#also Flick using magic

[micechicken]

Deciphering the codes in you

Face closer cause it is hard to see ;p

[pandapetals]

Mine To Keep

Summary: After a heated encounter at the Tipsy Bison, Joel’s possessive streak is set off when a cocky newcomer makes a crude comment about you. Tension boils over into desperate, filthy lovemaking back home, where Joel reminds you exactly who you belong to.

Pairing: joel miller x fem!wife reader

Word count: 5k

Content warnings: smut, established relationship, married joel, possessiveness, heavy dirty talk, mama pet name used, other pet names, breeding kink, fingering, oral, squirting, p in v sex, creampie, aftercare, some fluff, banter/teasing from Tommy

A/N: divider by @saradika-graphics. Do I want kids? No. Would I give Joel a litter? Yes. New kink unlocked. Also, this is not an original idea; sue me. I'm just feral over Pedro.

The Tipsy Bison buzzed with low laughter, the clatter of glass against wood, and the scratch of boots on the scuffed floorboards. Warm, smoky air clung to your skin when you stepped inside, the scent of old whiskey and woodsmoke curling in your nose. Conversations hummed around you, mixing familiar voices and the occasional burst of raucous laughter from the corner tables.

You didn’t bother stopping at the bar or pretending you were here for anything but him.

Your eyes found Joel instantly, as if your body knew where to look before your mind caught up. He was bent over the pool table, cue in hand, the curve of his broad shoulders and thick forearms framed by the golden glow of the overhead light. His tanned skin gleamed, stretched tight over muscle, the sleeves of his Henley shoved up to his elbows. Every practiced movement he made, every shift of his hips, sent a pulse of heat through you.

Goddamn, he was handsome.

You dragged your lower lip between your teeth, pulse fluttering low in your belly. It didn’t matter that it was late or that the whole town might whisper about you chasing after your husband like a lovesick fool. Let them talk. All you wanted was him — home, in your bed, with his arms around you so you could finally sleep.

Tommy stood nearby, beer in hand, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. A few other men lingered around them, voices blending into the warm hum of the room.

“Think your wife’s lookin’ for you, big brother,” Tommy called out, his teasing voice cutting through the chatter as his gaze landed on you.

Joel straightened, glancing over his shoulder. The moment his eyes met yours, something in his expression softened, the faint crease in his brow easing. He set the pool cue aside, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that made your breath catch.

“Whatcha doin’ here, sweetheart?” Joel rumbled, his voice low and rough.

You didn’t answer immediately, just crossed the room like some invisible thread was pulling you. The noise and light of the bar dulled at the edges of your senses the moment you reached him, your arms sliding around his waist like it was the only place you belonged.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” you murmured, voice soft enough that only he could catch it.

His familiar scent filled your head, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Joel let out a quiet sigh, one hand resting on the small of your back, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle against your spine. His gaze flicked toward the clock above the bar, and you felt the tension in his chest when he realized the hour.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice thick with regret. “Didn’t realize it was so late, baby.”

You shrugged, fingers toying absently with the edge of his belt, the rough denim warm under your touch. The simple act made Joel’s throat work in a swallow, his free hand tightening on the pool cue.

From behind him, one of the younger guys — Wes, you thought his name was — chuckled into his drink. “Jesus, Miller,” he drawled, grinning around the rim of his glass. “A man that whipped, I swear. Must be some kinda magic between her legs, huh?”

The words landed like a spark in dry grass. Joel stiffened, his jaw ticking as he slowly turned to glare at the kid, his arm pulling you a fraction tighter against his side. The easy, good-natured grin he’d worn moments ago was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Joel said, voice calm in that dangerous, unhurried way.

The table went quiet for a beat too long. Tommy let out a short laugh to cut the tension, clapping Wes on the shoulder a little harder than necessary. “Ah, c’mon now. Don’t poke the bear, son. He’ll tear your damn head off.”

Wes raised his hands in mock surrender, but Joel’s eyes were already back on you, softer now, like nothing else in the room mattered.

“Let’s go home, handsome,” you murmured.

Joel’s jaw flexed, a muscle ticking in his cheek as his hand slid from your back to your hip, holding you close. His gaze stayed on yours, something unspoken passing between you. He gave a stiff nod, about to walk away when Wes opened his damn mouth again.

“Shame you’re leavin’ already,” Wes called, leaning back against the pool table with a cocky grin. His eyes dragged over you, slow and bold. “Didn’t realize Miller’s wife had such a pretty mouth on her. Bet she’s a fuckin’ firecracker in bed too, huh, Joel?”

The words hung in the air, sharp as broken glass.

The room stilled. A few guys exchanged glances, Tommy’s grin fading into a scowl as he straightened up from his stool.

“The hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, stepping toward Wes before your brain could catch up to your mouth. Heat rose in your chest, anger snapping through you like a whip.

But you barely made it two steps before Joel’s hand clamped around your waist. He hauled you back against his chest like you weighed nothing at all, his body slotting between you and Wes with lethal precision.

“Behind me, baby,” Joel growled, his voice low and dangerous, laced with a possessive edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt the tension rippling through him. The tight coil of muscle, the storm brewing behind his eyes. His fingers flexed against your hip as his other hand balled into a fist, making Wes flinch.

“That’s my fuckin’ wife you’re talkin’ about,” Joel said, each word slow, deliberate, and deadly. His voice dropped to a dark, dangerous rasp. “And you’re one more word away from pickin’ your teeth up off this floor.”

Wes’s smirk faltered, his throat bobbing as the color drained from his face. The rest of the bar went quiet, save for the crackle of the fire and the faint clinking of glass in the far corner.

“Alright, alright,” Tommy cut in quickly, stepping between them, a hand on Joel’s chest. “Easy, brother. He’s an idiot, ain’t worth it.”

You reached for Joel’s hand, which gripped your hip, lacing your fingers with his. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the pulse pounding in your ears. “Let’s just go.”

Joel didn’t move. His glare was still pinned to Wes, who had the good sense to look away. Then Joel huffed a sharp breath, squeezing your hand before turning toward the door, keeping you close at his side.

Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder as you passed. “Get her home, big brother. I’ll handle this shit.”

Joel didn’t answer, focusing entirely on you as he opened the door and guided you into the cool night air.

The walk home was thick with silence. It hummed with tension, electric and heavy, stretching between you. Joel’s grip on your hand was firm, his palm rough and warm against yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

You could feel it in him. The rigid line of his shoulders, how his jaw stayed tight, his strides just a little longer than usual, like he was still chasing the fight he’d left behind in that bar. Every few steps, you rubbed your thumb along his wrist to soothe the fire simmering beneath his skin.

The lights of your house came into view, a soft glow in the darkness. Joel’s voice finally broke the quiet, low and rough.

“Is Ellie home?” he asked, eyes fixed on the front door.

You shook your head, your pulse picking up even before the words left your mouth. “No, she’s at Dina’s—”

You didn’t get the rest out.

Joel’s hand tightened around yours as he spun you toward him, backing you up against the porch rail before you could blink. His mouth was on yours in an instant. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was teeth and tongue and the low, possessive growl in the back of his throat, his hand sliding to the small of your back, pressing you into the hard line of his body.

You gasped against his mouth, fingers fisting in the front of his shirt as heat flared through you, molten and sudden. His other hand cupped your jaw, angling your face the way he wanted, deepening the kiss like a man starved.

“Goddamn it,” Joel rasped against your lips, his breath hot and uneven. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Your heart pounded, your skin flushed from the sudden rush of him, from the possessiveness still radiating off his body like heat from a fire.

“Get what?” you managed, voice breathless.

He kissed you again, slower but no less intensely, his hand sliding down to squeeze your hip. “What you do to me,” he murmured, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth, cheek, and jaw. “Watchin’ some punk look at you like that… talk about you like that… Jesus, baby.”

You shivered, arching into him, your fingers tugging at his belt like they had in the bar, but now with clear intent.

“Then show me,” you whispered.

Joel’s eyes darkened, and the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “I plan to, sweetheart.”

Joel reached past you, shoved the door open, and pulled you inside like a man past the point of reason. The door slammed shut behind you, the soft click of the lock barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

Before you could take a single step, his mouth was on your neck — hot, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth scraping just enough to make you gasp. He sucked at the delicate skin just below your jaw, a low groan rumbling from his chest when your fingers dug into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, your head tipping back to give him more access.

His hands found your hips, dragging you against him, the hard line of his arousal grinding into your belly. Every touch was rough and needy, as if he was still chasing the high of what happened at the bar, and the only thing that could settle him was you.

Somehow, you made it to the couch, stumbling, pulling at clothes between frantic kisses. Shirts tugged halfway off, jeans yanked down just enough — it wasn’t graceful. It was heat and desperation, limbs tangling and mouths colliding like you’d fall apart if you didn’t touch.

By the time Joel dropped to his knees in front of you, your top was still on, bunched up over your ribs, your legs spread wide on either side of him. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at you from between them.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ night,” he rasped, his voice a gravelly promise that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

Then his mouth was on you.

A sharp cry left your lips as his tongue dragged through your folds before his lips closed around your clit. He sucked, hard, sending a bolt of pleasure straight through your core. Your back arched off the couch, fingers tangling in his hair as heat bloomed low in your belly.

Joel groaned against you, the vibration of it making your hips buck. His hands pinned you down, thumbs digging into your thighs as his tongue worked you over — long, wet strokes mixed with sharp flicks of his tongue, his scruff rough against your sensitive skin.

“Joel—oh, God—baby,” you gasped, your voice breaking on a whimper as he sucked your clit between his lips again, his tongue relentless.

He grunted in approval, one hand leaving your thigh to slide a thick finger inside you, curling just right. You cried out, the pressure building fast, your body strung taut, teetering on the edge.

Joel pulled back just long enough to murmur, voice thick and wrecked, “Told you I’d show you, darlin’. Gonna make you come all over my tongue.”

Then he was back on you, tongue and fingers working in perfect, devastating rhythm, and you knew you wouldn’t last long.

Every flick of Joel’s tongue, every curl of his fingers pushed you higher, the pleasure building sharp in your belly. You could barely breathe, panting, gasping his name like a prayer, your fingers fisting so hard in his hair your knuckles ached.

“F-fuck—Joel, I’m—” you stammered, voice trembling, hips bucking despite his iron grip.

He groaned against you, the sound deep and hungry, his mouth sealing around your clit and sucking hard. His fingers curled inside you just right, and the coil inside you snapped.

Pleasure shattered through you, sharp and white-hot. Your cry broke from your throat, back arching off the couch, legs shaking as your orgasm tore through you.

And then it happened — a rush of wetness, sudden and overwhelming. You felt yourself gush against his mouth, a choked moan tumbling out of you as your vision blurred.

“Oh my— fuck, Joel, I—I can’t—”

But Joel didn’t stop.

He growled low in his throat, his tongue lapping at your release like a man possessed, hands tightening on your thighs to hold you open as you writhed. The way you’d fallen apart, the way you soaked him — it only drove him wilder.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips slick, beard damp with you. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with pure, feral hunger. “Look at you… fuckin’ perfect. Such a good girl.”

His mouth was back on you before you could catch your breath, tongue working you through every aftershock, every tremble, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a whimpering, shaking mess against the couch cushions.

“J-Joel—s’too much,” you gasped, half-laughing, half-crying as your body shuddered under him.

He only grunted, one last possessive suck against your clit before he finally let you go, his mouth glistening, his chest heaving. He looked up at you like he hadn’t even begun to get his fill.

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ mess,” he said, voice rough, thumb lazily stroking your inner thigh. “And I ain’t even fucked you yet.”

A slow, wicked grin tugged at your lips. You bit down on your lower one, teasing yourself with the scrape of your teeth as you looked at him through heavy lashes. “Ain’t my fault you looked so hot defending my honor,” you shot back, voice breathy but teasing, the words making his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile.

Joel huffed a dark little laugh, shaking his head as he pressed another hot, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “You’re my wife,” he muttered, like it was the world's simplest, most obvious thing. His lips dragged higher, soft kisses turning hungrier as he worked his way up your body. “’ Course I would. No one talks about you like that. No one looks at you like that. You hear me?”

Each kiss scorched a new mark into your skin, his scruff rasping against sensitive flesh, until he reached your stomach. He nipped there, the sharp sting of teeth making you jolt, your breath hitching in your throat.

“And I’m gonna make damn sure everyone in Jackson knows you’re mine,” Joel promised, voice thick and possessive.

You smirked, your hand weaving into his hair again, tugging just enough to make him grunt against your skin. “Gonna make me a mama, Joel?” you murmured, eyes locked on his.

The words seemed to snap something in him.

His pupils blew wide, his nostrils flaring as his hand slid up to palm your still-quivering belly, rough fingers splaying possessively. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and the hunger in his eyes made your pulse spike.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he growled, dragging his lips up your body, stopping just below your breast, his breath hot against your skin. “Gonna fill you up, get you nice and round. Put a baby in you so there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind you’re mine.”

You whimpered, your hips canting toward him, need flaring bright and sharp in your gut.

Joel smirked against your skin, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Bet you’d look so fuckin’ pretty all swollen with my baby. Takin’ me so good every night, beggin’ for it.”

“Then do it,” you whispered, shivering under his touch, a throaty little plea.

He lifted his head, his mouth crashing into yours, tasting of whiskey and you, his hands already pushing your top higher, moving to claim every inch of you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Joel rasped, dragging the tip of his nose along your jaw as he positioned himself between your thighs. “I’m gonna fuck a baby in you.”

Joel didn’t waste another second.

His eyes dragged over your body, hungry and wild, and when he settled between your thighs, his cock heavy and flushed in his hand, you swore you could feel your pulse in every inch of your skin.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, look at you,” he rasped, fisting himself as he lined up with your slick entrance, the fat head of his cock nudging at your folds. “Already so wet for me. Messy little thing.”

You whimpered, hips tilting up to meet him, your fingers digging into his arms, desperate for more.

“Beg for it, mama,” Joel gritted, his voice rough. He leaned down, teeth catching your earlobe. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Joel,” you gasped, head falling back as your body ached for him. “Please. Need you inside me. Need you to fuck me. Fill me up—give me your baby.”

A deep, wrecked sound tore from his throat — half a growl, half a groan — and then he was pushing into you in one hard, slow thrust, sinking deep until his hips met yours. The stretch burned, your walls clenching around him.

“Goddamn,” Joel grunted, head dropping to your shoulder as he bottomed out. “Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. Feels like heaven.”

You could barely breathe, could only cling to him as he set a punishing rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with desperate, brutal intent. The couch creaked beneath you, every slap of skin against skin loud in the otherwise silent house.

His mouth was everywhere — your neck, collarbone, and jaw underside. He muttered filth into your skin between ragged breaths, every word fanning the fire already consuming you.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growled, his hand sliding to your belly, pressing down just enough to feel the bulge of him moving inside you. “Put a baby right here. Get you so fuckin’ full you’ll be beggin’ me for more.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you sobbed, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, your nails raking down his back.

He grunted, his thrusts somehow rougher, deeper. “That’s it, mama. Take it. You were made for this — for me. Always knew you’d look so goddamn pretty carrying my kid.”

The word mama on his lips sent a shockwave through you, your whole body reacting with pleasure. Heat coiled low in your belly, a deep, needy ache blooming, the edge of your orgasm creeping back up so fast it made your head spin.

You barely recognized your voice — breathless, wrecked, laced with a teasing, desperate kind of heat. “Wanna give you a baby,” you whispered, your nails raking down his sweat-slick back, hips arching up to meet every thrust.

Joel let out a sound that was half growl, half moan, like the words cracked something inside him wide open. His hips stuttered for a heartbeat before slamming into you even harder.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice thick and ragged, his mouth dragging along your jaw. “Say it again, darlin’.”

You gasped when he hit that perfect spot, the pleasure stealing your breath.

“Wanna give you a baby, Joel,” you choked out, fingers gripping his hair, pulling him down until his forehead pressed to yours. 

The snarl he made against your lips was pure filth, his pace turning brutal, desperate.

“Yeah, you do,” Joel rasped, his voice rough with tenderness and possessive heat. “Gonna knock you up, fill this pretty pussy ‘til it takes. Get you nice and round, let everyone see what I fuckin’ did to you.”

Your body broke again, pleasure slamming into you like a wave, your moan spilling into his mouth as you came, clenching around him so tight it dragged a loud, broken curse from his throat.

Joel’s hips jerked, his cock twitching deep inside you as he followed, coming with a low, possessive growl. “Mine. All fuckin’ mine, mama.”

And the way he kept moving, soft, shallow thrusts as his come spilled inside you, made your head swim, the aftershocks rippling through both of you.

“Gonna fill you up again in a minute,” Joel murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath hot and uneven. “Ain’t stoppin’ ‘til you’re carryin’ my baby.”

You shivered, a giddy, breathless laugh escaping you as you kissed him, your heart pounding against his.

Joel groaned against your lips, the sound deep and wrecked, his tongue slipping into your mouth like he couldn’t get enough of you. His hips gave a sharp, involuntary thrust, and you felt it, that familiar, liquid heat spilling deep inside you as his cock twitched inside your still-clenching walls.

A dark, possessive noise tore from his throat, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you knew there’d be bruises come morning. The weight of him, the heat, the lingering pulse of his release made your whole body tighten in response, another soft, needy whimper escaping your lips.

You bit his bottom lip, just enough to make him grunt, a wicked little smirk curling your mouth as you tugged before letting go.

“Can feel you,” you whispered, your voice breathless and teasing, your thumb brushing his jaw. “Fillin’ me up again, handsome.”

Joel’s gaze darkened, his breath hitching as his hand slid possessively over your belly, pressing his palm flat against it like he could already feel something growing inside you. 

“Can’t fuckin’ help it,” he said, his voice a gravelly rasp, kissing you again. “This pussy’s too good, sweetheart. So goddamn tight, squeezin’ me like you’re tryin’ to keep every drop.”

Your body shivered at his words, arousal flaring sharp and hot all over again.

Joel groaned when he felt the way your walls fluttered around him, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah… you like that, huh?” he murmured, teeth scraping along your jaw. “Bet I could make you come again just like this, keep you stuffed full ‘til you can’t even think straight.”

The way he said it made your pulse stutter, your hips instinctively rocking against him despite the oversensitivity.

His hand slid between you, two fingers teasing your swollen, soaked clit with slow, lazy circles.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxed, his voice thick with hunger and rough affection. “One more for me. Let’s see how much more this pretty pussy can take.”

You moaned his name as Joel rocked his hips in slow, deep thrusts. Each one dragged along oversensitive nerves, the thick slide of him inside you sending heat curling low in your belly, sharp and insistent. Your fingers clutched at his shoulders, your body trembling, every lazy grind pushing you closer to the edge.

“Yeah, that’s it, mama,” Joel rasped against your ear, his voice rough and tender. “Feel that? Still so full for me.”

The tension in your belly coiled tight, your walls fluttering around him, and then it hit — your orgasm cresting sharp and hot, pleasure tearing through you in thick, rolling waves. You cried out his name again, your body clenching down around his cock, slick flooding around him as you came hard.

Joel groaned low, his hips giving a final, deep push before he stilled, buried to the hilt, savoring every pulse of you around him. His head dropped to your shoulder, sweat-slick skin sticking to yours, his breath hot and uneven against your neck.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

He pulled out slowly, and you both let out soft, wrecked sounds at the wet, filthy slide of it. A warm, sticky mix of your arousal and his seed spilled out of you, slicking your thighs.

Joel watched it, pupils blown, a dark, possessive hunger flickering across his face. Without a word, he slid his fingers through the mess, gathering it up, and then eased two of them back inside you, pushing it deep.

“Not wastin’ a fuckin’ drop,” he murmured, voice a gravelly promise, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as his fingers worked it back in. “This’s all mine, darlin’. You hear me? Every last bit of it.”

Your breath caught, a whimper escaping you at the stretch and the possessive tenderness in his touch.

“Gonna keep you nice and full,” Joel went on, his voice softer now, fingers dragging slowly inside you, his other hand splaying over your belly again. “Get you nice and round for me.”

Your body shuddered, another wave of heat crashing through you at his words.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your lips brushing his. “All yours, Joel.”

Joel stretched out on top of you, his head resting against your chest. Both of you were too wrecked and sated to care about the mess clinging to your skin or the sticky heat between your bodies. His fingers lazily traced circles along your hip, his breathing evening out against your skin as the frantic pulse of earlier settled into something warm and steady.

You carded your fingers through his damp hair, scratching lightly at his scalp the way you knew he liked. He released a low, contented sound and pressed a soft, unhurried kiss above your heart.

Eventually, Joel shifted, lifting his head to meet your gaze. His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, the rough pad of it catching on your skin. “C’mere,” he said, voice still thick and gravelly from the aftermath.

He helped you sit up, wincing a little as he did, and you both chuckled softly at yourselves.

Joel disappeared for a moment, returning with a warm, damp cloth. He cleaned you up gently, his touch careful and tender. He murmured soft apologies every time you flinched from oversensitivity.

When he was done, he leaned down, kissed your forehead, and scooped you into his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world. You nuzzled into his neck, your body limp with exhaustion, your heart still pounding slowly and content beneath your ribs.

“You good, darlin’?” he asked quietly, kissing your temple as he carried you upstairs.

“Mmm,” you hummed, too tired to say much else but letting your lips brush his throat in answer.

You both stripped off what little remained of your clothes in the bathroom. The shower was quick and lazy — more leaning against one another than washing — the warm water washing away the sweat and mess while Joel kept his hand on you when your knees went weak from pure exhaustion.

Afterward, you both climbed into bed, skin still damp, limbs tangled beneath the worn quilt. Joel pulled you close, your head tucked under his chin, one big hand spread over your belly in a possessive, tender gesture.

The night was quiet around you. The only sounds were the faint chirp of crickets outside and the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“Love you,” Joel murmured against your hair, voice already thick with sleep.

You smiled, pressing a lazy kiss to his chest. “Love you too.”

Sleep took you both not long after, wrapped up in each other, as if you never wanted to let go.

The next morning, Joel padded downstairs barefoot, the house quiet except for the creak of the old floorboards under his weight. The scent of sex and sweat still lingered faintly in the air, clinging to the room like a memory.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, still feeling the ache in his muscles, a hazy mix of satisfaction and guilt gnawing at him. Hope I didn’t wear her out too bad , he thought, glancing toward the stairs. You’d been so boneless, half-asleep when he kissed your temple and slipped out of bed, still curled up in the mess of sheets.

Joel filled the coffee pot and started a fresh brew before grabbing a rag to wipe down the couch. The dried streaks of sweat and arousal, and the faint outline of a handprint in the fogged glass of the side table, made his lips twitch in amusement.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, shaking his head as he scrubbed.

He’d just finished, the rag still in hand, when a sharp knock rattled the front door. Joel sighed, tossing the rag over his shoulder as he padded over.

The door swung open to reveal Tommy, leaning against the frame with a shit-eating grin and one brow raised.

“Oh good,” Tommy drawled, giving his brother a once-over. “You’re alive.”

Joel rubbed at his eyes with a groan, still half-asleep and in no mood for whatever this was. “Yeah, barely. Ain’t got patrol. Why the hell you here so damn early?”

Tommy didn’t answer immediately — just snorted and jerked his chin toward the house behind him. “Neighbors complainin’,” he said, barely holding back a grin. “Said they heard some woman screamin’ her head off last night. Thought maybe some infected made it past the gate.”

Joel’s stomach dropped, his eyes going wide. “ Shit, ” he muttered, heat creeping up the back of his neck.

Tommy’s grin split wide as he let out a bark of laughter. “Relax, big brother. I told ‘em it was just you bein’ an animal. Didn’t even blink.”

Joel scowled, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Goddamn it, Tommy.”

“Hey,” Tommy chuckled, backing down the steps, clearly enjoying himself. “Least now the whole town knows you ain’t as old and tired as you look.”

Joel shot him a glare, but there was no real heat. “Keep runnin’ your mouth and see if you don’t end up limpin’ on patrol tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Tommy quipped over his shoulder as he walked away.

Joel watched him go, shaking his head with amusement before shutting the door. He turned, grabbed two mugs off the shelf, and filled them with coffee, still grinning.

Carrying them upstairs, he peeked into the bedroom, finding you still curled under the covers, hair a wild, messy halo around your head.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, setting the mugs down and crawling back beside you, kissing your shoulder. “You know we got the whole town talkin’?”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Joel Miller, if you tell me what I think you’re about to…”

He chuckled, pulling you closer. “Might’ve made ya scream a little too loud last night.”

You smacked his chest with a sleepy grin. “Next time, I’m gagging you.”

Joel’s laugh rumbled against your back as he wrapped you in his arms. “Fair’s fair, sweetheart. Fair’s fair.”

[delilahsturniolo]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୨ৎ bsf!chris giving you head for the first time (fingering, kissing, oral — fem!receiving, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names.)

you can't believe what you've just agreed to. your best friend, the one guy who's been there for you through thick and thin, is now kneeling between your legs, looking at you with a hunger that makes your heart race. but there's also a tenderness in his gaze that reassures you, that reminds you this is chris, your chris, who would never hurt you. it all started wiyh a simple conversation about both of your guys’s experiences, and you confessed to chris that you had never received head in your life. let’s just say…he insisted on changing that.

"just relax," he murmurs, his fingers gently parting your folds to expose you to his gaze. "i've got you." you take a deep breath, feeling a little self-conscious about your vulnerability. but the look on his face, all focused desire and affection, it helps to calm your nerves. you trust him, you always have. and when his tongue flicks out to trace a path along your inner thigh, you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. "fuck, chris," you breathe, watching him as he moves closer to your center. "this is...oh my gosh."

"shh," he soothes, "just focus on the feeling." and then his mouth is on you, his lips pressing against your slick folds in a gentle kiss. the sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but squirm under his touch. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to explore your body with his mouth. his tongue laps at your folds, teasing and tasting with a gentle hunger that has your toes curling.

"that's it," he murmurs, "let me take care of you." his voice is low and husky, and it sends a thrill of desire through you. you can't believe this is happening, that your best friend is making you feel this good. his fingers slide into you, curling to hit that spot inside you that has your back arching off the bed. "chris," you gasp, "right there."

"tell me what you want," he encourages, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "let me know what feels good." you swallow hard, feeling a flush creep over your face. but the desire to have him know, to have him understand just how amazing he makes you feel, overshadows your embarrassment.

"i...i want you to keep doing that," you confess, watching him as he continues to work his magic. "it...it's so fucking good." his chuckle vibrates against you, and you can't help but moan again. "oh yeah? you like that huh?” he says, "let me make it better." you nod, a little dazed from the pleasure that's coiling within you. "please," you gasp.

his gaze meets yours for a moment, filled with a smoldering intensity that takes your breath away. and then he dives back in, his tongue working relentlessly against you, drawing out long, deep moans from your throat.

"that's it," he praises, "let me hear you baby.” his fingers pump into you with a rhythm that matches the movement of his tongue against your soaked pussy, and you can't help but move against him, seeking more of that delicious friction.

the pleasure crests and breaks over you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your body as you cum on his face. you arch into his mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as he laps up every drop of your release.

as the aftershocks ripple through you, you look down at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "chris," you whisper, your voice shaking with emotion, "that was...thank you.” he smiles against your thigh, a soft, content smile that makes your heart flutter. "anytime, ma.” he says, "anytime."

you pull him up for a kiss, wanting to taste yourself on his lips. it's sweet and dirty at the same time, and you can't help but moan into his mouth as his tongue explores yours. his hands roam over your body, caressing every inch of you as he kisses you deeply. and as your bodies move together in a dance as old as time, you realize that maybe this is where you're meant to be, in chris's arms, lost in the pleasure he gives you so willingly.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: woahh, delilah actually writing about chris for once??? rare occurence!!

[etheries1015]

The Twisted Wonderland orange peel theory

The orange peel theory: A theory in which one requests their significant other to peel an orange for them. If they say yes, then it means they are willing to do small tasks for their lover. If they say no, it may suggest they are less willing to offer support, the theory says.

featuring: Lilia, Malleus, Trey, Rook, Vil, Leona, Ruggie, Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Jade, Floyd

Sitting around in the presence of your beloved whilst holding an orange, you glance at him contemplating something. You decided to put him to the test! Will he pass?

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader. Also if you don't like oranges/are allergic to them, just imagine something else! <3

TW: None! Just fluff <3

Lilia

Your fae lover sat at his computer playing away at his video game while you lay upon his bed fiddling with an orange in hand. You glanced over at him, turning around to lay on your stomach and holding out the orange.

"Lilia, love?" You asked.

"Yes, darling?" He replied, eyes glued to his screen

"Will you peel this orange for me please?" He paused his movements and turned his head to look at you with a carefree smile upon his face. Without hesitation, he grabbed the orange out of your hand and began peeling away at the skin and discard it in the garbage that sat next to his gaming desk. You giggled slightly and thanked him with a kiss against his cheek, Lilia removing himself from his computer and engulfing you in a hug tackling you to the bed.

"If you wanted my attention, surely you could have found something more creative than peeling an orange, my little bat~"

verdict: Pass! He had the wrong idea of your intentions, but he still won.

Malleus

"Malleus," You asked the tall male, interrupting his focus in crafting the gargoyle he had been paying attention to, holding out the orange in your hand.

"Yes?" He asked, averting his attention from his craft to attentively look at you. He glanced at the orange and flicked his eyes back to yours, tilting his head in confusion.

"Will you peel this for me, please?" Malleus had furrowed his eyebrows ever so slightly- a frown upon his lips as he studied the fruit.

"Are you struggling with peeling it by yourself?" He asked in genuine concern, grasping your hands to study them, "Are you experiencing any pain that is hindering your skills?" You giggled at his strangely focused pout while analyzing your hands, it wasn't even a moment later before he used his magic to lift the orange, peel it, and even take apart each of the slices before grabbing it with his hands and holding one to your mouth.

"Here, I shall feed you. No need to further strain your hands, dearest."

Verdict: Pass...? he has the spirit!!

Trey

The moment you were studying the orange dubiously with an interesting look of focus immediately caught his attention. You didn't even have to ask Trey before he was asking for you!

"Would you like me to peel that for you? You've been staring at it for a while," He chuckled. You smiled up at him and held out the orange with enthusiasm and a nod. He took it gracefully and peeled it perfectly, handing it back and throwing away the peels for you.

"You're the sweetest," You smiled whilst popping a slice into your mouth, Trey responding with a bashful smile and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"There's no need for that...you just seemed deep in thought, so it was more or less an excuse to bring that up. Is something on your mind? You can talk to me about anything."

Verdict: Pass with flying colors!

Rook

"Rooook!" You called out holding an orange to the sky, "Can you peel this orange for me, please!? I don't want my hands to smell like oranges!" You seemed to be calling out into the woods at nothing, but in reality you were sitting against a tree waiting for Rook to finish hunting. You decided to put his loyalty to the test. You heard rustling around before an arrow zoomed past the top of your head, piercing the orange out of your hand and hitting the tree.

Your jaw slacked open, mortified.

You trusted Rook with your life, yes, but he likes to test this sometimes.

"If that is what your heart desires, of course I shall peel this orange for you, my beloved!" He skipped over and took the orange off of the tip of the arrow and began to peel away at it. You stared at him in horror.

"...Rook."

"oui?" An innocent smile as he worked away at the...now miss-shapen fruit.

"Go get me a new orange."

Verdict: ...Questionable pass..? He went and got you a new orange, and peeled it properly for you.

Vil

"Can you peel this for me?" Vil glanced over with furrowed eyebrows and a frown upon his perfect features.

"Why do you require my assistance in peeling an orange? Are you unable to do it yourself?" The question was valid and innocent enough, but you were determined to go through with this challenge.

"Just do it, please?" You gave him puppy eyes, "I don't want to get the peeling under my nails." An excuse you felt he would be able to understand, surely!

"And you believe I do?" He retorted.

Touché...

You flashed him a pout, and he caved. Vil sighed and held out his hand for you to place the orange, slowly and with care removing it's peel. You gave him a bright smile and a little giggle, for you knew he always caves eventually when it comes to you. He loves that part of you though, how you seem to always brighten up at the smallest of things. It's a part of your charm.

"What are you giggling about? It's just an orange, silly potato. You get excited over the most random of things..."

Verdict: Pass with some push

Leona

"No." He was pretty immediate to reject your question. You began to whine and pester him.

"Leona! Please? Will you do just this little thing for me?" You gave him puppy eyes, to which he sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes.

"Why can't you do it yourself?"

"Because I want you to do it."

"That's not an answer."

"Why do I need to have a reason?"

"You woke me up from my nap to peel an orange."

"And?"

He turned around to fall back asleep, you responded with shaking his body and complaining to your lover. Leona turned his body and used his strong arms to pull you into his chest.

"Stop your whining and take a nap with me, herbivore. The orange can wait."

Verdict: Fail...? but in a weird way. You get it?

Ruggie

"Eh?" Ruggie looked up at you with wide eyes, "Peel an orange? Why?" You pouted at the brown haired heyena and placed your free hand upon your hips.

"Because you're my boyfriend, and i'm asking you oh-so-nicely..." He shrugged and took the orange, peeling it.

And then, when you thought he was being extra nice to you and peeling away the slices for you to eat, he took half of the orange and popped it into his mouth. Much to your dismay.

"My orange!!" You complained. Ruggie handed you the other half and laughed.

"What? There's always a price for labor, even if it's just an orange! Besides, you're my s/o, and I wanted it oh-so-bad...sharing is caring, right?"

Verdict: Pass...and you made him go get you another orange. In which he also ate half of before it got to you.

Ace

"Peel this for me," You said in the middle of watching a movie, holding out the orange. Ace eyed it dubiously before looking back up at you.

"Eh? Why can't you do it yourself?" He whined, "I don't wanna smell like oranges."

"Ace, please? for me?" He gave you a deadpan stare and you spent a solid minute just looking at each other in a silent battle. He then sighed loudly and obviously theatrically, snatching the orange away from you and peeling it (not without some attitude.)

"I don't get it...I've seen you peel oranges so many times. I don't think you actually care about smelling like oranges, somethin' else is definitely going on here!"

Verdict: Lowkey failed, but that's okay. Eventually, it worked!

Deuce

"Deuce, can you peel this for me, please?" You asked the blue eyed male, offering up the orange.

Deuce was pretty fast to jump to the opportunity to peel it for you. He likes when you can depend on him on such tasks that are seemingly mundane, it makes him feel important, that you trust him. Even though it isn't that deep. Grabbing the orange and peeling it with eagerness, you smiled fondly at him.

