It was a quiet afternoon at the Black Bulls' hideout, the air warm and lazy, sunlight spilling in through the windows. You were tucked into a worn-out couch, reading an old book on magical herbs — the life of a witch doctor never truly slowed down.

Vanessa tiptoed into the room, a half-empty bottle of wine swinging casually in her hand, her signature carefree smile dancing on her lips.

"Mmm... there you are, cutie," she hummed, her voice dripping with that usual soft, lazy charm. "Busy working again?"

Without waiting for an answer, she sauntered over, plopping down beside you and immediately pulling you into her arms. You barely had a second to react before your head was buried against her chest, her scent of lavender and wine filling your nose.

"Heehee... you’re always so warm," she giggled, squeezing you tighter, resting her chin on top of your head as she swayed slightly. "You work too hard, you know. You need to relax more..."

You mumbled something against her chest, causing her to laugh again, a soft and breathy sound.

"Aww, you’re so cute when you’re flustered," she teased, ruffling your hair affectionately. "Don’t worry, I'll take real good care of you."

Her arms never let go — lazy, tender, and a little tipsy — Vanessa just wanted to keep you close, to keep you warm, to keep you hers.