthday because believe me, you deserve the world, Y/N. So I’ve come up with somethin’ I hope ya gonna like. Get ready like ya got somewhere to go. Ya birthday present starts as soon as ya come outta dis bathroom. Okay?”

“You really didn’t have to—”

“Don’t ya dare start with dat shit,” Merriell said as he smiled and reached up to cup your face in his hands. His eyes flicked from yours then to your lips before he leaned in and kissed you.

In true Merriell Shelton fashion, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a kiss.

By the time he pulled away, you were more breathless than you were during the entirety of your hike.  

“Shower,” he said, giving your ass a smack before he quickly opened then shut the bathroom door.

* * * * *

15 minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, and your face lights up as you look around the bedroom. Clad only in your towel, you glance at the floor to see wildflowers shaped in arrows pointing to the bed.

As you step around them, still smiling, you pick up the brand-new bra and underwear set laid out on your comforter. They were a gorgeous shade of grey-blue and made of a delicate lace that surely had Merriell some kinda way as he picked them out. Dropping your towel, you stepped into the panties and then wriggled into the bra.

On the bed, there was another arrow of flowers that pointed to the closet. You were giddy as you rushed over and turned on the light. Hanging in the middle of your clothes was a bright pink garment bag. You pulled it off the hook and gasped with delight at the sexy new dress he had picked out. Pinned to the front of the dress was a note.

“This is as far as I dare go, darlin—shoes and whatever else it is you do to always look so good is up to you.”

You giggled and put the dress back as you rushed out of the closet to finish getting ready.

About a half an hour later, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror and gave yourself a whistle of appreciation. Mer knew how to pick a dress—just the right amount of tight, just the right amount of skin, and made of a material that made you want to run your hands all over it.

You had chosen a pair of red heels, figuring that Mer’s goal was two-fold: to do something sweet for your birthday, but also to make his cock hard without you even touching him. You weren’t about to disappoint.

Finally ready to leave the bedroom, you laughed as you noticed a note on the door: “Do not come out until you are ready!!!”

Shaking your head, you open the door slowly and give him a warning shout.

“Heeey! I’m comin’ out!”

Merriell appeared at the end of the hallway and his eyes widened at the sight of you. He gave you an ear-piercing wolf-whistle as he clapped his hands and made his way down the hall.

“Wow, baby girl! I mean, I knew ya’d look good, but goddamn. Gimme a spin!”

You obliged and twirled, only to be immediately swept into his arms.

“Ya smell so good,” he said as he began kissing your neck, his cock already half-hard and pressing into your hip as he rubbed against you.

“Speaking of stuff that smells good?” you said, your eyes shut as you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your neck. Part of you wanted nothing more than to have him give you that good lovin’ that would have you on cloud 9 for the rest of the night, but your stomach was putting up quite the protest once you caught of whiff of whatever was in the kitchen.

With a last nip to your collar bone, Merriell pulled himself away and proffered his arm to you.

“Right dis way, lovely.”

You laughed at his antics as he escorted you into the kitchen, then your mouth fell open as you looked around. He had bunches of colorful wildflowers in as many vases, mason jars, and glasses that you owned. Clustered between were tea light candles, which set the mood perfectly as the afternoon sun faded into its evening light.

And on your little kitchen table, Mer had set out a formal place setting complete with perfectly triangular cloth napkins and a full set of silverware. You noticed he used your grandmother’s blue and white china and that made you feel a little sentimental, which wasn’t such a horrible thing to feel on a birthday.

“I’m … speechless, Mer. This is—thank you.”

Merriell was grinning as he ushered you into your seat, and your eyes lit up at the big serving dish full of pasta.

“Oh— da bread!” he said as he dashed over to the oven and pulled out the home-made garlic bread you had smelled as you came out of the bedroom.

“Everything looks so good. Ten times better than a restaurant!”

“And no one is gonna give us dirty looks if I become inclined to finger ya unda da table.”

You laughed, and silently thanked whatever powers that existed that Merriell Shelton was yours—no one had ever made you happier.

Dinner was delightful—Mer was an excellent cook and your conversation was as easy as it always was between the two of you, despite the seriousness of the topic. There was only so much either of you could take of the Coronavirus before you started to search out the most ridiculous news stories of the day to share with each other to see who found the funniest. It had become a bit of a competition between the two of you, but it was all in good fun.

One bottle of wine later, dinner was finished, but just as you were about to stand and stretch your legs, Mer insisted you stayed in your seat.

“Got one more thing,” he said as he dropped the dirty dishes he cleared away into the sink.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and his rustling clearly indicated that he had hid something in there from you.

Amusedly, you watched as he brought out a dish that had been wrapped in an inordinate amount of tinfoil.

“Don’t look at me like dat—you are da one who can’t be trusted not to snoop,” he said as he peeled off the layers to finally reveal a cake.

“Ooo, that looks yummy,” you said, sitting up a little straighter in your chair.

“Betta’ be. Pain in da ass to make and keep hidden,” Merriell said with a teasing grin.

“Is it? Oh, it is!” you said with delight as Merriell sat the tiramisu cake down in front of you, it’s delicious creamy-coffee scent enticing you enough to make you close your eyes and inhale as Mer put a candle into the middle and lit it.

He was standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. He slowly began to slide them down your arms until he was able to bend next to your ear.

“Make a wish,” he said in a low voice that was really more like a purr than an enounced set of words.

Leaning forward, you closed your eyes and thought about everything you were grateful for and wished only for another year of the same.

Merriell laughed softly near the side of your face as you turned to thank him again, and he reached out to take a hold of your chin so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Ya welcome. Seein’ ya smile was worth da three cakes I had to scrap.”

“You’re a perfectionist and you know it,” you said with a light smack to his ass as he walked over to cut the cake, your eyes still trained on the way he looked in those jeans as he cut you a piece of cake.

“Dat’s true. Dat’s true. But I don’t hear ya commentin’ on it when I’m bein’ ah perfectionist between those sweet thighs ah yours.”

“Mer,” you moaned out at both the taste of the cake and at his words.

He shot you a shit-eating grin as he took his seat and dug into his own slice of cake.

As it was prone to doing, the air between you and Merriell shifted as you enjoyed your birthday cake.

The conversation faded and glances of longing took its place. You watched the way Merriell’s tongue traced along the tines of his fork as he licked at the remainder of a bite of cream.

Merriell stopped eating, mid fork to mouth, as you scooped up a bit of fallen cake and cream with your forefinger and popped it into your mouth, sucking your finger clean.

It didn’t help that you looked up at him and smiled around your finger before returning to your cake.

“Did, uh, everythin’ I bought ya fit all right?” Mer said as he cleared his throat and set his fork down next to his clean plate.

“It did,” you said in a low voice, one that Merriell knew meant you were just about done with playing polite for the evening.

“I don’t suppose ya might wanna show me how well it … all fits?”

“Well … since you asked,” you said slowly, “I do particularly like this little pearl that dangles … right … here,” you finished as you slowly pulled the front of your dress down with your finger, stopping beneath the bottom edge of your bra.

Merriell’s eyes had changed from sweet to predatory as he took in the curve of your breasts and the detailing on the lingerie he had picked out.

He blinked as his trance broke when you let your dress pop back into place as you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m going to clear away these dishes,” you said with a sly smile as you stood and gathered up your cake plates. “Whoops!”

Merriell watched as the fork fell from your fingertips, and he watched as you set your grandmother’s plates on the kitchen island, and he watched as you exaggeratedly bent over to retrieve that fork, your dress riding up high enough for him to just catch a peek of those blue-grey panties that framed the curve of your ass perfectly—

In all of .5 seconds, everything on the kitchen table crashed to the ground and you were thrown onto it with Merriell half crawling on top of you as he kissed you.

“My … cake!” you managed around his tongue as he licked at your lips.

“Bake ya ten more,” he panted before he shut you both up with his tongue swirling in your mouth, kissing you like it was your last night on earth.

By the time he had moved from your mouth to your neck, you had forgotten about the cake. Merriell was clutching at the fabric of your dress, running his hands up and down your body, just like you knew he would. What you could never replicate in your mind, though, was just how good his hands felt.

Moaning, you wrapped your legs around him and ground into the front of his jeans. He pulled back just long enough to yank his black t-shirt over his head. You ran your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his biceps while his attention returned to your neck, his tongue dipping into the hallow of your throat before he licked all the way up to your chin.

“Mer,” you breathed, your hips grinding into his.

“What ya want, birthday girl?” his voice rumbled next to your ear before he sucked on the lobe.

“Your tongue on my clit,” you said without hesitation.

He chuckled, “Done,” before he straightened and scooted you to the edge of the table, his hands sliding up the fabric of your dress, letting it pool at your waist before he pulled it out from under your ass.

You raised your arms and he pulled the dress off, his eyes taking a moment to roam over your underwear.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said, his eyes locked on your face as he spoke, making you flush with pride.

“Lay back.”

You did, your head resting just at the edge of the small, but sturdy table.

Merriell stayed standing as he kissed down your stomach in a heated hurry. He slowed down as he moved to your thighs, kissing and nipping at them as you spread your legs wider and wider. He reached down and gripped your feet, pulling off your heels and massaging your arches before he dragged his fingers up your calves.

He pressed into the flesh of your thighs and moved his hands to your panties, sliding one of them under the fabric to grasp your mound. He pressed his thumb into your clit and listened as you breathed out, sighing at his touch.

He slid his thumb farther down into your folds, testing your wetness. He grinned as he felt how slick you were and he pulled his hand away, bringing his thumb to his mouth to suck off your arousal.

Mer licked his lips, thinking that the taste of you beat anything he’d ever whipped up in a kitchen, and he gripped the sides of your panties so he could slide them off your legs.

Dropping to his knees, he was now at the perfect height to eat you like the birthday goddess you were.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he leaned in and sucked on each of your outer lips, playing with them before he released them to place a flat-tongued lick up the center of your pussy, lapping up your arousal and swallowing before he reached up to spread your lips.

You were clutching the edge of the kitchen table, lost to the heat of his mouth as he worked you over in true Merriell Shelton fashion—licking, sucking, and teasing until you were a panting mess, whimpering for release.

“S’okay, baby girl—come any time ya want,” he hummed over your clit, finally pulling it into his mouth, sucking the swollen flesh until you squeezed your thighs against his face, shaking and crying out his name.

He eased up, swirling his tongue over the sensitive area as the last waves of your intense climax subsided.

He wiped his face against your thigh before he kissed up your body, leaning over you so he could rub his face in the space between your breasts and lick at the exposed cleavage.

“Free me,” you said with a smile as you leaned up on your elbows.

Mer grinned and reached back to unhook your bra, your breasts falling to the sides as he tossed the bra behind him.

He gathered them up in his hands, kneading them tenderly as he moved to work your nipples to a peak.

You laid back again, your hand sliding through his curls as he teased you with his tongue. He always looked so good, smiling around your nipple as he looked up at you, his eyes so full of love and want that it never failed to make you ache.

“I want you, Mer.”

“Here?” he said as he let your nipple go.

“Why not?” you replied wriggling your hips against his still-jean-clad cock.

“And take off those pants niiice and slooow,” you added, sitting up on your elbows again.

Merriell laughed, his eyes such a sparkling green as they crinkled at the corners.

“Dat how ya want me to fuck ya, too? Nice and slow?”

“No,” you said as you watched his fingers open his belt and then unbutton his jeans.

His thumb and forefinger pinched the zipper and he slid it down, nice and slow, the sound of the teeth opening almost deafening in the quiet of your kitchen.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes zeroed in on where his cock was about to spring free.

Mer’s mouth popped open in a lazy half grin as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and slowly slid them from his hips.

He wasn’t wearing underwear, so you licked your lips as his cock bounced, finally free from its confines.

Mer bent to shimmy the rest of the away out of his pants, then he straightened, popping his hands onto his hips while you admired his body.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” you parroted from earlier, your eyes trained on his face as he didn’t bother to hide the million-dollar smile you elicited.

Merriell moved to edge of the table and you laid back, hooking your legs around his hips as he rubbed the tip of his cock through your wetness, his hand working his cock to squeeze free some precum.

He pushed into you and you both groaned at the satiation of an ache that could only be soothed but the sensation of him filling you and your heat enveloping him.

“Ya best hang on, baby girl,” he managed before he pulled out and slammed back into you, your back scooting just a bit up the table.

“Fuck!”

“Uh-huh. Dat’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Merriell began to move with conviction, his hands under your legs, hooked at your knees so you were open to him. You knew there were going to be bruises where his hips pounded into you, but what a sweet reminder they would be of just how goddamn good it felt to be fucked by your Cajun.

“Ya always feel so fuckin’ good around ma’ cock, baby girl.”

“So good,” you murmured, concentrating on the way he felt moving inside of you and on the way your body just wanted to build itself back up to come for him again.

The kitchen filled with a chorus of moans and groans, of dirty praises, and of sweet mutterings of passion, and when Merriell slowed his pace, his balls tightening so he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, he leaned over you, deepening the angle of penetration and begged you to come for him again.

“Come on. Come for me. Come for me, Y/N.”

He pulled you up and against him, your bodies pressed together as he ground into you, your ass bracing against the table as you dug your heels into the backs of his thighs.

He kissed you, then, deep and passionate. He kissed you until you came, your mouth pulling from his to shout his name as your eyes rolled back.

“Yes, baby girl. Fuck, yes,” he hissed as he came after you, his hot cum spurting against your tight walls before slowly leaking out when Merriell finally pulled away, needing to sit down.

You turned to look at him, sprawled back in the chair as his mouth was open wide to catch his breath. He met your eyes and huffed out a laugh as you started to giggle.

“Happy birthday?” he questioned.

“A happy fucking birthday, indeed,” you replied, running your hands through your mussed hair as you shook with more laughter.

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: The Truth (pt.5/final part) (Hvitserk x Reader)

Alright, so this is the final part to the Feels Like Home series. I know this was promised like 2 months ago but as I explained in a previous post - a break from Tumblr was essential for me. I hope you like the finale. :) Also, I inserted a ‘Keep Reading’ line, hopefully it’ll be visible to all of you.

Summary for pt.5: The raid was a roaring success and finally it’s time for you to explain everything to Hvitserk. The question is - will he be able to forgive you?

Warnings: description of homicide, cursing

Word count: 2.030-ish

Read PART1, PART2, PART3 and PART4.

* Moodboard is mine, images used are not. *

In the end, the raid turned out to be a roaring success. You made it out alive and as far as Ivar was concerned, the treasury’s content lived up to the stories he had heard, and he drained the place to the last coin.

