#until lambs become lions

[vex-verlain]

Oh to be reminded that you have FEELINGS about Robin Hood (2010).

[mcdannoangelwolf]

I just want to look at them and tell them.

"When they come for you. For your daughters. For your sons. For your parents. I'll laugh. I'll laugh like you're laughing at me now."

But I won't. I'll remain silent. I'll remain careful. I'll remain watchful. I'll bear the laughter. I'll bear the mockery.

Because I know there is no point. My words will only fuel them. I can't avoid them. I have to see them. Every 3 days for 12hrs at a time.

So I will burn. I will grow. I will do better. I will be better.

'Keep your words in good order.'

'Keep your thoughts in good order.'

[awoken-lights]

@wasbray || closed starter

The dust of Mars wasn't kicked up in a storm when Coreopsis landed, and so, they used the brief opportunity to quickly map their path in such a way as to avoid the attention of the hive they could see. By the time they made it into the Braytech facility, the wind had picked up, well on it's way to forming a full fledged dust storm. With some luck, that'd hopefully lead the hive into seeking shelter rather than causing trouble.

"Hello Ana!" Waving with one hand, they paused for a second, "and...hello Rasputin?" Unsure of if the warmind was listening, they powered on. "I was wondering, if you have the time, if you could look over a few things with me? I've been working on making more designs for prosthetics for others like me who sustain injuries that can't be healed fully or at all, but there are some that I'm not sure how to get working. Especially the eye and spine prosthetics / supports." Hopefully they'd arrived at a decent time when there was a lull in Ana's responsibilities as well. While they knew they likely could have sent digital versions of the schematics her way, they liked to talk about it face to face.

[screamlamby]

tags.

[stellarstolen]

-- tag drop.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 5 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

You were not the one to complain.

You knew the life you lived was one many dreams of having. As an American, you grew up hearing stories about the American Dream, but your dreams lay elsewhere.

The United States had beautiful places, cities, and people, but you felt your inspiration was elsewhere. So you left.

Your family wasn't happy about your plan, but if leaving was what made you happy, who were they to stop you?

For a year, you traveled around Europe, taking in the art and culture at every stop. Once you saw Monaco for the first time, you knew it would become your new home.

Moving there would cost money, and it was not in the price range of a struggling, traveling artist.

You had saved up as much money as possible, yet you still couldn't afford to buy, let alone rent an apartment.

You stayed not far outside the city-state and would often travel into Monaco when your work required it.

In doing so, you meet your saving grace and your worst nightmare: Amelia.

Amelia is your roommate. You often like to believe she is the devil reincarnated, but never voice your opinion because of what the girl's father is doing for you.

Amelia came from a prominent British family and her father, Michael, was a financial genius, making her more than well-off in life.

But the girl herself knew nothing of hard work, having had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

This caused her to become poisoned to the core in your opinion. She was a gorgeous girl, but her personality was nothing but ugly.

Many ask the young American girl, Why? Why would you live with someone you thought was terrible?

Getting a decent price rental in Monaco isn't the easiest. Most places are not affordable for a person in your income bracket, and the apartment complexes you could afford were designated for Monegasque citizens only.

And you haven't yet met the requirements to become a citizen. The young American girl met Amelia at an art show where she was being featured in Monaco.

Well, you had initially met the British girl's father, Michael, when he bought one of her pieces being displayed that night.

The two had immediately hit it off and it wasn't long until he offered you a room in his flat in Monaco.

They had developed a relationship, but not one many would expect from an older man and a younger girl.

He had seen you as a daughter and had hoped that in offering you a place to stay, your hardworking and sweet nature would rub off on his daughter.

Once you had moved in, Amelia immediately started bullying and belittling you. You couldn't figure out why you were being treated this way, but the British girl held a slight jealousy towards the younger girl.

Her father gave you a lot of attention and she knew that he wished you were his daughter rather than her.

You put up with her terrible behavior because her father was doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart.

You had tried to make herself feel better about being there for free and tried to reduce the British girl's attitude towards you by cooking and cleaning, but that made it seem like you were the older girl's maid, and so you were treated as such.

Max had arrived home in the early hours of Monday morning. Usually, he would have gone out and celebrated his win with his team, but not this time.

Getting back to you, which was stuck in his mind, has become the most important thing to him.

Those around him didn't think twice about Dutchman, not attending the after-party, knowing, that even though he won, he always thought he could do better. This is mainly just due to his father. 

Jos Verstappen wasn't a good man and everyone knew that. He was an even worse father.

At a young age, he had drilled the idea into his son's head that there would always be someone better. 

"You will never be good enough," were the words that echoed through Max's head. 

He'd never been praised by his father, even after he won his first world championship. There was never a good job out of his father's mouth.

Because of this, the young driver had pushed himself. Not take a break, rarely celebrated, and devoted all of his attention to racing. Until now at least. 

Christian Horner knew the Dutchman better than most. He knew Max's parents and knew that the lack of childhood the boy had, had affected him greatly.

Don't get it twisted, most F1 drivers never had a normal childhood like everyone else, but Max's was much more extreme.

While the younger driver's father was present in his life, he still lacked the paternal figure he needed, and Christian filled that void. 

While it wasn't obvious to anyone else, the Redbull principal knew there was a certain pep in the driver's step after the race.

Usually after a race, Max is often seen with his head, buried in screens, analyzing every turn, every overtake, just trying to see what he needed to do to improve.

This time, that wasn't the case. Instead of immediately analyzing his race, he instead called someone.

No one had ever been able to take the driver's attention away from his job.

This immediately caught the attention of the British man.

He had seen the slight smile and the way his eyes lit up when speaking on the phone from across the paddock. He figured this wasn't just anyone Max was talking to, he knew this person had to be special.

The team principal knew how much stress his driver had been under recently, so to see him smile, even just a small one, made him extremely happy.

With how quickly the driver took off after their meetings, Christian knew there was a special someone in the young man's life.

The only hope was that this unknown girl brought the Dutch driver, the happiness he truly deserved. 

Early Monday afternoon, you received a text from your blue-eyed man.

7 PM dinner. I'll pick you up.

The text itself was straightforward and assertive, causing you to bite your lip and nervousness and excitement.

You were happy, though that he was true to his word about seeing you again. You just didn't expect it to be the day he came back home from a work trip.

You quickly responded with your address. You weren't the type to send your address to someone you had just met, especially someone she didn't know well, but this was different. Max was different

6:45 PM, and the knockhead resonated throughout the large apartment.

You quickly raced over to the front door, not only to keep your roommate away from the man who had caused your heart to skip a beat but also because you had missed him and couldn't wait to see him.

