#truly one of the prettiest women on earth

[bbybearcubbs]

Thoughts that were Thunk while I was Thinking

Skz Family, Aunty Lee Know's sister, I.N is so freaking pretty (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Like this man looks SO GOOD with that wig on its insane. Skipper hairstyle is giving🤣🤣 BUT while watching Skz Family I couldn't stop thinking about the posts about I.N joining and winning a cross dressing competition when he was younger (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I ended up with a few questions:

Why did he enter that competition?

Was it because his friends encouraged him too because they thought he'd look good in girls clothes and a wig?

Or was it because he lost a bet or something and had to enter? You know kids do stuff like that

Or was it because…he just wanted to do it?🤨 Maybe he liked/likes dressing up as a girl and found that competition as a way to do something he normally wouldn't get to do

He looked like he was having so much fun with that wig and playing the role of Skipper- I mean Lee Know's sister. I also noticed that during the behind the scenes clips at the end. He was still toying with the strands of the wig

And might I add, he looked so dreamy when he was staring off into space while gently tugging at a few strands and holding it along the side of his face (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠) In my opinion he just seems to really be enjoying himself and idk if it's because he just loves playing the character or if our Innie enjoys cross-dressing.

There's so many variables to all of this and the best parts are I can 100% write my own interpretation on I.N and cross-dressing because of Skz Family, Aunty Lee Know's sister😍 I honestly just wanna hear what some of you might have to say (Also STAY's please interact I need more STAY moots💔)

[afterglowsainz]

imperfect for you | oscar piastri

pairing: norris!reader x oscar piastri

summary: you’re too focused on being the paddock’s cupid that you fail to notice your perfect match is right there, on your brother’s teammate

fc: madisyn menchaca

a/n: i’m choosing to ignore all the trouble and negativity surrounding oscar’s win and just focus on the fact that oscar piastri is a formula 1 grand prix winner!!!

—

liked by ynnorris, charles_leclerc and others

f1 the ferrari couple arrives in blue classiness 💙

tagged charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

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username omg alex’s first appearance in the paddock !!!

username she’s truly one of the most beautiful women i’ve seen

username let’s all thank yn’s mind for bringing these two together 💕

ynnorris my babies 🥹🫶🏽 (liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux)

username still can’t believe if it wasn’t for yn they wouldn’t be together

username i just love when hot people date each other 😍

username and they’re matching too 🥺

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and others

ynnorris currently in monaco looking for my next project ❤️‍🩹

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and alexandrasaintmleux

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username not her saying she’s looking for a “project” after setting up charles and alex 🤣

username the one and only paddock’s cupid 💘

username it’s insane how she sets everyone up and she’s still single

username the prettiest girl❣️

oscarpiastri you literally posted a pic playing padel, there’s you next project

ynnorris padel is for the weak who can’t play tennis

maxverstappen1 hey!

alexandrasaintmleux charge €10 per tarot reading 🫶🏽

ynnorris alexandra malena your mind is immaculate 🤌🏽

liked by logansargeant, friend1 and others

ynnorris the look from the nosebleeds🩸

tagged logansargeant and friend1

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username why on earth wasn’t she at the garage???

username babes your brother is a literal driver what are you doing there

ynnorris he kicked me out :(

lissiemackintosh shame on you landonorris

landonorris that’s literally fake she just wanted to see how it looked from up there

oscarpiastri i can confirm

ynnorris no one asked you‼️ oscarpiastri

username and who’s that with logan 👀

username omg not another one of yn friends 😭

username she took the paddock’s cupid name too seriously

logansargeant send me that last pic

ynnorris ask friend1 🤭

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and others

oscarpiastri exploring more of monaco🇲🇨

tagged logansargeant, ynnorris and friend1

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username can’t believe he’s moving there

username we lost the game of keeping f1 drivers out of monaco

username not oscar hard launching logan’s relationship 😭

username i genuinely think yn hard launched them first in her last post

username hard launch between yn and oscar when

username no because was this a double date orrr???

username logan and his new gf, no lando, oscar and yn next to each other … hmm …

ynnorris you look cute 🥰 friend1

friend1 youuuu 💕

logansargeant 🤨🤨

friend1 you look cute too ig

logansargeant 😊

oscarpiastri no flirting on my instagram please

ynnorris boooo 🍅🍅🍅

liked by oscarpiastri, trentarnold66 and others

ynnorris post-beach clarity 🏝

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username the only woman ever

username 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

lissiemackintosh my girlfriend 🥵 (liked by ynnorris)

username obsessed with you

username face card is insaaaane

username oscar is very slow

trentarnold66 damn😍

landonorris uhm 🤨

charlesleclerc 🤨

maxverstappen1 🤨

pierregasly 🤨

lancestroll 🤨

lewishamilton 🤨

ynnorris all of you leave rn.

ynnorris except you lewishamilton you can stay 🥰

liked by friend2 and others

f1gossip some drivers were seen clubbing at monaco this weekend including oscar piastri with a mysterious brunette. yn norris and lissie mackintosh were also at the party

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username who’s the girl with oscar?

username i believe it’s friend2 but i could be wrong

username omg and look who follows her 🤭

username yn once again playing cupid but this time with the wrong guy 😩

username no because i wanted her and oscar to date so bad i thought they liked each other :(

username but look at the bright side!!! she’s been rumored to be dating trent alexander arnold so is not all bad

username i guess 😔

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footballwags trent alexander-arnold was seen recently with rumored girlfriend spending some time at the beach

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username excuse me what

username i thought his rumored girlfriend was yn norris? who is this?

username guys i think trent and yn were never really together

username you think?

username trentyn goodbye goodbye goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

username tbh i can’t be mad at this

username same

liked by oscarpiastri, lissiemackintosh and others

ynnorris took a trip down under 🇦🇺

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username OMG GUYSSS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username so we weren’t completely delusional huh😭

lissiemackintosh can’t believe you’re cheating on me 😔

ynnorris you’re my number one always! 🫶🏽

username she’s so gorgeous i’m speechless

username yn give me a chance pls pls pls

oscarpiastri you’re too much 😍

ynnorris do you want an australian kiss? 😛

aussiegrit kids please

username last pic is peak boyfriendism 🥵

username FINALLYYYYY

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Semifinals, Match 1

expand to see all propaganda received (sent in by anonymous users)!

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

[eviedreams8]

I’m uploading everything i have in a doc. Ive written this while drunk high sober. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes, I dont read often and when it comes to writing like this i can care less about how it sounds just that it exits my mind immediately. It brings me peace in a brain then never shuts up and cycles through the same horrid thoughts. I doubt someone will read this but i want this blog so that i can write on here and not on my docs i do want to be a writer and so im seeing if i have the courage to share these. So read on.

Here starts the doc v

I have this idea of what my future may look like and it scares me. Because it is me still living here and having a mediocre job and not doing anything basically the safe route. It feels as if what i want in life can be attained but i don't try to have. which is why im giving myself no other options in where to go to college because I know what I want but I also know myself and i know that i will somehow chicken out and go the safe route. Is it stupid to force my self to do something i may not be successful out in hopes that i will somehow finally come out of my shell and be the person i truly want to be just because i am in a diffrent state but sadly your mind does not change when you leave  no matter what you will always be you and your stuck with it.

I want to be “granola Girl” ive accepted the title think it has the best form in music, its 100% voice and instruments and i hope it stays the same and doesn't fall into the social music norms of electronic music sounds. Real music is real talent. I have the tattoo for the granola lifestyle too hence why i got it. I think when I was little I always knew this is what i wanted ever since the dream  the van with driving onto a log with mountains and a waterfall. I loved that dream and I would draw it all the time. In a way it is just like my tattoo. I've also loved the idea of earth and nature, I want this, it's what I want , now that i know for sure I am ready for it. I don't want money I could give two shits about that i just want someone who wants me and who gets me and all we will ever need is one another. I want what the couple in sleep on the floor has  because that is all i need 

There is something in women that when they look pretty or feel like they look pretty they become productive or its just me. I watch videos of girl being productive but the start of the video is of them looking cute. II need to start looking cute so i can be productive. I think the prettiest I’ve ever been was when i was in wyoming at school.. i wish I knew that back then cause looking back it’s painful to be like ya io was feeling myself but she didnt feel like i thought she would. It was still me. Insecure in some ]ways not as bad as i am now but still insecure. I do miss it immensely intensely but at the end it wasn’t me or was it. I was completely different i was like big sister protect like carry a knife by them alch9olo its not who i am here and i wish he was able to see Me ou there cause that’s the me i think he’d love the most. I stood heard as my friend stole the sangria im not the friend that steals the sangria and im, ok with that. But im also the friend to invite the friend to the wildlife meeting int the Rocky Mountains and 8im the one to talk to most of the our group to learn more about what we are doing. I’m the one to veer off enough to find the deer tooth. I was different I thrived and i think I wasn’t officals to move out and i wish i didnt fail all my classes and i wish i could i have moved in with Kylie but i pushed against it. 

I wish I could’ve been lucky enough to have perfect teeth show when i smile. No matter who i see on my phone i study there faces. I see there eyes their smile their lines on their faces the way the react to any scenario and im like wow if only i could react in that way and look the way they do because they are beautiful and i am well me. I get drunk because most of my life drunk people have reacted  to me in a way that i seem beautiful idk if it’s cause thats when i gain confidence or their judgment is drunk opossibly i am only beautiful when someone’s vision is a little distorted. My boyfriend still believes im beautiful even on days i feel ugly. I really love him when i think about him i feel a pull on my heart   

This brain of mine is getting awfully hard to stay friends with it. And its kinda strange to think that i have no control of that but i stand watch as my life burns around me people i hurt promises broken. That’s not me i swear thats that thing thats taken over it wears my skin and clothes it but its not me. I look in the mirror and she’s a stranger god how many times has a human put that down on paper. Why when i speak to myself constantly all day its a little less cliche then when im typing. This body has become fat and her hair frizzy. Skin bad. She’s disgusting. She’s ruining all of my relationships and i am too much of a coward to apologize for it. What’s the point of getting myself back on track when as pattern has shown i will inevitably fuck it up and it crashes and burn and i crash and burn once again. When in have it all i eventually don’t want any of it. And so i discard it and discard the people involved. Or I hid from it. I wanna live in a ditch. Never to be bothered again. And the only thing i can think of is gosh doesnt a dom and sub relationship sound like the best situation to be into. And hey if thats not your thing more power to you ladies im not saying thats how every women should live. But for me its heaven. Ever watch fleabag? That wonderful quote “i want someone to tell me how to dress tell me when to eat etc. god knows i cant take care of myself and well i dont think I’ve formed into a total grown up just yet so until that happens the adult relationship for that would be dom and sub. How embarrassing if thats what i become i grew up in a powerful women family and i do not carry that torch. So far one thing has been clear. I do not want to lose him. My goodness gracious he is an angel. 

There’s nights that haunt my mind. Many of my daily life decisions haunt me too. Everything haunts me. My past is a ghost who is mean. And it likes to act like a pop up book from hell (Gilmore girl quote). Throughout the day everyday pop an image of a past mistake. I think most definitely my problem is me. Most of the things i regret was me just causally living my life thinking I was sane. Looking back now im like hellooo why would you choose that high school schedule. If your reading this and think wow she’s thinking she’s insane because of something as silly as a high school schedule she really may be crazy. There’s other examples stupid things like that me being an idiot. Basically my schedule really showed me that learning was never really my goal. I didnt take any ap science classes but hey that is what i wanted to go into so maybe a bio and chem would be a good idea. So that leaves me thinking what the fuck do i want. I want to be constantly drunk and i want to be left the hell alone and i want to be fucked and i want to be thin i want to be in the good graces of everyone i fuck over .. Is there a place in this world for a girl like me. I hope to find it. I

not having morals and a strong sense of self can really destroy a persons entire mind. Believing in yourself and the way you chose to spend each passing second without an ounce of doubt is the best thing you can do for yourself. You are marinating waiting to bloom feeling out the waters just waiting for the day to come. Some would say just jump but gosh im 22 i have my whole life to swim just let me dip my toes in for a while i know that im setting myself up to tread water all my life instead of putting on a life jacket while im young and on land. That’s my choice. Having belief in oneself can really be beneficial. Words, judgements, and opinions and suggestions from others may seriously drown a person. It can send you down a path that you’ve never even wanted and therefore derailing the whole reality you’ve created for yourself so when you start off at square one again you get those same critics again. The understanding of this has helped me be able to not spiral out. I dont know what divine intervention was with me when i did have this experience but it talked to me in a way that I’ve never talked to my self before. The conversation went something like this. 

What if me and him aren’t actually in love we are young and dont know what love should look or feel like since neither of us really expirnced it growing up. 

Well thats not true. (Ok so I don’t remeber exactly how the conversation went ) 

you two have actively sought each other out and chose one another. That is love. 

then something about how Wyoming was my life the same way he is my life it happened the way it did because it was supposed to happen that way i was suppposed to go only for a year and we were supposed to end up together 

the spirit also told me that hurting myself was not in the plan it isn’t the reason your together now you would’ve ended up together if it happened or not. But it was sorry that it did. 

The light in his bedroom was bluish and bright and my eyes were open most of the  

time for this conversation. It was a soft eloquent voice and it thought me to slow down the conversations i have with myself. That i didnt have to be so fast in my head. 

It changed me. I feel different. Lighter so thank you spirit. 

i like rewatching the things I watched as a child young impressionable wondering if who i became is becasue of the things i did for entertainment. Or becasue it was dest8ined to be that way. When i watch Hannah Montana or pretty little liars i see things that coincide with the choices I’ve made. But gosh it can be my little selfs fault for all that can it. My parents didnt force me to watch not cable and so therefore im sentenced to a life of lust and sloth and all the other seven deadly sins. I wasn’t given internet restrictions but god only knows what i was up top on those late nights as a ten year old. I love to say it but it really did ruin my life. It made me I also I find myself studying the faces of the girls in the shows i watch or those I see on social media . Just so i can compare them to my own see what makes them attractive and the differences between mine and theirs when you feel unattractive its easy to compare to your self to your family first and knowing that you find the women in your family beautiful its easy to belive you yourself  is beautiful and when you compare famous women to your facial similarities then you feel even better about yourself. I guess my comparisons would be Lucy hale and etc. . . .]

I believe god is a form of love everything on earth that’s embodies love is god. 

Self love, love for a person and community   Which is why I also belive that the upper class is all satirist they don’t belive in god they believe in the devil which is why our society is so blinldy following their lead. It’s why chiridasntutn is so diminanixyed too. 

