#fine. let’s get in the mud.

[shadelorde]

Online leftists: I fucking hate you.

You may not be the only ones responsible for Trump’s victory but I hope you’re fucking happy sitting there on your perceived high horse of having the privilege to think inaction has ever helped anyone.

You want to whine about not wanting blood on your hands? We all have blood on our hands, dipshit, it came free with living in the US and participating in its system in any way. The US system is built so that in order to survive, you will get blood on your hands. You will never be perfectly morally pure.

Get fucking used to it. Process it and accept it. Stop making your stupid posts online and claiming that it’s action. Fucking do something, for once in your lives, it doesn’t MATTER if it’s imperfect, if it’s not “The Revolution”, if it’s not the most morally “pure” thing you could possibly do.

Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the oppressed, and the Democrats are not going to look at your silence and think that they should do better. You are fundamentally indistinguishable from those who are ‘neutral.’

Well fucking played.

[rotisseries]

🎵 + zelink (hey rori)?

YAYYYYY ZELINK I do not have a 6 hour playlist for nothing baby!!! obviously me having a 6 hour playlist says so much on its own and there's so many I could pick but the first on the playlist is the first for a reason georgia by phoebe bridgers is so insanely zelink coded its unreal like my playlist is for botw/totk specifically but you can put georgia to any of them

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[mako-island-moon-pool]

Ignored again today, going to start maiming the hostages until behavior improves

[harrysfolklore]

little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO

word count: over 10k + social media posts

folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2023 SEASON

TWITTER

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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 87,635 others

ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y’all after the break

view all 1,207 comments

username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY

username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother

lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂

↳ ynpiastri ilysm

username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up

mclaren That’s our boy 🧡

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍

username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭

landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please

↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING

↳ ynpiastri never 😤

oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM

↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.

You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.

"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."

"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.

"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."

"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.

This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."

He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.

"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"

"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."

"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"

"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"

You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.

For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.

And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.

"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."

You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.

"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."

"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."

"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."

"No promises."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris

view all 2,011 comments

username1 SLAAAY

username2 ahhhh lily x oscar content thank u yn

francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲

↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee

username3 she has the dream life

charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you

↳ ynpiastri never

↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me

lilyzneimer 🤍

oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”

↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.

You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.

“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk

“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.

After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.

Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”

Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”

“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"

Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.

"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.

As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.

Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.

You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.

When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.

"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.

“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.

Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”

"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”

“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.

“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”

“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”

“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”

“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”

“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”

“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.

Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”

“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.

When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.

"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.

“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.

"Don't bother, he's a bitch."

Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.

“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."

“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”

Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”

“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”

"She's insufferable."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynpiastri has added to their stories

carlossainz55 replied to your story

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 168,373 others

ynpiastri little bitches everywhere, always a pleasure monza

tagged: landonorris, charles_leclerc

view all 2,769 comments

username1 HEEEELP

username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭

lilyzneimer I can’t wait to hear this rant in person

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username3 IS THIS CARLOS SHADEEEE

username4 not her adding the radio message

landonorris I would like to be excluded from this narrative

↳ ynpiastri scared of your boyfriend??

↳ username2 THEY’RE SO TALKING ABOUT CARLOS 😭

charles_leclerc Did you call me a little bitch?

↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..

↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.

However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.

"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.

"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.

"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"

"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"

"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."

"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.

Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."

Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.

"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."

He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.

"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.

"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."

Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.

You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."

Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.

"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.

The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.

Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynpiastri season over and out. super proud of you, rookie of the year @/oscarpiastri 🥹

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username1 i’m going to miss this season sm

username2 proud sisssss

mclaren One for the books 🧡

username3 thank you for fighting sainz online all season long bestie

landonorris Little Oscar is all grown up now

↳ ynpiastri don’t say that i’ll cry

lilyzneimer 🫶🫶🫶

username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef

↳ username1 not for lando 😭

oscarpiastri Thank you for always supporting me (creating drama online and all) Love you so much ❤️

↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.

And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.

You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.

So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.

With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.

Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.

"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.

"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.

Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again

"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"

"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.

"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.

"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."

"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."

"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."

"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."

"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."

True

"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.

"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."

"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."

Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."

"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.

"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."

"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.

"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."

"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.

"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."

Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.

"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."

Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

What the hell was happening?

For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.

"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.

"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."

Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."

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texts between lando and yn

texts between carlos and lando

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2024 SEASON

Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.

You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.

In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.

"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.

"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.

"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."

Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.

You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.

With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.

Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.

Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.

"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.

"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"

"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"

"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."

You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.

"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."

"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."

"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.

"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"

"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.

"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."

You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."

The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.

Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.

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username1 ICON IS BACKKKK

username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz

mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡

↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee

username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her

charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?

↳ ynpiastri you know there’s one person i would gladly drag through the mood

↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES

lilyzneimer love youuu✨

oscarpiastri Cute picture of me and Lily, thank u sis

↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡

landonorris I know your reasons

↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes

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It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.

You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.

Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.

I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.

Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.

As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.

He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.

Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.

However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.

Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"

Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."

Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.

You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.

"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."

"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."

"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."

"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."

Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."

There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.

It felt nice.

"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."

"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.

"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."

"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."

As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.

"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"

"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.

"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."

You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.

You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.

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username1 AUSSIE QUEEN

username2 omfg included a picture of sainz win??

↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia

↳ username3 i love that she didn’t tag him tho 😭

alexandrasaintmleux Mama piastri >> 🫶

↳ ynpiastri our real queen

lilyzneimer the third pic is my faveeee

username4 surprised that she didn’t blur carlos in the podium pic

landonorris Please don’t make me do a shoey ever again

↳ username2 OMFG I NEED TO SEE THAT

↳ oscarpiastri Aussie traditions mate

↳ ynpiastri cry baby

carlossainz55 started following you

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"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."

"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."

"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."

"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."

"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."

You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.

Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.

But here you were, about to head out to meet him.

"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."

"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."

You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."

"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."

"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"

"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."

"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."

"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."

You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.

That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.

"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."

"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."

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username1 BESTIEEEE

username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE

alexandrasaintmleux I just texted you !!!

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

f1gossip 👀

username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???

↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other

↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭

landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE

↳ username1 wtfffff

oscarpiastri Answer my texts right now please

↳ username1 IM SCREAMING

↳ username2 OSCAR 😩

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After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.

The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.

"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.

"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.

"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"

"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."

You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.

"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."

"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."

"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."

"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.

You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.

Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"

"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"

"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"

"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."

"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"

You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.

"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'

Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.

"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.

"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"

"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."

"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"

"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.

"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."

You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.

"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.

"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.

"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."

"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.

"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.

"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.

Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.

You were fucked.

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TWITTER

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A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.

He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.

This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.

"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.

"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.

Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.

"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."

"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.

"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.

"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."

Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."

You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.

You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.

Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.

"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."

"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."

"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."

"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."

You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.

It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.

"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."

"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."

"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.

"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."

"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."

You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"

"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."

"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."

"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."

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username1 so iconic tbh

username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??

↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭

danielricciardo 🙌

alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you

↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you

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landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG

↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey

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You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.

Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.

No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.

"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.

After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.

"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.

Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."

"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."

Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.

You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.

"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.

"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.

"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.

You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.

"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."

"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.

You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.

The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.

At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."

When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."

His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.

Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."

[kyuala]

abt these b*bby comments tho............ lol

[midnight-pluto]

damian wayne doesn’t necessarily wear jewelry that often — only a few necklaces and rings could be seen on him, of the highest quality as well; him wearing a friendship bracelet is quite a surprise.

they were made by you of course, since you’re quite literally the only person he associates himself with at school willingly. you’ve known each other for quite some time now, so why not get matching bracelets to symbolize that?

“That’s a stupid idea.”

“You’re a stupid idea,” you retort.

he merely rolls his eyes, “I don’t need a silly bracelet to show that I’m friends with you, we don’t need something like that for people’s approval.”

“It’s not for other people,” you explain, “It’s for my own entertainment and for you — a gift.”

“Fine, you can make us one.”

in all honesty, he was expecting something simple for the bracelets. something just like each others names on them, not—

“Pissbaby?” his eye twitches.

“Don’t worry, mine says ‘Bitch,’” you reply nonchalantly.

“This has to be against dress-code.”

“We have long sleeves for a reason.”

he sighs, “My siblings are gonna drag me through the mud for this.” despite his words spitting venom, he still lets the elastic wrap around his wrist fitting comfortably and snugly.

“Hah, Pissbaby.”

“Bitch.”

“Your dad’s a whore.”

[pellucid-constellations]

If You Cared to Ask

Azriel hasn't been listening. You got hurt. Sometimes, an argument can't be boiled down to just one instance.

Part 2

“You never listen! I have tried over and over to get you to understand but it’s like you don’t even care.”

Azriel’s brow twitched in irritation, the only tell on his otherwise passive face. “That is not true. We have sat down and discussed this at length, y/n. I listen.” 

You laughed, an incredulous pressure weighing down your shoulders. “Okay, fine. You listen, but you never hear me, Azriel! I feel like I’m talking to a brick wall most of the time.” 

“I can reiterate every word you’ve ever said to me. I hear you and I listen to you.” 

Anger twisted through your gut at his nonchalance. You clenched and unclenched your fists and tried to ignore the heat slowly encroaching upon your ability to remain composed. Although, compared to Azriel, you were not even close to the picture of calm. 

“Tell me why it bothers me then,” you seethed through clenched teeth. “Reiterate it for me, Shadowsinger.” 

Azriel’s jaw shifted as he clasped his hands together in his lap, the faelight in the kitchen clashing harshly with the planes of his face. He leaned back in his chair and let out a tortured sigh that almost sent you reeling. 

“You seem to believe,” Azriel began, his voice a low drawl. “That I am blatantly avoiding you—that I am choosing to serve my high lord in place of spending time with you. Both of which, I am not doing. I simply have a duty to this court, y/n. You know that.” 

“Oh, fuck you, Azriel,” you rolled your eyes. “Making this about duty and honor. Making me seem like I’m the crazy one for being angry when you promised me—” 

“You know there is little I can do about promises,” Azriel snapped, a hint of anger finally showing through in the darkness of his eyes. “You knew when we were mated that I have responsibilities that go beyond our relationship.” 

You pushed back from your seat at the table and set to pacing in the kitchen, fighting the urge to tug at the roots of your hair. “Yes, obviously, Azriel, but this was so important to me. I needed you there and this isn’t the first time I’ve been abandoned without even a word.” 

“Abandoned,” Azriel scoffed. “I would hardly call not showing up to your clinic at the camps one day abandoning you. Rhys needed me to—” 

“I needed you!” you shouted, your hands pressed to the countertops and your gaze frantic as you stared at Azriel’s unmoving figure. “I needed you, Azriel. I had every eye on me in that camp and when Devlon’s men had me yanked from the clinic for what I was doing I needed you to—” 

“He did what?” 

“Oh, don’t act like you care now.” You waved off the staunch posture he had adopted and rolled your eyes for a second time at the piercing hatred that had taken over his expression. “Don’t you dare act like you have the right.” 

“You are my mate, y/n. If anyone put their hands on you—” 

“Well, they did. Bruised up my arms and everything. But you were so busy with your duty to your high lord that you couldn’t give a shit until after I was thrown into the mud surrounded by the women I was supposed to be helping up there.” 

Azriel’s hands turned white as he clenched them in his lap. His lashes fluttered and his brow furrowed and he looked utterly lost at the situation—unable to formulate any kind of response to what could be considered his failure. 

“I thought you were simply setting up the back rooms. I didn’t know you were starting the practice or speaking to the camp,” he croaked, eyes downcast and searching the floor. 

“Except I told you I was. I told you two weeks ago and then again right before I left.” 

“I—I can’t remember you saying that.” 

“Of course you can’t. Because if it isn’t Rhys giving you orders or Cassian leading training you’re absent. You stand right in front of me and you’re not even here.”

Azriel finally looked up from the ground and met your eyes with the same torture his sigh made you privy to earlier. But this time it was rooted in something else—this time, he seemed to finally grasp the weight behind your words. 

But you were utterly sick of trying to get him to this point. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he expressed, pain in the furrow of his brow. “I hadn’t realized—with Rhys just returning to Velaris I’ve been so caught up in—” 

“I’m sorry too,” you cut him off. 

Azriel froze. “What?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek and felt the dread begin to rise. You knew you were going to hate this part, but you hadn’t expected Azriel to apologize. He hadn’t apologized for anything in months. You’d been alone in this relationship and he chose the day you’d packed your bags to show remorse.

“I can’t do this, Azriel. Not right now.” 

“Can’t do what?” 

The silence in the kitchen was oppressive. Azriel had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and you were on the other side of the kitchen counter, protected by a barrier you knew you should have put up weeks ago. Your eyes never left his. 

“I can’t do this with you.” 

Azriel breathed in sharply, his eyes widening. “No,” he stressed, heaving up from the chair. “No, y/n, don’t—what do you mean you can’t do this? Explain it to me.” 

Your mate attempted to round the counter and reach for you, but you weren’t going to accept the affection…not when you had been begging for it for months. Not when he was only ready to give it to you now.

You backpeddled until you reached the hall. Azriel didn’t follow, afraid you would take off. 