"Here you go!" He said proudly, handing you a...messily peeled orange. It wasn't very pretty, you could see parts of the orange where he managed to either miss some of the peel or scraped some of the main part with his nail by mistake. But that didn't matter to you.

"Sorry it isn't the best...I should practice peeling oranges so it's perfect next time. Huh? You were just testing me? Don't worry, i'll do anything you ask of me! It's important to work as a team, so you won't have to worry about doing tasks by yourself!"

Verdict: Pass, he's a little angel

Riddle

"Riddle," You said taking him away from his studies, "Will you peel this orange for me?" The red head set down his pen and looked over at you and then the orange, holding out his hand for you to give to him right away.

"Of course. Hand it here." You gladly gave him the orange and he peeled it perfectly, cleanly, and discarding the peels right away and standing up to wash his hands.

"I don't mind doing such things upon your request. It's a healthy snack too, much better than the chips and other things I see Ace and Deuce sneak around...hm? No, I don't mind if you eat your orange while we study. Now... where were we?."

Verdict: passed with flying colors (Already knew about this theory beforehand, but wouldn't let you in on that!)

Jade

It was pretty simple, you handed the orange while he was reading something, and he peeled it without you even asking. He peeled it while reading, handed it back to you, although handing you the peels to throw away yourself. You smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek, Jade chuckling in response.

"Were you testing me with the orange peel theory? What, are you surprised I know of it's existence? I actually anticipated you would attempt it at some point. I see some of the things you like to look up. How do I know what you search online? ...hehe. That's a secret."

Verdict: Pass! ...with a few extra questionable things!

Floyd

"Haahhh?" He looked at you with his signature look of annoyance and dismay. "What'dya mean you can't peel an orange? I don't wanna either," He whined, going back to...whatever weird thing he gets up to in his free time.

"Floydddd," You pouted, "Please? for me?" He looked at you, then the orange. Then you, then the orange. This went on for a minute.

"Fine. I'll go ask Jade." You fled the scene before you could reap the consequences of your statement, hearing his loud protests from afar and the sound of scrambling to catch up to you...

Verdict: Fail. Big big fail. Sorry Floyd lovers.

[jiyascepter]

Caught You | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x F!reader

Words: 4012

Warnings/Content: SMUT; Avenger! Loki & Avenger! Y/n, Themes of dub-con, dark-ish Loki??, dom!Loki, pervy!Loki, possessive, jealous loki, use of loki's magic (in a lot of sexual stuff), restraints, bondage, biting, licking, aggressive, pissed loki, praise, slight degradation, there's a tattoo on y/n's thigh (for the plot!), other mcu characters also make an appearance, clit licking, fingering, overstimulation, p in v.

Please lmk if I missed anything! Loki is a bit of red-flaggy in this one, please keep in mind this is only a fanfiction.

Summary: When you make fun of Loki's magic, he "demonstrates" how his magic can be useful. In many, ehm..ways. What did you expect?

A/n: i moved the title in the corner so that i can keep seeing tommys's sexy face in the middle 😮‍💨 im trying to make my fics dirtier but it's not quite coming down in my works, like it's in my mind but it's not easy to express??? im trying & hopefully it'll come soon

The cavernous, dimly-lit warehouse echoed with the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. The Avengers were locked in combat with a band of mercenaries armed with advanced weaponry.

Tony was in the air, repulsor beams lighting up the darkness, while Natasha and Clint worked in tandem, their movements precise and deadly. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir, was a blur as it struck down the enemies with thunderous force.

In the midst of the chaos, Loki stood with an air of detached amusement, casting spells with flicks of his wrists. His magic sent mercenaries flying, created illusions to confuse their ranks, and conjured barriers to protect the teammates. But Loki's magic, powerful and unpredictable, was also a bit reckless tonight.

Maybe it was the leather suit you were wearing today.

"Loki, for the love of—watch where you're aiming!" You shouted as you narrowly avoided being hit by a stray spell meant for an enemy.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance as you shot him a glare. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

Loki smirked, eyeing you up, not taking you seriously. "Perhaps if you were more attentive, you wouldn't find yourself in such precarious positions, darling."

You scowled and ducked under a swipe from a mercenary, retaliating with a swift punch that sent your opponent sprawling.

Ugh, you hated how he always carried that stupid smirk.

"Maybe if your magic was actually useful, we wouldn't be in precarious positions to begin with!"

Loki's eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of irritation flashing through his otherwise calm demeanor. "Is that so? I seem to recall saving you from a similar predicament just last week."

"By causing it in the first place!" You shot back, dodging another mercenary's attack and taking him down with a well-placed kick. 

Loki rolls his eyes and runs in the other direction. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion, making a group of mercenaries see each other as Avengers.

Confused, they turned on one another, giving the team a moment of respite. But the spell was too potent, and soon the illusion spread, affecting even the teammates. 

Chaos erupted as friends and foes became indistinguishable. 

"What the—" Tony exclaimed while flying over the scene. 

"Damn it, Loki!" You screamed, ducking, as Natasha took a swing at you, mistaking you for an enemy.

"Enough!" Thor bellowed, his hammer smashing into the ground to create a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet and dispelled the illusion.

The mercenaries, now disoriented, were quickly subdued.

The flight back home was quiet. Everyone was either tired, tending to their wounds, or just rethinking what happened back there. 

Once you landed, the rest of the Avengers stepped down the Quinjet and walked into the building to their rooms. 

"Loki, wait." Steve calls out and walks towards Loki in the lobby.

“About today—”

“Nobody died, Rogers.” Loki replies. 

"That is not an achievement," You murmur to yourself loudly on purpose for him to hear while taking a sip from your favourite grey-coloured sipper. 

Loki and Steve both glanced at you, with Steve carrying a hint of a smile on his face while Loki scowled and turned back to Steve.

You could tell he was not impressed. 

A win for you.

Steve clears his throat, turning serious once more. "Look, what happened today was not good. We cannot work as a team if we don't know half of your tricks."

Loki grins. "Well, that's the fun, isn't it? A surprise for everyone.”

Steve raises his eyebrows. "But it isn’t helping, Lo-"

"Helping? His magic is useless half the time."

Loki shoots an eye at you when you say that, and you could tell the God wasn't pleased.

"He's showing off in front of everyone, like the arrogant ass he is." You go on, while Loki watches you with his grave, sharp eyes.

Why wasn't he replying with his usual snarky comments today? 

Steve gives a light chuckle and pats Loki's shoulder as if feeling sorry for him, "Be careful next time, that's all I ask," and walks away through the corridor, leaving you and Loki to yourselves.

While waiting for the elevator, you silently stand in front of the doors, waiting for it to arrive.

Until you feel a hard pressure against your back.

The sensation is unmistakable—a solid, unyielding presence, warm and firm. Loki's chest. His closeness sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his breath and subtle heat radiating through his clothes.

You stiffen, unsure whether to move away or stay still, the elevator's arrival feeling like an eternity away.

You decide to say something to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Ego broken, Loki~?" You say his name in a sing-song voice.

"Do you enjoy testing my patience, mortal?" he says, leaning down to your ear.

"Someone has to keep you in check," you reply, your voice steady despite the proximity.

The elevator reaches your floor, and with a little chime, its doors open. You proceed to take a step forward to enter the elevator when his hand grabs hold of the back side of your neck and pulls you back to him.

"Careful," he almost whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, "your tongue is going to get you in trouble one day."

You pause for a moment, feeling the tension thicken in the air, before you turn your head out of his hands to look at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt the big bad trickster's feelings?" You taunt, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Maybe if your magic wasn't so unreliable, we wouldn't be in these messes. Or do you need Daddy Odin to give you some pointers on how to actually be useful?"

Loki's eyes flare with fury, and in no time he grabs your neck once again and strides into the elevator, pinning your head to the panels. His body pressed against yours with a force that left little room for doubt about his intensity.

His frame, tall and lean yet undeniably strong, exerting a commanding presence as he pins you against the cool metal of the elevator wall. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, a stark contrast to the chill of the metal against your cheek. 

He was so close to you, you could smell his sultry, intoxicating smell on him.

"You think my magic is useless, don’t you..." He whispers, his breath ghosting on your skin. "I’ll make sure you regret saying that."

"I don't "think", it's a fact." You try to push him back with your elbow. “Let me go, Loki.” You say it firmly. 

"Not yet, vixen." He says so, and the elevator doors shut by themselves. And with one flick of his fingers, the front chain of your tight leather suit yanked open down to the end of your belly.

Did he just–

"I’ll make sure to demonstrate how useful my magic can be." He says and looks down to notice you were not even wearing a bra underneath.

He grins at the sight, licking his lower lip. "Naughty girl." He coos in your ear while his fingers work their way to your belly. 

His fingers, though possessing a hint of coldness at first, quickly warmed against your skin as they made contact with your belly. Each touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a fire that danced just beneath the surface. 

"Let. Me. Go." You say, trying to stand your ground, but your attempts are futile. 

"Told you no, darling." He says while his fingers trailed up to your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps rose in their wake.

It was a sensation that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his touch. 

He slides down your suit from your shoulders, proceeding with a graze of his tongue on your skin. 

"Mmm…sweet," he murmurs, sucking on your shoulder, "unlike those words you use."

"FUCK. YOU." You reply with a gruff.

Loki chuckles darkly against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. "Oh, darling, you will," he murmurs, his voice dripping with seductive menace. "But not before I teach you to respect a God."

He pulls down your suit lower, his lips kissing the back of your neck, followed by melty little kisses down your bareback. Despite your discontent, you couldn’t help but feel turned on by him.

As Loki pushes down your suit to your thighs, his eyes catch sight of a small tattoo etched on the inside of your thigh. The ink reads the name of your ex-boyfriend. Loki's eyes darken with a mix of curiosity and possessiveness. 

He paused, his brows furrowing as he read the name inked there. "Well, well, well," he murmured, his voice a mix of curiosity and disdain. "So that’s what your little skirt was hinting at the meeting a few days ago..."

He traced the tattoo lightly with his finger, sending a shiver through your body.

So this bastard was always watching you?

You grit your teeth, anger and embarrassment flushing through you. "It’s none of your business, Loki."

He tightens his grip on your neck slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to assert his dominance. "I know."

"But this mark... it irks me. An insignificant mortal claiming a part of you." He pinches your thigh, and you try to jerk away your leg but cannot. 

You squirmed against his grip, but he held you firmly, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into yours. "Let it go, Loki," you demanded, trying to maintain your composure.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the tattoo. "Why should I?" he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr. "Why should I let some forgotten lover's mark go unchallenged?"

He gives you a rather harsh bite on your shoulder, trailing his lips to kiss your neck, which makes you whimper, which makes him grin.

He pulls away a bit, and with the flick of his wrists, an invisible force pins your arms above your head, securing you in place against the elevator wall. You struggle briefly, but the bonds hold firm. Loki steps back, his eyes raking over your exposed form with a predatory gaze.

Before you could retort, he bent down, turning his body against the elevator and facing you from below. He kissed the tattoo with deliberate slowness, his lips soft and maddeningly sensual.

The act was both possessive and teasing, with his tongue swirling repeatedly on the same spot that was making you crazy. You gasped, the sensation overwhelming, and a part of you hated how your body responded to his touch. 

"Shh, people can still hear us, darling. Even if they cannot enter." He says placing pecks up and down your thigh, evaporating your steady facade away.

"Now, let's see what other secrets you're hiding," he murmurs, his hands sliding down to your hips. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and exposing you completely.

You saw his eyes almost sparkle at the sight, placing a kiss on your mound, making you flinch against the metal. Where and when did your suit disappear? You didn’t know.

He leans close and starts exploring your already wet clit with his tongue. Holding your waist in his hands, he kept stealing glances up at your aroused form, watching your expressions while you gasped every time his warm tongue darted on your needy pussy.

The god had a talent for his tongue. The silver tongue. 

"Are you still with him?" He murmured, pulling away his face from your pussy, making you let out a complaining whine.

He holds up his two fingers to caress your folds. "Answer."

"N-no…" You answer, your voice quivering in pleasure.

"Then why isn’t it off?" He says this, glancing at your tattoo.

"I never…Loki-"

He pushes two fingers in. "You never what?"

You shudder as Loki's fingers push inside you, his question hanging in the air, demanding an answer. Your mind races, caught between the intense pleasure and the need to explain yourself.

"I never... had the chance," you manage to gasp, your voice barely steady. "It didn't mean anything anymore. I just...fuck-forgot about it."

Loki's eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face, his fingers moving slowly inside you, curling and stroking in a way that makes coherent thoughts nearly impossible. He doesn't seem entirely convinced.

"Forgot about it?" he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. "Or perhaps you wanted a reminder of something you couldn't let go?" 

"No…" You moan, writhing against the panel with your hands above your head, your fingers aching to dive into his hair. 

He starts to pump his fingers in and out of you with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb circling your clit with maddening precision. You squirm, your faint moans echoing the elevator.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Because I don't share, darling. And I don't like to be reminded of what once was."

You moan, your body arching against his touch. His words send a thrill through you, and the possessiveness in his tone both intimidating and exhilarating.

"You know I can just turn you into a pretty mannequin for me so I can do whatever I want with you…but I want to feel you squirm... to mewl... like a little prey." He says watching your face while feeling your pussy start to clench around his fingers.

"Now, let's make sure you never forget who you belong to, hm?" Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your thigh as he speaks. His mouth returns to your clit, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless intensity that drives you wild. 

"Yeah, that’s right, just keep on making those little sounds for me." He says it with a satisfied smile curling on his lips, and he resumes his ministrations with renewed fervor. 

The combination of his fingers inside you and his mouth on your clit sends you spiralling into a mind-shattering orgasm, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out his name.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Loki slowly withdraws his fingers. He stands, his eyes locking onto yours. He releases your binds away and turns you to him, and his thumb caresses your lower lip as if studying it for a second before he holds you against the wall, cupping your cheek, and kisses you almost fiercely. 

And gosh, you needed that. You needed that and more.

"Y/n, is that you?"

Both of you freeze to your seats when you hear Thor’s voice outside the elevator. 

Loki's eyes narrow in annoyance, and he quickly glances towards the elevator doors. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. "We wouldn't want to get caught now, would we?"

He continues exploring your mouth, and the kisses start spreading to your neck, tongue, and teeth, making their wild appearances every once in a while. 

Until you couldn’t help it and let out a moan.

"This door is not openi- Y/n??" Thor repeats again. "Wait, let me call Stark.-" 

Your heart races when Thor calls out again because of your moan. Loki’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away. "Are you doing this on purpose? Just another one of your games so we can get caught and you can have your fun?"

He gives your pussy a little slap, and you whine a no. 

In a swift motion, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. You barely have time to register the shift before the air around you shimmers and the familiar confines of the elevator vanish, replaced by the opulent and dimly lit interior of a room unknown to you.

The room is a stark contrast to the sterile metal of the elevator. Rich tapestries line the walls, and candles flicker, casting a warm, golden glow. A large, ornate bed dominates the space, its dark, luxurious linens inviting in a way that makes your heart race. 

Loki wastes no time. He sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bed with an urgency that sends a thrill through you. He lays you down gently, his gaze intense as he takes in your still-naked form. His hands trace over your skin, as if committing every inch to memory. 

The air is thick with the scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Loki—intoxicating and alluring. "Now, where were we?" He purrs, his fingers tracing a delicate line down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You can barely catch your breath; the intensity of the moment overwhelming. "Loki, what if Thor—"

"Thor won't find us," Loki interrupts, his voice a low growl. "This is my domain. No one enters without my permission."

"Now," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, "let us continue our little magic demonstration." 

The silken sheets cool against your heated skin, and with Loki's hands everywhere—caressing, teasing, exploring every inch of your body—his touch both gentle and demanding, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

"So beautiful," his voice dripping with seductive menace as he conjures a binding spell that secures your wrists to the bedposts. 

You gasp, your body arching against the restraints, as Loki's mouth finds your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples with maddening precision. The sensations are overwhelming, and your mind is lost in a haze of pleasure and need. 

Loki's mouth moves with deliberate precision, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over your breasts. Each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you arch and writhe against the silken sheets. The restraints on your wrists keep you firmly in place.

"Loki…"

"Mhm," he hums, enjoying your squirms. But he wanted more.

He uses his powers to amplify his touch, making your nerve endings sing with heightened sensitivity. You gasp and moan, the intensity of his magic overwhelming your senses.

You can feel the magic pulsating through you, heightening your awareness of every touch and every kiss. His lips move from your breasts to the sensitive skin just below, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The combination of his mouth and his magic almost too much to bear.

His free hand trails down your body, leaving a path of fire in its wake. As his fingers reach your inner thighs, you feel a new surge of his magic, more potent and concentrated. It wraps around your thighs, making your muscles quiver with anticipation.

Loki conjures small, delicate tendrils of magic that wrap around your nipples, gently tugging and twisting. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before—a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath. 

He moves lower, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your belly. The tendrils of magic follow his path, amplifying every sensation, making you feel as if your skin is on fire. You can barely think or breathe; your mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

As he reaches your hips, his fingers part your folds, and you feel a rush of cool air against your wetness. His mouth hovers just above your clit, his breath hot and tantalizing. 

"Tell me, darling," Loki whispers, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot, "how does it feel to be at the mercy of a god?"

Before you can answer, his tongue flicks out, teasing your clit with delicate, precise strokes. His magic enhances every touch, making you moan and writhe against the restraints. You can feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. 

"Loki I-" He sees your upcoming orgasm and pulls away quickly, enjoying your needy, complaining moan for him.

"Not so easy, darling."

And with another display of his magic, he completely gets rid of his clothes, his disrobed body turning you on even more, the heat of need between your legs almost unbearable.

He brings his already-hard cock near your lips. "Kiss it." and you do, the light hum of satisfaction he makes making you want to absolutely suck him out rather than just a little kiss.

"My filthy little vixen," he says, eyes blazing with hunger as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place as he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock, the sensation sending shivers of anticipation through you, "get ready for your god."

He lets out a low growl, a dark and seductive sound, before slowly pushing into you, his length stretching and filling you completely. The feeling is exquisite, with every inch of him sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You feel so perfect," Loki murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Every part of you was made just for me."

He begins to move, slow and deliberate, his thrusts deep and controlled. Each motion designed to draw out the maximum pleasure to make you feel every inch of him. The binding spell keeps your wrists secured to the bedposts, preventing you from reaching out to touch him, to claw at his back as the pleasure intensifies.

Loki's eyes never leave yours, the connection between you palpable and electric. He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same intensity as his thrusts. You respond eagerly, your moans muffled against his lips, your body arching to meet his. 

His magic continues to amplify every sensation, making your skin hypersensitive, every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you. The tendrils of magic around your nipples tighten and twist, adding to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

"Loki," you gasp, barely able to form coherent words. "I can't... it's too much..."

He smirks, his eyes dark with lust. "You can take it, darling. You will take it. You will take everything I give you."

His pace quickens, and his thrusts become more urgent and more demanding. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and the wet, slick sounds of your bodies moving together. The pleasure builds rapidly, creating a coiling heat in your belly that threatens to consume you entirely.

Loki's hand moves between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in tight, precise circles. The additional stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your impending orgasm.

"Come for me, darling," Loki commands, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come for your god."

His words are your undoing. With a cry, you shatter, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless and shaking. The pleasure is overwhelming, your vision going white as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Loki continues to thrust through your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure, his own release imminent. His movements become erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own climax.

You can feel him throbbing inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he finally lets go, his own orgasm ripping through him.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his groan of pleasure vibrating through your body. He collapses on top of you, his weight comforting and grounding as you both catch your breath, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing, the scent of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Loki's hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Fuck, you drive me wild." He murmurs breathlessly. 

"Did you like that, darling?" Loki murmurs against your skin, his voice a seductive purr. "My magic can do so much more." 

You breathlessly chuckle while he traces patterns on your skin. His fingers caress down to your thigh, where he glances at your tattoo.

"We can’t have that." He says in a low voice and grazes his hand over your skin, and the tattoo vanishes.  Loki’s touch lingers on your thigh where the tattoo once was, his magic leaving your skin smooth and unmarked.

"And now you’re mine."

┈➤ Taglist in the comments! Lmk if you want to join or just click this 𖹭

[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3

[miyasmagnolias]

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 '𝐞𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 ✶.°

miya atsumu x f!reader

you get to know osamu and suna more at atsumu's first game of the season. meanwhile, atsumu subjects you to a very public display of affection.

part nine of the in close quarters series, a friends-to-lovers college AU featuring you, atsumu, and the ten months you spend living together senior year.

"Hi! Are you Suna?"

The young man standing in the middle of the busy courtyard glanced up at you from his phone, his hazel eyes seemingly unaffected by the thousands of rowdy college students, families, and local volleyball fans buzzing around you.

"You’re a good guesser," he said by way of greeting, pocketing his phone and extending his hand out for a shake. His gaze flicked down to your outfit as he asked, "You're Y/N, I'm assuming?"

"How could you tell?" you drawled, gesturing to Atsumu's oversized jersey currently swallowing you whole. You had tried pairing it with your favorite denim shorts and a belt, but it didn't excuse the fact that it was three sizes too large on you.

He huffed. "Did Atsumu put you up to this?"

"He said it was important to wear school colors, which, to be fair, I don't really own," you explained matter-of-factly. It didn't stop you from rolling your eyes. "But if you ask me, I think he just likes the idea of a girl wearing his jersey."

"That sounds more like it," Suna agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. "How are you liking it, living with a Miya?"

You sucked in a sharp breath and readjusted the strap of your book bag. "Well, my living room floor is covered in gym socks, and all my leftovers magically disappear, but other than that, I can't complain."

"Ha." Something like amusement flashed across his hazel eyes as he said, "Atsumu was right — you really are funny."

Before you could open your mouth to respond, a light hand brushed against your shoulder.

"Sorry I'm late," Osamu said, still in his Onigiri Miya hat and shirt. He extended his arm out to give you a half-hug. "There was a huge line over at the restaurant. Y/N, I see you've met my roommate Suna already."

"Sure did," you said, returning the hug with a warm smile. He smelled faintly of rice and umami sauce. "We were just talking about how lovely it is living with a Miya twin."

"Lovely, huh? I'm sure our ma would beg to differ, but I'm flattered," he said with a laugh. He gestured to the entrance of your university's multi-million-dollar events center and asked, "Shall we?"

The three of you wove in and out of the crowd, chatting animatedly amongst yourselves as you went through security, scanned your tickets, and entered the venue. You learned that Suna double-majored in psychology and sociology at the college across town and competed for a regional men's volleyball team in his free time. You also learned that he had played with the twins all three years of high school.

"Really?" you asked, your eyes wide as you navigated the ground floor of the arena. "You must be really used to them bickering, then."

"Something like that," he said, scrolling through his Google Photos until he landed on a snapshot from nearly six years ago. Osamu had Atsumu pinned to the ground, their teenaged faces contorted in anger as they brawled on the floor of the Inarizaki gymnasium.

"Oh my god," you laughed, staring at the blurry photo in amazement. "Isn't this the fight that got them both suspended?"

"Don't remind me," Osamu groaned.

Your eyes gleamed in amusement as you said, "You both look so young in this photo. Like two baby goats going head-to-head."

"Trust me, with the way Atsumu was actin' that day, you'd've thought he was a feral hyena," his brother murmured. "How was he this mornin'? Nervous at all?"

"A little bit, though he wouldn't admit it," you said, recalling how he'd acted before leaving the apartment earlier that day. He'd downed the last of his energy drink and slung his gym bag over a shoulder, the music in his AirPods loud enough for you to hear.

"Ya got everything ya need?" he'd asked you skittishly, shoving each of his feet into his Asics. "Yer ticket, Osamu and Suna's numbers?"

"Yes! We promised to meet outside of the arena at five-thirty," you said, handing him his water bottle. "It's me who should be asking you that, though. You doing okay?"

"Oh, yeah. This ain't my first rodeo," he reassured you, though his brown eyes conveyed something heavier. More solemn. "Besides, I'm feelin' much better after last night."

"That's good," you said, smiling softly. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders and jaw that he still had a lot on his mind, though.

Atsumu hit the pause button on his EDM track and asked, "Any last words of encouragement?"

You hummed to yourself, scouring your brain for the most perfect, proverbial thing to say. After a moment, you placed your hands on his shoulders, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "Don't fuck this up."

Atsumu nearly choked on his laughter. Your eyes glinted at the way his shoulders loosened up ever-so-slightly.

"I'm just kidding," you said warmly. "Give 'em hell, Atsumu."

He didn't know what it was — the use of his given name, or the pure conviction in which you'd said it — but he felt your words strike against his heart like a match. He grabbed your hand and pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your palm.

"I will," he murmured into your soft skin.

Your cheeks now burned at the memory — the way his lips had grazed your palm like it was the most natural thing in the world. You chalked it up to his affectionate, overtly flirtatious personality, unwilling to entertain the idea that it might have meant anything more.

But as you replayed the moment over and over again, you couldn't help but wish that it had.

"You guys go ahead!" you told Osamu and Suna when you reached your seating portal. "I'ma grab a drink before I head in. Do either of you want anything?"

"A beer would be nice," Osamu suggested.

Suna nodded in agreement. "Thanks, Y/N. Let us know how much we owe you.”

"Oh, don't worry about it! This one's on me," you said with a wave of your hand, jogging toward the concessions stand before either of them could argue. "I'll meet you in there!"

The smell of popcorn and nachos flooded your senses as you waited in line, the sheer energy of the arena potent enough to make your bones vibrate. A small part of you wondered what Atsumu was feeling right this very moment. Was he intimidated at all by this enormous stadium, the thousands of people that had shown up to watch him play? Or did he thrive off of their attention? Their excitement — their praise?

It's my first game since my coach kicked me off the team for a month, he'd told you last night, the warm light of your bedside lamp curving gently over his strained expression. So there's a lot at stake.

He'd been through a lot this past year, you'd realized — a break-up, a forced hiatus from volleyball. An onslaught of self-doubts he'd never fully admitted to but wore on his sleeve nonetheless. You hoped he wasn't thinking too deeply about all of that now. Even if he was, you silently prayed he wasn't burdened by it.

"Excuse me," you said once you'd reached the front row of the stadium, balancing three open cans of Asahi in your arms. You gestured over to where Osamu and Suna were sitting. "I think my seat is right over there."

The two young women in the seats next to yours shot you the dirtiest looks as they stood from their folding seats to let you in. Taken aback by their cold reactions, you awkwardly shuffled past them and plopped into the seat between Osamu and Suna.

"Is it just me, or are the girls sitting beside us kinda rude?" you asked under your breath as they relieved you of their drinks.

"That's not even the worst of 'em," Osamu said. "One time, a whole swarm of 'em came into the restaurant just to ask me where Atsumu lived. While askin' for my number."

"No," you gasped.

"The ones who pay premium to sit in the front row of games are especially bad," Suna added, taking a swig of his beer.

"What if they find where we live?" you asked, watching out the corner of your eye as the two women posed for a selfie in their matching game-day outfits. "I can't defend myself against a group of raging fans!"

"Maybe ya can hit 'em over the head with all those big novels ya read," Osamu chuckled.

"Seriously, who brings The Picture of Dorian Gray to a volleyball game?" Suna asked, peeking into your open book bag.

"I don't know!" you said, shooing him away like a gnat. "Aren't there half-times? Time-outs? I can sneak a chapter in here and there."

"Dear lord." Suna shook his head in amusement.

"Yer just as brainy as Tsumu says ya are," Osamu laughed.

For the second time that evening, you were stunned by the thought of Atsumu talking about you when you weren't around. What other kinds of things did he say about you? How else had he described you to the people he grew up with?

Before you could further dwell on those questions, the lights to the stadium dimmed, sending the crowd into complete hysterics as the announcer welcomed everyone to the first home game of the season. You watched in awe as a professionally-shot video of the men's volleyball team flashed across the jumbotron to the beat of a popular rap song, the series of graphics, b-roll, and spike shots sending an unexpected chill down your spine.

"Now announcing your starting lineup!" the announcer boomed once the video had concluded. "Number one, Aran Ojiro..."

"We went to high school with him, too," Suna filled you in as the team's captain jogged onto the court. "Super sweet guy."

"Number two, Sakusa Kiyoomi..."

"Dear lord," your murmured under your breath. "Are all volleyball players this tall?"

Osamu snorted. "Don't ya live with one?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think they all came like that — "

"Number five, Miya Atsumu!"

The retort died on your lips as the one person you came here to see emerged from the shadows of the stadium tunnel. The crowd erupted as he tilted his face towards the spotlight.

For a brief second, your breath caught in your throat.

He looked good in a jersey. Really good.

You were suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that everyone in here probably thought so, too.

The next several minutes droned on as the rest of the players were introduced, national anthems were sung, and the coin toss determined which team would serve first. All the while, you couldn't stop watching him — the way his bleached hair had been pushed back into a quiff, the way his eyes stared down the opponent with a cold, calculated expression. It was fascinating to see him so focused, so different from his usual self.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, Atsumu pried his gaze from the other team, scanned the first few stands of the arena, and spotted you.

You swore something like relief flickered across his brown eyes.

From the court below, Atsumu felt like he was on the verge of cardiac arrest.

"You alright?" Aran had asked him in the tunnel before the player introductions, ever the observant team captain. His voice was strangely calm compared to the booming cheers of the audience just several feet away from them.

"Yeah! Peachy keen," Atsumu breathed, jumping on his feet a couple of times to get his blood circulating. It did nothing to rid himself of the nerves now prickling down his arms and into his hands. Is this what an anxiety attack felt like? Like his limbs were made of television static?

Beside him, Aran gave him a knowing, if not mildly exasperated look.

"You don't need to pretend around me, you know. Just because you never freaked out before games in high school doesn't mean you aren't allowed to now."

At that, Atsumu gave his teammate a surprised double-take. Aran merely smiled at him and clapped him on the back reassuringly.

"We never doubted you, you know," Aran reminded him. "Even while you were gone, we never did."

Atsumu's lips drew themselves into a thin line as he huffed, quietly, "Can't say the same for myself."

Aran's expression softened. "Well, that's what teammates are for, right? To have your back — even when you don't have your own?"

Before Atsumu could respond, Aran's name was called by the stadium announcer, sending him jogging out the tunnel to the sound of thunderous applause.

It was wholly unlike Atsumu to panic before a game. But then again, he wasn't the same player as he was last season. In fact, as he emerged from the tunnel two minutes later to the crowd's ear-splitting cheers, all he could think about was the shit that kept him up at night. The break-up. The move out. The month-long volleyball hiatus. The grief of it all clawed at him, threatened to swallow him whole. And he didn't know what to do about it.

Ears now ringing from the panic, Atsumu desperately searched the crowd for something — anything — to ground him.

That's when he saw you.

Smushed between his twin brother and childhood friend in a jersey three sizes too large. Looking at him like he was the only other person in the arena.

Smiling at him gently, as if to repeat the same words you'd told him earlier that day.

Give 'em hell, Atsumu.

Slowly, he felt his shoulders relax, his jaw unclench. The static subsided, if only for a moment.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game. Meanwhile, the university band played a roaring anthem as he approached the baseline to serve. His teammates guarded the back of their heads as Atsumu seized the ball and steadied himself.

He willed himself to concentrate, to tap into the same strength he'd relied on countless of times before. He lifted his free hand and — like a conductor — silenced the band with a mere snap of his fist.

His heartbeat hammered in his ears. He took a deep breath.

Then, before he could fully process it, he launched himself forwards and served.

The ball sliced through the air and struck the back zone of the opposing side.

The arena came alive.

You blinked as the sounds of rambunctious applause filled your ears, the opposing team mirroring your stunned expression as they shook off Atsumu's service ace and reassumed their defensive stance. Meanwhile, the women beside you went completely ballistic.

"Nice serve!" they squealed in perfect unison. Suna winced at the timbre of their voices.

"Have ya ever seen Tsumu play before?" Osamu asked amidst all the chaos.

You shook your head, still trying to process what the hell you just saw. Osamu merely chuckled and folded his arms across his chest.

"Trust me — ya ain't seen nothin' yet."

And you hadn't. In fact, as the game carried on in full swing, you began to realize just how big a deal Miya Atsumu really was. You'd gotten glimpses of his notoriety here and there — had sensed it like a pulse buried just beneath his skin. But here, on this court, he was completely untethered. Confident. Alive.

You now understood the gravity of what this game meant to Atsumu — and how deeply it had hurt when it was taken away from him.

From that moment onward, you cheered as hard as you could.

Toward the end of the second set, the closer of the two women leaned over Suna and tapped you on the knee.

"Excuse me," she said, perfectly comfortable invading his personal space. She smacked her spearmint gum and asked, "Where did you get your jersey?"

"Uh," you laughed, your gaze bouncing from her insistent expression to Suna's flat one. You pointed at your roommate on the court and said, "I got it from him."

The woman's eyes traced the direction of your finger before eventually landing on Atsumu, who was currently in a time out huddle with his teammates. She barked out in laughter as if you'd just delivered the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

"Yeah, right," she drawled, returning to her friend without so much as another word. Your shoulders shook with laughter as she did so.

"Jesus. Tough crowd."

Beside you, Suna massaged the inner corners of his eyes and said, "Next time, we're sitting in the nosebleeds."

The referee blew his whistle, sending both teams back onto the court for perhaps the last time of the night. Atsumu's teammates had taken the first set and were now one point away from taking the second, the expressions on their faces hungry, restless. Determined to win.

Sakusa tossed the ball high and served, the opposing libero diving to receive it. You held your breath as the entire court burst into motion, eyes locked on Atsumu as he set each ball like a a sniper taking aim. Each move was calculated, sharp. Fueled by brute force. Your pulse spiked watching his prowess unfold.

The rally continued, each player growing weary, more erratic with their movements. But Atsumu never relented.

You knew he was crazy — you had no doubt about it. But as he sprinted cross-court to pull off the lowest set you'd ever seen, you were suddenly convinced he was clinically insane.

Engaging every muscle in his legs, Atsumu aligned the set perfectly and launched the ball across the court. It cut through the air, connected with Aran's open palm, and slammed into the back zone of the opposing side.

The whistle blew. The crowd erupted. Players on both sides collapsed in exhaustion.

Your team had won.

The next several seconds passed by in a blur. You, heart bursting with pride as you stood up in the front row of the arena and cheered. Osamu and Suna, smirking proudly as they followed suit.

