#I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not that I *can* fit Magical boy Amuro in the story

[purpleponder]

Debating if making Amuro a magical boy would fit the narrative or not…

[musclesandhammering]

Ok I get that the Chaos/Order thing is a big theme this season, but I stg if they try to make Loki embody order while sylvie embodies chaos… I’m breaking up with marvel for real this time 😒.

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[badbtssmut]

Magic Stick

Jungkook is kinda sad because he has never been with a girl who could take him balls deep because of his size, reader doesn't believe him and she wants to see, but he tells her that he can't atm bc he's not hard. She is wearing this kinda halter top style with no bra so she looses the top and shows her tits to him and let's him touch them. After he's hard he shows her his dick and she says she's willing to try to take it all and she rides him into the sunset

Admin note: idea by anon

Contains: Big dick JK, handjob, some boobplay, missionary, riding, reader expresses that she is uncertain if it will fit, it takes some time getting it fully in ;), reader whimpers a bit, JK’s ex cheated on him, jk cums a lot

—

“What’s wrong with you?” You glanced over to your best friend, he has been in a horrible mood for a week and no one knew why. Not even your mutual friends knew what was up with Jungkook.

”It’s nothing.” He mumbled in response.

“Come on, I can tell something is bothering you.” You pushed.

"Fine. My girlfriend broke up with me.” He finally cracked.

"Wait, what?” You stood from the dining table, and inched closer to Jungkook who was sitting on the sofa. “Why’d she do that?" You question, shocked by the sudden news. "You two seemed so happy. What happened?"

"She… she was cheating on me.” He confessed.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What a bitch." You really couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Don’t blame her, I guess.” Jungkook said and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't be silly. You’re too forgiving." You sighed.

"It's not that. The sex, my size��� it just never worked out in bed. It was never a good fit." Jungkook confessed, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"So, you're saying, she dumped you ‘cause of your dick size? The fuck? That's just shallow. Why would she do that?" You sat next to him.

"Yeah, it didn’t fit, literally. I’d hurt her, it wasn’t going to work out from the start. We tried a few times, but the whole experience was just awful. I guess she couldn't stand it anymore." He said, defeated.

“That doesn't make any sense, surely you aren’t that big? Are you sure she’s not just making excuses?” You couldn’t believe his ex would end things with him over his size.

"No, I am that big." Jungkook replied.

"Really?" You were skeptical.

"I've always had a big dick." He added.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me." You repeated. “I just want to know if you’re bullshitting or not.”

"No." He declined, looking at you as if you said the most ridiculous thing ever, clearly embarrassed by your request.

"Oh, come oooon, we are best friends. It’s not like I’ve never seen a dick before in my life." You rolled your eyes. "I'm not going to judge you, I promise. Just let me see."

"Fine." Jungkook sighed. "But… I’m not hard now.” He muttered.

“Will my boobs make you hard?“

“Hell yeah. You got great tits." He said, a bit too enthusiastic, as if he had been dreaming of the day you’d offer your tits in return to see his cock. You stood right in front of him, loosening the straps of your halter top. His mouth was slightly open, as he looked at you, completely mesmerized. You removed the straps from your shoulders and let the shirt fall to your tummy, revealing your breasts.

"Like what you see?" You teased.

"Yeah. Very much." He was nearly drooling at the sight.

"Want to touch them?"

"Fuck, yeah." He nodded, eager. You stepped closer and his hands were instantly on you. Squeezing your breasts, rubbing his thumbs on your nipples, taking it all in. When he was done caressing your tits with his hands, he started to suck and lick on them, at which you moaned softly, and the sound of it made him rock hard. He was definitely huge, you could see the tent forming on his pants.

"Are you sure you want to see it? It's… quite big." He was almost apologetic, as if his huge dick was some sort of inconvenience for others.

“I do, show me already.” You chuckled, not sure what he was being shy for.

"Okay." He nodded, unbuckling his belt, and lowering his jeans, together with his boxers.

Holy shit.

How was a dick that big even possible? You didn't even think that dicks like that actually existed. And it wasn't just long, but also thick. No wonder his ex broke up with him. You were pretty sure that dick wouldn't fit anywhere.

"Wow." You couldn't believe your eyes.

"Told you. It's big. You wouldn’t believe me." He shrugged.

"Can I touch it?" You asked, still unable to avert your eyes.

"If you want." He agreed, a little surprised but not put off by the idea.

You grabbed his dick and slowly moved your hand up and down his length, marveling at how big and heavy it was, how thick. His cock was truly impressive, and it seemed to get even bigger as you stroked him. You wondered what it would be like to take him.

“Wow. This is amazing. How can you fit this inside a girl?" You were truly impressed, and couldn't help but keep stroking his cock.

"I can't." He admitted, his breathing starting to quicken. “No girl can take it, they always start out confident but when it’s actually in… they can't take it. Not even halfway through. I have never met a girl that can take me all the way, even the ones that brag about having experience are not able to." He sounded dejected.

"I bet I can." You challenged him.

"No. You can't. There's no way." He scoffed. All of the girls said the exact same thing, and it never worked out, ever.

“Want to bet? If I can’t take it, I’ll give you 200 bucks.” You said, not convinced by his pessimism.

"200 dollars? That's a lot of money." He said, surprised by your proposal, but he shrugged. “But alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

"Are you sure about this?" He asked, for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“If you ask me one more time… I will leave." You said, annoyed.

"Sorry. Just don’t want to hurt you." He apologized with a defeated sigh. It made you feel bad for getting annoyed, but Jungkook really had nothing to worry about.

You got this.

Jungkook held onto his cock as he pushed the head of it against your slick pussy lips. Your body tensed a bit, but he took his time, working on you slowly. You breathed deeply and relaxed, spreading your legs further as his shaft dragged against your sensitive skin. His cock was so hard and thick that it rubbed against every single inch of your folds.

Jungkook continued to move his hips back and forth, his errection dragging against your clit with each thrust. The sensation was amazing, and your body was trembling in pleasure, and he wasn’t even in yet.

The tip poked against your lower belly as he continued to rub the shaft against your pussy, his hips moving slow and steady.

“Want it.” You whined.

“Yeah?” He whispered.

"Yeah."

He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing the head against it. You tilted your head back, fuck, that was only the head, how could you feel this full already?

Jungkook began to slide his cock into your wet, aching pussy. His cock was stretching you out so wide, it felt incredible. He stopped when the head was all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust. Jungkook slowly pushed his cock deeper inside you, inch by inch. You could feel his cock filling up every inch of you, the stretch and pressure so intense, it was almost too much.

"Shit, you’re stretching me so good…” You moaned, as his cock kept going deeper.

"How are you taking it so well? I can't believe you can take it this far, pussy takes big cock so good, baby." He pushed in more, eager to fill you with every inch.

You couldn't speak, the sensations were overwhelming. It felt like your pussy was being stretched to its limits, and there was a pressure deep inside you that made your mind go blank.

Jungkook's cock was buried all the way inside you now. You were filled up completely, and it was the most amazing feeling you'd ever experienced.

"Don’t move,” It felt as if he would rip you in two if he pulled out even a little bit. "Not yet. Give me a minute." You whimpered, as you adjusted to his length and girth.

Jungkook nodded, kissing your neck, his hands cupping your breasts.

“This is how pussy feels, huh? Fuck, this is amazing. So tight, warm, perfect." He whispered against your ear, as he kept his dick deep inside. “It’s like my cock is being choked and squeezed, so good.”