It was a strange feeling for you to miss someone, you barely knew, but you couldn't help it.

You knew he had been waiting on the other side of the door and you needed a moment to completely gather yourself. Your heart was racing as you wiped your clammy palms on the side of your dress.

You threw open your front door without a second thought, afraid that if you stood there any longer without opening the door, he would leave.

There he stood, on the other side of the door the most beautiful man, in your opinion, you have ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up, a simple blue blazer, and black slacks.

He emanated old money, and it wasn't a bad look on him at all. In his hands though, was a bouquet for the beautiful pink tulips.

You couldn't believe this man wanted to go out on a date with you.

"Hi," Max breathed out, holding out the flowers towards the girl in front of him, "these are for you."

In the blink of an eye, you had thrown yourself into the Dutchman's arms. He was surprised at this but responded to the hug almost instantly. Burring his face in your neck, feeling like, for the first time, he had finally found a home in your arms.

"I've missed you," the muffled voice said as your face was still buried in the driver's chest.

Chuckling, he pulled away regretfully and grabbed your chin tilted up towards him, "I've missed you, too, a little lamb."

Grinning, you looked down at the flowers in Max's hand before taking them, "these are beautiful."

A smile was plastered on your face as you walked inside to put the flowers in the vase. Max, followed after you but continued to linger in the entranceway, not wanting to intrude.

He watched as you continued to rummage through every single cabinet, trying to find a vase, or anything similar, so you could display the beautiful flowers.

You had been through all the cabinets before you finally sighed, realizing you'd have to go ask Amelia where they were. 

"Sorry," You had told the man in your doorway with an apologetic smile, "I have to ask my roommate where we keep the vases". 

Max had smiled back at you, reassuringly, not minding all as you walked down the visible hall before turning to face a closed door. Curiosity filled the man's mind as he watched his little lamb's entire body change.

Your shoulders had dropped, your steps had slowed, and the excitement you had held in your body just moments ago had completely evaporated.

He had found the answers he needed when he had overheard the conversation between you and your roommate. 

"Amelia," You said softly while knocking on the older girl's door.

"What!" the older girl responded with such harshness, that you were questioning how badly you needed the vase. 

"Do you know where the vases are?"

"God," the girl said exasperated and her words dripping with disgust, "How a

re you so fucking stupid that you can't find a simple thing like a vase?!"

"Sorry," you said meekly and started to turn away before you heard a voice that stopped you. 

"They're on top shelf in the cabinet above the fridge," Amelia stated. 

With a quick thanks, you quickly walked back to the kitchen, found the vase, and displayed the flowers, before telling Max you were ready to go. They left quickly after that. 

The ride to their date location was quiet. Usually, there was never any awkward tension between the two, but now, the car was filled with it.

You couldn't stop your hands from fidgeting, especially after noticing Max's hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove. 

"We don't have to go on this date if you don't want to," You had finally broken the silence, not being able to sit there anymore, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, you can just drop me back off if you'd like."

Before you could get another word out, Max quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

You thought that he didn't want to see you anymore, and he had pulled the car over as an indication that you should get out. Your eyes had started to water and your heart started to break. 

The Dutchman's head had whipped around to look at you so quickly, you were surprised he didn't get whiplash, "What are you talking about? Why would I want to drop you back off?"

"Well," You had started to play with your hands again, " you seem mad at me for some reason."

"Why would I ever be mad at you?" Max questioned with a soft voice. 

"Because I made you wait while I found a vase."

"Little Lamb," he had taken your hand in his, causing you to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes he adored, "I could never be mad at you."

"You're not mad?" You asked.

"I am mad, but not at you. Your roommate. The way she spoke to you had pissed me off. You never should be spoken to that way, no matter what."

Max had reached his hand up to caress your cheek softly. He wanted to make sure you knew that his anger wasn't directed at you.

He had been so upset with the way your roommate spoke to you, that he chose to keep his anger to himself instead of lashing out at you and possibly scaring his little lamb. In doing so, he hadn't realized that his sweet girl thought he had been upset with you.  

"You're beautiful, my little lamb," Max says, "Both inside and out. Please don't ever doubt yourself or my feelings towards you. 

A blush had erupted across your face, along with a shy smile. His words were nothing but sincere and you knew that. He quickly pulled you closer and left a quick kiss on your forehead, before turning back to the front of the car and continuing on their way. 

Max made sure to hold your hand the rest of the way. 

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[revasserium]

oh don't ask me for requests, you know I deliver. What about Zoro with number 30?

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

30. invention of the dictionary

opla!zoro; 882 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, strawhat!reader, gn!reader, no "y/n", unconventional format, whipped!zoro

summary: truth, love, still, and stolen

a/n: been a while since i've written something so chill but i rly like this one u__u nice, short, and sweet!

He has never been a man of many words, but meeting you has made him wonder about the exact reason dictionaries were invented. What scholar (for it must have been a scholar, Zoro thinks) could have amassed such a knowledge of words and meanings that they decided the only way to keep track was to write it down? Or perhaps it was simply someone in love — someone who felt too much and yearned too hard and never had the words big enough or heavy enough, wide enough or deep enough, to fully encompass the way they were feeling.

Because he’s never been a man of many words, but meeting you has him reaching for the tattered dictionary they’d found in a treasure chest, washed ashore on a small, insignificant island — not unlike you. You with your windswept hair and your skin smelling of salt and cream and a thousand midnight mysteries. You, and the way your eyes hold worlds that Zoro’s certain he’d never have the privilege of seeing.

But sometimes when he kisses you, he thinks he can taste the remnants of their exotic fruits beneath the sweet of your tongue, and sometimes when you kiss him back hard enough, he can feel it in the crescent moon marks you leave inked into his skin. Like dotted lines on a treasure map.

You’d been a traveling bounty-hunter, not so unlike who he’d been in a past life, one that he can barely even remember. And your laughter had been just the right shade of lost for Luffy to take notice. No one had thought twice about it after that — and you blended in with the crew as a shot of rum in a morning espresso — which is to say perfectly.

He finds himself flipping through the thin, water-warped pages of the dictionary, pausing on words he’d always thought he knew — words like truth, and love. Words like still, and stolen.

