#it's so weird how simple a solution can be

[smimon]

at this moment the most effective and reliable tool I have against morning panic attacks is this Kaufland brand bootleg milky way bar (fuck Mars inc)

I just moved dessert to 09:00 and i am calm now lol simple solutions are the best

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (10)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Supermodel!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 8.7k

Aliyah's Notes: another long chapter!!!! had a bit of an issue with this chapter. didn't know where to go, and how to finish it but i'm pretty satisfied with the ending... hope y'all will feel that way too #scared

You were going to throw up.

It was 6 in the morning, and your apartment was filled with a pre-party energy—Aisha fluttering around checking final details, making sure everything was perfect for you. But for you, the weight of the day felt unbearable. The engagement party was only a few hours away, and you were supposed to feel excited, but instead, all you could feel was anxiety.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror, staring at your reflection as the fabric of your saree clung to your skin. It was a beautiful one—pale yellow with blue hues, simple, elegant. But as you looked at yourself, all you saw were flaws. Your stomach, the slight curve of your hips, your arms felt weird. Every inch of you felt exposed, like you were wearing your insecurities on display for the world to see. The saree that was supposed to make you feel confident now felt like a prison, the tightness around your chest suffocating you.

You tugged at the fabric, your fingers trembling as your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know, Aish,” you said, your voice faltering. “I just… I don’t think I can do this.”

Aisha, who had been running around your place, stopped and turned to you with a frown, concern written all over her face. “Y/N, you look perfect. Rafe is going to love it, I swear. You look incredible, seriously.”

But her words didn’t reach you. They never did. They didn’t fix the sinking feeling in your stomach, the pit that had been growing since you woke up. You didn’t feel incredible. You felt like a mess. Like a lie. You felt like you didn’t belong in this world of glitz and glamour, not when the weight of your own past was pressing down on you.

You turned back to the mirror, avoiding her gaze, and exhaled shakily. “It’s not about Rafe,” you said, barely above a whisper, as if the words were too heavy to say aloud. “It’s… it’s everything. Everyone.”

She didn’t speak at first, but you could hear her footsteps approach slowly, her presence gentle and calm as she stood beside you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re not here,” you murmured, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “My family—they haven’t been here. They don’t care.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and so did the tears running down your face. You quickly wiped them away, trying to maintain some sort of control, but it was useless. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave.

Aisah’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Look, I know it’s tough, but you left for a reason. They treated you like an animal—you were nothing to them and look at you now. You have everything you want, you’re surrounded by people who love you, and you’re engaged to an amazing guy.”

“But you don’t get it,” your voice broke. “I haven’t spoken to them in years, Aisha. I haven’t heard from them since… you know… My Amma and Appa… they’ve never cared to fix what happened. And now they’re not here for this huge moment. They’re not here for me. And I just feel… I feel like none of this matters without them.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest grow, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. Every time you thought about them—your parents, your siblings—it felt like the world was falling apart again. All the years of silence, the anger, the bitterness, the feeling of being abandoned… it was all still there, festering under the surface. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were always going to feel like the outsider, the one who wasn’t good enough for their love.

Aisha watched you quietly for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer. “Y/N, I know this isn’t easy. But this isn’t about your family. This is about you and the life you’re building. You’re so much more than your past, and tonight you get to shine. You’re not doing this for them. You’re doing it for you.”

You closed your eyes, letting her words sink in. You still feel the weight of it all, but as Aisha gave you one last reassuring look, you felt a small spark of resolve. Maybe you didn’t feel perfect. Maybe you never would. But tonight, you would step into this new chapter of your life, for you, and not for anyone else.

“You’re right,” you whispered, putting on a fake-ish smile. “Let me get over this. There’s too much to do today.”

The hours before the engagement party moved in a blur of preparations, but the nerves clung to you like an unwelcome guest. After Aisha helped you steady yourself, you dove into the checklist for the day, hoping to lose your anxieties in the bustle. Your hairdresser and makeup artist arrived promptly, transforming your apartment into a whirlwind of brushes, palettes, and fabric draping.

Despite the chaos, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone every few minutes, the screen lighting up teasingly with messages from Rafe. He’d been training all morning, but somehow still found the time to send you a steady stream of texts.

Rafe: Do you think this party will have snacks? Asking for a hungry basketball player.

You: There’s a buffet, Rafe. You’ll survive.

Rafe: Buffet doesn’t count. I want something good, like that thing you brought over the other day.

You: If you’re fishing for more biryani, the answer is no.

Rafe: Wow, first you take my penthouse, now you refuse me food? This marriage is starting off rocky.

You: This marriage hasn’t even started yet.

The exchange brought a smile to your lips despite yourself. He had this way of teasing that felt like a lifeline at the moment.

“Are you blushing?” Aisha teased from where she was meticulously laying out your jewelry.

“What? No,” you said, far too quickly. “Why would I even be blushing? You’re nuts… absolutely… absolutely nuts…”

“Oh my fucking God! You are!” she said with a grin, leaning in to glance at your phone. You pulled it away before she could peek at the screen, but the damage was done. “God, it’s so cute how he makes you smile like that.”

“You’re actually insane,” you mumbled, heat creeping up your neck.

She only laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Denial is a river in Egypt, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your lips from twitching into a small grin. Rafe sent another message.

Rafe: So, what are you wearing?

You hesitated for a moment before replying.

You: Why? Thinking of copying my outfit?

Rafe: Maybe. But only if it’s good.

You: It’s a saree. Pale yellow with blue embroidery.

Rafe: Does it have one of those drapey things?

You: Yes, Cameron. That’s literally what makes it a saree!!!

Rafe: Got it. Drapey thing = saree. Send me a picture.

You didn’t respond, setting your phone down and pretending to focus on your makeup.

“Your husband?” Aisha asked, noticing your sudden quiet.

“Future husband,” you corrected with a finger up. “And obviously.”

“What’d he say?”

“He wants a picture.”

“Send him one. He’ll probably lose his mind. And let’s be real—you could use the ego boost.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Aisha wasn’t wrong. The way Rafe looked at you sometimes—or even texted you—had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the room. 

The hairdresser finished with your slicked half-up half-down hairstyle. Aisha brought over the jewelry: delicate gold bangles, matching earrings, and a necklace that felt heavy against your collarbones.

“Perfect,” Aisha said, stepping back to admire the finished look.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The saree hugged you gracefully, the embroidery catching the light with every movement. The makeup brought a glow to your skin, and the hair framed your face perfectly. For the first time all day, you felt... good. 

Before you could overthink it, you picked up your phone and snapped a quick selfie—just enough to show the saree and the soft smile playing on your lips.

You: Fine. Here.

The reply came almost instantly.

Rafe: ...You’re killing me here.

Your heart skipped a beat at the simplicity of the words.

Rafe: Thank you brown people for existing, and making you. Rafe: Truly humanity owes them. Rafe: Forget the engagement party. Let’s just elope.

You laughed out loud, shaking your head.

You: Not happening. See you tonight.

His response made your stomach flutter in the strangest way.

Rafe: Can’t wait to become your fiancé, sweetheart.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the venue, its soft hum fading into the gentle buzz of the world outside. Through the tinted windows, you could see flashes of light—camera shutters capturing every moment like hunters seeking prey. The glow spilling from the venue, golden and inviting, felt overwhelming, almost oppressive. It danced off the grand arches of the villa, the soft flicker of string lights crisscrossing the courtyard casting a magical glow on the scene.

For a moment, you sat frozen, your fingers clutching the delicate fabric of your saree. It was meant to represent happiness, a tie to your heritage that should have brought you pride. But tonight, it felt more like a shackle, reminding you of the pieces of yourself you’d lost along the way.

“You okay?” Aisha’s voice came softly from beside you, laced with the familiar tone of concern that only she could carry so effortlessly. She looked radiant in her pale pink dress.

“Yeah… I… I’m fine,” you replied, the lie clumsy on your tongue.

Aisha raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. The car door opened, and she stepped out first, her head held high as though she didn’t care about anything—and knowing Aisha, she probably really didn’t care. When she turned to offer you her hand, her expression softened—a silent gesture of reassurance. You took it hesitantly, forcing your legs to carry you out of the car.

The cool evening air brushed against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to soothe the heat in your chest. Cameras clicked relentlessly, their flashes a blinding assault as the whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

“She’s a bit late.”

“She looks beautiful.”

“Why didn’t Rafe escort her out?”

“What is she wearing?”

Each word clawed at you, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed image you wore like an armor. You kept your head down, focusing on the rhythmic click of your heels against the gravel path as you made your way toward the villa’s entrance. The towering structure loomed over you, its ivy-draped walls and ornate carvings reminiscent of a bygone era. The cascading floral arrangements, all in deep crimson and soft pink hues.

Everything added to the suffocating pressure weighing on your chest.

Inside, the air buzzed with laughter and conversation as guests began to fill the sprawling garden. Long tables stretched across the courtyard, their surfaces glimmering with candles and vases bursting with fresh blooms. Everything was picturesque, perfect. Yet, all you could feel was a rising sense of dread.

“I need a minute,” you whispered to Aisha, not waiting for her reply before walking rapidly inside the villa.

You navigated the winding hallways with purpose, your steps quick but unsteady. You needed to escape—to find a quiet corner where the world’s eyes couldn’t follow, where you could let the overwhelming storm inside you settle, even just for a moment. The getting-ready room—it was the perfect refuge, a place to breathe and gather yourself before you faced the crowd again.

But as you rounded the corner, your steps faltered.

Rafe was there.

He leaned against the doorframe with an ease that felt infuriatingly effortless, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored white suit. The soft lighting played tricks with the lines of his face, his tousled hair looking as if it had been styled by the wind itself. The open collar of his shirt gave him an air of nonchalance that made him seem untouchable—except for the flicker of something warm in his eyes as he met your gaze.

“You planning to bolt already?” he teased, a crooked smile playing on his lips. His voice, low and smooth, carried the same blend of humor and arrogance that had always annoyed you.

You stopped, caught off guard. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Rafe pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow step toward you. “Waiting for you,” he said, his gaze dragging deliberately over your saree. His smile deepened as his eyes met yours again. “You look beau—”

“Rafe, I can’t do this,” you blurted, your voice trembling as the words spilled out before you could stop them.

The smile faded from his face, replaced by an expression of concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” you said, your voice breaking. “The people, the cameras, the party—it’s all too much.”

Rafe’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve done this a hundred times before,” he said softly. “What’s different now?”

You hesitated. “It’s not important,” you muttered, hoping he’d let it go. 

But Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady but insistent. “Talk to me.”

You sighed, the lump in your throat growing heavier. “It’s stupid, okay? I’m just… I’m not used to this.”

“That’s not true.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away, your voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re not here.”

“Who?”

The question made you flinch, but you kept your response measured, your tone distant. “No one. It doesn’t matter.”

Rafe stepped closer, his presence grounding but not invasive. “It matters if it’s upsetting you.”

“It’s just… my family. We’re not close anymore, okay? And moments like this just remind me of that. But it’s fine. Whatever.”

His eyes softened, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say more. The details of your fractured relationship with your parents, the abuse, the years of silence—it wasn’t something you wanted to unpack here, not with him. You hated being this exposed, hated feeling so small under the weight of it all.

Rafe’s expression shifted, the concern in his eyes deepening. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady but kind. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” you shook your head, refusing. “You won’t understand.”

“Then help me,” he urged, his hand still resting lightly on your arm. “Talk to me.”

The lump in your throat grew, the words threatening to choke you. “I left them,” you started. “But I had a reason. I couldn’t continue living there. We were poor, so poor, Rafe. Some days we were barely fed and barely had a roof over our heads,” your voice trembled, and you forced yourself to not close your eyes to not relieve that part of your life. “They forced me to se—” but you stopped yourself. Not ready to admit it to Rafe. “—whatever. I just don’t feel like I belong anywhere.”

His jaw tightened, his grip on your arm firming slightly. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue eyes scanning your face as if trying to piece together the fractures you’d worked so hard to hide. Then, quietly, he spoke.

“You belong here,” he said firmly, his voice steady. “With me. Tonight, this party, all of it—it’s for us. And I don’t care who’s not here, because I’m here, okay? You worked hard to get where you are, and you can’t let your past, or anyone, ruin it for you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the fog of your doubt. Slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours with a warmth that steadied you.

You walked back toward the door, Rafe’s hand lightly resting against your back, guiding you through the villa. As you stepped into the bustling courtyard, the noise of the party hit you again—the sound of laughter, the clinking of glasses, the faint hum of music. It was impossible to escape the energy, the pressure of eyes watching.

You took a deep breath, trying to center yourself. Tonight wasn’t going to be easy, but you’d already survived the worst of it. With Rafe by your side, you could handle whatever came next.

The first person you spotted was Nina, her smile bright and easy as she chatted with a few guests by the drink station. She caught sight of you and waved, excusing herself from the conversation. Her dress—an elegant gold one—flattered her frame as she approached.

“You two disappeared for a while,” Nina said with a teasing glint in her eyes, though there was a hint of concern there, too. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah, don’t worry. Everything’s perfect,” you waved your hands to not worry her. “By the way, Rafe, this is Nina Ramos—my agent and my second mother.”

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “Nice to meet you,” he said smoothly. “YN’s been telling me a lot about you.”

Liar.

Nina took his hand, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of you. “Has she now? All good I hope,” and you nodded instantly. “Well, this party is important and beautiful. Maybe all your overthinking served you well—you look absolutely perfect, honey. You too, Rafe.”

“Thanks,” you blushed at her compliment.

Rafe smirked. “She does look perfect, doesn’t she?”

You gave him a playful look, your lips curling into a reluctant smile at his compliment. 

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “But it was great meeting you, Rafe Cameron.”

“Likewise,” he replied, and with one last smile, Nina disappeared back into the crowd.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to Rafe with a small smile. “She’s a good friend of mine,” you said softly. “You’ll like her.”

Rafe gave you a raised eyebrow. “She seems cool. I can see why you’re friends.”