Now, on your way back to Kattegat, you have some newly acquired thralls heat up two kegs of drinking water and fill the wooden tub in your cabin with it. Usually you can wait with the post-battle bath until you get home but this time you wish to cleanse yourself as soon as possible. The hot water makes your muscles relax and you catch yourself falling asleep when a soft knock on your door brings you back to consciousness.

“Come on in!” you signal your visitor to enter after stepping out of the tub and wrapping a cloth around your body.

Hvitserk’s face lights up at your sight.

“You are the only person I know who can conquer a land and still look breathtaking afterwards.” he says, earning a shy smile from you.

“Haven’t your father taught you that it is not decent to lie?”

“He has and I am not lying! Are you questioning my honesty yet again?”

“I would never dare do such a thing!”

You both chuckle and he pulls you into a tight hug. A familiar scent fills his nostrils – could he be imagining it, or your hair does smell like the wildflowers from the meadow?

“Ready to tell me everything?” he whispers sometime later, and you lean away to look into his eyes.

“No. But I made a promise and I always keep my word. Are you ready?”

He nods, then sits down on a chair next to the table and draws you into his laps. Looking into his eyes and knowing what you are about to say makes your chest ache, but you clear your throat and begin anyway.

“Do you remember the feast you had thrown for Ubbe’s birthday, just one full moon’s time before I left?”

“I do.”

“And do you remember how sick I felt during the feast?”

“Yes, I do. You had too much cherry wine so consequently I escorted you home to rest.”

You place a hand on the side of his face and caress his cheek with your thumb affectionately.

“It was not the cherry wine that made me feel sick, my love.” Your voice is laced with emotion, barely above whisper.

He knits his eyebrows in confusion, but it is only a matter of seconds and the wrinkles start relenting as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“Were you… were you with child?”

You nod and an excited, breathy laughter escapes his mouth. You try to memorize the sound of it as you are uncertain you will ever hear it again once you tell him the rest of the story.

Seeing you don’t share his joy, his happiness vanishes just as fast as it came.

“What is it, Y/N? What happened to my child?”

You get up from his lap, fill your cup and empty its content within seconds. Then repeat the whole procedure all over again, not minding the peculiar look you get from Hvitserk. There is no way you can get through this sober. Once you are done with your second round, you wipe your mouth and continue.

“My father found out I was carrying your child and I have never seen him more furious than that. He respected Ragnar, but he also believed that by making so many enemies, Ragnar created an environment not fit for a child, especially not fit for his grandchild. So he pulled some strings - granted a wish here, asked for a favor there – and ended up shipping me to England in order to marry an ambitious Saxon king.”

“King Willelmus?”

“Yes, him. At first, he was the perfect gentlemen a young girl in trouble such as myself could wish for. But then time passed and he began to reveal his true colors… Remember the strikes in the cell? I carved those with my nails after he’d imprisoned me there. He visited me every day and laughed in my face for believing he would welcome the bastard son of a pagan whore.”

Hvitserk’s face grows more somber with every word that leaves your lips and you can barely resist the urge to throw back another drink.

“Not very long after the imprisonment I delivered the baby, our son, and King Wil-“ your voice cracks and that’s when you realize you’ve been crying. After a few deep breaths you continue “… and King Willelmus strangled him in front of my eyes. A nun witnessed this and when I recovered, she gave me some gold and some silver, and she helped me escape. I travelled all around the world, came to know different cultures and different fighting styles – all in order to seek vengeance one day. And that’s what I did today.”

The silence that ensues screams louder than anyone you have ever heard dying in battle.

“Why?” Hvitserk finally speaks up, not looking at you.

“Why what?”

He elevates his gaze slowly and you can see he’s like a volcano, seconds away from erupting.

“Why did you not come back to Kattegat and tell me whAT HAPPENED?!” he roars the last word, making you flinch. “Was I unworthy of the truth, huh?! Did I do something to deserve being left out of avenging mY OWN SON?! We could have done it years ago and we could have brought many more sons into this world ever since!”

“Hvitserk, calm down and let me expl-“

Before you can finish, he jumps to his feet, knocking back the chair he’s been sitting on and grabs you by the throat.

“Hvitserk… I-I can’t… breathe…” you try to plead with him to no avail. His grip is firm and strong.

“You know, here I thought I was favored by the Gods since they gave me a second chance with you… but it turns out they are just taunting me…” he whispers, his mind still visibly clouded by rage. “Tell me, why did you come back to Kattegat now, really? Was it honestly your father’s death or did you know about the raid?”

Though you don’t say – you can’t say – anything, your eyes give away the answer.

“Just what I assumed.”

Suddenly he lets go of you and you fall to the ground. He is about to storm out the door when you call after him with a hoarse voice.

“Hvitserk! You promised you would take good care of my heart, but now you are breaking it…”

He takes a quick, pitiful glance at you.

“I don’t believe there is anything I am breaking right now. In fact, I doubt there ever was anything I could have taken good care of!”

He slams the door shut so hard it almost falls off.

You just lie there on the ground at the exact spot you fell on and stare into the void, trying to comprehend what just happened. Then a scream makes its way out of your lungs and you begin banging one of your palms against the wooden floor until you feel no pain, just see the blood.

A huge hand covers yours to stop you from doing any more harm.

Bjorn.

You just look at him for a while, not knowing what to say.

“Have you been eavesdropping, Bjorn?” you finally decide on something and a sad, lopsided smile forms on his face.

“No. You and Hvitserk were so loud I believe the whole crew heard it – except maybe for the warriors that were deafened in the fight.”

“I’m not in the mood for jesting, Bjorn.” You try to sound menacing but the tears streaming down your face undermine your plan.

“I know. I’m not here for the jokes, I’m here for the tears.”

He pulls you into his chest, muffling your cries and sobs.

Hvitserk is sitting in the Great Hall, looking at the plate in front of him with no appetite. What is wrong with him? The music is too loud, the cheerful people annoy him and not even the food or the mead interest him at the slightest.

“What is wrong, big brother? Why aren’t you enjoying the celebration? We came back richer than ever. You could at least drink to that!” Ivar’s words shake him back from his own thoughts.

He pulls a face at his little brother, raises his horn and starts drinking from it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it? The more you do that the less you’ll feel upset about Y/N leaving Kattegat.”

Hvitserk almost chokes on the ale.

“What did you just say?” he questions Ivar while wiping his mouth.

“I said Y/N is leaving. She said she had no business here anymore, so she intends to sail away.”

“It’s true.” Bjorn chips in. “But I think that if you hurry, you might be able to stop her from doing so.”

Hvitserk’s heart has never beaten faster than now, not even when he went on his first raid ever.

What should he do? Should he go after you? Or let you go? What do the Gods want?

Suddenly, Ubbe’s words start echoing in his ears ‘Let me tell you what I see! I see a miserable man drenching in his own self-pity and insecurities and only the Gods know how tired I am of it! Gods, Hvit, do you even understand what is going on here? She was taken away from you, but fate is offering a second chance! Do you know how rare that is?’.

He stands up abruptly and runs out of the Great Hall.

Hvitserk considers himself fit but by the time he gets to the docks there is almost no air in his lungs. And even that little what remained gets knocked out by an invisible force once he discovers that your ship is gone.

“No... no, no, no!” he whispers frantically to himself as his eyes start watering.

This must be a deception. You cannot be gone. Not again.

He feels like the rug has been pulled out from under his feet and he almost tumbles.

What is he to do now? He can’t go back to the feast.

His legs start working before his brain does. After a considerable amount of walking they stop and Hvitserk finds himself in the meadow of wildflowers. 

In the middle there’s you, illuminated by the moonlight, resembling a goddess now more than ever.

“Y/N? Is that you? I-I thought you sailed away.”

You turn around at the sound of your name and your eyes go wide.

“Hvitserk? I-I intended to but I just simply could not. I felt like I needed to be here. But what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

He rushes to you wordlessly, cups your face and presses his lips to yours forcefully.

“I am so sorry for not hearing you out, min elskede!” he says, gasping for air once you break the kiss. “And for all the things I said! I did not mean any of it!”

“No, no, no! Do not apologize! I should be the one begging for your forgiveness because of all the things I have done and all the things I haven’t… I believed for the longest time that a feeble woman like me who couldn’t even protect her own son would never be a worthy wife to you in the eyes of the Gods, and-”

He places his index finger on your lips to prevent you from completing your sentence.

“You were always worthy of me and I was always worthy of you. We were fated to be together. Do you know why I’m certain?” he pulls you closer so that your figure melts into his. “Because this feels like home. It always has and always will.”

You stand there like that, embracing each other in the moonlight for only the Gods know how long.

But time does not really matter, now does it?

You have a lifetime ahead of you and even after that, you will spend an eternity together in Valhalla.

[moonstruckholland]

Happy Birthday? (p.p)

(the gif has nothing to do with the fic, I was just too lazy to make a moodboard 😂)

Word count: 2,284

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, hella fluff

A/N: This is my submission for @farfromhaz and @angelhaz11's writing challenge! Go send them some love! Anyways, here's writing number two of the night! I really hope you guys like it! Definitely feel free to send any and all feedback, it would make my spooky day even happier 🧡 (I'm technically late but it's still Halloween somewhere so shhhh it's okay)

Sharing your birthday with your favorite holiday, even if it was Halloween, wasn't always as fun as everyone would assume.

Believe it or not, people actually forgot your birthday. You couldn't fully blamed them, Halloween was amazing. What could compare to the candies, scary movies, and fun costumes? Definitely not your measly little birthday parties, especially as you grew older and everyone was trading in trick or treating for Halloween parties that went on for hours into the night.

But you couldn't lie and say it didn't hurt your feelings growing up when you walked into your classroom expecting just one "Happy birthday" and instead getting, "Happy Halloween!" followed by a "Oh, it's your birthday isn't it?"

It hurt your little child heart so much, you decided at the age of 9 to stop telling people your birthday and pretended it already passed whenever someone asked. It was dumb looking back on it now that you were an adult, but back then it seemed like the only reasonable solution.

The only person at school who knew your birthday was your best friend and crush of many years, Peter Parker. You didn't tell him purposely, he stumbled into your apartment window one night in high school, bleeding and in a daze, and you were getting ready for a birthday dinner.

"You look really nice, can I ask where you're going?" He voice was raspy as you cleaned the cuts on his face.

"You don't get to ask questions when you've been hiding the fact that you're freaking Spider-Man."

He decided to keep quiet for a while, not wanting to push you. You waited until he looked less like death to say something.

"It's my birthday," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"It's your birthday? And you didn't tell me? I'm your best friend!"

"Don't start with me Spider-Boy," you glared at him for moment before softly adding, "I haven't told anyone in years."

"Why?"

"Everyone would forget, so I figured no one can forget if they don't know, saves me from being stressed."

"Well, now that I know, I'm never going to forget."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Parker."

He kept his promise, making a big deal of your birthday every year. One year he snuck you out of your apartment at night and swung you around the city, showing you places you hadn't known existed.

Another year, he brought you to a halloween party at the Stark tower. You never thought you'd see Captain America wish you a happy birthday personally, but it was one of the greatest experiences of your life.

It honestly didn't matter what he did, the fact that he cared and bothered to remember is what made it truly special. You were sure as long as Peter was in your life, you'd always have a special birthday.

Well, maybe not this year. So far today was the worst birthday of your life.

You woke up very late, apparently forgetting to set your alarm the night before. You rushed to throw on clothes and get as decently presentable as you could rushing to make it to your midterm.

“If you’re late, don’t bother showing up,” you could hear your professor’s shrill voice as you practically sprinted to your car.

You drove to class like you were in one of the fast and the furious movies, definitely breaking at least one law in the process. Luckily for you, the roads seemed to be empty, one gift from the universe. You knew if Peter weren’t already in class, he’d probably be with you right now, chastising you for your horrible driving,

‘I could really use Peter right now, swinging to school would be much faster.’

It was then that you realized Peter hadn't sent you his usual good morning happy birthday text he always sent, in fact you hadn't heard from him at all since you threw your into studying yesterday. You stomach clenched with worry for a second before you quickly pushed it aside, remembering you had to run to class.

You made it to your statistics class with minutes to spare, barely. You would’ve felt relieved, except the second you sat down to pull out your materials, you came to the realization you left the cheat sheet your professor allowed you to bring in your folder, laying on the exact spot you put it before passing out last night.

‘Fuck,’ you wanted cry. That dumb piece of paper was your key to passing this test and it was at home. You obviously had no choice but to take the test, so you told convinced yourself the studying you did last night would be enough, trying your best to think positively.

You didn't fail, but you definitely didn't get the grade you wanted. After more than an hour of answering questions, working them out on your scrap paper, you ended it with a 72. You beat yourself up about it the whole way home. The only thing you were looking forward to was seeing Peter and your lovely roommate Casey, and the delicious chocolate chip cookies she made just for you.

You couldn't help smiling as you heard Peter laughing from down the hall. You often came home to Peter already there, a perk that came with giving him a key, making food or literally hanging from the ceiling while studying.

"At least he always keeps me on my toes," you mumbled under your breath, wondering how you'd find him this time as you unlocked your door.

Much to your surprise, he was just sitting on the couch, Mean Girls playing in the background as he played what looked like some sort of star wars game on his phone.

“Hey, Pete!” you called out, closing the door behind you.

“Hey,” he barely looked at you, too into his game.

Taking a seat beside him, you sighed dramatically, laying your head on his shoulder while you waited for him to pay attention to you. That didn't happen for another 15 minutes and you wondered how he could be so into a game that he couldn't even play on one of the many game consoles Mr. Stark has bought him over the years.

"So," he said after finally putting his phone down, "What's the plan for today?"

"Oh, um, I thought maybe we'd swing through the city and go to our little spot?"

"I was thinking we'd do something different?"

"Like what?" You were suddenly filled with excitement, knowing Peter always came up with the best plans.

"You know that cute girl from down the hall? She invited me to one of the sorority parties and I thought we'd go together."

"You and the girl from down the hall?"

"No, silly," he nudged you gently, "You and me."

The excitement started to slowly fade away as you realized he was being serious, he wanted to go to a Halloween party, he probably wanted to meet up with the cute girl, he forgot your birthday.

"Um, sure! Sounds good." You gave him your best fake smile, trying not to cry on the spot.

He didn't seem to notice, going on about the exam he took a couple of hours ago. You nodded at the appropriate timing, making it seem like you were fully invested, and you wanted to me, but you were so hurt you could barely focus.

Eventually, Peter got up to leave and you hated to even think it, but you were relieved. Until you heard his goodbyes.

"I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, practically pushing him out the door.

"Oh, and tell Casey her cookies were delicious."

