her mother looks so young

Ribbons of Flame - Chapter Three

Description: Lucien has a little sister but no one knows of her except her loving mother, cruel father and other older brothers and members of the hellish Autumn Court. Eleanor “Ella” Vanserra has grown up in the Autumn Court under the cruel hand of her father and High Lord Beron. Once a bright and happy young girl she’s become a shell of who she once was. When Lucien discovers this new family will he and the inner circle be able to rescue her from the cruel fate the Mother gave her.

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Okay, I’ll be honest this isn’t the best chapter. It’s pretty short compared to the others and a bit of a filler chapter. Nevertheless I hope you still like it!

Tagging: @highladyfxyre @high-lady-of-perranth @williamjem@photofeesh @escapingtheconstrictingboxes @thexscarletxwitchx @little-witchling-of-velaris@nerdperson524 @crazybookladythings @illyrianinterrasen@dreamingofradescapes  @night-and-stars-eternal@theoptomisticwolfgirl @dayanna-hatter

Trigger Warning: Mental and physical abuse, one small mention of rape and potentially destructive thoughts. 

Word Count:  2007

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The Marks of Running Ink pt.4

The Walking Dead [Soulmate AU]

Pairing: Negan x ofc (Tory Miller)

Summary: In a normal world, having a soulmate is usually considered a blessing, in a normal world, when their words appear on you finding them is not something impossible. But Tory Miller doesn’t live in a normal world. No. Her world is the stuff of nightmares, the dead walk, the living kill each other and soulmates are not important. Nothing is more important than surviving.

Word count: 1,415.

Warnings: angst, swearing, death, violence, fluff, hurt/comfort. As always, I don’t want to give the story away in the tags, read at your own risk.

Author’s note: Part 4 is here! To my awesome beta and friend @jeffreydeanneganstrash, ily, what would be of me without you? I liked this chapter a lot, I hope you guys like it too. Want to be tagged? Drop me a line. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Part 3  /  Masterlist


Negan helped Lucille climb into their bed after he lifted the duvet and sheets, moving slowly and careful to avoid disturbing her stitches. Lucille said nothing, but noticed the firmness of the mattress and the stiffness of the sheets.

Everything was new.

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anonymous asked:

what I think is funny is that people are surprised/mad about Shiro being 25 even tho that was literally confirmed by the creators like a year ago lmfao

HAHA yeah I’m surprised it was even a thing that needed clarifying to begin with like… One line from a synopsis that likely wasn’t written by the writers of the show doesn’t negate the fact that it’s obvious in his design, his job description, how the others treat him and how he treat others that he is well out of his teens like… 25 is honestly younger than pretty much everyone irl that does his kind of job. Every outsider I’ve asked to put an age on the cast from design put him as like 30+ lol

I’m just kind of surprised Allura is so young, but then looking at her mother they seem to have som trouble in the design department there u.u

Oh well. Teenagers rarely believe I’m not one of them either, I guess it have a lot to do with social circles and Adults™ are strict authority figures to most so how can a Friend that laugh att fart jokes possibly be an Adult™

The Lucky One

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 

Chapter 15.  Epilogue

~Five years later~

 “Omma looks so beautiful,” you said as you looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The wedding dress, on her, trailed along the floor like cascading waterfalls.  She motioned for you to come over so you obeyed.  To your surprise, she took off her diamond tiara and placed it on your head. 

“I think my daughter looks even better,” she remarked with her hands on your shoulders.

Smiling sadly, you took the tiara off and said, “But you are the female lead today, not me”.

“You’ll be the lead one day,” she spoke with utmost certainty.

“We’ll see…” you replied then cheerfully said, “Omma, let me fix up your makeup”.

Motioning for her to sit down, you grabbed a few make up palettes from the shelf.  With quick brushing motions, you applied a generous layer of eye shadow and blush to brighten up her complexion.

“Much better,” you complimented your own abilities. 

Your mother patted you on the hand and you grinned cheekily. 

Placing your chin on her shoulder, you closed your eyes and sincerely said, “I’m glad Omma has found her happiness”.

“You will find yours too,” she winked for you to look out the window. 

Raising your brows, you pulled the curtains open.  A handsome young man, dressed like an entrepreneur, stood outside chitchatting nonchalantly to other guest.  You shook your head, half smiling at your mother’s constant attempts to introduce you to blind dates. 


At the wedding reception, you greeted guest, laughing happily as people piled into the beautiful outdoor venue. 

“You’re Soyeon’s daughter?  Are you serious?  Your mother looks so young, I thought you were her younger sister,” a lady commented.

“Yep, I get that a lot,” you agreed, chuckling.

“Wow ________ah, you’ve grown up into such a beautiful woman,” another one complimented and you shook your head shyly. 

After a few rounds of guests, you were getting a little tipsy so you retreated to a nearby tree to rest. 

“Ah, beautiful shade,” you sighed to no one in particular. 