Why does the world think it has a claim on my soul why must i feel like i owe the world my presence. Why do i have a pull to see it. Why cant i just be happy here. Why cant i be at peace here. Why does it have to be my job to go out and live and visit and see as much as i can. Live in another world in the southern hemisphere. Why cant i just love the man and be friends with the people here. Why cant i force myself to fit here. With my family loved ones. Why must they expect so much from me why do i feel like im responsible to be the one to get away. Why can i not have my life here. One foot here one foot out the door thats how I’ve always felt. I tell a joke ill just leave by train bus train plane ill be gone. Its just a joke i dont know how to actually leave by myself. I need someone to pus me into the void of somewhere new. Come with me.

The call is as talking about above has called again. I must see more, do more I have dreams and i dont work towards them. I talk about it, I feel it inside me, I can picture how it looks. Now it is time to achieve. A work for it. Work, DO DO DO DO DO DO DO. DO More. Follow that passion and hope for happiness i know it can happen. Every thing could be different in a years time if you just apply yourself every day for a year to make that change. Things are worked for things happen when you do them not just think it. You have to go sought after your life not just watch others achieve what you want. You’ve done that your whole high school days and now its been four years since and your still trying to inspire that spark into you to get you moving when its already been sparked this whole time. Get out of your head and into your life.  

[thewritersaddictions]

Request: Ciri- The Lost Sister

Pairing: Ciri x Sister!Reader

Pov: Ciri

Warnings: Angst; Fluff; missing sibling; angst to fluff; Kahr Morhen; first female witcher; transformation.

Summary: Long before Ciri was born, her long-lost sister was lost to the mountains.

WC- 1.2k

A/n: @firefly-graphics for dividers; This is for @chocotacobread as a request! I hope you enjoy

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My grandmother Queen Calanthe would tell me stories about a lone and wild girl that got lost in the mountains. One with a strong arm, and the prettiest of laughs. She was just a few years older then I was. Born a few years before me. Her blonde hair was a staple of every outfit she wore. 

The kingdom was in love with her. Her personality drove the kingdom togood fortune and great times. Even when Queen Calanthe was more then ready for a war that was far from us at that time. When I was older though my grandmother told me a different story. 

One that was riddle with lose, and fright to the ends of the earth. She sat me down, it wasn’t a bedtime story by anymeans. It was just the truth. A dark and scary truth was being told as my grandmother sat me down at the end of my bed. 

“Now listen to my every word child. You are your mothers daughter, but you are also her second daughter. Your mother was my only child, and she was the nicest person in the whole kingdom. She had a true sense of reliability within her, and when she gave birth to your sister the entire kingdom was in enlittlement. A beautiful baby girl, who looked just like her mother. You don’t remember your sister. A little to young to remember her running around the halls, and forever getting the guards in tangles with each other.” My grandmother said looking at me. 

She grasped her hands around my much smaller ones, and gave me a sadden look. “Your sister when you were just a babe went out to the gardens. Your mother was consumed by her need to support you, and the guards were not paying attention. Your sister got lost all by herself. In the gardens she was declared as lost to the kingdom, lost to the mountains and to everything that she was to become.” 

There was a statue in the garden dedicated to my los sister. In the stone it was engraved her name. ARES and under her name was “Lost in the garden, but not to her people and kingdom.” I used to watched the stuate from my bedroom window and used to think that I’d never find her, and the only thing I’d ever know about her was her statue. 

I had forgotten the stories months later, when I watched my grandmother stumble over her words and try her hardest to tell me to be a strong young women that she knew I was. As I ran away from war that Nilfgaard had caused with my kindom I saw yet the same garden that my sister had gotton lost within. It was burning, tall trees, flowers, and status burning and breaking as the horse led me away far away from the horror that was now mine. 

Geralt and I set out to find Kaer Morhen. Or not find it as in it was lost but go back to it. Geralt had declared that if I was going to be requesting his help in becoming strong and able to fight for myself that we would need to go back to his home. 

Kaer Morhen was in the cold and snowy mountains of the land. A long trip up through woods, and mountains and finally through all the snow. I had asked Geralt a thousands questions about where we were going, the people there and what it was like. Every question was ignored. 

“Geralt will you just tell me a little about the people there at Kear Morhen?!” I was more then excited, excited in part to learn more about Geralt considering I had been told that Geralt was destiny. Not that I know what the hell that truly means. But still I asked my questions, and got vague answers back of course. But answers were answers nonetheless. 

“So… I know you said there hasn’t like ever been a female witcher, but is there a female witcher at Kear Morhen?” I asked with a sense of intrigue. He grunted as we stop just short of the gate of Kear Morhen. He turned, and looked down at me. Yellow eyes looking deep into my heart and soul. “Why?” He asked, I just looked at him. “Why, because I wanna know.” I said straightforward. 

He gave me an arched brow, and hummed. Short response for something that needed more then that kind of response. “Yes, Ciri if you must know there is a female witcher the first of the kind. She the best at swords, and hand to hand combat. I’ve never seen that girl not hit a target.” Geralt said as the gates opened on Kear Morhen. 

When Vesemir finally saw who  was at the door he rang out to the rest of the witchers. “Geralt, you must come and fest with us and bring your guest along side with you.” He said patting hard on Geralts shoulder. “Do you remember Ares?” Vesemir asked Geralt. I froze in my spot. 

My sisters name clinging to my mind and my feet began to stick to the snowy and frosted ground. “Ciri?” Geralts voice rang out. “Come meet Ares.” That’s when I saw her, poking her head around the corner and hugging Geralt deeply. Her graze over to me. “Who is that little girl you brought alongside you?” She asked him. 

“Ciri, of cintra. She wants to learn how to fight and to defend herself. She asked me to help so I brought her hear.” Geralt went on, but it didn’t matter Ares  was walking to me. “Cintra?” She yelled from across the yard. I shook my head. “Ares of Cintra?” I asked back. “The lost daughter, the one from garden. Grandmother always talked about how Ares got lost in the garden and was never found again.” I spoke. She stopped infront of me. Her features reminding me of m.. Our grandmother. 

“Ciri…” She went on to say. “I thought I’d neer find you again.” She said as she find her grip on her words. “All I’d ever heard was the stories how your disappearance. I never thought you’d be here with Geralt and all of his people. Wait! Are you the first female witcher that Geralt was talking about earlier?” I asked, my eyes were in amazement. 

Bewildered by the fact my long lost sister was standing right there in front of me. “Geralt talks now does he. He is right, the first female witcher, and proud of it. With Vesemir help alongside with Geralt’s help. They’ve done a good job.” Ares went on to say. 

I didn’t care anymore I just wanted to hug her, I closed the space between us and took a leap into faith. I hugged her tighty, and tired not to cry and failed. Regardless I hugged her and she hugged me back. Finally I had found my lost sister. Geralt may had been my destiny to finding my lost sister. Ares brought her hand up and patted my hair down calming me down. 

“We are together now, Ciri. Together”

Completed on: 08/16/2022

Posted on: 08/17/2022

The Heros-

[waywardrose13]

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said. 

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look. 

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said. 

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before. 

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together. 

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff. 

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly. 

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet. 

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled. 

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

Did you like it? What was your favorite part? Send me an ask with your thoughts! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated:)

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[bakerolivias-archived]

TO FOR THE ASK GAME

the first character i ever fell in love with: rebekah, my wonderful smol feral sunflower child a character that i used to love/like, but now do not: elijah, he truly went downhill and regressed so horrifically lol a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not: umm..... idk, haylijah i suppose?? or maybe marcille lmao my ultimate favorite character™: it's a tie between rebekah or klaus, but i just love them all so much it's really impossible to choose. prettiest character: ALL THE WOMEN ARE SO BEAUTIFUL AND MARCEL IS THE DEFINITION OF A PRETTY BOY I MEAN. THAT SMILE AND THOSE PEARLY WHITE TEETH AND HIS DRAMATIC FLAIR. i can't possibly choose sorry not sorry, everyone in tvdu is wayyyy too hot. my most hated character: uhhh..... elijah, i suppose? but also dahlia, mikael, and esther because seriously FUCK THOSE THREE. my OTP: marbekah, klamille, klayley, haybekah, and kolvina my NOTP: idk that i have one for this show... maybe finn/camille, i suppose? favorite episode: that one s1 ep where klaus found out about rebekah's betrayal and then proceeded to chase her around a cemetery for 48 hours without actually ever killing her is just. *chef's kiss* i'm a sucker for that ep because the conflict between rebekah and klaus and marcel was written SO WELL. klaus loved his sister and he loved marcel, but his own issues of loneliness and paranoia blocked the road to his loved ones' happiness, and klaus has let this be the case several times in the last 1000 years. it was not his permission to give for rebekah to "be happy," he should have wanted that for her from the start regardless of whether she asked him or not, because srsly that's messed up honestly and while i adore klaus if my brother did that i might have put him in the icu. that being said: it's one thing for rebekah to have a genuine, and justifiable reason, to be angry at klaus. those feelings are 100% right and should be welcomed, and as much as klaus doesn't understand that what he did was wrong at that point in time, because he was clouded by his obsessive love for his family and his own selfish paranoia, he's forgiven her attempt to kill him before, in tvd s3, because that was the point rebekah found out he killed their mother (lol this show is so weird). the difference is that to klaus, what rebekah did was something that hit far more deeply: she seeked the help of his, of their abuser and tormenter, mikael, the same man she always tried to protect him from, to get rid of him. it's more personal because she knows what it was like to be hurt by mikael, to be hunted down in an attempt to be killed, was just as traumatized, and that makes all the difference as to, say, katherine and stefan enlisting mikael's help, because they have a justifiable reason to truly loathe klaus (not that rebekah doesn’t but. semantics or whatever) and that's why they're not obligated to feel any kind of empathy. i loved this ep because it put klaus and rebekah on equal footing when it came to wrongdoings, and helped them heal their relationship - they both held each other accountable, rebekah wanted her space from klaus and vise versa. rebekah learned how to be independent and establish her own agency, and klaus learned that rebekah having her own room for personal growth away from him does not mean that she loves him any less and that he doesn't have to be terrified of the prospect of her "leaving" him permanently. he also learned not be a possessive ass, lol. saddest death: it's so hard to tell because there were so many truly sad death scenes on this show. i would say camille, or gia, for the first half of the show, and klaus for the second because HE DIED IN SERVICE OF HIS DAUGHTER, TO PROTECT HIS LOVED ONES. HIS VERY LAST ACT ON EARTH, AFTER 1000+ YEARS OF BEING A VENGEFUL, VIOLENT, PARANOID LUNATIC AND ACTING OUT OF MALICE/SELF LOATHING/SELFISHNESS, WAS AN ACT OF KINDNESS AND FAITH AND LOVE. (can you tell i'm still not over klaus's death lmao). THE POETIC CINEMA favorite season: uhhhh probably s3 because it was such a gift tbh. marcel was off exploring an identity away from the mikaelsons by being a supposed "villain" (lol, because he served his own interests that didn't align to the bio!mikaelson's agenda and wanted to asset his own power outside of them, what an ass) and joining the strix, aurora coming back (because for what it's worth i miss her even tho she should have left cami alone), lucien being the kind of unhinged villain that i like, TRISTAN GETTING SENT TO THE BOTTOM OF THE FUCKING OCEAN, davina tirelessly trying to bring kol back, kolvina in the ancestral plane, KLAMILLE [hearts eyes], klayley’s very tumultuous and difficult yet very complicated and loving relationship, etc etc etc. least favorite season: s5 was kind of ridiculous and i have no idea where the writers thought they were going tbh character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate: i don’t think i have one for this show my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: KLAUS MIKAELSON NEEDS TO GET DECKED IN THE FACE AND I LOVE HIM. also lucien. my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: camille o’connell and davina claire my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: klaus/davina, mostly because davina actually looks the age she’s supposed to be. besides it would never have happened so whatever, and i like them more as a fucked up granddaughter/granddaughter dynamic (or reluctant brother/sister in law because ya know this family is weird). my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship: josh and aiden deserved better but also at this point i’m just. eh. also elijah/gia and elijah/antoinette. both ladies were far too god for him.

[griff-us]

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Perception pt. 1

The Company x Reader

I’ve always had the idea that, while men and elves seem to like the slimmer built type of women, dwarves and hobbits like theirs a little more curvy/voluptuous (whatever term you like). Maybe it’s all the eating and beer drinking that makes me think that lol. Anyway....the human reader would be confused at first about why literally the entire company is acting like major show offs. But, once she figures this out she uses it to her amusement/advantage. There doesn’t have to be a specific pairing, or you can pick one yourself if you feel like it. ---middleearth2asgard

---

Fat.

Ugly. 

Pig.

These seem to be some of the favorite insults of those who didn't like you in your past life on earth. 

The stereotype that every woman must be and look a certain way, be a certain height and have a certain weight, has always weighed you down heavily; and while you often pretended that it didn't hurt you very much and you did your best to ignore it, at some point you began to believe those things. 

A person can only go on for so long hearing something before their beliefs change, after all. 

Obviously, you're not ugly in the slightest, for all people are beautiful when their lovely on the inside. Not to mention, physical attraction is merely something based on opinion. Ever heard of the saying 'beauty lies in the eye of the beholder'? 

In this specific group though, everything is a lot different. 

Not that you particularly know it, but for them you've got to be the prettiest thing around. 

Healthy is the way the see you, healthy, strong, and gorgeous, and that topped with you wonderful personality... well, they're done for. 

Not all of them, obviously, because some are married, unaware, or just not interested, but that doesn't mean they don't like you or anything like that. 

The first time Kili called you pretty, you got angry and told him to stop teasing you. 

When his brother did the same a few hours later, you became furious and refused to speak with them for the rest of the day.

Balin asked you why you were in such a bad mood that night, and when you explained it to him he only smiled and shook his head, telling you in a soft and understanding voice. "I do not understand how you feel of yourself, my dear, but please rest assured that they were not teasing you. You're lovely." 

Since Balin was the one who said it you kinda felt obligated to believe him, and so that next morning you sought out the sheepish brothers and apologized for getting so angry, though you offered no explanation to your behavior.

When Bofur called you lovely one afternoon, you didn't get as angry though you did deny it, mumbling something about your weight before riding off away from him. 

Dwalin's compliment of you was more of a gruff, "You look nice today," and it embarrassed you and only uttered a disbelieving, 'okay' in response. 

Eventually, you grew more used to the compliments given to you on your appearance, though you preferred the ones about liking your cooking or laugh more so since you could actually believe in someone liking that. 

Little did you know, however, that your reluctance to have faith in their praises has sparked quite a bit of debate amongst them, and rather quickly did an agreement to show you how lovely you truly are come to be.

