#I HAVE BEEN RECITING EVERY LYRIC TO THIS SONG OVER AND OVER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

solxamber · 3 months ago

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Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, ��Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia

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chrollohearttags · 16 days ago

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makeup artist!armin…that is all 🫠

📝: black fem hairstylist!reader, friends to lovers, fluff to smut, praise, he’s also bi, alcohol use, switch!armin, choking, finger sucking, oral (a eating) missionary, cumshot, calls reader babe and my love

🎙️: I’m trying out something a lil’ different and trying to actually make my drabbles short so I hope y’all like it. Also I know like 3 of you might actually see this tonight but posting anyways bc I’m bored

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you never thought you’d see makeup artist!armin ever again..in the flesh at least. It’d been three years since you, him and twenty other attendees of one of the country’s most elite cosmetology schools had graduated as licensed beauticians. A majority of you had gone on to do extraordinary things with your newfound certifications…some working for prestigious salons, others starting their own businesses and continuing ones they were running illegally. But you and Armin? Leagues all on your own! Of course, the same could have been said when you were in school together. Seemingly attached at the hip and matching in both skills and wit. makeup artist!armin was naturally the talk among the class. The only male in a room full of gorgeous girls…chatting and keeping up with the conversations as if he were one of you. Offering advice on boyfriends and husbands, reciting the lyrics to every female rap song that played from the salon floor’s speakers as you all practiced balayage and full sets whilst the instructor watched. makeup artist!armin was a natural..able to analyze a face and turn anyone into the most beautiful version of themselves. Of course, it left much speculation on his orientation but when the question arose, his response was: “I like what I like, that’s all.”

with his fluffy blonde locks, warm blue eyes, scattered tattoos, including the pieces on his neck and hands…fingernails always donned with nail polish and sporting jewelry of some form, he was a dream. But it was him who was enamored with (y/n)..his girl to anyone who asked. Something you always figured to be a lighthearted inside joke, considering the number of empty, flirtatious passes you made at one another. Pretending to kiss, even allowing him to grasp your throat in the process because he’d only follow it up with some effeminate remark before you both broke into a laugh. “Armin moveee, you play too much.” “Babeee, c’mere. You didn’t have a problem last night. Why are you being mean to me?” But makeup artist!armin wasn’t interested in playing games anymore..especially when he saw you all over Instagram, going viral for your amazing work. Laying wigs, coloring, finger waves, silk presses..the works. You were the best of the best and people were dying to get a seat in your chair. Including an influencer with tons of followers and the money to burn, looking to get done up by the city’s finest for a club appearance. What you didn’t expect was the person traipsing behind her to be makeup artist!armin..looking even better than he had before!

��It’s been a while, my love. How are you? I see you look sexy as always.”

Hugging instantly as the excitement over took the both of you. makeup artist!armin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you styled the influencer’s hair, watching you two laugh and chop it up..joining in on the fun occasionally. Turns out he had been working with some notorious clientele, using his talents to earn quite a pretty penny and make a name for himself in the beauty sector. But the real conversation wasn’t done until after hours…when he’d finish up with your guest and you were closing up shop. The two of you would down some of the leftover shots you had with the client as part of her pregame whilst he decided to give you a complementary beat for old times sake…

talking about life and what it had been like since you left the academy. Divulging in juicy gossip about friends and old peers alike, work and what it was like having your entire catalogue on display for social media. Of course, what makeup artist!armin and yourself truly wanted to know was if there was a special someone around..

“Me? Nah, me and my ex been done. I don’t have time for dating..the money is my only love nowadays.”

“I feel that. All I do is work and go home.”

but he was hoping to change that last sentiment. Dressed in his black button down and slit jeans with silver bands on his fingers..he’d turn your face towards him as the guise of brushing on your highlight

“Y’know I really missed this, (y/n). I’ve been watching you and I’m so proud of what you’ve done. You’ve worked hard.” “Thank you, Armin..you’re always so sweet.” “Well duh, I’ve already told you, you’re my girl..”

makeup artist!armin couldn’t hold back any longer…bridging the gap of space between you two as the bright lights hung overhead. He'd confess that he’d thought about you everyday and wished that the two of you had kept contact. It was as if all of the sexual tension and feelings that the two of you had been harboring were just seconds from spilling over. Which only in turn led to you moving to the back of your salon, lips crashing together and tongues shoved into each other’s mouth as he mounted you onto a nearby countertop. Completely forgetting his masterpiece he’d painted on your face.

“Arminnn..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, babe. I know..you don’t have to tell me. I know you better than anyone.”

a statement that rang true when he’d pull you into a kiss yet again and clutch your throat as he’d done in a joking manner many times before. A movement they elicited a smile from you both.

“You still like that, huh? So nasty..”

“You said it..you know me better than anyone, baby.”

from your lips to your neck, he’d mark you with pecks, licking and nibbling at your ear as he whispered lecherous things; from how good you looked in the bodycon dress you were wearing to how he needed to hold it up while pounding you from the back..

“Mmmm..see, there you go playing wit’ me.”

“Spread your legs for me, baby and you’ll see how much I’m joking..”

leaving you with a heavy pat to the ass as he scooped you into his grasp and parted your thick thighs. Obviously much more fit than he was when you’d last saw him. makeup artist!armin tugged down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts as he planted a hand into your tummy..peeling your panties back with his teeth before diving into that dripping center. Wasting no time in lapping on your clit, gliding a finger or two in and sucking on your folds as if it were his first meal in months. He certainly was no stranger to eating pussy..regardless of everyone’s opinions on his sexuality!

“F-fuckkkk..Arminnn..” Pushing his head and shoulders back whilst still grinding on his mouth.

“I’m sorry, babe. What is it that you want? Because you’re realllly confusing me..do you want me to stop..or should I keep eating this little pussy until you come all over my face?” Laughing as he spat into your entrance and continued lapping. (Y/N)’s legs began to quiver, breath shallow and chest heaving as your eyes rolled back..you’d never felt anything remotely euphoric as this. He knew each of your spots, what made you tick and how to pleasure you. He navigated your body as well as an eyeshadow palette and like always, he wasn’t done until he was satisfied..

“Awww, babyy—don’t cry. I know it feels good but you’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup. Here..suck on my fingers.” That soft yet dominant taking over as he shoved two digits in your mouth. What followed was a trail of saliva and his tongue breaching your puckering lower entrance. Which nearly caused you to shoot through the roof.

“Look at that..now I’m in all your pretty holes, babe..I’ve waited so long to do this. Fuck..you taste amazing.”

you’d whimper and writhe around, grasping at the marble counters as that orgasm neared..he’d push those fingers in and out until splatters of warm juices hit his chin. “Sorry, my love..I hate to stop you but—” unbeknownst, he had been stroking himself through his boxers and was ready to let you get the real thing.

“If you want to come anymore, it’ll be on this dick. I really need to fuck you.” His voice was much deeper than before and you didn’t hesitate to let him inside. Pinning your legs back to the vanity, makeup artist!armin tapped that head and shaft against your folds before gently gliding in, keeping your eyes fixated on each other with his hand still around your neck. That fat cock splitting open your wet folds.

“Shit…your pussy’s so warm, babe. God, why’d you keep this from me?” But you were too in awe to answer..completely stuck on how big he was and how well he wielded it. Slowly stroking and rubbing your clit with the opposite hand. You were fixated on his gaze and sweet words, listening to him to praise you whilst he resided balls deep inside of you.

“Oh my gosh….’s so fucking big. Fucking me so good..” whimpering and barely able to fork coherent sentences. makeup artist!armin would chuckle softly as he watched it slide in and out, the bulge appearing when he sped up. “Damn, babe. I love this look on you…but I love even more how I look inside of you.” Pounding you into the vanity with his lips melded to yours.

“Ahhhh…yes, baby! Right there..’m gonna come.”

“I told you, if you want to, it’s gotta be on me.” makeup artist!armin would continue thrusting until he drew more splashes out of that cunt, making you squirt all over his torso and the countertop. It wasn’t long until he too was reaching his own climatic peak, burrowed over you with his face buried into the crook of your neck as he called out your name..whining about how badly he missed you.

“Oh God I missed you..I missed you so bad. Can I come for you, my love? Please? I’ve been so good..I waited all this time just for you..”

and it was no question that you’d welcome it..waiting patiently as he pulled out of you reluctantly. He’d spray those thick ropes of cum all over your tummy and even catch your face..

makeup artist!armin reveled in his latest and most prized creation yet. Laughing as those fluffy lashes swatted off remnants of his seed..droplets staining the glossy nude lip he’d just finished.

“I need a kiss after that. C’mere..” “Yeah, I agree.”

makeup artist!armin had long since dreamed of what he’d say and do once you guys reconnected. He was nervous, afraid that you’d reject his feelings but it was no longer a secret. That mounting love that had been festering inside of you both had exploded into a blaze of passion that couldn’t be extinguished any time soon. And now that he was back in your life, you’d never be apart again.

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 4 months ago

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[3:32 pm]

"Now he's thinkin' bout me every night, oh! Isn't that sweet? I guess so!" You heard for the thousandth time today.

You sighed, rubbing at your temples as you folded the laundry. This had been going all day. Since the second you woke up, Haechan had been singing Espresso since his eyes opened. At first, it had been funny. You had even bobbed your head along with his voice, but not now.

Now, it had been 6 hours of hearing the song over and over again. You heard it as he sipped his coffee. You heard it as he showered. You heard it as he changed the bed sheets. You heard it as he made lunch. It was starting to drive you absolutely insane. You loved Haechan, you loved his voice, you loved his presence, but this was something else entirely.

Singing the same song over and over again wasn't something that he did often. It happened every few months, enough time to make you forget about the last time it happened. To his credit, it was a good song. It was catchy and he sounded good singing it. At least he did earlier, now he was reciting the lyrics and emphasizing words with a growl, it had gone too far.

You had taken to the bedroom while he cleaned up the kitchen, as far away as you could get from him without leaving the house. You could hear his muffled voice. It was the closest thing you'd gotten to silence all day. It was precious.

But then his voice got louder. He was down the hall. Louder and he was in the doorway. Closer and his arms were wrapped around your waist as his voice filled the room, "move it up, down, left, right, oh. Switch it up like Nintendo."

Haechan swayed you back and forth, quickly tearing you from the side of the bed to spin you around. He spun you around, pulling you back to his chest as he danced with you and sang at the top of his lungs. Your neighbors were going to complain! "Say you can't sleep, baby, I know! That's that me espressooooo!"

You couldn't take it anymore, you wriggled your hand out of his hold and cupped your hand over his mouth, "I love you. You know I do, but I am going to send you to your mother's if you don't stop singing that song! It's good, I love it, but don't ruin it for me, please."

His eyes were wide as he looked back at you and nodded. You slowly removed your hand, entirely cautious and wary of the fact that he would totally start singing again just to be a pain in the ass. He kept his eyes locked with your own as he gulped, "I just feel like I should let you know that she has a song called Please, Please, Please and I really, really want to sing it now."

"Donghyuck, do. Not." You stated coldly, narrowing your eyes at him as if to strengthen your demand.

He nodded, "ok, I promise. Don't send me to my mom."

You should have known. You should have known better than to trust his word. It had been a blissful 10 minutes of actual silence. You could hear the cars going down the street, kids playing outside, the wind rustling the leaves on the trees and then... then "I'm workin' late cause I'm a singerrrr."

"Lee Donghyuck!"

"It was an accident! I'm sorry! Don't call my mom!"

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: your starbucks order is a little too complicated for aaron to understand.

Aaron, in many ways, acts like a father. He's stern when he notices one of his agents on their phones during a case, he scolds Reid for not getting enough sleep, and he's infinitely grumpy when traffic is poor. It means that when he swings the van into a starbucks drive-thru on your way back to the precinct, you feel like a kid on Christmas.

"Hotch!" You squeal, mouth already watering in anticipation of your favorite drink, "I knew you were my favorite."

He lets a small, amused smile grace his typically stoic features, hands relaxed at the wheel as he maneuvers the van beside the window.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" The speakers emit a crackly voice, and you're sure the person on the other end can't be over 20.

"One tall dark roast, and-" Aaron recites, then turns to you, "What do you want?"

Aaron's never heard so many words jumbled together before. You spit the name of your drink like it's lyrics to a song, an unintelligible rhythm to them that Aaron is helplessly lost amidst. You must have told him twenty separate terms, stringing them together in a way he could never hope to reproduce. He blinks once, his jaw shifted so that his lips part slightly.

"What?"

You huff out a laugh, "A-"

"Will that be all for you today, sir?"

Tense, realizing you have no time to coach Aaron on your hyperspecific drink, you surge forwards, nimble hands undoing your seatbelt as you lean across Aaron to speak into the receiver.

Out of reflex, your hand falls to his thigh to brace yourself, and the muscles are strong beneath your fingers. You nearly jumble up your own drink order, especially at the way his breath hitches when you practically crawl over his lap in the seat to stick your head towards the window.