You threw off your ankle-cutting heels and snuggled your feet into the grass.  Giggling like a little girl, you let the soil and grass pile onto the valleys of your toes. 

Suddenly, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, interrupting you from your childish play.  You turned around.  The same young man from before bowed a few times to greet you.  Flustered, you quickly put your shoes back on, but the straps were a struggle, so you ungracefully stuck half your foot into the front of the shoe. 

“Hi.  I’m Zhang YiXing.  Nice to meet you,” he bowed again.

“Hey…” you greeted awkwardly as you attempted to fix the straps on your shoe. 

To you dismay, he held out his hand for a handshake.  You took it but because you were bent over from your disastrous shoe dilemma, you ended up using his hand to stop your mini-balancing act.

“Omgosh, I’m so sorry,” you apologized the moment you were able to stand up straight. 

He laughed, “Well, that’s a unique first meeting…”

“Uh oh, bad first impression, huh?  Am I down to negative 10 points?” you joked.

“Not quite.  Just different…Ms…” his sentence trailed and you finally realized you didn’t introduce yourself.

“_________ _________,” you say.

“_________ssi, nice to meet you,” he politely bowed again.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied. 

From there you guys hit it off.  You chatted about things from food to sports to jobs.  You discovered that he owned a music studio and was interested in getting the interior re-designed so you happily swapped business cards with one another.  He complimented on how gorgeous you looked and you flirted back by calling him, “Mr. Good Lookin’”.  But somewhere deep down, you wished he had been someone else…someone you longed for everyday, every minute, every second for the past five years of your life. 

The bell rang to announce that the ceremony was beginning.  YiXing and you walked to take your seats at the venue. 

As you watched your mother walk down the aisle, you sniffled back tears of joy.  Beside you, YiXing handed you a tissue and you graciously accepted it.


After all the celebrations concluded, your mother persuaded the young entrepreneur to drive you home.  You politely declined but he insisted so you surrendered. 

“No wonder you’re the boss of a music studio,” you stated when a beautiful classical piece played in the car.

“Thanks, I wrote that,” he informed.

He was respectful and courteous, not to mention really good looking – basically the perfect guy.  However, you couldn’t get yourself to fall for him.  Unconsciously, you fingers looped around the heart-shaped necklace around your neck. 

When you were home, you bowed a few times to thank for the ride, waving at him to leave.  But you weren’t at all surprised when he waited until you were completely safe in the house before leaving. 

Very Responsible.  You mentally wondered if you should give him a chance but the ringing of your phone interrupted your wandering mind.  It was your boss.

“Hello?” you picked up and said.

“Hey.  _______ah, sorry to call you on your day off…” he started.

“That’s fine,” you replied, curious as to what the phone call would be about.

“I guess your name is getting famous in the industry.  A client specifically requested that you design his new home,” your boss spoke and your eyes lit up.

“Really?” you asked, unable to believe the news.

“Yeah, I forwarded you a few blueprints and background information.  Send me some drafts if you’re interested in the job,” he said.

“Sure thing.  Thanks!” you said and hung up.

Scrambling to your room, you grabbed your laptop to check your email.  You’ve been in the industry for five years so designing and drafting out a home’s layout wasn’t difficult at all – in fact it started to get a little repetitive.  But the fact that this client had specifically asked for you gave you a huge confidence boost.

From the email, you discovered that the client was a young businessman with a toddler son.  All the floor plans were already completed by your boss so the remaining task was to design a playroom for the boy. Excited, you opened your drawing pad and began to brainstorm some ideas. 

“Little children like to climb,” you mumbled to yourself as you bit your pen in your mouth. 

Mountain?  Ropes?  Stairs?

“Treehouse…” you whispered, your pen frozen in place.    

“The room will be a tree house theme.  So there’s a tree trunk-shaped ladder that our child can climb to get to the bed.  Above the bed, there’s a hammock so he can take relaxing naps on it.  And on the empty area beneath the bed, there would be a tunnel or maybe storage for the toys”

Dropping your pen, you stroked the picture frame on your desk. 

“Youngwoo-yah…” you called to the baby in the picture.

Taking the picture to your face, you kissed the glass, forever wondering how your little boy was doing.  He would be five this year, which meant he probably started kindergarten. 

“Did you cry the first day of class?” you asked not expecting an answer.

You wondered how he looked like, definitely not like the tiny bundle of joy in the picture.  Youngwoo was probably taller, weighed a lot more, and laughed all day long while pulling tricks on his father and…Minyoung.

With a sigh, you placed the frame back onto your desk.

“You wouldn’t be angry at Omma if she used your playroom design as the base for this little boy’s, right?” you stared into the picture but there was no answer.

Smiling sadly, you picked up your drawing pad and continued sketching out the room. 



A few days later, you received a pleasant surprise.  With curly hair and a floral summer dress, your mother knocked on your office door.  You looked up from your laptop, grinning brightly at the beauty before you.  Throwing your glasses sloppily on the desk, you ran up to her with opened arms.