And Atsumu, who — now sprinting toward you at full speed — hoisted himself over the court-side barrier to plant a sweaty kiss on your right cheek.

Your eyes widened as he landed back on his feet and beamed up at you, his smile bright enough to make your face grow hot in embarrassment. The entire row stood still as your brain blew a fuse.

Did he just...?

He winked at you, turned on his heel, and jogged back to shake the hands of the opposing team.

Meanwhile, the two women's jaws were practically on the floor.

Osamu and Suna burst out laughing.

"Excuse me, Miss Librarian," Atsumu teased as he approached you sitting at the pub bar after the game. "Can I buy ya a drink?"

You looked up from your copy of Dorian Gray, having snuck away from the post-game celebration on the outdoor patio to finish the last chapter of your assigned reading.

"Hey, you," you said with a smile, bookmarking your page and bringing Atsumu in for a bear hug. He had since changed out of his sweaty uniform and was now sporting a stylish button-up and jeans, his bangs still swept up and out of his face. It suited him, you thought as he slid into the seat next to yours. Brought out his eyes.

"Congratulations on your big win today," you said after he'd ordered you both drinks. "I didn't know you could move like that."

"Thank ya, thank ya. Did ya see that last set I did for Aran?"

"You mean the one where your ass nearly split out of your shorts?" you teased. "Hard to miss it. I saw it in-person, on the jumbotron, and all over my Twitter feed after the game."

"What can I say? I got an ass for ESPN," Atsumu said with a grin. You rolled your eyes, though a laugh tumbled out of you. His expression softened as he said, "Thanks for comin' to support me today. It means a lot."

"Of course," you said as the bartender brought you your drinks — a whisky sour for Atsumu, and a strawberry margarita for you. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

He sipped the foam off the top of his cocktail and asked, "Does this mean I get to go to one of yer dance showcases now?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," you guffawed. "Those aren't nearly as large of a production as a flashy volleyball game."

"Well, that doesn't matter. Invite me," Atsumu reassured you, something like admiration flashing across his brown eyes. "I wanna be there for ya, too."

You were grateful for the dim lights in the pub bar as you blushed for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"Okay," you said, nodding. "I'll be sure to invite you to the next one."

The rowdy revelries of the men's volleyball team seeped in from the outside, filling the comfortable silence between you as you drank. The two shots of tequila from your margarita warmed your belly as you asked, "Were you nervous at all?"

"During the game? A lil' bit, yeah."

"Well, for what it's worth, it didn't show," you said, mimicking the way he'd snapped his fist closed at the beginning of each serve. Atsumu laughed at your dramatic impression of him, dimples deepening on either side of his lips.

"Trust me, I was," he promised. In fact, he didn't know what he would've done if he hadn't spotted you in the crowd. Hadn’t remembered all the ways you'd shown up for him in the past year. Ever since he’d moved in, you had cared for him so deeply — talking him down from his self-doubt, bringing him food when he least expected it. Making him laugh when no one else would.

He couldn't just let all that kindness go to waste.

So he decided he'd give it everything he got — and that the win didn't matter so long as he made you proud.

Of course, he couldn't just admit any of that to you. Instead, he took a long sip of his cocktail and said, "Course, there was no need to be nervous once I saw ya cheesin' at me from the stands."

"Yeah, right," you chuckled, licking the Tajín off the rim of your glass.

"I'm serious! Yer my good luck charm." Lowering his voice, he added, "Ya look real cute wearin' my jersey, too."

Amused, you said, "Well, your diehard fans certainly didn't think so. They looked like they wanted to rip my head off the entire game."

Atsumu tsked in annoyance. "Are ya kiddin' me? Did they say anythin' mean to ya?"

"Trust me, it wasn't that big a deal. In fact, I think they bothered Suna more than they did me," you reassured him with a laugh. He gave you a distrustful glance in return.

"Well, still. I'm sorry. Anyone who isn't a fan of ya isn't a fan of me — and I mean that."

"Well, that's very noble of you," you drawled, finishing off the last of your drink as the door to the back patio swung open. "I'm just glad no one's staring daggers at me anymore."

"...I wouldn't relax so soon if I were you," Suna warned, coming up beside you with a beer glass in one hand and his phone in the other. He angled his screen so the two of you could see the video he'd pulled up on his Twitter feed.

Your expression slowly fell as a ten-second clip of Atsumu hoisting himself up to kiss you on the cheek looped over and over again — the number of likes and reposts ticking steadily upward with each passing second.

"What are y'all doin' in here?" Osamu asked, joining the three of you not a moment later. His eyes latched onto the video. "Oh, shit."

Mortified, you snatched the phone out of Suna's hands and scrolled down to the comments section. It didn't help the panic now rising in your chest.

Omg who is she??

I thought he had another girlfriend tho? Did I miss something?

I don't know who she is, but I'm jealous.

"Oh god," you breathed, your stomach dropping at that last comment. You stared at the three boys hovering around you and asked, "I'm gonna have to learn how to fight, aren't I?"

At that, Atsumu looked wholeheartedly confused. Meanwhile, Suna handed you your copy of Dorian Gray and said, "You may wanna use this, then."

Osamu laughed so hard he nearly cried.

@miyasmagnolias, 2025

[pucksandpower]

Enjoy the Butterflies

Daniel Ricciardo x crazy rich!Reader

Summary: in which Daniel gets dropped by his team and picked up by an heiress with a penchant for taking in strays

The heavy bass of the club still hums in your bones as you step out onto the pavement, the humid Singapore night wrapping around you like a second skin. The neon lights from Zouk, one of the city’s most exclusive nightclubs, pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat, and for a second, you stand still, relishing the quiet that follows hours of dancing, laughter, and too many cocktails.

The sounds of the party still echo behind you, a muffled roar of privilege and extravagance, but out here, it’s just you and the night.

Or so you think.

Your attention is pulled toward a commotion just a few meters away. You blink, trying to make sense of the scene. There’s a man — definitely not local, tall, and a little scruffy compared to the sharp-dressed crowd you’re used to — being unceremoniously escorted out by one of the bouncers. His head hangs low, and his shoulders are slumped in a way that screams defeat.

It’s not the dramatic, messy kind of exit where someone’s too drunk to stand, or too proud to admit they’ve done something wrong. No, this is different. This guy isn’t even trying to fight back.

“Get lost,” the bouncer grunts, shoving the man one last time before turning to head back inside.

You can’t help it — you freeze, your gaze lingering on him. He doesn’t move, just leans against the wall like he’s considering sinking to the ground. His posture is pitiful in a way that tugs at something inside you, that soft part of you that your family says is too soft. The part that’s always drawn to the broken, the hopeless, the ones who don’t quite fit.

He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, his eyes flicking up to the club entrance, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll magically be allowed back in. He’s pathetic. There’s no other word for it. But he’s also kind of endearing, in a weird way.

“Pathetic,” you mutter under your breath, half-amused.

You could leave him there, you know that. This isn’t your problem. He’ll figure something out. Or not. It’s not like you owe him anything, but …

"Are you just going to stand there?” You hear yourself saying, your feet already moving toward him before you can stop them.

His head snaps up, clearly not expecting anyone to address him. His eyes — big, brown, and confused — lock onto yours. He’s a little scruffy, but there’s something boyishly charming about him.

“I — uh,” he stammers, straightening up slightly but still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No. I mean, yeah, I guess?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs helplessly. “Well, I don’t really have one. Kinda got kicked out of the only place I planned on being tonight.”

You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”

“I, uh …” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know, honestly. Might’ve been a little too loud, or maybe I was blocking someone important from getting their drinks. These places, man, they don’t like it when you’re … disruptive.”

You cross your arms, glancing at him up and down. He doesn’t look dangerous, just out of place. “You sound like you deserved it.”

He winces. “Probably did.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re still standing there, wondering why you’re wasting your time. Then, before you know it, you’re sighing. Your family would shake their heads at you, calling you too kind for your own good.

“Come on,” you say, jerking your head toward the curb. “Let’s go.”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod toward the curb, where your Rolls Royce waits, engine quietly idling. The chauffeur stands by, staring straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world, like this isn’t some insane act of kindness you’re pulling out of nowhere.

“I’m not leaving you out here,” you say, already heading toward the car. “Get in.”

“Uh — wait, seriously?” He hurries to catch up, still clearly not processing what’s happening. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrug, throwing a look over your shoulder. “Do I need to?”

“Usually, yeah,” he says, jogging slightly to keep pace with you. “I mean, what if I’m like, a complete psycho or something?”

“If you were, I doubt you’d be sitting against a wall feeling sorry for yourself,” you shoot back, opening the car door. “Now get in before I change my mind.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation, like he’s weighing his options, but then he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and slides into the backseat beside you. The leather is cool against your skin, the scent of luxury and privilege permeating the air, and for a second, it’s quiet as the door closes behind you both.

The driver pulls away from the curb smoothly, not asking questions.

“So … you do this often?” The man asks, still clearly bewildered. “Pick up random guys outside clubs?”

You snort, turning to face him. “Definitely not.”

“Then why me?”

You shrug. “You looked pathetic.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, you think you’ve offended him, but then he laughs — loud, unabashed, and surprising. “Wow. Okay. Well, thanks, I guess?”

You smile despite yourself. “Don’t mention it.”

He leans back in the seat, still grinning. “I’m Daniel, by the way. Ricciardo. Not sure if that means anything to you.”

You narrow your eyes, the name clicking into place. “The F1 driver?”

He looks a little sheepish but nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

You stare at him for a moment, processing that. It’s not like you keep up with racing, but you’ve definitely heard of him. Seen him in ads, maybe, or on TV. It’s a little weird, thinking about it now. The same guy who’s smiling at you, a little bashfully, is famous in his own right.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you say, somewhat apologetic.

He shrugs again, more relaxed now. “Don’t worry about it. Happens more often than you think. Usually, I’m not getting kicked out of places, though.”

You smirk. “Good to know.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, the two of you settling into the soft hum of the car as it glides through the streets. You steal a glance at him, watching as he stares out the window, looking slightly more at peace now that he’s not sitting on the pavement outside of a nightclub. He catches you looking, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you’re just gonna take me home, drop me off like a stray cat?” He teases, flashing you that boyish grin again.

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Depends. Do stray cats usually get rides in Rolls Royces?”

“Only the ones that get kicked out of clubs,” he fires back, and you can’t help but laugh.

This was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

***

You lean back in your seat, letting the smooth hum of the Rolls Royce fill the silence for a moment. Daniel seems more relaxed now, but there’s still something hanging in the air, something that makes you look at him again, curiosity getting the better of you.

"So," you say, turning your head slightly to study him, "where am I dropping you off? What hotel are you staying at?"

Daniel blinks, the question catching him off guard. He looks at you, then at the ceiling of the car like the answer might be written somewhere above his head. “Uh … yeah, about that …”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

He winces, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not exactly. I mean, I know I checked into a place, obviously, but I can’t remember the name right now.”

“You can’t remember what hotel you’re staying at?” Your tone is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

Daniel shrugs, unbothered. “It’s been a long day. Plus, there’s like, a million hotels in Singapore. They all start to blur together.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Okay, genius. So how were you planning on getting back?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admits, grinning lazily. Then, the grin fades, and something shifts in his expression — something a little sadder, more raw. “Honestly, even if I did know, I don’t really want to go back there.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He hesitates, eyes flicking to the window as if he can avoid answering by watching the city lights whiz by. After a long pause, he sighs and leans back against the seat, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I got dropped,” he mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Dropped?” You repeat, confused. “From what?”

“From my team,” he clarifies, his voice a little hoarse. “VCARB. They, uh, decided they didn’t want me around anymore.”

You blink, the realization hitting you like a sudden cold wave. “Oh.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence growing heavy. You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly as he picks at an invisible thread on his jeans.

“I mean,” he finally continues, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “I kinda saw it coming. Just didn’t think it’d happen this fast, y’know?”

The lightheartedness from earlier is completely gone now, replaced by something darker, something heavier. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the frustration and sadness barely concealed behind his crooked grin.

“I thought I had more time,” he says softly, his voice raw with vulnerability. “But I guess that’s how it goes. One day you’re on top of the world, and the next … well, you’re getting kicked out of nightclubs.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. You weren’t expecting to find yourself in this situation tonight — sitting in the back of a Rolls Royce with a famous F1 driver who just lost his job. And yet, here you are, listening to him spill his heart out in the middle of the night, somewhere between Zouk and wherever he was supposed to go next.

“I just don’t want to be around them right now,” he continues, voice thick. “The team, the people … they’re all pretending to be nice, like it’s just business, but it’s not. It’s my life. My career.”

He shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter laugh. “And now it’s over. Just like that.”

You let out a sigh, long and heavy. “So, you don’t want to go back to your hotel?”

“Not really,” Daniel mutters, slumping back in his seat.

You stare at him for a second, weighing your options. Your chauffeur is driving aimlessly through the city, waiting for your instructions, and Daniel is sitting here, lost in his own world of disappointment. He looks tired, drained, and you’re not cruel enough to leave him like this.

“Well,” you say, after a beat of silence, “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing. “Wait, what?”

You glance at him, your voice firm. “You heard me. You can’t remember your hotel, you don’t want to go back even if you could, and I’m not about to leave you wandering around Singapore. So, you’re coming to my place.”

He stares at you, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You roll your eyes. “Would I say it if I wasn’t?”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he slumps back in his seat again, exhaling a long, tired breath. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

You nod, already turning to the front of the car. “Take us home,” you tell your chauffeur, who acknowledges the instruction with a curt nod before the car smoothly shifts direction.

Daniel leans his head against the window, eyes heavy. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

You wave it off. “I know.”

A few minutes pass in silence, the soft sound of the tires against the road lulling both of you into a calm quiet. You glance over at Daniel again, noticing how his eyelids are drooping more and more, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you comment, amused.

“M’not,” he protests, but his words are already slurred. “Just … resting my eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out, and his head tips to the side, fully succumbing to sleep. You shake your head, watching him for a moment. He looks peaceful like this, the weight of whatever he’s been carrying lifted, if only temporarily.

“Of course,” you mutter to yourself, leaning back in your seat, “this is how my night ends.”

The car pulls up in front of your building — a sleek, modern tower in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Your chauffeur steps out first, coming around to open the door for you. You step out gracefully, smoothing your dress, but when you look back into the car, Daniel is still out cold, slumped awkwardly in the seat.

You sigh. “This is not happening.”

Your chauffeur, ever professional, stands at attention, waiting for your next move. You consider your options for a second before glancing at him. “Help me get him inside, will you?”

The chauffeur doesn’t hesitate, nodding curtly. He moves to the other side of the car and carefully opens the door. Together, you manage to maneuver Daniel out of the backseat, his arm draped over the chauffeur’s shoulder as he leans heavily against him. Daniel stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, too deep in sleep to even register what’s happening.

The doorman, recognizing you immediately, rushes over to assist. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says, eyes flicking from you to the unconscious Daniel, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just … had a long night.”

The doorman nods, not pressing further, and helps the chauffeur guide Daniel through the lobby and into the elevator. You follow behind, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there’s no turning back now.

The elevator ride is quiet, save for Daniel’s soft breathing as he leans against the wall, still fast asleep. You glance at him, half-amused, half-exasperated. What a night.

When you finally reach your penthouse, the door slides open smoothly, and the chauffeur and doorman gently ease Daniel onto your plush couch. He sprawls out, looking even more out of place among the sleek, expensive furniture, but you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Thanks,” you tell the men, who nod before excusing themselves quietly, leaving you alone with your unexpected guest.

You stand there for a moment, looking at Daniel as he sleeps soundly on your couch. His shoes are still on, one arm hanging off the side, and his mouth slightly open in a way that’s almost comical. Shaking your head, you grab a blanket from a nearby chair and drape it over him.

“Well, this is definitely not how I thought my night would go,” you mutter to yourself, standing back and crossing your arms as you look at him one last time.

With a sigh, you turn and head toward your bedroom, already mentally preparing for the chaos tomorrow is likely to bring.

***

You’re in the middle of a dream when you hear it — the unmistakable sound of your mother’s voice. Loud, sharp, and utterly out of place in the peaceful silence of your penthouse. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding in your chest as you try to piece together why in the world she would be here, at this ungodly hour.

And then you hear it. A scream.

“Who is this man?”

Your stomach drops, the reality of last night hitting you like a freight train. Daniel. He’s still here. Passed out on your couch. And now, your very traditional mother is standing in your living room, probably about to have a heart attack.

You scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over yourself as you rush toward the living room. You can already hear her ranting, a mix of shock and outrage in her voice, and you don’t even have time to think before you’re standing in front of her, trying to calm the situation down.

“Mum!” You blurt out, trying to sound casual, like this isn’t the absolute disaster it clearly is. “What are you doing here?”

Your mother’s eyes are wide, her perfectly manicured hand pressed dramatically against her chest as she stares down at Daniel, who’s still blissfully unconscious, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snaps, her voice rising with every word. “Why is there a man sleeping in your living room? And why-” she leans in, eyes narrowing, “does he look like he’s been out drinking all night?”

Your mind races, panic bubbling up as you try to figure out what to say, what kind of excuse would possibly explain this. And then, without even thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth.

“He’s … he’s my boyfriend.”

The second the lie leaves your lips, you know it’s a terrible idea. But it’s too late now. Your mother freezes, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looks between you and Daniel. “Your … boyfriend?” She repeats, her tone incredulous.

You nod, forcing a tight smile, praying that Daniel stays asleep long enough for you to get through this. “Yes. My boyfriend.”

Your mother looks like she’s about to faint. “And you didn’t tell me? You-”

“I was going to!” you interrupt quickly. “But it’s … it’s new. Very new. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

She crosses her arms, still clearly not buying it. “And this is how you introduce him to your mother? Drunk and passed out in your living room?”

“He’s not drunk,” you say quickly, even though that’s obviously a lie. “He’s … uh, just really tired. He’s been going through a lot lately.”

At that moment, you hear a groan from the couch. You glance over, heart sinking as Daniel stirs, slowly blinking awake. His face is pale, and the second he opens his eyes, you can see the hangover written all over him.

“Wh-” Daniel starts, voice groggy as he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Where …”

Your mother’s eyes widen, and she turns to you, her expression one of absolute horror. “This is him?” She whispers, like you’ve just committed some kind of unspeakable crime.

You give her a weak smile. “Yes. Mum, this is Daniel.”

Daniel’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his bleary eyes trying to make sense of the situation. He looks at you, confused, and you give him a pointed look, willing him to just go along with it.

"Daniel," you say through gritted teeth, “this is my mother. Remember? I told you she might stop by.”

Daniel blinks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. It takes a second, but you can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to process what’s happening. Finally, he nods slowly, trying to catch up. “Right. Your mum. Uh, hi.”

Your mother stares at him, unimpressed. “Are you alright?” She asks, her voice cold and judgmental.

Daniel, still clearly half-asleep and in the throes of a wicked hangover, gives her a shaky smile. “Yeah, just … didn’t sleep great,” he mumbles, leaning back into the couch.

You wince internally, but keep up the act. “He’s been working so hard lately,” you say quickly, hoping to smooth things over. “With his job and everything.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow further. “And what does he do, exactly?”

Daniel glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes, clearly not prepared for this interrogation. You jump in before he can make things worse.

“He’s … in sports,” you say vaguely. “He’s an athlete.”

Your mother’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest. “What kind of athlete?”

You feel Daniel’s eyes on you, pleading silently for help. “Formula 1,” you say quickly. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Your mother blinks, taken aback by this revelation. “A race car driver?” She repeats, like it’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “That’s … interesting.”

You can tell she’s not impressed, but at least it’s bought you a little time. You just need to get through this without her prying too much further.

“I promise, Mum, Daniel’s a good guy,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “He just … had a rough night. That’s all.”

Your mother’s gaze flicks between you and Daniel, suspicion still heavy in her eyes. “And where did he sleep?”

You freeze. “Uh …”

Daniel, finally catching on to what’s happening, sits up a little straighter. “I slept here,” he says quickly, gesturing to the couch. “On the couch. I didn’t … you know …”

He trails off, looking at your mother awkwardly, but the message is clear.

Your mother’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by his admission. “You didn’t share a bed?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, Mum. We didn’t share a bed. We’re not married, remember?”

For the first time since she walked in, your mother seems to relax a little, her rigid posture softening just a bit. “Well,” she says, sounding somewhat mollified, “at least he has some morals.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, nodding along. “Exactly. Daniel’s … very respectful.”

Daniel gives a small, awkward smile, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Uh, yeah. Very … respectful.”

Your mother studies him for a moment longer, then nods, satisfied. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

You almost laugh at that but manage to keep a straight face. “Right.”

There’s a brief pause as your mother smooths down her dress, glancing around the penthouse like she’s looking for something to criticize. Then, her eyes land back on you, and she smiles — one of those deceptively sweet smiles that always makes you nervous.

“Well,” she says brightly, “since I’m here, I’d love to get to know Daniel a bit better. Why don’t you two join me for dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Your mother nods, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Yes. I think it’s high time I meet this boyfriend of yours properly.”

You glance at Daniel, who’s looking at you with wide, slightly panicked eyes. You can tell he’s regretting every decision that led him to this moment, but there’s no way out now. You’re both trapped.

“Uh, sure,” you say weakly. “We’d love to.”

Your mother beams, clearly pleased with herself. “Wonderful! I’ll have my assistant call to make the reservation. Seven o’clock sharp. You know where. Don’t be late.”

Before you can respond, she’s already turning on her heel, heading toward the door with a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ll see you both tonight,” she calls over her shoulder as she exits, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

The door clicks shut, and the room is suddenly, blissfully quiet.

You turn to Daniel, who’s staring at you, still half-dazed from sleep and now fully confused about what just happened.

“Boyfriend?” He croaks, his voice rough from the hangover.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing your temples. “I panicked.”

He groans, flopping back onto the couch. “Dinner with your mum? Really?”

“Yes. And if you don’t play along, I’m pretty sure she’ll disown me.”

Daniel chuckles weakly, rubbing his temples. “Great. Just great.”

You stare at him for a moment, then flop down next to him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. “This is a disaster.”

“Eh,” Daniel mutters, eyes closed. “Could be worse.”

You shoot him a look. “How?”

He cracks one eye open, grinning. “At least I didn’t throw up on her.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That’s not funny.”

But when you look up, you can’t help but laugh, because as ridiculous as this entire situation is, somehow, in the madness of it all, you know tonight is going to be even worse.

***

Dinner is already awkward. You can feel the tension every time your mother glances at Daniel, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. It’s a small, exclusive restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters wear gloves, and the courses are tiny but outrageously expensive. The chef is renowned for his traditional yet experimental take on Singaporean cuisine, which is perfect because your mother insists on a display of sophistication when it comes to hosting. Unfortunately, that also means the pressure on Daniel is palpable.

Daniel sits across from you, trying to look comfortable, though his hand is constantly fiddling with his napkin under the table. Your mother, seated beside him, is maintaining her usual air of grace, but you can see she’s sizing him up, scrutinizing every bite, every word. And you … you’re just trying to survive.

“So, Daniel,” your mother begins, swirling her wine like a seasoned critic, “what are your long-term plans? With your career, I mean.”

Daniel freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, the question clearly catching him off guard. He clears his throat, scrambling to find an answer that sounds impressive. “Well, uh, things are a bit … in flux right now,” he says, offering a weak smile. “But I’m working on it.”

Your mother arches an eyebrow. “In flux? That doesn’t sound very … stable.”

You kick Daniel lightly under the table, silently willing him to come up with something better than “in flux.” He glances at you for help, but you just widen your eyes, urging him to recover.

“Yeah, well,” Daniel says, trying to salvage the conversation, “I’ve been racing for a while, you know? Formula 1. It’s a pretty high-pressure job, so … I’m considering my next move carefully.”

Your mother makes a noncommittal hum, clearly unimpressed. “I see.”

You want to sink into the floor.

“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment,” you say quickly, standing from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Daniel gives you a look that screams *don’t leave me alone with her*, but there’s no way around it. You shoot him an apologetic smile before making your way toward the restroom, leaving him to fend for himself.

As soon as you’re gone, the silence at the table becomes almost deafening. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the room as if he’s suddenly forgotten how to act normal. He’s about to reach for his water glass when he notices your mother watching him closely.

“So,” she says, her tone unnervingly calm, “Daniel.”

He straightens up, unsure if he should be relieved or terrified that she’s addressing him directly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I think we should speak candidly, don’t you?” She says, her voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that makes Daniel’s skin crawl. She reaches into her handbag, and Daniel feels his stomach lurch with nerves. What’s she going to pull out? A contract? Some kind of questionnaire?

What she pulls out, however, is much worse.

It’s a small, velvet box. A ring box.

Daniel’s heart stops. His eyes widen as he stares at the box, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Your mother places the box delicately in front of him, her expression serene, like she’s offering him a cup of tea rather than a proposal-sized bombshell. “I’ve been waiting for Y/N to bring home a boy for quite some time,” she says, her voice soft but pointed. “And now that she has … well, I can’t let this moment pass.”

Daniel opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too stunned to respond, completely blindsided by this sudden turn of events.

Your mother’s eyes gleam, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if she’s sharing a secret. “Of course, I would have preferred if you were Singaporean,” she continues, her tone just a touch sharper, “but I’m not getting any younger, and I want grandchildren. So, we can’t be picky, can we?”

Daniel’s mind goes blank. He tries to form a coherent thought, a response, anything, but all that comes out is a strangled, “I … uh …”

Your mother regards him with the same calm, calculating gaze she’s had since the start of dinner, as though this entire interaction is completely normal. “You’ll do,” she says simply, and there’s a finality in her tone that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

Daniel stares at the ring box, his brain short-circuiting. Is this really happening? He glances around the restaurant, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it’s all some elaborate prank. But no one does. It’s just him, your mother, and the heavy weight of that velvet box sitting between them.

He’s completely out of his depth. He can’t even think of how to respond to your mother’s words, let alone the fact that she’s just essentially handed him an engagement ring.

“I-” he starts again, but his throat is dry, and nothing coherent follows.

“Daniel,” she interrupts smoothly, her gaze sharpening. “You’re a good man, I can tell. And you’re very … respectful.” The word drips with meaning, making Daniel shift in his seat.

Before he can stammer out anything in return, the restroom door swings open, and you reappear, walking back toward the table, blissfully unaware of the bomb that’s just been dropped.

Daniel panics. His mind races as you approach, and without thinking, he snatches the ring box off the table, slipping it into his jacket pocket in one swift movement. His heart is racing, his palms suddenly sweaty, but he tries to keep his expression neutral.

“Everything alright?” You ask, sliding back into your seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from both Daniel and your mother.

Daniel clears his throat, forcing a tight smile. “Yep. All good.”

Your mother smiles pleasantly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, we were just having a lovely little chat.”

You look between them suspiciously, but there’s no sign of the chaos that just occurred. Daniel’s poker face is impressive, but you can sense something is off. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he just gives you a strained smile in return.

The rest of dinner is a blur. You try to focus on the conversation, but your mother seems to be on her best behavior, keeping things light and superficial. Daniel is unusually quiet, nodding along and making polite comments when necessary, but there’s something distant about him, like he’s somewhere else entirely.

By the time dessert arrives, you can’t shake the feeling that something happened while you were gone. But Daniel isn’t saying a word, and your mother’s serene expression betrays nothing.

As the waiter clears the last of the plates, your mother dabs at her mouth with her napkin, looking between the two of you with an air of satisfaction. “Well,” she says, standing from the table, “this has been lovely. I’m so glad we could all spend this time together.”

You force a smile, standing as well. “Yes, of course. It was … lovely.”

Daniel stands too, his movements a little stiffer than usual, like he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says politely, though his voice is a bit strained.

Your mother gives him one last, long look, then smiles warmly. “Oh, Daniel, you’re always welcome. Anytime.”

With that, she gathers her things and heads for the door, leaving you and Daniel standing there in stunned silence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Daniel.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Daniel gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah … not too bad.”

You narrow your eyes at him, picking up on the odd tone in his voice. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird since I got back to the table.”

He blinks, his hand instinctively brushing the pocket where the ring box is hidden. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just … full. Really full.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but decide to let it slide for now. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you both head for the door, Daniel’s mind is still racing, the weight of the ring box burning a hole in his pocket. He has no idea what to do with it, or what your mother expects from him, but one thing is for sure — he’s in way over his head.

And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep pretending.

***

Back at your penthouse, the atmosphere feels … tense. Not the sort of charged tension from earlier, but something more fragile, awkward. The kind that makes everything feel a bit too quiet, like the air is too thick with things unsaid. You and Daniel are sitting on opposite ends of the plush couch in your living room. It’s not that big of a couch, but the distance feels enormous.

Daniel is fidgeting, running a hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on his knee. You’re sitting with your arms crossed, staring at him, waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? Neither of you knows. The silence stretches between you both, and it’s unbearable. Every breath feels louder than it should.

“Uh …” Daniel finally starts, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find something — anything — to say. But nothing seems right, so he just ends up staring back at you, eyes darting around like he’s looking for a way out.

You, on the other hand, are unusually still, your eyes narrowed at him. It’s like you’re waiting for him to make the first move, but he’s not catching on. Not yet.

Daniel swallows hard, and after a moment of hesitation, his hand moves toward his jacket pocket. Your eyes flick to the motion, and his fingers tremble slightly as they close around the velvet box, pulling it out with an awkward kind of determination, as if it’s weighing him down more than anything. He holds it for a second, staring at it like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

Then, with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he opens the box.

The soft click of the hinge seems impossibly loud in the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare. The ring glimmers under the soft lighting, catching the faintest reflection of the overhead chandelier. It’s not just any ring. You recognize it immediately.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, you start laughing.

Daniel’s eyes snap to you in confusion, his brows furrowing. “What … what’s so funny?”

You’re still giggling, pressing your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t work. The laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, and Daniel looks like he’s caught between being relieved that you’re not mad and completely baffled by your reaction.

“You-” you manage between breaths, “That ring … that’s my grandmother’s. Oh my God, she’s really lost it.”

Daniel blinks, glancing down at the ring again, his confusion only deepening. “Wait, what?”

“My mother,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “She must be really desperate to get me married off if she’s giving out my grandmother’s ring to the first guy I bring to dinner. I can’t believe it.”

Daniel stares at you for a second, then back at the ring. “This is your … grandmother’s?” His voice is shaky, like the absurdity of the situation is just now hitting him.

You nod, biting your lip to stifle another laugh. “Yup. She always said it was meant for the man I’d marry one day. Guess she couldn’t wait any longer.”

Daniel’s face goes through a range of emotions — shock, embarrassment, and finally, something like disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”

You snicker again, leaning back against the couch and crossing your arms. “I think the bigger question here is — why didn’t you say anything to me? Did you just plan on pocketing the ring and hoping I wouldn’t notice?”

Daniel shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing. “I — I didn’t know what to do. Your mom just … handed it to me. I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, thank you, ma’am, I’m not ready for an arranged marriage just yet?’”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “That might’ve been a good start.”

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, clearly struggling to find a way out of this. Finally, he lets out a defeated sigh and leans back, running both hands through his hair. “This is insane.”

“You think?” You quip, smirking.

Daniel’s gaze drops to the ring again, and there’s a beat of silence before you speak up, this time your tone more playful than mocking. “Well,” you say, drawing out the word, “if you’re gonna propose, you should at least get on one knee. You know, for tradition’s sake.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief. “What?”

You laugh again, your teasing smile growing. “I mean, come on. If we’re going through with this charade, you might as well go all in. Get down on one knee, Ricciardo.”

He blinks at you, completely at a loss for words. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?” You shoot back, still grinning. “What’s stopping you? You don’t have a job anymore, so it’s not like you have much else going on. You could always be my trophy husband.”

There’s a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes — part shock, part amusement, and maybe just a little bit of something else. “Trophy husband?” He echoes, his voice incredulous.

You shrug, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand, as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I mean, think about it. You wouldn’t have to work, I’d take care of you. You could just … exist. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

Daniel laughs — an actual laugh this time, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You grin. “Maybe. But I’m also not wrong.”

For a moment, the room is quiet again, but it’s not the awkward silence from before. This is something lighter, filled with the remnants of laughter and the weight of an unspoken understanding. Daniel is still holding the ring box, his thumb absently running over the velvet surface as he processes everything that’s just happened.

And then, because clearly, the universe hasn’t thrown enough chaos at him lately, Daniel does something that surprises both of you.

He nods.

It’s a small, hesitant nod at first, like he’s not even sure he’s agreeing to anything real. But then he meets your gaze, and there’s a flicker of something — maybe exhaustion, maybe delirium, maybe just the sheer absurdity of it all — and he nods again. This time, more certain.

“Alright,” he says quietly, still staring at the ring. “Okay.”

You freeze, blinking at him in surprise. “Wait … what?”

Daniel looks up at you, his expression unreadable but calm. “I said … okay. Let’s do it.”

For the first time tonight, you’re the one who’s caught off guard. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head slowly, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Nope.”

You sit up straighter, suddenly unsure whether you’re still in the middle of some elaborate joke or if the reality of the past few days has finally broken Daniel’s sense of logic. “You — wait, seriously? You’d marry me?”

Daniel shrugs, though there’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes now. “I mean, like you said … I don’t have a job anymore. And hey, being a trophy husband doesn’t sound half bad.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a punchline. But the longer you look, the more you realize he’s not kidding. He’s serious. Or as serious as someone in his situation can be.

A beat passes. Then another.

And suddenly, you burst into laughter again.

“God, you’re insane,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “This whole thing is insane.”

Daniel grins, leaning back into the couch with a relieved sigh, as if your laughter has lifted the tension from the room entirely. “Welcome to my life.”

You shake your head again, still chuckling, though there’s something warm and strange growing in your chest. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

Daniel glances at the ring one more time before closing the box with a soft click and slipping it back into his pocket. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, “if nothing else, at least we’ll give your mother something to talk about at her next dinner party.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, she’ll have a field day.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, side by side on the couch, the absurdity of the night finally settling over you both. It’s ridiculous, completely irrational, and yet somehow, in this moment, it feels … right.

Daniel nudges you with his elbow, breaking the silence. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You groan, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Daniel chuckles, leaning back into the cushions, finally starting to relax. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

But even as you say it, you can’t shake the feeling that this strange, accidental engagement is just the beginning of something even more complicated.

And maybe you’re okay with that.