“Told you… I could take it.” You said in a shaky breath, sitting up only to peek at where your bodies were joined, impressed to see how your body managed to take that monster cock in.

“You can move now." You gave him permission.

Jungkook started to move his hips back and forth.

The pressure from his dick was too intense, it felt like you were being split open, and you thought you were going to pass out from how good it felt. You held in your breath, unable to moan as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cock stretching you wide.

Whereas you were silent, Jungkook was grunting, groaning, panting, moaning, he couldn’t contain his pleasure. Jungkook was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried deep inside you. His thrusts were slow and deep, his cock pushing against your inner walls, massaging them.

You opened your eyes and glanced at his face, he looked like he was in ecstasy, his mouth was open and he was moaning with every thrust.

His cock felt incredible, so big, so deep.

You had never felt anything like it before.

"I can't believe I'm fucking a pussy that can take my whole cock. Shit, it feels amazing. Pussy is so tight and wet. So fucking good. Never felt anything like it. Fuck!” Jungkook licked his bottom lip, picking up the pace.

Jungkook was pounding you now, his cock thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy, hitting all the right spots. Fuck, you were seeing stars, your whole body was on fire.

You couldn't stop yourself from screaming in pleasure. You spread your legs as far as you possible could, allowing him to thrust even deeper into you. Jungkook continued his relentless rhythm, his thrusts were hard and fast, the sounds of his cock slamming into your pussy filled the room.

The feeling of his dick filling you up was indescribable, it was pure bliss.

“Want to ride you, want to sit on that cock." You needed to feel in control, and you wanted him to watch you as you sat on his massive dick.

Jungkook pulled out and laid down on the bed, his dick standing straight up, and you couldn’t wait to take it all again.

You straddled his hips, hovering above his erection and you slowly lowered yourself down onto his cock, gasping as it slid into you, the pressure and friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Jungkook's hands were on your ass, helping you move up and down on his cock. He was thrusting his hips upward, matching your rhythm, driving his dick even deeper into you.

"God, you look so hot riding my cock. Never would’ve thought to see this.” He bit his lip, his eyes roaming over your body.

"So big…” All you could think of was how his cock felt inside of you, how shallow it might sound… you couldn’t even think of the person attached to it.

Jungkook was now holding onto your hips, pulling you down harder onto his dick. His thrusts were strong, and fast, and it felt so fucking good.

"Fuck, I can't last any longer. Gonna cum soon." His thrusts became erratic and he was moaning loudly, his whole body shaking. You rested your hands on his chest, grinding against him, trying to match his rhythm.

"Y/N… like that, love it just like that." He moaned, his breathing unsteady, his fingers now gripping into your thighs.

“Yes, yes…” You whispered, riding his cock, feeling your own orgasm build up inside of you.

“Ah!” Jungkook beat you to it, his body stiffened as his cum spurted inside of you, filling you up. He was gasping for air, his face was flushed, and his grip on your hips loosened, he ran his fingers through his hair as he squirted his cum deep inside of you. It was as if he had a never ending supply of cum, shooting spurt after spurt, his cock throbbing as it emptied its load inside you.

“Keep going, y/n, you didn’t come yet, I’ll stay hard, take what you need, keep going." He encouraged, his breathing still shaky, his dick was still hard, and it was pulsating inside you.

"Yeah." You whispered, continuing to bounce on his dick, the feeling of his cum inside of you and the sight of him beneath you, sweaty, breathing hard, his hair sticking to his forehead, was so incredibly sexy. The sound of your drenched in cum pussy sucking him back in was loud, his cock coated in your juices and the cum that was spilling out of you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You leaned back, resting your hands on his thighs as you moved up and down, faster, deeper, until you were finally climaxing, your orgasm taking over your body. Your body shook and your eyes fluttered open and shut as the warmth spread through your whole body, you had never felt anything like it before. You could feel the hot cum leaking out of you, and it just kept coming.

Your hips slowed as you rode out your orgasm, and when it was over, you collapsed onto the bed, panting.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“You owe me 200 bucks.”

[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.

[ellecdc]

I absolutely love love love your writing! I have a request if you’re up for it?

Can you write a possessive/ jealous wolfstar x reader. Reader is always wearing baggy clothes so when shes wearing a tight dress that hugs her curvy body for yule ball and the boys in school wont stop staring at her got remus and sirius very jealous?

thank you baby! and thank you for your request. it’s not a whole lot of jealousy, but this is my take on it; hope you like it!! 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who looks so good in a ballgown CW: no smut but mention of dicks/horniness, catcalling

There were some things that not many people knew but Remus did.

One thing not many people knew was that Sirius – in all his cool bravado – was the most sensitive person Remus knew. Sirius would cry during any and every movie, he once cried when he saw a baby chipmunk because it was ‘way too small, what the fuck?’, and those closest to Sirius knew that one must watch their tone lest the long-haired boy believe you were mad at him.

Another thing that not many people knew but Remus did was how fucking hot you were. And that’s not to say people didn’t know you were beautiful – your beauty was undeniable. 

But Remus (and Sirius) knew a secret.

Under the Hogwarts uniform? Under the boxy dress shirt, plaid pleated skirt, and woolen jumpers and cardigans, was one banging body. 

What helped keep this fact to be widely unknown was that when not in your uniform, you could usually be found in Sirius’ quidditch jersey, or Remus’ jumpers, or your own loosely fitting clothes. Your style was simple and understated, usually consisting of loose-fitting shirts and jeans or corduroys. Comfy, cozy, nondescript. It also helped that Sirius’ style was nearly the complete opposite – loud, demanding, and bold - so people spent most of their time ogling him. 

It seemed, however, that this secret would be revealed to all of Hogwarts tonight. 

“Holy shit.” Peter muttered under his breath as the Marauder’s stood dressed in their best awaiting their dates for the ball. You and Lily traipsed down the stairs in your heels and dresses whilst Peter was bombarded with various whacks to his arms and an ‘oi!’ or two from James, Sirius, and Remus.

But Peter was right, you looked fucking stunning. You were wearing a beautiful satin gown, the fabric spilling sinfully over your body like water and cascading to your ankles. Your shape and figure were further accentuated by the way the lights refracted off the shiny material, leaving nothing to the imagination. He was surprised to see how thin the straps were; there had to be some magic holding the gown to your body, surely.

Remus felt conflicted; he both wanted to throw you over his shoulder and rush back up to the dorms to ravish you and parade you around shouting ‘look at what this poor, scarred werewolf managed to pull!’.

There was one issue.

Sirius.

“What is she wearing!?” He whispered shouted to Remus.

“Pads, don’t upset her.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s ear. “Don’t make her feel self-conscious.”

Sirius let out a sound between a pained moan and a growl but nodded all the same.

You offered the boys a soft smile, shoulders migrating towards your ears proving to Remus that you were indeed feeling a little vulnerable.

“Hey beautiful!” Remus greeted you, taking your hand that adorned the charmed corsage Remus and Sirius had given you that matched the one’s pinned to their lapels and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Hi boys.” You smiled, looking between the two of them. “You look very nice.”

Sirius scoffed, and Remus prayed to every deity possible that Sirius kept his wits about him. “Not half as good as you, babe! Come on, give us a spin.”

Remus let out a sigh of relief whilst your shoulders migrated impossibly higher, though you obeyed Sirius’ demand, nonetheless.

Remus dick twitched embarrassingly in his pants, and based on the pained groan emanating from Sirius, he was sure his did too. Thinking about Sirius’ dick made his own dick twitch again; this was going to be a long night. 