“I’ve been telling you this was a problem for months now. I thought it was just an adjustment period—I knew that having Rhys back would change things at first and I was okay with that. Your brother returned from hell and you needed to be there to support him. To support your family. 

“But I’m your family, too. And you forgot that. I can’t—I can’t be relying on someone like that right now. I’m doing too much at the camps for you to… forget about me so easily. I can’t keep building you up in my mind just to be disappointed and hurt.” 

Azriel's jaw quivered. 

“Emotionally and physically. I would’ve asked someone else to come to the clinic with me yesterday, but I chose you. And you forgot about me.” 

Azirel looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach, his shoulders caving in with his anguished breath out. You pressed your lips together as you watched him, all of your anger morphing into a twisted sort of guilt that didn’t sit right in your gut. 

“Please,” Azriel whispered. His hands shook at his side. “Please, I’m so sorry, my love. I never wanted—Please, don’t leave me.” 

“You don’t get to have both, Azriel.” Your voice was as weak as his. “You don’t get to have me and treat me like I’m something you deal with on the side. I matter more than— 

Azriel shook his head and broke through your words. “You matter more than anything. I’ve been a fool. I know I’m an ass. Please, let me fix this, my love. Please don’t leave.” 

You clenched your fists so hard your nails embedded into your palms. 

“I need time to be alone.” 

Azriel was quick to nod. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll leave and—” 

“No, I need… more time than that. I have some things packed. I’ll be back, but… I need to leave. I can’t think clearly around you.” 

A choked cry left Azriel’s throat and the sound burned at your waterline. “Where?” 

You only shook your head. 

“Tell me where. Please. How am I supposed to know you’re safe?” 

“How were you supposed to know before?” 

Part 2

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Accidentally Falling For a Fae Prince - Malleus Draconia x reader

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

Series Masterlist

Work’s been a disaster from the moment you stepped in. Your boss, who makes dollar bills while you’re lucky to scrape together a few dimes, is in one of those moods. So, instead of pretending to be productive, you do what any rational person would do: you pull up a random webnovel website and let the ridiculousness wash over you.

And oh boy, is it ridiculous.

You start reading "The Villainess's Revenge: My Heart is Colder Than Lukewarm Tea!" and, within the first chapter, you realize it’s like watching cement dry—but with less plot development. The villainess is cartoonishly evil, stomping around in ballgowns with a sneer so exaggerated it’s a wonder her face hasn’t permanently locked in place. Her tragic backstory? She once got served lukewarm tea. And, oh no, she stepped in mud at a ball. The horror. Riveting stuff, truly.

Meanwhile, the heroine? She’s clearly phoning it in. Every scene she’s in, her eyes are dead inside like she’s as exhausted as you are by the sheer nonsense of the plot. If this girl could quit her own story, she would’ve done it yesterday. You can't help but mentally send her your condolences.

Then, there’s the male leads. If you can even call them that.

First, the Crown Prince, whose idea of a crisis is a fashion faux pas. This guy once canceled a whole wedding because his socks didn’t match. His spirals into existential crises every time a thread is out of place would be entertaining if it weren’t so tragic. The way he’s written, you swear he could kill a man with a critical stare over improper cufflinks.

Next up, the Duke. Brooding, romantic, and absolutely incapable of writing good poetry. Every time he spots the heroine, he launches into the worst rhymes you’ve ever heard. It’s so bad that you’re embarrassed for both of them. He follows her everywhere, reading his masterpieces at the most inappropriate times—like during a funeral. Who does that?

And finally, the Hero Knight. Ah, the knight. The epitome of overzealous stupidity. He turned grocery shopping into a three-day quest for the “Golden Lettuce of Destiny,” and vowed to defend the heroine’s honor from…nobody. You’d swear he’s larping 24/7. It’s exhausting just reading about him.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the heroine ends up in a polycule with all of them because the author was so sick of comments asking, “Who will she date?” that they just threw their hands up and went, “Fine, she dates everyone!” The heroine looks exhausted, and you feel for her. You feel for yourself, too, because reading this is actively lowering your IQ.

You sit there, flabbergasted, staring at the screen. This is what you’ve chosen to waste your time on? What’s worse, your boss will probably come around the corner any minute to scold you—oh wait, nope, the corner of the ceiling just gave out and bonk—there goes a chunk of plaster, right on your head.

You cannot believe this is how you get taken out.

You wake up and, somehow, it’s worse. You’re in a four-poster bed, covered in satin sheets, and your first thought is goddammit—you’ve been isekai’d. And not just into any world. That world. The webnovel.

You drag yourself out of bed, feeling a sudden wave of dread. You were the heroine in this mess. The heroine. Goddammit, why does everything bad only happen to you? For a moment, you're relieved you’re not the villainess. But then you remember: you’re stuck in a polycule with three absolute clowns.

Nope. Not happening. You will not end up with any of these pushy idiots. Goal one? Avoid the polycule at all costs.

Suddenly, the door flies open with a bang, and in burst all three male leads, dramatically weeping and crying out how you’ve been in a coma for so long. Their over-the-top emotions would be heartwarming if they weren’t so ridiculous.

“You’ve returned to us, my dearest flower of the kingdom!” the Crown Prince sobs, still perfectly dressed despite the tears streaming down his face. He sniffs and dabs his eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with his own face. Of course.

The Duke starts reciting the worst love poem you've ever heard, right there, in the middle of your room, as if you didn’t just wake up from a coma.

“I wandered, lost, like a daisy in a field of… uh… misery, because you, my sun, were hidden in the sky of my heart…” The rest is a blur because your brain has officially short-circuited.

And the Hero Knight? He’s already on his knees, swearing to protect you from whatever invisible threat he’s made up this time. “Fear not, fair lady! I shall defend thee against all who oppose your grace!”

You manage to kick all of them out of your room with a lot of effort and a lot of heavy glares. The moment you’re alone, you find a suicide note on the dresser, written by the actual heroine. Apparently, she drank poison just to get away from these weirdos.

What an icon.

But not you. You’re not dying again for these guys. No way.

You’re moving through the bustling market in full disguise, keeping an eye out for any knights or familiar faces. Your plan is simple: escape the polycule before any of those nutjobs track you down. With every step, you remind yourself that freedom is just one boat ride away—preferably to a distant land that has no idea who the Hero Knight, the Duke, or the crown prince are.

But as you round a corner, your thoughts scatter when you bump—quite literally—into something solid. You stagger back, blinking up at a tall figure dressed in all black. At first, panic flashes through you—please don’t be one of them—but when your eyes meet his, it’s not the Crown Prince, the Duke, or the Hero Knight.

It’s someone new. And he seems… perfectly pleasant. His strikingly elegant features, crowned by horns, should make him imposing, but his eyes soften as he looks at you. There’s an almost serene curiosity in them.

"Ah, forgive me," he says smoothly, his deep voice lilting with a formality that surprises you. "I didn’t see you there."

"No, no, it’s my fault," you reply, awkwardly waving your hands, trying to figure out why he’s so different from everyone else in this place. He’s polite. Polite. Already, you feel better about this encounter than you have about every conversation with the three other disasters that have been stalking you.

He steps aside, but instead of walking away, he looks around the marketplace with a faint, thoughtful frown. “I seem to have… lost my way,” he admits, glancing back at you. “This place is unfamiliar to me.”

Something in his tone, in the way his eyes briefly widen as he takes in the simplest market stalls—like he’s genuinely fascinated—makes you soften toward him. Ugh, bleeding heart strikes again. Before you know it, you find yourself asking, “Do you need help? I can… show you around.”

He turns his gaze back to you, and his lips quirk into the smallest, softest smile. “That would be most appreciated.”

As you walk together, he marvels at the simplest things—the fresh bread from a stall, the colorful fabrics, the scent of flowers sold at a cart. He’s curious about everything, eyes lingering on each sight like it’s the first time he’s ever seen such mundane wonders. His fascination is oddly endearing. It’s clear he’s not used to mingling in places like this, and his awe at the most normal things is… well, cute.

"Have you ever seen so many people in one place?" you ask, trying to fill the silence, though you’re surprised to find that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

He chuckles lightly. “Not in such a casual setting, no. It’s quite… charming. Everything feels so alive.”

You almost snort at the idea that this guy finds a basic market so thrilling, but you keep it in check. At least he’s not another drama king like the Crown Prince or a bad poet like the Duke.

It’s been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon until your luck inevitably runs out. You spot the familiar, impeccably dressed figure of the Crown Prince moving through the crowd with his knights. He’s scanning the area, and panic rises in your throat.

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath. Instinctively, you grab the man’s sleeve, tugging him down the nearest alley. “We need to go. Now.”

He blinks, looking puzzled but not resisting. “Is something wrong?”

Yes! you think, your mind flashing to the emotional wreck that is the prince. "No time to explain. Just trust me."

But you’re too late. The Crown Prince, in all his resplendent, overly perfect glory, catches sight of you just as you’re about to disappear into the shadows.

“Well, well,” the prince calls out with an overly bright smile. “If it isn’t my darling—oh!” His eyes widen as he finally notices the tall figure standing next to you. “Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley!”

You blue screen.

Your grip loosens on Malleus’s sleeve as your brain sputters. Prince. Fae Prince. You’d just been casually chatting with the Prince of Briar Valley like he was some random lost guy? Did you seriously just… You internally spiral as the realization sinks in. Of course, he's a prince! The horns! The aura!

Malleus, for his part, remains calm and collected, inclining his head toward the Crown Prince. “Ah, it seems I’ve been found,” he says smoothly, completely unaware of the crisis currently happening inside your head.

The Crown Prince gives Malleus a florid bow, then immediately turns his attention back to you. “My dear, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. Allow me to escort you to the palace.” His hand reaches out toward you, his smile practiced and princely, but your gut clenches with discomfort. No, nope, no thanks.

You step back instinctively, your unease written all over your face. Before you can even figure out how to politely decline without causing a scene, Malleus moves.

Malleus, who up until now was watching the exchange with mild curiosity, steps forward. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the Crown Prince up and down. The prince stumbles over his words and backs away under the weight of Malleus’ stare.

The Crown Prince’s smile falters. He hesitates, glancing between you and Malleus, clearly unsure how to proceed. “I—um—of course, Prince Malleus, I didn’t mean to overstep,” he stammers, eyes darting nervously between the two of you.

You stand there, stunned, watching as Malleus’ mere presence makes the most annoyingly confident man in the kingdom back off. Is this real life?

The prince clears his throat awkwardly, then shoots you one last uneasy smile before making a swift retreat with his knights, leaving you standing there with Malleus.

You let out a long, relieved breath and glance up at him, feeling a little less like you’re about to lose your mind. “Thanks… for that.”

Malleus’ lips quirk into a tiny, knowing smile. “It was my pleasure.” He tilts his head, eyes still twinkling with that same curiosity from earlier. “Although, I must admit, I’m rather curious why you were so eager to avoid him.”

You laugh nervously, running a hand through your hair. “Let’s just say… he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

You don't know how you’ve ended up in this mess. One minute, you’re lost in the market, trying to figure out how to escape this ridiculous polycule situation, and the next, you’ve been dragged into a carriage on your way to the palace—with the Crown Prince, your overly dramatic Knight, and the Fae Prince himself.

Malleus, the Fae Prince, had politely asked if you would accompany him to the palace, and in a panic, you said yes. Because, really, how could you admit to both him and the Crown Prince that you’d actually been planning to skip town? So now, here you are, sitting through the most awkward carriage ride of your life.

Your knight, perched beside you, clears his throat dramatically. “Fear not, my lady,” he says in a voice filled with too much gravitas for the situation. “I shall protect you from all perils! Should the wind itself dare to brush against your delicate frame, I shall strike it down with my blade! No harm shall come to you so long as I draw breath!”

You facepalm internally. Please. Stop talking.

The Crown Prince, sitting across from you, adjusts his cufflinks for the tenth time. “I must say,” he purrs, fishing for compliments, “this outfit is particularly resplendent today, don’t you think? The shade of royal blue brings out the depth in my eyes. It was hand-tailored, of course. What do you think, my dear?”

You blink at him, trying to process whether he’s serious. He is. He’s absolutely serious.

Malleus watches the exchange in silent confusion, his eyes flicking between the three of you as if trying to figure out if this is normal human behavior. After all, you’ve got one guy swearing to kill the breeze, another obsessed with his reflection, and you, trying to melt into the upholstery.

“Is this… how humans typically behave?” Malleus asks, his voice soft and genuinely curious.

You shake your head vigorously. “No. This is how clowns behave.” Malleus raises an eyebrow but seems satisfied with your answer, settling back into his seat.

When the carriage finally—finally—arrives at the palace, you’re barely holding onto your sanity. But things are about to get worse.

As you’re ushered into the meeting hall, a trio approaches you. It’s Lilia, Silver, and… Sebek.

Sebek, who looks one step away from a full-blown aneurysm.

"Lord Malleus!" Sebek practically screeches, running toward Malleus like the world was ending. “How could you wander off on your own?! Do you know how much chaos you caused?! I almost fainted from sheer terror!”