***

You come home the next afternoon, practically skipping into the penthouse, your eyes sparkling with excitement. The energy around you is contagious, and even Daniel, who’s lounging on the couch with a glass of water — probably trying to recover from the whirlwind of the past few days — can’t help but smile at your entrance.

“You look … happy,” Daniel says, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What did I miss?”

You clap your hands together like an excited child, barely containing your glee. “I got you something.”

Daniel’s smile falters for a moment, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Wait, what? You got me something?” He straightens up on the couch, his brows furrowing. “You really didn’t have to do that-”

“Shush.” You wave a hand at him, cutting him off before he can protest further. “I wanted to. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Daniel chuckles, though there’s a nervous edge to his voice. “Alright, alright. What is it then? A new watch? Shoes?” He pauses, glancing at you skeptically. “Wait, is it another one of your mum’s rings?”

You shake your head, grinning like you’ve just pulled off the best surprise in the world. “Nope. Guess again.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Okay … well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s great but-”

“I bought Red Bull Racing.”

For a second, it’s like the words don’t register. Daniel blinks at you, his expression blank as his brain tries to process what you just said. There’s a long beat of silence before his mouth finally drops open in disbelief.

“You … you what?”

Your grin widens. “I bought Red Bull Racing. You know, the Formula 1 team? Your old team?” You say it so casually, like you’re talking about picking up a pair of shoes or booking a vacation.

Daniel’s jaw is still hanging open. “You — wait — are you serious?” He’s half laughing now, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But the look on your face — pure, unfiltered joy — tells him you’re very, very serious.

“Yup!” You say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Apparently, if you offer double what a team is worth, the owners tend to sell pretty quickly. Who knew?”

Daniel stares at you, completely slack-jawed, like you’ve just told him you bought a small country. “You … bought Red Bull Racing?” His voice cracks a little as he repeats it, as if saying it out loud will make it more real.

You nod, your smile never faltering. “Yup. Just closed the deal this morning.”

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel runs a hand through his hair, looking like he might faint. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a playful shrug. “But it’s an engagement gift, you know? Gotta keep things exciting.”

Daniel lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say. That’s — this is crazy.”

“I know,” you say, beaming. “But crazy is kind of our thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs again, though it’s still a little shaky. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

There’s a pause as Daniel tries to wrap his head around the fact that you, his new fiancée, just bought one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. He stares at you for a moment longer, then blinks, rubbing his temples like he’s getting a headache. “I … I don’t even know where to start. What does that even mean? You’re gonna be the new team owner?”

“Pretty much,” you say, like it’s no big deal. “And I’m planning to do a bit of restructuring. You know, make some changes, shake things up.”

Daniel gives you a skeptical look. “Restructuring? What kind of changes?”

“Well …” You tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “First of all, I figured I’d ask if there’s anyone you’d like me to keep around. I mean, it’s your engagement gift, after all. I want you to be happy with the team.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You lean closer, your eyes gleaming mischievously. “And I assume you’ll want me to keep your boyfriend, right?”

Daniel freezes, blinking at you in confusion. “My … boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say, deadpan. “Max.”

Daniel nearly chokes. “Wait — what?”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “I’m talking about Max Verstappen! Don’t act so surprised.”

Daniel’s face flushes a deep red, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “We’re not — he’s not my — Jesus, you’re impossible.”

You pat his head, still laughing. “Sure, he’s not. Whatever you say.”

Daniel groans, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

You sit back, grinning at him. “So, do you want me to keep him or not?”

He lowers his hands, shooting you a look that’s half amused, half irritated. “Obviously, you keep him. He’s the best driver on the grid.”

You nod, pretending to jot down notes in the air. “Okay, so keep Max. Got it.”

Daniel leans back against the couch, staring at you like he still can’t believe this is real. “I can’t believe you just bought a Formula 1 team.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” you say with a grin.

Daniel laughs, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “And you’re just … going to be the boss now?”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s not like I haven’t run a business before. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a Formula 1 team?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You do realize you’ll be dealing with, like, a whole bunch of egos and drama, right? It’s not just about racing. There’s politics, sponsorships, technical regulations …”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Details, details. I’ll figure it out.”

Daniel shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And that’s why you like me,” you quip, flashing him a playful wink.

Daniel’s smile softens, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But then he shakes his head again, chuckling. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and Daniel’s gaze drifts back to the ring box still sitting on the coffee table between you. It feels surreal — like the last few days have been one long, crazy dream that neither of you can wake up from. But somehow, despite all the madness, there’s a strange sense of peace settling over the room.

Finally, Daniel breaks the silence with a quiet laugh. “So … when do you get to meet the team?”

You grin. “Soon enough. I’ll introduce you as my fiancé. It’ll be fun to see the look on everyone’s faces.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You’ll love it. Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

He shoots you a playful glare. “I’m starting to regret this engagement.”

You laugh, leaning back into the couch. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

Daniel chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

***

You and Daniel are curled up together on the plush couch, nestled under a thick blanket, a pint of ice cream balanced between the two of you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room as Crazy Rich Asians plays in the background, the glamorous scenes of Singapore flashing on the screen. You scoop a spoonful of ice cream and pop it into your mouth, your eyes glued to the over-the-top depiction of high society that, to you, feels more like a parody than reality.

“I mean, come on,” you mutter around a mouthful of ice cream, shaking your head. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Daniel glances at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “What do you mean? It looks pretty fancy to me.”

You roll your eyes, waving your spoon toward the screen. “Yeah, because all of us crazy rich Asians are just constantly jetting off to private islands in the middle of the week. And, of course, we throw dramatic, lavish parties for every minor inconvenience.”

Daniel grins, leaning back against the couch as he scoops up some ice cream. “I dunno, the whole secret wedding dress thing seemed pretty realistic to me.”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow, laughing. “Please. If anything, that’s understated.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, so maybe Hollywood doesn’t exactly nail the rich lifestyle. But it’s entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “It’s borderline satire. Half the time, I’m watching these movies like, ‘Are you serious? Who even does that?’”

Daniel laughs again, clearly enjoying your commentary more than the actual movie. “Okay, but admit it, the wedding scene was pretty epic.”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine, I’ll give them that one. The water running down the aisle was a nice touch.”

“See? Even you have to admit there’s some good stuff in there,” Daniel says with a grin, licking his spoon.

You lean back against the couch, settling more comfortably into Daniel’s side as the movie continues to play. The ice cream between you starts to melt slightly, but neither of you seem to care, too caught up in the comfort of the moment. Your head rests on Daniel’s shoulder, and his arm is loosely draped around you.

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a few minutes, the movie providing a soft background noise as you both watch absently. Then, without looking away from the screen, you break the silence with a casual question.

“Hey, so … do you want to drive for Red Bull next year?”

The question seems to catch Daniel off guard. His hand, mid-way to another scoop of ice cream, freezes in the air. He turns his head slightly to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He doesn’t say anything at first, and the silence stretches out long enough for you to glance up at him, wondering why he’s taking so long to respond.

“Daniel?” You prompt softly.

He pauses the movie, the room suddenly quiet without the chatter of characters and dramatic music. His face is serious now, a stark contrast to the playful mood from moments before. He places the spoon down in the pint and leans back, exhaling a long breath.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You blink at him, confused. “You don’t know? What do you mean?”

Daniel rubs a hand over his face, looking down at his lap as if the answer is written there somewhere. “I mean, I don’t know if … if I deserve it. That seat.”

There’s a heavy pause as you process his words. The casualness of the evening suddenly feels distant, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. You turn slightly, facing him more directly now, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

“Why would you say that?” You ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Daniel looks up at you, his expression pained. “I’ve been dropped twice now. McLaren, VCARB … And, honestly, I didn’t do as well as I wanted. As well as they wanted. What if I’m just not cut out for it anymore? Maybe the sport’s moved on, and I haven’t.”

You frown, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true. You’re still an incredible driver.”

Daniel lets out a bitter laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Incredible? You’ve seen the results. I’m nowhere near where I used to be. And Max? He’s on another level. It’s his team now.”

“Okay, first of all,” you say, your tone shifting into something more assertive, “don’t compare yourself to Max. You’re both amazing in your own ways. And second, this isn’t about what they want, Daniel. It’s about what you want.”

Daniel doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at the frozen image on the TV screen, lost in his thoughts. His jaw is tense, and you can tell he’s grappling with something deeper, something that’s been weighing on him for a long time.

You squeeze his knee gently, your voice softening. “You’ve still got it, Daniel. I know you do. And so does everyone else.”

He glances at you, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find some kind of reassurance in your words. “But what if … what if I can’t get back to where I was? What if I’m just holding onto something that’s not there anymore?”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, not missing a beat. “You’ve had a rough few seasons, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. It just means you’ve had setbacks. And if anyone knows how to bounce back, it’s you.”

Daniel still looks unsure, and you can tell there’s a part of him that’s scared — scared of failing again, scared of not living up to the expectations that have been placed on him, both by himself and by others.

You lean in closer, your voice gentle but insistent. “Daniel, you’re one of the best drivers in the world. You’ve proved that time and time again. Red Bull wouldn’t have taken you back if they didn’t believe in you. And I wouldn’t have bought the damn team if I didn’t believe in you either.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Daniel’s lips at that, though it’s fleeting. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I just … I don’t know if I’m ready to go back. I don’t know if I can handle it if things go wrong again.”

You nod slowly, understanding the fear behind his words. It’s not just about driving. It’s about the pressure, the weight of expectation, the fear of failure.

“I get that,” you say softly. “But you can’t let fear stop you from doing what you love. You’ve been through a lot, I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You have so much more left to give. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

Daniel meets your gaze, his eyes softening at your words. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression is raw, unguarded. Then he reaches out, taking your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze.

“You really think I can do it?” He asks quietly.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “I know you can.”

Daniel lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the tension seems to drain from him. He looks at you for a long moment, then nods, as if finally coming to terms with something inside himself.

“Alright,” he says, his voice a little steadier now. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you say with a soft smile.

He leans back into the couch, and you both settle into a comfortable silence again, the tension from earlier slowly fading away. You reach for the remote and unpause the movie, but neither of you are really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both sit there, sharing the ice cream, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air but somehow lighter now.

***

The evening is quiet, the city’s hum muted behind the large windows of your penthouse. The movie’s credits are rolling, but neither you nor Daniel has made a move to turn off the TV. Instead, you both sit there, wrapped up in the soft blanket, the nearly empty pint of ice cream abandoned on the coffee table. There’s a sense of calm in the air, but underneath it, you can feel something unspoken, simmering just below the surface.

You glance at Daniel, who’s leaning back into the couch, his gaze distant. He’s still processing, you can tell — about Red Bull, about everything that’s been thrown at him lately. The weight of it all seems heavier in the silence.

After a long moment, you shift slightly, turning your body to face him more directly. “Daniel,” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinks, coming back to the present, and looks at you with a small, tired smile. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said something a lot that I keep thinking about,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “The whole ‘enjoy the butterflies’ thing. I’ve heard you say it in interviews, but I don’t think I ever really understood what you meant by it.”

Daniel’s smile falters a bit, and he looks away, his expression growing thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, and you can see he’s retreating into his thoughts again, the way he does when he’s trying to figure out how to articulate something that matters to him.

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm, coaxing him back to the conversation. “What does it really mean to you? Enjoy the butterflies?”

Daniel takes a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “It’s … it’s kinda hard to explain,” he says slowly, his accent thicker when he’s being reflective. “It’s not just about racing, you know? It’s more about the feeling — the nerves, the excitement, the anticipation. All those little moments that make your stomach flip.”

He pauses, glancing at you as if gauging whether you’re following. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I think,” he says, his voice quieter now, “for the longest time, I used to hate that feeling. The butterflies. It always made me feel … unsure. Like, am I good enough? Am I ready? Every time I’d get in the car, no matter how many times I’d done it before, I’d still feel that little twinge of anxiety. And for a while, I thought it was a bad thing.”

You listen intently, your eyes never leaving his face as he speaks. There’s something raw and real in his words, a vulnerability that you don’t often see in him.

“But then, I don’t know,” he continues, “at some point, I started to see it differently. Like, maybe those butterflies aren’t a sign of weakness. Maybe they’re a sign that you’re doing something that matters. That you’re alive. That you care.”

You nod slowly, your hand still resting on his arm. “That makes sense.”

Daniel meets your gaze again, his eyes softening. “Yeah. So now, when I feel the butterflies, I try to embrace it, you know? Instead of fighting it. Because if you’re not nervous, if you don’t feel anything, then what’s the point?”

You lean back slightly, absorbing his words. There’s a quiet wisdom in what he’s saying, a reminder that life’s most meaningful moments are often the ones that scare us the most. You think about how that applies to you — not just in your relationship with Daniel, but in everything. The choices you’ve made, the risks you’ve taken, the moments when you’ve doubted yourself. Maybe those butterflies are a part of the journey, too.

“I get that,” you say softly, nodding. “But … do you still feel them? After all this time?”

Daniel smiles, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “Every single time.”

You look at him for a long moment, the weight of his honesty settling between you. There’s something comforting in knowing that even someone like Daniel — someone who’s faced so many high-pressure moments, who’s been at the top of his game — still feels that same uncertainty, that same flutter of nerves.

“But now,” he adds, his voice softening even more, “I think the butterflies aren’t just about fear. They’re about excitement, too. Like, yeah, maybe I’m nervous, but I’m also excited because it means I still care. I still love what I do, even when it’s hard.”

You smile gently, your hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s beautiful, Daniel. Really.”

He chuckles lightly, looking almost embarrassed by the compliment. “I don’t know about beautiful, but it helps me get through the tough days.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel the conversation shifting into something deeper, something more personal. You take a breath, feeling the moment settling between you like a quiet pulse.

“Do you ever get tired of it, though?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “The butterflies, the pressure, the weight of it all?”

Daniel tilts his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, his voice is tinged with a kind of quiet resignation. “Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like too much, like it’s all building up and I just … don’t know how to keep going.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. You’ve seen Daniel at his best, but you’ve also seen him at his lowest. The moments when he’s struggled, when he’s doubted himself. And yet, through it all, he’s always managed to push through. To keep going.

“But,” he continues after a beat, his voice soft but steady, “those moments don’t last forever. And when they pass, when I’m back in the car, or when I’ve crossed the finish line, it’s like … I remember why I do it. Why I love it.”

You watch him closely, your heart swelling with both admiration and empathy. “You’re stronger than you think, Daniel.”

He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think it’s a little bit of both.”

Daniel grins at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He shifts on the couch, turning more toward you, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet intimacy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he says quietly, “you’ve got your own butterflies too. I’ve seen them.”

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Oh, really?”

Daniel nods, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah. Whenever you’re about to make a big decision or when something’s stressing you out. You get this look in your eyes, like you’re bracing yourself for something.”

You blink, taken aback by his observation. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

He smiles gently. “I notice a lot about you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence again, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air like a shared secret. You can feel your heart beating a little faster, the warmth of Daniel’s words wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Do you ever wish the butterflies would go away?” You ask after a moment, your voice soft.

Daniel shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think I do. Because if they did, that would mean I’ve stopped caring. And I don’t ever want to stop caring.”

You nod, understanding now in a way you didn’t before. The butterflies aren’t something to fear — they’re a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re still passionate, that you’re still fighting for what matters.

You smile softly, leaning in closer to him. “I think I’ll try to enjoy the butterflies a little more.”

Daniel smiles back, his hand gently resting on your cheek. “Good. You should.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace settle over you — a quiet understanding that, no matter what happens next, you’ll face it with open hearts and, yes, even a few butterflies.

***

The Red Bull Racing factory is a hive of quiet activity. The entire team, from mechanics to engineers, marketing staff to the senior management, stands gathered in a large meeting room just off the factory floor. Whispers ripple through the crowd, conversations hushed and speculative. It’s unusual to have the entire team assembled like this — especially during the off-season.

But today is different. They’ve been told that the team’s new owner will be making her first official appearance, and no one knows what to expect.

The announcement of Red Bull Racing’s sale had come out of nowhere, a shock to everyone. No one knew who the buyer was, only that it was someone with enough money to pull off the purchase in record time. The rumors had flown, the speculation mounting over the past few weeks, but nothing concrete had leaked. All they knew was that something big was coming. Something — someone — new.

The murmur of voices grows louder as the minutes tick by. Eyes dart toward the doors at the far end of the room, the anticipation palpable. Then, the doors swing open.

You walk in, a vision of confidence, head held high. The noise in the room instantly dies down, replaced by the stunned silence of dozens of pairs of eyes turning in your direction. Beside you, Daniel walks in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, a familiar but unusual sight for the Red Bull team.

The shock is immediate, rippling through the room like a wave. Everyone stares, first at you, then at Daniel, as if trying to piece together how any of this makes sense. The whispers start up again, but you don’t let it faze you. Instead, you step forward with a wide, almost mischievous smile on your face.

“Good morning, everyone!” You greet them brightly, clapping your hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “I’m sure most of you have heard by now, but allow me to introduce myself formally. I’m your new boss.”

You pause, letting the statement sink in as the team stares at you in stunned silence. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m thrilled to be taking over as the owner of Red Bull Racing.”

There’s a beat of silence, the team processing the bombshell, before a smattering of hesitant applause starts. You nod, acknowledging the claps, but there’s still a palpable tension in the room. You know they’re still confused, still reeling from the surprise. You’re not done yet.

“And I have one more introduction to make,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You glance over at Daniel, who’s standing beside you, a little less sure of himself than usual but still flashing that signature Ricciardo smile. “This is my fiancé, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The room gasps. The shock is real this time, murmurs breaking out instantly among the team. Fiancé? Some people turn to each other, others crane their necks to get a better look at Daniel. The whispers intensify, but you continue as if none of it fazes you.

“And I have some exciting news for all of you today,” you say, your voice cutting through the growing chatter. You step forward again, your gaze sweeping across the room. “With the team being restructured, and with Sergio Perez deciding to take some time away from the sport to be with his family …” You pause, letting that hang for a moment, watching the confusion bloom on their faces. “I’m thrilled to announce that Daniel will be returning to Red Bull Racing as a driver next season.”

The room falls completely silent again, a collective intake of breath. For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, as if on cue, someone begins clapping. It’s slow at first, hesitant, but then others join in, and soon the room is filled with applause. The realization starts to settle in.

Daniel Ricciardo — back at Red Bull.

You glance at Daniel, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, you see the flicker of uncertainty in them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. But then, as the applause grows, you see the shift — the spark of confidence returning to him, the slow curve of a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Daniel steps forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd, but they don’t stop clapping for several more seconds. Finally, the noise dies down enough for him to speak.

“Wow, uh … thanks for that,” Daniel begins, clearly taken aback by the reaction. He rubs the back of his neck, his grin widening as he takes in the faces of the people who, not so long ago, had been his team. “I’ve gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be standing here again.”

A few people in the crowd chuckle, a ripple of warmth spreading through the room.

“I know it’s been a strange few years,” Daniel continues, his voice more serious now. “There were times when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to this place. But when Y/N came into my life, well, let’s just say she’s good at making the impossible happen.” He glances at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and affection, and you feel your heart flutter in response.

The room watches this exchange, enraptured. There’s something surreal about seeing Daniel Ricciardo, a former Red Bull driver, now standing next to the team’s new owner — his fiancée, no less. It’s a lot for them to process.

Daniel turns back to the team, his expression softening as he addresses them. “This place has always been special to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve had some of my best moments in my career here, and I’m so grateful for the chance to come back and create more memories with you all. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I’ve got a lot to prove. But I’m ready. I’m ready to give everything I’ve got.”

The room bursts into applause again, louder this time, more genuine. The team members seem to be warming up to the idea now, their initial shock replaced by excitement. A few of the senior engineers, who had been with the team during Daniel’s previous stint, exchange nods of approval. There’s a growing sense of anticipation, the mood in the room shifting.

You watch Daniel as he steps back, the energy of the moment clearly lifting him. He catches your eye again, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His smile is softer now, more private, meant just for you. You feel a surge of warmth, the bond between you solidifying even more in this shared experience.

Then, clearing your throat, you step forward again, reclaiming the attention of the room. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” you say, your tone playful. “But don’t worry. Daniel and I aren’t here to shake things up too much … unless we need to.” A few chuckles ripple through the room at that. “We’re committed to making sure this team remains at the top of the sport. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to get there.”

The applause comes again, more enthusiastic this time. You can feel the room shifting from shock to acceptance, and even a little excitement. The Red Bull team is known for its resilience, for thriving in the face of challenges, and this is no different.

As the clapping fades, one of the senior team members — a man with graying hair and a knowing smile — steps forward. He glances between you and Daniel, then says, “Well, if Daniel’s back, I guess we better start preparing for some shoeys.”

The room bursts into laughter, and even Daniel can’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head. “You better believe it,” he says with a grin.

Slowly, the group begins to disperse, people heading back to their workstations, some still murmuring excitedly about the news. You catch snippets of conversation — mentions of Daniel’s return, your surprising entrance, and speculation about what’s next for the team.

As the room clears, Daniel turns to you, his expression soft. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. “It’s just the beginning,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Daniel grins, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I think we’re gonna be just fine.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with excitement and love. Together, you’ve just taken the first step into a new chapter — one filled with challenges, risks, and plenty of butterflies. But you know, with Daniel by your side, there’s nothing you can’t handle.

And as you leave the factory hand in hand, the future stretches out before you — unknown, thrilling, and entirely yours to shape.

***

The roars from the Melbourne crowd reverberate through the air as the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix begins. The cameras lock onto Daniel’s Red Bull, the #3 flashing as it leads the pack by several seconds. The circuit is electric, and the commentators can barely contain themselves.

“Here we are on the final lap,” David Croft’s voice crackles through the Sky Sports broadcast, almost trembling with excitement. “Daniel Ricciardo, the hometown hero, is this close to claiming his ninth career win — and his first ever win here in Australia. You can hear the crowd, the energy in the air — it’s absolutely incredible!”

Beside him, Martin Brundle jumps in, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. “This is what the fans have been waiting for, for years. After everything Daniel’s been through — leaving Red Bull, bouncing between teams, and now back with Red Bull and at the front of the grid — this will be a monumental moment, not just for Daniel, but for every Australian who’s dreamed of seeing him on the top step here.”

The camera flickers briefly to the Red Bull garage. You’re standing at the front, practically on your toes as you watch the live feed with bated breath, every nerve in your body tense with anticipation. You’re surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and team members, but it’s clear that all eyes in the garage are on you. The new team owner, the mastermind behind Daniel’s return to the team. And now, you’re witnessing the culmination of it all.

“Look at that,” Brundle says as the camera focuses on you. “There’s Daniel’s fiancée and the new team owner, Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve got to imagine what this moment means for her too, after buying the team and making the bold decision to bring Daniel back. She’s been nothing short of instrumental in this comeback.”

Crofty’s voice grows louder as Daniel approaches the final few corners. “And here he comes now, through Turn 13, a perfect line through there — keeping it clean. The crowd is going wild, and you can see why! He’s a few corners away from victory, from making history on home soil.”

As the camera switches back to the track, Daniel’s race engineer comes over the radio, his voice steady but filled with excitement.

“Alright, mate. Just bring it home now. One more corner. You’ve got this.”

There’s a brief pause before Daniel’s reply crackles over the airwaves, his voice barely containing his elation. “I’ve got it, mate! I’ve bloody got it!”

The Red Bull flies around the final corner, the engine roaring, and Daniel rockets down the straight toward the checkered flag. The crowd’s roar is deafening as he crosses the line.

“And there it is! Daniel Ricciardo wins the Australian Grand Prix!” Crofty yells, his voice barely audible over the roaring fans. “His ninth career win — and what a win it is! His first win here in Australia, and you can just feel how much this means to him and the crowd!”

The camera immediately cuts back to you, your face a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. You’re laughing, hands clasped over your mouth as the enormity of the moment sinks in. The entire Red Bull garage erupts into cheers, people hugging and high-fiving all around you, but you’re frozen for a moment, just soaking in the euphoria of the victory.

“Look at her reaction!” Brundle says with a chuckle. “You can tell just how much this moment means to the team owner. It’s not just a win for Daniel — it’s a win for them. What a partnership!”

The scene cuts to Daniel inside the cockpit, raising his fists in victory as he slows the car on the cool-down lap. His voice comes over the radio again, almost breathless.

“YEEEEES! Let’s go! Oh my god, we did it! We actually did it!” Daniel shouts, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Mate, you’re a race winner in Australia!” His race engineer’s voice is filled with pride. “Take it in, soak it all in. This is your moment.”

“I’ve waited so long for this …” Daniel’s voice is quieter now, more introspective. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievable.”

As he makes his way around the track on the cool-down lap, the camera follows him, showing the thousands of fans on their feet, waving Australian flags and cheering for their hero. It’s an emotional scene, the kind that will go down in F1 history. The commentators fall silent for a moment, letting the raw emotion of the moment speak for itself.

Finally, Crofty breaks the silence. “Daniel Ricciardo has just made history. He’s become the first Australian driver to win here in Melbourne in front of his home crowd, and you can just see how much this means — not just to him, but to every fan in the stands.”

Daniel pulls into parc fermé, his car screeching to a halt under the massive “P1” sign. The mechanics are already leaning over the barriers, waiting for him, their arms raised in celebration. Daniel clambers out of the car, pulls off his helmet, and lets out a roar, his signature grin plastered on his face. The crowd erupts once more, their hero standing victorious before them.

The Red Bull team surrounds him, cheering and patting him on the back. But Daniel's eyes are searching, scanning the pit lane for you. Finally, they find you in the crowd, and without hesitation, he breaks away from the chaos and runs straight to you.

“Hey, boss,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice barely above the roar of the fans. “Did I do alright?”

You laugh, pushing him back playfully. “I’d say you did more than alright.”

Daniel grins, his smile wide and genuine, and then he’s swept back into the celebrations, the team lifting him onto their shoulders as the cameras capture every second.

The podium celebrations come next, the lights glittering, the trophy standing proud. Daniel, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc climb onto the podium, their faces reflecting the joy and exhaustion of a hard-fought race. The national anthems play, first for Australia, then for Austria, and the crowd sings along, their pride and passion tangible.

When the champagne is finally handed out, Daniel holds his bottle aloft, savoring the moment. He walks to the edge of the podium, holding his finger up to signal the crowd. The fans know what’s coming. The mechanics in the garage know what’s coming. You, standing just below the podium, know what’s coming.

Daniel unlaces his boot and fills it with champagne, holding it high as he looks out over the sea of fans. The crowd roars with approval.

“Oh no …” Brundle says with a laugh, watching from the Sky Sports commentary booth. “Here we go. It wouldn’t be a Daniel Ricciardo victory without a shoey!”

Daniel grins and, with the flair only he can pull off, drinks the champagne from his shoe. The crowd cheers louder than ever, reveling in the chaotic joy of the moment. Even Max, standing beside him, cracks a smile as Daniel offers him the boot, but Max declines with a laugh, shaking his head.

As Daniel finishes the shoey, he looks down at you with a cheeky grin. He points the boot in your direction, his eyes twinkling.

“Wanna join in?” He shouts down, loud enough for the camera to catch.

You cross your arms, shaking your head with a smirk. “Absolutely not.”

Daniel laughs, tossing the boot aside and grabbing the champagne again, spraying the crowd as the podium celebration continues. The cameras capture everything, the joy, the fun, the relief of a long journey finally reaching its pinnacle.

Back in the commentary booth, Crofty speaks again, his voice soft but filled with admiration. “Daniel Ricciardo, a winner in Australia, celebrating in true Ricciardo style. This win means more than just points on the board — it’s the result of hard work, perseverance, and a love for racing.”

Brundle nods, his tone warm. “You’ve got to hand it to Daniel, and to Y/N Y/L/N as well. She brought him back to Red Bull, believed in him when others didn’t, and now they’re celebrating together on the biggest stage. It’s a fairytale moment.”

As the champagne rains down on the podium, Daniel glances over at you again, his face still lit up with that signature Ricciardo grin. And even though you’re not up there with him, he knows that none of this would’ve been possible without you by his side.

This is your team, your driver, and your moment.

[saurongorthaur9]

I adore Charlie's attention to detail with Sauron's mannerisms, and I particularly love his angry finger wiggle.

It shows that Charlie really thinks through Sauron's mannerisms. On the surface, it's kind of a cute, funny little mannerism, but if you think about it, it has a much deeper, darker implication.

Why? Because when we see Sauron using magic, particularly in Season 2, it's often by flicking his fingers or twisting his hands.

We see it most obviously when he uses his hands to control the elven guards and force them to kill each other. We also see it when he flicks his fingers to throw Mirdania off the wall.

With that in mind, it seems obvious what the "angry finger wiggle" really is. He wants to use magic. He wants to literally blast apart his surroundings and kill everyone in his path. He's doing everything to control himself to not let loose his magic, and it manifests as the little finger wiggle.

[slutoru1207]

hello I wanted to ask if you don't mind writing on main mark having twin boys with the reader who is also a hero ( scarlet witch maybe?) , and like the other invincible variants reaction to that . Like main mark not only has a powerfull girlfriend/wife that's alive but also was blessed with twin boys . The jealous would hit so hard.

here ya goooooo

The Invincible Variants find Reader hiding with her twins—and they look just like him.

You were prepared for this day to come. You just didn’t know when.

The moment the Variants of Mark Grayson tore through cities, cutting through Earth like a blade, you knew you couldn’t hide forever. You’d spent weeks cloaking the safehouse, bending reality to make it seem like you weren’t even here. Every step was calculated, every spell woven carefully to keep the kids—your twin boys—safe from the chaos unfolding around you.

And then you felt it. The shift. The disturbance.

They were coming. You couldn’t pinpoint how, but the air had changed. The ripple of energy from another reality was unmistakable.

You weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of finding you easily.

You stepped out onto the porch with practiced caution. Your hand hovered just above your side, where chaos magic flowed through you, ready to burst at the slightest provocation. You didn’t wear your usual confidence now; this was different. This was survival. Your instincts screamed to protect what was yours.

The Variants appeared silently, as though they had slipped through the fabric of reality itself.

You didn’t move. Not until you saw them fully. Not until your sons were inside—where they would stay until you decided it was safe.

The twins were hidden. The moment the first Variant arrived, you used your powers to draw them away—make them quiet. You needed to be sure.

They were in the trees now. You were ready.

But you didn’t let them see you immediately. No, not until you felt the tension and unease radiating from the Variants. They weren’t sure what they had stumbled upon.

Mohawk!Mark He was the first to step forward, eyes scanning your space. Noticing the wards. He was on edge. Every movement slow, calculated. The moment he saw you, he froze.

“You’re here… and you have his children.”

His voice had a bite to it, sharp with disbelief and frustration. There was no denial in his tone—just a raw, seething envy. He couldn’t quite reconcile the image of you, alive, with the truth of it.

“You never chose me.”

The twins? They were close now. You could see them peeking from behind the window. Watching.

But you didn’t let him have them. You didn’t let him see the truth so easily.

“You’ll never touch them,” you said. Calm, but lethal. “You won’t get close.”

His fists clenched, but he didn’t move closer. The protective wards around your cabin seemed to hum with more power, making the air heavy.

Full Mask!Mark He was the next to approach—treading carefully, almost too cautiously. He studied the wards, his hand inching toward his own face. His voice was quiet, as if testing the air.

“I never thought you would be here. “But you’ve got two sons.”

He spoke the words almost as if they were foreign. Almost as if saying them out loud somehow made this version of reality even harder to comprehend.

He didn’t speak of love. He didn’t speak of wanting you. It was just… recognition. He could only stand there and stare.

Sinister!Mark He wasn’t cautious. He stepped forward with a smirk plastered across his face, his eyes glittering with malice.

“So, this is how it went. “You gave him your power, your family. And now you’re hiding with his little heirs?”

He scoffed as if trying to bait you—try to make you break. But you weren’t fazed. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of making a mistake.

“You think I don’t know what you want?” you hissed, letting a tendril of magic unfurl from your hand. “You all want what he has. But it’s not for you.”

One of the twins, noticing the rising tension, flicked their eyes to you from the window, waiting for a signal. But you held back, giving nothing away. This was your fight now.

Viltrumite!Mark He lingered at the edge, far enough to not seem threatening, but his eyes tracked the path of your every movement. He was silent for the most part—lost in the thought of what could have been.

“He got to keep you,” he muttered under his breath, so quiet only you could hear. “I thought none of us deserved it… but I was wrong.”

But you didn't look at him. Not once.

Instead, your attention was still on the Variants.

“He does deserve it. We both do.”

Your voice was firm—steady. And even though you didn’t say another word, your message was loud and clear.

OmniMark He was the most calculating. The one who’d spent hours studying tactics, using his intellect to stay ahead. But now, as he scanned you and the twins—he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“This timeline is different,” he said softly, barely audible. “You… you have a family. “And you’ve done it right.”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes shifting between you and the kids. He wasn’t angry—he wasn’t sad, even. There was just this strange, cold realization in his words.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” he asked quietly, his gaze slowly turning into something much darker. “I always know when something’s off.”

You didn’t blink. You didn’t even breathe. You were waiting, holding your ground. Protecting them.

Your Mark arrives. And when he lands, the entire world seems to shift back into focus. The Variants stop. Dead in their tracks.

“This is my family,” he says. His voice is low but firm. “I’ve kept them safe. And if any of you try to take them from me…” “I’ll show you why you failed.”

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Jade x Reader – Commit to the Bit

Summary: After escaping Scarabia and crash-landing in Monstro Lounge during Chapter 4, you form a deeper relationship with Octavinelle’s vice leader. The Reader’s bold moves pique Jade’s interest. The two are equally committed to keeping up their acts to maximize the most hilarious reactions from their friends. No matter how big the trick is they always “Commit to the Bit,” and some pranks turn into fact instead of a facade. 

Word Count: 12.5k+

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for @solxamber. I told her my idea and she became invested. It pushed me to finish this. Somehow it’s turned into this monster of a piece. I had a splendid time with this. Please comment and enjoy!

Tags: @marsinrain @solxamber idk who else to tag lol

You and Grim scream at the top of your lungs as Kalim’s flying carpet rockets past different sceneries. You hear Scarabia students shouting after you. However, no human is a match for an out-of-control, speeding carpet. 

“We’re gonna hit the mirror!!” Grim shrieks. 

You grip your companion as you fly through. You know you won’t slam into glass but you also don’t know where you’ll land. The two of you exit the hot desert and are flung into darkness. With no ability to see or steer, you crash into something. 

