#every little thing becomes a disaster
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i'm just living THAT life (my parents fight every fucking minute but they won't divorce)
#i'm exhausteeeeed#pls just shut up#life would be worse if they divorced but would it really?#every little thing becomes a disaster#they overreact so freaking much#and when i cry cause i'm stressed they tell me i'm exaggerating#SHUT UP#SOMETIMES I JUST WANT TO SCREAM AT THEM LIKE SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPP#the lore is too deep to be shared at this point#going to sleep with white noise (my parents screaming from the kitchen) how lovely#i miss silence in this house#marriage is scary guys what if i am like my parents
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No paywall version here.
"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...
In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didnât seem to matter.
Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.
But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.
Iâm used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution â more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our countryâs greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.
In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasnât a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.
For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.
And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.
Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation â something Iâd long regarded as impossible â in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.
[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]
And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts weâd need to limit warming, and itâs very possible to do this in a way thatâs sustainable, healthy and fair.
The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. Weâre not just warning of danger anymore. Weâre showing the way to safety.
I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.
To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who havenât yet been moved by our warnings. Iâm not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.
The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.
Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.
I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and theyâd be true, at least on the trajectory weâre currently on. But itâs also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I donât just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."
-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.
#WE CAN DO THIS#I SO TRULY BELIEVE THAT WE CAN DO THIS#WE CAN SAVE OURSELVES AND THE WORLD ALONG WITH US#climate crisis#united states#climate change#conservation#hope posting#sustainability#climate news#climate action#climate emergency#fossil fuels#global warming#environmentalism#climate hope#solarpunk#climate optimism#climate policy#earth#science#climate science#meteorology#extreme weather#renewable energy#solar power#wind power#renewables#carbon emissions#climate justice
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bet on you



pairing: james potter x grumpy!reader
summary: james bets you that if he wins his next match, you owe him a date. he wins, of course â but youâre not going to make it easy for him.
warnings: fluff, grumpy x sunshine, no use of y/n, english isnât my first language
word count: 3.0k
a/n: there are so many of you who followed me for james content after obviously blind so i just decided to give you a little thank u for all your love and support.
áŻâ
now playingâŠ
niall horan - must be love

"YOUâRE TOO COCKY FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS NEARLY THROWN OFF HIS BROOMSTICK LAST MATCH, POTTER."
Your voice was dry, unimpressed, but James only grinned wider, twirling his wand between his fingers as he lounged on the Gryffindor common room sofa. His Quidditch robes were still rumpled from practice, the fabric clinging in places where the sweat hadnât entirely dried. His hair â Merlin, his hair â was an absolute disaster, even by James Potter standards, the dark curls damp and sticking up in every possible direction, like heâd flown straight through a hurricane and come out victorious on the other side.
You sat across from him, arms folded tight against your chest, doing your best impression of someone completely indifferent to his presence. The common room was warm, the low glow of the fireplace painting everything in shades of gold and crimson, and yet you wrapped your blanket more tightly around your shoulders, as if that might stop the ridiculous, treacherous pounding of your heart.
James tilted his head, eyes twinkling behind the reflection of the flames in his glasses. Too charming for his own good.
âYou wound me, sweetheart,â he sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "I was merely faking vulnerability â to lull the Slytherins into a false sense of security.â
You snorted, gaze fixed on the fire. âRight. And I suppose you meant to drop the Quaffle against Ravenclaw?â
James gasped, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a performance of deep, personal offense. âFirst of all, I didnât drop it â I strategically redirected it. And second, I think you underestimate my skills, and frankly, that hurts.â
You rolled your eyes, fully prepared to come up with something scathing in response, but then James â the menace â moved.
He dropped onto the couch beside you with all the grace of a kneazle leaping onto its favorite perch, effortlessly invading your space, his weight shifting the cushions beneath you. You sucked in a sharp breath as his arm draped over the back of the sofa, boxing you in.
A strangled noise escaped your lips before you could stop it. You shoved at his shoulder in a pathetic attempt to create distance, but James only laughed, low and amused, his body warm beside yours, radiating that post-match heat.
That sound â that deep, genuine laugh â sent something fluttering through your stomach, something entirely inconvenient. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to scowl harder, hoping to smother whatever the hell was happening inside you.
James, of course, remained completely unbothered. If anything, he leaned in closer, his grin widening. âPlus,â he murmured, voice lilting with amusement, âhow can you expect me to play properly when the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts is watching me from the stands, sweetheart?â
Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. His smile was positively criminal â all mischief and confidence, his hazel eyes glinting with unspoken challenge.
James and his bloody charm.
Your frown deepened, but it was becoming harder and harder to hold onto. He looked so pleased with himself, sitting there with his damp curls tumbling over his forehead, a few unruly strands falling into his eyes. Your fingers twitched â traitorous things â itching to push them back, just to feel how soft they were.
Absolutely not.
You turned away sharply, hoping he hadnât noticed the way your breath hitched.
Damn James Potter.
You needed to think about anything else.
Quidditch.
Yes. Quidditch.
James was a good player â some might even say exceptional (and maybe you were one of them, in the privacy of your own thoughts). But youâd rather kiss the Giant Squid than admit that to his face. His ego was already large enough to smother the entire wizarding world; the last thing he needed was your praise fueling it further.
It was your duty â no, your moral obligation â to keep him grounded. To roll your eyes at his dramatics, to scoff at his flirtations, to challenge him at every opportunity.
Even if, in moments like this, when the firelight danced across his face and his laughter filled the spaces between you, your resolve felt dangerously fragile.
Even if, against all reason and logic, you were already hopelessly, disastrously in love with him.
But he didnât need to know that.
So you bit your bottom lip, let out a quiet chuckle, and looked back at him with a slow, knowing smirk.
âRight,â you said, voice dripping with amusement. âBecause obviously your Quidditch skills depend entirely on me.â
James grinned, delighted, like youâd just paid him the highest compliment in the world.
âExactly,â he said, nudging your shoulder. âFinally, she admits it.â
You huffed, shaking your head, but even as you turned away, you knew he could see the smile threatening at the corners of your lips.
Damn him.
James leaned forward, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips again. âAlright,â he drawled, mischief dripping from every syllable. âLetâs make this more interesting.â
You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but the way his hazel eyes glinted in the firelight sent a prickle of warning down your spine.
âIf we win against Slytherin this weekend,â he continued, his voice low and coaxing, âyou have to ask me out.â
You blinked.
What did he just say?
For half a second, your brain short-circuited, your thoughts stuttering to a halt like a broomstick caught in an unexpected gust of wind. But you recovered quickly, forcing out a chuckle that (hopefully) hid the way your pulse had just launched itself into orbit.
âYou say that like itâs some kind of real challenge,â you scoffed, tilting your head. âGryffindor always wins.â
James only shrugged, all casual confidence, but his smirk deepened. âThen youâve got nothing to lose, do you?â He leaned in slightly, his voice laced with unmistakable amusement. âUnless, of course, youâre afraid.â
You rolled your eyes, exhaling through your nose as you turned to face him fully, arms crossing over your chest. Your faces were too close â close enough that you could make out the faint freckle just beneath his left eye, close enough that you caught the lingering scent of grass and wind still clinging to his robes.
And yet, you refused to back away.
At least outwardly. Inside, your heart was performing a particularly violent tango with your liver at the mere thought of going on a date with James bloody Potter.
âI just donât think itâs a fair bet,â you replied smoothly, ignoring the treacherous heat creeping up your neck. âGryffindor wins practically every match.â
James hummed, tilting his head as if considering this, though the glimmer of mischief in his gaze suggested he already had a counterattack prepared. âAlright,â he conceded, pretending to think. âThen name your terms. If we loseâŠâ He paused for dramatic effect, then grinned. âIâll do whatever you want. No complaints. For an entire week.â
Your lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. âJust like that?â
âJust like that,â he echoed, looking far too pleased with himself.
You feigned deep contemplation, tapping a finger against your chin, though in reality, you were far too aware of the way James was watching you, waiting, expecting you to take the bait.
âThatâs quite the offer,â you mused. âBut donât expect me to go easy on you when you lose, Potter.â
James laughed, bright and easy, before holding out his hand. âShake on it?â
Your fingers clasped his, and the moment your hands met, a strange sort of certainty settled in your stomach â heavy and inevitable.
Because James Potter had never lost.
And somehow, you didnât think this time would be an exception.
THE DAY LEADING UP TO THE FINAL MATCH FLEW BY FASTER THAN THE GOLDEN SNITCH IN THE DYING MOMENTS OF GAME.
James was a blur of scarlet and gold, barely more than a passing shadow in your periphery. You caught glimpses of him at breakfast â hair even messier than usual, eyes alight with that reckless, competitive fire â before he was gone again, dashing out to the Quidditch pitch to practice some new, impossible maneuver.
He was taking your bet far too seriously.
And you hated the way your stomach clenched at the thought.
By the time the match arrived, the air at the Quidditch stadium was thick with tension and the unmistakable electric hum of anticipation. The whole school had turned out, huddled together under the late spring sky, the Gryffindor stands an unbroken wave of red and gold. And you â against all better judgment â were sitting among them, wrapped in Jamesâs scarf, the same one heâd tossed around your shoulders before the game with an infuriating grin.
"For good luck," heâd said, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then, lowering his voice, heâd added, "Enjoy the view, sweetheart. After I win, youâre in for the most unforgettable date of your life."
Cocky bastard.
Now, watching the game unfold, you realized with a sinking feeling in your chest that James hadnât been bluffing.
Gryffindor wasnât just winning.
They were annihilating Slytherin.
And James â Merlin help you â was everywhere.
He weaved through the air with impossible speed, dodging Bludgers with infuriating ease, stealing the Quaffle like it had never belonged to anyone else, and scoring goal after goal as the Slytherins scrambled to keep up.
Then, just because he could, he banked his broom hard, looped right past the Gryffindor stands, and â of course â paused just long enough to wink at you before somersaulting through the air and landing another goal.
Show-off.
You scowled. The worst part was, it was impressive.
By the time the final whistle blew, Gryffindor had obliterated Slytherin by at least a hundred points. The stands exploded â cheers ringing through the stadium, banners waving wildly, students practically falling over themselves in celebration.
Amid the chaos, James ripped off his helmet, ran a hand through his already wind-wrecked hair, and turned â scanning the crowd, searching.
His gaze found yours in an instant.
And then he winked.
Smug. Smug, insufferable bastard.
The taste of defeat curled bitter on your tongue as you shot to your feet, yanking Jamesâs scarf tighter around your neck before storming toward the exit.
Behind you, Jamesâs name was being shouted from every direction, his teammates tackling him in celebration, the crowd chanting in triumph.
And yet â somehow â you knew his eyes were still on you.
You may have lost the bet.
But you werenât about to make this easy for him.
THE COLD NIGHT AIR CURLED AROUND YOU LIKE AN OLD FRIEND, slipping through the courtyardâs stone archways and brushing against your skin. You leaned back against the weathered wall, staring up at the sky as the first stars flickered into existence â tiny, distant lights swallowed by the vast darkness above. This was your sanctuary, your quiet refuge from the chaos that raged inside Gryffindor Tower.
And tonight, there was plenty of chaos.
Sirius had cranked up the music, turning the common room into a swaying, smoke-filled mess of bodies. The scent of butterbeer and firewhiskey clung to the air, laughter rang out over the sound of a badly tuned guitar, and James â bloody James Potter â was undoubtedly at the center of it all, basking in his victory like the smug, overgrown golden retriever he was.
You had slipped away the first chance you got. You never did well with crowds, especially after a match like that. The noise, the movement, the suffocating heat of so many people in one space â it was too much. You preferred the quiet, the stillness.
But, of course, James Potter never let you have nice things.
You sensed him before he spoke â his presence a familiar, buzzing warmth in the air. And knowing this, he didnât waste any time.
âSo,â came his voice, smooth and laced with amusement. âAbout that date.â
You sighed, long and dramatic, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze. He stood in front of you, still wearing that victorious grin, hair a tousled mess from the game, his uniform untucked like he had just thrown his robes aside before heading out to find you.
"I suppose I did agree to this," you mused, drawing out the words.
James nodded eagerly. âYou did agree.â
You hummed, pretending to think. âAlright, then. You can take me to Hogsmeade this weekend.â
James beamed, already straightening up. âBrilliant! Iâll pick you up atââ
âBut,â you interjected, holding up a single finger, âonly if you prove that youâre worth my time.â
James halted mid-sentence. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his hand came up to scratch the back of his head â his signature I-donât-like-not-knowing-things move.
For a split second, he looked adorably confused, like a puppy whoâd just been denied a treat. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
âWhat does that mean?â he finally asked, narrowing his eyes at you in suspicion.
You shrugged, pushing off the wall. âLetâs see how dedicated you are, Potter.â
His lips curled into a lopsided grin as he folded his arms across his chest. âAre you testing me?â
âObviously.â
You took a step closer, your head tilting slightly as you met his gaze. His brown eyes gleamed under the soft glow of torchlight, catching every flicker of warmth from the flames. The moment stretched, charged with something unspoken, something electric.
Then you exhaled, a small cloud of condensation forming in the night air, and added, "Think of this as a trial."
James let out a laugh, shaking his head. âMerlin, youâre a menace.â
You smirked. âWhat, afraid you wonât be able to impress me?â
James didnât falter. If anything, he leaned in, closing the space between you just enough that you caught the scent of his cologne â something warm, like cedar and a hint of cinnamon.
Your breath hitched when his fingers brushed against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
His voice dropped, smooth as velvet. âOh, sweetheart, I know I can make an impression on you.â
Your heart lurched, traitorous thing that it was.
For a moment, just one moment, you were completely caught in his orbit. Your eyes flickered to his lips â damn him for standing so close, for smelling so good, for looking at you like that. Heat crept up your spine, and you nearly leaned into him, nearlyâ
But then you recovered.
Rolling your eyes, you stepped past him, shoulders brushing as you went. âWeâll see, Potter.â
And with that, you left him standing there, his victorious smile turning into something else entirely â something intrigued, something thrilled.
James Potter lived for a challenge.
And Merlin, you had just given him one.
JAMES POTTER TRIED.
He tried so hard.
It started small. He brought you textbooks between classes, even the ones you definitely didnât need, just so he had an excuse to linger. He saved a seat for you at breakfast, nudging aside a stunned first-year with a casual, âSorry, mate â reserved.â
Then, he got bolder.
A bouquet of daisies â enchanted to float in perfect formation â drifted onto your desk in Transfiguration, twirling in the air before settling neatly beside your parchment. You watched them with narrowed eyes as James, sitting two rows back, shot you a wink.
At one point, he even physically shoved Peeves aside when the poltergeist attempted to douse you in ink. âBugger off, Peevesy,â James said cheerfully while you stared, half-impressed, half-mortified.
It was cute. It was infuriating.
The final straw?
A stunning display of desperation: an entire stash of Chocolate Frogs left on your bed, stacked like a damn shrine to your stubbornness.
That was it. Enough was enough.
That evening, you stormed into the Gryffindor common room, where James lounged on the couch with Sirius and Remus. Sirius was draped across the armrest, half-asleep, while Remus read with an air of deep patience, no doubt enduring whatever nonsense James had been spouting for the last hour.
James looked up as you approached, his brown eyes wide, pupils dilating like a puppy seeing its favorite person walk through the door. The firelight caught in his glasses, flickering gold against the lenses. It was annoyingly reminiscent of the night you had made this stupid bet, and that alone made you want to hex something.
He blinked. âUhââ
Before you could think twice â before your pride could scream turn around and flee â you grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanked him up to his feet, and kissed him.
The room went completely still.
The kiss was quick but firm, proof of your surrender, of your utter defeat at the hands of James bloody Potter. His lips were warm and slightly chapped from the cold, and for the first time all week, he wasnât talking. When you pulled away, James looked thoroughly wrecked â eyes wide, lips parted, hair even more disheveled than usual.
Sirius, naturally, ruined the moment.
âFinally,â he muttered with a long-suffering sigh.
James, still stunned, exhaled sharply. âDamn it.â
You huffed, flustered beyond belief. âYouâve won. Come back tomorrow at two. Bye.â
And with that, you spun on your heel, eager to escape before your brain caught up with what had just happened. But James, damn his Quidditch reflexes, recovered faster than you did. His hand caught your wrist before you had taken a full step, and in one smooth motion, he pulled you right back into his chest.
A disgruntled noise escaped your lips as you landed against him.
James grinned down at you, his voice low and maddeningly smug. âOh, I know.â
You glared up at him, rolling your eyes so hard they might have fallen out of your head â but your lips twitched, betraying you. James saw it, of course. Smug bastard.
Without missing a beat, he tugged you down onto the couch beside him, tucking you against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm settled around your waist, warm and comfortable, and when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you swore your heart forgot how to function.
Sirius groaned. âGreat. Now we have to deal with this.â
Remus, without looking up from his book, simply hummed. âCalled it.â
James ignored them entirely, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip as he returned to whatever ridiculous conversation they had been having before you stormed in.
You didnât move away.
After all, a bet was a bet.

hey-hey! <3
thank you so much for taking the time to read my work â it truly means the world to me. if you enjoyed it, Iâd love to hear your thoughts! comments, likes, and reblogs not only make my day but also inspire me to keep writing. seriously, every little bit of support fuels my motivation!
if you have any requests, feel free to send them in my inbox! Iâd love to bring your ideas to life. and also if you'd like to be added to the taglist, feel free to dm me or leave a comment, and Iâll make sure to include you.
thanks again for being here â youâre amazing!
â your santi đȘ

masterlist
#â santi đȘ#james potter x grumpy!reader#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter x you#james potter imagine
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How to Tame Your Dragon - Malleus Draconia x reader
Since you and Malleus have gotten into a relationship, you've become a bona-fide dragon soother. But whenever you fumble, the entirety of NRC faces the consequences.
aka the 7 times you cause ecological disasters and the 1 time it works out for you.
this is one of my favorite works i hope y'all enjoy it too
Instance 1: The Unbirthday Party Fumble
It all started so innocently, as most disasters do.
You were sitting on a bench in the gardens with Malleus, who was in one of his "look at my shiny things" moods. He had decided to show you his prized possessions from his extensive, possibly cursed, hoard. Usually, this was an easy gig. Youâd nod, say something like âWow, so shiny,â and then give him a kiss. Easy peasy.
But not today.
Because today, your brain decided to take a little vacation while your body stayed behind, stuck on autopilot.
You were half-paying attention, your focus more on the distant ruckus over at Heartslabyulâs tea party, where Ace and Deuce were most definitely in the middle of doing something stupid. Riddle was probably screaming about proper fork placement, Trey was juggling a thousand responsibilities, and Cater was... doing whatever Cater does.
You could hear the faint sounds of plates clinking and people panicking about the sugar cubes being uneven. It was practically a symphony of disaster waiting to happen.
Meanwhile, Malleus was holding up what looked like a teapot. But not just any teapotâthis thing was ornate. Gleaming, intricate patterns, probably blessed by some ancient fae god of beverages. You didnât notice any of that, though.
Instead, when Malleus asked in his deep, romantic, âIâm-giving-you-a-piece-of-my-soulâ voice, âDo you like it, my treasure?â you waved him off like heâd just shown you a half-eaten sandwich.
