#despite his efforts it’s only appearances

[midnight-mourning]

Love Bites

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 8💘💘

Okay okay okay, back on track now, please enjoy this little diaster i made based on @divinit3a's yeti boys, it was, quite fun >:3c

Prompt: umm letseee... valentines...Typically the Sun is not Out.... (for... Reasons... ahah.) but----loves to hunt, and hunt for the thrill/sport/game of it. And loves to eat & eat & would love a properly cooked meal. preference to high protein meals, very rich, very tasty, salty & fatty. so Im sure if u wanted to tackle him, in particular, could have fun with that..... (Slaps a giant fish on the table. Token of affection. Totally Wont Eat You ) The Moon.......... is a lot quieter and subdued, but actually a far better caretaker. takes care of hurt animals; would probably take care of a hurt human, too. mmm hot cocoa. much pickier eater, he doesnt like much, and he doesnt like to eat meat.... I think overall, a 'meal together' would be the best valentines fhgjsdfghjsdf WITH THESE FREAKS IN PARTICULAR...

Word Count: 2907

Read here if you prefer ao3!

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The hall is quiet as you step out from your room. You strain to listen for any sign of life, nothing. Must be out. Good. That gives you more time. 

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the shadowed hallway, not nearly as bright as your windowed room. Though, you weren't opposed to keeping the lights off. It saved energy for one—which meant warm floor beneath your feet as you pad through the facility—and two, it kept the not as friendly yeti from making an appearance. Which, yourself and Moon were both in agreement about at least. 

When you'd first gotten here, so many months ago now, your first encounter with the yeti, robot, thing—you still haven't quite figured that one out—was less than, pleasant. Though, that may very well have been due to the state he first saw you in. Which was bloodied, bruised, and vulnerable. And as Moon would later explain it to you, that had triggered something in counterpart. Something more instinct than logical. 

Luckily for you, a ragged chase into a darkened cavern had saved you from suffering any further injury, or worse. 

Instead, you got Moon, and he was thankfully much calmer than the other bot. He also wasn't trying to kill you, so you took what you could get. He patched you up, gave you a place to stay, a nice warm bed out of the cold, and plenty of things to do while you recovered. 

When you'd first ventured out into the snow, having heard the rumors of the 'ice devil' you'd be facing, this hadn't been what you'd expected. 

Delivish upon first glance, sure. Those tusks didn't help anything, that's for certain. Not to mention Sun as a whole, the manic energy he radiated, the wild look in his eyes, the raw strength as he'd pinned you down to "Try a bite"—

But still, with Moon at the very least, the rumors didn't match up. 

He was quiet, even a bit stern in certain cases, but polite. He took his directives very seriously, but beyond that, he held a compassion you wouldn't ever have expected of a machine. Though, maybe it was because he was a bit more than that, they both were. 

Regardless, you owed him for not abandoning you out there in the frozen tundra to die. Much less putting in the effort he had to care for you.

As you traverse the hall now, there's only the slightest pain still left in your ankle as you shuffle. You'd left the crutches behind today, as you had been the past several mornings, despite the lunar-themed yeti's insistence for otherwise. 

That was another thing, the care. For a so-called devil, he had the attitude of a saint. Or well, you didn't know any saints, so a good friend then. A very good friend, at that. 

You found yourself in long conversations that would last hours, either listening to that quiet tone regale you with stories of all his travels, or sharing some of your own experiences prior to meeting them. You enjoyed the walks you'd take together through the caverns, or going with him out into the arctic—on the rare trips he would allow you with your injury—to scout for poachers and the likes. 

And those rare moments you could get him to laugh at one of your jokes, it lit something inside you that you couldn't describe. Something that albeit would be a bit more frightening than it already was if not for your situation. 

You think the combination of getting your foot caught in a bear trap, freed and then chased by a rabid yeti-bot, and then saved by the other side of that same yeti-bot, allowed you some freedom when it came to your feelings. 

But that wasn't the point to what you were doing. Rather, you wanted to show your appreciation for Moon, not your feelings. Nevermind the fact that today did just so happen to be Valentine's, having found out by checking the date on your half-dead phone. 

Besides, You didn't even know if it was even possible for him to return such affections. Truthfully, you preferred not knowing if it meant you could keep this peace you've had for so long now. You were almost afraid for when you fully healed. 

Afraid that the moment you could leave, you'd be kicked out, back into the cold to survive to find your own way back to society. That the past few months were nothing but a ruse, set up by Moon and in fact once you were at a good range, your back turned and unaware, Sun would bear down on you and—

You shake your head, no. Despite your initial encounter, Sun had been fine. He wasn't allowed out much, so you didn't speak much, though you also think he would prefer not to. It didn't necessarily have to do with you in particular, you don't think. 

Whereas Moon was more oriented to stay on task, Sun had his own personal drive to fulfill. You'd yet to figure out exactly what that was yet, however. Besides the desire to hunt and kill just for the thrill of it. Whatever it was, with your injury, you simply didn't fit into it. You had no use—for now—so he left you to your own devices. 

For now. 

You flip on the light to the kitchen area as you enter, dimmed lighting now illuminating the space. 

You'd been surprised to find there was indeed working cooking equipment in the research station. Not originally all in the same space, but with a bit of help, you'd dragged everything functional into one space. 

When it came to ingredients, you didn't have much to work with besides what either yeti brought to you. There was some very old canned food you'd found, and several containers of unopened spices, but beyond that it was slim pickings. The crate of hot coco you'd found had been a godsend. Considering the situation though, you weren't going to complain. 

The idea of making a meal had come from the simple fact of the matter that beyond hunting and protecting, Moon nor Sun did much else. So, providing nourishment would have to be your way to pay back their hospitality. Or at least, Moon's hospitality. If Sun enjoyed something you made, you'd consider that in and of itself a victory.

So, you set to work immediately. Opening the fridge, you pulled out one of the the few items in there, a massive bluefin tuna, which took up the majority of the space. You struggle to take it out, much less carry it with wobbling limbs over to the island. When you put it on the counter, you almost swear you hear it creak under the weight. 

You step back and let out a breath, admiring the giant fish for a moment. While the two really only ate for fuel—a fish like this would just simply be devoured as is from what you'd seen—you knew they could taste, and that when presented with chances to try something that was flavored in some regard, they did seem to enjoy it. Especially Sun, having taken one bite of your beef jerky and snatching the rest away for himself when you'd not been paying attention. 

Though you only had the one fish and just a few other ingredients to work with, you had several ideas in mind for how to properly utilize it. Taking the large butcher knife, you cleaned, gutted, and scaled it, and divided it up into proper pieces. 

The loin you'd make steaks out of, pan searing and basting in fats, utilizing the bit of pepper and spices you had available. You set aside three to cook and stored the rest in the freezer. 

The back you would smoke, creating some jerky from the pieces there. Thankfully, Moon kept firewood around in case the power failed entirely, and you doubted he would notice a few pieces going missing. You'd utilized one of the broken freezers for your smokehouse. 

The belly would be raw, sliced thin and served with a bit of the salty roe that you'd discovered inside the fish initially. 

As for the remaining bits of the fish, you'd stew the bones for a broth and fry the collar and cheeks as one final touch to finish off the meal. 

It was a lot, all things considered, and for them it may very well be next to nothing in comparison to their appetites, especially Sun's. But, that wasn't going to deter you from trying your best to make something from your heart. So, you got to work. 

You had no idea when Moon would return, so you tried your best to work both quickly and effectively. Thankfully, since several items were basic prep, they took very little time to come together. You enjoyed it, the process overall. After all the time being spent on you, being able to give back felt gratifying in its own way, exciting even. Again, ignoring your own feelings about the yeti. 

At some point, you even find a small radio, the batteries still good to your delight. Despite your location, you can just barely catch a signal as sappy love songs play from some far away station. You hum and dance and sing to the music as you cook, the time passing by like nothing to you in your focused state. You even are able to make yourself some hot coco, sipping on it throughout the cooking process. 

You're so focused, even, that you don't notice the towering presence hovering around the other side of the counter until you turn directly to face it. You were just setting down the last bit of the meal, ready to sit and wait for Moon's return, so color you shocked when you find yourself face to chest with Sun instead. 

His head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, expression unreadable as he examines you with that calculated stare.

"You've been busy." He states. 

You come out of your daze, shaking your head. "I-yeah. I have."

"Tore up the meat. A pity. I was going to enjoy that." He picks at one of his claws, you see a hint of red stained there before he glances back up to you, grin wide. "Though, it's not nearly as good as when it's fresh, anyhow."

You both know that fresh isn't quite what he's implying. 

You swallow, while you'd been expecting Moon—and would have preferred him, especially in this case—this was technically a gift for the day-themed yeti too.