Another thing you've noticed besides the constant compliments, is the boastful and swanky behavior of some of them (like Thorin's nephews, Dwalin, Bofur, Thorin himself sometimes, and even sweet Ori to name a few). 

Truthfully, you find it to be pretty funny. How they'll randomly challenge each other and walk around all big headed when they win one of those challenges, showing off their skills and boasting. 

It's pretty funny though you don't really know why they do it, and you haven't really bothered to ask about it either so... 

---

"Hey, Y/N!" Someone calls suddenly, capturing your attention from the conversation you were having with Gloin, "Watch this!"

You turn toward the noise and see Fili and Kili looking at you with matching grins. 

As soon as your attention is on them, Fili pulls out some bite-sized dried mutton and aims as Kili runs a few paces ahead. Fili throws the food and Kili follows it with his mouth open, catching it perfectly.

A bright smile spreads across your face and you clap your hands a couple of times, "Wow! If I couldn't do better, I'd probably be impressed!" You exclaim, unable to keep the confidence from your voice.

Kili's bright smile melts into a frown and he furrows his eyebrows, meanwhile Fili just raises an eyebrow and asks skeptically. "You can do better?" 

"I sure can. I can catch food in my mouth from almost any distance." You say as a smile spreads across your face, fondly remembering all the grapes and marshmallows that you've 'trained' with over the years. It's just a natural talent, really. 

"You don't mind if I put that to the test now, do you?" He challenges, pulling off another bite sized piece of his mutton.

Oh, he really thinks he's gonna psyche you out right now? You are so about to put this mans in his place. "Not in the slightest! Hit me with your best shot, pretty boy!" You exclaim rather assertively. 

You drop what you're doing and jump up to your feet, stepping back further a few paces. 

"Wait, you're going really far." Fili warns, looking at you in perplexity. 

"Are you afraid you don't have the arm for it?" You taunt, crossing your arms over your chest with a smirk quirking at your lips. 

His eye twitches in annoyance at your teasing, but he only pulls his arm back to show he's ready. "Well, you asked for it." 

You drop your arms back to your side and watch his hand carefully, and when he finally throws it and it sails through the air you keep your eyes trained on it the whole time. 

As it grows closer you adjust your stance and position, and then you open your mouth when it's less than a second away and...

It lands right in your mouth!

You throw your arms up in the air and cheer, chewing the hard jerky while everyone else looks on in amazement. 

Once the mutton is swallowed you smile brightly and drop your hands back to your sides, "I told you!" 

"T-That was astounding!" The blond dwarf breathes, looking over at his brother with the same look of shock and admiration on his face. 

Right before you respond a small voice in the back of your head whispers, 'Now they know how you got to be such a pig.' And the grin immediately falls from your face.

"No... it wasn't anything." You deny softly, walking back forward to grab your things. 

Your sudden change in demeanor is almost as shocking as the hidden talent you just displayed, and as soon as you walk droopily over to the items you discarded they began to exchange confused and slightly concerned glances with one another. 

For the majority of the day, you don't say anything else. 

---

That night when dinner time rolled around you hesitated to eat anything.

In fact, you fully intended not to have anything at all if it weren't for the fact that Thorin approached you and reminded you that you haven't eaten yet. 

Obviously, you cannot tell the leader of the group 'no' to eating like a petulant child, so you concede and get a bowl for yourself and, ultimately, give your left overs to Bofur despite him insisting that you finish your own food.

It was the same story the next morning at breakfast. 

You kinda poked at your food, had a few mouthfuls, then gave the rest to someone else. 

Of course, that didn't go by unnoticed either. 

---

After everyone picks up on your odd mannerisms and realize that there's something deeper going on, they end up having a conversation about it while you're out bathing in the river away from everyone else. 

"The lass has been acting awfully odd, recently..." Dwalin brought up suddenly while everyone settles in for the night, catching everyones attention in no time. 

"She has, but does anyone know why?" Nori adds, his eyebrows furrowing. 

Everything is quiet as they think it over, trying to find out what has changed. 

"Maybe the compliments are bothering her?" Ori offers quietly, his head tilted slightly to the side. 

Balin shakes his head a bit, taking a puff from his pipe before adding, "Yes, but she's always been rather touchy about acclamation and flattery. It has to be something else." 

"Well, after we bet her on catching food in her mouth is when she started being all weird." Kili pipes up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Or at least, it developed more. She's never refused dinner before." 

Thorin listens along quietly, occasionally taking a puff from his briar while he too tries to figure it out. 

"Let's put all of our facts together, hows about?" Balin suggests, leaning forward a bit. "She refuses to accept compliments on her appearance, she expresses a skillset and shuts down, and she won't eat properly."

Once more there is silence as they consider the facts, and then Bilbo adds, "The food catching skill, right?" He sounds like he's onto something, and the brighter of them see what he's getting at. 

Balin nods his head slowly, stroking his beard gently, "Yes...," he begins, "Well, this is less concerning than I thought. I was worried she was sick, at first." 

Thorin nods his head, putting his pipe down as he leans forward and finally speaks, "As was I. It's still bothers me though..." 

"What? What bothers you?" Bofur asks, looking between those who seem to understand what's going on. 

"I don't get it either." Kili adds, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

"The lass doesn't value herself, my boy." Balin explains in a quiet voice, his expression grim. 

"Oh..."

"Well what are we going to do about it?" Fili asks, crossing his arms over his chest with his own pipe hanging from his hand. 

"There isn't much we can do other than show our appreciation and express our disagreement with her self evaluation." The older dwarf explains. 

Everyone nods, and at that moment they decide the best course of action is to prove you otherwise. 

[giowritess]

straight to my head [henry cavill]

masterlist

Pairing: Henry Cavill x bestfriend!female!reader

Request:  “Hi! May you please write a Henry Cavill one where you’re hanging out with him and you have feelings for him but haven’t had the guts to tell him but that day your sister called you and you started speaking in Spanish to her about Henry but little did you know that he actually knew Spanish and he teased you about it. Happy ending please, thank you!”

Warnings: cursing, some angst, fluff

Word-count: 2,697

Author’s note: HEY GUYS! I can’t believe I’m finally posting my first writing piece here on Tumblr! It’s my first attempt at writing this kind of fanfiction (well, the second, actually), and I truly hope you like it, especially you, dear anon, who requested this. I did some changes, hope you don’t mind. This one was based on the song Straight to My Head, by You Me At Six, and I’d really like if you listened to it. A big thank you to my best friend, @naturiz​ for the Spanish part, and a big shoutout to my amazing beta/daughter/friend/love of my life @amirahiddleston​ <3333 I’d be lost without you!

gif credit goes to @b-n-a-o​

Straight to My Head

  You had never been the kind of person to enjoy dancing. 

   Yet, here you were, jumping, moving and swaying your hips to the beat of your favorite song in the middle of an empty dance floor. A little tequila-and-other-alcoholic-beverages-induced, yes — but you were happy, not even minding the glances you were getting. All the stress that had built up in the past few weeks had finally left your body, and you had your friends to thank for that. They were the ones who’d dragged you down here, to a cosy small pub. It had been way too long since the last time all of you had spent time together, and everyone seemed to benefit from a bit of fun and forgetting the real world. 

   Exactly as you were doing right now, completely oblivious to everything and everyone else. How good it felt to be trapped in your bubble, with nothing but your fuzzy mind and your favourite song.

   “Didn’t know you could dance, y/n,” Henry teased, not far from you. You could even hear the smirk in his deep voice.

   “Shut up, idiot,” you replied, snapping out of your bubble and walking closer to your friends.

   “Seriously, though,” he insisted, grinning like a kid, “those were amazing dance moves. You should teach me.”

   You just rolled your eyes, making him laugh, and tried to hide your smile. Your relationship with Henry had always been playful like this, ever since you met a couple of years ago. You two had been through a lot together — it was quite a fun and exciting journey to follow his success as an amazing actor that close, which meant celebrations, parties, even a few premieres.

   As the boys got ready to play some pool, you stood in the back with a beer in hand, watching him — always him and no one else. You sighed as you watched him move with the ease and gracefulness of a cat. A big, fluffy cat who seemed to be serious and almost dangerous on the outside, but was nothing more than a playful little kitten on the inside.

   The dim lighting in that corner of the room sent shadows over his godly features, the sight sending warmth up your core. He was always the most handsome man in the room. And in your head.

   That was where he was. He’d taken over your thoughts ever since you met, and there was nothing you could do to take him out; he was already at home and wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. You tried as hard as you could, even dated other people, but it was pointless. You still fell hard for him anyway.

  But Henry was your best friend, and you were his. You talked about everything, helped each other with everything — even his own love life. It hurt you. Like hell, but there was nothing you could do about it but listen and be there for him when he needed, just like he did for you. His friendship is one of the most precious things on Earth to you, but that is all you were meant to be. He was yours, but not in the way you truly wanted.

   Which was why sometimes it got too hard for you. Sometimes you had to step back and pull yourself together when it was too much for your heart. Seeing him with other women, especially when you knew he was happy, was far more than you could take, a pain you couldn’t avoid. 

   You straightened yourself up and dropped the bottle on the table. You needed to sober up. Being drunk around Henry was always a dangerous idea — you were a complete mess. Crazy, unpredictable and suddenly brave. The possibility that you’d end up saying or making anything that could lead to regrets and ruining your friendship was a giant risk — one you couldn’t take. So, you always tried your best to be as sober as possible, but tonight you desperately needed the freedom and release that only alcohol could give you. And he happened to be around.

   “Be right back,” you muttered to no one in particular, making your way towards the ladies room. They were too entertained in their game to miss you, anyway. 

   Thankfully, the bathroom wasn’t crowded, just a few girls who seemed half your age, many who had probably got in with a fake ID. You went straight to the sink and splattered the cold water in your face one, two, three times. But it was the girls’ conversation that caught your attention.

   “Did you see Henry Cavill playing pool by the back? Jesus fucking Christ, that’s Heaven made of flesh,” one of them said. 

   “Can you believe our luck? Gotta be fate,” the one applying mascara in front of the mirror replied.

   They laughed together and started to make their way outside.

   “I think I’m gonna try my luck, who knows,” you heard one of them say as they left the bathroom, and you gripped the sink with both hands, taking a deep breath. 

   You had no right to be angry with their words. In fact, you understood a-hundred-per cent how they felt — you felt that way almost all the time, too. But fuck. There was no way in controlling the anger that was taking over you, as well as the few lonely tears that escaped the corner of your eyes. There was nothing you could do about it but simply accept it. That was your job as his best friend.

   After a few deep breaths, you pulled yourself together, and finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. Your anger alone, still tingling through your face, your arms, your fingers, had sobered you up some seventy-per cent by now. You stopped by the bar to buy some chocolate and was met with one of your friends.

   “Hey y/n, wanna play some pool? We need someone,” he asked.

   “Yeah, sure,” you replied, eating the chocolate before you walked back to the pool table.

   You grunted at the scene in front of you. The girls from the bathroom, one sitting in the back with her arms wrapped around one of your friends and the other one — the prettiest one, with long, dark hair and a beautiful black dress that hugged her body in the best way — tangled up with Henry, laughing and touching him whenever (and wherever) she could. Which meant all the time (and everywhere). 

   It wasn’t that this kind of thing didn’t happen often — it did, in fact; of course it would, when your group of friends had you as the only woman. And you didn’t care for your other friends, they could do whatever they wanted if it’d bring them a bit of happiness, even if momentary. But Henry was… Henry. He would never be like everyone else, and you couldn’t fool yourself or your heart to believe that.

   “Girls, this is y/n,” your friend said, and the girls smiled at you.

  You tried your best to look sympathetic.

   “Hey, I’m Devon,” the one in the back waved at you.

   “And this is Julia,” Henry told you and motioned at the girl beside him.

   With another deep breath, you smiled and hoped it looked real enough.

   You didn’t know what happened to you. You’d never been this jealous, you’d always been able to control your emotions and prevent them from rising to surface. But that night felt completely different. Probably because of all the alcohol, but there was no way you’d be able to look unaffected. 

   “Ready to kick some asses?” your pair asked, handing you the stick. 

   “Born ready, baby,” you replied, applying chalk to the end of the poolstick.

Julia was Henry’s partner, of course. He had to show her how to properly hold the stick and how to play, but you had your doubts if she truly didn’t know or was just pretending. Well, you’d pretend if you were in her shoes. 

   It was no surprise when you made the first ball — you had a natural talent for the pool. Especially when drunk. And angry.

   The chocolate in your mouth felt bitter because you kept hearing Julia’s giggles and saw the way Henry touched her. Every fucking time she was going to play, he had to be glued to her back, lingering touches on her hand, her arms. It began to piss you off way more than you imagined.

   You made a ball. And another, and another, and another. Four in a row, leaving only two of your balls on the table. 

   “Fuck, y/n,” your partner said, and laughed, clearly a bit shocked. “Where did that come from?”

   “What can I say,” you replied, “the effects of anger.” 

   The game soon came to an end, you made the victory hit. You started another, trying your best to focus on the game and nothing else. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard when Julia and Henry didn’t even pretend to play properly, due to their drunken stupor and lust for one another. When his lips went closer to her ear, you finally snapped. There was no way in fucking hell you were going to endure that. No. Enough.

   “I’m through,” you stated before dropping the stick on the table.

   You didn’t care about the stupid game. All you wanted was to leave the pub, to get away, and cry and scream and fill up your sister’s inbox with countless messages rambling about it. 

   That was exactly what you did the instant you crossed the door, drinking in the cold night air and fishing for your phone. After finding her contact, your fingers started to fly across the keyboard, but you realized that wasn’t enough for how angry you were.

   “No puedo creer lo enojada que estoy por eso [I can’t believe how mad I am],” you started. Of course, it’d be in Spanish, your mother tongue: it was the only way you truly could express your anger. 

   You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but you had to say something, to get it out. There was a pressure in your chest that’d only be alleviated after you opened your heart to someone, obviously your sister. 

   “Tú no creerías lo tan enojada que estoy. ¡Pero ugh! ¡Simplemente no puedo controlarlo y no mames eso me deja demasiada enojada! [You wouldn’t believe how mad I am. But ugh! I just can’t control it and that makes me so fucking angry!]”

   You sent that first audio message to her. You didn’t even have an internet connection, so she’d only receive it after you connected to wifi or something, but it didn’t matter. You just had to speak. Get it out of your system.