Malleus doesn’t even flinch. “I had a guide.” He gestures toward you.

Sebek’s eyes land on you, and you quickly glance around for an escape route. “YOU?! YOU DARED TOUCH—”

Before Sebek can finish, you spot the Duke—one of your many suitors and part of the delegation—striding toward you with his usual brooding expression. You instinctively grab onto Malleus’ sleeve for some comfort (or maybe protection from what’s about to come next).

The Duke’s eyes light up as he sees you, and then… he begins to recite. “Oh, my dearest, like the moon that doth gleam upon a cheese plate—no, wait—upon a field of… toes? Your hair, like the petals of wilted roses in the rain... um… and your eyes… they are like two potatoes, cooked to perfection…”

Even Sebek is speechless. You think you see a vein pop on his forehead, but for once, he’s too stunned to yell.

Lilia, standing beside Sebek, chuckles, amused. “Well, I have to say, that’s… quite something.”

Malleus tilts his head, blinking at the Duke’s strange poetry. “Are potatoes considered a form of flattery in human culture?”

“No,” you mutter. “No, they’re not.”

Just when you think things can’t possibly get more absurd, the meeting begins. Because you’re technically the daughter of a Duke, you’re forced to sit through the whole ordeal. They start discussing the logistics of showing the fae delegation around the city.

“We need someone trustworthy to act as a guide,” one of the officials says, glancing toward the Crown Prince.

Malleus, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly speaks up. “I believe I’ve already found the perfect guide.”

You freeze. No. No, no, no.

“The young lady who helped me in the market,” Malleus continues, looking directly at you.

The room falls silent. You, of all people, are the last person who wants to be anywhere near the fae delegation or, worse, your insane suitors. But before you can even open your mouth to refuse, the Crown Prince starts.

“My dear,” he says, leaning forward with a princely grin, “while I understand you’ve already formed an acquaintance with Prince Malleus, perhaps it would be better for someone more… experienced to take on this role.” He flashes his most charming smile, which, after everything today, only makes you cringe.

But Malleus just stares at him, completely unbothered. “No. I want her as my guide.”

Silver shifts slightly, glancing at you with an expression you can’t quite place, while Lilia’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How interesting,” Lilia murmurs, clearly entertained by the situation.

Sebek, however, explodes. “IF LORD MALLEUS WANTS HER AS HIS GUIDE, THEN SO BE IT!” He turns toward the Crown Prince, practically vibrating with anger. “YOU WILL NOT QUESTION HIS DECISION!”

The Crown Prince, for once, looks genuinely taken aback. “I—I meant no offense! Of course, whatever Lord Malleus desires…”

You sink into your chair, feeling like your last chance at a peaceful life just flew out the window. Malleus turns to you with an expectant, polite smile. “I look forward to our time together.”

You groan inwardly. How is this my life?

You had to admit, Malleus was really nice. When you compared him to the absolute circus of clowns you had to deal with, he was practically a gift sent from above. So, you made a decision—if you were going to be his guide, you were going to be the best guide ever. And once they wrapped up this whole diplomatic visit, you'd beg him to take you with him to Briar Valley, where hopefully, your ridiculous suitors would be very far away.

Apparently, being a guide also meant dragging him along to everything you did, including navigating high society. This was where things got tricky. The original heroine had endured these events like a pro, but you? You were just a lowly office worker who'd read bad webnovels to avoid work. Now you were living in one.

First stop: a tea party.

As you sit down with Malleus beside you—who’s awkwardly perched in a chair much too small for him—you scan the room. Of course, all three of your ridiculous suitors are here. The Crown Prince, obsessing over the intricate lace of his cravat. The Hero Knight, sharpening his sword for no reason in the middle of a garden party. And the Duke, scribbling poetry on a napkin with all the grace of a sleep-deprived teenager finishing their homework five minutes before class.

But this wasn’t just about them. This was also your first time meeting the so-called villainess.

The villainess arrived like a whirlwind of petticoats and extravagant headpieces, smiling in that "I'm about to ruin your whole existence" kind of way. You smiled back, trying not to look dead inside when she launched into a diatribe about ruffles.

"And you see," she said, flickering her wrist with an air of superiority, "it was positively scandalous! The seamstress gave me a gown with only forty ruffles. Can you imagine? What am I, a commoner?"

You tried to smile politely. Truly. But Malleus, seated beside you, was staring at her with this fascinated look, as if watching a rare bird display its feathers. You could tell he was having a hard time grasping what the point of her story was. So were you.

But then, of course, the conversation turned personal.

“And the Duke,” the villainess said with a sly smirk, “such a poetic soul. He deserves better than to pine over someone who clearly has no appreciation for his art. Don’t you think?”

You blinked. Was this woman for real? You glanced at the Duke, who had suddenly gone from scribbling to gazing at you with that awful puppy-dog look. The one that meant another horrible poem was probably brewing.

You couldn’t help it. The words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Please take him.”

The villainess's eyes widened. “What?”

Malleus looked at you in amusement, while the Duke gasped dramatically, as if you’d just run him through with a sword.

You clasped your hands together and leaned forward earnestly. “Please, please take him. I don’t want him. At all. He’s all yours. You can have him—along with his potato-themed poems.”

The Duke visibly wilted. “But—! My lady! You—you wound me!”

“No, Duke, you wound me—with your terrible metaphors,” you deadpan. “And I’m begging you. Take him. Please. For the love of everything holy, I’m begging you.”

The villainess, probably for the first time in her life, looked completely flustered. “Are you… serious?”

“Absolutely,” you said, nodding. “I will sign papers. I’ll throw a party. I’ll—whatever it takes. Just… he’s yours.”

Malleus and Lilia were practically shaking with barely-contained laughter at this point, while the Duke had dropped to one knee, a napkin-clutched in his hand like some sad bouquet. “My poems… they were written with you in mind. Each line! Each stanza! Crafted from the depths of my heart!”

“Exactly,” you said, unblinking. “That’s why I need you to take him. Before he writes more.”

The villainess stared at you, completely dumbfounded. Then, after a pause, she broke into a smile. “Well, I’ve never had a man gifted to me before. I suppose I can make an exception.”

You felt like you could cry with relief. “Thank you.”

And just like that, your beef with the villainess was squashed. You traded your tragic suitor for peace of mind, and the villainess, now on the receiving end of the Duke’s “affections,” seemed pleased with her new prize.

Malleus leaned in, his voice low but filled with amusement. “I must say, you handled that quite well.”

You sighed, finally able to relax. “I handled that with desperation.”

And just like that, you’d rid yourself of two your problems. Now… to figure out how to survive the other two without losing your sanity.

You barely had time to process your victory over one villainess before a second one spawned out of nowhere like this was some kind of twisted video game. The Isekai Overlords clearly weren’t done with you yet. And this one? Oh, she was worse. The Crown Prince’s younger sister—spoiled princess extraordinaire—who genuinely believed her father was the reason the sun rose in the morning.

But, to your surprise, she didn’t even care about you. Like, at all. She acted like you didn’t even exist. Honestly? You were grateful. At least you could blend into the background this time and—oh no. Oh no.

She was making a beeline straight for Malleus.

You watched, horrified, as the princess latched onto him, throwing herself at him like he was a rare limited-edition collectible and not, you know, the Prince of Briar Valley and one of the most powerful beings in the world. Malleus shifted uncomfortably, clearly unsure how to handle the situation, while Sebek was being barely restrained by Lilia and Silver. Lilia, of course, had that mischievous glint in his eye, like he was enjoying the whole ordeal.

You, on the other hand, were not enjoying it. You could practically see your retirement plans shriveling up in front of you—this had diplomatic nightmare written all over it. If Malleus so much as sneezed, you were pretty sure this princess would declare war on Briar Valley.

So, you did the only thing you could think of: you stepped in.

“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” you said, stepping between the princess and Malleus. “Could you maybe… not cling to him like he’s a handbag?”

She turned to you with a look of utter disdain, like you were a fly she was too annoyed to swat away. “And who are you, exactly?”

Before you could answer, she pointed an accusatory finger at you. “I challenge you to a duel! For his hand!”

You blinked. “Bro, what?”

The princess huffed. “For the hand of Prince Malleus, of course! You think I didn’t see you fawning over him?”

“Fawning? I’m literally just his guide!” You gestured to Malleus, who, for some reason, looked almost giddy. “I’m not dating him, we’re not engaged, and if you push it, we’re maybe friends.”

Malleus practically beamed at the word “friends.” Was he… happy about this? About being defended like some damsel in distress? You were defending the most powerful fae in existence, and here he was, looking like you just made his entire year.

Sebek and Silver immediately stepped forward, but before they could say anything, Malleus raised a hand. “No. I would like to see how my guide—and friend—defends my honor.”

Your brain short-circuited. What?!

The princess smirked, clearly thinking she had you cornered. “Prepare yourself for the duel then! My personal knight will face you.”

You glanced at the knight, a towering figure who looked like he’d been training for war since birth, and then back at the sword that had been thrust into your hands. This was not how you imagined your day going. You hadn’t even touched a sword before. Meanwhile, your opponent was stretching like this was a warm-up exercise.

Still, you had no choice. With a deep breath and the knowledge that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself, you stepped forward, sword held awkwardly in front of you.

The duel began.

The knight lunged at you with a practiced, fluid motion. You, on the other hand, tripped over a rock, accidentally ducking his strike, and in your flailing attempt to stay upright, the hilt of your sword smacked him right in the face.

There was a collective gasp from the audience.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

The knight staggered, his face scrunched in confusion. He tried again, this time swinging from the side. You managed to parry—purely out of luck—and in the process, tripped forward, sending your sword clattering out of your hands and somehow knocking the knight’s legs out from under him. He fell to the ground with a thud.

Dead silence followed.

You stood there, frozen, your sword lying a few feet away. The knight was on his back, staring up at the sky, clearly bewildered by what had just happened. You hadn't even swung properly!

Lilia burst out laughing. “My, my! That was quite the duel! You’ll have to take responsibility now.”

“Responsibility?” you echoed, flustered beyond belief. “For what? I just—he tripped! I tripped! That wasn’t even—”

“Exactly,” Lilia teased. “You won the duel. Now you must take responsibility for defending Prince Malleus’ honor so valiantly.”

Malleus, looking thoroughly impressed, gave you a small, pleased smile. “Indeed. You have my gratitude.”

The princess, meanwhile, was gaping at you like she couldn’t believe what just happened. “This… this is an outrage!”

You sighed, feeling utterly exhausted. “Look, I didn’t even want to duel in the first place. Can’t we just—call it a day? I’ve had enough of knights and duels and—” You gestured vaguely to Malleus. “I’m not even dating him.”

Malleus’ smile widened. “But we are friends.”

Lilia chuckled. “Ah, young love is so complicated.”

You shot him a glare. This was not what you signed up for. But hey, at least you won the duel—somehow.

You were lounging in your mansion’s parlor, the day blissfully uneventful for once. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a cozy glow over the room. Malleus was mid-conversation—no, scratch that—mid-rant about gargoyles. To your surprise, you were actually kind of into it.

“And that’s the primary difference between gargoyles and grotesques,” Malleus continued passionately. “You see, gargoyles are not merely decorative but also functional, designed to channel water away from the structure, whereas grotesques, while similar in appearance, serve no such purpose. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You nodded, intrigued, and cut in with a genuine question. “Wait, so is the functionality the only difference? Like, are they made from the same material?”

Malleus blinked, slightly taken aback that you were not only listening but actively participating. “Yes, precisely. They are often carved from the same stone, but it’s their purpose that sets them apart. For example, in the southern—” He paused, seeming to catch himself, suddenly looking sheepish. “Ah, forgive me. I fear I’ve been talking too much.”

Sebek nearly jumped out of his seat, eyes wide with horror. “Lord Malleus! Everything you say is perfect! Don’t apologize for sharing your magnificent knowledge!”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, really, I enjoy it,” you said, waving off Malleus’ concerns. “I mean, how often do you get to talk about something so niche with someone who knows this much about it? I actually have a question—do any of the gargoyles in the Briar Valley have, like, historical significance? Like ones that are still functioning after all this time?”

Malleus lit up, and he launched right back into it, going on about ancient gargoyles in the Briar Valley that had withstood the test of time. He even started comparing the craftsmanship of various eras, and to your own surprise, you threw in a few comments about architecture and water systems, things you barely remembered from some random articles you’d read ages ago.

Halfway through a comparison of Gothic versus Renaissance gargoyle styles, a soft knock interrupted. Your maid entered, bowing slightly. “My lady, pardon the interruption, but we need your guidance with something in the kitchens.”

You sighed but smiled, pushing yourself off the couch. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let them bully you into leaving the gargoyle talk,” you teased as you walked out, completely unaware of the effect your comment had left behind.

As soon as the door closed, Malleus stood there, momentarily speechless. His pale cheeks took on the faintest hint of color, and his eyes were wide, as if someone had just smacked him with a metaphorical brick of emotions. The prince of Briar Valley, the most powerful creature in existence, was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

Lilia, ever the mischievous one, was already grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, well, well… isn’t this interesting?” he purred, barely suppressing a chuckle.