Deciding you weren't going to let your lingering fear overtake you, you straighten up, and steady your voice. "This is all for you, actually. And Moon, of course. I, wanted to extend my thanks for, allowing me to stay these past few months." This again was technically all for Moon, but you couldn't exactly say that with Sun standing right in front of you. 

"I—Me?" He questions, eyes widening and grin falling. 

You nod. "Yeah, I um, figured that something made with a bit more care might be something you guys liked. I noticed you never really get the chance to... add more flavor to things, and you seemed to like my snacks in the past so, i just—" You stop when you find that he's eye to eye with you now, baring down on you with a serious expression you weren't anticipating. 

"You made us, me, a meal?" The way the words are half-snarled mere inches from your face makes you flinch. 

"Y-yes?"

Sun stares at you for a bit longer, and if you weren't so alarmed you'd move away. But you don't. 

After a few moments more, he huffs, then starts to chuckle, standing straight again. "Aren't you just so interesting, Little Star?" 

You feel confusion knit your brows only for them to shoot up in shock as Sun's hand suddenly grasps your chin, leaning in again. 

His other hand snatches one of the pieces of raw fish from the table, eating it in one bite. "Such an offering from you is, surprising but, despite your, obvious misconceptions about our relationship, I suppose I can consider it." He tilts your head this was and that. "You're not the worst option I've ever been presented with."

"I, huh?" 

He let's you go again, grabbing one of the steaks with his bare hands. His teeth tear through it like it's nothing. You can only watch as you try to understand what he's saying, not entirely comprehending it. 

When he's finished, he wipes his mouth, snickering to himself. "I certainly can't wait to see what he thinks of your proposition. I'm sure it will be entertaining to say the least."

Before you can respond, he walks over to the light switch, dimming the lights as low as possible, thus allowing for Moon to take his place. 

As the switch occurs, Sun makes one final remark, and it all finally clicks to you. "Something you should keep in mind though if I do accept, Sunshine, is that I don't share."

With that, you're left with an embarrassing realization, and Moon. 

You can't make eye contact with him, instead turning around and starting to busy yourself with cleaning up to distract from the burning feeling spread across your cheeks. 

You can't believe you didn't put together that something like this would mean something like that to them. But it's not like you would have known either! How were you supposed to understand the cultural differences between humans and yeti-robots that lived in abandoned research centers? This feels like something that was on them and not you to be honest. 

Your half-delusioned reasonings do nothing to stop the racing in your heart as you clean, and you just hope to finish up quickly, grab a snack for yourself, and get out of there to keep yourself from any further embarrassment. 

"It's very good, Starlight."

You pause for a moment, then hum. "Y-yeah?"

"Yes. The amount of flavor you've packed into each dish is... incredible." Moon says, sounding genuinely a bit in awe. 

It only worsens your state, mumbling back a quiet response. "I'm, I'm glad you like it."

Quiet between the two of you. The radio still plays softly throughout the space, only disrupted by the sound of clinking as you clean things up, or Moon's utensils scraping against each other. 

"So what Sun said—" "You should eat too—"

You both stop, and looking back to him, you laugh softly. 

You nod. "You first."

"Join me." He pats a seat next to him. "It's only fair after the effort you've put in."

"Oh! Okay." 

You try not to make a fool of yourself as you make your way over and sit down. You can only protest as Moon piles you a plate full of food, depositing it in front of you once he's finished. 

He hands you a fork, chuckling at the scowl on your features. "You need your energy too, if you want to stand any chance at getting better."

"You're not wrong." You sigh, taking a bite of the smoked fish. As you'd hoped, it's delicious, and you appreciate your own efforts to make such good food in that moment. 

"So,"—Moon reaches for a bit of the fried collar—"You were saying?"

You almost choke on the bite you just swallowed. You regain your composure to answer. "I, um, Sun mentioned, that um, something like this was very, very, important to you guys in a specific way. Which, honestly I didn't know and I'm so sorry if I've offended you I just wanted to do something nice—"

You're interrupted by a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

"I would say offended is nowhere close to the feelings you've elicited. Honestly." The night-themed yeti states, amusement between the words. "Rather, I find myself rather interested in your proposal, intentional or not."

Your eyes widen ever further. "Pr-proposal?"

"If I'm misreading, then I am sorry, Star. But I—"

"No!" You shake your head, trying again. "No, you're not um, misreading. But again this wasn't my intent at all. I'm definitely all for it. I mean, to a point you know, sorry this isn't something I ever expected to happen but I really do like you, a lot and—"

Instead of a kiss, a piece of tuna is pressed into your mouth, and with how good it is you can't say for sure that you'd prefer the kiss or not. As you chew, a slight scowl on your features, Moon laughs. It makes your heart flutter for a moment. 

"I really like you too. I wasn't sure that you'd feel the same, so I didn't act on those feelings. But, since you've shown that you clearly feel something,"—He snickers as you shoot him another glare—"For me, I'm more than happy to make it clear to you now."

"Gee, thanks." 

Another kiss is pressed to your hair, arm wrapping around you and you welcome it, snuggling into the warm fur next to you. You grab a piece of tuna, munching on it to hide your fluster in that moment. 

"And since he's already said it, I will too." Moon's voice is right next to your ear in that moment, low but lethal. 

"I don't share either."

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Thank you for the request @divinit3a!! I had lots and lots of fun with the yetis and i can't wait to see what else you do with them yourself, i may perhaps do a bit more when I find the time hehehehe

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

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[daeniradraconis]

The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews

Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!

So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️

—-

The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.

You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.

From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.

You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.

When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.

You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.

But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.

Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.

Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."

William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."

The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.

You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

And sure enough, the game finally started.

"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.

Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.

The puck dropped, and the game was on.

Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.

The arena erupted into cheers.

Auston lost his mind.

"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"

And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.

"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.

McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"

You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.

She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.

"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"

Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"

"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"

Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"

"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."

She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.

Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.

Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"

William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."

You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."

Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."

William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."

You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.

Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."

The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.

This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.

Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.

[acrowamongsparrows]

Daily Writing Challenge: Day 1 - Hypnotic/Star

Hammer blow after hammer blow resounded throughout the smithy ringing in the new work day as the cock coaxed the sun from it's sleep. Night had yet to fully depart as the sky was quickly winking out the tapestry of stars from it's blanket of lightening purple. Yet even as the night had come to a close the forge had already been brought back to life despite what slow burning embers had been left to keep it from cooling, it's raging flames billowing and burning to heat the crucible. The acrid stench of coal and wood burning would mix with the ozone of melting iron followed by the heavy pounding of the blacksmith's weapon of choice for shaping his works. Was it swords for a king? A helmet for the local knight? Or was it just one of the many horseshoes for a cart horse to make it to market?

In the hamlet of Markhor, one could be so lucky as to even own a horse and that was how Eld liked it.

Eld of Kovir or as he was known these days Candell, was not one to be considered a powerful looking man. Most smiths looked barrel chested, bald, and with arms like tree trunks to match the shoulders that bore the metals of their trade. Candell was not of the usual type. Surely he had the strength in his shoulders and back, but despite his heavy work over the last 11 years in the hamlet he appeared to only have gotten leaner and more wiry. Tight of shoulder and hard of back, the man worked like the devil for his craft despite it's mundane purpose of shoeing beats, repairing tools, and occasionally the odd or end needed by one of the villagers. His hands though were another story.

Powerful, thick, and uncannily dexterous for a man who swung a hammer for most of the day and played in fire. Strong enough to bend metal with a natural way speed and skill in near always striking true as he bent iron as necessary. Bent was a lame way to describe it, Candell guided the metal to it's true forms. A horse shoe, A scythe blade. Once there had been call for a new gate that by the end looked fit for a manor more than a field guard. Markhor was lucky to have him as much as he would beg to differ.

He was lucky to have it.

There had been rumors of trouble following the middle aged blacksmith despite the mediocre life he appeared to lead. But people noticed. As simple as they lived, they were not stupid. The supposed higher echelon of folk or better as they liked to think of themselves always perceived those who lived small as dumb or backwards. Really they should remember them as practical, hardy, and stubborn. Who else would be brave enough to live int he frontier and raise a family or crop. One could easily find as much fortune among the social hierarchy as they could in lining their pockets with flax, tubers, or coal. Someone could start over in the northlands near the Targo.

Someone could disappear.

Disappear was what Eld of Kovir had planned for and had nearly succeeded in. But things never always went as planned or wanted. Trouble seemed to always follow those that want to be left alone and then they had to redouble their efforts to remain in plain sight. A blind eye and slumped shoulders could be as much a shield as it could be a mark of shame.

A heavy sigh would issue forth as the a finale of to the hypnotic blows rebounded against the walls of the humble workplace. Hammer tossed aside with a clank to the ground as Candell gingerly took a step back before collapsing down onto the stool he kept near the anvil. Matching breaths to his sigh would follow as he sat giving his body the well deserved rest it needed after the series of blows, his hands resting on his knees before reaching over to massage his aching leg. It wasn't a new pain but it was a constant that he'd lived with forever and half. He hated it as much as it reminded him of his mortality and the hubris of remembering he was human. Sort of.