And so, here are some words that Roronoa Zoro has learned and re-learned the meanings of. All because of you.

truth noun.

the quality or state of being true

a fact or belief that is accepted as true

a thing so fundamental that it never has to be questioned — like the rising of the sun in the east or the setting of the moon in the west; something that pulses with the very rhythm of the universe, like the ebb and flow of the tides or the way that autumn always feels a little bit like goodbye — or how birdsong will inevitably be followed by the sprouting of spring, and how March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, and how Zoro’s never questioned just how much he’s loved you, or even whether or not he’d fallen in love. He simply woke up one day and knew.

love noun.

an intense feeling of deep affection

a great interest or pleasure in something

you, your smile, the way you hold your chopsticks, how you press your hand to your stomach when you laugh, the way your lips feel as they trail along Zoro’s jawline, the way your heartbeat rhymes with the gentle rush of the sea

verb.

to feel deep affection for someone or something

to like or enjoy very much

to dream of a life with you, and all the things you might do — to lie awake at night counting your breaths as you fall asleep next to him, to press his lips into the seam of your hair and know that when he wakes up in the morning, you’ll still be right there next to him

still noun/adj./verb

not moving or making a sound

deep silence or calmness

to make or become still

the way the world feels the first time you cry, how the planets themselves seem to grind to a deadly halt, how Zoro’s world tilts on the axis of you and doesn’t stop until he wonders if everything around him is upside down and inside out — how you curl into yourself when the monsters in your past become more than shadows and whispers that creep in the dark, or when the darkness comes knocking and you bury your face in his shoulder, your voice a whisper as you beg — please… help me.

adverb

up to and including the present time mentioned

nevertheless; all the same

how he knows he loves you, the way that the sea loves the sky — even after a devastating rainstorm; how there’s blood on his swords, blood soaking through the wooden planks but he’s got you in his arms so it’s going to be alright; how you let him carry you and hold you close; how he lets you carry him as well; how the pair of you curve around each other like a parenthetical, two bookends to a library of memories stored in the negative space between you; how you are with each other after all of this, still.

stolen verb (*past participle of steal)

take without permission or legal right, without the intent to return

move somewhere quietly or surreptitiously

his heart, his mind, his body, his soul — and him with you.

[aphroditelovesu]

HOLY ANGEL, I NEED SOMETHING FOR OUTER BANKS. What would it be like if JJ had a sister, and on top of that, that sister fell in love with Rafe Cameron? What if that love was reciprocated? the lion falls in love by the lamb! Can you imagine what it would be like if Rafe didn't follow his father's plans, and for love he dropped everything and followed like a Pogue?? Maybe I need headcanons for that.

''For you I'd go to the ends of the earth.'' - Rafe Cameron.

❝ 💰 — lady l: I absolutely loved this idea and finally found your request after finding this headcanon in my notebook lol. I hope you like it and forgive me any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, slight mention of strangling someone in their sleep, underage drinking.

❝💰pairing: yandere!rafe cameron x jj maybank!sister.

From the beginning, before you met the rest of the group, it's always been you and him. It was always you and JJ against the world. And the world against you. Nothing and no one was more important than the bond you shared with your big brother.

You were everything to each other. Having been abandoned by your mother and your father being an asshole and a violent alcoholic, JJ has always been your safe haven and he will always be there for you, come what may. It had always been the two of you and he hoped it would stay that way.

You were introduced to his friends and it wasn't long before they became your friends too, all just as nice and protective as your brother. They soon became your and JJ's family, although he resented this at first as he feared losing you, he soon warmed to the idea of you all being family.

Everything was perfect. You didn't have much but you were happy with the pogues, you all had fun and loved each other that it seemed like nothing could interfere. JJ being protective and impulsive as always, John B the fearless and sometimes a stupid leader, Pope being the most altruistic and intelligent of the group, Kiara being the kindest and most supportive and Sarah being the messiest but loyal to her friends. Everything was perfect until you met Rafe Cameron.

You had only seen him from a distance, you had never approached him on your brother's orders and you never dared to disobey him, especially when you learned that he had tried to murder his own sister and that was enough to make you want to stay away from him. Except you didn't. During the bonfire party, you had drunk more than you should have and ended up getting lost from your friends, also drunk and stoned, you ended up getting away from the noise a little and that's where you finally met the infamous Rafe Cameron.

At first, you didn't recognize him and just kept quiet while he talked to you. You just agreed with what he said, completely inconsequential of what he said and that was the opening he needed to kiss you. Rafe's lips against yours were soft and gentle, he pulled you closer and caressed your waist possessively. Needless to say, he didn't stop at just one kiss.

Rafe has become even more obsessed with you than he already was. He already knew you from a distance but he never dared get too close, not with your brother watching you constantly and he knew that Sarah had said things about him to you, although it infuriated him, he didn't want to risk scaring you so he remained watching from a distance, waiting for the right moment to strike, and that moment finally arrived at the bonfire party. Though simply dressed, you still looked stunning to him and Rafe felt maddeningly jealous every time another man approached you, only to be pushed away by JJ. It was the first and last time he thanked JJ for being so protective of you. And when you finally broke away from your group of friends, he had his chance and when you kissed, it was like something snapped inside Rafe and he knew, in that very moment, that you were his.

He found himself more and more enchanted by you and soon you began a hidden relationship after some post-bonfire dates. But it wasn't enough for him, he wanted more, he wanted all of you and not having to hide your love from the others. The warm, hidden nights weren't enough for him. Rafe needed, he wanted and he would make you official. All chaos erupted one night when you were out with your friends drinking and talking, when Rafe showed up, alerting everyone. No wonder Rafe Cameron always meant trouble.

When he announced you two were dating, silence fell over the group. That is, until JJ got up and started fighting with Rafe. Your brother was furious, furious that he, this kook, dared to blatantly lie about you. As if you, his little sister, could get involved with a preppy guy like him. He only stopped fighting Rafe when Pope and John B's efforts were successful and horror settled on JJ's face when you took it and touched Rafe and told him it was true. JJ almost broke down right there.

Your brother freaked out for good, he yelled at you, for the first time in his life, he fought with you. Yelling things like how stupid you were for getting involved with Rafe and threatening to kill your boyfriend. You cringed at the screaming and Rafe, bruised and bleeding, pulled you into a hug, while trying to control himself not to kill your brother right then and there. He could kill JJ, but that would be too much trouble and there's you. Rafe isn't delusional enough to think that if he murder your brother, you'll stay with him. So Rafe kept himself in check, protecting you and when JJ finally stopped screaming, Rafe started talking and left everyone stunned and scared with his words.