   “Dios, desearía que pudieras verlo con tus propios ojos todos los toques y coqueteos. Simplemente me mandaron por un tubo y no sé cómo enfrentarlo, sabes? No hay ninguna explicación más allá de la verdad, que él debe haber entendido, de todos modos. O no, apuesto que Julia lo mantiene demasiado ocupado para que yo ocupe su mente [God, I wish you could see for yourself! All those touches and flirting. It just pushed me off the edge and now I don’t even know how to face him, you know? There’s no explanation besides the truth. Which he must have already figured it out, anyway. Or not. I bet Julia is keeping him too busy for me to occupy his mind at all],” you said in a single breath. There. Now you felt as if the weight was off your chest.

   After pressing the “send” button, you took a much needed deep breath. The cold weather had a calm, soothing effect on you as you breathed in the night air; you could feel yourself getting calmer. Still angry, yes, but a bit calmer.

   So trapped in your own space, you almost jumped when you heard his voice.

   “No hay nada que nunca pueda sacarte de mi mente [There’s nothing that can ever keep you off my mind].” 

     Even in a perfect Spanish, his deep British accent was still present.

   Oh, my, god. There he was, behind you, and you wanted to bury yourself six feet under and never, ever come out.

   “Henry!” Your voice was a shriek. “I… I’m… I sh…” you stuttered, not knowing what to say. You could feel your heart pounding violently against your chest.

   What to say, what to do, how to act. You had no idea Henry even spoke Spanish, and you sure as hell hadn’t expected him to follow you outside. Díos mio. Had he heard every single word you just said? You were glad that it was dark, ‘cause your face must’ve definitely been on fire.

   “I’m sorry,” he said, making you look at him with a visible question mark on your face. “For making you feel like that. I did want to affect you, though, and I’m quite glad I did.”

   “What? Henr—”

   “See, y/n,” he interrupted you, “I had a theory, and you just proved it.”

   He came closer, his beautiful face stepping under the thin lightning which made his baby blue eyes to shine. He hovered above you, like a lion over his prey, but you weren’t intimidated at all. Though confused and with your head spinning as fuck.

   “My theory was that you and I feel the same way about each other,” he continued, getting closer and closer at each word that left his lips.

   Díos. Were your dreams coming true? Was this real? Were you dreaming, or even seeing properly? You could hear your speeding heart, and you wondered if he could hear it, too.

   “Henry, I… I’m… I’m lost in translation here,” you replied, your weak voice almost a whisper.

   He had to say it. You needed to hear the words coming out of his very own lips, otherwise, it wouldn’t be real. 

   A low chuckle came from him. He left very little space between your faces when he got even closer and cupped your face with both hands.

   “I’ve been falling in love with you ever since you entered my life, love,” he said. Your knees were weak, and you felt as if you were going to fall dead on the ground. “But you never gave me any signal that you felt the same. Until I started to notice the small details. Your face, your eyes, your hands. Your words, your expressions. The little things gave you away, y/n.”

   The warm touch of his big hands on your face, all the love and tenderness with which he spoke every single word made your heart swell. No one had ever spoken with that much affection towards you, no one had ever held you that gently as he did. Your best friend. Your soulmate. 

   “So? Am I right then? He asked playfully, chuckling because you hadn’t said anything yet.

   You felt as if a lightning bolt had just gone through you, your skin prickling. 

   “Yes!” You instantly said, feeling some tears on your eyes. “Yes, Henry, yes. You are. I don’t even know for how long I’ve loved you. I was… I was scared of ruining our friendship. I’m sorry, if I’d kno—”

   He shushed you with a gentle kiss, timidly placing one of his hands in the back of your neck. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders.

   “No regrets or apologies,” he murmured, touching your forehead with his. “Though I do regret the method I used to prove my point,” he said, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I was getting desperate and running out of options. I just couldn’t bear to spend another entire day being nothing more than friends with you,” he explained, his eyes locked with yours. One of his hands started tracing the line of your bottom lip. “Not being able to touch you, to kiss you… God knows how torture it was to be around you all this time.”

   It was your turn to laugh. He felt exactly like you did, then.

   “Henry?” You whispered. “Come home with me?”

   An affirmation, an invitation, an order? You didn’t know. But all that mattered was his answer.

   “Yes.”

A/N: I hope from the depths of my heart that you enjoyed it! For now I do not have a taglist, but if you’d like to be tagged in my future works, let me know <3 

xoxo, Gio

[knightsandjedis]

Let the pettiness commence

Let me be frank here when stating that if the quarantine weren’t happening I would probably remain the type of blogger to just re-blog posts without commenting or making my own posts. I enjoy looking at things more than commenting what can I say? I should say thanks and welcome to all the followers I’ve gained these past few years. You all are awesome and hope you all are staying safe during these troublesome times!

Alright, I’m going from civil to petty here and I should forewarn you if you’re a fan of Sarah J. Maas and her novels you’ll prefer to stay away then listen to my rant. Just being polite and giving a heads up.

Listen, there are periods where atrocious books become a major part of trending pop culture. Eventually, the hype dies down and people can take a deep inhale of relief. Around the 2010s time-period, the hype was focused on Twilight books. No matter where you went you felt suffocated by the hyper-fixation people had on this series. I’ll be honest I was an avid Twilight lover for a period until I wised up and had to recognize these books are horrendous and having a bad influence on teens during my era. Teens were getting Aids from drinking each other’s blood literally, they were drinking someone’s blood literally. While they’re still popular main society’s attention has begun to wane.

Pop culture has an new interest in Sarah J. Maas’s series: Throne of Glass (ToG) and A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR). At one time I was part of the fan-base obsessed with her books. During a bleak period where every book I purchased ending up a dud despite strong premises; Maas’s first books, in both series, were a breath of fresh air. They had characters you found hysterical and enjoyed the story-lines (even though the storytelling was meh at times) and you couldn’t help anticipating future novels to see where the novels took these characters. Both series died for me at the books: Queen of Shadows and A Court of Mist and Fury.

These novels were my wake-up call to Maas’ manipulative storytelling patterns and her inconsistent characterizations. She completely morphs characters depending on the scenario. A noble, decent character is turned heinous to either add unnecessary drama or to make readers turn their affections towards another character Maas’ manipulates into becoming “the hero”- typically a love interest. Usually, the first-or second in TOG- love interests are noble characters with a few flaws but nothing to make readers despise them other than the fact they’re not the prettiest men in the series. Literally, readers adore the male characters that are otherworldly attractive than an average looking male who is humane and unproblematic. Problematic much? The message I’m receiving is you should fall in love with a pretty face rather than explore the person’s entire being (this includes past history, personality, characterization, etc).

People will say I’m petty because I’m annoyed Chaol and Tamlin did not remain the love interests. This is absolutely untrue. I’m annoyed Maas had to pull absolute garbage reasoning out of her ass to make the characters despicable.

Let’s start with Throne of Glass. Celaena (I refuse to call her Aelin because the name visually repulses me, it sounds like something Maas stole out of better high fantasy novels) realizes she doesn’t find Dorian compatible and finds Chaol more of an equal. Chaol has flaws but his main one seems to be he’s good-looking but only average in comparison to Dorian and Rowan- whose sex on legs apparently. Maas realizes people will deny Rowan as a love interest (after he gets into a punching match with Celaena) so she has to make Celaena despise Chaol and interact towards him with hostility despite her recognition Chaol had his reasoning's for certain events in previous novels. Then, Maas takes Chaol’s character, who is known for being awkward around women and loyal to a fault, and make him have one night stands, cheating on women, and apparently the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong because Celaena can’t own up she made mistakes. Nehemia also died to give Celaena that necessary push to go against the king but it’s entirely Chaol’s fault for Nehemia’s death since Celaena can do no wrong. Horseshit I say.

Dorian is not a match, Chaol is the bane of Celaena’s existence so Rowan is her champion. Gag. I actually liked Rowan in Heir of Fire but I found it repulsive how Celaena keeps throwing herself at him in Queen of Shadows and growing dependent on him. When she put him in a bath and started throwing her favorite shampoos in I found it to be the most awkward scene. It’s a moment someone with limited knowledge of sexual encounters would conjure up. “Let me give my love interest a bubble bath!” I’ve read these type of bath scenes in other novels but they’re more maturely done. Although I have to remember these books are written for teens. Then, they become mates. A contradicting setup because he had a mate in the past. But, no one is compatible unless they’re mates in Maas’ world. So, mates are stuck together and seem to have a servant/master relationship in certain portions of the stories. Yuck, just yuck.

Readers if you have to state someone is someone else’s mate so you’re aware they’re a thing then it’s probably not a healthy relationship since you’re staying they own that person in Maas’ world-building.

I’m going to stop while I’m ahead when writing about Rowan and Caelena because they repulse me. Buuuttt not to the same extent as Feyre and Rhysand. I absolutely despise these characters with every fiber of my being. This is one of the most unhealthiest relationships I’ve ever read. Before I jump into why they’re disgusting let me just say I love how everybody hopped on the Feyre adoration bandwagon only when she got into a relationship with Rhysand. Nobody liked her until she got.into.a.relationship.with.Rhysand. Wow!

Listen, I understand why Feyre couldn’t stay with Tamlin after what he did (ahem what Maas decided he should do). However contradictory Tamlin’s characterization was the relationship had turned unhealthy. Yetttt, no one batted an eye with Rhysand was giving Feyre date rape drugs, forcing her to give him lap dances making her sick when she came out of the haze, and her being entirely repulsed when he made-out with her. Plus, I read Rhysand as a gay or bi character when he was introduced. I think he would be a better character as a gay male seeking a friendship than their disgusting love story. He goes from giving her roofies and at least seeming like a morally gray character to Feyre’s champion. Yeah, not buying the bullshit.

I pity Tamlin’s character truly- he was butchered beyond recognition. He goes from allowing Feyre to wander to her heart’s extent- as long as she wasn’t in dangerous areas- to locking her up because he thought it made sense. He’s suddenly possessive of her in the most disgusting ways (but Rhysand isn’t possessive in the slightest even when he calls Feyre his “mate!”). All these details were added to make Rhys’ character more heroic. Rhys goes from being a somewhat tolerable character in his actions to a fucking messiah. Rhysand goes from roofie expert to whisking Feyre away for her own safety. Rhysand assists Feyre under the mountain unlike Tamlin! (Because the queen didn’t give a shit about Rhysand and he wasn’t under her radar to the extent as Tamlin). He loves reading stories with Feyre unlike Tamlin. (Hmm, Tamlin offers to teach Feyre to read which she stubbornly refuses because she’s independent but Rhysand forces her to learn and he’s romantic!). And gasp, Tamlin ended up being the one who murdered Rhysand’s family hence their animosity (hahahaha how desperate are you Maas, I mean seriously how pathetic). Feyre, just like Caelena, was forced into this relationship with another abuser painted as a hero in storytelling. Rhysand and Rowan are constructed into heroes to make their disgusting actions justifiable in comparison to Chaol and Tamlin’s ruined characters.

I’m mostly focused on the main relationships since that’s all I keep hearing about. Changing subjects briefly, Maas’ does not acknowledge PoC or LGBTQIA unless readers are pointing out lack of representation. If they’re introduced you’re guaranteed either they die to promote the white lead’s agenda or forced to become a villain. What kind of statement does that make, Maas???? Also, her world-building is beyond odd. Random characters get introduced in weird scenarios that she has to force into the story-line just for sprucing purposes (Manon and the 12 and the 12 princesses from Earth or whatever). Really, what were the purposes of these characters???? And these kingdoms are written so bad. One realm has everyone wearing Renaissance era clothing while the next realm has people dressing hipster I mean wtf?

The reason for my rant is that I needed to get it out of my system. Lately, I cannot get away from these garbage novels. I’m on my Kindle the books are recommended. I’m on Goodreads her books are recommended and keep winning Book of the Year despite better novels being on the same list. I go on Facebook someone mentions deciding to give the series a spin under quarantine. I’m on tumblr (if you’re a fan then that’s fine, enjoy what you love) and artwork keeps popping up. I love it’s typically Feyre giving Rhysand lap-dances in the earlier part of the series where she’s desolate and sicken by these moments. People are quite forgetful when they want to ignore something in order to make Rhysand babe. I wish I knew how to block anything Sarah J Maas on here because I’m trying to escape. I want to read other authors’ novels and not have Maas’ smug face pop up on my recommendation lists. (Her books are on every list on Goodreads- every freaking list!) Hopefully, when quarantine ends the hype will quiet again but I’m getting ticked off here.

Just had to get it off my chest. I’ll probably go back to quietly ignoring the recommendations and artwork but I’m having a moment here.

[hisarchives]

secret lover : h.s

Harry is a quiet man, choosing the comforts of his diary and Mother’s flower store over the outside world. Within the shop he meets who he can only describe as an angel, a woman who comes by every Monday to pick up a bouquet of flowers for her sick friend. He lives in his own reality but, a rainy day and an absent Mother creates the perfect opportunity to step out into her world.

this is my first piece for Harry and the first piece i’ve written in over a year so i apologise if it’s rough ! i hope you enjoy it however xx

Dear diary,

The day is the twentieth of August; the weather is fucking horrible, raining for the third day in a row. The shop is empty; apparently, no one urges to buy tulips when the weather is so macabre. I am hoping this is not true for everyone. There are five minutes left before she is meant to be here, to buy a bouquet of daises and forget-me-nots for her friend who has been sick for the past five months. She never misses a Monday, always coming in at 11:26 am during her lunch break. Mum always has her flowers ready for her along with a chocolate from the bakery next door. Her favourites are the dark chocolate ones. I pay too much attention to her.

The flower store, better known as Sunbeams with the fading smiley face on the shop window, was empty. The world around it was filled with a grey colour yet inside the shop was its own rainbow made up of petunias, pansies and many more flowers. In one corner of the shop where all the succulents and hanging plants were kept sat a young man, tatted arms covered in a sunshine sweater, staring down at a leather bound diary. He can always be seen writing in the old thing with ear buds in, neglecting the world around him.

He was an enigma to the people of Holmes Chapel. Everyone knew of him but no one knew him. Harry, that was his name, he was a weird one. Despite his Mum, Anne and his sister Gemma being the most adventurous and charismatic people in all of Britain, Harry was the opposite. He hid behind his long ringlets and enormous sweaters, eyes downcast as if to make eye contact with someone was a death wish. His posture was quite atrocious, constantly hunched over in attempts to protect himself. In spite of his obvious need to hide from the world, he still caught the eyes of some of the people in Holmes Chapel simply because despite the walls he built around him, his beauty was radiant. A sort of beauty that felt like the softness of sunshine yet held the abrasive nature of a Nirvana song. He held no evident love for anything else besides his Mum and the comfort of his book.