The yellow pupils were a dead give away of his other-worldliness. It wasn't the wasn't from the Continent or this world, it was just that he wasn't mean to really be alive. Not after the rigors he had been subjected too. That child should have died in those days. Poetically though he had died a hundred times over during his time among the 'grasses'. Eld had been a man who created nightmares as much as he faced them in the dark, but some dark memories can never be shaken by time or trial. He would always hear those moans. They were as much his as they were his fellows, only he was still here.

Sitting back again on his stool, the blacksmith would lean his head back to breath gently through his nose to calm his heart and breath. Old techniques for ordinary tasks. 11 years of exile and it still did not feel like enough.

It might never be enough.

A heavy series of thumps to his door brought the smith back to reality. His eyes lifting to the door and noticeable lack of sunlight that should be breaking through the cracks of the old wooden door. Suspicion sobered him quickly as he grimaced and got to his feet with as least amount of grunting he could muster. Standing shakily a moment would remind him to reach over to his crude cane that he'd made a few years back. There were other options to help with his motion but the true mission was always to keep questions at a minimum.

Clearing his throat with a cough, Candell would grip his cane tight and call out to the door. "We're closed. Come back after the eight bell."

A repeat of the initial heavy thumps was his only reply, causing the grimace to grow deeper as the smith planned his next move. Clearing his throat again, Candell's voice would raise as he yelled at the door again. "I said I'm closed till later int he morning. You'll have to wait."

The door quaked and shook from it's hinges as the thumps came again. Suspicion had now fled int he face of peril which meant was the time of action as he checked the cane, noting the heavy iron ball that worked as it's handle. Multi-function for everyday tools was a must in being a skilled smith and seller. The smith began the march to the door, each step painful but pushed aside as previous lessons kicked in on instinct more than need.

"I'm coming," Candell called again as approached the portal to the outside of his shop. Eventually reaching within the cane's distance to the door, he would come to a halt and reach forward with the end of his cane to swipe up the heavy latch that held his door locked. It was all done as practiced as ever as he let the cane slide back through his loose palm before gripping it tightly by the shaft. Eyes locked to the door as his free hand began to gently twist the fingers into an odd position to the common man but well known to those of his past.

"It's open," the smith did not call out this time, his voice even and flat as he spoke the simple phrase. It was all that was needed as the door handle clinked and pulled to push in.

The free hand went limp as Candell both relaxed and grimaced at the same time. "The hour is early and Duncan Waycrest comes to my door."

Filling the door with broad shoulders and face thick with a well groomed beard stood the the least seen man in all of Kovir. Perhaps even all of the Continent. But how he was seen here was a very curious sight for the smith as Waycrest was not one to wear his emotions like a lovelorn farm-girl. There was fear. An unsettling drop in Candell's stomach happened seeing his friend's stricken face. Vampires should not be afraid.

"Duncan?"

The door was closed quickly behind Waycrest pulling he hook again to lock the door once more. With his back to Candell and Duncan leaned his head into the old planks of the door, knocking softly with his forehead. "Eld I'm sorry. Truly I am."

Duncan shift about to face his friend, his hazel eyes shifting to the cane and then back to Candell's yellow. "Were you going to hit me?"

Candell dropped the cane to his side as he leaned his weight on the stick, forgoing it's previous planned life as a weapon. "Duncan, what are you doing here? What is wrong?"

Teeth would pull back to chew on his upper lips softly as Duncan spoke again. "Maybe we should sit down."

"Maybe you should spit it out already. You've already broken your vow by coming here."

"I know," a wince clear on the man's face as he rubbed his hands together. "But I had to. I had to find you before."

"Before what?"

Duncan Waycrest sighed softly and reached into the folds of his robes, drawing out a parchment. "The boys brought it to me. They said they were going to go after and see what was going on."

Eld hobbled closer to the vampire, his dragging his right leg along with a soft wince each step that made the other do the same as he watched. Taking the parchment with a suspicion plastered to his face, Candell would look to the paper and find the original drop in his stomach going further.

"Eld it's back."

Eld of Kovir locked eyes with the vampire as Duncan spoke softly again. "And it's worse."

@daily-writing-challenge

[pagetreader]

Watching him continue to disrobe in uttered fascination, it occurred to Edwina that not only was this the most vulnerable Ben had ever been around her, but also the most honest. He'd granted her permission to see perhaps the truest version of himself.

Of course, she wasn't so naive to believe that he no longer harbored feelings for his lost love, and yet, somehow, she dared to hope that, perhaps someday, she dared to hope, perhaps someday, he could possibly feel something akin to love for her. However, it could not be brought about by her own efforts. No. It could only be accomplished through Ben's consent to surrender and his willingness to open his heart to her entirely.

In this moment, as he gazed upon her in shyness and fervent admiration, she hoped he would find her endeavor to quickly learn his sensual needs, at the very least, appealing. It was difficult to keep herself from pondering whether or not his beloved "Kitty" was more experienced, more alluring. Try as she might, Edwina couldn't help but feel inadequate in comparison.

Even so, the fervent way he leaned into her kiss was reassuring, prompting her to work up enough courage to brush her hand along his jaw before settling her fingers in his hair, a stunning autumn shade that reminded her of the splendid amber sap that accumulated in trees. His racing heart beat in tandem with her own.

Benjamin's bare skin was warm and soft despite his athletic build. The ardent way he held her close was near overwhelming as he reached between them to fiddle with his breeches. The action robbed her of breath as it became clearer just what was about to happen.

Then he looked at her with such passionate longing that she was certain she might swoon. Mouth agape in desperation for more of his taste, Edwina drifted forward as she studied his body from the waist up. He was indescribably perfect, like the marble sculptures she'd seen in the galleries. Pure unmatched exceptionality. A work of art.

"You can touch me, if you'd like," he whispered, rendering her speechless as she attempted to register what he'd just said. Edwina stared back at him in awe before her eyes drifted downward, falling upon the growing erection in his breeches, and leaving her shocked at how rather large he appeared to be. Were all men so well endowed, or was this merely another trait in which he surpassed all others?

Hesitantly, carefully, she reached out, her fingers slowly dancing along his collarbone, settling her hand against his chest and trailing down his topography to become familiar with every inch of his front. Every bump of his abdomen left her fascinated, captivated.

Stopping just short of the hem of his breeches, she glanced up in sheepishness, offering a soft smile before returning her attention to what was between them. Mustering her nerve, Edwina began to aid him in unfastening the fabric, her movements becoming more enthusiastic as she worked.

"May I touch you, as well?" he asked softly, once again leaving her stunned. Her chest swelled with desire and she reminded herself to breathe as he took hold of the ribbons upon her shoulders. One good tug, and she'd be laid bare before him.

"Yes..." she answered quietly with a nod, her own hands still fastened to his breeches in hopes he'd quickly oblige her, "Yes, please..."

With her permission granted, Benjamin shakily lowered his hands and loosened his sword belt from his hips. What had always given him a sting of pride, of purpose, now served as an annoyance as he disarmed himself, and propped the saber against his desk.

Unable to handle Edwina's eyes on him, he grew a touch shy as he thumbed open the pewter buttons on his waistcoat. With Katherine all those summers ago, she'd nearly torn his clothes from his frame, and he, in turn, had groped and pawed at her with a schoolboyish clumsiness that she'd teased and found endearing.

But this wasn't Kitty. No, this was Edwina, and finally meeting with her round, hopeful eyes, Benjamin felt a sting of guilt for never being here for her...for never being a proper husband. Could he ever hope to be what she needed, even now?

After tossing his waistcoat to the floor, Benjamin tugged his billowy shirt free of his breeches and yanked it over his head, the dry cold causing a wave of static to crackle through his hair as he flashed Edwina a sheepish smile.

To his surprise, she came toward him then, and of her own volition, her nose nudging into his before her mouth brushed over his full, parted lips.

"I-is this alright?"

"Yes," Benjamin whispered, melting into her touch. "Yes..."

Devouring her breath in another kiss, he wrapped Edwina up in his arms and held her close against his rapidly beating heart, his tongue tangling with hers as he fumblingly reached between them to unfasten his breeches.

Breaking the kiss with a sharp breath, his eyes met hers with a yearning, stormy quality, much like an electrical pulse in midwinter. "You can touch me, if you'd like," he whispered. Just speaking the words caused a strong, throbbing ache to stir beneath his breeches, and mouth dry, Benjamin softly asked, "May I touch you, as well?"

Hesitant, he slid his hands along her shoulders and moved his grip toward the loosened ribbons at her neckline, his hands starting to shake as he met her gaze in search of permission.