That he loved you, he loved you more than he could put into words and he wanted to be with you. Make you happy, be yours forever. That he wanted to become a pogue to be with you. Even you couldn't believe his words, but Rafe was serious, too serious to be joking. He had argued with his father a few hours earlier, Ward didn't approve of your relationship, and Rafe freaked out at his father. The problem, for Ward, wasn't that you were a pogue but whose sister you were, who your friends were. Rafe didn't accept Ward's words and threatened his own father, he wanted you, he didn't care about the bloody Royal Merchant gold or the Cross anymore, all Rafe wanted was you, something so simple but unacceptable for his father . So Rafe, against everything he'd ever wanted, rebelled against his father for good, he disowned himself and decided that if, to have you, he had to become a miserable pogue, as his sister did, he would.

Your family did not accept this at first. They all didn't trust or like Rafe, understandable considering everything he'd done for them, but Rafe was willing to try to fit in with the group, for you. It wasn't the kind of life he was used to, but just having you in it made him feel a little more comfortable. It was hard for them to fully accept him into the group and even after a while the others still didn't trust him, but they were trying for you. It took JJ a long time to get close to Rafe without feeling like strangling him in his sleep, but eventually and after much prodding from you, JJ gave Rafe a chance, although he kept an eye on him and made it very clear that if Rafe hurt you somehow, Rafe will be a dead man. Adjusting hasn't been easy and yet Rafe has a hard time dealing with everything, but for you, he's willing to go to the ends of the earth.

[railingsofsorrow]

Hiii i saw ur tortured poets department requests and these two came to mind instantly!!

idk if u still write for TVD but I feel like “who’s afraid of little old me” for Klaus mikaelson would fit, (it’s could be him 1000 years ago before & after he was a vampire) x reader

As well as Kol mikaelson w ‘guilty as sin’ x reader (it could be human reader watching him from a distance before he notices and makes a move??)

Even if u don’t write for these characters anymore/atm I appreciate u reading this :)

Guilty As Sin

[kol mikaelson x reader]

A/N: your idea was amazing (need more kol mikaelson requests tbh!) and I immediately thought about turning it into a slight darker plot... I hope you don't mind. since you didn't specify, reader will be gender neutral, though they will have some characteristics regarding hair and eye color and style, but that's it, gender isn't specified. and the klaus mikaelson request is in the process of being made.

A/N²: you will see "month signs" at some point but that means zodiac signs, this error is on purpose to depict that kol has no idea what astrology means. (he would probably hate it lol)

summary: and so the lion fell in love with the lamb. . . but what if the lamb also became the lion? pairing: kol mikaelson x gn!reader w.c: 2.9K warnings/content: blood and gore; descriptions of child abuse; sexual activities (my attempt on trying to write smut); moral values are twisted; good vs. evil; graphic descriptions of violence; language; morally grey characters!!; there’s fluff; paragraphs in italics mean it’s a memory.

navi

masterpost

the originals masterlist

the vampire diaries masterlist

[requested]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ my boredom's bone deep 

this cage was once just fine 

am I allowed to cry?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Devil, for him, had short hair with dyed ends, dressed in ripped jeans, and carried the darkest pools in their eyes he had the pleasure of letting himself drown over and over again. He fell in love with the blood dripping from your lips and the taunting before proceeding for the final kill. You liked games when he created them. He thought he enjoyed the hunting, but you were born for this much more than he ever would. 

Kol Mikaelson met Evil when he was only a child. He watched as he beat his brother until he passed out from the pain and he turned a blind eye to it so he wouldn't be caught in his bad temper of every evening. Evil had a name and a last name, but he hadn't spoken these or acknowledged it existed from the moment he felt blood on his lips and life draining from a human body. Because now, he had power. Now, he had strength. Now he didn't need to corner and lower his head for a man whose only language was cruelty. He had defeated Evil.  

Kol was never a believer in God. He believed in the grey area between good and bad because he constantly leaned towards both once in a while — mostly the bad. Depending on his mood on the occasion. He didn't believe in a higher power, in month signs – because apparently, that's a thing in the modern world? People just have to seek something to feel less ordinary – or say something countless times for it to become true.  

He did, however, believe in magic. Not only believed, but he trusted magic. Kol was skilled enough to use it with pride and knowledge even after he lost his powers due to having become undead.  

Magic. 

It was exhilarating. The world was in his hands and he could burn an entire forest or make a flower grow.  

Some days, he missed magic like he missed breathing. So he would dig out his grimoire from an old box he kept his stuff and read it all over again like he hadn't memorized every single chanting and spell throughout his entire life. 

They called him Devil after seeing the wreckage he could cause in five villages in a week. The carnage that was left for the Earth to claim back as its own. But, one thing that nobody knew was that Kol met the Devil when he was casually strolling through a college party on Whitmore College's campus.  

Actually, the Devil was staring at him. And, surprisingly, it had blood pumping strongly to their heart. Life coursing through their veins. The Devil was human. And Kol was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Like a man starved for months without food or water.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝he's a paradox, 

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He thought he had found his prey that night when, in reality, he had been the one falling into their trap.  

"I think you look too bored to be here." You observed, a normal tone of voice for someone who wanted the other person to hear in a loud party full of drunk people speaking loudly and fast. Kol heard it well, of course. Your voice was smooth like honey if he were to compare it to the awful music they had playing.  

"And you look like you're enjoying this." 

You lifted a brow, a teasing smile spreading across your mouth. "I'm not. My friends dragged me, I couldn't say no." 

"You've got a problem saying no?" He glared at a drunk kid who bumped into him and turned to look at you, who still had that look of satisfaction on your face. He didn't know why, not back then.  

"Not really, but I lost a bet so..." You shrugged. "It was my dare. Part of it, actually." 

Kol nodded. Why had he been so interested? Don't ask him. He won't know the answer. Maybe because the Devil had their ways of playing their little games, to turn saints into sinners. And what was Kol Mikaelson if not a sinner? 

"What was the other part?" Kol found himself asking. He was about to take off at any second. He was only in town because of Klaus's stupidity and his family needed him again. Until they didn't. He could be halfway out of town by now. Why wasn't he? 

You approached him slowly, head tilting as you surveyed Kol up and down. He noticed the ink in your neck, right where your pulse laid. A strong and inviting pulse.  

"Well, the first part was that I had to come to this stupid party..." You said, tongue moving between your teeth and forming a teasing grin. “the second part,” You drawled out, lifting a hand to his shoulder, fingers rising to the back of his neck. Kol didn't move away as he was pulled closer. He didn't move away when your breaths mixed. “they dared me to take a handsome stranger home so I could have some fun.”  

It was Kol's turn to smirk. And just like that, it took one night, a few minutes, for him to be whisked away into your world with no turning back. 

A human.  

How could he let himself get carried away because of a human? 

Perhaps because it had been so long since he was a mortal and you reminded him what that felt like. A tad nostalgic and a lot euphoric. This is how Kol felt every time he was in your presence. The strangest thing was that there was no magic.  