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter caught your attention, and you spotted Aisha, her arm linked with a tall, broad-shouldered man. Her husband, Ishan—someone you hadn’t seen in a while. You had to blink to fully register the change in him, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. 

Without thinking, you broke into a smile and made your way toward them, Rafe following behind.

As soon as Aisha spotted you, her face lit up with recognition. “Look who decided to surprise you,” she smiled, her voice higher because of how excited she was.

You immediately wrapped your arms around her husband, stepping into a hug. He chuckled, holding you tightly as he returned the embrace. “I’ve missed you,” you said, squeezing him as he laughed.

Ishan was like an older brother to you. He’d been there through some of the toughest times in your life, and his easy going nature always managed to bring you a sense of peace. His deep laugh and the familiarity of his embrace were exactly what you needed.

“I’ve missed you too, behen,” he said. “I come back to New York and I’m being told you’re getting married to Rafe Cameron. Imagine my surprise when Aisha told me.”

You pulled back from the embrace and laughed awkwardly. “Ah, yes, Rafe… Surprise, surprise, right?” 

Ishan furrowed his brows but you moved your hands. “I can’t really believe it… It’s really happening…”

“No, no! It’s not like—uh, well, okay, it is, but it’s like…” you turned your head to find Rafe behind Aisha making a cross with his hands. “I love it. He’s so, so, so funny and charming—and very committed, you know…”

“Uh huh, I see,” Ishan nodded and laughed at how weird you were being. “Can’t believe he’s gonna marry a loser like y—”

“So, you’re actually here. It’s been too long—how’s Switzerland?” you interrupted, and he sent you a look because he hated when you did that. “Sorry… but how is it? Did you climb every mountain and, like, yodel on top of a glacier?”

He chuckled a little and shook his head. “No, no yodelling, but I did eat tons of chocolate. I bought some for you too.” You did not even have time to reply to him that he extended a hand toward Rafe, his tone both warm and challenging. “So, you’re the infamous Rafe Cameron. My wife gave me a run-down on you. Some good things… and some questionable ones.”

"Your wife? Wait, who’s your wife?" Rafe asked, his confusion evident.

Oh, crap. You totally forgot to explain the whole family tree situation. Rookie mistake.

Aisha sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she raised her hand. "I’m the wife, genius. Seriously, YN—did you not tell him?"

"I’m sorry!" You blurted, cringing. "It completely slipped my mind. It’s just so normal to me that I didn’t even think to—"

Rafe interrupted you, and took Ishan’s hand in his. His smirk disarming but his handshake firm. “Well, I hope the good outweighed the questionable.”

“Debatable,” Ishan replied with a shrug. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt… at least until you give me a reason not to.”

You felt a knot in your stomach as you glanced between the two. Ishan wasn’t being hostile, but his protectiveness had always been intense, like that of an older brother who wasn’t afraid to test the waters.

Rafe, to his credit, didn’t back down. His smirk deepened slightly, and he shrugged with an air of playful confidence. “Fair enough. I’ll do my best not to disappoint.”

“I’d hope so,” Ishan said lightly, though the undertone was clear. His gaze softened as it flicked toward you, his voice gentler now. “You’ve got a good one here. Don’t mess it up.”

“Trust me, I know how lucky I am,” Rafe replied, glancing at you with an expression so sincere it caught you off guard.

The words made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for, a warmth spreading through you despite the nervous energy still bubbling beneath the surface.

Aisha rolled her eyes, slapping her husband’s chest. “Alright, alright, that’s enough intimidation for one night. Let’s get some drinks, baby.”

Ishan laughed, ruffling Aisha’s hair affectionately before turning to you. “If he gives you any trouble, you know where to find me, behen.”

You grinned at the familiar term of endearment, feeling a wave of gratitude for his presence. “Yup!”

With a wink, they both disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and Rafe standing together.

The second they were out of earshot, Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So, is everyone in your life this protective, or is it just me getting the special treatment?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What can I say? People care about me. Better get used to it.”

“Noted,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I’ll add it to the ever-growing list of things to keep in mind when dealing with your very... passionate circle of people.”

An awkward silence stretched between us as you scanned the guests arriving. You recognized a few—Aisha’s mom, aunts, and cousins, mingling with Nina’s friends and siblings. You couldn't help but wonder if your wedding would be filled with people who didn’t really know you either.

Rafe stepped closer, standing next to you, and flashed a playful grin. "So, Ishan… he’s your… older brother, right?" He asked, clearly trying to figure out the family dynamic.

You turned to him with a soft laugh, shaking my head. "No, not my brother," you said, before pausing for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Okay, let me explain." You drew in a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "Ishan’s more like the brother I never had—well, I do have brothers, but when I left home, I hadn’t really connected with them. But then I came to the U.S. and met Aisha, and Ishan just sort of stepped into that role. We’ve been through everything together—good, bad, you name it. He’s always had my back. No blood relation, but he might as well be."

Rafe’s expression softened as he absorbed that, nodding. “Sounds like he’s a pretty solid guy.”

“He really is,” you smiled, warmth creeping into your voice. “He and Aisha have always had my back, and they’ve been together for years now. They make a great team.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he said, grinning. “He’s got that same intimidating vibe as she does. You can practically feel it.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Exactly! Aisha and I used to joke about it. She always said, if I needed someone to scare off a date, I’d just call Ishan. Aisha’s got that sharp edge, and Ishan? He’s got the muscles.”

“I can definitely see that…” he said with a thoughtful nod before asking, “So, what kind of dynamic do you think we have?”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze for a moment as the question hung in the air. “Uh, well…” You cleared your throat. “I mean, we’re… we’re like, uh, a work in progress? Yeah, that sounds right. Like one of those ‘under construction’ signs, you know? A little chaotic…?” You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Chaotic? Really? You’re gonna call us chaotic?”

“Yeah, well, have you met you?” You shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re like a walking disaster zone.”

He laughed, leaning back. “Oh, I’m a disaster? You’re the one who keeps on throwing shade. For no reason at all.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to mind your own business,” you snapped, the words biting as you shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re the one getting all up in my space with your weird questions.”

“I’m not asking weird questions,” he shot back, his voice rising to match the sharpness of yours. “And do you seriously think we’re chaotic?”

You gave him a side-eye, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Chaotic is an understatement, Cameron. We’re a disaster—with a capital D.”

He laughed, the sound low and amused, as though he didn’t take you seriously. “Oh really? You’re one to talk. You practically live for the drama.”

“Me? I live for drama?” You scoffed, pivoting fully to face him now, hands planted firmly on your hips as you let your eyes travel up and down him in a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “You’re the definition of drama. You can’t even breathe without making everything about you.”

His lips curled into a grin, the kind that made your stomach twist in a way you refused to acknowledge. “You’re so easy to rile up.”

“You’re a jackass,” you muttered, shaking your head, every fiber of your being wanting to push him away—but not sure if you meant physically or emotionally.

He leaned in slightly, as if to throw another jibe your way, but instead, his eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think you’re just mad because I’m better at this than you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you closed the distance between you, but the move was more impulsive than you intended. You instantly regretted it, realizing just how close you were to him now, the heat from his body practically radiating against yours. You swallowed, trying to mask the effect it had on you. “Better at what? Being a complete asshole?” Your voice wavered with a sharpness that betrayed how much it bothered you. “Yeah, Rafe, you’re a pro at that.”

He leaned in even closer, and this time, his grin wasn’t just playful—it was dangerous. “You love it,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, making your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you rolled your eyes, trying to keep control of the situation. “Oh, fuck off. The only thing I like is when you finally shut up.” You crossed your arms tighter, trying to distance yourself emotionally, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you two, the tension hanging thick in the air.

He was close now, too close, and it was suffocating in the most unsettling way. His breath was warm against your skin, the space between you closing so much that you could almost taste the words on his lips before they even came. 

“Is that so?” His voice was low, teasing, his grin widening as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there just long enough to make you feel it.

You couldn’t help it—you gulped, the way he was looking at you making your pulse race, something deep inside you stirring against the cold front you were trying so hard to put up. “Yeah, that so,” you managed, but your voice had a tremor to it now, and you hated yourself for it.

He smiled, the kind of smile that could make you want to punch him and kiss him all at once. “Well, in that case,” he said, the words dragging as he leaned even closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, “I’m just gonna keep talking.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough weight to send a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to scream at him or kiss him.

You could feel his presence pressing in on you, the heat between you two almost unbearable, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. The world outside of him seemed to vanish, the hum of the city, the weight of your thoughts, everything melting away until there was only the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You knew you should pull away, should say something, anything, to break this tension, but the words wouldn’t come.

He watched you closely, his eyes locked onto yours, a hint of something unreadable flickering there—something playful, something dangerous, maybe both.

“You look like you’re about to say something,” he said, his voice thick with amusement.

You opened your mouth, trying to push past the lump in your throat, but it felt like the words were stuck. Instead, you just looked at him—really looked at him for the first time in what felt like forever. He was close, too close, but in that moment, it felt impossible to back away. He made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that you didn’t understand.

“I don’t wanna say anything,” you muttered, the words slipping out as a mix of frustration and something you refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, that devilish smirk curling on his lips.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but you didn’t say a word. You simply nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line, trying to hold onto some semblance of control.

He closed the gap between you, leaning in with deliberate slowness. You could feel the heat of his body inching closer, the soft scent of his cologne filling your senses, until his lips barely brushed against your cheek. The kiss was featherlight, teasing—infuriatingly so. It was enough to make your stomach twist with desire, but you refused to let it show. You wanted to press your thighs together, to feel that familiar ache between your legs, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he was affecting you.

“Well, I have something to say,” his voice was low, rich with satisfaction as he lingered just inches from your skin. “I think… You’re not as immune to me as you like to pretend.”

The words sent a jolt through your chest, but you shook your head, pulling your hands up to his chest, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt, then gliding slowly to his neck, tracing the line of his jaw before resting at the back of it. You felt his pulse under your fingertips, and your breath hitched.

“I don’t… I don’t pretend,” you said, your voice quieter, but the frustration bubbling underneath was unmistakable. “You’re just an idiot,” you continued, pressing your palms harder into his skin. “And so fucking frustrating.”

He let out a dark chuckle, the sound dripping with arrogance. “Look at you.” His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. “You’re getting all worked up. You want this, don’t you? I can see it. You’re practically begging me to fuck you right now with those eyes. Is that what you want, baby?”

Every nerve in your body screamed yes. You could feel your pulse racing, your skin burning as his words settled deep inside you. The ache between your legs was undeniable now, but your mind fought back. Your heart was pounding in your ears, screaming no. You couldn't let yourself fall for this again. You remembered the last time—the cold distance after everything had gotten too real, the way he’d pulled away, leaving you shattered. You couldn’t be left like that again. 

But then, the look on his face—those sharp eyes, glimmering with something dangerous. He looked so good, so fucking good, in that white suit that fit him like a second skin. The way it molded to his chest, the tightness around his biceps, made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t help it. You wanted to touch him, feel the strength of his muscles under your fingers, wanted to bite at his neck, press your lips to the smooth skin there and feel him shudder beneath you.

God, it was maddening. You hated how he made you feel so out of control, how every inch of him seemed to draw you in. Your body was betraying you, and you hated it.

But what about him? Did he feel the same pull? Did he burn for you the way you did for him, or was this just another game for him to play, another conquest to add to his long list? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

Rafe’s eyes never left you as you fought to suppress the desire stirring within you. But he knew it. He could see it in the way your breath hitched, in the way you couldn’t stop your hands from brushing against him, testing the limits, even as you pretended to resist. 

But something shifted in him. He straightened, his posture changing, the smug grin slipping ever so slightly as his gaze flickered to the entrance of the party.

It wasn’t just any glance—it was sharp, instinctive. He’d caught sight of someone familiar, someone whose presence immediately shifted the air in the room.

You followed his line of sight, your chest tightening as you noticed who it was: The Cameron family. Sarah, Wheezie, Rose, and Ward. Their arrival had a different weight, one that Rafe clearly felt deep in his bones. You saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened for just a moment, before he quickly masked it with a flash of that signature cocky smile.

Ward, tall and imposing in his crisp suit, moved with the sort of authority that always seemed to follow him. Rose, on his arm, was more subdued but equally elegant, her gaze sharp as she surveyed the crowd, clearly scanning for something or someone. Their eyes met Rafe’s across the room, and the tension in his body was palpable.

His hand, which had been resting lightly at your waist, now tightened, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress in a way that made you wonder if he even noticed. But you noticed him. You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he suddenly seemed aware of every movement, every gesture, every word spoken around him.

He cleared his throat, stepping back slightly from you, though his body remained rigid, still keeping you close. “I think my parents just walked in,” he said quietly, as though speaking more to himself than to you, but the edge in his voice was unmistakable.

You looked at him, the reality of the situation settling in. His family—his father, especially—was here, and suddenly everything felt different. The air seemed heavier. The playful banter between you both had shifted into something more guarded, more calculated.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you whispered.

Rafe took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving his parents as they moved further into the room, exchanging greetings with guests. He didn’t speak immediately, as if preparing himself for whatever role he was about to play in front of them. His jaw clenched again, but he quickly forced a smile back onto his face, turning to you.

“Let’s go say hello, yeah?” His voice was smoother now, though you could still sense the unease beneath the surface. It was almost like he was pulling back, retreating into the version of himself he showed them—controlled, perfect, everything his father demanded of him. “Is that okay with you?”

No.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his tension on your shoulders, but you followed him. The closer you got to his family, the more you could feel the pressure build. Rafe's movements were more deliberate now, like he was preparing to play his part in the family drama. You couldn’t help but notice how differently he held himself around them—like a man who knew he would never measure up, no matter how much he tried.

Rafe paused just before reaching them, throwing you a look that was both apologetic and protective. It was as if, for just a moment, he needed you to understand how much this moment mattered. But you weren’t sure if it was about impressing them or surviving the encounter with his family’s expectations. Whatever it was, you could feel it thick in the air, something unspoken but undeniable.