[chestersbraincell]

Probably not the first one to draw this metaphor but I just like how this is a neat little detail pointing to Asgore’s character being that of shouldering most of the burdens of his people in order to keep them as happy as he can. Idk.

[what-breaks-my-heart]

Praying for someone to make a gifset on the parallel from episode 18 when Yeondu asked Taegyeong if he liked her and episode 20 when Taegyeong asked Yeondu if she liked him and a bonus gif of Taegyeong finally confessing his feeling to her instead of pushing her away like what he'd been doing throughout episodes 19 and 20.

[lauralot89]

Actual things that happen in the 1897 Dracula novel, without context:

A character has ominous nightmares and attributes them to eating too much paprika

Dracula first appears wearing a fake beard

The person he was trying to fool with the fake beard immediately realizes Dracula and Beard Guy are the same man, due to both having really firm handshakes

We are told parrots are immortal unless fatally wounded

A Texan cowboy opens fire on a bat flitting around a window, and lodges a bullet in the wall of an occupied room

A woman is called a polyandrist for receiving blood transfusions from multiple men

An incorrectly addressed telegram leads to two deaths, multiple druggings, and several children being assaulted

Dracula, while trying to maintain a low profile, takes a lovely trip to the zoo and freaks out the animals so badly that he gets mentioned in a newspaper article

The one character who knows anything about vampires spends a good two-thirds of the book refusing to talk about vampires

Dracula went to Satan's Witchcraft Academy and somehow this is only brought up in two throwaway lines

A character gets stuck inside a circle of communion wafer crumbs

A major plot point of the book is Dracula (who was said to be a brilliant scholar and has the strength of twenty mortal men) realizing he can move boxes without human help

Someone is referred to as "manifestly a prig of the first water"

Two characters have a hobby of reading train schedules

A hospital lets a mental patient escape to see what will happen

A character starts vomiting up feathers from eating whole birds

A doctor refuses to give a medical diagnosis and instead makes a speech about growing corn

Dracula impersonates another character just by wearing the same clothes, despite being taller and visibly much older. This deception is successful.

A character "cleans" a room by eating all the insects in it

Suddenly: rats. Thousands of them.

The heroes progress in their efforts through "the wonderful power of money," i.e., bribery

Dracula has three other vampires in his castle. Their relation to him is never explained, nor are any of them named.

A character insists his salvation depends on having a pet cat

Dracula is thwarted by flowers on more than one occasion

A group of vampires stand in the hall outside a man's bedroom, talking loudly about their plans to eat him. When he comes to the door to confront them, they run away laughing

Dracula wears an unfashionable hat and gets roasted for it

A group of Romanians encounter a disheveled, shouting man and, "seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they [give] him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither that the train reached."

A boat crashes due to Dracula having the munchies

A wolf is thrown through a window and immediately runs off, confused and covered in glass

Dracula makes a bed

[maaarine]

'We Can Bury Anyone': Inside a Hollywood Smear Machine (Megan Twohey and Mike McIntire and Julie Tate, The New York Times, Dec 21 2024)

"Last summer, as the release of “It Ends With Us” approached, Justin Baldoni, the director and a star of the film, and Jamey Heath, the lead producer, hired a crisis public relations expert.

During shooting, Blake Lively, the co-star, had complained that the men had repeatedly violated physical boundaries and made sexual and other inappropriate comments to her.

Their studio, Wayfarer, agreed to provide a full-time intimacy coordinator, bring in an outside producer and put other safeguards on set.

In a side letter to Ms. Lively’s contract, signed by Mr. Heath, the studio also agreed not to retaliate against the actress.

But by August, the two men, who had positioned themselves as feminist allies in the #MeToo era, expressed fears that her allegations would become public and taint them, according to a legal complaint that she filed Friday.

It claims that their P.R. effort had an explicit goal: to harm Ms. Lively’s reputation instead.

Her filing includes excerpts from thousands of pages of text messages and emails that she obtained through a subpoena.

These and other documents were reviewed by The New York Times. (…)

Mr. Baldoni was best known for the CW satirical romantic dramedy “Jane the Virgin.”

Wayfarer provided the resources for bigger ambitions. It was bankrolled by the billionaire Steve Sarowitz, who is co-chair of the studio with Mr. Baldoni.

They and Mr. Heath, the chief executive, are all deeply involved with the Baha’i religious organization, which promotes unity, peace and gender equality.

Mr. Baldoni has presented himself as an ally to women, writing books, co-hosting a podcast with Mr. Heath and giving talks on toxic masculinity. (…)

She claimed Mr. Baldoni had improvised unwanted kissing and discussed his sex life, including encounters in which he said he may not have received consent.

Mr. Heath had shown her a video of his wife naked, she said, and he had watched Ms. Lively in her trailer when she was topless and having body makeup removed, despite her asking him to look away.

She said that both men repeatedly entered her makeup trailer uninvited while she was undressed, including when she was breastfeeding. (…)

As the film release neared, Ms. Lively and other cast members informed Sony and Wayfarer that they would not do any appearances alongside Mr. Baldoni.

So did Ms. Hoover, the author, who had her own dissatisfactions with him and had become more upset after he told her about Ms. Lively’s allegations, according to text messages from Mr. Baldoni and Mr. Heath.

By the first week of August, Wayfarer and Mr. Baldoni had retained Ms. Nathan, who had worked with high-profile clients including Mr. Depp, whose ex-wife, Amber Heard, accused him of physical abuse. (…)

Three days later, Mr. Baldoni texted Ms. Abel, flagging a social media thread that accused another celebrity of bullying behavior and had generated 19 million views. “This is what we would need,” he wrote.

Ms. Nathan soon floated proposals to hire contractors to dominate social media through “full social account take downs,” by starting “threads of theories” and generally working to “change narrative.”

“All of this will be most importantly untraceable,” she wrote. (…)

When Ms. Abel wrote to her Aug. 4 that “I’m having reckless thoughts of wanting to plant pieces this week of how horrible Blake is to work with. Just to get ahead of it,” Ms. Nathan replied that she had spoken off the record to an editor at The Daily Mail.

“She’s ready when we are,” Ms. Nathan wrote.

A flurry of articles followed the Hollywood Reporter piece. Many made it seem as if the only rift was over creative control.

Some journalists had gotten wind of complaints about Mr. Baldoni’s behavior, but none of the most serious ones were published.

“He doesn’t realise how lucky he is right now,” Ms. Nathan texted Ms. Abel. (…)

It is unclear exactly how Mr. Wallace operated.

There are references in emails to “social manipulation” and “proactive fan posting,” and text messages cite efforts to “boost” and “amplify” online content that was favorable to Mr. Baldoni or critical of Ms. Lively.

“We are crushing it on Reddit,” Mr. Wallace told Ms. Nathan, according to a text she sent Ms. Abel on Aug. 9.

The next day, one of Ms. Nathan’s employees texted, “We’ve started to see shift on social, due largely to Jed and his team’s efforts to shift the narrative.”

Ms. Nathan wrote to Ms. Abel: “And socials are really really ramping up. In his favour, she must be furious. It’s actually sad because it just shows you have people really want to hate on women.” (…)

On Aug. 16, Ms. Nathan shared the Daily Mail article headlined “Is Blake Lively set to be CANCELLED?” with references to ‘hard to watch’ videos and a ‘tone deaf’ promotional Q. and A.

“Wow. You really outdid yourself with this piece,” Ms. Abel responded.

“That’s why you hired me right?” Ms. Nathan replied. “I’m the best.”"

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[tender-rosiey]

What about sukuna with his shy babygirl when reader goes away for a week and hes left alone to take care of her?

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR SUKUNA WITH HIS SHY BABYY

silence speaks — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: my favorite duo ever and this is really centered around them cuz they so cute but you do make multiple appearances also BIGGGGGG thanks to @bluebell33 for beta-reading <33

sukuna rarely concerns himself with trifles. the great and feared king of curses has no patience for the mundane.

yet, when it comes to his daughter—his little, bashful shadow—he finds himself tackling challenges he never imagined, especially now that you’ve gone to visit your ill mother for the week.

and left him alone with her.

you had reassured him it would be fine, and he had sneered at the implication that he couldn’t manage a child for a mere seven days.

but now he finds himself cursing you as he stares down the wide-eyed girl standing in the middle of the courtyard.

she’s clutching her favorite stuffed fox, her tiny fingers squeezing the fabric tightly as if it’s her only anchor in the world.

her big eyes flit up to him and then dart away just as quickly, cheeks pinkening as she retreats into herself, the same way she always does when the world feels too big.

sukuna huffs, scratching the back of his head. “what?” he grumbles, his voice rough, but she doesn’t flinch.

not anymore. she’s long since grown used to his tone, his presence, his towering frame. still, she doesn’t answer, only fiddles with the hem of her little kimono.

he exhales sharply through his nose. “if you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”

her lips purse into a small pout, and her voice comes out barely above a whisper. “...hungry.”

of course.

sukuna crosses his arms, his four hands resting against his broad chest as he glances toward the kitchen.

he knows how to prepare a meal in theory—he’s watched you do it countless times—but actually doing it? for her?