Silver raised an amused brow, casting a side glance at Malleus. “It’s not every day we see him blush.”

Sebek, on the other hand, was utterly baffled but still overjoyed at seeing his lord smiling so widely. “Of course Lord Malleus is happy!” Sebek exclaimed proudly, though there was a trace of confusion in his voice. “He’s been honored with your presence and your rapt attention, as is only right! I just—” Sebek glanced around, as if trying to understand the subtle undercurrent in the room, “—I don’t understand why he’s so… red?”

Lilia patted Sebek on the back, barely holding in his laughter. “Oh, Sebek, my boy. This is what happens when someone gets the attention they’ve long desired.”

Malleus cleared his throat, trying—and failing—to compose himself. “I’m merely… pleased,” he said, though his blush betrayed him. “It’s rare to find someone who listens so attentively.”

Lilia chuckled softly. “Yes, and who knows the difference between gargoyles and grotesques, I imagine. Quite the match for you, wouldn’t you say?”

Malleus, flustered beyond belief, gave Lilia a sidelong look but said nothing, clearly more preoccupied with the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

By the time you returned, unaware of the scene you’d left behind, Malleus was still trying to gather himself. Lilia shot you a knowing smile, and Silver just gave you a look like you have no idea what’s happening, do you? Sebek, as always, continued to beam with unshakable loyalty to his blushing lord.

But hey, at least Malleus was happy—really happy.

It all started innocently enough—you were having dinner with Malleus, Sebek, Lilia, and Silver. Sebek was, as usual, going on one of his rants about how absolutely divine Malleus was, Lilia was being cryptic and vaguely mischievous, and Silver was dozing off between courses.

You, being the delightful disaster that you were, cracked a joke between bites. “Honestly, if Sebek praises Malleus any more, we might as well commission a statue of him—complete with an audio loop of Sebek’s praises.”

Malleus laughed. Actually laughed. It was such a rare sound, deep and rich, and when you heard it, your heart stuttered in your chest like someone had just jabbed you with a lightning bolt.

Oh no.

You knew, from that very moment, you were in deep, deep shit.

From that point on, everything Malleus did made it impossible for you to act normal around him. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing, the warmth in his voice when he spoke to you—how had you not noticed before? And now, every time Lilia even looked at you, it was with this knowing, mischievous grin, like the universe had finally granted him the entertainment he’d been waiting for all these centuries.

“This,” Lilia said one day, leaning in conspiratorially with a grin that could light up a room, “this is what I’ve lived so long for.”

And to make matters worse, it wasn’t just your mind tormenting you. Oh no. It was like the entire world was in on the joke. You could practically see sparkles in the air every time Malleus so much as glanced your way. Sparkles, for crying out loud. Your heart was in critical danger.

Your solution? Avoid him.

But it wasn’t that simple. You tried hiding behind furniture, ducking into bushes, and even feigning an incredibly inconvenient bout of food poisoning just to avoid being near him. One time, you spotted Malleus coming down the hall and, in a blind panic, dove behind a potted plant. The plant was tiny. You were not. Somehow, you thought it would work.

It didn’t. Malleus casually walked over, spotted you crouching awkwardly behind the plant, and said, “Is there something wrong with that shrubbery? Should I summon someone to tend to it?”

Another time, you attempted to “sneak” out of the palace by pretending you were a passing merchant. You wore a very large hat and wrapped yourself in an oversized cloak. Malleus found you immediately.

“Aren’t you feeling a bit warm in that?” he asked, blinking at your ridiculous ensemble.

He had fae hearing. He could always find you.

Even guiding him around town became a disaster. How were you supposed to be a competent host when all you could think about was how unfairly hot he was? Every word he said carried this charming, ancient elegance, and here you were, a flustered mess with zero composure.

Lilia? Still having the time of his life. He was practically choking on his laughter at this point. Silver, somehow, slept through most of your crises, and Sebek was just thrilled Malleus was spending so much time with him (though he was clearly confused about why you were acting so weird).

Finally, you had enough. One night, under the cover of the moon, you snuck into the garden with the determination of someone completely done with their own suffering. You found a flower—granted, you didn’t know what it was, but it looked nice—and you marched up to Malleus, who was out enjoying the evening air, blissfully unaware of the emotional train wreck headed his way.

“I need to say something!” you blurted, shoving the flower toward him.

Malleus took the flower carefully, glancing down at it. His expression shifted from curious to… mildly concerned? “This flower,” he said slowly, “is traditionally used in Briar Valley to signify deep betrayal…”

You blinked. Oh god.

“No, wait! I didn’t mean—!” you stammered, but before you could backtrack, your brain decided it had had enough. You blurted out the truth, no holds barred: “I like you, okay?! I’ve been a mess for weeks because of how ridiculously perfect you are, and I’m tired of avoiding you and hiding behind plants! So there!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Malleus stared at you, his eyes wide with shock, and then, much to your surprise (and relief), he broke into the widest smile you’d ever seen on him. It was like the moon had just gotten brighter.

“You’re confessing… to me?” he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine joy.

“Yes,” you groaned, face burning with embarrassment. “Now please reject me so I can go lie in a ditch somewhere.”

But instead of rejection, you got happy dragon noises. Malleus gently pulled you into his arms and, with a voice full of affection, declared, “You are mine, then. From this day forward, you are my beloved.”

Cue your soul leaving your body.

When you broke the news to your father the next day, the poor Duke nearly fainted at the sight of the Prince of Briar Valley standing there, flanked by Silver, Sebek, and Lilia, the former general grinning like the Cheshire cat.

The Duke was intimidated—terrified, really—and quickly agreed to let the courtship proceed. But there was a catch.

“You’ll have to tell the Crown Prince and the Hero Knight yourself,” your father said, his face pale. “I’m not getting involved in that.”

Your retirement plans had officially died.

Despite all the chaos that had entered your life since becoming Malleus's beloved, you had to admit—there were perks. One of those was what you’d come to call "fae luck." It became especially apparent during a particularly tense diplomatic meeting involving the fae, the beastmen, and your kingdom.

The room was filled with strained conversations, the kind of diplomacy that could either result in peace or war, depending on how fragile the egos in the room were. You were sitting between Malleus and the second prince, doing your best to avoid looking at the first prince, who had already been giving you way too much attention for comfort.

Then it happened.

The first prince, ever the picture of grace, rose to speak. As he took his first step forward… THUD. He tripped spectacularly, arms flailing, and landed directly in the lap of the Beastmen Queen. There was a collective gasp, and for a heartbeat, you thought maybe this could be saved—until he opened his mouth.

“Well, I guess I’ve… fallen for you!”

Silence.

The Beastmen Queen's expression froze. The fae delegation collectively facepalmed, and you could practically feel the tension suffocating the room.

And then the Beastmen were on their feet, growling and demanding the immediate removal of the first prince from the line of succession. One of their diplomats, fur bristling with indignation, roared, “This is an insult to our Queen! Remove this fool from the throne!”

Instead of apologizing, as a normal, sane person might have, the first prince, face red with embarrassment, dug himself even deeper. “It was a joke! Can’t you beastmen take a joke? Honestly, I don’t see why everyone’s so sensitive.”

The Beastmen's amger intensified, and you saw the Emperor and Empress—who had been trying desperately to maintain order—sink deeper into their seats, their expressions a mix of horror and resignation. The entire room was teetering on the brink of an international incident.

And then… you spotted it.

A little green wisp, barely visible, flitting through the air right around where the prince had been standing before his magnificent face-plant.

You glanced toward Malleus, who was sitting beside you, looking perfectly composed, save for the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Beside him, Lilia gave you a knowing wink, his mischievous grin unmistakable.

They caused this.

Within moments, the decision was made: the first prince was officially removed as heir to the throne. His younger brother, the second prince—who had always been calm, composed, and infinitely more capable—was declared the new Crown Prince.

It was glorious.

But before you could celebrate, the first prince turned toward you, his expression sour and filled with desperation. "You—" he began, as if about to drag you into his misery.

Not today, prince.

Finally given the chance to reject him properly, you rose from your seat, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh as you faced him.

“I’ve been waiting so long to say this,” you began, crossing your arms and locking eyes with him. “I reject you. Completely. Wholly. Utterly. There is not a single fiber in my being that has ever been remotely interested in you. In fact, the only thing that’s ever kept me in proximity to you was the sheer necessity of survival.”

The first prince’s mouth opened, but you weren’t done.

“Remember all those times you made those comments about my ‘station’ and how ‘lucky’ I was to be considered by you?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything back then because I was too polite, but now? No thanks. Absolutely not. I would rather spend a century in the swamps than a minute more listening to you.”

Sebek, of all people, burst into laughter. “She’s got a point!” he managed between snickers. Lilia was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and Silver, barely awake, gave a lazy thumbs-up in support.

Malleus, meanwhile, looked positively enchanted. His eyes sparkled as he watched you lay into the former prince, pride and affection written all over his face. When you were done, he leaned toward you, murmuring with a soft smile, “I do love seeing you stand up for yourself.”

The first prince, his face red with humiliation, stammered, “You can’t speak to me like that!”

“Oh, but I just did,” you replied with a sweet smile. “And you know what? It felt amazing.”

With that, the first prince slunk away, his tail metaphorically between his legs, while the room buzzed with whispered laughter. Even the Beastmen, who had been ready to rip the prince to shreds, seemed satisfied.

You had never felt more victorious. Malleus looked at you with such adoration, and Lilia… well, Lilia looked like he was already planning his next round of mischief.

It was a good day.

The festival was going about as smoothly as a cat in a bathtub. You were trying to act like you weren’t hopelessly entangled with the most dangerously attractive fae prince in existence, while also managing to survive the company of your absurd entourage.

Sebek was marching around, loudly reminding anyone within earshot of his unwavering devotion to Lord Malleus. His eyes would dart to you occasionally, like he was calculating whether you were worthy of being in the same airspace as his revered master. Silver, half-asleep, was keeping one lazy yet disturbingly sharp eye on you, while Lilia was in his element—practically vibrating with amusement, like he was waiting for you to trip and fall into a cauldron of chaos.

And then there was the Hero Knight. This guy had shown up uninvited, all shiny armor and noble delusions, insisting he protect you from… something? Yourself? Malleus? Winning too many festival games?

“Are you sure you’re safe?” the Hero Knight asked, sidling up far too close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve heard stories about these fae festivals. One wrong step, and you’ll be cursed to dance for a hundred years, or worse—turned into a tree.”

You squinted at him. “Right. I’ll make sure to avoid the face-painting booth. Wouldn’t want to end up as a shrub for eternity.”

Malleus, ever patient, simply raised an eyebrow, as if contemplating whether this so-called Hero Knight was worth the oxygen he was breathing. Lilia, meanwhile, was biting his lip to stop from laughing.

But then, amid your rising frustration, you spotted it: the holy grail of festival prizes. The gargoyle plushie.

It wasn’t just any gargoyle plushie. It was perfect. Chunky, with tiny wings and a slightly disgruntled expression, it radiated the exact energy you associated with Malleus—regal, intimidating, yet somehow huggable.

You pointed at it like you’d just discovered a hidden treasure. “I need that.”

Malleus, ever-attentive, followed your gaze and smiled softly. “Do you desire the gargoyle?”

“Obviously! It’s basically you in plushie form,” you said, already walking toward the game stall. “But, you know, it’s rigged. All festival games are.”

Malleus watched you with his trademark elegant amusement. “Perhaps I can—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m winning this fair and square. No fae magic, no dragon lord intervention. Just pure skill.”

You grabbed the darts, took a deep breath, and began your assault on the rigged game. It wasn’t easy. The darts bounced, the targets mocked you, and you could feel the Hero Knight hovering over your shoulder like a bad itch.

“Are you sure this is wise?” the Hero Knight asked again, his voice dripping with concern. “This feels like a trap. What if they’ve enchanted the darts? What if—”

You whirled on him, fed up. “Listen, Sir Gallant-with-too-much-hair-gel, it’s a dart game. Not an assassination plot. If I can survive dealing with you, I think I can handle a few rigged targets.”

Lilia absolutely lost it. He doubled over, wheezing in laughter, while Silver let out an amused snort. Even Sebek looked like he was struggling not to smirk, though he quickly composed himself.

Malleus, ever regal, simply smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I have faith in your abilities, my dear.”

Fueled by that comment—and the knowledge that the Hero Knight was slowly losing what remained of his dignity—you managed to hit the final target. The plushie was yours.

Triumphantly, you grabbed the gargoyle and turned to Malleus. “For you.”

Malleus, to your utter delight, looked genuinely touched. His eyes softened, and that rare, warm smile appeared. “You won this for me?”

“Obviously,” you said, trying not to melt under his gaze. “A prince should have his own gargoyle.”

Silver, who had been observing the entire scene with increasing clarity despite his usual drowsiness, raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

Sebek, who was still processing the fact that you’d just casually given his lord a gargoyle plushie, grunted. “You… you truly care for Lord Malleus.”

Before you could say anything, the Hero Knight, still floundering, piped up. “Well, I could’ve won that gargoyle too, you know. If you wanted to—”

“Oh, please,” you cut him off, turning to the Knight. “You probably would’ve asked the stall vendor to throw in a manual on ‘How to Not Be a Total Wet Blanket at Festivals.’”