âYeah, yeah, sure. Looks fine.â
Silence.
Not just any silence. The kind of silence where the air pressure changes and you suddenly realize you mightâve done something very, very bad.
You blinked, finally looking over at Malleus, and oh no. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pursed, and a shadow seemed to fall over himâliterally. The sky darkened as if the heavens were in on his mood. His grip on the teapot tightened, and you could swear the wind started to howl.
Oh, no no no.
The moment you realized your mistake, the storm was already brewing. Quite literally. The sky went from clear to âabout to smite someoneâ in about two seconds flat. You could feel the temperature drop, and leaves started swirling around like they were auditioning for a role in a natural disaster movie.
You were in for it now.
Meanwhile, at the worldâs most cursed tea party:
Riddle was just getting ready to pour the first cup of tea when the wind decided to yeet the tablecloth right off the table. Teacups clattered, pastries took flight, and the entire garden descended into chaos.
âWHAT IN THE NAME OF THE QUEENâS LAWSââ Riddle screamed, clutching a teapot like it was his last lifeline.
Ace, currently dodging a rogue scone, looked over at the sky. âOh, youâve gotta be kidding me. Is this a Malleus thing?â
Deuce, who was using a sugar bowl as a makeshift helmet, shouted over the wind. âItâs always a Malleus thing! Why do I even ask anymore?!â
Cater, hair blown sideways and desperately trying to keep his phone in hand, was trying to snap a selfie in the chaos. âGuys, this is prime MagiCam contentâwait, no, my phoneâs gone!â He dove after it as it got carried away in the wind.
Riddle, already on the verge of a meltdown, turned to Trey, who was trying to shield a cake from the incoming storm. âI demand an explanation!â
Trey, forever the calm one, glanced up. âWell, if I had to guess, Iâd say the prefect did something to upset Malleus.â
âOF COURSE, THEY DID,â Riddle shrieked, practically levitating with fury. âWhy do we suffer every time they breathe near him?!â
âI donât know, but we need to fix it before Riddle explodes!â Ace said, dodging a flying plate.
Deuce grabbed Aceâs arm. âWe need to talk to them! Make them apologize or something!â
And so, in the middle of the flying teapots and pastries of doom, the group sprinted to find you, dodging airborne desserts and Riddleâs wrath.
Back at the epicenter of destruction:
You were still sitting there, eyes wide as you watched Malleus literally brood so hard it summoned a small hurricane. âUh, MalleusâŠ?â
He didnât respond. Nope, he was fully in Pouty Dragon Modeâą. The sky darkened even more, the wind howling, the trees bending, and you could faintly hear the sound of Ace, Deuce, and the others screaming in the distance.
Your casual dismissal of the teapot had, quite literally, ruined lives.
Before you could say anything else, the chaos squad came barreling toward you like a human avalanche, looking like theyâd been through a war zone.
Ace was covered in frosting, Deuce had bits of shattered china stuck in his hair, and Trey was holding onto what looked like the remnants of a cake stand. Cater was still trying to get a selfie in, even though he looked like heâd been through a tornado.
âFIX. THIS.â Ace wheezed, dropping to his knees dramatically. âBEFORE WE ALL DIE.â
âRiddleâs about to combust,â Deuce added, his eyes wide. âPlease. Weâre begging you.â
Trey just gave you a calm look. âIf you donât make this right soon, I donât know if weâll make it to the end of the day.â
You sighed, realizing there was no escape. Youâd have to face the stormâliterallyâand make things right.
Turning back to Malleus, you slid off the bench and stood in front of him, gently tugging on his sleeve. âMalleus?â
His eyes, still stormy, met yours, but he didnât say anything. The wind continued to howl, the sky still dark.
âIâm really sorry,â you said, your voice soft and apologetic. âI didnât mean to dismiss your teapot. Itâs beautiful, really. I was justâŠdistracted.â
Malleusâs eyes narrowed slightly, but the wind died down just a little. Progress.
âIâd never intentionally dismiss something thatâs important to you,â you continued, taking his hand in yours. âPlease forgive me? Iâll pay more attention next time, I promise.â
The storm finally started to calm as Malleusâs expression softened. The sky cleared up, and the wind turned into a gentle breeze.
He sighed dramatically, though it was more theatrical than anything. âVery well, my treasure. I suppose I can forgive you this time. But you owe me proper attention.â
Relieved, you grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. âHow about I give you all the attention you want right now?â
That did it. The storm completely vanished, and Malleusâs mood visibly brightened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a possessive, yet affectionate embrace. âI suppose thatâs acceptable,â he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head.
Behind you, the chaos squad groaned.
âOh, sure,â Ace said, rolling his eyes. âOne cute kiss, and suddenly the hurricane stops. What even is our life?â
âLetâs just never bring up teapots again,â Deuce muttered, shaking bits of pastry out of his hair.
Cater, who had finally managed to get a decent selfie, grinned. âWell, at least we survived!â
You chuckled as Malleus nuzzled into your hair, clearly pleased with your apology. At least for now, disaster had been averted. But something told you that this wouldnât be the last time youâd have to apologize for accidentally setting off your dragon boyfriend.
But hey, at least you had kisses to fix everything, right?
Instance 2: The compliment conundrum
It started as one of those innocent slip-upsâthe kind that makes you wonder why you even opened your mouth in the first place. You were lounging by the side of the spelldrive field, watching NRCâs teams practice. Malleus, busy handling his own royal duties, hadnât been able to make it to practice today, so youâd spent the afternoon watching Leona and his squad dominate the field.
It wasnât like you were doing anything wrong. You were just⊠appreciating talent, right? And Leona was talented. You couldnât help but admire the way he effortlessly dodged tackles, sending spells whizzing through the air with precision. The guy was annoying, sure, but he had undeniable skill.
So when you casually mentioned to Jack and Ruggie, âMan, Leonaâs got some impressive moves,â you thought nothing of it.
Until you felt the ground crack beneath you.
You froze mid-sentence, glancing around as a creeping, eerie silence settled over the field. The other players stopped in their tracks, confusion spreading across their faces. The once lush, green training grounds were slowly transforming before your very eyesâthe grass yellowing, the soil drying, the sky dimming. It was like nature had collectively decided, Nope, weâre out.
Jack blinked at the ground, then at you, his eyes wide with dawning horror. âDid⊠Did you justâ?â
Ruggie, a master of putting two and two together, slapped his hand to his face. âOh, no. Not again.â
Before you could even ask what was happening, you heard the faintest sound of rumbling in the distance, like some ancient, angry being had woken up from its nap. And thatâs when the full weight of your mistake hit you.
Youâd praised Leona. And Malleus, who was more possessive than a dragon guarding his hoard, definitely heard you.
âOh, crap,â you muttered, already starting to backpedal. âOh, crap, crap, crapââ
The drought spread faster, draining every last drop of moisture from the air. The once-pristine spelldrive field now looked like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic desert movie. Cracks snaked across the ground, the once-refreshing breeze now felt like it was straight out of the Sahara, and the remaining players started wheezing from the dry heat.
Leona, of course, was the first to piece things together. He sauntered over, glancing at the parched earth beneath his feet, then back up at you with a deadly glare.
You tried to stammer out an excuse, but Ruggie was already grabbing your arm and yanking you toward the nearest path off the field. Jack, looking somewhere between worried and resigned, trailed after you.
âListen,â Ruggie said in a panic, âwe gotta fix this now, or the whole schoolâs gonna turn into a wasteland.â
âI didnât mean to!â you protested as they half-dragged you across the desertified landscape. âIt was just a compliment!â
âYou canât just compliment Leona when youâre dating Malleus!â Jack huffed, sweat dripping from his forehead as the oppressive heat intensified. âYou should know better by now!â
You felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple as you tried to keep up with their frantic pace. âI didnât know he was that possessive!â
âOh, he is,â Ruggie muttered, glancing nervously at the sky. âAnd heâs sulking. You know what that means.â
You groaned. Yes, you did know what that meant. A sulking Malleus equaled world-ending storms, natural disasters, and in this caseâapocalyptic droughts.
Leona, who had followed you guys, clearly had enough of this nonsense. He stomped up behind you, glaring daggers. âYouâve ruined my field,â he growled, voice dripping with irritation. âDo me a favor and never say anything nice about me again.â
âDonât worry, Leona,â you sighed, exasperated. âIâll only insult you from now on. Promise.â
âGood,â Leona grumbled, adjusting his collar. âNow fix your dragon before I lose my mind.â
By the time you reached Malleus, the situation had reached catastrophic levels. The entire island felt like it was one sunny day away from turning into a desert. The sky was an angry, cloudless blue, and even the birds had fled, probably deciding they didnât want to risk spontaneous combustion.
And there, in the middle of the courtyard, sat your dragon boyfriend, arms crossed, looking as grumpy as youâd ever seen him. His aura was practically radiating misery.
âMalleus,â you called out, panting from the trek across the sun-baked campus.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge your presence, but didnât say a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, and you could practically see the pout written all over his face.
Ruggie gave you a light shove. âWell, go on. Apologize before we all die of thirst.â
You shot him a look, but he wasnât wrong. Sighing, you stepped closer to Malleus and knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. âHey⊠I didnât mean to upset you.â
He huffed, his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead. âYou praised another.â
âI didnât realize it was such a big deal,â you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. âI swear, I didnât mean anything by it. I only have eyes for you, you know that.â
Malleus remained silent for a moment, but you could feel his mood softening. The tension in the air eased ever so slightly, the heat less intense, the grass no longer crumbling beneath your feet.
âI donât like sharing your admiration,â he murmured, still not quite looking at you. âEspecially with him.â
âLeonaâs not a threat,â you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. âHeâs too busy napping to notice, anyway.â
That earned a tiny smirk from Malleus, though he was clearly still in sulk mode. You couldnât help but smile as you nuzzled into his neck, placing little butterfly kisses along his jawline. âCome on⊠Iâll make it up to you. Iâll praise you for hours if you want. No one is more worthy of my compliments than you.â
That finally did the trick. His stiff posture relaxed, and he let out a deep sigh. âVery well,â he murmured, turning his head to look at you. âI suppose I can forgive you⊠this time.â
You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. âThank you, Your Highness.â
Malleus, now fully basking in your affection, wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head. The sky finally returned to normal, the air cooling down, and the earth itself seemed to let out a relieved sigh.
Meanwhile, back on the now-saved-from-death spelldrive field, Leona collapsed onto the cracked ground with an annoyed grunt. âI swear, if they ever break up, Iâm moving to a different continent.â
âHonestly, same,â Ruggie groaned, lying down beside him. Jack just nodded in agreement, too tired to even complain.
But as the world finally returned to normal, and you cuddled up against your not-so-grumpy-anymore dragon boyfriend, you couldnât help but think that maybeâjust maybeâyouâd be more careful with your compliments from now on.
âŠMaybe.
Instance 3: Dinner Downpour
It had started out as an innocent evening. Just you, Malleus, and a nice dinner at the Mostro Lounge. You figured it was a good ideaâa cozy meal, some quiet time away from the usual chaos. Plus, Malleus had never been to the Lounge before, and you wanted to show him a little piece of what passed for fine dining at NRC.
Everything was going smoothly. The candlelight cast a soft glow over the table, and Malleus seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he occasionally side-eyed the giant aquariums and questionable dishes swimming in ink. You were halfway through your meal when it happened. The moment that would soon be known as The Great Mostro Lounge Flood of the Century.
Malleus, eyes warm and his tone utterly princely, leaned toward you as the waiter left the bill on the table. âAllow me to cover this,â he said, reaching for his walletâor whatever it was that dragons carry their horde in. âI would like to treat you.â
You, not sensing the danger, waved him off with a smile. âNo need, Malleus. Iâve got this.â
Oh no.
If you could rewind time, maybe you wouldâve noticed the way his expression faltered ever so slightly. The tiniest furrow of his brow, the faint tightening of his grip on his silverware. But you didnât. You were oblivious. You, poor unfortunate soul, paid the bill yourself.
And thatâs when the first clap of thunder rolled through the building.
It didnât take long for things to go from zero to weâre-all-gonna-die levels of chaos. The sky outside darkened almost instantly, rain pouring down like the heavens had just decided to empty all their buckets at once. But it wasnât just rainâoh no, this was a full-blown, hurricane-tier downpour. Lightning flashed, illuminating the shocked faces of the Mostro Lounge patrons as water started seeping in through the windows.
Inside, chaos erupted. The once-elegant ambiance of the Mostro Lounge turned into something out of a disaster movie. Jade was frantically trying to keep the dining area dry with what looked like twenty towels, but the water just kept rising. Floyd was sitting on top of a table, cackling at the sheer absurdity of it all, while Azul was on the verge of a mental breakdown, clutching his ledger to his chest as if it could somehow save him from bankruptcy.
âWHAT DID YOU DO?!â Azulâs voice broke through the chaos as he practically teleported to your side, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a maraca.
âIâI donât know!â you stammered, still processing the fact that the place was flooding. âWe were just having dinner!â
âOh, you were âjust having dinner,ââ Azul mocked, his voice climbing an octave as the water level rose past your ankles. âSure, just dinnerâand now Iâm watching my profits swim away!â
Jade appeared next, a suspiciously calm smile on his face despite the absolute catastrophe around him. âYou didnât happen to upset the prince of Briar Valley, did you?â
Floyd leaned in, grinning like a maniac. âYeah, did ya snub him or somethinâ? This is hilarious.â
Your face paled. Oh no. You replayed the scene in your headâthe offer to pay, your refusalâand realization hit you like one of the lightning bolts currently striking outside. âOh my god. Heâs upset because I didnât let him pay.â
âThatâs it?!â Floyd burst out laughing, clutching his sides. âAll this âcause you didnât let him foot the bill? Man, thatâs rich!â
Azulâs eye twitched. âFix. This. Now.â
âI didnât think it was that big of a deal!â you protested, feeling the water slosh against your calves as the storm outside intensified. âI just wanted to treat him for once!â
âClearly, that was a mistake,â Jade said, entirely too serene for someone standing in knee-deep water. âI suggest you⊠rectify it.â
âRectify it,â Azul echoed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. âOr I swear Iâll have you and your little dragon both in debt until youâre ancient fossils.â
Floyd, still howling with laughter, gave you a light shove toward the entrance. âBetter hurry, Shrimpy, before we gotta start charging people for canoe rentals!â
You rushed outside, braving the storm as the winds whipped around you. The ground was already flooded, rain pelting down so hard you could barely see two feet in front of you. But there, standing in the middle of it all like some tragic figure from a gothic romance novel, was Malleus.
He wasnât even trying to shield himself from the rainâhe just stood there, soaked, staring up at the stormy sky as if summoning the wrath of the heavens. His mood was palpable, the air around him crackling with discontent.
âMalleus!â you called out, running over and nearly slipping in a puddle. âMalleus, wait!â
He glanced down at you, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes quickly masked by his usual regal composure. âI thought⊠I could treat you. It seems you do not trust me to do even that.â
You winced. He wasnât angry, not really. He was hurt. You shouldâve known betterâMalleus was always thinking about how to show you he cared, and this was just one more way for him to do that. And youâd brushed him off without realizing the significance.
âHey, thatâs not it at all,â you said softly, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. âI just⊠I wanted to treat you this time. But I didnât realize how important it was to you.â
The storm rumbled ominously overhead, but you could feel his mood starting to shift.
You squeezed his hands, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. âIâm sorry, Malleus. I didnât mean to make you feel like I didnât appreciate it. You always take such good care of me.â
His shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing from his posture. âI simply wished to show you how much I treasure our time together.â
âAnd I treasure you,â you said, giving him a gentle smile. âSo how about thisâIâll let you treat me next time. Dinner, ice cream, whatever you want. Youâre in charge.â
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. âYou promise?â
âI promise,â you replied, kissing him again for good measure. âBut for now, maybe we could, uh⊠ease up on the weather a bit? I think Azulâs about to have a heart attack.â
Malleus chuckled softly, the storm clouds above beginning to break apart as the rain slowed to a drizzle. âVery well. I shall spare themâfor now.â
Back inside the Lounge, Azul was clinging to his precious ledger like a lifeline, watching with wide eyes as the floodwaters slowly receded. The place was still a soaked mess, but at least it wasnât Atlantis anymore.
Floyd, leaning against the bar, gave you a lazy grin as you walked back in, hand-in-hand with Malleus. âWell, looks like you managed to cool down your dragon, huh? Good job, Shrimpy.â
Jade smiled pleasantly, though you could tell there was relief in his gaze. âThe Lounge owes you a great debt.â
Azul, drenched and looking like heâd aged ten years, just sighed. âPlease. Next time⊠just let him pay.â
You grinned sheepishly. âNoted.â
Malleus, still holding your hand, glanced down at you with a fond expression. âShall we continue our evening?â
You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection, even if he had almost accidentally drowned the entire restaurant. âYeah, letâs go.â
And as you left the Mostro Lounge, water still dripping from the ceiling and Floydâs laughter echoing behind you, you couldnât help but think that for all the chaos that came with dating the prince of Briar Valley, it was worth every second.
Instance 4: Deserted Dreams
It all started with an innocent suggestion over breakfast. You and Malleus were sitting at your usual spot in Diasomnia, peacefully munching on breakfast. Things were nice, calmâMalleus was in a good mood, the sun was shining, and there hadnât been any catastrophic magical incidents for a solid two days.
But, of course, you just had to ruin it.
"So," you said, casually buttering a slice of toast, "I was thinking⊠maybe for our next vacation, instead of going to Briar Valley again, we could head over to the Scalding Sands? I heard Kalim raving about the heat and all the festivals, and I thought it might be fun to experience a little warmth for a change."
Malleus, who had been sipping his tea, froze. He looked at you, his eyes wide and a bit too intense. "The Scalding Sands?" he repeated slowly.
"Yeah, you knowâsun, sand, maybe a beach or two. Something different!" You smiled, clearly not reading the massive red flags flying in the air. "I mean, donât get me wrong, Briar Valley is great and all, but we always go there. I thought a change of scenery would be nice!"
And that, was when the Dorms of Scarabia and Diasomnia turned into a hellish desert wasteland.
It started slowlyâjust a bit of extra heat creeping into the room, making you fidget in your seat. Then it escalated. The temperature spiked dramatically, and before you knew it, the dorm felt like someone had thrown open the gates to the underworld and invited the sun to personally burn it all down. You swore you could hear the sound of sand shifting beneath your feet, though you were still indoors. Indoors, for crying out loud!
Malleus sat in silence, clearly displeased. His usual dark, moody aura was now tinged with the kind of slow-boiling frustration that made you realize: youâd made a huge mistake.
Just as you were about to apologize and backpedal your way out of the desertification of Diasomnia and Scarabia, a loud crash echoed from outside, followed by a chorus of complaints.
You stepped out of the dorm and were met with chaos. The whole area around Diasomnia had transformed into an arid, sweltering desert. The grass? Gone. The trees? Withered. The nice, cool breeze that used to blow through? Now replaced by blistering heat waves. Students were dragging themselves around, sweating profusely as the once lush grounds became a scorching wasteland.
At the heart of the chaos stood Kalim, as cheerful as ever, while a very sweaty and very done Jamil stood nearby, looking like he had reached the end of his rope.