At exactly 11:26 the first customer of Sunbeams stumbled in, body trembling as the rain soaked into her skin. She rubbed her arms with a vigorous nature trying to bring them back to life as she walked towards the counter. As always, her small bouquet sat on top the counter, wrapped up beautifully besides a small homemade chocolate. A smile warmed her face and created an inferno within Harry as he admired her. Harry had decided that in this moment that maybe she was the reason for global warming. He saw her awkwardly look around for Anne to appear to serve her and Harry cursed inwardly as he remembered that his Mum had left to drop off lunch for his sister. He would have to serve her, but how could he do so when he has never even held eye contact with her?

Yes, Harry had not shared a word, a glance or a touch with the woman but had conjured such a deep infatuation for her within his heart. It was at this that he was reminded that he did not even know her name. He had the heart of an old romanticist poet or a twelve-year-old boy, in love with everything at first sight.

“Hello, you’re Harry right?”

Harry did not have to look up to know she was looking at him, he could feel it on his skin. He stared at the pages covered in barely legible writing and small drawings with wide eyes. She had known his name. This was no amazing discovery, the town was small enough to know everyone on a first name basis, but this was still memorable for him. Never had his name sounded so good but the soft confidence that came from her lips made him fall in love with his name. Harry, Harry, it echoed in his mind.

Harry was so caught up in his mind that he did not see her coming towards him so he was incredibly unprepared for the gentle tap she gave him on his shoulder. His head shot up towards the women and for the first time he had looked into her eyes. They swallowed him like a motherly hug. He found a comfort inside her eyes that he had never found before. Harry was unprepared for how much of an artwork she truly was.

His lavender lips parted but no sound could come through. She let a small smile find home on her face and finally spoke again.

“Sorry for interrupting but, I’m just here to buy this bouquet of flowers” she held up the familiar pairing of flowers to his face. I know, Harry thought. “Your Mum is normally here but she must’ve ducked out to drop some lunch off for Gemma I’m assuming?” Her voice was so charming; he could finally understand all the metaphors writers made when saying love was like magic. She had definitely put a spell on him.

Harry just nodded at her question to verify her statement and stopped breathing yet again when she laughed.

“Your mum always talks about how Gemma forgets her lunch, she’s lucky that your Mum is so generous” The woman stepped back and began to sway in her spot.

He took the time to take her in because she simply could not be consumed in seconds. No, she needed to be admired in bites, each savouring the delicacy that is she. Her face that shun in place for the sun, her eyes that Harry noted were reminiscent of an Emily Barrett-Browning sonnet. She was snug in a large earth brown coat and one of those beanies that covered the ears, just like Holden Caulfields’. Did she have to be adorable in every single way?

“I’m l-lucky to have my Mum” His voice pierced through the air as its huskiness opposed her smoothness.

To most in Holmes Chapel, it was a luxury to hear the ever-quiet Harry speak. He rarely ever spoke and when he did, it was only to say a few words, maybe a muttered thank you or a quick yes to a question. Whatever it was, hearing his voice was a gift.

The flaps of her beanie whipped against her ears as she turned to look at him, a mixture of surprise and delight on her face. She quickly nodded and her smile grew now showing of her teeth.

“You definitely are, Harry”

A silence enveloped the two and normally Harry never felt safe in the shared quiet, but this one felt comfortable, as if he had lived within it his whole life. He was quite pleased with himself for speaking to her and her response made him feel belated. Harry was achieving more feats within five minutes than he had ever done in his twenty three years of life. His Mum is going to be extremely proud of him.

He saw her look down at her watch, one that looked on the verge of falling apart on her wrist, and heard a small sigh escape her.

“I need to head out now sorry, running a bit late” she shuffled back towards the counter with her right hand stuffed in her pocket evidently looking for money.

Before she could find any Harry had begun to shake his head causing his locks to bounce around his shoulders.

“It’s on the house” yet again his husky voice sparked a sharp reaction from her as she immediately stopped what she was doing to look at the man in front of her.

His hair was slightly messy after the rapid shaking of his head, hands wrapped up in the bottoms of his sleeves. His appearance was a contrast to the voice that escaped him earlier, the overwhelming brightness of his outfit juxtaposed the deepnees of his voice. It shook the woman in front of him to her core. Before she could speak again he cut her off with another shake of his head.

“Don’t forget your chocolate” these few words made her smile sprout on her face again.

She began to walk out of the shop backwards, eyes still staring into his and smile still growing. He was scared she was going to trip and stumble but she walked with an elegant confidence that astounded him. Before she opened the door to leave, she gave him the prettiest of nods and went off into the rain soaked world again.

Harry was left breathless, lifeless and for the first time in this life, thoughtless. After her departure, it was as if he forgot how to function, body falling apart without her presence around to keep him stitched together. He knew he would have to write about this day, document every detail about her, each in their own miniature essay. He reflected that maybe this was weird, that no normal person would write about some girl in immense depth. However, she was not just ‘some girl’, she was the closest a human would ever get to the heavens. She was comfort, warmth, a sense of belonging wrapped up in a coat too large for her.

This day had forever been etched onto Harry’s heart. It was the first time in his life he felt home, safety and acceptance within someone, besides his mother of course.

[thecorteztwins]

Fuck, Marry, Get Drunk With (for Fabian): Maximus, Shinobi Shaw and Pyro. (I'm not gonna make things easy for Fabian by including women or Quicksilver. Also, no woman should have to suffer through sex with Fabian, even in a hypothetical scenario.)

“Just because no woman on Earth is TRULY worthy of the privilege of ME, does not mean that any MAN is! How very dare you, that is HORRENDOUSLY sexist! But I shall entertain this...abominable scenario.” He considers picking Shinobi for fucking since Shinobi is the prettiest and most femme. He also considers both Shinobi and Maximus for marriage since one is rich and the other is royalty, so they’re at least on his “level” that way, unlike Pyro. But he also strongly considers Maximus to get drunk with, since Inhumans sensitivity to pollution and weak immune systems means they probably don’t handle booze well, and that way he doesn’t have to worry about Maximus trying to kill him or something during the other scenarios. Eventually he decides to just fuck Shinobi, marry Maximus in a scheme to take over the Royal Family together from within, and tells Pyro about the whole thing when they get drunk together.

[haledamage]

Breakfast at Haley’s

A coffee date between two detectives just before the start of Book 2, OR two best friends sit in a cafe and talk about boys. Kira Kingston is mine, Abigail Jenings belongs to @queen-scribbles <3 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CAIT!!! I was going to post this tomorrow for your actual birthday, but my internet’s gonna be down, so have a slightly early present :)

It was late morning, but quiet enough in Haley’s Bakery that Abigail and Kira managed to grab a window table. They sat in companionable silence, watching the town go about its business like nothing had changed, the murders only a couple months ago already fading from collective memory. Only the two women at the table truly knew just how much had changed.

Haley delivered their drinks and pastries before wandering off to take another order, and once she was gone Kira finally broke the silence. “It’s too fucking quiet here now,” she admitted reluctantly.

Abigail grinned, wrapping her hands around her coffee mug to let the warmth seep into her fingers. “Kira Kingston, complainin’ about th’ quiet! Wonders never cease.”

“Oh, sod off, Red,” Kira said, but there was no heat behind it. “You know what I mean.”

“You miss ‘em.” AJ didn’t need to say who ‘they’ were. Neither of them seemed to be able to think about much else besides ‘them.’

“Maybe,” Kira muttered to her lemon scone. “I didn’t say it.”

Abigail chuckled at her friend’s sour tone. “I miss ‘em too. Apartment’s too empty now, with just th’ two of us.” She took a bite of her chocolate chip muffin and glanced subtly around the bakery, making sure no one was close enough to listen in. “Have y’ heard anythin’ since…”

Kira shook her head. ���No. Not even from Mum.” She leaned across the table, dropping her voice. “It’s all very suspicious, innit? What do you think they’re up to?”

“Dunno,” Abigail said with a shrug, tugging idly at a loose curl. “They said they’re stayin’ in town, right? T’ keep us safe. So they’ll be back soon.”

“I hope so. Though not as much as you do, I think,” Kira said slyly, taking a sip of her tea to hide her grin as she added, as casually as possible, “So you and Nate, hmm?”

“What?!” AJ sat up so quickly the table wiggled, making her coffee slosh in her mug, though it didn’t quite spill over. Her face turned almost as red as her hair. “How did--what are--did he say somethin’?”

“He didn’t have to. I hope you don’t think you’re being subtle, the way you stare at each other. I can see the little cartoon hearts in your eyes. It’s adorable. And nauseating.” Despite the bite to her words, Kira smiled warmly at Abigail and her clear infatuation. If anyone in the world would ever be good enough for her in Kira’s mind, it would be Nate. Still, someone had to say it and she knew Agent Jenings wouldn’t, so she added, “If he breaks your heart, I’ll kick his arse. Vampire superhealing be damned.”

“He wouldn’t,” AJ said immediately.

“No. But if he does.” Kira nudged the toe of Abigail’s boot with her own. “C’mon, AJ. Spill. You’re dying to talk about him, I know it.”

“Alright, you asked for it.” Abigail chuckled and took a drink of her coffee and then the floodgates opened. “But, I mean, you know him, Kir. He has t’ be th’ sweetest person I’ve ever met. He’s so nice--genuinely nice, not fakin’ or anythin’--t’ darn near ev’ryone I’ve ever seen him meet, an’ he’s so charmin’ and sincere about it. An’ he really cares about people, doesn’t want them hurt. He’s so empathetic, ‘specially with those eyes…” She sighed wistfully, her own dark blue eyes shining. “He has the best eyes, Kira. They’re all warm an’ carin’ an’ the most beautiful brown on God’s green earth, an’ when we’re talkin’ he looks at me like I’m th’ only thing that matters, an’ he makes me feel all special--which no one’s ever done before, not like this.”

Kira nodded encouragingly, though she knew AJ didn’t need encouragement on this particular subject.

Sure enough, she continued, a wide and happy smile spreading over her face as she did. “An’ the looks don’t hurt--you know I like tall guys, an’ those shoulders--but they’re just icin’ on th’ cake. He’s gorgeous an’ strong an’ that plays second fiddle to him bein’ so open and sweet. It’s the kindness an’ compassion an’ deep brown eyes that got me. Oh, an’ his smile. His smile makes me all warm an’ gooey inside, an’ not just ‘cause I’m fallin’ for him harder’n a rotted tree in a storm.” 

She paused long enough to take another drink of her coffee. “It just…. immediately puts you at ease, makes you feel safe, yeah? Safe an’ valued an’ like you have his undivided attention however long you want it. An’ I want it a real long time. He’s just so wonderful, Kir.” She gestured to the huge, giddy grin still on her face. “Can’t stop smilin’ whenever I so much as think of him. An’ I don’t want to, neither.”

Kira chuckled, unable to keep from smiling herself at Abigail’s infectious joy. “Oh, is that all? Don’t hold back on my account,” she teased.

AJ blushed, drawing a random pattern on the tabletop with her finger. “Well, there’s also th’ way he always knows what t’ say when people are mad or upset or other… emotionally fraught situations and checks with me if he thinks he’s makin’ me th’ least bit uncomfortable--he never is--oh, an’ his hands.” She flexed her own fingers almost subconsciously, like she could almost feel Nate’s hand in hers, but she didn’t elaborate further.

Kira was grateful. She hadn’t given much thought to Nate’s hands before, it seemed like a weird time to do so now.

“Wow.” She smirked and made a show of checking the time on her phone. “You sure that’s it, Red? We’ve still got a few minutes before we’re due to be at the station.”

Abigail chuckled, curling her hands around her coffee mug again. “You asked. Twice.” Her sweet, smitten smile turned playful. “An’ now that I’ve let m’ mouth an’ heart run away with me again, your turn, yeah? What about you an’ Adam?”

Kira scoffed, but she blushed at the same time. “Don’t be daft. There’s no me and Adam. He’s made that very goddamn clear. Doesn’t matter what I feel about it, it isn’t up to me.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you when y’ aren’t lookin’,” AJ said encouragingly, trying to get her normally closed off friend to open up a bit. She knew she needed to, and just as much she knew that it would take a bit of a push for it to happen.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t, would I?” Kira said, a little sharper than she intended. Then, in a tiny voice, speaking more to the table than to her friend, she added, “How… how does he look at me?”

“Th’ same way I look at Nate.”

“Really?” Kira hated how hopeful that single word sounded. She scowled at no one in particular - or at least, no one in the bakery; it wasn’t hard to figure out who she would be scowling at, if he were there. “Ugh. He’s the most pig-headed, arrogant bastard I’ve ever met. I’m glad you shot him. I should have fucking shot him.”

“An’ you’re in love with him,” Abigail said plainly. One of them had to say it.

“And I’m in love with him.” It took a second for the words to sink in, and when they did Kira covered her face with both hands and groaned. "Oh fuck, I am, aren’t I? How do I make it stop?"

Abigail reached across the table to pat Kira on the arm. "I don’t think it works like that."

Kira was quiet for a long time, long enough that AJ started to wonder if she was going to say anything at all, but she waited her out, eating her muffin in silence while she put her thoughts together.

"He’s got the prettiest eyes," Kira muttered all of a sudden, as if the words escaped against her will. But once she started talking, she couldn't seem to stop. "You know wintergreen’s always been my favorite color. I didn’t know eyes came in that color. And have you seen his arms? Those are good arms to have. And his jawline might as well have been chiseled out of marble, just… fucking perfect." She paused, chipping restlessly at her nail polish, leaving a neat pile of black lacquer on her napkin. "And I… feel safe with him. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he’s there. Obviously, that’s not true, if it was, Murphy wouldn’t have… but it still feels that way, you know?"

"It’s just--I’m--he’s--fuck!" She dropped her head onto the table with a dull thud, but only stayed there a second before sitting up again. "When he looks at me, it’s like the rest of the world just disappears. Like it’s just him and me. And sometimes it’s so intense I can barely breathe. Just from him looking at me! If he ever touched me--like, actually touched me, with intention, not just when he’s trying to protect me--I might literally combust." 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I could live a thousand years and never feel as special as I do when Adam smiles at me." She covered her face again. "Oh god, that’s awful. If I start reciting poetry, hit me with something."

“Y' know I'm not gonna do that,” Abigail chuckled. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold back a smile. “It's not such a bad thing, havin' feelin's for someone. Y' might even like it if y' try.”

“It doesn’t bloody matter anyway, does it? He doesn’t want me. Or he doesn’t want to want me. There was a moment when I thought, maybe…” Kira’s light brown eyes were distant, full of something an awful lot like longing. Then she shook her head, and it was gone, “but nevermind. Whatever. I think he’d be happy if he never saw me again. If he didn’t have me around complicating things for him.”