"What cookies?"

"Her famous chocolate chip ones."

You sighed, "Did you at least save me one?"

You knew his answer from the look on his face, the immediately blush coloring his cheeks and the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours.

"I'm sorry! I forgot! She can make more, right?"

'That isn't the only thing you forgot, Peter.'

Now you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or lunge at him, but Peter was out the door and down the hall before you could do either.

Closing the door behind you, you decided to settle for the former, tears spilling down your cheeks instantly. A part of you hoped Peter was just messing around and would knock on your door any second now, telling you it was all a joke and he would never forget your birthday.

But as more and more time passed, you knew he genuinely forgot.

You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt, tried giving him a chance to realize his mistake. Hours later, when he came to pick you up, it didn't seem like that was going to happen either.

He greeted you at the door like nothing, "Do you like my costume?"

Even upset with him, you couldn't help laughing as he twirled in his Spider-Man suit. "Again, Peter?"

"What? You can't go wrong dressing up like Spider-Man!"

You agreed with him, though you still hoped he was only joking about the party.

He wasn't, he swung the two of you a block away from the sorority house. You could practically smell the booze from there.

'He really brought me to a party.'

You tried making the best out of it, flirting with cute guys and girls, but it wasn't much fun considering most of them were so drunk, they could barely speak properly. And you knew regardless of how much you flirted, there was only one guy you were actually interested in.

So, after an hour and half of torture, you found yourself outside, playing games on your phone while you waited for Peter on the steps.

He came out not long after, sitting beside you, "Are you having fun?"

You barely looked at him, "No, not really."

"Y/n?" He put his arm around your shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Everything? From the second I woke up this day has been so shitty, I left my notes and tanked my test, you ate the last cookie, which was mine, by the way," you took a moment to pull away and glare at him.

"Then you brought me here, and what hurts the most is my best friend forgot my birthday," you voiced cracked as you finished your sentence, betraying the cool composure you were trying to keep.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you honestly didn't want to hear an explaination, you just wanted to go home and leave this day behind you, "It's okay, just take me back to my place?"

He didn't object, looking around for any witnesses before throwing on his mask, picking you up and swinging away.

You didn't open your eyes on the way home, you instead pretended it was a normal night filled with fun and dumb you and Peter things.

'Like it should've been.'

When Peter finally set you down, you were not on the fire escape by your bedroom window. You were on the roof of your building, twinkle lights and candles everywhere. There were tables full of your favorite food, and one had the most beautiful birthday cake you had ever seen.

Peter pulled off his mask, "Did you really think I would forget?"

"I-" you were speechless, he was messing with you.

"It's not over yet," he smiled, "You can come out now."

Instantly, all of your friends and family popped out from underneath the tables, yelling out "Surprise!"

You were immediately flooded by your loved ones, everyone wishing you happy birthday and showering you with love. You were overwhelmed with happiness, tears of joy falling down your cheeks for the first time that night. You couldn't believe Peter did all of this for you, and managed to trick you.

You let yourself have actual fun. It was much easier considering everyone was coherent, plus you were once again blessed by the presence of the avengers. It was hard not to have fun when Thor and Tony were around.

Later on, you snuck away, finding Peter and pulling him to the side. You smacked his arm the second you were alone.

"You ass! I can't believe you did this!"

"I couldn't let this be a boring birthday!"

You rolled your eyes, "You couldn't at least tell me happy birthday?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted to pull a sixteen candles moment."

"And what was that with the party?"

"You had to be distracted while Casey baked your cake."

You shook your head, "You really thought of everything, huh? It's perfect, Peter. Thank you."

"I, um, actually have one more thing for you."

"No gifts! This was already amazing."

"Well," he blushed, looking down at his feet, "It's more of a question."

"Okay..."

"Would you maybe want to go out on a date?" He asked so quickly, you almost didn't catch the question.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,' was all that ran through your head.

"Or not! That's okay too, it's just Mr. Stark told me you liked me and I should make a move because I've liked you for years," Peter rambled.

Your heart literally melted at his words. He's liked you for years? And you didn't know? How stupid could the two of you be?

"Peter," you took his hand in yours, "I would love to go on a date with you."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," this time you looked away shyly, "I've liked you for a while too."

He smiled brightly, letting out a little sigh of relief.

It was right then you knew nothing would be able to top this, it was truly the best birthday ever.

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @ravenclawmarvel @rachramblesstuff @angelhaz11 @fairytaleparker @parkerpuff @arielweasley @devildisguiseasangel​ @nedthegay​ @parkeroffline​ @petersmparker​ @lovinnholland​ @tomhollandsumbrella​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @babebenhardy​ @sleepybesson​ @its-the-unknownspidey​ @antoouu​ @petersstarcadet​ @thollandx​ @xxxxdelenaxxxx​ @smexylemony​ @kxrtwxgner​ @styles-balor4eva​ @80sthottie​ @meghan-8520xx​ @marshyrebelcloud​

[smolfangirl]

Drawing the line

For a fic I had no plot idea for, this turned out quite long :D It’s an artist au with some inspiration from @over-the-pink-moon lovely moodboards *-* Also thanks to @miris-xo for helping me to find anything related to a plot. I hope you enjoy this, especially since I might not have a lot of internet to post new things over the next two months at the end of the world ^^

Word count: 2.9k

///

She always leaves a trace when she walks out of his place. A pencil or a brush on the kitchen table, a quick sketch or color study left to dry on his desk. Once he finds a cup with paint water forgotten by the sink. Her thoughts remind Matteo of the TV screens in a tech store – five different movies playing and without the sound, nothing makes sense. As soon as she begins to pack up, new ideas flicker through her mind, so she simply forgets what remains out of her immediate sight.

But he doesn’t mind cleaning up after her.

Instead, he puts on the playlist inspired by her and wanders through every room, searching for her clues. If he’s lucky she forgot something important and asks him to meet up between classes. Some days (mostly Tuesdays) she even asks him if he wants to tag along to the cafeteria. He never says no.

Today, she forgot her notebook on the couch. Luna has been doodling in it while he discussed the grocery list with Gastón, and the moment he walked up to the couch again, she tossed it away like it was on fire. Before he could ask, she pretended to be deeply lost in filling the canvas with colors.

In moments like these he’d trade his first guitar for a glance into her mind.

The notebook feels heavy in his hands as he picks it up. It’s not the small sketchbook she uses for first drafts and carries around everywhere. And, from experience, forgets everywhere too. He’s only seen the fancy sketchbook two times before, and both times she threatened him to not even blink at it or she’ll ruin his mom’s gift the night before her birthday.

Nothing tempts him more than to sneak a glimpse at whatever Luna is trying to hide from him.

///

To Luna: How much is your nice sketchbook worth to you?

///

The moment she holds it in her hands again, she sighs so loud that the people around them turn around and stare. “And you didn’t look inside? Not even once?”

“Is that how little faith you have in me? After all the times I brought you your other sketchbook, or your brushes, or those funny little sponges and…”

“Okay, okay,” Luna mutters, one hand playing with her hair, “I get it. I shouldn’t come over to work on that painting for your mom anymore, given how much stuff I forget every time.”

She wants to walk right past him, into the cafeteria, but Matteo follows her with ease. A smirk rests on his mouth. “That’s not what we agreed on, and you know that.”

With an eyeroll, she takes a step back to let three guys leave the aisle with their heavy trays. When she’s by Matteo’s side again, a corner of her mouth twitches slightly upward. “Just for the record, none of the people I made commissions for so far asked to watch me while I’m working. Only you did.”

“Because I’m curious to see how the magic happens. And didn’t you say you usually don’t do commissions? That this was an exception for being the hero who gave you your sketchbook back?” Five times, to be exact. How anyone could forget the same thing, in the same classroom, five weeks in a row, remains a miracle to Matteo. But no matter the reasons why, he’s happy to have found her along with the book.

They reach the dessert bar. Luna begins to heap chocolate pudding into a bowl, one arm awkwardly clenching her sketchbook. Matteo watches her for a moment, then snickers. “Do you want me to hold this for…”

“No!” She doesn’t even let him get to the end of the question. “I’m good, you don’t have to.” Realizing she had just shouted at him, she flinches. “Thanks, but no. Just pick a dessert, okay? I’ll pay.”

He chooses a strawberry cheesecake.

///

“So, did you cook this or did your mom make that for you?” he asks after they sit down at the only free table for two, nodding towards her lunchbox.

“My mom. If I tried this, everything would look like a giant mess of green pasta.”

Matteo shakes his head in amusement and chews on his homemade sandwich. “Damn, the poor spinach.”

“How’s your sandwich?” She drowns the latest bite with a sip from her water bottle, and her eyes linger on his cheesecake long enough for him to consider teasing her about it.

Instead, he puts on a smirk. “Good, of course. I just prepared it before my first class.”

They eat in silence. It’s a nice contrast, Matteo thinks, because so far, they have always been interrupted by one of her friends. And they were nice, they chatted and laughed with him, but he’d rather sit in silence with Luna alone than to engage in meaningless small talk with her friends.

“So, you haven’t answered my question yet.”

The first spoon with chocolate pudding just went into her mouth, and she looks at him out of wide, beautiful eyes. “Huh?”

“I asked you if you lied to me when you said you didn’t do commissions.”

“Oh.” Another spoon of pudding. She’s still staring at him, half lost in thought again. He wonders if she’d let him get away with stealing a taste of her dessert. (Or of her lips.) “Well, I didn’t lie. I used to make a few back in high school. But I’ve only drawn for fun since I started uni.”

“Then I’m glad you made that exception for me.”

“You mean for your mom?”

“Yeah.”

///

She’s biting her lip again. She always does when she’s thinking about which part to paint next, and in those moments, Matteo has to remind himself that he should appear interested in what she’s doing, and not in her. Perhaps she believes he actually wants to learn about the right paper, or proper colors, but mostly he wants to learn about her. About the dimples in her cheek when she laughs, and the sensation of her fingertips on his skin. One time she forgot her hair tie, so some strands of her opened curls kept falling into her face, like a frame to a masterpiece, and in that moment, he wished he knew how to pin her beauty down on paper.

“Do you draw people too?”

“Is that your way of asking if I would draw you?” She doesn’t even look up from her canvas, just frowns at it as she dips her brush into her mixed shade of light blue again.

Matteo huffs, robbing an inch closer to her with his chair while he scans her face for a reaction. “Is that your way of telling me you thought about drawing me? Because I was just curious, to be honest.”  And if, in fact, she did want to stare at him for hours to get the most delicate lines of his smile right, he’d be the last person to object.

No reply. The movements of her brush are the only sound in the living room. By now Matteo finds a rhythm in those movements, a melody he misses when she’s gone, sometimes.

Luna sighs. The brush pauses in its dance over the canvas. “Your curls would be a nightmare to sketch.”

“Wow, thanks. What have I done for you to be in such a good mood today?” (So far, she barely smiled at him, and he longs for a fraction of her focus.)

For the first time this afternoon, she turns away from her painting and gives him her full attention. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I like your hair.”

“You do?”

Her eyes pin down the paper on the table. “Yeah. I mean, the curls suit you, and they look super soft somehow. But I couldn’t do them justice on paper.”

Luckily, she already focuses on her painting again before he can’t contain the smile on his lips.

///

He thinks of her constantly. Not as much when he has a task to focus on, or when he’s with his friends or classmates. His imagination waits for him to be alone, when he stands in the middle of the supermarket aisle and can’t decide on what kind of pasta to buy, when his thoughts stray away from the lecture he’s supposed to follow. As soon as he’s alone with his mind, she’s everywhere.

Right now, Matteo walks home from the bus stop down the street and plays through a conversation where she admits she likes him just as much. Then, he makes up a scene where he catches her drawing him. As he opens the door to the apartment building and fumbles with the key for his mailbox, the Luna from his imagination is blushing wildly while he tells her how wonderful exactly he thinks she is.

There’s a yellow envelope in his mailbox. Bright yellow, the color of sunflowers in August, and no post stamp. It surprises him enough to shush every thought of Luna, at least for a moment. As he takes the stairs, he reads his name written in neat, cursive letters again and again, as if they’d reveal their secret like that. Finally, he glances at the back of the envelope, to discover Luna’s signature.

His feet freeze on the spot.

She sent him something, and it’s definitely not his mom’s birthday gift. They had lunch together yesterday, and she didn’t mention anything that could explain why she left an envelope in his mailbox. He has no idea what it hides, and now his heart is beating against his chest as he takes two steps at a time.

///

It’s a sketch. Of him.

There’s no note attached, not even a date. Just his face on an otherwise blank sheet. The smile she drew radiates the same feeling he gets in his stomach every time she laughs, and she added a sparkle to his eyes he never found in them himself. He wonders how she managed to make his curls look like they’re about to bounce out of the paper, and how long she studied him without him noticing. The mere idea heats his chest up.

If this is how Luna sees him, he might be the luckiest guy in this world.

///

Matteo thanks her for this drawing five times, and one more time as she walks through his door two days later. A smile graces her lips, and her hug surrounds him with her scent that never quite seems like perfume.

“How are you?” she asks, spreading brushes on the living room table.

“Fine. And you?” Do you randomly draw your friends all the time? Or is there the tiniest chance I’m more than just a weird guy who pays you for drawing a picture in front of him?

Those questions don’t leave his mouth. Instead, Matteo sits down next to her and listens to her explanations on drawing open water. Meanwhile, he imagines taking her to his parents’ beach house in Italy.

“So, I think I could be finished with this next week. When was your mom’s birthday again?”

In the last moment, he holds back the sigh that tries to slip over his lips. “In two weeks.” In two weeks, this will be over. Luna will draw at her desk at her home, and exams will be inching too close to waste a full hour with him in the cafeteria. The semester is coming to an end, merciless in its rush of time, and he still has no idea how he’s going to see her again.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow,” Luna replies. “And yours?”

Matteo twirls his spoon in the coffee cup. (She almost dipped her brush into it three times today.) “Blue. Mixed with yellow, it’d be green, right?”

She rewards him with a smile along with her nod. “Yeah.” While she goes on about green and turquoise and color names he never heard of before, his gaze gets lost on her, dragging his thoughts along to the moon. The delicate skin around her eyes wrinkles because she’s smiling so much. Between teal and seaweed green, he stumbles upon the realization of how bright and clear her iris is. Like a gem stone carved out of the earth, polished just so the light could bring his miniature reflection in them alive.

“Like your eyes”, he mumbles, not fully aware his mouth turned his thoughts into words for her to hear.

Luna pauses. “What?”