Jamil spotted you immediately and marched over, steam practically rising off his skin. âWhat did you do?!â he hissed, looking like he was five seconds away from spontaneous combustion.
"Iâ" you stammered, glancing at Kalim, who was happily waving a fan like he was at a resort.
"Isnât this great?!" Kalim chirped, smiling ear to ear. "It feels just like home! Now we can have all the desert parties we want! Thanks for the heatwave!"
You blinked. "Um⊠youâre welcome?"
"No," Jamil interjected, glaring at you like youâd personally set him on fire. âDonât thank them! What possessed you to turn Scarabia into a furnace?!â
You grimaced, wiping sweat from your brow. âItâs not my fault! I just suggested we vacation in the Scalding Sands instead of Briar Valley andâ"
"You did what?!" Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. "So because you didnât want to vacation in Briar Valley, this happens? Do you know how long itâs going to take to get the dorm back to normal? Or the fact that Iâm now stuck babysitting Kalim in what feels like the surface of the sun?"
Kalim, still oblivious to the suffering around him, beamed. âYou should make up with Malleus! Then maybe we can have two vacations!â
Jamilâs eye twitched.
It didnât take long before you were escorted (dragged) back to Malleus, courtesy of a very sunburned Jamil and a still-chipper Kalim. They deposited you at the door to Diasomnia, giving you the kind of look that screamed fix this, or weâll make you regret it.
Sighing, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, it was even hotter indoors than it had been outside. Malleus was sitting in the corner of the common room, his arms crossed and his gaze distant, like he was contemplating the deep mysteries of lifeâor brooding over your vacation suggestion. Probably the latter.
âMalleus?â you called softly, approaching him carefully as the air around him practically sizzled with residual magic.
He didnât respond, still looking like a dragon that had just been told his gold stash was getting replaced with copper coins.
You sighed and knelt down in front of him. âIâm sorry,â you said, resting a hand on his knee. âI didnât mean to make you upset. I just thought itâd be nice to see a new place, but if you want to go back to Briar Valley, thatâs totally fine. We can go wherever you want.â
Malleus blinked, finally looking down at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. âYou wished to travel somewhere unfamiliar,â he murmured, his voice low. âI should have taken your desires into account. But⊠the thought of you preferring another land over mine⊠it unsettled me.â
You blinked. âWait, is that what this is about? Malleus, I love Briar Valley! I just wanted to try something new, but it doesnât mean I donât want to go back. We could go anywhere, and Iâd be happy as long as Iâm with you.â
He softened even more, the heat in the room fading as his magic began to relax. âYou mean that?â
You smiled and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. âOf course I do.â
His arms, once tense, reached out to pull you into his lap, holding you close as if the idea of you slipping away to some other land without him had weighed far too heavily on his mind. You snuggled into him, feeling the last traces of heatwave melt away into nothing but warmth and comfort.
Malleus nuzzled his face into your hair, his voice a soft rumble. âThen we shall go wherever your heart desires. As long as we are together.â
You chuckled, pressing another kiss to his jaw. âOkay, deal. But, uh, maybe we avoid any more heatwave-related disasters? Jamil might actually combust next time.â
Malleus chuckled softly, his mood lightening as he held you close. âVery well. I shall spare them from further torment⊠this time.â
And as you cuddled into him, the remnants of the desert wasteland outside slowly returning to normal, you couldnât help but think that as long as you had Malleus (and could keep him happy), the worldâweather catastrophes includedâwould be just fine.
Instance 5: Fashion Fiasco
You and Malleus were at one of Vilâs fashion shows, sitting in the audience with everyone else as Vil strutted his stuff on the runway, looking absolutely flawless as per usual. The lights sparkled, the music boomed, and Vil practically radiated beauty and grace in an outfit that could only be described as something plucked straight from a dream.
"Wow," you breathed, eyes wide as you watched Vil pose dramatically at the end of the runway. "Vil really does look amazing, doesnât he? Like, how is anyone supposed to compete with that level of perfection?"
Malleus, sitting beside you, went absolutely still.
It didnât register right away. You were too busy marveling at Vilâs next ensemble to notice Malleus stiffening beside you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But as the next model waltzed down the runway, you felt a sudden chill in the air. Literally.
You blinked. Was it just you, or was it⊠colder? You glanced up at the ceiling, frowning as tiny snowflakes started to drift down from nowhere. The air grew icy, your breath visible as the temperature plummeted in mere seconds.
"What theâ" You stood up, just in time to see the entire fashion show being transformed into a literal winter wonderland. Snow was now falling heavily, frosting over the runway, the lights, and, most importantly, Vilâs perfect hair.
The shriek that followed was one of pure, unbridled horror.
âNo! My HAIR!â Vil screeched, desperately clutching his head as snowflakes clung to his golden locks, which were slowly wilting under the weight of the ice. âThis is a disaster!â
Models fled the scene, their designer clothes dragging through snowdrifts that were rapidly accumulating on stage. The music cut off, the audience panicked, and Vil looked like he was about five seconds away from declaring the end of the world.
Amidst the chaos, Rook Hunt stood in the middle of the snowy storm, spinning in circles with glee. âMagnifique!â he cried, twirling with open arms as if he were auditioning for a Broadway production of Frozen. âThe raw beauty of nature meets the elegance of fashionâoh, how the world has blessed us with this miracle of frost!â
âROOK!â Vil screeched again, eyes wide and wild as he triedâand failedâto maintain some sense of composure. âThis is NOT a miracle! This is a CATASTROPHE! My showâmy hair!â
Epel, looking somewhere between terrified and confused, rushed up to you, nearly slipping on the snow-covered floor in his haste. âWe need your help!â he gasped, grabbing your arm and shaking it with the desperation of someone who knew what was at stake here. âYou have to do something! Malleus is causing the storm!â
You blinked, still processing the fact that this wasnât just some freak weather event but a full-on emotional meltdown from your very moody fae boyfriend.
âMalleus is⊠mad?â you asked, finally connecting the dots.
âOf course heâs mad!â Epel huffed, snowflakes clinging to his own purple hair. âYou complimented Vil! Now he thinks you like Vil more than him! Weâre all gonna freeze to death if you donât fix it!â
âOh⊠oh no.â
It took a few minutes (and a shove from a panicked Vil) to find Malleus, who had retreated to the far corner of the room, looking like a grumpy snow dragon with his arms crossed and snowflakes swirling around him. His expression was dark, brooding, and way too dramatic for someone who was causing a blizzard in the middle of a fashion show.
You approached cautiously, trying not to slip on the ice that was now coating the floor. âMalleus?â you called softly, inching closer. âAre you⊠okay?â
He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. âI see you were quite taken with Vilâs appearance today.â
You blinked, a bit thrown off by the sheer seriousness in his tone. âUh, I mean⊠yeah, Vilâs always beautiful. But, um, you know thatâs just how he is. Itâs his whole thing.â
Malleusâs frown deepened. âSo you find him more beautiful than me.â
Oh. Oh.
You nearly facepalmed at the realization. âMalleus, no, thatâs not what I meant!â you rushed to say, waving your hands in a flustered manner. âVil is beautiful, but youâyouâre, like, otherworldly! You know, fae beauty and all that. No one could possibly compare!â
Malleus eyed you warily, his lips pursed. âSo⊠you do not prefer him over me?"
âOf course not!â you said quickly, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. âYouâre the most beautiful person I know. No one comes close to your level of magnificence, I swear.â
There was a long, heavy pause. Then, ever so slowly, the storm began to die down. The snowflakes stopped falling, the icy chill in the air dissipated, and the temperature returned to normal. Malleusâs expression softened, his moody sulk fading as he looked down at you with a much gentler gaze.
âIs that truly how you feel?â he asked quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
You smiled up at him, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. âOf course, Malleus. Youâre my favorite, always.â
Malleus visibly brightened at that, his usual regal aura returning as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a warm embrace. âVery well, then. I shall forgive this transgression. But only because you have reassured me of your affections.â
You giggled, snuggling into his chest. âIâll make sure to tell you more often how beautiful you are.â
Vil then walks directly up to you and stares you down. "If you're done wrecking my show, could ypu please keep your dragon in check?"
All you can do is grin sheepishly at him.
Instance 6: Gaming Shenanigans
It all started because of that one last raid. You and Idia were deep in an epic gaming marathon, tackling a boss so difficult that even Idiaâself-proclaimed gaming godâhad to break out his limited-edition controller. It was all good fun, hours flying by without you even noticing, as you spammed attacks and worked together like the perfect gaming duo you were.
That is, until Idia hit you with a question that made your stomach drop.
"So, uh, aren't you supposed to, like... do something tonight?" Idia asked, mid-battle. His voice was a little too casual, almost like he already knew the answer but was waiting for you to figure it out yourself.
You froze for a split second, still pressing buttons but no longer fully paying attention. Something... tonight? What could heâ
Oh no.
You had plans tonight. With Malleus.
Specifically, your nightly walks around campus, which had become somewhat of a ritual. Every night, youâd stroll through the darkened grounds, hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything. It was Malleusâs favorite part of the dayâsomething he eagerly looked forward to.
And youâd⊠forgotten.
Your eyes darted to your phone, which was lying face down on the desk, completely ignored for the last several hours. You didnât even need to check it to know what youâd find: missed calls, unread messages, probably a voicemail or two from Malleus, wondering where you were.
"Oh no," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds of explosions and battle cries on screen.
"Wait, what?" Idiaâs character paused for a second as he glanced at you. "Did you just say 'oh no'? What 'oh no'? Are we talking minor 'oh no' or, like, 'I've-angered-a-final-boss-oh-no'?"
You gulped, heart sinking as you realized just how much trouble you were in. "Um... the second one. Definitely the second one."
Before Idia could even react, the room went dark. The power cut out so fast, you barely had time to process it. The glow of the screens, the hum of electronicsâall gone, leaving only the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window.
Idia's horrified gasp echoed through the sudden silence.
"No. No, no, no, no, noâthis canât be happening! We were in the middle of a raid!â His hands flew to his hair, the blue flames flickering wildly as panic set in. "Dude, you forgot your dragon?!"
The color drained from your face as the gravity of the situation fully hit. âIâumâgot distracted?â
Idiaâs eyes widened, and he stood up so fast his chair rolled backwards. "Distracted?! You forgot about your nightly walks with the dragon fae, and now weâre sitting in a power outage caused by his emotional spiral?!â
In the faint glow of Idiaâs flame-lit hair, you saw Ortho zip into the room, looking far too calm given the circumstances. âI detected a sudden shift in weather patterns around campus. It seems like the storm has caused a widespread blackout. Should I assume itâs related to Malleus Draconiaâs emotional state?â
"YES!" Idia practically screeched, pointing at you in betrayal. "They ditched Malleus for gaming, and now weâre all suffering the consequences! Ortho, tell them to fix it, please! I beg you!â
Ortho turned to you with his usual chipper smile. âI suggest you go to Malleus and make amends before the entire campus loses power. Iâve already calculated a 98% chance that further emotional distress will result in structural damage to the dorm.â
Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. âThis is why you never piss off boss-level boyfriends. Itâs just common sense.â
So, thatâs how you found yourself trudging through the stormy night, rain soaking your clothes as you made your way to find Malleus. The lightning flashed overhead, thunder rumbling ominously as you approached the usual meeting spot for your nightly walks.
And there he wasâstanding alone, looking very much like the picture of heartbreak. His tall figure was framed by the pouring rain, his expression a perfect blend of hurt and brooding. The storm seemed to swirl around him, almost as if it were a physical manifestation of his emotions.
âMalleus,â you called out, rushing toward him, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain. âIâm so sorry!â
He turned slowly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. âYou did not answer my calls.â
âI know, I know! I got caught up in a game with Idia, and I didnât check my phone, andâwell, now we have a blackout.â
His lips twitched ever so slightly, his gaze softening just a fraction. âYou left me waiting, and the storm came.â
You winced, feeling a pang of guilt. âI didnât mean to forget about our walk. I love spending time with youâI swear.â
Malleus let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. âI do not wish to be a burden to you.â
âBurden?â you echoed, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, the rain pouring down between you. âMalleus, youâre not a burden. I love our walks. I love spending time with you. I just⊠lost track of time. Thatâs all.â
For a moment, there was silence, the only sound being the rain hitting the ground. Then, to your surprise, Malleus looked away, a faint hint of vulnerability in his expression. âDo you⊠truly mean that?â
Without thinking, you reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands. âOf course I do. Thereâs no one Iâd rather be with.â
Malleusâs gaze softened further, and slowlyâso slowlyâthe storm began to quiet. The rain lessened, the wind died down, and the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the campus lifted. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face as if looking for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he finally let out a soft chuckle, the corners of his mouth turning up in a faint smile.
âYou always manage to calm me,â he murmured, leaning into your touch.
You smiled back, feeling warmth spread through your chest despite the cold rain. âI guess Iâm just good at soothing dragons.â
Malleus raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. âPerhaps.â
The rain had stopped entirely by now, leaving only a light mist in the air. You let out a relieved sigh, brushing some stray raindrops off Malleusâs cheek before standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.
âIâll never forget our walks again,â you whispered against his lips, earning a quiet hum of approval from him.
âI shall hold you to that,â he replied, his voice warm with affection. âNow, shall we take that walk?â
You nodded, intertwining your fingers with his. The world felt calmer now, the storm gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight breaking through the clouds. Malleusâs mood had lifted entirely, and as the two of you strolled through the now-quiet campus, you couldnât help but feel content.
And, of course, Idia and Orthoâs screens flickered back to life, much to their relief.
Instance 7: Dessert Disaster
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were about to partake in a picnic with none other than Malleus, Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. Everything was perfect. The blanket was laid out beneath a sprawling tree, food arranged carefully across itâcourtesy of Malleus himself, who had spent hours in the kitchen the night before, preparing what he considered to be the piĂšce de rĂ©sistance: a pie.
Not just any pie. No, this was a Malleus Draconia-crafted masterpiece. The filling was made from rare berries heâd harvested himself, the crust baked to a perfect golden brown. You could practically smell the love (and maybe a little lightning) that had gone into it.
Malleus, with a glint of pride in his eyes, carefully handed you a slice. "I hope it meets your expectations, my love."
You eagerly took a bite, eyes widening as the flavors exploded on your tongue. It was amazing. No, better than amazingâit was downright phenomenal. How did he even manage to bake something this good? A prince of darkness and a master chef? This was unfair.
"This slaps," you declared, totally unaware of the impending doom those words were about to unleash.
The moment the words left your mouth, you noticed a visible shift in Malleusâs expression. The proud smile heâd worn just seconds ago faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. His green eyes darkened, clouds suddenly appearing overhead. You could feel the electricity in the air as the temperature dropped.
"I see," Malleus murmured, voice tight. "So⊠you dislike it."
Wait. What?
You blinked, realization dawning far too slowly. Oh no.
Before you could correct him, Malleus was already raising his hand, a faint crackle of magic sparking between his fingers. You could practically hear the thunder rumbling in the distance as he stared down at the pie slice in your hand, preparing to smite the poor, innocent pastry.
"No, no, no, noâwait!" You waved your arms frantically, standing up so fast you nearly tripped over the picnic blanket.
Sebek, meanwhile, had already leapt to his feet, eyes blazing with righteous fury. "How dare you insult Master Malleusâs baking?!" he shouted, fists clenched. "His skill is unmatched, and yet you have the audacity to call his creationâ"
"Sebek." Silverâs voice, calm but firm, interrupted the impending tirade. He was still sitting, but his eyes were half-open now, watching the situation unfold with mild concern. "They didnât mean it that way."
Lilia, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was absolutely delighted by the chaos unfolding, his laughter ringing out across the clearing. "Oh, this is too good!" he cackled, practically rolling on the blanket. "I havenât seen this much excitement at a picnic in centuries! You modern humans and your strange expressions never fail to entertain!"
You shot him a look that screamed, Please stop encouraging this.
Silver, bless his soul, finally spoke up again, this time turning his attention to you. "You might want to explain before the weather gets worse." He nodded toward the now very ominous-looking clouds gathering above Malleus.
Right. Explaining. You could do that.
You turned back to Malleus, who still looked like he was contemplating whether to zap the pie or not. You could tell his feelings were hurtâhis brow was furrowed, his lips set in a tight line. And the thought of him feeling like that, all because of a misunderstanding, made your heart clench.
"Malleus," you said, stepping closer and reaching for his hand. "When I said âthis slaps,â I meant itâs really good. Like, insanely good. Amazing. Best pie Iâve ever had."
Malleusâs stormy expression faltered slightly, though the dark clouds remained. "But you said it âslaps.â"
"Thatâs modern slang," you explained, gently squeezing his hand. "Itâs a compliment. I promise."
Malleus blinked, the magic at his fingertips dissipating as he processed your words. "So⊠you enjoyed it?"
"Absolutely. You knocked it out of the park with this pie." You gave him your most reassuring smile. "I could eat the whole thing."
The storm clouds began to thin, sunlight peeking through once more. Malleus tilted his head, considering this new information, and slowlyâvery slowlyâa smile returned to his face.
"It pleases me to hear that," he said, his voice softening.
Meanwhile, Sebek was still standing there, sputtering indignantly. "W-Well, if thatâs what they meant, then⊠of course Master Malleusâs pie is the best! I knew that all along!"
Lilia, still chuckling, waved a dismissive hand at Sebek. "Oh, calm down, boy. No harm done. Besides, now we know modern slang! What other fascinating phrases do you have, I wonder?"
Silver sighed, finally sitting up properly. "Maybe letâs avoid any more slang for today."
With the situation calming down, you took the opportunity to lean in closer to Malleus, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Iâm really sorry for the confusion," you murmured. "Youâre an amazing baker, and your pie is delicious. I meant that, okay?"
Malleusâs cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the affection, and he gave a small nod. "I believe you."
Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you pressed another kiss to his lips, slow and tender, savoring the warmth of his skin and the way his hand gently squeezed yours in return. The last of the clouds above you finally cleared, leaving the sky blue and bright once more. The storm was over, and everything was at peace again.
"Shall we enjoy the rest of our picnic, then?" Malleus asked, his voice much lighter now.
You nodded enthusiastically, sitting back down beside him. "Absolutely. And just so weâre clearâyour food? Total banger."
Malleus raised a brow, clearly still unfamiliar with the term but now much more accepting of your strange modern ways. "I see. I shall take that as a compliment."
Sebek, still recovering from his earlier outrage, grumbled something under his breath, but you didnât care. Lilia was still snickering, Silver was finally getting comfortable again, and Malleus was happy. Everything was right in the world.
And hey, now you knewâif you ever wanted to spice things up at a picnic, all it took was a little modern slang.
Instance 8: Destruction of NRC (Well, almost)
Crowleyâs âmagnanimous natureâ was, quite frankly, killing you. Whether it was sorting mountains of paperwork, being sent on endless errands, or handling Grimâs regular chaos, you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached, your eyes had dark circles deeper than any pit, and you were pretty sure you were on your third day of functioning on nothing but caffeine and sheer spite.
Grim, bless his fiery little heart, watched you from his perch on your bed, tail flicking in irritation as you barely managed to drag yourself into Ramshackle after another long, thankless day.
