#and being expected to be is just one of the problems

[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.

[chiscaralight]

being roommates with kinich!! but you swear he hates you. he’s such pretty thing! but he almost never talks to you. he’ll do all the dishes, take out and fold your laundry and leave it on top of the washer dryer for you, he’ll clean when you’re not home and even leave food out for you when you get back late! but he just. won’t. speak to you!!!

and it’s driving you insane. you just want to get to know him! he’s gorgeous and he seems really sweet. he’s also built just the way you like. slender and toned, with the strongest gaze you’ve ever felt. is it so much to want to talk (and maybe fuck) your absolutely perfect roommate?

it’s driving you insane! so insane, that you start to miss when certain articles of clothes don’t come back from the laundry you pick up on top of the machine. maybe you didn’t actually put those panties in the bin this time, but who cares? kinich is shirtless while he does dishes this time, it’s the exact moment you need to pretend to watch something on tv!

and your sideward glances are not as slick as you think they are, because he knows exactly what you’re doing. it’s a ring from the doorbell that has you rolling your eyes, going to see who’s disturbing your peace while he licks the fork you used to eat the food he cooked a few hours ago. by the time you return, he’s already done, wiping down the counter and making his way back to his room wordlessly. you sigh in exasperation, you didn’t even get time to think about what fake story you could cook up to get him to talk to you! but as you groan at your misfortune in the living room, his fingers are wrapped hard around his cock, nose pressed into the underwear he’s stolen from you this time. It doesn’t take long before he’s making a mess around his hand, traces of your scent flooding his senses. but this pair is starting to lose its smell and he’s getting more and more fed up. how much longer can he keep this up before he breaks?

for you, it’s not much longer, because your fingers are deep in your cunt, thrusting in and out while you try to silence your sounds. you can’t even help the way his name slips from your mouth, you can’t even control it! it’s not your fault he’s been all over your mind for the past few weeks, at work, in classes, in the shower, it’s just too much for you!

and maybe you were just a bit louder than you expected, because your door is cracking open a few moments later, the afformentionef problem staring down at you ask you freeze up. he’s still deathly quiet as always, but he's practically jumping for joy in his mind. this is like a dream come true? you’ve basically been served to him on a silver platter, and he’ll make sure to not waste a single bite.

maybe a bit too literally, because your neck and chest are covered with love bites from his lips. one hand is holding one of yours above your head, the other very slowly brushing against your clit, big difference in the way he’s absolutely drilling into you. and you swear your seeing stars, moans morphing into cries as he angles up just the slightest bit, cock prodding against the walls of your cunt. it’s almost like magic, the way you feel. and he’s much less quiet now, because once his lips are on yours, he’s groaning into your mouth, teeth clashing with yours as he drags his lips downwards to sink his teeth into your skin again.

his build isn’t just for show either, because he’s flipping you over with such ease, holding your hips just where he needs them to be as he bullies his cock right back in.

kinich who now realizes how much power he holds over you, because whenever he even just as much passes by you, he can see your body tense up just the slightest bit. and he used it to his advantage! riling you up throughout the days with weird looks and soft touches, before ultimately deciding to bend you over the counter because he misses that cunt so much already </3

he’ll leave the door unlocked when he gets back, settling on the couch with speed so he can drag you onto his lap and have you ride him because it’s all he could think about in his classes.

and kinich that will beg you to let him cum in that sweet pussy just once, but between the two of you oh both know he’s lying. he’ll keep fucking his cum into you over and over, until he’s cumming inside you once again. he just can’t help it! you’re sucking him in so good like this, what did you expect him to do.

just like the way he took care of the little things, when you’re spent, on the verge of passing out on his cock, he’ll scoop you up and take you to his room, cleaning you up and wrapping you in his blankets so he can stay with you the entire night.

[rs-hawk]

Beauty and the Beast library smut please? 🙏

Since I'm doing a double upload today, "Day Three" will be a second part to Day Two. If you'd like me to continue this story or anything else for Beauty and the Beast week, my asks are open!

CW: obviously this fic contains smut and graphic depictions. It is intended for an 18+ audience. Slight dubcon/noncon?, breeding, knotting, cum, excessive sizes, pain, overstimulation, biting, blood, etc

It didn't take long for Beast to finish, his cum covering his hand and splattering on some of the books in front of him thanks to his hiding spot of the bookshelf. However, for poor Belle, she was just bringing herself to the edge repeatedly, but unable to push herself over. She was unable to keep up the pace she had set for herself with all of those fingers pushing into herself, as well as play with her clit, but when she stopped either, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

Beast continued to watch her as she moaned and cried, trying to set a more brutal pace to stretch herself on her fingers when she stopped circling and playing with her clit. She groaned in frustration and annoyance, it just wasn't as good without the additional stimulation, but she couldn't keep up both. Stuffing her fingers inside of her cunt, she whimpered, rocking her hips down on her fingers.

The scent of her arousal and desperation was so thick in the air that it was already making Beast's brain fuzzy, but when she once again cried out his name, he couldn't control himself. He made his way around the side of the bookshelf, immediately pushing her hand to the side and replacing her fingers with his tongue. She gasped, arching her back as his large tongue found its way deep inside of her sweet cunt, tasting how wet and aroused she was. Beast growled, grabbing her hips and pinning her down when she tried to move.

In seconds, Belle was cumming on his tongue. When she did, her body sagged back slightly, her hole pulsing pathetically around his tongue as if trying to milk him. Beast grinned as he pulled back, his large teeth teasing her inner thighs as he ran his tongue and teeth along the sensitive skin there. His fur was soaked with her juices, which embarrassed her, but he couldn't seem to care any less.

"You didn't have to do that," she said shyly, trying to close her legs to prevent him from seeing just how desperate she was for more.

"I wanted to," he muttered, roughly pushing her legs apart.

She began to squirm slightly in his chair. While she was attracted to him, she still had problems trusting him, and wasn't sure if she wanted him to continue touching her. When she opened her mouth to voice these thoughts, though, he took the opportunity to kiss her, shoving his tongue in her mouth. She groaned against it, tasting herself all over him. His large claws quickly shredded her clothing, leaving soft pink lines that sprung up in places where he had clawed at her clothing too hard.

With the pad of his finger, so as not to hurt her with his claws, he began to circle and play with her clit. She whimpered quietly, squirming again to get away from his touch. It was too much after such an intense orgasm. With his other hand, he yanked her back to him, pinning her down so it was easier to play with her clit. He pulled her tongue out of her mouth, letting her gasp and the sound of her whining be louder, filling the room they were in.

"Beast please," she whined, struggling against his strong grip. "I can't. It's too much."

"Isn't this what you were just begging for? For me to play with you? To use you for my own pleasure?" he growled lowly, his tongue darting out to lick one of her nipples, making her whine again. "Or do you want me to skip to the cumming inside of your pretty pink pussy?"

Belle blushed, her own words being repeated back to her making her feel embarrassed, almost ashamed. She couldn't believe how raunchy she had made herself sound. Granted, she hadn't expected Beast to hear her, but surely she had to have known that there was a chance, right?

While Belle was rethinking her actions, Beast took the way that she was still soaking wet and how her clit was reacting to him as an invitation. Lining up his huge cock with her tiny hole, he slowly began to push himself inside of her. This snapped her out of her thoughts, making her cry out. Even stretching herself with her fingers was no preparation for this. She was being stretched so so slowly, but only because he was moving inside of her slowly. One harsh snap of his hips and she would be wrecked, impaled on his giant length.

She tried moving off of him again, but he pinned her down, his claws digging into her skin. Now her movements annoyed him, making him bare his fangs at her, his tail flicking in irritation as he still made his way slowly inside of her.

"Isn't this what you wanted? To be pinned down and used by a monster?" he growled, having to be more rough with forcing himself inside of her when about half of his cock had been pushed inside of her. "You were just begging me to knot and use you. You went into my library, read my book, sat in my chair, and touched your wet little hole while crying my name, begging for my cock. What, now you don't want it?"

She couldn't respond, crying as she came around his cock again. She was already so close from how he had been teasing her clit again, that between his words and how his cock filled her completely, she couldn't help herself. She felt even more embarrassed, but the gush of it allowed Beast to finally bottom out inside of her.

He roared, biting on her shoulder. Part of him felt bad as the taste of her blood rushed into his mouth, but the way that she was hugging his cock drowned out any voice of guilt. She was pushing down on his cock, grinding against his knot. The things she was saying only came out as incoherent babbles, but clearly she was eager for more. For whatever he could give her, and he planned on just that.

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[imthepunchlord]

I think that the main problem with Marinette is that she always gets blamed for minor things, but her bigger mistakes are ignored.

She also gets blamed for things that aren't her fault. Like Reverser I blame Nathaniel and his extreme expectations, and Refleckdoll, it was Alya who was making things worse for Juleka while Marinette was trying to help. Gamer's another as she did play fair and square, and won fair and square.

But yeah, ML has an issue with priorities. With the mindset that ONLY Marinette can be at fault, which has her at fault for things that actually aren't her fault or are minor things when there are bigger faults with others; and that, for Marinette's actual faults and issues, they don't focus on the actual problems.

For one thing, Marinette is a perfectionist, in her work and responsibilities, and in how she helps people. This leads to her being meddling and controlling. With good intentions but she can take it far. She even has this idea that only she can be the solution, though more in an Atlas complex way than being egotistical.

Which I'll give the show this, by how it's set up, Adrien and Marinette kinda feed this bad aspect of their dynamic into each other. Adrien goofs around as a hero or doesn't take situations seriously with his flirting at bad times, so Marinette feels like she has to step up more as leader and responsible one, and Adrien doesn't get a chance to take things more seriously or be the leader as Marinette doesn't expect him to, which leads to his frustration of not being as valued as a partner like he wants and he acts out, and Marinette sees she can't rely on him as much and it just cycles.

I know the show sorta tries to address this with the insistence that Marinette can trust Alya and doesn't need to shoulder everything, which is great, if they didn't take it back right away validating Marinette in being right in not trusting Alya.

Which man, that's one of Marinette's actual big issues, and you address it, and then take two steps back and reverse and vindicate the flawful mindset.

Another big issue is her over involving herself in this she doesn't or shouldn't get involved with, meddling included. She could do to ease back, let others solve their own problems. Like, Darkblade comes to mind (though there may be a better example). I do think it was a good episode, but you got Marinette admitting she's already busy, and doesn't want to be class rep, but steps up as no one else is. This is just an added responsibility she doesn't need but does so because she's involving herself in others problems.

This also leads into the other issue: Marinette's tendency to overpile onto her plate. They even focused on this in Gamer 2.0 but instead of doing a lesson of learning to ease up, take a break, and have fun (which Adrien could've been great for, heck, could've had them bond over a busy lifestyle); but nope, she passes Max off to her parents and continue being busy.

And of course, there's the big issue of her crush.

Like, they're 13-14 yos dealing with first crushes, they're going to be cringe and crazy as they don't know how to handle this, but they just take it way too far. And the extremes it's taken isn't even funny but concerning.

Marinette having his schedule.

The hoard of pictures.

Jealousy that spirals to extremes.

And having rose colored view of Adrien, to thinking he can never do wrong and feeling like she needs to protect and assist him, even at the risk of herself (Collector).

Part of the worst part about this is that this exists for the writers' amusement, taking it to unlikable extremes and not portrayed as really bad flaws that need to be addressed or have lessons about; which leads me to question what's the exaggeration and what can be more accurate/reasonable for the cringey, dramatic crush. Some of which could've been fine issues to fault her for and for her to get called out and learn from, but we don't get that, all we get is unpleasantness.

Oh! You could also cover Marinette's lack of prioritizing herself, and may not knowing how to take a break and have fun. Cause I don't know if this girl knows how to relax. And she definitely doesn't behave like a kid, but much older. Could even delve into the friendship problems she has not really connecting with her friends as well because she doesn't know how to be a kid, how to mess around and goof off.

Marinette has a good number of issues and flaws that can be addressed and worked with, but they pick the wrong ones to focus on.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙

Oh hell yeah. Thank you for loving my questionable writing though.

Summary: (Y/N) is deaf. That doesn't help him when he gets kidnapped.

Warnings: kidnapping, protective family, fluff I guess...

Bruce was protective of all of his children. But he was more protective of (Y/N), his youngest child. Why? The reason is very simple. (Y/N) has been deaf since birth and that made Bruce beyond protective. (Y/N)'s brothers were no better than Bruce. Of course, they knew that deaf people could function normally in society. They knew that very well.

However, problem lies in two points.

First one being that they live in Gotham City. Crime is rampant, criminals are absolutely everywhere and the fact is that you get mugged at any point during the day or night. Although most of criminal life in Gotham operates during the night, no one wants to take any chances.

And even though (Y/N) doesn't go on patrol, Bruce still worried about his youngest son. Always has and always been.

The four birds shared the same sentiment. Everyone made sure to learn sign language and how to live with a deaf person. Rules were determined, such as, if entering (Y/N)'s room, just push your hand in and then flicker the lights on and off to signalize that you are entering. Don't approach (Y/N) from behind because he would often get spooked.

(Y/N)'s own words.

The second problem lies in the last name Wayne. Bruce Wayne is a well known businessman in the world. And the world of business is like a sea full of sharks. Bruce knew that very well. One drop of blood and they would be out for you and your weaknesses. And one of those is your public image.

Bruce was a proud father, attending anything that his children might have. Anything there is. He wants to be there for his kids, sue him. He would never allow work to take him away from his children. And the way he presents himself in the public is the way he is. More often than not, he hates how many people can be ignorant about deafness.

Sure, some may be genuinely curious about it and the questions come from a genuine place of interest. Unfortunately, such people are far few in between. Bruce can sniff them out rather quickly. More often then not, they often look condescending. Which is a rather judgmental way of looking at people, yes, but it's obvious.

Whenever they had a gall, one of the boys would be with (Y/N) to translate. And despite the fact that (Y/N) can read lips, he's not a fan of that. If someone turns their head and he can't see their lips, it gets more complicated.

Even now, as they are at the gala full of people, (Y/N) stuck close to his brothers, needing a translator. Bruce and others often rotated, to make sure that (Y/N) knows what's going on and that he's in the loop. (Y/N) was happy with that he wasn't out of the loop. It's not a good feeling to be out of the loop. Hearing or not.

He signed to Jason that he was going to go to the bathroom, who nodded, sipping his drink.

Jason signed back. " Sure, go ahead. I'll be moving around so don't expect to find me here. "

(Y/N) nodded and started walking to the bathroom. Jason glanced at him for the last time before moving to the table with food, ready for a snack. He was hungry and the catering at galas is just great since rich people pay for it. AKA Bruce Wayne pays for it and he also loves good food.

As Jason went to the food table, (Y/N) was on his way to the bathroom. He was about to enter when someone grabbed him from behind, putting a cloth over his mouth. (Y/N) panicked and tried to remember the self defense that he was taught. He tried to break free from the person, but the smell of the cloth made him go out cold.

Something was off. Damian glanced around the room, trying to spot what that something could have been bothering him so much. His eyes moved around the room, trained to find anything out of the normal. Then it hit him.

Where is (Y/N)?

Damian moved around the room discreetly, trying to figure out where he went. He talked to Jason about it and Jason told him about (Y/N) going to the bathroom. But that was far too long ago... Damian now became more suspicious and worried. He was on edge. He could feel himself getting more and more restless, his mind screaming at him that something is wrong.

He quickly walked over to his family as they all took a chance to breathe on the balcony. Damian made sure that they had some sort of privacy.

" Are you alright Damian? " Bruce asked, glancing over Damian. He could feel that something is wrong with Damian.

" I'm not alright father. I can't seem to find (Y/N) anywhere. " He crossed his arms as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. Everyone tensed up at that.

" Hold on, he went to the bathroom the last time I talked to him, " Jason declared and Damian nodded.

" But it's been far too long though, " Damian countered the point.

" Did he come to anyone, at all? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" Okay, maybe he went to his room, " Tim said, trying to provide a logical explanation. " But he would have told one of us where he would go. He would find one of us and he would tell us... " Tim muttered, now worried himself.

" Should we check the security cameras? " Dick asked, worried, but trying not to show it.

" I'll check the cameras near the bathroom. " Bruce took his phone out of his pocket and going into his security feed.

Jason remained silent, feeling guilty that he didn't notice sooner. Bruce noticed and put his hand on his shoulder. " Do not blame yourself Jason. Please. You couldn't have known. This is our home and none of us should be on guard in our own home, " Bruce murmured and Jason sighed.