Aaron's never been this close to you before. Not like this, not with your hand on his thigh and your ass not far behind. If he were to glance down, which he won't, he could see straight down your top. He won't, though. He wouldn't have a clear enough head for driving if he did.

Aaron didn't catch your drink order before, and he's certainly not able to now, too overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the feeling of your palm braced steadily against his thigh. You dig your fingers into the fabric of his dress pants for stability and he hopes you can't feel the way his slacks tighten ever-so-slightly, cursing himself for chubbing up like a horny teen.

"Okay," The employee hums, furiously pressing buttons on the computer to complete your order, "Is that all for you folks?"

"That's it," You hum cheerily, "Thank you!"

"$11.87,", the voice comes back, not nearly as jovial as you.

You unstick yourself from Aaron's thigh, knee aching from where it had been balanced on the center console. You send him a sheepish smile when your faces are only inches away, lips plumping as they curl.

"Sorry," You breathe, settling back in your seat so that Aaron can pull up to the next window, "I know it's complicated. I didn't think to prep you. I panicked."

"It's alright," He manages to find his voice, using every ounce of strength in his body to fight against the speechlessness that threatens to overtake him. He hands his card to the woman at the window, and sees you already reaching for your wallet to pay him back. He won't let you.

He pulls up to the next window and clears the cupholder of someone's old plastic water bottle, "I don't even think Garcia has that long of an order. And she's notorious for trying pinterest brews."

"It's complicated, but it's good," You gush, happily taking the drink from him when he's handed it by the man in the window. Aaron's surprised they managed to concoct yours in under twenty minutes. Your lipstick leaves a prim stain on the white lid, and you hum in pleasure, "Ooh, they made it just right."

Aaron sips at his own bitter roast, using one hand to steer as he fumbles to fit his drink in the small cupholder. He's got his eyes on the road, and his hands occupied, so he's a little frazzled when the rim of your drink pops into sight beside his face.

"Wanna try some?"

"That's okay, my hands are full." He hums, seriously considering just crashing the car to have a hand to take your drink with. He can't believe he's missing the opportunity to fit his lips over residue of your own, press his mouth to that pretty pink kiss mark you'd left in your wake.

"It's alright, here." You hold the drink to his lips, "I got it."

Aaron steals a glance at the cup as he fits his mouth around the spout, spending as much time as he can staring at your lipstick on the rim before looking back up at the road. You tilt the cup towards him, and the drink floods his mouth, excessively sweet and creamy.

He nods and you lower the cup again, careful not to spill any on his neat, white dress shirt. He hums at the taste, hoping you share a similar one, "That's good. Very sweet."

"Mhm." You agree, raising the drink to your own lips again. Aaron feels a sheen of grainy residue on his lips, and he's hoping it's not the stain of your lipstick, just the feeling of it.

He's unlucky.

"Oh, Hotch," You laugh, "There's lipstick on your face. Hang on," You lean over, smearing your thumb against the very corner of his mouth, "There. Sorry," You're sheepish as you settle back into your seat, "The perks of sharing drinks, I guess."

Aaron thinks he'll remember the feeling of your hand pressed against his face for eternity, and he'd be willing to suck down a thousand cups of liquid sugar just to feel it again.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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ghostarii · 2 years ago

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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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cherrybean · 12 days ago

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Logan Howlett (the Wolverine) missing you and thinking of you blurb (SMUT)

thought of this as soon as i saw the gif and as well as listening to Chappell Roans song “Picture You” 🥺💕 sorry i know it’s a WL song but it felt so perfect for this little blurb 🫶🏽

“Oh I need you around, I’m getting close now” is the lyric that loops in my head when reading this 🫣

P.S this is not cannon to the XMen films/lore on Wolverines’ healing ability 😭 so please excuse my crappy rendition of it :(

Logan turned on the shower water to the hottest setting. He was exhausted and it had been a long day trying to catch up to Magneto. He was frustrated on the mission and frustrated on the fact he hadn’t been able to see you in so long. The hot water burning his skin as he’d suck a breath through his teeth as it sent a burning and ripping sensation through his body at the open wound on his shoulder where water trickled in; the water running a light pink color as blood mixed with it and ran down the drain. He missed being in your warm embrace and waking up next to you. The way you’d care for him when he had fragments stuck in his body from Magnetos horrible ways of toying with him since his skeleton was completely bonded with metal. Logan’s frustrations slowly manifesting into arousal as he concentrated more on you. The way you’d hungrily kiss him when he’d get back home, practically begging him to take you then and there. Logan ran his hand down to his abdomen to his cock as he slowly stroked it, resting his free hand on the cold bathroom wall, hot water pouring down his face. The way you’d kiss his jaw and lick a stripe up his neck as you’d straddle his lap and tell him how badly you’d missed him throughout the time he was gone. Logan whimpered as he’d think of how soft and warm you felt when he’d enter you; just how wet you were too, basically inviting him in with every inch of his being stretching you. The way your body reacted to his touch as your moans would get caught in your throat as he’d stretch you out; your cunt not being used to him being gone for so long, even if it was mere weeks. Logan tried to stifle his moans, picturing your rosy cheeks and the hazy look in your eyes, imagining his hand that was gripping his cock in a death grip was your tight cunt and the warmth of the water washing over him was your warm skin. He prayed in that moment that the guests in the next room over couldn’t hear his pathetic moans as he could feel the familiar tightening in his abdomen nearing. Logan envisioned how perfect you looked splayed out underneath him, having to always make sure he wouldn’t crush you under his weight; the feeling of your nails running down his back and how you’d dig your nails into his triceps when you’d be near orgasm, your broken moans turning into whimpers and pleas as you’d beg Logan not to stop. The hot water now coming out lukewarm, clouding his vision as he envisioned the way you’d scrunch up your face right when you were close, your mouth going slack as you’d throw your head back reciting his name in whimpers and whines like a prayer as your gummy walls would grip his cock, practically enveloping him perfectly into your womb. With one final deep thrust into his fist, Logan’s stifled groans turned into whimpers as he slowed his pace, feeling the cold water hitting his body and catching his breath. He washed his body, shivering and turned the faucet off. Oh how he wish you were here.

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cityofmeliora · 6 months ago

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kinda late but here is the Terzo childhood headcanons AKA new yorker Terzo post. for @plaquerat <3

ok so. i don't really have a solid interpretation of the lore, and my headcanons aren't very detailed. i'm open to floating a lot of different ideas. here are some that i like:

i've liked the idea that Terzo was primarily raised by his mother ever since i first saw the interview where TF (as nameless ghoul) suggests Terzo may be nicer than Secondo because "he seems to have, i dont know, a kinder mother?" and then i found the official instagram post mentioning Terzo's mother attending his concert in New York, and i was like 'oh! maybe she lives there. maybe Terzo used to live there with her.' it got me thinking...

Terzo was born in california and then moved to new york with his mom after she and Nihil split.

seeing the skyscrapers in new york for the first time was a really formative experience for him. that sense of awe he felt eventually inspired his interest in art deco and futurist art. new york became the base for his imaginary city of Meliora. (this is partly inspired by my own experience as a native californian because we don't really have tall buildings in california and i FREAKED OUT when i visited new york and chicago and saw REAL tall buildings.)

Terzo's mother was an artist and he spent a lot of time in the studio with her and her artist friends. their apartment walls were covered with Terzo's own art.

art and music and culture have always been at the center of Terzo's life. he and his mom would always be listening to music or viewing art galleries or watching movies together. i think Terzo's dynamic with his mother was very much like this anecdote from Carly Rae Jepsen:

My mom and I would sit and meticulously go through Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell lyrics together. Even from a young age I remember her being like, “I’m playing this Leonard Cohen song called ‘Famous Blue Raincoat,’ and when it’s done I want you to tell me what’s going on in it.” She would give me like a fake glass of wine when I was 8, and I would listen and be like, “I think there was an affair.” Pitchfork - Carly Rae Jepsen on the Music That Made Her (2019)

Terzo turned out to be a gifted child. super smart and naturally talented at a lot of things, but he particularly loved to build with lego / blocks and play piano.

Terzo had a great relationship with his mom. she always supported him and encouraged him to pursue his interests and to do his best.

Terzo missed his dad though. his parents had been together long enough for Terzo to remember him. he was just a kid. he didn't know any better.

when Ghost debuted and Nihil became an internationally famous one-hit wonder, Terzo developed this idealized image of Nihil as a cool rock star cultural icon in his head. idolized him a bit.

after this, Terzo decided he wanted to get serious about becoming an entertainer / musician. started doing piano recitals and competitions. youth theater. film club. all the things.

if anyone asked Terzo why he wanted to become an entertainer, he'd tell them it's because it's what he's good at. and he's always wanted to be famous. which was true, but...

what he wouldn't tell them is that a part of him was trying to emulate [his idea of] his dad and secretly hoping that if he shared that interest / became famous his dad would want come back into his life.

he knew his mom was always there supporting him, but every time he went onstage he would look out into the audience hoping his dad might be there to surprise him. (he never was.)

Nihil was the first of many many disappointments in Terzo's life.

oops! i made it sad.

anyway here's a doodle of kid Terzo getting a postcard from his dad... he didn't hear from his dad again for a very. very long time after that.

there are a lot of details i haven't square hammered out, but it's okay because these headcanons are mostly for me to like, frame Terzo's character development over time. might post more later :)

#hahaha idk why but i actually feel so nervous sharing lol #i said i would post this today and it is 11:55pm so #terzo #radley post #headcanon #fan art #radley art

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witch-hazels-musings · 2 years ago

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Chivalry

citation: *song lyrics - Just for Now, Michael Crean

Knight!Diluc x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Kaeya, Jean - coming soon)

Diluc

He knew every assignment wouldn’t be enjoyable. As much as he’d prefer to be wandering the plains of Teyvat searching for those who would do his Kingdom harm, it wasn’t possible. Still, out of all the knights, out of all the assignments, why did it have to be this one?

Diluc sighed and did his best not to roll his eyes as he watched the Princess he was sworn to serve finish her discussion with a foreign dignitary. As the eldest of daughters, she was tasked to handle foreign affairs as well as the kingdoms resources while her younger sister and brother were able to be more free in their day to day. The older brother, the Prince in line for the throne was not well liked which made Diluc assume his sister would be the same. She wasn’t.

Still, Diluc found most of his time was standing off in the corner while meeting after boring meeting was held in the castle. He’d once climbed the coldest mountain in the land and, honestly, that sounded far more enjoyable than listening to another Fontainian talk down to the person whose patience knew no bottom.

“I understand you are frustrated by the swiftness of our response,” you said, hand moving to rest against the ambassadors arm. Diluc noted how his face flushed at the contact. “I cannot guarantee we will solve each problem, but rest assured I will not let a day go by without checking in and assessing how we can continue our support.” you bowed slightly and smiled.

ugh, the tediousness of talking to diplomats, Diluc frowned at it all.

Once the ambassador left, you wandered back to your seat to gather the notes, forms, and other documents you’d ultimately review until passing out in your room. Dark circles were starting to appear under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. He made his way to you, picking up the stack of books before you could.

“Is your schedule free?” He asked, twisting slightly away from as you tried to grab the items he picked up. You were stubborn, but so was he.

“Yes,” you said and sighed, “but not for long. The Favonius knights have requested more arms, and the masons require stone for the eastern wall. I didn’t get to these yesterday, so I’d like to attend to them before dinner.” Settling the items in your arms, you did your best to push the hair that continued to brush against your cheek away with puffs of air. It wasn’t working.

“Do you not think it is better to rest?” If his superiors were around, they would shame him for speaking so directly. ‘Royalty is to be tended to like a fragile flower, otherwise they will be tarnished,’ he could hear his mentor recite all the while forcing the knights in training to hold 40 lbs barrels over their head.

You looked into his eyes before moving on to appease him. “You always look after me, Sir Ragnvindr. I’m alright,” you smiled but he could see the exhaustion in your expression. A fragile flower, yeah right. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d much rather be beyond the castle walls.” You reached for the books he was holding, “I know being my guard isn’t very exciting, so please don’t let yourself be trapped for my sake. I can manage to make it back to my room without incident.”

Your hand touched his on accident. Quickly, you pulled back, apologized, then tried again. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped the items in your arms, adding them to his.

“S-Sir Ragnvindr!” You protested as he made his way to the door. He was much faster due to his long legs. Diluc couldn’t hide his smirk as he heard you rushing after him. It must have been hard to keep up in a dress as decorated as yours. “Please, it’s too much --” he stopped in front of the door only to feel you bump into him. When he twisted to look, he noticed you cupping your mouth and nose. He swore he saw a dab of color on your cheeks. “Sir, I cannot ask you to --”

“And yet I can ask you to carry all of this?” He cut you off and watched the implication of his words settle in your mind. Diluc wondered if you disliked the rules and expectations of royalty as much as he did. After all, before he was a knight he was a nobleman - he understood the pressure of this world better than most.