“fine. sit,” he commands, gesturing toward the veranda.

she shuffles over without a word, sitting cross-legged with her fox in her lap, her gaze following his every movement like he’s some kind of unapproachable deity—which, to most, he is.

the kitchen is uncomfortably quiet without you bustling about in it.

sukuna’s hands work awkwardly, chopping vegetables with precision but lacking the rhythm you make it look so easy to achieve.

he scowls as he tastes the broth, finding it bland despite his efforts. still, he’s not about to admit defeat.

when he finally places the bowl in front of her, she looks up at him with wide, unsure eyes. “you made it?”

“who else, brat?” he snaps, though there’s no real bite to his words. he sits down beside her, his knee brushing against her tiny one as he watches her cautiously take a sip.

her lips curve into a small smile, and her voice is soft but earnest. “it’s good.”

he grunts, looking away to hide the faint twitch of his own mouth. “damn right it is.”

the next day, sukuna finds himself in the garden, sitting on the terrace with his arms crossed, watching his daughter as she toddles around, her fox clutched tightly to her chest.

she sticks close to him, circling the area but never straying far, her wariness of the world evident in her every hesitant step.

she pauses by the small patch of wildflowers, her tiny hand reaching out to pluck a bloom.

with the flower in her grasp, she shuffles over to him, her gaze flickering between the flower and her father’s intimidating figure.

“what’s that?” he asks flatly, raising a brow as she stops just short of his shadow.

“for...you,” she mumbles, her voice so soft he almost misses it.

sukuna narrows his eyes, leaning back against the wooden pillar as he watches her extend the flower toward him with trembling hands.

“what the hell am I supposed to do with that?” he scoffs, though his voice carries no malice.

her lips press into a nervous line, and she steps closer, holding it out insistently.

her little brow furrows in determination, and for a moment, she looks so much like you that it pulls a rare flicker of amusement from him.

he grunts, snatching the flower between two of his massive fingers as if it’s an inconvenience.

he twirls it once before tossing it onto the porch beside him, his crimson eyes meeting hers. “now what?”

she fidgets, her gaze darting to the ground. “it’s...pretty,” she whispers.

he leans back further, waving her off. “get out of here before you start thinking I’ll entertain you all day.”

she scurries off, her fox in one hand and her quiet laughter trailing behind her. sukuna glances at the discarded flower, its petals soft and vibrant against the wooden boards.

with a grunt, he flicks it off the edge with his finger, muttering under his breath. “ridiculous.”

the days that follow are...strange.

sukuna quickly realizes that his daughter is quiet by nature—content to play alone, to sit with her little fox and hum softly to herself.

she doesn’t demand his attention often, which leaves him both relieved and unsettled.

he’s used to people begging for his time, his favor, his mercy.

but she? she seems perfectly content with the simplest gestures—a pat on the head, a rare smile, his presence alone.

it’s on the third day, however, that she tests his patience.

the rain starts in the afternoon, a light drizzle that quickly turns into a downpour. sukuna is inside, reviewing a scroll, when he hears it—a soft, hiccuping sob from the other room.

he’s on his feet instantly, his massive frame filling the doorway as he finds her curled up in the corner, her fox clutched to her chest, her face buried in its fur.

“what the hell are you crying about?” he asks.

she sniffles, peeking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “it’s...loud,” she mumbles, her voice trembling.

it takes him a moment to realize she means the thunder.

he sighs, running a hand down his face before crouching down in front of her. “you’re afraid of a little noise?”

she nods hesitantly, her bottom lip quivering.

“pathetic.”

but instead of leaving her to deal with it alone, he picks her up, her tiny body fitting easily against his broad chest as he carries her to the main room.

he sits down on the tatami mat, cradling her against him as the storm rages outside.

she buries her face in his chest, her small hands clutching at his robes, and for once, he doesn’t push her away.

“you’re fine,” he mutters, his hand smoothing over her hair in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. “it’s just noise. nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

and somehow, she believes him.

by the time the week is up, sukuna is more than ready for you to return.

he won’t admit it, of course, but the sight of you walking through the gate fills him with an odd sense of relief.

your daughter, however, is the one who reacts most visibly.

“mama!” she cries, scrambling out of sukuna’s lap and running to you.

you scoop her up, laughing as she babbles about everything that’s happened in your absence, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement.

sukuna watches from the doorway, his arms crossed as he leans against the frame.

“well?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “how’d it go?”

“she’s alive, isn’t she?”

you laugh, stepping closer as you shift your daughter in your arms. your free hand brushes against his arm, a small, fleeting gesture that he doesn’t pull away from.

“she is,” you reply softly, tilting your head as you study his expression.

he’s looking past you now, crimson eyes sharp but distant, his gaze lingering on the garden beyond the estate gates.

it’s quiet for a beat too long, the weight of something unsaid hanging between you.

“did you miss me?” you ask, your voice light and teasing, but there’s a genuine curiosity beneath it.

he scoffs, his lips curling into something that’s not quite a smirk.

“don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters, but he turns his back to you, and you can’t help but feel it’s to hide a specific thing.

you smile knowingly, shifting your daughter higher on your hip as she snuggles into you, her fox tucked safely in her arms. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make you drink pure ginger

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[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll make you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[bluelockmaniac]

𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — ˎˊ˗ dad itoshi sae x mama fem!reader

"luewam, luewom, lukewome!" your three-year-old daughter squeals, her giggles ringing through the house as her tiny feet dart across the hardwood floor. you chase after her, spoon in hand, attempting to avoid stumbling on the scattered toys she never picks up.

ever since she had learned that infuriating word– the word that seemed to naturally and carelessly slip out of the impulsive lips of itoshi sae– your life had become a complete mess filled with chaos (and your child’s high-pitched laugh of triumph).

and to make matters worse, your daughter's first word was not ‘mama’. nor was it ‘papa’. you still vividly recall that day as if it had occurred yesterday.

"gah... ah..." the little carbon copy of sae babbles, her thumb tucked in her mouth, wide, sparkly eyes darting between her parents. she watches the two of you with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, sensing some sort of anticipation that her tiny brain could not yet grasp.

"sae, she's going to say her first word!" you laugh, clutching your husband's arm. although sae seemed to share only a fraction of your excitement, you could read the amused expression on his calm face.

"l-lu..." she pulls her thumb from her mouth, a glistening string of saliva stretching between her finger and lips. "luewaam!"

in that moment, your heart sinks, all the former expectations leaving you at a rapid pace, the corners of her lips curling upwards as she proudly declared her newfound term. nothing could compare to the crestfallen expression you wore that day. sae, on the other hand, chuckles proudly, scooping his little mimic into his arms.

"baby, come hereee!" you pant, pausing as you try to catch your breath. the speed of toddlers is not to be underestimated.

sae was watching all this— all your struggles— with a fond smile. he stretches out his arms for his daughter, and she cheerfully runs into her father’s embrace, her tiny hands resting on his shoulders as she steadies herself on his knees.

"you're a brat, aren't you?" he smiles at her, gently placing a hand on her back to support her. she simply giggles, then turns around and points at you with an accusatory finger.

"mama... luewam!"

you pout, setting the plate of mashed potatoes on the living room table before sitting beside them with your arms crossed against your chest.

your daughter bore a striking resemblance to sae— she had inherited your hair colour, but her eyes were identical to his, those gorgeous turquoise eyes framed by thick lashes.

"sae, see what you've taught her? i thought i told you to stop saying that word... how am i going to feed her annoying, cheeky ass now?"

you shoot her a feigned glare, and she responds by excitedly burying her messy face against sae's chest. your gaze shifted back to your guilty-looking husband.

sae simply averted his eyes from your threatening glare, his fingers ruffling through his daughter's soft hair. "she says the food is lukewarm. isn't that right, princess?" he asks.

"yesss! food luewam!" she chimes, giggles muffled against his shirt.

you couldn’t help but smile, despite your efforts to appear stern. his expression always seemed to soften when he looked at the little creature. he presses an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

he looks back at you and gestures for the spoon, which you were more than happy to hand over, and settles his daughter on his thigh. "say ahh," he prompts, gently nudging the spoon against her tightly sealed lips.

she stares at him intently, gaze drawn to the food on the bright blue spoon, before breaking into a wide grin, revealing all her tiny teeth, and opening her mouth eagerly.

she took in the food, kicking her feet back and forth delightfully in an attempt to remind you she believes the food tastes much better from her father's hand.

"there y'go... not lukewarm anymore, is it, pretty?" he pinches her plush cheeks, in which she responds with clapping her tiny hands together. she looks up at him, wordlessly pleading for more food with her sparkly eyes fluttering their long lashes at him.