Matteo clears his throat. “They’re super green.” Quieter, he adds, “And they’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Nothing more than a whisper, but her blushing cheeks say enough.

///

The week passes too quickly. He can’t afford to daydream during classes yet curses himself for letting time run out of his hands. Friday night brings him dreams of her, and he shrieks up an hour before his alarm clock. His mind is a Ferris wheel, high and low, Luna and his finals take turns riding it up to the moment she finally rings his door.

For the first time since they met, she’s wearing a dress. Mentally, he congratulates himself for changing into jeans and a decent shirt a few minutes ago, while he also has to fight the urge to stare at her for too long. He’s almost afraid of embracing her during their hug.

“That dress looks amazing,” he says. She hugs him tighter.

///

“I’m gonna miss you sitting here.”

Luna is almost finished, the last strokes of the brush, the last corrections and soon, she’ll scribble her signature into the corner. He doesn’t want her to leave, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to her after handing her the money he still owes her, and he doesn’t want to admit to himself that he screwed this up. It’s a desperate statement he lets slip out in resignation, and it’s of little comfort that his voice doesn’t tremble.

A hesitant smile sits on her lips as she glances at him. “I’m gonna miss you too.” Her honesty catches him off guard, allows him to hope, to search for right way to ask her out, but before he gathers a single word, she clears her throat. “It’s gonna be weird not having you watch me anymore. I mean, not that I’ll have time to draw during finals.”

Matteo silently nods. Inside, everything screams at him to take a chance before the paint dries and the ending can’t be changed anymore. “What’s the weirdest thing for you about drawing?”

A few seconds pass before she answers. Their knees bump into each other under the table, and he apologizes without meaning it one bit.

“Sometimes, when I look at people, I don’t really see them because I start to think about how I’d draw them. It’s like… picking them apart into single shades. Circles and squares and all that.”

His eyes dart towards the window, to buildings hiding the clear blue sky. He holds the air in his lungs, thinks twice, then jumps into the cold water. “Is that what you did too when you drew me?”

“Kinda.”

Silence. He catches her gaze. His breath hitches. “Drawing you was… different.”

“How so?” He knows they’re tip-toeing around each other, round and round, closer to a moment that’ll inevitably change something. Maybe even them. Hopefully.

“I’m not sure I can explain it.”

He doesn’t ask a second time.

///

The last brush is clean, the sketchbook back in her bag. He watches her as she puts on her shoes, heart racing in his chest. The clock next to the wardrobe ticks mercilessly, he can count along when Luna faces him, and they stare at each other out of words. Out of time.

“Thank you.”

She smiles. “Thank you too. I hope your mom will like it.”

“I’m sure she will.”

Her arms around his neck, one last time. Her scent in his nose, her curls falling into her face as they break apart. She hasn’t even left, and he already misses her.

“So, I guess I’m gonna go home now.” Her hand lingers on the doorknob.

“Good luck for studying,” he replies. The door opens. Ask her, say it, keep her here, if only for a second. With one step, she’s in the hallway. Turns around, grimaces. “Bye, then.”

His voice sounds hoarse. “Bye.”

The door closes. He let her go, he didn’t do any of the things he’s been dreaming, hoping for, and he’s the only one to blame. Matteo sighs, closes his eyes, curses.

The doorbell rings. With a frown on his forehead, he opens.

“Luna?”

“I forgot my bag.”

He steps away, and she hushes inside. “I’m sorry, sometimes I don’t know where my head is,” she says. Rambles. Her cheeks have turned into a soft pink. “Anyway, I’m gonna leave you alone now. Greet Gastón from me, okay?”

“Wait.” A plea, crossing his lips at the speed of light. Suddenly, Matteo feels afraid and brave at once, hesitant and determined. If this is his last chance, he won’t waste it. “Can I see you again?”

///

He still searches for her traces when she leaves. They’re not scattered around his apartment anymore, though, they’re all over his skin. A soft kiss, a delicate touch. Sometimes, a hint of paint when he got a little too impatient. Once, between his bedsheets, she whispers that he could be her new canvas. Matteo presses his lips on her temple and prays that she’ll never be done with him.

[magicalsalamander]

Aurelius [Prologue]

Pairing: BTS Namjoon  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Werewolf | Fluff | Angst | Smut [later] |

Summary: When the daughter of the secretary for the Minister for Wolf and Canine relations is the last living member of her clan, she must find a way to avenge her family. She must find a way to put an end to the hunters whose sole purpose is to cleanse the world of werewolves. The golden one hasn’t forgotten. Will she be able to get the revenge she needs?

Words: 8.7 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Explicit themes, action/ violence, blood shed, torture, death of characters (minor), and graphic depiction. This is not true though series, only this part for context.

A/N:  Orig post: 01|15| 2018; Updated intro 12|12|19. Part of the KLF Universe. Thank you @ratedtae​ for the moodboard. 

| Masterlist | Next ⇾

Only the ghost of the red-violet torch light painting the depressingly dull cobblestone walls gave me indication I didn’t give into the darkness. My first associations with that light were brief when the Neanderthal like men dragged my father, my grandfather and I into this cell. The oxidized iron liquid that I used to call mine painted the wall behind me and my very own dress. It was like my once champagne peach dress was now dipped in a marbled brown and burgundy dye solution and rung out sloppily. The spaghetti straps no longer supported the once proud collar of my dress but hung lifelessly at my sides. The only thing left at my side now. The cold, almost wet, cement floor and the cobble stone walls were the only thing supporting me up now. Gashes, slashes, and broken ribs left me immobile with only my eyes making the major movement.  I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe, but I still had the fight in me. Almost cruelly, I still had fight in me.

I couldn’t hear well out of my right ear anymore just a high pitched constant ringing. Though clearly in my left ear I could hear a set of two heavy boots trail down the hall towards my cell. My grandfather remained unconscious in the opposite corner of the cell with his back facing me. If my senses proved me right, he’s left us a few hours ago to a better place. I only stared at the men dressed in black clothing with leather ascents who stood across the uneven, iron bars of the cell. What was the most sickening about them was the pelt that still carried the head of the wolf on the shoulders of their cloak. The faces of my people.

I growled lowly in my throat challenging these men to come close to me. They laughed and shoved the uneven bars of the cell door with their mudded boots open and stepped into the cell creating a half moon around me. I remained still as possible monitoring their movements cautiously with my eyes. The only reliable sense I had left. The center one with a grey wolf around his black cloak crouched down to my level. He took my chin between his calloused thick hands and brought my face up to look at him. His yellowed teeth showed behind his grime smile. His unkept long, brown hair fanned over his face only making his appearance more menacing. You’ve heard the verbal stories passed down through generations from your grandparents about these men. The horrific things these men did. The hunters.

He licked his chapped, thin lips before speaking, “It’s such a shame a pretty doll like this is such a filthy little bitch. If she wasn’t such scum I would’ve taken her to my bed. Sadly, for you my dear, my Lord calls for you.” He dropped my chin roughly and shoved a blacken, muslin bag over your head and tightened it with a string. I couldn’t see where they were dragging me, but I tried to mesmerize the turns we were taking but it was hard when your feet were scrapping cement. My feet weren’t used to such rough terrain, instead accustomed to running through grass, soft dirt, and the fuzzy carpet of my home. I missed home.

In fact, I was just there a few hours ago! A day ago? I’m not really sure how much time has passed honestly since I’ve been in this cell.

It was Sunday and my family held a monthly dinner to take a moment to celebrate life and being a family. I was sleeping in late that day when my mom came in the room and shoved open my curtains that block out the harsh noon sun. I enjoy the sun, just not when I’m trying to sleep. I grumble knowing that this is the end, the end of my precious slumber. Without warning she jumps on top of me and tickles me leaving me no choice to get up to stop her. I swear my mother never grew up, she’s more like a big sister than a parental figure. “Y/N, its Sunday. You know what that means?” I grumble under the covers while my mother leans her head into the covers to get a better listen. “Your grandparents are coming in from the North. They took a train here this morning and will be arriving around 5pm. You know how hard it is for them to travel so get up and help me. Get dressed first, wear something nice nothing casual Aure! We don’t have a lot of time!” I sneak a hand out of the blanket and wave it to her and give her an okay sign. She pats my butt in understanding the shaky promise and leaves the room.

Aure obviously wasn’t your name. I liked the name though, but my mom thought my legal name fit better. It just had this flow to it that was so…me, or so she insists. Before I was born, my dad went to Spain for a study abroad program for college and stayed with a Spanish family. He was taken into the family like one of their own during his stay. The wife/mother of the family taught him things his family lacked and found a new family in them. He grew very close to her and years later back at home when he found out he was going to have a daughter he wanted to name her after that woman. Her name was Aureliana (but your family found it simpler to call me by Aure). He asked her before he left if her name held a meaning and she said it meant golden and an emperor from Rome bared that name; more realistically her mother wanted her life to be golden like the word itself. My mother had decided on her children’s name as long as she could remember, so it left your father little room to argue. He found a loophole and called me Aure as a nickname, because I am as precious as gold to him.

I went to shower first before I swung open the French doors to my closet. I didn’t have many party dresses, but the ones I did I took care of. It was Spring, so I went with my champagne-peach spaghetti strap short dress that set just above my knees. It was pastel enough to match the new turn of the season, but comfy enough to maneuver in. Comfort comes first after all with clothing. I sat at my white vanity that used to be my grandmothers and set my face with light makeup. I was only staying indoors today anyways. I French braided my hair from crown to tip and pulled at the strands to loosen it up. A few pieces were taken out around my temple and cascaded on the side of my face. My mother came back in the room already dressed up as well in her blue, long sleeve knee length dress. She had her hair tied up in a tight bun that complimented her sharp features. The gold jewelry complimented her gold eyes. It was a unique thing that belonged to your people, even more unique to female alphas; only female alpha’s have gold eyes. She grabbed the two ends of the chains I already raised to latch the rose gold necklace, but took over halfway wordlessly. It was one piece of the set my father to me for my last birthday when I turned seventeen. My mother reached into the aged, heirloom jewelry box and pulled out the six rose gold rose pins for my hair. She weaved them through the braid into a small garden. I looped in the small hoop earring into my ears as the last touch and after latching the last hoop I took in everything. My metallic, rose gold eyes matched my jewelry perfectly.

I was born with gold eyes like my mother but as I got older red bleed into the gold mixing it into a rose gold. In a childish fit I was ashamed of them, I didn’t want to be different. I wanted to be like the rest of my pack, like the other female alpha’s generations before me. I sat at on the top of the porch chairs ashamed of my eyes but my father sat down behind me incasing me in between his legs. He set his bearded chin on my head, “The purple blends with the edges of the sky at night and for centuries people have painted that same sky. Each sunset is unique, no day will the clouds be the same. There will be no night where the sunset doesn’t marble into different colors.” I stopped sobbing hearing my dad’s words. He always talked some sense into me and told stories instead of lectures to get his message across. He wound his arms around me in a comforting hug, “Aure, Aureliana, my love, do you know that your name is as unique as the sky?” I shook my head acknowledging I’ve never bothered to ask, it’s just always been a self-truth I didn’t question. He sighed rocking me side to side gently and began, “Aureliana was the name of a special woman, who was like a mother to me, when I went to Spain. She told me the great legend of her name. Aureliana meant golden and that it was the name of an emperor of the Romans. The Romans were strong, smart, and diverse people who wore their red and gold robes proudly. They were greatest people of their time! Of course, your mother wanted to name you Y/N, but I still think you’re my little golden token. I’m grateful to have you Aure and I wouldn’t ever change that. You are strong and smart. Don’t be ashamed of the same colors the Roman’s wore proudly. My precious, little wolf, be the strong and valiant one I know you are.”

Being the daughter of an Alpha was a big responsibility, you were expected to lead the pack later when it was time to pass it down to the next reigning leader as the new Luna. The words my father told me that evening never left my every day motivational speech. I’ve held my head proudly since then and I want to lead my pack with pride when the time came. My pack was only a smaller division of a larger collective tribe. The region that I belong to was made of five different family packs, but my family was the second in ranking. The Kim family was the main alpha’s that ruled the area and their alpha worked for the Council as the Minister of Wolves and Canine relations. Your father was the secretary for the Minister earning the spot as a wise alpha and a smart man.  

I walked down the stairs trailing after my mother into the kitchen. It was only my mother and myself in the house for the meantime to finish dinner and decorate the house before my father returned with my grandparents, his parents. My mother’s family disappeared five years ago, never to be found. I mixed some of the dishes and went to set the table with a large bouquet centerpiece. A few streamers were hung to create a festive atmosphere and bring all the décor together. It was tradition in wolf culture to be close to your family and mine lived by that diligently. I was working on some decorations in the living room when I hear the familiar car horn coming from the drive way. I slipped on my outside slippers and made my way out and down the porch steps and jogged up to the white Jeep Grand Cherokee. I waited for my dad to come out the car and he opened his arms wide and said, “Aure!” With an open invitation I jumped into his arms and squeezed him with all I had. He laughed at my eagerness and set me down. I turned to my grandparents struggling to get out. My grandpa was a tall, lean man with salt and pepper hair. He said his wrinkles were caused by grandma, “the woman never knows how to stop nagging me Y/N,” at least I quote from him. Grandma was a short, small woman but she had enough spunk in her to rival me. I hugged them equally as tight just not jumping this time around. I politely took their carry-ons walking with them into the house as they told me about their adventure on the train. Your father followed closely behind with their suitcase and closed the front door.

It was around seven pm when everything was on the table and served onto everyone’s plate. My father raised his glass clinking it with a nearby utensil. “I’m so glad my parents could make it to this dinner. It’s always great having you in our home. It isn’t home without everyone here tonight, Howls to the kin!” You all howled in cheer and clinked your glasses, but in my gauntlet it was only apple juice. I couldn’t drink any alcohol yet since it was illegal. The meal was delicious, my mother was an amazing cook. All adults at the table were tipsy with the merlot wine that my father has been saving for the occasion. I was facing the bay window sitting next to my mother, across from your grandparents with my father at the head of the table. All the adults were so in tuned with some old story that I’ve heard every Sunday dinner. They were clearly giggling at the same boring parts and retelling the same old jokes. I stared out the window not being able to leave the table until I cleaned my plate. I twirled my fork in the few last bites of pasta, but I didn’t raise it to take a bite. I stared out at the tree line of the property. The moonlight shined brightly on the mid-size back yard reflecting on the freshly dewed grass. We were far out from the city and from the closet pack house, it was safer for us and allowed us to run the forest in our natural states. There were no fences around the property since we wanted to run freely and return at will.