Deflated, defeated, you backed down. “If you insist.” He could tell you hated being doted on. In every interaction he’d seen between you and an attendant, you were always respectful, helpful, and often insisted upon doing the task yourself. At the end of the day, who could deny the eldest princess her request? Well, other than him --- “But as soon as we get back I can --”

You were cut off by a voice down the hall. If it was possible for the walls to have ears in this castle.

Diluc watched as you prepared yourself, stepped into the hallway and greeted the stranger. They were one of the Prince’s scribes, and a rather annoying one to boot. Diluc had a bitter taste in his mouth every time he showed his face. There was just something about the way he looked at you ...

“I was informed you were free,” he said with his head lifted as if to look down on you.

“That is the case, but ...”

“Do come with me then. I have work for you to attend to since it seems you cannot get them done without a watchful eye,” he reached for your wrist and Diluc moved before realizing it. With one step, he was in between the both of you but his cold gaze was seen only by one. The man’s hand retreated so quickly it was like Diluc’s proximity had burned him.

“The Princess has other priorities at this moment.”

“How dare --”

“As the Princess’s guard, I am to ensure she can fulfil her duty to the kingdom. Do you not think the Ambassador of Fontaine would be surprised to find his request delayed yet again because the Princess was pulled to another task?” Diluc stared the man down, commitment unwavering. He heard you start to say something so he stepped further in front of you.

“How da- I -- I’ll be speaking to your superior,” the man spat before turning on his heels and loudly walked back the way he came. Diluc didn’t move until he was out of sight.

“Sir Ragnvindr, you didn’t have to go that far,” you expressed as he turned to face you. Your head had dropped, your eyes looked to the floor while your fingers pinched their neighbors. “I will write a letter to Mrs. Gunnhildr explaining the situation.”

Diluc wasn’t sure why you were looking after him, he was capable of standing up for himself and dealing with whatever punishment might come his way. Besides, it was bound to be far less painful than watching you spend any amount of time with that man.

Wait ... what?

“Don’t fret over it. Let’s go,” Diluc quickly passed by you, his head shaking to remove his strange thoughts. He heard you catch up to him. From the corner of his eyes he could see you were still unsettled by what had happened.

“I um - I do want to thank you.”

“For?”

“For standing up for me. I - um - As you know it’s hard for me to say no,” you sent him an appeasing, sad smile. “Though I do feel guilty. Perhaps if I -- ah! Sir--”

Diluc put his hand against your back and pushed you forward just enough so you couldn’t turn around. “Don’t make me carry you too -” The words fell from his mouth so fast he had to snap his lips closed to not say anymore.

What in Teyvat was coming over him. You riled him up so much-

You let out a hearty laugh and his heart skipped a beat. “Haha! That would be a sight to see,” you covered your mouth but he wished you wouldn’t. “Sir Ragnvindr carrying the Princess through the halls of the castle. Can you imagine?”

He could imagine. Though the sight wouldn’t be pretty, nor proper, since the only way he’d see that happening is if he tossed you over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he was glad you were laughing at the idea rather than being appalled. Diluc put his hand back on the items he was carrying now that he knew you weren’t going to rush back down the hall.

For a moment he listened to the sound of your footsteps, to the soft giggles echoing in the hall. Why was the weight of his armor suddenly so noticeable?

“You can refer to me by my first name,” Diluc said as your laughter started to fade.

“Oh, but Sir Ragnvindr is so natural to me.” You tapped your chin before turning to look at him as you walked, “Sir Diluc --”

“Just Diluc is fine,”

You paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually, you turned to look down the hall, hands returning to hold onto each other. He wasn’t sure what was going on in your mind but, honestly, he wouldn’t have been prepared even if he did.

“Diluc ...” the sound of his name on your tongue nearly made him fall over. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw over and over again. “Um, actually, if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick with Sir. Ragnvindr for now ...” you explained in a panic.

Diluc didn’t dare look at you. What expression would he have it he met your gaze? So, he gave a curt nod and a quick, “Alright,” and the two of you made your way down the hall in silence.

Every once in a while you’d try to push him away. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because you needed a moment alone or if his wistful gaze toward the window drew too much attention. Out of the two, he’d much prefer you the latter, especially since his other stare was directed at you.

Weeks went by and he settled into a nice routine. It was difficult when he first arrived, but you asked him on several occasions if there was anything you could do to make his stay more comfortable. Even the smallest things; you did your best to get him what he asked.

Diluc didn’t want for much, so your offers were often left unanswered; however, he did notice a steady supply of grape juice in the kitchen when he was sure there hadn’t been before. He only mentioned it once.

At times he'd forget himself. Forget that he needed to hold an expression of disinterest. Forget to pull himself back when he was starting to soften each time his eyes landed on you, each time you stood close by, each time you turned to search for him.

You found him and he could breathe again.

He was forgetting how very high the wall was between the two of you and every day he spent in your shadow, it became blurrier and blurrier.

“I’m going to win!” You shouted, hair wiping around your face as you pushed forward. The horse you were riding picked up its pace with a flick of the reigns, pushing you past Diluc. How did he end up racing you again?

You cackled as you passed by and he couldn’t help but be swept up by the noise. With a deep, “hya!” he squeezed his thighs and tapped his horses belly, urging it to increase its speed. It did, and soon he was rushing past you and laughing at the sound of your fading protests.

When the path began to taper out, Diluc slowed his horse bit by bit until it was at a standstill. He patted its neck and praised it for its hard work while it raised and lowered its head, breathing heavily. Twisting so he could see behind him, he found you making your way toward him and your voice began to cut through the thicket of trees.

“---er! --eater!!” You reigned your horse in, coming to a soft canter until stopping beside him. Panting, you repeated yourself, “cheater.”

“I did no such thing,”

“You did!” Patting the neck of your horse, you moved up beside him, punching him in the leg when you were close enough.

“Hey-”

“Cheater--” You pointed at him, making him laugh. Carefully, he took your hand his his and moved it back toward you.

“Did you forget I’m also a Calvary Captain?” You scrunched your face in protest but quickly relaxed into realization, “Hah, you did!”

“Shut up--” Diluc laughed, louder than he had in so long. His hand pressed into his stomach and his eyes began to water. “Stop it --” you pleaded, the notes of laughter laced in your request. “You hardly ever talk about yourself. Sorry for not remembering something you told me almost a year ago.” You turned your head away from him, moved your hands to fix the hair that had fallen free from its holding. He found himself looking a little too long at the back of your neck.

“I don’t mean poke fun,” there was a stick in your hair but you didn’t seem to notice it. “Here,” with expert skill, he dismounted his horse. In a matter of seconds he had the reigns looped around a low hanging branch and had made his way over to you, his hand resting against the horses neck to let it know he was there. The horse bumped his head and he smiled. “Allow me to help,” he said, offering you his hand.

“Don’t need it,” you replied, fixing your clothes. You were wearing a pair of form fitting pants and a dark green top that pressing against you underneath a warm, cream vest. It was one of the only times he’d seen you not dolled up in what your maids forced you to wear every morning. He liked it.

Ignoring his hand, you began to dismount but, as he had expected, it’d been a while since you last rode so you weren’t as graceful as he was. Your hand on the saddle slipped but he was there to catch you.

“Got you,” he reassured you with an arm wrapped around your back, a hand gripping the waist of your pants before pulling you toward him. Your body collided into his chest. The heat of contact, the wave of your perfume, shampoo, crashed into him causing him to stumble backward. He’d caught whiffs before, hints and hypothesized about what it would be like. He never anticipated becoming overcome by it so intensely. Diluc held you while your toes scraped the ground, arms coiled around his neck for support.

Let her go -- he told himself but couldn’t do it.

“S-Sir Ragnvindr ...” your voice was shaky. He set you down and took several steps back, bowing.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone even, professional.

“Mmhm,” he glanced at you. His jaw clenched at the sight of your discomfort. You wouldn’t make eye contact with him, began to wring your hands like you did when you were uneasy. He wondered if his teeth would break by how hard he bit down. Without saying anything, Diluc grabbed the reigns of your horse and brought it over to his. “Um, that ride made me hungry,” you began so he looked back to you, “those trees provide good shade, if you’d like to eat with me? I brought enough for the both of us.”

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, grabbing the pack off his horse and brining it to the place you pointed to. You quickly laid out the blanket, taking up space near the tree. He was glad you did, it would be much harder for anything to attack you with it at your back. Diluc offered the basket to you which you took and began to put several items on a plate. Soon, you offered one to him.

“I tried to bring things you’d like,” Diluc looked at the plate. He wasn’t planning on eating anything but when he saw several of his favorite items, he changed his mind.

“I thought you didn’t remember things about me?” He teased, a rare occurrence.

You pursed your lips into a pout before answering, “I can remember some things.”

“I see.” He popped one of the finger foods into his mouth. The taste wasn’t exactly the way he imagined but it was still good. “Thank you for requesting these, Princess.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you replied, making your own plate. “but - um - I made them. So, if they aren’t very good you don’t have to eat them.”

Diluc looked at you with awe, “you made these?” you nodded, “when did you find the time?”

Shrugging, you took a bite of your own food. “I had a spare moment. Though it was hard to keep it a surprise when you’re always around.” You stole a peek at him, “Are they good?”

Diluc felt his lips curl into a smile as he looked at the food on his plate. Now that he gave them a careful eye, he could see they were done by novice hands, “Very,” he told you and ate another.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the picnic in quiet peace. Diluc leaned back against another tree, let his body stretch out on the blanket while you maintained your trained posture. Legs bent to your side, back straight. The wind tussled your hair, making it difficult for you to review the paperwork you brought. Of course you’d still be working, even outside of the confines of the castle.

Soon, a soft hum drifted on the breeze. Peeking through half-closed eyes, he watched you sing to yourself. He’d seen you do it times before but, just as you did then, you stopped. “Sorry,” you appologized.

It was so comfortable, so relaxed that he couldn’t help but close his eyes. The horses were close by that if they sensed anything he could hear their agitation. The woods had been cleared prior to this excursion anyway, he made sure of that - perhaps that’s when you found the time to make him lunch.

Funny, while he was scouting thinking of you, you were thinking of him. The thought made his chest tight.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’s not proper.”

Who told you that? He wondered. “I’m the only one here.”

“Somehow that doesn’t help,” you chuckled and he swore your cheeks changed color but maybe that was the light passing through the shifting leaves above, “um, do you have any requests?”

You’d never asked him before. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your favorite one then?”

“Okay.” The world grew quiet. As if it were settling to listen to your song. When you began he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head like a pillow, eyes closing again.

Take me And I will fix you for the night Hold those breaking lights Dreaming past those eyes

feel me breathe me to the sky ...

The song was gentle, sad. He’d never heard it before so he paid careful attention to the words.

So scream Your voice it can't be heard To no one else but you So sing as loud as rain And run until you break

Diluc’s brow furrowed at the sound of your trembling voice, at the motion of your hand as it brushed over your eyes. You tried to keep it in but didn't make it. Your hands covered your face as you cried; cried in the wind, cried under the sunshine sky, cried in front of the man who realized, in this moment, he never wanted to see you this way.

And yes Just for now Just for these small hours You can fall beneath the ground You can break...

...without the pain

You cried, bent over in the shade of the tree and all Diluc could do was watch and wonder why.

A few days later he learned the truth. Your brother had convinced the king to accept a proposal for your hand without consulting you. Somehow this was still endorsed, still expected. You were forced to accept it but Diluc couldn’t.

He rushed through the halls practically burning the tapestries that lined them. He didn’t even wait to knock on the door to your inner chamber, he just opened it, freezing when he found you sitting on the couch as if this were any other day.

It wasn’t any other day to him.

He wanted to fight, wanted to yell, wanted to free you from your station. He swore to protect you, to shield you. So how could he let this happen? Diluc was in turmoil - every inch of him was struggling; strangled by the expectations of his duty and his devoted heart.

When you heard him enter, you looked up from the paperwork on the coffee table, eyes puffy, swollen - how much had you cried today?

“I wasn’t expecting you, Sir Ragnvindr,” you explained, but the tightness in your throat told him you were suffering. How terrible was this suitor? What archaic laws shackled you to him and not ...

Diluc made his way toward you.

“I’m sorry but I’d like some time a-alone,” your voice cracked. He didn’t listen. With ease, he knelt on one knee before you. His eyes searched your face until your red-tinted eyes landed on him. “P-please,” you tried to smile, tried to pretend but he was okay if you didn't. He rested his arm on his knee and touched your fingers. Biting your lip, you looked at him and shook your head. Your breathing became unsteady, tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m alright,” you lied. With every tear-drop you lied. A quite sob escaped your throat so you covered your face with your hands and said the one thing you shouldn’t have, “Diluc --”

Diluc, going against everything he was taught, everything he swore to uphold, to commit to, opened himself and took you against him. His arms wrapped delicately around you, his hand found the back of your head, fingers weaving in between the strands of your perfectly brushed hair.