“Ommaaaa!” you shouted.

She patted your back and said, “Silly girl.  You act as though I’ve been gone for years.  It’s only been three days”.

“That’s right.  Why are you back?” you narrowed your eyes and gasped, “Is Uncle Tom not treating you well?”

“No.  Of course not, Silly.  He’s off on a quick business trip so Omma thought she’d drop by and check on her precious daughter,” she said, pinching your cheeks.

Exaggerating a sob, you complained, “It’s been so lonely by myself, staring at the four walls of my room”.

She whacked your head, “Yeah, right…I bet you were staring into the computer screen with your drawing pad on your lap”.

You raised both hands in defeat. 

“Though…” she sheepishly grinned, “I heard that someone finally opened your heart and got your number…”

Laughing nervously, you tried to escape the room but your mother grabbed your arm.

“So…any possible sparks?” she interrogated.

You threw your head back in defeat and replied, “Mmm…maybe…”.

“Maybe?  Tell me more,” she grilled.

“Uh…he’s handsome…” you shyly admitted.


“And polite…and talented…and hard working…” you continued.

“But not Oh Sehun,” your mother knowingly finished with a sad smile. 

What?  How did…she know?  You blinked a few times then hung your head.  For that moment, you felt like a young teenage girl who had been caught red-handed smuggling hoards of chocolate into her room.

Your mother reached for the necklace around your neck and sighed. 

“It’s okay though…take your time,” she comforted, patting your arm, “But don’t cry alone in your room anymore.  Let Omma cry with you”.

With watery eyes, you wrapped your arms around her and cried into her chest.  She was warm and comfy, stroking your back calmly as you poured your heart out.  Deep down you knew that it didn’t matter if five years or ten years or an eternity passed, you wouldn’t be able to forget the two loves of your life – Sehun and Youngwoo. 

Your phone vibrated.  Wiping your tears, you reached into your pocket and took out your smartphone. 

“Zhang YiXing,” the screen read.     

“Let me answer it for you,” your mother offered but you shook your head.

“Hello?” you spoke into the phone.

“Hey, _________ssi, I’m right by you neighborhood.  Do you want to go grab lunch with me?” he asked.

Guiltily, you declined, “Maybe next time.  I have a bit of drafts I’m trying to complete”.

“Oh…next time then,” he said, his voice filled with disappointment. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bid farewell and hung up.  Almost as soon as you do, your phone rang again in your hands.  Thinking it was YiXing again; you looked to your mom to come to your rescue.  She walked over and took your phone. 

“________ah, it’s your boss,” she said and handed you back the phone.

“Hello?” you greeted.

“_________ah, I just called to notify you that the client really loved the drafts you sent.  Upon your approval, I’ll have Annie and Mark start building the pieces,” he notified.

“Wait…” you spoke, “the project means a lot to me.  Do you think I can build it myself?  I know I haven’t done interior construction for a while, but I really want to tackle this one”.

The silence on the other end caused the beating of your heart to echo in your ears.  You bit your lips. 

Finally, your boss responded, “Though I’m not too keen on that idea…I don’t think it should be a problem.  I’ll have Annie and Mark on standby in case you need them”.

With a sigh in relief, you exclaimed, “Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!”

Chuckling at your excitement, he said, “Drop by my office to pick up the key”.

After hanging up, you jumped around in joy.  The corners of my lips touched your cheeks from grinning so wide.  Your mother looked at you as if you were bipolar. 

“Are you heading out?” your mother asked with crossed arms.

“Yeah.  My boss just passed down a project to me,” you informed but paused when you noticed that your mother looked disappointed.

“I stopped by to accompany you and you ditch me?” she pretended to complain.

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around her and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be home for dinner”.

Her eyes lit up and she offered, “Since I’ll be gone for a few months for my honey moon, let Omma cook you dinner.  What would you like to eat?”

Beaming, you slyly asked, “Anything?”

“Anything” your mother firmly replied.

With your arms on your hips, you triumphantly requested, “Fried chicken wings”.

“Aigoo, so fatty…” she shook her head.

Frowning, you stared at her with puppy eyes.  With a crushed expression, you turned to head out the door.

“…though once in a while it’s okay…” she spoke.

Hahaha.  Passive aggressiveness: 1.  Omma:0.  You chuckled wickedly.

“Okay, Omma will make it.  It’ll test my culinary skills,” she surrendered, defeated.

Still giggling, you turned around and kissed her on the cheek.  With a swift stroke, you threw on your tan jacket and headed out the door.  You were unsure if you were more excited about constructing the playroom or eating the fried chicken.  Eh…I can be greedy and love both, huh?

“Make sure you come home early!” your mother’s holler echoed down the hallway.

“I will!” you shouted back, waving goodbye to her. 



After picking up the keys from your boss, you drove to the nearby Ikeas and Home Depot to pick up some supplies and furniture.  At first, you felt slightly like a deer in headlights, having not done hands on work for so long, but you were willing to learn along the way. 