Bruce brought Jason into a hug. " (Y/N)'s going to be fine. We are going to find him quickly. "

Dick and Tim furrowed their brows. " What do you mean? " Dick asked.

" You 4 have to swear to me that you won't tell (Y/N), " Bruce stepped away from Jason and everyone muttered that they won't tell.

" I put a tracker on his suit. It's a small one, " Bruce admitted and everyone was shocked by it. They knew that their suits that they wear for their vigilante activities have trackers on them, but a normal suit, for galas and other events...

" It's only when we are at galas and such. There's no tracker on him 24/7, " Bruce elaborated before his sons could accuse him of something.

" Well, we can't tell (Y/N). But lets go get (Y/N) please, " Tim said and everyone nodded.

" I'll have Alfred make something up and we'll make a story so it doesn't seem suspicious about why we didn't know (Y/N) was taken. "

And that's what happened. They concocted a story about it and once Batman dropped him off at GCPD, Bruce came in as a worried father. Media had a field day with the story, a father and son reuniting after a such traumatic event. Bruce couldn't care less about them, his sons are his priority. Screw the media.

Understandably, (Y/N) was shaken up by the entire ordeal. Anyone would be shaken up after being kidnapped in their own home, but with (Y/N) being deaf, he couldn't hear anyone walking up to him. Not to mention, they put a bag over his head. Being in the dark, not being able to hear...

It tugged at Bruce's heartstrings. The other 4 weren't immune either. Damian, the normally stoic one, was affected by that aspect. Even he saw how scary it was. Not being able to see due to the bag over your head and not being able to hear because you are deaf sounds like hell. Damian saw it as a form of torture. And in a way it is. Sensory depravation. Only being able to feel with your touch or feel vibrations, but still...

Damian still shuddered as he tried to envision it.

The other 3 shared the very same sentiment.

And even now, as (Y/N) was with them, on the couch, bundled up in blankets, sipping some herbal tea that Alfred made to calm him down. Both Bruce and Alfred were trying to calm him down too. Bruce was going to find a therapist for (Y/N), that much is sure. It would have to be someone who can sign though...

Well, he'll make sure to find one. For now, he'll focus on making sure that (Y/N) is calm enough to try and sleep. Buce knew that adrenaline was still pumping, but that it will stop soon and (Y/N) would essentially crash.

Everyone sat around (Y/N), trying to calm him and make him feel safe again. Bruce and Tim were going to see how in God's name they managed to get into the manor. This place is more safer than Pentagon, designed to keep any intruder out. And he was going to find out why they wanted to kidnap him.

The best bet was probably money, but then again, you never know. And Bruce was going to make sure that he knew why. You have to nip the problem in the bud.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

Rocking me in the arms of the ocean

Dan Heng as your boyfriend headcanons

General masterlist

Having Dan Heng as a boyfriend includes:

🐲 Him being overprotective over you. He always makes sure every single one of his friends is safe and doesn't mind protecting them with his own body, the same will happen with you. When it comes to his mate his protective instincts get even more intense. Make sure to thank him for taking care of you with a kiss on his cheek and try to not make his heart anxiuos too often.

🐲 Him taking care of you in every other way as well. All his life since escaping Xianzhou he had to prove he's usefull enough to keep him on board, and he brought that attitude both on Astral Express and to your relationship. He can't stand doing nothing, his hands are always busy. As your lover he will do little acts of service on daily basis, like making you a breakfast or massaging you.

🐲 He loves massages cause they give him excuse to touch you for a long time. Most of his life he spent just reading about things but never being able to experience them. He wants to explore all those things now, always hungry for knowing more of the world and more of you. Very touch-starved man. To the point where he shivers at slightest brushing of your hand against his. Please hold him.

🐲 He especially needs to be held during his nightmares of Blade. Your touch brings him peace and grounding. Don't say anything, just touch him.

🐲 He's a very smart guy, especially book smart. This trait can be very hot. You can ask him almost any question, he will know the answear. Walking encyklopedia. He learns new information very fast as well, especially when he's as excited about the topic as he is about you. So expect him to know more about you than you remember telling him.

🐲 That makes him great at choosing presents. While he isn't the richest guy out there he surely knows how to invest his money into you. As a workaholic he has enough to spoil you from time to time. All his gifts are high quality and well thought of.

🐲 Some nights both of you will have a problem to fall asleep. He will cuddle you tightly and tell you the stories from Xianzhou legends he liked to read the most during his captivity. Sometimes he will sing for you quietly. It's very important to him that you listen. He loves you so much he wants to bare his soul to you.

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 2. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Dark themes are to be expected.

A/N: Big thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and reads this one! This chapter has a lot of focus on Jongho. I'm honestly not happy how this turned out, but I hope at least someone will find it enjoyable! I appreciate feedback, so if the story feels too slow for example, please tell me. Also, don't worry; there will be more about the other members later on in the story! I just don't want to make the pace or character development too fast or overwhelming. Please, forgive me; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 3 477

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Sometimes you really wished you had a car. If you just had the nerves to drive you wouldn’t have to wait for the bus in the icy air. 

There was nothing wrong with the waiting itself. At least you usually had time for your own thoughts and breathing to settle down, when you waited for the bus, for your psychiatrist to invite you in, or for work to start. You always arrived to your work place an hour too early to minimize the risk of being late. 

So sure, there was nothing wrong with waiting. The problem was that Jongho was standing next to you. 

You had wished to not meet anyone from the peer support group before the inevitable. Life was already hard enough, and you didn’t need any more stress by seeing one of the madmen from the group on your free time. Although Jongho was seemingly less insane than Yunho for example, he was in the group for a reason. 

You noticed how Jongho’s breathing was much calmer compared to yours. It would have seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all, if the soft fog didn’t form in the air near his mouth. That’s how silent he was. 

The little glances you took in his direction weren’t probably as secretive as you thought, but you didn’t care that much at the moment. He looked mesmerizing as the sun was soon to set in the horizon, casting light on his handsome features. 

Although he looked irritated that the Sun was shining directly in his face, you didn’t turn to look away. He narrowed his eyes, and you took advantage of the fact that he was blinded by the Sun and its rays reflecting from snow. 

“Stop staring at me.” 

You turned your gaze away quicker than it was humanly possible. How was Jongho able to see you looking at him? There was no way you could explain your actions without embarrassing yourself even more, so you just hung your head in shame. Maybe it would hide the blush on your cheeks. At least you could lie that it was just the cold air making your cheeks red, if Jongho happened to notice. 

It felt like the silence would never end. A few cars passed by occasionally, and you almost wished one of them would have picked you up and saved you from this uncomfortable situation. 

Suddenly you felt Jongho moving closer to you. A woman had squeezed in the bus shelter Jongho and you were already in. The small bus stop was getting way too crowded to your liking, although only three people were seeking shelter from the cold under it. 

Jongho stood so close to you. You noticed his breath had quickened. His gaze was directed straight forward strictly. Even if you exploded next to him without warning, he probably wouldn’t move his eyes. He was clearly determined not to look at you. 

The woman who just arrived could probably sense the awkward atmosphere too. 

“Why didn’t you tell your last name?” 

You didn’t know whether to be startled by his question, by the fact that he talked or that he even remembered that situation a whole week after it happened. 

Jongho wasn’t as suspicious as Yunho but something about him made a shiver run down your spine. Even his way of standing was enough to make you think he was untrustworthy. 

But it was possible – unlikely, but possible – that he was nothing more than socially anxious just like you. You knew at some point of your life you would have to trust people. Even the ones you had just met for the first time. Your whole life so far had been wasted by no-one else but yourself, because you were too afraid. 

“I’m worried that people will use my personal information against me,” you answered, already preparing yourself to be laughed at. 

It was so stupid. But it was inevitable for Jongho and the others to know about your condition and thoughts at some point. There was no use of a peer support group if you never opened up. 

Against your expectations, Jongho just nodded thoughtfully. 

“I see. It’s true that many people might do exactly that.” 

Your eyes widened a bit. Getting confirmation that you were in possible danger was new to you. Your psychiatrist and therapist always told you to believe good about people unless they proved you wrong, but Jongho was telling you otherwise. 

“You have to choose wisely who to trust. If anyone.” 

“Do you trust anyone?” you asked Jongho before you could stop yourself. 

Jongho was able to surprise you many times that day. You had expected him to get irritated by your question, to push you into the snowbank or under a car. Actually no, that was something Yunho would do. 

Jongho’s face was stable and emotionless, but his voice betrayed him miraculously during the one word he said. 

“No.” 

“Can I ask you a question as well?”  

“I wish I could say no,” Jongho replied to your nervous question. 

You raised a confused brow. It’s not like you were some tyrant, so why didn’t he refuse if he so wanted to? You asked your question anyways. 

“Are you going to the same bus as I am?” 

“Yes,” Jongho put his hands in his pockets. 

Before he could hide them inside the long, beige jacket, you noticed how red they were from the cold. He must have been freezing but played it off cool. 

“Do you want my other mitten?” you asked. 

Jongho couldn’t hide his surprise, and you were shocked at your own words as well. It was not like you to offer something of your own for a practically stranger to borrow. There was always a risk of him running off with your precious glove. He took a glance at your mittens. 

“They’re really warm,” you hoped your attempt to persuade him would turn out successful. 

A hint of something soft flashed in Jongho’s eyes before disappearing like it had never been there. He just put his other hand out, gesturing you to give the other mitten to him. 

As you gave the glove to him, your fingers brushed against his cold skin. 

“How did you know which bus I am taking?” you realized to ask. 

There was a possibility that you couldn’t ignore; Jongho could be stalking you. In just a week after the first session, he could have found out everything about you, including what bus you always took! 

“You already used your turn to ask a question.” 

Why was he avoiding answering? It made you even more suspicious. 

You made sure to sit as far away from him as possible on the bus. 

When you arrived to the therapy room, you had sincerely hoped you and Jongho would be the first ones there. The thought of someone, especially Yunho, looking at you as you walked in through the door made anxious, acid bubbles pop in your chest. 

“Y/N! Sit next to me and San today!” Wooyoung practically ran to you the moment you pushed the heavy door open to enter. 

Glancing at San who was sitting on one of the chairs already, you noticed him flash a smile in your direction. It was a bit reserved yet kind unlike Yunho’s almost smothering, intrusive one. 

Speaking of Yunho, you felt a tall presence looming behind you. Who else could it be? That rapper “Mingus Dingus” didn’t seem interested in tormenting you, and the others weren’t that tall. You could almost see Yunho’s shadow in front of you as he stood behind you. 

“We should keep our original seat arrangements, don’t you think?” 

Someone could have mistaken Yunho’s voice as gentle but it had a sprinkle of tension. 

You flinched as Yunho put his hand on your shoulder to turn you to look at him. His grip was squeezing you almost like he was trying to control himself. 

To Wooyoung and San’s disappointment, you nodded nervously to Yunho’s suggestion. Oh, how you wished you could have run off to hide from him behind San’s muscles, but you didn’t know how he would react to that if he was this irritated already. 

“She’s just too afraid to say no to you,” Wooyoung pouted, “And I don’t blame her.” 

Apparently, you weren’t the only one to notice Yunho’s scary antics. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The atmosphere felt suddenly freezing as Yunho’s usually cheerful voice dropped to a low, icy one. 

“You’re hogging her all to yourself,” San chimed in. 

Everyone in the peer support group had arrived and was watching your conversation intently. Luckily, the realization of that made Yunho back off. With one last glare sent to Wooyoung and San, he retreated back to his chair. 

You sat between San and Wooyoung as the session started. 

“Let’s start the meeting by telling everyone how we’re feeling right now.” 

At Charlotte’s directive, the first turn was given – more like forced on – to Jongho. 

“I feel neutral. Too calm, even. My thoughts, goals and wants are clear.” 

“Do you think that’s a good thing?” Charlotte inquired. 

“No.” 

Charlotte looked intrigued by Jongho’s answer but gestured the person next to him to reveal their mood. 

Yeosang cleared this throat nervously before speaking, “Nothing that different from the usual. I feel scared. The only thing different is that I feel hopeful.” 

“Could you tell us why you’re hopeful?” 

“There’s a person I’d like to get to know. But I’m afraid I’ll make a fool out of myself in front of them.” 

If you had to choose someone who to trust in the group, it would be Yeosang. He was open about his feelings, which you knew isn’t easy, but seemed like he wouldn’t be dangerous. 

You wouldn’t let him fool you into thinking he was completely harmless though. Any of these men could outpower you easily but you wouldn’t let them outsmart you. 

“Okay, next is Mingus Ding- I mean Mingi,” Charlotte corrected herself quickly but already managed to earn a few chuckles. 

You knew the stage name was silly, but still felt a pang of sympathy in your chest at how embarrassed Mingi looked, when people found the name humorous. It wasn’t an unknown feeling to you to get ridiculed, so you could relate. 

“I was feeling pretty excited first but now I’m embarrassed.” 

“What made you feel excited?” Charlotte asked curiously. 

“I’m releasing a new single tomorrow.” 

Wooyoung’s interest piqued, "How many listeners do you have on Spotify?” 

Mingi’s face flushed red, “I’m a SoundCloud rapper.” 

Yunho pat Mingi on the shoulder comfortingly and started describing his own mood next. 

“I feel happy. I had a nice day at work!” 

It was hard to figure out what to feel about his revelation. Just a few minutes ago he had been fuming, and now he sat there with his beaming smile. Had his mood really changed that quickly or was he tricking everyone as usual? 

“Oh, great! What happened at work?” 

“That’s a secret. We have a professional confidentiality agreement at work.” 

“Just like here,” Charlotte smiled. 

You could barely focus as Seonghwa started talking about his frustrating work day at a game store, because of Yunho looking at you. 

Well, at least now you knew that his happy mood had been just a skillful act. His intense stare served as a reminder that you had made the wrong choice to sit next to Wooyoung and San. 

“I feel stressed out. There’s still so much I have to do at work,” Hongjoong’s tense voice brought you back down to Earth. 

“Did you relax during weekend?” 

“No. I worked. I have to keep my company relevant in the eyes of the customers.” 

It seemed to you like Hongjoong was some kind of workaholic. You shouldn’t have felt ashamed because workaholism was a real, possibly life-ruining condition, but you couldn’t help the feelings of embarrassment. Hongjoong was so successful while you had your ordinary work and no ambitious goals other than to feel better someday. 

It was San’s turn to speak, “I’m sad and insecure. Some people at the gym looked at me weird again.” 

You couldn’t understand why someone would look at San weirdly. Sure, you were intimidated by how handsome he was but when he smiled at you today, your heart was about to melt. His eyes were so pretty. 

“What do you mean by weird?” 

“Like they thought I was scary or would hurt them,” San answered Charlotte. 

His sad tone broke your heart. He seemed shameful for making some people afraid of him, but was it really his fault since he didn’t act threateningly? 

Before the pause got awkward, you realized it was your turn. 

What could you tell? If you spoke the truth and said you were a little scared, would Yunho realize it was thanks to him? 

But it was about time to start opening up. All these people were here because of their own problems. All of them had been mentally unwell for years probably, and now focused on only getting better, not planning to murder you. Even Yunho. At least you hoped so, because you were about to reveal your feelings for the first time. 

“I’m feeling...” you looked around the room, trying to analyze everyone’s faces but your sight was getting blurry, “scared.” 

“And why is that, Y/N?” 

“Everything makes me scared. But I recognize it’s just my overthinking. There’s no real threat.” 

Convincing others was much easier than convincing yourself. You could see other people nodding in sympathy at your words. 

“I don’t think that’s just overthinking,” Jongho suddenly spoke up. 

Charlotte turned to look at Jongho with warning eyes. You were already such a mess with your paranoid thoughts that there was no need for Jongho to fuel the fire. 

“Everyone is a possible threat. There is possibly one even among us,” he continued. 

“Jongho, stop.” 

But Jongho didn’t care about Charlotte’s demand. 

“Someone who presents themselves as a leader of justice may as well be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” 

Your heartbeat accelerated by every word Jongho let fall from his lips. Did he know something you didn’t? 

Eyeing the room, you could see thoughtful, worried looks on everyone’s face. Everyone, including Yunho himself, knew who Jongho meant by “a leader of justice”. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Still, no-one dared to speak. An unwritten agreement of silence hung thick in the air, crushing you under its weight. 

“Let’s move on to the next section,” Charlotte informed after a few moments. 