âUgh, henchhuman! You look like death warmed over,â Grim sniffed, narrowing his eyes at you. âHow long do you plan on letting that featherbrained Crowley walk all over you?â
You groaned, flopping face-first into your pillow. âAs long as it takes to survive this semester, Grim. No one else is going to deal with his nonsense. Not like I have a choice.â
Grim was silent for a moment, watching you with uncharacteristic concern. Then, in a low mumble, he said, âWell, Iâve had enough. Youâre my henchhuman, and I wonât let him destroy you.â
You thought Grim was just being dramatic. But when you woke up the next morning to the sound of distant thunder rumbling ominously across the sky, you had a very, very bad feeling.
By the time you made it to NRC, the situation was in full swing. You arrived just in time to witness Crowley practically on his knees, looking like a man who had stared death in the face and lived to tell the taleâbarely.
The sky above NRC was pitch black, clouds swirling and crackling with magic as the wind howled through the campus. A storm of epic proportions had descended, and it wasnât just any storm. This was a Malleus Draconia-grade storm. The kind that didnât just bring rain or windâit brought devastation, and everyone was cowering indoors, peeking through windows, afraid to go outside.
Crowley spotted you immediately, rushing over with his cape flapping dramatically behind him as he stumbled, nearly slipping in the mud.
âPlease,â he cried, hands clutching your shoulders as if you were his last lifeline. âPlease, you must calm him down! I beg of you, prefect, do something!â
You raised a brow, half-expecting some pitiful excuse, but the Headmaster, in all his avian glory, had gone straight to the begging stage. âWhat did you do this time?â you sighed, knowing it had to be his fault.
âI did nothing! Absolutely nothing! Well, perhaps Iâve⊠been a little harsh on you, but thatâs no reason for him to destroy the entire campus!â Crowley wailed, looking pitiful as a gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance.
âIâll pay you! Iâll pay you an actual wage! Iâll give you a budget to renovate Ramshackle, and Iâll personally sponsor your vacation! Just pleaseâstop him before thereâs nothing left of Night Raven College!â
You blinked. Did⊠did you just get a salary offer? And a vacation? And a renovation budget? This was new.
Before you could process the sheer absurdity of the situation, Professor Crewel passed by with his coat dramatically billowing in the wind. âHonestly,â he muttered under his breath, âabout time that birdbrain faced some consequences for his incompetence.â
Professor Trein, walking with his trusty feline Lucius, shook his head gravely. âAt this point, the Headmaster deserves everything thatâs coming to him.â
âDo you not see the storm?!â Crowley shrieked, pointing to the lightning that was now dangerously close to striking the bell tower.
Both professors exchanged a look before continuing on their way, Crewel muttering something about how this was Crowleyâs mess to fix.
You couldnât help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction seeing the Headmaster squirm. But at the same time, NRC was at risk of being blown off the map if you didnât act soon. And judging by the way Grim was laughing maniacally in the corner, proudly declaring how he âfixedâ your problems, this was going to be on you to clean up.
With a sigh, you gave Crowley a nod. âFine. Iâll talk to him. But if you go back on any of those promisesââ
âI wonât!â Crowley promised, hands clasped as if in prayer. âI swear on the very foundation of this school, you will be compensated!â
You rolled your eyes but turned on your heel to head toward Diasomnia. The storm seemed to know you were coming, the wind parting just enough to allow you passage. The moment you stepped into the courtyard, the thunder seemed to quiet, though lightning still flashed ominously in the distance.
And there, standing at the center of it all, was Malleus. His expression was dark, eyes glowing faintly as he stared up at the storm heâd summoned. His hands were clasped behind his back, and even with his composed stance, you could sense the simmering frustration beneath the surface.
You approached carefully, calling out softly, âMalleus?â
His head turned slightly at the sound of your voice, though he didnât fully look at you. âAh, my love. I see youâve arrived.â
You moved closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. âGrim told you whatâs been going on, didnât he?â
âI cannot stand to see you work yourself to exhaustion for that foolish crow,â Malleus muttered, still staring at the storm. âHe takes advantage of your kindness. It is unforgivable.â
You couldnât help the warmth that spread through your chest. He was genuinely upsetâfor you. But, you also couldnât let NRC be reduced to rubble, and you needed to calm him down before it got worse.
With a soft chuckle, you stepped in front of him, gently cupping his face in your hands. âItâs okay. I appreciate how much you care about me, but you donât have to destroy the school over this.â
Malleusâs eyes finally met yours, the storm above softening ever so slightly. âBut youâre suffering.â
âI was,â you admitted, pressing a kiss to his forehead. âBut not anymore. Crowleyâs going to make it up to meâhe promised me a wage, a renovation budget for Ramshackle, and a vacation.â
That seemed to catch his attention, the storm clouds above beginning to dissipate. âA vacation?â
âMhm,â you nodded, leaning up to brush another kiss against his cheek. âIn fact, I was going to ask if youâd like to come with me.â
Malleus blinked, his earlier frustration melting into a look of surpriseâand then, a small, pleased smile tugged at his lips. The storm overhead faded into nothing, the sky returning to its usual clear blue.
âI would be honored,â he said softly, pulling you closer to him. âA vacation, just the two of us. That sounds⊠delightful.â
You grinned, pressing a final kiss to his lips, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. âItâs a date, then.â
And just like that, the storm was over. NRC was safe, and more importantly, you had managed to calm your dragonâand score a well-deserved vacation in the process.
As for Crowley? Well, youâd make sure to enjoy every moment of watching him squirm while you cashed in those promises.
Masterlist
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#malleus x reader#malleus draconia x you#malleus draconia x reader#twst malleus#malleus draconia#malleus x you#malleus
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I saw your post about bugout bags and like ... bracketing the Gestapo Doorknock thing, when did the "correct" response to a natural disaster become to immediately flee and go into refugee mode? The negative fantasy here is heroically saving yourself while your idiot neighbors die, instead of making the kinds of community connections that people actually use to survive and respond to disasters.
I get what you are saying about community connections being the best path to resiliency, but you should very much flee from floods and wildfires when at risk, to name a few. Ideally while making sure your neighbors are also getting out of Dodge, all assuming there has been ample warning for this particular disaster. But sometimes, there are scenarios where you just have to go that very moment.
For all their talk of bugouts bags, I don't think the capital-P Preppers actually want to leave their home bunkers.
The same American Exceptionalism that causes people here to have Lone Wolf apocalypse fantasies also makes them think they can survive a hurricane in a coastal flood zone.
There is an element of humility required to leave one's home possibly permanently. But that's the key difference, here -- the Preppers aren't as interested in survival as they are in ushering in some kind of new World Order.
You see this type pop up every now and then as a hurricane sets its sights on a town -- the people who make it a big point to talk about what they'd do to a looter, should the Big One hit. These are folks who are not interested in becoming a refugee amd are fine with the risk of staying home, if it means they can shoot people from their little castles.
I also saw more mundane selfishness when I did hurricane rideouts for emergency operations in my old Florida city job -- part of our comms was to remind people that we could *not* send anyone out to help them peak-storm. Sometimes, fleeing (aka, saving yourself) is what keeps other people alive -- they don't have to risk their lives saving you because of your stubbornness.
So, I'm a bit skeptical of fleeing being a power fantasy. What's more likely to happen in a lot of natural disasters (especially those with lead times) is you either get renegade fools in clear danger refusing to leave, or uninformed folks not at risk who panic and think they need to evacuate when they should just hunker down. (And then there are the unfortunates who should evacuate and want to, but cannot because the system has failed them in some way.)
That said, for a longterm crisis, community absolutely is key. And even in a short-term crisis that requires an evacuation, one is presumably fleeing *to* some place that will have other refugees, and it's in one's best interests to build community even in these temporary conditions.
#chit chat#my bugout bag was prompted by a gas leak scare a few houses down#if it was real I would have had to evacuate immediately#so know the difference between when to go and when to stay and where to do the most good#as a veteran of hurricanes I get frustrated when people inland in safe houses feel the need to evacuate#because that makes it harder for the coastal folks to get to safety in time#tldr; the correct response for a lot of natural disasters is - yes - to fuckin flee#we call that evacuating#sometimes you won't get much notice
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(original au post was getting kind of long... so time for a new one)
something happy for a change? kanako, stuck in her timeloop still, suddenly arrives upon a happier ending, in which clover decides to stay in the underground.
(more info below as always)
~ Sunshine Ending (Sunflower)
after the horrifying events of the previous ending (in which the ketsukane estate burns down with the two inside of it), kanako wakes up once more the very moment she died in that house.
isn't this becoming too much...? how long can she go on like this? the one time she tried to use force to make clover stay, it ended in disaster. she didn't want this.
that is, of course, until ceroba finally steps in. she finds her daughter like this and realizes that something is definitely going on. she puts away her lab coat, casting her research aside for the moment. some things are more important; she can't believe she let herself forget that. kanako needs her.
so, they start going outside and into town together. starlo and his crew are delighted to see ceroba out and about for once... she'd really become more of a hermit these past few years.
for once, kanako isn't alone. so when she spots a particular bluebird accompanying a human in Oasis Valley, she thinks that this could actually be her chance. things are different, now...
and things do play out differently. or, maybe more familiarly...? starlo sees a trusty sharpshooter deputy in clover and takes them in for training. ceroba is able to start off on the right foot with clover as well, being able to see them more as a person than an opportunity for research.
but maybe most importantly, kanako gets the chance to grow close to clover more naturally, as true friends. there's no rush or desperate force like before; for once, it seems like clover actually wants to stay.
with all of them together, kanako realizes why.
ah... i think i understand now. having one friend is good, but that's not really what you wanted, was it?
you... wanted a family, right? support, and company... more than just me alone.
it feels like there should be a sting there -- kanako not being "enough" to get clover to stay -- but strangely, it really doesn't hurt. seeing clover happy, having fun, making friends...
after last time, this feels like all she could have ever asked for.
the two become like siblings. (where have I heard this before?) they get into Shenanigans and all that fun stuff. the ketsukane estate is admittedly far nicer than the breaking house starlo and co. stay in, so clover begins to share kanako's room. every night is like a sleepover...!
they have fun, lots of fun together. ceroba hushes them, urging them to sleep in the early hours of the morning after they stayed up so late talking and giggling. kanako never has to eat another meal alone. clover is surprisingly good at mew mew love blaster. every day is so fun and exciting. this is what she had dreamed of for so long now -- the things she wanted all those previous times. she really just needed a little help to make it actually happen.
she's so happy. everything is perfect. she's satisfied, finally.
so...
so then, why...
why, after so long,
does she wake up again in an empty bedroom, back where she started?
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Can you pleaseeee do staff joshua?

staff!joshua
WARNINGS: smut, figurine malfuncion, getting caught fingering, mentions of penetrative sex, limping after sex, dirty talk.
staff!joshua who was basically an angel in a designer hoodie, swooping in like he was born to save the day. heâd been recommended by an artist friend who was finally leaving the chaos of tour life behind, and, honestly, youâd had your doubts. you werenât looking for another âhelpfulâ stranger whoâd end up tangled in the cables backstage or handing you the wrong mic.
you remember him showing up that first day, eyes bright and wide like he was taking in every damn inch of the chaos with some kinda awe. it was⊠annoying, actually, because who the hell has that much enthusiasm? the whole team couldnât stop talking about him, whispering like he was some savior sent from above. youâd watch from across the dressing room, pretending not to notice, like, âoh sure, heâs cute or whatever,â but then heâd catch your eye and smile.
staff!joshua who somehow found himself in the middle of the most last-minute disaster ever. the accessories boxâthe one holding all your necklaces, rings, and that one choker that practically defines your stage lookâgot left at the hotel across town, hours away. designers scrambling, panic in the air, your manager about to lose it. youâre standing there, just praying that the team doesnât fully spiral, and then joshua steps in, calm as you like. he asks for a spare box of beads, like itâs no big deal.
he actually sits on the floor, in the mddle of the dressing room, legs crossed like heâs chilling at some park, and starts putting together these bracelets. fast. you remember being half-stunned, watching him loop bead after bead with ridiculous speed, like heâs been doing it his whole life. and they werenât just some random bracelets eitherâthey actually looked good. he handed them over, âhere you go, should work in a pinch.â like, who does that?
staff!joshua who ended up with half the crew wanting to know where he learned to make accessories like that, and he just shrugged, all humble, âoh, just a thing i used to do in high school.â as if that made sense.
next show, next country, you look out and see rows and rows of fans with identical bracelets. like, those beads? theyâve become a thing. suddenly, everyone wants one, and your socials are blowing up with people asking where they can get cute and colorful bracelets. youâd joked with him after, âmight as well start selling these on the merch table,â and heâd laughed, soft and shy, scratching the back of his neck like he wasnât used to the attention.
staff!joshua who, honestly, makes you wonder if heâs real, heâs always got everything covered, itâs late nights and early mornings, but somehow, heâs always there, making sure you have your coffee just the way you like it, that your schedule isnât packed to the point of breaking. heâs the one who keeps track of your favorite snacks and stashes them in your backpack, knowing youâll dig around for them at some ungodly hour.
staff!joshua who insists on walks when thereâs downtime to make you less tense, taking you through narrow city streets, where he points out little cafes he researched beforehand, claiming it was just âa lucky find.â he laughs off your suspicions, saying, âitâs just a coincidence,â but you know heâs been studying maps like a tour guide, making sure you get to see more than just hotel lobbies and dressing rooms. heâll hold your things so you can snap photos or just take in the sights, occasionally stepping back to give you a moment. always there, hovering just close enough to shield you if a crowd forms or if you need a break from everything.
staff!joshua whoâs not just watching out for you but keeping an eye on every single person who shows up at airports or outside venues. he scans the crowd with that gentle look in his eyes, like heâs really seeing each one of them, making sure no oneâs fainting or overheating. if he notices someone looking a bit off, he doesnât hesitate, signaling to security or even paramedics to help them out, all while giving them this reassuring smile that somehow calms them down.
staff!joshua who knows when fans come up to you during your downtime and sees that look in your eyes, the tiny hesitation. heâll lean over, voice soft, asking, âdo you want to?â like itâs totally up to you, and itâs cool either way. if youâre not feeling it, heâs got the most polite, warm way of explaining, âiâm so sorry, but itâs y/nâs break right now.â no harshness, no impatienceâjust enough kindness that no one feels brushed off. but if you nod and say yes, heâs right there, practically crouching to make sure the angles are perfect, even telling the fan how to hold the camera for the best lighting. he gets the shots thatâll probably be framed on some bedroom wall or locked screens forever.
staff!joshua who goes from quietly fussing over your needs to casually slipping into a role that makes every fan interaction feel like the best one of their life. heâs got this way of making them feel comfortable, throwing in a gentle âdonât be nervous,â or even laughing softly to ease the anxiety.
staff!joshua who, without you even realizing it, has gone from that fresh-faced kid with the soft smile to a full-on bodyguard. heâs bulked up over time, muscles straining against the sleeves of his shirts, and when heâs guiding you through a crowded airport or weaving through backstage chaos, you catch more than a few fans sneaking glances his way. he doesnât seem to noticeâor maybe he does, but he brushes it off.
staff!joshua who makes it a point to be in the hotel gym at whatever strange hour you decide to work out. heâs on his own schedule, of course, but heâs catching your attention even mid-workout. he doesnât say much about it, but you know heâs thinking about your safety, wanting to be strong enough to keep you shielded with his... big chest.
staff!joshua who tries to stay professional when your hand naturally drifts to his arm. itâs like a habit now; his biceps have become your security blanket, something to hold onto when youâre being rushed through a crowd or stepping out of a car in sky-high heels. heâll give you a quiet amused look, lips pressing together like heâs trying not to smile, but he never says anything about it.
staff!joshua who feels the burn of your touch whenever you steady yourself by pressing your hand against his muscular chest. maybe itâs to fix a shoe strap or straighten your skirt, his breath hitches every time, itâs like a test of his equilibrium, and you can tell heâs struggling to keep himself in check, especially when he catches your smirk.
staff!joshua whoâs always one step ahead, guiding you with a gentle but firm hand on the small of your back when youâre navigating a crowded room.
staff!joshua who instinctively stands between you and the flash of cameras, positioning himself just enough to cover you from the harsh lights and endless stares. he doesnât need to ask; he just knows when to move, leaning close âjust stay behind meâ
staff!joshua who never complains when you tug at his sleeve for attention, even if itâs the fifth time that hour. attentive look, ready to listen to whatever you need, whether itâs fixing a wardrobe mishap or finding the perfect hiding spot when the crowds get overwhelming.
staff!joshua whoâs confused when you grab him and pull him into the wardrobe corner, pointing at the zipper like itâs some life-or-death situation. his face goes a little pink as he takes in the viewâyour tits all squished up, struggling against the fabric, and his hands practically itching to fix it. âare you sure?â he mumbles, glancing from you to the zipper and back, but thereâs no time to pause; youâre due on stage any second.
staff!joshua who keeps his eyes fixed on that zipper, swallowing hard as he tries to get a grip on himself and on the stubborn thing trapping you. his fingers brush against your skin, and you feel him tense up, his breath quickening just slightly. heâs so close you can smell his cologne, fresh and warm, mixing with the backstage chaos, and itâs making it way harder for you to focus on anything else. âjust⊠stay still..â he mutters, his voice a little shaky.
staff!joshua who practically loses it when the stylist finally throws up her hands and says, âjust rip it off, joshua! we donât have time.â his eyes go wide, panic flickering over his face, but then he nods, taking a deep breath. he plants his hands on either side of the fabric, his biceps flexing under his shirt as he grabs hold and gives one solid yank. thereâs a loud rrrriiip, and the zipper splits apart, fabric tearing away like itâs nothing under his grip.
staff!joshua who is definitely not prepared for the way the fabric slips, your tits practically jumping in his face, leaving him blinking, wide-eyed, desperately trying to look anywhere else while you scramble to pull on your next outfit. heâs frozen for a second, like heâs processing what just happened, then quickly steps back.
staff!joshua who always insists on separate rooms whenever youâre on tour, like itâs some line in the sand he wonât cross, because heâs all about âboundaries.â but thank god for that, honestly, because the last thing you need is him realizing just how often your mind wanders to him in the quiet of your room after a show, the adrenaline still in your veins. nights like that, when youâre alone and all you can think about is the way heâs looked at you backstage, muscles tense as he keeps everything under controlânever fails on making you horny.
staff!joshua who doesnât know how many times youâve slipped into your bed and imagined him there with you, his big hands choking you, slapping your face, his mouth kissing you, sucking you, that quiet and respectful control of his breaking just for you. you let yourself get lost in the thought of him, and in the safety of your own room, you give in to all those bottled-up feelings, whispering his name under your breath, touching yourself, feeling your pulse race as you imagine him actually being there.
staff!joshua who has no clue that some nights, youâre too far gone to even muffle the sounds you make, pressing a hand to your mouth as you cum, breathy little sighs slipping out, like heâs actually there. you always tell yourself youâll be quieter next time, but every show seems to make it worse, every touch from him leaving a trail of him that lasts long after heâs gone.
staff!joshua who probably wouldnât know what to do if he ever caught you like thatâcaught you in the middle of one of those late-night moments, your head thrown back, his name slipping from your lips, no shame. the thought alone is almost too much to handle, but you keep going back to it, night after night, letting yourself imagine just a little more.
staff!joshua who, one night, knocks on your door to deliver something you left behind in the venue dressing room, completely oblivious to the fact that youâre in there, already lost in thoughts of him. you dont even hear the knock over the sounds of your own pussy, and you donât realize heâs actually come in, quietly calling your name, until you see his shadow across the wall.
staff!joshua who stands there frozen for a second, just staring, his fingers fumbling with the doorknob like heâs trying to make a quick exit but forgot how doors work.
when he finally remembers to turn the handle, ends up pulling it the wrong way, the door making this awkward little squeak as he fumbles to open it again. heâs all flushed and stuttering out apologies, but heâs rooted in place, eyes darting back to you like heâs trying to process what he just walked in on and failing miserably.
your heart its almost jumping from your chest, but you let the duvet slip just a little, the fabric falling away from your legs, exposing the curve of your thigh, the soft line of your hip. his eyes follow it, widening just slightly, his fingers gripping the door handle even tighter.
staff!joshua who, when you tug his wrist gently, doesnât resist, he lets you pull him closer until he sits by your side, as you whine âjoshua⊠come here,â in that low, inviting way, and something shines in his eyes, like youâve struck a nerve heâs tried so hard to keep hidden.
staff!joshua who finally presses his lips to your neck, his hand moves up your thigh, fingers fastly pushing the duvet away, leaving you naked. when he finally slides his hand over you, through your damp folds, the feel of his fingers brushing your swollen clit, making your nipples harden.
his thumb presses the clit savoring the reaction heâs getting from you. you can tell heâs testing every little gesture, finding what makes you pant, what makes your hips move toward him.
staff!joshua who presses his fingers in, slipping past the wet folds, to the gummy walls, the first slide inside so warm, so deep, and you let out a moanâthat you don't have to hold anymore, afraid that he would hear from the next roomâyour pussy already clenching around him. he groans softly, leaning over you, his arm flexing as he presses deeper, his other hand coming up to grip one of your wrist up your head, holding you steady as his fingers curl impossibly tight. you can feel the tension in him, the restraint, but the way his fingers move, lets you know heâs not holding back with his touch, at least.
âlike that?â he asks, and you nod, swallowing down a shaky breath as he picks up the pace.
staff!joshua who starts to move his fingers a little deeper, making a funny wet sound, until youâre gripping the duvet, your head tipping back.
staff!joshua who, lets out a low chuckle everytime you moan a little louder. âwhat was that hm? a moan? for me? tell me..â
staff!joshua when he notices you squirming under his touch, about to cum he teases more âso needy... you donât even have to say it.â he pauses, letting the fingers sink in, as you feel his other hand come up to grip your thigh, holding you as he continues. âwhat would they all say if they saw you right now?â he muses. âyou know, you make it so hard for me to be professional sometimes.â
staff!joshua who, when he notices you clenching your fists in the duvet, laughs softly, a low, wicked sound. âgo on,â he whispers, his fingers curling just right. âlet me hear everything.â
staff!joshua that after every single time you thought youâd caught your breath, would lean down, ânot done yet, sweetheart,â before sending you spiraling right back. destroying your poor swollen cunt after cumming multiple times..
staff!joshua next morning, is already at the hotel breakfast with the crew, sitting perfectly, like he didnât just ruin you the night before. he watches you walk in, eyes glinting as he sees the way youâre movingâtrying to walk normally, but the subtle limp gives it all away.
staff!joshua who has the audacity to pat the empty chair next to him, tilting his head with an innocent expression as if heâs not the reason youâre struggling to walk. âsleep well?â he asks, but you know he's holding back a laugh. you shoot him a glare, but he just raises an eyebro.
staff!joshua who leans in, voice quiet enough that only you can hear, and whispers, âif you need me to help you up to your room after this, just say the word,â his fingers brush against your knee under the table, so subtle that no one else would notice, but itâs enough to remind you of every. single. thing. he did to you last night.
staff!joshua who has no problem keeping that perfect poker face as the morning goes on, answering questions, making small talk with the crew, all while casting you the occasional glance. every time he catches you shifting in your seat, trying to get comfortable, he hides a smirk behind his coffee mug, thoroughly enjoying the sight of you flustered and sore, his own private victory.
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen headcanons#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen#svt smut#svt imagines#joshua#joshua smut#seventeen fanfic#hong jisoo smut#hong jisoo#joshua hong x you#joshua hong x reader#joshua hong#joshua hong smut#joshua x y/n#joshua x you#joshua x reader#joshua hong x yn#hong jisoo x reader#joshua hong angst
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Their Children, Their Treasures
How the men of Amphoreus spend time with their children.

Mydei is not the type to just sit and tell children how the world works. He shows them. He trains with his eldest son, but he doesnât turn it into a tough workout â more of a game, testing his agility and reaction. He can throw him a wooden sword, forcing him to catch it, and then laughs when he proudly declares that he has become stronger. He takes his time with his daughter. Instead of combat training, he teaches her observation: he shows her how to read facial expressions, discern lies, understand when a person says one thing and means another.
Sometimes, when the night is quiet and the palace is asleep, Mydei takes the children for a walk. His son walks alongside him, trying not to show that he is a little nervous about the mysterious atmosphere. His daughter sits on his shoulders, clinging to his hair with her tiny hands. They walk, talk about something insignificant, look at the stars. For the children, this is an adventure, for him, a rare moment when he can simply enjoy their presence.
He has small rituals that are dear only to them. Every morning when he is home, he always plays with his daughter, letting her sit on his lap while he drinks his pomegranate juice. She chatters, sometimes incoherently, but he listens, answering in short phrases, because it is important for her to be heard. He has a special tradition with his eldest son - they arrange small competitions, who can tie a belt faster, who will be the first to notice something unusual around. These are not competitions in strength, but simply a test of attentiveness and ingenuity.
If one of the servants or courtiers looks at his children too appraisingly, he silently gives a look that makes the blood run cold. After that, no one dares to say anything unnecessary to the children. If a son comes to him with a question that is difficult to ask out loud, he never ridicules him. He does not say "you are still small", but calmly explains, because he knows that if not him, then someone else will give an answer, and it is not a fact that it is the right one. If his daughter gets tangled in ribbons or can't fasten her dress, he silently helps. His rough fingers can undo intricate knots with no less dexterity than they can handle a weapon.
The son has almost gotten used to the fact that his father rarely talks about his feelings. But he notices how he always puts his hand in front of him if someone comes too close, how he discreetly straightens his cloak, how he puts food in front of him first. And his daughter... She is his little princess, and he doesn't even try to hide it. He picks her up in his arms without saying a word if he sees that she is tired. If she plays with his hair or jewelry, he simply allows it silently. When she reaches out to him to take her, he never refuses. Mydei does not say loud words. But his children know that there is no one who will protect them more.

Silence at home? Not in their family. When Anaxa has free time, he organizes intellectual discussions, where each of his daughters tries to prove her point. Usually this develops into a heated argument, and he, sitting with a cup of tea, calmly observes and only occasionally throws out provocative questions, forcing them to think even deeper.
"Theory without practice is meaningless," says Anaxa, and his daughters immediately find a reason to prove this in practice. "Scientific disasters" regularly occur in the house: self-igniting mixtures, strange bubbling solutions or a device that was supposed to make life easier, but almost destroyed the kitchen.
Anaxa comes up with logical riddles that his daughters must solve using reasoning. Sometimes he does this on purpose in everyday life: he hides things, leaves encrypted notes or deliberately draws false conclusions to see if they will notice the mistake. If the evening is quiet, he sits in a chair, his daughters on either side of him, each with her own book. The elder reads serious literature, the younger something more daring and provocative, and Anaxa just smirks, seeing how their reading tastes reflect their personalities.
Despite all their intellectual development, they remain a family. Sometimes Anaxa allows his daughters to braid his hair (even if he pretends that he is not interested), sometimes he himself makes things for them that seem completely unrelated to science - beautiful jewelry or unusual objects that carry a hidden meaning.
Anaxa rarely speaks openly about his feelings, but if his daughters face difficulties, he is always there. When they achieve success, he simply looks at them with a barely noticeable smile and says: "I had no doubt. After all, you are my daughters."

When his first son was a baby, Phainon still hoped that his child would be calm, obedient, and perhaps even gentle. He imagined reading to him, teaching him high ideals⊠But as soon as the baby learned to crawl, the house turned into an arena of chaos. And then came the second. And now Phainon has two little whirlwinds that run around, fight each other with toy swords, and turn everything upside down.
Phainon may be a hero, but when his two sons jump on him from the couch with battle cries, he sincerely wonders if it is his destiny they are trying to overthrow. They use him as a living arena, clinging to his arms, tugging at his hair, and demanding that he play battles with them, which he invariably loses.
Phainon still reads them ancient Amphoraean legends, hoping to instill nobility and greatness of spirit in them. He sits with a book, telling stories about great heroes... and his sons listen with bated breath. And then one of them suddenly asks:
"Dad, if you were an evil god, would you lose to us?" Phainon exhales heavily.
Although he would never admit it, Phainon loves to tidy up their tousled hair. When they are little, he gently combs it, sometimes combing it with his hands. Later, when they grow up, he continues to do it mechanically, and when his sons begin to complain, he only smiles with a note of melancholy that they are growing up too fast.
When his sons begin training, he becomes a strict mentor. He teaches them to take blows, to think strategically, not to waste their strength. But if one of them hurts another or behaves dishonestly, his gaze becomes icy, telling them that they must be strong not for the sake of destruction, but for the sake of protection. And they remember this for the rest of their lives.
Despite the chaos, he loves it when his sons, tired of playing, crawl to him and fall asleep next to him. At such moments, he carefully covers them with a blanket, looks at their faces and says with a slight smile, almost in a whisper: âBut I wanted a daughterâŠâ But there is no disappointment in his voice â only warm affection. Phainon is a father who wanted a little princess, but in the end got two little whirlwinds who make his life chaotic, but happy. And even if they turn the house upside down, he would never trade them for anything in this world.
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr#hsr mydei#hsr anaxa#hsr phainon#mydei#mydeimos#mydei x reader#anaxagoras#anaxa#anaxa x reader#phainon#phainon x reader
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some funny parts from lorenzo & arthurâs interview by autohebdo:
Could you share an anecdote that would help us understand what Charles was like as a child?
Lorenzo: Arthur and I might have different perspectives because Iâm nine years older than Charles. My best friend was Jules Bianchi, and we spent a lot of time fooling around on a circuit, having fun, and testing all kinds of karts and tires. Charles was always in the middle of it all and wanted to do the same as us. Even back then, he was extremely competitive, always trying to race against the older kids and beat them. He had the same qualities that define him today: elegance and class in his approach. He is ultra-competitive, but in a fair way. Iâve seen him break tennis rackets, but always out of frustration with himself rather than others. Heâs a very fair player.
Arthur: Umm⊠fair play? Maybe not so much with me! (Laughs) Especially when we played PlayStationâhe always gave me the broken controller! That little prick! (Laughs)
Charles became a pianist, and Arthur, you also play music. Who is the best musician in the family?
Arthur: In the beginning, Charles was terrible at piano, I have to say! (Laughs) I remember the first time he touched a piano at our country houseâsomeone was teaching him a song. I was behind him, and he was struggling a lot. Then, I took over and played the song perfectly on the first try. (Laughs) So he gave up and switched to the guitar, which was an even bigger disaster!
Lorenzo: Especially for us!
Arthur: Acoustic guitar, electric guitar⊠he tried everything! (Laughs) But he eventually got better. He later returned to playing piano, learned much faster, and now heâs actually very talented!
But who is the best musician?
Arthur: We play very different styles. I prefer classical music, while Charles plays more calm, nostalgic songsâhe likes that kind of atmosphere. (Laughs) In terms of technique, we are quite similar.
Lorenzo: Iâll be the judge since piano isnât really my thing. Arthur has perfect pitch, meaning he can replay any song quite easily. He never wanted to take piano lessons, which disappointed our grandmother, who would have loved a great pianist in the family. But Arthur never liked the idea of sitting next to a teacher for long hours. So on one hand, Arthur has a natural talent but only plays when he wants. On the other hand, Charles worked hard at it, especially during the COVID lockdown in 2020, and heâs become really impressive, considering how busy he is!
Between the two of you, who is the best uncle to Leo, Charlesâ dog?
Arthur: I think weâre both not great uncles!
Lorenzo: We tried our best, but Leo is a very spoiled dog. He demands a lot of attentionâhe doesnât sleep alone and isnât exactly the cleanest. I decided to take care of him during the day but not at night. Heâs adorable, but not always easy to manage!
Arthur: He goes crazy every time he sees me, but Iâve never actually taken him home. Iâm the fun uncleâI only see him for the good times! (Laughs)

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Helloooo love, could I have nr 1, 13, 23(reader) and 28 with Daniel ricciardo?đ€ so needy for him
Forbidden - Daniel Ricciardo (requested)
As requested: a Daniel Ricciardo fanfic with a few prompts from the list! It's my first Ricciardo fanfic, so I hope I wrote it like you hoped lol :) It turned out a little longer than I expected, but I honestly like how it turned out! (I didn't proofread it, so excuse any mistakes lol)
masterlist | promptlist âłpairing: daniel ricciardo x female!verstappen!reader âłword count: 7,7K âłprompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh", 13 - "You're fucking soaked". 23 - "I..Uh.." - "I have never done this before" & 28 "We shouldn't do this" âłwarnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, age gap (8 years), kissing, alcohol, drunk, explicit sexual content, 18+ (MDNI!), jealousy, sexual tension âłsummary: In which it's 2017 and Max Verstappen's twin sister gets a little too involved with her brothers teammate

You honestly had no idea how you'd come up with the not-so-clever idea of getting wasted in a Monaco nightclub, but right now, you couldnât care less. The music thumped through the room, blending with the haze of alcohol and dim, colorful lights, and a certain curly-haired Australian who had slipped off to the bar for another drink lingered in your mind.
As the beat softened into something deeper, sultrier, you found yourself moving with Carlos once more. His hands rested casually on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress as you swayed together. Ever since your twin, Max, joined the Formula 1 grid, Carlos had become one of your closest friends.
Carlos leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a low murmur against the music. "So⊠when are you finally gonna hook up with Danny?"
You scoffed, playfully swatting the back of his head. âOh, shut up, will you?â
Carlos only grinned, knowing exactly how you felt about Daniel. He'd been trying to push you toward him for ages, but as always, you deflected. âI donât think Max would be thrilled if I hooked up with his teammate,â you replied, though a part of you knew that wasnât the real reason youâd been holding back.
Carlos shrugged with a smirk. âDid you forget how convinced Max was that we were hooking up back at Toro Rosso? He didnât seem too bothered by that idea, did he?â
You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you swayed in rhythm with him, your fingers linking behind his neck. âYeah, vividly. But that was differentâŠâ You let out a laugh, trying to keep your tone casual. âFor one, our age gap was a lot smaller than Daniel and mine.â
Carlos raised an eyebrow. âYouâre 20, who cares? Danielâs 28âitâs not like heâs ancient.â
Sighing, you dropped your forehead against Carlosâs shoulder. âBesides, even if he would consider hooking up with me, heâd probably be disappointed. Iâve never⊠well, you know. Iâve only gone as far as giving a guy a blowie in a club bathroom, and even that was a drunken disaster. Somehow, I doubt a 28-year-old is looking for a hookup with a 20-year-old virgin.â
Carlos chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. âYou're really that blind, aren't you? The guy is absolutely head over heels for you.â
You opened your mouth to protest, but Carlos shifted his grip, spinning you around so your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. To anyone watching, it looked like a slow grind, intimate and close, even though he left enough space to keep things comfortable.
He steered you both around the dance floor, inching you closer to the bar. âLook at him,â Carlos murmured in your ear, lifting a hand to tilt your chin ever so slightly. âSee for yourself.â
Your gaze landed on Daniel, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was, leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity you hadnât seen before. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a straight line as he took in every shift of your body against Carlosâs, his gaze dark, brooding, and unmistakably heated. The way his eyes drifted, tracing the curve of your legs, lingering on your hips as they moved, made your heart race. He wasnât just watching; he was studying, every look brimming with tension and frustration.
Carlosâs laughter hummed against your back, pulling you out of your trance. âThe guyâs been staring daggers at me since the second we started dancing.â
âNo way,â you murmured, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even though your pulse hammered in your ears. âHeâs just⊠looking. Nothing more.â
Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned down to murmur against your ear, âWho are you trying to convince? Me⊠or yourself?â
âFuck,â you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush under Danielâs gaze, heat spreading through you in a way that felt as dangerous as it was thrilling. âI need more alcohol.â
âșââșââșâ âŸââșââșâ âŸââșââș ââș
Hours and too many drinks later, youâd long since shed your usual shyness, finding a brazen confidence in the music, the crowd, and the glimmer of alcohol-fueled ease in every movement. The world felt hazy but thrilling, every pulse of the bass reverberating through you as you let yourself sink into the beat.
Carlos watched your transformation, amused at how you threw back shots and laughed a little louder than before. At one point, you looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and mischievous, completely oblivious to the intensity with which a certain Australian had been watching you both.
With a chuckle and a playful push, Carlos nudged you forward, aiming you right in Danielâs direction. âGo on, dance with him already,â he teased, his smirk saying he knew exactly what he was doing.
You stumbled into Daniel, feeling his hand steady you, his fingers lingering just a second too long as you regained your balance. âWell, fancy seeing you here, Ricciardo,â you quipped, your voice carrying an edge of flirtation that you didnât usually dare with him.
Danielâs lips curled into that easy, charming smile, his fingers still on your waist. âFancy that. Youâre looking a little⊠spirited tonight,â he replied, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something almost hungry that you couldnât miss, even in your haze. He was trying to play it off, keep things casual, but his gaze lingered just a bit too long, drawn to the curve of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, and the dress that had ridden up just enough to reveal more of your thigh.
âOh yeah?â you leaned in close, fingers grazing up his arm, catching the way his eyes followed every movement. âWhat do you mean, âspirited?ââ You were close enough to catch the hint of his cologne, something warm and subtly spicy, like he was, and it made you feel just a little bolder.
Daniel chuckled, but his fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if grounding himself. âJust saying,â he replied, âI donât usually see you dancing like that.â His eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and something a little more conflicted. He was trying so hard to keep things cool, but you could tell he was affected. âEspecially with Carlos. Didnât know he was your type.â
You laughed, moving your body a little closer to his, playfully ignoring the tension that brewed between you. âCarlos? Nah. Heâs more like⊠a dance partner for the night. Besides,â you added, looking up at him through your lashes, âI think my type is just a little taller⊠curly hair.. and definitely Australian.â
A flicker of something like surprise crossed his face, his eyes briefly widening before he collected himself. He swallowed, looking away, almost as if to compose himself. âIs that so?â he murmured, his fingers curling at your waist, his voice low.
Just then, the music changed to something slower, a sensual rhythm that had you pressing a little closer against him. Danielâs hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his heartbeat thrumming fast under your hands as you settled into a rhythm together. You let your body sway, your hips pressing against him as his hands guided you, holding you steady and closer than he should.
âGotta stop moving like that,â he mumbled, his voice tight, a strained note of amusement as he tried to mask how breathless he sounded.
You looked up at him with a smirk. âWhy?â you asked, feigning innocence, though the mischievous gleam in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.
He swallowed, his gaze darkening as his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him. The movement brought you closer than before, and in that instant, you felt himâhard, pressing against you through his jeans, undeniable and unrestrained. A thrill shot through you as your eyes met his, your gaze drifting downward for a fleeting second, then back up to find his expression transformed, conflicted and charged. His voice was rough, edged with that undeniable tension. âYou know very well why,â he murmured, his tone thick with barely restrained desire and frustration, his fingers gripping your waist as if to hold himself back.
Your lips parted in surprise, but you didn't move away. Instead, you let a slow smile spread across your face, your body swaying against him just enough to deepen his predicament. Danielâs jaw clenched, his gaze darting down to where your bodies pressed together, his expression shifting between longing and resistance, the internal battle clear as he tried to keep himself grounded, even as you blurred every boundary between you.
You felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your waist.
âșââșââșâ âŸââșââșâ âŸââșââș ââș
Hours later, you stumbled out of the bathroom, trying to make your way back to the dance floor but feeling far less coordinated than before. The world tilted slightly as you bumped into a table, a stray chair, and even a few club-goers who offered you amused or annoyed glances.
âAlright, I think youâve had enough to drink for one night, darling,â came a familiar voice from behind, warm and steady. Before you could turn, a hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, and the familiar scent of Daniel surrounded you, grounding you.
You turned to him with an exaggerated pout, his arm still holding you up. âI⊠Iâm definitely⊠not,â you managed, words slightly slurred as you tried to shake off his grip, failing miserably. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.
Danielâs gaze softened, his eyes roaming over you with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. Your dress had shifted, one strap sliding off your shoulder, the hem hitching up to reveal more skin than you intended. He took in the sight, pausing for just a moment too long before swallowing hard and composing himself.
âLetâs get you sorted out here,â he murmured, reaching to fix your dress. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, grazing your skin, and he swallowed hard, the gentle touches sending a thrill through you. His hands moved lower, trying to straighten the hem, and his fingers brushed over the curve of your thigh, a touch that made you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated, looking like he wanted to pull away but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.
âMm⊠feels nice,â you murmured, leaning into his touch, your gaze half-lidded as you looked up at him, lips parted slightly. You noticed how he tensed, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to resist.
âCome on,â he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little rough. âLetâs get you back to the hotel.â
He led you through the club, supporting you with one arm wrapped securely around you. As you stumbled along, your hand brushed over his chest, lingering a little longer than necessary, your fingers tracing small patterns as you walked. He glanced down, swallowing, his throat bobbing as he tried to keep his focus. Along the way, you nearly collided with Max, who took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm bringing your sister back to the hotel," Daniel explained, nodding toward you with a hint of amusement. "Sheâs absolutely hammered."
Max smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Daniel. "You sure? I can take her back if youâd rather stay. I know she canât hold her liquor."
âHey!â you interjected, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your balance, waving off your brother with a slurred, âI-Ik ben niet eens d-dronkenâŠâ (Iâm not even drunk). You gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance.
Daniel glanced at Max with a small, amused shake of his head. âI have no clue what she just said, but donât worry, Iâve got it,â he reassured him. âI was planning to head home anyway, and besides,â he added with a smile, âour apartments are in the same building anyway, so it's no hassleâ
Max nodded, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before turning back to Daniel. "Alright, mate. Get her home safe."
With that, Max watched as Daniel guided you gently but firmly toward the exit, his grip steadying you as you leaned against him, too tipsy to resist.
When you reached the curb, he helped you into a cab, sliding in beside you. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, your hand slipping to rest on his thigh, your fingers drifting ever so slightly higher, sending a rush of heat through him.
âYouâre drunk,â he murmured, his voice low and strained, trying to keep his breathing even.
You looked up at him with a playful, tipsy grin, fingers tracing the fabric of his jeans. âSo?â
He bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against his own desires, his hand covering yours to stop its teasing ascent. Heâd never seen you this forward, this flirtatious, and though it thrilled him, it terrified him all the same. The line between you had always been thin, but tonight, with every touch, every brush of your skin against his, you were slowly erasing it.
When you arrived at the apartment building, you had began starting to sober up a tiny little bit. Still wasted obviously, but it seems as if you had a little bit more control over your own actions.
As you fumbled through your purse, your expression shifted from confidence to frustration as you realized your keys werenât there.
âI⊠I had them,â you muttered, searching again, only for the reality to settle in. âI mustâve left them with Carlos or Max.â
You looked up at Daniel with a mischievous glint in your eyes, swaying slightly on your feet. âGuess that means Iâm staying with you?â
Daniel hesitated, his resolve weakening as he searched your face, taking in the way your lips quirked in that daring, flirtatious smile. He was already in too deep, the familiar ache in his chest too hard to ignore. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, offering a small, reluctant smile as he nodded.
âYeah, alright,â he said softly, his hand brushing over your back as he guided you inside. âBut youâve gotta promise me youâll go straight to bed.â
You leaned in, closer than necessary, your breath warm against his cheek. âWeâll see about that,â you murmured playfully, sending one last spark of heat through him as he led you toward his apartment, both of you caught in a delicate balance of desire, restraint, and the thrill of the unspoken between you.
âșââșââșâ âŸââșââșâ âŸââșââș ââș
Daniel led you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool by the bar, gesturing for you to sit. But you had other ideas. Following him over to the sink, you leaned back against the counter, lifting yourself up onto it. Your dress slid up as you settled, exposing nearly everything to anyone watching.
Daniel turned off the tap, glass in hand, and was about to pass it to you when he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed over your bare thighs, and his breath hitched, eyes widening as he muttered, âFuck.â His eyes lingered, and he dared to glance lower, noticing the smallest glimpse of black lace between your slightly parted legs.
Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter edge, his knuckles whitening as he fought the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, his lips already tingling with the desire to claim yours. Forcing himself to look away, he pressed the glass into your hand, his voice husky and tight. âDrink this. It'll help,â he murmured, barely able to keep his composure. âIâll⊠Iâll go grab a shirt for you. So you donât have to sleep in that dress.â
You downed the water in one swift gulp, letting your gaze drift back to him. The proximity hit you both, close enough for you to see the tension in his jaw and the way his Adamâs apple bobbed as he swallowed. But what captured your attention most was the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric, betraying the restraint he tried so hard to maintain.
A slow smirk crept across your lips as you reached out, letting your fingers graze his arm, traveling in a slow, tantalizing path up to his shoulder, then down his chest, inching ever closer to his belt. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. âWe⊠we shouldnât do this,â he muttered, voice low and rough as he gently pushed your hand away, though his touch lingered just a second too long, his resolve wavering.
Undeterred, you hopped down from the counter, stepping forward until there was barely any space left between you. Confidence you hadnât realized you possessed surged through you, and you reached out, cupping him through his jeans. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of your touch.
Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, your voice a hushed, sultry tease, âThatâs what you say⊠but your bodyâs telling me something else entirely.â
âșââșââșâ âŸââșââșâ âŸââșââș ââș
Daniel forced himself to gather every shred of self-control he could muster, putting a few steps of distance between you before he turned on his heel, heading to his bedroom to grab a shirt from the closet. His mind raced as he moved. He wanted youâGod, he wanted you more than anythingâbut he knew you were drunk, teetering on that edge where even a soft touch or glance was hazy with the thrill of it all. And as much as he ached to feel your lips on his, to let every longing heâd harbored for so long finally spill over, he didnât want to take advantage of your current state.
Yet, you were making it damn near impossible to keep his composure. Every touch, every glance, every whisper made his restraint crumble bit by bit, leaving him clinging to the last threads of resolve.
When he made his way to the bathroom with the shirt in hand, he stopped in the doorway, noticing you struggling with the zipper of your dress, your back turned to him. The zipper was halfway down, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of your bare skin, and his heart pounded harder, fighting between propriety and desire.
âDanny, can you help me with the zipper, please?â Your voice was soft, but the note of longing was unmistakable, each word sparking something primal within him.
He hesitated, but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, leaving the shirt on the sink, and positioned himself behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the zipper, feeling the warmth radiating off you. You shivered at his touch, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping your lips that sent a jolt through him. He dragged the zipper down slowly, his fingers grazing your skin, unable to resist lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.
Once the zipper was down, you slipped the straps off your shoulders, the dress falling effortlessly down your frame, pooling at your feet. Danielâs breath caught in his throat as he took you in, standing before him in nothing but your black lace lingerie. He clenched his jaw, feeling a wave of heat course through him, the last of his rationality slipping as his eyes traced over every curve, every inch of you laid bare.
You turned to face him, the look in your eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea that tugged at the very core of him. Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you held his gaze. âKiss me, Daniel,â you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, desperate invitation.
It was all he needed. His restraint finally shattered, and he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers threading through your hair as he captured your lips in a kiss that was fierce, urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing heâd been holding back. You melted into him, pressing closer, every brush of his lips igniting sparks that spread through your body.
His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you onto the countertop of the bathroom sink. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing firmly against yours, grounding you in the heat and solidity of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The slight tug on his hair drew a low, guttural moan from him, his chest heaving as he leaned into you, lost in the feel of you against him.
His hands roamed over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, a sound that turned into a soft moan, each note pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. You could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips, warm and heady, mingling with his natural, intoxicating flavor. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.
Daniel pulled you closer, his grip tightening as you felt his hardness pressing against you, undeniable, unmistakable. The sensation made you dizzy, your entire body responding to him, the ache between your thighs intensifying as you instinctively rocked your hips against him. His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, unrestrained groan, his head dipping to press heated, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. His lips left a trail of warmth, each kiss setting your skin alight, making you ache for more.
âDaniel,â you murmured, voice barely a whisper, breathless as you held him closer, âI need⊠IâŠâ
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a barely contained fire. âUse my thigh, love,â he murmured, his voice thick with desire, encouraging you, his words laced with both restraint and indulgence. The suggestion was almost too much, the heat in his eyes spurring you on, each word sending another pulse of arousal through you.
You didnât hesitate, shifting your hips to grind against his thigh, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you felt the friction, your panties already damp against his jeans. Danielâs hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his own breath coming faster as he watched, the sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure unraveling him bit by bit.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered, his voice rough as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands urging you to move, encouraging every motion. âBeen wanting this⊠wanting you⊠for so damn long.â He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he spoke, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.
âSeeing you with Carlos tonight,â he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, âit drove me crazy. Couldnât stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching youâ He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall heâd built around himself now shattered. âIâve wanted you like this⊠needed you like this⊠for so long.â
Every word, every touch, every heated gaze pushed you further, his encouragement spurring you on as you moved against him, feeling the delicious friction, the warmth spreading through you as you both succumbed to the intoxicating pull of each other.
Danielâs breathing grew ragged as he watched you move against his thigh, each roll of your hips sending a wave of heat through him. The way you looked at him, with that mixture of need and adoration, was undoing him in the best possible way.
Your breathing came in shallow, needy gasps as you looked up at him, eyes heavy with desire. âGod, Daniel⊠you have no idea how good you look right now,â you murmured, your voice thick with arousal.
Your soft moans and whispered praises only fueled him more, each one pushing him to explore, to give you everything you were craving. His gaze darkening even more as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire and affection into it.
Without breaking the kiss, he slid you back a little on the counter, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You gasped as his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch light but electrifying, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission.
You gave a small nod, your breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing over you, his touch igniting every nerve ending. His breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were, a low groan escaping his lips as he murmured, âGod, youâre soaked.â
The words sent a thrill through you, making you arch into his touch, craving more. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring and teasing, drawing out your reactions, each moan and gasp fueling his own desire âThe way you make me feel⊠God, itâs like you know exactly what I need.â
Your words lit a fire in him, a spark that deepened the hunger in his gaze as he pulled you closer. His lips curved into a smirk, fingers dipping lower as he murmured, âYeah? I think I could get used to hearing that.â
He watched you intently, captivated by every expression, every sound that escaped your lips as he continued, building the tension higher with each movement.
You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers moved with perfect rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He whispered soft words of encouragement, his voice low and full of affection. âThatâs it, love⊠youâre doing so well. Let go for me,â he murmured, his tone both comforting and enticing.
And then, as his touch pushed you over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shuddering as he held you through it, his gaze never leaving yours.
Once you came down from your high, your hand started making their way to Daniel's jeans, intending to return the favor, yet your movements where halted once again by his fingers around your wrist "I won't be able to hold back if you continue" he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck.
"Maybe that's the point" you whispered seductively.
He shook his head "As much as I would love to, I'm not sleeping with you while you're drunk" he whispered as he pressed one last kiss against your cheek, before he pulled away, grabbing the shirt that was still on the sink with his free hand, assisting you to pull it over your head "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and then we'll see"
As if the post orgasm haze started to kick in, you felt yourself getting tired, giving yourself over to the Australian driver as he carefully lifted you off of the sink and carried you over to his bedroom, placing you down onto it.
He was intending to get up and sleep on the couch, just in case you wouldn't remember things tomorrow, or worse, remember it, but regretting things. But the soft plea that left your lips stopped him in his tracks "Please, stay with me?"
It was as if his legs moved on their own accord, slipping into the bed next to you, feeling you crawl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Once he noticed you were sound asleep, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and send Max a quick text:
Daniel: Your sister is sound asleep btw, she's crashing here, since she apparently forgot her keys or something.
Max: Figured as much indeed, Carlos came over and handed me her keys, said she forgot to take them before she left. Max: Thanks for letting me know, I'll torture her tomorrow about her headache ;)
âșââșââșâ âŸââșââșâ âŸââșââș ââș
As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred, feeling the gentle warmth touch your skin as you blinked awake. It took a moment to piece things together, the room unfamiliar, the quiet hum of an unfamiliar space settling around you. When realization dawned, it hit all at once. This wasnât your apartmentâthis was Danielâs.
Your eyes widened, and you scanned the room, momentarily panicked. But the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch, which brought a small wave of relief. Sitting up slowly, you took a breath, glancing down to see yourself dressed in one of Danielâs shirts. The soft fabric brushed your skin, and you realized, with a sudden blush, that you were only in his shirt and your lingerie.
Heart pounding, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to clear the fog of last nightâs hazy memories. The details were elusive, flashes of warmth, laughter, and maybe⊠something more. You felt oddly refreshed, but the lack of clarity gnawed at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to find him, needing some answers.
Moving carefully down the hallway, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on your face, collect yourself before facing him. You twisted the doorknob, assuming the room would be empty. Instead, steam filled the space, and you froze, the faint outline of a figure behind the frosted shower door capturing your attention.
Your gaze locked on the silhouette, recognizing Daniel immediatelyâthe shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his back. A rush of heat flooded through you, your mind replaying a rush of emotions from last night, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to banish the sudden surge of desire. You knew you should turn around, slip out quietly, but you were rooted to the spot, utterly transfixed.
Before you could retreat, Daniel turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his waist before stepping out. His gaze landed on you, his mouth curving into a smirk, droplets still trailing down his chest and abs. His dark hair was wet, small drops sliding from his curls, and the steam radiated off his skin, casting him in a hazy glow.
âWell, good morning to you too,â he said, his voice a rich, low rumble, his signature smirk making your pulse race. âIf you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you had to do was ask. No need to sneak up on me.â His tone was teasing, though his gaze held a hint of something deeper, something almost daring you to respond.
Your cheeks flushed, and you raised your hands to cover your face. âOh God, Iâm so sorry,â you stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and that same lingering heat from last night.
You heard him chuckle softly, and when you dared to peek through your fingers, heâd already dried off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of boxers. He stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face, his expression softened, a trace of warmth in his morning-rough voice. âNo need to be so shy, darling,â he murmured, the words filled with a quiet affection that sent a shiver down your spine.
You glanced at him, unable to ignore how close he was, feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed that he was now dressed. You couldnât deny how good he looked, fresh out of the shower, the lingering scent of soap and warmth filling the space between you.
But the question weighed on your mind, and finally, you managed to ask, âPlease tell me we didnâtâŠ?â
Danielâs gaze softened further, his eyes flickering with an understanding smile as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, letting it linger for just a moment before he replied. âIf we slept together? No, we didnât.â
A breath you hadnât realized you were holding slipped out in relief. Before you could fully process it, though, Daniel added, âBut Iâm also not gonna pretend that you didnât try to⊠and Iâm definitely not going to act like nothing else happened.â
His words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch, a wave of both nerves and arousal coursing through you. âOh God,â you mumbled, lifting yourself onto the countertop by the sink, feeling a little dizzy, staring at the floor as you tried to piece together what he meant. âWhat did I make you do?â
Daniel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze steady and entirely too knowing as he took in the expression on your face. âYou didnât make me do anything, darling,â he said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. âIt takes two to tango.â
The words lingered in the quiet, settling over you with a weight you couldnât ignore. He shifted, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. âLetâs just say⊠this isnât the first time youâve sat on that countertop in the last 24 hours. Although, last night it was for⊠different reasons.â
As soon as he said it, memories rushed back in vivid, unfiltered flashesâthe feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the way he held you as if heâd waited forever to do so. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the weight of those memories flooding you, the reality of what had happened leaving you breathless.
âOh God,â you murmured, looking down, struggling to meet his eyes. The blush deepened, and you tried to banish the embarrassment, but it was impossible to hide the way your body reacted to just being near him, recalling every detail of last night.
Daniel watched you, his gaze contemplative, and he let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together before speaking. âLook⊠you were drunk. Iâd had a bit to drink too. I understand if you regret itâ His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension underneath, as if he was holding something back.
You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, about that.." you said, taking a deep breath before continuing "There might be a slight problem to that"
Daniel studied the way you were acting, unsure of what to expect âWe can pretend it didnât happen, if thatâs what you want. That's no problemâ he offered, though his tone held a hint of something unresolved, something unsaid.
Finally, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, the sincerity in your expression clear. âWell⊠I guess the problem is that..â you whispered, voice barely audible at first, but then you gathered your courage and continued, âI donât regret it, Daniel⊠not at all.â
The words hung in the air between you, thickening the silence, every hidden feeling and unspoken desire now out in the open. His eyes widened slightly, the guarded expression slipping as something raw and vulnerable crossed his face.
Daniel's eyes softened at your words, the vulnerable confession drawing him closer, dissolving any remaining space between you. He stepped forward, situating himself between your legs once more, just like he had done last night, but this time you were both sober.
His presence warm and steady, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. His hands reached up slowly, one gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a soft line along your skin, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was deep, intense, and full of affection as he looked into your eyes, his face only inches from yours.
"Good," he whispered, his voice low and tender, âbecause I donât regret it either.â
Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveyed every unspoken emotion heâd held back. His kiss was soft and careful, full of warmth, each touch of his lips conveying the depth of his feelings as he held you close.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you both shared a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fueled the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.
This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, tinged with longing. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers splaying against your skin. The gentle intimacy turned heated, your mouths exploring, tongues teasing as the passion escalated with each passing second. You could feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.
Without breaking the kiss, your lips began to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You could feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you moved lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Each kiss seemed to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leaned into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.
You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His pulse thrummed beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.
âGod, Daniel,â you whispered against his neck, letting your lips brush the words over his skin. âYou have no idea how good you look like this⊠or how good you feel.â Your voice was soft but laced with genuine admiration and a suggestive edge that had his grip on your waist tightening.
âFuckâŠâ he muttered, his voice thick with need as your words and touch clearly had an effect on him. He tilted his head back, giving you more access, his eyes closing for a moment as he absorbed the sensations.
Your lips brushed his ear, and you could feel him shiver as you whispered, âIâve wanted this for so long, wanted to feel you⊠just like this.â Your words spilled out as you continued trailing kisses, his low groan fueling your confidence as you let your hands drift lower.
You let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness. Your hand finally ventured to the waistband of his boxers, and you pressed your palm against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness through the fabric. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushed into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.
âGod, you feel incredible,â you murmured, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. âIâve wanted this for so long, Daniel⊠wanted to know how youâd feel like this,â you admitted, voice a mix of admiration and desire.
âShit⊠youâre⊠youâre killing me here,â he managed, his voice a strained whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with unrestrained want. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in every touch, every word you murmured against him.
You continued your slow, deliberate movements, letting your fingers trace along his length through the fabric, a satisfied smile crossing your face as he groaned in response, his hips pressing into your hand. âGod, you look so good like this,â you breathed, meeting his gaze for a moment, taking in the way his face was flushed, his expression filled with raw, unfiltered desire.
âKeep talking like that, and⊠fuck, youâre gonna drive me insane,â he rasped, his voice low, rough with need, his hands gripping your hips with more intensity, clearly unable to resist the effect you were having on him.
Emboldened by his reaction, you slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, and his entire body tensed, a shuddered moan escaping his lips as he exhaled sharply. As you started running your thumb along his length, savoring the way he twitched in your hand, his face contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip.
âGod⊠that feels so good,â he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roamed up and down your back, and you could feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grew heavier.
Between breaths, you whispered softly in his ear, âI want you, Daniel. All of you.â The words tumbled out, filled with a raw honesty that made him draw back just enough to meet your gaze.
In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed. He laid you gently onto the soft sheets, hovering over you as his lips met yours once more, igniting the same passion that had brought you here. Each kiss was heated and lingering, hands tracing and memorizing every line, every curve, savoring every moment that had led to this.
As his lips left a trail of kisses along your collarbone, your breaths came faster, and the anticipation tightened around you. But then when Daniel started removing your panties, you felt a familiar wave of nerves rise, and your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.
âI⊠uhâŠâ you began, hesitating, feeling vulnerable but needing him to know. âIâve never done this before.â The words left you in a shy, almost apologetic murmur, your cheeks heating as you admitted it. You lowered your gaze, fidgeting slightly under his gaze, before adding, âI mean, Iâve done⊠other things. Just⊠never got to, well, this part.â
He paused, taking in your words, his expression softening instantly. Cupping your face gently, his thumb brushed along your cheek, his gaze reassuring and kind. âHey, thereâs no pressure here. We donât have to do anything youâre not comfortable with,â he whispered, his voice steady, genuine. âWe can take it slow. Or⊠we can keep things just like this.â
You bit your lip, the vulnerability still lingering as you met his gaze. âYouâre not⊠disgusted, or something?â you asked, feeling a wave of self-consciousness bubble up. âI mean, I probably wonât be⊠any good. Youâre⊠you knowâŠâ You trailed off, your face warming as the words left you.
He let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to kiss you gently, his lips reassuring as he lingered for a moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. âDisgusted? Not even close,â he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. âAnd I promise you, that thought never even crossed my mind.â His thumb brushed along your cheek again, his gaze warm and encouraging. âHonestly, it doesnât matter to me. Not at all.â
You took a steadying breath, feeling his words soothe the nerves that had crept in. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and newfound confidence. âI donât want to take it slow,â you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper, but the words full of determination. âI want it to be with you, Daniel. Iâve⊠Iâve thought about this more times than I dare to admit,â you confessed, the warmth of your cheeks betraying the shyness that lingered, but you held his gaze.
His eyes softened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. âThen I'm all yours,â he whispered, his voice filled with affection.
Without another word, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, every ounce of restraint between you both slipping away. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you firmly against him as your bodies melded together, the heat between you palpable. His lips moved over yours with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, each kiss filled with the passion that had built up over all this time, all the unspoken moments leading up to this.
Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you felt his quiet groan against your mouth, his own hands exploring your curves, fingers tracing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body hovered over yours as his gaze met yours, filled with both desire and a lingering tenderness that made your heart race.
His lips found yours again, and you welcomed him with a fervor that matched his own, your mouths moving in perfect sync as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. You could feel his body pressing into yours, the weight of him grounding you, making the moment feel all the more real. His hand traveled down your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he settled between your legs, his hips pressing against yours in a way that made your entire body ache with anticipation, before slowly but surely entering you inch by inch.
Between kisses, his hands caressed every inch of your body, learning and savoring every curve, every response he drew from you. His mouth left a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued his slow, intoxicating descent. Each kiss, each touch seemed to stir something deeper within you, the desire building to a crescendo with every shared breath.
âFuckâŠâ you whispered, your voice soft and laced with longing, and he looked up at you, a question in his gaze, waiting for any hint of hesitation.
But you only pulled him closer, guiding him to you as your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He leaned down again, his lips finding yours as the kiss deepened, turning into something that went beyond wordsâa culmination of everything youâd both been holding back.
In that moment, every barrier fell away, and you lost yourselves in each other, the moment filled with soft murmurs, quiet laughter, and the tender, passionate intimacy youâd both waited far too long to share.

masterlist
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo smut#f1 fanfic#formula 1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#smut#formula 1 smut#friends to lovers#fluff#redbull#red bull racing#danny ric#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fanfic#kissing#making out
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b.katsuki + lava Quirk!wife (both Pro Heroes)
ââa.n; i woke up today feeling feisty lol not really xd just wanted some "i'm crazy as you are" type of love today lmaoâđŒđ€
Bakugou Katsuki is obsessed with you.
And he doesn't even try to hide it.
You're his sidekick. You had trained in his Agency since you were a mere brat doing your internship your first year at UA. Of course, there were literally counted the times you had encountered him in person. The other Heroes that joined his Agency were the ones in charge of the kids. They had told you how Dynamight hated when babysitting time came every year, he wouldn't even participate in those actually. So they would advice to not cross his path.
From time to time, Dynamight would watch their sparrings sessions, gave them a bit of adviceâmore like mean criticism yell at them. But he had better things to do, people to save, villains to get their asses destroyed by him. He was not going to waste his time with annoying brats like you.
He had heard of you, of course. The one brat that could control and handle freaking lava like it was fucking nothing. Of course when he saw you, he thought his sidekick had pulled a prank on him, joking to see if would be excited about the idea of having someone with that type of Quirk in his Agency. You couldn't be the one with the lava quirk. You looked... normal. Quirkless evenâif this were other times and if he would judge people about it. He had changed, okay? Thank you very fucking much. But he did think it was impossible that you were that amazing brat the other heroes were talking about. They had even compared you to him, in witty and determination to become the number one Pro Hero on the ranks, in strength and no mercy against villains, or other heroes and classmates.
When he stood right in front of you one day, towering almost three heads over you and almost one more person's size to the side, Dynamight laughed. You looked like a little bunny caught red-handed, terrified by everyone around youâespecially by the size of himâand skittish, almost like what Deku had been as a kid.
That should have been a first warning for Bakugouânever judge a book by its cover.
You have trained in his Agency the three years you had been in UA, and he has never once seen you nor your Quirk on display, nevertheless in real action. He had only heard how good you were in trainings from the other heroes. But he didn't care enough to actually sought-after. He was already fighting Deku for the number one spot on the rankings, he didn't have time for brats like you.
Until one day, a dangerous villain, that created enormous monsters of metal almost to the size of a ten flour building, was causing too much disaster appeared. It was more than chaos, it had been a destruction like no other.
Dynamight nor Deku could contain the motherfucker.
He was bruised, his hands beat with agony at the amount of times he had used his blasts and the push to keep going, his body muscles were screaming for him to stop. A quick glance to his side where Deku was, and the guy wasn't better than him, breathing like his lungs couldnât no more. Every other hero in the scene was in the same shape.
They were fucking losing.
And then, like an angel sent from heavenâor better said, a demon sent from the deepest hell for the way you fucking looked, you appeared in all your majestic glory, lava making you slide in between them, surrounding you like it was nothing, like strings coming from inside your body, and began a new fight with that fucking villain's monsters.
Bakugou saw âan enamored expression on his faceâ how you your whole demeanor changed, your skin, your eyes, everything in you became so menacingly, so evil looking, so freaking scary, that if you weren't training to be a Hero, he thought you would be one the most terrifying villains of all times âeven more than that piece of shit AFO.
The lava was visible in all your body, and you fought, a crazed smile and eyes opened wide, enjoying the damage you were doing to the metal monsters; your joy was shining bright for everyone to see, as you yelled, "DIE, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" as the monster melted under your hands and body.
He was captivated, fucking spellbound, by the sight in front of him. He fell to his knees, watching you melt every single one of the monster in one more movement of your hand, as lava flowed towards them, capturing and melting them as you stand straight, the expression on your face serious and deadly. You then walked towards the source, the main villain who was creating this chaos, and the guy literally fell to the floor in fear, trying to crawl away from you in tears. When you stood before him, you crouched to his level, and smiled devilishly.
The villain pissed his pants.
And Bakugou's cock twitched.
He then murmured, "I'm gonna marry the shit out that woman."
Deku chuckled, shaking his head and letting his body fall to ground in tiredness. Everything was okay now.
From then on, you were by Dynamight's side all the time. The second you graduated âBakugou Katsuki of fucking course attended the graduation ceremonyâ he offered a job on his Agency for you. And you said yes, even though you had options like Deku's Agency, or Hawk's, and even Endeavor had offered you a big place on his, trying to win you by saying that most of his sidekicks were fire-like Quirks and that his mother had a Quirk similar to yours, he could ask her for advice for you. Bakugou's stomach turned thinking he might had won you over that. But before he could finish the sentence, "Would you like a spot on my Agâ", you exclaimed a big YES, smiling warmly and eyes shining in excitement.
He had to clear his throat and look away at your expression, making something tingle in his chest. Was that his heart?
You became his partner then, in missions, in interviews, in meetings with other Agencies when some big villain appeared and they had to join forces. You were always there, not behind him but next to him.
In interviews he would always let you speak about how everything went and thank every body who helped. But Katsuki would look at you. Look as the lava started to dissipate from your skin, slowly turning down the temperature and going back to your normal color. Your hair that became liquid lava slowly became the color of greyish-black rock and then smoothed its way to your normal texture and color. He always felt mesmerized watching the process, and he would look at it any opportunity he got.
It wasn't until one night out with his old friends that Pikachu said, "Dude, tone down your thirst a lil' bit," in between laughs with Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Kirishima patted his back, shaking his head, "Your sidekick, man. The lava girl?"
"What?"
"What we are trying to say," Mina smirked, "is that everytime you look at her, its almost palpable the way you want to eat her."
Bakugou gulped. "Shut the fuck up. I don't look at her like that."
Mina winked at him, "If you say so..."
That night he searched on the internet in his phone for interviews, desperately. Fuck, his friends were right. He did look at you with a fascination and hunger he had never saw himself do. He remembered thinking about marrying you back in the days, but that had been the heat of the moment, right? This annoyed the shit out of him. But watching you again in those videos, as you smiled so kindly to the reporters or other Hero friends or to even civilians while looking so freaking scary when your Quirk was activated, made something stir inside his belly.
Fuck, you're gorgeous. You're everything he didn't know he wanted.
And that's when he decided he would not hide his feelings for you anymore.
So now, a few years after, when you are married to number two Pro Hero Dynamight, people always talk about how your husband always looks at you. How he always encourages you in your fights to "kill those fucking piece of shits, baby!!" as he is very close to you fighting his own set of shitty villains and you encourage him saying "show them who is the number two hero, love!" He looses it then, a blast that ends it all.
They talk about how he would always kiss you after a fight, even after all that adrenaline that makes him want to bury himself deep inside your warmth, he only holds your face gently, gloved thumbs caressing your cheeks lovingly, eyes locked onto each other like the world doesn't exist outside that moment, and he kisses you softly, a simple touch, a cute press of lips that lasts a millisecond so he doesn't burn the skin of his face and lips. And then he pulls one of your hands with his up in victory.
He didn't only win the battles, he won you each and every time he got to simply look at you, be next to you, kiss you.
He is obsessed with you, and he doesn't want to fucking hide it from the world.
#mha fanfiction#bnha fanfiction#mha smut#bnha smut#mha bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki#bnha bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou katsuki x reader#mha bakugou x reader#mha bakugou
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tw; yandere, implied dub-con, unwanted pregnancy, forced relationship, ooc, unedited
yandere reo | very ooc | 1.5k words | bluelock masterlist
âYouâll never have to work a day.â He said, eyes pouring straight into your own and a self assured tone just about anyone would falter to. If he was a stranger you might have hesitated to believe his words, assumed him to be a scammer of some sort but you knew him well enough to know his offer could very well be possible. Especially when his family amassed enough wealth to make even the concept of money virtually worthless.
As you looked around trying to calm your nerves you noticed how much more shabby your clothes looked, compared to his suit that fit well enough to have been sewn straight onto his body. Your skin was much more rough looking compared to his and your eyes adorned in dark circles as a result of sleepless nights.
âAll you have to do is say yes.â He continued, a small smile on his face as he slid an envelope towards you. You had done everything in your power to avoid him, you werenât friends or even acquaintances of any sort anymore. If anything you were waiting for him to break out laughing at the slightest sign of your acceptance, revealing this all to be a sick joke or the result of a lost bet. But for him, this was the day he had counted every second to reach.
/
While Reo Mikage focused on enjoying himself throughout his university years, with employment practically secured at his family's company the moment he graduates, you were famous for the opposite. [name] the straight A student who wouldnât miss a lecture even if disaster struck, the one that barely spoke and rarely if ever attended any social events.
At first, it was curiosity, you were brought up in a conversation and Reo couldnât help but want to know more. Then it became a habit, to locate you in the lecture hall unconsciously, to anticipate your voice when the professor took attendance or to ask in advance if you were going to attend any extracurricular. He couldnât help but notice your little habits and become further enamored each passing day.
It was still an innocent love but it was all tainted in filth that one night, a club activity that got extended into a group dinner with alcohol flowing as in any gathering of students, Reo felt tipsy but it was nothing compared to you who was flushed red even though you refused most drinks. Maybe it was the drunk courage that led him to corner you outside where nobody could see. His lips landed on yours and before he could process what he was doing, he felt a rush surge through him as he was sure now, sure that the emotions rushing through him were much more than a passing fascination.
Mikage Reo was the type of man that just passed life by, he was just an empty shell with nothing inside. Things like money or sex didnât mean much to him but right now a mere kiss had him salivating for more like an animal in heat. That night he did something he knew he shouldnât have and dragged you to a hotel room. He knew you would barely remember any of it and like a coward he took advantage of it. It would be a rough start but he could handle it, he would get you to accept him once morning came. But as the premature rays of sun peeked through the curtains, he felt the empty space beside him where he was sure you laid.
/
âWhy donât you look at whatâs inside that envelope first, Iâm sure thatâll answer all your questions.â He said, gesturing towards the inconspicuous brown envelope, the sly smile on his face growing ever-wider.
Reo found himself crawling back to you like a crippling addict even after that night. Still searching for you in every room he entered and uninterested in anything unless it pertained to you. If only you hadnât disappeared soon after that night, leading to his obsession growing exponentially beyond anything that could be controlled.
âThisâŠâ the tone in your voice had changed, it was no longer hesitation stemming in confusion but rather a mix of fear and disgust. And yet, he wanted more. Reo could see the revulsion in your gaze as you looked up towards him with your brows knitted and lips formed in a thin frown. All the effort he went through to track you down felt worth it. âI hope youâll seriously consider my offer, if not for your own sake then for our childâs.â The paternity test in your hands wrinkled as you shook uncontrollably.
/
Your mind had gone blank when you woke up with a splitting headache and a discomfort between your legs, almost jumping in surprise to find the dreaded man lying next to you still fast asleep. You knew well that nothing good would come from someone like you associating with him so you left before he could wake up, ran back home and locked yourself in there until your friends came knocking a few days later. You couldnât bring yourself to tell them so you pretended it never happened and buried yourself in work instead.
When he approached you afterwards with a confession full of confidence, as if you accepting would be the most natural thing on Earth you could do nothing but stare at him with disgust. Screaming profanities one after another. You hated his kind, the careless rich kids that thought they could get anything they desired. âIâm not an object you can obtain by throwing money at me!â Those were your last parting words to him, the ones that rang in his head even today. His wide eyed expression brought at least some satisfaction to you that day. You couldnât report him for your own sake so even this small victory was welcomed.
However, as if the universe were laughing at your misfortune, you were presented with the positive pregnancy test in your hands weeks later. Maybe the test was faultyâthatâs what you comforted yourself with as you sat in the doctor's office. But not only were you pregnant, you would have no choice but to carry the pregnancy to term as it was far too late to get an abortion. Thatâs when the reality of your situation truly sunk in and you broke down for the first time. With nobody to rely on and unable to continue your studies due to your deteriorating health, you ran away from it all. You told yourself it would be temporary, just until the baby was born and then you would return to your studies but you couldnât give your baby daughter away to someone else. Even when she was the spitting image of her father your heart broke thinking of what she would have to go through in an orphanage so you kept her, slowly finding new happiness in your daughter's smile.
Reo could barely compose himself once you rejected him. Following a monotonous routine as his sanity and reason hung by a thread. All he could think about was how he would make you pay until you begged to be his. But his parents put a stop to it, sending him abroad where they hoped he would change but his every thought was still consumed by only you. Finding out you had a child upon his return was enough to make him rebound into his obsession even worse than before, especially when she resembled him so much.
/
âThe paternity test was just a formality, you can tell with just one look that sheâs my daughter. Anyways just pack any essentials and get ready, weâre leaving this dump.â It was almost as if he was talking to himself with how he didnât even bother to get a reply from you.
âIâm not leaving and neither is my daughter.â You had grown protective over your baby, a bastard like him didnât deserve her.
âLetâs not make this any worse than it has to be, [name]. We both know you canât afford to take care of a child on your own. What will you do when she grows up and asks why she doesnât have a father, hmm? What about when she asks why she canât have the things other kids have? Or when she wants to do extracurricular like kids her age, or when she wants to travel or go out with friends. Or what about when sheâ.â
âI get it, you can stop now!â You interrupted as tears streamed down your face, you had once again regressed into an inconsolable mess and in front of the man you despised the most to boot. You knew well you couldnât give her the life she deserved.
/
Your daughter liked her father, almost as if she had known him from birth. It stung a little when her first words were âpapaâ and when she would run to him before even looking at you but you could make peace with that, sheâs just a child after all. What you couldnât stand was your now husband, Reo. He had only gotten worse as now he seemed to think he had free reign to do as he pleased with you. He had made such a big show of only doing this for âhisâ daughter but, to your detriment, he seemed much more interested in making up for lost time with you.
#yandere#yandere character#yandere x reader#blue lock yandere#yandere blue lock#blue lock#yandere bllk#reo mikage#mikage reo x reader#yandere mikage reo#yandere reo mikage#yandere mikage reo x reader#male yandere x reader#yandere blue lock x reader#yandere blue lock x you#yandere blue lock masterlist#yandere reo#dark romance#yandere fanfiction#bllk reo#yandere blog
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Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons
Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.
- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.
- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.
- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.
- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.
- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.
#Lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#lucifer imagine#lucifer headcanons#hazbin headcanons#lucifer#lucifer fluff#hazbin hotel headcanon#lucifer morningstar imagine#lucifer morningstar headcanons#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel fluff#sfw
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<3 Valentineâs Breakfast w/ DadBod!Miguel <3
[NSFW]
With the sun rays flowing in through the curtains, your eyes flutter open, your blurred vision focusing in on the gorgeous man lying on top of you. This is usually how it is. You start the night laying on his hairy and soft chest, but after tossing and turning through the night, you two never failed to end up in this position. It sort of just happens. You believe itâs Miguelâs need to protect you in every sense of the word, so he just absentmindedly engulfs you in his sleep.
Miguel was a big man. In every way. It was sort of hard to breathe when he was on you like this.
But that was more than ok. In fact, you thrived on the feeling of all his body weight on yours, his face snuggled deep into the crook of your neck and his Herculean arms wrapped around you, not too tight, but just enough so that you werenât going anywhere. And yes, his snoring was loud, but you learned to love it, it becoming the music to your ears on mornings like this.
It only takes you a few seconds for it to click.
Itâs Valentineâs Day.
You smile to yourself, excited about all things you have planned for Miguel. But first⊠to figure out how the hell you were gonna get Gigantor off of you.
Unable to move, your head isolated, you look around for ideas. With your free hand, you reach for the blanket, slowly pulling it off of him in hopes heâll move off of you to wrap himself in it again. Your idea succeeds, and he frees you just enough for you to sneak off the bed.
In the most cautious way humanely possible, you sneak out of the room (not before you softly kiss his forehead) and into the kitchen. You werenât too worried, though. Miguel didnât get to sleep in a lot like this due to his work, but when he did, not even a geographical disaster could wake him. You were safe.
You start listing in your head all the things you remembered you wanted to make him.
Your hands were ace in the kitchen. Everything you made, Miguel loved. One of his favorite parts of the day was coming home after a long day of work and into the arms of his cute sweet little housewife, a plate of delicious warm food already ready for him on the table. Itâs kinda funny; itâs you he blames for his weight gain, but you always reply with how much you absolutely love him that way, accompanied by a kiss and a playful smack to his juicy butt (which has also gotten larger, props to you).
You slave away in the kitchen, making sure everything was perfect, even down to exacting the edges of your heart-shaped pancakes, which matched the heart-shaped strawberry slices.
You go to check on the sleeping giant. Heâs still knocked out thankfully, except heâs on his back now, hugging a pillow (thinking itâs you no doubt). Aw.
You notice that the blanket wasnât on him anymore, which allowed you a beautiful view.
His dark wavy hair sprinkled with hints of gray tussled from his sleep. His 5 o'clock shadow framing his perfect, dark, plump lips. His thick neck, chest and arms, peppered with dark hair as well, resting beautifully. His soft midsection, rising and falling with each dad snore. Near his happy trail was a prominent tent, the print of his huge cock tightening his briefs. You bit your bottom lip at his morning wood. God, this man was too perfect for his own good. You could feel yourself salivate as you remind yourself of all the other things you had to get to like decorations or lighting the candles or the rose petalsâŠ
It doesnât take much for you to give into your urges. He wonât miss the candles or any decorations anywaysâŠ
Heâll appreciate what youâre about to do way more.
You silently climb onto the foot of the bed, your face dangerously close to the bulge. You give it a small caress, your hands gently molding around the shaft on top of the fabric of his boxers. You look up when you evoke a barely audible groan from Miguel, whoâs still asleep.
You apply just a little more pressure in your next caress, this time making his dick twitch and his hips faintly buck up into your hand, his instinctive neediness signaling you to proceed with your lustful endeavor.
You then lift the band of his boxers, his completely hardened cock immediately springing up. You have to literally suck in your lips to muffle a moan.
Your eyes drink in his perfectly shaped bush at the end of his delicious happy trail, the pumped veins going up his shaft, the singular drop of pre-cum already running down, and finally his fat tip. He was perfect.
You use the juice already there as lubricant, slowly stroking his dick, the other hand on his thick, hairy thigh for support.
You start to feel Miguelâs thighs contract and hips slightly bucking up some more, little grunts escaping his lips. His arms tense up as well, his muscles clenching around the poor pillow.
His small, slow thrusts drove you crazy, not able to wait any longer to put your mouth to use. You test the waters by giving his tip soft licks, swirling your tongue on it in lazy, annoyingly slow circles.
This grants you a few quiet hums from him, his belly and round pecs rising and falling faster, his body telling you to keep going for him.
Faint âFfuuuckkkâs and âMmmâs were sighed in his sleep, brows furrowed, lips in a pout; signs that you were doing amazing.
You then take him in completely, hollowing out your mouth for him as much as you possibly can, because as mentioned before, this man is big.
You bob your head slowly a few times. Itâs when you pull him out with a pop! and start treating it like your own popsicle does his eyes finally slowly open, his lips curling when he looks down at his now very cock drunk girlfriend with a satisfied smirk. His chuckle is low and silk-like, his morning voice making your cunt clench around nothing.
âWell,â his breathing remains labored, his jaw hanging open, âGood morning to you too, Mamita⊠Mmfuck.â
He says as you maintain eye contact, your lips wrapped around his long and thick member, tongue tracing along a vein. You pull away with a wet smack before saying, âHappy Valentineâs Day, Daddyâ, in the most sing song tone of voice.
Miguel tuts at your adorable yet seductive response, âay, beba, so thoughtful nâ good to meâŠdo that again...â he pleads.
âLike this, Daddy?â You ask, lapping your tongue over his tip just the way he likes it.
âOh-oh fuck⊠si, just like that, mamita, asĂ, goood girllll.â his head falls back against the headboard for a moment to sigh before looking back down at you again, seeing his balls in your mouth as your thumb works on his sensitive tip almost making him instantly burst.
You know heâs getting close when he starts panting, propping himself on his elbows and reaching a hand out to your scalp (it practically covers your entire head), gently applying pressure now that heâs in your mouth again. âAw shitâŠ. Iâm close, mama, almost there⊠fuck, takinâ my fat cock so well, princesaâŠâ He mutters apologies and thank youâs as he relentlessly rams into your mouth, his bush managing to meet the tip of your nose almost every time. He growls as he starts greedily thrusting his hips, face fucking his release into you.
You take your sweet time pulling him out of lips, making sure to get every single drop, your eyes on his the entire time. Once heâs out of your mouth, he sees you swallow, âOpen,â and you do as he asks, âdiablo, mami, eres tan sucia.â You begin to sit up, wiping your mouth, âOnly for you, baby⊠C'mon, thereâs some things in the kitchen for yo-â
âOye, whoa whoa whoa,â He grabs your hand as youâre about to leave the bed and pulls you toward himself, âI didnât say we were finished, did I?â
You fall into the bed again, Miguel guiding your hips onto his lap as he sloppily makes out with you, his tongue practically down your throat. âIâm not done with you yet, nena,â he mumbles against your lips.
He lays back down on the bed, âCâmere. Sientate.â He brings his hands up to his face motioning for you to sit on your throne.
You wince, now realizing you forgot that you had meant to shave last night.
âBabe, noooo wait... I havenât shavedâŠâ
Miguel furrows his brows, a confused scowl on his face.
âMama. Look me in the face and tell me if I look like I care.â You begin to smile seeing how Miguel was starting to look genuinely mad at you for saying such a ridiculous thing.
âNow, I said sientate. Iâm hungry.â He says sternly.
âYou sureee? You really don't have to-â
âI donât like repeating myself.â He commands. This man wasnât playing any games. He was starving.
Your smile widens at his insistence. Your boyfriend was a real man.
Placing your hands on his hairy, thick body for support, you scoot your way up to his face, Miguelâs grin getting wider as your wet cunt comes into full view.
âSo perfect for me, fuck,â His voice is sweet and tender now, planting a few equally tender kisses on your inner thighs, making sure to show them some love before you squeeze his head between them like a melon. âTe amo mucho, you know that, mama? Wanna make you feel good, beba.â
âMhm,â You nod, biting your lip as the breath of his voice tickles your womanhood.
If Miguel could, he would just live in between your thighs just like this for all of eternity. His absolute favorite place in the whole world. âN' when I tell you to sit on my face, yo nunca quiero ir ese porqueria, understood?â
His stern tone made both your heart and pussy flutter. âYessir.â
Your hands use the edge of the headboard as support, tentatively hovering your hips over his face as he showers your inner thighs with loving pecks and nibbles, the smack of his lips making your pussy clench again.
One of his big hands steadies your hips with a tight grip, the other moving your panties aside to reveal your unshaven lips.
âPrettiest pussy everâŠ. y todo es mio. Fuck, youâre so wet, mamita, did I do that?â He speaks mockingly.
You sigh when his lips kiss your clit, his tongue following shortly after by flicking it a couple times. You hear him grunt beneath you after having to lift his head off the bed to reach your hole.
"Baby, sit down. All of your body weight." He's short with his words. It sounds more like an order than a request.
"But Miguel-"
He breathes out, "You're really testing my patience, mama." And with that, his massive hands wrap firmly around your waist and pull you down, a yelp falling from your mouth as he feasts on your sensitive pussy.
Miguel is the definition of a munch. His head movement adds to the stimulation, moving it up and down, side to side; any effort to submerge his face deeper into your folds. His nose, the perfect size and shape that brushes against your clit while he simultaneously slurps and tongue fucks your cunt. The vibrations of his âMmmphâs, the scruff of his face rubbing against your inner thighs, and softly pressing your clit between his tongue and front teeth were the cherry on top.
Your sounds are pornographic as he eats you out. When you're unable to sit up straight anymore due to the immense pleasure, you lean back, hands landing behind you on his soft pecs, pushing into them in an effort to get some kind of break, but Miguel wasn't having it. Plus, he was way stronger than you. There was no escaping him. A small part of you wondered how he was going so long without coming up for air, but you quickly answer your own question when you remember that your man loves to eat, and when he does, heâs like a starved man. Each time you pushed, his grasp only got stronger, but as much as you pushed, you truthfully didn't want him to stop. Ever.
"B-baby, baby⊠I- I- c-can't," you cry, unable to speak without stopping mid-sentence to let out a whine, "I'm so close, Daddy, don't stop, please, don't stop, don't stop!" You became a broken record, all sense leaving your body. The only thing on your mind was Miguel's mouth ravishing your weeping cunt. You sat forward again, now tugging on his hair, making him hum further and fueling his hunger. "Mmmph fuck! I won't mama, I won't, don't worry... I'll give you whatever you want," You began to literally ride his face, desperately chasing your climax with his hands slapping against your ass. Miguel was in heaven with this view, bucking his own hips into the air from how perfect you looked like this.
âMmm⊠such a dirty fuckinâ girl you are,â smack, âwakin' me up like this⊠ay, que ricoooo, sabe tan dulce,â smack, âputa madre, Puedo vivir de este coño y nada mĂĄsâŠâ both his voice, an octave lower, and the wet, sucking sounds of his mouth helped uncoil the knot in your stomach, bursting on his handsome face.
Your hips stutter and your jaw falls open when you cum, Miguel drinking in your juices as if heâs been stranded on the Sahara for weeks. You couldâve split his skull into two, thatâs how hard you pressed your thighs together, but he wouldnât have it any other way.
Miguel finally lets you go, allowing you to sit on his chest now, both of you catching your breaths. He smirks back up at you, and you roll your eyes, blushing. "awww, mi princesita gets all shy when I make her cum, eh?"
"Leave me aloooneeee." With Miguelâs big hands as support and guidance, he rolls over, so heâs still in between your legs, but youâre now the bottom, and him the top. With your legs now around his waist, He chuckles at you and goes to kiss your flushed cheeks.
Then he goes in for a sweet, romantic kiss on the lips. You feel safe and taken care of while feeling his body weight on you again, his soft tummy against yours and his big muscly arms wrapped securely around you. You can feel his cock twitch against your overstimulated cunt, completely soaked from his second climax from simply eating you out, no doubt. He moves any hair on your face aside, caressing your cheek when he does.
âHappy Valentineâs Day, princesita. Have I told you how much I love you?â He coos, pure adoration in his eyes.
You manage a soft, tired smile, âEvery day. I love you, too.â you chuckle, âOh! I made you breakfast! You must be hungry, babyâŠâ you say, as you start getting up.
He gently stops you, and you lay back down.
âI am⊠but not for food.â
Safe to say the feast you prepared was cold by the time yâall got to the kitchen<3
Hope u liked it <3 It's a bit longer but I've been thinking alottttt about this tee hee!!!
This is a culmination of my thots and the thots of some of my hot moots, so Tysm @mybvalentine @gltzpzy for the ideas <3
Happy Valentineâs season, my loves!!! Wishing everyone not only a day but a whole new year of love. Not just romantic love, but also the love of your friends, family, and above all, the love for yourself <3
Speak to yourself kindly, treat your heart nicely, and consume all the chocolate!!!! You deserve ittt!!!
P.s. n if u donât have a Valentineâs, Iâll happily be urs đ€ MWAH!
- Cupcake xoxo
Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Hereâs my master list, bae!!
#Would let him do this to me all day idc#I'd drop everything to be able to have this#miguel o'hara#miguel oâhara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel oâhara fanfiction#miguel x reader#miguel oâhara smut#across the spiderverse#atsv#dadbod!miguel#spider man 2099#miguel oâhara#miguel fanfic#miguel x you#miguel oâhara x y/n#miguel oâhara x you#miguel oâhara drabble#miguel o'hara blurb#miguel o'hara one shot#miguel atsv#miguel spiderverse#miguel oâhara fanart#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel ohara#valentines day
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first in my heart
Astarion Ancunin x Reader
Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.
A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.
Word count: 4,7k
Masterlist
"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."
It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.
To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.
And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real himâto be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.
Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.
He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.
Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst yourâmanyâquestionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.
It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run freeâbefore your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.
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The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.
The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.
You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.
With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.
"What are you up to, my sweet?"
The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.
The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.
You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.
Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."
You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Galeâbesides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.
Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"
The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will⊠in a moment."
Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll⊠be waiting."
He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.
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Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.
You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.
Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.
He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.
And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"
A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.
You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.
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It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.
The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.
When he finally bared his heart for youâshaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his handsâhe expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.
You didn't.
You said you cared for him. You hugged him.
There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.
Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.
He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.
Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.
Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.
There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.
With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.
It's been a few days now that you've been⊠distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.
With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.
But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.
The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.
Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.
Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationshipâwas that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.
"Astarion?"
With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.
"Is everything okay?"
Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.
Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"
The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.
You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."
But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?
Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.
He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.
Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.
He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.
Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.
Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.
And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.
He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.
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You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.
You could only hope he would adore it just as much.
It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarionâyou were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.
Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.
You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.
Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.
You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.
With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.
You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.
"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.
He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.
You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.
"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.
You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."
His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.
"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.
A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and⊠a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.
You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.
"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at himâone of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerabilityâyou could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.
For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.
You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth itâand you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.
"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.
Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.
"Ever since you told me⊠you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and⊠when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing youâŠ"
You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."
A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.
You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.
Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.
The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.
A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.
He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.
People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something⊠precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.
Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.
Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.
You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.
Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.
"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.
"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."
Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.
There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.
Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.
You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.
When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."
You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."
â* ⟠â*ïŸ:â*ïŸ
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so Iâd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.
Astarionâs taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion bg3#astarion baldurs gate#baldur's gate 3#astarion imagine#astarion x tav#astarion x female reader#imagine#fanfic#angst#fluff#astarion fanfic#my story#astarion ancunin
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OK OK OK LISTEN UP, EVERYONE:
What if, after Narinder becomes mortal, he starts having WAY TOO MANY CAT-LIKE BEHAVIORS? đ Like, imagine thisâhe never had these instincts before because he was this ultra-badass god and all, but now heâs just a mortal with grumpy cat vibes... Itâs a DISASTER (and CHAOS, but also FUN).
-PURRING. Yes, I know, itâs in every fanfic, but hear me out: he doesnât just purr when heâs happy; he also purrs when heâs stressed or trying to calm down. Like, he could be in a serious conversation with Lamb, and brzzzzzâhe starts purring. THE EMBARRASSMENT.
-Slow blinking. Imagine Narinder being all âI hate you, Lamb,â but then he does a slow blink, and Lamb is like... "Oh my god, he does love me đ„ș." -That super-specific cat growl. Not just a generic "grrr," no. THE deep, vibrating, guttural growl that makes you wonder if heâs about to pounce or just judge you for eternity. -His tail giving him away. Picture this: Narinder is trying to act nonchalant while Lamb compliments him or says something sweet... BUT HIS TAIL STARTS TREMBLING FROM HAPPINESS. Game over. Heâs busted. -Hissing like a cat. Like, he could be dealing with an enemyâor a follower he doesnât likeâand instead of giving a menacing, classy speech, he just goes "Ssssiiiiii." Even Lamb would be like, â?? Are you serious??â -Mewling by accident. We always see Lamb bleating in fanfics, but what about Nari?? I can totally see him letting out a little âmewâ when heâs surprised or... during an intense moment of pleasure. đ -Scratching things. Like, Narinder could be in the middle of a serious conversation with Lamb, see a tree or a piece of furniture, and BAMâheâs scratching it without thinking. Then he just stops and goes, âYou didnât see that.â -Rubbing his head or body against Lamb without realizing it. Even when heâs MAD. Like, heâll storm past Lamb to ignore him, but his body automatically brushes against Lamb, and then he just walks off like nothing happened. đ -The need to mark his territory. Imagine him rubbing his head on objects (or Lamb) to âclaim them.â And Lambâs just like, âNarinder, why does my fleece smell like fish??â
-Weird gifts. Narinder bringing Lamb âofferingsâ: a cool shell⊠or a dead heretic. -Hunter reflexes. Lamb drops something or moves his hand too fast? Narinder INSTANTLY swipes at it with his paw, then looks confused like, âWhat the hell was that??â -Hyper-awareness. A weird noise? Narinder flattens his ears and jumps, and Lamb tries not to laugh because itâs honestly adorable. -And while weâre at it: ZOOMIES. Just imagine Narinder going wild out of nowhere, running around at full speed for absolutely no reason. -Sleeping in weird places. Like, climbing onto a roof or hiding in a dark corner to nap. -Kneading. He settles on a blanket (or Lamb đ) and starts kneading with his claws. Itâs cute, but also... kinda painful.
I canât stop thinking about this đ„ș Itâs been HOURS. I had to share.
PLEASE, I NEED FANFICS WITH CAT-LIKE NARINDER. IâM BEGGING. Aaaaargh! đ
#cult of the lamb#cotl narinder#narilamb#narinder x lamb#colt lamb#cotl comic#cultofthelamb#narinder fanart#Narinder#COLT fanfic
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