Lilia nearly collapsed. “Oh, please stop—I can’t—” he gasped, clearly having the time of his life.

You waved him off and turned back to Malleus, who was still holding the plushie with the same reverence one might reserve for an ancient relic. “Shall we continue?”

Next up was a couple’s game. You had no intention of participating—until you noticed the Hero Knight gearing up to suggest that he join in to protect you. Oh no. Not today. You grabbed Malleus’ arm and dragged him into the game, completely ignoring the Knight’s sputtering objections.

“It’s… it’s traditionally for couples…” Silver noted, giving you a look that clearly said, I see what’s happening here.

You ignored him too.

The game was simple enough: throw rings onto bottles, but for some reason, the tension was palpable. Probably because you were standing next to one of the most powerful beings in existence, and you’d dragged him into a ridiculous couples’ game in front of his overly protective retinue.

But you won. And to rub salt in the Hero Knight’s ego, you fed Malleus one of the sweets you’d won.

“Y-You!” Sebek spluttered, looking as though you’d just committed the highest treason against decorum. “Feeding Lord Malleus… this… this is too much!”

The Hero Knight, on the other hand, looked utterly baffled. “Are you… are you sure that’s safe? What if the sweets are—”

“I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m going to feed you to the fairies,” you hissed, snapping the sweet in half and popping it into Malleus’ mouth. He smiled as he ate it, clearly enjoying himself.

By the time the fireworks started, you had somehow survived the night without murdering the Hero Knight. The sky exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors, and for a brief moment, it was peaceful.

And then, without thinking, you kissed Malleus.

There was a split second of stunned silence. And then all hell broke loose.

Sebek let out a screech that could rival a banshee. “My Lord! My Lord!” His voice cracked in disbelief, but then—surprisingly—he softened. “If… If Lord Malleus must fall for a human, I am glad it is someone… as devoted as you. My lady.”

You looked at him, touched. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Silver gave a rare smile, looking both amused and resigned. “Congratulations. You’ve managed to pull this off somehow.”

Lilia, predictably, was still dying of laughter, barely able to breathe between fits of wheezing.

And the Hero Knight? He looked like someone had just told him vampires were real and lived next door. “This… I… What…?”

You turned to him with a smile that could cut steel. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’ve been trying to tell you for months that I wasn’t interested. I’d rather kiss a gargoyle than you—actually, no. The gargoyle’s got more charm. Better conversation skills too.”

Lilia was full-on cackling now, leaning against a festival stall for support as the Hero Knight’s dignity shriveled up into nothingness.

Malleus, looking absolutely radiant, wrapped an arm around your waist. “Shall we depart? I believe we have a kingdom to return to.”

The next day, you stood with Malleus and his merry band of chaos, bidding farewell to your parents and butler. The Duke was still recovering from the heart attack Malleus had given him when he asked for your hand in courtship.

As you waved to your family, Malleus gently took your hand, leading you toward the carriage that would take you to Briar Valley.

“Well,” you muttered as you glanced back one last time, “this story of mine took a weird turn.”

Lilia, still grinning like a fiend, chimed in. “Oh, just wait until the sequel.”

The last thing you heard as the carriage rolled away was the Hero Knight muttering in the distance, “I could’ve won that gargoyle…”

You smiled. Maybe the webnovel wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Ahh I hope y'all like this one, malleus is one of my favs and I had so much fun writing him.

The Kalim one is being edited because it's a little too somber for me and I wanna make it a little more fun and Azul one is almost fully edited too!

So, here's a poll for the one after these. (They'll all get a turn)

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[tame-the-lion-writes]

cat shifter reader x 141 pt.5

(Some angst today, but not without the added comfort.) CW: implied past abuse

Though you've had plenty of time to grow closer with the boys, they still haven't seen you as--well--you. Not since you first got sick.

The next time isn't the most fun, either.

You'd returned after another day hunting rodents--this time voluntarily, since you've witnessed how disappointed Gaz looks when seeing chewed-through grain sacks. You tell yourself it's only a returned favor; he did cook for you while you were sick, after all, and you don't like having unpaid debts. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Still, you huffed at the now-dried mud clinging to your fur--the result after a chase through the pig pen. Ghost seemed to notice, too, and scooped you up before you could dirty the wood floors inside the house, muttering something about you being too dirty to go trapsing around the place.

You let out a disgruntled meow, thinking he'd just throw you back out to wash your paws with the outdoor facet. Too tired to fight back, really. But instead, he heads to the bathroom.

And your heart drops.

You wriggle around, but the man just won't let go.

"Don't be like that. You need a bath. I already warmed the tub," he argues, wrapping you in a towel from the linen closet to try and avoid more scratches. You'd been doing so well, having let them carry you around most days. What now?

"Don't think she cares much for water," Price says, having just walked in as well. "Might be human somewhere in there, but she's a cat all the same."

"Even cats need baths once in a while. Especially this one," Ghost mutters. But as soon as he lowers you, and your paws hit the surface of the water--

"NO!"

In a blink, you're human--scrambling to stay in Ghost's arms with reckless abandon, your own hands wrapped around his neck and legs around his torso.

"What the!--"

He's about to lash back reactively when he sees the fear in your eyes--teary--and the shudder, the shaking of your shoulders before you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

"Not the water, not the water--" you mumble over and over again, hiccupping softly. Your cheeks are red as apples from the anxiety, and knuckles white as snow. It's clear that this is no simple dislike, but something more. Something that makes you cling to even him--to think, the man you've been so keen on despising.

But a man you think cares for you nonetheless.

"Hey, hey," Ghost eases, grip softening into something still firm but gentle. "Won't do nothin' you really don't like. Promise," he sighs, backing away from the tub. As soon as you're out of the bathroom, you calm down somewhat, though you refuse to speak or explain. Just sniffle in the awkward quiet before shifting back and bumping your head repeatedly into Ghost's chest--this time, grateful he hadn't let go. Price's idle talk fills the empty space.

"Easy now," the Captain mumbles, placing a hand to the top of your head. "You're alright."

They don't know why you're scared, and it's not as though you've offered any explanation. Despite your words, you seem fine with water itself--they've seen you paw at the water pouring from the sink, or dipping your feet in shallow--

In shallow water.

"... You think she had previous owners?" Price says slowly, watching as Ghost cradles you, frozen in gentleness.

"Don't know. Dunno if I wanna think about it."

_

Bonus Thoughts:

Ghost is extra nice to you after this. I think we (breaking the fourth wall as actual readers) know why. You've got a temper; he's got a temper. You're stubborn; he's stubborn. And for fairly similar reasons.

It's also him who brings up giving you your own room first. "Can't have her stay in Soap's forever," is his only explanation. They have an extra office they use as a storage space, anyway.

"Since when did you get all soft on the cat?"

"'m not soft."

[thesirenisles]

Based on research and observation. If it does not apply, let it fly. Copyright Protected. All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles

“I lay at your feet. Your body is my temple.

Searching for eternity within you.”

aries

FIRESTARTER These natives desire fireworks and a whirlwind of passion in a relationship. Women can be like trap-hunters, rather than warrior-style direct. They'll set the trap for their target and pounce with feral efficiency. With this dynamic, the native can possess a voracious sex drive. This is because when Mars comes into contact with Venus, it is like a kid in a candy shop! Mars asserts and Venus indulges. Inhibitions are of no worry. They are in their element. A blend of the physical and sensual. Sexual attraction, power, and even attention could be factors in the choosing of their mate. But, the power must come with ACTION. They want the spontaneous lover that pops up with plane tickets and a "Surprise! We're going on a trip!" They need high energy, vibrant lovers that are all about them. The rush of adrenaline and desire is a MUST. Being a stick-in-the-mud or boring is the quickest way to turn them off. The problem here is that when Aries does rush in and attain the object of their desire, they are often disillusioned in some way. Sometimes it isn't what they expected or... they get bored and realize it was more about the chase. And there begets the plot. There is much to learn in matters of love in this lifetime with this placement. Ideally, these lovers need someone who will join them on their explorations and keep the spark of youth alive. Motion is vital. Drama is welcomed.

taurus

MATERIAL GIRL Sugar baby indicator. Venus is in her domicile here and the energy is lovely. Lush green gardens, pearlescent royal baths, and water adorned with rose petals. Venusian vibes! This native often has a natural aesthetic, being inherently prideful of their own beauty. I notice that they aim to perfect the "barely there" makeup. Women probably ask you for advice all the time and this placement has the tips! Great skin placement, unless otherwise chart afflicted. Blessed with all of these gifts, they want a worthy suitor. A PROVIDER. This native wants security, both in spirit and the physical. Comfort. Quality. Elegance. You must be consistent to win this lover. They want the man who believes in honoring his word. (Jon Snow vibes) The love needs cannot be met with a flighty lover. In their boudoir, you can expect to have all of the senses tantalized. Good eats (does not mean they have to cook, but they def know the best food spots), soft fabrics, sweet aromas, and tender touches! They are very physically intuitive and their partner must be able to speak fluent body language and love them tenderly. They want commitment ideally. They are the mature princesses, waiting on the one with whom she can spend forever. A stable, mature, and responsible partner. No dusties! Love is just not enough to overcome financial hardship for this native & that’s fine! Adhere to your standards!

gemini

WORDSMITH With this placement, Venus grasps the caduceus and takes flight with Gemini qualities of language, trickery, and a thirst for knowledge. Got rizz? I hope so, because it takes quite a tongue to dazzle this native. Sapiosexual indicator. Party over here!! Jokes. Laughter. Witty Banter. Quite popular, they can often meet their partners among friends and engaging in diverse conversations, sometimes online. These varying social circles create new experiences and the Gemini is more than open to them. (; I imagine this placement with cupid energy! Winged love goddess, fluttering from heart to heart and making people fall in love! This can be online, in person, over the phone, by letter... they're diverse! They leave a string of broken hearts in their wake, often too busy with their laundry list of hobbies to provide closure. "It was fun while it lasted!" The Venus in Gemini native wants to survey their options. In love, they desire an open air of communication and a partner that will never judge or rain on their parade. Being closed minded or vapid is a major turn off. You must be able to hold up your end of the conversation because this native loves mental connection. No dramatic displays of emotion needed. Similar to Aries, there is much to learn here before one can settle down successfully and that’s okay! Get out there and live!

cancer

QUEEN OF CUPS Venus saunters in the sand and basks in the moonlight that beckons the tide that is her tears. Happy tears. Sad tears. Doesn’t matter. She is deeply emotional here, nurturing, and an intuitive lover. Feminine energy is second nature, but in a cardinal disposition. Venus in Cancer has the ability to create safe spaces for their lovers to feel freely. This is perfect because this lover desires, on a soul level, to be needed. They want someone a bit needy and even dependent upon them for emotional security. Cry babies are welcomed. They do not mind the mama's boy, even. This side of either lover may not even be known to others or publicly. But, those who know them personally, have witnessed the crazy displays of passion. They need emotional transparency. Their Cancer claws want to take hold of their lover, console them, and wipe their tears. Venus here is the emotional life guard coming to their lover's rescue, utilizing the moonlight to guide them through the ocean of emotions. Can you even tell if someone is crying in the ocean? No nonchalant or emotionally unavailable lovers welcome! They need an honest and open lover who is unafraid to be vulnerable. EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE is key. When young, the cancer can attract the emotionally unavailable types... but they will not fill the cups of this deserving queen. Soul bonds are formed with this placement. and people can become attached to your healing or nurturing abilities.

leo

SOVEREIGN Powerful placement! Venus struts in the rays of the sun for an adoring crowd. Gold exudes from her womanly form. She is proud and fierce. The Sun and Venus collaborate to create a dazzling energy that attracts a sea of suitors. GLITZ. GOLDEN GLOW. GLAMOUR. However, this native desires a lover who equally glows! They are looking for their royal consort.. a king or queen with whom they can rule. The aesthetics or status of their partner matter here and they prefer to have arm candy. The type that will increase their value to the public, thus flattering the Ego (sun). Extravagance. Luxury. Grand gestures of Romance lol. But, very often absolutely stunning! This native desires to be seen and adored while in love. Their coupling can be considered the "couple's goals" type. Definitely posts their love on social media. They may shower their lover with their energy, gifts, talents, and love. (Venus blesses them with an abundance of all.) But, they expect this and then some in return. DIVA. They are your Goddess and their body is the temple you worship. These purring cats demand attention, compliments, and genuine appreciation. These lovers do not desire a shy or reserved partner in matters of romantic expression. No insecurity is allowed! You must be ready to shine with the Venus in Leo native, not hold them back.