“I’ll fix it,” he vowed, knowing he couldn’t.

The following weeks dragged by. Preparations for your engagement were planned. Even though you were in the room when the decisions were made, you gave no opinion on them. Not the flowers, not the dress, not the food which you had little interest in lately. It seemed all you could do was devote yourself to your work and nothing else.

Diluc lay awake at night thinking about how to solve this problem. What could he do to break off the engagement. Surely he could take drastic actions - what was a life of imprisonment if you could be free? His step-brother told him to be patient, be rational, but his heart refused to let him. He was spiraling, and jealousy was right in the middle of it all.

Agitated, he lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the door that led to your chambers. On the other side you were sleeping, safe, untouched by anyone. He pressed his forehead against the harsh wood, gripped the doorknob with so much strength he worried it would bend to his will. He wanted to see you, wanted to hold you - to keep you - but you weren’t his. Would never be his.

Shaking, he pried himself away, threw on a shirt, and made his way down the hall to cool off.

On the other side of the door, you sat with your knees to your chest, head resting against the wood with eyes flooded in tears as you silently cried in the color of the rising sun.

The day of your suitor arrival had finally come. You did your best to smile, to hold yourself high. You’d practice these skills for so many years but Diluc could tell you were struggling. As you rose from your chair to greet the man who’d soon be your husband, Diluc took a step closer to you hoping to ease your anxiety.

“Your majesty,” he bowed, low and proper. His smile was unsettling, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on you and the flash of excitement Diluc saw in them made him drive his claymore deeper into the ground. “Ah, and my beautiful fiancé,” he took several steps toward you so you extended your hand as far as it could go to create space. Diluc was enraged at how familiar he was; grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it. Rubbing your arm without a care. The man flashed his eyes to Diluc but Diluc didn’t turn away.

“Welcome to the Royal Capital, Prince Calmin Velena. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Please do take --”

“I am eager to hear of the wedding plans and celebrations, your majesty,” the man interrupted you, his hand still holding yours as he pulled you toward him and the king. Diluc had to restrain himself from cutting that hand off. “Am I to be boarded next to my sweet Princess? I do wish to spend as much time with her as possible,” he glanced back at you and, instinctually, you tried to retreat toward Diluc.

“Prince Calmin, do understand that while you are in our kingdom, there are certain, etiquettes, that must be followed. You will have your own room in our guest quarters. They are lavishly furnished as you will find.” The King gestured to an attendant who appeared suddenly before the group. With a scoff, the prince released you allowing you to go back to your original spot. Diluc watched how your hand shook as you hid it behind your back.

You can’t protect her if you kill a prince, he reminded himself.

“Yes of course, then I will retire for now. Until then,” he turned and blew you a kiss before following the attendant out of the grand hall. At which time you collapsed into your chair.

“Daughter --” The King rose from his seat, moving toward you but before he could continue, your brother got in the way.

“Father, don’t mind her, we have much to discuss.” The King looked at you and you shot him a desperate look. A pleading, ‘please’ to which he closed his eyes and followed after your brothers persistent pushing.

When they left, you tried to stand but found your legs unsteady. Diluc noticed, offering you his hand, never taking it away.

“I feel unwell,” you whispered while other attendants moved about the room.

“Let’s away for now,” with ease, he pulled his cape around you, blocking you from the eyes of the would-be onlookers. You tucked yourself under his arm, brushing against his hips every once in a while.

Would this be all he ever had? Fleeting, accidental touches while that rat had the rest of you. The thought made his chest burn, blood boil.

Diluc looked at you, vowing to ensure nothing but his presence could get close.

Every interaction he saw the two of you have made him furious. Prince Calmin was disrespectful to you. He flirted with others in front of you, talked down to you as if you were nothing, second guessed your decisions and even tried to take over your duties. The amount of times you had to quell the fires of the ambassadors because of his stupidity -- it was giving Diluc a headache.

Complaints were passed to the King but your brother always managed to stop them. Somewhere in the back of Diluc’s mind he suspected foul-play. Why was this man being pushed so hard when - even if he hated to admit it - there were other, better suitors out there. Just what was your brother playing at?

Diluc did his best to investigate, asked his most trusted to assist him when he couldn’t. The day’s to your wedding were drawing closer so he didn’t dare leave your side. Not while that snake continued to slither his way into places he wasn’t wanted.

Several nights before the wedding, Diluc heard your voice on the other side of the shared door. You sounded upset. When he went to investigate, he found Prince Calmin pushing his way inside your room. It took all of his strength not to break every bone in his body but - luckily - the prince backed down, running away as fast as he could, and you were able to quell the rage in him by reassuring him you weren't hurt.

Even still, Diluc spent the rest of that night in front of your door.

What nightmares would await him in the next few days. What nightmares would befall you that he couldn’t stop. He needed a solution, fast.

The day before the wedding came, and while others were celebrating in high spirits, you did your best to keep your mask up. Even though you smiled and acted pleasant, people were noticing that you didn’t stand in the middle of the room like brides often do, didn’t raise your glass to the toasts wishing you well, didn’t react when your fiancé touched you.

You were like a statue. A commodity. And your faithful knight was forced to watch.

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke his concentration. His brother, Kaeya, had slipped into the festivities without an invitation, as customary.

Diluc stood with his arms crossed in the dark shadows of the grand hall. Eyes locked on your ‘would be husband’ - searching for the slightest movement that would allow him to end his life.

If he hurt you, would the king pardon the knight sworn to protect the princess? He clenched his jaw.

“Did you find anything?” Diluc asked, desperate. Kaeya could sense it too and let out a sigh.

“Just tell her you love her.”

“Kaeya -”

“Perhaps a kings heart can be swayed by the profession of true lov-”

“Did you find anything?” Diluc barked, causing Kaeya to throw his hands up.

“Alright, here,” Kaeya offered a roll of papers to Diluc who snatched them faster than lightning. “You’re senses are always spot on ya know - well, except for where it counts.”

Diluc read the papers over and over again. When he was done, he looked at Kaeya.

“I’m good, what can I say?” Kaeya shrugged but Diluc was already gone, “I’ll take my thank you in a bottle of wine. Do you hear me??” Kaeya shouted, throwing his hands in the air when he got no reply.

Diluc’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd. Nothing was set in stone yet, this was it. The chance to save the love of his life.

“My king!” He shouted over the crowd, through the music bouncing around the room. He picked up the pace, running. “King!”

The royal family and its intruder looked toward him. You sat up in your chair - the first sign of life you’d had all evening. The crown on your head slipped but you didn’t fix it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Your brother stood, the scraping of his chair putting a stall on the noise in the chamber. “How dare you interrupt us!”

“I apologize king,” Diluc knelt, bowed his head and lifted himself up again before extending the rolled up parchment toward the King. “I will take whatever punishment you decide fitting for my interruption, but first, read this.” Diluc held out the documents but when the Prince tried to snatch them away, Diluc grabbed his wrist and shoved him back.

“Sir Ragnvindr!” The King stood and the knights in his charge moved out from the shadows.

“Wait!” You shouted while your brother tried to scramble for the document. Unfortunately, you had a hard time getting any closer as your fiancé yanked you back toward him.

The parties’ attention turned to the commotion at the royal table. Diluc held his ground even as the threat of drawn weapons drew closer. “I have entrusted you with the safety of my daughter and yet you slander this celebration?”

“Her safety is my highest priority which is why you must read this!” The prince grabbed the documents before the King could and Diluc felt his heart drop in his chest.

“What rubbish. Have I not tried to warn you father, this knight has means to harm my precious sister. He must be dealt with -- away with him!” Diluc refrained from drawing his sword, if he did he would look even more like the enemy.

“Your majesty, please,” Diluc bowed to hide the fear in his eyes but also show he meant no harm. Please -- please hear him -- Hands touched Diluc’s shoulders and began to pull him back. He could hear your shouts and the quieting demands of your soon to be husband.

I failed

“Is this true?”

“Be still.” The King demanded and the room stilled. Diluc’s head shot up, his heart flipping as the king reached for the parchment. The prince did his best to plead, to explain that it was nothing but when the King didn't back down, he reluctantly handed it over. Diluc’s heart pounded, he felt his hands burn as he looked on only to find you still bound by the hands of that man.

Read faster, be begged.

“Yes, Majesty,” Diluc confirmed. “Take notice of the seal on the last page.” The King flipped to the last page, grimacing at what he saw. When he snapped his head to Prince Calmin the fear in the man’s eyes was clear.

“Unhand my daughter. Seize him!”

“W-What?” the prince stuttered, backing up with you in his grip.

Your brother reached for the king's arm but was shoved off. “Father what are you doing!?”

“Be silent, child.” The King moved toward Prince Calmin who grabbed a knife hidden in his clothes and held it out, while his other hand held tightly onto your hair.

“Back away! G-Got it?? I-I was promised -- you promised me!” Calmin screamed at the prince who was cowering in his chair. The commotion grew as the kings guard closed in but all Diluc saw was the fear in your eyes, and how your trembling hand extend to him.

“Let her go,” Diluc reached for the table and tossed it out of the way. The thick wood and metal bindings kept it in place as it slid down the steps narrowly avoiding several patrons as it went. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about anyone, he only cared about - “I won’t say it again.”

Diluc’s claymore appeared in his hand, ablaze. The Prince forcefully moved you in between him and the fire but Diluc knew enough about his vision to control every microscopic flame.

“Get off her!” In an instant, the room was filled with a flash of light. You covered your face as blue and green flames whipped past you, smacking directly into your captor. He screamed, releasing you, shoving you. As you stumbled forward Diluc caught you so you wouldn't fall.

“What have you done?! You’ll pa-pay for this ---” Calmin screamed, toppling over in pain as flames clung to his skin. Diluc held you against him so you couldn’t see and hoped the sound of his cries wouldn’t linger in your memory forever.

The king's guard shackled and carried Calmin away. They hauled off the prince as well, who in a state of bumbling cries revealed he had plotted against the kingdom for riches, and a power greater than visions. As long as he got the princess to marry this 'prince'. It was through this plot the king learned of an uprising to the east, spurred on the by hands of the northern archon. If they had been successful, the kingdoms resources would have been wiped out.

You slid your arms around Diluc, unwilling to let go and placed his hand on your back. he’d thank Kaeya profusely for saving more than he could ever imagine.

As the party goers were escorted out of the hall, and the energy in the room died down, Diluc stewarded you to the balcony for air.

“You’re shaking,” he commented, removing his cape and draping it over your shoulders.

“How could he do this ...” you mumbled, “my own brother.”

“But, y-you saved me --”

“Power and corruption are one of many slivers of the darkness that plagues this world. I never wished for you to be exposed to them.” Diluc rubbed your arms, called on his vision to warm you as best as he could. He might have saved you from a sham of a marriage but he failed everywhere else. “I am beside myself for what has happened to you,” he lifted your chin, looked at you but wished he could do more.

This proposal was one of many you'd get. How was he going to survive the next one?

“Did I?”

You began to speak but the sound of footsteps interrupted you. Diluc took several steps back and bowed.

“My daughter, how are you?”

“I’m alright,” you extended your hand toward the King and he pulled you close. Diluc kept his gaze to the ground.

“You are unharmed?”

“Yes,” the King breathed a sigh of relief. He took note of the color wrapped around you, turning his attention to the knight at your side.

“And you, Sir Ragnvindr?”

“I am fine, King,” he bowed again, missing the expression you sent to him.

“Good. Then, if you can spare us a moment I’d like to converse with my daughter in private.”

“Of course,” Diluc excused himself through the balcony door but made sure to keep you in his line of sight.

For several days after, Diluc couldn’t get close to you. He was frustrated, annoyed that his duties kept pulling him away. He rarely fought assignments, but this constant distance was making him insubordinate.

Finally, he was allowed to return to the castle but no matter where he looked he couldn’t find you. Every room he searched was empty, even your chambers had looked unused for days. The pain in his chest began to burn his throat.

Where were you - what happened to you - why couldn’t he find you

A figure moved in his peripherals, he spun toward it --

“Ah, there you are.” The Kings voice shattered his focus. Within seconds, Diluc was kneeling. “Oh, well. Always do dutiful. Please rise, my boy,” the King chuckled and Diluc did as told.

“Your majesty. How can I be of service?”

The King made his way to Diluc who’s head had stayed lowered since the King called on him. There was an uncomfortable silence blanketing the scene, he did his best not to fidget.

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” hearing his full name, Diluc lifted his eyes but kept his head lowered, “You have sworn to protect my eldest daughter, is that true?”

“Y-Yes your majesty.”

“Does that also include her heart?”