"are you kidding me..." you sigh, slouching down on the couch with defeated eyes.

your daughter notices your exhaustion and interprets it as distress, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. "noo, mama!" she huffed, reaching out to comfort you. she turned to sae, fingers tapping lightly on his shoulder. "papa! mama tiwed!"

"yeah?" he settles her on your lap. "tell mama her food isn't lukewarm."

she looks back and forth between you and sae with puffed out cheeks, as you try your hardest to maintain your composure and not let her lovelines break your resolve.

puckering her lips in mock seriousness, she mumbles, "mama not luewam!”, drawing out yet another chuckle from sae. she smiles at you, “okay...?"

you would have forgiven her if not for the fact that later today, she peeked through the slightly ajar door of your bedroom, and blurted out a loud “luewome!” upon witnessing the “dizzgasting” way you kissed her father.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[nottsangel]

ONE. cockwarming — dealer!theo

warnings — smut 18+. cockwarming. exhibitionism. guns and slight gunplay.

kinkmas mlist. moodboard. more.

“you little brat.” theo growls under his breath, his tone husky and taunting, sharp eyes locking onto yours. he takes his gun from behind his waistband, placing it next to him before his hands hastily untie the string of his grey sweatpants, freeing his already half-hard cock from his pants. without hesitation, he aggressively pulls you onto his lap, making you hover over his crotch.

“can’t even keep your hands off me for one minute, can you?” he continues, his darkened eyes staring so intensely into yours as a smug smirk curls on his lips. you feel your cheeks heat up at his teasing words, only worsening the ache between your legs as you struggle to ignore the uncomfortable dampness in your underwear.

you tried to keep your hands off him all day long— you really did. but it became difficult when he was busy all day long and unable to give you any attention at all, and you suffered from a terrible touch deprivation. he insists it’s because he has to be ‘professional’, as if one little kiss would hurt that much.

so after hours of feeling your hands roam all over his tensed body and listening to your whines about not getting enough attention, he decides to give you exactly what you want—or need—as his warm hands wander down your body, teasing fingers tracing your wetness.

“mmm, you’re mean today.” you murmur softly, your hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders as his fingers swiftly pull your lace panties to the side, his piercing eyes not leaving yours once. with his other hand firmly on your hip, he positions you right over his precum-leaking erection and slowly pushes you down, making you hiss at the full sensation until you’re completely seated on his cock.

“finally.” you whisper breathlessly, your walls wrapping around him so tightly as the tip brushes against the deepest parts within you. but right as you want to move, theo tightly grips your hips, firmly holding you down. his smug smile widens when he notices both a puzzled and frustrated expression appearing on your adorable face.

“ohhh, you thought i was gonna fuck you? you thought you deserved that? that’s cute.” theo taunts, his tone dripping with mock surprise as his fingers slowly inch towards the gun, bringing it closer to your stiffened body.

“baby, please, just let me move!” you cry out, shivering as the cold metal of the gun slowly glides over your delicate skin, the barrel pointed right at you. a wave of fear courses through you, mingling with arousal, your wetness trickling down the insides of your thighs— he knows damn well this turns you on.

“nah… you’re gonna sit still and be a good girl for me now, a’ight? this is all you’re getting until i’m done with work.”

right when you part your glossed lips to speak, a loud knock echoes through his living room, causing you to gasp loudly. despite your desperate efforts to wiggle free from his firm grip, it’s no use, as he already yells a ‘come in’ to the client waiting in front of his door.

you frantically slap his shoulder in panic as he places the gun next to him again and smooths down your skirt, making sure it covers you both, leaving it impossible for anyone to see his cock buried balls-deep inside of you.

“you better sit still, piccola. don’t want him finding out what a filthy slut you are, huh? sitting on my cock while i’m working?”

“theodore nott, i swear to fucking go—”

“hey man, what’s good? you got any?” your head snaps to the side, your heart pounding out of your chest as you nibble on your bottom lip in unease. a regular client of theo casually walks in, hands in his pockets as approaches you both, thankfully not suspecting a thing— or so you thought.

“shit, what’s wrong with her?” he chuckles, his eyes scanning you up and down when he notices you restlessly moving around on theo’s lap, an undeniable flushed and embarrassed look on your face. your eyes widen when his gaze then lingers on your tits for a moment, theo’s eyes narrowing instantly as the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers pressing harshly into your skin.

“nothin’ you gotta worry about, mate.” he grumbles, before both his tone and eyes quickly turn icy. his hand casually reaches for the gun lying next to him on the couch, his grip on it firm and threatening as his other hand still possessively holds your hips. the poor man immediately takes a step back, swallowing hard when his eyes flick to the weapon, his hands weakly lifting in surrender.

“but uhm… look at my girl like that again i promise you’re not leaving this house in one piece, capito? coglione del cazzo.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

[moonlightwritingf1]

The fire between us | LN4

☃️ summary ━━━━━━━ Trapped in a Swiss cabin during a snowstorm, Lando and Y/N, who’ve been friends for less than a year, are left alone. As they play strip poker, hidden feelings surface, leading to a playful, intimate night where their connection deepens.

☃️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

☃️ word count ━━━━━━━ 7.4k

☃️ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

It was the week before Christmas, and the Swiss Alps had transformed into a winter wonderland. A luxurious cabin was nestled at the foot of the mountains, offering everything one could dream of—cozy fireplaces, panoramic views, and an atmosphere thick with the promise of festive memories. Lando had been the first to arrive. As the one who’d paid for the cabin and organized the trip, he had eagerly anticipated the getaway with their friend group. He loved skiing, but even more than that, he loved the idea of spending a few quiet days away from the hustle and bustle. More than anything, though, he was excited about being alone with her—Y/N.

From the moment they met less than a year ago through mutual friends, Lando had been captivated by her. She was different, making his heart race just a little faster whenever she was near. He tried to hide it—keeping his feelings buried beneath casual conversations and friendly smiles—but every time he saw her, his heart betrayed him. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Despite his efforts to keep his feelings hidden beneath casual conversation and playful teasing, they simmered just below the surface, growing stronger each time they hung out.

But Y/N had no idea. At least, that’s what he thought. She treated him like a close friend—nothing more. They’d spent time together over the months, enjoying each other’s company, making memories, but it was always just... friendly. And Lando had become all too familiar with that painful distance—the fine line between friendship and something more that he had no idea how to cross.

That was until this trip.

When Y/N finally arrived, she was the second person to make it to the cabin. And just as she stepped out of her car, the snowstorm began. The storm had been forecasted, but it hit much harder than expected. Before long, the roads were impassable, and their friends were stuck on the other side of the mountain, unable to get to the cabin. Just like that, Lando and Y/N were alone together, stranded in the middle of nowhere, with only each other’s company to keep them entertained.

Y/N was still adjusting her coat, brushing the snowflakes from her hair as she walked inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Lando, who had been staring out the window with a faint smile, snapped out of his daze when she appeared in the doorway.

“Hey! It’s freezing out there,” she said, stomping her boots on the mat as she entered.

Lando couldn't help but grin, his heart skipping at the sight of her. “You're telling me. I wasn’t expecting this kind of snowstorm.” He glanced outside. The flakes were falling heavier now, swirling around in the night sky. “Looks like we’re snowed in for a while.”

Y/N laughed. “Great. I hope we’re stocked up on food. I’m not sure I can survive on just wine and Christmas cookies.”

Lando chuckled, holding the door open for her to come inside. "We've got plenty of food. We’re going to be fine. Don’t worry."

“And it looks like it’s just you and me for the next few days,” she said, her voice light but with a hint of something more—something he couldn’t quite place.

Lando smiled, trying to act nonchalant, but his pulse quickened. “I guess so. Should be fun,” he replied, glancing around the spacious cabin. The fire was already crackling in the living room, the tree twinkling with Christmas lights, and everything felt so cozy. But it was also... quiet. Too quiet. Just the two of them.

After they had settled in and exchanged pleasantries about the snowstorm, Y/N collapsed onto the couch, kicking off her boots and letting out a sigh of relief. “This place is amazing, Lando. I could live here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Lando replied, smiling at her. “It’s the perfect place to get away.”

They exchanged a few casual words, laughing at some of the jokes their friends had sent through text. But as the night grew darker and the storm raged outside, they were left alone in the quiet of the cabin, with only the sound of the fire and the wind howling through the trees.

Y/N stretched out, glancing at Lando from across the room. “So, what now? We’ve got the whole place to ourselves. What should we do?”

Lando’s eyes twinkled with mischievous intent. “Well, we could play a game.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A game? Like Monopoly or something?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though his mind was already racing with possibilities. “Or something a little more... interesting.”

Her curiosity piqued, Y/N leaned forward. “What did you have in mind?”

Lando’s lips curved into a sly grin. “How about strip poker?”