virgo

WIFE Venus is a gracious girl boss in Virgo. She brings beauty to daily routines and acts of service and values these activities. These are the hardworking hotties that manage to make it all look so aesthetically pleasing. Fresh-fruit infused water. High-quality skin care. Matching workout fits. Strict exercise regimen. These natives can quite literally spend their lives working to be the ideal Venus. The ultimate maiden. Very natural aesthetic, similar to Taurus. ORGANIZED. MATURE. FEMININE. Venus in Virgo loves to check off her task list. “Finding the perfect partner” is at the top. It'd be a lot easier if she wasn't so picky. A keen eye for detail makes for an unusual journey in love. (Think: Charlotte from SATC. Dumped a guy on the SPOT because his home decor preference was different than her own.) This native often believes that she is not picky at all and does not like to waste time. This is because she feels that these requirements are something every bachelor should have. COMPETENT. STABLE. RESPONSIBLE. She desires a type that completes their daily task list efficiently while managing to be a consistent lover. A PRACTICAL and sensible partner. No overly grand gestures are needed (chart could vary). Small actions hold the greater weight here, because the Virgo notices and appreciates the details. Well-Spoken. Honest. Book Smart. An intelligent, mature, and stable partner is ideal. Someone who can help or assist them in someway, making their lives flow easier. The intense or emotionally heavy relations are not typically for them, unless otherwise influenced in the chart. They want to be apart of something steady and trustworthy, in regards to long term relationships. Being of service & being serviced by a great partner.

libra

PRINCESS Venus is in her other ruled sign here, making for a harmonious placement. Venus in Libra attracts people like flies to honey & takes on the role of socialite here. Blessed with charm, the native impresses others in one on one contact. This opens many doors and begets many opportunities! They are the must-have on the guest list. They will come dressed, classy, and add value to the social atmosphere. They even dress aesthetically going to bed. This energy also begets followers! There is great social media potential here. In love, they desire someone with class or attractive status in some way. CLASS. AFFLUENCE. LUXURY. They like those who can create connections. Open doors. Authorize Purchases. Good manners. Proper dress. INTELLIGENCE. Charm and social skills are a must. Social status is even better. They want to be a wife to a powerful man usually, due to Sun's unfavorable positioning in Libra (in fall.) Marriage could be a foundational value. That means they are a bit picky. No dusties. No boring people. If you're a homebody, this is not the person for you. This placement can also be a bit shallow, preferring a partner that they feel a physical attraction to. Others must find them fine too! This reflects back on the Libra’s ego. They need open and clear communication to establish some kind of balance in their relationships. Equal partnership. Cardinal energy here is all about the pursuit of fine living, EXTRAVAGANT social experiences, and LAVISH settings. The lover must be an asset to this. These are the folks who post from Barbados on a Tuesday. We love to see it!

scorpio

SORCERESS Venus rises from the black waves of the Underworld reborn when in the sign of Scorpio. BOW DOWN. Your Goddess has entered the room. BEWITCHED. SPELLBOUND. Possibly many secret admirers. Many suitors are drawn to this native, for reasons they can’t explain. This native demands abject loyalty. They desire every ounce of affection, love, commitment, and passion within you. Even if that comes with obsessive tendencies or public professions of love and fealty. Venus becomes a savant in the world of sex, death, and regeneration. This native desires intense emotional exchanges. They want you to prove that you love them, but never with just words. This sorceress excels in the transmutation of energy. POWERFUL stuff. The witch is in the room. Screaming. Shouting. Crying. They welcome the emotions. Their love can render you a slave to their whims. They conjure emotion out of you, command your energy, and then proceed to have incredible makeup sex. WHEW. "I can't live without you." -A Scorpio Venus outside your house at 3AM. (the witching hour). These natives need a devoted lover who can offer security and good sex. Match their freak. Someone powerful but lowkey is ideal. The lover is ideally not loud, but commands respect and attention in other ways. Plutonian energy likes those silent, but deadly vibes. They do not tolerate the meek, timid, or disloyal for long. It wouldn't be smart to double cross these natives. One word. Vengeance. There is much to learn here, being in such a heavy sign. They are here to transform in love, while also transforming others. You will never forget this placement!

sagittarius

GLOBETROTTER Venus leaps upon the back of a magnificent stallion and rides through the annals of wisdom collected by Jupiter. She is a collector of wisdom, interesting artifacts, and exhilarating experiences. Venus stationed here is an indication that the native will have to undergo a travel or journey (Sag) in order to find love (Venus). This could be literal travel or mental enlightenment. Both are profoundly powerful and significant to the development of this soul. ADVENTURE. EXPLORING. TRAVEL TO FOREIGN LANDS. STUDYING ABROAD. Venus values learning from experience and expanding the mind here. Their lover must be a student or even teacher of life. Wise. Sagacious. Confident. Venus in Sagittarius brings luck (Jupiter) to the natives love life. They attract those who can seemingly teach them something, that assists them on their life path, and creates opportunities. This person must be incredible and one of a kind. A practical homebody will not cut it. They need a fascinating best friend and adventure partner for their odyssey through the splendors of this Earth. They possess the globetrotter energy. Passport ready. Spontaneous personalities are a plus. Surprise this native with tickets or an activity. Invest in their higher education. Their lovers can often be foreign in some way or attracted in the educational space.. where this native shines!

capricorn

MATRIARCH Venus in Capricorn moves with an air of royalty. She is almost too aware of the cosmic hands of time (Saturn) and she is serious about not wasting a second of it. "Do you have a savings account? Do you have any assets? Do you want to get married and have kids?" This is small talk for this native! You're not on a date, you are on a job interview and you can assure there are prerequisites! Venus here may present in the old money aesthetic, if not a classic look. She is WOMAN. Queen of Pentacles. AMBITION. STABILITY. SUCCESS. MATURITY. These natives desire a steady lover that promises structure and some type of status. They desire to build and create something great. Something ENDURING.Something for others to envy. "The Power Couple." Even if the lover does not have status, they must possess the desire to attain power by any means necessary. CUTTHROAT. BUSINESSMAN. MOGUL. TYCOON. Venus in Capricorn is looking for that fiery ambition in someone and they are attracted to those who show this potential. She desires to be by their side in support, but also adding her own value to the union or "business deal" LOL, These native do not like games or unserious characters that live for "exhilaration". They need physical, financial, and emotional stability to be fulfilled in love. They are looking for their life partner. Saturn tasks them with waiting for the one they desire. But, this will be worth the wait. Quality and true love.

aquarius

PEOPLE'S CHOICE Venus is high above the clouds in her sky castle within the heavens of Aaru. Here, the Goddess has the ability to charm the ENITRE collective at once. Social media potential! This native also has a ton of friends. Possibly several best friends. INNOVATION. GENIUS IDEAS. REBELLION. Uranus and Saturn convene with Venus on the matters of humanity. Venus in Aquarius is in love with humanity, while also being the love of humanity. They desire a lover who does not mind sharing their time when they feel the need to be a humanitarian. This is a true INDIVIDUAL. Their expression of Venus is unique and one of a kind. They may even redefine what the themes of Venus mean to them in this lifetime. In love, they desire a best friend. A confidant. They need a soul partner who is not overly emotional, but cool as a cucumber & light. LAUGHTER. LOGIC. FUN. Friends to Lovers. Someone ready to learn and explore NICHE topics. Someone who they can discuss literally anything with.. from conspiracies to futuristic world ideas. Uranus and Saturn create a very evolved character in matters of creating, but in love... there is much to learn. Love may not be high on the priority list. However, Venus rules balance and this native must learn to balance their lover vs the world. There may be something eccentric or unique about their lover, but this does not have to mean blue hair. It can simply be someone cut from a completely different cloth than they are used to.

pisces

SIREN Venus meets Neptune in a sprawling grotto. The primordial waters of Nun enrich Venus with a knowledge of all the signs. Venus is exalted here and she morphs into the perfect lover. Venus here has the ability to recreate (Primordial) herself into the likeness expected of her (water). SHAPESHIFTER. SIREN. GLAMOURS. Her sense of love is fluid. She inherently understands what all of the signs need. This is the Venus who can be an immaculate lover to every single one of the signs. Venus here is love incarnate. The catch is that Pisces cannot be fulfilled by all types of love. She may flirt with the idea of belonging to extremely different types of people. Venus here is a sensitive, PSYCHIC, and SPIRITUAL soul. She is in tune with the unconscious thoughts of the collective. Water can be soothing with regenerative qualities for this native after being drained. But, they usually willingly give this power up, due to weaker boundaries. This is the lover who already knows what to say, where to kiss, and what hurts. So much energy can be spent on their partner. Their love is potent and transcends the realm of physical feeling. When this person comes into your life, it’s most likely because you truly needed unconditional love. In a lover, this native needs someone to be their rock! They need a steady and consistent lover to bring stability to the waters of Pisces. More importantly, they need a SOULMATE. This yearning for soul connection can lead to rose-tinted glasses. The lover must be sensitive, spiritual, and in tune with the emotions of the Pisces Venusian. Their love must be a fated one, full of understanding. These lovers must beware the energy leeches and manipulators. Venus' energy here is SO potent, that a disturbed few may try to possess or capture it. Fatal attraction and even envy from others is possible.

Thank you for reading!!

Check out my blog for more in-depth astrology and mythology posts!

@thesirenisles | masterlist | venus mythology

© 2024 The Siren Isles All rights reserved.

[phantomrose96]

Prometheus

content warnings: horror. body horror. ghost show can have a little existential horror, as a treat! :)

...

Tucker and Danny sat as silhouettes in the Foley attic rec-room.

The ghoulish light of the television pinned their shadows against the back wall, pulsing in and out like fireflies at each flash of the screen. It left their backs drenched in darkness, and it made monoliths of the old furniture and piled-high boxes that wrapped the perimeter of the attic. Drafty air whistled through the gaps in the insulation. Plicks and flicks of moths beat in tone against the light of the television where the seal of the attic window failed to keep them out. Danny hounded the controller in his hands, clackering with each frenetic beat of his thumb while he mashed his buttons and leaned his full bodyweight into the assault he wrought, virtually until--

“BOOM!! Headshot!” Danny yelled with a pump of his fist. From his nonexistent peripheral vision, he could not see the way Tucker would not look at him.

“Come on, man,” Tucker said.

“Get it?” Danny asked.

“Dude, come on, like… Maybe don’t.”

Danny let out a disappointed huff of air from his nostril, spirits dampened. The wayward glow of his eye settled back on the screen: Victory blazoned across his split of the screen. You Died pulsed on Tucker’s. Danny mashed the rematch option. “Maybe get good then,” Danny said, “and then you get to make the bad puns.”

“Sorry man look I’m just—tired okay?”

“Yeah I know—”

“You can be goofy about it tomorrow—”

“I know—”

“I promise it’ll be hilarious then just—”

“Okay okay, I get it. I’ll save the jokes—”

“How much longer?”

“Hmm?”

Danny looked, and Tucker was looking now too, and it was taking all concentrated will on Tucker’s face to keep looking.

“How much longer until you’re like… You know.”

4am chimed from the grandfather clock stowed in the Foley attic. The ghostly sheen of the television splashed bright and pallid across the right side of Tucker’s face, as he stared at Danny. And it splashed bright across the left side of Danny’s face, which was the only side of Danny’s face remaining.

“I don’t know like… maybe 3 more hours, I think?” A lisp whistled from the absent flesh of his jawbone.

Tucker watched his lips. And his eyes drifted to the shadow carved dark and empty in the socket that could no longer see him, a merciful concealment of where skin turned to raw exposed flesh turned to bone.

Tucker looked forward again, and he mashed his thumbs into his own controller. Danny’s character’s skull exploded into a cloud of meat-rain before Danny had the chance to notice the match resume.

“Fine. I can do 3 more hours,” Tucker said. “And start watching your head.”

…

It wasn’t until the camping trip 4 months ago that Danny knew anything was strange.

It was a yearly Fenton tradition, which Danny tolerated and Jazz dreaded, to haul the four of them and the RV out into some swampy campground 3 hours from home. They’d roll in roaring, RV stuffed to the brim with wilderness equipment and enough mechanical monstrosities to scare away all actual wildlife. All except for the fish, who had the disadvantage of not seeing the mechanical affront to God parked with questionable legality on the campgrounds.

This year, Danny had decided he was embracing it. Because for the first time, sitting grubby and wet in the mud for 3 days sounded much nicer than his typical weekend plans, which was mainly getting his ass kicked by ghosts. He’d flagged down Valerie a week ahead of time to tell her, between gunshots, that he’d be absent for those 3 days. Valerie had taken equal offence at the request that she pick up Phantom’s slack, and the implication that she wasn’t already doing that.

But it meant the ghosts were covered for the weekend, and it meant Danny was free to do nothing more exciting than sit in the mud, which was all well and good enough for Danny. Although his hopes of leaving the weekend with the same number of scars he started with were dashed by hour 5. It was his own fault too. Jack had insisted Danny gut the fish Jack caught via a blast of the Fenton Disintegrator to the lake (unconventional, not even a fishing device, a ghost weapon he and Maddie were fine-tuning. A ranger came and yelled at them about it.) And while distracted by his parents getting told off for being menaces, Danny miscalculated the slipperiness of both fish and knife.

Luckily the RV was, among many many things, a hospital on wheels, and Jazz had quit sulking long enough to take a morbid fascination in cleaning Danny’s palm out with antiseptic that burned like acid and bandaging up his palm. For dinner that night, Danny ate his open-flame grilled fish with a little more prejudice than usual.