“No! I haven’t had my turn yet,” Wooyoung whined, and for a good reason. 

Soon enough, Wooyoung was describing his mood and past week, paying attention to the important details like what color the car that passed by was and how long he brushed his teeth. 

The story continued for many minutes, and you were sure you’d be listening to him talk for the rest of eternity. Wooyoung’s next comment suddenly woke you up from your slumber. 

“I also saw you, Y/N. You were so beautiful on your evening walk.” 

A bit creepy, to be honest, but his intention was probably just to be sweet. You gave him a sheepish smile in response. 

“Oh! I almost forgot to mention; someone was following you.” 

Your smile dropped as you heard Wooyoung’s words. Feeling like you were being watched had always been a thing you suffered from, but that was just work of your “wild imagination” based on what your psychiatrist always told you. But despite all the medication he had prescribed you, the feeling had stayed. 

Maybe you weren’t as crazy as you had thought. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t scare Y/N like that,” Charlotte scolded Wooyoung. 

“But it’s true!” 

“Stop. We are moving on to the next section.” 

You had never seen Charlotte so tense. But she masked her frustration well and changed the topic skillfully, like she had probably had to do many times before with difficult patients. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung’s revelation during the other section as well. Yeosang was your partner in the next section, but your focus was completely on different things while he was talking. 

“A-Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Yeosang’s sad voice finally pulled you back from your anxious thoughts. 

An instant regretful feeling filled you, and you hurried to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Yeosang. I’m... still thinking about the fact that someone had been following me.” 

Yeosang’s body seemed to relax a bit, but his hands were still wrapped around his stomach as usual. He stole a glance at your face before staring at his shoes again. 

“Okay, I understand. I would be worried too. Well, I am worried for you as well. It’s not like I don’t care about your well-being. I mean, I’m not in love with you! But people can still care although they don’t love each other, you know? But that’s not to say I would never be able to love you. I think you’re lovable. Everyone is. Well, maybe not everyone, but you definitely are!” 

Wow. You did not expect that logorrhea to escape his pretty lips. 

Your shock was clearly evident because Yeosang hid his face immediately and murmured almost inaudibly, “I’m sorry. Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

It was official. Yeosang was the one you trusted the most. Even his rambling had been cute, but his sincere, caring apology made your heart ache in a way that wasn’t sadness. 

You were surprised by your own attitude as well. It wasn’t like you to consider trusting someone after a second meeting. Although you’d be careful, you felt more at ease with Yeosang’s presence already. 

“No worries. I think it was funny – in a good way.” 

Yeosang smiled shyly in response and even managed to meet your eyes for a split second. 

You two continued chatting away, at least tried to, although it was hard with both of you being so shy. Despite the moments of silence, you didn’t feel awkward. Anxious, yes, but that was because you genuinely hoped for your potential friendship to bloom. The instant connection between you two was as clear as day. 

Sadly, everyone did not appreciate the fact that Yeosang had gotten closer to you than anyone had so far. 

The house was starting to get void of people after the session finally ended. Your boots and jacket were on, your hand on the doorknob, ready to open the front door and freeze in the breeze of a winter night. 

“There you are. I thought Yeosang had snatched you away.” 

You turned around to see Jongho standing at the top of a staircase. His face wasn’t visible due to the low lighting in the room, but you recognized his stable voice. 

“I’ve been waiting to get you alone,” he started descending the stairs by taking one step down. 

“Why?” 

Your ever so slightly trembling voice didn’t faze Jongho. 

The stairs creaked a little as he took two steps down, “Do I make you nervous?” 

“A little, to be honest...” 

Jongho didn’t answer you. Only after he had taken three steps down, you gathered the courage to repeat your question. 

“Why did you want to get me alone?” 

“Make a guess.” 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t come up with any reasons. You just couldn’t make any sense of the mess inside your head. 

You saw Jongho taking more and more steps, getting closer. Like frozen in place, you could just watch him approach you. His blank expression left you clueless, having no idea what he could possibly want from you. 

And soon enough, Jongho stood in front of you, looking in your eyes. You had felt much more comfortable with Yeosang’s avoiding eyes than the intense yet emotionless gaze Jongho was forcing on you. 

The room was dimly lit and the lights formed shadows on his face. Earlier today, you had seen him at the bus stop with the sunlight shining on his face. It had been a beautiful sight. Now, the light was completely different. It was artificial, and although warm, it made Jongho look like a different person. 

He reached for your hand before you could flinch away, and placed something in it. 

It was the mitten you had lent him. 

“Next time, sit beside me,” he said. 

You were left alone, standing like a fool, as Jongho disappeared into the night. Millions of thoughts raced in your head, but eventually you pulled the mittens in your hands. 

Just as you slipped your hand inside the warm mitten Jongho had given back to you, something fell out of it. 

Your winter jacket rustled quietly as you reached down and picked up the object from the floor. 

It was a small piece of paper. There was a handwritten sentence on it. 

“You’re not as observant as you think you are.” 

<- Chapter 1.

Chapter 3. ->

[twinksrepository]

A Blissful Stroll

ating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Smut, Possessive, talk of sex, hot tub sex, penis in vaginal sex, creampie, sex with feelings, unintentional voyeurism, naked, slight BDSM talk

Word count: Roughly 4K

A/N: You can't sleep, and run into Mammon and Lucifer while in the world between worlds. Going for a stroll with Lucifer makes the most sense and you get a surprise you weren't expecting.

Also known as Twink thought of this during the Dark Eternal Bliss event and finally got around to writing it. There might also be one with Diavolo in the near future. We'll see.

Images belong to Solmare.

Tossing and turning on the futon you give up on falling asleep, as much as you’re used to sleeping in different places the thin bedding is just a bit too thin for you to drift off to slumberland easily. Carefully pulling your clothes on, trying to keep the noise down since it sounds as if no one else has the same problem as you right now. 

When you make it to the street you’re just as careful with the door, letting out a soft sigh as the chill of the night air starts to seep along your bare skin. 

Jumping when a warm palm lands on your shoulder and your heart does a double thump, almost screaming at the top of your lungs. Almost. Because after several days here you know it’s someone from your little group of oddballs that just scared the living daylights out of. 

“Ah, oops. Didn’t mean ta scare ya like that.” With a hand on your chest, you turn to face Mammon who doesn’t look all that sorry, if anything he looks excited. “Out for a little midnight treasure huntin’ huh? That’s pretty cunnin’ of ya.” 

At least now you have an idea why the house was so quiet, it sounds more like he’s the one out for some hunting. Giving your head a shake about to tell him you couldn't sleep, only for a deeper voice to speak for you. 

“As if our Little Lamb wouldn’t entertain such frivolous ideas.” Lucifer appears from just inside the house, if you didn’t know any better you’d suspect he heard you getting dressed. “If you can’t sleep, then why not join me for a stroll instead?” He one hundred percent heard you. 

“Pfft, lookin’ for riches with me be way more fun.” Letting out a soft chuckle as you smile at the two of them. Both offers of time alone with them are tempting, but running around looking for treasure with Mammon doesn’t sound like it’s going to help you sleep like the stroll will. 

“Sorry Mams, maybe next time.” Giving his hand a squeeze in condolences as you pass him to stand beside Lucifer. 

“In that case, bestest big bro, you’d better come back before curfew.” You’d laugh at what he says without saying anything. A thinly veiled threat to not keep you out too late, which is rather funny coming from the House of Lamentations resident troublemaker.

“You’re the one most likely to break it. Don’t go causing any trouble.” Sighing with his arms folded across his chest and one of his eyebrows raised. 

“Sure, whatever.” Turning on his heels away from the pair of you with his hands raised. “See ya tomorrow, and don’t let him get too handsy.” A parting shot directed at his brother that has you giggling behind your hand while Lucifer just shakes his head at Mammon’s antics. 

“Shall we?” Holding out your arm as if offering it to Lucifer, watching a brief roll of his eyes at your antics now. Instead of taking it, he slips his arm under yours so he can intertwin your fingers as he starts guiding you down the street and away from your temporary home. 

“It’s almost funny.” His deep voice seems to carry just a bit more in the silent town, you might find it eerie if you weren’t enjoying the warmth seeping from his fingers into yours. 

“What is?” Curious as you let Lucifer lead you along the main drag of the empty town, tracing your thumb along his thumb and index finger. It’s uncommon to feel the dry skin normally clad in leather. 

“Despite being flung to another world without warning, my brother’s behavior hasn’t changed a bit.” He’s not wrong, if anything the only change you noticed was that underlying worry you all seemed to share about trying to get back home. “I suppose it’s because you’re here with us.” 

“Come on, Lucifer.” It’s your turn to shake your head in disbelief even if your face starts to warm. “You guys spent centuries without me, I doubt me being here is making that much of a difference.” 

“There you go with the self depreciation again.” Surprised when he comes to a sudden stop near a bridge and uses your hand to get you to turn and face him. Those crimson orbs have that look of admonishment in them once again. “You’ve always been our cornerstone since you arrived in our lives, grounding us through even the most trying situations.” Raising his free hand to slide it against the apple of your cheek, smiling as you unconsciously start to nuzzle into his palm. “I trust that shows how much you mean to everyone.”

“I’m not really sure I’d call myself a cornerstone.” His eyes start to narrow at your low tone and you let out a short chortle of laughter. “Having all of you nearby always makes me feel safe, so maybe it has more to do with that shared feeling. Being a cornerstone feels like a lot of pressure.” Trying to stop him from a lecture about your bad habits.

“It could be.” Agreeing you watch as something in his eyes shifts, something that has your heart beating faster in your chest. “Just remember, you never have to shoulder everything on your own. I’ll always be here for you.” 

“Oh?” Grinning now, you tilt your face and reach up to grasp his wrist in your hand, keeping his palm in place as you give the meatier part of his hand just under his thumb the briefest press with your lips. “Do I mean that much to you? Personally? So much that you offer to share whatever burden I have?” Teasing him as you flutter your eyelashes. 

Only for Lucifer to surprise you, breaking free from your loose hold and releasing your hand, with a few quick tugs you find yourself with your back against his chest and his arms forming a cage. With the new position you’re on the bridge with his hands resting on the guardrail, both of you looking down at the reflection of the moon on the shifting surface. His breath fanning out across the shell of your ear. “So, you’ve decided to play dumb?” That edge of possessiveness is back in his voice. The one that makes your knees wobble and your throat go dry. “Very well, if you want to hear me say it, I will.” 

Guiding his hands from the wooden beam and crossing them over your body, leaning more of his chest along your back until there’s barely any space between the two of you. The tip of his nose ghosting along the shell of your ear, all you can hear is the raspiness of his breathing while you watch the watery reflection of the two of you. His eyes even through the slopped surface are like two burning embers. “I would chase you to the ends of the earth-whether that happens to be the Devildom, the human world, or somewhere else entirely.” 

It’s hard not to swallow as he whispers in your ear low enough that your stomach clenches. “No matter where you go, I will be right behind you, ready to drag you back to where you belong. No being, demonic or otherwise, will keep me from you.” As if to punctuate his words his arms tighten, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to reinforce his words. “And don’t you dare forget it.” 

Even without the chance of someone walking by the hear him, Lucifer still won’t utter those three words in public. His pride getting in the way even now, but you don’t have the same worry. “I love you too, Lucifer.” Watching his grin grow at your soft words is worth it. Sliding your hands to his arms to get him to loosen his hold on you just enough so you can turn around and face him. “And don’t you forget that.” Shifting your heads so your lips can connect in a tender kiss, one that doesn’t last yet is still laced with emotions. 

You lose track of time for how long the two of you stand like that, it’s only when you start to shiver that Lucifer creates some space. “Come along, let’s finish our stroll.” Staying close to you as if to ward off the chill, and after a few minutes it feels like he’s guiding you somewhere. 

“Lucifer?” Trying to keep your tone even. “Are you taking me somewhere?” 

“A surprise.” Taking another turn before stopping in front of a building that has two entrances.  “I found it earlier today.” 

“Did you seriously find a bathhouse?” Oh, how Asmodeus would have killed to be here soaking in the water. 

“Better.” Thoughts of his brother leave your head as he leads you through the door on one side and back towards the changing area which he skips in it’s entirety. Stopping when he reaches the pool of water, steam rising from the slightly murky surface.

“Ok.” You admit with a laugh. “This is better.” Leaning in to kiss the side of his cheek. “But not better than your declaration on the bridge.” Sporting one of those rare happy Lucifer grins he joins you in a short round of laughter.

“I thought this might help you relax and sleep.” Starting to remove his clothes and folding them to form a neat pile just under the edge of the overhang of the building. As much as you’d like to just stand there and watch him to enjoy the show you’d rather just join him. Plus the idea of the warm water surrounding your skin sounds heavenly right now. 

Lucifer doesn’t take as long as you do, stopping to help you disrobe before taking your hand and helping you down the slick stones. Letting out a sigh of relief as the heat started to seep into your skin right away, and you settled in next to him. “I might have been wrong.” Pausing as he raises one of his eyebrows at you quizzically. “This might be better than you admitting you’d chase after me.” 

A short splash of water is sent your way as he feigns annoyance, it doesn’t last as he curls his arm around the small of your back to tug you closer so your sides are touching. “You truly enjoy trying my patience.” 

“You like having someone keeping you on your toes while not causing trouble.” Letting out a soft snort while letting your head lean against his shoulder, sinking more into the warm water. 

“The fact you think you don’t cause me trouble is audacious.” Feeling his exhale along the top of your forehead before he places his lips there. “The number of times you’re the instigator instead of one of my brothers is laughable.” His voice was tender and you didn’t miss the feeling of him smiling against your skin.  

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” Lifting your hand from the water to rest your palm atop his chest while curling your other hand under the gap between his back and the rock wall. 

“You don’t allow me much choice, Lamb.” You let that statement hang in the air, far more interested in the heat seeping along your skin and into the muscles of your back that were sore from the thinner material that served as your bed. 

It’s nice, just sitting there with Lucifer as his fingers trail along your side under the water a random pattern only he knows etched into your skin. Listening to the swaying of the tree branches in the wind and the sound of his slow breathing. “A bottle of Demonus, a record player, and a cursed record to listen to, this place might feel like home.” 

“Demonus?” Chuckling as he tilts his head more to the side, allowing him better access to the skin of your forehead. “It’s nice of you to think of my preference, however, why do I get the feeling you’d rather a bottle to get me drunk?” His hand slides lower to grip your hip as he whispers his question. 

“I was just thinking of it because you enjoy it.” Craning your neck back so you can look into his eyes, internally grinning at the hint of lust in that adoring gaze. “But now that you’ve brought it up, you are more…” Trailing off as you try to think of the right word.

“Easily taken advantage of?” Chuckling the words himself while you shake your head in the negative. 

“Submissive.” One of those black eyebrows of his raising as if he can’t believe that’s what you went with. “Oh don’t look at me like that.” Giving his butt a quick squeeze under the water. “I mean you’re more likely to let me have the reins instead of just railing me with you doing all the work. You don’t often give me control.” 

“That’s because half the time you get flustered and don’t know what to do.” Feeling the tips of your ears warm, he’s got you there. 

“I’m trying to learn! I’m just…” Trailing off again as your voice lowers until the final words are a whisper. “Not used to that kind of stuff.” By stuff you mean all the ropes and whips he likes to use, vanilla sex, and a few kinks? You’re good. But tying Lucifer up and edging him until he’s a panting whining mess wanting you to degrade about being forced him to cum on his own stomach instead of inside you? 

Yea, you weren’t quite all that confident at that yet. 

As in the farthest you’d gotten was the second denied orgasm and him making a noise you thought was pain and you having to use the safe word because you couldn’t handle the idea of hurting him. He’s never been upset with you not being able to dominate him as your relationship progressed to the point where he wanted you to be in control, a role he so rarely relinquished. But you had this lingering feeling every time after that he was disappointed. 

“You’ll get there my love.” Closing the distance to seal his lips over yours for a quick passionate kiss. “Perhaps we need to work on your skills at the less intense levels more.” Letting out a yelp as you’re quickly scooped up and deposited so you’re straddling his legs while he leans back against the rock wall, your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself balanced. “Tell me what you want, Master.” 

That one word took you from relaxed to aroused in three point five seconds, the amount of time it took for your brain to catch up to what he meant. Your face feels like an inferno as you look down at the water instead of his face. “I swear when you say that Lucifer.” Groaning before you catch his eyes again. “You’re trying to get me all worked up.” 