The tree line seemed to move and sway, I rubbed my eyes clearing it of any haze. I was positive I didn’t drink anything so why was the tree line changing? The black shadows took to a uniform line of dark shadows approaching the house out of the trees. They wore long, black cloaks, so you couldn’t make out any faces. I panicked my heart was racing, I yelled breaking the warm, nostalgic atmosphere, “Dad, Dad, there are people approaching the house! Look out the window, Look!” As if he sobered up instantly, his eyes burned a bright red and he peered at the tree line finally seeing the approaching shadows. A growl ripped through everyone in the room and I turned to the window again now seeing them more clearly. Each carried a pelt, some multiple, of their hunt with large knifes tucked into a sheath on their belt. They were armed in leather armor under their cloaks as I caught glimpses within strides. The man in the middle with multiple pelts on his cloak raised his hand and his minions stopped. He raised his head and to the side allowing my family to see the smirk of his teeth. He unsheathed his large sword gripping the leather handle that had a wolf’s tail hanging as an ornament. The blade was held in the air and it was dripping in purple, viscous solution. My eyes widened, I knew that syrup very well and whispered audibly, “wolfsbane.” The man kept arching his arm all the way back and then threw his knife towards us. Screams wrecked the room as the knife cracked the glass shattering the window and the knife was left oscillating stuck in the wooden table. My mother grabbed my hand calling along my grandmother, “Honey, we’re going to run. Don’t stop running okay? When we reach the front lawn, I want you to shift into your wolf. Go!” I looked towards my father and grandpa, who was already shifting and charging towards the men. I whimpered. There were too many men, I already knew this wasn’t going to end well. My mother dragged me to the front door and I made it into the lawn bare feet, “Shift! Don’t bother removing clothes just run!” The sound of clothes ripping and bones cracking filled the air, but close along the boots and laughs of the men followed. I didn’t look back, I kept running with my family at my side.

I was able to make it a half mile out climbing over and under shrubbery, trees, and anything in the way. It wasn’t long before you heard a yelp and against better judgment I took a gander back only to be horrified when you saw that your grandmother was being pulled by the tail towards the men. They raised their purple knifes letting the purple syrup drip tauntingly and then straight into her. I was horrified but my mother nudged my shoulder midstride to keep running; it wasn’t time to stop. My vision was getting blurry with tears. We made it past a river bank and saw an upcoming edge of a cliff. If we jumped, we could get away. We made it a bit further, I was trailing in front of my mother when I heard a pained howl. I stopped a few steps ahead and saw she was stuck in a bear trap. I was circling her whining, there wasn’t anything I could do in this state. I approached her and tried to bite the claws open finding any lever to release the pressure. I was panicking because I could smell the putrid smell of the hunters. The distinct smell of wolfsbane was getting closer and closer. I scratched and bite at the trap for a release, my claws were filing against the rusted metal of the old forgotten trap. My mother was barking at me to leave, leave and go far away but I wasn’t going to leave her behind. Before I knew it a large calloused hand encircled my neck and held me above the ground hind legs dangling. I couldn’t breathe but I was kicking and biting at the hands holding me. They laughed at my struggle, “Well look at what we have here. Two females? Well if it isn’t our lucky day.” One of the five men was stroking my mothers fur, but retracting his hand back when she snapped at him. He clicked his tongue at her, “stubborn, bitch.” He then placed his foot on the trap and eventually applied enough pressure to hear a snap of bone where the two sides of the bear trap met again. I roared, and my mother was screaming at the loss of her limb. The amount of blood flowing was overwhelming. They looked towards me and noticed my eyes, “wow, look at this one’s eyes. It would sell for so much if we dug them out and sold them don’t ya think?” I was shaking more violently doing everything I could to get out of their grasp. My mother looked into my eyes one last time before the gold left hers to turn a black as the man brought his up knife in both hands and through her chest. It hurt so much, and I was feeling sick. My vision was blacking in and out and before you knew it you passed out from the lack of air.

The muslin over my head didn’t lessen all of my senses. I could smell the different owners of blood, but I recognized notes of my fathers and grandpa’s as I was hurled to the floor of the room. I could only hear four heartbeats in the room. Before the muslin was removed, my arms were twisted behind my back locked in cuffs that were attached to decayed chains latched to the celling in my kneeling position. A scratchy rope was tied around my thighs and calves into a permanent kneeling position. This position really put strain on my broken rib, but I made no notion of it. I wasn’t going to let them get under my skin. My father always warned me if I was ever in this position to show no fear, don’t directly challenge but handle things logically. With him being in politics, this isn’t the first threat our family has faced. The bag was removed off my head and I had to squint to adjust to the bright surgical lighting of the room. The room had tiles lining the wall and on the opposite wall my father was suspended from the ceiling in chains like mine. His face was so bloated and the injury from somewhere in his hairline was dripping down his face. I wanted to cry, but I knew I had to remain composed with my head held up high. I was still trying to forget what happened to my mother and grandparents. The same man who threw the knife through the window was standing over a machine with different knobs and switches. From the machine ground lead wires were snaked on the ground but lead to attachments on my father at random locations on his chest.

My nostrils flared at the sight taking deeper breathes and from the burning smell of flesh. I couldn’t turn my head up very much since I was forced into a bowing position. I was able to bring my head to glimpse over my lashes at my father who tried to speak to me, but he was only able to gurgle out blood. I lowered my head before I lost all self-control. The traumatic image was becoming too much. The man once standing in front of the generator began pacing the room, “Well, are you going to tell us now? Your poor, poor daughter wouldn’t need to face the same pain, right? It would be a shame to waste a pretty face. You’re going to tell us where the Kim’s home is, right?” My dad was struggling against the chains, “don’t touch her!” The man responded like chastising a child, “that’s not the answer I wanted, now is it.” He didn’t get any response though my father refused to let them know anything.

The man stepped in front of me taking me in and brought his hunting knife out of his tool belt. He circled around me and crouched behind me waving the knife around between his index and thumb. My father was growling viciously with his fangs elongated grazing his already cut lip. I whimpered when he dragged the blade over my skin much like a cat scratching a post. I was trembling causing the chains to rattle, “Oh, little puppy are you scared?” I didn’t respond but attempted to stop the trembling. He sighed and with his cold tone, “Daughter like father.” He stood up and brought the knife to the top of my dress and brought it down tearing the back open and then brought the knife to my bra and ripped that as well. He cleared my spine of any fabric raking his calloused, dry hands up and down my spine and exposing it to the frigid air of the room. I didn’t bother holding back my panting now, I was terrified. The man twirled the knife in his hand again lazily eyeing my father, “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go in intervals of cutting her and shocking you until you answer me.” My father was growling but it was cut off with a pained yelled when electricity ran through his system. I was pressing my lips tightly together silently screaming as the purple knife cut into my upper arm. The pause was short in between repetitions when the man yelled again at my father for answers. Dad was sobbing and yelling for them to stop, to leave me alone. You remained silent, not wanting to spend any energy on speaking.

After more rounds they threw water on your father when he was nearing passing out. I couldn’t keep track anymore of the gashes my arms and legs, they burned like fire because of the wolfsbane. The one that burned the most was the “H” he engraved on my thigh. The pain from the others was dull but it was chronic enough to make me hold your breath occasionally to displace the tension. The man accepted a large bucket form another hunter and brought it to loam over me this time and presented it to my father. Another male held up my father’s chin to acknowledge the lead torturer. He held up a five-gallon (nineteen liter) container with steaming, hot water higher in gesture, “we specially boiled this for her. Now for the last time, where is it?” My father was sobbing at the man holding his chin, but when he got no response the man said, “you leave me with no choice.” He truly couldn’t respond; his facial muscles weren’t responding anymore.

I was trembling so intensely that the chains attached to my cuffs were swinging in the little room they had. The drips of water from the bucket sprinkled on my back and stung upon contract. I held my head low and closed my eyes. I started mumbling comforting words to myself, anything to take my mind off the reality of the situation. I repeated lyrics from the song my mother sang to me that only our people knew. The world felt like it slowed when I felt the first hit of the wave of water. I screamed as hard as I could and the pain in the wake of it was so intense my ears began to ring. My throat felt raw when he pouring stopped but the sobbing didn’t stop. He kept pouring a second time, then a third time after a short break knowing it would intensified the pain. I was still trembling now not from fear but pain. I slumped forward and to the side off my knees onto my left thigh. The man who poured the lava on me commented, “such a shame,” but there was no empathy in his voice. He walked back over to my father and turned the electricity up and kept it on until he passed out. Not long after the muslin bag was thrown over my head again and they undid the cuffs. I just slumped to the floor face first unable to move. They dragged my father and I back to the cell where we were held earlier and laid me on the cold cell floor. They removed the bag around my head and I noticed my grandfather no longer laid in the corner. I don’t remember much after because the world was getting darker and I eventually gave into the slumber when the pain and the blood loss became too much.

I woke up in my dad’s embrace sometime later, he was petting my head whispering sweet nothings into my hair. He was crying and repeating apologies. I opened my eyes and muttered “Dad” somewhere in between a lingual language and slurring. He didn’t stop his ministrations but now changed his words, “Your name is Aure. You’re no longer Y/N. If anyone ask you say that is who you are. The others, they didn’t make it, but you, you will! I’m going to help you escape. I need you to live on Aure. Once we reach the front door I need you to run and get as far away as possible. My little wolf you will run!” I was unsure of what he meant, what did he mean only I was going to escape? Why weren’t we going together? “Dad, it’s both of us or nothing.” He shook his head and stroked my cheek and told me that when the guards leave be prepared to leave.

I wasn’t prepared when my dad was able to bend the uneven metal bars, or when I snuck down the cell hallway up the stairs. The torch lights flickered when we passed by them. I wasn’t prepared when he held his hand over my mouth walking up the irregularly spaced cement stairs into the cabin on ground floor. I wasn’t prepared when he shoved me out the front door when the hunters ambushed him seeing us trying to escape. I wasn’t prepared when he fought them off with everything he had and he yelled to me with his last breath “Run!”. I had to leave him. I ran, unprepared, but I ran away.

I shifted into my wolf form because I was able to run faster on four legs than two. The pain from the burns along my spine and the gashes all over my body made the shift harder and regaining traction back nauseating. I stumbled my way into the forest and broke into a full run with all I had. Pain was secondary now. I kept running even when I couldn’t hear any more voices. I couldn’t trust silence. I kept running even when I was stumbling over my front paws, I must keep going. I came across a river at the end of a blue-green waterfall. Behind the waterfall’s cascade was a cave but before I made any moves into it I smelled the surroundings for anyone or anything. The coast was clear, so I stumbled into the entrance slipping on some rocks and into a shallow pool of cold water. The cold soothed my burns and the dirt in my fur contaminant the once clear water. The normally light-brown, white coat was a dark brown and burgundy. I stayed in the pool, I didn’t have energy to get back up. I was done running off adrenaline. I began sobbing knowing I now had lost my whole family. I had no one anymore. I cried myself into exhaustion and passed out in the water.

Daylight poured into the cave diffused in scattered light through the curtains of water. I laid in the same position for a while longer because the adrenaline was finally wearing off. I was so sore, but I was able to prop myself flat onto my stomach, whimpering when I put too much pressure on my ribs, and licked at my wounds enough to seal them. Werewolf’s have a special enzyme in their saliva that provide a Neosporin topical protection. Normally werewolves heal fast, but under extreme stress it can take just as long as a human’s regrowth rate. I had to get up and keep going, I didn’t know how far away the hunters were or if they were already waiting for me nearby. I limped my way out of the cave and drank some water from a clean pool before I carried on. The pain wasn’t as bad as last night, but my back felt tight with the now seared flesh solidifying into scars. Along my way I tried to hunt but no small creatures were around and if there was they were too fast. I kept going until it was pitch black out. A cabin amongst the trees broke the darkness with its porch light. I crouched behind bushes and observed it for any life. There was an old, green pickup truck off to the side of the cabin. I knew someone had to be living there, there must be food, all I had to do was sneak in to take some. I watched the home for any obvious signs hunters were a part of the place, but there wasn’t any pelts or animal skins.

After waiting for an hour, I crept to the side of the house in my human form naked to a side window that was left ajar. I creaked the wooden window pane open but stopped when it got too noisy. I waited for any sound, but nothing came. I gripped the wood and worked my way into the house landing on a knitted rug. I used my night vision to my advantage and observed the room locating the Kitchen. I crept through the dark house into the kitchen. The wooden floor boards would occasionally creak, but I tried to space it out enough to seem like natural, old home settling creaks. The steel double door of the fridge was calling to me, so I braced for the sound of the hiss from opening the door and held my breath as it opened. The decompression of the fridge activated the humming of the radiator. There was too much noise going on, so I grabbed any Tupperware and a crispy, cold apple and ran back to the window.

The light turned on and I froze in the middle of a living room with the evidence in plain sight. My bare back was turned to whomever the two owners of fast paced heart beats were, and I turned around with the apple in my mouth and my eyes wide. I covered my chest with my scared arms and the Tupperware protecting myself as much as I could. The older couple were still in the midst of tying their robes over their pajamas. I began stepping back but tripped over the same knitted rug I landed on spilling the contents on the Tupperware on the floor and myself. I was lowly growling in a way to have them back away enough for me to sneak back out the window. They held their hands up in defense and the older man spoke first, “we aren’t going to hurt you. Please, just calm down.” I was still eyeing the window but my direction of attention changed when they said, “You’re hurt, let us patch you up and feed you. You’re hungry right?” I stopped growling but yapped back in a broken voice, “No, you’re just going to take me back to them! I won’t go back!” They exchanged confused looks not knowing who I was referring too. “Honey, we don’t know who you’re talking about. Please, let us help you.” The room was silent for a few minutes and I looked around taking in the room to see if they had any weapons or pelts. The living room was humble with an old sofa, wooden tables and family pictures. I untensed when nothing indicated hunters and hunched over, but immediately cried out when the movement put stress on my wounds. The older woman inched her way towards me and was able to pick up the apple that fell out of my mouth and handed it to me. With a reluctant hand I extended then brought it back, but fully went to grab it rapidly. The older woman took my other hand and lead me to the bathroom. She asked me to stand in the shower so she could wash off the dirt and clean my wounds. She was truly gentle with me and didn’t ask any questions. I want to run, but the comforting hand of hers reminded me of my own grandmother. I started crying, an ugly cry, hunching over to collapsing to my own feet. The older woman was alarmed, she thought she hurt me further and asked what’s wrong. I shook my head and she brought me into her chest in an embrace not caring that she was getting wet. She rocked me back in forth until my sobs stopped. She dressed my wounds but said, “I’m not a nurse so this is the best I can do. I can’t cover your back up with any bandage. The burn is too extensive, I’m going to just apply aloe and we’ll let it heal on its own.” I nodded slowly in confirmation and she took a step out to her room to grab me some clothing. I finally took a step towards the wide mirror. The woman that looked back at me was an unfamiliar creature. My skin was pale littered in black and blue marks and gauze looped over the countless cuts. I slowly turned around to take a look at my back, if I could call it that anymore. It could’ve been mistaken for a world map from the apex of my neck all the way down to the small of the back. It was roaring red with purple lining the jagged edges of the map, the tiny cluster of blisters were inflamed full to the brim with serum. I was numb at this point, I had no tears left in me, no energy left to mourn anymore.