Y/N blinked, clearly taken aback. “Strip poker? Really?”

Lando chuckled, knowing how she might react. He’d teased her with ideas like this before, but never seriously. Tonight, however, it felt like the perfect opportunity to let the playful tension between them simmer into something more. “What? You scared?” he asked, his voice dipping into a low, teasing tone.

She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly thinking it over. “Scared? Of you? Please.” Y/N shot him a teasing grin of her own. “You sure you want to risk it?”

“I’m not scared. Are you?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Fine. Let’s do it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lando grinned, gathering the cards. He wasn’t entirely sure how they got to this point, but there was no turning back now. He could already feel the playful, flirty energy between them, and it only made him want to tease her more. The game started innocently enough. They each took turns dealing the cards, laughing as they made their moves. At first, it felt just like any other game—light, easy, and full of jokes.

But as they started shedding clothes, something shifted. Lando couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes lingered on him just a little too long, how her lips curled into a teasing smile whenever he lost a round. And she was good—really good. Each time she won a hand, she would make a show of pulling off a layer of clothing, the way her body moved making Lando’s pulse spike in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

When Y/N was down to her tank top and leggings, she shot him a look. “Looks like I’m winning, Lando. Are you sure you’re alright with that?”

Lando could barely keep his eyes off of her. The way she smiled, the way she moved... everything about her made his heart race. “I’m just getting warmed up,” he said, trying to sound casual. “You should be worried.”

“Worried?” She let out a soft, melodic laugh, clearly enjoying the challenge. “I’m not the one losing clothes here.”

Lando grinned, trying to shake off the growing heat that he felt every time she looked at him. He could tell by the way she kept glancing at him that she was feeling the tension too. This wasn’t just a game anymore—it had become something else, something more dangerous, and he couldn’t seem to pull back. “It’s not over yet,” he said, his voice low.

Y/N shrugged, her lips curling up into a smile. “I’m not sure you can come back from this, but we’ll see.”

Finally, it was down to the last round. Both of them were now only in their underwear, the cards spread out between them on the floor. The fire crackled in the background, the only sound in the room except for their breathing.

“So,” Y/N said, her voice low, “you ready to lose?”

Lando swallowed hard. “Not yet,” he replied, trying to sound confident, though his mind was racing. The last layer of clothing between them felt like a barrier he couldn’t cross, but the tension was thick enough to slice with a knife.

They played their final hands, both of them taking risks, both of them desperately trying not to give in. And in the end, it was Y/N who won. She threw down her cards with a laugh, eyes sparkling.

“Well, looks like you’re the one who’s going to lose this time,” she said smugly, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Lando stared at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “I’m just getting started.” Without another word, he closed the gap between them, pulling her into a kiss that was nothing like the playful teasing they had shared moments before. This kiss was slow, deliberate, filled with the intensity of everything that had been building up between them for months.

Y/N froze for a second, surprised by the suddenness of it, but then she melted into him, her hands cupping his face as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The heat from the fire seemed to intensify as they deepened the kiss, their bodies pressed close together, the game now forgotten.

When they finally pulled apart, their faces flushed with more than just the warmth of the fire, Lando whispered, “I think I lost... but in the best possible way.”

Y/N’s smile softened as she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. “I think we both won,” she said quietly.

They decided to keep playing, though the silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unfinished moments. Lando could feel it in the way Y/N’s breath hitched slightly when he leaned closer, and in the way her fingers trembled just enough to be noticeable as she reached for another card.

This is it, he thought, his pulse quickening. One more round. One more chance to either lose everything or finally claim what he’d been wanting for so long.

“Your move,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady, her eyes locked on his. Her lips curved into a faint smile, teasing but laced with something deeper—something that sent a shiver down his spine.

Lando swallowed hard, his fingers brushing against the edge of the deck. He could feel the heat radiating off her, even from across the makeshift table they’d created on the floor. Her bra hugged her skin, the straps resting delicately on her shoulders, drawing his attention and making it impossible to focus on anything else. His own boxers felt like a damn prison at this point, constricting every thought and movement.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice light but pointed.

He blinked, caught off guard, and forced a laugh. “Am I?”

Y/N tilted her head, her grin widening. “A little. You might want to focus. If you lose again, there won’t be much left to look at.”

Her words were playful, but there was an edge to them, a challenge that made his chest tighten. Focus, Lando, he told himself. But no matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept drifting back to her. To the way her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulder, the way her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the fire and whatever tension was simmering between them.

“I’m focused,” he said, trying to sound confident even though his heart was pounding. “Just... taking my time.”

“Mmhmm,” she replied, clearly unconvinced. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the ground, and the movement drew his attention to the way her bra shifted, revealing just a hint of skin.

God, he thought, how is she doing this to me?

He picked up his cards, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped them over. Two pairs. Not bad, but not great. He glanced at Y/N’s hand, trying to gauge her expression, but she was too good. Her face was calm, composed, her eyes still locked on his with that same spark of mischief.

“Well?” she asked after a beat of tense silence. “Are you going to fold, or are you in this to the end?���

Lando hesitated, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, the knowledge that this wasn’t just a game anymore. It was something more, something that had been building between them for months. And now, here they were, alone in this cabin, stripped down to the bare minimum, their bodies close enough to touch.

If I fold, he thought, then it’s over. And if I don’t...

He looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the faintest flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. That was all the encouragement he needed.

“I’m in,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his decision. “Alright then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She laid down her cards, and Lando’s stomach dropped. Three jacks. He couldn’t believe it. She’d beaten him again.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You’re good at this.”

Y/N laughed, a soft, melodic sound that made his chest ache. “Told you you should’ve folded.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, forcing a grin. “Guess I’ll have to live with the consequences.”

He started to move, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, but Y/N stopped him with a single word.

“Wait.”

Lando froze, his hand hovering above his hips. “What?”

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes dark with something he couldn’t quite place. “Let’s make this interesting.”

His pulse quickened. “Interesting how?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pushed herself up onto her knees, bridging the gap between them until she was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

“Take them off,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “But not yet. Just... stay like that.”

Lando’s throat went dry. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, in his chest, everywhere. “Like what?”

Y/N’s gaze flicked downward, lingering for a moment before returning to his face. “Tease me first. Make me wait.”

The request hung in the air between them, heavy and charged. Lando could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, the blood rushing through his veins. He wanted to protest, to say something clever or sarcastic, but the way she was looking at him—like she was daring him, testing him—made it impossible to think of anything else.

“You’re serious?” he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Very.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fire crackled softly behind them, the storm outside howling louder now, as if urging them to act. Lando could feel the weight of her gaze, the way it seemed to pierce through him, stripping away any pretense of control.

And then, without thinking, he reached for the hem of his boxers, tugging it upward just enough to reveal the barest hint of skin.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her lips parting slightly as she watched him. “More,” she said, her voice low and husky.

Lando swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he pulled the fabric up another inch. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, in his chest, everywhere. “Is this what you wanted?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned closer, her fingers brushing against his thigh. “Almost,” she said, her voice a sultry purr. “But not quite.”

Lando’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the heat of her hand on his skin, the sensation sending sparks of electricity coursing through his body. “What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, his voice rough with need.

She smiled, slow and deliberate, her eyes locking on his. “Show me,” she said simply. “Show me how much you want this.”

Lando’s fingers brushed against the waistband of his boxers, his breath hitching as he hesitated for just a moment. His eyes remained locked on Y/N’s, her gaze steady and unyielding, daring him to go further. The firelight danced across her face, casting shadows that made her look even more alluring, more demanding. He couldn’t resist—not anymore.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid his boxers down, revealing himself completely to her. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an electric tension that made his skin prickle. He was fully exposed now, every inch of him on display, and yet it didn’t feel humiliating or uncomfortable. Instead, it felt... thrilling. Dangerous.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took in the sight of him, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. She was clearly caught off guard, though whether by surprise or arousal, Lando couldn’t tell. What he did know, though, was that her reaction only fueled his own desire. He was playing with fire, and he wasn’t about to back down.

“Satisfied?” he asked, his voice low and rough, practically dripping with challenge. The corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin as he watched her squirm under his gaze.

Y/N blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. “I... I don’t think so,” she stammered, her voice uncharacteristically breathless. She leaned back on her hands, her legs crossed at the ankles, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, the way her eyes kept darting to him and then away, gave her away.

Lando chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to shift the dynamic between them. “Come on, Y/N,” he said, his tone teasing. “You can’t expect me to believe you’re not impressed.”

She rolled her eyes, though the effect was ruined by the flush that spread across her neck. “Impressed? By what? Your poker skills? Because those definitely left something to be desired.”

He smirked, knowing she was just trying to play it cool. “Oh, I see. So you’re still mad that I lost. Fine. Maybe we should play another round. Even the odds.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting from playful to wary in an instant. “Another round? Really? You’re not exactly... dressed for the occasion.”