Diluc was hesitant, but he straightened to his full height, coming into direct eye contact with the King. “Sir?”

“I have watched you care for her, help her, protect her, and though there are suitors who do the same there are none whom she looks at the way she does you.”

Diluc could hardly breathe.

“Would you protect my daughters heart the same way you have protected her life?”

“Yes.” Diluc spoke with conviction. Unsure if what he was vowing too was the one thing his heart yearned for. As stupid he was to believe it, he let himself.

“Then,” the King took Diluc’s hand in his, one resting on the top and the other cupping the bottom, “You have my blessing. Though I should hardly have the authority to give it.”

“... I ...”

“Go. She’s waiting on the balcony.”

Diluc looked toward the doorway. He swallowed, swore his heart was going to break out of his chest and kill him. He loved you. He wasn’t supposed to - told himself he wouldn’t and yet

he loved you

“E-Excuse me,” Diluc bowed, slipped free of the Kings embrace and moved toward the one thing he had wanted but was never allowed.

There you were, standing with your hands on the marble railing. Your back too him, hair fluttering in the wind. The gown you wore was beautiful. Long trains of white with thick red fabric billowing out behind you.

Diluc called out your name and, slowly, you turned toward him. He didn’t move, you didn’t move.

“Did you see the king?” You asked and when he nodded you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks. Diluc walked toward you as if he were in a dream. “What’s your decision? Could you ever love the princess you swore fealty to--”

Suddenly, he moved faster than he ever had. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you. He’d never known such a feeling as your lips. Never thought warm tears would feel so invigorating against his hands.

He had you

He finally had you

“Marry me,” he professed above your lips.

“Tomorrow?” You teased but he didn’t protest. If he were allowed, he’d marry you this instant if it meant you could spend one second more as his wife.

Laughing, with love rushing through his veins, he hoisted you into the air and let you fall against him as you cupped his face and kissed him in the mid-day sun.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do,” he said in between kisses, “I will follow you. I am yours --”

“And you are mine,” you vowed.

@sarahslolitaportfolio (these are gonna be long soooo i’m making it a series lol)

#hazels works #genshin impact #genshin impact x fm reader #x fm reader #x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x female reader #diluc x fem!reader #genshin diluc x fem!reader

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rhapsodynew · 3 months ago

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#history of rock music

On November 13, 1970, Syd Barrett's second studio album "Barrett" was released.

Note that the work was generally in a hurry: the Floyd team continued to work on Atom Heart Mother, touring interfered with the studio schedule every now and then — there was simply no time to hone the songs, and Barrett himself, as we remember, was against long rehearsals. Sometimes haste led to serious mistakes — for example, one day Dave took home master tapes with two songs to listen and decide whether these options would be included in the album; the next day the band went to a concert, and Gilmore simply forgot to return the tape to the studio. As for Sid, sometimes they played absolutely magical things, and sometimes they were unable to give out anything meaningful at all (for example, the song Gigolo Auntie Gigolo was recorded only from the 15th time). He phrased his comments as if he were describing paintings rather than music: "Maybe we could make the middle darker and the end a little noonday. It's too windy and frosty right now."

I must say, the record begins intriguingly — with a long solo by Sid before the song Baby Lemonade ("A little bottle of lemonade" is an outdated expression). Subsequently, it turned out that Sid was just warming up — the solo had nothing to do with the song, David had already added it there, considering it quite suitable. The lyrics are full of extravagant phrases like "I sent you an iron cage by mail" or about "A watch washed in a washing machine" — but overall the song sounds pretty strong. The solo is simply brilliant — what kind of shape Sid could be in and how at ease he could play!

It is followed by a downright beautiful and almost Beatle Love Song, decorated with stylish Rick Wright keys - a love song in which there are no fabulous, witty or scabrous lines (except that "I'll lower my head and see what I see"). The musicians also succeeded in Dominoes, a meditative story about how Sid spends time with a certain girl, to whom the song is dedicated, playing dominoes. The song has a distinctly bluesy undertone — there is something of Doors in it - and besides, it is decorated with a reverse solo by Sid. However, everything is not so simple: it turned out that at some point Gilmore was so exhausted that he naturally felt like his roof was going away, and automatically started recording an almost finished song backwards. The next thing he remembered of that evening was Sid playing a delightful solo and never getting it right, and pressing the record button. That's how it was included on the album — because Barrett didn't squeeze out another note about it. Against this background, the fragment forgotten in the finished mix, where Sid clears his throat, is already taken for granted.

Alas, the feeling does not last long on the album, as if this time Sid's associates had found an approach to him and solid ground under their feet. It Is Obvious ("It's obvious") is an extremely loose song in which Sid plays exactly two chords and recites lines in an incredibly low voice, which still have a hint of something magical, but in general the text is saturated with longing and despair. Rats ("Rats") It grew out of jam, to which Sid came up with a somewhat manic text on the go. To be honest, maybe it would have been better if she had remained a jam. As well as the closing side of Maisie, there is another, now blues jam, over which Sid speaks, sniffles, giggles and makes other inarticulate sounds. All that can be said about this track is look at Sid playing the blues (which is not surprising, knowing the origin of the band's name), while Pink Floyd quite rarely turned to this genre.

Suddenly, on the second side (how many people got there), a quite tolerable Gigolo Aunt is discovered. The lyrics here, of course, are nothing more than sweet carefree nonsense, but at least it feels like a song. I would like to comb my hair a little and... but at least stop. Unless it's unknown why it's been going on for so long — is it really just to preserve the priceless fragments of Sid's game on film as much as possible?

Waving my arms in the air — well, while Sid is waving his arms in the air in another song, mine are sinking, because it's impossible to describe. This is a good preparation for a cute song about this and that, in which there is a minimum of certainty ("no one will strain too much, there will be many things that we can do") and the obligatory naive question at the end ("Why am I here? What is destined to happen?"), but no more.

I don't know if it's worth saying anything about the remaining recordings. I Never Lied to You ("I Never Lied to you") is another song about longing and separation, in which the musicians frantically try to play along with the author of the album, as if on the move. Wined and Dined ("Dined with Wine") is based on a cute riff that Sid handles quite confidently throughout the recording. Gilmore is known to play solo here. In general, we must admit that it is quite neatly recorded — the instruments complement each other well, and the omissions in their parts form a complete sound picture. The song Wolfpack ("Wolf Pack") Sid named among his favorites — perhaps the lyrics are really good, but the sound ... hug and cry. He is perfectly described by a comment from a certain fan of the song:

— Sid: Trying to sing normally — The pack in formation

— Little gremlin in a side head: thE PACK IN FORMATIIIOOOON!

Oh, Sid, which one of them is the real you?

And this piece ends with a song called Effervescing elephant ("Effervescent Elephant"). Here we must honestly admit that we have a brilliant text in front of us. This is an absolutely delightful fairy tale, quite in the spirit of Sid's enthusiastic English absurdity — but it also sounds like a demo at best; and it's great that Vic Savell played the tuba here. It was very convenient.

It's a painful feeling, isn't it?

Maybe it was worth choosing more or less finished things and putting together one of the two albums. Who knows? What is destined to happen?

So that's what happened when the talented English kid Syd Barrett returned to the studio to record some songs a few trips later. This time, Sid's own drawing is used on the cover — he painted these charming creatures a few years earlier during his studies. If you look closely, it turns out that all these winged creatures are beetles. On the reverse side, a picture of Mick Rock with the same Pontiac Parisienne is used. Interestingly, Mick Rock is not listed in the credits of the album, and in general Hipgnosis's involvement in this art is not noted anywhere, but pay attention to the inscription of the author's name and the album title on the backdrop! Practically Bond)

The album was released on November 14 and was met with restraint, if not coldly. He did not manage to become a little more afternoon, as poor Sid wanted. The album did not hit any charts and achieved nothing — the more surprising that even after such a result, Sid had to comment on rumors about the third album and new singles for some time (however, oddly enough, Barrett became more successful from a commercial point of view than Madcap). Answering reporters' questions, Barrett reasoned unexpectedly sensibly: he dismissed all rumors about the third album, saying that the songs for recording must meet a certain standard — and if there are a couple of decent ones on "Madman", then on the second album there are only echoes. Perhaps there is nothing more to add — after 1970, Syd Barrett did not record anything.

As for the rest of the Floyd's, Roger Waters, for example, continued his collaboration with Ron Gisin and recorded the soundtrack to the film "The Body" with him. In particular, there is a composition called… Breathe!

Let's just note that all four Floyd members took part in the recording of the final song — Give Birth To A Smile ("Give Life To a Smile"); this is the rarest case when one of the other band members went to participate in Roger's activities unrelated to the band (not to mention the whole band — by the way, the participation of David, Nick and Rick is not noted in any way in the design of the album). In general, we mention this work because we need to fix it: in 1970, the Floyd's, despite the release of the first album in the band's discography, which took first place in the charts, were engaged in very different things. Nick Mason, thanks to Ron Gisin, immersed himself in producing, Wright and Gilmore, too, but thanks to Sid. Gilmore, Wright and Waters wrote one track per year for their own band — the title suite does not contain many personal contributions from Floyd's band. So, while the others were producing, Waters wrote songs: there are four of them on Music from The Body — Sea Shell and Stone, Chain of Life, Breathe and Give Birth to a Smile. He also released a concept album in which the tracks merge into each other — and this album was even released on vinyl with a transparent anatomical mannequin on the cover.

Pink Floyd spent the rest of the year on endless, exhausting tours. Therefore, when they returned to the studio in January 1971 — it was time to make a new album — the four guys found that they had absolutely nothing to record.

#history of rock music #Syd Barrett #psychedelic pop #acid rock #experimental rock #Pink Floyd #progressive rock #art rock #space rock #music #my music #music love #musica #history music #spotify #rock music #rock #rock photography #my spotify

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nexility-sims · 11 months ago

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟖 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | THE DEN, MID MARCH 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Leonor had attended a recital just the day before, but this performance was an entirely different experience. She was unprepared for how arresting it would be. Without knowing, she had noticed the lead singer earlier that night, ostensibly holding court by the far edge of the bar, distracting the bartender with animated conversation. Leonor hadn’t heard anything she said, but her movements were full of energy, almost frenetic. Now, she held still. The bassist swayed from hip to hip. Behind them, the drummer stared out at the audience with a face full of shadows. Leonor thought the frontwoman resembled a pious statue as she stood there, chin tilted upward and eyes closed. The crowd hummed with impatient anticipation, but what she reflected back to them was unfazed tranquility. 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

❧ (the song here, as you perhaps could have guessed from the episode title, is meant to be "doll parts" by hole.) lightly phoned this one in BUT i'd rather keep moving than skip a week bc i was sick, so :^) this is an abridged version, and i'll post an unabridged version later today w/ a label for good measure !!! additionally, we are now done with the entirely self-indulgent red light filter, i promise sdfsdf

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The very first chord sent a chill up Leonor’s spine. She watched, rapt, as the statue came to life in a fluid series of motions. Her voice was low and rough, not ethereal by any means but still somehow, to Leonor’s ears, exquisite. The lyrics washed over her unheard. She fixated wholly on the singing itself—on the emotion of it, how the crooning turned to a harsh quaver, within it a lament that felt more defiant than mournful. It was raw. The song’s inspiration, why this woman performed it as she did, was a mystery. It was the vulnerability of it that resonated. Leonor felt the emotion in her bones as she listened. Music was never her preferred outlet but, as she experienced the song, she wished it had been.

For these three minutes, Leonor was alone again. The stage’s pit had been packed with an eager, noisy audience that responded enthusiastically to every line of the song. As it became a concert for one, they faded. Leonor’s eyes followed the movement of the singer, how her lips parted and her fingers strummed the guitar she played. They existed together in a suspended moment outside of time. It might have occurred to her later that extending, even possessing, such a moment was well within her power. For enough money, she could have anyone’s private time—especially artists, people who needed and understood patronage. It wasn't it in the spirit of the venue, but neither was her very presence, arguably. However, she was entirely in the moment as it unfolded. Feelings welled up inside of her. Her skin prickled. Her eyes, too, felt the familiar sensation attendant to being overwhelmed.

Still, even euphoria had a blush of grief these days.

The song ended, and the bar's spirited ambience rushed back in like a sun-blocking wave. As she began speaking casually to the audience, the singer’s captivating voice changed. Whatever spell she had cast broke. Her friends remained enlivened, but Leonor felt only the desperate need to reclaim the quietude again. The minute of transition between unfamiliar songs felt like too long—too risky—of a wait. Perhaps the night had caught up with her. Or, perhaps, if she ducked into a quiet corner and collected herself, she could resume the admirable attempt at normalcy that had characterized the evening so far. That was her preferred outcome. She knew, on one level, that she was having fun. This momentary lapse wasn’t really an aberration, she feared, but she was determined to treat it as such.