“It’s not too much?” You asked sheepishly as you turned back to face them, embarrassment painting your features as you looked timidly between your two boyfriends. 

“No!” Sirius shouted, but his voice came out painfully high. “No.” He corrected, clearing his throat. 

“You look stunning, my love.” Remus said more eloquently. 

You smiled beautifully albeit shyly at the two boys before your moment was interrupted.

“Circe’s tits, L/N! Where’ve you been hiding that body!?” Barty Crouch Jr called as he let out a wolf whistle, either completely forgetting or ignoring the fact that he was walking arm-in-arm with his boyfriend who only offered his brother and his brother’s dates a simple eyeroll.

“Keep walking you fuckin’ wanker.” Sirius barked.

Remus’ heart clenched when he noticed you start to ring your hands together nervously.

“I don’t know... Lily told me to go with this one, but I have another dress upstairs – maybe I should-”

“Absolutely not.” Sirius cut you off, levelling you with a look that spoke no nonsense. 

“It would be a sin to deny the world of such a sight, love.” Remus encouraged pulling you towards him and massaging at your tense jaw with his thumbs. He hoped he was giving you his softest smile possible, and the way your own expression softened in response told him he had.

“Wear what you want, dollface; I can fight.” Sirius added, causing the two of you to break eye contact, looking over to see that he was already tying his hair up pre-emptively. Remus scoffed out a laugh and you whimpered a pained ‘Sirius...’. 

“Let’s go, sugar.” He said when he was done, winking at you teasingly. “Let’s show these tossers what they’re missing.”

Remus thought you looked nervous as you allowed Sirius to hook your arms together, though he didn’t know why. You didn’t have to referee Sirius’ tussles; Remus did.

[lionblaze03-2]

so I may have made my own jade mountain winglet. Comprised entirely of disabled dragons. They’re one short but yknow that’s okay. They can handle it

[katiascraft]

"This is how you fall in love" | OP81

parings: Oscar Piastri x Reader.

Summary: Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

Now playing: "this is how you fall in love" by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler.

Word count: +1,2k

Warnings: I think none just pure fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many errors). I do what I can. Not proofread.

Authors note: hey I don’t even know if this is good - I really hope it is - but I needed to write about Oscar SO BAD. (Btw is Yale in New York? Forgot to look it up). Update: I changed it. Yale it’s no even near to NYC 🤣 I’m a mess. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

It was a sunny morning in Monaco. The quiet of the city could still be appreciated. You were asleep on the bed you shared with Oscar. It was your first night here since you haven’t seen each for the last time about 1 month or maybe almost 2. Time is a difficult thing to be aware of with his schedule to be honest.

Both of you had really busy lifestyles yet managed to build this relationship. Mostly it was a long distance relationship. He was traveling and working the whole year. And you were a student at Ivy Columbia University in New York City. As students it was difficult to find a gap between your exam and classes that fitted the races. You tried your best to always be there for him. Even if it was through the phone after the race. And for him that was really considerate.

You didn’t even have time to breathe when it was exams season yet you still find time to call and check on him. He knows it’s an obvious thing you’re supposed to do with people you love. But still he really appreciates it.

He was so happy and grateful you were finally together. Because you don’t see each other that often - every moment you spend together it’s so intense and pure magic. You do everything you could think of before saying goodbye again and part ways. It was the hardest part of your relationship. You said goodbye to each other so many times it anxiety breaking. He just never could get enough from you, from being with you. He has never felt this way about anyone and the fact that it’s been 4 years of being side by side it was crazy to him. How he would never get bored of you. You were always so intriguing, unpredictable, witty. You were the opposite when it came to what others could see. But behind close doors in your little magical and full of love world - you two matched each other's crazy perfectly.

Oscar is an introvert and really shy when it comes to interactions with people, always feeling nervous and so polite. You were always loud and could talk even with a wall if you wanted to. Always the life of the party so extroverted. You were the opposite but the same in a way. You would get so shy around him giggling like the teenager you were since you two met. And he could be the best at flirting and teasing around you. You made him feel so comfortable in his own skin and he just got loose and relaxed. Could be the real him with you. And just for you.

In your little beautiful world you wouldn’t stop talking about everything and anything. Joking around and teasing each other just to end up having sex in the living room. The chemistry between you two was unmatched. Behind your four walls he was the most confident man and you were as well. Bringing the best of each other out. Just for the other one. You were sexy, fierce, not afraid of anything. He made you feel even powerful.the way he always uplift you when you needed him the most and the fact that you could be so vulnerable knowing he won’t judge. He never did. He knew the real you and embraced it. His love changed you so much. He is the best thing that ever happened to you. And you were his. Oscar with you was kind of another person. It was him of course but intensified. Open and free. You gave him that space, that safety. And he adored you so much for that. Being himself it’s something he struggles with most of the time. Shying away. But with you by his side he could be the life of the party too.

He loved watching you study so concentrated. He would join you in silence, maybe by reading a book, or preparing your favorite tea in moral support. Or he would just sit in silence admiring you. How the sun would reflect on you and how it could make you shine even more. How perfect you’d look. And how that could make his heart race high speed. He would feel so lucky to have you. The comfort he felt was so big. He would want the time to stop right there and live stuck there forever. With you. Also, he loved the way you showed him so much love. He loved your homemade cakes and pies. You were so good with pastry. It was your inside joke. Because you were so good with him as well. He sometime would join you and try to help just to fail miserably and start a flour fight. The kitchen ended up in a mess but you were giggling and enjoying yourselves. Everything was worth it.

He really loved sharing activities together. Whether it was a paddle match against George and Carmen or Maria Kart battles with Lando. Also you loved hiking together and discovering new places around Monaco where you could escape reality and plan picnic dates. He loved that you got along so well with his friends and family. Since day one it felt natural. Everyone was welcoming of you. He was so nervous about it. But it was perfect because for him you were.

He heard you coming down the stairs just in time for the breakfast he had prepared for you both. You appeared with your hair in a mess and sleepy eyes. His tshirt on and your boxers of lighting mcqueen. You looked so adorable. Squishy. he smiled widely at you. And you returned the smile hugging him tightly.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” he said sweetly, grabbing you in his arms and kissing your temple. He heard you giggle.

“Good morning my Prince Charming. How grateful I am to wake up next to you for the rest of my life” you said teasingly and romantically looking at him. He giggled blushing. A soft pink tone now on his cheeks. You always had that effect on him.

“and how grateful I am to have you in my arms every morning for the rest of my days” he said just like you making you giggle to then plant a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he said, pulling away gently.

“Me too my love” you said softly.

You two took all of the things he had prepared with so much love to the table by the pool. The morning was beautiful and warm. Perfect. He put all of your favorite fruits and prepared your favorite cappuccino as well. He is always on the details. He remembered everything about you. You didn't have to ask - he already knew. He was perfect. Perfectly imperfect. There was no other man like him. You were sure about it. And you felt really lucky he even looked at you. These past few years were everything and more of what you could ever have dreamed as a kid. You always wanted to have your special someone - but you never thought you would find him.

You had your breakfast talking about what you were gonna do for the day.

Maybe this is what it really feels to fall in love.

Peaceful. Comfortable in silence. Not overthinking. Just being you and feeling loved. Feeling seen. Feeling celebrated. Cared for. Being chosen. The one. The bestest of friends. Your shoulder to cry on. Laughing until crying. Hugs and more hugs. Plasire. Deep talk. Vulnerability. Partnership. Support. Admiration. Trust and communication.

Giving a part of you to someone else to carry everywhere they went trusting they will never break it.

Maybe this is how you fall in love.

How you two fell in love every single day.

——————————————————————————————-

Hope you liked it 💌 if you have any ideas my inbox is open so send your requests!

[stclaretarot]

PAC ⭒ COMPLIMENTS YOU GET WHEN YOU’RE NOT AROUND

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · king of swords, page of cups, the star, three of swords, the chariot.

channelled songs · apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. chained up by vixx. everything is by neutral milk hotel. knock me out by miyavi.

my dear group one ♡ when you are not around, people tend to talk about how much they wish you were so. people think of you as the light of the party, and so say things such as:

• “it never feels like work when group one is here”

• “no one makes me laugh like group one”

• “today sucks, but it wouldn’t be so bad if group one was here to talk to”

• “the manager/teacher/difficult co-worker is always so much nicer when group one is here. group one really knows how to handle them.”

• “group one could easily succeed as a comedian”

• “group one has been such a positive addition to my life. i get so happy knowing i get to see and talk to them”

GROUP TWO

cards · ace of pentacles (reversed), ten of wands, death (reversed), the hermit (reversed), nine of wands.

channelled songs: far away by takatak. fairy of shampoo by light & salt. reformation by la dispute. buff baby by tobi lou.

my dear group two ♡ people see you as financially savvy, and so tend to especially compliment you when it comes to ways to save money or ways to make the most of what they have. they say things such as:

• “group two knows all the best shops and restaurants”

• “i’m so stressed out with this project, group two would know exactly what to do with such a small budget”

• “i wish i could dress while saving money as well as group two does”

• “group two is so creative”

• “group two is so talented with their hands, they can make anything from scratch. it’s almost magical”

• “i’ve never met someone better at gifting than group two. they always know what to gift you, even when you don’t know what you want to be gifted?”

GROUP THREE

cards · king of wands, seven of pentacles, seven of wands, ten of swords, three of pentacles.

channelled songs · hurt you by the weeknd. out of control by the boyz. jaago by lifafa. exit wounds by bad omens.

my dear group three ♡ when you are not around, people tend to go on and on about your passion, drive, and discipline. and so, they say things such as:

• “group three has the kind of motivation and discipline i could only ever dream of having”

• “group three is capable of accomplishing so much. i really believe in them!”

• “i love group three’s figure”

• “group three is such a hard-worker”

• “i owe my success to what group three taught me and the advice that group three gave me!”

• “you can always rely on group three to be there for you when you need them”

GROUP FOUR

cards · five of swords, the emperor, seven of pentacles, judgement, ten of cups.

channelled songs · sullen girl by fiona apple. lost umbrella by inabakumori. not allowed by tv girl. candy bling by mariah carey.

my dear group four ♡ people tend to think of you as someone who can be relied upon, especially as a leader or as a figure of authority. they tend to say things such as:

• “group four is so intelligent, they would know what to do about this situation”

• “group four is such a good judge of character”

• “i can always talk freely with group four without worrying about being judged or looked down on”

• “there’s no better friend than group four”

• “group four is so dependable. they will never let you down”

• “group four makes me feel at ease about my worries and troubles. they make me feel as if everything is going to be okay”

[onelittlespiral]

I’ve been looking for a fraternity to join at my new college, but none of them have really been letting me in. The only one left seems to be full of horny jocks that are dumber than a bag of bricks. Think you could help me… fit in?

FML: In

As you laid it all out in front of your friend, your plans, your goals, your desires, he just kind of shook his head in disbelief:

“I know that I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but damn that’s disappointing.”

“What’s so wrong about wanting to pledge?” you replied, “It would just make getting connected the university so much easier. Plus, the parties are legendary.”

“No I get it,” he scowled, “but really? Pi Kappa Epsilon?”

“Listen, they weren’t my first choice either. I would have preferred a group a little less… dim.” I knew he wouldn’t leave it there.

“Dim? Dim still implies some light on upstairs. You can just call them what they are: brainless frat bros. They think with their dicks and muscle their way through academics. I can’t believe you’re asking me to use my power for this.” He began walking towards the door.

I called after, “Look, I’ve seen you do crazier shit than this. You turned the guy upstairs into a dog for a week.”

He stopped in the door frame for a minute to chuckle, “If he was going to call the RA a bitch he may as well get first hand experience.”

“Please dude.” I stared at him.

After a moment he relented, “Fine. But are you sure you want this? You want to change for this? A frat?”

“Yes. And I promise I’ll get you into any party you want!”

“Fine. Give me a bit. But remember, you asked for it.”

He returned in a bit and tossed me a necklace from across the room, “Here’s your frat solution. Wear this to your next thing with them at their house.”

You inspected it. It looked like a basic chain necklace like you had seen other guys wear around “And do what? What does it do?”

He rolled his eyes, “And do nothing. It will help you fit into the frat, I promise.”

“No magic words or anything?” I asked.

He grinned, “Oh come on, think of me as better than needing all that crap. Now put it on so you don’t lose it.”

It fits well around your neck, “I’m headed over there tonight, I think it is the last event before they drop everyone. You sure this will work?”

“Trust me,” he says, “You want in the frat? You will be in the frat.”

When you arrive at the frat house, you do feel the necklace almost pulling you inside. It feels warm against your chest as you wander around, talking with some brothers and checking in with your fellow pledges. You get a sense of magnetism from it, like the necklace is pulling the frat house around it towards you. As the party kicks into gear, you focus less on the chain and more on socializing. But whatever it’s effect, it seems to be working. Brothers and other pledges are seeming to stumble over themselves trying to talk with you. Even the pledge master gives a knowing glance and tilts his head in approval. In a little under two hours, you begin to feel more at home in the house, more comfortable in the crowd. Maybe for the first time you feel a sense of brotherhood. So it is a shock when you step into the bathroom to take a piss and take a look in the mirror.

You don’t recognize the face that stared back. You blinked in confusion, assuming you had too much to drink. But no. The stranger in the mirror stared back into your eyes, copying your every move as you tilted your head and inspected your face in awe. The trance broke as you glanced down and saw the truth. Your polo shirt stretched against your chest as two pectorals firmly pushed out, flexing with each breath. Your pants had grown tight around my quads, now a good few inches short. They hugged your ass so tightly you were surprised they hadn’t ripped. Tattoos flowed down your arms, newly ripped and well toned. You noticed for the first time the power you felt coursing through your veins. You could almost feel your skin taut against your muscles as they slowly swelled. You pulled your top off to get a better look at the action.

‘Damn I look good’ you think as you admire the new cum gutters and still developing 6-pack. You try out a few poses in the mirror, just to see the muscles move. The necklace is no joke. No way PKE would drop you now, you looked like you fit right in. But, at the same time, you figured it may be time to get the necklace off. You didn’t want to change too much, and no telling how far it would go. You go for the back of your neck and and start to fiddle with the clasp when the necklace suddenly starts to warm up.

You feel the odd magnetism is no longer subtle. It feels as though the necklace is pulling against the frat house you, drawing it’s very essence towards you. At the same time, the growth within your body stops as the necklace channels all its energy towards your head. The sudden spike hits like a migraine, as you let go of the necklace and go to hold your temples. The necklace wants to finish its work. Your senses are sharpened to a point, as you feel the heat of the bros downstairs, taste cheap beer and seltzers, hear every footstep, see every muscle and bulge, and smell 100 horny men all at once. You feel the pure energy of the fraternity pull through your body as it shapes you. Beneath the pressure, your mind buckles as false memories push their way in. Memories of watching college football on TV. Working out during the summer to become a fucking stud. Playing the field as soon as you got to college. Meeting up with some brothers to get a foot in the door. Getting called a fuckboi for the first time on Tinder. Wearing it like a badge of pride.

Your brain throbbed as the energy reshaped your memories and personality, but your balls churned as it began to adjust your libido. They ached as they swelled to the size of golf balls. Your cock was rigid at attention as you grabbed it with both meaty hands and started to pump. Your body writhed as every stroke only makes the pleasure more intense. You are soon hot with the effort. An aura of testosterone and sweat formed around you as a frat funk sets in deep: a mixture of booze, yesterday’s workout, and cheap cologne. The smell only drives you more wild, and you start to feel your brain short circuit. Your mind, consumed by pleasure, gave into the pressure and lost any remaining will to resist. The necklace pulsed in time with your throbbing cock as it buried the old you. As you reached climax, you knew there was no going back. As you shot your load across the room, a new you was released. A dumb, horny frat bro ready to pledge PKE.

And then the door behind you opened.

The pledge master, apparently worried by how long you had been in here, walked in on your afterglow as you tucked your cock back into your pants.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asked before recoiling a step. You watched as he smelled your rank funk and nearly gagged. You took a step closer.

“Yeah bro, better than ever. What about you? You look like you’re about to vomit.” you said, leaning in a bit closer. You flex your muscles and let your pit stench join the lingering cloud. You feel yourself start to harden again as he tried not to react.

“Bro, you are fucking rank. You smell like a… like a-”

“Like a frat house should?” you taunted. He had stopped recoiling and seemed now to be fighting a different urge.

“I don’t know bro, you should get- get that looked at.”

His eyes were focused on your muscles as you slowly flexed them rhythmically to the music downstairs. I felt the necklace pulling him closer as he fought the urges he is having. Fuck, you remembered that feeling, that pull towards desire. You knew how to help him out though. You grabbed the back of his head and pulled his lips to your pecs. As his lips connected with your flesh and tasted the beads of sweat that rolled down your chest, he wrapped his arms around you and began worshiping your muscles. As he kissed and licked every inch of your chest and washboard abs, he gently rubbed against your rigid cock. It wasn’t long before he was licking at the fabric separating his mouth from his prize. But as he reached for the elastic band around your waist, you grabbed his hair and pulled him up.

Your mind reveled in in the power you held in your hands and the pleasure your new frat bro could cause with his mouth. But you only had one thing left on you mind:

“I wanna be in the frat bro.” You said.

He mumbled as his mouth still searched for your flesh, “Yeah man, sure thing. I’ll make it happen. You can be a frat bro. Just please let me suck on your-“

“No,” you boomed. You pulled him out of the bathroom and into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind you. You grabbed his ass as he grew limp in your hands, “I want to be in the frat bro.” You slip your hand beneath his gym shorts and begin slowly finger fucking his tight, straight hole.

He understood his place as he slipped off his shorts and underwear, leaving his cheeks on full display.

He moaned like he was in heat, “Yeah bro. Please. I would be so honored.”

You bent him over and spat in his quivering hole before you pressed your cock against him. You didn’t wait for him to relax as you slammed your cock as deep as you could and watched him yelp in surprise. As you slowly sped up and heard him start to moan, you felt the necklace once again start to warm against my chest as its power flowed through your cock and into the bro beneath you. He too began to sweat with the funk of the frat as was remade in its image under your guidance. He was going to become just as unified with PKE as you were.

[mouwrites]

Sorry for my inconsistent posting schedule my darlings :(

Creepypasta/MH - The Moment They Knew They Loved You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Tim/Masky, “Ticci” Toby

Jeff the Killer

It would’ve been a very long time after knowing you

Even if he was physically attracted to you, he wouldn’t consider that “love”

He usually judges people more on their character

That’s not so say he doesn’t enjoy calling people ugly if he thinks they’re ugly though

So you guys would’ve been vibing together for a while

He’d come away from each interaction with you just a little happier (or a lot happier), but he didn’t really notice it

That is, until he walks into a room one day and finds you relaxing, scrolling through your phone

He announces some unhinged plan, fully intending on carrying it out

You just look up at him for a second before (being used to his bs) just giving a thumbs-up and telling him to have fun

He blinked at you for a second, a grin coming to his lips slowly

He thinks to himself: you know, this is why I like them. They understand me.

And then he starts to think about all the reasons he likes you

He spends the rest of the night with your image in his head and a light feeling in his heart

It’s when he’s lying in bed, telling himself to stop thinking so he can sleep, that he finally realizes:

Oh. I’m in love, aren’t I?

He’s not mad about it; he’s more surprised than anything (at first at least… soon he’s ecstatic about it)

But he fully accepts his affection for you, and it won’t be long till he confesses ;)

Nina the Killer

She’s a pretty perky girl with a lot of emotions

Happiness, sadness, anger… she’s unapologetic in expressing everything, to the point that many call her “extra” or “weird”

It’s only for those people that she acts more reserved, and it’s more in an act of resentment than resignation (basically her saying “eff you loser, you don’t deserve me”)

So she only really likes people that she doesn’t have to act differently around

And of course you’re one of those people :)

She finds little things to like and hate about everyone in her life, and you’re no exception

So one night she just happens to be looking at a picture of you, and she gets to thinking

She smiles as she remembers good times with you: going to the mall, getting messy with baking or butchering, late night texting…

At length she decides that there’s a whole lot more to love than hate

And then she gets to thinking about your looks, and maybe she’s biased because she’s just decided that you’re delightful, but she feels a little heat come to her cheeks

She zooms in on the picture she’s looking at, admiring your features one at a time

She’s baffled that she hasn’t noticed how good-looking you are until now

And then the memories play again in her head, but this time her heart soars extra high…

She’s in love with you!!

She smacks a hand over her mouth when she realizes it, then breaks into a fit of giggles

Get ready for not-so-subtle hints and extra affection….

She’ll want you to figure it out before she actually confesses lol

Jane the Killer

I feel like she would’ve decided that she loved you pretty early on

Maybe even before interacting with you for the first time

She watched you (perhaps not entirely intentionally at first), and was at once enchanted by your looks and the way you carried yourself

You were like a magical creature of beauty to her

She didn’t dare disturb you in the beginning; she was content just watching

She was sure that her infatuation was purely aesthetic; you were just pretty, that was all there was to it

Except IT WASNT

One day she happened to actually interact with you

She was a little nervous, what with you being held so high in her head

But you absolutely floored her

The way you spoke, the way you saw her as a person…

You hooked her like a bass in a pond

She stood there breathless after your first interaction, watching you walk away with a racing heart

It was then that she knew this was much more than physical attraction

She HAD to have you, or at least try to

And trust me, she will try her hardest 😤

She’ll court you for a while first, just to see if you’re even interested

But if/when you are, she won’t be taking her time in confessing ;D

Tim/Masky

Methinks you’d have been friends for a while first

You went through a lot of things together: good times, bad times, silence, chaos…

And maybe you weren’t besties or anything, or super enthusiastic about each other (actually you’re probably a little cold to each other if anything, even if you do feel strongly attached)

But the point is that you have a history, and you know each other well

Plus there’s an unspoken bond that says you’ll have to tolerate each other for a long time (unspoken obligatory friendship moment)

Not that either of you minded

So one day you’re enjoying some silence together, relaxing out on a balcony and waiting for the dark clouds to pour rain

Your eyes are fixed on the sky, leaving your face in full view of the world

And, more importantly, Tim

He’s not sure why, but his gaze catches on your face

He starts admiring the little features: your eyes, the curve of your nose, the way your eyebrows are shaped…

He doesn’t decide that you’re beautiful. He decides that this is the face of someone he loves

It hits him like a truck—just a random thought out of nowhere:

This is the face of someone I love.

And while he’s taken aback at first, with a reddening face he realizes it’s true

He does love you!! All that you’ve been through together really meant something to him

He looks away bashfully, grumbling something when you ask if something’s up

Get ready for the long game…. This man will never confess

He’ll curse himself for even insinuating any feelings for you, so you’ll be left in the dark unless you’re REALLY good at picking up accidental gestures

“Ticci” Toby

He’d be so oblivious to his own feelings

He’d act super affectionate towards you, but only because he acts on impulse

He never stops to wonder why he gets the impulse to hug you or pinch you or say something not-so-mean (even NICE?! 🤯) when he’s around you

He doesn’t even notice that he only gets those impulses for you

So you’ll probably figure it out before him

And it’s only when you start to return that affection that he really starts to question

But again. He is SO OBLIVIOUS

It takes him a very long time to figure it out… you honestly might just have to spell it out for him

He can’t even take hints

I think that when he finally does figure it out, it’s a fleeting thought that catches for some reason

Like, he’s just daydreaming or something and suddenly he’s dreaming of dating you

And he thinks: hey, that wouldn’t be so bad. But it’s not like I like them like that. Wait…. Do I?

And then he’s just. Floored. Because HOW DID HE MISS IT FOR THAT LONG

Literally grips his hair like “WHAT!!!!”

Immediately runs to go yell at you tell you that he loves you

And you’re just like “oh I know. But thanks for finally confessing! <3”

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my sweet duckies <33

(divider by saradika)

[clockwayswrites]

Minx- Dinner Start

cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors

“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”

Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.

Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”

“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”

“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”

Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”

Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.

“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”

Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”

“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.

“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.

“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.

Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.

Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.

“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.

“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.

Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”

“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”

Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”

“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”

“But you won’t!”

Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”

“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”

Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.

He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.

--- AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.

[fishermanshook]

F!CK BOYS GONE SOFT

( mercenary , batter & prospector ) + gn!reader

# MINOR WRITING SMUT , #ihatewritingdialouge , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

It was a mutual agreement between the both of you that you were fucking for the pure reason of letting off steam after being stuck in this hell hole. 

No feelings were supposed to be caught. No hearts were meant to be thawed. And yet, they find themselves yearning for your touch long after your last session.

꒰wc꒱ 1.7k ( longest fic so far !! )

✦— THE MERCENARY

If being between your legs was where he wished to be, then who were you to deny him access to the most private part of your body? Where Naib works his magic and milks you of your essence while paying you back in waves of pleasure.

The Mercenary looks so lost in his work that you think he doesn’t notice the change in pitch. That you’ve adjusted your grip on his hair to a softer, gentler hold. Your moans are light, airy, and not at all the ones that left your throat hoarse and raspy the night before. No, that can’t be right. And it doesn’t take him long before he finds the spot that pushes you over. The spot that has your back arching off the mattress. The spot that has you screaming his name like it’s going out of style.

And god does pleasure look good on you, as Naib refuses to remove his eyes from you as he watches the aftermath of you coming undone in front of him. Such a passionate and intimate thing for his eyes and his eyes only as your essence coats his hands and tongue. To think he’d pull his head away after you came is just stupid. Have you not learned from previous sessions? You coming only gives him more reason to drop down there and give you more, but Naib holds himself back.

The next few moments are a blur as you try to calm down after your orgasm, but it seems Naib won’t let you. The sound of something being unzipped and his pants hitting the floor pulls you from your recovery. He’s prepped you enough, hasn’t he?

“It’ll hurt a little, but only for a second.” The Mercenary whispers in your ear as a warning to brace for what’s about to come. It makes him wonder, and only for a split second, if you ever realized how much he loves you. The amount of thought and care that goes into every move he makes towards you. Maybe you’re just dense, or maybe it’s not like that. He won’t know until he tells you. Or, until you tell him.

Your hands rush to clamp themselves over your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans flooding from it. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this (and certainly not the last…), but it’s always a tight fit. A tight fit that neither of you can get enough of. Your hands don’t last though, as the Mercenary is quick to rip your hands away from your mouth. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You don’t need him to say anything else.

It’s not long before you feel the familiar warmth strengthen between your legs. By now, Naib’s memorized your every tell that you’re going to come. By the way your legs tighten around his waist and the way your hands reach to clasp his biceps to try and hold on. It’s the way you attempt to not pass out when you feel everything just snap.

“God, I love you so much,” Naib admits before even realizing what he just said. You’ve never seen the man freeze so fast, or go so red. Before his hands cover his mouth you pin his wrists down to the bed.

“Wait—! H-hold on,” you say, still recovering from your orgasm that happened just seconds ago. “What did you say?”

The Mercenary stares at you before opening his mouth to say: “I didn’t say anything.” He’s trying to play it with a convincing tone in his voice, but it’s hard to believe when he practically shouts it.

“No, Naib,” you huff out “Are you playing me?” You question. Your face molds into worry and concern. Instead, he avoids your gaze. There’s nothing else for him to do in this situation is there.

“Fine. If you won’t say it, then I will.” You state before grabbing Naibs face and pressing it into yours. The Mercenary tries (and he really does) to do anything but melt into your touch. In the end, it proves to be no use. Pulling away, you say: “Naib, there is no one else I love more than you.”

“Thanks for confirming what I already know, babe.”

✦— THE BATTER

Not every affair starts with a heated make-out session, but every heated make-out session ends with the two of you having sex. With your lips entwined as your fingers roam through his hair, the two of you make a mad dash to whoever’s room is closer as playful giggles slip out along the way.

It started as just another way to let yourself go and cut loose a little after another night of terror from Ganji. How could you not tell that the Batter saw you as more than just some fuck buddy? That his eyes weren’t only filled with lust, but love for you and you entirely?

Maybe this can be his way of showing you, whether you get it or not. Whether you understand the soft kisses he lays on your chest. Whether you understand the praises that fall from his lips. Whether you understand it's taken him too long to finally muster up the courage to confess to you.

You’ve stripped each other of your clothes leaving both of you bare naked. The only thing covering you are the multiple hickeys decorating your chest as well as between your legs. The pleasure overrides any pain felt from when he initially pushed his way inside of you. Before you know it, you're babbling all over his cock while he presses gentle kisses all over your face. You look so cute like this—all flushed out and pink.

Ganji's smart, but overlooks your cock drunkenness and traces his finger along your jaw and other places. Eventually, his finger meets your back and traces along your spine. His finger does weird swoops along your backside. It's all just a simple way of telling you 'I love you.' without having to utter a word.

Maybe it's the way you moan out his name as your hips move up and down on his cock. Or maybe it's the look in your eyes when he meets them. The Batter's not sure where the courage comes from, but all he knows is that he can't stand another moment of you not being his.

"[name] I- fuck, I love you." He barely manages to grunt out, snapping you from your thoughts to look at him with wide eyes.

"What-?"

It's then he thinks he fucked up. That he has demolished all of the hard work he put into this relationship. This is it. This is the end of your bond.

"No, shit I'm sorry just forget what I said," Ganji mutters out, immediately flipping you over so that your lying down on your back. "I'll make you come real hard if you just forget everything I just said, 'k?" Ganji says with caution in his voice. Maybe you're not the only one oblivious in this relationship of yours.

"Really? You love me?"

Ganji tears his eyes away from wherever he is looking at looks right at you. "Yeah. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If not for you I don't think I'd ever get the chance to say this," you chimed, pulling him in for a long and passionate kiss first. "Ganji, I love you more than the stars themselves."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR 

The bed will break long after the Prospector, Norton Campbell, has had his way with you. He won’t stop until his sheets are soaked in your combined essences until your scent has been embedded into his mattress, and until he can get the words out to tell you how he feels.

For too long has Norton been labeled as your “fuck buddy” and he wants out of it. Every round feels like another chance to prove he’s perfect for you. How many people know your favorite book? Your favorite place to relax? Your favorite position? The sensitive spots on your body? Who else knows exactly where to touch and what to say? All he needs you to answer is if you like him or not.

“Shit—always feel so good,” Norton manages to grunt out after thrusting into you. He knows he’s found your sweet spot (again…) when he pulls a loud moan from your sweet lips. So attentive to your wants and needs that he can’t help but hit the spot again and again, listening as your moans grow louder with each thrust.

The Prospector mutters something under your breath he thinks went by unnoticed. Pulling you from your aroused state to ask him what’s wrong. All he can do is sigh and shake his head as his arms wrap around you. A bit tighter than usual, but not uncomfortable.

“Norton—! What’s the matter?” You manage to huff out. It’s obvious something is plaguing his mind, but the Prospector is as stubborn as ever and refuses to tell you. “Fine then,” you tell him “I guess I just won’t let you come.”

Now that gets his attention, and he instantly slows his pace. You allow him to keep going, but only if he starts talking.

“I’m too scared to say it,” Norton states.

“Why?” You ask.

Norton looks down at where you're still connected. It’s only then you notice he’s stopped. “Because I don’t want it to ruin whatever we’ve got going on. I don’t want to lose everything.” He admits through gritted teeth.

“Do you think it’s that bad that you’d lose everything?” You ask, concern now seeping into your voice.

All he does is sigh before bringing his face closer to yours. “God, is it seriously not obvious enough? Shit, [name] I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and I didn’t want to say anything in fear of ruining—“ he gestures using his hands to the both of you. “this. A-and I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me after this but you asked so—“

He doesn’t get to finish as you cover his lips with yours. “Silly prospector, I love you more than you could imagine.” You confess before feeling Norton melt into your kiss once more.

note: hiii fish nation…sorry about the random hiatus, it will probably happen again 😆😆😆. thank you all so much for 100+ followers! it means the absolute most to me knowing there are actually people who enjoy reading what I have to write. I wouldn’t be here without you, thank you for everything so far. 🩷🩷🩷. this is so ass oh my gosh

(2024) ©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[wakeup01]

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

[cozycottagetarot]

PAC: Your Person's Appearance

What Are Their Vibes & Characteristics?

PILE 1 (Source) | PILE 2 (Source) | PILE 3 (Source)

This was supposed to be a quick reading but idk what happened 🤨. I apologise if it's scattered though I think I saw that every time 😅.

Anyways, this reading covers your person's vibes they give off as well as any notable features about them. As always this reading is for entertainment purposes only. ✨

Version 1 Of This Reading

PAC Reading Masterlist | Paid Readings

PILE 1

Initial Impressions: Dark features, intelligent look, balanced masculine and feminine energies, ambitious, helpful, burnout, (Mount) Vesuvius, mystical, dreamy, starry-eyed, intuitive, regal, physically fit, wish fulfilment, hope, they brighten up the room, a new beginning, secure.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They have a quiet confidence. Even if they don’t say much of anything, you can sense their self-assuredness. They could be in a position of power career-wise where they oversee others or an operation but I don’t think that it’s something they’re particularly happy about or take lightly. People may think it’s all fun and games for them but actually, it’s quite the opposite. They could actually be quite lonely despite their work. They could have left home and they can’t return to it. They carry a heaviness with them. Working on themselves and levelling up. Focused. Lost in thought. Optimistic. They could exude a sense of hope and magic, just being in their presence may boost your mood. Busy. Moving from one thing to the next. Coffee shop vibes. Proportionate body. Someone new that you’re manifesting. You two could meet at a time of change and transformation in one or both of your lives. If you’re accustomed to unhealthy relationships or drawn to people that aren’t good for you, this is the opposite. They might not even look like they used to. They’ll have a very nice body… you may really like their legs. They may wear clothes that expose a part of their body... particularly their chest. Nurturing energy. I think you may just kind of know or you’ll feel a sense of peace.

Notable Characteristics:

Hair colours are pretty diverse— you’ve got black, red, blonde and grey (or platinum that came to me as well) hair. They could have curly or kinky hair types. The only one that came out for face shapes was square. Their eyes may be hooded or they may have a monolid. They could have a broad or roman shaped nose. When it comes to their mouth. They could have a cupid’s bow and thin lips, straight teeth and they may smirk a lot or their smile looks like a smirk. The last few physical things are they might be on the shorter side or shorter than you and they could have scars or a skin condition (eczema, vitiligo, etc). Their voice may be smooth or animated. Their style could be very aesthetic or vintage and they may wear a lot of formal/business wear. They may come across as quiet/reserved, intelligent and charismatic.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 2!

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading

PILE 2

Initial Impressions: Symphony by Clean Bandit feat Zara Larson came to me, Someone you’re destined to meet.. the one who got away or someone who’s unforgettable from day one, dangerous look, security, a strong appearance, protective, fierce, a wish fulfilled, a musician, someone who moves with fluidity, muse, not the knight you expect, a little bit closed off

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They may try to stay under the radar, but I think that may be a little hard… at least when it comes to you. You may need some help with them though, as in getting a relationship started. There’s a wildness to them but it might get them in trouble so they try to tame themselves (I also hear tame their desire for adventure). They may not look like their stable but they are and they worked hard for what they have. I think this person may look focused… a little bit scruffy or dishevelled if they’re a man. I felt like you may be cautious of them but I think that they may also come across as guarded and cautious of others. There’s definitely a sense of maturity to them and wisdom. Highly perceptive. They could have multiple ear piercings. You could meet this person by chance. In one of the previous versions (see the end of your pile’s reading) I think I wrote that you two might meet in a way ‘only the divine could have orchestrated’. I don’t know how to describe it, but it may not be a meeting you could have ever thought to dream of/up. I think of wolves when I think of this person based on the cards as well. They may have a tough exterior, not easily approachable. They’re everything you want whether or not you know or see it at first. They may carry a lot of stress. Actually very passionate and inspiring. A diamond in the rough or a lamp that needs polishing.

Notable Characteristics

Short, curvy (I also remember picking up on husky at one point in a prev version), they could wear glasses but prefer to wear contacts. For hair, you guys have a good set of cards so their hair may be a significant feature. The cards around hair were— wavy, unique cut/style, afro (or puffy hair), salt & pepper, short hair, blonde, grey hair, long hair, and straight hair. For facial hair, it’s either clean-shaven or a beard. Their face shape could be round, square or diamond-shaped. For lips, they could have a cupid’s bow. They could have brown or green eyes or their eye colour may look unique. Their voice could be youthful or higher in pitch or on the opposite end deep. You also got smooth and they could have a foreign accent (whatever that means to you). Lastly, some impressions about this person are they may come across as confident, charismatic, quiet/reserved and professional/polished.

