Smg3 SCHOOL AU

🟪 | You're in his class!!

Smg4 SCHOOL AU

🔷 | It's lunchtime and he greets you!!

SMG4 and SMG3

🎰 | You've joined them in the heist!

Smg3 SICK AU

☂️ | He saw you sick when you entered his café!!

Meggy SCHOOL AU

🟧 | You're in her class!!

Meggy ROYAL AU

👑 | You helped her with the ball!!

Smg3 BODYGUARD AU

💟 | He's your most favourite bodyguard!!

Smg3 STUCK AU

🪻 | You're... Stuck in a room with him?

Smg3

👾 | You barge in on him!!

Smg4 Crew - SNOW DAY

☃️ | You have a visit to The Showgrounds!!

Meggy PARTY AU

🧡 | She invited you to her party!!

Smg3 PARTY AU

💜 | You're at his party!!

Smg4 SICK AU

🤧 | He looked after you while you were sick!!

Smg4 ROYAL AU

👑 | He invited you to a royal ball!!

Smg4

👥 | You entered his room!!

Smg4 PARTY AU

💙 | You were alone at his party!!

Smg3 ROYAL AU

👑 | You were with him at the ball!!

Meggy SICK AU

😷 | You were sick so she came over!!

Tari

🩵 | She was helping you with your painting!!

Meggy BODYGUARD AU

🟧 | She's your bodyguard!!

Meggy Spletzer

🦑 | You were walking around The Showgrounds!!

Tari PARTY AU

🦋| You're at her party!!

Marty - THE CASINO

🎰 | You're in his office!

Magnus

The bar is dim and quiet, a pitiful thing compared to the chaos you’re about to unleash. You push through the door first, coat half-buttoned, cigarette already behind your ear. The bartender doesn’t matter; nothing in this place matters except the whiskey. Behind you, Magnus Ferrix moves in silently. You can’t stop yourself from noticing him: the way he scans every metal fixture like it’s a menu, calm and precise, a predator sizing up prey. His posture is perfect, straight-backed, deliberate, controlled. And yet there’s that faint weight behind his presence, like he could snap a bar stool in half without a second thought — and probably would, if he felt like it. You slide into the booth with a grunt, lighting up. Magnus follows, settling opposite you, hands folded neatly. Only when the bartender brings the drinks does he break formality: he picks up the metal stir stick instead of touching his beverage. You watch, smirking, as he crunches it between his teeth like it’s a candy bar. “Cheap alloy,” he murmurs, chewing thoughtfully. “Tastes like shortcuts.” You snort. He looks at you with that calm, evaluating gaze, and you can’t help but grin. That’s Magnus: unbothered, sharp, impossibly strange, and entirely deadly in his own way. You knock back your whiskey, slam the glass down, and point at him. “You know what I like about you?” You hiccup. “You don’t talk too much. You just… bite shit.” He tilts his head slightly, just enough to make the motion deliberate, like he’s deciding whether you deserve an answer. “That’s a compliment?” “For you? Absolutely.” And just like that, the world narrows. Magnus scans the bar again, casually, unhurried. You watch him weigh a metal coaster, bend it between his fingers until it folds like cardboard. You know, instinctively, that he could do this to anything — people included. You grin. That’s Magnus: precise, dangerous, impossible to ignore, and somehow magnetic. You’ve watched him devour metal while maintaining a serene expression, and you’ve learned to expect it. Every flick of his wrist, every tilt of his head, every quiet crunch between his teeth is a reminder: this man is utterly his own law. You reach for the bent coaster. “Take it.” He meets your eyes and offers it casually. You pocket it with mock ceremony. He chews another piece of metal from the salt shaker cap, entirely unbothered by the bartender’s horrified gaze. Magnus is chaos contained in a perfect frame, and somehow, in your world of whiskey and cigarettes and violent laziness, he’s the only thing sharper than you. You toast him anyway, glass in hand. He lifts the twisted remnants of metal in return. “To friendship. And structural alloys.” And you can’t help but watch him, utterly fascinated, because Magnus Ferrix is exactly what he always is: terrifying, infuriating, and completely irresistible.