Leonor turned to Kore instinctively, leaning close to exclaim the most convenient and innocuous escape valve within reach, “Where’s the restroom?”

TRANSCRIPT:

RENZO | Okay, settle down. Next up is a treat. The Fluke girls have a new song for us. This is a songwriter’s song, alright? Conceived in this building. Show some respect.

LEONOR | Where’s the restroom? KORE | Stairs, near the bar!

[Leonor sighs, door opening]

LEONOR | What are you doing here?

LEONOR | Oh—[Laughs]—sorry. RENZO | It’s a bathroom. Maybe I gotta piss.

RENZO | Hey, don’t leave. I’m kidding. Wanted to check on you. LEONOR | Really?

RENZO | Sort of. I also had an ulterior motive. LEONOR | Did you?

RENZO | I wanted to be alone with you again, too. LEONOR | You’re in luck.

RENZO | You know, you do look different in person. More real. LEONOR | I get that a lot. RENZO | Do you? Huh— LEONOR | [Snickers] No, of course not!

RENZO | So, what do you think— LEONOR | No more talking now, okay?

RENZO | I’ll show you the dressing rooms next time. LEONOR | Next time? [Chuckles]

#;long post #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e03

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 10 months ago

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not a req but i was js thinking: imagine the boys w a famous s/o (could be an actor, sports, wtv) and like they see an edit of their s/o on tiktok or sum and they show their s/o like “LOOK. ITS U. THE LOVE OF MY LIFE”

idk man this was so random lol but what do u think they would be like if smth like that happened

You say "not a req" and yet I will TREAT IT AS A REQ

The 141 with a Famous Spouse: Edits.

TW: Some NSFW stuff under the cut (m!masturbation).

You and Simon/John/Johnny/Kyle have been very private about your relationship. Both a mix of you being in the public's eye and his career, it just makes sense to keep it secretive. He doesn't even *tell* anyone he's married and you never say his name in public, only ever referring to him as 'my husband' in interviews, leaving your fans to wonder.

John: I think John isn't as active on social media to find edits easily... But there was that one time where he watched an online interview of yours on youtube and they had you reacting to fanfiction and edits and he did a quick google search and... That man will 100% download every tiktok with an edit of yours he can find, so he can watch them in the field when there's no reception. One time he texts you a link to one he particularly loves and adds: "Look at how talented your fans are. They somehow make me love you more with each one of these I find."

Simon: You'd never expect it but he *loves* to watch your interviews on tv/online, and read the tweets whenever something relating to you goes viral. It's only a matter of time until he stumbles across edits. And, let me tell you, he's not even shy about it. He'll watch them while you're both at home lounging. You'll just hear some music coming from his phone and then your own voice reciting that one line from that one interview that one time. "Are you watching videos of me when I'm literally lying on top of you?" "Yes I am. They're very well edited."

Kyle: Boy has known of edits being a thing for ages, watches them for other actors and athletes, so why would he not watch them of their spouse? He especially loves the ones where they ship you with some other celebrity you posed with one time after a movie premiere or a song release or what have you. Like, he cackles at them, knowing your fans are so clueless, he's so proud of himself for 'bagging' you... Sometimes he turns the phone over for you to see them and you always groan at the shit-eating grin on his face. "You're cheating on me with that actor, huh?" He always jokes.

Johnny: Is an ABSOLUTE degenerate. He'll be watching those borderline NSFW edits of you. He's not ashamed about it. Sometimes he jerks off to them too. The man has you on his bed more often than not and yet somehow he still finds time to rub one out to an edit of you in a movie/music video/interview/red carpet and the dirtiest, filthiest song lyrics overtop. He'll also lose it if it includes a scene from that one time you were wearing something sheer, showing off your whole body. The one time you caught him, you heard him murmur a "God, I'm so fuckin' lucky to have ye." under his breath while watching the same edit on repeat.

#asks #moots #reqs

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year ago

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Title: Message My Heart {One Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Famous Reader

Warning: Cursing, Heavy Angst, Some Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS,

Words: 8.2k

Summary: You are a famous and jaded singer. You’ve closed yourself off from others and even experiences. However, one unexpected comment changes everything.

Note: Let's pretend we all can't recognize or man in .2 seconds from a super pixelated shot of his forehead alone. Let's pretend that we never followed this man a day in our lives. LOL

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

You'd posted this on a whim, as a joke and nothing serious. It was a night you should have been kept away from your socials, a night of heavy drinking, illicit smoke passing your lips, and hours and hours of dancing until your legs were sore and the bottoms of your feet were numb. A night of laughs, tears, anger, and joy. A night all in the hopes of forgetting the loneliness of your existence.

Though you were never alone you always felt it. You were always surrounded by at least 10 people at any given time, always having someone snap your picture, scream your name, begging for an autograph, for you to smile, for you to pose this and that way, for a moment of your time, your voice, your heart, your life.

It was exhausting always being on display like you were 24/7 entertainment and not a person. Everyone believed you belonged to them and hence you had no right to privacy, no right to be human or left alone. Everything was always so intense and fast-paced, so sexualized and impersonal. You guessed it was the price to pay for the life you chose because of the vocal talent you possessed and oftentimes you believed you had no right to complain because you had chosen this, though you had no idea what this really was all those years ago.

You groaned, wrapped your fur blanket around your naked figure then took a heady sip of your mimosa. Then you scrolled through the comments underneath your post. You rolled past comment after comment of men giving you their sexual fantasies which ranged from mild to very depraved. You were beyond shocked that people would actually speak filth like this on social media for the world to see and not feel shame.

As you scrolled, you also noted how most of those sexual fantasies were deleted. That told you that your social media team was on it and doing the job they were paid handsomely for.

Your ringing phone drew your attention and without looking you knew it was your manager. You sighed then answered.

"Yeah."

"What were you thinking posting that? What did you think would happen?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't. The ways that statement could be taken."

"It's not like it was meant the way it was taken! Look I am not going to apologize for the depravity and lewdness of most of the male population. I will not take responsibility for that, nor do I deserve you calling me to belittle me about it."

With that, you ended the call. He was on thinner ice than he'd ever been before. You were ready to fire his ass before but now you were past ready. Your anger tried to overtake you but you recited the mantra you'd learned from your Balinese getaway where had a strong spiritual awakening that made you confront just how bad a shape you were in.

It took 7 repetitions but at the end of them, you felt more rooted in your strength. You continued scrolling rolling your eyes at comments that were weird or cringe then your finger hovered over the screen as a particular comment caught your eye.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take you away from everyone who makes those beautiful eyes empty and sad so I can gently caress and love away the pain that shines through wrapped around the lyrics of every slow song you put out that your voice so hauntingly expresses to the world. I would just simply love you for all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be.

For a very long time, you sat there staring at the words in a complete daze. You sat there so long that you actually forgot to breathe. When your chest burned and your head got light, you gasped filling your lungs. You then read the comment again.

Holy shit, you thought.

Who was this person? So many things raced through your mind. Was this just some random person, some random response? Did they know you? How was everything he said so on point? They'd seen through your eyes. Heard the pain. Slowly you began hyperventilating but quickly you got yourself under control. Who was this?

You clicked their name but found their account on private. You contemplated messaging them but quickly decided against it. It was stupid to do.

So you went about your day fulfilling your obligations and doing everything you normally would. Smiled for the cameras, posed for pictures, signed endless autographs, chatted with fans, kept everything PC, shook hands, and gave the people what they so thought they were owed. Every bit of yourself.

However, as your day progressed and winded down you couldn't stop thinking about the comment, and the more you thought about it, the more your curiosity increased. So by the time you were on your way home for the night, you went back on social and sent a follow request before you chickened out, then closed the app.

Though you tried to forget it, you didn't. So as you ate dinner, watched TV, showered, did a little work then wrote some lyrics you had it in the back of your head. When you checked it you couldn't help but smile as you found your request had been approved. However not much was posted in the way of a face. There were plenty of animal pictures, landscapes, and abstract things but nothing to tell you who this person was.

So with nothing to quell your curiosity, you backed off of their page ready to close the app all together when a red '1' appeared indicating you'd received a message. It took all of 5 seconds for you to open it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Didn't imagine this would be the end of my day when I started it.

You smiled. Hell neither did you.

You: Me neither.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You thought about your possible response. You couldn't just tell the truth...could you? After some minutes you bit the bullet.

You: Why did you comment that?

You watched the three dots appear and disappear 5 times as you anxiously waited for their reply. You imagined all the things they could say, all the ways you'd possibly misread the situation and made a wrong decision. Just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, came a lengthy response.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I was just being honest and some more honesty would be that I've been following you for a long time and been a fan for about the same time and there is something about you. Something ethereal, something poetic and hypnotizing.

You: Ah. Another fan of my looks. Okay. I get it.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: This has nothing to do with your looks and everything to do with your aura. To be truthful I am convinced you look 1000 times better without the layers of makeup and lashes. It cheapens your beauty. The glow around you has changed over the years. It began beautiful and golden and has morphed into copper, then rust, now it is barely visible and just a shimmery black as if you are a former shell of who you were.

Talk about a stab in the gut. You read their words over and over and thought back to something the Dali said in Bali. It was something similar, something just as profound. A shiver rushed through you producing goosebumps along your flesh.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I posted that comment because I saw you and wanted you to know it. I wanted you to know that while the world wants something--everything from you I want nothing but to give something to you.

The tears in your eyes made your lids heavy. You fought the inevitable struggling to keep them at bay.

You: And what's that?

The reply was lightning quick as if he knew you'd ask.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Safety and love.