The family fed me and gave me a room to stay in, they didn’t ask any questions just let me sleep. They respected my sensitive nature for the night. The next evening I woke up after sixteen hours of sleep and was greeted by the older man sipping coffee on the couch, while his wife was across from him knitting a blanket. They looked up at me and smiled widely, “Evening dear, there’s food set on a plate on the dinner table for you.” I nodded and sat down in one of the four chairs with the plate of food. They both joined me at the table sitting across from me. I stopped eating when the atmosphere became uncomfortable. The old man spoke first with a stern voice, “If you’re going to stay here until your better we need to know who you are and where you came from.” I set the utensil down and stared at my plate, but the man spoke again,” I see your eyes are a different color than any natural color, are you one of them?” The older man spoke last words with venom and I knew it wasn’t safe to tell him the truth. I settled for a half-truth half lie on the spot, “my-my name is Aure. I ran away from..”gulp,” the a group of men that took me away from my family. They were sick men and performed experiments on me and my eyes. The last time was too much and I just ran away. I couldn’t take it anymore.” I struggled a bit with a solid story, but it came off as if what I was saying was too painful to relate. I was sure I probably sounded slightly cynical but that just helped me out. I was hoping they would take sympathy on me and consider me a rightful victim. The older woman grabbed my hand in her and patted it, “I’m so sorry that you went through all that. Those men must’ve experimented with wolf blood. Should we call the police? You can stay here as long as you want dear. We’ll be more than happy to take you in.” I looked up afraid, “please, no I don’t want to involve the authorities. I-I just want to stay hidden, it’s safer that way.” The older man just nodded not caring to sit much longer at the table. “He can be rough around the edges, but he means well.” I smiled at her words, but knew I would be walking on glass in this house.

Two years passed, and I’ve never left the cabin. I was happy here, although the first few months were awkward and a struggle the couple never made me feel obliged to anything. I was able to hide who I truly was well with no mishaps. They asked me to call them something else besides mister and misses and I settled on Nana and Papa. Papa taught me how to work the gardens in the back and I even started my own lane of vegetation. Nana taught me how to knit and brew the best cups of tea. It was humble and quiet, but I was glad I had a place to stay. The family had two sons, but they rarely came to visits since they lived in the city. Their old room was now my room and I would read the old comic books they had. The one that caught my attention was Marvel’s Black Widow. I read it back and forth, over and over again. I even found some books on how to fight with diagrams! It was really a boy’s room. They told me they’ve always wanted a daughter, so I was a blessing in disguise.

At night when no one was awake I crept outside to the back and shifted enjoying my wolf form and resting the itch of the beast. I wasn’t the same tawny wolf I used to be with my beautiful light-brown, white coat. My back had a large patch of missing where the scars wouldn’t grow hair back. There was a unique scar on my hind leg of the letter H from when they cut me up letting anyone know who they were. The hunters were forever attached to me. That wasn’t the only scar, my arms were also covered in scars not as large as the H but still notable. I would take the book with me and practice the diagrams. I wanted to be able to defend myself if anything like that were to happen again. I wouldn’t let it happen again. I would always return “home” before they got up and carried on with life.

Nana came up to me with her carrying her canvas grocery bags and list of groceries; papa was slowly in tow adjusting his paperboy hat on his head with the keys in his hand. “Aure, we will be gone until five, but we’ll be back before sundown. We need to make a trip to the store and visit a fellow neighbor. Will you be fine by yourself?” I shook your head, “yes, Nana. I have chores to finish anyways so I will be busy!” She rubbed my arm and they both trailed their way out the door into the pick-up truck. I stood at the door and waved them off watching the truck become a dot in the distance. I went back inside and rolled up my sleeves, it was time to get to work. I cleaned the living room, bathroom and all the bedrooms in no time. I made myself an early lunch and was officially done with all the chores around two p.m. and it would still be another three hours before they came back. I decided I would take advantage of this time alone and shift into my wolf form that way I could sleep all night. I went out back and stripped of my clothing and hid it behind a tree. I shifted with a crack and popping of my bones, but ended up in my natural state. The breeze dusted through my tawny fur and it was the most refreshing sensation. I happily ran a typically path I created chasing any small wild life in tease, rubbing my whole body on the fresh dirt and basked in the sun. It was paradise. I took a nap in the sun on a boulder that acted like a heating pad, but before I knew it the rock grew cold. I snapped awake to a starry sky and bid goodbye to the long-gone sun. I knew I had to make it home fast and change without anyone seeing me.

I ran. I ran as fast as my feet would take me back to the familiar cabin. Within a distant from the cabin I approached the typical tree where I hid my clothing besides, but I wasn’t alone. Papa held up my dress clearly panicked and looked around for you calling out my name. In the clearing of the tree he caught me in my wolf form standing a few trees away. I shifted back into my human form covering my naked body and called to him, “Papa, please. I can explain. I can ex-.”  He threw the dress to the ground causing dust to fly up in a cloud. He didn’t let me finish my statement, he never would. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the front of the cabin where Nana was waiting. She was wide eye when she saw me naked and being dragged back. She ran up to me but Papa yelled at her, “Stay back, she’s one of them! The tramp!” I winced at his strong words. Nana was looking at me with pleading eyes, she was wishing what she heard wasn’t true. He threw me down to the floor like my dress earlier. My knees scrapped against the dry dirt and he left walking into the house. Nana came up to me and grabbed my shoulders, “please, Aure, tell me it’s not true. You’re our Aure, you can’t be one of them!” Tears streamed down my face silently and down to the dirt, I didn’t want them to find out this way. “Nana—,” I spoke to her softly grabbing her hand, but it was yanked away from me by Papa. “Get back from her! She doesn’t deserve our kindness. She’s no better than the dirt she sits on. She’s even worse than that. Her kind should all die!” I couldn’t hold my sobs back in anymore, his words stung.

He pulled Nana behind him and then brought up his rifle to my forehead. The cold metal barrel sat in between my eyes waiting. I stopped moving, everything seemed to go in slow motion. No, no, he wasn’t going to really shoot me, he was just trying to scare me. I scooted back on my legs away from his gun. Nana was shouting at him to stop and lower the rifle, but he just yelled over her with a ferocious roar to shut up. It was as if all life in the forest stopped, the trees weren’t swaying, no small animals moved, the wind was silent. I stared back at the stoutly man who raised the machinery to me. I slowly stood up, “Papa—!” He spat at my feet, “don’t call me any endearing terms mongrel.” I knew it was no use arguing with him anymore, but I had to get away. I had to live I made a promise to my father. I backed away slowly one baby step at a time and noticing his finger switch over to the trigger as he mounted the butt of the gun on his shoulder. The darkness all seemed to blend in as I turned around not facing my once temporary family anymore and took strides away from them. The first long step was successful, your hair was blown behind you from your fast pace. I felt my toes curl around the loose dirt with each step and releasing it along with every propulsion. The air was cold stung and dried out my throat as I huffed forward. I felt it before I heard the echo of the bang of gunfire. I held my breath upon impact as my knees skidded across the stale forest floor. Tears were rolling down my cheek, the bullet was logged in my thigh. I let out a scream that echoed enough to disturb the dead. I propped my hands in front of me and allowed the change to come over me. I had to keep going! I wasn’t dying here tonight, not tonight!

I shifted the best you could and kept thrusted off the ground running full speed. In the distant other rounds of gunshots rang out in my direction, but they became a faint echo the longer I kept going. I kept running, running for my life. The low hanging branches would graze against my side, but I didn’t want to stop. I climbed up a hill, crossed a river bank, and kept going until vision started blurring. The tall pine trees stood over me as I fell against one propping myself up. The pain was unbearable, I couldn’t even support my leg up anymore. I began limping with the leg raised but stopping at every other tree to rest.

Eleven, large grey wolves glided through the night. The sound of unison marching and panting broke the quiet night. Namjoon remained in the back while his father remained in front leading the pack. The males were out tonight monitoring the perimeter and answering the call to their wolf with the freedom to run. Namjoon remained in the back to keep track of the younger ones, not letting them deviate from the path. His father was the main alpha of the tribe, he was the Minister of Wolves. He eventually would have to take on that role also being an alpha. The hierarchy of wolfs were maintained in the blood lines and passed down through generations. Namjoon was a large, dark grey wolf that is larger than the others in his pack and the average werewolf. He was almost the spitting image of his father. The wolves ran and ran coming across nothing out of line, until they smelled me. Namjoon halted the group with a howl. He lifted his muzzle to the air and took in the scent of iron and an unfamiliar wolf. He looked towards his father and only two other betas followed him in his search. They crept and moved closer to the scent. About a quarter of a mile away, Namjoon saw the owner of the scent. I was leaning against the tree panting, sure these would be my last breathes. I finally registered that three other beings were in my area. I lifted my head to gaze at three large wolfs, the middle one was the largest. They were lowly growling in my direction. I wasn’t about to back down, even in the face of death. I shakily stood on my legs and facing their direction and changed my stance into a defensive one. I was challenging them, my rose gold eyes gleamed with anger. The largest one with bright red eyes stepped forward attempting to circle me, but I snapped and growled at him. His body language was telling me to back down and submit, but I wasn’t going to submit to anyone. When I felt he was getting too close I ran off. I didn’t get too far when I stumbled over my front paws when my hind leg gave out. I skidd across the floor in a loud yelp. The pain was too great, I had no other choice. I tried crawling away on my paws dragging my hind legs but I couldn’t gain any traction. The wolves came up behind me and the same red eyed one circled around to face my front and sat down in front of me. The others tried approaching but he just growled at them. He knew it when he first smelled it, he knew it when he got closer, and he knew it when he saw you. You were his mate.

In your tired state you still growled at him, but he wasn’t having it. He transformed into his human form and asked the others to warn his father of your presence. They left and I was left with a handsome, naked man. He came to crouch down next to me and spoke softly, “I need you to switch back. I can’t help you in this way. I won’t hurt you. I don’t know how much longer you’re going to live if you stay out here.” I didn’t want him touching me, but for some reason when he spoke to me it felt comforting. A type of safe I haven’t known in a very long time. I conceded and shifted back into my human form laying on my side. My vision was going in and out and eventually I couldn’t hear him anymore. Namjoon quick to react and picked you up bridal style avoiding your wound. He ran back to the pack covering up your chest by bringing you closer to him away from the prying eyes. His father nodded, and the pack continued forward. Namjoon ran back to the packhouse about a mile away. In between, he would take looks at you, his beautiful mate. He couldn’t make out much since it was so dark, but what he could his heart already was yours.

He made his way up to the oak tree where the whole pack hid their clothing in a container disguised as a rock. He slipped his pants on and his shirt over you. He ran through the back door of the packhouse and called for his grandmother, “Help! Please, help!”

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Copyright 2018  © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[dancingbaek]

To End in Ice and Fire | Part 1

Being born with a particular birthmark is the lurking fear every parent has in their hearts when they bring a child into this dark world. Your parents are the only ones who have never received relief when creating life, because they knew your soul would be damned for eternity when he finally comes to claim what’s his.

Moodboard // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

This fiction will be dark. It will contemplate eternal life as prescribed by schools of thought ruling the 17th century, most notably Christianity. Will use Biblical references, so if that’s not your thing then sit this one out. Dark themes, violence, and heavy angst.

Waking up on Sundays has become one of the hardest things you’ve had to endure. You’ve been through the phases; all of them. When you were young you believed they would become your saving grace and God would protect you from all of the demons chasing you. When you aged a few years you became angry with Him, angry because how could He damn a child at birth? After that phase came a deep-seated sadness that settled into your bones and became something you could never quite overcome.

Now, they just seem to be a waste of time.

You swing your legs out of from under your heavy duvet as the knocking at your door becomes more insistent. The wooden floors feel cool under your warm and bare feet as you shuffle over to the door in darkness, reaching for the knob out of muscle memory. The door flies open, your mother gliding into the room in all of her grace, skirts swooshing back and forth. Your eyes immediately squint as she goes straight for the curtains blocking out the sunlight. It rushes through the room, chasing away the shadows. She’s already dressed for church: never one for modesty when it comes to wealth, she already has her pannier supporting the perfectly hanging baby blue dress outwards at the hips. Her Brunswick was already buttoned into place, the jacket poofing at her hips just like her church dress. Blue shadow was smeared across her lids, rouge patted to give her cheeks a more youthful appearance despite the crow’s feet beginning to blossom around her eyes.

“Well, have you chosen which dress you would like to wear today?” She prompts, going to your wardrobe. There are only two dresses you have that she has ever deemed fit to be appropriate for church. Your family was never the wealthiest in town, in fact, it was likely the least-wealthiest of the upper class, but nonetheless that never hindered your mother from parading around like she was the Countess herself. Even though you saw nothing wrong with your other gowns, your mother never allowed you to wear them where other wealthy families would see.

“Yes.” You answer her, going to pull the one you hadn’t worn last week out. You quickly learned, growing up, that your mother didn’t want you to wear the same dress twice in a row to more public functions. She still gave you the illusion that you had a say, however.

She nods in approval, taking the gown from you so you can undress from your sleepwear. You let her dress you, as she’s done herself since you were a girl. Your parents left nothing to chance or trust, as seeing the birthmark over your collar would send any handmaid far away from this house, perhaps spreading your secret as she went. Perhaps even far enough from the sin you all were trying to avoid.

She dresses you quickly and efficiently, the pannier being strapped around your waist tightly, the corset following up overhead, before you zone out, your mother pushing and pulling and twirling you around as she sets out to dress you properly for church, stitching your jacket halfway up your neck. You turn down the offer of smearing powder across your eyes or painting your lips, preferring to stand in the house of God as nothing but who you are. Stepping into your slippers for the day as you grab your Bible from your nightstand are the last things you do before your mother sweeps you from your room, down the grand staircase to where your father is already waiting by the door.