AJ shook her head. “You don’ believe that, Kir,” she murmured gently.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s fine, I’ve accepted it.” Kira combed her fingers through her hair as she slouched down in her chair. “Can we go back to talking about you and Nate? Or, like, fucking absolutely anything else?”

“How ‘bout Felix an’ Mason?” AJ finally unleashed the smile she’d been holding back.

“Felix is great,” Kira said immediately, relieved in the change in subject. “He’s what you’d be if you woke up one day and stopped caring about what people think about you.”

“Funny.” Abigail arched an eyebrow playfully, her grin widening to match it. “I was gonna say the same about you an’ Mason. Y’ even dress alike.”

Kira smirked and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, I’ve seen him wear at least one red shirt. That’s too much color for me.”

Abigail’s phone beeped and a second later Kira’s buzzed as well. They reached for them in sync. “That’ll be Tina, I s’ppose. Looks like breakfast is over.”

They quickly finished their coffee and tea and pastries. AJ took their empty mugs and plates up to the counter while Kira took their trash to the bin and then Kira held the door for them both as they waved goodbye to Haley and stepped out into the cool morning streets.

Abigail linked her arm into Kira’s as they fell into step together for the walk to the police station. “Thanks for listenin’, Kir.”

“Anytime. Really. You can talk to me about Nate anytime you want, as much as you want.” She squeezed her arm fondly. “I’ll bitch and moan about it, but I won’t mean it. I’m just jealous you won the emotional availability lottery when it comes to hot vampires.”

AJ lit up with a bright smile and an even brighter blush. “I did, didn’t I?” They walked the rest of the way to work in comfortable silence except for occasionally greeting people who said hello as they passed. Only when they arrived at the front door did she draw Kira to a stop, waiting until she met her eyes to gently say, “Y’ know you can talk t’ me about Adam anytime too, yeah?”

“I know.” Kira smiled warmly, then slipped her arm out of Abigail’s to wrest the door open. “But don’t get your hopes up, Red, I doubt there’ll be anything worth talking about.”

Abigail chuckled, her smile knowing as she followed Kira into the station. “We’ll see about that.”

[neonlights92]

CHARRED: CHAPTER III

Jung Hoseok never thought he would find love.  So when his wife - the woman he has somehow fallen madly in love with - leaves him for somebody else he is heartbroken.  Of course, Bangtan waits for no-one.  Soon Hoseok is roped into yet another marriage, and this time he’s determined to keep himself safe.

When the man you thought you would spend the rest of your life with runs away with Jung Hoseok’s wife, you find yourself suddenly tied to a man you think is a monster.  But beneath the darkness in Hoseok’s eyes is a warmth you can’t help but yearn for.  Perhaps love truly does work in mysterious ways.

A/N: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS UP GUYS! I UPDATED???? ITS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE! PLEASE ENJOOOOOY

//

“We need to decide a date.”

You stared up at Hoseok, wrapping your dressing gown tighter around your body.

“Could we talk about this another time maybe? I’ve just got out of the shower and I have no clothes on-” “Don’t care.” Hoseok pushed past you, clicking your front door shut behind him, “Taehyung’s been pestering me about a wedding date for a week now.  We have to choose one.”

Your body flushed at the fact that your fiance was currently standing in your living room, eyes raking over your body hotly.

“Hoseok…” It had been a few days since the charity gala.  A few days since your fiance shoved you up against a garage wall and kissed you.

You were confused, of course.

He had made it perfectly clear on numerous occasions that he wasn’t interested in any form of romance with you and yet… He had gotten jealous at the thought of the bartender flirting with you.

You told yourself that that was the kind of man he was.  Possessive and controlling.

He didn’t get jealous because he cared about you.  He got jealous because he thought he owned you.

It was easy to keep viewing him as the enemy - anything else could be dangerous.

“Just put some clothes on, then.  I’ll wait for you here.”  He gestured towards the couch and took a seat, and you sighed heavily, shaking your head.

As always, it was his way or the highway.

“Alright, fine.” You stepped away from him, moving into your bedroom and grabbing a t-shirt and some shorts.  Your hair was wet from the shower, and you pulled it up into a non-committal ponytail, pulling a face at your reflection in the mirror.

If you were absolutely honest with yourself, you didn’t really like the idea of Hoseok seeing you like this.  So completely undone.

It was natural, of course, that he would see you this way eventually… But so soon?  It would ruin whatever attraction he may or may not have had towards you.

Not that you wanted him to be attracted to you.  Right?

With a heavy sigh, you swept back into the living room, wondering when on Earth your life had become so completely complicated.

Did you want Hoseok? You were scared to be honest with yourself.

“I don’t care when we get married,” You said, as you entered the room, watching as Hoseok turned towards you, “I suppose the sooner we get it over with, the easier it will be.” He frowned, “Didn’t you want a nice celebration?” You quirked a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well that’s what you and the other wives were talking about the other day right?  Having the big white wedding.  We can do that if you want,” He shrugged, “I don’t mind.” You felt your mouth gape open.

“What?  Are you serious?” “Well yeah,” He clicked his tongue, “It’s not like you wanted to get married to me.  And I know that you had the big white wedding with your ex husband, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do something like that too,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “If that’s something you’re interested in.” As always, Hoseok continued to surprise you.

You watched him carefully, coming to sit by him on the couch.  You turned your body towards his, eyes searching his face.

“You really mean that?” “Sure.  Why not?” His eyes were warmer than you’d ever seen them before, “If we decide a date then-” “I don’t care about the wedding being expensive or over the top,” You shook your head, “But a few intimate touches would be nice.” He nodded, “That’s fine.  Is there anyone you can get to help you with preparations?” “You don’t want to?” He scoffed, “No.  I’m really busy as it is, and besides I wouldn’t be much help, to be honest.” “I’ll ask the other wives.  I’m sure they’ll be happy to help.” “Great.” You couldn’t help but notice that your body had inched closer towards him.  Hoseok’s eyes were warm, and despite yourself, you felt your cold resolve towards him melting.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t expecting you to be okay with that.” Hoseok furrowed his eyebrows, “With you having a memorable wedding day?  I’m an asshole but I’m not totally heartless.” This was a side of Hoseok that you had seen glimpses of - the side that was softer, gentler.  You wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe even kiss him but you knew you couldn’t.

You had to remain emotionless.  It was the only way to win at this game.

“I was thinking the end of October.  The twenty-seventh.  Is that alright with you?” Your eyes moved to the calendar hanging above your television set.  It was currently September 23rd.  That gave you a little over a month to prepare things.

You nodded, “That should be fine.” “Okay, great.  I’ll tell Taehyung then.”

He made a move to stand, and you grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down.  The action had been almost automatic - you hadn’t really thought much about what you were doing.

You wanted to say something.

You felt like you owed him something.

You knew what that something was.

“Thank you,” You said after a moment, “Really.  This means a lot.” Hoseok looked uncomfortable, but he nodded anyway, smiling wryly.

“That’s alright.  It’s not a big deal.” You wanted to tell him so much more.  Wanted to tell him how he’d been kind to you; kinder than Jinyoung had ever been.  It was pathetic, maybe, but it was the truth.

Instead, you smiled and nodded, “It is for me.”

Hoseok’s eyes followed the planes of your face.  As always, his eyes were unreadable, but you found yourself delving into the chocolate brown, anyway.

There was something almost sinful about the way he watched you.

You knew that was absurd.  But something about his eyes sent a thrill through your spine.

“Alright well,” He cleared his throat and stood, blinking, “We’ll talk soon.”

Later on that night, as you laid in bed on your own, you felt the heat from Hoseok’s gaze rolling over your body.

And for the first time since Jinyoung had left you, you were struck by the very curious thought that you actually missed sex.

And that perhaps your soon to be husband, Jung Hoseok, could help you out with that.

//

“Oh you look absolutely beautiful!” You rolled your eyes at the row of women clapping back happily at you.  

“Really Y/N,” Your mother wiped at a tear, “You look so wonderful.” “The trail looks wonderful,” Jin’s wife added.

“And the veil is perfect!”  Taehyung’s wife chirped in.

Yoongi’s wife stood, pressing a hand against your cheek, “It really is just right.” Your wedding was only a week away, and though all other preparations had been smoothly handled, your dress had been the very last piece.

It had taken almost the entire month to fix the dress into what you wanted, but now that you were wearing it, and your friends were beaming back at you so happily, you knew you’d made the right decision.

It was only for one day, sure, but hell, after everything you’d been through you deserve to feel like a princess.

“Hoseok is going to lose his mind,” Taehyung’s wife squealed, a suggestive brow raised, “You look so good.”

Jin’s wife nodded enthusiastically, “Really!  He’s not going to believe his luck!” You flushed angrily, and shook your head, suddenly embarrassed.

You knew your friends were probably just exaggerating, but the truth was, the thought of Hoseok finding you attractive was something you’d begrudgingly accepted as wanting to be reality.  

You wanted your fiance to find you beautiful.

You wanted him to lust after you.

You wanted him to ravage you, as complicated and difficult as he was.

There was something there - something behind the anger - that pulled you in.

It frightened you, but the more layers you uncovered, the more you felt yourself growing fonder of Hoseok.

“Thank you girls,” You nodded your head slowly, and watched as Yoongi’s wife smirked.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to wear underneath the dress?” Your eyes widened and you looked towards your mom, “Guys!  My mother is here!” “Oh don’t be silly,” Your mother shook her head, “I’m used to this talk.  The lingerie is the most important part of wedding attire, Y/N.  Your friends are right.” You felt yourself blush unattractively, “Well no.  I just thought a white bra and some-” “Don’t be stupid,” Jin’s wife shook her head, rolling her eyes, “Let’s have a look at the stuff they have here.”

“I don’t think-”

“C’mon Y/N.. Let’s just have a look,” Taehyung’s wife pouted slightly, “You’ll never believe what my mother made me wear on my wedding night. It had bow on it. A bow. Like I was some kind of gift. “

You allowed the group of women to rifle through the sets of underwear the store had on display.  They fawned over the pretty pastel pinks, and ahhed over the racy red numbers, and you felt your cheeks flush wildly.

It wasn’t that you were a virgin; far from it, actually.

Jinyoung had taken that from you as well as everything else.

But still.  It had been a long time since you’d been intimate with anybody, and despite your best efforts, you had to admit you found Hoseok exciting, and definitely attractive.  

The truth was, you kind of wanted to look sexy for him, but you were sort of embarrassed to say it out loud.

So instead you rolled your eyes at their suggestions, and made a big gesture of hating every single moment of it, until Jin’s wife held up the prettiest thing you’d ever seen in your life.

It was black and lacey, and as your fingers roved over the details, you found yourself falling more and more in love.

“This is it,” You whispered, looking up at your friends and smiling shyly, “I think this is the one.” They immediately started clambering to get a closer look at the lingerie and you giggled at their antics, feeling something warm settle in the pit of your stomach.

You’d never really had friends.  You’d grown up with girls your age, but you’d always had a tendency to shy away from the attention of others, and preferred your own company.

And now, at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, you were finding that friends were something you’d desperately needed.

Things were changing very quickly in your life, and what you’d once been afraid of was not quite so scary anymore.

“You’re going to look beautiful,” Taehyung’s wife told you later that day, as you sat down for some lunch, “Hoseok is not going to know what to do with himself.” You felt your cheeks flush brightly, and Yoongi’s wife shoved her friend good naturedly, “You’re making Y/N blush.”

“It’s alright,” You shook your head, “I don’t mind.”

Jin’s wife, a hand on her swollen belly, and the other on your shoulder sighed heavily, “Are you looking forward to it?  The wedding, I mean.  It’s so soon.” The truth was you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about getting married.

On the one hand, Hoseok was practically a stranger.  Despite the warmth you’d witnessed, and the fire you couldn’t deny attracted you, you knew next to nothing about him.

And yet.  Here you were.  Preparing to marry the man in less than a week.

You weren’t afraid, not like when you first married Jinyoung.  Despite his fearsome reputation, for some reason, you trusted Hoseok.  Perhaps that was stupid of you, and still, you couldn’t help it.

You knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Not on purpose, anyway.

“I’m nervous,” You answered truthfully, “I’m not sure what to expect.”

Your mother reached across the table and patted your hand, her dark eyes understanding, “I know it’s difficult my darling.  You have to do it all over again.  None of us have been through that.  But I know you’re strong.  I know you can do this.” You blinked back tears at your mother’s kind words.

“Thank you, mom.” You wanted to believe her words.  More than anything else on the planet.

But the truth was, you still weren’t very sure how your heart would fare up against Jung Hoseok.

And really that scared you the absolute most.

//

It was the night before your wedding when there was a knock at your front door.

You’d been preparing yourself for an early night.  Tomorrow was going to be exhausting - and you hadn’t been expecting any visitors.

Your maid, Seulgi had been relieved of her duties for the night, and you’d been looking forward to spending some time by yourself.

You quirked a brow when another knock came, this one a little more urgent.  You rolled your eyes and grabbed your dressing gown, throwing it over your pajamas and grumbling to yourself about unwanted company.

When you reached the front door and threw it open - not even thinking twice about the fact that you were in your pajamas - you were absolutely stunned to see your very-soon-to-be husband, Hoseok staring back at you.

His face, as achingly beautiful as always, set in a hard line.

“Why don’t you have any fucking security?” He growled, his dark eyes stormy, “I told Taehyung to sort something out.” Your eyes widened at the fact that not only had he turned up on your doorstep unannounced, but that he was, for some ridiculous reason, seemingly annoyed at you as well.

“I was going to sleep.” You told him sternly, “What the hell are you doing here, Hoseok?” He rolled his eyes, his jaw setting even harder if that was possible, “I came to give you something.”  

You quirked a brow, “Excuse me?” He groaned, tugging a hand through his dark hair, and awkwardly passing you a black, velvet box.

You stared at him dumbly, “What is this?” “You know that tradition,” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you had to admit, even in the harsh glow of your porch light he still looked so handsome, “Something old, something borrowed, something blue?” Your eyes narrowed at him, and you coughed, disbelieving, “Yes?” “Well.  There’s something blue in there,” He shrugged, “It’s stupid I know but - it’s tradition.  And I - well I wanted you to have all the bells and whistles.  Even if it’s a second marriage.” You gaped at him.

Your mouth was hanging open, and you knew you were just staring at him, but what else were you supposed to do? Jung fucking Hoseok - one of the most feared men in Korea - had shown up at your door, shoved a velvet box in your hand and awkwardly explained away a tradition that you hadn’t even really considered until that moment... All because he wanted you to be happy at your wedding?