“I'm starting to think that paranoia may run in the family.” 

He offered you an eye roll, perching against your windowsill as he watched the street. It was fairly empty. Quiet. Two of the five vampires he compelled to keep an eye on you were by the parked Black SUV. 

“Kol.” You closed the book with a thud. He glanced at you, schooling an unimpressed look. “I do not need protection. I can handle myself.” 

“Alright.” 

You scoffed, annoyed at his ability to turn down a conversation because that would end in his favor.  

“Alright doesn't mean shit if you're going to be a controlling prick.” 

He raised a brow, “I'm being controlling? Do you know who my family is? How many times has my brother threatened y— Try to walk out of here without losing a limb, will you? That's what he's capable of.” 

“I don't care.” 

And maybe that had been the whole problem. You truly did not care.  

There were few things you cared for, fewer were those you considered worth your time. Kol should have felt flattered to even be worth a minute of your time, but he took a lot of things for granted, including your safety. 

Immortality was not something he asked for. It had been imposed on him like the heavy burden of life previously had. 

He felt guilty for learning to enjoy it over time. He felt guilty for finding someone to keep him alive when he had been dead for decades.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝why does it feel like a vow  

we'll both uphold somehow?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Then, he lost you. 

Because of retaliation. Because of his family. Which was always the reason for his undoing.  

He lost the human and met the Devil. Except that those were the same person in one and he only found out when he saw the glint of joy and the absolute exhilaration as you sucked someone dry and then tossed the body with a sigh.  

“I was sad when you stopped looking for me.” You whispered into his ear like his nightmares would on particularly bad nights. This was real, he just couldn't believe it yet. “Thought I was important for a minute.” 

“What happened?” 

You leaned back against the wall, leather jacket scrunching as you crossed your arms over your chest.   

“You sound disappointed.” 

Kol forced himself to move and you watched as he took a cautious step towards you. That was the first time you saw Kol Mikaelson hesitate about anything. When you reappeared in his life. 

Tilting your head a bit, you said in a casual tone, “I'm no longer fragile and broken, so your interest has vanished, is that it? The idea you had of me, that I needed your protection, it's completely shattered now. You're disappointed.” 

The Devil, for him, had slightly longer hair than the last time he saw them, still dressed in ripped jeans and the ink in their body had grown in numbers. The eyes didn't change. They were still the darkest he had ever seen, the night sky was jealous of them.  

Kol wasn't disappointed in you. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to protect too. Maybe he had grown a hero complex, Elijah had rubbed off on him, after all. 

To grasp the fact that he didn't lose you — because you were still here — wasn't easy. There was the fact that you were always on a different wavelength. Two extremes. Mortal and immortal. Human and vampire. Protected and protector. Destroyed and destroyer.  

There was no such a thing anymore. 

But he never saw you as fragile or broken. 

“Bonnie asked to turn my humanity back on.” You told him during a dinner in the Mikaelson compound. Kol placed the wine glasses on top of the counter, glancing up at you with careful eyes.  

“Did you? Turn it off?” 

He remembered thinking how cute it was when you scrunched your nose whenever confusion drowned your line of thought. He had never thought someone was cute. The person in front of him, nursing a glass of red wine as they pouted over something someone said to them a few days back, had killed around fifty wolves for threatening his family and somehow managed to acquire animosity with the Strix as well.  

He found you cute. What was going on with him? 

“How does one even do that?” You cracked a laugh, shaking your head at the idea. “What, you turn off your conscience to do unspeakable things to not remember them later? Is that a thing?” You placed the now empty glass of wine in front of the bottle so he could pour your another glass. “Then that means I'd have to grow a conscience first, wouldn't I?” 

Kol blinked, his lips stretching slowly into a soft smile that he couldn't hold back.  

He knew what was going on. You know, it's been known that Kol Mikaelson was an exceptional sinner and all the gods loathed him. So it made sense that he fell in love with the Devil, didn't it? 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝crashing over my grave, 

without ever touching his skin, 

how can I be guilty as sin?❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Do you remember your human years?” 

You questioned him late in the evening. You were both in bed, you reading a book as he answered a text from Hope with one of the only memes he owned in his phone.  

“Yes.” Kol replied, turning his phone off and putting it in the nightstand. It wasn't until a few months ago that he stopped complaining after texting people. Big technophobe. You said he sounded like an old man whenever he complained about modernity. “Vaguely.” 

“Do you like remembering it?” 

“It depends.” A pause, the bed shifted. His hand wandered through your body, ending up on your hip, the shirt raising a little as he drew circles with his thumb. “Those weren't my favourite times.” 

You turned a page, avoiding his curious eyes on you. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm. I like it better now.” 

You stayed silent.  

He gently pulled the book away to be able to take a look at your face. 

“What's on your mind?”  

A lot.  

“Nothing.” 

Kol pecked your lips once. “Really?” He did it twice. “You don't know how to lie to me.” The corner of your lips lifted in amusement, which was always his intended goal. 

“Do I need to remind you what an awful liar you are?” 

He shrugged unapologetically, “That's why we're a good match. We're terrible liars.” 

You snorted, pursing your lips.  

“Is that what you think?” You said. “That we're a good match?” 

His forehead creased in confusion. He knew you were a bit odd during the day but he didn't push it when you didn't want to talk, figuring you would, eventually. But that? What did that mean?  

“What's going on?” He asked, thumb traveling across the back of your hand.  

“I don't know.” You bit your lip. “Sometimes I just feel like your life could be different. Without me.” 

He withdrew his hand to sit down on the bed, one leg under the other. The blanket falling on his lap, exposing his naked chest.  

“Yes, it would,” he said as if it was obvious. “It would be different in a way that I would never like to find out.” 

Your face twitched into a grimace. “Are you sure? Because people have a lot of opinions. About you and me. They say I make you worse.” 

“I was worse before you,” Kol interjected. “I didn't know you cared about people's opinions.”  

“I don't.” And that wasn't a lie. Oftentimes you had to stop Kol from shutting you out because of other people, mostly his family, interfering in your relationship. “But I'm a vampire now. And you... you're a Mikaelson. You're destructive and selfish and a lone wolf, except when you're with me. Do you really need someone who's the same?”  

“We're not the same.” He promptly disagreed. 

“Kol, we're both destructive.” 

“We were destructive before, what difference does it make now?” 

You sighed. 

“It doesn't bother you? That I'd kill and rip limbs out for you or my own benefit and not feel guilty about it?” 

With an arm beneath your legs, he brought you closer to him with a pull.  