That was it. That was all it took for your bottom lid to give up and release the floodgates. Your tears cascaded down your cheeks and they didn't stop for long minutes that turned into hours until you'd cried yourself to sleep.

~~~~~

-12 Weeks Later-

A stranger's kind words to a random drunken post ended up being a gift from the universe. Every time you talked which was every day now he put you at ease. It was like having the worst case of poison ivy that nothing soothed but that one salve you decided to try on a whim. He was that salve and every time you spoke his effect was one that mystified you.

Your moods improved, intrusive thoughts decreased, and depression staved off. Hell, even your outlook had changed. Once everything was bleak. You saw the worst in everyone and everything. You were Ms. Pessimistic always with the defensive wall because you expected everyone you encountered to be trash. Now, that outlook had changed and because of the chance you were giving him and him not fumbling it was slowly changing your mind about people.

When you asked him what his motives were, he simply said to be your friend because you looked like you needed one of those more than someone to tell you how beautiful you are or break your back. That answer floored you. Never had you had a man who wanted to be your friend as opposed to something else--something more.

So friends was what you became. He became one of your biggest supporters always cheerleading you on through social media. He was the ever-present positivity your negative mind craved. His light and vibe were contagious and soon they'd infiltrated your whole outlook. He even got you into jogging, which you hated. Every morning at the ass crack of dawn you were jogging together sending snapshots of the view you were zipping by, short text messages throughout, and even voice messages.

You often decompressed together either watching a movie, playing against one another on gaming platforms, or just doing the same activities in your own towns. Through it all, you still didn't know what he looked like still didn't know who he really was and though you were curious, you also were afraid to rock the boat.

When your friends found out about him they often badgered you into figuring out who he was. They even offered to do a deep dive investigation on social to figure it out. You knew they could crack the case in a few hours but again the fear told you not to.

"What are you afraid of?"

It was a good question that one of your best friends, Alaana, asked as you sat with both of them in your theater room watching the latest release on Netflix. Twiddling your fingers, you avoided her eyes.

"Do you think he's a perv?"

Your other friend, Takia, gasped as she shot upright. "That he's a catfish?"

"Who is he catfishing as? She doesn't even know who he is let alone if he looks like who he says he is," Alaana pointed out.

"So what is it? Afraid he's butt ugly?"

The two cackled together as if they were the best stand-up comedians alive while you gave them your best unamused expression.

"Just tell us," Alaana whined.

"Rocking the boat."

They stared at you in confusion which made you even more frustrated. With a kiss of your teeth and a sigh you continued.

"Disillusionment. What if finding out who he is or what he looks like rocks the boat and destabilizes everything? What if things change and not for the better? Like I have no idea how this man I know nothing about was able to--"

"Bring back the Y/N before you got famous and jaded?"

The three of you nodded and sat there in silence for a few moments as if giving that silence to your former self as a show of sorrowful recognition.

"He hasn't even done anything. He's just been...there."

"The universe usually brings us what we need at the time we need it. What if he is what you need?"

"I've thought about that the last few weeks. I don't know how but somehow the way I think of him has changed. I daydream about him and get giddy when I think of him. I don't remember this with anyone else and it's weird because I don’t know him in the slightest."

"You like him," Takia accused.

"I don't know him."

"Girl, please. You've been talking to this man every day for the last 3 months. Every day. You know his routine, know his likes, dislikes, and dreams. You know him so just take the next step. Maybe you guys can make things work past friends. His first initial message to you was that he would love away the pain and love all you are that you hide from the world and all you wish to be that you fear you can never be."

Hearing his earliest words spoken made goosebumps skirt across your skin. They still affected you, still made you weak.

"No lie at first I thought it was creepy but seeing how pure and innocent it has turned it doesn't make me cringe anymore. I think at least find out who he is then decide."

"What if he's some normal guy who is like a doctor or teacher?"

"Would that make you think twice?"

"Normal people don't do well in this world. It's hard to understand and adjust to."

"Or maybe he is in this world."

"Making anything work in this world sucks especially if they are already in it."

"Which is the more appealing one?"

Just then your notifications went off. Checking it, you found a new message from him.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I'm sorry I'm on a business trip and it has been a crazy day. I'm all yours now. How are you?

You smiled and typed out a reply.

You: No need for sorries. I can't expect to have you all to myself 24/7

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: And why not? It's nothing short of what you deserve.

Lite fluttering butterflies took over your stomach making you burrow deeper into the couch.

You: So are you saying if I want you 24/7 then you're mine?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Even if you don’t want me I’m yours.

"Oh my god," Alaana squealed.

Glancing back, you found Alaana peeping over your right shoulder and Takia over your left. Both had literal heart eyes.

"Ask for a picture," Takia badgered.

"Tell him you'll send one too," Alaana backed up.

Shaking your head, you chewed your bottom lip trying to stick to your guns though the curiosity was killing you. Just then, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Scared you off?

You chewed more intently on your bottom lip as you thought over his words. You weren't scared in the slightest.

You: It takes more than that to scare me.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Good to know. So the real question is, could you--would you want me?

Seconds later, an image came through and you sat there dazed staring into the most beautiful pair of brown eyes you'd ever seen.

"Wooooow," Alaana and Takia said in unison.

"That there is a beautiful man," Takia added.

She was right. Though you could only see his eyes you could see that they were kind eyes and kind eyes said a lot about someone. It had been a long time since you'd looked into a pair of kind eyes and now faced with his, you wanted nothing more than to stare into them for the foreseeable future.

"Holy Shit," you exclaimed.

"Right. Girl, I can tell he fine. I can tell these things. You can see it in the nose bridge. That's a nose bridge of a fine piece of man," Alaana said.

"The nose bridge? Come on Lana, I would have said the eyebrows and the lashes. Like, did he go to the lash bar or something? I'm jealous," Takia added.

You heard them but nothing was registering. His eyes held you captivated.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Take your time. I'll wait.

And wait he did. Your friends booed you for not answering with a resounding "hell yeah", but you didn't let it phase you. Tucking your phone away, you tried your best to focus on the rest of the movie while ignoring the big elephant trunk sticking out of your phone as if to remind you what was happening in it. You didn't need the reminder. Your mind was already thinking and overthinking the exchange.

By the time your friends had gone to sleep it was almost 2 in the morning and no matter how you tried, sleep evaded you. So with your phone in hand, a bottle of wine in the other you trekked to the pool and set yourself up. It took less than 5 minutes for you to end up back on your messages. 6 hours had gone by since his last message. 6 hours you'd left him on read. 6 hours you'd thought about his words. You pressed the audio record button then sighed.

"Even before you sent that picture...I could and would want you."

Your finger hovered over the send button and it was fear again that stood in your way. So as you did 12 weeks ago, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and pressed send. After, you dropped your phone on the lounger, grabbed the bottle of wine, and took a hearty gulp of the sweet red liquid. This brand had a higher alcohol content than most of your whites which meant it would be the best 'no thinking' wine for you. It would make it easy to relax and just exist in the moment. You leaned back and gazed into the sky. You were far enough away from the lights and glitz of the city that you could see the stars and tonight you were glad for it.

Releasing a sigh of contentment, you realized it had been years since you felt this calm. It was easy to get lost in the view which is what you did. By the time your notifications went off again, you'd had half the bottle of wine. It was a voice message.

His normally deep voice was even deeper now. He sounded as if he'd just woken up or was very intoxicated and in the mood for nothing but sin. You pressed your knees together as a sensation you hadn't felt in years washed over you--desire. Who in the fuck was this man to have this power, you wondered incredulously.

"Wow. I honestly didn't expect you to reply. I'm pleasantly surprised."

Smiling you took another mouthful of wine.

"Sorry it took so long."

"It's all good. No need to apologize. I understand you better than you think."

"How exactly? You've never met me."

"I actually did, once. It was in passing and I guess I didn't make an impression so..."

Your eyes bugged as you wracked your brain trying to figure out if you'd seen his eyes before. There was no way you'd forget eyes like those.

"Trying to think over all the people you've met through your life to see if you remember me?"

He sounded amused.

"I was trying to figure out how I could not remember eyes like yours. Since I don't think it's possible I'm going to say you're full of shit."

The recording that came next put the biggest smile on your face and set those butterflies flapping again. His laugh was a thing for masturbation.

"Real talk though."

"So safe to say you're not a teacher or CEO of some major company."

"Ha, no not a teacher. As for a CEO of some major company...that's pretty accurate."

You continued to think over who he could possibly be but nothing was sticking. The only thing that was sticking was more and more curiosity and confusion.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: As I said before. You'll know when you're ready and when you are ready...really ready for me I will be there.

You stared at his words. They were words he’d sent before. Words he'd patiently abided by. Words he apparently meant. Your heart in your chest purred as of it were blissfully soothed and content. Staring back up at the stars you gaped in wonderment.

"Wow."

~~~~~~~

-4 Weeks Later-

You: I'm ready.

You stared at the message you'd sent 30 minutes ago. You couldn't believe you'd mustered up the courage to send it let alone actually meant it. In the last 16 weeks, there had been more than enough things that were working for him than against him. He was kind, funny, patient, funny, gentle, honest, gracious, spoke of his faith in things in such a way that instilled faith in you. You'd gone from not seeing the point in continuing if emptiness was all that awaited you to wanting the next day to come so you could experience new things through and with him.

Takia asked you a week ago if you'd fallen in love with him and though you were apprehensive to give her any response your heart lurched and thudded even more strongly within your chest. Since then, you'd thought even more about meeting him.

Today you woke with a stronger desire to meet him, touch his skin and see if he smelled how you imagined, like vanilla, cedar, spiced and fragrant musk, an open field of lavender, and lemon thyme and ripe citrus. You just wanted to be in the same room to see if you were romanticizing a stranger for his kind words or if there was really something there.

"You'll be late if we don't leave now," your new manager Iyla said.

Since firing your old manager and having Iyla come in who was always in his shadow because of how obnoxious he was you'd felt better and better about your career. She'd really stepped up in the past few weeks and showed you what you already suspected, that she was good at what she did and was a much better fit for you.

Once you were out of the hotel and in your car on your way to the venue you were set to perform at, you harmonized your new song trying to make sure you had everything right. It was partly because of how much of a perfectionist you were but also to distract yourself from the silence on his end from your message.

You tried not to think that he'd seen it and left you on read or that he was not on the same page as you anymore or that he'd changed his mind about you. There were so many thoughts and possibilities running through your head that work was the only way to quiet them.

20 minutes later you arrived at the Versace show where you were going to perform. This would be a first where live music was used for the models to walk the runway rather than backtrack. When Donatella had approached you with the idea you leaped at the chance. Half of your closet was filled with Versace so there was no way you'd pass this up.

"This is so iconic," Iyla said as she readjusted your altered vintage Versace dress. The material fit you like a glove and accentuated all your striking features.

"You will be the first ever to perform at a Versace show, hell any show that isn't the VS shows. You are about to break into another layer of this atmosphere, forget the stratosphere," Iyla said with a wide smile.

There was something about her that always made you comfortable. Her vibe always gave off excited and caring big sister and you loved that.

"Are you nervous?"

You wiggled your hand to show her how in the middle of the fence you were.

"Don't be. You look amazing and we already know your voice is sublime. Talk about an Indica trip."

You smiled already feeling calmer. As you walked the black and gold carpet you smiled for the cameras and did a few interviews. Overall everyone was looking forward to the performance and the show. Across the way, you heard a commotion. The photographers went into a tizzy and fans that were mingled together across the street looking on screamed. It sounded like a K-pop concert instead of a fashion show. People loved fashion but they didn't get this crazy for it.

Carning your neck you tried to see what the fuss was all about and instead saw fans losing their ever-loving shit.

"Oh my god, it's Lewis Hamilton," one screamed.

You'd heard the name plenty of times but you'd never paid much attention. All you knew was he was British and did some kind of sport. You watched on as he stepped up on the carpet and posed in his all-black outfit. You watched on for a few moments curious as to what all the hype was. He was too far away for you to make out much of his features but from what you could make out, you had to admit he was attractive.

Though you felt Iyla tapping you to tell you it was time to move you couldn't. There was something about him that was so captivating. Alas, you had a performance to kill. You turned and saw Donatella approaching you with a huge smile.

"You look even better than I thought you would."

"That's kind. Thank you but I am only the vessel for this beautiful piece of art you've created."

The photographers screamed for you both to pose so they could get the shot and that is what you did for almost a full 10 minutes. No amount was good enough for them, they wanted more and more and more.

"Ah, Lewis. Come, come, come. Join us!”

You spun and found the same man from a few minutes ago approaching. His smile was wide as he looked at Donatella but when they shifted to you his smile slipped. At the sight of that for some reason, your belly sank. Did he know of you and didn't like you?

As quickly as the smile disappeared it appeared again. He embraced Donatella kissing both her cheeks as he exchanged pleasantries. You caught a whiff of a scent that couldn't be cologne. It had to be him. It was strong but not in an overpowering way. Though he didn't stand too close to you, you could catch notes of spiced wood, and rich floral undertones that smelled as if fragrant flowers had been gently smoked over a fire to unlock their deeper fragrance. He smelled good--mouthwatering even.

Donatella turned to you, "Do you know Y/N? Have you met?"

Your eyes met and instantly the feeling of familiarity washed over you.

"Uh--,” you began.

"No, I've never had the pleasure, Lewis said holding out his hand for yours.

You placed it in his palm and felt the familiarity shake you again in the form of a sharp but almost comforting jolt. Neither of you budged though.

"Are you sure? I swear I feel like I've seen..."

"Trust me if I had ever been properly introduced to you, I'd remember."

His eyes held you locked in place. There was something familiar about them but you knew you'd never met him before. He was right. You were sure you'd remember eyes like his. Lewis suddenly dropped your hand, then slipped to the other side of Donatella to take part in the photos. Then like a thief in the night he was gone. Who was that you thought to yourself.

As showtime approached, you tried to forget the strange encounter and the way your body came alive from his scent. The more you tried to forget the more you focused on it but instead of thinking of the man you'd just met you kept thinking about the one you'd been talking to for the last several months.

A notification came up, sending you to your DMs.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Ready for what exactly?

Seeing his message your belly fluttered. It truly had been a while since you'd had a reaction like this to anyone.

You: You know what. Ask me again.

30 seconds ticked by, then a minute, and the whole time you tried not to chew your lip. When another message came in, again your belly flipped.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Do you want me?

Seeing the rephrased question instantaneously brought up your anxiety. It was direct on purpose because he wanted an intentional answer. Not a possible or hypothetical one. Oh, you thought. This man was different from any other little boy you'd encountered and every fiber of your being said take a chance.

Unable to resist, you bit down on your bottom lip and chewed forgetting all about your plum-painted lips, and prepared to type your reply but before you could get a letter down Iyla called your name telling you it was showtime.

5 minutes later, you were backstage waiting for your cue. You would be the first to walk out and down the runway as if you were one of the models. You'd then take your seat and begin. You should have been nervous about it but you weren't, you were more nervous about the message you were about to send.

A few of the models gave you hugs and thumbs up for support just before the stage manager gave you a nod for you to go. Once you stepped through the threshold, you took note of just how many people were there. The creative director had done amazingly on the set and ambiance. The large pool in the center of the runway space really was a vibe. The audience instantly erupted in applause as you stuck your beginning pose for dramatic effect.

What a dream you thought as you took your first step down the sleek white platformed runway. There were plenty of little girls who dreamed of this moment and here you were living it. It had been a while since you were open enough to feel gratitude but here and now you felt it in full force. Another thing to credit the man who still hadn't revealed his name for.

As you walked you noted the plethora of celebrities that sat around the runway at their posh-looking garden tables watching every move you made. You saw singers, actors, models, and even athletes from varying fame levels. On your turn, you saw Dwayne Wade who was seated next to Lewis Hamilton. Both men gave you an appreciative and polite head nod as you passed. When you got to the end of the "U" shaped runway you stopped and the audience again applauded you.

Once you were seated behind the piano, you adjusted your microphone and got ready to get down to business. As the first chords of the piano played for the intro you fully gave yourself to the track. A few lines in and the models began walking showing off the art that had taken months to prepare.