You knew that the tree house required lots of wood so you purchased a full cart of lumber.  At the paint section, you grabbed lots of foresty colors, such as green, amber, yellow, and chestnut brown.  Satisfied with your selections, you went to admire the furniture section.

The store was humongous.  Sofas and couches lined from one end of the hallway to the other.  You could barely see the end of the row; the last one appeared as small as the size of a pencil.  Rolling around on a mattress, you giggled like a child at a candy store. 

“You know what…” you said out loud then laughed hysterically. 

The client seemed…uh rich.  So it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to buy all the most expensive and absolutely beautifully crafted furniture.  Unknowingly, you started to make the biggest mistake an interior designer would ever make – you were buying things that you dreamed of owning, not what your client would like. 

Because…you thought you would never get the chance to build your dream house anyway. 

Hauling the insane amount of lumber into the house, you almost tripped over the welcoming rug.  Well, that ugly rug will know what you’re made of.  Throwing the wood onto the floor messily, you picked up the rug and tossed it into the trashcan, replacing it with a brand new one you had purchase earlier. 

Spreading newspaper along the tiled floors, you set up a makeshift workstation.  With your goggles on and your hair tied up, you began sawing the pieces to match the concept model you drew.  Shavings and crumbs of wood fell at your feet.  Huffing and puffing, you shook off the sweat that dripped down your face as you cut out the final piece of the tree trunk ladder.

Your arms were sore and your legs were exhausted from standing up for hours.  But the little boy’s imaginary smile was enough to motivate you to keep working.  So you began to hammer the parts together, always comparing it to your notes to make sure the measurements and positioning were perfectly aligned. 

As soon as you finished assembling the tree trunk, your oscillating legs caved and you collapsed onto the floor, drained of any energy.  Yet even in this state, drown in dripping sweat, blisters all over your fingers from your amateur skills, and gross stains across your new pair of pants, you felt absolutely thrilled and ecstatic.  As you stared up to the ceiling, you unconsciously moved your arms up and down as if making invisible snow angels.  It reminded you of Youngwoo’s cute habit of kicking his tiny feet in his sleep.  Your heart felt heavy. 


Getting up, you brushed the wood shavings from your hair and clothes.  Outside, the sky turned black, allowing stars to shine brightly in the horizon.  Unintentionally, your legs guided you to the window to admire the starry night.  You sighed, realizing the perfection of this house you could never have.  It was so calming.  The night skyline looked as if you were staring out into the galaxy, neon lights flickered on and off like color dust particles. 

From the corner of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your watch.  Uh oh.  It was already 11pm.  You were so into building the playroom you had forgotten your appointment with your mother.  Scampering around, you torn off your goggles and grabbed your briefcase.  Sloppily, you thrust your feet into your flats and ran to your car, in lightning speed. 

You don’t even bother aligning your car tires as you parked awkwardly at the center of the lane.  Running up the flights of stairs, two steps at a time, you cursed under your breath at your stupidity.  As soon as you flung open the door, your expressions softened.  Your mother, still clothed in her apron, had fallen asleep on the dinner table.  The noisiness you created coming home had woken her up.  You looked at her apologetically.

“Sorry, Omma.  I lost track of time,” you rubbed your neck nervously. 

She shook her head but from her sigh of relief, you could tell that she had been more worried than angry.  

“_________, did you eat yet?” she asked, still a little groggy from her nap.

You rubbed your starving stomach and shook your head.

“Omma will cook your some noodles then,” she replied and got up to head over to the kitchen.

“What about the chicken?” you asked disappointed as you finally had time to swing off your shoes.     

She frowned and uncovered a tray of soggy fried chicken.      

“You came home too late.  Don’t eat it.  It’s not good anymore,” she spoke, holding the tray above the trashcan. 

Hissing, you ran over to her and caught the chicken before they landed into the trash.  You popped a wing into your mouth, smiling like a fool.  Your mother set the tray back onto the table.

“Is it bad?  It’s Omma’s first time making it…” she looked at you filled with hope. 

Stuffing another piece of chicken into your mouth, you began to laugh uncontrollably as if someone was tickling you nonstop.  You spit out the bone onto the table, sloppily.  It fell down, bounced onto the tablecloth, and rebounded onto the floor.  Happily, you grabbed another piece and inhaled the food.

“Aigoo….stop eating so fast.  You’re going to choke,” you mother advised.

Ignoring her warning, you took three pieces of chicken and jammed it into your mouth.  Your stomach hurt from laughing so hard.    

“Breathe,” she said.

You froze in place.  The chicken dangled on the corner of your lips. 

Spiting the food out, you stared at her with glossy eyes, and asked, “W-what did you say?”

She patted your back to prevent you from choking and repeated, “I told you to ‘breath’.  You’re practically inhaling the chicken.  Is it really that good?”

Your lips quivered. 


Silently, you watched as your mother suspiciously picked up a piece of chicken with her pointer finger and thumb.  Biting into it, her face immediately twisted up. 