You can check out the discarded versions of this PAC here for any additional insights HOWEVER LOOK AT PILE 1! Discard 1 (all piles) | Discard V.2 (your pile only)

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PILE 3

Initial Impressions: Vibes of being a player. Not being from around the same location. Something about their eyes. A rake. Large and in charge. Good with words or a sweet talker. Lively. Someone not to be tied down. Awakening something with you. Happy. Young. Naive. Sociable. Could be from somewhere warm or they could make you warm. Strong. Visually impaired? Intuitive… like they know the "secrets of the universe”. Jewellery may be significant. Wanderer. Hands. Might wear lots of prints. Rings. Marriage material. They could be a risk taker or look like a risk you’re willing to take. They may be quite flamboyant which might resonate a lot if you’re more reserved in how you dress or present yourself to the world. Grey hair. Frustrating. Baby Charli XCX.

Vibes You May Pick Up On:

They might come across as slightly immature and before some of you roll your eyes, immaturity doesn’t always show up as a negative. It could be a playfulness to them that makes you think they haven’t really lived and explored life yet. They may give off the vibe that pursuing them is a risk of some kind on your part. You might feel like you’ve got to be very careful about pursuing them or allowing them to pursue you.

They could look like a social butterfly. An infectious vibe or personality. They may light up the room. For a lot of you, I feel like I’m viewing this person in an educational or work setting and like watching them from afar interact with other people. They could look like a drifter. One dynamic I’m picking up on as well is your person being the type of person willing to pack up and go anywhere on a whim while you may be more cautious and the type to need a plan first. They’ll say ‘runaway with me’ and look at you expectantly while your head and heart battle. They may seem very creative or flamboyant. There’s a sense of home or familiarity too. Not sure how you’re going to get the final cut of this atm, but I definitely picked that up in the first deck I used. “Your person could look familiar to you— it doesn’t necessarily mean that you know them though for half of you I think you could. I think when you see your person you may have that “Have we met before?” moment.”

Physically you may find their hands very attractive. They could be skilled in a profession where they have to use their hands a lot (mainly for crafting I’m getting this scenario) and could either hand you something or demonstrate something where you’re focused on their hands. Very attractive hands lol, this may make you blush. They could look very athletic. Very confident. They may turn your world upside down (in a freeing way I see).

Notable Characteristics

The most notable thing about your person may be their voice. I’ve made some traits/characteristics and the majority of what I got relates to voice. Some traits you’ve got for voice are: soft, smooth, deep, animated (they may speak in a way that paints a picture), youthful/high(er)-pitched voice

Their face shape could be round or oval. They could have wavy/shoulder-length hair or no hair at all. If they wear facial hair, it’d be a beard. Their nose could be upturned or described as aquiline. For eyes, they could be round or have monolids and they may have a unique eye colour. They may have full lips or crooked teeth. Freckles. Tattoos. They may look ethereal or be a boho/laid-back and/or vintage style.

You can check out the discarded version of this pac here for any additional insights.

If you enjoyed this reading check out my other readings here. You can also check out my paid readings as well if you're interested in getting a personalised reading.

[hijackalx]

Headcanon thingy, but how would the companions + Gortash react to their lover taking a blow meant for them? (Sweetheart survives, but they'll definitely need some time to recover)

this post would get realllyyyy long if i did all the companions so i did the male companions + gortash, but let me know if u want me to do a separate one for the female companions too 💗💗

GN!reader, small mentions of violence

GORTASH

he’d prefer for you steer clear of any conflict— he considers it beneath you to get your hands dirty— but he doesn’t like to argue. he imagines one of these times you’ll learn your lesson, meaning he’s fully expecting you to come crawling back after a good whooping while promising to never do it again

when he’s approached by an angry subordinate, shaking their fist and yelling profanities at him, he easily maintains composure— he knows his steel watch could reduce anyone to a skid mark on the earth with a simple command. his scrappy sidekick however…………… 👹

he’s only slightly embarrassed when you jump in front of the aggressor, telling them off for their disrespect. suddenly their anger is directed towards you, resulting in a nasty pop to the face that sends you onto the floor. his eyes widen at the sight of you injured for his sake, and with one sharp inhale, he orders his steel watch to destroy your attacker. (and their family. and their friends. and their acquaintances)

he stays at your side while you get bandaged up, threatening the healer’s life every time you wince. he asks what you learned from this experience, hopeful. you think “i need a thicker skull” probably wasn’t the right answer, seeing as his immediate response is “🗿” LMAO

WYLL

he loves to be the one who swoops in and saves you. it really gives him that “heroic” feeling (even if you have to pretend to be his damsel in distress). you guys are always giving your enemies the ick 😹😹

this all goes to his head though, and he can get a little too cocky— like when he jumps in to take on too many enemies at once, and is clearly having a hard time defending you both. he tries to maintain his heroic persona, but you can’t help noticing how you two are getting backed into a corner

while he’s distracted and putting on a show of chivalry, you see an enemy going straight for his blind spot. it’s too late to retaliate, but you do have enough time to jump out in front of the attack. he watches you fall to the ground in pain, HORRIFIED by the fact that he failed to protect you. he forgets his knightly act in a fit of desperation, fighting as dirty as he needs to so you two have the opportunity to scamper away

he criticizes himself SO badly over your injuries. the hit may have broke your face but his failure broke his soul... 💔 LMFAO. he vows to you that it’ll never happen again, and that he’ll be more vigilant than ever from then on out— cue his extremely rigorous and inspirational training montage

GALE

he usually stays toward the rear during battle, using long range magic attacks while you take care of things in the front. he’s not adept at wearing armor and his robes don’t offer much protection— it’s just smarter this way

now imagine how his feeble wizard bones begin to quake when an enemy sneaks past you and sprints his way with a melee attack LMFAO. he’s a planner, not an improviser, so his brain races a million miles a minute trying to think of which spell to use. he needs to cast something powerful, but your close proximity makes him hesitate

you notice his stutter and quickly reach out to off the enemy. unfortunately, this results in you turning your back to another and opening yourself up to a sneak attack. you’re hit hard, and it takes you out of the fight. luckily, the last enemy has 1 HP, so he can easily finish them off with a hasty bop on the head from his staff 💥

afterwards, he’s STRICKEN with worry, cradling your face and trying to get you to speak to him clearly. once he realizes that your injury is healable, you get whiplash from how fast he switches back and forth between admiration and concern. “that was absolutely amazing! 🤩 ” “I THOUGHT YOU DIED!!! 😵”

ASTARION

you guys are super playful in battle. seeing who can kill the most enemies, doing fun combos together, trash talking (it’s giving legolas and gimli). fights with him on your team are rarely serious

he’s quick and alert, so he’s an expert at dodging attacks— it just so happens that you’re standing behind him one of these times, and you end up taking the full force of the blow in his place. he’s used to teasing you for your misfortunes in battle, so his first instinct is to point and laugh 😭

when you don’t get up and give him a bloodstained grin, he realizes something is seriously wrong. a wave of panic washes over him, and the last thing he remembers is switching into feral vampire mode to get you two out of there safely— i’m talking ripping out throats with his teeth 👹

you’re immediately scolded once you come to; “imagine how bad that could’ve been!”, and “you scared me half to death!”— a.k.a he feels SO BAD for letting this happen LMAO, and he 100% blames himself for not knowing you were behind him. he admits it was his fault after you promise to be more careful, and he promises that he will be too (with a little leg room for fun, of course)