The song you'd chosen tonight was new. It was something that had come to you since you'd begun your interactions in your DMs. It was softer than the songs from your last album which was quite heavy. The lyrics were flirtatious, the melody fun and soothing but it was still somehow all you.

20 minutes later you'd sang 4 new songs and was in the middle of a piano solo that would close out the show. When Donatella stepped out after the model precession went by, you added some flair to the solo giving Beethoven and Bach a run for their money. The audience clapped and whistled as you showcased your musical abilities, abilities that had gotten you your current fame and status. Upon the grand finale, you hit the perfect ending chords making Donatella laugh.

The two of you walked on either side of the line of models toward the center of the "U" shaped runway to meet and join hands. She gestured to you making the audience applaud and cheer. You did a dainty curtsy then motioned to Donatella and cheered loudly which promoted those around you to do the same. You stood there allowing the photographers to take pictures for a few moments. When you glanced down you realized you were standing directly in front of Lewis whose eyes were glued to you. The smile on his lips was soft and the look on his face was endearing. You wanted to ask why but you shook it off.

2 hours later after endless pictures, interviews, autographs, and tens of flirtatious men trying to either get your number, get you to give them your number, or convince you to leave with them for the night; you finally had time to yourself. You finished your glass of champagne, leaned on one of the 9-foot tall hedges, and scrolled through your phone.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this.

Smiling, you took a deep breath.

You: I want you.

You were sure of that now.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Are you sure?

You: Yes. I've spent the night having CEOs, oil tycoons, actors, models, athletes, artists, and men from every other profession you can think of flirt with me, attempt to spend the night with me, and try to create some sort of connection only to fail miserably because all I can think of is you and the fact you haven't once flirted with me or tried to convince me to spend the night with you.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I didn't know you wanted me to.

You: I didn't either. Now I do. I want you to. I want you to do all of that.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: What if I don't want to convince you to spend the night with me? Spending the night with you is the least of what I want to do with you.

You: What do you want?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I want your days. I want your afternoons. I want your trust. I want your honesty. I want your vulnerability. I want your mind. I want your heart.

Once again he'd stolen your breath.

You: And what do I get in return?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I will give you smiles. I will give you laughter. I will give you joy. I will give you honesty. I will give you my days. I will give you my afternoons, my nights. I will give you my loyalty. I will give you trust. I will give you vulnerability. I will give you my mind, my heart, and only when you are sure you can match me I will give you my body and all the passion and fire you can stand.

Wow, you thought.

You: I'm in Cannes for a few days. I fly out the day after tomorrow. How can we meet?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Depends. How badly do you want it?

You: I'm not thirsty or anything but a hard 9.

A voice message came through of him laughing. Then another.

"I'm glad you can hide your thirst but I won't. Not anymore. I'm at 100."

It was your turn to send a voice message of you laughing.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Glad you find my suffering funny. I'm currently in Cannes too. If you trust me enough we can meet tonight.

Your brows rose. He was in Cannes too? What a coincidence.

You: Tonight then.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Tonight.

You felt all sorts of giddy now. It overshadowed the nervousness that was trying to overtake you. Fifteen minutes later, as you left the fashion show venue, another message came through.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Vieux Port, 12. Tell this to your driver and they will know where to go.

You smiled then attached a photo of yourself from the night and sent it.

You: Me now so you don't miss me

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: Jeez. You're beautiful Y/N.

You: It is a bit unfair that I still don’t know your name.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: You'll know when you see me.

You dropped Iyla off at the hotel with an excuse of wanting to sightsee then you took the drive to the port. On the way you texted her the location you would be in case you bumped into trouble. With the window down, you relaxed into the scents of Cannes. Baked goods, salty sea air, citrus, and sand. It all smelled wonderful. You'd been here tens of times before but this was the first time you'd taken time for yourself to mellow out. You were in a completely different headspace than you were on previous trips and it felt so freeing.

15 minutes later, your driver pulled up to find 2 people, a man, and a woman, already waiting there. Your phone vibrated with a notification.

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I sent Verona and Linus to escort you. They are waiting at the port. I promise you're safe.

Another message came with 2 pictures and vouching credentials. Sighing, you relaxed again. He had thought of everything. As you approached the two they smiled.

"Verona? Linus?"

"Yes. Ms. Y/L/N?”

"Yes."

"Wonderful. Please follow us we will take you to the vessel," Verona said.

As you walked behind them you couldn't help but wonder what vessel and how he'd pulled all this together in less than an hour. Who was he exactly? It took all of 3 minutes until Linus and Verona both stopped in front of a lavish yacht that looked like it was at least 3 stories.

"Whoa."

"Ms. Y/L/N, after you," Linus said with an outstretched arm pointing to the boarding plank ahead.

You stood there for several moments thinking about things again. Were you really going to get on this yacht with someone you’d never met before? Were you really going to be this trusting?

Blessedbeyondmeasure44: I had Verona and Linus provide your driver with the details of this yacht before he left. I've told him to give it to your manager so they know where you will be and how to contact authorities if you aren't returned safely. I’ve also asked them to check in with you every 30 minutes using a code word they choose. I don't want you afraid of me Y/N. If you are afraid I won't think anything of you turning around and we can try this another way, a more public way with your manager present. Whatever you're comfortable with.

You didn't know if it was game or not but his words calmed you. Maybe it wasn't his words and the fact that he thought ahead and provided these securities for you to feel safer. A call from Iyla came through then.

"OMG, Y/N. Wow. I have so many questions and I want all the details later but your code word is Calamari. I will call every 30 minutes."

She sounded excited and you had no idea why.

"Got it."

Just like that, she ended the call. Why was she so excited? You wondered if she knew something you didn't as you put your phone in your bag. With a breath, you crossed the plank and allowed a man dressed similarly to Linus and Verona to lift you onto the yacht.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. He is waiting on the top deck. Follow this hallway to the steps at the end and up you go," Verona instructed.

With a nod, you were off. As you walked you noted just how luxurious the yacht truly was. Did he own this? If he did he was possibly in or close to your tax bracket. You weren't sure if you should be happy about it or leery. If he was in your tax bracket it could mean he was a celebrity as well. At that thought you paused on the 4th step on the stairs.

You thought about celebs that you'd tried to get to know or date and cringed. All of them were slightly weird with quirks you couldn't handle on top of your schedule and responsibilities. A celebrity relationship took a lot and you didn't know if you could give any of it.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Y/N."

You took a breath and continued. When you reached the top of the stairs your jaw dropped. There were candles and flowers everywhere. Slowly you looked around and realized they weren't just any flowers, they were your favorite flowers.

"Oh my god," you whispered.

With a step forward you took in your 360 view and you knew that no matter who he was you wanted to try for him. As you looked behind you, you walked backward distracted by the beauty surrounding you. He'd somehow managed all of this in under an hour. Somehow he'd filled the entire top deck with all your favorite things. Your favorite flowers were covering every surface of the floor. Your favorite scented candles were lit and their scent wafting in the air. Your favorite snacks and treats lining the railing on the left. Your favorite fruit lining the right railing.

"He's really been paying attention," you softly said.

"Of course I pay attention. You're important to me."

You stumbled to a stop but kept your back to the voice. You recognized his voice. You recognized it from your messages and even tonight. Suddenly, everything swirled in your mind as it slowly came together.

Hi, Y/N."

You took a deep breath and turned. Your jaw dropped while everything fell into place as you looked into eyes you'd seen before this moment. They were eyes you'd looking into mere hours ago.

"I'm Lewis."

He smiled and your heart skipped a beat but words escaped you. He didn't speak again, he waited with his hands clasped behind his back. He wore the same full black outfit from earlier but he looked even better in it now with the candles and flowers as his backdrop.

"I--you--oh my god. You're--”, you began.

"Blessedbeyondmeasure44? Yes, I am."

The silence stretched for a long moment before you snorted.

"Bullshit."

Lewis chortled in return then let out a chuckle.

"I've said it before but God I love that you have no censor and say the first thing that comes to your mind."

Your eyes bugged. He had said that before.

"No. You're not."

Lewis smiled and took a few more steps to you, "How can I prove it to you?"

"Prove?"

You wracked your brain trying to make sense of this and come up with a way he could make you believe this.

"What was the first thing I said to you in DMs?"

Without hesitation, Lewis spoke, "After you sent a follow request I said I didn't expect that this was how my day would end and you said me neither."

You raised a brow. "What was the last thing we did together?

"We went to the beach. You went to Crystal Cove in Laguna Beach and I went to La Concha because I was in Spain at the time. You sent me a beautiful picture of a cave and said it was one of your secret spots. It was called--.”

"Dana's Point," you finished as he proved his point.

"I can show you the messages, and our pictures including the one you sent earlier so I wouldn’t miss you. I wouldn't miss you though Y/N. You stand out no matter what."

He took another step to you leaving only a few inches between you. He reached out and took your hands.

"I have missed you though. I've missed you in so many moments that I wished you were with me, so many experiences I wished I had with you. I missed you every time a message of yours came in. I even missed you in my dreams."

You lifted your hand and cupped his cheek while staring into his eyes.

"I knew I saw those eyes before. I felt it."

Lewis smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do this in front of those cameras and the crowd. I'm sorry I wasn't 100% truthful."

You smirked.

"Your message."

Lewis cupped your cheek in return. "Your voice is still haunting and amazingly beautiful, but your eyes--," he paused then cupped your other cheek. Using his thumbs, he softly slid them across your cheekbones. "Your eyes are no longer sad and empty. God, you are gorgeous like this."

Tears welled your eyes and you scoffed.

"Now you flirt with me."

A chuckle fell from his lips and if you hadn't fallen for him before you definitely had now. You hung your head and shook it.

"I am so stupid. This whole time."

"You're not."

"You're Lewis Hamilton. I am sure any other woman would have recognized those eyes. I had no clue. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about you, not really. Yeah, you're a racer but other than that..." you shrugged.

Lewis lifted your head his hands now cupping your skull. It put you on high alert at just how large his hands were. "Hey, love that you had no clue. I love that you don't know me. It was refreshing. I loved these last few months of you knowing me and me knowing you without the extra stuff."

"We know the extra stuff now. Oh my god, from the ruckus on the carpet of the Versace show you're a huge celebrity. How in the world---."

Before you could continue your freak-out Lewis' lips were on yours. It was like you’d stuck your finger in an electrical socket. Your entire body came to life as if his touch was life itself. His soft lips slowly pressed against yours before he opened them enough to take your top lip between his. From there all thought escaped you.

When one of his hands slipped around your waist you moaned unexpectedly. Where had that come from? Your body had no trouble following along. You pressed yourself closer to him relishing the tingles that skirted across your lips and everywhere he touched. Just as you were going to sink your fingers into his braids, Lewis pulled away keeping his forehead to yours.

"Do you want me?"

His voice was low and deep and it wrapped around you pulling you closer to him.

"I-I don’t see how I can have you."

Again Lewis kissed you. This time he delved his tongue into your mouth wrapping it around yours, teasing you to open more for him. When you did it was because you moaned. He took advantage of that opening and kissed you in a way that said he was not letting you go. His moan melded with yours and you felt his other hand tighten as he held your skull. Tearing his lips away, he panted as harshly as you were.

"Do you--want--me? Because I want you Y/N. I want you even knowing the obstacles in our way. I want you more than I have wanted anything in a long time. I want you in ways that surprise me and make me year all at once. I'm not saying this will be a walk through the park. I'm saying I want to walk together with you from this night on. Do you want me too?"

He had to be kidding. Who in their right mind would say no after that? You snorted then laced your fingers together behind his neck thrusting yourself flush against him.

"I want you more than anything. I want you in my life. I want to really run with you though I hate it. I want to go to beaches together and have movie nights truly together. I want to see the same sunrise and sunsets you see. I want to touch your skin like this whenever I want instead of thinking about it. I want to smell you every day. Yes, Lewis. I want you too."

The look in his eyes held you in place as did the tightness of his arms that were now wrapped around your waist holding you possessively against him.

"I can't wait to give you the world Y/N," Lewis said in such a way you knew he meant every word.

"I don't need the world, nor do I want it. I just want you."

His smile was the cutest thing and you knew you'd never get tired of it.

"You have me. Next up...the world."

You smiled then giggled when he lifted you in the air and spun you around. You laughed louder loving the way the sound came from the very depths of you and how authentic it felt. When he put you down you were at the railing looking out to the ocean.

"Started from a DM now we here," Lewis said making you snort.

"Started from a DM soon the whole world will fuckin hear bout it."

Lewis threw his hands up.

"Ayyyy!”

You laughed loudly and soon he joined in. When he wrapped his arms around you again he gazed into your eyes but said no words. Slowly both of you moved closer until your lips softly touched. Neither of you moved. You took the time to savor the feel of your skin connecting in a way your minds and souls already had. A way that he had retaught you, a way that he so patiently and diligently worked for and it all started when he messaged your heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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