“No. And neither should you.” He cupped your face, thump grazing your cheeks lovingly. “You didn't make me who I am—” 

“I'm aware, Kol. Your body count was above average way before I met you.”  

His forehead fell on yours as he chuckled in disbelief. “Fair enough.” 

You managed to smile a little.  

“If people tell you you make me worse, what do they say I make you?” 

Shrugging, you replied, “Satan, probably.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

❝oh, what a way to die 

my bedsheets are ablaze  

I've screamed his name 

building up like waves  

crashing over my grave  

without ever touching his skin  

how can I be guilty as sin?❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He hummed into your skin, kissing down your collarbones and your chest and your stomach, until you exhaled with your eyes falling shut.  

“It's funny.” Kol mumbled against your lower stomach, his chestnut eyes boring into yours. “I thought you'd bored me out when I first met you, but it was the other way around, wasn't it?”  

You were about to respond maybe when there was a slight tug in your shorts and your body just worked on automatically lifting your hips so he could get rid of it. 

“You had a grip on me the first moment I heard your voice, darling.” He pressed soft kisses down the inner skin of your thighs with his raspy voice due to his position. “You don't make me worse, you make me better. Infinitely better.” 

The mattress beneath your head crumpled under your hold.  

“That's why I pledged my spot in Hell the first moment you laid eyes on me. I was yours. I am yours. And I will always be yours.” Your back arched as his mouth reached its final destination. “Proudly,” he whispered but you could hear it perfectly through the sounds that echoed throughout your bedroom. “Undoubtedly. . .”  

The Devil, for you, had the most beautiful chestnut brown eyes you've ever seen, a rather basic sense of style and carried an uncontrollable thirst for blood like you. He knew how to dance but he hid that ability out of embarrassment. He knew how to love and was too scared to lose that capacity of feeling after centuries of working through it.  

If people claimed that he was responsible for Hell on Earth, 

“. . . Unrepentantly.” 

Then you would gladly fall into the clutches of his undoing.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[pegasus-444]

Until lamb becomes lion ౨ৎ⋆ ｡⋆𐙚⋆.˚₊⊹♡

[twidiarie]

mother dearest

I'm still your baby

Why won't you cradle me?

mother dearest

It wasn't long ago as weak knees grew strength and the infant who crawled

became the infant who walked

waddling and tumbling, under your care

I'd never fall or trip, my tiny fist enveloping your finger

I was safe, your lips spilled words of praise and prayer

To ask the Almighty to keep me steady, to never let me run off into unsafe terrain and linger

Mother dearest

When I stopped being your cute little doll

When my lips were no longer puppeted with the sounds of obedience and agreement, when I developed the gall

To say no, to say otherwise, to put on different glasses and lenses

Our worlds were now in different colors and in different focuses and perspectives

mother dearest

You spoonfed me mashed fruit and cleaned my drooling chin with tissues and gently wiped away my tears

Now I eat in silence while you tell me that fruit has too much sugar and serve me the bitter vegetables I never liked and I wipe away my own tears

Mother dearest

My face and my body and my beauty is like yours, right?

Yet you've taken your carving knife, determined to shape me into your picture perfect sight

You've poked and prodded, stabbed and mutilated, a sick carnage

Now with my trembling hands I hold your knife, our knife, guided and steadied by yours. my heart and my pride and my joy lopped off, collateral damage.

Mother dearest

When I look in the mirror

Bile rises in my throat, every part triggers a blaring alarm, “error, error”

I perceive and see the scars and bruises, invisible and visible, littering the expanse of my skin,

I realize that I am no longer the product of love of you and my father and my grandmother and my grandfather and all my ancestors and my kin

I am a blight, I am broken, I am no longer your pretty little doll, your pretty little baby

I am defected, not worthy of being declared as a grade C product, I am unsellable junk, faulty

I am misshapen and unsightly.

If only someone would unmake and rebuild and refashion and fix me

mother dearest

I'm still sensitive, I'm still your child

I still get scared when you, from sweet lamb morph into canine-gnashing wolf, feral and wild

Mother dearest,

The mother hen worrying over her chicks

has become the lion who tears away the flesh of her cubs with curled, bloodied lips

Mother dearest

I want to be cute and soft and small and tiny

So that you'll look at me lovingly and hold me

Now you cast me away and push me aside

Wanting space, wanting your own time

Mother dearest

Do I bore you? You used to listen to my nonsensical rambling and babbling

And now when I spout off my hopes and dreams and speak with passion and intention

You roll your eyes and sigh, look away, your head and your body turned away in aversion

The sun, a star, a daily sight, I will see until the day I die

Will capture your attention, it shines far brighter than I

A ball of gas, scorching and blazing

Melts away the lumpy, awkward me into a puddle, unworthy of remembering

Mother dearest

I understand why you love the sun as you do,

I am a young sapling, a withering flower, and you are the sun aren't you?

Vines crawl up spiked barriers,

desperately reaching for warmth through an imprisoned container

Towards you, I reach, but shades surrounds me at every corner,

I have been ignored, I have been shunned, my cries mimic those of the most distraught mourner

I am so cold, I am dying,

My petals are flitting off, my leaves wilting and drying

please, keep me warm, o mother of mine

I still cower in the face of the dark. I know my fears are asinine

But I am alone and you swore to protect me. You swore it. How foolish, how naive I was, this earnest heart of mine

I didn't know that promise had expired past its deadline

Mother dearest

The cruelest things I feel I will never hear from the world outside

Because words are like arrows,

drawn with intention

with aimed direction.

Stray ones bounce off my armor and graze my cheeks. But you know all my chinks, and your arrows pierce paper thin skin, into the vulnerable flesh inside

Your cute little doll is a fragile thing after all, her stuffing is spilling

Her seams have burst, she is hollow and her pain is agonizing

Mother dearest

I'm sorry I'm sorry forgive me forgive me.

I'm turning into you, into my father, into the wretched Frankenstein of the detestable parts of both of you and you hate me.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Please don't hate me.

I'm enraged like you are. I am just like you are but it's wrong because it's me.

Mother dearest

Please love me again,

Even when I'm not good.

Even when I'm bad.

please will you love me again?

Even when you're angry will you love me again?

What can I do, please love me again?

Mother dearest

I'm still your baby

Why won't you love me?

If you don't

How can I love me?