Rafe’s steps slowed as you reached his father, Ward. He was a towering figure, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence seemingly taking over the entire space. Rose, his stepmother, stood slightly behind him, elegant and poised, her eyes a sharp contrast to Ward’s cool and calculating demeanor.

Rafe stopped just short of them, his hand still on your waist, but his stance had subtly shifted—he was guarded, unsure, like he was ready to retreat if the need arose.

“Dad,” Rafe greeted, his voice smooth but lacking its usual confidence. His posture was just a little too stiff, as if waiting for the inevitable judgment that would come with every interaction.

Ward's gaze lingered on Rafe for a beat longer than normal before he acknowledged him, his tone clipped. “Rafe,” he said, the smile on his face barely noticeable, more a polite curve of the lips than anything genuine. “You’re looking well.”

The words hung in the air, but they didn’t carry any warmth. It was a statement of fact rather than praise, and it made your skin prickle. You could feel Rafe tense beside you, his fingers tightening just a little, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he gave a small, practiced smile and nodded. “Thanks, Dad.”

You remained silent for a moment, unsure of where to fit in, but Sarah, ever the warm presence, was the first to step forward. She flashed you a grin, her eyes already lighting up with recognition. “Hey, YN!” she said enthusiastically, her voice a welcome contrast to the tension in the air. "So good to see you again!"

"Hi, Sarah," you responded, your smile easing a little, feeling comforted by her energy. "It’s good to see you too."

She pulled you into a friendly hug, and you found yourself relaxing into it. Sarah had this easygoing charm about her, a lightness that made you forget the weight of the room for a moment. She was everything Rafe wasn’t—effortlessly kind, bubbly, and generous with her affection.

“Wheezie and I were just talking about you,” Sarah added, and you turned to find a petite, younger girl standing a few feet away.

Wheezie’s face lit up when she caught your gaze. “Hi. I’m Wheezie. It’s cool to meet you.”

You smiled at her. “Hi, Wheezie. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly nervous. “You’re a model, right? That’s so cool. I’ve seen your pictures in Vogue!”

You blinked in surprise, warmth spreading in your chest. “You have?”

“Yeah!” Wheezie nodded enthusiastically. “You’re so pretty, and your outfits are amazing. How did you even start doing that?”

Her genuine curiosity was disarming, and for a moment, you forgot the tension hanging in the air. You leaned slightly closer, your smile becoming more natural. “It’s a long story, but I’ll tell you sometime if you want.”

Wheezie’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome.”

Rafe, who had been watching the interaction silently, finally spoke up, his voice tinged with amusement. “Wheezie, you’re gonna scare her off.”

Wheezie flushed, but she grinned up at her brother. “I’m just being friendly.”

“She’s fine,” you said quickly, shooting Wheezie a reassuring smile. “It’s nice to meet someone who’s actually interested in what I do.”

Rose cleared her throat, interrupting the light moment. “Oh, we’re interested in you, dear,” she said, her tone honeyed but with an edge of condescension. “Rafe’s been so secretive about you, it’s about time we got to know you better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologized with a polite smile. “I’m here now, though.”

“Yes, you are,” Ward interjected, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Rafe mentioned your career. It must be… demanding.”

You nodded carefully. “It can be, but I enjoy it. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

Ward tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And maintaining that image must be just as hard. I imagine you have to watch every calorie to stay in shape for your work. Must be exhausting.”

The words hit you like a sharp slap, your chest tightening as old insecurities clawed their way to the surface. You forced a neutral smile, but your nails dug into the palm of your hand to keep steady. “It’s part of the job,” you replied carefully, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you.

Rose waved a dismissive hand, her eyes flitting over you in a way that felt equally invasive. “Don’t listen to him, honey. You look perfectly healthy to me. Honestly, I’d kill to have your body.”

Her words were meant as a compliment, but they were worse than his. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Rafe stiffened beside you, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, his tone firm, a warning laced beneath the words.

But Ward ignored him, his attention still on you. “We’re not saying anything wrong. She does look healthy… in a sickly way.” His smile was thin, and though the words were spoken lightly, there was an edge to them.

You forced another smile, but your composure was slipping. The weight of their attention, the veiled comments, the subtle dissection of your body—it was too much.

“I’m sorry,” you said abruptly, stepping back slightly. “Excuse me for a moment.”

The moment you stepped into the bathroom, the world outside seemed to dissolve. The faint hum of voices from the gathering became muffled as you locked the door and leaned against it, your chest heaving. You clutched your stomach, the ache inside more emotional than physical, as Ward’s and Rose’s comments echoed in your mind.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back, unkind and unforgiving. You pressed your trembling hands against the sink, breathing shallowly as the familiar sensation of panic crept up your throat.

No matter how far you thought you’d come, it was always there — lurking in the shadows, waiting for a moment of vulnerability. Your stomach churned violently, the pressure too much. You barely made it to the toilet before the wave overtook you.

Kneeling on the cold tile, you hated yourself for this relapse. Your body trembled as tears stung your eyes, the shame wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. You knew better. Yet here you were, undone by a handful of careless words.

The door suddenly creaked open. Panic seized you as you tried to compose yourself, but it was too late.

“YN?” Rafe’s voice was low and tentative, laced with worry. He must’ve picked the lock.

You froze, your back to him, trying to will him away. “Go away, Rafe.”

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

You heard the scuff of his shoes as he approached, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”

But then he was kneeling beside you, his presence warm and steady despite the storm raging inside you. His hand gently touched your back, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away.

“I’m here,” he said simply, his tone quiet but firm. He reached out, gathering your hair and pulling it away from your face with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me help.”

The knot in your throat tightened, and a sob escaped before you could stop it. You covered your face with your hands, shaking your head. “I’m so pathetic,” you choked out, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I promised myself I’d never do this again. I’ve tried so hard to move on, to be better. But it’s always there. It’s always waiting for me to fail.”

He paused, his hand stilling for a moment before he spoke. “You’re not failing,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re human. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still standing. That’s not failing, YN. That’s surviving.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you finally turned to look at him. His blue eyes were fixed on you, full of a mix of anger and concern—not at you, but for you. He reached up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentleness that nearly broke you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked carefully.

You hesitated, your walls instinctively rising. But something about the way he looked at you—without judgment, without pity—made you feel safe enough to let them down.

“It’s… it’s complicated,” you began, your voice shaky. “I’ve struggled with this for a long time. Since I was a teenager. Modeling didn’t cause it, but it made it worse. Everyone always has something to say about my body—it’s too thin, it’s too big, it’s never enough.” you swallowed hard, your throat burning. “And tonight… your dad, Rose… they just hit a nerve.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and you could see the anger flickering in his eyes. But he didn’t interrupt, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I was past it,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But it never really goes away. It just… quiets down. Until something like this happens.”

Rafe nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get it,” he said, surprising you. “Not in the same way, but I get it. The pressure, the expectations. Feeling like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.”

You stared at him, the rawness in his voice catching you off guard.

“I’m sorry for that,” you whispered, fresh tears spilling over. “And for what you saw.”

“Don’t apologize,” Rafe said firmly, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not to anyone.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and the sobs came harder now, wracking your body. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried into his chest.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

After what felt like an eternity, your tears began to subside. You pulled back slightly, embarrassed by the mess you’d made of his shirt. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your face.

Rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. This shirt was ugly anyway.”

The small attempt at humor made you smile, even if it was faint. He stood, helping you to your feet, his hand steadying you as you wavered.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze searching for yours.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure. “I just… need a minute. Is that okay?”

Rafe hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave you alone. But after a moment, he nodded. “Alright… Take all the time you need. I’ll be right outside.”

As he stepped toward the door, you felt a pang of guilt. “Rafe?”

He turned back, his expression softening.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For… this.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “Don’t mention it.”

“Are you serious right now?” Rafe’s voice was sharp, cutting through the murmur of conversation like a knife. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Rafe—” Ward started, but his son didn’t let him finish.

“No, you listen to me,” he snapped, his anger palpable. “If you ever talk to her like that, we’re done. I mean it.”

Your heart stopped, and you moved closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“Rafe, calm down,” Rose’s voice said, her tone exasperated.

“No,” Rafe snapped. “I’m not calming down. Do you have any idea what you just did? What your comments did to her?”

There was a beat of silence before Ward spoke, his tone dismissive. “It was just a harmless observation. She’s a grown woman. She can handle it.”

“Harmless?” Rafe’s voice rose, trembling with fury. “You don’t know the first thing about her, and you sure as hell don’t get to say shit like that to her ever again.”

“Rafe—”

“No,” he cut Ward off, his voice firm and unyielding. “You don’t get to do this. Not to her. If you can’t show her some respect for once in your life, then don’t bother talking to her at all.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rising as you listened to him defend you with such ferocity. For all his cocky bravado and sarcastic quips, Rafe had just shown you a side of himself you hadn’t expected.

A side that cared.

A side that would fight for you.

You stepped back, went back to the bathroom, giving him space to finish the conversation. But as you stood there, a small, genuine smile broke across your face.

When Rafe returned to the bathroom, his shoulders were tense, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” you echoed, your voice trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry if I took too long,” he said, sitting beside you on the floor. “I had to take care of some—.”

“I heard you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You heard me?” his brows furrowed. “Heard what?”

“What you said. To them. Ward and Rose.”

“Oh…” his eyes widened. “I’m sorry if you think I stepped a line. It just really pissed me off what they said about you and thought that if you were going to see them again, they should know their li—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Cameron,” you interrupted, a quiet laugh slipping past your lips, the sound easing the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you, though…”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside the room fell away. “Of course.”

He stood and extended a hand to you, palm open and steady. You hesitated for the briefest moment, not because you didn’t want to take it but because the gesture felt like more than it was. When your hand slipped into his, his fingers closed around yours.

You stood, brushing invisible creases from your saree and adjusting the edges with nervous precision. Rafe’s eyes lingered on you, watching the delicate way your fingers moved, the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders as you steadied yourself.

When you glanced up at him, offering a soft, grateful smile, something in his chest tightened, and he knew he was done for.

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said, your voice stronger now.

He nodded, but as you turned toward the door, he couldn’t stop himself from saying it, even if you wouldn’t hear it. “You’re worth it,” he whispered, the words low and raw, like they’d been pulled straight from his heart.

He stood there, hand still tingling from where yours had been, a storm of emotions churning inside him. His mind raced, his heart pounded, and every inch of him felt consumed by something he wasn’t ready to name.

chapter eleven.

[thepossummoldypasta]

Hidden In The Woods

In the woods around Hawkins there is a van, and in that van lives an Eddie. Not a nasty beat-up van in constant need of repair, nor is it a creepy van that looks like it belongs to a serial killer; It’s Eddie's van and that means comfort. It has a perfectly undented body painted green and a mattress in the back. Or well, he doesn't actually live in the van. It's a nice van sure but Eddie lives in a doublewide trailer with his uncle, not his van–no matter how often they joke about it. 

(and there is a small chance he’s lying when he says it doesn't constantly break down)

He’s heading to his van now actually. 

Eddie longs for the ability to teleport at times like this; he’s trudging through the woods after a particularly fucked drug deal, and all he wants is to be in the back of his beloved shitbox, wrapped in blankets and smoking a joint. 

But Eddie can't magically teleport to the van and he also can’t ban Tommy Hagan from buying his weed–who was a major ass today by the way–because he gets most of his income from the jerk. 

He also can’t park closer to where he deals, which sucks. Eddie knows Hopper looks for his van parked on the side roads, so woods it is. Boo.

It's not that much farther….

And it's a nice day...

Plus the trees are pretty…

Eddie loves fall: the trees light up so magically in the sunbeams like a leafy fire, he sees more gray squirrels dancing about the forest floor this time of year, and Halloween is just awesome. 

This Halloween especially. He led a bitchin’ Halloween one-shot with his new DnD club this year and nothing could sour his mood for almost a week afterward. Even though there was some weird pumpkin blight that year that meant no jack-o-lanterns and the controlled burns in the woods behind Forrest Hills kept him up at night all that month. 

Plus he had a really good fall break so far. 

Okay, maybe things aren't sooooo bad. Trust a walk in nature to clear his head. Now that he’s calmed down Eddie can appreciate how nice everything is. 

Wait.

Eddie definitely didn't leave the back of the van open when he left.

Maybe things are shit and Eddie is an idiot. 

Fuck 

He’s lanky and gangly and has no weapon to defend himself with, but Eddie still creeps closer to the doors. 

Hagan couldn't have gotten here before Eddie, so he’s probably not going to get jumped for selling him overpriced weed. Maybe a really smart, really lucky,  raccoon just so happened to get the door open? More likely Eddie opened the damn thing himself, completely forgot about it, and is now making mountains out of molehills…

He props a hand on the closed door and peeks around it into the dim back. And promptly reels back in shock falling flat on his ass. 

It's a total Occam's Razor moment. The easiest and most simple solution is that the universe hates Eddie Munson. Because that's definitely Steve Harrington in the back of his van. He’s snuggled deep into Eddie’s blankets and smelling distinctly more omega than the last time he saw the guy. But it's Steve alright. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck 

What the fuck is Steve Harrington doing in the back of Eddie’s van? He’s never even had a conversation with the guy!

What do you do in this situation! 

Steve’s obviously nested back there, and if He was completely scentless before the fall break he’s gotta be fresh off his presentation heat, so like hell is Eddie going to go barging in–that's a surefire way to get his face ripped off–but Eddie also needs to get in that van eventually! 

He Raises back up on shaky legs, poking his head fully into the back; and takes another good, hard, look. 

There is still a person in the back of his van. A whole-ass person who wasn't in his van when he left. A person who is without a doubt, Steve. 

A rustle of movement, a quick shifting of blankets, pulls Eddie back to reality. There’s a cute little chirr from the nest followed swiftly by chestnut waves of hair shimming out into the open. Eddie isn't even given time to react before doe-eyes bleary with sleep blink down at him. 

“Eddie!” 

And oh isn't that the sweetest little chirp. Eddie watches in astonishment as the omega wiggles to prop himself up against the back of the driver's seat, chirping adorably all the while.  Eddie can't decide if he’s more mystified by The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins™ cuddled up back there, or That he knows Eddie’s name. 

Now that the omega isn't completely cocooned, Eddie can smell that faintest hint of mint that Steve is throwing into the air paired with heady lavender and it draws him in. Before he even realizes he’s followed his nose and clambered into the back of the van… his van. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Eddie starts slowly. Are you comfy?” It's an innocent enough question. Hopefully, if he plays it casually, Steve won't decide Eddie’s a threat and rend him to dust for being in the poor Omega’s space.  

Steve didn't seem to understand at first cooing a cute, drawn-out  “Hi, Eddie” but eventually he blinked owlishly and replied with a smile “So cozy”. 

“That’s nice sweetheart, but how bout we get you to your nest, hmm?” the alpha tries to suggest. Oh but now Steve looks a bit confused; drawing his brows together and pouting. 

“Nest? ‘M in my nest?” Steve says (well actually he whines it, but Eddie is trying to ignore that lest his heart break). Crap what does he do now?

“I–I know you’re nesting right now, uh–but wouldn’t you be–wouldn't you feel better at home?” Eddie reasons. 

“But there’s no nest there!” Steve whines again “They wont let me have a nest! I wanna stay here” 

“Okay, Okay” Eddie soothes in a hushed voice,” you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to sweetheart” Eddie is in so much trouble. Now that he knows Steve won't be pissed at him for being so close, Eddie’s having a hell of a time not being closer.  

Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.  

Eddie coos from a distance until the whines and whimpers peter out and are replaced by soft sleepy snuffles. 

“How did you even get here, big boy?” Eddie questions. The thought has been plaguing him, what happened while he was away?

“I was taking a walk” Steve starts, he lays his head down and his eyes flutter closed before he continues. “I needed to get away and I went into the woods. I got turned around but you saved me.”

“I saved you?” How the hell did he do that? 

“Mmm hmmm, I smelled ya” Steve hums” smelled so good so I followed.” ok, even more confused now. Eddie has an…unconventional scent–basil and tobacco leaf–he can't imagine someone trekking through the woods to find something that smells like pasta sauce and cigarettes. And how long was Steve lost in the woods, how long was he wandering, cold and alone, with only a scent trail for comfort. 

“Hey, Eddie?” 

“Uh yes?” Eddie focuses back on reality, ready to face whatever he’s about to be asked.

“If I’m sleeping beauty, why didn't you wake me with a kiss?” nope not ready for that. 

“Would you? Uh Do–did you want me to?” Steve nods against the soft blanket pillowed underneath him.  

Oh. 

Eddie feels his resolve crack and threatens to shatter. He can't take advantage of Steve when he’s so vulnerable. Is he vulnerable? Steve isn't still in heat, his mind is sound. But he is upset.  Best to leave it be for now. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” 

Dang it.

Steve shoots up–ramrod-like–to nod ecstatically. Eddie's resolve shatters.  Absolutely not helped by Steve’s little please, please, pleases. 

“Okay” 

It's not like there's anyone around to judge him.

It’s like the movies, the way they lean in close and steal each other's breath. Steve tastes like honeyed sunshine. It sweetens the omega’s lavender-mint tea smell in a way that Eddie knows he’ll crave till the day he gets buried six feet under.  Eddie can't tell where he ends and his darling omega begins, drawn so close together that their purrs rattle in both chests. 

Only the lack of oxygen drives them apart, though Eddie tries to fight it. 

“I’ll do better next time princess” the alpha rumbles with care. 

They seal the deal with another perfect kiss. 

Hell yeah.

================================================

based on this post Special thanks to @starshideurfics for inspiring me to have Eddie call Steve sleeping beauty like a SIMP

[sweetshuga]

MS ✰ Bewitched ✧ CS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

contains ⚠︎ smut!, strong language!, suggestive remarks!, obscene descriptions!, polyamory, hint of overstimulation, p in v (unprotected, use condoms irl), threesome, oral (m! receiving), size kink, light s&m, bondage, toys & idk a bunch of kinky stuff °~° ⚠︎

sum. Switching their clothes for a video leads to new sexual discoveries.

wc. 2.1k (2,116)

note. English is not my first language!

You watched from your place on the living room couch as Matt and Chris paced back and forth between their rooms. Seemingly exchanging clothes, laughing and talking about some type of tiktok they’re gonna film. You were only partially paying attention now—the fanfiction you were reading on your phone suddenly taking an interesting turn.

"Hey, ma?" Your head shot up at the sudden interruption, your eyes widened by a fraction when you saw their attire. They had exchanged clothes, and even their jewelleries were of the other. It’s not like they don’t wear each other’s clothes, you’ve seen them share hoodies or pants, but never fully dress as one another.

"Yeah?" You breathed out, your voice coming out a bit too shaky for your liking. "Can you please go into one of our rooms while we film a tiktok? Y’know... we can’t really show you yet." Chris said apologetically, and you nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course, tell me when you’re done." You stood up and made your way towards Matt’s room.

"Sorry about this, sweetheart, we won’t take too long ’promise," you chuckled quietly to yourself before replying with a soft "okay" and closed the door behind yourself. Immediately plopping down on Matt’s bed as you opened your phone, ready to continue reading the fanfic.

Some people might think it’s weird to read fanfictions about your boyfriend— or boyfriends in your case, but you couldn’t deny how hot it was, how much it turned you on. The suggestive part of the fanfic began and just as you got comfortable on the bed Matt walked inside the room.

You looked up from your phone, raising an eyebrow, "you done already?" He chuckled and shook his head no, "Chris is filming his video, I’ll do it after him." You nodded, and motioned for him to come sit beside you. "You should wear bracelets more often, it suits you..." Your voice trailed off as his hand landed on your thigh, giving it a small playful squeeze, and the seemingly innocent gesture sent shivers down your spine.

"Yeah? Maybe I should get a similar one–" he paused, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw the Tumblr logo on your phone, the fanfiction left open and abandoned on the bed beside you. You looked at him confused before following his gaze, a small gasp escaped your lips before you quickly turned your phone off.

You sat up, flustered and embarrassed to have been caught red handed reading such a frisky fanfic about him and Chris. Stammering as you tried to find a good excuse as to why you were reading a smut fanfic in broad daylight – even if you could – but it only made it worse. "You read things like that? What was the name again?"

You looked at him for a solid minute before opening your mouth to speak, only getting out a flustered "what?" in response. The corners of Matt’s lips twitched into a small smirk, "what’s the name?" He repeated himself, his smirk threatened to grow wider with each passing second. "Simple solution," you whispered.

"Hm? And what happens in it?" You gulped softly, feeling your face heat up. "Do I have to? I mean, you can just read it yourself, I know you’ve got Tumblr on your phone." Matt laughed, the sound rich and amused, "yeah I do, but I wanna hear you tellin’ me about it, sweetheart." You couldn’t help but fidget slightly at the pet name, it was one of your faves.

"Uhm... It’s like, well," you stammered, "it’s about how much you and Chris look alike when you wear your caps backwards." You finally blurted out, biting your tongue as you waited for his reaction. "That’s... Interesting? So y’like it when we look alike huh?" He chuckled, thoroughly amused.

The bedroom door opened, and Chris peeked his head in. "I’m done," he walked fully inside the room, grinning and putting his hands on his hips in a mock attempt of display. "So, how do I look, ma?" You chuckled and sat up straight, "So fine, I’ll give you that, the kisses tee is just chefs kiss."

Chris grinned wider, "pirate girl tank or kisses tee?" Your jaw dropped, "how do you expect me to pick one? Also, why didn’t you wear the 'iconic' pirate girl tank?" You nudged Matt playfully, "we’re not recreating outfits... well, basically, but it’s more like how we dress and all—" you cut him off with a laugh, "okay, whatever you say, kid."

"Are you two done filming yet?" Nick popped his head in, looking annoyed, "’cause I’m so fucking hungry, and you keep telling me to stay in my room like what am I? One of your secret girlfriends?" Chris scoffed in faux annoyance, "we’ve only got one girl fyi, and no, Matt hasn’t filmed yet, but go ahead and eat if you’re about to starve to death."

Nick huffed, raising his eyebrows in dramatic disbelief, but didn’t say anything else as he walked away, mumbling under his breath about how ridiculous everything was. Suddenly, Matt spoke—breaking the silence. "I’ll be back," he gave your thigh one last squeeze before standing up to film the short video for tiktok.

Chris smirked and sauntered over to Matt’s bed where you were – still – laying on. Sitting on the edge as his hand absentmindedly started to caress your calves, "so, real talk, how do I look?" You hummed thoughtfully, "real talk? I think you look hot, like 'makes me wet' kinda hot." He let out a surprised yet amused laugh, "bold now ain’t we?" chuckling as he leaned closer.

"Mm... 'makes you wet' kinda hot huh?" He teased, a wolfish grin on his face as his gaze raked over your body appraisingly. "So, you gon’ show me how wet it makes you or do I have to see it myself." His tone wasn’t one of questioning, more like a commanding one as if you were obligated to show him either way. You felt pleasantly surprised, the fluttering in your abdomen growing tenfold.

However, Matt walked in before you could respond. Raising his eyebrows with a small smirk as he sensed the tension in the air. The room seemed warmer, more electric. That’s when Nick opened the door again, "I’ll be out for a bit–" he paused, having sensed the tension as well.

"Well, uh... Don’t be too loud? We don’t need another noise complaint from our neighbours, that’s just borderline embarrassing." With that, he closed Matt’s bedroom door, leaving you three alone. The front door clicked shut a few minutes later. Your mouth hung agape at Nick’s words.

"Damn, kid has no filter whatsoever." Chris chuckled, taking the fanny pack off and tossing it on Matt’s gaming chair. "Hey, easy with it," Matt said as he took off his cap. Putting it on his gaming desk before turning to look at you. Sensing their eyes on you, you suddenly felt a strong heat in your lower abdomen. Their gazes were enough to make you squirm.

"So, now that Nick is out," Chris looked at Matt before looking back at you, "we’ve the house all to ourselves," Matt continued for him. You nodded subtly, shifting slightly on the bed, trying not to show how in need you were. They weren’t stupid, knowing exactly what was happening with you as their handsome faces lit up with amused grins.

You squirmed, a muffled moan exiting your gagged mouth as your hips bucked and jerked when Chris pressed a button on the small remote, making the vibe in between your legs buzz louder. The intense sensation of the vibe, bound to stay precisely on your clit, was enough to make your eyes roll back.

Your ankles were bound as well as your wrists, making you unable to move much as the pleasure coursed through your body. You bit the gag, your back arching and hips rolling as you tried to get the vibe at least a millimeter away from your throbbing clit, but Matt held your hips down and Chris positioned the vibrator so it was exactly on your clit again.

"Aw, too much?" Matt pouted, jutting his bottom lip out in obvious mock sympathy. Your eyes glazed over as a tight knot formed in your stomach, your body trembling as you tried to fight the impending orgasm – knowing it would turn you dumb from how powerful it would be.

Just when you thought you couldn’t hold back anymore, Chris pressed the button until the vibe buzzed at max. An immediate jolt ran through your body as your eyes widened, tears of pleasure threatening to fall as you shut it back closed, loud muffled noises penetrating through the gag.

Your mind blanked when you felt the knot snap, the orgasm so powerful that you wondered if you could stay conscious. Noticing the slight overstimulation, Chris turned the vibe to a low buzz. The sensation bordered on overstimulating in your oversensitized post-orgasmic state – even if it was barely there. Matt chuckled as he took the remote from Chris and turned the vibe off, your body immediately limping into the mattress as the sensations stopped.

Chris gently untied your ankles from the bounds, but kept your wrists tied over your head. His fingers working deftly to remove the bounds from your pelvic area and tossed the vibe somewhere on the bed. Seeing your inner thighs quivering, covered in your juices, and your swollen, glistening folds on display made their cocks twitch.

They were already naked, not seeing the point in having clothes on, but kept the bracelet and rings on per your request. The tips of their hefty lengths were already dripping with precum from how aroused they were, swollen and taut with unfulfilled desires. Matt suddenly stood up from the bed and walked towards his closet while Chris took off the gag.

A few seconds later, Matt was back on the bed, now beside you as he helped you into a sitting position. Your gaze fell down to his hand that held a red silk blindfold before taking it back up to his face, your eyebrows raised. "Where did you even get that?" You asked with a small hint of amusement.

Matt just grinned, "bought it a while ago, been contemplating whether to use it or not, but I think now’s the best time to use it." Chris chuckled, "dude, I can’t believe y’had all this stuff in your closet, laying ’round like that." Matt chuckled and scooted closer to you, his erection bobbing obscenely as he moved. "C’mon, sweetheart, lemme blindfold you." You eagerly closed your eyes, not denying how much you liked this.

The blindfold cut off any source of light, making you feel a shudder of excitement. It was designed for plays like this so it wasn't a surprise that you couldn't see anything. The inability to see only heightened your other senses, every graze and touch of their hands on you seemed to make your body tremble and jolt.

𓆩♡𓆪

Your mind was a haze as Matt pounded into you with hard, deep strokes, and the slight difficulty breathing from Chris’ length down your throat added to the haze. Your mind fogging with pure unadulterated pleasure as they used your holes. Matt held your bound wrists, keeping you from moving as his other hand gripped your hip with bruising strength.

The obscene sounds of squelching from your sopping pussy being filled over and over again by Matt and the slurping sounds of your mouth working Chris filled the room along with the bed creaking underneath you. The position you were having intercourse in was a new one neither you, Matt or Chris had tried before.

Your neck was supported by the edge of the bed, but your head hung down it—allowing Chris to use your mouth. Matt’s pace quickened as he felt himself growing close with each spasm of your inner walls from your previous orgasms, the aftershocks still coursing through you.

Chris moaned as he felt the knot in his stomach growing tighter with each thrust down your throat, the sight of the bulge he was creating with his cock on your throat proving to be too much. You felt them twitch in your holes, their paces quickening and you knew they were close.

With guttural moans they came, one after the other. After a few seconds of shuddering over you, they finally pulled out, leaving you filled with their releases, but you knew better than to think it was over. Your suspicions were proven right when they coaxed you into a different position, but you weren’t complaining. After all, who could resist? They seemed to have you under their spell—bewitching indeed.

𓆩♡𓆪

ps. The fic mentioned in the beginning is actually one of my chratt fics. I know, I know, sneaky mf, but here's the link in case you wanna check it out<3 «Simple Solution»

Also, the beginning part of the actual smut was inspired by this «p link»

Chratt taglist: @bells-sturn @h3arts4nat @zombiesturniolo @urfavnickgirl @cwistofurr @goingtojohnkramershouseee @blahblahblahm @shoo-00 @ariana2saucyy @ksturnz @sturniolos4life16 @strnlslut @babysturniolo @ashleighpray23 @bl1ssfulbunn1e @ijustbelurkingmymen

♡ If you wanna be tagged on my future Chratt fics click «here» and interact with the post ♡

© sweetshuga

[diejager]

wondering how doesn't reader get pregnant after a lot of action with both horangi and könig, especially when König prefers to breed reader rather than his wife.

also do they have breeding kink? and what would be reader's reaction if there's a possibility of pregnancy, that would be so dramatic ig coming from reader's mom.

I hope this answered your question! cw: breeding kink, drug replacement?, mention of abortion, forced pregnancy, mention of stalkholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

The answer is simple: you either take pills, or got an IUD installed (honestly, that’s what I have since I have so many friends who’ve told me that pills have bothersome side effects and I’m forgetful so I won’t be able to remember to take them every day.).

A) If you take pills, König will replace them with a placebo, he has his ways, relationships built on years of work and alliance. So it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone who can produce placebos for your birth control. Since he’s made a habit of staying near you whenever he can, seeing as he’s retired, it would be weird if he went out for so long. He has Horangi pick it up, meeting with the agent who’s sent to give them a year worth of box.

B) If you had an IUD installed, he’ll search your room for that little card it comes with when you’re not home, look at the date and he has two options. 1) if he doesn’t want to wait the time, be it a year or two, anything between one and five, he’ll talk to you about taking it out. 2) if he can wait, he’ll use the time to break you in, let you settle with this relationship and get you used to the dynamic they have in mind. Patience is a virtue after all, like a little pet project of theirs.

They definitely have a breeding kink. Ironically enough, they’re family men, a bit rough on the edges and tactile in their ways, very touchy-feely. They like to be hands on, holding you down as they fill you up, fingers bruising your skin with brands, to let people - and you - that you belong to them. König might be fidgety, never being one to sit still and do nothing, but he is patient, like a predator in hiding. Horangi’s a tiger in a hunt, slow and steady steps, certainty exhuming from every decision he takes. They don’t make a decision without telling the other, Horangi and König are a team, they were and always will.

Whichever contraceptive you took, it wouldn’t mater much in the end, you’d end up with morning nausea and a positive on your test. You’re in tears, balling your eyes out and panicking, breathe rapid and shallow, near hysteric as your mind goes through all the different scenarios of what ifs. You might’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of your situation, pregnant with the child of your stepfather or your neighbour. What would your family think? Your mother who’s oblivious and ignores your cries for help; your father who didn’t know where wen after your mom indefinitely cut your contact; or your living grandparents that lives God knows where.

Unlike you, hysteric and frantically searching for a solution to your problem, König is excited, calling Horangi to tell him the great news of your pregnancy. He has a smile on his lips when he finds you, shushing your tears and cooing soft praises. König tells you what a good mother you’d be, what a responsible Stay-at-home mother, with gentle hands and loving lips. When Horangi’s here, he picks you up, holding you in his arms and peppers you in kisses, a few deep, feverish ones, full of passion, and a few wild ones on the corner of yours lips and your cheeks.

Your mother is less frantic than you, worried, but not panicking. As a mother, she’ll ask about the pregnancy, who the father is (knowing you weren’t one to sleep around), and help you. You’re embarrassed at yourself, unable to tell her that the two men in the room are the kid’s father. You’re silent, head bowed down in shame and fidgeting, anxious and terrified, you were in your army 20’s, still in University to finish your bachelor’s degrees and now you’re pregnant. Horangi steps up, telling her that you’ve been having relationships with him - excluding the fact that her husband had a hand in everything as well - in occasions. She’s seen how close you are with Horangi, nearly sitting on his lap at times and often seen in his company.

She’s supportive, ignorent of all the mess in your life. Granted, she’s a bit disappointed, but you’re an adult, she can’t dictate your life like her parents did to her. So all she can do is support you, take l’ombre time off to walk you through the basics of parenthood and the nausea and emotional rollercoaster a pregnancy brought. You want to tear your hair out from the roots down at how oblivious your mother is, but you’re scared of getting an abortion, or if it’s legal at all.

Your angry, stressed and panicked, emotions flaring up with your unfortunate situation with no one to talk to, to turn to, all you want to do is cry. What can you do when you have an ignorant mother and two possessive and criminally wrong men with bloody hands and unrestrained connections.

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[cayleeuhithinknott]

you’re way too tired to deal with your curly hair.

it’s late. way too late to be doing this. you’ve already convinced yourself it doesn’t matter; you’ll deal with the consequences of not doing your curly hair routine in the morning. besides, who has the energy for all those steps after a shower at 11pm? but matt notices the way you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, towel draped over your shoulders, staring blankly at the collection of products on your dresser like they’ve personally offended you.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, pulling his hoodie sleeves up as he crosses the room. “you look like you’re debating world peace over there.”

you sigh dramatically, tilting your head back to look at him. “i just washed my hair, and i don’t feel like doing my whole routine. it’s too much work.”

his eyebrows lift, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “that little routine with all the potions and the weird scrunching thing you do?”

“it’s not weird, nor are their potions,” you protest, already feeling defensive. “it’s necessary. curly hair takes work.”

“then let me do it,” he says, shrugging like it’s the simplest solution in the world.

you blink at him. “what?”

“let me do it. how hard can it be? you just, like, put the stuff in, right?”

you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s not that easy, matt. there’s a system.”

“well, teach me,” he says, already grabbing the first bottle he sees from your dresser and inspecting it like it’s a secret weapon. “i’m a quick learner.”

against your better judgment, you agree, mostly because the idea of sitting there while matt fumbles his way through your routine is already making you giggle. you grab your wet brush, a leave-in conditioner, and a gel—just a few simple products this time for him—then sit cross-legged on the bed while he takes his spot behind you.

“okay, first step,” you say, handing him the oddly shaped brush, “you need to detangle it while it’s still wet.”

he stares at the brush like it’s a foreign object. “this thing looks like a weapon.”

“it’s not. it’s a detangling brush. just…start at the ends and work your way up.”

he hums, skeptical but determined, and starts brushing your hair. or, well, tugging at it awkwardly. “jeez, your hair is fighting me,” he mutters, holding a section like it might bite him.

you’re laughing so hard you’re almost crying. “you have to be gentle, matt! you’re not trying to rip it out.”

“i am being gentle,” he insists, though his heavy-handed technique suggests otherwise.

eventually, he gets the hang of it, and when he finally detangles a section without yanking your head back, he pauses to give himself a proud little nod. “see? told you i’d figure it out.”

“you’re amazing,” you say, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

next comes the leave-in conditioner. you explain how much to use, but when you glance back, you see him squeezing way too much into his palm.

“matt, no,” you gasp. “you don’t need that much!”

“it’s like frosting,” he says, grinning as he squishes it between his fingers.

“it’s not frosting. it’s expensive, and you’re wasting it!”

he rolls his eyes but listens, spreading the conditioner through your hair with a concentration so intense you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing. every so often, he pauses to shake his head or mutter something about how “high-maintenance” your hair is, or throw in a “this is ridiculous” here and there. but, there’s a softness in the way he works his fingers through your curls that makes your chest ache in the best way.

by the time he gets to the gel, he’s in full “professional stylist” mode, scrunching your curls like he’s always seen you do while occasionally glancing at you for approval.

“am i doing it right?” he asks, holding up a section of hair like it’s a masterpiece.

“shockingly, yes,” you tease, leaning back into him a little.

“rude,” he says, but his tone is playful, and you can feel the smile in his voice.

when he’s finally done with your routine, he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and leans back to admire his work. “not bad, huh? i think i nailed it.”

“you did,” you admit, turning to look at him. “but you’re not done yet.”

he frowns. “there’s more?”

“the bonnet,” you say, holding it up.

he stares at the silky fabric like it’s some kind of alien object. “what the hell is this? you sleep in a shower cap? baby, i knew you were weird—and i love you for it—but wearing a shower cap to bed is kind of absu—“

“it’s to protect my curls while i sleep,” you explain, cutting him off. “here, put it on me.”

“how am i supposed to—y’know what? yeah—hell yeah, i got this. i’m a pro,” he says, the grin tugging at his lips tells you he’s fully convinced he is a pro.

you tilt your head toward him, and he reluctantly takes the bonnet, stretching it out and awkwardly trying to fit it over your sopping curls.

“stop moving,” he complains, laughing as you wiggle around on purpose.

“you’re doing it wrong,” you tease, giggling. “you’re supposed to tuck the curls in first.”

“why didn’t you say that earlier?” he groans, but there’s no real frustration in his voice.

when he finally gets it on properly, he sits back, crossing his arms like he’s just won an award. “there. all done. you’re welcome.”

“thank you,” you say, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

he smirks, glancing at you with that familiar mix of affection and amusement. “you look adorable,” he says, tugging playfully at the edge of the bonnet.

“shut up,” you mumble, but you’re smiling.

“nah, i’m serious,” he says, pulling you into his lap. “cutest damn thing i’ve ever seen.”

you roll your eyes, but the warmth in his gaze is undeniable, and you can’t help but lean into him, grateful for his willingness to fumble his way through something so personal to you. he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

a/n: i know matt is lowkey dumb in this sorry I THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNYYYY anyway my curly hair has been pissing me off so this is for me and the other curly girls 💖

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @strnilolover @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @slctsblogana

[babyleostuff]

[ 💿 ] . . . TAPE 5

어쩌다 보니 처음으로 마주하는 오늘이라서 / 사무치게 아픈 말 한마디에 내가 더 싫어도 / 신경 쓰지 말자 / 우리 목소리로, 어디서라도 부르자 / 청춘찬가

☁️ cheers to youth by seventeen [vocal unit]

being loved by kwon soonyoung means being loved like little children love life before they start to experience the hardships of it. when you are together there is such carefree, sincere joy between you - his love makes you want to keep going, even after a hard day. the way you could describe hoshi's love is carefree, simple, free, etc - but so full of love and the desire to discover everything with you, day after day. thanks to him, you try to see the world in rose tinted glasses, because how can you not - he is such a lovely, bubbly, but oh so hardworking person, and it somewhat makes you want to become an even better person for him, so you could give the love right back to him. 

being loved by kwon soonyoung means you will never feel alone again. is it necessary to mention that hoshi loves physical touch? and let’s multiply his clinginess by at least ten when it comes to you - so in this sense, you will definitely not be alone. but this also extends to your struggles and whatever hardships you’re battling with. even if he’s not able to come up with any solution to your problem or answer to your question - soonyoung doesn't want you to ever feel alone with your worries, so he will always stay by your side holding your hand. 

being loved by kwon soonyoung means chaos. but oh, that chaos is beautiful. it’s full of love, happiness, laughter, hugs, inside jokes, stolen kisses under a cherry blossom, and dances in the rain - things that only happen in books (or so you thought). hoshi is like a little tornado of energy and a thousand emotions that make you feel alive every single day. not a day goes by where you don’t get swarmed by him, and his never ending love that he so loudly and proudly shows. some might say it could be overwhelming, imagine being around such a hyper and “loud” person so often, but you wouldn't trade hoshi's chaos for anything else. never. 

being loved by kwon soonyoung feels like running through the fields on a summer day, like a picnic in the living room because it's raining outside, like big teddy bears won at an amusement park, like his laugh and smile, like inside jokes that only you can understand.

“there are darknesses in life and there are lights; you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.” - bram stoker "dracula"

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @haneulparadx @zozojella @hoichi02

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[brehaaorgana]

ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

[madamealys]

Imagine Aemond and Aegon Targaryen take you as their wife. (+21)

***

The king is on the throne room, listening to the babbling of his nobles. Today’s topic concerns the marriage of his sons. Since the queen only delivered him boys, Viserys is not inclined to search for a bride that is not a Targaryen. And despite the strong protests of his wife, there is a good solution for it that might also appeal to his brother, Daemon, as well as that follows the Targaryen tradition: betrothing his daughter to Aegon.

In the meantime this occurs, whilst the solution is agreed between the king and the council, no one can foretell what a simple arrangement might result. And so whilst they are leaving in discussions concerning Aemond’s betrothal, let us take a look at what is happening outside these quarters.

Notwithstanding the fact that you are the daughter of the feared and powerful Daemon Targaryen, who took residence at Dragonstone with his sister-wife Rhaenyra Targaryen, you are everything he is not.

Sweet tempered, gentle, kindhearted and good. Your wit is as sharp as any sword, your tongue, when provoked, cut as hard as any iron. You are patient, often tolerant to others flaws. This makes you a great companion to all.

As the only daughter of Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra, it does surprise to those who know them for a long while that you came up with a different personality. Regardless, they spoil you and only want the best for you. And Daemon knows that by the time of your marriage age, he is not marrying you to anyone. Perhaps your father is aiming higher than you know.

You’ve grown close to your brothers: Jace being close to you in age has always been your twin. But you were also close to Luce, a sort of mother to Joffrey, Viserys and Aegon. Being the only lady amidst these men also meant that you were very protective by them.

Now years went by and you are a well formed women, whose uncle requested you to spend some time at court—probably in ignorance of the plans arranged for you between him and your parents.

Your oldest brother, Jacaerys, is already married to his cousin Baela Velaryon, all the whilst Lucerys is married to her sister, Rhaena. Joffrey is betrothed to Sara Stark, and even Viserys and Aegon are about to be betrothed to some good noble lady. You remain unmarried, though.

This idea does not occupy your thoughts for many times since you prefer to spend your time helping your mother, with whom you are very close, and flying your dragon, Dreamfyre. Due to your introspective and intense nature, it is in the air where you feel mostly… free and wild, a side you like to keep to yourself.

But ever since you’ve been summoned by the king, you suspect your liberty and wilderness are about to be end. Resigned to your sense of duty—for duty means to sacrifice who you are, or part of it anyways—, you speak nothing of the matter.

“Remember, my daughter, who you truly are”, your mother, who is carrying another child in her belly, speaks to you in the day you are departing to King’s Landing next to your father. “A Targaryen, no more, no less. Equal to all.”

You understand that she and the Queen Alicent do not always see eye to eye. The subtle warning is there, but you too have your share of pride. You smile.

“I shall not disappoint you, mother.”

“I know you won’t. You are my daughter, every bit of me is in you.”

That saying, Rhaenyra kisses your forehead and you are finally ready to leave.

***

Aegon is waiting impatiently for his betrothal. With Aemond by his side, both brothers can only conjecture about the cousin whom they last saw when everyone was a toddler. Both recollect you differently: Aegon judged you as a child who had weird interests; but Aemond understood you as someone who had a very interesting side underneath a gentle demeanor.

“I hope you do your duty well, Aegon”, muses Aemond thoughtfully.

“How else should I do? I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I am not allowed to forget that”, and then Aegon shoots an amusing glance to his younger brother. “What a shame the crown cannot be shared with you, though.”

Aemond limits himself to a roll of eyes, but Aegon knows he agrees with his sarcastic remark. But soon they are distracted of their small talk for the heavy iron doors of the Red Keep are about to open, with the King’s herald announcing your name and your father’s.

Every sound dies before such announcement, but what matters is how you are seen by your betrothed. Aegon looks astonished by the woman you’ve blossomed to. Your silver locks tied in perfectly braid seem to reinforce your heart-shaped face, whose intent lilac eyes mirror innocence.

Your rosy lips open shyly in an inviting smile, and Aegon cannot help wonder what it would be like to kiss you. It doesn’t really help that your black gown reinforces your curves.

Aemond too cannot help lingering his gaze on you. A damsel in every sense of the word, you are like a character of the novels he used to read as a child. Fond memories of the time spent together in this period rush in the back of his mind.

Lovely as always, he thinks to himself, suddenly aching for the idea of never having you. But… he cannot help himself either, can he? Must Aemond be the second in everything, a shadow of his brother?

“Greetings, niece!”, King Viserys smiles down at his brother’a child. He leaves the table to greet you properly, and Daemon is smirking proudly in response. The rogue prince is more than aware of the attentions you caught, specially of two royal princes, which only fuels his ego.

His ambitions will fruit, he knows.

“Your Grace, my uncle”, you dip to a curtsy. “I appreciate your warm welcome.”

“Soon we will be united as one once again. Tradition shall follow like has always been dictated since the days of Old Valyria”, boasts King Viserys. “Y/N is such a pearl, brother. How on earth did you manage to produce a lovely daughter?”

“A question I often ask myself, brother”, says Daemon, proudly. “She is my only girl, very precious to us. We don’t expect a marriage that is below of the prize she is.”

“Father!”, you protest shyly.

“Don’t be too humble, daughter. It’s the true”, he smirks at you, gently ruffling your hair. “We must always be aware of who we are.”

“Then let us celebrate this union. I notice our sister hasn’t come. What happened?”

“Rhaenyra is heavily pregnant, in due time to labor now.”

Whilst they exchange amenities, you are heading to your seat when Aegon comes to greet you. This tall, handsome man, whose looks mirror yours, astonishes you with such a charm that your knees go weak.

It doesn’t really help your case that Aemond is promptly joined by his side. You blush.

“My lords”, you curtsy graciously. “I appreciate the warm welcome.”

“My lady”, greets Aegon, pompously. “How different you look.”

“Forgive my brother”, subtly Aemond meddles in the conversation. “He lacks gallantry when it comes to words. You have grown to a beautiful woman, cousin.”

You detest how the presence of these two men affect you. Worse, that not only your betrothed allures you, but so does his brother.

Aegon flushes, irritated with how poetic Aemond is towards you.

“How could I when a beauty like our dear Y/N stands before us? A mortal could not voice out the most proper form to express such an awe.”

“Oh, please. I am unworthy of these praises though I deeply appreciate them. Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening together? I have missed the company of you both for a while.”

You smile. And soon subtle rivalries dissolve. How could they deny you anything?

***

It’s been a curious, unspoken agreement that you arranged with Aegon and Aemond. The mornings are spent with the latter and the evenings with the former. The evening you spend by your soon to be mother-in-law, whom you manage to charm.

Today, you are flying with Aemond. You come to figure out how you two have lots in common: the same taste for history, philosophy, art and even politics. Not to mention, dragons, of course.

“You are nothing like your father”, muses the quiet prince, once you two land the dragons somewhere nearby a lake, out of the people’s sight.

“This is something I hear often”, you smile at him, eyeing his handsomeness even though part of you admonishes for desiring a man who is not going to be your husband. “But we have some traits we share. Like the taste for wilderness. We are not easily tamed.”

“I’ve always sensed you had something of the sorts in you, Y/N. You pose as the good lady, but are you?”

“I am dutiful”, you say. “I do my duties. Never claimed or aimed to be perfect.”

“Neither have I, even though my dutiful performances have been somewhat misinterpreted”, he snorts.

Before you know, you take his hand in yours. Unconsciously, fingers are laced.

“I think you’ve been misunderstood for a very long time, dear Aem. And I wish so many of us saw that.”

Silence hangs for a while. You and him share a long gaze. You find yourself wishing he kissed you, but Aemond knows his place. He looks away and withdraws his hand. Never before you felt so cold. So you sigh.

***

All the whilst you engage in conversations with the Queen, learning queenship from Lady Alicent herself, Aegon finds Aemond in the corner of the court, observing you with a mix of admiration and distrust.

“If this was about to any other man, I’d have him hanged for looking at such a manner to my wife”, says Aegon, amused.

Aemond has the decency of blush and look away.

“Pardon me for prying, brother.”

“What is there to be pardoned? She is a handsome woman, I give you that. Like honey, too sweet to avert the gaze away”, says Aegon, encouraging his brother to share. “Rumour has it that Aegon shared Visenya with his Baratheon brother.”

Aemond scoffs.

“Visenya wouldn’t play this part, surely. You must be mistaking to Rhaenys.”

“Either one, they shared her, didn’t they? And like my namesake, Aegon was no jealous man.”

The one-eyed prince turns his head to his older brother, intrigued by the subtle suggestion.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, Aegon? Straight to the point if you may.”

Aegon smirks at him.

“I think that, since she likes you too, we should both take Y/N as our wife.”

***

Aegon awaits you this evening in his privy chambers. He’s been anxious for this moment, even though with his mother’s strong presence at court, he didn’t have any moment alone with you aside of public courtship.

A knock of the door is heart, taking away of his thoughts. The prince of Dragonstone stands, concealing his unusual insecurity. When he opens it, he is struck at the thought of you.

So beautiful in the green color, your full breasts almost out of the tight gown you purposely chose to reinforce your curves. The desire alight in Aegon’s eyes makes you dripping wet in your legs, but you know this is the farthest you go to tease him.

Right?

“My prince”, you dip to a curtsy as you walk inside the door, shivering when hearing the click that locks it behind you.

“My princess”, he then takes the chair for you to sit and makes sure to pour red wine in your glass before serving you himself.

When earning you a smile, Aegon forgets that he one day was the charmer, never the charmed.

“You look gorgeous, cousin.”

“I could say the same about you, lord. Thank you. I’ve been looking forward to hearing more of you, out of the prickly ears of the court”, you tell him.

“Indeed. Formalities are not my thing, I’m afraid. But at least the king has been noticing me”, Aegon doesn’t usually open himself this way and when noticing what bursted out of his tongue, he prefers to occupy himself with wine.

You do notice, though, and try to captivate him by sharing something about you.

“Despite being close to my family, I was raised to be somebody else’s wife. I know I was not allowed to choose my heart, even if my parents did.”

Aegon reads you, you spot some early distrust despite the mutual attraction. You feel eager to please him, but you hold back yourself. Eventually he settles.

“I do lament that I am your groom and not Aemond.”

You blush, but do not fly away of the subtle accusation.

“Well, I was always closer to Aemond in age and in interests, my dear, but this does not mean I regret that you are the one I will espouse.”

His slander fingers play on top of the table, and you find yourself holding your breath. When does this tension suddenly come up?

The stare he gives you pierces your soul and you know that, if he wanted you to, you’d be on his knees before him, pledging innocence. But why does the mere image of you in this position arouse you?

“I am hard to love”, muses Aegon, resented. “I am by no means jealous of you and Aemond, but…”

And your anxiety takes your best, of course. You rush to his side and take his hands into yours, surprising him by the urge of your usual composed manners.

“My prince, my liege, you are no hard to love. Your smile enchants me, your eyes read my soul like no other. Your jokes bring a smile to my lips, your good manners give me the certainty that I am not marrying a monster.”

“How can you be certain of this?”, Aegon inquires, puzzled.

“We are lights and shadows. I saw both of them in you and I still choose you.”

He knows you speak the truth, so he lifts you and pinning against the wall, Aegon kisses you. You realize you’ve been longing for this kiss, wishing to feel the taste of his mouth, to pair your tongue with his.

Your husband to be is as sinful as you are a saint. And yet you let him have his way with you. Soon, his mouth is on your neck and sounds start to leave yours.

“My beautiful princess”, Aegon works to kiss your chest, almost ripping your gown with his teeth to get into your breasts.

“Calm down, lord. I need to get to my chambers in whole state”, you smirk at him.

And it’s when you are surprised by how easily he slips to his knees, his lustful eyes wiping off your smirk.

“L-Lord…”

“I want to hear you call my name, Y/N”, he lifts the skirts of your gown, caressing your paled thighs. “I want you to sleep thinking of me doing this to you. Rewarding for being such a good princess.”

And he at first inserts his finger in you, getting you aroused. You are surprised to find yourself so wet, as well as he.

“Never before untouched?”, Aegon asks you, sounding too anxious.

“Never”, you moan, eyelashes barely lift as you search support in the wall. Your hips begin to follow his finger, and you get scandalously louder as his finger finds deeper ways to get to your core.

Aegon watches you in awe and lust, ignoring the bone he has for being the reason you are coming undone—and not Aemond. Though he wills to share with his brother, he knows that ultimately the prize of having you like this is his.

“Let me ruin you”, he groans before replacing his fingers with his mouth.

His tongue dives into your womanhood, twirling around your clot before sucking it skillfully. You are breathless, burning, aching for this prince. Your mind goes blank and all you can think is of this blissful experience of being ruined by this man to whom you are expected to marry.

He drinks every juice he can of you, not stopping until you are about to release. And when you think you do, he removes his face away and stands in absolutely composed.

“Aegon!”, you protest, vexed to be left this way.

“You don’t think I’ve noticed how you teased me?”, he smirks, approaching to you. “We will fuck you, my lady. My brother and I. You wait and you will see.”

Never before you got so pink before.

And when Aegon smiles devilish to you, you are surprised by your own thoughts of wishing this to be true.

***

Aemond is practicing his sword this day when he spots you at a corner, unaccompanied. The one-eyed prince, who happens to be shirtless in this lonely practice, tosses away the sword to greet you in a gentleman like manner.

“My lady Y/N”, he doesn’t mind to get a shirt and dress when you stare at his perfect abs, which makes him smirk. “To what do I get the honor of your presence?”

“Aegon has departed to Citadel to visit Daeron”, you tell him, trying to control your impulses. “The queen forbade me to follow him. She said I’m under your charge, lord.”

Aemond moves from the yard to get to you. You find yourself holding your breath at the proximity of him. Suddenly both arms lock you against the wall.

“Are you now?”, and here he lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Are you playing with us, my lady? Have you been instructed to turn me against my brother?”

Though he sees he’s offended you by the suggestion, Aemond does not take back what he said. And even though you are annoyed by these unflattering words, you don’t run from a fight either.

“You may call me many things, my prince, even though I judged you to know me better than this. But I am no home wrecker.”

And here he pins you against the wall, much to your dismay. He begins to unlace your gown, completely not fearful of being caught. And you barely protest, already dripping wet by how he presses his knee against your womanhood.

“Who am I to judge?”, he lowers his gaze to your mouth, your neck and your breasts. “These are lovely nipples, Y/N.”

You’d have decency covered them, but guessing your moves have Aemond hold your wrists above your head. You are at his mercy and he knows it.

“My brother told me about the gowns you wear, aware of how they reinforce each. But he did let me take a look at them before him.”

A sensible person would have been horrified for being in this position, but you feel aroused by this. To know they wish you like you wish them makes you warm.

As if he reads your mind, Aemond starts to caressing your right nipple, pleased to see you horny.

“Aemond…”, you moan.

Naughty that he is, underneath that dutiful demeanor he puts so well to the public, it’s this prince who speaks dirty to your ear.

“You will be fucked so well, my love, that you shall not have to choose, I promise you. Aegon and I have always shared what we loved the most”, and saying so he bites down your ear. “I will fuck your pussy until you burn and you will feel it with my being. The first born son will be mine, though. I know it.”

And then his indecent tongue paces around your lips only to get to your neck and then…

“Aemond!!”

Like a thirsty prince, he sucks each nipple, biting it, craving it desperately. You want more, you are doomed, you know well. Your pious conscience accuses you of whoring, but nothing is stronger than giving yourself to this prince.

But of course Aemond has to interrupt it.

“We best not get caught”, he whispers, smirking victorious before the protest you shoot him in a gaze. “I thought you liked it, no?”

You pull him for one long kiss, though, and every lust is carefully put aside as Aemond, albeit hesitantly, kisses you back.

Not long after that, the rogue prince realizes that he left more than lust in the taste of your tongue.

***

The marriage, albeit scandalous, happens. Fortune rises underneath tradition. Some might say this is Aegon and his wives in other forms, back to the flesh in another version… certainly a good omen for those who believe in old stories.

Feasts and tournaments are thrown by the king and his brother to celebrate this unique union, never before seen until the day Aegon espoused his two sister wives.

“I hope that you know what you are doing”, says Rhaenyra at this day of your marriage. “These are wayward boys, one of whom nearly got into a fight with Lucerys.”

“I remember that night well, mother”, you try not to sound so irritating at your mother’s grudge. “This is not the time to speak of what has long been buried in the past. If I recall well, they have amended their relationship and all is well, as it should be.”

“I only worry over you, my daughter.”

You gently place a kiss over your mother’s face and smile at her.

“I aim as high as any Targaryen would in my position.”

“As ambitious as your father”, so chuckles Rhaenyra.

“I am his daughter too, after all.”

And you two smile in confidence.

***

Later that evening, bedding ceremony begins. You want both of your husbands there in your chamber. And when they show up, you cannot believe your eyes.

“Lady Y/N, you are beautiful”, says Aegon, already partially naked. He’s the one to pull you, making sure you stand between him and Aemond.

You feel Aemond’s cold hands rest in your hips, giving you shivers.

“We have all been longing for this, haven’t we?”, he murmurs in turn.

You turn your head at him, barely blinking as he is about to kiss you but this moment is stolen by Aegon, who plants his lips against yours. It’s a slow kiss, peppering for what’s coming all the whilst Aemond slowly lifts your nightgown, caressing gently your tits before removing it over your head.

“I am too fortunate, I’m afraid”, you whisper before stroking Aegon’s face. “Such handsome men.”

You kiss him back before breaking it to do the same with Aemond. Now Aegon leans to kiss your neck, whilst his brother plays with your tits.

You get hornier and naughtier, moaning softly before these teasings.

“There’s no need to play the good girl anymore, Y/N”, says Aemond, biting down your lip.

“Indeed”, and here Aegon pulls back your hair as his brother inserts his finger in your womanhood. “We will ruin you, won’t we, Aemond?”

You gasp as Aemond fucks you with his finger, trying not to lose control as Aegon kisses your neck and plays with your tits again.

“We will, indeed. But I need a reward for all this waiting…”

“We both need it”, agrees Aegon. “Show us what you are capable of, Y/N.”

So indecently you go down to your knees. Your eyes spark bright when looking at each erected manhood, unsure what to choose first until you start to caress Aemond’s all the whilst giving the privilege to Aegon’s.

You come to agree with both of them. You are hardly a saint, or divine by any means. You lust after each, and you devour these cocks with devotion. Pausing in between, you let them guide you.

It’s indecent, it’s sinful, but you like this. And so do they.

“Let us treat our princess kindly”, says Aegon, leading you to bed. “Not sparing my seed in these red lips…”

And here he uses his two fingers to play with your mouth, which you promptly devour. Only then he inserts them into your womanhood. Oh, how condemned you are. Such is the price for loving these wayward brothers.

“You may go, brother. I will watch”, says Aemond.

His voice purrs something in you and you find yourself a beggar. Where has your pride gone to? Oh, nowhere to be found.

“My lord!”, you push Aegon to your lips, so you kiss him fiercely and passionately. “Please!”

Aegon smiles like a lion, aware that he has the prey he wants under his power. Thus it is he finally makes way to penetrate you, deflowering his beautiful flower after years of repressing his desire for you.

In the meantime you and Aegon consume this flame, Aemond burns alone, touching his manhood before the scene he watches, which in turn wakes in him darkest desires. He wants to possess you, to make you his, to dispute over your flesh, to hear you call his name.

But there is something powerful in delegating this to Aegon, submitting to his brother’s will even here.

As Aegon collapses over you, he doesn’t let his brother to waste his seed. Though your womanhood is sensitive, you ache for more. They know you are as hungry as they are.

Aemond doesn’t need to be summoned. He crawls over your body, and here with no eyepatch to cover his eye, you stare at old wounds, at his taunted gaze covered by a beautiful sapphire.

“Fuck me”, you mewl under his powerful stare. “Aemond…”

He is gentle at first. Slow is his touch over your curves, taking his time in holding your face, drinking on your pleading eyes as he cups your nipples, touching each until they are hardened enough to make you beg. Only then he bends over you, kissing you passionately, prompted to release his fire.

It’s indeed a very wild evening. Soon Aegon comes to dispute you. Suddenly all of the three are sitting in bed, and you are in heaven. Standing in between them, your husbands’ mouth devour your exposed skin, and new levels of pleasure are disclosed as you are under their power.

Neither part dares to stop what’s been doing however until you throw your head back at Aemond’s shoulder and let a cry out.

“The dragon lady has burnt”, so whispers Aegon in your ear, watching as Aemond kisses you softly.

What a night. Oh what a night indeed. And you couldn’t have been happily married, could you?

***

Epilogue.

What has started as a lustful game between the three parts soon results in a successful partnership. You do love each brother and they love you in turn.

To a general astonishment, this works like in Aegon I’s days. You rule court, playing your part well. Welcoming guests with your smile and good manners, much of which you’ve learned from the former Queen, who actually cares for you like a daughter she never had.

All is well. You are Daemon Targaryen’s daughter after all. Peace is established successfully and familial relationships are restored. Soon, your brothers are back to frequent court with their wives whom you delight to call sisters.

In due time, you prove to be as fertile as your lady mother. You produce fifteen children, not many of which come to adulthood. These are:

1. Jaehaerys II, who takes as his wife his sister; had offspring of their own.

2. Rhaenyra, wife of Jaehaerys.

3. Maegor, lord of Harrenhal; he first took as espouse his sister, Daella, but she died in childbirth; then he contracted a new marriage to Minisa Tully.

4. Maekar, lord of Summerhall: took as wife his sister, Rhaena.

5. Rhaegar, died in infancy, known as Prince of Winter.

6. Rhaena, Lady of Summerhall; wife to Maekar.

7. Baela, lady of High Garden.

8. Daeron, became a Maester at Citadel.

9. Aerys, lord Hightower; married lady Gaena Tyrell.

10. Helaena, lady of Winterfell.

11. Mariah, died in infancy.

12. Visenya, lady of Casterly Rock.

13. Daenys, lady Arryn.

14. Viserys, ward of the West.

15. Alys, Viserys’s twin and wife.

***

“You are still as gorgeous as ever”, whispers Aegon in your ear.

It’s late evening and both of your husbands are found in your arms. You still shiver at how King Aegon speaks to you, how he plays with your tits. You purr lightly.

“Oh Egg, you know not what you speak”, you giggle quietly. “Despite my efforts in looking elegant to you and Aemond, I gave birth to fifteen children.”

He plants a kiss over your forehead, careful in not waking Aemond, who sleeps against your left breast. From certain perspective, you three are engulfed in one another.

“I maintain my word. When did I ever look out of our bed, wife?”, says he, once very familiar amidst brothels before marrying you.

You turn at him with malice in your eyes as you speak.

“No whore does what you taught me to do to you”, you smirk.

Aegon sighs heavily, sinking into your lips again.

“Always restless.”

You chuckle.

“Not always”, you lean against his chest. “But I have been blessed, that is for sure.”

As you stroke Aemond’s hair, you slowly drift to sleep, glad that Aegon is looking after you.

“Haven’t we all?”

Chroniclers maliciously say you’ve married Aegon out of duty and Aemond out of pleasure, but what do men know of a woman’s heart? You love them both, with no difference of affections. And you are more than pleased to know they are not jealous when it’s about you.

It’s how it works. Tradition, power, yes. But love and confidence too.

You sleep this evening like you slept many others in the former twenty moons: as the luckiest woman of the Seven Realms.

[majorlb]

Charles gets the gift (turns out to be a curse, in his opinion) of being alive again. He can't see Edwin anymore, and they have to communicate through Crystal, chalkboard, or oujia.

Edwin thought Charles would be glad to be alive again, but Charles has stopped smiling. And even when he does, they're small and fleeting.

Charles tells him he misses him, that this is awful and he wishes they could undo it. Edwin doesn't get the chance to respond, by the time he's picked up the chalkboard, Charles has walked out of the office.

Now, Edwin could follow, but seeing as how Charles waited for him to be preoccupied, he assumes (correctly) that Charles wants to be alone at the moment.

Charles ends up at the corner of his old home, can't exactly spy by mirror anymore, but he can stand there long enough for his Dad to spot him outside and then have left by the time the old man has thrown open the front door. It's weirdly satisfying seeing him grow pale through the glass.

Haunting while being alive is a weird turn of events.

He then goes to a restaurant, Crystal left him her card so that he can eat, and orders a little bit of everything. Some things he's had while alive, others he's never heard of.

Spagbol is not as good as his mother's. Or maybe the memory of is is what made it so good. He leaves so many leftovers and can't bring himself to be sorry.

Being alive is not fun when there's no Edwin. It's somehow louder and more touchy than he remembers, and everything feels like too much.

He's got to get Edwin back.

There's a simple enough solution to this problem, innit?

He's not even sorry when Edwin yells at him as he arrives back in the office through the mirror.

He's just happy to hear his voice again.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 23

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

"I love when you do that," Hyunjin sighs to his phone screen, sitting down in the chair next to you.

"Hm?" you ask, looking up from your own phone. It's hard to see his face in the grey light of your hiding place, away from the stage lights and flashing cameras of the set across the room. "Do what?"

"Put him in his place," Hyunjin says. "We needed someone older than him on our side."

You huff a laugh, watching I.N climb up amongst the set pieces. "Chan's older than him."

"Chan just flirts until he's grossed out." Hyunjin pulls a face that makes you laugh again, leaning back in his chair. "I like your way better. It's much funnier."

"I might have made an enemy though," you say wryly. "Seungmin's side is not always the correct side."

"I wouldn't take any side if I was you," he replies. "If I were you for one day..." His hand covers his mouth, eyes screwing up as if it's a dream that is so delightful it is hard to imagine and unbearable to let go.

"You want to?" you ask. "You can be me for the whole music video shoot. You can teach my arms how to dance."

He shoots you a look, turning back to disgust again. "I don't want to work," he says. "I just want to speak casually to Minho-hyung for five minutes."

"You can't be me then," you say, turning back to the shoot happening across the floor. "No lazy dongsaengs. I already chased Felix out of here."

The look Hyunjin gives you is judgemental, mouth twisted as if he has something he's not saying. "Maybe someone should be you for a day so that you take one off."

You look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your throat. "I don't want a day off," you tell him, before he can get any ideas. "I'm very happy the way I am."

"Well, as long as you're happy," Hyunjin sighs and pulls out his phone to check Seungmin's next message.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[theobsessedcookiefan]

..I just had an idea thanks to a Steven Universe audio lmao-

Short scenario of a what if!!

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

What if y/n instead of being a young witch was one of who created Blueberry Milk Cookie?

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

It had been a year since you became friends with one of your creations, the cookie holder of the virtue of knowledge, it was amusing to you how he would make space in to come to your castle, you didn't mind, it was nice to have the company of a little guy who was interested in everything you did, and you had time to admire your work, work that took years of practice and fail, the clothes took you more time than you expected and they turned out to be such a perfect match to his personality. It was perfect, everything was like you planned it to be, or so you thought.

- "I've been working on a new spell for a month now." - The blue cookie's voice interrupted your train of thought while you were writing notes to make sure the next cookie you baked would turn out perfectly, no accidents this time.

- "Really now?" - You asked, sounding like he just made a big revelation, you knew he liked magic yes but he usually just followed the instructions, you've never seen him make his own spells before. - "Yes! It would be an honor to show you what I've learnt from your books." - Blueberry Milk spoke with a hint of admiration on his voice as usual when talking to you. - "I want it to be a surprise for you as well, can I try it?" - You nodded your head and backed up a bit to give him space. He started to mumble some words and then a golden light started to surround his body, it was almost hypnotizing to see. Sadly nothing happened after that and he looked at himself, looking as confused (or maybe disappointed) as you.

- "I-It didn't work.. I'm still not a human.." - You couldn't help but laugh at his words, the confusion transforming into amusement once more as you tried to contain your giggles. - "What?! Pfft- You c-can't become a human, you're a cookie-" - It was as if Blueberry Milk's heart just broke hearing your words, but he shook his head to try and regain his composure. - "I know! That's the problem, I'm just a cookie!" - But before he could add something else you spoke with a smile, you didn't understand how someone who was made so perfectly would want to become a simple human. - "That's not a problem you silly! I love cookies, you're all so funny!" -

How could he look at you after you saying that, it made his face flush deep blue in embarrassment as he tried to make you understand his feelings, fidgeting with his fingers. - "Look- this past year has been great.." - You couldn't deny that so you nodded, letting him continue. - "But I'm getting worried about the future.." - Thinking that was his only worry you spoke cheerfully. - "Oh! You can always consult my crystal ball, it's the perfect solution for that!" -

Now it was getting hard for Blueberry Milk to speak clearly, you always talked like his worries were no big deal.. As if he wasn't a big deal; this time he spoke without thinking clearly. - "I'm starting to wonder if you.. Respect me?" - The tone of his question was almost pleading, begging for you to say yes, that you did respect him! But only another muffled laugh came out of you, covering your own mouth to try and keep quiet, how were you supposed to take that seriously? It was almost as if he was joking. - "Oh you're hilarious Blueberry Milk!" - You said as tears of laughter escaped the corner of your eyes, it didn't felt well for the small one though, who started to panic at your laughter. - "Y/N please!.." - He pleaded again, trying to get your attention once more. - "Can you just.. Talk to me for one second like a normal cookie?!" - He finally exploded, clenching his fists as he shouted at you, his voice sounding weird, distorted even, that made your laughter stop immediately. - "I'm not a cookie Blue. I thought-.. You knew that.. That's not how it works.." -

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

End of scenario.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

❀•°•═════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ═════•°•❀

[fear-is-truth]

Hiya!!! :)

This is my first time requesting from you (and only my second or third time requesting anything at all I'm pretty sure) so I just wanted to say if I'm being overly demanding or weird with my request you can totally call me out!!