By Saturday, his hand hadn’t healed. Nor by Sunday. And on Sunday evening while Maddie and Jack busied themselves with packing up the tent they’d both invented and yet struggled to collapse back into its box, Danny flagged Jazz with quiet urgency.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hand.”

“Wrong how?”

“Infected, maybe.”

Jazz knit her brow in concern. “It looked fine this morning,” she muttered as she pulled Danny down onto the stump beside her and flipped open the First Aid kit latch. She unraveled Danny’s bandage layer by layer, and the concerned knit to her brow loosened to confusion.

“It looks fine. It’s barely even red.”

Danny snatched his hand back. “Yeah, and it’s barely healed at all.”

“I mean, it’s healed a little bit.”

“Yeah but. Barely.”

“It looks pretty normal.”

“Jazz my day-job is getting whacked with ghost machetes,” Danny said, tone growing a little tense at Jazz’s lack of concern. “I know how quickly cuts are supposed to heal.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“I mean. It depends. But like a day.”

“A day?”

“Or maybe 25 hours, I guess.”

“Danny, you cut yourself pretty deep.”

“26 hours max, literally.”

Jazz was staring. Danny felt awkwardly judged.

“Hey um, as a question Danny, do you remember the last injury you got before your ghost powers?”

Danny hesitated. He racked his brain and some part of him felt a little embarrassed how hard he had to search, as if it were shameful to have been so delicately uninjured before this whole thing.

“…Dash, maybe. But Dash it good at the kind of quick jabby punches that hit your nerve but don’t bruise.”

“Anything else?”

Danny fell quiet. Then brightened. “I fell off my bike last year. Racing Tucker. Scraped up my shin and knee.”

“And how long did that take to heal?”

The delight faded a bit. Danny thinned his lips thinking. “…Maybe a while.”

“Probably a few weeks.”

“Jeez, really? No.” Danny said. And he so deeply wanted to be offended, because he’d become the biggest expert in the family on getting his skin used as a ghost shrapnel canvas, which should make him the authority on injury healing. And Jazz was doubting all of that. “No. That’d heal in like. A day.”

“Maybe with ghost powers,” Jazz answered. “Maybe in ghost form. Which, currently and for the last 3 days, you have not been in.”

Danny fell quiet. He considered this information that deeply annoyed him until, with grudgingness edging to acceptance, he looked at his hand, and then his sister, and then his hand.

“….Oh.”

That night, home and showered and with the clock creeping toward 1am, Danny sat on his bed. He pooled his hands in his lap, lit by the moonlight pouring through his bedroom window. He sat an inch above his bed, in fact, hair shimmery white and his right glove removed. In the wash of moonlight he watched his palm. And there was something haunting, almost, in the way he could see the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together bit by tiniest bit. He lost himself in a grainy infomercial on his television, and when it ended, his cut was gone.

…

Phantom returned to the ghost fighting scene with an unwarranted new confidence. In truth nothing had changed. But Danny operated now with the knowledge that he was a particular kind of resilient that he’d not actually realized before. And while he did not like getting fileted by Skulker’s ghost gut-hook knife, or seared by Ember’s flame guitar, or bonked in the head by Fenton Bolas (Dad why), there was a certain delight in the “This will all not be a problem by tomorrow”-ness of it all.

Even better, he now knew that just idling in ghost mode for an extra hour or two was all it took to be right as rain again. (“This is making your Gameboy addiction worse than Tucker’s,” Sam had commented. “Well how else am I supposed to pass the time?” Danny asked while mashing buttons with one less finger than usual. “You could read a book.”)

On the flipside, it did make Danny grouchier about mid-school-day attacks, which didn’t afford him the luxury of floating around to bake in ghost mode for an hour or two watching bad tv. And unless Mr. Lancer got real chill real fast with Danny Phantom taking Danny Fenton’s English tests, it meant that any school-time fight injury had to be dealt with conventional human-style, and super-healed after school.

And Danny carried this knowledge with more bitterness than usual one fall afternoon when a fight with Technus had already gouged into the first 15 minutes of his math test, and now Danny was going to have to suck it up for the last 45 minutes if he wanted to pass geometry this quarter. Which was bullshit because that last blast Technus got on him had really fucking hurt.

Danny landed, and in his math-induced funk, he missed the particular wide-eyed way Sam and Tucker stared at him. “Here,” Danny said, handing off the thermos to Tucker, and Danny let his human transformation slip through in rings around his sternum.

“Danny stop,” Sam said, and with an urgent breathlessness that froze Danny in place. “Do not turn back.”

Confusion seeped into Danny’s blood. He let the transformation rings fade away, and he felt the thermos heavy in his outstretched hand that Tucker would not take. Heavy and wet. Heavy, and very very wet.

He looked at his hand, and his white glove was unrecognizable beneath the saturation of red. The thermos dropped from his hand, and suddenly Danny wasn’t so sure which direction was up.

“Sit,” Sam maybe said, or said something like it. Her hands were on his shoulders. He was easing in a direction that was probably down. His butt hit cold pavement. And suddenly he raked in a shuddering breath which was wet as mud.

Sam was pulling away the top of his suit, which was the worst possible place for her to do that considering how much it hurt. She was pulling right where Technus had blasted him, and Danny had half a mind to tell her off until he saw what was underneath the fabric.

“That’s not good,” he bubbled out through a lot of blood in his mouth and throat.

Baseball-sized. Like someone had taken a very large hole-puncher right to his sternum. A very good hole-puncher because it had in fact punched him straight through and run off with the little cut-out it stole. Globby flesh spilled to fill in some of the empty space. But a solid chunk of sternum, and heart, and lung, and spine, were rudely elsewhere.

Danny was in a very slippery wet dream, and his fluttering eyes agreed.

“No,” Sam said with an unnecessarily aggressive pinch of his skin. “Absolutely do not fall asleep.”

“Ow,” Danny said, maybe about the pinch but also his missing organs.

This wasn’t good enough for Sam who was a little bit ghost-shaded herself while she grabbed both Danny’s ears tight and angled Danny’s eyes to hers. “If you turn human now that’s going to be very very bad. You’re fine, Danny. You’re just in shock, I think. Focus on me. Come on, count with me Danny. 1. 2.”

“Isn’t counting sheep supposed to put you to sleep?” Danny quipped, but all the blood gurgling maybe ruined his delivery a little.

…

His heart sewed itself back together in 20 minutes. His esophagus and trachea kindly followed at the 27-minute mark, the last of the tubage knitting itself together and forming the correct kind of air-seal against anything else in his chest cavity. That was a blessing, because passing the time was easier when he could talk without re-enacting the elevator from The Shining – a joke Danny had tried to deliver several times and which refused to land.

And while he still did not have his new spine vertebrae nor sternum by the 30-minute mark, Danny could see the way the last of the white fear had left Sam’s face and the way Tucker could now face him directly. And that told him that however he looked, he no longer looked like someone who was going to die.

By the 1-hour mark, Danny sat drenched in his own blood from a fatal wound that no longer existed. And he’d missed his math test.

…

Super healing was cool. Very cool. What other kind of power lets you just walk away from fatal injuries?

At the close of a ghost fight, thermos capped, swimming in the eerie silence of a street cleared of screams, Danny stood. And he shivered. He ran his hands up and down his stomach, his chest, his back his face, pressing any pain-point to discover if his fingers would sink in wet and deep. Was it safe to transform back? If he made a mistake, would he notice fast enough? Would he be able to turn back again in time?

Alone in the snow of the Amity golf course. The roof of the mall. The back archives of the library. Danny lingered. Many places were good for lingering, and so Danny would linger, wherever and whenever he could. It made that held-breath feeling of transforming back easier, to know no part of him was at risk of undoing him.

And sometimes his hand did come away sticky. And in the black of night Danny went home, mindful to step only on the kitchen tile from which blood could be wiped up cleanly. And he was tired from too many nights of this when he pulled cereal from the cupboard and splashed milk into a bowl and cleared away the nuts and bolts from the half-undressed Fenton Disintegrator (undergoing v2 upgrades) and flickered the noxious glow of the muted television to life while his liver stitched itself back together. The tremble would not quite leave his cereal spoon hand but he’d manage.

One night Walker had blasted off half of Danny’s skull. And he lay shaking hunched on the pavement willing himself to overcome the pangs of shock radiating through his body until he had enough composure to call Tucker on the phone and ask if he could come over, if they could play Man vs. Zombie maybe, and stay awake through the night while his brain matter remade itself.

One night he had to grab Valerie by the ankle before she flew off, and she probably only heeded him because the break in Phantom’s superhero bravado unnerved her so much. “Please just stay and talk to me. Something bad will happen if I fall asleep,” he said, while holding the parts that used to be his stomach. “Define ‘bad.’” “I’ll die.” “Sounds like a human.” She shouldn’t have taken pity on him. But she did. Maybe because she was a human who would die like Danny if left on the pavement with her stomach open. Valerie stayed until the sun rose.

And he was lucky, because as a human he should have died. And Danny didn’t. He just came close, more and more and more. Until the sight of a raised ghost weapon forced a very human flinch from him.

…

“…losing an edge, you’d say, Craig?” “Not exactly. As a psychiatrist who’s worked with many veterans and active-duty soldiers, it’s common to—”

“Morning,” Jack said, flipping up his welding mask just long enough to nod to Danny before re-busying himself in his soldering.

“Dad, do you think maybe you could do that in the lab?” Jazz asked over a bowl of cornflakes, with a tone one might use when asking a 10-year-old to move his basketball game outside.

“Hmm, why? The table won’t catch fire.”

“Which is what you said last time,” Jazz said, carefully plucking up a cooled bit of metal scrap from beside her cereal bowl.

“…ffered many fatal injuries on camera, who knows how many weren’t capt—”

The television drowned beneath the screech of Jack’s welding, let up to breathe for moments at a time before Jack resumed the drowning. Danny’s eyes followed. The refurbished Fenton Disintegrator had nearly reformed, bigger than its original body, with a gaping fish-mouth twice the radius of the thing which had blasted up the fish in the campground lake.

“I just think, Dad, that you and Mom have a whooooole laboratory basement to yourselves, and I have just this one dining table to eat cereal at, so—”

“But then you kids would miss out on what I’m making. See, Danny’s interested. Danny, watch this—”

Jack hoisted the monster up. He hitched it atop his shoulder, and set his eye behind its sight, and twisted at the hip to point its open maw directly at Danny.

Danny froze.

“Dad, Jesus, at least show some trigger-discipline if you’re—Danny?”

Danny could not move. He could not move or really see. The shockwave rippled through him, and he believed for the moment that surely he’d been shot until Jazz shook him. “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny’s heart was intact but still it squeezed like it had been ripped. His legs were whole but they were numb beneath him. And he was useless too. Over what? Over nothing. Over a gun pointed at him, the sort which had been pointed at him 4,000 times before.

“…Danny?” Jazz asked, more worried than before. Jack had put down the gun, and he was staring at Danny in the same way.

And it was stupid. So very stupid. Because Danny had super-healing, and a hit from something like that would heal. It could rip him apart, and he’d be completely fine.

So it was all actually incredibly incredibly stupid that he was somehow, without even meaning to, crying.

…

The fight had ended three hours ago. And three hours was longer than only the worst of his injuries took to heal. Tonight had not been bad at all, just a bit of ripping and tearing at his leg from a bear-trap Skulker had laid (despite Skulker insisting he did not know what a bear was). And that had healed up in 20 minutes flat.

Danny lingered anyway, sitting soaking cold in the snow on the golf course. He liked that it was high-up here. He liked that the lights fanned far and wide. He liked that the razed-flat golf turf allowed nothing to hide. He wiled away the hours he ought to be sleeping, because there was a security in consciousness, in his ghost form. If he slept, he could be killed. And if he sat resting in ghost form on the crest of the golf course hill, he could not.

But he could nod off. Catching his head at each dip. But his mind fizzled and faded, rubbing against the staticky edge of sleep, enough to perhaps not notice steps in the snowfall that tracked him to where he sat.

The whir of the charging gun kicked him to high alert.

All alert, all at once, so suddenly adrenaline soaked that Danny had no sense of orientation when he spun on spot and his eyes drank in the sight of the barrel-mouth breathing to life in his direction.

“Told you I fixed the calibration on this, Honey.”

“Well at least it’s not a fish.”

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he was paralyzed. He was dread. He was stone.

It screeched. And it roared. And with a connection of a car crash, it took greedily for itself a gibbous moon of Danny’s torso.

He collapsed. Eyes spinning. Ears ringing. Sensation like fire and like ice and like buzzing static and nothing, feeling, at all to connect to his legs.

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he needed a mouth for that. So the second blast connected.

…

It had been an amount of time. Jack and Maddie Fenton may have stooped in the snow and collected samples to study. Danny could not know, because he’d need eyes to know. They may have crunched with their boots and mused about the resilience of ecto-flesh, more resilient than fish-flesh. Danny could not know, because he’d need ears to know. They may have picked him up piece-meal and carried him in their pockets. Danny could not know. Not without touch.

He may have been on the golf course. He may not have been. There was no ‘where’ Danny could know. He needed his proprioception for that.