[crmsnmth]

Twelve Months to a Year

You are maple leaves in October your colors draining And soon you'll have burnt out so hard You'll be soil before you even hit the dirt

You are the cold rains of November Chilling me right down to the marrow My melancholy shower right before I lay my head down for the bed of winter

You are December ice wet and cold and easily shattered lift me as a sheet and you'll come crashing the snow is so pretty until the cars come out

You are the hope of January brand new in every move you make You claim you could reach the future but when I said prove it, you laughed

You are forgotten like February shorter days gain just the hint of change You repeat yourself on the second and we spend our Valentine's at a funeral

You are Lion of March you could never call yourself a lamb your much too stubborn to follow along and you make your own path

You are the wetness that is April So slick, that it all just slides off you How'd you become so resistant Looking up to you from my perch below

You are the optimism of May you bring those summer feelings even if we're not quite there yet But you so shiny, I have to wear shades

You are the warm nights of June The one's spent walking this city the ones where you kissed my cheek watching the lake with forties and cigarettes

You are the festivals of July the fireworks that light up the sky It's that comfortable feeling that these days is so hard to come by

You are the heat of August Only you could make me sweat that way It's when you said I love you as I cooked and drank too much wine

You are the quiet of September the low clicks as the fall rears it's head And you'll find me in the tree Where you almost broke your neck

No matter what part of the year there's always something there to remind me of you To remind me that I was loved once to remind me that I can love

I think that's a pretty important lesson.

[thornsamigurumi]

spop saturday

here are some of the fics i just keep coming back to

all eyes on me by @catrasredemption - “Glimmer!” the drunken voice on the other end slurred. “I need a ride. Mermista left me. Can you believe that?”

What the fuck. Catra opened her mouth to speak, but the voice barreled on. “And I forget my Uber password and Perfuma already left and pleeeeeeeeeeeease come get me? I’ll owe you big time. You won’t even have to feed me when I help you guys move out. And I’ll stop complaining about you abandoning me. And—”

“Hey,” Catra snapped, cutting her off. “I’m not Glitter, or whatever. You’ve got the wrong number.”

There was a pause, and then the other woman laughed. “Good one, Glimmer! Seriously, it’s cold, and I haven’t seen any taxis…”

“Did you drown all your brain cells?” Catra grumbled. “I’m. Not. Glimmer.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Oh no,” the woman groaned. She sounded close to tears. “Oh no, I must’ve mixed up the things in her new number. Oh stupid, stupid, stupid. I’m so sorry.”

blonde is the new black by vagician - When Adora's sister makes a failed dash and grab at a department store and ditches her at the scene, Adora gets pinned with all of her outstanding charges, tainting her pristine record. Will our blonde little innocent lamb be able to make it out of the lions den of Bright Moon Penitentiary unscathed?

Only time will tell.

every time we almost met by @rinniiart - She was utilising her sunglasses to their full potential to shamelessly watch the blonde woman chatting to Perfuma over the counter. The woman turned to head out the door, passing Catra where she sat by the door outside. Catra pretended to be zoning out and only followed the woman with her eyes to avoid getting caught.

Which is why she noticed the other woman run her eyes over Catra and seemed to enjoy the view. Catra tilted her head to look at the blonde to see if the action would make the blonde act on that look but she just offered a friendly smile and headed down the street. Shame. -- Fate works in mysterious ways. If only Catra knew that Adora was out there waiting for her, all she needed to do was take a moment for herself to finally meet her.

hurricane adora by @n7punk - When Catra went out for a late-night bite to eat, she knew she was at risk of her fellow patrons being drunk. She wasn’t prepared for one of those drunk diners to be her ex-best friend who doesn’t seem to remember that they don’t even know each other anymore, but it has been years and the way Adora reacts to her is intriguing. Someone has to keep her from wandering into traffic until she sobers up, and if a rekindling of their relationship comes from it, maybe that won’t be the most terrible thing.

on the other side by @n7punk - Living with Catra can be hard, given Adora’s stupid crush she can’t seem to squash, but she tries to be the best roommate she can. She won't risk ruining everything between them because of her feelings. Catra knows Adora is never going to reciprocate her feelings, and yet she stays in this holding pattern with her. They are everything together - except actually being together. She never wants to live apart from Adora, but whenever her heat hits it really sucks to be living with the woman she is in love with.

kneeling at your throne by jyn044 - “I built this city from the ground up, as a monument to my Empire and the center of my power. Welcome to Halfmoon, slave girl.”

Adora looked at her Mistress in awe. She wouldn’t have believed it possible for a city so large to have been built within years, but Catra’s drive and ruthless determination had made it happen.

She knows what she wants and she works to get it. Adora thought in admiration. And now she wants…me.

OR: Adora makes a bargain to become Empress Catra's slave girl.

She doesn't expect to break down Catra's walls, redeem the Empress, or fall in love with her. Those are just happy accidents.

the ghost of adora grey by tadd_the_turtle - The closer she got to the bridge, the louder the sound of the rapids became. The sound was entrancing enough on its own, no mysterious woman in white necessary to draw forward the curious mind.

So, imagine Catra's complete and utter disbelief when, after ditching her bike a few feet away, she walked to the bridge's entrance only to see there was a woman standing there. Alone. Leaning over the railing.

[genericpuff]

Okay I need someone to know there is an equally bad Hades x Persephone story (it might've been self published? But I'm not sure. I read it years ago as a gift from a friend).

But the basic premise of the story is very similar to a touch of darkness and lore Olympus. The names are changed slightly - Persephone is now Persy or something and hades is Hayden.

Persephone works at an accounting firm or something as a new hire and guess who the new business partner is that her company is trying to strike a deal with? Hades who's Uber rich and handsome. Only difference is for some reason Persephone has the power to make people tell her their deepest secrets so like for example when she was a kid people would confess creepy things to her - like her middle school teacher blatantly admitting to being a pedophile and she does nothing about it. (Granted it's like what would she do even magic powers aren't admissible in court but still). And there's a love triangle with some random human guy? Who is immune to her powers through sheer will power (and masturbation. Yes this is a plot point).

At some point Persephone travels Hayden's domain (which is somewhere in Asia like Shanghai for some reason and not Greece). I gave up at that point. There was lots of creepy things going on in the story a la "young new girl Persephone is constantly almost assaulted at every turn due to her irresistible beauty and people's need to tell her their secrets").

Worst book I've ever read. It's so bad I cannot for the life of me remember the title but it fashioned itself as a modern retelling of Hades and Persephone.