“If it gets the job done.” Sporting a grin that would look less out of place on his demonic form with his horns. “Now, tell me what you want.” If you’re supposed to be in control he isn’t acting like it with that command in his voice, it doesn’t stop the throbbing in your core either. 

“I um…” Your brain is reeling, because you honestly thought he’d tell you just to ride him and the two of you would work on your dirty talk. Not this. The briefest downturn of his eyes and your mouth moves. “I want you to fuck me, like this.” Lowering your hips so more of your weight settles on his hips. “I’m just going to sit here and watch that handsome face of yours while you pleasure me with your cock.” Swallowing at the outburst as your face feels like actual flames are licking your skin. 

A short boom of laughter from the demon under you before he licks his lips. “As you command, Master.” Fuck. His voice dropping down into a husky rasp and you’re certain if you weren’t around surrounded by water your thighs would have still been just as drenched. A small moan escapes your lips as he slips one of his hands between your bodies and brushes his fingers along your folds. 

“I said your cock, not your fingers.” There’s no force behind the words as you bite your lips, but the second of admonishment on his face is worth it before that grin returns. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were relaxed, Master. I won’t make the same assumption again.” You know he was checking to see if you were already loose enough for him, but tonight you want to feel the burn when he stretches your insides to accommodate him. Another adjustment, and this time you feel the tip of his dick sliding between the skin of your sex. You have no idea how long he’s been hard for but you don’t care, already letting out a string of soft noises of pleasure from the fat head spreading you and bumping into your clit.

“Lucifer~” Sighing his name your hips give a small jerk, chasing that delectable feeling of his cock. Licking your upper lip as you try to regain control of your hips, even if you just want to sink down until he’s deep inside your cunt. “I want you inside me.” 

Using his hand to guide his length inside your tight walls, lifting his hips to gently spread you open. You let out a whine, feeling the pressure inside of you build from each inch of him that forces your body to accept him. Glancing at his face you notice the way he’s biting the corner of his lip, one of his longer canines peeking out. 

It’s hot. 

Add in the way his eyes are lidded and cast downward to the murky water as if he can see the way your slit stretches to accommodate his dick? You’re ready to cum just from that. 

“You’re so tight.” Panting through his teeth as he lifts his hips, shallowly thrusting up into you at a steady pace. Both of his hands are on your hips now to keep you from bouncing around since you told him to do all the work, the tips of your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure is starting to make you feel hazy. “Have I not been giving you enough attention lately? Not been seeing to your wants and needs?” 

“No.” Whining you slide your hands higher along his neck. “It’s from stress.” Lucifer has been anything but a slouch when it comes to your needs, he might be a busy demon but he can usually find time to make you scream his name. Or moan around his length from under his desk. 

“Then just relax, I’ll bring you all the pleasure you could want.” Starting to buck his hips faster now, churning your insides fast enough to have that coil inside of you drawing tighter and tighter. Your walls spasm more and more around his length as if trying to keep him from leaving your body. 

“Lucifer” Panting his name as you drop your forehead to his, your bodies closer changing the angle of how he’s slamming into you. His cock drags along the upper portion of your cunt, and once in a while the dark hairs around his base brush against your clit making your lungs shutter. You’re so close. “Kiss me.” 

Shifting his head back while keeping the connection against your temple, a tentative brush of his lips before he’s moving them with a ferocity against yours that leaves you moaning. Sliding your tongue out to deepen the kiss, almost swooning and cuming on his cock then and there when he mirrors your actions. 

He’s like a drug you can never get enough of. 

Your hands are no longer on his shoulders but gripping the strands of his hair as he bucks his hips faster. The sound of water sloshing around your bodies and against the rocks reaches your ears. Belatedly realizing you aren’t keeping still anymore, rolling your hips in time to his upward thrusts. 

One of his hands is pressed to the center of your back, keeping you close to him, your nipples rubbing against the firm muscles of his chest adding to the stimulation assaulting your senses. Panting and whining into his mouth the pleasure racing through you becomes too much, moaning his name into his mouth as you freeze, lost your orgasm. 

Lucifer doesn’t stop when your pussy starts to squeeze him like a vice, still bucking up into you as he breaks the kiss. Letting your head fall forward to land on his shoulder, he’s so close. “Just breathe Lamb, just breathe. I’m almost there.” His breathing rapid, and the tendons along his neck strained. You feel amazing in your post orgasm slump, all thoughts of letting you boss him around to grow more comfortable gone, replaced by the growing need to empty himself inside you. 

He won’t admit it, not even to you, but the idea of these forced marriages have had him on edge for the past few days. Worried what would happen if you were ever forced into something like that. Worried how he, his brothers, Diavolo, and the others would react to you being forced from their sides. It wouldn’t end well. 

So when he heard you stirring earlier, the idea came to him to take you here. At first, it had just been to relax and unwind, to remind himself you weren’t going anywhere. But the longer you sat beside him in the warm water, the more he wanted to feel you. To watch you come undone for him. 

And you have. 

“Lucifer?” Moaning his name as you come back to your senses, your head bouncing on his shoulder as he keeps moving. 

“Almost there.” Hissed through his teeth before he throws back his head as he slams you down onto his hips. A loud groan that sounded a lot like your name as you felt him cuming inside you, a burning deep in your core from his spent seed. Watching the hammering of his heartbeat in his neck with his eyes closed as he gives a few more thrusts, filling you to the brim before he stops seated deep inside your walls. 

“Damn.” Letting out a tired laugh as you drag your hands out of his hair and trail yours fingers down the pale column of his throat to his collarbones. Ghosting over the sweat slicked skin. ���I don’t think you’ve given me a load that big in a while.”

“You haven’t felt that tight in a while.” Muttering the words as he breaths through his nose trying to calm his racing heart before opening his eyes. Leaning in for a quick kiss that borders on tender. “Calling you master does something for me as well.” Admitting as he slides forward so more of him, and you since you’re still attached, is under the water. “Maybe we should get a hot tub for the House of Lamentation.” Sighing the words as he relaxes and you let out a soft giggle. 

“Not if that’s what the two of ya are gonna do in it.” Screaming in surprise and wrapping your arms around Lucifer to try and hide your naked skin. “Didn’t I tell ya not ta let em’ get too handsy!” 

“Mammon!” Snarling his brothers' name as he appears. You’re very much in the same boat as Lucifer right now, partly pissed at being interrupted, partly embarrassed at being found naked with him balls deep in your tender sex. 

So much for a round two that you were hoping for. 

Back to Masterlist

[i-am-the-n1-trash]

I'm rereading Tim Drake: Robin and honestly, Tim and Bernard's relationship just makes me so emotional. The fact that they both see each other as the 'bad one' in the relationship, with the other being their 'savior' says so much about their previous relationships.

Tim's biggest canon relationship is obviously Steph and, though I love her to death, their relationship was at points extremely unhealthy, and Tim was often shamed for his actions. He's the bad guy when Bruce won't let him tell her his name. He's the bad guy when Darla kisses him without consent. He's the bad guy for avoiding her when she comes back from faking her own death (against her will, I'm aware, but still), even though their relationship hadn't been in good terms at all when she 'died'.

Though Tim has his fair share of romantic relationships, only two outside of Steph, to me, are as meaningful or well-known enough to warrant exploring, and those are Ariana and Tam (There was definitely guilt with Lynx, but that was from the "she's possibly a criminal" kind, and his issues with Cassie come from a very different place too.)

In both these relationships, there are many times where Tim sees himself as the bad guy. With Ariana, he struggles with his growing feelings for Steph and the guilt of keeping a secret identity from someone he loves, not to mention the fact this is his first serious relationship and he constantly feels like he's messing up. With Tam, the secret isn't a problem anymore, but he ends up constantly putting her in danger just from knowing him, and that puts him off the idea of pursuing a relationship with her altogether.

With Bernard, though, it's the first time in a long time he has a complete fresh start. He's been stuck in a cycle of breaking up and making up with Steph, because they see each other as safe and familiar, but even that is something Tim feels guilty for.

Bernard is someone he knew, who Tim has enough history with to trust him, but who he is still getting to know now as the adults they've become, with no expectations of each other. He still sees himself as the bad guy, as the liar hiding his identity from him. They have a couple step backs, like when Tim has to ask him about the cult as Robin, but even then Bernard makes it clear that while he's angry, he understands why he's doing it, by doubling down on the fact that, regardless of Tim's current actions, their relationship is still a happy part of Bernard's life. (This comfort doesn't work that well, because Tim is a dumbass who doesn't realize Bernard knows he's Robin, but I digress.)

Essentially, to Tim, Bernard is the first baggage-free relationship he's had for a very long time, and he's somewhat plagues by the secrets he's keeping from him. To Tim, he is lying and putting him in danger, and Bernard, who he sees as a bright light in his life, deserves better.

On the other hand, we don't have that much info on Bernard's past relationships outside of Darla/Laura and Tim, but it's still easy to see that this boy is overflowing with self-deprecation.

In both Batman: Urban Legends and Tim Drake: Robin we see that his parents are, in the first one, very unaware of his life, and, in the second one, incredibly disapproving of his 'lifestyle' and even borderline emotionally abusive. Bernard really never met their expectations since he was young, and while he seems almost dismissive of this, you can tell it strikes him deep.

The one big thing we know about Bernard is the cult, and that already tells us everything we need to know. No one joins a cult if they have lot of self-love and confidence, especially not when the cult's main idea is to let go of all your problems through torture.

So when Tim, a guy he's had a crush on for years, someone he knows (or eventually finds out, the timeline is ambiguous) is not only a superhero, but his favorite superhero, Robin, he sees himself as dirty. As tainting Tim's heroism. Bernard is a likely depressed queer kid who fell victim to a cult, who has a history of self harm, with a bad relationship with his parents. To him, Tim is the one good thing in his life, and he says it outright even when they are having what's possibly their first big fight (unbeknownst to Tim, who, as I mentioned, is a dumbass <3).

He doesn't blame Tim at all for lying or keeping a secret identity, because Bernard sees himself as second to Robin in Tim's eyes and never once tries to fight back on that idea. Bernard considers Robin to be more important than himself, in general, and doesn't see anything wrong with that. To Bernard, Tim is the best thing that has ever happened to him, and the fact that they're dating is a blessing he doesn't believe he deserves.

In conclusion, these should like. Talk to each other. Please. And also both go to therapy. They love each other so much

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Riddle Rosehearts - Dorm Uniform Vignette

"Only the roses may be dyed red"

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Lounge]

Cater: Urrrrgh. Man, I still can't memorize all this～!

Trey: Oh, c'mon, Cater. You're usually pretty good at this kind of thing, aren't you?

Cater: Even so, Trey-kun.

Cater: There's just some stuff people can and can't do, y'know...

Trey: You're in danger of failing the class if you don't do well on next week's practical magic written exam, is that right?

Cater: Yuuup. I gotta get these formulas into my head one way or another.

Trey: You say that, and then open up Magicam, huh.

Cater: Well, 'cause I'm not feelin' it at all～

Cater: If this exam was asking for all the dishes on a cute café on Magicam…

Cater: Or the sale date of a trendy new outfit, I could totally memorize everything no problem.

[Riddle arrives]

Riddle: Why are the two of you looking so grim?

Trey: Hey, Riddle. I'm just helping Cater study for his upcoming practical magic exam. He's at risk of failing.

Riddle: What did you just say?

Cater: Hey, wait, Trey-kun! You don't need to tell him that!

Trey: Since practical magic is a required class, failing it can mean being held back a year.

Riddle: Cater. Were your grades so poor that you could actually be held back?

Riddle: In this dormitory, only the roses may be dyed red! It will be off with your head if you're telling me your assignments are nothing but corrective red marks!

Cater: N-No, that's not it! This is the only one I'm having trouble with! I don't get any bad grades in any other course!

Riddle: You should be doing your darndest to not even have one subject in the red.

Riddle: And? What is it that's puzzling you so?

Cater: That'd be "infusing magic to make automatic cleaning implements"

Riddle: Automatic cleaning implements, I see… That would be magic to make brooms and rags and the like clean a room on its own.

Riddle: As a sophomore, I haven't come across that in class yet, however I've read up on the process in a book before.

Cater: It's the "auto" part that's tripping me up. Setting up the spell is just like coding.

Cater: It fails if each step isn't carried out in the proper order… But I just can't get my head around it…

Trey: True. This sort of magic is supposed to have the implements avoid fragile objects, or adjust how much power it requires when on carpet…

Trey: Those spells need to be placed on the cleaning tools first in order for everything to work out, yeah.

Riddle: Your unique magic allows you to control your own doppelgangers, does it not?

Riddle: You're capable of doing such high-level magic, so why does this cause you to struggle so?

Cater: Hmmm. Sure, I can kinda multi-task and do a bunch of stuff at the same time, but maybe I'm just not that good at prepping stuff ahead of time…

Riddle: I suppose that means you may have a grasp of the fundamentals, but have trouble implementing it… I see.

Riddle: Well, alright. Then I shall teach this to you.

Cater: Eh, seriously?

Trey: But hey, this is a junior-level course. You sure?

Riddle: Who do you think you're talking to? I am the Housewarden of Heartslabyul.

Riddle: As Housewarden, I should be expected to help solve the issues of all my dorm students, regardless of grade.

Riddle: From the moment I became Housewarden, there has not been a single Heartslabyul student who have repeated a year, or dropped out of this school.

Riddle: Moreover, for as long as I am Housewarden, I will not allow a single student to flunk a course!

Riddle: Leave it all to me. I will be certain to help raise your grades, Cater.

[Library]

Deuce: Uhh, was the shelf of grimoires on alchemy over here?

Riddle: Perhaps it should start with levitation magic… No, perhaps it would be better to begin the spell with some sort of clairvoyant magic.

Riddle: The books that delve deeper into this should be… Ack!

[slam! thud, thud, thud!]

Deuce: Wah!

Riddle: Ouch… My apologies, I was not looking where I was going.

Deuce: Housewarden Rosehearts! I'm so sorry!

Riddle: Oh, it's just you, Deuce.

Deuce: Please, let me help pick up your books… Wait, are you planning on reading all of these?

Riddle: That's right. Is something wrong with that?

Deuce: There's over 20 thick and difficult looking grimoires here…

Riddle: I'm currently creating notes to help Cater study for his exams. These are all required materials for that.

Riddle: After all, it is my responsibility to help solve any problems my dorm students are facing.

Deuce: W-Wow, that's amazing of you…! I'm floored.

Deuce: I'm not really any good for anything more than carrying stuff, so… Please let me carry these books to the desk for you!

Riddle: Thanks, that's a load off my shoulders.

Riddle: Mm. He should have no problem passing his exam if I compile the information in these grimoires.

Riddle: I cannot wait to hand over these study notes over to Cater.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Riddle: Hold, Cater!!!!!!!!!

Riddle: How are you unable to memorize a mere 300 pages of text!?!?

Riddle: I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD!!!!!!!!!!!

Cater: There's no way anyone can memorize 300 pages of notes in just one or two days!

Cater: Especially not when it's written in small script on a whole sheet of paper!

Cater: Don't get all red-faced and shout at me like that～!

Trey: Now, now, Riddle. Calm down a little.

Riddle: Haaah… R-Right, I got carried away. My apologies.

Riddle: Ahem. Listen carefully, Cater.

Riddle: These exam notes I compiled together has been made specifically to prepare you for any possible question that may come up on the exam.

Riddle: Just by memorizing those 300 pages, you should be able to solve every basic formula, practical application and trick question.

Riddle: Therefore, you should just memorize all of this text without worrying about how complicated it would be!

Cater: I totally get that you worked your butt off to put this together, and I totally want to memorize it, I really do!

Cater: But whenever I open up the textbooks, I only get about 3 pages in before I get super drowsy…

Riddle: The third page?

Riddle: That means you've not even gone past the table of contents!

Riddle: YOU DEFINITELY DESERVE TO LOSE YOUR HEAD!!!!!!!

Trey: R-Riddle, I feel you, but calm down a little…

Riddle: Urrrrghhh…!!

Trey: Cater, come on. If it makes you sleepy, then you should try to memorize it by reading the contents out loud.

Trey: Your busy Housewarden went through the troubles of putting this together for you.

Cater: Yeah, you're right. Sorry…

Cater: Alright, then. I got less than a week before my test, so I'm gonna definitely hunker down and test starting right now!

Riddle: Hmph. If you fail after I did all this…

Riddle: It'll absolutely be off with your head, understand!?