You groan. Thankfully you landed on something soft. It feels like a couch. 

“Grim, are you ok?” You call out. 

The cat whines, “No, but I’m alive.”

“It’s better than being tortured and imprisoned in Hellabia,” you comment, before asking. “Where are we?”

Lights flick on. You wince, shielding from the unexpected brightness. A distinct voice echoes out.

“Oya, I was wondering who would be here at this time of night.”

Your head snaps up to see the tweels. A twinkle glitters in your eyes. 

“Oh, thank god, it’s someone menacing!” you exclaim, “Plus, you’re in debt to us for stopping Azul’s overblot and you’ll find our situation interesting.”

You watch Jade’s eyes widen at your rapid-fire enthusiasm. Even Floyd seems momentarily lost for words. It’s not unexpected. Every time you’ve interacted with the trio, you’ve been reserved. The group seemed more trouble than they were worth. While you gravitate to interesting circumstances and people, you’ve been entertained by the overblots. It didn’t seem necessary to seek out the tweel tricksters and their con artist boss. However, your circumstances have changed. 

You want revenge on Scarabia and you've fallen right into the perfect predator’s lap. This trio is vindictive and vicious. They like throwing people off for fun. They’re exactly what you need. 

You haven’t sought vengeance on the other overblot students because you haven’t been directly involved. If you were, you knew you could get out of it. It was another riveting problem you needed to solve. You weren’t affected by Riddle. You don’t have magic and you’re not in Heartslabyul. For Leona, you can’t play Magical Shift. Ruggie’s magic didn’t hurt you. You didn’t make a terrible deal with Azul. You just had to get your dumb friends out of a bad situation lest you die of complaints. You weren’t worried about Ramshackle, because you had the skill to get it back. You were the one who planned Azul’s ultimate demise after all. With Scarabia though, they put you through torture. They forced you to walk across the desert. They caught you multiple times trying to escape and you’re not letting that go. 

Therefore, you’re throwing away all pretenses to recruit these slippery fish folk. If anyone would be on board this ship, it would be the Octavinelle trio. 

You barrel on, summarizing. “We just escaped Scarabia prison. They kidnapped us, locked us up for over a week, and forced us into inhuman slavery with the excuse of “training!” Plus, a coup is about to happen. Something’s fishy and it’s not you.”

You get up, walking toward the twin, bubbling in excitement. Before either of them can respond, another person speaks up. It’s the languid and steady voice of a businessman. 

“A coup?” Azul inquires.

You glance at him and nod. 

“The Scarabia students aren’t happy with Kalim’s treatment. They want Jamil to usurp him,” you briefly explain, before adding. “You know why that’s strange.” 

The dorm leader gives a thoughtful hum before a group of Scarabia students burst through the door. 

“We found you, thieves! There’s nowhere to run now,” one of them declares.

You step closer to Jade and retort, “Wrongful imprisonment and mistreatment of workers is a crime. We took dire measures to escape. Grim and I aren’t a part of your dorm. Jamil invited us. If you were good hosts, you’d respect the wishes of your guests and let them leave when they become uncomfortable. I have video evidence.” 

The last part was a lie, but you wanted to provoke them. You pull out your phone and wave it around. You’re curious to see how the twins will react.

One hot-blooded student lunges for your device. You “yelp,” jumping behind the quieter twin. In a flash, Jade has their wrist in a crushing hold. 

“When it comes to recording illegal activity, as long as the person recording does not interfere, it’s submissible in court,” Jade dictates in a smooth and steady voice. 

His eyes narrow in delight as his victim’s hand turns blue due to lack of circulation. The student pales. 

Another boy argues, “They stole Kalim’s magic carpet. Theft is a crime too.”

“Besides, this isn’t any of your business! Back off,” someone else interjects. 

There’s a collective agreement when Azul cuts in. 

“Based on the prefect’s testimony, we’ve offered them sanctuary. Until we’ve investigated this matter, Octavinelle will keep Kalim’s magic carpet,” the dorm leader details before giving a deadly smile, “For now, you’re in our territory. I’ll kindly ask you to leave. If you don’t do it willingly, I have no problem forcing you.”

One of the students grits his teeth and barks, “They stole Kalim’s carpet! Do you know how precious it is?”

You speak up, “Yes, and because Octavinelle is sheltering us, they’ll want to ensure his carpet is returned in pristine condition. It would be embarrassing if there were any blemishes they didn’t catch. They’re incredibly benevolent and would want to compensate Kalim.”

You’re about to reassure them you’ll give it back tomorrow when you notice something. Your crash landing destroyed some tables. Azul would never let that go. You change your goal and escalate the situation.

“Although, it is pathetic that there are so many of you and you’re scared of two people, a magicless student, and their cat. Your attitudes are a reflection of your dorm. Perhaps, you deserve the grueling treatment Kalim subjects you to. Maybe you can learn how to be mentally stronger,” you taunt. 

It has the desired effect. The Scarabia students attack. You grin and snatch the carpet. Before you move, you see Grim lining up to fire. You pick him up by the scruff of his neck and slide up to Azul. 

“Why are you taking me away?” Grim cries, kicking the air. “I want to fight too!”

“If you attack them, we’re at a disadvantage. They could claim we used force as well. It’s better to let the tweels handle it,” you reply, before whispering in his flaming ear. “I don’t fancy paying Octavinelle for property damage. If you don’t want to become fish food, keep quiet.”

Grim squeaks and nods. You place him down, pat his head, and watch the battle. The place becomes a mess. Your initial damages blend in with the landscape. 

You’ve always admired the twins’ fighting style. They get up close and personal, bashing people into walls and tables. The combination of physical power and magical prowess is unique, effective, and intimidating. It sends people running. 

“You should bill Kalim for compensation,” you suggest to Azul, “He’s their dorm leader. It’s supposedly on his orders that Grim and I were held hostage.”

The man grits his teeth, “You intentionally provoked them. We won’t get any money if the carpet is damaged.” 

“It’s not. We can check now,” you reassure.

You turn and walk to the bar. You smirk to yourself. He didn’t notice your crash-landing. You distracted him with the potential coup and later the Scarabia mob blocked his line of sight. Now, you’re off the hook.

You lay the magic carpet on the counter. 

“Carpet, are you hurt in any way?” You question. 

The animated object’s tassels shake a no. 

You request, “Perfect. Just in case, can we look over you?” 

It moves its tassels up and down and flops onto the counter. You laugh at the action. Pulling out your phone flashlight, you ensure there are no imperfections. A scream and snap resound behind you. You and Azul ignore it. Floyd cackles with a crazed edge and a sinister chuckle comes from Jade. 

You feel Grim press against your leg. Glancing down, you grab him and put him on a bar stool. You ask the carpet to flip itself so you can inspect the back more closely.

“This is incredible quality,” Azul states, running his fingers across the fabric. 

You can practically hear the money signs in his voice. 

You roll your eyes. “Do you doubt the Al-Asim’s wealth?” 

“No! I’m just admiring the business opportunity,” he answers. 

Something thuds beside you. You look down to find a struggling Scarabia student on the floor. You stare. You’ve covered up your part of the crime and it’s illegal for them to trespass on private property. You deem it fine to enact violence before slamming your foot into his face. 

The student yells, clutching his broken nose. You kick him a few feet away. Once he’s out of range, you casually turn back to the Octavinelle house warden. 

“You said you were providing us sanctuary. I expect you to uphold your statement,” you tell him. 

The sophomore stares at you with an open mouth. You continue the conversation for him.

“If you can’t tell, I’d like to get revenge on these people. In addition, this is good for you. If we figure out what’s wrong with Kalim, he’ll owe you a debt. Your bodyguards will be invested because it causes chaos. There’s no down–” 

A hand brushes your ankle.

You pin it under your foot before the perpetrator latches on. You slowly turn your gaze to the ground. It’s the scum you left a shoe imprint on. How cute. 

You give a soft smile and swivel your heel into his hand. There are a few cracks.

“Did you know that there are 27 bones in the human hand?” you ask, leaning down. “That’s about one-quarter of all the bones in your body. They’re also some of the most painful to break because they have the most nerve endings. It’s been used as a torture method to get people to confess.”

The teenager’s free hand shoots out to grab your other ankle. A deadly spark flickers in your eyes. You snatch the extremity and extend it above his body until you hear a pop. His shoulder dislocates. You send another warm smile. It’s so out of place, it’s uncanny. 

“You haven’t learned your lesson, have you? That’s ok. I’m a great tutor. Carpet, please move away from me and the fight,” you request. 

You watch the magic item fly away and turn back to the Scarabia member. 

“For the record, Kalim sent you, correct? I must ensure Azul sends the bill to the right person. I don’t want to be liable for any damages to the Monstro Lounge,” you explain condescendingly. 

Instead of answering, your victim spits at you. Your eyes widen. You keep your calm and sweet expression. 

“You just signed your ticket to hell,” you sing before stomping his groin.

You use his moment of vulnerability to yank him up. You open his jaw, place it on the edge of the bar, and crack your elbow over his head. Controlling your strength, you make sure he only breaks some teeth. You don’t want to kill him. 

“Woaaah! Shrimpy's got some moves!” Floyd cries behind you. 

You flash a brilliant grin. Jade looks at you with wide eyes before narrowing into a thrilled shimmer. They’ve dealt with the students on their side. Everyone watches you, so you put on a show. 

Pulling your victim off the counter, you throw him onto a nearby seat. You pluck the magic pen off him and toss it to Grim. 

“Now you can experience what it’s like to be a magicless student,” you comment, rummaging through his pockets. “Although, you got beat up by me despite having magic. It’s quite embarrassing.” 

The boy is too terrified to stop you. You remove his wallet and flip through the different cards he has.

“In addition to losing against me, you lost Kalim’s carpet and—Ooh, a gift card.” 

You pocket it and take out the wad of cash. You leave his ID and credit card. It’s more trouble than it’s worth to steal someone’s credit or debit card. If you use it, it can be tracked. On the other hand, gift cards and physical money are safe. 

You continue, “You failed to recapture Grim and I. You should probably keep quiet for now and figure it out what to do in the morning. It’s late. Despite your injuries, you’ll have to walk through the desert tomorrow. You need all the sleep you can get. Hopefully, you have a medic on hand.”

After shaking the boy down you snatch his magical pen from your cat. You tuck it back into his shirt pocket and pat it.

“I’ll return this to you so people won’t question why you don’t have it. Be grateful for the small things.” You smile before shoving him out of his seat and onto the floor. 

You toss the wallet on his limp body. After making sure there’s no blood on the bar stool, you replace him and cross your legs. When nobody moves, you glance at the mob. 

“You should grab him before he bleeds out,” you suggest.

Two Scarabia students scurry up to help their fallen comrade and scuttle out the door. 

Jade slides up beside you.

“That was impressive, [Y/N]. Where did you learn to fight like that?” The quieter twin asks. 

Floyd grins, skipping over. “Shrimpy’s awesome! I haven’t seen anyone be that ruthless in a while.”

“My family taught me,” you shrug, before addressing Azul. “Do you have a room Grim and I can sleep in tonight?” 

The octopus pushes his glasses up, regaining his composure from the intense shock. 

The house warden answers, “No, we don’t, but—” 

“--That’s fine. I’ll sleep with Jade.”

It takes a moment for the others to process your words. Azul is the first to react. 

“WHAT?!?!” He screams.

Jade’s eyes blow wide as they look at you, stunned. Floyd’s voice is caught in his throat. It takes everything in you to keep a straight and innocent face. To distract yourself from laughing, you reach down to pick up Grim. You hold him out to Floyd. 

“You can have Grim. He’s a great cuddler,” you tell him, before glancing at his twin. “You share a room, right?”

Jade slowly nods. 

You bob your head and shove your cat into Floyd’s arms. Hopping off your seat, you grab the quieter eel.

“You’re ok with it, right?” you confirm. 

The man looks torn between asking if you’re sure and agreeing for fun. Your decision to share a bed with a distant, borderline-deadly acquaintance is a wild and concerning move. You can tell he’s worried for your safety and sanity. 

Azul interrupts, yelling, “You can sleep on the couch!”

“But I want to sleep on a bed,” you argue, before asking him. “Do you want to share with me?” 

“Ew, no,” the octopus responds. 

“Well, I’m not rooming with Floyd. Jade’s my best choice,” you say, “Let’s go. I’m tired and we have to get revenge in the morning.” 

You drag the chosen twin out the door without waiting for anyone else. 

From behind you, Floyd chortles, “Shimpy is bold! I guess you’re sleeping with me, Baby Seal.” 

Grim cries out in distress.

Jade leads you to their bedroom. It’s obvious which section is his.

Walking over to his bed, you ask. “Do you have a preference on which side you sleep on?”

“No, I don’t.” The vice leader shakes his head.

Floyd busts in, clutching a dead-faced Grim. 

“We’re having a sleepover,” he squeals, launching at you. 

You slip behind Jade, but he dodges. Your eyes widen as the chaotic eel barrels toward you. You tackle the vice leader to avoid him. 

Both of you fall on the bed as he lets out a surprised sound. 

“Dogpile!” Floyd shouts. 

He jumps and knocks the wind out of you. Grim screeches as he’s smooshed. The taller twin laughs and you can’t help but chuckle too. It turns into a full-blown cackle at the absurd situation. Factoring in your earlier stunt, you lose it. 

You can’t breathe but it doesn’t stop you from wheezing, “Your faces when I said I’d sleep with Jade! You were so surprised. Azul’s reaction was gold. I had to fight so hard to keep a straight face, but it was worth it.”

You grip Jade’s shoulders, shaking. Tears begin streaming down your face. Your giggle fit continues as you shove Floyd off you. The Octavinelle student laughs alongside you and even Jade joins in. 

Grim tries to stay silent, frowning, because you left him with Floyd. However, the air is too infectious. He can’t help but snicker too. 

It takes a while before you can speak. You sigh as your laughter passes. You turn to Jade. 

“Imma get ready for bed. I need all my energy to fulfill my retribution,” you state, sitting up. “Do you have an extra toothbrush and can I borrow some pajamas?” 

Jade nods, standing up to fetch the requested items. 

Floyd complains next to you. “I wanna stay up~!” 

“We’re having a two-day sleepover. Maybe even more. We’re infiltrating Scarabia tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be too busy planning dastardly schemes to get much sleep anyway,” you reason. 

The fictitious eel weighs his options before agreeing, “Ok! I still have Baby Seal to keep me company.” 

Floyd grabs Grim and squeezes. Your cat squeaks and looks at you desperately. You turn away, feigning ignorance, as you take Jade’s pajamas and the extra toiletries. 

“I’ll get you for this,” Grim promises, as Floyd takes him to his side of the room. 

You look at the offered sleepwear. It’s a set of turquoise silk pajamas. You rub your thumb along it. They’re soft. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, “I’ll be quick.” 

After completing your nighttime routine, you slip back into the room. Heading to the light switch, you focus on Jade’s bed. Once you’ve mapped your path, you flick it off and dive. Crashing into his body, your bedmate lets out an “oof.”

“You’ve done that twice tonight. You can’t keep your hands off me,” he teases, amused.

“You’re interesting and like to mess with people. Why wouldn’t I want to be close to you?” you throw back.

He’s quiet as you climb over him, taking the space closest to the wall and furthest from Floyd. If the ball of eccentric energy attempts to approach you in your sleep, you can use his twin as a shield.

Once you settle in, the vice leader speaks up.

“I could strangle you in your sleep,” he threatens in a low voice.

You raise an amused eyebrow. “You could but you won’t.”

“Why do you think so?” Jade questions. 

“I’m more entertaining alive than dead or hurt,” you answer with confidence. 

Burrowing yourself into the covers, Jade hums. “You have no sense of self-preservation.”

“Maybe I’m just good at picking people,” you reply.

“You have strange tastes,” he responds. 

“If I have strange tastes, then you’re a hypocrite,” you retort with a smile. 

Turning toward the wall, you let sleep overtake you.

————————

You’re a light sleeper. Thankfully, you’re only interrupted a few times. It’s better than sharing a bed with Grim. Unlike your cat companion, Jade is still. However, there are moments when you regain consciousness.

You feel the Octavinelle student shift. He drapes an arm over your midsection, pulling you in. You feel his warmth against your back. Your breath catches as you try to calm your racing heart. Despite your previous bravo and nonchalant attitude, you feel attracted to the twin. You take deep breaths and concentrate on deciphering if Jade is asleep. It’s important for your analysis. After a few minutes, you conclude he is unconscious. You raise your eyebrows. That's a surprising and good sign. 

The stunt you pulled was a test. You wanted to see if Jade would cross any boundaries. He’s a wild card. You’re certain Floyd would choose his whims over your needs. However, his twin was more restrained or at least clear-headed during social interactions. 

Before committing to your romantic pursuit, you need to know if the other person respects you. It’s a key factor in a lasting relationship. You’re not interested in a fling. You want a long-term partner. Jade piques your interest and you want to know if he’s a good match. The sophomore passed the first test. In light of that, you reward him.

Gently flipping over, you nuzzle into his arms. The man is surprisingly warm. Before you drift into dreamland, you wonder if it’s an adaptation to the cold sea climate. 

———————————

Warm arms leave your side. You groan, grabbing onto Jade’s shirt. 

“What time is it?” you question, bleary-eyed. 

“6:30,” Jade states, stopping his retreat.

It sounds like he’s been awake for a while. You revel in the fact he didn’t move your positions. It’s another positive mark. You don’t let on to your thoughts.

“It’s way too early, but Scarabia starts walking at 8,” you grumble, “It’s one more reason to get back at them. However, I want to look good while doing it. I need to give off an innocent vibe.”

Your voice is still ragged from sleep and you slink your arms around Jade. 

“Innocent?” the vice leader questions, “After you tore through that poor soul?” 

“I gotta plan,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. 

Jade stiffens before tentatively relaxing. You resist the urge to smirk. The eel is intuitive. You appreciate a quick-minded and observant individual. It looks like the Octavinelle student is insightful enough to know that you’re up to something and to follow your lead.

You continue, complaining, “I don’t wanna get up.”

You keep it down, not wanting to wake up Floyd. Thinking about the room's other occupants, you peek past Jade to see the other bed. 

Floyd is sprawled out with the sheets half kicked off him. Grim lies on his chest fast asleep. You smirk. You have to take a picture of this, but the bed and Jade are comfy. 

You huff and scrunch your nose. Taking a breath of fortitude, you give your snuggle buddy one last squeeze, before slinging yourself over him. With the grace of a cat, you avoid getting caught in the covers and place your feet on the floor in silence. 

Unbeknownst to you, your chosen eel follows your figure with the eyes of a predator. 

Walking over to grab your phone, you pad to the left side of the room. You ensure the ringer is silenced before taking multiple pictures of the cute duo. When you turn back to Octavinelle’s vice leader, he’s half sitting up, gazing with a smirk. 

The teenager’s hair sticks up all over the place. You turn the camera to him and snap a photo. A smile is still plastered on his face but his head tilts, planning payback. You roll your eyes. You’re not interested in being a victim of the twin’s antics yet. Plopping beside him, you grab his shoulder and pull him closer. You flip the camera to selfie mode and take photos of you and the eel. There’s a soft smile on your face and an entertained smirk on Jade’s. Both of you look equally ridiculous and disheveled. 

“Now we’re even,” you whisper, “What’s your phone number? I don’t want you to think I’m holding this hostage. It’s only fair you have them too.” 

Jade raises his eyebrows, impressed by your smooth way of getting his number. He enters his contact info into your device and hands it back. With a few taps, you send him the captured memories. 

“We should get ready,” you sigh. 

“Indeed. Although, I don’t know how you’re going to pull off an innocent look,” he comments, smirking. 

—--------------

The Octavinelle trio, the Ramshackle duo, and the magic carpet enter Scarabia. The five humanoids are blasted by hot air.  

Floyd laments, “It feels like the middle of summer. I’m going to dry out at this rate.” 

You perk up, curious. 

“Are your body temperatures higher than regular humans because you all live in a colder climate?” you question. 

Azul turns to you, surprised. 

“Yes, we do. How do you know?” he replies. 

You focus on maintaining a straight face. Out of everyone’s reactions last night, Azul’s was the most entertaining.

“Jade was incredibly warm when we cuddled,” you reveal. 

The businessman’s eyes bulge out and he coughs. You clench your teeth, resisting the urge to laugh. The gentlemanly twin is unable to resist and enhances your performance. 

He puts an arm around your waist and confirms, “They were rather cool, so it didn’t bother me. Their hair also smells nice. It’s a mix of [whatever scent you like, but it’s very specific. Weirdly specific].” 

You’re torn between being flattered, concerned about how descriptive he is, and laughing at the fantastic response. The Octavinelle dorm leader stares at the two of you horrified and wary. Floyd gleefully cackles beside you. 

“Jade is down bad, and Shrimpy is making the moves~! No wonder Azul’s terrified. He just gained another of us,” the chaotic twin crows, bumping into you. 

Floyd throws an arm around your shoulder. The twins squish you on either side. They tower above you with mischievous and deadly smiles.

“I hope you’re not leaving anytime soon. You’re too interesting and my brother likes you,” the basketball player sings, “If you try to escape, I’ll have to squeeze ya.” 

You smirk back, looping your arms around their backs. You pull them in. They lean down, excited by the impromptu team huddle. 

“You’re much more fun to work with than I thought. As long as we’re all in agreement, I’ll stick around as long as you like. Besides, Azul’s reactions are more than enough to get me to stay,” you say. 

You gesture at the lone Octavinelle sophomore. His eyebrows scrunch, attempting to factor your brand of insanity into his plans. The house warden notices your gazes and glares at the three of you. 

He pushes up his glasses and declares, “We have a coup to stop, business deals to make, and a mystery to solve. Let’s get going.” 

The octopus spins on his heels and stalks forward. The eels and you straighten to attention, falling into your roles. As you walk closer to the elaborate building, Azul relaxes into his usual over-the-top attitude. He glances behind and finds perfect and docile assistants. You hear a sigh of relief. 

Eventually, you’re close enough to hear the Scarabia students from last night’s fight. They took your advice and haven’t told anyone. Putting on your best acting face, you pretend to look at the Leech twins in fear. There’s a mirthful sparkle in Jade’s eye and Floyd is ecstatic to see what will happen. Without waiting, he shoves you forward. 

“Go and tell them what you need to, Shrimpy,” the embodiment of chaos elogates. 

His voice catches the residents’ attention. They stiffen at the sight of your quartet. You make your body small and unthreatening. You put your arms close to your chest, strengthening the effect. You spare the school mafia one more hesitant glance. 

Floyd urges you in a threatening tone, “Tell them what you need to and make it quick.”

He puts a hand on his other shoulder, tilting his head. He wears the disconcerting expression of a wild predator about to snap. 

“Be grateful we’re allowing you to do this much,” Jade chimes in with a similar grin.

You hurry to the beat-up students and start apologizing. 

“I’m so sorry for what happened yesterday. I was scared you would take Grim and me. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. The person I should be mad at is the one making you do these inhuman acts. However, I can’t help but feel there’s something wrong with Kalim. He’s usually so outgoing and kind,” you start.

“I want to help your dorm. I need to make up for what I did and leaving you all to endure this torture isn’t right. As someone who experienced it first-hand, I want to stop this. However, I paid a heavy price to get some help,” you lie.

You slightly gesture to the Octavinelle trio. Based on the Scarabia students’ expressions, the mobsters are as intimidating as ever. 

You plead your case, “I’m getting Azul and the twins to help me investigate, but we need to make sure our cover isn’t blown. Please pretend you didn’t see anything last night.” 

You give a strained smile before pulling out a healing potion and presenting it to the student you hurt. 

You bow. “Again, I’m sorry. Please accept this as part of my apology.” 

Your ploy works like spreading hot butter on toast. 

“We’ll keep quiet,” one of them assures, “Thank you for helping. You’re doing everyone a favor. There are no hard feelings about your attack.” 

“Now that you mention it, you were the one who helped solve the incident in Heartslabyul,” another points out. 

“Oh my god, they were! Didn’t they also solve the slavery issue in Octavinelle too?” someone asks. 

“That must be where they became in debt to them,” one individual surmises. 

They rally around you, buying into your lie and creating a story for you. They believe you’re a saint sent from the heavens. They don’t doubt your intentions at all. 

“If you need anything, let us know. We’ll support you to the best of our abilities,” the last reassures. 

You give a shaky and appreciative smile. “Thank you. I have one request. If something weird happens between the Octavinelle trio and me, it’s all part of the plan. I ask that you not to give anything away or oppose what’s happening.” 

The Scarabia students immediately agree when Azul cuts in. 

“[Y/N], we need to find Kalim,” he dictates. 

You pretend to jump. You wave to your new followers and scramble back to your party. When you turn your back to the fools, you smirk at your fellow tricksters. Jade sends an approving nod as Floyd gives a joyful grin. 

A familiar voice comes around the corner. 

“It’s almost time for morning training,” Jamil warns, “Kalim will lose it if you’re la—”

The vice leader stops upon seeing the out-of-place sea folk. He narrows his eyes. Before he can say anything, Azul gives a signature business greeting. 

“Jamil! Good morning. How are you on such a fine day?” he questions with a lavishing voice. 

The Scarabia vice leader stares with a slightly annoyed and skeptical frown.

“Azul Ashengrotten with the Leech Twins,” he addresses, before asking. “What are you doing here?”

You speak up, “I brought them.”

Jamil furrows his brows. “Why?”

You move, allowing him to see Grim and the magic carpet. The brunette’s eyes grow wide.

“The magic carpet escaped. Grim and I were able to grab it just before it took off. However, it ended up dragging us through the mirror and into Octavinelle. They insisted we stay the night and return it together,” you start. 

Azul seamlessly takes the baton and continues, “We want to personally deliver it to Kalim. It’s a national treasure. If someone were to find fault with it and claim it was Octavinelle’s fault, I’d have no end of trouble.” 

Jamil purses his lips. “Kalim doesn’t care about something like that. You can give it–” 

“--There’s no need for you to pay the 20% labor fee for returning a lost item,” the dorm leader adds.

The whole crew chips in. 

“We heard about your training and wanted to talk to Kalim about it,” Jade comments. 

“We also brought seafood pizza,” Floyd drawls with a grin. 

“And snacks!” Grim adds.

“Anyway, I’d like to hand this to him directly. I assume he’s awake?” Azul finishes. 

After being pelted with rapid-fire statements, Jamil closes his eyes and denies the request again. 

“I’m telling you he’s in a bad—Hey! You can’t just walk in here!“

Azul strides past the protesting Scarabia student. Your party follows the Octavinelle leader inside. 

—----------------

“The Ramshackle Prefect informed us you’re training over the winter holidays. The three of us happen to be stuck at school too. Isn’t this a perfect opportunity to deepen Octavinelle and Scarabia’s bonds through joint training?” Azul suggests to Kalim.

The sunshine student lights up. “That sounds like a great idea! I’d love to have you over!” 

Jamil cuts in with a harsh voice. 

“I’m against it. Octavinelle is a rival dorm. It would put us at a disadvantage if we let the enemy come in and learn our tricks,” he advises, crossing his arms.

The wealthy teen looks at his subordinate with a relaxed grin. 

“‘Enemy’ is a bit much. Besides, didn’t you invite the Ramshackle dorm?” the sophomore points out. 

Jamil purses his lips. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he admits, before turning a stern glare onto the mafia trio. “I’m saying this for you as well, Azul. I know how much you value your grades.” 

The businessman sighs, looking downcast. “I suppose you’re right. We should make our way back. Good luck with your training.” 

The three of them turn around solemnly. You know what the next step of the plan is. They’re going to make themselves look pitiful. However, that wouldn’t be any fun. You can’t wait to see Azul’s facial expression to your next surprise. 

“Wait!” You stop them in a heartfelt tone. 

The trio glances at you, but you’re already looking at Kalim. You have a pleading expression. 

“Kalim, I’m determined to stay here until the end of winter break. Grim and I were thrilled whenever Jamil invited us. We are often stuck alone in our dorm, isolated. Scarabia is so lively and we’ve made great friends. We want to foster those connections, but…” you trail off. 

You mentally steel yourself and look at Jade. In your peripheral vision, you watch Azul stiffen and clench his teeth. Floyd gives the widest grin you’ve ever seen and Jade stares in amusement. 

“I miss my boyfriend,” you finish. 

You barely save yourself from laughing by breaking eye contact with Octavinelle’s vice leader. 

You continue, rambling. “It’s ok if you can’t allow that–” 

“No!” Kalim shouts, “I cannot break up a couple like this! Azul is one of the best mages at this school. If we let them stay, Scarabia will benefit. I’d sully the Al-Asim name if I turned you all away. Plus, I have to know how you got together.” 

Jamil is too stunned to retort. There’s a brief moment of silence where typically Azul would speak up. However, he’s too busy containing his rage and annoyance to do anything. 

Jade replies, heading over to your side. “Kalim, thank you. I’ve missed my significant other dearly during this time. You’ve done us a great favor.” 

Azul gets his wits about him and puts on a business smile. It’s slightly taut, but he retains his drama and butters up the wealthy student. 

“Yes, you are a truly kind and warm-hearted person! I will teach you everything I know,” he promises. 

“Floyd and I are happy to assist with any cooking and cleaning,” Jade adds, snaking his arm around your waist. 

You catch Azul glaring at the action before covering it with an elegant smile. 

Floyd chips in. “Yeah, we’re old pros from working at the Lounge.” 

“That’ll be a great help! Jamil won’t have as much work anymore. He already does so much for me,” the embodiment of sunshine beams. 

Jamil speaks up with a calculated expression. 

“I don’t need any help, but I didn’t know you were together. When did you start dating?” the vice leader drawls.

“I want to know too! You have to tell us everything!” Kalim jumps in. 

He urges your party to sit. You move in tandem with your “boyfriend.” Sitting close together, Jade puts a hand behind you and leans into your figure. You copy his behavior and rest yourself on his shoulder. The Scarabia house warden squeals at your intimate position while Jamil narrows his eyes, skeptical. 

On Jade’s left is a smug Floyd. He looks at Jamil with a confident smirk. He knows the two of you won’t break. Next to him, Azul regrets his life choices and plots to kill the two of you in private. 

“How did you get together?” Kalim questions with twinkling eyes.

Jade chuckles, “I caught an interest in the prefect after Azul’s overblot. They were the mastermind behind his demise and I had to learn more. I ended up finding them in the greenhouse one day. We were both looking for the same ingredients for potions class. They asked me a few questions and I mentioned my terrariums. They were more enthusiastic than I expected, so I showed my hobby to them. [Y/N] wanted to help. I wasn’t opposed to the idea, so we spent time together. We bonded over shared interests.” 

Jamil interrupts, “I can’t see you dating just because of plants. What other interests do you share? The two of you are quite different.” 

Jade hums, placing his head on top of yours. You take the hint and nuzzle into him. 

“You’re right. We do enjoy more physical activities.” 

Azul squawks, his glasses going askew. Floyd cackles, clapping. Grim glances at you with a complicated and borderline disgusted expression. Jamil’s mouth falls open at the bold choice and Kalim fanboys. 

You scoff, lightly smacking your chosen eel. “You didn’t have to admit that.”

“I know you like it,” he replies. 

Kalim continues the interview. “Jade, what do you like most about [Y/N]?” 

He gives a thoughtful look.

“They’re unassuming at first glance, but they’re an incredible strategist and tactician. They’re unpredictable,” he details. 

Jamil hums, “So that’s why you’re interested.” 

He turns to you and provokes, “I suggest you don’t place all your hopes and dreams on him. You’re just a passing fancy.” 

Your eyes widen, genuinely offended. Jade grips your midsection and wraps his other arm across your torso. He keeps his ever-present smile, but it has a deadly edge. You lean into him.

Jade responds for both of you. 

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” he comments, before turning to you. “I want to know what you find attractive about me.” 

A silent understanding passes between the two of you. You want to distract Kalim from Jamil’s comment. The Scarabia vice leader is testing you, but you want to smooth this over. 

In the back of your mind, you think that this dating simulation is going well. You’ll have to continue it for a few more days to gain significant data. However, the odds tilt in Jade’s favor. 

“You’re rather gentlemanly,” you start, before glancing at him. 

You let your eyes wander his face, before going in for the kill. You make sure everyone in the room knows what you’re doing. Your gaze drops from his eyes to his mouth. It lingers for a long time. You tear your focus away and look at Kalim.

“More importantly, he’s interesting. He likes to go along with my plans and I have fun with him,” you say, before adding. “His teeth are just a bonus.” 

Azul jerks forward, having been metaphorically K.O.ed. He glares holes into both of you. You smirk. The businessman’s eyes widen, disturbed. 

You furrow your eyebrows. The sunshine child explains what happened, clapping his hands.

“The two of you are in sync! You made the same facial expression at Azul. You’re fated to be together!” he praises.

You look at your partner with a satisfied grin. The Scarabia vice leader interjects again, displeased.

“[Y/N] is fairly open. Was there any reason you hid your relationship?” he interrogates.

You’ve been waiting for the question.

“Yes,” you sigh, “We thought Azul would disapprove. I was the one who planned his downfall after all. Unfortunately, we were right about his reaction.”

The Octavinelle leader whips toward you, his mouth open and his eyes filled with fire. You ignore him, continuing.

“It all came out last night. Floyd caught us making out. We tried to stop him from telling Azul, but you know Floyd,” you say, giving a helpless smile. “I’m glad you allowed them to stay, Kalim. I worried Jade might get berated if I didn’t return with him. Thank you. We appreciate it.” 

“Anytime!” the Scarabia student waves you off. 

The businessman cuts in to defend his honor. 

“To be fair, I’m mostly shocked by your union,” he states, pushing up his glasses. “I just need time to process. I’ll get used to this new normal eventually.” 

Kalim cheers, “I’m glad Azul is coming around!” 

The sophomore in question scowls. From the corner of your eye, Jamil frowns. The vice leader doesn’t believe you and that’s fine. He won’t catch you or Jade slipping up.

—---------------

You continue the fake relationship for that day, avoiding Jamil’s attempts to prove your lie. That night, Azul almost strangles all of you for the stunt you pulled. You’re quick to distract him. Eventually, Jade and you find the culprit behind Kalim’s “mood swings.” From there, the five of you plan. 

—--------------

You walk with Azul and Grim to Kalim’s bedroom. It’s early in the morning. You want to wake him before his vice leader does.

