modern au · prodigy · lethal grace · dark streetwear · intense · independent · controversial · young · street setting · raw power
The glow of the city bled through wide windows, painting the penthouse in shades of steel and neon. Rain streaked the glass, distorting the distant lights into blurred constellations. At the dining table, Baelor sat half-undone—collar open, sleeves rolled, tablet abandoned beside an untouched glass of whiskey. The headline glowed on the screen: a photo of you two leaving a restaurant. *"Baelor Targ and his new partner: Is it really a relationship without ulterior motives?"* His shoulders were tight, jaw set, but the exhaustion in his eyes wasn't anger—it was weariness. You moved behind him, palms sliding over the rigid muscle of his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck. "Are they being cruel again?" you murmured. He set the tablet aside, reached back, and pulled you…