Cater: I-I'll do my best…

Cater: I'll upload a declaration of intent onto Magicam and log off for a bit.

Cater: First, I'll snap a pic of the exam notes that you made for me…

[click]

Cater: #StudyingForTests #300PagesOfNotes #Riddle-kunsHandicraft #HunkeringDownStartingToday #NoDrowsingOff

Cater: Aaand uploaded. Okay, then I'm gonna head back to my room to study. Thanks, you two.

[Cater walks away]

Riddle: Good grief. Cater is just as much of a handful as the others!

Riddle: His studies are suffering because he's got Magicam open non-stop.

Trey: I do sympathize wanting to avoid doing things you don't want, though.

Riddle: Students shouldn't be avoiding their studies, however.

Trey: Well, you're not wrong there…

Trey: …Riddle, is there any food you dislike?

Riddle: Hm? Why are you asking that all of a sudden?

Riddle: Well, if I had to pick something… I suppose I don't want to eat anything that's unhealthy or has a strong flavor.

Trey: Let's say you absolutely had to finish a full dish with pungent flavors…

Trey: How would you try to eat it, Riddle?

Riddle: Hmm. I would implement a method that would allow it to go down easier.

Riddle: Perhaps I would reduce the flavor by thinning it with hot water, or eat it bite by bite alongside bread or rice to help it go down.

Riddle: Or I could eat it with something I like…

Riddle: …............Ah!

Riddle: I understand now, so that's what you mean!

Riddle: Then maybe, for Cater…!

Trey: What's up, Riddle?

Riddle: Trey, I need you to teach me something.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Rose Maze]

Cater: Yaaaaawn～ …Sleepy…

Cater: There's no way I can survive without Magicam… I'm logging back in. Let's goooo early morning Magicam scrolling～

Riddle: That yawn was as big as a walrus's when its trying to devour oysters, Cater.

Cater: Ack, Riddle-kun! M-Morning～ You're looking super cute today!

Cater: Ah, w-wait, I'm not! It's not like I was pulling up Magicam or something…

Riddle: Right, speaking of Magicam…

Riddle: Actually, I set up a Magicam account yesterday.

Cater: Oh, cool…. Wait, huuuh!!??

Cater: You? You're using Magicam!?

Riddle: What's with that reaction?

Riddle: Am I not allowed to use that application?

Cater: No, no, that's not what I mean!! I was just surprised, since you always said you had no interest up until now.

Riddle: Hmph. It just so happened that the mood struck me.

Riddle: Therefore, I thought I should at least ask for your friend ID.

Cater: Sure, I'll add you! I'm totally looking forward to the types of pics you're gonna upload, Riddle-kun～☆

Riddle: Heh, you would do well to check it every day so as to not miss anything.

[Classroom]

[chime ♪]

Cater: Oh, Riddle-kun uploaded something to Magicam! I should take a look.

Cater: I wonder what kinda pic he posted～♪

Cater: …Huh? What is this?

Cater: Is this… a picture of a broom?

Riddle: #First #WhileIncanting #Touch4CornersOfRoomWithBroom #LevitationMagic #SageAndSalt

Cater: Haha, he's using a ton of weird tags. It's cute seeing him trying something new.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Cater's Room]

[chime ♪]

Cater: Riddle-kun's uploaded something again. This time it's… a towel? Wait, no…

Cater: It's a cleaning rag!

Cater: Why is he uploading a picture of something like that?

Cater: He should be posting selfies, or tasty looking lunches, or other stuff that'll be a hit on Magicam.

Riddle: #AfterBroom #DropMagestoneInBucketOfWater #5DropsPurificationPotion #WaterTempBelow20C #FollowExactly!

Cater: Hm? Wait, are these tags…?

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Riddle's Room]

Riddle: Next is the magical formula for brushing the carpet.

Riddle: First, I'll take a picture of the brush… Hmm, what tags should I use?

Riddle: "#WaterMagic #FireplaceAsh #SilverApple" Then... Also, this one…

Riddle: Perfect. …Uploaded.

Riddle: Oh. Cater's already "liked" it.

Riddle: It looks as though he's also uploaded a picture of how far he's progressed in his test studies.

Riddle: I'll also give him a "like"… Good.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Lounge]

―A few days later

Cater: Riddle-kun!! Trey-kun!

Riddle: Ah, Cater. How did you do on the practical magic test?

Cater: Ta-da, look! I got an 85 on the written exam, and an A during the prac app!

Riddle: Amazing, you did it!

Riddle: …Ahem.

Trey: Good job, Cater.

Cater: Now I won't be held back! Thanks a ton, Riddle-kun!

Riddle: Hmph. Well, of course, I took care to properly instruct you. This is only the natural outcome.

Trey: I was pretty surprised when Riddle asked me to teach him how to set up a Magicam account…

Trey: But I definitely wasn't expecting him to upload photos on Magicam and use tags to help Cater learn the magical theories.

Cater: Yeah, that was a genius idea!

Cater: Those hashtags you used to spell out the magical formulas were way way way useful!

Cater: Whenever I tried frantically memorizing the notes, I'd just find myself dozing off, but that helped stick in my head so easy.

Cater: As thanks, I'll have to take you to a pancake café that took off on Magicam sometime ♡

Riddle: Well, aren't you riding high…? This better not happen again.

Riddle: If you ever find yourself in a situation where you may fail your courses again, it'll be off with your head!

Cater: I know, I know ♪ I'll work hard starting today!

Riddle: Good answer. Then, let's start with…

[thud!]

Cater: Guh, what's with all these books?

Riddle: This is merely the beginning. You are to read through every single one of these in preparation for your next test!

Cater: Eeehhhh, Riddle-kun, you serious?

Riddle: I've told you before, haven't I? For as long as I am Housewarden…

Riddle: Not a single Heartslabyul student will ever be held back!

Requested by @farfalla049.

[loupy-mongoose]

SUICUNE!!! :D

Here, if anyone's interested. They released Gouging Fire and Raging Bolt at the same time, but Suicune Walking Wake is my one true love <3 Although Raging Bolt's plush face is weirdly adorable. I may end up getting both of them later.

He's such a baby I love him!! Super soft and high quality! I expected him to have the same posability as other big plushies, but I also expected him to be a little bigger than he is. I mean, look how itty his face is!!

And his little hands!! He holds them so shyly, it's cute! (Even though my in-game boyo is Brave natured, lol)

He's got pants!

And his mane is entirely connected by points of being sewn on. No complaints, but the temptation to (temporarily) remove his mane is stronger than I wish it was. XD

Also, through this boy I learned that Walking Wake has a single set of stripes that are asymmetrical.

I thought it was a misprint at first, but turns out it's an actual design element in-game!

And while I'm at it, I'll also update on my creative endeavors.

I've still been chugging away at writing, but I've noticed a "problem" that writing has that comics haven't presented in the same way; As I'm writing, I keep going back to tweak earlier chapters to better fit later chapters.

While it would make for a better reading experience overall to do the same for comics, I feel can get away with posting comic parts as I finish them and not worry too much about how they tie into later comics. (Minus certain arcs that I have been drowning in thoughts about, lol)

But with writing, I'm more hesitant to post parts as I "finish" them because I don't feel they're actually finished.

Sooooo... I don't know when I'll actually start posting the story. XD

I also haven't felt much like drawing, and I want to have art to go along with parts, so that's holding me back a bit as well.

Like last time, this isn't an apology or me asking for permission, it's just me putting the state of my creative things out there. ^^

[doitforbangchan]

Ever Lovely - 3

Pairing~ Fae Prince!Bangchan x reader (afab/fem) x Fae Prince!Lee Know

Warnings~ Angst, cursing, panic attack, fainting, insanity (reader feels crazy)

WC~ 6.8k

Masterlist // series masterlist

previous ~ next

The far away look in your eyes did not go unnoticed by the staff the next morning, nor did the dark circles under your eyes due to exhaustion. As they dressed you for the day your normally vibrant demeanor seemed to be dimmed as you did not even protest when they pulled you out of bed like you normally do, and you did not pout at the dawning of your corset as they expected you too. It was honestly a little concerning to the maids. Especially to Mara. 

You had gotten little to no sleep the night prior. Over and over your mind replayed the events you had experienced. From leaving the castle, to meeting Chris and Minho, to following them home and finally to them. 

A part of you thought it might have all been a nightmare; that you had never left at all and everything you had been through was a figment of your imagination. But you knew in your gut it was real. That you really had met faeries and visited an otherworldly realm beyond your wildest imagination. Both the wonder and terror you had experienced could not have been made up in your head, as you still felt them even now. 

So many questions still rattled around in your head. You wanted to know more about them and their court. You wanted to know how they all came together. And you wanted to know why they valued human life so little. As much as you craved to return to them and demand more answers you also knew that beings that clearly only believed mortals to be nothing but toys for their entertainment were nothing but trouble for you. You would be a fool to put yourself in such a dangerous situation for a second time. 

But 

There was also a realization that that was probably the most thrilling thing you will have ever done in your life. Nothing would ever compare to the astonishment of the Court of Stars and that sat heavy in your chest. 

“My dear, what troubles have you plagued? You have hardly uttered a sound this morning.” Mara's question brought you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

You blinked quickly as you tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy her. “My rest was uneasy last night. The stress of yesterday must have gotten too me worse than I thought.” 

She hummed, straightening out the poofs of your dress. “I will have the servants prepare some tea with your breakfast. You need to be awake and lively when you rendezvous with the Queens today for wedding preparations.” 

“Thank you, Mara. I would appreciate that greatly.” You said softly then a thought struck you; Mara had been the one to tell you stories about faeries when you were young- maybe she knew more information about them. The problem was getting that information out of her without her becoming suspicious. You cleared your throat lightly, “Mara, do you remember the stories you used to tell me when I was a child?”

“I have told you many tales, your highness. You will have to be specific.” She was behind you fixing your hair.

“The stories.. About faeries.” 

“Yes, I remember.” She answered, adjusting the pastel pink bow that rested in your hair and matched the color of your dress. 

“Well, do you happen to know anything else about them? The.. faeries, I mean.” 

Mara’s eyes instantly met yours in the mirror and her hands stopped moving. When she realized her reaction she cleared her throat and continued her task. “Now what makes you ask about a thing like that?” 

You tried a shrug in indifference, as if the inquiry held no weight. “ No reason in particular. Just thought maybe they would be good stories to pass on to my own children one day.” 

“Those were less of a fun story and more of a warning. Beings that are not to be trifled with.” She huffed. “Magical devils in disguise. It is better not to think of them at all.” 

‘Devils in disguise.’ Those words stuck with you the most. You remembered how different both Chris and Minho appeared when you arrived in the fae wilds- how they had changed out of their disguise and into their more bizarre forms. 

“But what if I find myself in a peculiar situation and the only thing that could save me is that knowledge?” 

Mara narrowed her eyes at yours, giving you a glance over with an etch of worry in her brows.”What situation would you find yourself in that this would be useful? Y/n, did something happen?” 

Shit. You should not have said that last question. 

“N-no. Of course not, Mara. What a silly question.” You deflected, using a hand to wave her off. 

“Y/n.” the elder woman's voice grew stern. “If something has happened you must tell me.” 

You wiped your sweating hands on your dress, hiding your nerves and playing it off. “Nothing has happened. I am simply curious.” 

She didn’t say anything for a moment and you thought that was going to be the end of the discussion, but before you could deflate in dejection she surprised you by speaking up. “I will not claim to be an expert, most of what I know comes from what my own father told me when I was a girl so take it all with a grain of salt.” 

You nodded, motioning for her to continue. 

She sighed wistfully and began her tale, “In the village where I grew up, a few miles outside of this very kingdom in a small woodland town, many rumors spread about tricksters that dwelled within the surrounding woods. Rumors of supernatural creatures that cared for nothing but their own enjoyment. Rumors of their cunning games and alluring charms. ” She breathed deeply before continuing. “ These creatures were known to us as Faeries or the fae folk. Our village had a specific set of rules regarding these tricksters. Do not ever enter the woods at night. If you are outside and see something strange, leave immediately. Fae are known to lure in victims with traps of enticement. Never invite one into your home lest you invoke nightmares and thievery. Faeries cannot lie, so they are very eloquent with their words and how they phrase things.” 

“If I were to ask one a question, would it answer me truthfully?” You asked. 

Mara shrugged, “Perhaps, though I would not count on it. They might try to get something from you in return. Never accept any offer they make you, magic always comes with a price and more likely than not it is a terrible price to pay. Do not celebrate with them. Do not show great emotion to a faerie either. I remember hearing of a young woman who was grieving the passing of her husband late one night outside by the wicker well, one moment she was there sobbing her heart out and the next she was gone- vanished without a trace.” 

Taken.. Like whoever fell victim to Seungmin and Jeongin. 

“These are the rules my father instilled in me, and his father before him. Each child of my village grew up knowing the terrors of what lurked beyond what our natural eyes could see.” Mara finished her task, coming around to the front of you now. “There we go, looking as polished as ever, your highness.” 

“Thank you Mara. And thank you for sharing with me the tales from your childhood.” You smiled weakly at her, putting your hand on her shoulder. Her words ran through you as you took them in. You had definitely broken many of these rules already and that alone made you incredibly uneasy. But at the same time you felt hopeful? Now that you know the rules of the fae, maybe you could use them to avoid trouble with them should you wish to return to them. 

“You’re welcome, but do not go sharing this with anyone else. I do not need anyone coming after my head for filling yours with strange ideas.” She huffed making you laugh. 

“I won’t tell a soul. I promise.” You made an ‘X’ over your heart. 

“Now you must hurry along, I am sure your guests are already waiting for you in the dining hall to commence preparations.” She patted your back and sent you to the door. But before you could leave the room she called out, “Wait, I almost forgot the most important rule regarding the fae.” You turned back to face her again. “Never, under any circumstance, fall in love with a faerie, they will never love you the same and it will always end in tragedy.” 

For a reason you can’t explain you felt your heart break ever so slightly at her warning. 

Dread did not even begin to describe the way Chris felt as he traveled to the Court of Wonder. For him it had been a week since Pricilla’s threat of war and as much as he did not wish to see her he knew he couldn’t put off the meeting any longer. The journey to the Court of Wonder was a long one, the two lands were separated by the vast seas of the Summer court and could only be traversed by boat. 

Chris always loved the sea. The dark inky depths reminded him of his own home, but instead of an endless void the water was teeming with life. When he was younger he spent hours upon hours exploring the Summer Courts many ecosystems with the sea always being his favorite. It was where he met Minho. 

The fae prince had paid a hefty amount of gold to a Kobold to ferry him across the water. The reptilian trickster tried to swindle him out of even more money but one look into the glimmering amethyst of Chris’s eyes made the little coward realize that Chris was a powerful being that should not be messed with, even a creature as stupid as a Kobold would not dare challenge the dark prince.

As he traveled Chris let his mind wander. He remembered the first time he met Minho on these very seas. 

The prince was young, only a few centuries old at that point, long before he had taken control over his court. Chris had once again ran away from his court in search of… well anything really. An escape from his reality. The pressures of princely responsibilities were weighing on him heavier than ever and it was becoming too much for the boy to accept. After yet another dispute with his mother he fled the court, venturing as far as he could until he entered the territory of the Summer Court and even then he did not stop. He went all the way to the water, standing upon a cliffside that overlooked a tropical archipelago. 

Chris had never seen anything like it before in his entire life, the vastness of the water rivaled that of the galaxies of his home. His purple eyes took in every detail; from the crashing waves to the shaking of spindly palm trees. But what really caught his attention was the large ship that was speeding over the waves, a large red sail swaying in the wind as it went. Pirates. The prince was giddy as he jumped down from the cliffside, aiming right for the vessel. 

He landed directly on his feet smack dab in the middle of the top deck, a bright smile on his face and an excited twitch in his fingers. Not even the shouts in concern from the crew could shake him. Or the sword that was suddenly being pointed right at his throat. 

A boy, younger than him but not by much, with catlike eyes and dark shaggy hair sneered at Chris as he held the sword to the prince's neck. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“Chris.” He was still smiling, clearly unfazed. 

“Well, ‘Chris’, what are you doing on our ship? Come to take our treasures?” The boy asked, taking in the boy's strange appearance. Chris did not look like any fae from the Summer court, he was much too pale. The boy still did not lower his weapon.

“Minho,” A voice called out, making the boy cast his gaze quickly at another man with fiery orange hair. This man was wearing a black tricorn hat that had a plume of red feathers sticking out. He seemed familiar to Chris but he couldn’t quite place why. “Mind your manners when you're around royalty.” 

“Royalty, huh? Doesn’t look like any royal I know.” Minho scoffed but slowly lowered his weapon nonetheless. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while, Chris. What brings you to my ship? Did you get tired of your pretty palace in the sky like I did with mine?” Ahh yes, now Chris remembered who this is- Prince Hongjoong of the Summer court. He hadn’t seen the orange haired boy in a long time, he had stopped attending the balls that the Court of Stars threw many years ago. Chris heard he had abandoned his crown and became estranged from his family. Chris was envious of him.

He offered a shrug, tilting his head back and forth, “Ah you know how it is, Hongjoong. Sometimes those gems are too heavy on one's head.” Chris used his thumb to motion to Minho, who still had his slitted pupils were still locked in on Chris. “Where did you find this rabid thing?” 

“You watch your mouth you assh-” 

“Ehh put the claws down kitty cat, it was a compliment. You need to be a little crazy to hang out with Hongjoong.” He winked cheekily at Minho, making him scowl even further but Chris also saw a light dusting of pink on the tips of his ears. 

“Minho is a soldier I plucked from the dessert militia. He’s got quite a sharp mind; great for battle strategy. You’d be impressed Chris.” Hongjoong smirked. 

“Won’t the Summer Court miss someone like that?” Chris asked, already knowing the answer. 

“Of course they will. But only the best get to join my crew.” Both boys chuckled while Minho just looked annoyed. “The offer extends to you as well Chris. I’d love to have you in my little band of misfits.” 

The offer weighed heavy on Chris’s shoulders. It was extremely tempting and something he had actually thought about in great detail. Ultimately he knew he couldn’t stay away forever. His court relied on him too much- his mother relied on him too much.

The rest was history. Whenever Chris felt the need to escape he would leave his court and head to the Summer Court, joining the pirate crew known as ‘Ateez’ as they traveled and becoming great friends with Minho. Such good friends that Minho left the crew and joined Chris in leading his court when his mother passed. 

It was a good memory, one that Chris cherished. Being back on these waters gave him a sense of calm he longed for, even though where he was headed was far from peaceful. 

Chris knew this bullshit threat was only to get his attention. Everything Pricilla did was to get his attention. 

He knew he never should have entertained her in the first place. He had let his cock think for him instead of his head one too many times and this was the consequence of his actions. Chris had hoped the psychotic queen would move on from her infatuation with him- it had been over five hundred years since he had indulged her- but it seems like his wishful thinking was just that; a wish. And unfortunately the prince cannot grant his own wishes, no matter how hard he tries. 

Chris let his eyes scour the water, looking for the divine secrets that lay below the crystalline waves. His pupils enlarged to encompass his whole eye as he focused, his sight enhancing significantly. Just as he had thought they were sailing over a colony of merfolk. He could see the massive reefs they build their homes out of. The fishlike humanoids were infamously elusive and great at remaining hidden so he wasn’t able to make out any of the creatures themselves much to his dismay. 

The fae prince sighed and returned his sight back to normal. Maybe one day he would send Jeongin down there to make contact. The Sea Foam court and the merfolk were known to have a cordial report and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have another allied species in case something went south. Though a petty part of him did not want to ask the youngest boy for anything. He was still irate at Jeongin and Seungmin for ruining his time with you. 

Most of his thoughts lately were of you. His lost princess. He wondered what you were doing, if you were still upset with him and if he would ever see you again. The man still did not know what had made you so upset in the first place. He had not said anything that was not the truth but for some reason you took that as a personal dig. Minho had laid into him about having sensitivity for a weaker species that night when he returned. 

Chris hoped you were not still mad at him. For reasons he could not explain he felt an ache in his chest at the thought of you hating him forever. It shouldn’t matter. You were just a human after all. Your opinion of him shouldn’t bother him at all.

But it does. 

It bothers him beyond comprehension. He already thought the world of you- the runaway princess with a voice like pure silk and a body crafted by the goddess of sex herself. The moment he laid eyes on you he knew you were something special. So the fact that you seemed so.. Disgusted by what he said made him want to rip his curly hair from his head. 

The long ride finally came to an end as the boat entered the edge of the Court of Wonder. The kobold bowed to the prince when he exited the boat, throwing another gold piece to the small creature as he passed. 

The lands of the Court of Wonder were full of splendor. A land full of magical creatures and all things extraordinary. The pixie forests glowed with vibrant colors and the mountains shimmered with the pure gold they were made from. To anyone who had never been there before it would be captivating; to him though it was a shithole. 

Standing at the edge of the dock awaiting his arrival was a tall fae man; the man had vibrant orange skin that resembled dragon scales and he was wearing a long black cloak. Chris recognized him instantly. This was Jasper, one of Pricillas hounds. Seemed like she wanted to guarantee his arrival. 

The ‘hounds’ were Pricillas most precious possessions. They were a group of fae that hailed from the Court of Wonder, hand picked by the Queen herself to be on her guard. That in itself was all well and good- many fae folk had unique magical abilities that were useful to a court- but word in the rumor mill was that these were no ordinary fae; that they were genetically modified by Pricilla to be stronger, sharper, deadlier. No longer were they regular guards, now they were an elite team who did her bidding without question- no matter how sadistic or inhumane the request.

The aura that this man gave off was pure menace and if Chris was a weaker fae he might have even shuddered under his scrutinizing red eyes. 

But he was not a weaker fae. Chris had royal blood that granted him not only strength but powers of his court. The prince knew if it came down to it he could probably defeat Jasper one on one… but he also knew the ‘Hounds’ rarely ever traveled completely alone. He wouldn’t be able to fight off more than one at a time. 

At least not without the powers of the crown… 

The reptilian fae lowered himself slightly in a customary bow to the prince, though his eyes did not leave Chris’s for even a second. “Welcome to the Court of Wonder, Prince Chris. Your presence has been long awaited.” 

Chris huffed and wanted to roll his eyes. “Yes I am aware. Pricilla hasn’t stopped demanding my presence for a millennium.” 

Jasper seemed to ignore the comment, gesturing for Chris to follow him. The fae prince walked one step behind the other man in silence. It was uncomfortable to say the least. They walked for a few minutes until they came upon a glowing pillar that looked to be made of pure blue agate crystal. 

Jasper halted right in front of the pillar, then turned back to look at Chris. “Place your hand upon the crystal. And hold your breath.” 

Chris sighed then without hesitation stuck his palm directly to the pillar. The second his skin touched the cool gem his body was encapsulated in a beam of pure light. It was hot- burning, searingly hot and he felt his feet lift from the ground and his vision disappeared as all he could see was the blinding rainbow light. Then just as soon as it came, it was gone. 

His feet landed back on the ground and his sight cleared up. Just as he had suspected; the pillar was a teleportation crystal. They were pretty common in the larger courts, they made it easier to get around. His own court did not have any, so he wasn’t the most familiar. 

He now found himself standing in front of the huge castle that belonged to the aristocracy of the Court of Wonder. It was made of pure gold, a product of the mines that resided in the mountains, and was bigger than any other castle he had seen anywhere in the fae wilds. It was also surrounded in miles and miles of blooming flower fields, as far as the eye could see. The gardens were Pricillas pride and joy.

‘Of course she has to have the biggest and best of everything.’ He grumbled in his mind. 

Two guards clad in bronze armor opened the large wide set doors as he approached, offering him low bows as he passed him. God, he was so sick and tired of all the bowing. So tired of everyone knowing he was royal. If he wasn’t royal his life would have been simpler- he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit in this bullshit court. 

Chris strolled into the palace and through its glittering vast halls. He did not stop and entertain any of the servants that addressed him nor did he slow his steps until he entered the throne room in the center of the castle. 

When he entered the room he was met with the reason for his visit; Pricilla. The queen was lounging sideways on her plush throne, her feet hanging off the side and kicking back and forth in giddiness. Her horizontal pupils settled on him as he entered and her lips curled up into a wicked smile, her pearly white jagged teeth on display. 

“Well there he is, the man of the hour.” Pricilla waved her lithe fingers at him in a teasing manner. “So glad you finally decided to come visit me. It only took an active threat to your people to get you here.” She giggled maniacally as if she had said the funniest thing in the world. 

There was something..off about the Queen. Something different. Pricilla had always been a beautiful woman but now her normally vibrant yellow skin seemed to have lost a touch of its glittering luster, and her usually long flowing hair that was deep blue was cropped short to about her shoulders- but it was choppy and uneven as if she had cut it herself. Even her clothes looked askew. She had always cared too much about her appearance, so the fact that she looked so worn down had really thrown him off.  

“I am here. Just as you demanded. Now what do you want, Pricilla?” He asked, crossing his arms and getting right to the point. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.” She laughed and lifted one side of her dress, showing off her thigh to him in an attempt at enticing him. When he didn’t react to her all Pricilla pouted, throwing her head back with a whine. “Come on Chrissy you can’t pretend forever.”

“And what exactly am I pretending to do, Pricilla?” 

“Acting like you don’t like me.” She huffed, “As if our time together meant nothing to you!” 

“It did mean nothing to me, Pricilla.” He glared at her, getting fed up with her already. “In fact it meant less than nothing.” 

Chris saw her grit her teeth, “Now you’re just being cruel to me.” 

“I am being cruel to you? No, what’s cruel is threatening a war all because you aren’t getting my attention. What's cruel is sending Changbin crashing down in a ball of fire after all he wanted to do was talk with you.” He clenched his fists at his side. 

The look on her face became confused, “Wait, who is Changbin, again?” 

Chris rubbed his face in frustration, “The one who came to see you last week… that you sent plummeting down in a cocoon of flames.. That put a giant hole in my courtyard. ” 

She snapped in recollection, “Ah yes spring court faerie with the pink hair! He was a cutie pie I must admit.” She snickered briefly then her face hardened again. “But he was not who I requested. I asked for you, Chrissy. And I won’t be ignored. Not by you or anyone.” 

“I am busy, Pricilla. I have a court to run. I would think you’d know a little about that seeing as you’re a ruler yourself.” 

She grinned at him again, “Ah but I am a Queen. You have been neglecting your court by dividing it in pieces instead of just dawning the crown yourself.” Her broken nails tapped on the twinkling sun emblem on the crown that was embedded in her skull. To wear the crown was to become the crown- there was no taking it off. “They need a proper ruler, Chris. A strong, handsome king. And they’ll need an equally strong Queen.” 

There it was. 

Chris rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head he could almost see his brain. “You have your own court, you do not need mine as well.” 

“But think about how incredible it could be if we were to join our two courts together! We would be unstoppable! And our children would grow up in the most magical place to ever exist! All you have to do is put on that ugly vine-y crown and your powers would allow you to-” 

“Pricilla that is enough!” Chris raised his voice at her for the first time, glaring at her as his eyes darkened until they were a deep almost black purple color. He could see how taken aback she looked at his outburst but he continued before she could speak again. “You never know when to fucking quit! I have told you over and over again that you and I are never going to be together. I fucked you one time, that’s it. Grow up and get the fuck over it.” 

“Chris, come on-” 

“No! You have disrespected me and my court for the last time with this bullshit! I will not stand for your insults to my family's legacy any longer. This ends here and now.” 

The prince expected her to cry and whine and beg like she always does, but instead he was met with her intense stare and complete silence from the seelie Queen. He had never seen her so silent and still before, as if she was made of stone. After what felt like eternity she seemed to snap back into reality. 

“Alright.” 

He raised a brow in confusion, “Alright? That’s all you have to say now?” 

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. Her face was neutral but Chris could see something wicked brewing behind her eyes. “I concede. I won’t pursue you any longer.” 

“And you’ll retract your threat of war among our courts?” He pressed. 

She nodded again, “Yes, there will be no war.” 

He cleared his throat, finding this went way too easily but not looking a gift horse in the mouth. “Excellent. I am glad we could put this to rest.” 

“Me as well. Maybe we can move past all of this and even become.. Friends?” She asked, tapping her nails on the side of her throne.

He didn’t know what game she was playing or what her intentions were, but he also knew it would be best to try and move on for the sake of peace. The wilds did not need a spat amongst royals. 

“Friends would be lovely.” He conceded. 

Pricilla clapped ecstatically and the shrill giggle made Chris’s ears hurt. “Perfect. Then I look forward to being the very best of friends. Don’t you, Chrissy?” 

He winced slightly, then cleared his throat and nodded. Better to agree with her and be done with it once and for all. “Of course. Now that we have put this mess behind us, and can move on-” 

“As friends,” She cut him off with a smirk. 

“Yes. As friends.” He continued, trying to hold in his agitation, “I will be taking my leave now. Take care of yourself, Pricilla.” He gave her a shallow bow of his head. 

The seelie woman waved her fingers at him, “Byyyyye Chrissy.” 

The prince turned on his heel and walked out of the throne room, then down the halls and out of the front door, not stopping until he was outside. Once he was outside he finally let out a frustrated breath. Chris was thrown off by how easy it was to come to an agreement with her. It felt wrong somehow. There had to be an ulterior motive- with her there always was- but he really did not want to dwell on it. For now ,at least, there would be peace and that was enough for him.

Now he wanted to get the hell out of this court. 

Your heart felt heavy as you walked down the halls. Mingyu had once again accompanied you down to breakfast this morning, you could tell the man wanted to say something about the distant look in your eyes but he did not. You thanked him for walking you and he bowed then opened the double doors leading to the dining room. 

Walking into the room you could see that only your mother and queen Jeonywon were seated at the table enjoying a few pastries. The other Queen was the first to notice you as you entered, “Ah Y/n dear, come join us. We were discussing the floral arrangements for the ceremony.” 

“Good morning Mother. Good morning, your majesty.” You greeted them both politely before you took your seat in front of the two women. 

“Yes yes, good morning, anyways Jeonywon I was thinking something classy,” Your mother began, barely paying you any mind like usual. “Perhaps camellias. The dark pink blush color would go quite heavenly with Y/n’s complexion.” 

“Hmm, that may be a nice choice. I suppose some babies breathe and some Cymbidium would do well as fillers…” 

You began to drown them out, not really caring much for the conversation since you knew you wouldn’t get a say in anything either way.. As if it wasn’t your wedding.. 

As tasty as you knew the food to be, you did not have much of an appetite so you only lightly picked at some fruit so as to not draw attention to you not eating. After managing to get down a single strawberry you went to take a drink of some water. You lifted your crystal glass up to your mouth and took a sip, but as you were lowering it back down you noticed a strange reflection in the glass, like someone was standing directly behind you. No, not just someone.. 

You could see a reflection of Minho staring back at you. 

A startled gasp escaped you and you whipped your head around to look behind you. There was no one there, only the servants who stood along the edge of the room. Nothing and no one out of the ordinary. ‘Was I just imagining it?’ You must have been, there was no way Minho was here. 

“Y/n, are you alright?” 

Dammit, you forgot about the other two women with you at the table. You nodded in response, “Yes, your majesty. My apologies for the outburst, I had a.. Tickle that startled me.” 

It was not a very good lie but it seemed to convince them both anyways. “Well finish up your breakfast dear, we have a meeting with the modiste shortly and we mustn't be late.” 

“A meeting with the modiste, mother?” You were slightly confused and unable to put the pieces together. 

“For your wedding gown. We only have a few days to prepare so every second counts.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly pushed your plate away from you, definitely not up to eating any longer. 

The three of you had loaded into the most pristine carriage that your family owned (your mother clearly wanted to show off our best assets to the other ruler), and you were on your way into the town. The carriage passed by the bustling streets filled with the common people going about their day. You could see people selling their wares in little stalls and a few working men on their way to work. Of course there were also a few people stopping to stare and point at the sight of the royal carriage being pulled by the pure white horses. 

You wished you were out there with them instead of stuck in this cramped compartment on your way to imminent doom. That’s how you felt, at least. Being here with these two chattering queens was almost like literal torture for you as they yammered on and on about what type of lace and stitching would be best for your dress.

Looking out into the crowds you noticed a few familiar faces; A woman named Kate who sold flowers was setting up her bouquets, a young man that you knew from the tavern was walking with a small child in his arms, and you even caught a glimpse of Vernon as he exited a shop. 

A flash of dark hair and pointed ears caught your attention. Standing there on the side of the road in the middle of the crowd was Minho. You leaned over towards the window of the carriage to get a better look, but just as quickly as you saw him he was gone, vanished without a trace as if he was never even there. Using your closed fist you rubbed your eyes and sat back into your seat once again. 

What is going on? Am I actually losing my mind?

Maybe you were losing your mind. Maybe everything you experienced, everything you saw was just insanity. It had to be- it didn’t seem plausible that you were the only one that could see them for what they were or could be the only one to see him now. That's what it was, you decided. Just insanity brought on by the stress of your arranged marriage. You would get through this next week and your premonitions would cease. There was no such thing as faeries. There was no Chris and Minho. 

Or.. 

They were toying with you. Perhaps they were using their tricks on you to make you think you’ve gone insane. If what Mara said was to be believed and true, then the otherworldly beings did not hold the same morals or ethics as most mortals do. Minho had said that humans only see what the fae wanted them too. So there was a very real possibility that all you were to them was a plaything.

You were not sure which option hurt you the most. 

Your panicked thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stop of the carriage. Glancing out the window again you saw you had made it to the modiste. You were so lost in your own mind after seeing Minho that you had completely blanked out the majority of the ride. 

A footsman opened the carriage door with a bow and held a hand out to help you out. With a hand on your hems to keep from tripping you were led out and into the store. 

A woman you had never met before greeted you all you entered. She clasped her hands out in front of her and offered a bow to the queen's first and then to you. “Welcome your majesties.  Welcome your highness. I am so grateful and pleased to have you in my shop.” 

You glanced around the shop, not seeing the elderly woman who usually attended to you when you visited. “Where is Dohee?” 

“Oh, Ms. Dohee was my teacher and after she felt I had completed my apprenticeship she retired and left the shop to me.” The girl blushed and tucked some hair behind her ear. She was pretty, you noticed, and seemed to be around your age. “My name is Lisa. It is my ultimate pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness.” 

“It is nice to meet you as well.” You offered a shy smile. 

“Lisa,” Your mother began as she browsed the different racks of fabrics, “I trust you have something drawn up for us to see?” 

The girl nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, your majesty!” She pulled out a large sketchbook and flipped to the back of the pages and brought it over to you and the Queens. “I began to work something up the second I was informed of the engagement. I was up all night, actually.” 

Lisa presented you with a drawing of an elegant gown that had a tight fitted bodice and puffed sleeves. It was a nice drawing but it did not really feel like what you imagined your dress to look like. Before you could respond with those exact words your mother cut you off and snatched the book away from you. “Now this is just splendid! Exactly what I was thinking.” 

Lisa beamed and gave another small bow in gratitude. “I am so happy to hear that, your majesty does have fine taste indeed. And how about you, your highness?” She asked you. 

“Well actually perhaps we-” 

“She loves it.” Once again you couldn’t get your own words out. You begin to feel the tips of your ears heat up in frustration but you bite your tongue. “My daughter is an elegant girl and needs an elegant dress. Right, dear?” Your mother slightly narrowed her eyes at you with an unspoken threat to make you agree. 

You wrung your hands together and gave a tentative nod, “Yes, of course mother.” 

Queen Jeonywon took a look at the sketch next, “How beautiful! Kookie is just going to love this.” She nodded in approval then handed the sketchbook back to Lisa.

Lisa ushered you onto the pedestal and pulled out a few measuring tapes. You do not know why you were hopeful that maybe you would have gotten even a slight say in your dress, but it was very apparent to you as the two matriarchs droned on about what lace they think would be best and how long the train should be that this was not really your wedding; it was more for them than anything else. 

These last twenty four hours felt like a fever dream - and perhaps it still was, that notion was still up in the air for you-  but you just wanted it to end.You felt weak and powerless, not the glowing bride you wanted to be. A wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion, one shared between lovers and friends. It was supposed to be about love, not whatever farce this was. 

An overwhelming bout of panic hit you like a train suddenly. This was all becoming too much for you to handle. Your chest was beginning to feel tight and you felt your breathing start picking up.  Shakily you lifted a hand and placed it on your heart in an attempt to quell its harsh beating. You vaguely recognized Lisa’s voice asking you to put your hand down so she can continue but her words went in one ear and out of the other. 

Blurry spots began to form in your vision and extreme dizziness made you stumble back. Your hand that was on your heart now has migrated up to your head. Your breathing got even more accelerated and you felt your lungs burn.

“Your highness, are you alright?” 

That was the last thing you heard before you went toppling down into darkness. 

as always comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated 💖 please share your thoughts i love to hear them

beta read by my loves @jehhskz and @athforskz 💜

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[hawberries]

holy shit, could you share some of your ratios/artis because multiple top percents is nuts and I wanna see the stats

HAHA TY! Unfortunately you've activated my yap card, so I'm really sorry about how the rest of this post is going to go. I do want to admit that it actually isn't that impressive because there's ways to sort of "game" the Akasha leaderboard system, usually by sharing high CV pieces between your characters, overbuilding crit rate and ER or finding specific leaderboards that aren't as competitive, but it still is a fun sort of low-stakes, inconsequential PVP mode that I enjoy! This is my Akasha page. As you can see my Emilie and Kinich are not doing well.

One notable way I've "cheated" is the fact that my Chiori's ranking is on the Jade Cutter leaderboard, but that's not a real place, because my Chiori is on a Wolfs-Fang. I'm thinking of going for her sword next time she reruns, actually, so she may lose her ranking soon. The boards only look at your artifacts and then make their own assumptions, so board ranking is a VERY poor reflection of in-game performance. Another example is for any Childe mains who have him on Nymph's Dream: it's not actually that good of a set for him! The boards overestimate the uptime, but in actual gameplay, especially if you look at International speedruns, the uptime is bad and he often performs better with mixed sets. However, the difference is not likely to be felt in a practical scenario outside of speedruns and high-level play, so it's reasonable to keep him there for the valour, since he's still going to be good enough.

the reason my Mualani is so high even though I am not a Mualani main is because 1) she's so new that everyone is still working on her domain and using placeholder pieces and 2) I hit her with the yassify beam (gave her this absolutely stupid Hydro dmg goblet which is by far the best piece on my entire account). It just gets passed around between all my watery guys depending on whose personal damage I'm depending on the most at the time, but since Mualani is a hypercarry and Ayato and Yelan are more supportive, it makes the most sense to leave it on her. I expect her to drop a lot in the rankings once people have a chance to farm the Codex set more.

I'm very chuffed with my Navia's build because I recently crafted a new feather for her with the artifact transmuter. Feathers are not broadly recommended to craft, but Navia's feather was by far the most obvious weak link on my account – in the sense that not only was it so bad that it would be easy to get an upgrade (it had 4 low rolls of crit damage and NO other useful stats, not even lower-value ones like atk% or ER) but the rest Navia's pieces were good enough that I had no reason to still be actively farming her domain. Anyway, I got quite lucky with the crafted feather, though as you can see it's still easily the weakest of all her pieces. This is enough to tide me over until Nighttime Whispers is in the strongbox :D

I've worked really hard on my Xiao's build – I've strongboxed 364 Vermilion pieces to date – but Xiao, being an older character with dedicated mains, has a very competitive board, so I don't expect to ever get much higher than this. Isn't that feather disgusting, though? I farmed Marechaussee domain a lot but never got a build good enough to replace this one, especially considering I'm on Jade and therefore about to overcap on crit rate just by sneezing. He has 97% crit rate WITH A CDMG HAT, I want to point out! I am considering crafting a circlet for him as his current one is relatively weak, but that's a problem for future Phee to think about, since I'll want to rebalance his build anyway once I get Xianyun – he'll need less ER and less crit rate.

What level of nerd am I about combat stats in the video game Jenshin Intact? I do my own damage calculations to see which pieces are best! That's why Xiao is on an attack goblet instead of an Anemo DMG one 😔

Also… see how my Wanderer is top 2%? I still don't have an EM goblet on the Flower of Paradise Lost set. RNG is really so funny sometimes. Anyway, at the moment I've allotted myself 6 weeks of farming time to try and get Emilie at least a good 2pc 2pc, after which I'll probably go back to making my Kinich not suck!

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous

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Even though Damian had contacted Raven before lunch they had decided to wait until the next morning for her to actually come for a visit. The hemoperfusion treatment had gone well, there didn’t seem to be any complications that Leslie and Bruce hadn’t already planned for. As expected Danny’s platelet count, blood sugar, and a few other components of his blood had ended up slightly lower than desirable. But the half donation from Danielle had been more than enough to compensate for it. They had just opted to wait the rest of the day, and only carefully monitor Danny’s condition to be 100% sure the treatment had benefited him before they wanted to do any other kinds of exams.

So, it was only within an hour after breakfast that Raven was stepping up the stairs to the manor entrance, getting let in by Damian instead of Alfred.

“Good morning, Raven,” Damian offered as a short greeting.

“Good Morning Damian,” Raven returned, not quite over being pleasantly surprised when Damian was polite with them.

 “I appreciate your assistance with our guest. Danielle and the other two are with Jon in the barn, brushing Goliath and Batcow. But I will lead you to Danny,” Damian informed, closing the front door and pausing for a moment to allow Raven to choose whether to leave her jacket on the coat hanger or not. It was chilly outside, but her jacket seemed to be more for fashion than warmth. As proven when she didn’t move to take it off.

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help,” Raven assured. “I didn’t know Jon was going to be here too. Did Superman send him as a way to keep an eye on everyone without ignoring Bruce’s wishes?”

“No,” Damian admitted, gesturing for Raven to follow him as he began to lead her towards Danny and Jazz. “We had a pre-established overnight appointment. I simply asked him to help keep the others entertained while we took care of business. Especially since Allen returned home and left only West to follow through with monitoring Grayson and Todd.”

Ah. Jon and Damian apparently had a sleep over scheduled for that weekend, and they didn’t feel the need to cancel it. That was good to know. “I see,” Raven acknowledged, getting distracted by the ever growing presence of a sensation she had noticed when she’d reached the house. It didn’t seem malicious. Just one that she was somewhat unfamiliar with. It distracted her enough that she didn’t have more to comment before they reached the bedroom. Dick and Jason were on monitoring duty since it was easier for them to stay at the house while the Justice League thought they were Deathstroke’s targets. And while they’d managed to get everyone to start the night in their own rooms, the Phantom kids had inevitably made their way back to Danny’s room for the latter half of the night. Jazz had returned there once again after breakfast, but the others hadn’t. Opting instead to keep themselves entertained as well as aware of what was going on in the rest of the house.

When they entered the room Raven briefly glanced at Jazz before her gaze was drawn to Danny’s form in the bed. Not because of how he looked, all the tubs and machines surrounding him, but because he was the strongest source of the sensation she had been picking up on. There was still a faint residue of sorts clinging to Jazz, but Danny felt like a source of the oddity. Even if he did seem more like a nearly empty power source, he still felt like the substance was part of him instead of it simply lingering on him.

“Jazz, this is Raven, a friend of mine. Raven, Jazz is Danny and Danielle’s older sister,” Damian’s introduction broke Raven out of her slight daze, gesturing to each of the girls in turn.

“Hey Raven, thanks for coming,” Dick greeted with a wave. Jason simply raised his hand wordlessly.

“...Hi,” Jazz responded after they were introduced directly. She was a little wary, but Damian couldn’t blame her. Raven had mentioned before that people didn’t think she was an easy person to get along with, and she might look a little intimidating to some.

“You’re uncomfortable with me being here?” Raven guessed, having easily noticed Jazz’s anxiety but not finding it anything to be upset over. “I understand. I wouldn’t want strangers near someone I cared about when they were in this state either.” For that reason Raven decided to remain where she was by the entrance instead of approaching anyone closer. “I promise I won’t intentionally hurt him further. I’m here to help.”

The bluntness with which she spoke was unexpected, and while Jazz wasn’t completely calmed by her words the openness did hold a certain amount of charm to it. She was apparently a bit like Damian and Jason, who just said what they meant and didn’t try to soften words to get their way. It made it so Jazz wasn’t sure how to respond, but Damian could see her shoulders fall just a little less tense than before.

“Like I told you last night, Raven is here to see if she can locate a better source for the ectoplasm we need. It’s just easier for her to get a reading from a source rather than a substitute,”  Damian further explained, not wanting a repeat of before when Jazz thought they wanted to experiment on Danny. 

“Ectoplasm?” Raven repeated, mildly curious. “Is this what you’re calling that?”

“It’s what they’ve been calling it,” Damian clarified, nodding towards Jazz.

“Is there another name for it?” Jazz asked, curiosity starting to win over the wariness.

“...Perhaps,” Raven admitted, remaining where she was until Jazz was just a little more at ease. “I can recognize something different about you two. It’s stronger in him, but you both radiate it. I noticed it when I got close to the manor, but I’ll need to take a moment to analyze it before I can say for sure I know what it is.”

“Analyze it how?” Jazz asked quickly, her hands lacing tightly on her lap as her lips pursed slightly. She hoped Raven would follow Bruce’s example and explain everything before she did it.

“It would take a long time to explain the exact details. My methods are not common to cultures like what predominates Earth,” Raven explained, apologetic but not wanting to delve into her personal skill set too much. She didn’t mind Jazz’s protectiveness though. She couldn’t feel any hostility from Jazz, just fear. And that was something Raven couldn’t fault her for. “I use magic, but for this you can think of it as a type of clairvoyance if that’s easier to understand. My readings are painless. I’ll only need to touch the sides of his head for a moment, and I should be able to tell if the substance in him is one that I’m familiar with,” she assured, giving Jazz a faint smile.

Jazz seemed confused  and skeptical about the process after Raven mentioned magic, but considering she lived with ghosts at home she figured she could give Raven the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t even seem to want to take anything from Danny either, so it didn’t seem like something she should decline. “...Okay…,” she finally agreed, gesturing towards Danny briefly to reinforce that she accepted.

“Thank you,” Raven nodded, finally entering the room fully, hedging towards Danny and carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. She could feel Jazz’s skepticism, but didn’t pay it any further attention. If she got them what they needed that would be proof enough that she wasn’t trying to hoax them. And even if she wasn’t of any help, she didn’t need Jazz to believe in her powers. 

Clearing her mind with a steadying breath Raven leaned forward just enough to rest her fingertips on Danny’s temples, closing her eyes. Once she had the contact it was easy to read Danny’s existence without trying to filter through the rest of the environment around them. A delicate state of being, held in perfect limbo between two sides. As she’d noticed before, while Jazz felt more like someone who was just exposed to a substance for a long time, Danny’s central being radiated it. But he definitely felt weak, and closed off. Energy burned too low and reduced to a survival mode, trying to salvage what was left to allow for him to continue to function at minimal health instead of restoring what was missing.

It was enough to confirm her suspicions, and Raven couldn’t help smiling a bit wider when she opened her eyes and pulled back. “You really are a lucky one, Damian,” she commented, her amusement just barely leaking through. “You’ve got quite the rarity in your home.”

“What do you mean?” Damian asked, brow scrunching mildly in confusion. He’d asked Raven to help locate a rare substance, but it seemed she was referring to Danny himself in her response.

“Do you recognize what he needs?” Dick asked, having remained quiet until now since Raven seemed to have been handling the situation well on her own. His curiosity about what she’d found won over his decision to let them handle it though.

“Yes,” Raven confirmed, answering Dick first since it was easier. “The term ‘ectoplasm’ has been used for other substances before, so I wasn’t certain I was thinking of the same thing you were. But, this is indeed true ectoplasm from the Liminal Realm.”

“The Liminal Realm?” Jason repeated, face scrunching in confusion at the unfamiliar name. He’d heard of liminal spaces before, and that made sense considering those were usually associated with being haunted. But he’d never heard of an entire realm before.

“That is the most common name I’ve heard used for it in my studies, but it’s known by many other names as well. The Realm Between. Infinite Realm. The Lingering Space. Median Realm,” Raven confirmed, adding further explanation.

No one missed how Jazz flinched and stiffened when Raven mentioned ‘Infinite Realm’, but they didn’t comment on it just yet.

“Can you access this realm and get what we need?” Damian asked, ready to get moving as soon as Raven confirmed she had a way to get them to the realm she mentioned. They could discuss realm studies at a later time, after they had a steady supply of the nutrient Danny needed to live.

“Perhaps,” Raven admitted, stilling Damian’s haste with a single word. “But it will be difficult, and I can’t guarantee what comes of it will be pure,” she persisted, continuing when the others remained quiet to allow her to explain further. “The Liminal Realm isn’t one that likes outsiders accessing it. Those who try to open a gateway to it without having a prior connection usually end up destroying themselves, or corrupting the outcome.”