Could it have been The Cursed God? That's what I pulled up from a google search at least LMAO

Here's the summary:

"Hades is coming for me. But that doesn't mean he can have me . . . He says he knows me. Who I am. What I am. I'm pretty sure my boss Hayden is on some sort of weird power trip. He's sexy as hell, but has an arrogance that spells danger. I'm only serving drinks in his seedy strip club until I can afford my own flower shop. I just have to avoid the inexplicable pull between us in the meantime. Then he claims I'm Persephone and he's Hades, the God of the Underworld. He says I was taken from him and now he's here to awaken my spirit so he can take me back to the underworld. That his position in the underworld depends on it. Either he's crazy . . . or I'm a mythical goddess. A queen of the underworld. His Queen."

There was another one I found called Descent. And its summary is equally crazy:

"He was my savior once. Twice. Now he’s become my tormentor.

Hayden Montgomery was my best friend’s big brother. The last time I saw him was that Halloween night. The night he found me in the ruin of the chapel. The night he carried me home through a storm that was the omen warning us all of what would come.

That was five years ago. Now, he’s back. But he’s not the same man he was.

Once upon a time, I’d fantasized about our happily-ever-after. Once upon a time, I think I loved him.

But that was before he stood in the wreckage that is now my life and offered me the solution to my problems. And the cost? My body and my soul.

There’s something dark between Hayden and me. It binds us for better or for worse. Mostly worse. Like the moth to the flame, we can’t seem to resist the draw.

I just don’t know which of us is the moth and which the flame, but either way, we’re both going to get burned."

That last bit about the moth and flame is just- it's so delightfully Twilight "the lion fell in love with the lamb" vibes.

Anyways. Those are the two closest ones I could find that matched your description, but this has me learning that there are ... a LOT of 'modern' retellings of H x P that involve Persephone being an uwu babygirl and Hades being some wet rag abusive dickhead named Hayden. This is a sub-genre I didn't know existed and now I'm wishing I could just scrub my brain of it LOL

On the one hand, part of me now wants to believe that this issue goes deeper than Rachel, that Rachel is just yet another side effect of a bigger problem... but then I spot all the publication dates on these H x P "dark romance" books are from 2019 onwards. Obviously LO doesn't exist in a vacuum either, it's clear it took influences from works that existed before it, it's not the first "modern" retelling of Greek myth. But I can't help but feel a sense of dread that really makes me wonder just how much LO's existence has subsequently oversaturated the market with these "retellings" of a story that was originally a tragedy and meant to sympathize with the mothers whose daughters were forced into marriage, the same way 50 Shades and Twilight oversaturated the market with the "dark romance" genre itself, which is really just a dog whistle for abusive relationships at this point.

Don't really have anything else to say to close out this post. It's just depressing and I desperately want us all to hurry the fuck up and outgrow it instead of dressing up the same abusive "relationships" with a new coat of paint every 5-10 years.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 3 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.4

Max was a beautiful man. He was even more beautiful when he smiled.

His smile wasn't full-on but slight, with his lips turning upwards in the corner only. But to you, making the man in front of you smile was your goal.

"Tell me about yourself," he said gently.

"About me?" You needed clarification. Normally, when you talk to men, especially the ones that live in Monaco permanently, they don't care to know about you.

"You are (name), aren't you?" His thick eyebrows arched questionably.

Blushing, you lowered your head, looking at your cup in between your hands. You see a hand reach across the table and land on your chin, slowly lifting it so your eyes meet blue, "No. I don't like you looking away. I want to see your eyes on me."

You blushed again at the man's words, biting your lip anxiously. His eyes immediately get drawn to your pink lip between your teeth.

Noticing his shift of attention to her lip, she decides to speak, "My (name) (last name) and I'm 23."

Max was surprised that was all you said. Most women he met would never give him a chance to speak, continuously talking about their lives to try to impress him.

"Are you from Monaco?" He asks, trying to get you to continue

"No," You shake your head lightly "I'm originally from the U.S. and came here about a year and a half ago."

"What brought you here?"

"The people," you shrug, "not to be weird about it but everyone here is wealthy. My clientele is mainly wealthier people."

"What do you do for a living then?"

"I'm an artist. Specifically a painter," You visibly become happy when talking about your job. It was obvious to see you love what you do.

You start to ramble on about your job until you realize what you were doing and start to blush, "Sorry. I ramble a lot."

Max chuckles, sending shivers down your spine "I don't mind. I love hearing the sound of your voice."

Blushing even deeper and smiling, you change the topic to save yourself from any more embarrassment, "what about you? Where are you from?"

"I'm originally from Belgium but grew up in the Netherlands most of my life."

"And for work?"

"I work with cars," he vaguely answers. You raised your eyebrow knowing there's more to the answer but decided not to push.

"And that brought you to Monaco?"

"For a time," he shrugs. "I travel a lot for work and only really have about a total of 4 months here in Monaco."

"Where do you travel for work?" Your eyes light up again at the thought of traveling.

You always wanted to travel but haven't been able to do it financially nor do you have any idea where you'd want to go.

Max smiles at you and goes into depth about some of his favorite places to go. He realizes his job is amazing but can't help but wish he had more time to spend with his family.

Though, his lifestyle hasn't affected him much because he's a loner. But sitting there with you, he can't help but hope to come home more often to see the beautiful woman more often.

The pair continued to talk for about another hour or so before they were interrupted by your phone ringing.

You give the blue-eyed man an apologetic smile before answering the phone, "hello?"

"Where the hell are you?" You hear your roommate yell at you through the phone. Your roommate wasn't someone you would willingly have in your life. If you could you'd live by yourself.

"I'm getting coffee," Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I need you home because I have people coming over and the house is a mess! You have to come home now and clean it all up!"

Max didn't know who was on the other end of the phone but just by her tone, he didn't like her. No one should yell at you like that.

"What do you mean? When I left, the house was perfectly clean."

"Well, it was until I spilled soda everywhere so I need you to help clean up!"

Deciding not to fight with your roommate, you just sighed, and told the girl you would come home now and hung up the phone.

"Everything alright?" Max asked.

"Yeah just got to help my roommate clean up the mess she made because she wants to have people over," You sighed again.

"You shouldn't have to clean up her messes."

"I know but it's easier not to argue with her," you started to gather your things and stood up.

You reached into your purse, pulled out a pen wrote something on the napkin, and handed it to the man. "Here. It's my number. Text me and we'll do this again"

You smile softly at the man before leaning in and kissing him on the cheek before turning away and leaving. You hadn't registered what you had done until you were almost home.

You stopped mid-walk, a smile plastering your face. You didn't mean to do that, but you were happy you did. You smiled the entire way back to your apartment.

Max was stunned by your boldness. You were so innocent and naive yet here you were giving your phone number to him and kissing his cheek.

Something about you made you stand out from everyone else. He didn't know what it was yet but he couldn't wait to see you again.

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector