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plaidcowboy · 1 day ago

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taking care of 𓂃 rafe cameron while he’s spiraling

⟳⠀ a little inebriated rafe ⟳⠀after an argument with ward

⊹ you blinked into the open space of your room, slowly collecting your coherence as you listened to the voice over the phone. it took a second to realize you were hearing rafe mumbling, not sounding like himself. you quickly jolted up in bed at his quiet, but frantic words.

“i just don’t get why everything i do goes unnoticed.. unappreciated. i saved him. she didn’t do anything but run off and betray us. i got the cross. i killed that sheriff for him. me, rafe.. i don’t understand what happened with us..”

it broke your heart to hear his voice crack. you nursed your phone against your cheek, letting him get everything out. where was he? did his words sound partially slurred or was that your still half asleep mind? but you were so glad he called you in a moment this vulnerable. after months of being with rafe, he had a habit of keeping his feelings in and not letting you into his mind. despite this, you constantly told him you were always there if he needed an outlet.

you heard a dry chuckle across the line. “he even tried to blame you. my precious girl.. does he know how much i didn’t know i needed you? he can’t even begin to understand the love we share. he doesn’t have someone to take care of him like you do with me. he crossed the line when he mentioned you.. i just lost it..”

you placed a hand over your mouth, letting his words and current state settle in. you couldn’t let yourself get focused on ward’s thoughts of you. you knew he wasn’t a good man. you knew he didn’t deserve rafe’s respect. after months of knowing this, and knowing the fights he and rafe got into, never was it like this. this truly was breaking you.

you softly sniffled, not realizing you were getting worked up. “it’s okay, baby. it’s okay to let out that frustration. i’m so proud of you for letting yourself feel it. i’m even prouder you called me. that’s so good, rafe.”

you heard him breathing over the line, not speaking for a second. you took this opportunity to find out his whereabouts.

“um.. do you know where you are right now? can you see any signs?” you got up, walking to your closet to throw on a jacket and slip on a pair of shoes, waiting for him to answer.

it was another second of silence before he responded quietly, prompting you to listen closer. “i needed to hear your voice. i know you told me you’d be an outlet, but i didn’t think i’d have to use that outlet, but i needed it..”

you paused after grabbing your keys, listening intently, clinging on to his every word.

“..i needed to hear you. that makes everything better. i can’t see you right now, and i can’t let you see me, but i needed to feel you somehow.”

you slightly panicked at rafe telling you, you couldn’t see him. “rafe, i already see you even if i physically can’t. but i would really like to see you. do you think you could tell me where you are, handsome?” you didn’t let your voice portray your desperation too much. you didn’t want to let him know he was worrying you. then, he really wouldn’t let you go near him. not if he knew he was making you scared.

you could hear chatter grow louder around him as he answered. “i..” he pushed out a heavy sigh. “..i’m not disappointing you, am i? because i.. i won’t tell you if you’re disappointed in me right now. i’ll fix it.. i’ll fix myself and give you time to think.. i can’t have you upset with me..” he voice broke off softly at the end.

you were out of your room and outside, heading towards your car as he finished his sentence. “rafe, i think it’s impossible for me to feel anything diminishing about you. that feeling doesn’t exist inside of me. there is nothing, rafe, you could do or say that would make me view you differently from the caring and gentle hearted man you are.”

you were pressing on the gas, making your way toward where you knew rafe was without him having to say it.

this time it was him that sniffled, and you couldn’t grip the wheel tighter at the sound. he affirmed your thought of his location after a beat of still silence from his side.

“this might be impossible for rafe cameron, but can you please stay still?” you softly chuckled, attempting to lighten the tone, panic easing from you now that you were making your towards him.

“yeah, i’ll try” was his muttered response.

you were pulling up to the restaurant a few minutes later, rushing out of your car and looking around for rafe.

it wasn’t long before you spotted him outside at a high rise table, his head hanging slighty over his arms that were pressed atop of the table. standing tall, and standing oddly still. doubt didn’t dawn on you that rafe would listen, but him literally holding himself still was something you weren’t expecting. you softly shook your head, walking up to him.

he saw you from his peripheral, but sensed you before he actually knew you were approaching. turning his head, his expression couldn’t seem to turn softer and his posture more relaxed.

his face started to crumble, and you quickly reached around him to pull him into a hug, tugging his head down to rest on your shoulder.

you couldn’t feel the clawing and gripping of his hands as he tried to hold you inhumanly closer. only relief that he was in your arms now, and not afar over the phone.

“i’m sorry..” he softly uttered into your top. “..i’m sorry you have to see me like this.. but it’s messed up that i don’t care. i needed to feel you, to touch you, even if it meant you seeing me this way..”

you dug your face into his side, willing your eyes to not produce the tears you felt coming on.

“i can’t.. i won’t let go. you’re gonna leave if i let go, and you can’t leave me. you can’t..”

he spoke so softly you knew it was a thought that he didn’t mean to say out loud.

you reared back, pulling up his head to face you. the sorrow in his eyes felt like the last tug at your heart to finally pull it from its strings.

“i’m never letting go, so you can’t.”

rafe’s arms came down, his hands both cupping over one of your hands. you took it as the sign rafe was ready to leave. was ready to only be near you.

you turned, walking back towards your car, feeling his hands tighten. you went to open the passenger side for rafe when he pulled you back, halting you.

you turned towards him to ask what was wrong when he pulled the back door open instead. he nodded his head into the opening, gesturing for you to climb in first. you did so, not once letting his hands slip from your one. rafe was right behind you, closing the door behind him.

you laid your legs out, letting him settle between them and rest himself against you. he was holding you up to your promise of never letting him go.

you wrapped your arms around him, listening to his breathing. he had done so much talking, it was time for you to return it.

“you’re perfect to me. for me. if no one else can see your worth, they’re not worth your time, rafe. there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. i am so, so glad you called me. it doesn’t hurt seeing you like this as much as it would hurt to know you were going through this alone. there’s nowhere i would rather be than right here with you.”

rafe settled closer into you, always needing to be so close to you it seemed as if you shared the same skin.

“i don’t need anyone but you. i only need you seeing me and really knowing me.. can you just hold me for right now? please.”

as if you would ever deny him. “of course. whatever you need.”

it was a second before you heard him mutter something, not aware he was responding to what you said.

“just you.”

ϧ𝑒ׅ ࣪

#۶ৎ rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe blurb #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x reader

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love-byers · 2 days ago

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i fear no byler quote will make me more unhinged than:

"You guys think he's okay?"

"He's always weird when he has to go in."

"I don't know. He's quiet today."

"He's always quiet."

"..."

LIKE HOLY FUCK

the amount of depth this scene adds to mike and will's relationship despite only being a few seconds long is INSANE. my film student oomf @reo-bylerwagon has told me that it's a real strategy to find the exact right wording that adds this depth. there's only so many lines and so many scenes, so every last bit has to count towards something.

there is so much here

1. mike being closest to the camera while the others hang back

2. mike's expression being more concerned than the others

3. "you guys think he's okay?"

dustin is worried about his friend, but he's unsure. he seeks out lucas and mike's opinions.

4. "he's always weird when he has to go in."

lucas has noticed that will is noticeably different on days he has to go to the lab. but he reassures dustin. this is expected. will is always a bit off on days he knows he has to go in, because he hates it.

5. "i don't know. he's quiet today."

mike isn't so sure. will isn't acting the way he always does on the lab days. there's something else. he's noticeably quieter. mike suspects that this isn't just because of the lab, that maybe will isn't okay.

6. "he's always quiet."

lucas knew will was acting weird, but he didnt notice any difference in how quiet he was being. will is always quiet. that's just who he is. that's not a factor in his weird behavior, at least to lucas.

will is always quiet. every day. he is a quiet person.

there are several layers here that make it difficult to notice these shifts in will's behavior. he is a naturally quiet person. there is a known explanation for why he acts weird on certain days. and this is one of those days. no one else thought will was outside of his norm.

but still, somehow, mike knew that wasn't it. he noticed that will was acting different even on the day where he ALWAYS acts different. he noticed that will was being slightly quieter than usual even though he is ALWAYS quiet every single day. he knew this was new behavior. he knew there was something else going on.

but he doesn't voice this, he just watches will silently from behind the fence, clearly deep in thought. he's worried.

i'm sorry but why shove it down our throats that mike is more attentive to will than his other friends and clearly cares for him more and wants to protect him just for it to all mean absolutely nothing in the end? he is even more attentive to will than he is to el.

like how are they going to explain mike's behavior? cause like they still have to do that

"will is just his best friend" there's a whole scene in s1 where mike says they're ALL his best friends

"he's known will the longest" he also says he doesn't treat his friends any differently because of how long he's known them

literally what else is there?? is will just his extra special platonic bro soulmate???

ok so will was misled by mike's attentive caring and supportive behavior that was exclusive to him and developed romantic feelings. and mike is like that...just cause. this whole plot was just a tool to help will realize his sexuality and he'll get over mike and mlvn will be endgame.

a few problems with that...

WILL HAS BEEN BULLIED AND ABUSED AND CALLED GAY/GAY SLURS HIS WHOLE LIFE. unfortunately, and fellow queer people will understand, it's easier to come to terms with what you are when it's been spouted in your face your whole life. if wills love for mike was just to help the audience understand that he's gay, what was the point of all the homophobic abuse and hate crimes and all that? just cause? alright. noah has said will realized his feelings for mike "later on" but quickly cut himself off. will realized his FEELINGS, not his sexuality. will wasn't crying in the van because he doesn't want to be gay, or because he's coming to terms with the fact that he's gay. he was crying because he is deeply in love with someone who he thinks will never love him back. this isn't about self acceptance. will has accepted himself. he's accepted what he is. he's accepted his feelings for mike. that's not the problem. that's not why he's hurting. he's hurting because she's he's heartbroken.

like i'm sorry but it's ridiculous to pretend like you don't see how anything besides byler endgame makes 0 sense. bc it really doesn't and you don't even have to be a writer to see it

#byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler endgame #byler rant #byler analysis #anti milkvan #stranger things 4 #milkvan is bones

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harrysxcarolina · 2 days ago

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oh, it’s my turn now

b. eilish

warnings: wlw, fluff, soft smut, bottom!billie, Billie receiving, teasing, flirting, cussing, mention of alcohol consumption, a sweet treat in honor of the grammys, partial proof read… oops!

Your are an upcoming artist and have been nominated for your first Grammy. Not expecting to win but beyond honored and grateful for the opportunity to be suggested along side some of the best artists in the industry. Not realizing that you have many secret admirers, one unbeknownst to you, you’ve spent the night gushing about some of the people you were excited to see. With your buzzing excitement and raging nerves you didn’t realize just how often you mentioned one person in particular. Your celebrity crush.

As the night unfolds, you accept your first Grammy, getting talk in to attending an after party by your team, to help broaden your social networking, you may have enjoyed your night a little too much with one too many cocktails. Unbeknownst to you, catching the eyes of many. You were glowing. Every step you took. The smile radiating off your cheeks. You were beyond proud. Excited. And honestly just in shock. Thanking all the congratulations with polite nods and smiles you welcome the end of the night.

You weren’t exactly sure what happened on the carpet as the nerves took over your body. You remember bits and pieces and you certainly didn’t remember gushing about your celebrity crush on national television nonstop.

So to your surprise the morning after to your phone being blown up with different videos and edits of interviews from last night of you announcing your crush on the one and only Billie Eilish.

You two weren’t well acquainted, but have spoken at past events and have flirted, lowkey stolen a couple glances, and smirks at one another but neither of you ever taking that next step of crossing that line. You weren’t sure why, you’d be open to it. Can anyone really blame you though? Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s kind, extremely funny, flirty (you love a good flirt, what can you say.)

But one thing you definitely weren’t prepared for was a message on tik tok from said crush, mixed in with your notifications.

Nearly dropping your phone you freeze. Your heart is beating against your chest. Not sure what exactly was gonna be played in the video attached to the message you glance down once again at your phone. Not processing what was happening in front you.

BILLIE EILISH

1 new message 10 hours ago

*video link shared*

Hi pretty girl, I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa 😌

Waiting so patiently for you…

With a shaky hand you pick up your phone and click on the video. It’s a snippet of one of last nights interviews.

Amelia was the one asking you the question everyone has been wondering.

“So, any new crushes?!” She asked with a raised eyebrow and small smirk.

Biting your lip trying to fight the smirk working its way across your cheeks. Your hands fidget with the lace in your dress as you avoid looking at the camera. Your cheeks heat up with the blush slowly creeping up on you.

“You know I’ve really been crushing on one girl in particular…” you say shyly as you brush a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. Hopeful to hide some of the blush and bashfulness. Giving a quick glance to the camera a small pout on your lips.

“Ohh do tell girl. I’m dying for the tea” Amelia teases as she gently pushes your shoulder.

“I probably shouldn’t-“ you say a nervous chuckle leaves your lips.

“Girl c’mon don’t tease me, please, I promise I won’t tell.” She jokes making the both of you lose it in a fit of giggles. Slightly leaning into each other as you embrace the moment. Loving the fact that she is slowly helping eat away at the nerves building up inside your tummy.

“I’m actually lowkey jealous of you girl, you’ve been on a date with her.” You say with a pout and a soft nudge to her shoulder causing Amelia to laugh. “Tell me. Right now. I want to know.” Amelia demands a smirk on her face.

Taking a quick glance at the camera a shy smirk is played on your cheeks. “I mean-“ you chuckle biting your lip with a shrug off your shoulders. “It’s Billie.” You state looking at Amelia, your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for her reaction.

“Shut the front door! You guys would be so fucking cute!” She says gushing at you in excitement. You laugh and shake your head glancing around the carpet. Trying to distract yourself from the raging butterflies in your stomach and the heat rushing to your cheeks.

That’s where the video ends.

You’re left speechless. Exiting out of the video you stare at Billie’s messages. Gently tapping your fingers on the edge of your phone as contemplate on a reply. The butterflies are fluttering dangerously fast in the pit of your stomach. You keep repeating her words in your head. The utter realization that Billie now knows along with the rest of the world knows about your crush on her.

I’ve been waiiiittttttinnnn for yaaaa

Waiting so patiently for you

Your fingers type feverishly across your screen before your nerves can talk yourself out of it.

***

You sit nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Glancing around the buzzing restaurant hoping to catch sight of the blue eyed girl you planned to meet here casually sipping on the water placed in front of you. Looking down at your phone checking the time you still have a few minutes before your agreed time to meet up, but you being you always had to be early to things. Wanting to make sure to give yourself plenty of time to prepare yourself to be on a date with a girl you’ve been crushing on for a while.

You smell the hint of her perfume before you see her sitting down in front of you. A smirk hung across her face as she sits down and adjust her pants getting herself comfortable. A blush rushes across your cheeks as you take her in. Her long dark locks cascading down her shoulders as she sports a black bandana around the crown on her head. Her piercing blues eyes outlined with black eyeliner and mascara as they hide behind the glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

Her baggy shirt hanging loosely off her torso, but showing off her curves perfectly. Her jeans hanging just off her hips as the belt securely tugs the material around her hips.

Her bottom lip hides between her teeth as she takes you in as well.

The night goes flawlessly as you both enjoy dinner sharing laughs, smirks, flirty eyes, and the occasional knees brushing under the table, your hands brushing as you pass the salt and pepper back and forth. You breath catches every time, your eyes quickly shooting up to met hers not missing the way her cheeks heat up to a pretty rosy pink anytime you make contact. Her bottom lip slightly swollen as an after math of her teeth nervously nibbling away at it. You can practically feel the heat radiating off the both of you.

The tension getting thicker through out the night as you both shamelessly flirt and banter back and forth. You can’t deny the connection you already feel between the both of you. Taking in all her little details as your eyes trace across her face. Noting all her quirks as her eyes brows twitch in response to a joke you say as you watch her throw her head back in laughter. The way she nervously fidgets with the rings that take claim to her fingers as she talks about the things she is passionate about. The way the light reflecting off her ocean blue eyes leaves you wandering in the waves of wanting to know all the thoughts floating around in that pretty head of hers.

Before you know it the staff notify you that they are getting ready to close up for the night. Not realizing how much time you’ve spent sitting here sharing stories and asking each other questions to hopefully help you both get to know each other on a different level. Smiling politely at the staff mumbling a soft apology as you reach for you purse to care of the bill but are stop before you could even get your bag unzipped. Billie handing her card to the waiter and shushing you as she dismisses your protests.

Stating that it was her treat and how she wanted to. Offering you comforting reassurance that she had a great time, and that she would happily pay for your dinner again if you let her. A smirk playing on her face as she lays her hand across the small of your back. Leading you out the restaurant into the dimly light street. You feel the heat spread across your lower back from the pressure of her fingers rubbing soothing shapes over the fabric of your dress.

The cool breeze brushes through your hair as you both stroll towards your parked cars. Not wanting the night to end as you stand there tightly clutching the straps of your purse not sure what to do with your hands as they itch desperately to trail down her warm skin.

“I had a really good time tonight.” Billie quietly admits as you reach your car. Glancing up at you through her lashes her bashfulness showing through as she takes a step towards you. Her hand reaching out and gently grasping your hips. Your breath hitches as you look down taking in her hand on your hip. Your heart beating so fast against your chest you pray that she couldn’t hear it. Her fingers flexing across your hip.

“Me too. Do you maybe wanna go back to my place?” You rush out not fully realizing what you were saying before you said it. You cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Clutching your purse tighter as you look down at your shoes. Hopeful you didn’t give off the wrong impression. You just weren’t ready to end the night. You felt so safe and comfortable in her presence and you wanted to be greedy and hold onto it a little bit longer.

Her smile is evident as she tilts your head up to meet hers. Her eyes sparkling with a hit of mischief as her response brushes across your face.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She admits as she suggests following you back to your place but not before she lays a soft peck across your cheek.

“Drive safe pretty girl,” She whispers across the shell of your ear before she backs away and heads towards her car.

***

Swiftly unlocking your front door and quickly tossing your keys on the coffee stand right inside the door. Barely having enough time to get through the door before Billie has her hands back on your hips pressing you tightly between her and the door. Your hands tangling themselves deep into her dark locks as your lips battle for dominance. A low moan echos off Billies lips as she trails her kisses down your jaw to your neck.

Head tilting back as your eyes clench shut. Billies hands roaming your lower torso as her lips leave open mouth kisses down your neck. Your grip in her hair tightening as she finds your sweet spot. Sucking and nibbling your skin until she’s satisfied. Hips bucking up against hers in response as her teeth graze across your hot skin. Her tongue soothing the red mark she left behind. Growling as her hips press harder against yours as she gently rocks herself against you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” She whimpers against your neck. Her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt as her fingertips tease your waistline. Wanting to feel the small hitches in your breathing as she slowly moves her fingertips higher up. Not able to fully form words, to far gone from the feeling of her lips on your neck and her hands roaming your body you shake your head. Her breath hot against your skin as she peppers kisses across your jaw. Her fingertips reaching your under boob stopping briefly to glance up at you silently asking permission. A slight nod is all she needed for a response as she captures your clothed breast in her hand. Whimpering and arching your back off the door as she gropes your breast. Rubbing your sensitive nub through the fabric in your bra causing your head to get dizzy.

You legs wobble slightly trying to engrave the feeling of her lips on your skins as she traces your tongue across you salty skin. Urging her to move things into the bedroom so you can not only get your hands on her, but to also aid in a more comfortable surface.

Body’s tangling together as your back hits your mattress. Billie falling on top of you as her lips don’t miss as beat as she cups your cheek and reconnects your lips. Swallowing her moans as you buck your hips up against her as she slowly slides your shirt up your torso. Tossing it somewhere on the floor as her eyes trace down your body. Her hands gripping your hips as her thumbs gently brush against your warm skin.

A bashful smile works its way across your cheeks as you stare up at her catching her gaze as your hands guide her to rest across your lap. Placing her thighs on either side of your hips her hands return to warm skin. Watching as your chest heaves softly up and down. Brushing the fallen pieces of hair out of her face as she leans down and kisses across your chest. Moaning against your skin as your run your hands up and down her spine pressing her close to you. Her hand sliding down from your cheek to your neck as she deepens the kiss.

Her tongue gently moves across your lower lip patiently waiting for permission to taste you. Tilting your head as your grant her access your hands gripping the hem of her shirt slowly tugging it up her body. Groaning at the fact the both of you still have too much clothing on. Breaking apart from your kiss to remove her shirt the rest of the way before reaching behind her and removing her bra clasp. Smirking down at you as she slowly slides the straps down her shoulders as her breast feel free.

You feel the pool of wetness between your thighs as you moan at the sight in front of you. Her breast sitting perfectly at eye level as your teeth capture your bottom lip. Letting your mind run wild of all the things you want to do with the pretty girl sitting on top of you. Gripping her hips and gently laying her back against the bed. Whispering against her skin, my turn, as your trace your lips down her naked chest.

Making sure to give equal attention as you kiss across her cleavage. Leaving a trail of wet kisses as you look up at her through your lashes. A soft smile spreads across your face as your take in the sight above you.

Her hair sprawled out as her back slightly arches off the bed. Silently begging you to wrap your lips around her aching buds. Her swollen lips and a rosy pink as her pearly white teeth lay their claim against it. Her hands clenching the lose blankets as you graze your teeth across her goosebump covered skin. Getting closer and closer to her perky nipples.

Clasping her buds between your lips as your tongue flicks, sucks, and twists her nipples. Her moans echoing off the walls and into your hears as her hands grasp your head holding you tightly against her. Her hips bucking up uncontrollably against your heated core. You feel the tight pull deep in your core as you become addicted to her pretty moans. Wanting and needed to hear them more.

Working your lips to her other breast your fingers slide their way up from her hip making sure to twist and pull her nipple between your fingertips in time with the flicks of your tongue on her opposite nipple. Her hands tightly tangling themselves in your hair as you release her nipple and work your lips down between her breast. Teasing her skin with the tip of your tongue letting her hands gently control the movement of your head as your leave a trail of kisses in your wake. You can feel her breath hitch as you kiss across her hipbones. You fingers tapping their way up her clothed thigh reaching for her belt. You fingers fumble briefly as you unclasp it and hear the slight chuckle rolling off Billies lips.

Refusing to look up at her as the heat radiates off your cheeks as your unbuckle her pants and slide them down her legs. Taking a moment to pause and really look at her. Tucking a piece of fallen out behind your ear Billie leaning up and cupping your cheek once more. Laying a soft peck to your lips as her thumb brushes against your pink cheeks.

“You’re cute when you blush,” She states as you feel her smile against your lips. Chuckling softly in return as you gently cup her face. Looking up at her not fully believing the events of the last couple days. Her eyes flicker between yours and your lips as she kisses you once more as her hands glide around your torso and up your back. Unclasping your bra and slowly sliding it down with her fingertips. Pulling apart briefly, your foreheads lean against each other as your breast fall free. Her free hand is quick to grope your breast as yours gently spread her thighs. Head falling to her shoulder as she twists and pulls on your nipple. Her lips hot on your skin as your fingers slowly trace up her thigh getting dangerously close to her dripping core.

Moaning as you spread her wetness around teasing her clit with your fingertips gloating at the way her hips buck against your fingers and the way she quietly whimpers in your ear.

“Lay back for me,” you moan as you gently push her back onto the bed and wiggle your way down between her thighs. Her hooded eyes watching your every move as your kisses along her thigh. Your eyes never faltering from hers as you inch your lips closer and closer to her core. She can’t stop herself from wiggling under your touch as you trace your lips everywhere but where she desperately needed them.

“Fuck, please-” she begs as her head tilts back on the pillow her hands grasping at the bed sheets. Her hips bucking up brushing against your lips, causing her to lose herself in another around of moans. Grinning against her skin, wrapping your arms around her hips pinning her torso back down on the bed. Tisking her as your lips kiss up and down her lips. Gently blowing hot air against her wet folds as you look up at her through your lashes.

“What was that?” You reply with a smirk leaving a kiss on her mound. Moving one of her hands to your hair as she bucks her hips up once again. Silently begging you to do anything. Anything at all to the relieve the ache that was building between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers once more. Her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Please what baby? I need words.” You retort mockingly as you gently flick the tip of your tongue between her folds. Her spread legs shaking slightly as her hips try to grind against your wet muscle. Her groans getting louder as you can feel her frustration from all the pent up tension between the two of you. “You gonna tell me what you want?” You ask as you place a chaste kiss in the crease of her pelvis gently nibbling at her skin. Her back arching off the bed at your soft mocking tone.

“I want- fuck- I want your tongue,” she begs. “I want your fucking tongue. Please!” She gasps as you moan in response. Not needed to be told twice as you dive in between her folds. Relishing in her taste across your buds. Gripping her hips and pulling her tighter against your mouth lapping up everything and anything she’s offering you. Flicking your tongue across her swollen clit. Her hips rotating against you as you slide your tongue between her folds. Working her clit fast and hard as you flatten your tongue out aiding in grinding her hips against your face as you slide your hand up her torso searching for her perky breast. Moaning into her heated core as your rock yourself against the cool sheets twisting and pulling on her nipple as your tongue works faster against her. Sucking her clit gently grazing the sensitive bud between your teeth as Billie looses all control as her legs shake and tremble around your head. Her hands gripping your hair tighter, pulling your face further into her core as you slide your fingers between her folds spreading around her wetness as you steal a quick glance up at her.

You lips and tongue not faltering as you tease her with the tip of your middle finger. Her breathing getting heavier the more you tease her. Her whimpers are soft and sweet as you slowly thrust your fingers fully between her lips. The both of you moaning at the feeling of you finally being between her thighs. Her mouth making a perfect o as you twist and flex your fingers against her walls.

“God, pretty girl, you feel so fucking good.” Billie moans out as she licks her lips looking down at the sight of you between her legs. Sitting up to get a better view of you, with the support of her arms, groaning as she watches your work your tongue between her folds and then back up to her clit. Sucking her deeper into your mouth as you curve your fingers just right searching for her sweet spot. Her head falling back on her shoulders as she groans out in ecstasy.

“Shiiit, yes right there, fuck-” she moans as she holds your head against her core grinding her hips against your warm mouth.

Working your tongue faster as your fingers seep deeper hitting that spongy sweet spot over and over again. Your fingers digging deep into her hip bone with the hand pinning her down on your bed as you feel her begin to clench around your fingers. Squeezing you so tightly as her breath hitches.

“Fuck, keep sucking my clit like that Mamas. I’m going to cum all over- fuck- I’m going to cum all over that pretty mouth of yours.” She declares as you thrust your fingers deeper, sucking her clit deeper into your warm mouth as your tongue flicks and licks away at her sensitive nerve bundle. Her body goes stiff as your feel her clenching around your fingers. Grinding her hips faster against your mouth and fingers feeling the intense build up for her orgasm consuming not only her body but thoughts. That your were making her feel better than she ever had, and that she never wanted it to end.

Rotating your wrist as you help ride out her high for as long as possible. Her breath ragged as her chest heaves up and down. Your tongue laying soft kitten licks along her core. Sliding your fingers gently from between her legs as you kiss your way up her body. Her body jerking slightly from overstimulation as you hear her softly hum. Kissing between the valley of her breast as you slither your hips between hers. Bucking your hips unintentionally against her as you feel her wetness soaks into the front of your pants. Billie hissing as her hands slide up your naked back. Teasing your spine with her fingertips as you kiss your way to her lips. Laying a sweet kiss on her lips before you snuggle into her neck. You feel her heart beat under your fingertips as you trace soothing shapes across her cleavage. A smirk working its way across your face.

“So you’ve been waiting on me huh?” you snort in her neck as her hips grip your hips. A soft hum is heard above you before you feel her lips pressing to your forehead.

Her smirk evident as she quickly flips you over. Laying beneath her as her hands brace herself on either side of your head.

“You have no idea,” she chuckles as she glances down at your half naked body. Her hips pinning yours to the bed as she captures your lips between hers. The kiss is heated and rushed as if she would be worried you’d disappear.. Groaning against you lips as her teeth capture your bottom lip. Gently pulling and letting go with a pop as she trails kisses across your jaw landing right below your earlobe.

“Now it’s my turn,” she growls in your ear leaving her mark all along your neck as she plans all the ways she’s going to have you. Moaning at the endless possibilities.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish girlfriend #billie eilish x female reader #eilish #Billie eilish x you #wlw #b eilish #billie eilish reader

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zeropro · 1 day ago

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My first fanfiction! It's Starscream's origin story, for my Trine AU. I hope you all check it out~

Full chapter below cut: (tw: abuse, assault, SA adjacent language)

Starscream: Origins

She loved Starscream, regardless of what anyone would say. It may not have been her hand that placed his spark into his frame, but she had selected the model in which that spark would be placed, and it was her credits that paid for that spark to be thawed. As a mechanoid race, Cybertronians did not form parental bonds in the way some organic lifeforms would, but from the moment she laid eyes on him, she had loved him as her own.

Dim optics gazed down at the contract laid out in front of her. She had known this day would come, and if she felt a distinct pang in her spark, she had only herself to blame. She studied the glyphs of his designation displayed on the datapad form: Starscream. It was a beautiful name, as was everything about him; his laugh, his snark, his hunger for knowledge, all the way down to his lithe yet powerful frame.

It was a seeker frame. A warframe. Constructed cold off of assembly line blueprints like every other mecha in his class. Generic and inferior, her peers had warned her. Just another one of those mindless knock-offs. A brute. How laughable it all sounds to her now.

After all, Starscream was a perfect specimen in every way, healthy and beautiful and strong. It was a stark contrast to her own traitorous frame.

Then again, it was because of this cursed illness that she had commissioned Starscream’s creation in the first place, and every moment since then had been an absolute joy. She remembered his first flight, his excitement and how beautifully he cut through Cybertron’s sky in his jet mode. She thought fondly of the way his faceplates would scrunch up in concentration when presented with an equation he couldn't solve, and how adamantly he refused help until he had thoroughly exhausted his processor. She recalled how desperately he would plead with her to take him to Iacon, to Vos, to anywhere there were people and culture and life. He would have loved the bustle of the city.

Allowing herself a sad smile, she let the memory files play unbidden in her mind as she picked up the stylus. Their time together had been so short, but she had surely made it count.

With considerable effort, Cryak sealed the contract with her glyphs. Yes, she would cherish those memories for a long time to come.

~-~-~

“Cryak… What’s going on here?”

Starscream stood gripping the frame of the medbay door, his peds planted firmly just outside the threshold. He could feel the hand on his shoulder tighten slightly, urging him forward, but he refused to budge.

Unease had latched onto his processor the moment he realized they were heading to a different (much more isolated) location than he was accustomed to, and the feeling only compounded at what greeted him inside. Two, not one but two, medical berths were set up in the center of the tiny room, unfamiliar instruments and displays clustered around both. The doctors (he assumed they were the doctors) both wore full-cover face masks, and their paint had been blacked out. Whether as some form of safety precaution or to hide their identities, it was uncertain, but neither option felt particularly comforting at the moment.

From the way their faceless helms inclined expectantly towards him, it was clear one of the berths was meant for him.

Starscream did not like check-ups at the best of times. A sudden, unexpected, and unexplained medical procedure being sprung on him was downright unacceptable. He would at least require an explanation before he would allow them to proceed.

A digit curled under his chin, gently turning his attention away from the operating theater and onto his mentor’s face. She gave him a reassuring smile as her thumb caressed his cheek.

“Everything will be alright, love. Don’t you trust me?”

Something in his processor stalled at that. “Of course I trust you,” he said, and it had to be true because despite her non-answer, he followed her into the room.

Hesitating at the side of the berth, he stood contemplating it for a long time before he turned to his mentor.

“Where is Pharma? I would like to speak with him first.” It was a reasonable request. Starscream had a right to consult his primary physician before undergoing any sort of mystery medical practice.

Cryak was already being helped onto the adjacent berth, and one of the doctors inclined it slightly so she could more easily converse with her ward.

“Ah, Pharma won't be joining us, but rest assured we have consulted with him on this procedure.”

“And what exactly is this procedure for?”

“Starscream, please don’t be difficult.”

It was worth a shot.

Cryak was now hooked up to all the necessary equipment, and Starscream still couldn't quite deduce what it was they were planning to do. Once again, every optic in the room turned on him expectantly and, suddenly feeling foolish, he slowly gripped the side of his berth and hoisted himself onto it.

The moment he swung his legs up, a set of panels near his ankles sprung open, revealing a set of stasis cuffs built into the berth. Two more identical panels opened by his waist, where his hands would be.

Starscream was immediately on his peds again, backing away from the startled doctors.

“They’re going to restrain me?!” he screeched, panic twisting in his tanks.

Cryak sighed, as if he were the one being unreasonable. “They won't have to if you just calm down.”

“I can't calm down! Not until you tell me what we’re doing here!”

“Starscream–“

“No! You know I hate medical procedures. I at least deserve to know what they’re going to do to me first!”

Cryak held him in a hard stare, which he returned defiantly, not bothering to hide his discomfort. It didn’t take too long before her expression finally, predictably, softened in resignation.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You do deserve to know.”

Starscream’s stance relaxed slightly at that, but he continued to inch towards the exit.

“I didn't want you to worry, but there's no easy way to say it. I’m dying, Starscream. The doctors say I may have less than half a deca-cycle left.”

Starscream’s wings hiked up in surprise. “But that’s…I thought…”

“That we had more time? Yes, so did I, love. So did I… You see, that is the problem with science. You think you understand a mech’s function and so you command life. You think you understand an illness and so you predict death. But all science really does is scramble for a retroactive understanding of unrelated data points. The future remains indeterminable, and death forever the impatient thief.” There was a bitterness in her voice that he knew well, it was always there when she spoke of her illness. “I was so close, too, so close to finding a cure. Another few hundred vorn or so and we could have done this properly… but no. No, we won't have that time.” Her voice was so soft now, she might as well have been talking to herself.

“Of course, that is why I had you created.” Her attention snapped back onto him, and something in her optics made his plating crawl. “You see, I knew from the outset that time was against me, so my team and I have been developing this…procedure, for the better half of my dysfunction. A procedure that could grant me the time I need to finish my work…one that requires your participation.”

“I don’t understand.” He felt the door press up against his back.

“Starscream. This procedure could save my life.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

But he already knew the answer. Because Starscream loved Cryak, and if there was ever a chance to save her, all she had to do was ask and he would jump at the opportunity. There was only one reason she would have felt the need to hide, one reason she would fall silent now.

“…Cryak, what’s going to happen to me?”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Like scrap she was.

Starscream spun around, ignoring the painful jolt as his wing smacked the door he was now trying desperately to open. It had been locked, and ripping the keypad from the wall did nothing, so he dug his claws directly into the metal and simply tore at the seams.

One of the benefits of having a frame that was originally built for fighting wars: he was deceptively strong for his size.

Unfortunately, as a flight frame he was also alarmingly light, as he soon found out when blackened servos hauled him into the air before he could properly rip the door off the wall. Hissing and spitting and flailing his limbs, Starscream was suddenly fighting for his life. Despite being doctors (allegedly), both mechs were heavy set grounders standing at least half a head taller than Starscream, and they weren't shy about using that crushing bulk against him. Unable to think through his panic or see through his tears, he was easily wrestled into submission.

“S-stop, you’re hurting me!” he cried as they dragged him back to the berth.

“Be careful with him!” Cryak growled from where she lay, scanning his frame for damage as they strapped his wrists and legs down. The stasis cuffs emitted an energy field that burned his plating and sapped his strength, but he continued to struggle feebly against the restraints.

The doctors immediately got to work. Starscream squirmed as he felt their hands travel up and down his frame, hooking him up with all manner of wires and invasive patch codes. Panels to access ports he didn't even know he had were forced open and thick cords penetrated his frame, giving them direct access to his systems. He had never felt so violated before in his function.

“You know I love you, right?”

Starscream whipped his head around and stared uncomprehendingly at his mentor. How could she say something like that after this betrayal?

“You can't imagine how much it hurts me to see you like this.”

How could she think anything could make this alright?

“But you have to understand…”

How could she…?

“I would do anything it takes to survive.”

How could she?!

A sudden strain in his systems dragged his processor back to his frame, and to his horror, his chest compartment began to transform out without his consent.

“W-what’s happening?!” It hurt, was it supposed to hurt? “What are they doing to me? Cryak, S-stop this, please! Cryak! I…I don't…ahk!”

With a hiss, the last bit of plating forced itself apart and just like that the painful pressure in his chest gave way to the feeling of being intimately and dangerously exposed. Starscream gasped as he took in the sight of the shimmering glow emanating from his chassis for the first time. It was his spark.

“Manual spark chamber access complete. We are ready for extraction.”

Starscream exploded in a flurry of outrage, screaming profanities as he redoubled his efforts to escape. Monitors flashed red as he twisted violently against his restraints, his vents coming out in stuttering sobs as he lost himself to the blind panic.

“He’s going to hurt himself like this. Should we put him into medical stasis?” one of the doctors asked, turning to Cryak.

“No, please!” Starscream craned his neck toward his mentor, pleading optics blown wide. She frowned sympathetically.

“It’ll be much easier on you if you were unconscious, love.”

But then his chance of escape would go from little to none.

“Please, don’t,” he begged, “I’ll be good, I promise!“ He searched desperately for the right words. “I don’t want to be alone…!”

Cryak nodded, and told the doctors that stasis wouldn't be necessary. As they discussed how best to proceed, he lay back down in an attempt to appear calm, his processor frantically assessing all possible options. The stasis cuffs made him too weak to rip the berth itself apart like he did the door, but he still retained a certain range of motion. He could slip his legs out of the clamps if he could move his body back, but the cuffs around his wrists hindered him. No matter how hard he strained against them, neither the cuffs nor the berth would give.

Something had to give.

He chanced a quick glance at Cryak. The sorrowful expression on her faceplates made him instantly regret it, and he quickly looked away. If he were to escape, he would be condemning her to death. Despite everything, he did care for her; she was still his creator, his mentor, his friend.

“I really am sorry, my love.”

“Yes…so am I.”

It was over so fast. No one expected him to tear his own hands off, so by the time he had transformed and shot through the damaged door there was nothing left of him besides a pair of servos still held tight in the stasis cuffs, a puddle of energon dripping to the floor, and the haunting screams of his mentor echoing in his wake.

They did share one thing in common.

Starscream would do anything it takes to survive.

#starscream #transformers #fanfiction #cryak #im so deep in the weeds you guys #i cant believe im writing prose aaaah #im planning to write origins for thundercracker and skywarp too #their fics will have more plot #this just seemed like an appropriate spot to start the timeline since starscream will never speak about any of this to anyone ever #baby has so much trauma now

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hitlikehammers · 11 hours ago

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tremolo

…what if instead of learning clarinet or percussion, you could learn to read the music of hearts? 💕

rating: t ♥️ cw: love at first sight, car crash (off-screen), SUCH FLUFF ♥️ tags: ✨magical realism au, musician eddie munson, paramedic steve harrington, kinda soulmates (it makes more sense with the magical realism part), character study, softness

for @steddielovemonth day one: "Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet." —Plato

It was just like learning any instrument, really.

At least what they tried to convince Eddie to believe at the tender age of nine.

But it was all about finding an aptitude, apparently. Developing a talent. Fourth grade rolls around and he fucks up blowing with a reed, manages to give himself a tongue splinter. Nearly passes out on the brass. Ends up with the choir lady looking over horn-rimmed glasses and narrowing her eyes at him less like a teacher and more like a fortune teller or something, scrying what’s to come of him, like she can see through all that he is and will be, before she goes scribbling something on his little slip of paper already marking all the failed kinds of music he’ll never get to make and telling him: go to Room 011.

But no one ever goes to Room 011.

He meets a petite woman with mousy hair and clothes that look like they belong to someone else, somehow. She introduces herself as Miss L. She looks like a Miss L., so he doesn’t think any further on the point.

You will not play much, really, she tells him, and the way she talks is kinda funny, like she learned words but not from people actually saying them out loud. Eddie kinda likes it, though. The playing is only for emergencies, and if you find your True Note.

Eddie doesn’t know what most of that means, except for the fact that the whole point of trying—and failing—at all the instruments was to join the school band with something to play. So if that’s not what he’s going to learn, then what the heck is Eddie meant to be doing down here—is what he wants to ask.

He manages a little politer version of the same, his nan’d be proud. His dad wouldn’t care even if he was around and not behind bars. His uncle might be happy that Eddie’s kept his nose clean just this one time. So he figures he does okay.

But really, he just wants an answer. He was supposed to get to learn music. It was the one thing that was keeping this whole year feeling like he could maybe, maybe survive it.

It also means he doesn’t have to take the art class that’s mostly kindergarten crafts instead of real art, so.

“You will be learning music,” Miss L. answers, more patient than most grownups; “you are here to learn how to read the songs that hearts sing.”

And that is, by far, in all of his whole nine years of living, the most fucking absurd sentence that Eddie has ever heard.

——

He’d kinda thought it was a joke, when he left that first afternoon to get back before Language Arts.

Turned out: nope. It was not.

He’d maybe thrown something slightly less childish than a tantrum, when what he got was a big set of earphones and a box the size of an Easy-Bake Oven, where apparently he’d be playing some kind of recordings to start his lessons.

“Do you not wish to learn?” Miss L. asked so simply, and Eddie…

Eddie reminded himself that no matter how foolish and stupid this was, it couldn’t possibly be worse than making construction paper collages with Elmer’s glue, so.

He put the headphones on and pressed play.

——

His workbooks didn’t look like anyone else’s in band—in fact, Eddie didn’t think he was actually a part of the class band, like, he wasn’t expecting to play at the spring concert with the flutes and the trombones, anymore. When he had sheets of staves to fill out they didn’t have straight lines. He didn’t draw different circles with little flags and bridges connecting them. He…

“When there are no keys, and there is no time signature,” Miss L. had explained, and it took time to make any sense; “you are the rules, and you feel what is a melody,” she’d tapped something that feltbeautiful, like daffodils blooming, though Eddie couldn’t say why; “and what is a warning.”

And then she’d tapped again, and it clenched in Eddie’s chest like a tornado siren, and…yeah.

That was kind of the best explanation he could have asked for.

——

It’s in middle school, when everyone else gets new band directors while Eddie sticks with Miss L., that it starts to…well.

That’s when the fact that Eddie’s alone in his lessons, and no one seems to know quite what he does—and the other kids who get that kind of treatment are usually the ones who can’t add or spell right, who have some kind of problem to work on extra hard—but it’s around then that Eddie starts being called names for it.

It’s not too bad, at first. Eddie’s worked for his two full years of elementary school lessons to get through recognizing the songs, suffers the point where recognizing becomes unbearable, overwhelming—Miss L. never left his side when he held his head in pain for all the noise, all the songs because they were everywhere, in everyone, and how was he supposed to learn what was right and what was good and what was just okay but then what was also everything the opposite when he couldn’t even think—

But she taught him the tools, the ways to sift through the chatter, as she called it. Because not all of it was a warning; not all of it was bad just because it wasn’t beautiful.

Some of the noise just was.

She showed him how to trust his own ear; his own song in his own chest as a guide, because that’s why he was here: he had a gift, an aptitude, built in and in need of development. Liked they’d said in the beginning.

He’s nearly thirteen when she teaches him how to write his own songs, in the not-notes and the no-tempos. In the nameless flow of sound.

It’s when his classmates overhear one of those works-in-progress, the taunting gets worse, starts to hedge toward unbearable.

Until Eddie asks if he can just stop: quit this. It’s not worth it. He doesn’t want to be a freak.

“It is a rite of passage, to ask this,” Miss L. says slowly, no judgement, and weirdly no pity; “but I should tell you first,” and her eyes narrow more than Eddie thinks he’s ever seen them.

“Your skill is already greater than any I have seen, and is only getting sharper, more keen.”

And hell if a teacher’s ever said something niceabout Eddie Munson, let alone something that sounds like flat-out praise.

“They cannot hear the music, this is why they say those things,” she flicks her wrist less like conducting a chorus and more like shooing a gnat, like that’s the appropriate amount of consideration the comments deserve. “Your task has always been to teach them what they do not know, to show them the wonder they are ignoring as they live and breathe.”

And while it really would have been nice to know that before signing up for this…this what, calling? Vocation?

While that would’ve been nice, Eddie…Eddie can at least mostly understand he wouldn’t have understood any of it in the fourth grade.

He barely understands now.

But he can feel it. He understands how to feel the music that fills all those gaps.

“This is common,” Miss L. turns back to him, steeples her fingers while humming something from the radio: not bad, but not beautiful. That’s what she means, he realizes. The radio plays common.

“This,” and she puts a hand over her own chest and keeps time with her fingers on the tabletop as she hums a wholly novel thing out of thin air, and Eddie has never seen someone else recognize the music, has never watched someone compose in the veins where the songs that hearts sing are played, let alone in real time; maybe she never had because he had to lean for himself, first.

But it is kind of exquisite to witness.

“This,” she stops, and raises a brow pointedly in Eddie’s direction; “is human, built in your cells.”

Eddie couldn’t name why, precisely, but he feels…shamed, but also empowered. So different, but they make an almost compelling melody together as they clash.

“They will call you freak before they call you prodigy,” Miss L. says it like a fact, which…kinda sucks to hear, in all honesty.

“They will label you insane, before they recognize you as genius,” and the way she adds that part makes him feel like that was her personal burden to bear, and he aches for her in it.

“They will cry out garbage and nonsense,” and here, these words: these are the ones Eddie knows immediately he’s meant to be hearing, be weaving into notes the strongest, the ones she wants him to keep closest and never lose:

“They will cry out worthless,” she spits out with a venom he’s never heard her use; “before they will sob in the face of your masterworks, and how they will breathe magic in the soul.”

And…Eddie doesn’t know exactly what to do in the face of the conviction she says that last part with. To doubt it, as he instinctively wants to, feels vile; the most egregious disrespect. He can’t bring himself to even try. So, he asks instead, voice rough:

“When will it change?”

Because despite everything: he doesn’t want to be a freak.

“That I cannot say,” she sighs, and she does sound sorry; “and it may never change at all.”

Eddie doesn’t know if he’s built to handle that, the possibility of never.

“But even if you leave, here and now,” Miss L. cuts into his despairing; “even if you stop your learning, the songs will never leave you.”

Oh.

Oh, so did they…did they teach him to hear a endless goddamn curse, and as a fucking kid—

“You would always have come to hear them,” Miss L. must read his mind, or maybe just his face; “just never with any place to funnel the noise,” and he…guesses he should be grateful. He nearly went mad in those early years, before she taught him how to make new melodies, concertos the likes of which even the great masters hadn’t penned, because they played in a different medium. Their notes and structured time were useful, but limited.

And if they never heard otherwise, how would even the most brilliant talents know what they were passing over, leaving behind?

“Do you still wish to leave?”

Eddie turns, almost having forgotten Miss L. was still sitting there, watching him. Almost having forgotten what he’d come to ask, to give up.

There’s no question left, now.

He gets out his notebook, his pen, and starts as he always does.

With the listening.

——

It’s a genuine distraction—the songs get louder with time, but Miss L. tells him that’s a sign of his skill growing, his notice of the equivalents of key signatures and ligature notes in the heartbeats he passes every day—but it costs him passing senior year once, and then again, and almost a third time until by the skin of his teeth, he manages. While every other teacher shames him for it, derides him as incurably stupid, or at the very least unambitious to the point of embarrassment, the extra years mean more time with Miss L., and Eddie…most days, Eddie is nothing but thankful.

More time means Eddie also learns that the songs he hears are as much a public service as they are an art form, as much a defense mechanism as a craft. He knows when bullies are on the prowl, and to make himself scarce for their screeching cacophonies. He knows when he has to be less of a coward and step in when a wild rhythm makes him sick with its fear.

The more he pays attention to the not-quite-beautiful songs—especially when he thinks on them later and stumbles upon nuggets of the exquisite inside every way they weren’t—the more he remembers years ago, out of almost nowhere, but maybe…maybe everywhere, like it’d been written in his heart’s song the day she spoke it:

“My first day,” he enters the same room—not the same-same room but the one in the high school that’s as abandoned as all of them have been, always Room 011—but he enters the room close to the end of the year, the last year, with the question thick on his tongue, and woven the same in his song as he closes the door and feels his heartbeat quicken for no reason and every reason, like he’s long learned these songs always do.

Miss L., for her part, just nods; waits.

“You said,” Eddie rolls his lips together; “emergencies.”

It’s a delay tactic. They both know it.

She’s kind to play along.

“Mmm,” she hums; “the slightest bits, yes, you can shift the rules to change the song, because you made the rules to begin with,” she eyes him carefully, then. “But only by bits, and in only the most dire moments.”

Yeah, yeah, sure. He never thought he could like…write lines to coax a heart to sing itself back from the dead or some shit. He gets the point.

Again, they both know: that’s not the point he’s here for, heart pounding high in his throat.

“But then you also said something else.”

This time, she doesn’t nod at all; just stares. Eddie has to clear his throat twice to make a sound so as to ask:

“What’s a True Note?”

Because Eddie’s had a couple flings here and there. And the idea of anything real with someone else, alongside the weight of this…talent of his, this training that’s defined half his life by now: it’s really nothing more than a stray idea. But Eddie can’t really hide from the fact that, somewhere along the way, he’s suffused that idea with so much promise and potential, but with no legs for it to fucking stand on.

And he’s about to graduate. About to go out into the world and…who the fuck knows what.

He needs to either hold onto this insane, silly notion of some cosmic meant-to-be match waiting for him somewhere, that it’s at least possible, and then hold on to it like burning—or let it go, and get on with the rest of his fucking life.

“Do you know how I said you could sway the rhythm just the littlest bit, in the greatest of need?”

Of course he did. She literally just said it.

“Your True Note will sing like you have never heard before,” she tells him like it’s not something…immense; “and that song will sway your rhythm so much more than the littlest of anything.”

She just fucking says it, like it isn’t already swaying the rhythm his heart sings in. Here and now.

“That heartsong will change your world.”

And all Eddie can even think to ask, to make more plain in it, is just one thing:

“Will I change theirs, too?”

Miss L’s eyes lock to his and hold for enough seconds where it should be uncomfortable, where his chest starts to grow unbearably tight.

“Hmm,” she considers finally; “if it is meant to be that way.”

Eddie wants to scream. It’s not enough.

And still somehow, it will have to be.

——

In the months that follow his freedom, he misses Miss L. Kinda desperately.

But the lack of structure, the openness of knowing he has to find a way to piece together all the snippets of song he’s bombarded with: it is the reason he ever picks up a guitar. It’s the whole learning heartsongs thing that he has to thank for it, a roundabout journey toward the destination he’d wanted from the beginning.

Or else, that he thought he did.

It’s not just guitar, though. He eventually learns the woodwinds without ending up with a splinter in his mouth. Figures out the different harmonies at hand in making sure he tempers the way he breathes for the brass. He loves the piano, and the cello especially, alongside guitar and double bass: he makes a trip back home specifically to see her and ask—Miss L. tells him it’s probably because of their strings, like hearts have, too.

It feels right in a way things haven’t felt in a very long time.

Which is really how he comes to not only understand, but to accept in his bones: no matter if they ever call him prodigy or genius, if he ever plays a concert hall or anywhere but on a street corner with an open case for change, he was made for this; built for this. The woman with the horn-rimmed glasses who sent him to the basement music room saw it in him. Miss L. proved it to him by teaching him to prove it to himself. He doesn’t know if he’d have picked it, but he knows it was never something he could have picked or turned down in the first place at all: it’s who he is.

He is the music. He is the songs that hearts use for singing. And maybe someday he’ll meet someone who sees it in him, and hears his song, and sings ecstatic. Maybe.

He hopes.

But either way: this is his life.

This is his melody.

——

It takes years before they do sob for his masterpieces, for them to be ready for a style and cadence they don’t understand because they will never comprehend the language, that speaks deeper than the logic required for any of those rules. It takes a long fucking time before they start listening with the lens of the first song any of them ever learned. But the time does come, and Eddie is grateful, because he’d genuinely feared the maybe-never he’d been warned about. He’s glad that’s not where he is, now.

But now? Things start to happen almost unbearably fast. Shows here and flights there, guest appearances and interviews, record labels and live recordings, a book deal he can’t even begin to think about. The world tips on its axis and Eddie only really considered that happening to him for one reason: because of a song so beautiful, in a Note so True—this isn’t that.

But everything still feels upside down anyway; totally off-kilter.

He’s crossed ten time-zones this time. He’s exhausted, but he has a performance tonight, just like he did in the tonight of the place he just left. The car he’s in on his way to the next venue is sleek, like they all are now; his team is already there preparing, so it’s just him and some local hires he hasn’t even had a chance to learn the names of yet, which he hates. He hates being privy to their songs and not even knowing their names, let alone their stories.

He jots the notes he gleans from how they sing without their words on the drive across town anyway. Waste not, and all that.

Eddie has the pen in hand, cap between his teeth, when the truck plows straight into them.

What follows would be unsurprising, if Eddie could process it from a bystander’s point of view—as it is, the only thing he knows in the melee is the music.

He is devastated, as he reaches out for the slowing songs around him, knowing in the back of his mind what their slacking tempos mean, and marveling with something like horror at how beautiful each one is as it starts to fade: still unique, still something Eddie could braid into a piece, certainly one to draw tears.

His own song is ebbing, he knows, but it’s less important than the sweet melodies around him, especially—

Oh.

Eddie thinks, with what may be the last thought left to him as pressure and heat and pain tingle at the edges of the music, almost too strong now to be drowned out by the notes that are what Eddie is at his core: but he thinks he may be too far gone already, because what he begins to hear is…

Exultant. It’s…

If Eddie believed in a heaven, this would be what the hosts there sang. When the idea of divinity is bandied about, they can only ever be talking about some cheap imitation of what Eddie hears now. Luminous. Effervescent.

Beautiful in a way that exceeds the word itself so deeply that it barely fits, obliterates the notion on sight.

And what a gift, Eddie muses as everything dims to black, to hear such Notes, such perfect music as the last thing he has to hold onto in the end.

To end on something that’s True.

——

The next tones Eddie hears are mechanical. He winces—not bad but certainly not beautiful—and then winces harder because wincing itself fucking hurts.

He holds himself still, seeks the song he knows in his own veins: yes, and he’d been so sure it was gone, because there’d be an accident, a crash, he’d been thrown, crushed, songs all around him were dying and he’d heard the magnificent symphony of otherworldly perfection so—

“I’m technically not supposed to be here,” a voice interjects, or no: drips in leisurely, like comfort, like honey; “because you’re a patient, and I’m,” and Eddie forces his eyes open to see the voice come out of a man, who is pointing at his chest: a uniform. Medical.

“I’m not dead?”

All signs do point that direction but…Eddie had been kinda fairly sure he was done for.

“God,” the man chokes like he’s pained, like the idea hurts him, and why; “no,” and he says that a little fiercely, protective almost; “though not for lack of an effort.”

He looks tired, as Eddie’s vision starts to clear some more. He looks radiant. Exquisite.

Beautiful.

“You saved me?”

Because Eddie clocks the uniform now: paramedic. The ones who come onto the scenes and try like hell to save who they can. Heroes.

“I helped,” the beautiful man says, like a hero would, of course. But…it still doesn’t make sense. If the man does this for his job, then Eddie isn’t special, so then why is he so vehement, and then what of all the fading songs Eddie remembers, because Eddie had heard—

“What about,” he starts, but there’s a hand over his quickly, soothing.

“Everyone’s here, different wards,” the hero-beauty tells him in lows tones; “we don’t know if they’ll all make it through the night, but,” he nods, like…this is enough.

And it is. Except…

“How?”

And where Eddie is baffled, his hero just quirks a brow.

“Don’t tell me you never covered emergencies?” he asks skeptically. “Most dire moments, greatest of need?”

And it’s with those words that Eddie’s world slows very quickly to a halt. The music swells in a way he’s never known: because it’s always present to hear.

Buts it’s never been so tangible to feel, not like this, and with such…magnificence, no lesser word could touch it. Maybe he truly is closer to death than not, maybe that’s the reason for the fervor in this man he doesn’t know—the choirs of the angels Eddie wasn’t banking on swells and is visceral, and this hero sits before him, speaks the words that have haunted Eddie more days of his life than not, and—

“This was where the music took my life,” the man pulls at his collar, indicative again: the heroism. He…he saves people, because he, he also hears…

“But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His hand on Eddie’s tightens, like gratitude, and Eddie…gapes like a fucking fish, and then—

“There’s something else.”

“Not just here to check up on the fruits of your medical miracle?” Eddie’s tongue feels heavy, thick in his mouth; he feels sluggish all over, weighted down and like he can barely move because…this man hears the music that hearts make.

Can he hear the ineffable beauty, like Eddie can? He must, that’s how it works, so why is he not in the same amount of awe—

“Not just,” the man smiles small, but real, a little hesitant. A little…shy, maybe, before he straightens, leans a little closer.

“Watch that screen,” and he tracks Eddie’s gaze until Eddie’s fixed upon the ECG, the most disappointing distillation of the songs he’s learned to find so much wonder in.

But then the man is pressing Eddie’s hand to his own chest, which…is forward, given they don’t even know each other.

Eddie is maybe still on, or at least just-recently-off, death’s door, and either way he’s fucking thrilledwith this development, warm beneath his palm.

“Now count.”

It only takes a moment, to put the gestures together into a statement.

The beat under his touch matches the line across the screen. Exactly.

But this man’s not the one attached to the monitor.

“Got it?”

Eddie nods, and the man doesn’t hesitate, lifts Eddie’s hand and presses it back to Eddie’s own chest.

“Again.”

And that’s…that’s not the same rhythm as the one on the screen; the songs don’t match at all.

But Eddie can still hear the one that does—the beauty. The exaltation.

“Can you,” Eddie asks, lifts his finger that’s got a clip on it, and the man’s a professional, he’ll understand—looks less than conflicted about disconnecting Eddie from wires and leads before clipping his own finger and letting the screen shift to a new cadence.

The same one under Eddie’s hand, in Eddie’s own chest.

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah,” the man barely breathes, and Eddie notices now how intense his eyes are, focused solely on Eddie, and…Eddie remembers the words that came after the ones about emergencies. About how little he could help, but that he could still do something.

But with only one person, it could be—

“You didn’t just sway my rhythm,” Eddie half-gasps; “you made it your own.”

And oh: Eddie never tied the song of hearts to the song of laughter, but from this man, the huff of incredulous joy that slips from him now—they’re made wholly of the same stuff.

Symphonic. Staggering. Weeping to feel this much, in the soul, to be privy to such a…

Masterpiece.

“Worked both ways, it seems.”

“I heard you,” Eddie blurts out, because it makes sense now; “before I, when I thought I was,” dying, when he thought it was all over; “like I’ve never heard anything before.”

And now: of course this man hears the heavenly movement Eddie thought was a mercy before the end but was instead the arrival of everything he’d ever hoped to one day find, literally coming to rescue him in more ways than one; but that song is somehow commonplace to this unfathomable angel on the earth.

And what this man hears stronger, louder, dearer seems somehow to be Eddie, the song he sings from the chest, in how it’s causing those caramel eyes to glimmer, and to barely blink lest they miss something in just…Eddie.

“You never stopped,” the man says with urgency, with feeling; “your song never stopped,” and then he’s closing his eyes and laying both his hands over his own chest, where Eddie’s heartsong is ringing full and maybe changing his world, because the song in Eddie’s chest sure as hell has already changed his, and—

“It’s extraordinary.”

And Eddie, in years of ridicule, in months of celebration, in all the ups and downs and doubts and hopes this life of songs and hearts and rhythms and beats has left him with, in all of it—

Those two words rewrite his whole fucking being.

“True Note,” Eddie mouths more than speaks before he scoffs; “shit, but that seems like a really fucking inadequate thing to call it,” and his eyes lift to take in the man who he knows, he knows is going to be his magnum opus, or more: is going to write the magnum opus they will be and breathe and share from here to all ends:

“To call you.”

And there’s the clearest sense of a trip in a beat, but who it belongs to isn’t clear, and maybe that’s the reality for them both now: every subtlety of the song is now shared, now theirs.

“You could start with Steve.”

Eddie looks up, breath a little heavy, but the smile on the man’s face is broad and kind of overjoyed, kind of looks like Eddie’s chest feels:

“My name’s Steve.”

And that?

Best damn title for a symphony Eddie’s ever fucking heard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @rebellatlas @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yesdangerpls @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

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saebyeokbliss · 3 days ago

Note

WE NEED MORE SUB! SAEBYOK/READER!!!

Seriously, I rarely see any of it and I think it's such a good premise!

ik you said you're not so good at smut, but your writing is really good, I doubt you could mess that up. practicing is the best way to improve!! (And we also get smutt 😇)

totally get it if you dont want to write it, it's your choice! but ill be definetly reading it if you do ☺️

SEE IF I CARE

synopsis: while your busy studying for your midterm, it seems sae-byeok can't keep away from you. and since she normally isn't the clingy type, you decide to take advantage of this side of her while it lasts. warnings: sub!sae-byeok, dom!reader, wlw, eating out, foreplay

pairing: sae-byeok x fem!reader

a/n: I AGREE WITH YOU!! happy to oblige in this request, and just know i actually blushed writing this so... hope you enjoy!! ^^

It wasn’t often Sae-byeok got like this.

She didn’t care much for affection. Not that it didn’t feel good—because it felt good—but because that just wasn’t her. She’d spent so much of her life building walls that even the idea of tearing them down, even for you, made her chest tighten. And though your relationship was established, she still felt like she was walking on eggshells most days. She didn’t want to cross any lines, even if she sometimes caught herself itching to do so.

But tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the way your brow furrowed in concentration as you sat hunched over your textbooks, your lips slightly parted in thought. Or maybe it was how you’d been holed up at your desk for hours, completely absorbed in whatever midterm you were preparing for, barely sparing her a glance.

Sae-byeok sat on the edge of the bed, her knee bouncing restlessly as she watched you. She had tried to ignore the nagging feeling in her chest, the one urging her to get up and pull you away from your books. She rarely let herself want things, but tonight, she wanted you. Not just your presence, but your attention, your hands, your lips, your eyes on her instead of the endless pages of notes and textbooks.

She sighed quietly, leaning back on her hands as her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. It was late, and she knew you were stressed, but she couldn’t help the way her fingers twitched with the urge to do something. Anything to get you to look at her.

“Hey,” she called out, her tone flat like usual.

You hummed distractedly, not even looking up from your notes. “Hmm?”

She frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wasn’t used to feeling…needy. The word itself made her cringe. But there was no denying the warmth in her chest, the way it twisted into frustration every time you ignored her. She stood up and crossed the room, her bare feet silent against the floor.

Hovering behind you, she leaned down slightly, her chin nearly brushing your shoulder as she glanced at the book you were so absorbed in. “How long are you going to keep studying?”

“Until I feel ready,” you replied absentmindedly, your pen scratching against the page.

Sae-byeok rolled her eyes, straightening up. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting—maybe for you to drop everything and turn to her with that bright smile she loved so much. But of course, you were too focused, too determined. She admired that about you, but right now, it was driving her crazy.

She walked around the desk, her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants as she stopped beside you. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you, hoping you’d feel her eyes on you and finally look up. But when you didn’t, she sighed again and crouched down so she was at eye level with you.

“Hey,” she said again, this time a little louder.

You blinked, finally turning to look at her. “What is it, Sae-byeok? I’m kind of busy.”

Her heart sank a little at the tired edge to your voice, but she didn’t back down. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t you think you should take a break?”

“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head. “The midterm’s in two days, and I’m already behind. I need to—”

“You need to breathe,” she interrupted, her voice firmer now. “You’re going to burn yourself out.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’ll take a break later, okay? I just need to finish this chapter.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. She knew you meant well, but the way you brushed her off so easily sent a ripple of irritation through her. She pushed herself up and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared down at you.

“Fine,” she muttered, walking back to the bed. “Do whatever you want.”

You barely registered the hurt in her tone as you turned back to your notes, but Sae-byeok wasn’t done. She flopped back onto the bed, her arms crossed behind her head as she stared at the ceiling. But after a few minutes, her gaze drifted back to you, and the irritation melted into something softer. She just missed you. She hated how much she missed you, how much she needed you to notice her, to care for her the way she cared for you.

Her eyes flicked to the table, and a mischievous idea crept into her mind. She slid off the bed and made her way back to you, this time kneeling under the desk. You didn’t notice her at first, too engrossed in your notes to register the way her hands brushed against your knees. But when her fingers started tracing slow, teasing circles against your skin, you froze.

“Sae-byeok,” you said warningly, glancing down at her. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently, though the faint hint of a smile on her face made her look otherwise. “Just bored.”

“Well, find something else to do,” you said, trying to focus on your notes again.

But she didn’t stop. Her hands slid higher, her touch light and maddeningly distracting as she leaned closer to you. “You study too much,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “It’s annoying.”

Your pen stilled in your hand as you turned to glare at her. “Annoying?”

“Yes,” she said simply, her smirk growing. “You never pay attention to me anymore. I’m competing with books and essays.”

You sighed, setting your pen down as you turned to face her fully. “Sae-byeok, I’m trying to do well in school. You know that.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes softening slightly. “But you don’t have to kill yourself over it. You have a girlfriend, you know.”

Her underlying confession caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at her. She looked almost vulnerable, her usual stoic demeanor cracking just enough for you to see the raw honesty in her eyes. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest.

“Come here,” you said softly, reaching for her hand.

She let you pull her to her feet, and before she could say anything, you cupped her face and pressed your lips to hers. She stiffened for a moment, surprised by your sudden affection, but then she melted into the kiss, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulled you closer.

The kiss was slow and tender, a quiet apology for the hours you’d spent ignoring her. When you finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Guess I haven’t exactly been giving you enough attention, have I?” You murmured lowly, pulling her down to straddle your thighs as you sat in the chair.

She raised a brow but didn’t protest, allowing herself to be on top of you. “Yeah. You haven’t.”

“We’re gonna fix that,” You lean in and kissed a trail down her jaw to her neck.

She tilted her head back slightly to give you better access and bit back a moan at the touch she’d been craving since you got home from classes.

As you nipped softly at her neck, your fingers tracing the exposed skin at the hem of her shirt, you murmured almost tauntingly, "It's funny how needy you get, isn't it? Couldn't even let me study in peace."

Sae-byeok's breath hitched, a mix of annoyance and arousal in her eyes as she retorted sharply, "I'm not needy. You're just too damn distracting." Yet, her body betrayed her words, pressing closer into your touch, craving more.

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her skin. "Oh, really? Because it seems like you're pretty desperate for my attention." Your hands slid under her shirt, palms flat against her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin. "Admit it."

Her eyes narrowed, a flush spreading across her cheeks, not just from your words but from the slow, deliberate way your hands were exploring her body. "Maybe I was," she conceded, her voice a low growl, "but don't get used to it."

Ignoring her feigned irritation, you leaned in to whisper against her ear, "I like this side of you. All soft and pliant under my hands." You gave a light bite to her earlobe, eliciting a shiver from her.

Sae-byeok's response was a frustrated groan, her fingers gripping your shoulders tight enough to leave marks. "Keep talking like that, and I might have to remind you who usually runs things here."

But instead of backing off, you doubled down, your hands roaming more boldly now. "I think tonight, I'm the one in charge," you teased, feeling her body responding to every touch, every word. "And I think you love it."

Her reply was cut off by a moan as you slid your hand down between her legs, her annoyance fading into pure need. "Fuck," she breathed out, her head falling forward onto your shoulder, giving in to the sensations you were coaxing from her body.

Your fingers teased at the edge of her underwear, a devilish grin playing on your lips as you watched every shiver that ran through her body. Sliding your hand beneath the thin fabric, you found her already wet, her body betraying how much she wanted this, how much she needed you. You began to stroke her gently, drawing a long, languid moan from her lips.

"See? All this tough talk, but you're just melting for me, aren't you?" Your words were a mix of praise and teasing, pushing her further into that haze of need.

Sae-byeok gripped your arm, her nails digging in slightly. "Don't get cocky," she managed to say, though her voice broke with another moan as you increased the pressure, your fingers sliding deeper.

You leaned in, kissing her fiercely, swallowing her moans as your fingers moved rhythmically inside her. She was close, you could tell by the way her body started to tense, but right before she could tip over, you withdrew your fingers, earning a frustrated whimper from her.

Pulling back, you gave her a challenging look. "Bed. Now." It wasn't a request, and Sae-byeok knew better than to argue, especially not in the state you had put her in. She stood, almost unsteady on her feet, and led the way to the bedroom, with you right behind her, your presence a commanding force she couldn't ignore.

Once in the bedroom, you gently pushed her down onto the bed, her eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of desire and the remnants of her earlier defiance. You didn’t waste any time; you positioned yourself between her thighs, which she parted eagerly, a silent invitation for you to continue what you'd started.

You trailed kisses along her inner thighs, close but not close enough to where she needed you most, making her squirm with anticipation. When you finally gave in, your tongue met her, tasting her. She gasped, a hand coming down to tangle in your hair, guiding you with silent pleas articulated through her movements and the quickening breaths that filled the room.

“Ah— fuck, mm..” She bit down on her bottom lip, resisting the urge to moan as you devoured her.

You ate her out like you were starved, your tongue and lips working in tandem to draw every shudder, every whimper from her. Sae-byeok's usual composure was nowhere to be seen now; she was undone, beautifully so, under your attentive ministrations. You focused on her pleasure, driven by the sounds of her moans, by the way her body curved into a bow of tension as she neared her climax.

"Mm.." you hummed against her, your voice a vibration that only served to push her closer to the edge. "You gonna cum for me?”

She tightened her grip in your hair, like she was going to rip out each strand. “If you keep it up, yes.”

With a few more strokes of your tongue coupled with your fingers that had found their way back to her, pressing at her clit, she shattered, her climax washing over her in an intense wave that left her gasping and clinging to you as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

As her breathing slowed and her grip on your hair loosened, you came up for air and licked around your lips for any remnants of her juices.

She pulled you by the collar of your shirt and met her lips with yours fervently. It was like the woman had no desire to breathe. You kissed back, your tongue brushing against hers.

Sae-byeok could taste herself on your lips and she smirked, a light scoff escaping her as she pulled away. “You’re so annoying.”

“Am I? You didn’t think so a minute ago.” You teased, moving to lay beside her on the bed, letting out a sigh.

“I always think you’re annoying, even if you’re eating me out.” She folded her arms over her chest, turning her head to look you in the eyes.

“Good to know.”

#fanfic #sae byeok #saebyeok x reader #squid game #wlw smut #kang sae byeok x reader

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melosliving · 1 day ago

Note

im not sure if you did this yet BUT HEAR ME OUTTT, what if reader played in a movie with both aaron and kelvin and they are doing a interview together and they both discreetly see reader fidgeting with her hands and dress and try to secretly stop her and then after the interview is over they talk to her about it because its been going on for a minute…

Let me cook girl 😎 thanks for your request baby ❤️❤️

aaron pierre n kelvin harrison jr x actress!reader

you’re a nervous little thing…

warnings : dissociation

Press days are nothing new. You’ve done this a hundred times before��same routine, different city. Bright lights, velvet chairs, a round of staged laughs and knowing glances. Kelvin cracking jokes, Aaron making effortless comebacks, you sitting between them, playing the perfect balance to their chaos. It’s familiar. Easy.

But today, something feels off.

You’re aware of the cameras, the energy of the room, the way your dress sits against your skin—but it all feels distant, like you’re watching from somewhere outside yourself. Your hands won’t stay still, fingers brushing over the fabric of your dress, tapping against your knee, pressing against your rings. The voices around you sound far away, the world slightly out of sync.

Then you feel something. Aaron shifts beside you, the movement so small it’s barely noticeable, but suddenly his knee is pressed lightly against yours. But it his his hand that makes you aware of what you were doing. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t make a show of it, just lets the warmth of his hand seep into you like an anchor.

A beat later, Kelvin exhales through his nose, almost like a sigh, and leans back in his chair, arms resting on the armrests—but one of them, the one closest to you, brushes against your own. The weight is barely there, just the slightest pressure of skin against skin, but it’s intentional.

You breathe in slowly, focusing on that—on them. On the way their presence feels steady, how they’ve closed in around you just enough to remind you that you’re not drifting alone.

“You good?” Kelvin’s voice is low, casual enough that no one else would catch the concern tucked beneath it.

You nod, just once. He doesn’t push. Neither does Aaron. But they don’t move away either.

The interviewer shifts in her seat, oblivious. “So, let’s talk about the chemistry between you three, because it’s insane in this film,” she says, laughing. “Was that something you had to work on, or was it natural?”

Aaron tilts his head slightly, smirking. “I mean, that’s all her. I think she is what makes us look and feel so real.” He nods in your direction. “She makes it easy.”

Kelvin hums in agreement. “Yeah, don’t let her fool you. She’s got people thinking we were actually in love out here.”

You huff a small laugh, trying to shake the fog in your head. “You two were just as bad.”

Aaron turns toward Kelvin with a knowing look. “I did catch you staring a few times.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Excuse You, you were the one looking at my mouth every other scene.”

Aaron raises a brow. “Because you wouldn’t stop licking your lips.” Kelvin gestures toward you. “Well, she kept whispering in my ear, so how was I supposed to focus?”

You blink at him. “That was literally in the script.”

Aaron exhales dramatically. “Didn’t have to say it like that, though.” Kelvin hums. “Yeah, some of those lines felt… personal.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You two are ridiculous.”

Aaron grins, shifting slightly so his elbow just barely nudges against yours. “And yet, you keep coming back.”

Kelvin leans in, voice dropping just enough that only you can hear. “You okay now?” You nod again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Kelvin holds your gaze for a second longer before leaning back. Aaron doesn’t say anything, just taps his fingers lightly against your knee once—brief, barely noticeable—before returning his hand to his lap.

The conversation moves on, but the weight in your chest feels a little lighter. The moment the cameras stop rolling, Kelvin turns to you.

“You been doing that a lot lately,” he says, voice quieter now, more serious. Aaron is watching you too, brow slightly furrowed. “Spacing out like that.”

You hesitate, fingers grazing over the rings on your hand again. “It’s nothing. Just happens sometimes.”

Kelvin tilts his head. “You telling us that, or yourself?” You sigh, pressing your lips together. “Both ? I’m fine.”

Aaron doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, smoothing the fabric of your sleeve, his touch light, absentminded. “You don’t have to go through it alone, you know.”

Kelvin exhales, shaking his head. “Yeah. Next time, just tap one of us or somethin’. Let us bring you back.”

You glance between them, their expressions soft, steady, patient. You nod. “Yeah.”

Aaron studies you for a second longer before giving a small, satisfied nod. Then, because he can’t not do it, he smirks. “Or, you know, you could just sit next to me all the time. Let me hold your hand before you start floating off somewhere.”

Kelvin scoffs. “Here he go.”

Aaron shrugs. “I’m just sayin’, I’m right here—”

Kelvin rolls his eyes. “And I’m right here. Not you trying to steal my shine,”

Aaron smirks, leaning in slightly. “Yeah, but she likes me better.” Kelvin huffs out a laugh, then turns to you, expression playful. “Is that true?”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “I’m literally leaving.”

Kelvin grins. “Nah, we’re takin’ you to get food first.” Aaron hums. “Yeah, you definitely need to eat.”

You sigh, but there’s no real protest. “Fine.”

By the time you check your phone, Twitter is already spiraling.

“Kelvin and Aaron subtly closing in around her when she started dissociating… I need a moment.”

“No one’s talking about how Aaron just naturally reached for her hand without even looking? Hello???”

“Kelvin whispering ‘you okay now?’ with that serious look??? SIR, PLEASE.”

“They’re so soft with her but still manage to be the most unserious men alive. It’s unfair.”

@ melosliving 2025

#aaron pierre #mufasa : the lion king #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre fluff #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr x reader #kelvin harrison jr fluff #kelvin harrion jr x black!reader #actress!reader

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claramelooo · 2 days ago

Text

WOVEN FATES

You don't know the pleasure it is to be back!!! Well, is everyone here ready for this?

As always, today is just the prologue. And on Saturday (known as tomorrow) the first chapter will come out.

As I said previously, posts will decrease in frequency for reasons of: COLLEGE WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME? But I'll be here every Saturday and I'll wait for you

Enjoy it!

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Warnings: Manipulation, corrupt kink, mommy kink, ageplay, degradation, age difference, power dynamics, submission and domination, psychological domination, dubcon, fluffy, spanking, bdsm, angst, strap-on, slow burn [...]

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

PROLOGUE

The golden light of dusk spilled through the towering windows of the Victorian mansion, staining the shadows with hues of copper and scarlet.

The air was heavy with the woody aroma of expensive whisky in a forgotten crystal glass on the mahogany table, mingling with the scent of Agatha Harkness—something between jasmine and the electric charge of an impending storm.

Seated in a plush velvet armchair of deep purple, she watched the crimson liquid swirl in the glass between her pale fingers, though her mind was far away, caught in thoughts that flowed like a dark, boundless river.

Her expression was unreadable, shaped by years of impenetrable control. The woman who ruled Hollywood, who turned careers into legends or dust with a mere gesture, felt something she loathed to admit: emptiness.

The fire crackled in the hearth, but even its flames dared not fill the thick silence that dominated the room. The director, whose blue eyes could cut like razors, seemed fixed on the void, her thoughts a myriad of sparks hidden beneath the surface.

“Are you going to keep drowning in your thoughts, or will you finally talk to me?”

The deep, slightly husky voice sliced through the silence like a sharp blade. Leaning against the doorframe, Rio Vidal watched her wife with the intensity of someone who knew the full weight of their own love.

Arms crossed, her black dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, revealing the ink that snaked across her sun-kissed skin. Every line of her body exuded contained frustration and a devotion so fierce it bordered on destructive.

“I don’t see what there is to talk about,” Agatha replied dryly, not even turning her head. “You know how this works. I work. And you play with your watercolors. We’re functional this way.”

Rio let out a bitter laugh, striding into the room with firm steps. “Functional? We’re further apart than ever, Agatha. You don’t even bother pretending anymore.”

The younger woman stopped beside the armchair, leaning in just enough for the woody, citrus scent of her skin to envelop Agatha.

The height difference was negligible, but the energy between them was brutal. Rio had always been raw intensity, an insatiable hunger. And Agatha? An unattainable enigma.

“What do you want me to say?” Agatha finally lifted her eyes, cold as ancient ice. “That I’m sorry for being the woman the world expects me to be? That I apologize for not being shaped for the tenderness you insist on demanding?”

Rio clenched her jaw, her brown eyes glinting in the warm firelight. For years, she had fought against this wall, this chasm between them. But fighting Agatha was like playing chess against an opponent who had already planned ten moves ahead.

“I don’t want apologies, Agatha,” she murmured, her voice unexpectedly soft. “I want to know if there’s still something here. Anything real, something that isn’t part of this damn performance you put on all the time.”

The silence between them wasn’t just heavy—it was devastating.

Then Agatha looked away.

A small detail, almost insignificant. But to Rio, it felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t know,” Agatha said at last. And for the first time, the ice in her voice didn’t sound unbreakable.

The weariness in Rio deepened. She carried her obsession with Agatha like a curse, a sentence she had willingly accepted. But even the most devoted love has its limits.

It was then that fate decided to intervene.

Agatha’s phone buzzed on the table beside her. The sound made them both blink, as if a spell had been broken.

With a restrained sigh, Agatha swiped her finger across the screen. The notification was from her team of advisors. Tomorrow, she would give a special mentorship session at the local university.

An obligation she had initially despised, but now…

Now it seemed intriguing.

Rio raised an eyebrow. “A new project?”

Agatha merely smiled, tilting her head slightly. An enigmatic, lethal smile.

Rio didn’t trust that smile.

“And what exactly are you going to teach those students, hm? How to be a manipulative ice queen?”

“Perhaps.”

They exchanged a glance, a silent battle waged between desire and resentment. Neither of them knew that a seemingly mundane encounter was about to change everything.

The missing link. The force that could either destroy or save what remained between them.

You.

~*~

Are babies prepared to be corrupted?

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samiwok · 13 hours ago

Text

/2025.SAMIWOK/

{ NSFW } — A Valentine’s day gift,

pairing : Rafayel x fem!reader

summary : it’s Valentine’s Day and Rafayel invites you to spend it with him at his place. the night goes pretty well and it ends up just the way you expected.

content : 6k words. chocolate aphrodisiacs ?? ; use of handcuffs ; oral sex : reader receiving ; soft sex ; Rafayel teases a lot

note : the explicit smut part isn’t that long it’s mostly the tensed atmosphere before that is well written but i’m planning on improving about that. anyway. that’s the first lads fic but there’ll be more heh

“Valentine’s Day is a stupid and commercialized holiday.” Those were your own words for many years.

You’re a grown adult and you still see Valentine's day as a scam; something made up completely by a capitalist society forcing people to spend money. Because truly.. who wouldn’t want to see their loved ones smile ? Of course you still think that it is the reality behind that holiday.

Yet it’s different this year.

Because this year you have him. Him, who texts you daily to check on you. Him, who stares at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Him, who makes you feel loved simply by smiling back at you.

So yeah.. Valentine’s Day is stupid. Stupid and made up to have stupid people spending their stupid money on stupid things to give to their lovers. Stupid holiday. Yet you crave to spend it with him. You crave his gifts, his touch.. well, his attention.

You’re still in the street, walking home from today’s assigned missions. Your eyes wander around the city. Couples.. Families.. And in the middle of that, single souls, wandering around the streets, looking lonely just like you.

Lonely… Yeah, perhaps you should try and call…

Oh ?

You take your phone out of your pocket and see the familiar face of the one you think about a little too much these days. “Incoming call : Annoying fishie…<3”

You smile at the only presence of his name on your screen, because the truth is he’s got you wrapped around his fingers. So much so that you’re smiling at your phone in the middle of the street, excited to hear his voice before you even pick up the call. You cough slightly before you do. After all, you wouldn’t want to give him the confidence he needs to tease you.

“Hello ?” You reply, quite calmly and your voice almost sounds a little cold.

“Hmph. Finally ! I thought you’d never pick up the call.” And there he goes, complaining not even five seconds into the call. You sigh longly. He’s always so dramatic.. and for what ? That man is 24 after all and still pouting like a little boy whose mother refuses a toy. Ridiculous. But even that part of him makes him lovable to you.

“Don’t even start-“ You reply and he interrupts with a soft laugh that warms your heart. You instinctively smile because you can picture his lips curling up as he laughs and his eyes matching the playful tone of his voice as he speaks.

“Is my Miss bodyguard free tonight, by any chance ?” He asks so politely. Usually, he would tell you to join him wherever he wants to see you. Who would’ve imagined him being so sweet as he suggests a plan to you.

You take a look at your watch quickly and it displays 5:21 pm. It is not late. Your plans for tonight were mostly about heading home, showering, eating dinner and sleeping. You worked today and you have to go back to work tomorrow. Yeah… Stupid holiday which doesn't even allow a resting day.

“My weeks are only filled with meetings with colleagues and wanderers.” You reply right away, complaining a bit about how tired you feel. The question was not about it, yet Rafayel still replies to you with worry and encouraging words.

On the other end of the line, he’s looking around the garden. It is empty; just the way he feels when you’re not by his side. He respects your job, knows it’s hard and doesn’t want to be a bother yet he’d be ready to beg for you to come see him everyday.

“Need a massage, cutie ?” He asks and you can almost picture that annoying smirk on his lips from here.

Of course he was going to flirt with you. There is no way he calls you and doesn’t try his tricks on you. Because he loves the way you always let out a little blank before you reply, as if thinking hard about a perfect answer.

“…How much will it cost ?” You hear a slight humming sound as you reply. It’s not the first time you flirt back, but it always feels so surprising for him.

He chuckles and his breath on the speaker almost tickles your ear with its sweetness. “We’ll figure something out.” He replies and the sound of his voice drives you crazy. His low voice is so unusual it strikes a special feeling inside of you.

You want him. Oh God you do.

There is a brief silence, quickly interrupted by Rafayel. “7pm at my place ?” he asks. You ponder for a while and agree. If this is going to be the first Valentine’s day you spend with him, you might as well make it unforgettable for both of you, right ?

There’s a few more brief exchanges and you hang up the phone the minute you step through the door to your apartment. You head towards the living-room and lay on the sofa.

Tired… You think as you close your eyes for a few seconds. You were gonna prepare of course, but a small nap never killed anyone.

You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling that is only lightened up by the colored lights of the bar that’s on the other side of the road, right in front of the building you live in. It goes from a flashy purple to various shades of pink before it turns to a light blue. It goes in a loop and it reminds you of Rafayel’s color palette.

You smile at the thought of him. Again. Oh how desperate you look like when your brain replays hundreds of memories of his pretty eyes devouring you alive.

You grab your phone that’s vibrating right next to your ear in a quite annoying way and hold it up pretty close to your face as you’re still laying down.

You open Rafayel’s message and your cheeks get slightly red. “do you like surprises, miss bodyguard ?” he asks and his message is joined with a picture of half of his naked chest and his hand holding out a pair of handcuffs.

You never tried this before yet the photo instantly turns you on. Perhaps it’s because you know it’s him holding them out that you want them on your wrists so bad.

You gulp before responding almost immediately. “Want me to tie you down to the bed ?” You tease and surprisingly he instantly responds “…who knows. im eager to see you try” punctuated with playful emotes.

Of course he was gonna text this. That man just has a way of driving you crazy that is incredibly strong and even though you’re used to it by now, he somehow still manages to get you giggling every single time.

You take a quick shower, not wanting to be late for your date with your very first Valentine. And because your hair today is especially beautiful, you decide not to wash it to be the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. When you get out of the shower and head over to your bedroom, the clock displays 6:02. You’re right on time to make yourself pretty with a bit of makeup and the stunning clothes you have in mind.

That man deserves it, with the way he makes you feel : loved and safe; Respected and interesting. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror and you feel so beautiful you would almost want to kiss yourself.

Perfect. You grab your phone and quickly type a message before going out of the building.

“Will be there in 20.”

As you head to his place, the night is slowly falling. You look around and realize the streets are empty. The ocean is pretty agitated tonight and the warmth in the air surrounding you is a sign of a storm incoming.

You’re not really fond of huge storms, at least not at Rafayel’s place since he lives so close to the ocean. Your eyes are fixed on the horizon and before you even realize it, you’re right in front of his place. It’s a pretty immense ground, definitely way too big for a single person.

Rafayel likes his loneliness but what he craves even more is your presence by his side. Therefore, he walks towards the door the second he realizes you’re here.

You push open the front gate. The lights are on all along the way towards his house. And as you walk up the stairs, he opens the door, slowly leaning against it. He wears his usual white shirt and fancy black pants tonight. He looks good, stunning even, as always; yet you have to admit you feel a bit… disappointed, maybe ? After all, you put on a fancy dress, and high heels for the night. It was not the most comfortable but you felt it was needed to appear perfect for him. Meanwhile, he’s standing there, looking perfect with little to no effort.

“My miss bodyguard made herself extremely pretty.” He points out the obvious. You do look perfect. Your hair is soft and placed perfectly well. You wear a long red velvet dress he has never seen before and it matches the lipstick you chose earlier. Your eyes stare at him in a way that’s making him forget about everything that isn’t you.

Rafayel stares at you in awe and he cannot take his eyes off. You’re beautiful. Always. And when you look like that, you are like a muse to him, his source of inspiration. He wishes his brain could photograph you under the moonlight so he could always wake up with that image of you as you walk up towards him for the whole night.

The whole night.

A whole night to yourselves.

It almost sounds like a dream, yet, when his hand grabs yours and his thumb rubs the palm of your hand, you realize it’s real. All of it. From his soft gaze to his gentle touch to the intoxicating scent of his perfume that’s making you crazy about him. It is definitely real. He is here with you.

It’s the lovers holiday and he decided to spend it with you.

“Are you cold, cutie ?” He asks and he’s ready to go running, and get one of his numerous cardigans to put on your shoulders to protect you from the soft breeze because nothing could ever be allowed to hurt his beloved.

You shake your head. “No. It’s quite warm, actually.” You add, and just when you try avoiding his gaze he flashes you a smile. “Come with me, then.” You walk into this big house of his and even though you’ve come here multiple times before you never get used to how luxurious it seems.

The hall of the house is decorated with glorious statues and large, beautiful paintings made by Rafayel himself. You stare around as if discovering a whole new world and quickly reach the garden. As you set your feet on the wooden patio you realize he’s been preparing a big surprise for you.

There are flowers. Lots of them. Bouquets, all as beautiful as the others. There’s food all over the table, and it’s literally everything you adore. The music playing in the background is from the playlist you once made for him. You gulp, and turn to him, a bit emotional about all of this.

“My God, Rafayel. You didn’t have to do all that.” You don’t even find the right words at this point and maybe you sound a bit ungrateful right now but he knows you well enough to know this actually pleases you, so much that you struggle expressing your genuine feelings.

“Indeed. I didn’t have to.” He repeats, a bit sassy as he approaches you, pulling on your hand until he feels your body pressed against his and he can whisper against your ear. “My Miss Bodyguard works hard daily to protect me, I must repay her the right way.”

You run a hand through his hair and stare at him for a few seconds, eyes intensely screaming how hard you want him and he gets it immediately. His lips crash into yours, capturing your mouth for a passionate kiss and it almost feels like you have not met for years with how hard you’re both clinging to each other.

You pull his hair gently and he almost moans into the kiss. The kiss feels like it’s never-ending and it takes all of his energy to pull away from you.

He takes a step back, catching his breath and without any surprise : he jokes again.

“Let’s not eat dessert yet, mhm ?” He says as he points to the table and all of the delicious food he’s prepared before you come.

Your thumb brushes against your lips as you follow him to a new topic after that steamy kiss you just shared. “Did Thomas help you do this ?” You ask, a bit curious as to how he managed to do this in only a few hours.

Rafayel pouts slightly, his arms crossed as he turns his back on you, “Hmph. I can do things on my own, you know.”

You smile and walk towards him. His back is still turned on you. You wrap an arm around his neck, kissing his cheek softly, your hand caressing his jawline until it reaches his chin, locking it between your fingers and forcing him to look at you.

“Rafayel ?” You say. You raise an eyebrow, a bit suspicious. Your voice is low, almost menacing and his eyes look away from yours, capitulating. “Fiiiine.” he says, still pouting slightly “He helped me a bit.”

“You little liar !” You accuse him but his angel eyes make you forget about it pretty quickly. They’re screaming his innocence despite him the fact he just admitted trying to hide Thoma’s help in his surprise.. “I technically did not lie.” And you shake your head, brushing it off.

As you take a step back, pulling away from him, you cross your arms against your chest in an elegant way. Your eyes are almost challenging him to do something, and he clears his throat quietly.

Rafayel smiles and pulls your hand once again, making you follow him towards the sofa near the table. He remains standing for a few seconds, his eyes hypnotized by the attractive sight of your low-cut neckline given by the angle.

It’s only when you move your head and call out his name once again tonight that he snaps out of his thoughts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah” he quickly says, his head shaking as if it helped chase the dirty thoughts away.

The music changes to the next track, and it’s a much calmer one. The instruments used in that one have the power to change your mood right away and when your eyes meet his, you know your minds are connected. You think alike a lot of times, and now is no exception.

He wants you.

His eyes are filled with lust and he’s practically taking off your clothes with them. His Adam’s apple moves as he tries gulping his desires away discreetly; and fails. His head rests against one of his hands, his index finger tapping regularly against his temples as if he was waiting for something. A sign maybe ? Your consent to him touching you.

You want him.

You blink several times as if it would be enough to hide the perversion of the numerous secret thoughts reflecting in your eyes. Your legs are crossed and subconsciously rubbing against one another, desperately seeking some sort of pleasure. And your breathing… It betrays your needs.

“A glass of wine ?” Rafayel is the first to break the silence between you two. And thank God he does, otherwise you wouldn’t have lasted much longer before jumping on his lap and ripping both your clothes off.

You nod. You don’t drink so much wine, and aren’t into it either but you’ll take anything he’ll give you. Also the kiss you shared just before and the tense atmosphere that seem to surround the two of you does not give you a good reason to turn down his offer. You’re thirsty and it’s not wine nor water that is going to slow it down.

He hands out your glass to you and then his. “Cheers.” He says with a pretty smile matching the softness in his eyes as you stare into them before clinking softly your glass against his.

“Cheers.” You respond and your eyes never once leave his face as you take a first sip of the drink. It’s good. Really good. It’s probably the best wine you’ve ever tasted. At least, the only wine that is not making your face contort in disgust as if being inflicted the worst sufferings in the world.

You put the glass down and smirk at him.

“Shall we play a questions game ?”

You feel a little bolder than usual, and judging by the gaze in his eyes at your proposition, he’s into it. His lips mirror yours, curling up in a playful smirk. “Go ahead and ask a question then.”

You squint as if thinking hard about your question when in reality : you suggested it only because you knew exactly what to ask and where it would lead.

“Then… Let’s start easy. What do you think of my dress ?” You ask innocently caressing the velvet fabric. It feels so soft against your fingertips and you love it. You stare at him as you wait for the verdict.

Rafayel looks at the dress, fully, and his insistent gaze could almost feel uncomfortable if you didn’t want him right here and now.

“It perfectly accentuates that beautiful body of yours, miss Bodyguard,” He replies confidently. “My turn now. What do you hide under that perfectly cut dress ?”

He asks so quickly you can’t even grasp the compliment he just gave you. You gulp and decide to flirt again. “Why don’t you take a guess ?”

“That is not the rule of the game.” He says so low you almost can’t hear him.

“Who cares about rules ?” You say. You could tell him what you wear of course. But you want him to discover it himself for you’ve been dying to see the look on his face when you’d reveal your lingerie to him.

Rafayel approaches dangerously on the sofa. “Careful, cutie. I care about rules, and I’ll make you apply them if I have to.” His eyes are slightly menacing when he accentuates the first person pronoun. His words are an obvious threat but also a challenge. Another. Because the truth is, Rafayel knows you. He knows you, like the back of his hand and he knows the dirtiest part of you is ready to receive a punishment.

That wouldn’t even feel like one, considering some of your fantasies.

You smile and stare as he keeps approaching you slowly, almost like a predator that is about to catch his prey, a prey he’s been going after since they first met.

“I said : take a guess.” You repeat. Your voice is low and your heart feels like it’s about to explode from all the tension between you two. Rafayel’s lips are slightly parted and he sighs. “Can I have a hint ?” He asks, giving up resisting your little game.

“Too easy… Try guessing without a hint and you’ll be rewarded if you’re right.” You say. The bold words come out of your mouth so quickly you can’t even think before you speak. That makes him laugh a bit and he looks quite menacing when he does.

He keeps approaching and at some point you end up laying on your back with him crawling over your body, his hands resting on both sides of your head on the sofa, as if he’s caging you with it.

His eyes narrow as he looks at your lips and then back to your eyes. You don’t even know how divine you look right now. His mind is getting dysfunctional from all the thoughts he’s having, from how bad he wants you. At this point he’s not even trying to hide it anymore.

“Bold of you to assume I won’t claim that reward anyway.” You’re about to protest, when his lips find yours once more tonight. If the kiss from earlier was filled with the desire you both feel for each other; it is no different now, except it’s more pressed, more needy. You bite his lips as a slight punishment for his lack of obedience.

He pulls back and touches his lips you’ve just bitten. “You…” He whines, before he gets up and lifts you up the sofa.

He takes a few steps towards the house and leaves the untouched food on the table along with both your wine glasses. His room is the door that’s right on the left and as he opens it you see how he carefully decorated his room.

There’s a box of chocolate on the nightstand and a few other things. Rafayel carefully put you on his bed. He takes a step back and stares at you from head to toe.

The music that was playing outside is now playing on the small speakers he put in his room. As the next song plays, a smile paints on his lips. He slowly leans over you, his hands delicately taking off your heels. He looks down at you as you’re laying on your back and he’s still standing by the bed.

He looks at his left and opens the chocolate box. “Do you know that chocolates have aphrodisiac virtues ?” You heard about this before, but despite eating chocolate before, you’ve never felt anything special.

You gulp and he’s handing you a chocolate. “They say when the chocolate melts into your mouth, it creates a pure euphoric sensation in your whole body that’s making you crave something else.” He smirks and approaches the chocolate to your mouth. His long and thin fingers rub against your lips as you part them slightly to bite into what he’s giving you.

Your eyes never once leave his, and the expression on your face speaks thousands of unsaid words. He gives you a chaste kiss and eats the other part of the chocolate.

“What do you think, Miss Bodyguard ? Does eating that chocolate strike a special spot inside of you ?” He asks but the answer he wants isn’t about this. What he truly wants to know is whether you want him or not. And he knows you do, because, well, it’s written all over your face. But he wants you to say it.

He kneels on the edge of the bed, his hand pulling up your left leg, bringing it higher until you’re able to rub your feet against his lower back. His long and thin fingers feel so soft against your skin. “Say the words.” Rafayel commands, but the softness in his voice makes it sound like a plea.

He’s containing himself, but he knows he won’t be able to hold himself much longer if you keep staring at him like that while pulling his body closer to yours on his bed, with the sensual music playing in the background.

He grabs the zipper on the side of your dress, pulling it down and you bite your lip when his mouth finds its way down into your neck, dropping gentle kisses and eagerly sucking on your skin. “You drive me crazy.” He whispers between two kisses. His warm breathing on your neck mixed to his growing erection rubbing against your own most intimate parts make you let out a moan.

“I want you. Rafayel, please...” There you are, begging him to go further. Judging by the instant smirk on his lips as he pulls away from you to take off his shirt, he’s been craving to hear this.

Seeing him shirtless got you biting your lower lip, again. His body is perfect. Because it’s him. His chest punctuated here and there with a few moles make him extremely attractive. The way his abs are drawn make you want to admire it. The dim light only allows you to see his curves in the dark yet you still think of him as a work of art.

But you don’t even have time to think about what you’re staring at. Rafayel lays on top of you, whispering things against your ear that probably got you blushing. “Should I be gentle ? Or would you prefer me being rough ?” He asks and it’s most likely the most intimate question you’ve ever been expected to answer.

“Why don’t you take out my dress first ?” You say and you’re surprised yourself. Because you have no energy left in your body to resist him, you just crave to feel him inside of you yet you still try gaining time over that.

He chuckles. Part of him is quite irritated not to have an answer yet. His frustration leads him to be quite in a hurry as his hands start pulling down on your dress. Quickly, your bra is revealed and he’s almost salivating at the sight.

“Beautiful.” He whispers against your skin as he pulls you off the bed. You’re standing now and as if he was your loyal subject, he kneels before you. His eyes are practically devouring you right here, dropping kisses along your chest while pulling down your dress to reveal your full body.

“Beautiful.” He repeats as his mouth goes down on your body. Your skin is burning from the initial heat in the room mixed to the heated exchange with him just a few seconds ago.

You gulp and hold your smirk when the dress finally reaches the floor. With grace, you hold onto his shoulders and get rid of it, throwing the dress away in his room.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” You mutter and his eyes almost sparkle at the sight of your stockings. “You-“ He starts and he stops himself. He’s got too many things to say, but he prefers to show you instead.

Too many words could bore you. But his hands ? Oh no there’s no way his expert hands bore you. He brings your left leg to his shoulder, and with his eyes closed he starts kissing your inner thighs. He knows it can get quite a sensitive spot when you’re so desperate to be loved, physically.

His mouth moves fast towards your pussy and it catches you off guard, your mouth letting out a few moans as you almost beg him to stop. You surely don’t want to cum just yet, but he has the entire night to make you. And it’s starting now. All of his senses are focused on hearing your sweet moans and teasing your wet sex. He loves to hear you and the smirk on his lips as you get louder only grow larger.

“Did you- mh like the lingerie I’ve chosen ?” You still manage to ask. You’re not one to beg for compliments, but you know the garter belts made him lose his mind for a second. And that’s the exact reason he’s still kneeling, despite the floor of his room not being comfortable, and for what ? Only to pleasure you.

“It’s perfect. You’re so divine it makes me crazy…” He whispers, opening his eyes to check the reaction on your face, and seeing the evident blush on your cheeks, he’s fully satisfied.

“Why don’t I show you just how much I love them ?” He asks, whispering, his fingers grasping the black lace thong that’s the only thing separating his eager mouth to the sweet spot that could make you a moaning mess. You gasp when he pulls it down, without ever taking his eyes off yours.

“Stay still, cutie.” He drops a kiss first, and quickly sticks his tongue to your clit.

“Rafayel- ah…” Your hands grip his hair instinctively.

As his tongue works hardly against your clit, almost desperate to make you cum quickly, you pull his hair harder. He’s good. He’s so good, you actually wonder how many times before he did this, and to who.

“Focus. Look at me, pleasuring you.” The way he accentuates his last word almost sounds like he can hear your train of thought.

Rafayel hums against your clit, and it sends a special feeling in your entire being. His tongue is lapping faster now and his eyes are dangerously staring at each of your reactions, memorizing them.

It is the most beautiful sight ever. You’re having a great time, he reads it on your face, and he’s just so proud he’s the one making you feel that way.

“I’m gonna.. I’m gonna cum if you keep going.” You warn. And he stops, at least for a second. “Then cum.” He says and it’s almost cruel how he commands you around. He wraps his hands around your thighs, locking you here with him sucking on your clit as if it was the source of the euphoria in his entire body.

And it might be at this point. You feel yourself getting close and he feels it too. With a smirk on his lips, he eats you out harder. Faster. Anything to hear his name fall out from your mouth. His eyes are practically screaming “Go on”.

Suddenly you feel yourself losing your balance, because the wave of pleasure submerging your body is simply too good. It’s been a long time and your legs are shaking so hard. But before you have the time to worry about falling, Rafayel lifts you off the floor and throws you on the bed.

“Have you had enough, cutie ?” He asks and he’s so obviously provoking you with that question. He smirks proudly as he sees you, still panting and the sheets becoming wet between your thighs. It’s his work of art.

You chuckle and shake your head. “Didn't you promise me a surprise ?” You say, referring to the earlier texts. He laughs too. He knows what you mean, yet he didn’t know you’d be into it as well, to the point of asking for it.

He opens the drawer and takes out the pair of handcuffs. “Shall I ?” He asks softly as you approach your wrists, allowing him to put them on for you. He bites his lip, carefully staring as he handcuffs you. His moves are slow, he obviously never did it before. And it somehow warms your heart to know you’re trying things together already.

“There. Does it hurt ?” He asks gently, his eyes scanning your face in a search for responses. “No. Now… I believe we’re not done yet.” You say, extending your leg so that your feet could rub against the obvious bulge in his pants.

As soon as you ask for it, he delivers. He takes off the rest of his clothes and his hard cock bouncing back up makes you bite your lip. It’s long but not too thick, just like you expected it to be.

He comes back on the bed and none of you waste time. You both know you’ve been wanting this ever since the beginning of this date. No. Ever since you first kissed.

You spread your legs, your wrists still tied to the bed.

He seizes your waist, pulling your body closer, and of course he doesn’t give you what you crave immediately. Instead, he rubs the tip of it against your clit and smirks down at your desperate expression.

“Put it in.” You command and it’s quite obvious from the hurried tone in your voice that you’re getting frustrated. He loves it when you moan, but he loves it even more when you beg.

His arrogant eyes stare down, and with his hands he takes off your bra, revealing your beautiful breast. He pinches one of your nipples, while his mouth eagerly sucks on the other. “You better ask nicely if you want it.” He whispers against your skin.

His chuckle makes you want to push him down the bed and ride him yourself. But you’re unable to move since he tied you up just before. Now you’re almost pissed off by his attitude, because of course he was gonna push his luck and your limits with it.

“Rafayel.” You say. “I only listen to good girls.” He replies.

He’s making you crazy, in all the ways he can. You want to scream because it feels so frustrating right now. But his cruelty somehow makes him so attractive to you.

“Rafayel please… I need you.” You say, eyebrows pinched together and angel eyes begging for him to stop teasing.

That gaze of yours is all he needs to change his mind and the soft sound of your voice as you beg for him to take you is more than enough.

He doesn’t warn, doesn’t say anything and pushes himself into your wet cunt, and it’s squeezing him so good. He whines with each of his thrusts, desperate. “Mhh.. you’re so good” He moans into your ear.

His hands are holding you in place, and your body’s not flinching, not even when his thrusts become harder and more desperate.

“Rafayel… Kiss me.” You say, almost pleading him to agree and as he obliges, his lips finding their way toward yours, you’re reduced to a moaning mess.

His thrusts switch from delicate and filled with some sort of desire : one to make you feel loved to a more brutal and rough way that doesn't show any mercy to your overstimulated body.

He loves that you take him without complaining. You let him do as he pleases, mostly because you like it that way too, but also because seeing him so free with you feels good. He feels good enough with you to be able to show both sides of himself.

“You’re so good…” Rafayel moans into your ear and he said it before but you never get tired of hearing it. His voice is softer than usual, more serious yet more relaxed at the same time.

His hands caress your thighs, throwing your legs behind his back and you wrap them together, pressing his body together with yours. You crave his voice, his scent and his touch. You want him to fill you up completely because he’s yours and you are his.

“Mine…” He moans against your neck as he sucks on it gently, but still hard enough to leave a mark of his affection.

He thrusts harder, deeper. He’s in a hurry to cum. He wants to make you feel good, wants to moan your name and make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world because, truly, you are the only one that matters to him.

The way he clings to you, and the way his voice calls out your name several times as he keeps burying himself deep inside of you, it just feels right. It feels like the only thing that was ever certain.

You are meant for him.

That’s the only thing that’s on both your minds as you reach orgasm together. And the room is filled with both your moans of each other’s name. Now it’s you and him, no one else matters.

As he cums, he nuzzles his head into your neck, one of his hands caressing your soft hair as you’re both panting and desperately trying to catch your breath. He’s still inside of you and he doesn’t want to pull away.

He feels good in your embrace. It’s warm. It’s filled with your love and that’s the only thing he needs. Now and forever you’re the only one.

Rafayel stares at you for a few seconds and he drops a loving, gentle kiss on your lips. “You’re the only one I want.” He says softly and it brings an instant smile on your lips as you kiss him back.

“I love you.” He thinks but doesn’t say it, after all, there’s still plenty of time to make you feel his love.

A whole night. An entire life. Together always. That’s pretty much the only thing he’s sure of. Yeah. Together, always.

#love and deepspace #lads #lads rafayel #rafayel smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #lads smut

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novaursa · 2 days ago

Text

Caught by Fire (the absence)

- Summary: A story where Daemon's daughter falls from the sky. And by some strange events orchestrated by fate, Otto catches you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Otto Hightower

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the reality

- Next part: the fallen

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The air on the balcony was crisp with the lingering chill of the evening, a gentle breeze rolling in from Blackwater Bay. The flickering torches lining the Red Keep’s walls cast an amber glow against the cool marble, their flames swaying lazily with the wind. The city stretched beyond, its lights dotting the darkened landscape like fallen stars.

You stood near the balustrade, your hands resting lightly on the cool stone, staring out at the water as if lost in thought. The faint rustling of your gown was the only sound accompanying the distant hum of the city below.

Otto Hightower had not intended to find himself here. In truth, he had been pacing the halls in an effort to dispel the thoughts that had plagued him ever since his conversation with the king. But fate—or perhaps his own weakness—had led him to you.

For a moment, he hesitated in the shadow of the archway, watching you in silence. The way the moonlight touched your silver hair, the way the wind played with the edges of your gown—it was a sight that unsettled him in ways he refused to acknowledge.

Despite his better judgment, despite Viserys’s warning, Otto stepped forward.

"You seem troubled, Princess," he said, his voice low and measured as he approached.

You turned slightly at the sound of his voice, your violet eyes meeting his with a hint of surprise before softening. "Lord Hightower," you murmured. "I did not hear you approach."

He inclined his head. "That was not my intention, though I seem to have intruded regardless."

You gave him a small, tired smile. "Not at all. I was only thinking."

Otto moved closer, coming to stand beside you, though he kept a respectful distance. He followed your gaze toward the city below, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. "And what occupies the thoughts of a Targaryen princess so late in the evening?"

A long pause. You exhaled softly, your fingers tracing absent patterns on the stone railing. "I miss my father."

Otto turned his head slightly, his gaze lingering on you. It was a simple admission, yet it carried the weight of something far heavier.

"He has not been gone long," Otto said carefully, though he knew how little comfort that would bring. "Yet I understand the absence of a loved one can feel far greater than mere days."

You nodded slowly, your expression unreadable. "The Red Keep feels… different without him. The halls are quieter, but it is not a peaceful quiet. It is as if something is missing."

Otto considered his words before speaking. "Prince Daemon has always been a force unto himself. His presence commands attention, whether one desires it or not."

You gave a quiet, knowing laugh. "That is an understatement."

A comfortable silence settled between you both for a moment, the cool breeze ruffling the edges of your gown and Otto’s cloak. He should have left then—should have turned and walked away before his presence here became something more than a simple conversation. But something about your quiet melancholy held him in place.

"He will return," Otto said eventually, though it was not a reassurance he wished to give. "Daemon is not a man who stays away for long."

You looked at him then, your gaze searching. "Do you believe that is a good thing, my lord?"

Otto hesitated. The truth was complex, tangled in his own personal feelings about your father and his constant disruptions to the realm’s stability. But standing here, with you looking at him like that, his answer was not so simple.

"I believe that only you can decide what his return will mean for you," Otto said, his voice quieter now. "He is your father. That bond is not so easily broken."

You studied him for a moment before nodding. "Thank you, Lord Hightower."

Otto inclined his head, though he felt a strange unease settling over him. "It is merely the truth, Princess."

Another pause. Then, after a moment, you turned your gaze back to the city, your expression distant once more. "The court watches me closely now that he is gone. I can feel it in the way they speak, in the way they linger when they think I do not notice."

Otto exhaled slowly. "That is the nature of court. Every absence creates opportunity, and there are many who would seek to take advantage of it."

"I will not be their pawn," you said firmly, your fingers tightening on the railing. "I will not be bartered away like a trinket simply because my father is not here to shield me."

Otto’s lips pressed into a thin line. "No, I do not believe you will."

Your gaze flickered toward him again, curiosity evident in your eyes. "You say that with certainty."

He met your eyes evenly. "Because you are your father’s daughter."

There was a beat of silence before you laughed softly, shaking your head. "That is either a compliment or a warning."

"Perhaps both," Otto admitted, a small smirk ghosting across his lips.

You tilted your head slightly, considering him. "And what of you, my lord? Do you watch me closely as well?"

Otto’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly, though he masked it well. It was a dangerous question—one he could not answer honestly. He chose his words carefully.

"My duty is to the realm," he said steadily. "And that duty includes ensuring that those of royal blood are… protected."

"Protected," you repeated, amusement flickering in your eyes. "That is a very diplomatic way of answering."

"It is the only way I can answer," Otto said, his voice quieter now.

You watched him for a moment longer before nodding, as if you had reached some silent conclusion of your own. "I should retire. The hour grows late."

"Of course," Otto said, stepping back slightly, allowing you the space to leave.

As you turned to go, you paused briefly, looking over your shoulder at him. "Good night, Lord Hightower."

"Good night, Princess," he replied, his voice softer than he intended.

He remained on the balcony long after you had left, the cool wind now feeling almost biting against his skin. He had gone against his better judgment tonight, against the king’s warning, and yet… he could not bring himself to regret it.

For better or worse, the game had already begun. And Otto was no longer certain whether he wished to win or simply to remain close enough to see how it would all unfold.

The chambers of the Hand of the King were quieter than usual, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. The air inside was thick, not with smoke but with the weight of Otto Hightower’s thoughts. He sat at his desk, though the parchments before him remained untouched, the ink drying on decrees he had yet to seal.

He should have been reviewing reports, drafting correspondence, and preparing for the next council meeting. Instead, his mind was elsewhere—far from the Red Keep, far from the tedious concerns of the realm. His thoughts were with you.

You had left the capital at first light that morning, embarking on the grand tour of the realm. It was the very same charade Rhaenyra had suffered through not long ago—a spectacle for the lords who clamored for your hand, each hoping to outdo the other in charm, wealth, and empty words.

Otto had watched you leave from the upper levels of Maegor’s Holdfast, standing behind the intricate stone lattice of the tower. He had not gone to the courtyard to bid you farewell. That was not his place. Instead, he had remained there in silent observation as your retinue departed, your silver hair gleaming in the early morning light, your dragon casting a shadow over the city as it took flight.

And now, in the solitude of his chambers, he found himself deeply unsettled. It was a rare and unwelcome sensation.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts. He straightened, clasping his hands together as the door opened to reveal Queen Alicent.

“Father,” she greeted, stepping inside without waiting for permission, as she often did in private.

“Alicent,” Otto said evenly, though there was a weariness in his tone. “What brings you here at this hour?”

Alicent closed the door behind her, smoothing the folds of her deep green gown as she sat opposite him. “I might ask you the same. You did not attend the midday meal.”

“I was occupied,” Otto replied, though they both knew it was a weak excuse.

Alicent studied him carefully, her sharp eyes missing nothing. “You are troubled.”

Otto exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly in his chair. “There are always troubles in court, my dear. It is the nature of politics.”

“This is not politics,” Alicent said quietly. “This is about her, isn’t it?”

Otto’s fingers curled slightly where they rested on the desk, but he did not immediately respond.

Alicent tilted her head, watching him the way she used to as a child, when she was trying to decipher his thoughts. “You knew this would happen. You knew Viserys would insist she find a match.”

Otto let out a slow breath. “Knowing does not make it any easier to witness.”

Alicent’s expression softened, though there was something else in her eyes—something calculating. “If this troubles you so, why did you not try to stop it?”

Otto let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You overestimate my influence, Alicent. Your husband made his decision, and once his mind is set, there is little anyone can do to sway him.”

“Yet you tried,” Alicent observed. “You counselled caution. And when that failed, you held your tongue.”

“I had no choice,” Otto admitted, his voice quieter now. “The king forbade any suggestion that would further provoke Daemon. The mere thought of aligning myself with her in such a way was enough to make Viserys dismiss the notion entirely.”

Alicent leaned forward slightly. “And yet, here you sit, brooding like a man who has lost something he never truly had.”

Otto’s gaze snapped to hers, sharp and warning. “Mind your words, Alicent.”

His daughter did not flinch. She only regarded him with that same quiet intensity, her fingers laced together in her lap. “You care for her,” she said, though it was not a question.

Otto remained silent for a long moment, his jaw tightening. “It is irrelevant.”

Alicent shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “Perhaps to you. But not to me. And not to her.”

At that, Otto stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Alicent gave him a knowing look. “I have seen the way she looks at you, Father. She does not look at the other lords in court that way.”

Otto inhaled sharply, forcing his expression into careful neutrality. “It does not matter what she feels. The king has decided her future, and she will be married before long.”

Alicent sighed, studying him as if she were disappointed in his restraint. “And you will let that happen?”

“What choice do I have?” Otto asked, his voice quieter now. “Would you have me defy Viserys? Would you have me risk everything—for what? A fantasy?”

Alicent was silent for a moment, then finally said, “You have always been a man of reason, Father. But even the most logical men falter when faced with something they truly desire.”

Otto exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. “She is Daemon’s daughter, Alicent. That alone makes this impossible.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Daemon is not here. He abandoned her the moment he let his pride drive him from court.”

“That does not change the fact that she is a princess of the blood,” Otto said firmly. “She was never meant to be mine.”

“But she could be,” Alicent murmured.

Otto looked at his daughter then, truly looked at her, and saw not just the queen, but the girl who had always seen past the masks he wore. And for the first time in many years, he did not have an answer.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Otto straightened, returning to the practiced composure that had carried him through decades of courtly maneuvering.

“I have made my peace with the king’s decree,” he said stiffly. “And so should you.”

Alicent studied him a moment longer before letting out a soft sigh. “Very well, Father. But remember this—there are some things even a king cannot dictate.”

With that, she rose gracefully, smoothing her gown before making her way to the door. She paused only once, glancing back at him. “I do not think she will choose any of them.”

Otto did not respond, merely watching as his daughter left the chamber. When the door clicked shut behind her, he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as if searching for answers in the stone.

But there were none to be found.

The small council chamber was filled with the familiar sounds of shuffling parchment, the scratching of quills, and the faint murmur of hushed discussions among the gathered lords. The morning sun streamed through the high windows where King Viserys sat, fingers drumming idly against the armrest of his chair.

Otto Hightower was in his usual place beside the king, his expression composed, though his thoughts were anything but. He had spent the past two weeks in silent torment, balancing his duties while trying—and failing—to banish thoughts of you. Each day, he forced himself to focus on governance, on law, on matters of state. But every time he entered the council chambers, he found himself bracing for the inevitable—the first reports from your tour.

And now, it seemed, that moment had come.

Viserys exhaled heavily, adjusting his crown as he glanced at his gathered council. “Two weeks,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Two weeks, and we’ve heard nothing from Dragonstone. Not a single raven, not a single rider. Not even a drunken rumor.”

The lords exchanged glances, but it was Lord Jasper Wylde who spoke first. “Prince Daemon has never been one to send reports of his movements, Your Grace.”

Tyland Lannister leaned forward, smirking. “Silence from Daemon is more troubling than noise, I’d say.”

Otto steepled his fingers, his voice even. “If Prince Daemon wished to make a move against the throne, he would have done so the moment he left. His silence suggests that—for now—he is content to remain in Dragonstone.”

Viserys sighed, shifting in his seat. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he is only biding his time. Regardless, we must stay vigilant.” He turned to Otto, his gaze weary. “If Daemon is silent, what of my niece’s tour? Have we received any word from her progress?”

Otto’s throat tightened ever so slightly, but his composure remained steadfast. He had prepared for this moment, even as he had dreaded it. “A raven arrived this morning from Lord Baratheon,” he reported smoothly. “The princess was received at Storm’s End several days past. Lord Borros held a feast in her honor, and his sons, as expected, made their admiration known.”

Viserys chuckled, shaking his head. “As expected, indeed. And what of her thoughts? Did she show favor to any?”

Otto hesitated briefly before shaking his head. “The princess is said to have been gracious, but… noncommittal.”

Jasper Wylde smirked. “Much like Princess Rhaenyra when she endured the same parade of eager suitors.”

“That hardly surprises me,” Viserys said, though there was a flicker of unease in his tone. “She was raised by Daemon—she has his stubbornness. But surely she must see reason. Storm’s End is a strong seat, and Borros’s loyalty to the crown is invaluable.”

Otto kept his expression unreadable. He knew well enough that your father’s absence had left you wary of courtly games. If you had shown no favor to any lord, it was not due to uncertainty but to something far deeper—a resistance to being bound by duty alone.

“The princess will proceed to Bitterbridge next,” Otto continued, moving the discussion along. “Lord Caswell has prepared an extended stay, during which she will meet several lords from the Reach.”

Tyland Lannister chuckled. “The Reachmen will be more insufferable than the Stormlanders. They pride themselves on their courtly manners, but they are as ambitious as anyone in Westeros.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his brow. “I had hoped this process would be smoother than Rhaenyra’s. But it seems my niece is just as determined to make it difficult.”

“She is ensuring she chooses wisely, Your Grace,” Otto said carefully, though he did not know whether he was reassuring the king or himself.

Viserys gave him a wry look. “You would say that.”

Jasper Wylde leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Perhaps she is waiting for a more unexpected proposal.”

Otto felt his spine stiffen, but he did not turn toward Jasper, nor did he let his expression shift. Instead, he merely adjusted the parchment in front of him and said smoothly, “The princess understands that her match must serve the realm.”

Jasper’s grin widened. “Of course, of course. But one must wonder if she will decide what serves the realm best—or if we will.”

Viserys exhaled sharply, waving a hand. “Enough. We will wait and see. Let the tour continue as planned. If she shows no favor in the end, we will reassess.”

Otto nodded, though his thoughts were still caught on Jasper’s words.

An unexpected proposal.

Otto did not allow himself to dwell on the thought. It was dangerous. Foolish. But as the meeting continued, he found his mind straying nonetheless.

And for the first time in his life, Otto Hightower was not entirely certain which outcome he feared more—that you would choose someone… or that you wouldn’t.

Otto Hightower sat at his desk, quill poised over parchment, yet the words before him blurred into meaninglessness. His fingers tightened around the quill as he exhaled slowly, willing himself to focus.

It had been two moons since your departure from King’s Landing. Two moons of carefully worded reports, of lords parading before you like peacocks, of endless speculations whispered through the court. And now, at last, you were returning.

But with whom?

Had you chosen someone? Had you allowed yourself to be ensnared by honeyed words and courtly promises? Had some young lord, arrogant and foolish, managed to steal your favor?

He should not have cared. He should not have allowed himself to care.

And yet.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

The door swung open, and Lord Jasper Wylde stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place. Otto barely lifted his gaze, unwilling to indulge whatever mischief Jasper had undoubtedly come to bring.

“You look troubled, my lord,” Jasper drawled as he lowered himself into the chair opposite Otto’s desk. “As if you’ve just learned the realm is on the brink of war.”

Otto set down his quill, rubbing his temple. “Do you ever knock simply for the sake of knocking, Wylde?”

Jasper grinned. “And miss the chance to witness your discomfort firsthand? Never.”

Otto exhaled sharply, shifting in his chair. “If you’ve come to waste my time, I suggest you find another victim for your amusement.”

Jasper leaned back, his fingers lacing together. “Oh, but this is too delicious to ignore. The princess returns on the morrow, and you—our ever-stoic, ever-composed Lord Hand—are sitting here in quiet agony, wondering if she brings a betrothal contract with her.”

Otto stiffened, but his expression remained impassive. “The matter is of political significance. Her match will affect the realm.”

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. “Spare me the pretense, Otto. We both know this is not about politics.”

Otto’s jaw clenched slightly, but he did not take the bait. “Have you heard any word of her decision?”

Jasper hummed, as if considering the question with great care. “Rumors only. Some say she entertained Lord Baratheon’s sons longer than expected. Others claim the Reachmen were most impressive in their courtship.” He paused, watching Otto carefully. “And yet, not a single whisper of a betrothal contract. Strange, isn’t it?”

Otto’s fingers tightened against the armrest of his chair. “It is possible she merely needed more time to deliberate.”

Jasper laughed outright at that, shaking his head. “More time? She has had two moons, Otto. If she had wished to choose, she would have. But she hasn’t. That must intrigue you.”

Otto remained silent.

Jasper’s grin widened, his tone turning mockingly thoughtful. “You know, I can’t help but be reminded of something.”

Otto sighed, already regretting allowing this conversation to continue. “Must you always speak in riddles, Wylde?”

Jasper smirked. “Do you remember the fortune teller?”

Otto went rigid.

Jasper leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. “The one I practically had to drag you to in the lower city?”

“I remember,” Otto said tersely.

Jasper grinned. “And do you remember what she said?”

Otto’s silence was answer enough.

Jasper let out an exaggerated sigh. “Let me refresh your memory, then. She said the woman meant for you would fall from the sky into your arms.” He tilted his head, amusement dripping from every word. “Now, I may be mistaken, but didn’t the princess quite literally fall onto you?”

Otto’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Jasper chuckled. “Truly, you should commend the gods for their sense of humor.”

“This is absurd,” Otto muttered, standing abruptly and turning to the window, as if the sight of the city would grant him patience. “You put too much stock in drunken fortune tellers and nonsense riddles.”

Jasper only smirked. “Perhaps. But the court does love a good tale. Imagine if they are reminded of this one.”

Otto turned sharply, his gaze cold. “Be careful, Wylde.”

Jasper held up his hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of spreading once more such scandalous whispers.”

Otto exhaled slowly, willing away the irritation burning beneath his skin. He was too measured a man to let Jasper’s provocations affect him. And yet…

She had fallen into his arms.

It had been a coincidence. Nothing more.

And yet, as the sun dipped lower beyond the city walls, Otto could not shake the growing unease in his chest.

By this time tomorrow, you would be back in King’s Landing. He would have his answer.

And the gods, in all their cruelty, would have their laugh.

The bells of the Red Keep tolled, their deep chimes echoing across the city as the people of King’s Landing gathered along the streets to witness the return of the princess. The black banners of House Targaryen billowed in the breeze, the sunlight catching on their crimson sigils as the procession wound its way through the main thoroughfare toward the castle gates.

Otto Hightower stood beside King Viserys on the steps of the Red Keep, his expression composed, hands clasped firmly behind his back. The entire royal court was assembled, their finest silks and velvets catching the light as they awaited your arrival.

Viserys exhaled beside him, adjusting the heavy weight of his crown as he watched the approaching procession. “It’s been two moons, Otto,” he murmured. “It feels far longer.”

“The absence of a Targaryen is always felt,” Otto replied smoothly, though his voice lacked its usual detachment.

Viserys nodded, but his gaze flicked toward Otto, studying him briefly. “You’ve been quiet on the matter.”

Otto glanced at the king, his expression unreadable. “The princess’s future is yours to decide, Your Grace.”

Viserys chuckled, shaking his head. “You make it sound as though she has already chosen. If only it were that simple.”

Before Otto could respond, the gates of the Red Keep swung open, and the first of the banners crested the courtyard.

The princess had returned.

The mounted knights of the royal escort entered first, their silver armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. Behind them, your retinue followed—a caravan of finely adorned carriages bearing the sigils of the noble houses that had hosted you throughout your journey. The horses’ hooves clattered against the cobblestones, and the murmurs of the gathered court grew louder in anticipation.

And then, at last, you appeared.

You rode at the front, astride a proud black mare, your posture regal as you guided the horse with practiced ease. The silver of your hair shone like molten starlight, cascading over your shoulders, and your violet eyes swept over the assembled court with quiet command. The faintest breeze caught the fabric of your cloak, embroidered in the red and black of House Targaryen, making you look every bit the dragon you were born to be.

Otto swallowed, his fingers tightening behind his back.

You were unchanged—and yet, something was different. There was a certainty in your expression, a steel in your gaze that had not been there before. You had left as a princess on a tour of obligation, and now you returned as something more.

Viserys took a step forward, a broad smile spreading across his face as he raised his arms. “Welcome home, niece!”

The gathered court murmured their approval as you dismounted gracefully, handing the reins to a waiting stableboy before ascending the steps to where the king stood.

You curtsied, though there was nothing meek in your movement. “Your Grace.”

Viserys beamed, clasping your hands. “It does my heart good to see you returned safely.” He studied your face carefully. “And? Have you come back with news of a match?”

The courtyard fell into hushed silence. The lords who had once petitioned for your hand stood among the crowd, their eager expressions barely concealed beneath courtly decorum. Even the ladies of the court leaned in slightly, awaiting your answer.

Otto did not move, though his heartbeat had betrayed him the moment Viserys asked the question.

You held your uncle’s gaze for a long moment before tilting your head slightly. “I have met many lords, Your Grace. Each one has shown me courtesy, and many were most… persistent.”

A ripple of laughter passed through the court. Even Viserys chuckled, though there was something guarded in his eyes. “And yet, you have not answered the question.”

Your lips curved slightly, though it was not quite a smile. “Because I have not yet decided, Your Grace.”

A collective murmur spread through the assembled lords, some exchanging glances, others whispering among themselves. Otto’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression carefully neutral.

Viserys sighed, though his frustration was tempered by amusement. “I should have expected as much.”

You turned slightly, your gaze flickering briefly toward Otto before sweeping over the court. “This is a decision that cannot be made lightly. I will give my answer when I am certain.”

Viserys exhaled but nodded. “Very well. I will not press you—for now.”

The gathered courtiers seemed to take this as their cue to resume their pleasantries, and soon the tension gave way to murmured greetings and welcome-back offerings.

Otto watched you closely as you exchanged words with Rhaenyra, who had stepped forward to embrace you. You laughed at something she whispered, your posture relaxing slightly in her presence.

Jasper Wylde stepped up beside Otto, his smirk practically gleaming. “No betrothal announcement,” he murmured. “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

Otto did not grace him with a response.

Jasper chuckled. “Tell me, Otto—do you believe in fate?”

Otto’s gaze did not waver from you, but his voice was cold and steady when he spoke. “I believe in patience, Lord Wylde.”

Jasper’s smirk widened. “Ah. And in this case, they may well be the same thing.”

As the court moved inside for the evening’s welcome feast, Otto found himself standing at the edge of the gathering, his hands still tightly clasped behind his back.

The princess had returned.

And her answer had not yet been given.

#hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #house targaryen #house hightower #caught by fire #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #hotd otto #otto hightower #otto x reader #otto x you #otto x y/n #x reader

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demigoddreamer · 2 days ago

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Link Click Yingdu was so much fun!!!! I was not prepared for the mindfuckery the show would do to me but now I'm so intrigued about the 3rd season.

Obv Bridon left some open ends that will probably be answered later down the line when they become more relevant. It's a time travel show after all but with so many diverse powers and different character motivations and multiple players manipulating oh my god.

Lu Guang killing Vein...that makes sense and yeah we definitely figured Lu Guang is pretty morally gray and willing to do anything for Cheng Xiaoshi. I just find it heart-wrenching because this is just another sign that Lu Guang can't fathom living without him T_T

Cheng Xiaoshi's mother doing the same thing for Cheng Xiaoshi's father as Lu Guang is doing for him is actually insane. God I love thematic parallels that tear my heart. Also I think she pointed out Lu Guang's interference????? wonder if that's gonna cause trouble for the both of them.

ALSO VEIN'S REAL NAME BEING XIAO WEIYING????????? damn bro you less intimidating now, jk jk i love you still Vein. I'm so curious on why Xia Fei disappeared(and why is Jack(NPC ass) disappearing as well?) maybe to get more answers because clearly Xia Fei cares for Vein in some capacity.

Liu Xiao masterminding in the background oh boy. What are you gonna do hat boy? What are you gonna do...

Cheng Xiaoshi keeping secrets of his own is getting juicier cause now it feels slightly more equal playing field on who in the group got the anwers(Cheng Xiaoshi still losing but it's alright my baby I love you, I believe in you)

And how is Qiao Ling gonna play into this with her new powers? How is Li Tianchen gonna play into this with his powers and being manipulated by Liu Xiao???????? Also Vein's still alive too!!!!

Anyway this season was super fun and answered some things but not all of them so I'm really hyped for season 3 and I'm glad season 3 is longer

#link click #shiguang daili ren #lu guang #cheng xiaoshi #link click spoilers #shiguang #link click vein #xiao weiying #cheng weimin #shao yuanyuan #xia fei #liu xiao #yingdu chapter #link click bridon arc #yingdu spoilers #link click yingdu

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bread-crum206 · 7 hours ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-eight: The Weight of Silence

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 28 | next

Series Masterlist

The world moved on.

The guests at the masquerade spoke of the Panther Mask in hushed tones for no longer than a night. By morning, his name was nothing more than a fleeting thought, an unspoken reminder of what happened to those who stepped out of line.

No one asked where he had gone.

No one wanted to know.

You sat in front of the vanity in the bathroom, staring at your reflection in the dim light. The space was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ventilation system, the faint sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs outside. Your mask lay discarded on the counter beside you, a cracked reminder of the night before. The adrenaline had long since faded, but the memory of the Panther’s grip on you still lingered like a bruise beneath your skin.

He was gone. You knew that much. But the how—the when—the where—those were things you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to.

The faucet dripped. A slow, steady rhythm. You focused on that sound, grounding yourself in the monotony of it, in the certainty that water would keep falling, that the world would keep moving, regardless of what had just happened.

A soft creak of the bedroom door beyond the bathroom made you stiffen slightly. You already knew who it was.

A moment later, the bathroom door pushed open, and In-ho stepped inside.

His mask was off.

That alone made your breath catch in your throat. He never removed it, not unless he wanted something to be understood without words. His face was as unreadable as ever, his expression set in careful neutrality. But there was something in his eyes—something dark, something lingering.

You swallowed. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

It wasn’t really a question.

In-ho exhaled through his nose, stepping further into the space. He didn’t lean against the counter, didn’t sit. Instead, he simply looked at you, as if measuring something.

“He won’t bother you again,” he said finally.

Your fingers curled slightly against your lap. A confirmation, then. You hadn’t expected him to lie, but something about the finality of it made your chest feel tight. You weren’t sure what you had expected to feel. Relief? Fear? Satisfaction?

Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “What did you do with him?”

A long silence. Then—

“I erased him.”

That was all he said.

Erased.

Not killed. Not disposed of.

Erased.

The word sent a chill down your spine.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what happened to people who crossed the wrong line in places like this. But there was something about the way In-ho said it—so calm, so absolute—that made it feel different. He hadn’t just removed the Panther from the equation. He had ensured there was nothing left of him. No name. No body. No story.

Gone.

You exhaled slowly, fingers tightening against the fabric of your robe. “Good.”

Something flickered in his gaze. Approval, maybe. Or something else. Something you couldn’t quite name.

He stepped closer then, stopping just a breath away. His presence was heavy, grounding, suffocating all at once. His hand lifted—hesitated—before he slowly, deliberately brushed his fingers along your jaw. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched slightly, but you held his gaze. “I’m not.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

His thumb ghosted over your chin, the touch so light it could have been mistaken for accidental. But it wasn’t. Nothing In-ho did was accidental. He was testing something, watching for a reaction.

You weren’t sure what he found.

Seconds stretched between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, just as easily as he had touched you, he pulled away. The warmth of his hand disappeared, leaving behind only the cold weight of silence.

His expression remained unreadable, his mask of indifference settling back into place. “Get some rest,” he said. “Tomorrow, things will be different.”

You weren’t sure what he meant.

You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

But as he turned and left, as the soft click of the bedroom door closing echoed through the space, one thing became clear.

The Panther Mask was gone.

And nothing would ever be the same.

———————

Yippee chapter twenty eight!! Lemme know what you think!

Tag list

@sunny21200

@lucinda-reads

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@allmylovegoestomusic

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#in ho x reader #squid game #squid game x y/n #squid games x reader #arranged marriage #frontman x reader #marriage au #the front man #squid game x reader #x reader

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not-xpr-art · 1 day ago

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Curled tight as a question mark...

(01/2025)

Ok so I've been super obsessed with the AMAZING Trolley Problem AU fics by @silverview & @unreesonable (where Drew is the 22 year old Blake abuses instead of Ellie) for literally ages so it was only a matter of time before I'd end up doing some art based on it pfft...

Links to the fics below btw (also gonna ramble about this piece a bit since, as usual, I put way too much thought into it pfft)!!!

a better son / daughter

special arrangements

and all I'll do is kiss him (btw title of this piece actually taken from a line in this one which I really loved!!!)

spaces between

Highly recommend all of them btw, they're so GOOD!!!!!

~~~

Ok, so I immediately wanted to do a sorta twisted version of Klimt's 'The Kiss' but the concept kinda got away from me as I was painting it... Plus I couldn't get the vibrant gold colour to work with the general colouring of the figures so the background became like vaguely vaginal curtains that I could probably spin some kinda symbolic link to Drew's mother if I wanted to lol...

(think I made a joke on bsky that I'm in my Georgia O'Keeffe era and NO one laughed smhsmh...)

I've also been wanting to do something based on the iconic The Fallen Angel painting by Alexandre Cabanel but never really had a particular subject in mind... until NOW! (ofc the emotion is different but idk I think the reference still works... Drew's tears are more desperate, hopeless, resigned, and perhaps less angry than Lucifer's?)

I wanted the piece to feel like Drew is trapped. Trapped by his turbulent relationship with his mother and father, trapped by his status and position in life, trapped by his sexuality, trapped by the drugs... And ultimately trapped by Blake, who was supposed to offer him a paternal embrace, a comforting hand on his shoulder, to properly help guide him out of the hole he's stuck in but all he did was take advantage of his vulnerability and drag him further into that pit...

Also, kinda funny story, but I tried doing a cute romantic in9 art before I started this but my brain and hand were having none of it lol... NO adorable yaoi for you manipulative toxic yaoi ONLY !!!!!!!

Stylistically I wanted to try and make this look sorta traditionally painted, which involved me using a combo of my regular program alongside ms paint since I like the texture of some of the brushes on there tbh (plus those brushes are really great for painting body hair which I had so much fun drawing a lot of here lol)! Overlaid with a vaguely canvas-y texture lol

Oh, and also I put the diamond pattern of the jumper Drew wears in the episode on his underwear here both because it was going to get covered if I put it on his t-shirt and because it's sorta a fun way to reflect how this is an AU lol

Also have some close ups since tumblr has completely destroyed the quality of this lol:

(final close up is actually of a version of the painting without the texture overlay btw which is why the colours are slightly different, but I thought it might be interesting to share so u can see the brushwork texture a little better??)

uh anyway... that's all folks lol!

#artists on tumblr #inside no 9 #in9 fanart #inside no 9 fanart #the trolley problem #drew dawson #blake chambers #art based on fanfiction #digital painting #digital art #au #this is an even more self indulgent art than usual and i regret nothing pfft

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helvegen-s · 11 hours ago

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crossing lines | five

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: emotional abuse, verbal abuse, toxic relationships, past trauma

A/N: this is coming to an end!! i planed this story to be short (two more parts), since it's the first time i've ever written anything f1 related. i hope you are liking it :))

Livia sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers gently swirling the wine in her glass. Her friends, gathered around the room, watched her with curious smiles, waiting for her to speak. The night had been magical, and now it was her turn to share.

"So... what happened?" Chiara asked, leaning forward with excitement. "Tell us everything!"

Livia smiled, her heart still fluttering from the events of the evening. She took a deep breath, her gaze distant for a moment as she remembered Carlos's touch, his tenderness. It was as if everything felt... different now.

"It was... perfect," Livia began softly, her voice betraying the happiness she hadn’t allowed herself to fully feel in a long time. "We walked along the harbor, talked about everything and nothing... It just felt... easy, you know? Like we were on the same page. And when he kissed me..." She paused, a smile tugging at her lips. "It was like everything else faded away. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could just... breathe."

Her friends exchanged knowing glances, their smiles widening. Chiara raised an eyebrow. "So, what does that mean for you and him?"

Livia took a sip of wine, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the man who had made her feel like this. "I don’t know. But for the first time in... forever, I feel like something can actually go right. That maybe, just maybe, I can have something real, something that makes sense. It’s... refreshing."

"Real?" Serena asked, tilting her head slightly. "I thought you didn’t do real anymore."

Livia smiled, but there was a quiet sadness in her eyes. "I didn’t think I could, either. After everything..." She trailed off, the weight of her past suddenly clouding her moment of happiness.

Chiara looked at her closely. "What do you mean?"

Livia’s gaze lowered, as though searching for the right words. "My ex... He destroyed so much of my trust. I didn’t even realize how much until recently. It wasn’t just the relationship; it was everything that came with it. The way he controlled everything, manipulated me. It was like I was suffocating, and I didn’t even know how to breathe on my own anymore." She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. "That’s why I’ve always been so guarded, why I kept people at arm's length. I didn’t know how to let anyone in after that. I was too scared."

Her friends sat quietly, taking in her words. Chiara finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "I get it, Liv. But Carlos... he’s not him. You know that, right?"

Livia nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of hope and hesitation. "I know. That’s the part that scares me. But with Carlos, it’s different. He doesn’t want to change me. He just... gets me. For once, someone isn’t judging me or pushing me to be something I’m not. He understands what it’s like to always have eyes on you. It’s like... like we don’t have to explain ourselves to each other."

Martina smiled knowingly, her voice teasing. "Well, it sounds like someone’s already falling."

Livia laughed, a playful lightness returning to her tone. "Maybe I am. But I’m taking it slow. I don’t want to rush into anything."

"Of course," Chiara said with a knowing wink. "But don’t forget to enjoy it. You deserve to feel good, Liv. After everything, you deserve something real."

Livia smiled at her friends, her heart lighter than it had been in a long time. For the first time in years, she felt like she could truly embrace the possibility of something better. And maybe, just maybe, Carlos was the person who would make that possible.

The Amalfi sun bathed the coastline in its warm glow, and Livia began to notice something she hadn’t felt in a long time—her laughter came naturally, free of any weight. Every day with Carlos felt like a little adventure, and as they explored together, she felt the walls she had built around herself slowly crumble.

They filled their days with all kinds of plans. One morning, Carlos rented a small sailboat, and not far from the harbor, they found a hidden cove where they spent the afternoon swimming and laughing. Another day, they drove to a nearby town, wandering through its narrow streets and poking around in charming souvenir shops.

Each day brought a new excuse to steal kisses, share subtle touches, and enjoy the thrill of discovering each other in ways they hadn’t before.

The idea of horseback riding came up casually over breakfast on a terrace overlooking the sea. Livia had mentioned, with visible excitement, how riding had always been one of her favorite activities growing up—a source of peace.

Carlos, not one to back down from an adventure, agreed to the plan but confessed he’d never been on a horse before.

“Never?” Livia asked, both surprised and amused.

“Never,” Carlos admitted, laughing. “But I’m willing to give it a shot. Just don’t laugh if I fall.”

At the stable, nestled among green hills with breathtaking views of the Mediterranean, Livia took the lead. Dressed in light riding pants and boots, she greeted the owner, an old family friend, with a natural confidence. She quickly picked out a calm horse for Carlos.

“This is Nero,” she said, stroking the neck of a dark brown horse. “He’s gentle and perfect for beginners. Don’t worry—he won’t bite.”

“And what if I outrun you?” Carlos teased, eyeing Nero as if sizing up an opponent.

“Then I’ll have to show you what years of practice can do,” Livia quipped, mounting her white horse with ease.

The ride started slowly, with Livia explaining the basics. “Sit straight, but stay relaxed. Keep the reins firm, but don’t pull too hard. And please, don’t try to go faster unless you’re sure of yourself.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Any more advice, or are you just trying to prove I’m a rookie?”

“Don’t get defensive!” she shot back with a playful smile. “Come on, Nero’s your teammate now.”

Carlos moved stiffly at first, every step of the horse making him wobble awkwardly. Meanwhile, Livia glided gracefully, her years of experience evident.

“Having fun?” she called back, pausing to let him catch up.

“Absolutely,” Carlos replied, feigning confidence. “Though I think my legs are going to hate me tomorrow.”

After some practice, Livia suggested a gentle trot. “Come on, try to keep up,” she challenged.

“If I fall, you have to promise not to laugh.”

“No promises,” she said with a mischievous grin before urging her horse forward.

To his credit, Carlos managed to keep up, his determination earning Livia’s admiration. By the end of the ride, with the sun setting over the hills, he dismounted clumsily but with a genuine smile.

“Well, I survived. That counts as an achievement, right?”

Livia approached him, still laughing softly. “You did well for your first time. Though I think Nero deserves most of the credit.”

“So the horse is the favorite, huh?” Carlos teased, brushing dust off his pants.

Livia smiled warmly. “You might have to visit Amalfi more often. I never thought I’d see you on a horse.”

Carlos shrugged. “What can I say? For you, I’ll try anything.”

As they walked back together, the horses trailing behind, the fading sunlight painted the sky in shades of gold and pink. Livia felt a rare sense of contentment, knowing these moments with Carlos were what truly mattered.

They didn’t spend all their time alone. Some nights, Livia joined Carlos at gatherings with his childhood friends. One evening, at a beachside bar, a group of musicians began improvising a song, and Livia, encouraged by the wine and the festive atmosphere, joined in singing. From his spot at the bar, Carlos watched her, captivated by the ease and joy she radiated.

“Is she always like this?” one of his friends asked.

“Not at all,” Carlos replied with a smile, his eyes never leaving Livia. “But I love seeing her this way.”

On another occasion, Livia introduced Carlos to her friends. They spent an afternoon at the beach, playing volleyball and sharing stories. The day was perfect—the sun glittering on the water and laughter filling the air. As they sat on the sand with cold drinks and a relaxed vibe, Chiara decided it was the perfect moment to "interrogate" Carlos.

“Well, Carlos, since you’re the most interesting person at the table and, clearly, the only man here, I have some important questions for you,” Chiara said, her grin wide enough to make Livia immediately suspicious.

Carlos leaned forward, amused and intrigued. “Go ahead, Chiara. I’m ready.”

Chiara shifted in her seat, as if preparing to moderate a press conference. “First: how many drivers on the grid are single? And if there are any, who would you say is the most handsome? Purely professional curiosity.”

Carlos burst into laughter as Livia covered her face with her hand, caught between embarrassment and amusement.

“Well,” Carlos began, trying not to laugh too hard, “there are a few single ones, but I’m not sure who’s looking for someone... Or should I just tell you who’s the most handsome?”

“Please!” Chiara exclaimed, raising her hands. “Let me make it easier for you. If you had to play matchmaker, who would you pair me with? I want options—and phone numbers.”

“Chiara, for the love of God…” Livia interjected, attempting to sound serious but failing to hide her smile.

Carlos took it in stride. “Alright, let’s see. I think Pierre would be thrilled. He’s fun, loves fashion, and always has a joke ready. Or maybe Lando, if you’re into younger guys with charisma.”

Chiara pretended to jot down notes in the air. “Hmm, interesting. Though I’m not sure about the ‘younger’ part.”

One afternoon, while Livia and Carlos were relaxing on a terrace overlooking the harbor, Livia glanced at her phone and noticed a message from an unknown number. A wave of unease washed over her instantly. Opening the message, its contents struck her like a blow from the past:

"So, you're in Amalfi with a driver now. Looking for another story for the public? You know how these things end."

The message was brief, but its intention was clear. It was her ex. The carefully chosen, stinging words disrupted the peace she had been building.

Carlos, sitting across from her, noticed the change in her expression.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

"I don’t know," Livia admitted, vulnerability creeping into her tone. "He stopped bothering me a while ago, but he always knows when to reappear to..."

Livia looked up, attempting a smile, but it didn’t convince him. She hesitated for a moment before showing him the message. Carlos read it, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked calmly, though his voice carried an edge.

"To try to control your life," Carlos finished, his gaze sharp and protective.

Carlos set the phone down on the table and leaned closer, taking her hand firmly. "Livia, you don’t have to deal with this alone. If he bothers you again, we’ll handle it together. I’m not going to let him drag you down again."

Carlos gave her a small smile, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I don’t know if I always do, but I know this: I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not while I’m here."

Livia looked at him, surprised by his determination. She had expected discomfort, maybe even a suggestion to ignore the problem, but his response disarmed her.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "I don’t know how you always know exactly what to say."

The Amalfi vacation came to an end faster than either of them would have liked. On their last afternoon together, sitting by the sea, Livia and Carlos discussed what they had started to build.

"What do we do now?" Livia asked, gazing at the horizon. The breeze gently played with her hair, and while her voice was calm, there was a note of uncertainty in it.

Carlos looked at her, his fingers idly playing with a small shell he had picked up on the beach. "I think the best thing is to keep this between us, at least for now. The press always finds a way to ruin something good."

Livia nodded, relieved that they were on the same page. "I don’t want what we have to become a spectacle. I want us to decide when, how, and if we share it with the world."

Carlos took her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Then that’s what we’ll do. Just us. At least until we’re ready."

Back in their respective lives, Livia and Carlos found ways to stay connected. Long nightly calls filled with laughter and spontaneous messages throughout the day became part of their routine. Carlos sent photos from the circuits, often with sarcastic comments about paddock gossips, while Livia shared images of her latest designs or small everyday moments she thought might make him smile.

It didn’t take long for eagle-eyed fans to start noticing coincidences in their Instagram posts. A photo of Livia enjoying gelato in Amalfi suspiciously matched another of Carlos at the same spot, posted just hours apart. A sunset on the beach, an Italian restaurant... the clues were enough for theories to start swirling.

Despite this, neither Livia nor Carlos commented publicly. When journalists tried to broach the subject during interviews, both deflected with calculated responses.

Months later, the Italian Grand Prix at Monza was a whirlwind of emotions. Ferrari secured an incredible home victory with Charles Leclerc crossing the finish line first, while Carlos finished a respectable fourth after an intense battle on track. Although he didn’t make the podium, his performance was solid, and the paddock buzzed with pride and celebration.

Livia had followed the race from a private hospitality suite, staying discreet but feeling every moment of excitement. When Carlos crossed the finish line, she couldn’t help but applaud, admiring his determination on such a demanding circuit.

That evening, Ferrari hosted a gala dinner in Milan to commemorate the triumph. Livia received an invitation through her professional circle, and while she knew attending could fuel rumors, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to be there.

The event took place in a luxurious palace in the heart of the city. Golden lights illuminated the façade as elegantly dressed guests arrived in sleek cars.

Carlos was already there, surrounded by teammates and industry figures. He wore a flawlessly tailored Visconti dark blue suit, though his attention was clearly divided. He couldn’t stop glancing around, wondering when Livia might appear.

The sound of animated conversation filled the hall as Carlos chatted with Lando, George, and Charles. Then, the grand doors opened, and Livia entered, arm-in-arm with her father.

She wore an elegant black dress that enhanced her natural poise, her smile lighting up the room. Carlos couldn’t help but watch as she moved with that unmistakable grace he had always associated with her. But now, there was no trace of the skepticism or irritation she had once inspired in him. Instead, he found himself captivated, unable to look away.

"You’re missing something, Sainz," Lando said with a sly grin, following Carlos’s gaze. "But don’t worry, just keep staring. That’ll fix it."

Carlos rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the comments, though his focus remained on Livia as she greeted familiar faces and exchanged pleasantries with her father.

Moments later, Livia approached their group with a warm smile, her tone bright yet composed, as though she had always belonged in their circle.

"Good evening," she said graciously, greeting the group. "First of all, congratulations, Lando. McLaren has been making quite the impression lately."

"Thank you," Lando replied, beaming with pride. "We’re working hard to stay competitive."

"And Charles," she continued, turning to Leclerc. "An amazing victory today. Ferrari needed that in front of its home crowd. It was thrilling to see you on the podium."

Charles nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Livia. Monza is always special, but winning here... it’s something else entirely."

The conversation flowed naturally as Livia spoke with a mix of knowledge and charisma that captured everyone’s attention. Carlos, though silent, couldn’t stop admiring her. There was something about the way she navigated the discussion, making everyone feel valued, that left him utterly entranced.

The evening seemed perfect until an unexpected voice shattered the harmony.

“You always knew how to be the center of attention, didn’t you, Livia?”

The sharp tone made Livia tense instantly. Slowly, she turned to find Matteo, her ex-partner, walking toward the group. With his impeccable suit and false smile, he radiated the arrogance that Livia had long learned to despise.

“Matteo,” Livia said with her characteristic poised air, straightening up immediately. “I didn’t know you were invited.”

“I’m surprised you were,” Matteo replied, his smile turning even more bitter. “Then again, you’ve always known how to sneak into places you don’t belong.”

“If I’m here, it’s because I earned it,” Livia shot back, not losing her composure. “Unlike others, I don’t need money to open doors for me.”

The pilots exchanged surprised glances. The tension was palpable, but Livia continued to project that unwavering confidence she was known for—or at least seemed to.

“Always so quick with words,” Matteo continued, stepping closer. “But behind all that charm and facade, you’re still the same insecure little girl who needs everyone’s attention to feel validated.”

Livia narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather be an ‘insecure little girl’ than someone incapable of entering a relationship without destroying the other person’s life.”

The group fell silent, processing the blow Livia had delivered. But Matteo wasn’t finished.

“Relationship? Call it what it was, Livia: a performance, and you were the star. Always so good at pretending everything was fine. And look at you now, with your new ‘friends.’ What are you doing here? Looking for another name to add to your collection? The richer, the better, right?”

Matteo’s words hit like a sledgehammer. For a moment, Livia seemed to lose her breath. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The scars from her past with him, which she thought had healed, suddenly tore open again.

“That’s enough,” Carlos intervened, stepping forward. His tone was calm, but there was a sharpness in his voice that made Matteo sneer.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” Matteo sneered, turning to face Carlos. “Another idiot who buys into her act?”

Lando joined Carlos, crossing his arms. “I think we all know who the real idiot is here.”

Charles added coldly, “What I don’t understand is why you’re still here. It’s clear you’re not welcome.”

“Welcome?” Matteo laughed mockingly. “How amusing. None of you know the real Livia. Always so good at pretending to be strong, but let me tell you something: no matter who she surrounds herself with, she’ll always be the same broken person.”

Matteo’s cruel words made Livia take a small step back, as though they had physically struck her.

Carlos stepped closer, his gaze fixed on Matteo. “That’s enough. If you have a problem with Livia, this is neither the time nor the place. And believe me, it’s not in your best interest to continue.”

“Oh, really? And what are you going to do about it, guard dog?” Matteo provoked, stepping toward Carlos.

Before the situation could escalate, Charles placed a hand on Carlos’s arm, holding him back. “Leave it, Carlos,” he said in a low but firm voice. “He’s not worth it.”

Matteo looked around, noticing the defiant expressions of the pilots surrounding him. Despite his arrogance, even he knew when to back down.

“This isn’t over, Livia,” he said finally, throwing her one last look before turning and walking away.

When Matteo disappeared into the crowd, Livia stood still, her eyes glassy but fixed on the ground. Carlos turned to her, his face filled with concern.

"Livia," he said softly, placing a hand on her arm.

She looked up, but the words seemed trapped in her throat. Finally, she murmured, "I need to get out of here."

Carlos nodded immediately. "Let's go."

Without letting go of her, he guided her toward the exit under the curious gaze of those present, leaving the noise of the hall behind. Once outside, the cool night air wrapped around them. Livia took a few steps forward, pulling away a little, trying to control the tears that threatened to overflow.

"Livia," Carlos said, approaching her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I didn't want this to happen... I didn’t want..."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Carlos interrupted firmly. "He was the problem, not you."

The tears finally fell, and Livia tried to cover her face, embarrassed. But Carlos wrapped her in a hug, allowing her to lean on him as her emotions overwhelmed her.

"My God, how embarrassing. Why do I always end up crying when I'm with you? You should know that this isn't usually me."

Carlos chuckled softly as he looked at Livia, wiping her tears with the handkerchief from his suit. With his hand still on her back, he leaned slightly to meet her gaze. "Are you feeling better?" he asked gently, as though fearing to push too much.

Livia weakly nodded, carefully wiping her tears. "I'm sorry for ruining the night. I didn't want to..."

"Hey," Carlos interrupted, placing a hand under her chin to make her look at him. "None of this is your fault, okay? And the night isn’t ruined. I'm here with you, and that's all that matters."

She looked at him, her eyes still shining with emotion, but now there was something else: a warmth that came from Carlos's words, from his presence. He kissed her forehead as he hugged her again, enjoying the way their bodies fit together perfectly.

"You always know what to say, don't you? Is it a natural talent, or have you practiced a lot?" Livia said with a small smile, though still a little shaky.

Carlos laughed softly, gently brushing Livia's hair. "Let’s say it’s something I save for special occasions."

Livia let out a small, more genuine laugh this time, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes. "Thanks for not leaving me alone in there. I don’t know what I would have done without you. I should go back and thank the guys too, it was really sweet of them to stand up for me."

Carlos tilted his head, seeking her gaze. "You don’t need to thank anyone. I'm here because I want to be. And I’m not going anywhere."

Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"Wow, now this is a dramatic scene. Should I be worried?"

Livia quickly turned to find her father, watching them with a mix of humor and curiosity. He was swinging his cane in his right hand as he slowly approached them.

"Dad," Livia said, her voice still weak but with a hint of concern. "What are you doing here? You should be inside."

"And miss this?" he replied, raising an eyebrow. "I've been bored all night listening to men in suits talk about engines. At least out here, it seems like something interesting is going on."

Carlos, feeling uncomfortable but maintaining his composure, took a small step back. "Sir, I apologize if we’ve caused any worry."

Livia's father studied him closely before flashing a smile. "Worry? Not at all. Though I must say, you’ve handled this situation better than I would have. If the scene had lasted any longer, I’d have kicked that rude Matteo’s ass with my cane myself."

"Dad," Livia interrupted, clearly embarrassed.

"Relax, my love," he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm just saying I’m impressed. This guy has style. And patience. Something, if I’m honest, that’s not easy to find."

Carlos let out a small chuckle. "I do what I can."

Livia’s father turned to her and, with a tremendous physical effort, kissed the top of her head, his tone now softer. "Are you okay?"

Livia nodded, although her eyes were still shining. "Yeah. Thanks, Dad."

"Good," he said, looking back at Carlos. "Then I trust you’ll take good care of her. Because if not, you’ll have to face me. And believe me, I can be a lot worse than Matteo."

Livia let out a laugh, though still moved by the moment. "Dad, don’t scare Carlos."

"Scare him? No way," her father replied, smiling knowingly at the driver. "This guy has more guts than I thought. I think he can handle anything."

Carlos smiled, nodding in a gesture of respect. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

Livia’s father watched them for a moment before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I guess this is the moment where I say something wise and profound, right?"

Livia raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean, Dad?"

He looked at her, then at Carlos, and gave a mischievous smile. "I mean that this gala is terribly boring, and after everything that just happened, I think we need something… more authentic."

Carlos looked at him curiously. "Something more authentic?"

"Exactly," the man said, crossing his arms. "There’s a place not far from here, a little joint I used to frequent when I was young. They make the best burgers you’ll ever taste. No foie gras or carpaccio. Just meat, cheese, and fries. What do you say? Shall we get out of here?"

Livia blinked, clearly surprised. "Are you suggesting we leave the Ferrari gala to eat burgers?"

"Exactly that," her father replied with a wide grin. "Come on, Liv. You said yourself the night’s already been pretty eventful. Why not finish it off in an even more memorable way?"

Carlos let out a laugh, impressed by the man’s spontaneity. "Sounds like a good plan, sir."

"That’s the spirit!" her father exclaimed, giving Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "See, Livia? He gets it. Plus, after everything you’ve been through tonight, I think you deserve a good burger. I’ll call the driver. Or are you driving, pretty boy?" he said, pointing at Carlos.

Livia couldn’t help but laugh at her father’s comment, and Carlos laughed along with her.

"I’ll go get the car," said the Spanish driver.

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kittendreaw · 3 days ago

Text

Supermassive Black Hole | Yuji Itadori

01: Black No. 1 (Little Miss Scare-all)

Werewolf Yuji x Vampire F! Reader

Words:2 k

Mainlist

She's in love with herself She likes the dark On her milk-white neck The Devil's mark...

Yuji Itadori was fucking annoying, with his stench of a Stinky dog and his noisy presence, he was too social, and outgoing as hell, he was always surrounded by people, he was a Completely magnet.

You, on the other hand, stayed away from all that hustle and bustle, you liked the quiet life, being the mystery of the town already gave you enough unsolicited attention so you didn't get too close to humans and preferred to surround yourself only with vampires from your clan.

You probably could have just ignored him the same way you did with the rest of his canine friends if it wasn't for the fact that Yuji was always watching you, you didn't know if he thought you were stupid or if he just didn't care but whenever he was around you could feel his eyes on you.

As much as his presence was annoying to you, you never approached him to confront, you didn't even look at him, you preferred to stay away from the werewolves, they were wild beasts, far inferior to humans and much more to vampires, not that you thought you were better, it was simply biology that confirmed it.

Although ypu both were in the same school, Yuji was only in 10th grade while you were in 12th, so you didn't share any classes, or that until the school forced you to take Extracurricular Classes and to your bad luck, the two of you chose the same, Now he regretted not having chosen a sport but it was too late for that.

Even if you were something that people would call supernatural or mystical, fate is not something you believe in, but that day Yuji decided to be late and coincidentally the only empty seat was the one next to you.

"Great." You heard him mumble under his breath as he entered the room, he reluctantly sat down next to you. You could hear his heavy breathing and the way his jaw tensed. You can't blame him you were also cursing internally.

While everyone was talking to their friends or introducing themselves to their new classmates You didn't say anything and he didn't either, but you could feel his intense gaze on you, he wasn't discreet, that was for sure.

"Did you miss something?" Your gaze was fixed in front, he did not retreat, nor did he turn his face or look away.

He leaned over you and whispered, you could feel his warm breath brush against your ear, you couldn't help but grimace.

"I don't like the Bloodsuckers."

"I know." And you didn't care because you didn't like the big dogs of the woods.

You always saw werewolves as ignorant and uncivilized creatures who were not able to camouflage themselves properly among humans, they were impulsive and emotional, the last thing you wanted was to cause a commotion.

They would never be vampires, even if they tried so bad.

"Stop making that face." the grimace of disgust on your face made him angry, he hated that you were so rude, he hated that you saw him as something to be trampled on.

"I can't help it, you suck." Yuji walked away from you, you heard him growl slightly.

You weren't trying to be rude, you were just too honest, wolves had a smell that vampires don't find pleasant at all and you had always felt that the scent of yuji was much more intense than other werewolves, you didn't find it entirely unpleasant, it was a different smell That you couldn't describe very well but when you mentioned it to Megumi he called you crazy and just said that all wolves smell like shit.

You made your way through the forest, this was not your territory, the vampires and wolves had well marked the line that each one was forbidden to cross, but the northern forest was running out of prey and the guardians were out of town so you thought that one or two deer would not be needed too much in the southern forest.

You were hungry, you went weeks without tasting blood and no matter how hard you tried you had reached your limit, this was it or you would end up biting someone.

Most vampires feed solely on animal blood, if they want to live among humans they must adapt to their lifestyle and not kill them just to get a little snack.

The dry leaves crunched under your shoes, autumn was not your favorite season but it was not the most unpleasant either.

"What are you doing here?" Yuji's voice interrupted your walk. You turned and looked at him face to face for the first time ever.

You ran his body from the bottom up, you had never paid attention to him, he was tall and muscular, wolves have superhuman strength but you can guess that Yuji has an extra in that "super". Maybe and just maybe Yuji had the most beautiful honey Brown eyes you'd ever seen. Well, maybe Yuji Itadori wasn't as unpleasant as you wanted him to be.

"Just taking a walk."

"Bloodsuckers are not allowed to enter this forest." he muttered.

You took a step towards him and instinctively he backed away, even if he wanted to maintain that defiant attitude he was intimidated by your presence more than he would like to admit.

You were intimidating, while any vampire was you, you crossed the line, you were scary but bewitching, you were pretty and attractive but also too mysterious and Haughty.

Yuji didn't understand how it was that no one had ever questioned if you were really human, there was no way that someone as mystical as you was a person.

"I'm not looking for a fight."

"Then get out of here." Your gaze made his voice tremble slightly but he didn't back down, standing as steady as he could, he wasn't going to let a simple leech scare him.

You were someone who avoided conflicts, you were too lazy for that, you were hungry but you didn't know if it was worth it.

If you had been the only one hungry, you would probably just get out of there, but your whole family was suffering from that lack of blood, and if they continued like that it would be completely disastrous.

"I will." You turned around to continue going into the forest, you planned to do what you had to do and then you would leave.

"Come here." He followed you, with three long steps he came to your side. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm hungry."

"Then go north."

"It's rare to see deer there this time of year."

"Well, I'm not going to let you hunt here." Yuji had been entrusted with the very important task of guarding the forest, it was the first mission he was given and he did not want to disappoint the leader.

He admired him, he hoped one day to be like him and take his role and for that he would have to show him that he is the perfect Successor.

Yuji wasn't violent, even if he looked like it from the way he growled at you and watched every move you do like a Predator, the reality is that he could never attack you.

"A deer won't make a difference to you." Yuji hated that you were being so stubborn and hard to scare, he wanted to command respect but you treated him as if you weren't even the slightest bit afraid probably because you really weren't.

He grabbed your wrist and made you stop, but he let go of you almost immediately.

"God, you're cold as a dead body."

"Wow, you discovered something that no one else could." He rolled his eyes, while it hadn't been the smartest comment because you were actually kinda dead, that didn't give you the right to be a complete smart-ass.

"You won't kill that deer but I can help you."

You Raised an eyebrow, you didn't know if he was playing or if he was just stupid but a werewolf would never offer help to a vampire. "How?"

You thought there must be a catch, things are never that easy and you doubted that he would do it just because of the goodness of his heart.

"I'll do it, I'll take the meat to take it to my house and you can keep the blood, it was going to be a waste anyway." Blood would never be a waste but someone as uneducated as he could never understand it.

There was no trick, Yuji was amble, even if you were a murderous monster to him, he couldn't deprive you of food, apart from that, you seemed too determined to do it with permission or not, so better be the one to take care of it and let no one find out that a vampire invaded the territory while he was supposed to be protecting it with his life.

It was an annoying day, well maybe having spent that afternoon with Yuji in the forest was more fun than you expected, maybe you laughed a couple of times, maybe he told you that you looked better without your bitter bitch face, maybe deep down you thought it had been nice.

But just maybe, because he was still a mad dog you'd never have around.

And to him you were a merciless bloodsucker that he was only going to tolerate.

The next day it was you who was late, you sat next to Yuji and once again his gaze was on you, but this time it was very different, he looked surprised and confused. You didn't understand what was happening, you thought that after having talked to you yesterday he would stop behaving like a bully.

"Did you miss something?"

"You look different."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No but, God, you look perfect, it's terrifying." he had always found you terrifyingly pretty, there was something about you that made you stand out Even over the rest of the vampires, you were simply magical But right now you were perfect, not metaphorically, you literally looked perfect.

Your skin was much brighter, your eyes were brighter and more colorful, your cheeks were slightly pink, your hair was shinier, your lips were plumper.

It wasn't just that you had decided to change your makeup or hairstyle, you had made a 180° turn overnight.

"Thank you"

Yuji chuckled. "Conceited."

"More like realistic." You joked, not that you were the nicest in the world, you were aware of that but Yuji made joking feel easy.

"But really, what happened to you?" he was really intrigued, you could see in his eyes the same curiosity with which children ask those things they don't know.

"I hadn't fed for weeks and when that happens vampires usually look more dead, I guess I just revived." Blood not only helped them stay sane, It gave them life in some way, the blood lack had the same effect that lack of sleep and food would do to a human.

"Leech." You couldn't help but frown at that, to compare you to such a short animal was a complete disrespect to your ancestors and to yourself.

"Leech? Please, my lineage comes from Counts and kings, if anyone is going to be compared to something so low it should be you because the closest thing you have as cousins are dogs." A little smile appeared on Yuji's lips, you were arrogant and proud but adorable somehow.

"You know." He rests his face on his palm, while his little smile turns into an arrogant one." If I'm going to continue to help you, you should consider being a little kinder."

Don't ask him for help, you didn't think he would help you but it's not like you were going to complain, you needed to feed yourself and your family or probably everyone would go crazy.

And well, it's not that Yuji's presence was still Completely unpleasant for you.

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