“Gross.  It’s so soggy and the inner meat is so overcook,” she threw the piece into the garbage can. 

Laughing, tears started to drown your face. 

“Aigoo, daughter.  Stop eating it.  Omma will make a new batch for you,” she offered. 


You inhaled a fresh breath of air and continued to eat.  Even though the chicken was indeed soggy, overcooked, and a little sour, you thought it was the best fried chicken you’ve ever had.




For the next few days, you regularly visited the client’s house to complete the construction of the playroom.  Especially since your mother was on her honeymoon, you discovered yourself basically using the building as your second home.  In fact, you had fallen asleep on the sofa last night. 

Stretching your arms, you yawned and stood up from the sofa.  Today, you would complete the final part of the playroom – the hammock.  You thought about using some type of burlap fabric but seeing that Spider Man was extremely popular these days, you opted to weave a web hammock. 

Pressing a few buttons on your keyboard, you researched instructions on weaving, since you had really only done it once before.  After watching a few Youtube videos, you thought you got the gist of it so you climbed to the top of the tree house to begin installing the handmade hammock.    

You threaded the rope through two parallel wooden planks you mounted onto the ceiling.  Once you reached the end, you crawled back to the first plank and repeated the threading twenty more times so that it would be steady.  But you didn’t like how one of the ropes looped through another one incorrectly, so you took the whole thing apart and restarted again and again, until you were completely satisfied.  When the base rows were set in place, you tied the ends so tightly your knuckles turned red.  A droplet of water fell onto your fingertip.  Foolishly, you looked up to see if it was raining.  However, the only thing you saw was the concrete ceiling above you.  As you began to weave horizontal rows, another droplet fell, this time dissolving into the fabric of your pants.  You paused, clenching the ball of rope in your hands. 

Why were you doing this?  Why?

The ball of rope fell from your hands and rolled onto the mattress.  You buried your face in your hands.  Why were you trying so hard?  Who exactly were you trying to impress?  So what if the little boy loved it?  So what?  It wasn’t like it matter to you…because…

Because he wasn’t Youngwoo…

You kicked the plank, making the whole hammock disintegrate and fall onto the mattress.  Gravity sent the piece clinging off the tree house, threatening to destroy all your hard work.  Instantly, you leaned forward and caught the plank before it shattered onto the floor. 

And it hit you.  So what if this little boy wasn’t your son?  Did he not deserve love?  Did he not deserve a room where he could play around in?  Like a web, every human is linked to one another.  He may not be your son, but you were a mother.  And once you identified yourself as one, you had the responsibility to share your maternal love to all the children in this world. 

With a sigh, you wiped the remaining tears and jumped off the bed to grab a hammer and some nails to remount the planks. 



One evening, as you were at your local craft store picking out glow in the dark lights and fiber optics for the ceiling, your phone began to buzz.  Handless, you placed the phone against your ear and used your shoulder as support. 

“Hello?” you struggled to balance. 

“________ah, something happened with your client and he has to move in today.  Do you think you could do the finishing touches today?” your boss hesitantly asked.

“Oh yeah.  I already build and painted everything.  I just have some decorating on the ceiling left to do.  Easy Peasy,” you replied and he sighed in relief. 

As soon as you hung up, you grabbed the whole row of stars and glitter and headed to the cash register. 


When you get to the building, you’re surprised that the door was already unlocked.  Your boss had said that the owner was moving in today, not that he had already moved in.  You shrugged and cautiously walked in. 

The lights were off. 

That’s weird.

You reached over to flip the switch but paused as you peered into the playroom.  Stars and hearts glowed on the ceiling.  A few of them lit up in neon colors.  In the center of it all was a spinning mobile, like the ones that dangled from a baby’s crib.  Intrigued, you slowly walked into the room.     

A child’s laughter echoed in the room as he played in the tunnel area you built.  Jumping up and down, he held a light saber and pretended to stab a tiger plush. 

“He’s dead!  He’s dead!  I saved the world,” the child exclaimed running around in joy. 

With a smile, you squatted down and greeted, “Hey, you must be the handsome little owner of this room”.

“I saved the world!  I saved the world!” he shouted, running forward to you. 

“Yes you did,” you laughed along, patting him on the head.

Immediately, you felt attached to this cute boy.  Your heart fluttered as you observed the adorable teddy bear hoodie he had on.   

He held the light saber up to his face and smiled.  You stared at him, frozen in place. 

Am I dreaming?

His crescent moon eyes stared back at you.  Your eyes began to water but you did not dare move.  Seeing that you weren’t playing with him, the little boy sat down and started hugging his stuff animals.  His light saber was discarded beside you. 

Carefully, you picked up the toy and walked over to him. 

“W-what is your name?” your voice cracked. 

The little boy held up his teddy bear and responded, “Pinku Pinku”. 

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.

Your lips quivered. 

He squeezed the teddy’s tummy, “Pinku Pinku”.