I was kinda wondering about the Evans with a reader who struggles with personal hygiene? So sorry if this is gross, don't be afraid to change it up, but I'm just curious to see how they'd react to a reader who just like genuinely forgets to shower for a week or will go days without brushing their hair.

I love you and I love your work!! You're amazing!! ♥️♥️♥️

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans with an s/o who struggles with personal hygiene .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ frat!kyle spencer ‧ james patrick march ‧ cult leader! kai anderson

a/n: ahh thank you so much pookie for the request and liking my work !! i love you too <3

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate would not mind at all, and in fact, he might even romanticise your “carefree” attitude.

in his mind, you’re like some grunge icon. you’re that high up.

he’d think your messy hair and unkempt appearance were part of your style, even finding it endearing.

if you forgot to shower for a week, he wouldn’t bat an eye. would probably just roll with it.

however, if he noticed you feeling self-conscious about it, he’d be quick to reassure you. “who gives a fuck? you’re cool just the way you are.”

if it got to a point where you were uncomfortable or struggling with your hygiene for deeper reasons, his solution would be offering to do things together, like showering together or brushing your hair for you.

he’d enjoy how intimate those moments are, even if it’s something as simple as untangling your hair while you sit between his knees. something he used to do for addie.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit would definitely notice when you go days without showering or brushing your hair, but he’d never be mean or judgmental about it. he’d approach the situation with a lot of patience and understanding.

if it’s something that happens occasionally, he’d gently bring it up in a delicate way that feels supportive rather than critical. “hey, how about we clean up together? it’ll make you feel better.”

if you forgot to shower, he’d offer to run you a warm bath or shower with you—not necessary a sexual thing but as a way to help you relax and make it feel less like a chore.

he’d have no issue brushing or braiding your hair for you if you went days without tending to it. “sit down, hun. let me take care of it for you.” he’d be so gentle, carefully working out any tangles.

kit would normalise your feelings around hygiene struggles, especially if you were self-conscious. he’d remind you that everyone has tough days and that it doesn’t make you any less lovable.

if you were open to it, he’d help you create a routine without being overbearing. make it a shared activity, like washing up before bed or starting a morning shower together.

also the small acts of care for you—offering a warm cloth to wash your face or gently massaging your hands with lotion.

the verdict is: his whole approach would be rooted in love and respect, ensuring you never felt embarrassed or shamed. 10/10

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle would approach the subject in the sweetest, most non-judgmental way. he’d never want to make you feel bad about it.

to subtly encourage you, he’d send a playful text, like a shirtless, mirror selfie captioned, “shower’s nice and warm today. wanna join me?”

if he saw you lounging around with messy hair, he’d grab a hairbrush and sit behind you without a word, gently untangling it while rambling about his day and ending it with “there, all better. You look amazing now—well, you always do.”

he’d make sure you never felt judged. If you were having a bad day and couldn’t manage, he’d shrug it off, saying, “it’s okay. you’re still perfect to me.”

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

he would undoubtedly notice any lapses in your hygiene. given his meticulous nature and penchant for cleanliness, it would initially perplex him. however, his affection for you would temper his reaction.

at first, he’d approach it with subtle hints: “my darling, might i draw you a bath? i’ve had the housekeeper prepare the lavender oils you’re so fond of.”

while he would prefer his partner to maintain the same high standards of grooming as he does, he wouldn’t judge you harshly. instead, he’d see it as his duty to “help” you back on track—though he’d be tactful to avoid hurting your feelings.

on days when you simply forgot to shower or tidy up, james would have the bathtub filled with rose petals and champagne ready for after.

would try to frame hygiene tasks as shared rituals. for instance, he’d suggest dressing for dinner together, insisting on formal attire and a clean, polished look. “we must uphold appearances, my dear. after all, you are my most treasured companion.”

encouragement and flattery. “you are a vision, my dear, even in this state. but imagine the envy of the world if you allowed me to assist in your perfection.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would be an absolute hypocrite about personal hygiene lmao. while he regularly skips showers himself, he’d still expect you to maintain a high standard of cleanliness, especially if you’re a woman.

if he noticed you hadn’t showered in a while, he’d bring it up very bluntly.

he’d rationalise his double standard with some sexist shit like, “a man can smell like a battlefield, but a woman is supposed to smell like a flower..”

if you pushed back against his comments, he’d get annoyed and huff something like, “fine. smell like a wet dog. just don’t complain when no one wants to be near you but me.”

if your hair was messy or tangled, he’d make sarcastic comments at first, but if he noticed you were genuinely struggling, he’d (begrudgingly) step in. “come here. let me fix this mess before you start looking like some burnout from the ’70s.”

would frame it as a flaw he needs to “correct” in you. kai would see it as his duty to whip you into shape. that said, if anyone else dared to criticise you, he’d get super pissed off.

if your hygiene struggles were related to emotional or mental health, kai would have the emotional depth to understand, and he’d try to manipulate you.

[anonymouscapybara]

people say the worst SI unit is the mole. "ohhh but it's just a number it doesn't even have anything attached it doesn't deserve to be an official unit" BZZZ WRONG

the worst unit is the candela. the candela is stupid.

what's the candela, you ask? well, it measures the brightness of light

"oh that sounds reasonable" you say, "just measure the energy or power emitted!" nope. they would not do anything nearly so simple. a lightbulb emitting a watt of yellow light is more candelas than a lightbulb emitting a watt of red light.

"ok that's weird" you say, "but maybe they're adjusting for that somehow? maybe it measures number of photons?" again, that would be far too reasonable. a lightbulb emitting a fixed rate of yellow-light photons is more candelas than the same rate of purple-light photons.

but what are they even measuring then? what else is there to measure? clearly they ran out of ideas while making up units, because what they're actually measuring is the SUBJECTIVE BRIGHTNESS OF LIGHT TO THE HUMAN EYE. the candela is STUPID

a reasonable question to ask is: how would you even measure the brightness of light to the human eye? aren't a lot of human eyes different? don't different things look bright in different circumstances? aren't there colorblind people in the world?

surely the General Conference on Weights and Measures, which spent millions precisely calibrating magnetic quantum flux to avoid basing the kilogram on a random block in France, has a clever solution!

no. no they don't. the candela is stupid.

as far as I can tell, what you do is you first measure how much light of each wavelength comes in. Then you multiply each measurement by a "luminosity function", which measures brightness to the human eye:

you will notice that there are multiple functions shown in this diagram. the SI system has five of these, for different lighting conditions. do your lighting conditions not exactly follow one of the Five Official Standardized Lighting Conditions? guess you're out of luck then.

and whose eye are we using? why, the Official Standardized CIE Photometric Observer, of course: the "ideal observer having a relative spectral responsivity that conforms to a CIE-defined spectral luminous efficiency function for human vision"

(and no I can't show you this function because the fine people of the ISO put it BEHIND A PAYWALL. who puts measurements determining a fundamental SI unit BEHIND A PAYWALL. the candela is stupid)

all right, so we're measuring a fundamental unit using a (nonexistent) idealized observer in one of five random lighting conditions. how did they find the values for this? i'm...not entirely sure. but here's a glimpse, based on a few of the most recent studies I found used for this:

"...heterochromatic (minimum) flicker photometric data obtained from 40 observers (35 males, 5 females) of known genotype..."

"To obtain an estimate of the mean L-cone fundamental, we weighted [weird variables] according to the ratio of 0.56 L(S180) to 0.44 L(A180) found in the normal, male Caucasian population...and averaged them together"

that's right, our Official Objective Brightness Unit is probably sexist and racist. none of the other SI units have a chance to be sexist and racist. a meter is a meter in every country on Earth. 6.022*10^23 For Women is still 6.022*10^23. but the candela is-- probably-- the white man's candela, because you can absolutely bet that genetic drift around the world gives different values for this stuff.

in summary: my opinion, as you might have guessed, is that the candela is stupid. hopefully you agree with me after reading this that we need to completely eradicate it from the planet. failing that could we at not give it the same level of officialness as the meter or the kilogram?

[magicmousetrash]

Krel Tarron x Reader

Non-binary reader

SFW Scenario

It takes place during the 3below series

I'm writing all this with the translator since English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes please let me know <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

🪄🐁: I will soon come with more food

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Krel was back in front of the holographic screen in his room, drumming his fingers nervously. He was determined to win the heart of his human crush, but earthling customs remained a mystery. How did humans connect emotionally without all the advanced technology and science he knew? So she had turned to "Mother" for advice.

—Mother, I need your help, —he said seriously, taking a breath.—I want to… impress a human.

The AI projected its holographic form, and Krel felt a slight flicker of discomfort as the ship's sensors analyzed his request.

—Understood, Prince Krel. I can provide suggestions on human courtship. Data shows that humans respond to certain common social stimuli. I will proceed to share a series of recommendations.

Krel nodded, looking over the list of tips that appeared before him. It seemed simple, in theory. How difficult could it be?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tip 1: A meaningful gift

—"A thoughtful gesture or a small gift is a way of showing appreciation between humans."

Krel frowned as he reviewed that first tip. He knew humans gave flowers and chocolates, but he wanted something more special. Something unique, something that would show how much he cared... without it being very obvious.

Determined, he spent the whole night creating a… how to describe it? A small, handmade device. It was a mix between a terrarium with a bioluminescent plant and a small gravitational field that made the object float gently. Krel thought it was impressive and was sure his crush would appreciate it.

The next day, with a big, self-satisfied grin, Krel approached them at school.

—I made this for you, —he said, holding the floating contraption in an outstretched hand. —I thought you might like it.

They looked at it, at first intrigued by the strange gift. But as soon as they took it, the plant began to emit a flickering glow that grew in intensity.

It’s so… cute! —they said, smiling at first. But as soon as the glowing plant started spinning faster and blinking wildly, their expressions changed to panic. —Is this safe?.

Before Krel could respond, the artifact began to sputter and floated too high, crashing into the ceiling of the hallway and exploding in a small burst of light.

Krel cleared his throat, trying to appear calm.

—Maybe… it needs a couple of adjustments, —he said as he picked up the remains of the device..

First attempt: disaster.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tip 2: Specific compliments

—"Personalized compliments create a greater emotional connection between humans."

Krel thought this advice would be easy to follow. He knew a lot about his crush. He knew they liked science and was pretty smart. So, he decided that praising their intellect would be a great move.

The next day in chemistry class, Krel sat next to her and waited for the perfect moment. As she focused on measuring a substance, Krel decided to intervene.

—Your accuracy with test tubes is… statistically astonishing, —he commented enthusiastically.

They looked at him, not knowing whether to laugh or worry.

—Thanks… I think. —they replied, somewhat bewildered.

Krel decided to double down, thinking that perhaps a more specific compliment would be better.

—And the way you calculated the molar concentration of that solution… it’s almost as if you could handle mathematics at the quantum level.

Now they were clearly more confused than impressed.

—Uh… well, I learned it in class last year. —they answered, trying not to sound strange.

Krel bit his lip, realizing he might be going off on a bit of a tangent.

—What I mean is… you are very smart..

They smiled politely.

Second attempt: weird...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tip 3: Be protective

—"Showing care and protection creates a sense of emotional security."

Krel was convinced that this advice would be a success. He had noticed that humans reacted positively when someone showed concern for their safety. And since he had advanced skills in protecting others, he thought it was his time to shine.

As they walked together towards the cafeteria, he saw some kids running past, clearly not paying attention to their surroundings. This is my chance, Krel thought.

With quick movements, he pulled his crush to the side, placing them behind him with exaggerated protection.

—Watch out! —he exclaimed, turning dramatically. —You could have been run over by those reckless individuals!

They stared at him, mouths agape, totally surprised.

—Krel, they were just… running, — They said, with a nervous smile.

Krel was unfazed. He was certain he had done the right thing.

—You can never be too careful. Safety first. —he replied determinedly.

They laughed softly, clearly seeing the situation as a bit exaggerated.

Third attempt: exaggerated overprotection

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Tip 4: Quality time

The last tip was simpler: spend quality time together. No technology, no interruptions, just being in the moment. Krel thought this would be easy, but he underestimated how hard it would be not to use technology..

As they strolled through the park after school, Krel tried to hold a normal conversation. But soon, the silence felt awkward, and Krel began drumming his fingers, wishing he could Open your device to avoid this awkward situation.

Finally, he decided to distract himself from technology and focus all his attention on them.

—Did you know that the human brain releases dopamine during pleasant conversations? —he said, trying to start a topic that seemed interesting to him.

They looked at him, laughing softly.

—Really? That’s… good to know.

Krel nodded, glad to have steered the conversation back to a scientific topic. But then, without realizing it, he started talking about chemicals that activate dopamine in the brain… for 15 minutes straight.

By the time he realized it, they were looking at him with a mix of fascination and exhaustion.

—Krel, that was… very informative. —they said, trying to sound friendly.

Fourth attempt: excessive talk.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the end of the day, Krel returned to his room, somewhat frustrated, and stared at "Mother's" screen, waiting for her assessment.

—Mother, how did I do it? —he asked, sighing.

—The results indicate that 45% of your attempts were successful and 55% were questionable. I recommend adjustments to your approaches.

Krel slumped back into his chair.

—Maybe… humans are more complicated than I thought.

Despite everything, they allowed themselves a small smile. Even though everything had gone a little wrong, there was something charming about his mistakes. And they… well, thay hadn't completely walked away. That was a good start.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

We all love this alien boy called Krel