“Well open it,” He pushed, his hands shoving into the pockets of his jeans, “You’re staring at me, and it’s making me nervous.” You coughed, your eyes moving away from him and onto the box held in your hands.

“Right.”  You whispered to yourself, “Right.” Slowly, you opened the velvet container, as you did your eyes widened and your heart wilted in your chest.

It was a pair of beautiful, blue sapphire earrings.

They were small, not at all, and they seemed vintage, like they meant something to Hoseok.

“They were my grandmothers, so I guess they count as something old too,” He told you, and you looked up quickly, eyes meeting his own, “She uh - she wanted me to give them to my wife whenever I decided to get married.  My first wife… She didn’t want to wear them, because she already had her own traditions.  But if you don’t - if you don’t want to, you don’t have to wear them just because -” “Don’t be stupid,” You cut him off, breathlessly, “I want to wear them.  Of course I want to wear them.” What you wanted to tell him, was that no man had ever done anything as sweet, or sentimental for you.  No man had ever made you feel so special.

It was stupid, of course, you’d been married to Jinyoung for years and yet…

This gesture was the closest you’d ever felt to being truly loved.

“Did you want to uh,” You cleared your throat, “Did you want to come inside?  For a drink?” Hoseok’s eyes widened, “Oh… I mean,” He shuffled from foot to foot and then rolled his eyes as if annoyed with himself, “Yeah.  Sure.  A drink would be nice.”

You opened the door a little further and let Hoseok into your house, shutting it after he was inside.  You’d all but forgotten the fact that you were in your pajamas, but when you looked down at your outfit, you cringed.

“Shit.” He turned to you, an eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry about,” You gestured towards yourself, “This.” He laughed dryly, “We’re getting married tomorrow, right?  What does it matter.  I’ll see you in all your states soon enough.”

“Right.” You coughed awkwardly, “Well.  Sit.  What do you want to drink?” “Have you got bourbon?” He lowered himself onto the couch and you bit your bottom lip.

“In the way of alcohol I have rose wine,” You shrugged slowly, “Or else I can offer you tea or coffee.  Sorry.” Hoseok frowned, but you didn’t miss the warmth in his eyes.  It was only there for a moment, but you knew you weren’t imagining it.

“I’ll have a coffee then.  Black, no sugar.” You nodded and turned, trailing into the small kitchen, and setting the velvet box with Hoseok’s grandmother’s earrings on the marble tabletop.  You knew the gift meant more to him than Hoseok wanted to admit, and that made your pulse race.

Your fiance, was full of surprises, and try as you might, you couldn’t really figure him out.

There was something about him, the warmth in his eyes, and the way he seemed to actually want you to be happy, that threw you off.

Wasn’t Jung Hoseok supposed to be some kind of monster? Hadn’t he promised you a loveless marriage? Then what was this strange, fuzzy feeling settling comfortably in the pit of your stomach?  Why was it that everytime you saw him, there was a tightness in your throat, and a prickling of your skin? Were you… Did you have feelings for the strange, abrupt, brash, angry man sat in your living room? You watched the kettle as it heated up, steam rising from it’s spout.

What was happening to you?  What about Jinyoung? What about the promises you’d made to yourself, to never let another man in? What were you doing?

“Hey.” You jumped up sharply, swivelling around to face your fiance, who was stood in the doorway of the kitchen.  Your eyes widened, and your hands fell to the edge of the counter, gripping the marble tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you tried to read something… Anything from his expression.

Of course, you were met with blankness.

“Oh.  Me?  Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You babbled, your eyes darting away from his handsome face.

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks and you were aware how strangely you were acting.  And yet… You could do nothing to stop it, almost.

“Y/N,” His voice was soft, and despite your better judgement, you found yourself making eye contact with him, “Are you sure you’re okay?  You’ve been acting weird since I turned up.” “In the middle of the night, with a fucking box of your grandmother’s precious sapphire earrings,” You didn’t know why your voice was shaking, but it was, “What is going on here, Hoseok?” Your husband took a step towards you, his face careful, “What do you mean?” “I don’t understand,” You whispered, tugging a hand through your hair desperately, “Weren’t you the one who told me you didn’t want to marry me?  Why are you being so nice about the wedding?  And why did you bring me that stupid, fucking box?” There was a long beat of silence.  You watched your husband tensely, as something tender flashed across his face.

It was gone before you could properly register it… But you knew you’d seen it.

Somewhere between surprise and… Something careful.  Tentative.  Warm.

“I don’t know.” His answer didn’t really surprise you.  

“All I know,” He whispered, as he took one long, open stride towards you, ending up so incredibly close his chest was pressed up against your own, “Is that I really, really, really want to kiss you right now.  Okay?” You nodded, once, mutely, and Hoseok took your face in his hands roughly, his lips landing on your own hotly.

You felt your body arch against his own, and though you were vaguely aware you should probably be ashamed of the way you were reacting to his touch, you couldn’t really care less.  In fact, you were thrilled by the way his thick, plush lips travelled down the expanse of your neck, mouthing at the skin sloppily, and igniting a fire within you that you’d forgotten you possessed.

“Fuck,” He breathed against the column on your neck, “Fuck.  Y/N.  What are you doing to me?” You felt dizzy and light headed, and everything felt like it had zoomed out, before coming together in startling clarity.

Jung Hoseok was kissing you against your kitchen countertop, and you were absolutely loving it.  You were loving it because despite his scary demeanor and anger, there was a softness to the man touching you that made you feel things you were sure you’d never felt before.

It was like falling into a pool of thick melted chocolate, not sure you’d come out unscathed, but not really caring either way.

“I need to stop.”  He answered, as he pushed your dressing gown and pajamas down your shoulders, and kissed the exposed skin there, “I really, really, really should stop.” You mewled against him almost pathetically, not caring whether or not he knew how much his touch was affecting you.

“Fuck.”  With one final, rough kiss against your mouth, Hoseok pulled away, eyes dazed and glazed over, his expression misty, “Fuck.  You look beautiful like that.”

You blinked, once, twice, three times, and then cleared your throat, pulling your dressing gown up your shoulder.

“I uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You watched as Hoseok smirked at the expression on your face, “At the wedding?” You added.

“Mmm.” He tugged a hand through your hair carefully, and then pressed his lips against the side of your mouth, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

With that he trailed out of your kitchen, and it wasn’t until you heard the front door slam, that you let your body fall back into a somewhat relaxed state.

Fuck.

What the hell was that?

//

[blazichu]

VtMB Unofficial Patch Histories

Disclaimer: Extremely long. Sorry if you encounter this on mobile.

Brujah Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

True Brujah: Many blame the stereotype of the rebellious Brujah on Triole, the hot-blooded Methuselah whose progeny compose the bulwark of modern Clan Brujah. You share no blood with Triole. As such, you are predisposed to learned idealism instead of belligerent iconoclasm.

Infomercial Huckster: I made millions from my tiny one-bedroom apartment, placing tiny classified ads, buying and selling, and with 1-900 lines. And so can you!

Special Forces: Yeah, you were Special Forces. Black ops and all that. Which branch? You could say... but you’d have to kill everyone within earshot. No, seriously.

Dive Bar Bouncer: Nobody could pass you when you stood in in a doorway and you had a lot of fun throwing people out. Now it will be even easier to hurt people.

Dropped as a Baby: If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. As a kid you took a lot of abuse for that funny slope in your skull... until you started fighting back.

Glass Eye: It was true what they said. You shot your eye out. It was hard growing up with a creepy glass eye, but as an adult you learned to put it to work for you. There’s something about your unnerving stare that makes people do what you say.

Quickling: The Embrace made you feel lighter than air, a sensation that has yet to leave you.

Anti-Paladin: A bully in life, a tyrant in death. You were born into undeath with savage combat prowess and an inclination to use it. And when you do, it’s a terrible sight to behold.

All-Star Athlete: You were an excellent athlete who excelled at all physical activities. However, you’re not naturally the sharpest tool in the shed. Compound that with the fact that you spent most of your time and energy exercising, you don’t really know much about anything else.

Academic: You were the Academic type, as was your Brujah sire, living up to the old Brujah image of the poet-warrior.

Brujah Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

True Brujah: Many blame the stereotype of the rebellious Brujah on Triole, the hot-blooded Methuselah whose progeny compose the bulwark of modern Clan Brujah. You share no blood with Triole. As such, you are predisposed to learned idealism instead of belligerent iconoclasm.

Voyeur Website Model: Maybe you weren’t the prettiest girl in school, but you could still make dirty old men sit up and beg. And pay for it. Hey, it beats Taco Bell.

Fixer: You had the streets wired. There was nothing you couldn’t find. Drugs, guns, prostitutes of every shape, age and color. One time you got Giraffe Ribeyes on a 24 hours’ notice. And apparently you’ve had more than a couple vampire clients. Who knew? You left an impression and now here you are.

Purveyor of Vice: Smoking, drinking, drugs, you did it all while you were still alive. Now in death only blood is left to turn you on.

Dropped as a Baby: If you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. As a kid you took a lot of abuse for that funny slope in your skull... until you started fighting back.

Glass Eye: It was true what they said. You shot your eye out. It was hard growing up with a creepy glass eye, but as an adult you learned to put it to work for you. There’s something about your unnerving stare that makes people do what you say.

Quickly: The Embrace made you feel lighter than air, a sensation that has yet to leave you.

Anti-Paladin: A bully in life, a tyrant in death. You were born into undeath with savage combat prowess and an inclination to use it. And when you do, it’s a terrible sight to behold.

All-Star Athlete: You were an excellent athlete who excelled at all physical activities. However, you’re not naturally the sharpest tool in the shed. Compound that with the fact that you spent most of your time and energy exercising, you don’t really know much about anything else.

Academic: You were the Academic type, as was your Brujah sire, living up to the old Brujah image of the poet-warrior.

Gangrel Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Environmental Activist: You were a member of Greenpeace in life, always fighting to protect the environment, riding with the whales and climbing nuclear reactors. Knowing about cause and effect was important then.

Pagan: Your beliefs center on the Gnostic pantheon, and your kinship with nature is strong. After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now apparent.

Mortician: The irony isn’t lost on you now. All those nights in the echoing silence with the husks of former humanity. You always thought it was your fate you were staring into. Then one night it happened. Finally. One of them-- a hell of a fine specimen, you were thinking-- woke up.

Ex-Cop: You were a great cop-- until a meth-head’s knife glanced your spine and left you relegated to deskwork for the rest of your career.

Perv: You love women. Good God Almighty, do you love women. You love their bits ‘n you love their places. Mmmmmm yeah. They never really reciprocated your interest, but, well, fuck ‘em. In underneath your suppressed appetites have reemerged.

Chupacabra: Rumor has it you are descended from the legendary Chupacabra-- the blood-frenzied devil that has haunted the Mexican country for generations. The veracity of this dubious distinction is impossible to discern, but your feral instincts are strong.

Insectoid: Maybe it’s the vague compulsion to spin a web, or when you catch yourself trying to use your imaginary feelers, but something in your Gangrel blood is exceptional.

Anda Gangrel: Descendant of nomadic vampire-warriors, you were bred for extreme trials of endurance.

Close to the Beast: After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now physically apparent.

Pot Head: Scientists say that smoking pot can make you more stupid. That may explain your terrible memory as you often forget names and other details. However, you have a very relaxed attitude toward life, or unlife.

Gangrel Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Environmental Activist

Pagan Priestess: You believe your Embrace into Clan Gangrel was destiny. You were priestess to a pagan sect in life, and nature is the center of your mind, body and soul. After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within.

Mortician: The irony isn’t lost on you now. All those nights in the echoing silence with the husks of former humanity. You always thought it was your fate you were staring into. Then one night it happened. Finally. One of them-- a hell of a fine specimen, you were thinking-- woke up.

Ex-Cop: You were a great cop-- until a meth-head’s knife glanced your spine and left you relegated to deskwork for the rest of your career.

Hard-Ass Chica: You were born into a neighborhood just outside of downtown LA. It might as well have been the Third World. And you were just one girl kicking and biting her way to survival. In the middle of famine and marauding victimizers, gang life was life.

Beastmistress: Mortal creatures sense vampires as an abomination, outsiders to the natural order. Your presence, however, seems to pacify the animal spirit like a sickly sweet intoxicant.

Insectoid: Maybe it’s the vague compulsion to spin a web, or when you catch yourself trying to use your imaginary feelers, but something in your Gangrel blood is exceptional.

Anda Gangrel: Descendant of nomadic vampire-warriors, you were bred for extreme trials of endurance.

Close to the Beast: After you were Embraced, you were naturally more in tune with the Beast within and that affinity is now physically apparent.

Pot Head: Scientists say that smoking pot can make you more stupid. That may explain your terrible memory as you often forget names and other details. However, you have a very relaxed attitude toward life, or unlife.

Malkavian Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Cut-Rate Party Clown: It was just supposed to be until you put things back together after Evelyn left you. Here it is, 3 years 3,246 scotches later. Somehow you’ve kept this gig going without one repeat customer. Truly, America is the greatest nation on earth.

Nutty Weatherman: Your inane banter and masterful use of the awkward segue was the toast of Bumblefuck, Illinois. So you took to the big leagues and, wouldn’t ya know it? First skank you pick up at an airport goes and kills you.

Long and Little Foot: ‘Don’t help me!’ Your dual deformities make life difficult, but you’re one of those hard-luck, triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity stories that people gobble up.

Burnout: Science has yet to prove the link between marijuana and decreased mental capacity. You say you’ve always been a little slow, but that’s just because you’re so mellow.

Ninja: You think you’re a ninja. Kee-ai!

Doomseer: The paralyzing fear of eternal death has an iron grip on you. Doom is just around he corner for you, for everyone, you just know it. And you lack faith in your vampire abilities. What’s the use anyway?

Completely Batshit: The curse of Clan Malkavian burns white-hot in your veins. You are a brimming cauldron of lunacy.

Subtly Insane: Your insanity does not hinder your ability to interact with others too greatly. At first glance, most wouldn’t even second guess your mental stability.

Occult Nut: Who would have thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and considered yourself Occult-savvy. Now that you’re among the Kindred, you find that you actually know some of this stuff and are really excited about learning more about your new state of life.

Deaf: You were born practically deaf. Not only did you overcome your disability, you enjoy helping others cope and get ahead in life.

Malkavian Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Ex-Gymnast-Stripper: Your entire childhood was spent either in school or at practice. Daddy was too busy to tell you there’s no such thing as a professional gymnast. And mommy... well, mommy was busy looking for a new daddy.