“Are we ready, ladies?” He questions, straightening his coat jacket hanging over the white shirt he has on underneath. Your mother nods in affirmation, and he turns from the two of you to walk out to the carriage before you meet him at the door. The rejection stings, even now. Your mother’s hand tightens on your elbow minusculely, as if she knows the pain you feel every time he passes you over. You never figured out quite why he acts like this, because when you were a girl he was the most doting father. It was as if one day he woke up and decided loving you was no longer worth it, when you would eventually just be snatched away by the shadows and sins of the night.

“I heard the Count and Countess are going to be at church today.” Your mother states as the two of you follow your father out the door, down the cobblestone path to the waiting carriage. You allow your mother to step into first, following her carefully in after. Your pointless pannier causes the fit through the door to be difficult, like usual, but by now you’re all but too experienced in fitting the side hoops around your hips through tight spaces. You sit across from your parents, moving the curtain that’s blocking the outside world from being seen. Her comment goes unanswered because your father immediately strikes up a conversation about needing to give more to the church. That won’t do, you already know, because your mother needs that money to make more dresses for herself. Cue the ensuing bickering.

Going to church is one of the few things you’re allowed to do. As you’ve gotten older, the restrictions on you have gotten tighter. It feels as if your parents feel the clock winding down, and soon you’ll no longer be with them. So they have to hold on tighter, keep you in their sight longer. If not…

Your thoughts turn to Richard. Seeing him no longer makes your chest burn, but it does send a wave of nostalgia over you. Not for the boy who seems to have eyes for a new woman, no; nostalgia for a time you hardly thought about your future. It was a time you could ignore the mark when you bathed, dreaming of running through the garden and swimming in the stream nearby when you managed to slip out from your mother’s thumb. A time when your prayers at night were short and kept things like please keep my family healthy, my friends happy, and let me get new toys for my birthday, instead of huddling at the side of your bed praying to be granted entrance to heaven when you die, to be spared from inevitably burning due to your future.

Your father is the first to leave the carriage when it stops near the steps of the church, your mother following him out. He offers his arm to her, and she takes it delicately like the lady she is. You trample out after them, much less graceful than your mother, but you blame that on your jacket catching the latch of the door on the way out. You only hope it didn’t rip any of the stitches when you feel loosen across your chest and neck. Trailing your parents by a few feet, you look up at the pristine church before you: sky-reaching spires tower towards the heavens, the white of the building practically glowing in the early morning sun.

Inside, the pews are organized in orderly rows, the dark, older wooden ones in the back of the church for those who are less fortunate than your parents. Dust-bitten Bibles are intermittently places across those pews, for the few poorer attendees who know how to read. A few spots are already taken by them, and one man looks up to watch your family walk in. He turns away when you meet his gaze. Your parents take their places at the head of the congregation, the pew closest to the priest. Padded and colored a pale blue, those in charge of the church reserve these pews for the rich, citing the excuse that they give the most to the Lord’s house and therefore deserve to be taken care of.

The sun makes breaks through the stained-glass windows of the building, casting the altar and chancel in yellows, blues, and reds that dance with the trees swaying back and forth outside. The elderly priest stands at his podium, his personal Bible laid out before him, his gently shaking hands flipping through the pages he’s prepared to read for this Sunday’s service.

Richard’s family enters the church minutes after yours does, and the three of you stand to greet your parents’ friends. Richard’s new wife, Mary, holds his arm like your mother holds your father’s, but you only smile prettily and greet them politely, like you were never considered a part of their family. Somehow the seven of you fit on one pew, and as if it’s a sign, you sit furthest from the priest, furthest from his Bible, blessed by the Pope himself. Fitting.

“Welcome.” The priest says, his voice low and scratchy, and for a moment you wonder if he’s even loud enough for the commoners to hear him, all the way in the back. He takes a moment to clear his throat, before he’s speaking louder. “Let us start with some hymns to give glory to our Lord.”

You all stand once again, and you take the Bible from your mother, flipping to the right page. You sing with the rest of them, your voice only a whisper. Hymns are a waste of time to you; you understand their importance, but you would rather listen directly to the word of God than spend time giving glory to somehow who has yet to explain why you were born the way you were.

O come, all ye faithful

This time, when the hymns are over, they ring about in your head. When the priest is reading from the Gospel of Luke, you can’t get the lilting voices of the congregation from your head. Unable to focus on the retelling of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, you lean your head back, eye slipping closed. To anyone of the congregation, it would appear as if your pious nature (for that’s what most remember you for) is letting you soak up the words of your spiritual leader, but in reality you’re trying to shake the ringing of voices and the haunting sound of the organ.

The service is unnaturally short today. When the priest signals the end of the service, he lets everyone know the confessionals are open should anyone need use to confess sins on this day. You stand from your seat, letting your mother know in a hushed tone that you would like to confess today. She waves you off, turning with your father to the Count. Your feet lead you to the enclosed stall, and seeing that you’re the first person there, you slip inside, sliding the door closed when you fit your dress inside. You only glance at the screen long enough to note that there is indeed the outline of a man behind it, sitting like you are, ready to absolve you of your sins.

Joyful and triumphant

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned…” You start out but are unable to continue. You haven’t stolen anything, you haven’t committed sin with a man or yourself, you haven’t had sinful thoughts… “Father, I have a question.”

“Yes child?” He answers. It’s a different priest, one who sounds a little younger and more interested in what you have to say. Perhaps the church got a new priest. It didn’t matter; months will pass and he’ll become as disinterested as the lead priest in his congregation, outside of the weekly donations families give.

But you see your chance now, and you finally muster up the courage to confess something as close to the truth as you dare. You have the attention of a man of God, and you won’t pass up your chance at receiving answers. “Will God forsake me for sins that are not my doing?”

“What do you mean?” He questions, and you hear his robes ruffle a bit as he shifts on the other side of the divider.

“Say… we are born with sin, are we not?” You’re unsure of how to explain the nature of what your sin is, so the only thing you can do is relate it to the sin everyone is born with. You can only hope he doesn’t dig deeper than you’re willing to go. You finally have the confidence to ask a man of God the questions that have kept you up at night for years now.

“Yes.” The priest responds. “The original sin of Adam is something everyone is afflicted with. The only way to overcome it is to live a life free of other sin, and to accept Jesus Christ as our savior.”  

“So what if I inherit sin from my real father? Do I have to live in his sin forever, will God judge me for his sin, even if I do not want to partake in it?”

“To partake in sin is to sin.” He clarifies. “But our God is a merciful one, and repenting will absolve you of any blasphemy. If the sin you speak of is anything like the sin we are all burdened with, God will know what’s in your heart.”

“Thank you, father.” You let out a trembling breath, the waves of relief rolling over you like the incoming tide washing away the day’s stress. Though it’s not enough to fully put aside your worries over your fate after death, it’s enough to silence the fears for now. The future is still uncertain, there will be undoubtedly many things you will have to overcome, but at least you now know there’s a chance you will be granted access to paradise. You just have to remain steadfast in your devotion.

O come ye, o come ye to Bethlehem

Exiting the confessional, you lower your eyes respectfully when you pass the senior priest and make your way out to your family. Your steps are unusually light, and you practically bounce as you approach. Seeing that the Count and Countess are engaging your parents in what seems to be a discussion over where money is better spent, due to your father continuously patting his coin purse hanging at his side, you stop short. Richard and his wife are standing nearby, and before anyone can see you, your feet carry you out a side door. The rich sun caresses your face, and you close your eyes briefly to enjoy the warmth.

You don’t know what causes this sudden need to abandon the rules of your parents. After all, disobeying your parents can be considered a sin. However, with the lightness you’re now experiencing, you feel the need to slip away and enjoy this feeling before the suffocating nature of your mother and the coldness of your father rob you of this newfound fire for life that’s spreading through you. You walk out onto the cobblestone path leading towards the bulk of the town you live in. You gather your skirts in your hands, lifting them to avoid some of the puddles still persisting after the light rain the area experienced last night.

You follow some of the inhabitants of the city into the narrow streets. The smells assault your nose: the freshly baked bread one man is selling on the street, the filth of so many people living so close to one another, the general store peddling perfumes and genuine leather, the wafting scent of a flower store in the distance. Its disorienting, in a way that you haven’t experienced for a long time now. You follow some of the churchgoers still, and when they pause to see the leather shoes from the general store you manage to slide by and continue on the way, slowly making your way deeper into the streets of the town. The further you get from the church the more you see the effects the last war had on this place. Faces you pass become gaunt, women hold their children closer, and you become uncomfortable.

Suddenly realizing you weren’t paying attention to where you were going, you turn around, ready to go back to your parents. You’ve experienced enough for today, you decide, and perhaps you could come back sometime later this week. It had been a while since you had last been in the town, nevermind the fact you hadn’t been alone that time either.

Come and behold Him…

You’re lost. You discover this fact when you turn down an alleyway you thought you recognized, but when you come out the other end you discover that nothing looks familiar anymore. The street is lined with people, brushing against everyone as they try to make their way down or up the street. There’s a woman sitting on the other side of the street, and when she meets your eyes you see the milky white glaze over her pupils and irises, but somehow you know deep down she sees you. You’re ready to turn around and try to retrace your steps back, but while you spin around your dress catches on the broken stone porch leading to someone’s home. It catches and rips as you try to free it, quickly becoming uncomfortable with your back to the blind woman, but the more you tug the more unstable you become. Someone bumps into you as they try to slide past your frantic tugging.

The bump sets you off balance, and you sprawl to the floor, turning back around as you try to catch yourself. However, the telltale riiip comes as you tumble over, and as you hit the floor you feel the gentle breeze waft over your chest. Your jacket is ripped open, the seams already having been weakened when they caught earlier today. Now they’ve come apart, revealing the low top of the dress you wear. The fall has robbed you of your breath and senses, because if you had any sense at all left you would have clasped the ends of the jacket back together to hide your collarbone.

The old crone across the street stands on her shaky, knobby legs, and the sight of it freezes the blood in your veins. The heat you had previously felt is stopped dead in its tracks and replaced with ice, because at once you understand the care you and your parents have taken for the entirety of your life is about to be undone. Pointing with one crooked finger, she opens her mouth, and utters in an impossibly steady voice for a woman as ancient as she, “the devil’s lover.”

Born the King of Angels.

Italicized from “O Come, All Ye Faithful”

Let me know what you guys think about the first part!

@magic-begins-here

[heartbreakerholland]

surprise [s.h.]

Request: Could you do a sam blurb/imagine where you’re roommates and it’s your birthday so he has balloons hanging everywhere and has cooked your breakfast/brunch and decides to ask you out but ya boy is hella nervous... - @aussie-mantle

A/N: this is such a cute idea! i don’t see much writing about harry or sam so i hope i did this lil blurb justice 😬 thanks for requesting and reading babe!! 💜

Type: blurb

Pairing: Sam Holland x GenderNeutral!Reader

[master list] [prompts] [join a tag list]

Request a headcanon/blurb/moodboard and I’ll do it for you ASAP! (original post)

•••

(imagine this is sam celebrating after you agree to go on a date with him omg)

“How the hell has Y/N not woken up yet?” Harry whispered to Sam as he tiptoed out of your bedroom for the umpteenth time that morning.

Sam hit his brother playfully. “Hush up or Y/N will hear you! I want this to be a complete surprise, okay?” He then quietly walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the dish he so carefully prepared for you: pancakes with a generous candle on top.

“Another thing,” Harry said to his brother with the same volume, resulting in a glare as a response. He continued, “Did you really have to cook pancakes three times?”

Sam rolled his eyes, pausing on the way back to your room. “Yes. They had to be perfect, mate. Now shut up, I’m gonna wake Y/N up.”

“Why can’t I come inside?”

“You know exactly why you can’t come with me. I’m gonna ask Y/N out today. Yaknow, as one of my—stop laughing—as one of my birthday presents.”

Sam then continued the short walk between your room and the kitchen of your shared apartment. He paused at the closed door, noticing how clammy his hands were and the sweat threatening to appear at the back of his neck. He somehow managed to suppress the nervousness the entire morning as he filled your room’s floor and ceiling with balloons and while he cooked your breakfast. It didn’t help that Harry was teasing him the entire time, shuffling between giving his brother words of courage and doubt. It didn’t really affect Sam until now, however, edging on the handle as a number of scenarios played in his head.

What if Y/N says no? What if I was just imagining everything between us the entire time? Will Y/N mind that we’re already roommates?

He shook his head slightly as if it would clear the clutter of thoughts. “It’s now or never,” he whispered to himself, and went in.

“HAAAPPY BIRRRRTHDAY TOOO YOOOOOU!”

You jumped awake, startled at the loud singing that suddenly came from somewhere in your room. You quickly gathered yourself and noticed it was Sam, all smiles, holding an abnormally large stack of pancakes in his hands with a lit candle on top. You sat up with your elbows, still slightly disoriented, when you noticed balloons in your favorite color all littering the floor and completely covering the ceiling. A big grin plastered itself on your face as you watched the beautiful boy walk towards you in your bed, kicking balloons up on the way. Small giggles turned to uncontrollable laughs as he finished singing.

“Make a wish, Y/N!” He held the plate in front of your face, and you quickly examined the wax dripping down the candle before blowing it out with closed eyes.

“Sam!” you said, a smile still glued on. You looked at him, close enough to count his freckles, and felt warmth exploding from your chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, placing the plate down on your nightstand. You noticed the slight shake in his hands, so you took them in your own as you normally would considering how close the two of you are.

“It’s your birthday, love!” You ignored the single bead of sweat trailing down his hairline and the stickiness of his palms, knowing that only happened to him when he’s nervous, and he continued. “I hope you like it. It’s your birthday so I wanted to make it special for you! I have a lot planned for you today since you said nobody else would be celebrating with you anyways. First we’ll eat breakfast then you’re gonna have to get dressed so we can go out and go somewhere that you said you’ve been wanting to go to but it’s a surprise so I can’t tell you where then maybe if you want to go on a date with me then-oh did I mention Harry is here because he wanted to say happy birthday too and-“

You interrupted him with a laugh, realizing that was the reason why he seemed so nervous. He was asking you out. “Sam,” you said, the word “date” ringing in your ears. “You’re rambling. But I’d love to do all of that! And I’d love to go on a date with you.”

His smile reciprocated your own, but before he could put another word in a voice from elsewhere in the apartment called, “I told you so!”

tag list: @spideyboiiiiiiii @anothertrashynerd @mysteriouslyluckymoon @tommytheholland @sholla4-314

[alien-bodies]

Oversharing Time!!!