There was was. There was something Danny hoped was be. This was, Danny hoped, awake. This was the only awake he could be without a brain. And if this was awake, how long could he last? And if this was awake, was it enough to heal again?

Super healing was cool. It saved you from death. But maybe not always.

Was time passing…? Was the snow cold. Was the wind blowing. Was the hilltop white under pooling lights. Was it. And did it. And was he and did he.

Was time passing?

Surely, it had been just an eternity, by now. An eternity at least.

Or had it been only one second.

Or Danny wasn’t here.

He was, though. He had to exist to feel what he felt in the moment. He had to exist even if he was deprived of the mouth needed to scream the agony that was, in its entirety, him.

…

Sun glazed the snow on the east bank of the golf course down to a slushy sheen by 10am the next morning. Mitted, in snow boots, three trespassers combed the 18 holes of Amity Park Golf Course.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Sam asked, voice hoarse with a question that had been repeated once an hour for the last three hours between heaving breaths of clearing snow.

“It has to be this one. They said golf course there’s only one golf course,” Jazz answered, and her hands trembled against the heel of the shovel she dug into her nearest snowbank.

“Do you see any foot prints?”

“They’re melted.”

“Well check the melted sides then!”

“We checked the melted sides.”

“Maybe we missed—”

“Guys shut up,” Tucker said, and he said it low, and he said it with lips the color of ash. He stood rooted. And his eyes shifted to the crown of the hill 30 feet to their right.

Jazz and Sam shut up. Because they heard it too.

Jazz abandoned her shovel in the snow. She ran. But Sam was faster.

And it was a noise. Long and piercing and deflating. Quiet. Then starting fresh from the top. Long and singular, like the note of a bagpipe. Sam rounded the crest of the hill. And she found the noise first.

And this close, she realized what it was. The noise was relief. Because the thing lying in the melted snow was finally enough of a mouth, and enough of a throat, and enough of a lung, to scream.

[synqiri]

WHO DID THIS TO YOU?

or, how he reacts when you are hurt.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: brief mentions of blood

WORDCOUNT: 0.9K || CONTENT: fluff, slice of life, he tends to your wounds

NOTES: happy belated bday to me lawl

it is the first thing wanderer demands the moment you step foot home. 

to be fair, the state you are in is not exactly a pretty sight. you’re all bloody and bruised, clothes a rumpled mess, traces of mud caked on your skin. you laugh a bit, casually, waving a hand.

“don’t worry too much about it. i’m fine — just dirty. you should’ve seen what i did to those thieves.”

“you really think i care about what you do to wretched vermin?” he returns, tone biting. and there’s something softer hidden in his gaze, behind the harshness, in his drawn brows and clawing hands and stinging words. you let him guide you onto the couch. 

his eyes narrow when you let out an involuntary ouch. oops. you hadn’t noticed you hurt your ankle.

“you utter fool,” he hisses. “you are no fighter. what were you thinking, gallivanting around, playing hero?”

you protest. it had been a completely calculated, strategic plan that simply got derailed about half a minute in. “what was i supposed to do? i couldn’t just stand there and watch those kids get robbed.”

“and after all that effort, the only thing you got in return is a split lip and a sprained ankle.”

“i told you,” you say, huffing petulantly. “i gave much worse than i got.”

to that, he only rolls his eyes. he shrugs off your outer coat, and you say nothing as he disappears into the bathroom, reappearing with the first aid kit in tow. in his other hand is a basin, filled to the brim with water and a towel submerged in it. 

setting his things down, he seats himself by your side. his hand grasps onto your chin, tilting your head upward. obediently, you let him inspect your wound. 

you must seem like a mess, you think, with a busted lip and a faint bruise growing on your cheek. he dabs the damp towel over your face, wiping away the blood and grime.

“ow,” you whisper. 

he clicks his tongue. “i barely even touched you.”

he says that, yet his touch only softens. it’s a quiet few minutes as he cleans your face, careful around the scrapes but meticulous all the same. his fingers on your chin press into your flesh slightly too tight, but you'll allow him that.

he’s trembling, very, very faintly.

you tap a finger on your lips. “won't you kiss it better?”

“don't be ridiculous,” he tells you instead. “your wound is still fresh.”

he moves downwards then, looking over your arms, then your torso. honestly, for how roughed up you seem to be, you aren't as badly injured as he had expected. nevertheless, an injury is an injury, and it did not lessen the throbbing in your ankle nor the soreness in your arms. 

wanderer produces an ice pack from the first aid kit, directing you to turn, facing him. he props your foot up and onto his lap. you wince at the movement. 

“i never knew you could do first aid,” you say. fiddling with the tassel on his cape, you try and distract yourself from the sting as he places the ice on your ankle. it has swollen a considerable amount, at this point. 

he scoffs. “unlike a certain someone, i do possess basic survival skills.”

you nearly retort, a genial bastard on the tip of your tongue, but you stop yourself before you can. it probably isn’t very wise at all to insult the one currently tending to your injuries.

“care to enlighten me about the mess you managed to get yourself into this time?”

“in my defence, i think it went well. at least, it could’ve gone worse.” you shrug, huffing. “a group of thieves were ganging up on some kids, so i stepped in. things were about to get way more messy — but luckily, the traveller swooped in to save the day.”

“how fortunate,” he scoffs. “i should get them a gift for their birthday, don’t you think?”

“i already do that every year. anyway, next time —”

“— there will be no next time,” he snaps.

hesitantly, you glance at him, studying his reaction. you wonder if he’s mad. possibly fuming. whatever the case, he doesn’t meet your gaze. instead, the entirety of his focus is trained on your sprained ankle, his touch careful as he wraps a bandage around the wound. you soften at the sight, guilt trickling into your conscience. 

“‘m sorry. i guess i should’ve been less reckless.”

he lets out a soft, sharp laugh under his breath. though he does not raise his head, you can see the helpless sort of look on his face, resigned and fond and everything in between. 

“as i’ve said, you are no fighter.” his words sound harsh, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it as an insult. “there are plenty of fools in the world willing to fight your battles.”

“like you?” you ask teasingly, for you know the fool he refers to is no one but himself.

he releases a long, weary sigh. to that, he doesn't say a word in reply.

“forget it,” he says. “getting all worked up over this would only be a waste of energy. in the end, it is not you who is at fault.”

he lifts his head then, and though he is smiling, his eyes do not hide a piercing malice and a glittering fury. it is not directed at you.

he stands, gliding over to the coat stand where his hat is hung. 

“where are you going?” you call out to him. you’d follow him if you could, really, but your ankle currently rendered you immobile for the time being. “it’s nearly time for dinner.”

he smiles. it is not a friendly smile.

“don’t worry, i won’t be gone for long.”

[sweetnans]

"You know, for the past few days, I expected to see you sooner than later but It never came to my mind seeing you sitting here in the couch of my vacation home wearing flip flops and swimsuit briefs"

Katsuki was no fool when it came to you.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning with his arms into his knees.

"Washing my clothes?" You were dumbfounded by his question when he was watching you closely.

"Uh-uh no, you know what I mean"

You rolled your eyes. There wasn't really a way out of this. Bakugo had known you since you were little toddlers running in the mud and getting bruises and scratches, he knew you like the palm of his hands.

"Fine" You sat in front of him and played with your naked fingers. Yeah, you took off your engagement ring after you ran off your own wedding.

"I'm fucking listening, brat"

A man of patience.

"I didn't want to get married in the first place" you blurted out lifting a heavy weight of your chest. "I solely started to hate him in the process and I thought, hey, that's not cool"

"You sound exactly like Kirishima, disgusting" he rolled his eyes but you knew what he was doing, trying to make everything more bearable for you with his twisted and weird humor.

"I just, I love him really but it's not the quite of love when you see a person and feel all these explosions and you feel that you might be torn apart because of them, breaking down in a meltdown of hearts and flowers and-and confetti" you stuttered. "I know it's lame but, I really think that's what love should feel"

Oh, you just hit the nail. Poor him, he came all the way from Musutafu to Okuto Island to be there for his best friend but instead, he was there watching you describe all his feelings for you.

"Well if you don't feel like that when it comes to that bastard then that's it. You can force it" he shrugged.

Let's face it. He was happy to see you so chill about you splitting something that almost lasted what? four years? but, he was also happy that you didn't get married.

When you told him the news, he felt torn, but he shook the feeling right away to be by your side. When you didn't show up at the church, he couldn't help but feel the happiness rising up in his body.

It wasn't so hard to find you. The first thing that he did was use the spare key you gave him of your apartment and went through your stuff. It was classic you, always leaving tracing marks wherever you go. He found your apartment neat, so he thought that probably the fact that you ran off was something premeditated.

He found the receipts of your plane tickets when he snoop through your mail, and it clicked. He needed to see you.

"I guess you're right." You sighed and clapped your hands in your knees. You stood up to move closer to him and sit by his side. "Anyway, thanks for coming all the way here"

"Of course," he said and felt bold enough to add. "You've always been my girl, and I'll back you up any day of the week, no question asked"

"I'll pack my things so we can go back." You wiggled your toes and caught him staring at your weirdness, you let a laugh.

"Hah? Nah, that won't do. They won't give me back the days I asked to get here, " he said nonchalantly.

"Days? You mean-what? Bakugo Katsuki, are you telling me that you are willingly taking your days off? For me??" You laughed at him, but in a good way, he smirked at you, kicking your feet like a little child.

"Yeah yeah shithead, whatever, let's enjoy this little shack you got." he pressed his big ass hand in your mouth to keep your laughs quiet.

"There's only one bed, tho." You quirked a brow at him, but he just shrugged you off.

"Tch, like we never had shared a bed before," he rolled his eyes. "Now come on, I want to get in the fucking ocean and hopefully get bit by a shark so I can howitzer it to the moon"

"You're joking right now, Have you ever heard of meditation?" you stumbled through his giant feet, and he pushed you. You completely lost your balance but miraculously stayed still. "Oh fuck off you psycho"

"Ha-ha, you think you're funny, don't you?" He followed you, grabbing his suitcase to leave it in your room while you stretched yourself to get the towels.

"I am fucking funny you asshole" you poked your tongue out and threw the towels at his face.

The beach was just perfect. The sun glistening in your face, leaving you with sunkisses marks that would last for a few months, giving you the ideal tan that everyone in your agency will envy. Bakugo was at your side, skin dried after he made a run towards the ocean, trying to catch a fight with any animal or kid that would get on his way. He was resting with a magazine on his face because the sun hurt his eyes.

You took a peek at him, and the memories flooded in your brain. The first time his mom introduced you to play with the only kid that was alone. You remembered thinking how that was possible, well, after he tackled you and put your face in the ground, you knew. After that, and because you punched him in the gut, you were inseparable. You remembered you two walking to school in the morning and then studying together in your house in the afternoon. You remembered when you two got in UA and how excited he was even though he didn't demonstrate it. You remembered graduating by his side and the hangover after you went partying with your shared friends, how he took care of your drunk ass, even though he was drunk too. The nostalgia invaded you, but it felt like it was more than just that.

"You know, I know we don't say this very often," you said while taking off the magazine of his face to make him look at you, "but I love you, Katsuki."

He pretended to gag. He felt things on the pit of his stomach, and it only made it worse the fact that you, for the first time, didn't add the "as a friend" part.

"You are making me sick," he murmured, putting the magazine all over his face again to hide the redness in his cheeks.

"Say it back, you bastard," you screamed at him, tickling his ribs, which was still his weak point.

The gremlin spatted your hand away and then took both of your hands in one of his, locking them behind his head in the sand. The sudden movement made you squeak and land on his perfect and toned abs.

"You damn bastard, let me go!" You tried to release your hands from his grip, but it was useless. "At least tell me you love me too"

He loved you more than anything.

"Over my dead body." he closed his eyes and ignored you, completely zoning off your attempts to get your hands back and to avoid being laid on top of him.

"You're going to pay"

"I wanna see you try," he mocked you pinching your hips.

The thought of having other feelings for your best friend scared the shit out of you, but you knew, deep down, that maybe after seeing him caring so deeply for you, maybe just maybe, the feeling was something mutual.

Do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere! All rights reserved.

[luveline]

I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.

—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k

“You’re really handsome.” 

Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt. 

He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.” 

“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask. 

“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”

His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt. 

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say. 

“We were covered in mud.” 

“We should’ve just got naked.” 

“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”

“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.” 

Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.” 

You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass. 

You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom. 

You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it. 

“Y/N?” 

You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly. 

“I hurt my neck, you scared me.” 

“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.” 

“I was in the shower!” 

“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.” 

You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.” 

Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?” 

“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” 

“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.” 

“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.” 

He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?” 

The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true. 

He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire. 

“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.” 

He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?” 

“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.” 

“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says. 

“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag. 

Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.

“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”

“Honey.” 

“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.” 

“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.” 

You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.” 

“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling. 

Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”

You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?” 

“I’ll wait in the kitchen.” 

You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently. 

You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.” 

“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.” 

“He brought pizza.” 

“I don’t think that’s going to help me.” 

You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.” 

Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.” 

[demonvibez]

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath. 

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours. 

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him. 

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap. 

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place! 

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops! 

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork. 

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms. 

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince. 

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep. 

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