“Youngwoo-yah!” you cried, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

Your eyes clouded and you burst into tears as you held your son close to your chest.  The tiny pink teddy bear dropped onto the floor.    

Am I in a dream? 

It didn’t matter if you were in a dream.  You would never wake up.  You wouldn’t.  You couldn’t.  Five years.  It’s been five long years of you wondering every night if your Youngwoo had grown a centimeter today or simply wondering whether he grew up healthy after his initial suffering as a premature baby.  And you finally…finally today your questions were answered. 

“_________ah,” a familiar voice called.

You stopped sobbing but didn’t dare turn around.

“Appa!” the boy shouted and ran to the owner of the voice. 

“Ah, My Little Man.  Do you like your new room?” his father asked, scooping him up into his arms. 

Slowly, you stood up and turned around. 


“_________ah” he called again. 

You covered your mouth.  Your shoulders trembled. 

From your blurry vision, you could only make out that Sehun wore a suit and a tie.  His hair was dyed the deepest black and his face…as handsome as ever.  With his son in his arms, he walked to stand closer to you. 

“Youngwoo-yah, remember when Appa said that if you behaved, Omma would come home?” Sehun asked and the boy nodded.

You clenched your chest. 

“Say, “Hi” to Omma,” his father instructed.

“Hi Omma,” your son looked at you innocently. 

You burst into tears again as you recoiled into your shell.  Your arms wrapped around your body in fear that this was only an illusion. 

“Kiss Omma on the cheek,” Sehun told Youngwoo.

He brought Youngwoo up to you and the boy placed his soft lips onto your tear stained face. 

“Youngwoo-yah,” you whispered.

With a cracked voice, Sehun said, “Tell Omma that you love her”.

“I love you, Omma,” the boy said obediently.

Sehun passed Youngwoo into your arms.  The weight of him in your arms could not compare to the weight of him in your heart.  Overwhelmed, you bounced him up and down playfully and then placed his forehead against yours.  He giggled in delight.

You were never going to let him go.  Never.  You didn’t care what anyone thought or said.  You were not going to let him go.  Hugging him closer to your chest, you kissed the top of his head.  Just like when he was a baby, you swayed him back and forth.  Sehun hovered over you two and lovingly stroked Youngwoo’s head.  Under the protection of his Omma and Appa, the child yawned sleepily. 

“I think he’s tired from jetlag and playing so much,” Sehun said and you nodded understandingly.

“Youngwoo-yah, do you want to try your new bed?” his father asked him.

Youngwoo excitedly nodded and squirmed in your arms.  Carefully, you walked to the mattress and placed him down.  Patting his back, you lulled him to sleep with a lullaby as Sehun watched you intently.

As soon as your son was asleep, Sehun held your hand and dragged you to the living room sofa.  There, you sat down, fidgeting around nervously.  Finally, everything was starting to feel more like reality than a dream.  But at the same time, you hadn’t seen him for five whole years.  How else were you supposed to react?

“How…how have you been?” Sehun broke the silence. 

“Good…you?” you asked shyly. 

Cracking a chuckle, he pointed to Youngwoo’s direction and replied, “Busy”.

Again, you awkwardly fidgeted at the silence.  To avoid the stillness, you kept fixing your hair; you tried to place a strand behind your ear but it kept falling back down.  Suddenly, Sehun’s fingers looped onto yours and he expertly readjusted the strand so it tucked securely away from your face.  Your cheeks blushed bright red.  His mesmerizing eyes looked into yours.  You closed your eyes.  But instead of leaning forward, he laughed and sat back down on the loveseat across from you.  You bitterly scoffed and bit your lip.

“That large tiger plush is cute.  Minyoung Unnie must have bought it,” you feigned a laugh to cover your previous disappointment.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Sehun smirk.

“Yeah, she did pick it,” he admitted.

Your smile dropped.  With your head hung low, you fiddled with a loose string on your skirt.

“I-I knew it…you don’t have such good taste,” you stuttered.

Why did it hurt everywhere?  

“Mmhm.  Minyoung always had good taste, that’s why she married such a handsome and responsible man,” Sehun said as a matter of fact. 

You swore you heard your heart shatter onto the floor into thousands of pieces.  Of course…Of course.  What else did you expect?  Wasn’t that the deal when you left five years ago?  You gave Sehun back to Minyoung..back to his true happiness.  But somewhere…somehow a part of you selfishly wished that his love for you was true.  Unconsciously, you pinched your leg to force yourself not to cry. 

Seemingly amused, Sehun spoke, “Remember that sunbae hyung from high school?”

Raising your head to look up at him, you replied, “The captain of the soccer team?”

“Yeah.  Luhan hyung…” he said.

What about him??  You didn’t understand why he was bringing him up.  Is this some blind date thing your mom thought of?  Frustrated, you clenched your fist and looked down onto the floor like it was the most interesting thing ever.

“Luhan hyung and Minyoung got married last year,” Sehun finished.