(i just made that title up that’s not the official title I’m just Like That)

Ok so @frogyell​ tagged my main account (I am BLEST) but that’s for Refined Star Trek Content and this one’s for excellent moodboard content and garbage so here’s the garbage!!! I’m putting it under a cut bc it manipulates your brain to want to read through 85 fuckin facts about me more wow I love science

rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

1. last drink: Water! off to a great start

2. last phone call: my local Hot Topic. I feel like I should also mention I work there. But if you don’t know that and steal my phone you’ll see I have a contact named Hot Topic

3. last text message: Google sent me a verification code, but the last one I sent was to my brother it says “k”

4. last song you listened to: It’s called The Horror Of Your Love by Ludo, if I had to delete all but one song on my 121-song Best Enemies playlist I’d keep this one it’s Peak and kinda has vore but it’s metaphorical. metavoreical, if you will

5. time you cried: during my latest EMDR sesh! I was in Wales and everything it was a Lot I got ice cream after

6. dated someone twice? Big No

7. kissed someone and regretted it? Not really?

8. been cheated on? my ex had 16 anime dating sims downloaded at one point while we were dating does that count

9. lost someone special? yea

10. been depressed? hella

11. gotten drunk and thrown up? I’ve been drunk 1 time and it was when I was playing English handbells at my dad’s church’s wassail night but I did not throw up no

fave colors

12. Black

13. Lavendar

14. Light blue

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends? Hell Yell!!

16. fallen out of love? k i n d a ? ?

17. laughed until you cried? oh absolutely

18. found out someone was talking about you? OH BOY YUP YUP

19. met someone who changed you? yes! she managed to physically alter my hippocampus without touching it how fuckign whack is that

20. found out who your friends are? It’s always the same miraculous group chat

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list? sure have

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl? I keep it nice and refined so all of them. My old account is another story

23. do you have any pets? one beautiful and talented cat named Moriarty. A good description is she’s got puppy software on cat hardware.

24. do you want to change your name? listen I’ve been through 4.5 of these fuckers, I like Nate, I’m Quite Finished

25. what did you do for your last birthday? invited 2 pals over, I remember one of them suddenly whipped out I Am The Doctor and the Dr Who theme on the piano out of fuckin nowhere and I was like “Daniel what the hell you’re so talented” and then I hardcore dissociated the rest of the day

26. what time did you wake up today? 10:00

27. what were you doing at midnight last night? chatting w @houseofoakdown​ and also editing my monstrosity of a fanfiction

28. what is something you cant wait for? Going back to school! then I can graduate in my pajamas and eat creamed corn in celebration

30. what are you listening to right now? the same goddamn playlist, this one’s called Battle Cry by The Family Crest, i cri erytiem

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom? probably???

32. something thats getting on your nerves? my brother vaping in the bathroom with the fan on at 12:30am

33. most visited website: tungle dot hell

34. hair color: I started out blonde af now I’m less blonde but still blonde.

35. long or short hair: short

36. do you have a crush on someone: :[] yes

37. what do you like about yourself: i’m hella smart, my moodboards are bangin, my writing is cool af, I’m well-hydrated at all times

38. want any piercings? Big No

39. blood type: A+!!!!! thats me!!!!!

40. nicknames: my brother calls me a goon sometimes

41. relationship status: im married to my laptop

42. zodiac: I was born on the last day of Taurus so I’m a definite Taurus/Gemini power combo

43. pronouns: they/them, tho in some places I use he/him bc The Dysphoria got hog wild enough I decided to pretend to be a trans guy so ppl would take me seriously, but I’m moving more towards they/them everywhere now. 

44. fave tv shows: Dr Fuck, Sherlock (I’m armed with a pitchfork and an arsenal of beefed up tv & film knowledge come on fight me), DOWNTON ABBEY

45. tattoos: in August I will get a bee on my right arm and probably a Secret Word in Gallifreyan on my left it’ll say fuck

46. right or left handed: one time I was bored in grade 10 and tried to make myself ambidextrous but that was a hassle so I’m firmly right handed. Except in archery.

47. ever had surgery: got all 4 wisom teeth out not long ago! I still need to squirt water in my gum holes so I get all the mushy food out :{

48. piercings: I used to have my ears pierced but they’re grown tf over now!

49. sport: first of all what the hell is this question looking for second of all I have a red belt (which is 2 below black belt) in Taekwondo. I really need to do that again hhhhhh

50. vacation: i went to England and France in the summer with my family as a “””grad trip”””, it was lots of fun but my collection of sensory issues extended to chomping and I dissociated so intensely in The Louvre my mom told me to go back outside so I wrote fanfiction while listening to 21 Pilots and chatting w my imaginary friends and it took me like 18 hours to process I’d seen The Mona Lisa with mine own 2 eyes. Also the plane was delayed twice bc we used Air Canada for some godforsaken reason and I had 0 hours of sleep when I went to the Sherlock Holmes museum and I started talkin to this bust of Sherlock Holmes and then I hadn’t eaten enough and we were walking to this bookstore and I said “I need food!” and my dad said “We’ll get it AFTER” then I shouted “I’M GONNA DIE” so I got a BLT from Tesco. 

51. trainers: h

more general

52. eating: the last thing I ate was chocolate chips straight out of the bag

53. drinking: I got another cup of water

54. im about to watch: my entire fanfiction to take 3000 notes on consistency. and by watch I mean read

55. waiting for: my brother (not vaping) to get out of the bathroom so I can PEE

56. want: Orphan Black to be on Netflix so I can actually binge watch it then call my grandma about it

57. get married: idk I didn’t think I was a get married person but since realizing I’m a lesbian it seems like a good idea!

58. career: nurse and a writer. I might just move to London and work double time to write enough scripts I have some street cred then pitch a TV adaptation of Faction Paradox to the BBC and win

which is better

59. hugs or kisses: hugs bc it means my friends are in my vicinity not Toronto

60. lips or eyes: uh. eyes???????????

61. shorter or taller: i’m 5′3″ and I would love a tol partner

62. older or younger: i don’t think I care

63. nice arms or stomach: what fresh hell does this mean. I’d like a nice stomach free of gastrointestinal issues and acid reflux. not that I have either of those but just in case

64. hookup or relationship: I have 300 many self-esteem issues so imma say relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant: AU where I don’t have anxiety and I’m a trouble maker

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: noop

67. drank hard liquor: I PUT RUM IN THE WASSAIL HELL YEAH also once someone bought me a shot at a queer dance thing bc it was payday and my friend told me to gulp the WHOLE SHOT and then the lemonade so I don’t barf and I was like “brah this is too high-stakes” so I poured the vodka in the lemonade and took sips and everyone stared at me

68. lost glasses: in grade 6 and then my mom threatened to make me wear one of those granny glasses chains so I never lost them again

69. turned someone down: ya this kid Cyrus used to chase me around in grade 5 and I’d run away always he was weird af one time he made out with a folder right in front of me in the middle of class

70. sex on first date: probs not at this point but I’m not opposed to the general idea when I’m less w h a c k e d  u p

71. broken someones heart: Not that I know of?

72. had your heart broken: c o n s i s t e n t l y in the most fricked up ways god

73. been arrested: no but once I booed at the police bc the local nazis (yeah) were gonna have a rally so we had a counter-rally and I dropped in but there were no nazis except one old dude in a MAGA hat showed up 2 hours late lmao

74. cried when someone died: oui

75. fallen for a friend: Big Lesbian Mood

do you believe in

76. yourself: YA BB

77. miracles: not as such

78. love at first sight: nah

79. santa claus: I wasn’t allowed to believe in Santa as a child bc he was “too much like God” sad

80. kiss on a first date: ye!

81. angels: big no

other

82. best friend’s name: I don’t exactly have a proper best friend but I’m goin with Liam

83. eye colour: blue/grey

84. fave movie: either The Force Awakens (bc I love bb8 and I’m gay 4 Rey) or Interstellar shut up

85. fave actor: uh idk let’s go with my brother

WOW THAT WAS LONG JEE🅱️US. I’m tagging @houseofoakdown @spoonietimelordy @gemvictorfromtheponyverse @spockswhales @raesand and that exhausts the ppl I know but you’re all worth quadruple in my heart 💖

[paintedface]

Happy Birthday Erin. I hope you like your gifts. I wrote you a fic and i made a moodboard to go with it.

Erin had been given gifts from a secret admirer for a week prior to her birthday. All of them were accompanied with a note and the giver had clearly put thought into choosing the right ones to fit her interests.

On Saturday morning Erin found a large box outside of her bedroom with a note on it. She lifted it and shook it a little not being able to understand what was inside. However, she met the most beautiful collection of art supplies any drawer could ask for(x). At first, she thought that Steve had ordered it for himself and it somehow made it to her room by accident. The case contained numerous drawing equipment such as brushes, colored pencils, two palettes, drawing paper and graphite pencils. She reached for the card to find out what was going on.

It read ‘’Erin I am giving you the first gift for your birthday today. Every day you will receive something new. All I want is to make you start your day with a smile. I have been admiring you from afar for a while now and I will reveal myself during your party. Hopefully, you will reciprocate my feelings. I hope you will have the opportunity to use your gift to draw some of the incredible sketches and painting I have witnessed you make. Maybe even a portrait of the team. Love, your secret admirer.’’

Erin, of course, was curious as to who her secret admirer was. The sender hadn’t given away any clues about their identity.  The first thought was whether she wanted to find out or not. She was a little apprehensive because knowing who they were would be good if she liked them back. However, what if it was someone she saw only as a friend? There would be awkwardness all around and she would have to spend her birthday party trying to find a subtle way to break somebody’s heart.

What she did was to write down the names of everyone living in the tower considering they have seen her drawing. She only drew when she was feeling comfortable in a place so the tower was the only environment that gave her that sense of security. She immediately crossed off the list the names that were already in a relationship. Wanda and Vision seemed happy with each other and so did Natasha with Bruce after his return to New York. Clint was married. Steve and Thor both had girlfriends who they loved to brag about. It was sweet seeing them admiring them so deeply.  Both Tony and Scott were trying to reconcile with their exes, much to Erin’s approval. Not only that but they had asked you to help them by creating portraits for them to send as gifts. The last name she crossed off the list was Peter’s who had a crush on someone at his school and not to mention was a teenager so he was out of the question from the beginning. After her initials research Erin was left with only two names on the list, Sam and Bucky.

She was hoping that from the two guys Bucky would be the one who gave her the gift. Even though Sam was cute and charming she saw him more of a brother and had already planned to introduce him to her best friend.  She decided she would try to observe them in order to get an answer to her dilemma. She went to sleep thinking of what would the next preset be.

On Sunday she received a CD with some of her favorite songs on it. The note read ‘’I hope I can brighten your day like you do with every single one of mine. These songs all remind me of you and I have heard you mumbling them on several occasions. You have an amazing voice that I wish could one day be used to sing a song just for me to hear. Enjoy your Sunday.’’  Erin’s heart was beating faster for the reason that the songs her secret admirer used were actually the ones she enjoys listening to. She tried to think of when he could overhear her singing although she came up empty. She brushed it off and went on to prepare for the road trip the team had planned.

While on the road she hatched the plan to ask Steve to put on her new CD for them to listen to. For the entirety of the trip, she was singing along except neither Bucky nor Sam gave anything away that could help detect which one the giver was. At least the team had a great time and bonded with each other.

Monday and Tuesday’s gift were both posters related to her favorite movie and song. One was for Harry Potter with the Ravenclaw crest on it(x). He thanked her in the note for introducing him to the movies and that was what made Erin realized that it was, in fact, Bucky who gave her the gift because she knew Sam loved the movies way before they met. However, she decided to let Bucky reveal himself during the party.  Tuesday’s poster was with Crybaby by Melanie Martinez(x) that according to the note she was singing a few days ago making Bucky want to hug her. You seemed fragile and I was about to start crying. Hope I will be a person you can come to when you feel sad. I am always here for you even when you think you are alone. You make me feel like I can be loved when you talk to me and I want to be that for you if you let me.  Erin put the note close to her heart since it was adorable how he felt for her. She couldn’t wait to tell him that she liked him back.

Bucky went out of his way to find some mystery books for Erin on Wednesday. He had asked everyone else for recommendations. If you already have some of them, I can keep them so I will read books you enjoy. Or we can read some of them at the same time and discuss them. She didn’t have any of them and reading them with him was an idea she loved.

The last two gifts were the ones Erin cherished the most. Bucky had noticed her love for Hamilton so he not only got her a laptop skin reading honorary Schuyler sister(x) but also lyric sheets signed by Lin-Manuel Miranda(x). I also have two tickets for the show in two weeks from now. Should you agree to the date I would love to go with you. If not, the tickets are yours to share with whoever you want. Erin squealed since she would get to watch the show and with her favorite super soldier of all people.

The day of the party everyone was in a frenzy to make it perfect. Tony came up with the idea of a slumber party with plenty of blankets, pillows, and fairy lights. He took care of the catering ordering comfort food and hot drinks. Everyone else was in charge of the decorations. Nat and Wanda took her to a spa as their present.

Erin’s remaining gifts consisted mostly of clothes, a portrait of her from Steve and a kitten that Sam had overheard her mentioning she wanted. He also mentioned that the bed, shampoos and other products were already pursued and he gave her the number of a vet. Thor promised to take her on a trip to Asgard in the future and Tony presented her with the plan with her own purple suit.

‘’Great party isn’t it?’’ Bucky took a seat next to Erin in one of the pillow forts Thor had made.

‘’Yes it’s awesome. And I had so many thoughtful and personal gifts as well.’’ She smiled at him trying to encourage him to talk knowing what she wanted to tell her.

‘’I wanted to give mine now if that’s ok with you. Can you follow me to the kitchen?’’ He asked nervously while scratching the back of his head.

‘’What is it?’’ Erin tried to sound casual when they were finally alone. She was scared her voice would give away all her excitement.

‘’Well, first of all, I totally get if you don’t see me like that. I am not worthy of being with a girl like you. But I wanted to tell you that I am the one who has been sending you all those things and notes all week.’’ He was staring at the floor the whole time not being able to look at her in the eyes.

She reached for his hand. ‘’I was hoping it would be you. I like you a lot Bucky since the first time we talked during the thunderstorm your second week here. I knew I wanted to be near you and that you could comfort me when I was scared of anything. And I would love to go and watch Hamilton with you.’’ She smiled at him.

He was feeling overwhelmed with happiness so he froze processing what he had said. She leaned and gave him a quick peck on his lips. ‘’Do you want to go back to my pillow fort and cuddle? The others would wonder where we are.  All Bucky could do was nod while she was leading him back to the party.

I’m not crying, I’m not, thank you so so much babe, this means so damn much to me and I love you so much for doing this Ksenia! ❤️💛💚💙💜💖 @kjs-s