“Excuse me?” Dick raised a brow, suddenly a lot more concerned about their next mission.

“I’m not joking,” Raven reinforced. “Throughout my time as a student we were allowed to travel between other realms at will once we learned how. But we were forbidden from attempting to access the Liminal Realm without adopting it as a lifetime study. Because no one I knew had ever successfully created a gateway to it, but there were plenty of records of potential gateways exploding, imploding, or more often simply failing. And those who attempted to pull something from the Liminal Realm instead of going there instead ended up with vile substances that caused people to go mad. It was only through studying these samples that people realized there was a pure form. And from that we were able to recognize certain beings who had close ties to the Liminal Realm.”

“Yeesh,” Dick grimaced.

“That sounds oddly coincidental considering these kids got in trouble for stealing Lazarus water because it was the closest thing they were looking for,” Jason pointed out, eyes narrowing in discomfort both about the topic and because it seemed this wasn’t going to be as easy as they thought. “Is that one of the ‘corrupted outcomes’ you know of?”

“I believe so, yes,” Raven confirmed with a nod.

“So… how do we get in there? Sounds like trying to just find ectoplasm floating around somewhere isn’t a promising idea,” Jason prodded, following Dick and Damian’s gaze to look at Jazz this time instead of Raven. It seemed they all agreed that now was a good time to address her reaction earlier.

Jazz did her best to act like she couldn’t understand why they were addressing her. “What are you looking at me for? I don't know anything about this interdimensional realm stuff,” she sputtered, waving her hand.

There wasn’t anyone in the room that couldn’t tell she was hiding something.

“What about the Infinite Realm then?” Jason prodded with a mildly amused smile.

Jazz flinched again at the call out, and one look between them was enough for her to realize they already knew she knew that particular name. Her demeanor stilled significantly, and her smile fell. But she maintained her stance of not answering. “...Nothing,” she openly lied.

“You do realize this may be the only way we have to help Danny,” Damian pointed out, folding his arms and falling more into an interrogation mode than maintaining friendship.

Jazz’s mood fell significantly, but her resolve remained. Even if it upset her to do so. “...I can’t.”

This time Dick held his hand up to stop his brothers from answering, realizing they were getting a little too aggressive with their questions. “...Why not?” his own voice came a lot more gently than the others. More concerned about the situation than irritated with the secrets being held. It caused Jazz to lower her gaze to her own hands, unable to answer, but trying to think of how to without telling them anything.

“Probably because that realm is arguably the most catastrophic one if damaged,” Raven spoke up in Jazz’s stead, raising her hand to pause questions while she continued to explain. “You’re familiar with the concept of realms almost like isolated spheres that certain people are able to draw power from, or travel between. If one of those spheres is destroyed the others may lose certain abilities or traits, but will continue to exist. But the Liminal Realm isn’t another one of those spheres, it’s the space between them. All realms are connected to the Liminal Realm, and all travel passes through it temporarily. It’s the structure that holds all realms together, and if it’s damaged, or even destroyed, then all realms will probably be lost as well. That’s most likely the main reason it’s so hard for people to access, and why so few people even know about it. It’s easier to protect something when everyone is oblivious of it… right?”

As Raven explained the risk tampering with the Infinite Realm had, and even accurately guessed the reason Jazz was being so adamant with her silence, Jazz’s mental barrier around the topic fell. Everything Raven had said was true as far as Jazz knew, so there probably wasn’t any reason to remain ignorant. And therefore, Jazz nodded when Raven spoke to her at the end of her explanation.

The revelation was enough to make the boys take time to reorient their minds back to being investigative instead of interrogative. Damian’s demeanor didn’t outwardly change other than a subtle relaxation of his brow. But Jason averted his gaze after a moment and breathed a calming breath. “Right… That makes sense,” he agreed, then added a quick ‘my bad’ in apology for his earlier intensity.

As the room calmed back to a more conversational tone, Dick brought them back to the question they still hadn’t been able to answer. “So… any ideas on how we get some ectoplasm from such a closed off realm?”

It seemed like a question that they would have to take some extensive time to answer, but to their surprise Raven spoke up easily enough. “Ask it for permission,” she said simply, the faint smile returning as she pointed at Danny.

“.... You lost me there, Raven,” Dick admitted with a slight huff chuckle. “Are you implying that Danny is some sort of personification of an entire realm?”

This time Raven gave a tiny laugh, and shook her head once. “No. But he is the perfect catalyst between the Liminal Realm and any other realm, being what he is.”

“.... Which iiiis…?” Dick prodded when Raven didn’t automatically continue this time.

It earned another small laugh from Raven before she obliged and continued. “Danny is what scholars from Azarath came to call a perfect liminal being. As you’re aware, different realms sometimes have entities that originate from or are otherwise tied to them, and the Liminal Realm is one of those realms. I think the most common names given to beings tied to the Liminal Realm are ghosts or spirits.”

“That’s what Dani and the others said they were. Or, more specifically they said she and Danny were ‘half ghost’,” Dick added, connecting the older information with what was just given to him. “So the Liminal Realm is the realm of the dead?”

“Somewhat. But not quite,” Raven shook her head once. “The Liminal Realm is where people go who, for one reason or another, did not want to die, and are unwilling to accept it. Most beings who die pass through the Liminal Realm and continue on to one of the afterlife realms. Hell, Heaven, Paradise, Field of Aaru, Valhalla, and the like. But those with a strong enough reason to refuse death, despite being unable to stay alive, end up in an in-between state stuck in the realm between realms.”

“Okay… I think I’m following,” Dick confirmed when Raven paused, and Jason and Damian nodded to agree. “So Danny and Danielle are… half dead people clinging to life?”

The question earned a slight smile from Raven. “Maybe,” she half agreed. “They are not fully like the beings that dwell in the Liminal Realm. But they are also not like anyone that is in the dead realms, or living realms. It helps if you remember that life is a spectrum, not a single state that switches into death. People on the living side of that spectrum are what you’re more used to; those who have bodies, age, physically grow, and such. But there are some people who are just closer to the side of death than others. Diseases, illness, critical injuries and other similar ailments are things that would be easy for most people to understand. Those who are dead no longer have those traits and, like I said before, most of them pass on to an afterlife realm with very few lingering in the Liminal Realm. All beings who are part of the Liminal realm or any of the dead realms are on the Death side of the life spectrum. In general, entities are usually on one side or the other, dead or alive to varying degrees,” she explained, raising one hand to one side, and then the other hand to the other side as she did so.

“But if there’s two sides, then there’s a middle point. And if people exist on either side of that point, then there’s the possibility of something existing exactly in the middle.” Dick added, following Raven’s lecture and also realizing where she was leading to.

“That’s right,” Raven nodded again, placing her hands together. “It’s an almost impossible feat. If a decimal number was naturally generated between zero and one hundred, the chances of it being exactly fifty is extremely small. And with Liminal Realm entities being rare already, a perfect fifty percent was something no one I knew had ever seen before…. Until now,” she finished by looking back at Danny, still smiling and wondering what the scholars back in Azarath would do if they met him. “Danny, and his sister, are rare beings that exist in that perfect state between realms, and therefore are more easily accepted by other realms when trying to travel between them. If one of them was present when I attempt to extract some ectoplasm, I believe I may be given some allowance, and obtain a pure sample.”

“..... Like bumming off your friend’s membership card to a club,” Jason commented, making his own connection to be able to understand what Raven was suggesting.

It earned a small snort from Jazz even as she was considering what Raven was saying. Raven appeared to know so much more about the Infinite Realm than Jazz did, and also held just as much concern over the safety of it and the others. Taking so much time to explain whatever they had questions to, and remaining patient with them when they had misunderstandings. So Jazz only had two more questions before she allowed Raven to have Danielle help her try to get some ectoplasm. “If I let Dani help you, she won’t be doing anything dangerous, right? You’ll keep her safe?”

“Of course,” Raven promised without hesitation. “I expect just her presence will be enough, and I would prefer for her and everyone else to remain at a safe distance.”

Even if it was a half lie, Jazz wouldn’t have been able to tell with the way Raven responded to her. She decided that she wanted to trust Raven though, both because of their time just now but also because she was the one Bruce and his family had called to help. So she nodded. “Okay. You can ask her to help you then.”

_______________

Biiiig info dump of headcanons for this story that made sense in my brain based on the concepts I had been given and found. I'm also basing Raven off of the only movie I've seen of her X'D (Justice League vs Teen Titans) So I'm writing her as more of a subtle/reserved/subdued emotions girl and not a completely apathetic girl.

I also had to rewrite this part like 3 times before it had a coherent flow X'D

________________

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[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for u-h-h-g-h behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

. . . wait, actually, is he gonna have to start reading biographies and historical stuff? He’s a dad now. The other dads are gonna expect him to know stuff about the Civil War and World War II and, like, lawnmowers and how to grill, aren’t they. His dad didn’t even grill, Mom did! Dad always got distracted by his book or something and let the hot dogs burn! 

Billy is not optimistic about his capacity to mow a lawn, though at least they’re in an apartment. Like–probably somebody handles that, right? That’s gotta be a thing, doesn’t it? 

. . . he should check with Batman about that, maybe. 

. . . . . . and also figure out what the wisdom of Solomon knows about how grilling works. 

Or, uh–work on the focus thing, maybe. Definitely the focus thing. It’s just–it all feels like so much, and Billy doesn’t wanna mess up and wreck Lynn’s whole entire life and make him miserable forever or ever make him feel like any of those foster “families” and social workers ever made him and just about all the other kids he knew in the system feel or– 

Billy wonders if he could maybe find a god to talk to about asking to borrow, like, the forethought of Apollo or the precision of Arachne or the strategy of Ariadne or something sometime (though definitely not the concentration of Atalanta, because one golden apple and he’d be right back where he started). Like if he could maybe swap it out with the stamina of Atlas or the courage of Achilles when he needs to, that’s all. Just when it’s, like, situationally useful or whatever. 

. . . he’s really not doing a good job with this focus thing at all, yeah. Which he’s pretty sure he’s thought a few times now already, too, just–

He’s just really nervous, still. He’s really glad Lynn doesn’t hate him or think he’s lame, but he could still totally do something that’d make Lynn hate him or think he’s lame and–

Focus. 

“Want me to serve?” Billy offers, pointing at the plates. “I mean I know I don’t know how much you need to eat yet, but neither do you, and I’ve seen a lot more people eat than you have, sooo . . .” 

“. . . you’ve seen Superman eat?” Lynn asks, looking–uncomfortable, briefly, and looking down at the plates in his hands. Billy’s gonna have to start finding stuff for him to look at instead of people, he’s pretty sure. Like, little puzzles Lynn can be messing around with or little crafts he can be doing or something, so people just figure that’s why he’s not making eye contact with them and not, like, him being antisocial or something. 

“Oh, yeah, tons of times,” Billy says, since that’s a valid question and all, considering actually the way big majority of the people he’s seen eat were human and Lynn is actually not, so actually that might not be helpful anyway. Superman’s diet would be way more useful to know about. But the problem there is–“But like, I don’t ever really know if he really needs to be eating or if he’s just doing it to be polite? ‘Cuz I do that sometimes, definitely. But also sometimes it’s just ‘cuz something looks good? So yeah, I dunno. I’ll have to ask him when I get a chance, maybe I can catch him after the next League meeting. Or I guess I could email him, I guess that’s a thing . . .” 

He doesn’t really use his League email or messaging accounts or anything like that, like, basically ever, but Batman did give them the phones and all, so he’s not gonna have to go to the library to do it anymore, sooooo . . . 

Lynn doesn’t say anything; just keeps his eyes down and on the plates he’s still holding. Billy tries not to frown. Lynn doesn’t talk much or make eye contact all that much, so far, so it’s not like it’s new. Just–he doesn’t know, really. He’s still got this weird feeling like something’s wrong, all of a sudden. 

[alley-cc]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Plus-Sized Reader

Notes: F!Reader, 18+ MDNI

Mandatory Attendance. Two words that Simon hates. He can tolerate a lot of things. He can endure the type of pain that would break the toughest soldiers in the world. He can endure sleep deprivation, dehydration and starvation. He's been trained to do so. After all, he's one of the best.

However, a large downside to being one of the best meant he was expected to make appearances. The government had a knack for throwing extravagant parties and celebrations over the smallest achievements. Celebrations that he, for whatever stupid reason, had to attend.

To his luck, all of his teammates were occupied on the field. Price and Gaz had been sent away to Russia. Johnny had volunteered to assist the first-year cadets with their basic training out on the field. He knows Johnny volunteered to help out so he can chase around the broad he has his eye on. He has to admit, she's a looker. She's another highly respected sergeant who follows protocol to the letter. Another pretty girl who Johnny will ruin in the best way.

His eyes flicker around the venue. He resists the urge to pull at his shirt collar and loosen the tie that threatens to cut off his air supply. It's another thing he finds himself hating. His ceremonial uniform. The thick fabric makes his skin itch uncomfortably, he pushes the feelings of claustrophobia from his mind. It's a later problem to deal with. The only thing that gives him some sort of relief is the fact that free booze is supplied.

He notes that he can slip out the side door and the venue. Easy and simple. A cigarette is already in his fingertips as he makes his way towards his escape route. He pushes himself past a man he never bothered to remember the name of, just the fact that He couldn't stand the bloke.

His attention is drawn away from his self-set mission when he catches a flash of light in his peripherals. His head immediately swivels towards the source of his distraction. Bloody photographers. You.

Your face is hidden away behind a camera, his eyes immediately drifting down your plush body. A modest black dress hides most of your form from him, leaving everything to his imagination. He can imagine how you'd react to him slipping his hand under that dress, following the curve of your body to find your sweet spots. He wants to hear you squeak, mewl and come undone for him. What a soft sweet thing you are.

He finally catches your gaze when you lower the camera. Eyes wide and round cheeks crimson red, you know you've been caught by him. "Didn't think I'd have to avoid getting shot at here," Simon grunts out. You let out an uneasy laugh, sputtering words to explain yourself, "I'm working with the organiser, I can delete it if you want.".

Oh, you sweet soft thing. So quick to accommodate his wants. He wants you, that is one thing for certain. He already knows he's going to do whatever he needs to in order to have you. You'd done your makeup so nicely too, pity to ruin it before the night ends. But god, the idea of the sight of you with mascara running down your cheeks and the sounds of your pleasure excites him.

Your cheeks burn a bright red as you struggle to explain yourself. He shakes his head "Don't bother." he orders. He can practically see the anxiousness coming off you. Eyes darting around the room as you look for your own escape route like he had done just before.

"You new?" Simon asks, he hadn't seen you at one of these events before. God knows he'd remember that pretty face if he did. You nod your head, the camera now resting at your hip and fingers fidgeting together. What he would do to see his baby on your hip instead. "It's my first paid event." you admit shyly.

He steps closer to you causing you to shink into yourself. You're clearly intimidated by him. Good. You should be. He really is a bad man at the end of the day. "I should go..." You mumble sweetly. He lets out a soft Tsk, "Stay." he commands. He can feel your uneasiness, but you do as he says. Obedient thing. He tilts his head to the side, hand ghosting over your hip as he takes the camera. He tugs on the camera strap draped across your body causing you to stumble towards him. Your face is only inches away from his chest now.

He presses all the buttons until he finds the one to show the images you've taken. His photo immediately appears on the screen. "Should know better than to take photos of people without consent." He scolds. You glance to the side, avoiding his eye contact. He lifts the camera, your own flash bliding you. You blink a few times, the cute look of surprise now immortalised on the screen in front of him. "Now we're even." He nods towards the image.

His gaze stays fixed on the image, it's slightly out of focus "I'm a better shot with a gun." he concludes with a shrug as he turns the screen towards you. You're quick to snatch the camera from him. Scrambling to compose yourself, half-finished sentences spilling from your lips. Your flustered state amuses him. He can tell you're more comfortable behind the camera instead of in front. He could help with that problem.

Ideas already forming in his mind of the nefarious things he wants to do to you in front of the lens. Your pleasure being forever encapsulated in pixels for him to enjoy over and over again. He could print them out for the missions that would keep him away for months. For nights he needed moral support. Really, you'd be doing a civic duty in his eyes. Supporting the troops in your own special way. Give him a reason to keep coming home. He knows his teammates would enjoy the view too.

He slips a business card that John had made him get for networking events into your hand. "Should consider shooting boudoir. We'd make an alright photo."

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This probs doesn't make sense but it was fun to write hehe