Azul stops and looks at you. He searches your eyes with a neutral and serious face. 

“Are you playing with him?” he questions. 

You tilt your head with a smile. 

You shake your head. “I’m not, but it’s pretty cute you’re worried.” 

The businessman crosses his arms, giving a light glare. 

“I don’t want my best asset to decrease his productivity because he’s in a slump,” he argues, “He’s the one who deals with social interactions. If he’s not at peak performance, he can’t follow through with my schemes.” 

You give an unconvinced look but don’t push. Instead, you answer the question. 

“I am serious about him. My bold moves at the beginning were mostly tests,” you reveal.

The sophomore pauses, confused. “What?”

“When I suggested sleeping with him, I wanted to see if he would do anything inappropriate or cross any boundaries. I wondered how he would react in a domestic relationship. I got a satisfying answer,” you explain, “The fake dating ploy is to see how well we work as a team. I knew Jamil wouldn’t believe us, so this also gauges how dedicated he can be as my partner.

“I look at romantic relationships like a group project. Two people work toward a shared goal of staying together and supporting one another. Both sides have to put in work to maintain it. It’s efficient to put candidates through trials at the beginning. I don’t want to invest in a poor product,” you chuckle. 

Azul stares at you, mildly impressed. He pushes up his glasses.

“You’re smarter than I gave you credit for,” he comments, “I’m sure Jade has a long-standing interest in you as well.”

You beam, elated. The Octavinelle student shakes his head before walking forward. 

“We have a plan to dislodge,” he reminds you. 

“Indeed,” you chirp, skipping alongside him. 

The businessman sighs, resigned to his fate of you and Jade getting together. 

————————

Everyone stands outside the dorm in the scorching sun, listening to the Octavinelle trio. 

“Skirmishes are good exercise and help relieve stress,” Jade informs. 

Floyd pipes up with his signature elongated vocals. 

“I wanna go wild too! Someone come fight me!” He giggles.

You jump at the opportunity. 

“I want to,” you volunteer, running up. 

“Oooh, Shrimpy’s offering to wrestle with me! Yeah, I’ll do it,” the chaotic twin agrees, “One on one though.”

“Deal,” you grin. 

You look at the Octavinelle’s first and second in command. Azul purses his lips but shrugs, accepting your death, while Jade is amused. 

When you turn away, your fake boyfriend’s eyes narrow, cutting into his brother. It’s a warning. His counterpart laughs. 

“I won’t kill them, Jade. They’re too funny to cripple,” the chaotic twin reassures, throwing his hands up. “I know they’re yours.” 

You glance at the calmer eel. He has a small smile on his face like always. 

“Just be careful, pearl,” he cautions you.

You perk up at the new nickname and nod with a hum. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, sweetheart,” you reply. 

Jade’s eyes flash with satisfaction before returning to normal. 

He chuckles, “I’ll let you and Floyd have your fun. Azul and I will manage the rest of Scarabia.”

“Let’s go!” Floyd chirps, dragging you to a section of sand. 

You take off your shoes and socks, knowing you’ll have a better grip if you go barefoot. In typical Floyd fashion, there’s no start signal. He just runs at you. 

You bend your knees prepared to take him before faking out at the last minute. Wind rushes past you as he misses. However, Floyd’s reaction time is quick. He wheels around to snatch you. You duck and slip under his defenses. You punch into rock-solid abs. The hit doesn’t deter him. You leap back, creating distance and space.

It becomes a game of tag. You deftly dodge, trying to find a weakness, as the chaotic eel runs after you. However, Floyd’s attacks are so randomized, that it’s hard to deduce a pattern. 

Then, your feet slip underneath you. Your eyes widen as warm sand meets your calf. Your opponent materializes in front of you. He blocks the sun like a reaper in a Wild West movie. Floyd shoots toward you. You spray sand into his eyes. The eel jerks back, making an odd noise. It’s a cross between a screech and a groan. 

You take the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. Before you can lock him down, he gives a frenzied laugh. The chaotic twin pulls his knees to his chest and kicks you in the stomach. There’s a burst of light as you’re sent flying. You skid across the sand as Jade roars. 

“FLOYD!”

In moments, the vice leader is by your side. He drops to his knees, checking you over. 

“Are you ok?” Jade asks urgently, “Did you get hurt?” 

You blink and shake your head.

“My stomach hurts, but other than that I’m fine,” you respond.  

Your romantic interest flips your shirt up to look where his brother hit you. Your eyes widen at the brazen action. However, you sober up as you watch Jade’s worried expression. There’s a tinge of frantic concern in his eyes. There’s no visible wound on you.

“There might be some internal injury,” he murmurs to himself. 

Your eel’s hands clench in the sand as he recomposes himself. They’re on either side of you, protecting you from Floyd. You tilt your head and you glance up at the other eel. He gives a sheepish smile. 

With one hand behind his head, he apologizes. “Sorry, Shrimpy. I used magic on you.” 

He waves his magic pen for emphasis. The chaotic twin looks like he wants to come forward and check on you too, but he eyes Jade. He doesn’t move. Your eyes spark and you glance at your fake boyfriend. You’ve read about Moray Eels, they tend to be territorial. You’re glad he’s already so attached to you. It’s a good sign. Your brain kicks back into gear, thinking logically.

“You used magic on me?” you clarify, “I just felt you kick me. Was there supposed to be some other pain?” 

Jade looks up, confused. 

Floyd tilts his head. “Yeah, I threw an ice attack. Are you not cold?” 

You shake your head. 

“No, all I felt was your kick,” you answer. 

The quieter twin hovers over you with a thoughtful look. You stare at him before catching onto his thought process. You call out to the embodiment of chaos. 

“Floyd, can you hit me with that spell again?” you request. 

Jade flinches. He gives a tight and displeased smile. You lean toward him and place a hand on his shoulder. 

“If I can nullify magic, then I can help you more,” you reason, “If Floyd hurts me, you’ll avenge me.” 

The eel’s mouth twitches upward. 

“I’ll be doing that anyway,” he responds. 

“That’s one of the things I love about you,” you chirp. 

You watch Jade’s breath hitch at the word “love.” However, he regains his composure in an instant. He stands up, offering you a hand. 

As the vice leader pulls up you, he instructs Floyd, “Let’s go somewhere a little more private.” 

The three of you move to a more secluded area to test your unexpected constitution.

—--------

After experimenting, Jade ushers you back to change. 

You meet in your shared bedroom again once you’re dressed in your typical outfits. In an instant, he’s all over you. He guides you backward until your knees hit the bed. You voluntarily sit down, looking up at him. The eel takes a moment to admire you in that position. Then, he loops his arms under yours and drags you into the middle of the bed. The vice leader drops beside you, pressing himself against you. 

“Please don’t do that again,” Jade requests, wrapping his arm around you. “Even though we found out vital information, I’m still going to have a long chat with Floyd.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the code word for beating him up.” 

The vice leader grins. “You know me so well, darling.”

You smirk before relaxing into his hold and staring at him. You take in his mismatched olive-brown and yellow eyes. The ones that turn up at the edges. Despite being in his dorm uniform, he’s ditched the hat on the side table. The one strand of black hair threatens to fall on his face. You catch him lingering on your lips. You smile.

“Once this is all over, will you be my boyfriend?” You ask while tucking the hair behind his ear. 

“Why wait?” Jade questions, pulling you closer.

“Think of Jamil’s reaction upon learning he’s why we got together. We’ll have a dramatic confession in front of everyone,” you respond, “Azul will be horrified.”

Jade responds with a shark tooth grin. 

He hums, “Yes, your plans are thrilling. However, as your fake boyfriend, I deserve some kind of reward for caring about you.”

“Of course.” You lean in to peck him on the lips.

Jade swoops in to deepen it but you slip your hand between you. 

“Not until the grand reveal,” you tell him with a smirk.

He chuckles, amused. “Alright, but I can still do this.”

He nips your fingertips, snatching your hand and kissing the inside of your wrist. Your eyes widen and you feel your pupils dilate. Jade smirks, snaking to your neck. He pries open your collar with his teeth and latches onto your flesh. 

You jolt at the slippery sensation. He moves on top of you to get a better angle. He slips his arms under you, trapping you. You don’t mind. The eel kisses and sucks the hollow of your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to maximize Jade’s access. You feel him grin, tightening his hold. 

You bathe in the pleasure and let your hands wander along his back. You run your fingers through his hair. The eel hums, confirming he likes the feeling. You feel a little mischievous and give a sharp tug. A puff of hot air hits your neck in surprise. It makes you shiver.

He bites down, hard. You yelp, gripping onto him. You feel his teeth break into your skin. The vice leader swirls his tongue along the wound, lapping the blood. You stifle a moan. The man perks up at the noise. He moves up your neck, kissing it gently. 

“You don’t have to hold back,” Jade purrs. 

You pant, trying to reign in your reactions. 

“What fun would that be?” You retort.

He huffs out a laugh, blowing on the shell of your ear. 

“I’d be delighted to slowly break you, my dear,” your soon-to-be lover whispers. 

You feel your ears and face grow hot from the action as you resist arching into him. You palm his jacket, trying to find something to ground you. 

“That sounds nice,” you admit. 

Jade is right next to your face, nuzzling it. You can’t hold back. You turn to kiss him when a hand blocks you.

“We have to wait until the grand reveal,” he teases. 

You cackle, flipping him over. He allows himself to follow your movements, gazing up at you with satisfied eyes. 

“You’re perfect,” you tell him.

“You are too,” Jade answers softly.

You gaze at him for a moment, basking in the moment. You peck his lips and move to climb off when you realize something.

“I should mark you too,” you comment before launching an attack. 

He chuckles, shaking his head as you return the favor. 

————————

You and Jade walk into the common room. Azul is sipping water when he spots you. His eyes widen and he sprays liquid all over Jamil. He chokes. The Scarabia vice leader shouts in disgust and looks in your direction. He immediately covers Kalim’s eyes. Floyd laughs so hard, he has to lie down. Grim looks at you in surprise before pursing his lips and reluctantly accepting. You have an inkling it’s because if you date Jade, he’ll get free food from Monstro Lounge.

“Jamil, why are you covering my eyes?” Kalim questions innocently. 

“It‘s debauched,” he answered, numb.

Azul yells at the two of you, “It’s 2:30!”

“Do you want us to do it in front of you?” You ask. 

The Octavinelle leader suffocates on his spit, shaking in rage and embarrassment. You give a full-force grin. You have no doubt Jade is doing the same. 

“We missed lunch. Do you have anything left?” Jade questions. 

You cut in with a skeptical hum. “I wouldn’t say that. We just had dessert first.” 

Floyd screeches in delight. Azul takes off his glasses and covers his face. Jamil stays frozen, disassociating from this unwanted scene. Grim’s nose crinkles in disgust. He crosses his arms and looks away. You can practically hear the mantra he repeats about free food. 

“What’s happening?” Kalim asks, pushing his vice leader’s hands off his face. 

Jamil doesn’t resist. The sunshine student spots you and grins. 

“It’s so nice to see you guys so open about your love for each other! I’m glad you’re so confident in your relationship,” he compliments cheerfully. 

You withhold a snort. Thankfully, Jade responds for you. 

“Thank you for your blessing, Kalim,” he replies before spotting some extra food and guiding you over. 

You scarf down a bowl of soup. Jade watches in amusement, as he eats slower. Then you watch Jamil and Azul head off together. It’s time to enact the plan. 

—--------------

Your party stands before Jamil with all of Scarabia behind you. The vice leader of Scarabia starts to lose it. 

“Me, my family… I don’t care what happens to any of it!” Jamil screams, before encanting. “The one you see before you is your master…” 

Your hackles rise but you don’t do anything. You don’t want to let on about your nullification ability. 

Jamil continues, “Answer when spoken to, lower your head when ordered, Snake Whisper!” 

A giant ripple of magic resounds through the dorm. It permeates every space, crevice, and crack. The vulnerable Scarabia students cow under the pressure of magical power. 

“Is—Is he trying to brainwash the entire dorm?!” Azul shouts in disbelief. 

Your eyes widen. You sprint toward Jamil, aiming for a weak point. Without flinching, he single-handedly takes you down, bellowing an order. 

“Take Kalim, Octavinelle, and Grim and kick them to the curb!” he dictates, “I’ll handle this one.” 

You cry out, as he twists your arm behind your back and presses down. 

“[Y/N]!”

“Shrimpy!”

“Henchman!” 

Then, your friends get accosted by Scarabia students. 

Jamil taunts Jade, “I’ll take good care of your princess for you.”

The eel sends him a glare before tearing through Scarabia students. 

Floyd growls, complaining, “These guys keep getting up no matter how much I squeeze them. They’re zombies.”

Amid the pandemonium, Kalim cries out to his childhood companion. 

“Jamil, stop already, I get it! You can be the dorm head and I’ll go home!” he begs.

Your eyes widen. That was a bad response. You glance up at the vice leader. When you see his face, you purse your lips. He’s about to overblot and you’re pinned beneath him. 

You take a deep breath and exhale through your mouth. Your heart pounds in your chest and your mind races. You’ve witnessed many overblots, but you’ve never been this close to one that’s about to happen. 

Logically, you know you’ll be safe from his magic, but it doesn’t make you feel better. You’re about to be locked up without any of your friends. You’ll be stuck with an unpredictable power-crazed maniac. 

You hear Jade speaking and you glance up at him. His eyes continuously flicker to you as he demolishes Jamil’s thralls. You reply with a strained and helpless dry laugh. His eyebrows furrow. He pushes himself harder. 

Your face drops when Jamil screams again. Your whole body tightens as you brace yourself for the transformation. The first thing you feel is sticky ink on your arm. You flinch at the sensation, cringing. 

Jade yells your name, panicked. Even through the crackle of magic, you hear him push and slam into people, trying to get to you. The air becomes more dense around you. You’re not affected by it but Jamil’s presence is enough to intimidate anyone. 

“You’re coming to save your lover? How amusing. I never like Kalim’s version of love anyway. He seems too invested in your fake love story. I’ll take [Y/N] for myself. I’m sure they’ll be a wonderful pet,” the overblot student provokes. 

You grit your teeth as rage flares in your eyes. He dares to call you a pet? When you have the chance, you’ll stab him in the back. You’ll take the time to set it up. You’ve become good at revenge plans since teaming up with Octavinelle. 

Jamil tosses you to the side, ordering a group of Scarabia students, “Take and restrain [Y/N].”

They grip you and you don’t attempt to resist. You stare straight at Jade with an annoyed and irritated look, signaling your intent for revenge. The eel raises an eyebrow. He’s still concerned and worried, but your expression relieves him of some of his worries. 

Jamil floats to the group before launching them into the sky with a huge show of power. 

“Jade!” You scream, horrified. 

They fade to nothing more than a dot in the sky. 

You take a deep breath. They’ll be fine. So far you’ve been lucky with these overblots. Everyone’s made it out ok. You pray it’s the same this time. 

You refocus on Jamil. Now, you must collect data, plan this man’s demise, and act. 

—--------------

The Scarabia students dress you in a tight, red crop top with matching harem pants. You’re accessorized in gold and a blue, almost transparent, scarf is wrapped around your shoulders and over your head. They lead you back to the common area. Jamil is sitting there in all his glory. His thralls cater food, fan him, and praise his excellence. When Jamil spots you, he smirks, gesturing for you to come over. 

You know how you need to act. The key was not laughing. During the past few days, you’ve become proficient in that skill. You hope your training doesn’t go to waste. 

Your guards escort you to him before backing off. You don an innocent and docile air. You tentatively lower yourself on the floor. 

“Thank you, Master Jamil,” you state. 

The Scarabia student’s eyes widen before a large smirk forms on his face. He leans forward, tipping your chin up. You comply with large, doe eyes. 

“It doesn’t look like you’re very loyal to your lover, [Y/N],” he comments. 

You lean forward with a worshipping gaze. You keep eye contact as you speak earnestly. 

“Master Jamil, you saved my life,” you lie, “I’ve been in debt to Octavinelle for a while. When they found out about Scarabia’s situation, they wanted to investigate. They forced me to follow their plans.” 

The Scarabia student raises an eyebrow. A look of satisfaction passes over his face. 

“I’m glad I was right,” he murmurs.

Internally, you laugh. Jamil just wants to be right. All you’re doing is feeding into his fantasy. As long as you tell him what he wants to hear, he’ll be none the wiser. 

His thumb moves across your cheek and you lean into it. Jamil’s eyes spark at the action. 

The man gave you a fantastic opportunity to make more contact. You need to be close to follow through with the plan. Internally, you chuckle. When you defeat the Scarabia vice leader, you’ll be sure to punish him most uniquely. 

—--------

You sit in Jamil’s lap, feeding him grapes. You giggle and play with his snake hair. The little creatures gained a liking to you. It solidified your thoughts that he’s a blindsighted fool. 

A lively and energetic voice bounces off the walls. 

“Jamil! You’re a cowardly traitor and I’m going to punch you!” Kalim yells.

You withhold your snort at the brazen declaration. It fits the true house warden well. You look over and find Jade. You give a wink. He keeps a straight face but there’s a look of relief. However, his eyes darken at your position. 

From beside you, Jamil is stunned. In a scratchy, otherworldly voice the overblot student speaks. Making sure he can’t see, you make a disgusted face. Jade looks placated for now. 

“I threw you so far into the desert. How did you get here so fast?” Jamil interrogates.

Azul speaks up. “Kalim used his unique magic, Oasis Maker, to refill a dried-up river. Jade and Floyd swam us here.”

Jamil sneers, “I thought Kalim’s unique Magic was nothing more than a way to splish-splash in a kitty pool. Who knew you would muster the power to fill a river?”

“I’m here to challenge you as the house warden!” The boy in question declares.

“No, I am the rightful leader of Scarabia. I’m much better than you’ve ever been,” Jamil states before getting up from his seat with you in his arms. 

You fake a small swoon and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves to deposit you a little ways away behind him. 

“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll exterminate these pests and be back,” the overblot student reassures. 

You nod submissively.

Jamil turns and flies at your companions. From behind him, you gag, dusting off wherever he touched you. 

“Your lover doesn’t like you, Jade. They’re rather pliant in my hands,” the Scarabia student snarks. 

Your eyes blaze with fire at the comment. The eel’s face tightens. 

With his ever-present calm and polite smile, Jade replies, “I’m sure [Y/N] will see reason when we defeat you.” 

“That won’t happen,” Jamil snorts, before blasting your friends with bloody burgundy magic. 

Light flashes across the room as the ink behind Jamil gathers. A towering humanoid snake rises from the liquid. Its face is a broken, leaking ink bottle with a massive Sultan headpiece. On the wrists are two matching golden cuffs. It’s his overblot monster. This is what the group needs to target. They have to break the glass. 

Carefully moving to the side where neither Jamil nor the entity can see you, you start giving hand gestures. The first one you give is putting an index finger to your mouth. Grim looks straight at you, confused. Thankfully your soon-to-be boyfriend moves to block your cat’s line of sight and kicks him. Your familiar gets the hint. 

Surprisingly, Kalim notices you but doesn’t give anything away. Floyd is on the same page. Everyone makes sure to not look at you directly or at least simultaneously. You begin miming your plan. 

When you finish, you see a spark of an idea in Kalim’s eyes. You raise an eyebrow. It looks like he’s planning something. However, none of the Octavinelle students can see it. You don’t mind altering your plans. You’re curious. 

You creep up on Jamil, coming behind the monster. You plan to dash past. You lower yourself into a sprinting position and wait.

Kalim takes a deep breath and nods. You take your cue and sprint. 

The white-haired boy shouts, “Do you know how this will affect your family?!”

Jamil stops casting, choking in rage. 

You leap, latching onto his head. All of his magic stops as you cover his eyes. Restraining his snake hair, your legs wrap around his waist. Jade dashes up, spins, and delivers a roundhouse kick to the side of his jaw. 

Jamil falls, unconscious. Jade catches you as the monster roars. 

The sound is cut off by shattering glass. Ink gushes from the creature’s face. It crumples and disintegrates to mist. 

You glance back. Kalim is standing there with his staff raised. He stays in that position, frozen.

The air clears to reveal the night sky again. The other Scarabia students are still knocked out from the amount of mind control power Jamil used on them. 

Kalim hiccups and collapses to the ground, sobbing. 

You give a sad smile. Standing up, you walk over to him and put a hand on his back. 

“Nice thinking, Kalim,” you tell him, “You gave us the opening we needed.” 

The crying student looks up at you. 

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know he felt that way about me!” the Scarabia leader wails, “I didn’t want to say that to him either.” 

Your eyes widen, not knowing how to deal with this. Then, you spot your out. 

You swoop Grim into your arms and carry him over to Kalim. 

“You better act like a good stuffed animal,” you tell him, “We both don’t know how to help crying people, but you’re much more huggable than I am.” 

Your cat is about to thrash at you before you add, “I can get you seven cans of tuna for free because I’m about to date Jade.” 

Your companion stills. 

“If you throw me to Floyd again, that promise doubles,” he conditions. 

“Ok,” you comply. 

You can use his wording against him. He didn’t stipulate if Floyd caught him on his own. Your cat needs to learn that to live with this crew. 

You deposit Grim in front of Kalim, who asks if he can hug him. 

“That’s what I’m here for. Just don’t get snot on me,” your magical creature huffs. 

The wealthy sophomore clutches onto him and weeps. You chuckle, watching the life get squeezed out of your familiar. 

You head to the Octavinelle trio. 

Before you can say anything, Jade reels you into him. He holds you close. You can feel his breath on your cheek. Beads of sweat drip down his face. You know he wants to kiss you, but he’s too committed to your upcoming stunt. Instead, he rips off the scarf and traces the hickeys he left. 

Azul groans, “Not again.” 

Floyd nudges Jamil with his foot. “When’s he going to wake up?” 

The Scarabia vice leader responds, moaning in pain. Kalim shoots up from the floor and rushes to his side, balling. 

The wealthy student is almost incoherent, babbling something about Jamil being alive. He helps the overblotted student sit up. The bruised and beat-up sophomore puts a hand on his chin.

“Who hit me?” he questions. 

“I did. I also want to thank you,” Jade answers.

Jamil’s eyebrows furrow. 

“For what?” he asks. 

The eel ignores him, turning to you with a smile. He takes your hand. 

“[Y/N], ever since you flew into Monstro Lounge three nights ago and pummeled that one student, I’ve been enchanted by you. From your bold declaration to sleep with me on the first night—“

“—You did what?” Jamil interjects, horrified.

Jade ignores him. “—to your fake dating scheme. They’ve been some of the most memorable moments of my life. Will you be my girlfriend?” 

Azul lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank god, I thought you were going to ask them to marry you.” 

You get an idea. 

“Of course, Jade. I’ve always thought you were interesting. When we interacted before Azul’s overblot, you fascinated me. However, it wasn’t until Jamil’s shenanigans that we connected on a deeper level.” 

You let the sexual insinuation sit for a moment. Jamil gags. You glance at Floyd with a smirk. That was the exact reaction you wanted from him 

“You should force him to watch this entire thing. Jamil deserves to be punished for his overblot. It’s not violent, so this is a perfect way,” you suggest with a sweet smile. 

The chaotical entity bounces on the balls of his feet and zooms at the offered target. 

Jamil grunts as Floyd catches him in a chokehold and forces his eyes open. The eel cackles directly into his ear, causing the vice leader to wince at the volume. 

“Shrimpy’s ideas are the best! You should team up with Azul to make even more hilarious schemes,” he chortles beside the Scarabia student’s face. 

You grin and turn back to your lover. 

“It’s all thanks to Jamil that we’re together. I love that we’re on the same page. I love how dedicated you are to our relationship (and schemes, you internally add, knowing he’ll come to the same conclusion). I love your willingness to try new things. In light of that…” 

You get down on one knee. 

Keeping your eyes on Jade, you hold your hand face up and demand, “Kalim, give me your ring bracelet. I’ll return it after I get a formal ring.” 

You hear an excited gasp and the jangling of metal. 

“Kalim,” Jamil complains, trying to caution him. 

There’s a hitch in his breath. 

“Let [Y/N] and my brother have their moment, Sea Snake~” Floyd sings, tightening his hold. 

From the corner of your eye, Azul grips his hair. 

“I hate both of you,” the dorm leader hisses.

Without missing a beat, you add. “You’ll be catering the event.” 

The businessman pauses. He straightens up, pushing up his glasses.

“I suppose that’s fine,” he concedes, “The wedding business is incredibly lucrative. The price increases if you put the word “wedding” before it.” 

Kalim claps his hands. 

“I’m glad Azul has finally accepted the two of you,” he cheers, before depositing the requested item in your hands. 

You take it. 

Looking up at Jade, you hold in a burst of laughter at the absurd situation. 

“Jade, will you marry me?” You ask. 

“Yes, my pearl.” 

You quickly slip the jewelry on before jumping him. You make a big show of making out. 

In the background, you hear Jamil protesting as Floyd giggles. You feel your fiance’s sharp teeth as his mouth forms into a grin. After about thirty seconds of twisting tongues, you release your hold. With red lips, you turn to Jamil. 

“You’ll be our guest of honor,” you tell him. 

He glares at you before Grim speaks up. 

“The only reason I’m agreeing is because I get free food from Monstro Lounge,” he states, crossing his arms. 

Azul is about to protest when Jade cuts in. 

“I can make that happen,” he confirms. 

You raise an eyebrow with an amused smirk. “You’re already sucking up to the in-laws.” 

He pecks you again. “You’ve successfully gained my brother’s favor. I’m only repaying the favor.”

“This is why I love you,” you sigh, smiling content.

“I love you too,” Jade replies.

————————

“Now, you may kiss,” the officiant declares. 

A cheer goes up as Jade grabs your waist and dips you. He catches your lips with his teeth. Jade lets go of the teasing bite to actually kiss you. He pulls you up, still holding on. You smirk and lean into him, recalling the last time you pulled this stunt. You kiss long enough for people to become uncomfortable. It was the trick from when you proposed after Jamil’s overblot.

In the audience, Jamil states, “I’m getting flashbacks.”

“It’s just like old times!” Kalim cries.

“You mean the lowest point of my life? Floyd forced me to watch them make out. I do not want to see it twice,” he retorts. 

You pick up more ambient chatter.

From the Ignihyde dorm, the in-person and shivering Idia asks, “Ortho, can we go now?” 

“We need to stick around a little longer. They’ve helped us out and they play video games with you.”

There’s a deep, heavy sigh before a familiar flourish of words overpowers it. 

“Beau! This is a gorgeous and fantastic match. The Trickster and Monsieur Mastermind. They’re truly a plotting and mischievous duo. I have no doubt their married life will continue to flower with time!”

“Rook, [Y/N] asked you to take their wedding photos. Why are you still sitting here?” Vil questions.

“I already took them!”

“…Why am I not surprised? Epel, did you steal food from the buffet table and bring it inside?”

A muffled voice responds, “…You’re not my dorm leader anymore.”

“Oh? So you think you can just get away with it?” Vil sasses. 

“Wow, they’re so cute! It’s a picture-perfect moment and they’re holding their pose. I can get in a lot of good shots,” Cater squeals.

“Trey, what flavor of cake did they order?” The former Heartslabyul leader asks. 

“The standard chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. Each tier has a different flavor. However, they had an interesting request. They want me to use Doodle Suit on a few people’s slices.”

“That sounds like them,” Leona butts in, “They’re always up to something. Even now.” 

“Shi-shi-shi,” Ruggie laughs, “They match each other perfectly—Oh, look, Jack’s uncomfortable. That means they’ll end soon.”

“Human rituals are so interesting,” Malleus observes, “It’s fascinating to watch one up close. Although, Silver is missing out.” 

“I’m sure he’ll see many more,” Lilia waves off, “I’m excited when they ask for my assistance again. They have a great sense of humor.”

Then your cue was given.

“CEASE THIS TOMFOOLERY THIS INSTANT! ITS UNDIGNIFIED AND YOURE SULLYING MALLEUS’ EYES!!” Sebek shouts, shooting up from his seat. 

The two of you break away with matching grins. 

From the audience, the green-haired man stands stunned that his demands were answered. Lilia cackles and pulls him down as Silver’s eyes blearily open. 

Azul comments beside your husband, “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends and then I remember how much money you make me.”

Floyd whines, “I’m sad it wasn’t more interesting. You’ve already used that trick before.”

“The night isn’t over yet. There will be more,” Jade replies with a smirk. 

The other eel perks up. 

From behind you, Deuce pipes up.

“Sebek could’ve come in sooner,” he sighs.

“I’m not surprised he didn’t realize he needed to yell,” Ace snorts next to him, “He’s as dense as a brick.”

“Henchman! I want food!!” Grim demands. 

You laugh and follow his orders, hand in hand with your husband. 

[angelesca]

d d d d dddd d DATING ANAXA HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️ bc im proper insane, bonkers even (oh blimey she escaped the asylum again)

full art plug here😎

did i draw this and imagine a million scenarios during it? yes. yes idid. this post is the result. btw havent played 3.1 so here are my wrong headcanons (more mischaracterisation? love that) (w/ gnreader as usual!) bc i love my men bratty and smart. WARNING!! i broke my sfw rules for anaxa LMAOOO💔💔mix of sfw + NSFW ahead guys look OUT ITS NOT A DRILL THIS IS HAPPENING AAAAA😭🙏

starting off strong. i ant hold it in anymore ANAXA'S EROGENOUS ZONE IS UNDER HIS EYEPATCH🗣️🗣️🗣️ I HAVE SPOKEN MY TRUTH‼️THIS IS WHAT MADE ME QUESTION MY SFW STATUS I CAN FINALLY RELEASEMY DEMONS

i imagine he lowkey loves it when you have your finger under his eyepatch and. penetrate it. into his cosmos space thingy. and like he breathes really heavy, flushed cheeks, some tears, def some stifled moaning, and will hold your wrist to nudge your finger further in. basically bro is getting off to it. will clean your finger with his tongue after the session, but you have to help him walk around since his legs are deffo jelly after that DO YOU GUYS SEE WHAT IM SEEING PLEEEEASEEE SOMEONE WRITE THIS DONT MAMKE ME DO ITTT😭😭😭😭😭🙏🙏

EDIT: ANAXA HAS A "G-SPOT"/PROSTATE IN HIS SPACE CHEST🗣🗣🗣

WILL TAKE OFF HIS RINGS AND PUT IT ON YOUR FINGERS RAAAAAAAAAAH and he def teases you by sliding it on your ring finger, gauging your reaction as he smirks (that sly sod omggg)

"hmm, this finger looks a little lonely... i could change that."

interlaces his hand with yours to stretch it, like a massage. knows all the pressure points to help de-stress you

uses his wind powers to do fun magic tricks and play with you like imagine he only has to flick his finger and the wind pulls you closer to him HUUUUUUUUUUU SICKCCKKKK. will also blow a calm, soft breeze if you need to relax and take your mind off things.

literally gets a kick off of flustering you (it's his love language) every time you ask him why his response is: "so? don't like it?" mans not embarassed💔

if you have any texting habits, like sending cute stickers or kaomojis, anaxa will copy it bc he thinks its cute and amusing. always replying to your messages, although the same can't be said with the chrysos heirs who nag at him for ignoring theirs

anaxa: where are you? i've been waiting for ages ┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴ you: ??? that's my kaomoji??? anaxa: ours now anaxa: (҂` ﾛ ´)︻デ═一 you: ＼(º □ º l|l)/

idk why i feel this so strongly but anaxa just does many smaller kisses, like pecks to the cheek. kinda playful, fleeting but always returning. i also feel like he's a neck kinda guy, always brushing his fingers along it or placing kisses. will secure you in place with a hug just to kiss the nape.

even though you two are together, anaxa will still give you stinky side eyes. loves to hear your gossip for sure, he doesn't say it but he loves chatting shit about others. will be the quietest ever when you have juicy stories.

will flame anyone who has made you upset to bits and pieces. bro's mouth is like a machine gun

likes to tilt your chin, moving it so you face him whenever he wants your attention.

he likes it when you take control, that brat taming typa shiii brooo00 he likes it when you rough him up, always a cheeky grin on his face. prods you as well, like "is that it?", "c'mon, harder my love..."

loves when you give him hickeys, or any markings like scratches. its like staking your claim on him and he fw with that😎

one sure way to get him flustered is straight up telling him "i love you". it forces him to confront his feelings head on and anaxa can't deal with that. will lightly flick your forehead, or anything to stop you from staring at his reddened face.

a/n: so. this is what happens whne im menstruating. how we feeling guys. it was jsut a few very insane headcanons tbh, the rest were fine, bit of an overreaction looool this is tame in comparison to my ao3 works. my god i need my daily cuppa where is it. this reminds me of when i was a wee teenager and experienced akechi from p5 for the first time. changed my trajectory fr. thanks akechi goro u saved ruined me

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[nightsandrewrites]

Illyrian Males Pt. 2

Pairing: Cazriel x Reader

Summary: You navigate a new mating bond, while Cassian and Azriel reveal things they've been keeping from you...

Word count: 8.9k

Warnings: Smut, BDSM, depression, self sacrifice, use of Y/N

a/n: I had a block on this for the longest time, unsure where I would take a part two but it finally fell into place. This is darker than the first part, buckle up friends.

Part 1

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The paperwork pulls in and out of focus in front of you. You rub the palms of your hands into your eyes and let them drop to the table with a sigh. It’s no good, you’ve been sitting here for far too long and nothing is getting done. You shove the papers away and pull one of the library's heavy books towards you.

“Y/N I’ve been looking for you.” Rhysand appears from the shadows of the bookshelves. “Well, you found me.” You smile up from the dusty tome. “Tell me that you’ve come for something far more interesting than this.” You gesture to the work spread out before you.

“I think so.” He smirks and takes a seat opposite you. “I’ve just received word that most of the female Illyrians in Windhaven have agreed to start training.” “What!” You shout and then shrink back as you recall the quiet sanctuary of the library around you. “What do you mean? Who convinced them?” “You did.” He reaches forward and starts flipping idly through one of the books on the table “Apparently the group you were headed to see in the cottage the other week witnessed that trainee lunge at you and then watched you take him down. Seeing your quick reaction and ability to defend yourself convinced them.” He straightens a little then and starts glancing around your small study space between the shelves. “That’s amazing, I’ll start working with Cassian on a training plan.” You start searching for a pen so you can jot down some ideas. “Hopefully when their training begins news will start spreading to the other camps and we can get those females involved as well.” “Speaking of Cassian.” Rhysand leans forward onto his forearm “Why do you smell like my General?” He grins wickedly at you. “And my Spymaster for that matter.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Well, I-, actually what I-” you were sure the blush now tinged your neck and the tips of your ears. “Relax” Rhysand leans back in his chair “It’s none of my business.” He begins picking invisible lint from his shoulder and you smile softly at his little ways of making you more comfortable. You take a deep breath. “Actually you should know.” You exhale to steady yourself. “I was hoping that Cass and Az would be here when you found out, but I’d rather not leave you to jump to your own conclusions.” You glance up to find his eyebrows raised in a ‘who me?’ fashion. “I know that they are mates and, well, I am also their mate.” You bite your lip waiting for his response. His eyes widen in surprise for all of three seconds and then he leans forward on clasped hands. “A triad bond huh.” He reaches a hand into the air, materialises a book from nowhere and begins flicking. “Extremely rare, I’ve actually never met someone in a triad before. I wonder if there are any additional benefits or detriments when compared to a regular bond.” he begins rambling “Of course I’ll mask your scent” Without looking up he clicks his fingers and you feel a ripple of his power wash over you. “You three will make an excellent case study, of course if you’re willing to answer some questions, nothing too personal obviously.” “Wait, you can mask my scent?” You ask. “Of course, who do you think has masked the scent of those two all over each other for centuries? You’ll be able to scent each other but it keeps it covered for others. It’s a tiny piece of my magic, a good way to keep burning it off really.” He replies without looking up from his new research.

“We decided to keep the bond a secret for now, if you’ve been doing it for them why wouldn’t they get you to do it for me right away?” You try to control the level of your voice. Rhysand looks up at you with a levelled stare.

“Y/N, they may be two of the greatest warriors to ever grace the Illyrian legions but they’re still males.” You cock your head to the side trying to understand. “They’re being territorial. They want you to smell like them. Even though it’s stupid and risks the bond being exposed.”

“Oh.” You sit back and feel the blush that just started to fade reappear across your cheeks.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You walk into your room and find Cassian waiting in the armchair you keep in the corner.

“Finally, I thought I would have to come pull you from the library myself.” He jumps up and scoops you into his arms as your feet leave the ground.

“I got caught up with Rhysand.” You explain as you dip your head down and place a soft kiss to his lips. A flurry of jealousy washes down the bond.

“Really? Rhys?” You raise your eyebrows at him as he sets you back on your feet.

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Mating bond is still chaffing a little bit.” He runs a hand through his dishevelled hair as he ducks his head.

“Well he knows now, about us I mean.” You gesture awkwardly between the two of you.

“You told him?” He smirks mischievously.

“I didn’t have to, he was curious to know why I smelt like you and your mate” You smack him lightly on the shoulder as you push past and dump your bag at your desk. “Why didn’t you tell me about the scent masking?” 

“Honestly it slipped my mind.” He shrugs. “It’s not like we’ve really left the house so the secret's still safe.”

He crosses the room towards you until you're forced to lean back into the desk to look up at him.

“Also is it so bad that you smell of me and our mate?” He dips down and begins to brush his lips along your neck.

Right. Our mate. The one who’s become increasingly distant. Who trains longer and stays in his study later into the night. The one who let Cassian take over your blade training after one small disagreement.

You drop your head to Cassian’s chest and let a small sigh escape your lips. He lifts your face with gentle fingers under your chin.

“This is about Azriel?” His dark eyes flick between yours.

“What if he’s disappointed Cass? What if he regrets accepting the bond?” You can feel the tears forming in the back of your throat.

“Trust me baby. He doesn’t regret it. He’s just…” His gaze falls to the middle distance above your head, searching for the right words.

“Pushing me away?” It had only been a few weeks and whilst things between you and Cassian had never been better the opposite was true for Azriel. Of course the three of you had fallen into bed together numerous times since the bond clicked. But you couldn’t help but feel like he was only going along with it all for Cassian’s sake.

“Listen, Az and I have been mates for a long time.” He brushes his fingers along your cheek. “We found a way of… managing our relationship. He’s just still trying to figure out how you fit into that.”

“He gave up my training. He no longer visits the library in the afternoons. He stopped consulting me on intel.” You pout not convinced by his words.

“Let me show you something. Do you trust me?” A wicked grin appears on his face.

“Of course.” You straighten, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eye.

“I need you to block out your bond to Azriel. Just like you’ve been practising.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian trails his fingers down your bare ribs, your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you as you focus on keeping the shield in your mind in place.

“Good girl, now if you need me to stop at any point I want you to use the safe word.” He murmurs into your skin as he leaves soft kisses along your hip.

“Safe word?” You squirm a little, eager to have him pay attention to the ache between your legs.

He smirks up at you and though you’ve been bare before him so many times now it still sends a flush across your skin. “A safe word is for whe-”

“I know what a safe word is Cass!” You smack his shoulder for the second time today. “What’s the safe word?”

“Stardust.” He murmurs and then immediately licks a stripe up your core, flicking your clit with his tongue. You throw your head back against the pillow and let out a soft moan.

You’d had lovers before but had never quite found you enjoyed receiving oral the way you did with your thighs wrapped around the head of one of your mates. Their tongues devoured you in ways you’d never experienced before, soft where you needed, hard where it counted and always so warm.

Cassian quickly works you to the edge and you swear small white spots begin to swim behind your closed lids. You feel your core begin to tighten as Cassian quickly pulls away.

You let out a small whine and glare up at him as he holds himself over you, grinning like an idiot.

“Still have that wall in place sweetheart?” He cocks his head to the side. You quickly check the shield between you and Azriel is still in place.

“Yes, but why did you stop?” You pout.

“Good things come to those who wait.” He chuckles, leaning down, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. He kisses you softly, slowly, savouring the moment and you can taste yourself on his lips. Soon his fingers find your sensitive clit and your hips unintentionally grind up to meet his movements. Your hands grab at thick biceps covered in Illyrian swirls, giving you purchase for more movement. You pant in soft moans as Cassian kisses down your chest, reaching a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He quickly works you to the edge again. 

“Oh god, please” You whine at his assault.

He leaves one nipple to nip at the tight bud of the other and just when you feel like you could shatter he pulls his hand away. “Cass” Your voice a soft whimper at your lost pleasure.

“Do you need me to stop baby girl?” His voice is a soft gravel, almost daring you to ask him to stop.

“No, I need you to not stop.” You give him a small shove and he tumbles to the side pulling you on top of him as he spins.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m giving you exactly what you need.” His eyes sparkle with mischief but you don’t have time to question it as he guides your hips down onto his length. Your head tips back gently with a moan as you adjust to the stretch of him.

It could be centuries and you’d never get used to the feeling of him entering you. His thick length slides into you, filling you completely. You begin to rise on your knees, aching for the friction of him inside you.

“Mmmm, ride me baby, I’m all yours.” Cassian pants beneath you, his eyes screwed shut savouring the feel of you wrapped around him.

You plant your hands on his chest, bouncing up and down as his hips roll to meet yours. Already worked to the edge twice, you can feel the coil tightening inside of you. A series of small whimpers escape your lips as Cassian palms at your hips and your chest. You can feel his head drag across your soft walls, building pressure exactly where you need it. Suddenly Cassian is  coming with a groan. His fingers digging tightly into your hips as you feel him pulse inside you. You bite your lip unsure what to do. You're glad you could bring your mate pleasure but he’d never finished before you, Hel these males usually made you come undone twice before they were finished with you.

“Relax baby girl.” Cassian reaches up and releases your bottom lip with a gentle swipe of his thumb. “I said I’d get you what you needed and I meant it.”

He reaches across the bed to his discarded shirt and begins pulling it over your head.

“Keep that shield in place and go find our mate.” He gives you a wink before helping you off the bed with a small smack to your ass.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

You pad down the hall towards Azriel’s office. The soft glow of the rising moon outside reminding you that you were still yet to eat. And you were hungry, famished, but for something that no food could satiate. Your shadow slides along the wall catching your eye and you wonder what kind of picture you paint right now. Bed tangled hair, Cassian’s oversized shirt falling off one shoulder and his cum slowly sliding down your inner thigh.

You reach Azriel’s door, hold your breath a little and push it open without knocking. He’s bent over his paperwork, hair tousled slightly from running his hands through it, wings slouching a little behind him. At first he doesn’t look up from his work.

“I’ll be just a few more minut-” You see the moment your mingled scents reach him. His whole body stiffens, his head snaps up to take you in, his pupils blow wide like a predator that’s just spotted its favourite prey and the pen in his hand snaps in half.

He moves faster than you've ever seen and has you pinned to the wall in a second.

Azriel leans forward and whispers across your neck “I was wondering what you two were up to when the bonds cut off.”

You can’t even form words as Azriel consumes every sense. His warm body pressed against yours, his right leg nestled against your core. His scent sends your brain into overdrive and all you can manage is a small whimper as you roll your hips against his thigh.

“I can smell his seed on you sweetheart, did he not satisfy you enough?” His voice is deep and rumbling. His wings are flared out behind him blocking you from the empty room as his shadows make agitated swirls along his wings.

“Please Az, he didn’t let me.” You grab the front of his leathers pulling yourself closer to him as your hips continue to find friction on his thigh.

Azriel freezes. He becomes so still you wonder if he’s even breathing. You pull back and find that his eyes are almost completely black, his shadows have slowed to a crawl behind him, like a snake coiled for attack. A shiver runs down your spine as you realise you're staring into the stone cold eyes of the Night Courts Spymaster. You silently berate yourself for wanting him more for it.

He pushes off the wall and you instantly miss the feel of him against you but he slides his fingers around your wrist as he pulls you from the room.

“I’m going to fucking kill him, I swear.” He snarls as he leads you back down the hall to your room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Azriel turns to enter the bedroom one of his shadows snaps out and wraps itself around Cassian's neck. 

“You wanted my attention?” Azriel curls his free hand into a fist and the shadow tightens around his airway. Cassian sits up in the bed and attempts to pull the shadow away, struggling for air.

“Now you have it.” Azriel snarls, dropping your wrist and striding towards the bed.

“Az don’t hurt him!” You cry out and try to tug Azriel backwards.

The shadow loosens but remains looped around Cassian's neck. He pulls in gasping breaths that match Azriel's heaving chest as he towers over the end of the bed.

I’m okay baby girl, he’s not going to hurt me. Cassian’s gruff voice enters your mind.

Y/N you should go clean up while I deal with him. With the bond now open Azriel’s cool tone slides into your mind as well.

But- You begin a little unsure but you’re quickly interrupted.

She knows the safe word, she doesn’t have to go anywhere. Cassian sits up straighter glaring at Azriel in challenge.

More of Azriel’s shadows begin to crawl along the bed.

Why does she know the safe word? Azriel seethes.

You stand frozen watching the back and forth between them.

Well I wasn’t going to edge her without the safe word was I? Cassian cocks his head to the side and you swear you see a vein pop in Azriel’s neck.

Azriel spins and you duck a little to avoid his outstretched wings.

“How many times?” His dark eyes now fall to you.

Cassian replies before you can “It was onl-”

The shadow around Cassian’s neck slides onto his face, gagging him. Other shadows pounce from the mattress and swirl around his wrists pinning him down.

“I swear to the Cauldron if you fucking speak again.” Azriel growls over his shoulder. He stands before you, the picture of death. Dark wings splayed across the room, hands balled into fists, muscles strung tight. And you're surprised to find your voice does not waiver as you reply.

“Three times.”

“Y/N it’s up to you if you want to stay or go.” He nods sharply and turns back to face Cassian, giving you the opportunity to slip out of the room without a fuss if needed. Instead you slip past him, climb onto the bed above Cassian’s head and rest against the headboard. Both their eyes trail your movements before Azriel’s land on Cassian again.

“So you think you can take pleasure from my mate and leave her unsatisfied?” Azriel begins loosening the top of his leathers as he paces around the bed. He reaches for the sheet that is still covering Cassian’s bottom half and whips it away.

“Figures you’d be hard again, you always were a fucking whore. Maybe you’ve lost your touch? Couldn’t keep it up long enough for Y/N to get off?” He breathes a sinister chuckle.

A low growl ripples through Cassian’s chest, still gagged and bound by shadows, at the insinuation.

“Would you like to help me teach him a lesson love?” Azriel questions you as he removes the top half of his leathers and undershirt sending muscles rippling.

Your mouth is watering at the sight of him and it’s all you can do to nod dumbly as you reply “Yes please.”

Azriel’s eyes spark in surprise and then the mattress dips beside you as he leans towards you.

“Show me how he used you sweetheart.” His fingers brush gently down the length of your jaw.

You send the images flickering down the bond – of Cassian’s mouth on you, his hands bringing you to the edge and finally of you riding atop him.

Azriel’s eyes are completely black as they flick between yours. Wordlessly he reaches for you and pulls you into his arms. Cut him off baby girl. His deep voice curls in the back of your mind as his soft lips brush against yours. You do as he says, lifting a shield between your mind and Cassian’s.

Cassian’s throat rips open in snarls from where he lays on the bed with the two of you kneeling before him. Your eyes flick across to him, your heart constricting at his distress and you immediately want to reach out to him.

He’s okay. Azriel’s fingers find their way under your chin turning your attention back to him. He’s just swearing at me profusely for cutting him off. First I want to take care of you. He begins to trail kisses down your neck. Then we can deal with him.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian watches from the top of the bed as Azriel positions you on all fours. You’re faced towards him, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. Cauldron he wishes he wasn’t bound right now.

Give her back. Cassian growls down the bond at Azriel. Furious he’s been shut out from your mind, from your emotions, with you so close.

You can have her back when I think you deserve it. Azriel snarls as he slides into you from behind. Cassian watches your breath catch, feels you clench at the sheets beneath them and he’s slowly going mad. He struggles against the shadows that pin his wrists to the bed and attempts to shift the shadows that bind his mouth. He’s never been so close to safe wording before. Your proximity but infinite distance pulls and frays at every instinct he has.

Azriel has set a hard and fast pace, bringing you to the edge that Cassian refused to tip you over. And as you come undone with panting whimpers, Cassian bucks his hips into the air with a muffled groan, failing to find the friction his leaking cock is begging for.

Azriel slides out of you, cock still hard and glistening from your release. That’s how you pleasure my mate Cassian. Azriel’s growl filters through the bond.

Fuck you, she’s mine too. Cassian bites back, the only way he can right now.

Oh no, I think I’ll fuck you. He smirks darkly. Eventually.

Azriel gives you a small nod and you crawl forward towards Cassian, and Hel if he was standing he would have gone to his knees at the sight.

Your plush lips wrap around his head and he throws his head back against the pillow, a groan escapes between clenched teeth. Fuck this might be all he needs to survive, forget food and water he’ll live off your touch alone if he needs to.

Your head bobs up and down his length and he can feel the pleasure building. Can feel his muscles tightening, ready to pump his release down his pretty mates throat.

Suddenly Azriel has his hand wrapped in the hair at the nape of your neck pulling you off him with a small pop.

“Good girl, that’s enough.” Azriel purrs into your ear before capturing your mouth with his, sliding his tongue along your lower lip.

Cassian’s chest rises and falls in deep pants. Release me now Azriel or I swear to the Cauldron I’l-

You’ll what? Azriel cocks his head to the side. You’re not really in any position to be making demands.

Azriel releases you then to lie back on the bed. He looms over Cassian, face hovering only inches away, wings flared wide behind him almost blacking out the room. You have a pretty face General, but I want to hear those pretty noises to match. He punctuates his remark by sliding two long fingers inside Cassian.

Cassian’s skin already feels like it’s on fire and Azriel’s assault on that spot inside him might just cause him to combust. He simultaneously wants to throw Azriel through the nearest wall and kiss his stupidly handsome face. Azriel hadn’t let himself take control like this since they had accepted the mating bond with Y/N and Cassian had finally found the right buttons to press -  Y/N’s. Now he was both reaping the benefits and paying the price for it.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You lay beside your mates as you take in Azriel at work. The bulge of his arms, the scars that litter his torso criss-cross with Illyrian swirls, the half smirk that graces his lips as he pulls whimpers from Cassian.

Azriel’s eyes are still clouded in darkness, wholly focused on the task at hand which now appears to be Cassian’s punishment.

Long fingers slide in and out of Cassian, stretching him open with every pass. You want to reach out to him, to open the bond and allow your emotions to mingle with his but you don’t want to go against Azriel’s command. This was the control that Cassian had alluded to. The side of Azriel they had kept away from you. The night you found out about the mating bond comes back to you...

‘ You don’t scare me, Shadowsinger. You let admiration flow through the bond along with your words. In a blink of an eye Azriel is crowded over you, arms braced on the sides of your chair.

Really? He smirks down at you in challenge ‘

Should you be afraid right now? Azriel hovers over Cassian propped on an elbow. One hand thrusting inside him the other pulling at the hair from the top of his scalp. He’s grinning down at Cassian’s muffled cries like he might just sink his teeth into his flesh to make him cry out more. His wings a flare out dimming the room and the shadows that hold Cassian down are joined by others that swirl along the bed, slide over muscled bodies, until they appear to be drowning in darkness. 

But Cassian doesn’t fight for the surface, his head is thrown back as moans of pleasure reverberate through his chest like he’d willingly give his last breath for Azriel to keep going. Suddenly you watch Cassian stiffen, his eyes shooting open as Azriel stills. You’re sure more violent words are exchanged between them as Azriel once again denies Cassian of his release.

Your skin tingles at the sight and without an ounce of fear, you realise that maybe you want to drown in the darkness too.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian’s eyes flick to you as you move across the bed but you keep your gaze locked to Azriel. You slide a hand across his shoulder and he rises at your gentle command, settling onto his knees. Your focus never wavers as you settle yourself across Cassian’s waist towards the shadowsinger. His grin is gone and he watches your every movement carefully. You let your eyes wander down his toned chest, watch his abs flex under your gaze before landing on his thick length. Azriel’s hard cock brushes his stomach, the thick vein running along the underside revealed to you. His cock hovers only inches from Cassian’s which is flushed red as you watch a bead of precum swell at the tip. With them both straining before you, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to take them both at the same time. To have them filling you, stretching you -

Oh sweetheart, say the word and your wish is my command. Azriel purrs. Your eyes flick to meet black ones as you lift yourself from your perch on Cassian’s chiselled torso, giving him the perfect view of your ass, before sinking down on his length. His hips make a feeble attempt to meet yours but Azriel is upon you, strong calloused hands gripping your hips and holding you down.

Azriel’s mouth captures yours, nipping and sucking at your bottom lip. His rough hands explore your body, sliding over soft skin and cupping your breasts. You let out a small whimper at the all consuming sensation of one mate stretching you open while the other runs expert hands along every nerve. Azriel pulls back, a short growl rolling from his chest.

“What’s wrong?” You pant softly. “He won’t keep quiet.” His eyes flick over your shoulder momentarily at Cassian. The lord of bloodshed was never one to go quietly, so you can only imagine what he’s throwing down the bond at Azriel right now. Azriel takes up your hands in his and places them on his shoulders. He leans forward, lips brushing your neck and murmurs “Hold on sweetheart.” Your fingers flex into thick muscle as he leans into you.

“You want more General?” He snarls over you before lifting Cassian’s hips slightly. The movement forces him even deeper inside you and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips. Without warning Azriel slams into him. Cassian lets out a muffled cry that you hope is more pleasure than pain.

“Is that enough for you?” Azriel chuckles darkly. Azriel’s large hands envelop your waist once more as he guides you up and down on Cassian in time with his own thrusts. You let yourself go, let Azriel use your body to pleasure Cassian as all you can focus on is your own. When you find yourself on the edge again Azriel’s gentle purr is there.

Drop your shield, let him feel all of you Y/N.

You do as he says, dropping your mental shield and finally opening the bond to Cassian again. A flood of emotion washes over you, of relief, anger, envy, happiness all swirling together but the prevailing sense of lust is all consuming.

Cassian’s emotions tangling with your own is overwhelming and that coil building inside of you snaps. You fall willingly into the dark abyss of your release. Seeing you reach your climax has both of your mates falling after you and soon the only sound in the room is the mix of panting breaths.

Azriel recalls his shadows and immediately Cassian claims you. He grabs your sides and twists you towards him, lips laying kisses to any piece of skin in his reach.

Y/N? Cassian’s low timbre reverberates in your mind, soft and timid.

I’m here Cass. You run your fingers through his soft hair, doing your best to calm him. Are you okay?

Never better sweetheart. His fingers trace circles on your back. Just need you here. Need you close.

Having the bond cut off had obviously taken a toll on him, like a carrot on a stick Azriel had dangled you in front of him the entire time.

You are far tastier than a carrot my love. I just need a few minutes to recentre. Also I’m afraid if I let you go I’ll make good on some of the nastier promises I made Az. His broad chest bounces beneath you with his chuckle.

Yes you were starting to get rather creative towards the end there. Azriel chuckles along with him. I’ll get you both some water.

Azriel’s weight lifts from the bed as you lean down and kiss Cassian softly.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

So, this is what you’ve both been keeping from me? You slowly trace the Illyrian tattoos along Cassian’s chest with your fingertips. He ponders the ceiling for a moment before responding.

When we first met Azriel at the Illyrian camps, he was untrained, never learnt to fly and had a darkness that trailed after him. His mouth quirks with a smile, obviously remembering the time fondly. However your bottom lip juts out in a pout, recalling why it was so in the first place.

After bein- Cassian paused for a moment After the childhood he had, having never known a sense of control, his untamed power would just take over. He ended up in twelve fights in his first week at camp.

Cassian leaned down, absentmindedly brushing his lips to the top of your head.

Shortly after the mating bond snapped we discovered a way for him to manage. An outlet that gave him full control when he felt himself slipping into the darkness. Everyone thought his new friendship and proximity to the future High Lord was the cause of the change. That he was now able to maintain focus, control and wield his power better than ever. Only Rhys and I knew the truth.

It was very generous of you, to become that for him. You smile softly.

Cassian breaks out into a deep laugh, the vibrations tingling your skin.

Oh no, it wasn’t generosity at all. He grins widely. My horny ass got me caught out after Az got in a fight with Rhys one night. His eyes went dark, shadows flying, solid muscle straining in flight leathers. He looked as if death came to walk the earth and I got fucking hard. He laughs again at himself. Az scented it and jumped me, Rhys couldn’t winnow away fast enough. I guess you could say the darkness called to me.

I think I know the feeling. You giggled to yourself. Cassian raised a hand to your chin, pulling your eyes to his dazzling grin still wide.

And that is why we are made for each other my love. He pulls you in for another lingering kiss.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel softly pads back to the bedroom with two glasses in hand. He’d stopped at his room to throw on soft pants and a light shirt even though he didn’t want to be away from either of you for a second. It felt strange not being the one comforting Cassian right now but he knew that Y/N was what he needed. Especially after he had made her withhold the bond. Azriel pulls his bottom lip between sharp teeth. He has to admit that was dark, even for him. But Cassian never truly wavered and that scared him a little. One day he was going to do something that caused Cassian to truly snap and there would be no going back.

Azriel reaches your bedroom door and takes in the sight of his mates tangled together. Y/N half sprawled over Cassian, hair fanned across his chest. Cassian’s hand resting possessively on your hip, holding you to him even as you rested in a state between sleep and awake. He doesn’t know how long he stands there taking them in. Gods they look like they were made for eachother. Like they were poured from the Cauldron in the same moment and have only now found their way back to each other. Both so beautiful, strong and filled with light.

He catches one of his shadows sliding along the bed to you both and his heart freezes. In your combined blooms of light his shadow is the thorny vine. The weed that is pruned as to not cause destruction and decay to the beauty.

Azriel stumbles back towards the hall. How did he not see it? For so long he thought the Cauldron had made a mistake in giving him Cassian. And of course he never deserved a second mate, especially not one as brilliant as Y/N. And now here was the proof.

Perhaps he was a placeholder until you and Cassian could meet? Perhaps he was a mistake altogether? Whatever the reason, he saw it clearly now. He didn’t belong between you, he was a burden to be shouldered and you both deserved so much more. You deserved each other. He slipped from the room completely.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s the suffocating warmth that has you rolling away from Cassian. You’re sure he runs ten degrees hotter than any normal being. You slide your fingers along the sheets searching for the cool touch of your shadowsinger, only to come up empty. You sit up scanning the dark room but don’t find a single shadow out of place.

Azriel never returned with the waters he promised and there are no glasses on the bedside table to suggest he returned at all. Cassian mumbles into the pillow beside you as you pull his discarded shirt over your head for the second time tonight. You swing your legs off the bed and pad down the hall.

You approach the dim light of the kitchen to find a note pinned beneath a blade on the kitchen counter. Panic begins to set in, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear a commotion down the hall and pray to the Cauldron that it’s Azriel who will appear to quiet the noise pulsing in your head.

But it’s Cassian who stumbles into the kitchen next to you. Sensing your distress he’d obviously lept from the bed only pausing long enough to collect his underwear and a blade.

“What’s wrong?” He pants eyes darting around the room, assessing for a threat. You nod towards the note on the counter not trusting your voice.

He approaches it cautiously, as if it could jump from the surface and attack at any moment. He pushes the blade aside, picks up the note and reads it in the time it takes for you to figure out how to breathe again.

You watch as Cassian’s wings fall. The tips dragging on the ground. He reads the note again as if that will change anything about its contents.

His hand falls and he steps towards you, handing you the note.

“He’s gone.” His low voice rumbles.

My love,

Forgive me. I hope this letter remains in one piece long enough for you to read but I can understand if you do not grant me such a privilege. I never thought I would need to say goodbye to you, as you are my home. But I can not jeopardise your safety, Y/N’s safety, any longer.After centuries my darkness still remains unpredictable and for so long you have been its balm. Somehow you have kept the shadows inside me at bay. 

But now my darkness threatens your new light. Y/N is everything you have always deserved. She is warmth, calm, serenity and whilst I wish beyond anything to bask in that light along with you I cannot take that risk.

I know I do not have the right to ask anything of you now but I beg of you to take care of her. Be her protector where I cannot, be the strength she needs and the mate I cannot be. Until my last breath I will be yours.

Always. Azriel.

“He’s gone.” You manage to choke out.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel scratches another line into the rough rock wall. Three months. It’s been three months since he left and he’s not sure how he’s still breathing.

Originally he planned to flee the Night Court entirely, settle far away perhaps on the continent. But he couldn’t bring himself to even cross the border.

He could stay close, he told himself. He could embody the shadows that are loyal to him, become a part of the darkness. From this small cave in the mountainside he could watch over Velaris, monitor for danger. Maybe one day he’d even have the strength to return to the city, moving between the shadows only to catch a glimpse of his mates on an errand. 

He could see it now, Cassian trailing after Y/N complaining about carrying all of the gifts you’d buy for Starfall. You’d give some witty reply and then stand on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek.

Starfall. It was tonight. Azriel’s eyes traced the sky as if he’d already catch a glimpse of those dazzling lights in the waning evening light. He’d never been apart from Cassian on this night, he’d never even had the chance to properly spend it with Y/N. But you had each other and you would be safe from him. 

He rubs at his chest. His heart straining behind his ribs, as if it feels betrayed by him, as if it will leave him here in this cave and return to his mates alone. Azriel takes a steadying breath and steps back into the darkness of the cave. He wouldn’t go back. They were better without him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You stood on the balcony of the eerily quiet House of Wind. On Starfall your home was usually a buzz of activity but this year Rhysand had moved the festivities to his river house to give you some peace and quiet.

But the quiet was suffocating as you stood alone. One mate was missing and the other…

Cassian had become a shadow of himself. After Azriel left he trained less, took on less missions from Rhys and eventually stopped leaving his room.

Every morning you bought him food, every evening you curled up with him and told him of your day but you could feel him slipping from you.

His once dark black wings had begun to fade to an ashy grey. On the days he dressed his sirens remained dull and lifeless. You were lost on what more you could do. You were losing him.

Tears roll down your cheeks and reflect the first tumbling lights of Starfall. An all encompassing sadness washes over you, your lungs becoming tight and it slowly becomes harder to breathe. It was as if your emotions were too much for one person to hold.

Your breath catches in your throat. It couldn’t be?

Azriel? You reach out.

After months of Azriel having the bond shutdown you didn’t realise when he’d crept back in. You try to reach for more but you feel his presence sliding away.

No. He had to stay. You couldn’t keep going on like this. You throw down the bond the one thing that might get him to stay.

I think Cassian is dying. You let out a sob. Azriel he’s fading and I don’t know what to do.

One moment you're watching the stars fall from the sky, the next they’re blacked out by a pair of wings high above you. The Illyrian drops sharply from the sky and lands heavily next to you, vibrations sent rumbling through the stone.

“Az?” You whisper.

Azriel straightens from his landing. He looks disheveled, hair askew, dark circles permanently embedded under even darker eyes.

“I know I don’t deserve-“ he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “What’s wrong with him? Was he poisoned? Injured?” He stares out over the balcony and you can see his jaw clench.

“You left.” You growl out.

“That’s not important right no-“ He snarls

“No! You. Left. Azriel. That’s what’s wrong with him.” You throw the images down the bond. Cassian slumped in his chair. Of his fading complexion. Wings barely lifted from the floor.

Azriel flinches at the sight. Then he finally looks at you. Tears welling in his eyes.

“I had to Y/N.” He swallows thickly. “My nature is literally the depths of darkness. I skate a thin line of control and I can’t afford to fall from that ledge now that there is you.”

“Az-“ You move to step toward him.

“No.” Azriel shakes his head and side steps further from you. “You don’t understand. Cassian is whole and good and light. He is the moon. And you. You are his stars. You are two of the same. Meant for each other.” He grips the balcony's ledge so tightly the scars of his hands bloom white. Your emotions are at war inside you. You are furious that he left, joyful that he has returned and heart broken that he doesn’t see himself the way you do.

“If Cassian is the moon and I am the stars then Azriel you are our night sky.” You move to him now, resting your hands lightly on his forearm. The note he left that night beginning to make sense. “Your darkness doesn’t dim our light, it’s the reason for our brightness. Your darkness is the blanket in which we rest, the sanctuary in which we relied upon.” You take a steadying breath.

You begin to step back, to give him some space “But if your heart does not beat for us the way-“

Azriel’s hand snaps to your wrist and suddenly you find yourself wrapped in his arms, your face burrowed in his chest. His lips brush against the top of your head.

“Do not. For a second. Insinuate that I don’t think of you both in every second of every day.” You hold him infinitely closer at his words.

Time stretches on between you as you stand in each other's arms. Eventually you pull back.

“I need to tell Cassian that you’re here.” Azriel releases you from his arms and immediately you want to go back to him.

“You will stay?” You ask wary that as soon as you turn he will disappear again.

He nods. “I’ll wait to see him.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The door clicks closed on Cassian’s room as you step back into the hall. You find Azriel there waiting for you.

“He said” you pause.

“He doesn’t want to see me.” Azriel finishes unsurprised.

“Yes.” You admit quietly.

“It’s okay Y/N. He’s always been a stubborn ass.” His lips lift in a soft smirk. “I deserve much worse.” His wings fall and he turns to walk back down the hall. You quickly follow not wanting to let him out of your sight.

He pulls a chair out from the dining table and slumps into it. Instead of taking a seat of your own, you move to stand between his legs. He welcomes you into his space, hands finding your hips as your fingers brush across a stubbled jaw.

“I want to stay.” He whispers, dark eyes meeting yours.

“Then stay Azriel.” You whisper back. Letting your fingers trail across his face, committing every line and freckle to memory.

“How will you forgive me?” He turns to brush his lips along your palm. “How will he?”

“Just give it some time Azriel. He needs to know that you are staying for good. That you are committed to this.” You can’t bring yourself to say that you need it too, but you can see in Azriel’s eyes that he understands.

You stand in peace for a moment. Azriel was far from forgiven but he was here, back in your arms, back where he belonged.

“I’ll take the dedication.” Azriel nods after a moment, as if all is decided.

“The dedication?” You take a half step back trying to read his face.

“It’s an old Illyrian custom, the greatest act of commitment of one Illyrian to another.” He stands from the chair and takes your hands in his.

“It’s a sacrifice I will make for him and for you. I don’t expect either of you to forgive me right away but it’s a start.” His eyes are determined as they flick between yours.

He brings your hands to his lips and kisses each of them gently.

“I have to go to Windhaven. But I’ll be back soon.” He releases your hands and goes to move away.

“Wait.” You put a hand to his chest. “If this dedication is so important why haven’t you or Cassian taken it before?”

“Cassian wouldn-” He pauses. “It’s an outdated tradition. It’s rarely completed anymore. But I promise Y/N.” He steps forward and places a light kiss to your cheek “I’ll be back.”

He disappears over the closest balcony and a sinking feeling won’t leave your gut. Azriel is desperate to fix things between the three of you. What if this dedication is dangerous? What if he doesn’t return because he no longer can?

Azriel had said it was an old tradition no a sacrifice, but of what? He said that Cassian wouldn’t… No. This is bad. Whatever this dedication was Cassian didn’t want it from Azriel, which meant it was definitely dangerous. And Cassian was in no state to stop him. You did the only thing you could think to do.

Rhysand!

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Rhys arrived at the house only moments later, his deep velvet suit twinkling with the lights of Starfall. Within the Night Court you could usually always reach him, but given recent events he had been extra vigilant of you and Cassian.

“I’m sorry to pull you from your family tonight.” You apologise.

“You are all part of my family. Is he okay?” Rhys tilts his head in consideration.

“Cass is fine. What’s the dedication?” You rush out.

“What? How do you know about dedication?” He looks at you with wide eyes and gods that cannot be good.

“Azriel’s back. Cassian wouldn’t see him and he’s gone to Windhaven to take the dedication. What is it? Is it another Rite?” The more you talk the whiter Rhys’ face becomes. And then he’s furious.

“That fucking fool.” Rhysand’s wings burst forth and he pivots heading back the way he came, to the stairs to the rooftop.

“Rhys?” You rush after him, taking the stairs two at a time.

“The dedication is an ancient Illyrian tradition. Usually performed by females.” His low growls echo through the stone stairwell. “It’s the ultimate act of submission of one Illyrian to another.”

Your stomach rolls at the implications. If the Illyrians no longer performed this dedication then it had to be truly barbaric.

“What act?” You pant out as Rhys reaches the door to the roof.

He turns to you briefly, “He’s going to remove his wings.”

You freeze. Your body literally locks into place at the top of stairs as Rhysand bursts onto the roof and takes flight, disappearing into the night sky.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t know how long you stand there, frozen in place. Azriel was going to remove his wings? Maybe they were already gone?

No. You couldn’t think like that. But why did he think you’d want that? Cassian wouldn’t want that, would he?

A thousand more questions run through your mind before your trance is broken by the appearance of two bodies in the sky above you.

Suddenly one body shoves away from the other and two pairs of Illyrian wings are silhouetted by the lights of Starfall.

Thank the Cauldron. Rhysand had reached him in time. You can hear their shouts of arguing far above you, but you can’t make out what’s being said.

You take the moment to reach out to Cassian.

Cass. You feel his warmth wrap around your mind. It always felt like being rugged up near a crackling fire when he reached for you. Azriel took off to Windhaven to take the dedication. He’s okay. Rhysand brought him back. All the warmth leached from your mind and you felt his side of the bond go cold. You let out a breath. You’d deal with that issue later, you could only handle one problem at a time right now.

Rhysand and Azriel were finally gliding back to the roof, both looking furious. As Azriel’s feet touch down you’re almost sent tumbling by a black blur flying past you. Cassian collides heavily with Azriel, sending his back slamming into the wall of the house.

Cassian, now dressed in full Illyrian leather's red sirens flaring brighter than you had seen in weeks, has Azriel pinned with a forearm to his chest.

“What the fuck are you thinking.” He snarls.

Azriel doesn’t even attempt to fight back, he allows himself to be held against the wall, wings flared on either side.

Rhysand takes quick stock of the situation like he’s seen this scenario play out a hundred times before and maybe he had. His eyes find yours and you give him a small nod, giving your thanks and letting him know that you’ll be okay. Rhys takes to the sky once again, returning to his family at the River House.

“You don’t get to reappear after three months and then take off to Windhaven for the dedication!” You’d never seen the fury in Cassian directed at Azriel before.

“What were you going to do huh?” He doesn’t wait for Azriel to respond. His voice raises as he becomes more desperate “Go through all that pain, retrain for weeks to adjust to the change in balance, just to rejoin a battle and leave yourself vulnerable? You enter a ward and you don’t winnow out! Did you think about that? That you wouldn’t be able to leave the ground anymore? That you wouldn’t be able to get out? That you wouldn’t be able to get her out?” Cassian tosses his head back in your direction. Azriel's eyes flick from Cassian to you and you can tell he hadn’t thought about it. That type of combat was Cassian’s forte. Those are the things that Cassian would always think about first.

“For what Azriel?” He lifts his forearm and slams it back into his chest.

“For you!” Azriel finally shouts back. “For you and for her. I would gladly deliver my wings to you on a silver platter if it meant you would even look in my direction again.”

“What?” Cassian steps back stunned.

“I left because I thought you’d both be better off without me.” Azriel pushes from the wall.

An image of you and Cassian tangled in bed together floods your vision and you realise it’s from the night Azriel left. You watch as his attention is drawn to one of his shadows crawling towards your resting figures and you know that's the moment he decided to leave.

You immediately answer with a memory of your own. With the conversation that directly preceded Azriel’s perspective.

He looked as if death came to walk the earth and I got fucking hard. Casian laughs at himself. Az scented it and jumped me, Rhys couldn’t winnow away fast enough. I guess you could say the darkness called to me.

I think I know the feeling. You giggled to yourself. Cassian raised a hand to your chin, pulling your eyes to his, dazzling grin still wide.

And that is why we are made for each other my love. He pulls you in for another lingering kiss.

You let the memory fade and you’re all brought back to the roof.

“You said we were the moon and the stars,” Cassian cocks his head in consideration as you step forward. And you already know you’ll have to fill him in on that conversation later. “But left to our own devices we burn each other out. You are the diffuser. You are the solace that cradles the light, that controls the burn.” You take his hand in yours, letting all the love and concern you have for him slide down the bond.

“If you thought she was made for me and I for her you were wrong.” Cassian’s voice is hoarse from the yelling. “We were made for you.”

Azriel’s eyes well with tears.

“And you walked away.” Cassian turns back to the house, all the fight now depleted from him.

Azriel bows his head in defeat.

“Cassian.” Azriel begs.

Cassian stills halfway to the door.

“I want to come home.” Azriel’s voice breaks.

“Then come home.” Cassian tosses over his shoulder before striding back into the house.

---------------------------------------------------------------------- a/n: So I think I'm incapable of writing a happy endings at this point, but Part 3 maybe?

taglist: @mira-says @thesunloveschips @georgiadixon @blackgirlmagicforever @samslittlespoon @pit-and-the-pen @wolvesnravens @bokukenmakuroo

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the series taglist ✨

[klausysworld]

Nothing but a Nuisance.

Being a witch in New Orleans wasn't exactly the dream when Marcel had a magic detecting teenage witch in his attic.

One tiny little spell set Davina off, had Marcel ripping heads off and hearts out. It was a little dramatic, even for me.

But, a girls gotta survive so I kept my magic inside and resorted to mediocre crap so that I could get some cash in this stupid tourist town.

Sitting in my little booth with my candles lit and tarot cards out usually dragged in a decent dozen or so a day, some locals were heavy believers too and would come back so often to get another reading.

But Klaus Mikaelson? Not my average customer.

Of course the news that he was in New Orleans spread like wildfire but I didn't need to be told to know it was him. The power rolling off of him set my magic on edge, forcing me to restrain it within my blood and keep it from boiling out.

Still, I kept myself steady and remained calmly seated. My eyes lifted to meet his, the flash of gold making the flames around the room dancing aggressively before I reined them back in.

He took the seat in-front of me, legs comfortably spread like a typical man whilst his hands rest in his lap and a brow on his annoyingly handsomely carved face lifted.

"How much is a reading, love?" He questioned and I swallowed thickly and shook my head.

"I don't read for-"

"Well now, thats a bit discriminatory, love, isn't it?" He cut in and I closed my mouth with a sigh. A hundred dollar bill was pushed before me and with annoyance more than reluctance, I accepted the cash.

Silently I took the deck in my hands and began strategically shuffling, letting the cards flutter together delicately over and over until there was no way of telling which was where. I slid the cards out face-down in-front of him and looked up, our eyes locking again.

"Select your three." I directed and with no hesitation his fingers plucked out three cards, keeping them within his reach as I tidied the rest away. I turned the ones he had chosen over and glanced over each one.

The Magician, The Emperor and The Tower.

I let out a little sigh, none of the meanings were much of a shock but he wasn't exactly going to enjoy them.

"Go ahead, describe the hell that is to burden us all." He muttered, slight amusement to his tone. I reached and tapped The Magician card.

"This one is in regards to your willpower, using what comes your way to its potential and combing it with your own power to manifest it toward what you truly desire. But It could also be leading you towards love-" My eyes flick up, seeing his eyes narrowed as though he were actually interested.

"I'm not interested in the relationship meaning to the card, love, what's the reverse meaning?" He asked, jaw a little tense and I didn't really want to reveal it.

"Trickery, it represents selfishness." I answer simply and he nodded, resting back in his chair as though that was the answer he was actually expecting.

"The Emperor?" He questioned and I shifted my attention back to the task.

"This card means authority, regulation, organisation and a fatherliness. The Emperor represents a strategic thinker who sets out plans that he must see through. He is a symbol of the masculine principle. It comes with responsibility of giving structure, creates rules and systems, and imparting knowledge and of course enforcing discipline." I explain and he hummed, his body leaning forward at the word 'fatherliness'.

"The reversed?" He questioned without a beat and this time I hesitated.

"The concept of an abusing the authoritative power. It creates the desire to inspire higher principles in his kingdom have turned to ruthlessness, tyranny and rigidity..." I trailed and he let out a soft hum of almost agreement.

"The Tower?"

"On this one, the reversed is actually better than the upright." I laughed softly, my nails tracing the outline of the design and feeling the trickle of magic within it. "Upright the Tower represents change in the most radical and momentous sense. It doesn't necessarily have to be  frightening or ominous but it does signify a foundational, groundbreaking change. However it can sometimes strike fear, as it means that we must abandon the truths that we have known prior to this event. The old ways are no longer useful, and you must find another set of beliefs, values and processes to take their place." I tell him before continuing. "Reversed shows that The Tower is built on faulty foundations, and it must fall. Though the destruction will be painful, the humbleness resulting from it can bring us peace. It suggests you become more self reliant-"

"I'm already self reliant, love but I'll make an extra note." He scoffed.

A slightly uncomfortable silence hung over us for a moment or two as he mulled over his reading. Then he stood, a heavy sigh on his lightly stained lips. "Thank you, for your service, love." He nodded and headed back out into the streets of The French Quarter.

A slightly bizarre experience, having the most powerful beast in my reading room and I knew that the other witches were never going to quiet their incessant chatter over it.

It was the talk of the town when Klaus got headed 'King' and moved into the compound, having 'ownership' over Davina and therefore the witches. Not that it lasted long as Davina was clearly losing it.

That's how I ended up dragged in by each arm.

"Ah, perfect; they found you." Klaus declared, his voice arrogant and echoing. "Come, love, I need you to fix my witch." He took my arm from another vampire and pulled me along with him. I was shoved into a room, if you could call it that. The walls were crumbling around Davina, her screams piercing my ears as everything went flying everywhere. The door was slammed shut behind me and I was forced to face...that.

It took some struggle but I was able to get my hands on her, I could feel both our magic draining rapidly as I used mine to weaken hers.

My eyes were just starting to close, the reassuring whispers fading from my lips as her body went soft against mine when I felt a separate pair of hands hold me up by my shoulders.

I woke a small while later, my brows furrowing as I felt fingers stroking my forehead, tracing my hairline. My eyes cracked open and Klaus's cocky face was peering down at me.

"Good morning sweat-pea." He smirked, pure amusement in his eyes.

"Ew..." I mumbled sluggishly and sat up, ignoring his touch and closeness. "Don't touch me you...I don't even know what you are."

"Hybrid, love. Thank you, again, by the way; for keeping my witch under control. It seems that little sickening ritual you witches have doesn't quite work out as planned hm? Now I have a dead witch and a very stroppy Marcellus." He muttered, his eyes rolling.

"It works." I grumbled as I felt the power slowly growing back within me. "Four witches resurrected, the girls will come back in time."

"Mmm. I do hope so, no need for a group of dead children. It's causing a small inconvenience."

"Uhuh." I murmured and swung my legs over the side of the bed I was lead out on. I stood, my head light and dizzy but I kept it upright. My feet stumbled a little as I headed out of the door, my hands reaching for the stair railing as Klaus's hands grabbed onto my hips.

"Easy now, love. It took a lot out of you to calm little Davina down." He chuckled in my ear, the sound disorientated and demonic.

"No...I don't...I don't get this weak from a spell." I mumbled and he hummed.

"Must've been something else then." He whispered, his lips suddenly by my ear and I felt my jaw clench as I realised he must've spiked me with something somehow. My body fell back into his and his arms slipped round me, lifting me into a bridal hold as my vision went dark again.

I woke again, hours later. The sky was almost black when I turned my head to see out of the guest bedroom window. I felt better now and without anybody being able to detect my magic, I could break the window apart and float out of it with ease.

I headed back home, greeted by my obsidian cat who mewled happily at my return. Her tail wrapping around my calf as we headed into the dining room where her bowl wait empty on the wooden floor. I filled the bowl and she meowed happily.

The quietness of my house filled me with a sense of serenity as I sat down in my usual sear at the table. My stomach ached with hunger but it was so late and I couldn't be bothered to make anything.

So I waited for Salem to finish her dinner before we went upstairs to bed.

By the time sunlight was seeping past my blinds, a loud continuous knocking practically shook my house. Salem's claws dug into my skin as she stretched out and curled back up with a faint growl of annoyance.

"Fucks sake." I groaned before pulling the duvet back and storming down the stairs, pulling the chain off the door and swinging it open. "What!?" I demanded, my expression clearly a display of my feelings.

Klaus Mikaelson stood before me, his arms crossed over his broad...firm chest.

"You ran away." He stated, eyes flicking to my chest making me glance down as well so see my tit almost out of my night time vest. I shifted the fabric and he cleared his throat, looking back up.

"I didn't run anywhere." I countered and his eyes rolled. Honestly, for a thousand years old he sure was sassy.

"No of course not. You gracefully levitated out of the window, honestly you make quite the stereotype for a witch. Tarot cards, floating and, oh look a black cat." He scoffed and I leant down, picking up Salem before she could get out and into his grasp.

"Why are you here?" I asked and he hummed.

"I need your powers, come to the abattoir." He demanded and I put a hand on my hip.

"I do hope you're joking." I told him and his jaw went tight.

"I don't have much time for this back and forth, love. It's fun, yes and you're very cute but I will resort to less verbal persuasion if you cannot do as you are told." His tone got progressively lower, darker.

"Get off my porch. I'll be there in half an hour." I muttered, slamming the door back in his face.

"Twenty minutes, love!" He yelled through the wood.

I couldn't be bothered with this. The tarot card readings were low for me but they still made me money so now I was just missing out and I couldn't afford not to pay my bills. Besides, Salem needed her food too and she definitely wouldn't go without.

I got to the compound after forty minutes, mostly out of pettiness however I did shower, shave dry my hair, style my hair, get dressed, have a breakfast bar and feed Salem so time added up quick. Those weren't good enough excuses for a pissy hybrid.

His eyes were dark, sort of how I imagined the depths of the ocean at night as he watched me. I was a little different in how my magic worked.

I didn't need to do all the muttering and straining unless it was a really difficult spell like raising the dead, I think that's what sparked Klaus's interest. That I didn't pull out a hundred spell books, flipping relentlessly through the pages to pick the spell he needed. I could sense what he needed, almost read the spell from his mind to use it like he wanted.

I got up to leave once I was done but his hand was around my arm, keeping me to him. I knew he was half werewolf which made his skin warm but the heat rolling off of him was almost concerning. The golden look in his eyes put me on edge but he wasn't threatening, yet.

"I need something else-"

"I need to get to my job, where I get paid." I cut him off and he huffed softly, almost playfully as the corners of his lips upturned slightly. A hundred dollar bill was wedged very provocatively between my tits. I bit the tip of my tongue before raising my eyes to look at his cocky expression.

"I swear to all of the unholy spirits that if you ever put your grubby little hands on my body again I'm gonna burn your dick off." I warned him, my eyes narrowed and voice low but he only smirked and pushed me backwards so his body trapped me to the wall.

His face lowered to mine, his nose brushing up the side of my jugular before his breath was against my ear. "Mmm, how have you managed to make that sound so hot?" He murmured and I scoffed, shoving off me with a slight force making his chuckle.

"Don't be a freak, Klaus. You'll make me vomit." I whispered, my nose scrunched up as if I could actually find him repulsive. Stupid handsome face.

My body ached slightly when his pulled away from mine and his fingertips skimmed over my sides before leaving me completely.

"I'll be needing you a lot more often from now on. I'll pay you whatever you want. A thousand dollars an hour for all I care." He offered and I could feel my ethics at question. I'd be against the coven if I was willingly working for the beast but a thousand dollars was a fuck tonne to turn down.

"I have to get back to Salem." I muttered and he let out a deep chuckle making my eyes roll as I walked off.

"Oh come on, love. You have to admit that it's a little traditional, no? You're practically mocking your own kind-"

"Oh piss off mr 'i spent a thousand years trying to be a dog'." I snapped back as he followed me out of the compound and into the streets. "Rumour has it you've literally only turned once. I think if anyone's mocking their kind its you."

"Touché." He accepted, his tone weirdly light and he had a shrug to his shoulders. "I should turn more often, that's fair." He nodded, keeping up with my quickening pace but as soon as we got around a corner I was pinned to the wall by the throat. "But don't you ever, ever- talk down to me like that or you will very much be reminded of your place, witch." He growled and I felt my magic flaring, just begging to light him on fire but I let him keep the upper hand as he placed me back down onto my feet.

I turned on my heel and kept walking, forcing myself not to gasp for air and just struggle slightly. His footsteps remained just behind me, he was much more relaxed than I was and it was pissing me off as we got to my house.

The soft meow of Salem's voice echoed form behind the door and her paw made a soft sound which made my body sink back from the tension. But my body went rigid when Klaus's hand turned the handle to my front door and he walked right on inside, leaning down and picking up Salem as he did.

My eyes flicked down at the threshold he had just completely discarded before locking on Salem as she purred in his hands. One twist of those hands and her head would pop off her her neck.

The imagine alone made me react. His heart was in his chest one second and on my hallway floor the next. Salem landed on her feet with a mewl and padded off to the kitchen whilst I was left with the heavy thud of Klaus's body.

"Fuck!" I breathed as I ran my hands over my hair and groaned dramatically. I moved him to the living room and tied him up with a magically finding rope, ensuring he would stay put as I cleaned away the blood from his heart and fixed Salem some food.

His groggy grumble made it's way into the kitchen, forcing me to face my problems as I came to the doorway of my living room. He looked a little bit pissed but mostly amused which relieved me to extent but annoyed me even more.

"Very kinky, love." He mused as he tugged on the ropes. His eyes cast down at the bloody stain across his shirt before flickering past my ankles, probably to where Salem was feeding from her bowl. "Had I have known that damn cat was quite a sore subject for you then I wouldn't have picked the thing up-"

"How did you get into my house?" I asked and he smirked.

"I think you mean my house, my love. I thought it would be easier for us if I owned the building, means we can both have access and I can come collect you easier." He smiled as if it were a friendly thing to do.

"You're fucking crazy. A full on whack job." I muttered. "I'm not your witch, I'm not your pet. You do not claim my house and pick up Salem- you stop touching my life. Get out and leave me alone!" I yelled and with that his body was gone, instead at least a couple hundred tiny pieces of him exploded across my living room floor and walls.

I forced myself to breathe steady, my eyes closing for a second before I let out an angry cry of frustration and got my magic under control. Bit by bit I managed to pile him together, clean the marks away and put him in a bin bag, then transferring his remains back to the abattoir for them to fix themselves back together.

It was surprising that Klaus hadn't burst my house down and tore my head off in retaliation to be completely honest.

However, for whatever reason, the next time I saw him, he was all cheerful and charming again like normal.

"Come on now, love, don't be all grumpy with me still because of our little mishap." He teased, following me closely as I moved through the streets quickly. "I didn't mean to push it with the cat, love. I'll admit that was my fault, I crossed the line." He murmured, his lips so close to my ear it made my skin burn.

I continued to ignore him, trying to get on with my day without his constant chatter but he just seemed to be there all day long, keeping customers away and effectively ruining my time.

Once it grew dark I let out a sigh and leaned back, staring mindlessly at the sheer lack of cash in my pot. His hand brushed the hair behind my ear and stroked the side of my neck.

"Klaus." I warned with a sigh and he hummed lowly, his lips moving to kiss the spot below my ear making me let out a scoff and shove him off me. "You are like an animal. Go fuck someone who actually wants something to do with you." I snapped and he let out a soft chuckle.

"You know I have extremely heightened senses, love? I can practically taste how turned-on you get around me-" He purred and I gagged.

"That's just your perverted mind playing tricks on you." I scoffed and he hummed.

"All this sass because you didn't get your money, love? I told you I'd pay your rates." He tutted before his fingers were plucking hundred dollar bills from his wallet and putting them in my jar. "There, now you're all caught up and you can stop looking so glum."

"I don't want your money, I don't want your time, I don't want you!" My voice raised and his lips twitched.

"You'll be more than willing before long, love. I'm very much looking forward to you giving in, I already know you'll be absolutely exquisite-"

I cut him off abruptly, my palm colliding with his cheek without a second thought. The action made me just as surprised as him, both of us staring at each other for a long moment. I could see his jaw clenching, his eyes hardening fraction by fraction.

He straightened in his seat, inhaling and exhaling as his eyes darted away. He was urging himself not to lash back at me.

His hands hit the table, hard as he stood. I flinched in my seat but didn't go to move, just watched him. I watched as he paced up and down the length of the small room before storming out.

I blew out a breath of relief at the slam of the door and sunk down into the chair.

Klaus didn't come around for a small while after that. I probably should have been thrilled not to be haunted by him each day. I was finally making some money again and didn't have to worry about Salem being catnapped or whatever.

Until he woke me up in the middle of the night, banging so hard against my front door I was surprised it hadn't caved in. I swung it open, ready to launch him off my porch when my eyes took him in.

"Oh fuck." I mumbled, my hands moving without my consent to pull the blood-soaked henley away from his skin. "Okay, come on." I whispered, pulling him inside, Salem mewing and pawing at his boots as we climbed the stairs.

He was sat shirtless on top of the toilet seat, his bloody hands in his lap whilst I wiped away the red across his chest, neck and face. The hot tap of the bath was running quickly, filling fast. I'd wanted him out of my life from the second he pushed his way into it and yet for some reason I was worried about him and looking after him as though I cared for him. But surely that was ridiculous, he was a menace in my life.

I just couldn't help myself.

His clothes were in my washer, I was scrubbing the blood and mud off of my floors and the stairs banister before going up to my room to dig out a shirt of mine he could sleep in and some oversized sweatpants that he could wear for the night.

They were a little tight. My bad.

I don't think he was in much a mood to complain though as the shirt clung to his skin, I shouldn't have been looking at the definition of his muscles so much. Not when he was so upset.

He was a lot easier to handle when he was like that though.

No cocky remarks, no touching, just raw and vulnerable. For once he wasn't Klaus the hybrid, just Klaus.

"You're gonna have to talk to me tomorrow, okay?" I whispered as he rest his head against my shoulder, it was obvious he was debating using my breast as a pillow but he made the wise decision to not push his luck.

By morning he'd managed to get there though. His face was nestled right against me, his eyelashes brushing over my skin with each subtle blink. With slight reluctance I gently slid my fingers into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

Salem was asleep on top of the covers, on him. Her whole body vibrating against him as she purred.

"We're gonna get up soon and you're gonna talk." I murmured but kept my tone soft for now. "You can't just turn up at my house covered in blood and not tell me, okay?"

His body shifted slightly, his face pressing further into my chest making me suppress an eye roll but I kept it at bay. He was delicate at the moment and a lot more likely to do something extreme if pushed.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go." He whispered and my fingers stuttered against his head before resuming their pattern. He was such a conflicting person.

It only took a couple days before he was back to his old self, turning up unannounced to my work and disrupting my every day but I don't know. Just knowing that he did definitely have that human side of him made him less threatening.

It didn't help that Salem had started sitting on his lap when he was over. He'd learnt just the spot under her ears that would make her love him. Honestly it was ridiculous how simply he could insert himself with no consequences. Pissed me off.

"Klaus, get out." I called from my kitchen, currently stood over the stove and stirring the pot of gumbo I'd been cooking. I could sense him in the hallway, making his way in, boots already off.

"Don't get so angsty so soon love. I haven't even said anything." The amusement on his tone wasn't hidden at all. I huffed loudly and put the lid back on the pot. "Smells divine, my sweet." He smirked, brows rising.

"What do you want?" I sighed. I just couldn't be bothered to deal with his drama.

"Only your company." He murmured, head lowering but eyes darkening. "Won't you invite me to stay for dinner?" He asked and I scoffed.

"Since when have you needed to be invited to anything ever?"

"You make a fair point love but it's nicer to be wanted now isn't it?" He shrugged and got closer, leaning completely past and over my to lift the lid of the pot and get a proper whiff. His body pressed against mine, pushing me against the front of the oven. I sucked in a breath, trying not to let him bother me as he slowly pulled back, his face inches from mine as his eyes glanced over my face. "So?" He pressed. "Am I welcome to stay?"

My jaw ticked and my fingers twitched but eventually I relented. "Fine, whatever. But you better actually tell me what you want because I know you aren't here for some dinner."

"You'd be surprised." He mused before sitting down at the table and picking Salem up to place her on his lap.

While we were eating he revealed the spell he was actually here for. So soon enough we were back in the main room with candles everywhere, sat facing each other on the floor and holding hands so I could use his energy as well as mine.

"You know love, under slightly different circumstances this could be a very romantic setting." He purred whilst I murmured the chant under my breath. His statement made me pause and sigh.

"You know Klaus, maybe it would be if you would shut up and let me finish." I snapped and he chuckled.

"Oh I can't wait to see how you behave in bed." I ended up muting him for the rest of the evening. It was comical to see how desperately he needed to say something every half a second.

By the time I'd done what he needed and gotten him back to the doorway, I finally let his sound come back. He cleared his throat and looked up at me with a look of annoyance before his expression shift back to his usual half smile. "As much as I may hope, I think it's quite clear that you won't be inviting me to stay the night." He teased and I hummed in agreement.

"Goodnight Klaus." I pressed, opening the door for him.

"Goodnight, love."

Klaus was arrogant and narcissistic and possibly one of the most selfish beings I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and yet somehow I ended up looking for the goodness in him.

What was worse was that sometimes I found it.

Just a glimpse of light when he'd smile, the gold in his hair when his hands would push it back. The shimmer in his eyes when he held his hand out for me to channel him.

I don't really know when it started to happen but I ended up not hating him. We both realised that when I did actually invite him to stay for dinner.

The upturn of his lips and the way his head went down made me realise my mistake. But it was too late to undo, he was already sat at the table and talking away.

Once he'd eaten and managed to get the wine out of my cupboard, we ended up in the living room. Him with Salem back on his lap and purring away blissfully. His fingers were hidden within her fur whilst his legs stretched out across the sofa, as if it were his home as well as mine. This time I didn't complain about it.

The night got old quick and after a few glasses of wine I decided it was time for bed.

"If you wanted me upstairs you should have said so sooner, love." He grinned and my eyes rolled as we both rose, Salem jumping down and brushing around my ankles. By the time my gaze settled back on him he was only inches away, his hands making their way to my sides.

"Klaus." I muttered, shifting slightly when his palms pressed to my waist. The light buzz of the alcohol made his touch feel like pure warmth, he felt like the sun. I could feel my eyes shutting, the heat of his mouth against my forehead in from of a soft kiss.

"Thank you," He murmured, the word sounding so foreign on his tongue, "For inviting me." My body tensed and softened when his arms slid round me. It was only a second before I was feeling the definition of his back beneath my fingers.

His lips kissed my cheek before hovering just before my mouth. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did it anyway.

I should have known one wouldn't have been enough.

[zorosangell]

DAMNNNN THAT SHANKS’ DAUGHTER FIC IS *CHEF’S KISS*💋 more shanks’ daughter content pls🙏🤲🏼

⛥ﾟ・。 receipt

synopsis: part two of reading -- a rude store manager and an unruly gang of bounty hunters prove how much zoro DOES NOT play about the daughter of red-haired shanks (i.e you)

cw: can be read as part two or a standalone tbh, reader uses magic, fluffy fluff, comfort, protective zoro, slightly emotionally constipated zoro, reader is BAD, reader is very femme fatale-ish, reader is a bit of a freak at the end, their relationship is so cutesy

a/n: i used edits of kiara and jj as research for this lol

"(y/n), is this really necessary?" Zoro sighed for the hundredth time, going stiff as your hand slid up his chest once again, before rising to hold his jaw.

Like clockwork, a familiar flush began to burn up his neck, forcing a smirk to curl on your wine-colored lips.

"Of course," you smiled, pressing a firm kiss on his cheek before pulling away to see your handiwork. "How else am I supposed to know which one looks best on you?"

At that, your swordsman scoffed, eyes rolling to glance at a nearby mirror, which detailed at least thirty different shades of red kiss marks strewn all over his face, neck, and chest.

Not to mention the plethora of bags from varying boutiques gripped tightly in his hands.

'I don't know how much more of this I can take...'

The two of you had been out on the town from practically sun-up to sundown, window shopping and store hopping to your heart's content.

Key word being your.

Zoro, the "unlucky bastard"—a name given by the ship's cyborg—had the privilege of not only being your personal bag rack for the day, but also your personal pocketbook.

Safe to say, after ten hours of binge shopping, both the swordsman and his wallet were ready to go home.

"Oh, don't give me that face," you giggled, cupping his cheek as you snatched up one of the department store's complimentary wipes, using it to rub off the lipstick stains. "The lady's already ringing me up. We can go soon."

The words were practically music to his ears, his shoulders visibly sinking as he let out a relieved sigh, the sight pulling another laugh from your lips.

"And since you've been such a good sport, I figured you deserved something nice to go with dinner tonight."

With a cheeky grin, you bent over to rummage through a bag he didn't recognize, before finally pulling out a large, green bottle of high-grade sake.

"Now we're talkin'!" he grinned, dropping the bags and pulling you into his side, pressing two, firm kisses into your temple. "This is the good stuff."

Knowingly, you chuckled, throwing an arm around his neck, "I know, I know. I'm the best girlfriend on the planet. You don't have to tell me."

Jokingly, Zoro rolled his eyes, unable to bite back the smile rising to his lips.

Many were surprised to see that you and the swordsman had gotten together, given your very high maintenance lifestyle, playful personality, and rather daunting lineage.

But to the man himself?

It couldn't have made more sense.

You were a woman who knew what she wanted, and didn't settle for anything less.

Sure, you were a bit more forward, but that kept him on his toes.

And what many failed to realize past the shield of your father's name was that you were a genuinely sweet, kind, and generous woman.

You just kept your cards close to chest, like any child of a Yonko would.

"Ahem," a voice interjected, pulling the swordsman out of his you-induced stupor.

Confused, you turned around, raising a brow at the sight of a rather stuffy-looking man, his lips pulled taut and suit impossibly tight.

"There a problem, sir?" you asked, tone soft.

Quickly, his beady eyes flicked to the bottle in your hand, before sharply returning to your face.

"I hope you have a receipt for that," he warned, tone expectant.

"Of course," you nodded, turning to rummage through your purse. "I have it right here."

"Sure, you do..." he muttered under his breath, the comment not sliding past Zoro for a moment.

His gaze narrowed at the store manager, unappreciative of the sly remark.

"No, no, it's here. I just put it in," you assured, pushing past your compacts and lip gloss and emergency switchblade. "I bought the bottle a few minutes ago."

"Look, miss, stealing is not tolerated here at Batharby's—" "I didn't steal it," you corrected, quickly.

"Then produce a receipt."

"I will. Just give me a second to find it."

"Miss, give me back the bottle."

"Sir, I assure you, I paid for this sake. If I wanted to steal it, I would've been long gone by now."

"So you admit you want to steal it!" the manager pointed his finger in your face.

"Watch it," Zoro cut in, sharply, brows furrowing as he stepped in front of you.

"I know your kind. Filthy pirates who think they can take whatever they want."

"And I know if you don't get that finger out her face, we're going to have a serious problem."

"Look, sir," you sighed, frustration rising in your tone as you peeked out from behind your boyfriend's large frame. "Ask Nari. She was the saleswoman I bought the bottle from."

"I will do nothing of the sort! You could have very well threatened her into corroborating your story."

"I've been here the whole time!"

"Who can tell what sort of sorcery harlots like you can do!"

"Y'know, you're really startin' to piss me off," Zoro spat, harshly yoking up the man by his collar.

"Look! It's Roronoa Zoro and Shank's daughter!" a thug suddenly exclaimed as he burst into the door, about twenty other men in tow. "Told you I saw 'em around town!"

"Shit," Zoro cursed, freezing in place.

"I have a name outside of my father you kn-OW!"

Quickly, your swordsman scooped you up, leaping over the counter before making a run for the exit in the back.

"Zo, my clothes!" you whined, wistfully glancing over his shoulder at the decadent bags you were leaving behind.

"I'll buy you some more later!" he assured, pushing past a plethora of racks and mannequins and people before kicking down the exit door and entering the nearby alley.

Where another twenty bounty hunters were waiting for you.

"Hand her over, Pirate Hunter!"

"You're outnumbered!"

"That two billion bounty is mine!"

"Hell, we'll get double that if we ransom her! Shanks is probably rolling in cash!"

"(y/n)—" "I know," you sighed as Zoro put you down, the man quickly ushering you behind himself as he drew his sword.

"You do your thing," you assured, nonchalant as you took a few steps back, snapping your fingers and making a picnic blanket appear out of thin air.

With that out the way, Zoro leaped into action, slicing, dicing, and kicking the ass of all forty thugs in the alley.

Meanwhile, you took a little siesta, conjuring up a picnic basket full of Sanji's signature tea and hors d'oeuvres to snack on while you watched your man work.

"Zo, honey, when you're done, do you want onigiri with sea king meat or without?" you called, looking through the enchanted basket for his favorite food.

"With," he answered, calmly, as he clashed with three hunters at the same time, "M'startin to work up an appetite."

Nodding, you pulled out a plate-full, setting it down on the spot opposite of you as the fight raged on—with Zoro having the clear upper-hand.

"Can we join your tea party, sweetheart?!" one of the thugs sneered, attempting to run up behind you with six allies in tow.

"How stupid can you be!"

"Our boss is gonna have a hell of a time with you!"

"Bold of you to turn your back on us!"

"Cocky bitch!"

Taking a sip of tea, you remained unbothered, allowing the men to wind up their attacks as you remained facing forward.

"Scream for me!"

In an instant, Zoro appeared behind you, shielding you as he dished out a deadly attack, the slash taking them all out with ease.

"You all right?" he asked, glancing back at you.

"Loud bunch, aren't they?" you grumbled, rubbing your ear.

At your adorable pout, a smile broke out on Zoro's lips, a certain flutter introducing itself to his stomach.

You looked so beautiful sitting there, completely and utterly trusting in his ability to protect you, not a care in the world.

You didn't have to worry about stuff like that anymore, not with him by your side.

The infamous daughter of Shanks was under the protection of the infamous Pirate Hunter, and nothing come hell or high water was going to change that.

Not even having to turn around, Zoro punched a final hunter in the face, knocking him out with a large spurt of blood.

"Anyways, c'mere. I poured you a cup," you beckoned, holding up some sake.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he grinned, taking a seat across from you.

Smoothly, you passed it off, watching with anticipation as he took a large swig, some leaking out the corner of his mouth.

"Damn, that's good!" he beamed, thoroughly wowed. "Best sake I've had in a while."

Suddenly, without warning, you leaned forward, licking the excess off his chin before pecking his lips with a cheeky smile.

"Mmm, you're right. That is good."

"(y/n)!"

The swordsman was as red as a beet, heart pounding and stomach fluttering once again at the sight of you on all fours, leaning over his lap.

"What?" you asked with false innocence, internally fawning over his adorably awkward response.

For a man so tough, he sure was shy.

"You taste good, Zo. No shame in it."