Women’s Prison Guard: You were a black-hearted, violence-loving badass when you were alive, and you’re still an evil maniac in unlife. You had always hoped it would be more like skinemax. If only.

Long and Little Foot: ‘Don’t help me!’ Your dual deformities make life difficult, but you’re one of those hard-luck, triumph-in-the-face-of-adversity stories that people gobble up.

Burnout: Science has yet to prove the link between marijuana and decreased mental capacity. You say you’ve always been a little slow, but that’s just because you’re so mellow.

Ninja: You think you’re a ninja. Kee-ai!

Doomseer: The paralyzing fear of eternal death has an iron grip on you. Doom is just around he corner for you, for everyone, you just know it. And you lack faith in your vampire abilities. What’s the use anyway?

Completely Batshit: The curse of Clan Malkavian burns white-hot in your veins. You are a brimming cauldron of lunacy.

Subtly Insane: Your insanity does not hinder your ability to interact with others too greatly. At first glance, most wouldn’t even second guess your mental stability.

Occult Nut: Who would have thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and considered yourself Occult-savvy. Now that you’re among the Kindred, you find that you actually know some of this stuff and are really excited about learning more about your new state of life.

Deaf: You were born practically deaf. Not only did you overcome your disability, you enjoy helping others cope and get ahead in life.

Nosferatu Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Video Game Publisher: You relish a sad pleasure in ruining promising game developing studios with impossible deadlines.

Eco-Terrorist Hacker: You were an expert computer hacker dedicated to preserving the environment, sticking it to the man, one denial-of-service at a time. Your side was attracted to your dedication and respect for nature.

Pedagogue: I always said he’d come to no good in the end, your honor. If they’d let me have my way, I could’ve flayed him into shape.

Lowborn: Trash, rabble, scum-- whatever you call it, you’re the supernatural equivalent. You come from a long line of gutter-dwelling, bottom-feeding, undead riffraff. As such, you are predisposed to the dregs of humanity.

Cadaverous Flesh: Each manifestation of vampirism is unique. Yours, it turns out, carries an unfortunate deficiency. Your body wants to rot. It’s nothing that can’t be overcome, but it’s a constant drain on you.

Boogeyman: Humanity is a fascinating spectacle indeed. Everyone has wanted to be a fly on the wall at one time or another, but you were obsessed with the idea. As luck would have it, your Nosferatu progenitors all had a penchant for peeping as well.

Leatherface: Your rebirth as a hideous beast was a dream come true. The power is intoxicating. And now you’re going to make them pay-- all of them.

Shepherd of Vermin: Like a creature of urban legend you commune with pestilent scavengers and share their filthy domain.

Presentable: The Nosferatu blood from your sire was rather weak and the blood curse did not take too strong a hold on you. You’re only deformed where the moon doesn’t shine.

Peeping Tom: It’s not your fault you were born lacking in the appearance department. Since nobody likes you, your unfulfilled and repressed sexual desires have turned you into quite the little pervert. 

Nosferatu Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Gossip Columnist: Item! You’re dead! Who would have ever thought that any of it could be real? You loved dark fantasies and consider yourself Occult-savvy.

Pedagogue: I always said he’d come to no good in the end, your honor. If they’d let me have my way, I could’ve flayed him into shape.

Baglady: Your life was a big mess which left you stranded on the streets with nothing but cheap booze. And now you look even worse!

Blunt Fangs: Things were never easy for you. You fought for every scrap that was eventually stolen from you. You treasure everything you have, and savor every hard lesson learned, even while you suspect God hates you. This luck carries over to undeath. You have blunt fangs.

Lowborn: Trash, rabble, scum-- whatever you call it, you’re the supernatural equivalent. You come from a long line of gutter-dwelling, bottom-feeding, undead riffraff. As such, you are predisposed to the dregs of humanity.

Cadaverous Flesh: Each manifestation of vampirism is unique. Yours, it turns out, carries an unfortunate deficiency. Your body wants to rot. It’s nothing that can’t be overcome, but it’s a constant drain on you.

Cleopatra: There are fates worse than death. You know this. in life, you were an object of desire. Men wanted you, women wanted to be like you. You have been transformed into a cruel mockery of your former self. As someone acutely aware of how easy life is for the beautiful people, you have unique insight into the psychology of human and vampire alike.

Shepherd of Vermin: Like a creature of urban legend you commune with pestilent scavengers and share their filthy domain.

Presentable: The Nosferatu blood from your sire was rather weak and the blood curse did not take too strong a hold on you. You’re only deformed where the moon doesn’t shine.

Black-Hearted: You were a black-hearted, violence loving, badass when you were alive, and you’re still an evil maniac in unlife.

Toreador Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Teamster: You believe in collective bargaining to get justice for working families. And if that fails, there’s collective wrench beatings.

Degenerate Gambler: You knew you shoulda laid the chalk. You were down. Down big. But you had to press it on a parlay with the over and caught bad beat on the hook. On the friggin’ hook. So much for Vegas. You figured you’d slum it around LA till you could build a roll to gt back in. And that’s when you met her...

Rehab Counselor: You always had an open ear for other people’s problems, even if you had to listen to some scumbags sitting in prison.

Velvet Rope Doorman: You hand-craft the scene with nothing more than a clipboard, a cheap headset, and a dispassionate contempt for humanity.

Rapacious Bloodlust: The Embrace brought out a mean streak in you. You’re constantly fighting the urge to kill, even as your power to do so grows.

Beautiful Monster: You are ruled by your passions. And some of them ain’t pretty. People find you absolutely mesmerizing. But you were always too self-absorbed to bother with normal human repartee.

Uncanny Awareness: You swear to God you can see the future. Not years from now, or even next week, but moment-to-moment you always see what’s coming. You are so acutely aware of your surroundings that you’ve been known to dodge bullets without looking.

Faelike: You are a creature of delicate beauty and ephemeral grace. You seem more likely to have spring from the pages of Spenser or Keats than Sheller or Stoker.

Starving Artist: You were a starving artist. You lived with the clothes on your back and because of your poor background, you do not have any compunction against wearing ugly clothes.

Ex-SWAT: While in the police force, you’ve developed quite a skill with firearms. However, you quite the forces after receiving a crippling injury while in the line of duty.

Toreador Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Teamster: You believe in collective bargaining to get justice for working families. And if that fails, there’s collective wrench beatings.

Twenty-Something: It’s about the people, you know. Out here, on te streets, in the clubs... That’s where it’s going on. That’s where it’s coming together. Not in some boardroom. And the people don’t wear ties. The next generation of leaders isn’t coming from the suburbs. What? You want to go there? Why? It’s going off here... open bar? Well, okay....

Rehab Counselor: You always had an open ear for other people’s problems, even if you had to listen to some scumbags sitting in prison.

Slut: So you’re a little boy-crazy. And maybe you like to get guys’ attention. And maybe you like to fool around. That don’t mean people have the right to go talking about you and calling you names - they don’t know you!

Rapacious Bloodlust: The Embrace brought out a mean streak in you. You’re constantly fighting the urge to kill, even as your power to do so grows.

Decadent Enchantress: Beautiful, bored, and sociopathic. You amuse yourself by testing the limits of your suitors’ devotions, and you delight at the ruin they willfully suffer for your affections.

Uncanny Awareness: You swear to God you can see the future. Not years from now, or even next week, but moment-to-moment you always see what’s coming. You are so acutely aware of your surroundings that you’ve been known to dodge bullets without looking.

Faelike: You are a creature of delicate beauty and ephemeral grace. You seem more likely to have spring from the pages of Spenser or Keats than Sheller or Stoker.

Starving Artist: You were a starving artist. You lived with the clothes on your back and because of your poor background, you do not have any compunction against wearing ugly clothes.

Ex-SWAT: While in the police force, you’ve developed quite a skill with firearms. However, you quite the forces after receiving a crippling injury while in the line of duty.

Tremere Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Old Timer: You are the old fashioned type and don’t care about all this new technology.

Country Club Lothario: We’re living in the age of soccer moms. And don’t you know it. Yeah, hubby might be pulling down 7 figures, but you got an empty day-planner and a grin that drops panties like putts on a par 3.

Con Artist: Discipline and order: only one thing counts in this life and that is to get them to sign on the line that is dotted.

Highway Drifter: Between the small towns that dot the Midwest, there’s a lot of open space, a lot of long shadows, and a lot of room to disappear. You know, you’ve done it. And you may have helped some other people do it too.

Eerie Presence: Most vampires have no problem fitting in to mortal society. You don’t know what it is, but you just can’t pull it off. You’re doing everything they’re doing, but something about you seems to make humans uneasy. Sometimes, it seems like they can just sense you. You were a perfectly affable, intellectual human. So what gives?

Deceptive Strength: You used to be quite clumsy, but the Embrace gave you unnatural reserves of physical power.

Eldritch Prodigy: You have a natural gift for the dark arts of Thaumaturgy, and can use it to greater effect than most Tremere. Thaumaturgy is your all-consuming passion, to the exclusion of nearly every other pursuit.

Infernal: Your forebears paid an awful price in their quest for power. The deal still holds, and you’ll continue to pay for eternity.

Affinity for Magic: You always liked magical illusions, and even performed some tricks yourself as a kid. Now you are amazed that magic is actually real.

Generalissimo: Discipline and order, tactics and warfare: these are the reasons why you joined the army. Not only did you fit perfectly, you excelled in the military.

Tremere Female

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Old Timer: You are the old fashioned type and don’t care about all this new technology.

Medicine Saleswoman: Some uptight types might say Fluoxetine for kids is over the line. Obviously, they have no idea what kind of profit margin those things pack. And have they spent time around kids? Please - they should put that stuff in baby formula.

Agent: Your representation was highly sought. And you were well compensated. You played every bit as hard as the boys cuz it takes brass balls to get it done in this town, and goddamn if you didn’t have the biggest pair. You were a power player. A threat. And your competition couldn’t handle getting shown up by a girl, so they sold you out to an undead predator. Pfft. Typical. This town is full of hate.

Bar Singer Seductress: Drunken overatures from traveling businessmen, room keys from toupeed conventioneers, a handful of restraining orders. This is the legacy of your career in entertainment.

Eerie Presence: Most vampires have no problem fitting in to mortal society. You don’t know what it is, but you just can’t pull it off. You’re doing everything they’re doing, but something about you seems to make humans uneasy. Sometimes, it seems like they can just sense you. You were a perfectly affable, intellectual human. So what gives?

Deceptive Strength: You used to be quite clumsy, but the Embrace gave you unnatural reserves of physical power.

Eldritch Prodigy: You have a natural gift for the dark arts of Thaumaturgy, and can use it to greater effect than most Tremere. Thaumaturgy is your all-consuming passion, to the exclusion of nearly every other pursuit.

Infernal: Your forebears paid an awful price in their quest for power. The deal still holds, and you’ll continue to pay for eternity.

Affinity for Magic: You always liked magical illusions, and even performed some tricks yourself as a kid. Now you are amazed that magic is actually real.

Generalissimo: Discipline and order, tactics and warfare: these are the reasons why you joined the army. Not only did you fit perfectly, you excelled in the military.

Ventrue Male

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Juvenile Hall Disciplinarian: Already as a teen you loved to demonstrate your influence and power over others.

Union Boss: You’re a blue-collar success story, a self-made man of the people. The respect of your workers and the gratification of a job well done was all you ever wanted in return. So the kickbacks and extortion money were all icing.

Industry Lobbyist: You have a big ego. You represented industry and pressed their agenda in the halls of power. Which industry? Which one’s paying?

Corporate Schmo: There’s no room in your cubicle to hand your Business degree. You were reprimanded for having a wrinkled shirt. And you laughed when your buddy decided to major in Rhetoric. Now he’s a sitcom writer ad wears Birkenstocks to work. He always said “business casual is the dress of defeat”. Maybe you could go back and get your MBA....

War Profiteer: Er, Defense Contractor. Someone has to make sure the troops get hot means and video teleconferencing from home. And if, while you’re over there, you can help the natives get their economy running by landing some bloated, no-bid oil services the contracts from your buddies in government, great! It’s win-win! So one of your truck drivers gets beheaded on the internet; who doesn’t realize that risk when they sign up for the job?

Runaway: Your old man was a bastard. You can say that now. It took years just to be able to mention him. You’re making progress, but you still avoid confrontation, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be comfortable with being touched.

Diabolic: In addition to the Beast Within, you struggle against an even darker force. You feel the pull of salvation and damnation in your every action.

Cleaner: Not every Ventrue is afraid to get their hands dirty. Some problems need to be met head on, and occasionally matters are too delicate to sic the Gangrel on them. While your bloodline dosn’t come from the sunny side of the Ventrue family tree, they’ve always been entrusted to take care of such problems.

Megalomaniac: You have a big ego. Because of your confidence in yourself and your abilities, people either really hate you, or are drawn to you.

Well Educated: You were very privileged and gained excellent education all-around.

Ventrue Female:

Homosexual: You always found your own gender more attractive than the other sex, although many people still have issues dealing with this. Maybe vampire society is different.

Juvenile Hall Disciplinarian: Already as a teen you loved to demonstrate your influence and power over others.

Industry Lobbyist: You have a big ego. You represented industry and pressed their agenda in the halls of power. Which industry? Which one’s paying?

Southern Debutante: You were very privileged and gained excellent education. Mother would be so proud if she knew you were accepted into the *best* vampire clan around!

Corporate Schmo: There’s no room in your cubicle to hand your Business degree. You were reprimanded for having a wrinkled shirt. And you laughed when your buddy decided to major in Rhetoric. Now he’s a sitcom writer ad wears Birkenstocks to work. He always said “business casual is the dress of defeat”. Maybe you could go back and get your MBA....

War Profiteer: Er, Defense Contractor. Someone has to make sure the troops get hot means and video teleconferencing from home. And if, while you’re over there, you can help the natives get their economy running by landing some bloated, no-bid oil services the contracts from your buddies in government, great! It’s win-win! So one of your truck drivers gets beheaded on the internet; who doesn’t realize that risk when they sign up for the job?

Runaway: Your old man was a bastard. You can say that now. It took years just to be able to mention him. You’re making progress, but you still avoid confrontation, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be comfortable with being touched.

Dominatrix: You’ve always been persuasive, but as a vampire, few can deny your will.

Diabolic: In addition to the Beast Within, you struggle against an even darker force. You feel the pull of salvation and damnation in your every action.

Megalomaniac: You have a big ego. Because of your confidence in yourself and your abilities, people either really hate you, or are drawn to you.

Well Educated: You were very privileged and gained excellent education all-around.