You blinked confusingly.  Reflexively, your eyes roamed around Sehun’s hand for any signs of a wedding band.  You sighed in relief when you don’t discover again.  A small smile curled on your lips. 

Still smirking, Sehun moved to the seat next to you.  You playfully pretended to cringe and push him away.  With puppy eyes, he placed his chin against your neck.  You felt your cheekbones rise.

Snuggling into you, he said, “I missed you, My Love”.

Butterflies flew in your stomach, tickling your insides.  You had to manually hold onto your cheekbones so that they wouldn’t soar out of your skin.  But because when you are in love, you become childish, you wanted revenge for Sehun’s trolling you about Minyoung. 

Pushing him coldly away, you spoke in a low tone, “But I have moved on.  In fact, I’m seeing someone right now”.

“Really?  Who is he?” Sehun sounded hurt and you immediately regretted fooling around.

“U-uh…he’s the CEO of a music studio…” you lied.

Sitting up straight, Sehun sneered, “Oh really?  Did he buy you the same heart necklace I bought you five years ago?”

He pointed to your necklace, blowing your cover.  You face palmed.  Sehun always won.  Always.

So embarrassing.

With a whimper, you kept your red face buried in your palms.  Fingers slipped in between yours and persuasively tugged at your hand to reveal your blushing complexion.

Holding your hand tightly, he sincerely said, “________ah, let’s start over”.

Still embarrassed by your failed prank, you wiggled your hand out of his. 

“They say, ‘Three times the charm’.  I don’t know if it’s true but I’m willing to give it a try,” he spoke. 

His words captivated your attention.  You watched as he took out a familiar velvet box from his pocket.  Your eyes clouded.  The small box opened to reveal a diamond ring.  Not any diamond ring – but your diamond ring – the exact same one you left on the vanity table five years ago.  You thought you would never see it ever again.  Unconsciously, your fingers reached out to touch it. 

Down on one knee, Sehun asked, “Will you marry me?”

From the shaking of his voice to the dilation of his eyes, you could tell that his words were genuine.  But deep down, you were scared.  You feared that Sehun was only doing this out of responsibility.  So you wanted one last test.  Smiling sadly, you motioned for Sehun to get up. 

“I’ll decide…if you show me your wallet,” you requested.

Slowly, he stood up.  With a suspicious look, he dug into his back pockets and handed you his wallet.  Taking it, you turned around so Sehun didn’t see. 

“Babe, I’m rich enough to feed you and Youngwoo for a lifetime.  I’ll even give you my bank account if you want,” he said, trying to peek from behind your shoulder.

You opened the wallet.  Instantly, your smile widened.  Even through all these years, the picture of him kissing your cheek remained the centerpiece in his wallet.  Hiding your foolish grin as much as possible, you turned around and handed him back his wallet.

“Hold on,” you tried to sound angry.

From your purse, you took out a mini Polaroid camera.  Sehun eyed you suspiciously but was afraid to do anything that would anger you. 

“Can we get a picture together?” you asked, patting the empty spot beside you for him to sit down.

“Of course,” he instantly agreed.

 You stifled back a laugh, seeing how he still was super confused and anxious.  As you pressed the shutter button, you turned around and kissed him on the cheek. 

Sehun’s eyes widened but then everything clicked.  He threw his head back laughing.  Your cheekbones were extremely sore from laughing as well.  As you waved the Polaroid to get it to develop faster, Sehun slyly took your hand and slipped the ring on.  You don’t complain. 

His arms skillfully wrapped around your waist and swayed you side to side.  Pulling you closer to him, he pecked you on the cheek, causing you to giggle like a little girl.  

You slipped the photo into your wallet.

“Now we match,” you said. 

Placing his chin on your shoulder, he nibbled your earlobe.  You smacked his arm flirtatiously. 

“But I don’t like how I look so surprised in that picture.  Let’s retake it,” he suggested.

Rolling your eyes you asked, “Are you still hanging around with that martial artist, who likes to take a lot of selfies?”

“Tao hyung?”


“Mmm, he’s cool,” Sehun commented with the camera already in his hand, “One. Two. Three”.

Reenacting the previous picture, you turned around to kiss your fiancé on the cheek, only this time he turned as well.  Your lips met his.  Smiling through the kiss, he licked your lips teasingly.  You kissed him back with just as much desperation. 

Breaking the kiss, Sehun placed his forehead against yours and whispered, “You know…Youngwoo had been complaining about wanting a younger sibling…”.

Before you could even respond, Sehun had already thrown you over his shoulder, laughing maniacally as he hauled you into the bedroom. 

“Oh Sehun!” you shouted.

“Shh…I said, ‘three times the charm’?  I gave you a warning, didn’t I?” he teased as he placed you on the bed.

You giggled and pulled him by his collar to kiss him.

“I love you, Oh Sehun,” you confessed, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire universe. 

“I love you more, _______ _______,” he answered back. 

The End.

a/n: & There you have it guys, the last chapter.  m(o・ω・o)m Thank you x 100000000000000 to everyone who has been following this story.  I have no words to explain how I feel.  At first, I just wrote this story as a source of therapy for myself…

As a writer and artist, most of the time we use our own personality and experiences to form traits for our character and to see so much love for the main character, really, really, really, really, really, means a lot to me.  

Please shoot me a message so we can be friends :D!!  If I could, I would give you all a golden star.   

Also, tomorrow Cat and Mouse starts!!  Please give this story lots of love!!  Fiction, a Kris oneshot will also be posted!!  

>3< i love you all!!!!   

Ribbons of Flame - Master list

Lucien has a little sister but no one knows of her except her loving mother, cruel father and other older brothers and members of the hellish Autumn Court. Eleanor “Ella” Vanserra has grown up in the Autumn Court under the cruel hand of her father and High Lord Beron. Once a bright and happy young girl she’s become a shell of who she once was. When Lucien discovers this new family will he and the inner circle be able to rescue her from the cruel fate the Mother gave her.

Originally posted by chertovskii

Chapter One

She was ready for an escape, even though it was only for a few hours. Dancing was the one thing that kept the burning light deep in her core lit through the years of her life she had spent living in the cruel manor. The one thing that brought her joy beyond measure.

Chapter Two 

“Please do not let that light burn out. Please do not lose that ability to see the good in this world and the ability to be kind and gentle. Even when everything within you has been crushed, torn apart, and shredded by those who should only give you love.“ Ella nodded her head, tears glistening in her eyes once more. She didn’t know if she could, but she would try for her mother. Anything for her mother. 

Chapter Three

“It was you and this girl. She looked so much like you, and your mother. Albeit much smaller and she looked so young.” Her brows furrowed as she tried to recall the vision, “There was flames surrounding you both and this darkness that seemed to just swallow the girl, and she was just screaming and screaming.”

Chapter Four 

“Like Feyre said, he deserved it. In fact, maybe Lucien was a little merciful on him,” Mor replied, falling back onto the plush couch in the living room and examined her nails. Lucien let out a soft snort. He couldn’t disagree with her on that.

anonymous asked:

This is kind of long but what if Brianna goes back through the stones the first time but instead of going to when Jamie and Claire are, she goes back to when they were married in the 1740's and she meets her young parents and sees how they were together then

Brianna kept telling herself it was perfectly reasonable to be nervous as she climbed the hill and her blood began to hum. She had the vague outlines of a plan—get to Lallybroch first; they would know better where her parents would be and might help provide her with the means to get there as well as tell her how they came to be there. With the stone in sight, she paused and made one last check to be sure she had everything—the pearls were safely tucked away in the lining of the jacket she’d modified along with the silver bracelet Roger had given her; she didn’t dare wear anything openly, too afraid it could be stolen. Saying a final prayer that she would find them in time—that she would find them at all—Brianna stepped forward, focused all her thoughts on her mother, and placed her hands to the stone.

It was worse than she’d imagined—worse than her mother had been able to describe—but as she picked herself off the ground and scurried back from the stones, Brianna found that she had in fact survived. She was a bit wobbly and queasy but there was something about the breeze that assured her she had traveled.

She stumbled a bit as she made her ways down the hill. There were crackers among her provisions—though she would have liked a bit of ginger ale to go with them—but she needed to get out of the open, find somewhere she could reliably reorient herself and recover enough to press on. Her stomach rolled a little when she spotted the small cabin—it couldn’t be… Without further thought, she made her way towards it.

It had to be the same one—the one her mother had mentioned when telling her and Roger the whole story. Brianna combed her mind for the details her mother had mentioned. There was a settle near the door and the cabin definitely had an abandoned and deserted feel to it as she forced the door open. She’d made her journey early in the afternoon and knew she should be on her way to Lallybroch as quickly as possible—she only had so much in her provisions and wasn’t as confident of scavenging for herself along the way as she would if her mother was with her. But it was incredibly tempting to linger in the cabin, to lie on the settle where her parents had lain and take shelter in the place where so much had happened for them, good and bad—the place where her mother had first chosen her father and then subsequently lost him.

She glanced around the sparse cottage. Perhaps it would be better to rest somewhere sheltered while she could and leave at first light—she hadn’t counted on how much traveling through the stones would rattle her and wanted to be on top of things should she happen upon anyone as she made her way. Sitting on the settle, she leaned back against the wall and let the magnitude of what she’d done overwhelm her for a moment. How long would it be until Roger realized what she’d done? What would he do when he figured it out? She prayed he would wait for her to return but also longed for him to be there with her so she wouldn’t have to go through everything on her own.

There was a commotion at the door of the cabin that sent Brianna skittering to her feet and halfway across the room. A large figure stood in the doorway but she couldn’t make him out well with the light striking him from behind.

“Oh, I’m sorry lass,” a strained voice exclaimed, backing out of the door again. “I didna… that is… I thought this croft was abandoned.”

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