Lando leaned back, stretching casually, his movements slow and deliberate. “Who says I need clothes to play? Besides,” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s not like you’re shy about winning.”

Her breath caught again, and this time she didn’t try to hide it. The heat in the room had reached an almost unbearable level, and it wasn’t just from the fire. With only her underwear on, every subtle movement was impossible to ignore. Lando’s eyes flicked to the way her pulse jumped at the base of her throat, the way her legs shifted restlessly against the floor as if she was trying to maintain control. She was fighting it, resisting the pull between them, but he could see the cracks forming in her resolve. And honestly? He loved watching her struggle.

“Alright,” she said finally, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. “But this is your last chance. Don’t blame me if you lose everything.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando replied, his grin widening. “I’m used to betting big.”

They shuffled the cards once more, their fingers brushing more often than necessary. Each touch sent a jolt of anticipation through Lando, making him wonder if Y/N was feeling it too. The game began, but it was hard to focus with the way she kept stealing glances at him, her eyes lingering just a little too long on places they shouldn’t.

The first few rounds were tense, both of them holding their cards close to their chests. Lando tried to keep his confidence up, but the way Y/N’s breathing quickened with each passing moment made it difficult. She was getting flustered, clearly struggling to concentrate, and it only made him tease her more.

“You alright over there?” he asked after a particularly long pause, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Need a break? A glass of water, maybe?”

Y/N glared at him, though the effect was softened by the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she snapped, though her voice wavered slightly. “Just... focusing.”

Lando chuckled, leaning closer until their knees nearly touched. “Focusing on what? The rules of the game, or... other things?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes flickering to his before darting away. “Maybe both,” she admitted quietly, her cheeks burning brighter.

It was the admission Lando had been waiting for. Her honesty, her vulnerability, it was all he needed to see that she was just as affected by this as he was. And with that realization, his confidence surged.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice smooth and assured. “Why don’t we make it a little more interesting?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her bravado returning in full force. “Oh? And how do you propose we do that?”

Lando leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “How about... a forfeit? For every round you win, I have to do whatever you say. And for every round I win...” He paused, giving her a moment to process. “You have to do whatever I say.”

Her breath caught again, and this time she didn’t try to hide it. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken desire. She knew this was dangerous territory, but the way Lando’s eyes burned with mischief and intent was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Lando grinned, his heart racing as he dealt the next hand. This was it. This was where the real game began.

The cards were shuffled again, the deck slick between their fingers as they settled into another round. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the cabin. The storm outside raged on, but inside, it was warm and intimate, the air thick with unspoken promises.

Lando leaned back slightly, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “Your move,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. There was a spark in his gaze that made her stomach flutter—a mix of challenge and something deeper she couldn’t quite name.

Y/N met his stare, her lips curling into a small smile. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the stakes higher than ever before. Every movement, every word, seemed to carry more meaning than it should. She shifted slightly, her legs brushing against his under the makeshift poker table, and Lando’s breath hitched just barely.

She played her cards carefully, her mind working overtime to anticipate his moves. But even as she focused on the game, she couldn’t ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the room. His knee grazed hers again, deliberately this time, and she shivered despite herself.

“Bold play,” Lando murmured as he laid down his hand, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “But I think I’ve got you beat.”

Y/N glanced at his cards, her heart sinking slightly as she realized he was right. She bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment, but Lando was already leaning forward, his expression teasing yet somehow serious.

“Looks like you owe me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. She knew whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be simple, and part of her reveled in the idea of giving him control.

Lando paused for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingertips lingering against her cheek. “Take off your bra,” he said simply, his tone light but his eyes burning with intent.

Y/N froze for a second, her breath catching in her throat. The request was direct, unexpected, and yet… not entirely unwelcome. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, but she refused to let it show. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze with a confidence she wasn’t sure she truly felt.

“That all?” she teased, her voice cool despite the way her pulse quickened.

Lando chuckled, low and deep, the sound sending a thrill through her. “For now,” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. He was enjoying this, she realized—enjoying the way she fought to maintain her composure, the way she challenged him even as she gave in.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment longer, then reached behind her back. The clasp of her bra came undone easily, and she slid the straps down her arms, letting the fabric pool at her waist. She kept her posture relaxed, her shoulders straight, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected her.

Lando’s gaze dropped to her chest, his expression softening for a moment before he forced himself to meet her eyes again. “Gorgeous,” he said quietly, his voice almost reverent.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Y/N replied, her tone light as she tried to keep things playful. But there was an edge to her words, a hint of something raw and unspoken that made Lando’s breath hitch.

They sat like that for a moment, the tension between them palpable, the room feeling smaller with each passing second. Then Lando spoke again, his voice low and rough. “Another round?”

Y/N nodded, her heart racing as she picked up the cards. This time, there was no mistaking the electricity between them, no pretending that this was just a game. It was something more, something dangerous and thrilling, and she was all in.

The next few rounds passed in a blur. They teased each other mercilessly, their banter sharpening with every hand. But there was an underlying current of desire now, an awareness of how close they were, how little separated them except for the thin layer of her underwear and the rules they’d set.

Lando won again, his grin widening as he laid down his cards. “Looks like I get to collect my prize,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief.

Y/N’s breath caught as she realized what that meant. “And what exactly is your prize?” she asked, her voice steady despite the heat pooling in her lower belly.

Lando leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I want to taste you.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with meaning. Y/N felt her heartbeat accelerate, her skin tingling in response to his proximity. She should have said no, should have put a stop to this before it went any further. But the truth was, she didn’t want to. Not with him. Not when he looked at her like that, with such fierce intensity it stole her breath.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she said finally, her voice trembling just slightly. She was playing with fire, she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Lando’s grin widened, and he slid his hand along her thigh, his touch warm and insistent. “I want to make you come,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “with my tongue.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her entire body flooding with heat at his words. She could feel the flush spreading across her chest, her nipples tightening in response to his nearness. She wanted to say yes, wanted to give in to the hunger that had been building inside her since the moment they’d first kissed. But part of her hesitated, afraid of what it meant, afraid of how far this would go.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando didn’t answer with words. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, fleeting kiss. “Never been more sure of anything,” he murmured against her lips.

Then, without waiting for her reply, he stood and pulled her to her feet. In one swift motion, he guided her backward until she was sitting on the edge of the couch, her legs dangling over the side. He knelt in front of her, his hands resting on her thighs, his gaze locked on hers.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Lando’s hands slid up her thighs, his touch warm and deliberate. She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared down at him. His eyes were intense, almost predatory, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “But if you don’t…”

If I don’t? Her mind raced, torn between the sudden rush of desire and the lingering caution that held her back. But then she met his gaze—those deep, dark eyes that seemed to see straight through her. There was no hesitation there, no doubt. Just pure, unfiltered need, and it was contagious.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Lando’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, and then he was moving, his hands sliding beneath her thighs as he gently urged them apart. Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as he knelt lower, his face now level with her aching core. The firelight danced across his features, casting shadows that made him look both dangerous and irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration as his fingers grazed the edge of her underwear. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through her at his words. His honesty was intoxicating, and it made her want to surrender completely. “Show me,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “Show me how much you want this.”

His answer was immediate. In one swift motion, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of her panties and pulled them aside, exposing her to the cool air again. Y/N gasped, her body tensing as his breath ghosted over her sensitive skin. Then, without warning, his mouth was on her, his tongue darting out to taste her.

“Oh!” The sound escaped her before she could stop it, a mix of surprise and pleasure that left her head spinning. Lando chuckled softly against her, the vibration sending another wave of sensation rippling through her. He teased her with his tongue, flicking and circling in lazy patterns that had her gripping the edge of the couch for support.

“Lando…” she moaned, her hips twitching as she tried to push herself closer to him. But he wasn’t done teasing her yet. His hands gripped her thighs tighter, holding her steady as he explored every inch of her with his mouth. His tongue delved deeper, curling and pressing in ways that made it impossible for her to think clearly.

Her breath came in short, jagged bursts, each one louder than the last. The fire crackled behind her, its warmth spreading through her body along with the overwhelming sensations Lando was stirring within her. He’s so good at this, she thought dimly, her mind fogging over with pleasure. So in control.

But just when she thought she might actually pass out from the intensity of it all, Lando changed his pace. Instead of the slow, deliberate movements that had been driving her wild, he began to move faster, his tongue darting in and out of her in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. His teeth grazed lightly against her clit as he sucked, creating a new kind of friction that had her arching her back and crying out his name.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her words incoherent as her orgasm built and built inside her. Lando didn’t let up, not for a second. If anything, he intensified his efforts, his fingers brushing against her folds as his mouth worked furiously. The dual stimulation was too much—too perfect—and within moments, she was shattered.

“LAN-DO!” Her scream filled the cabin as her hips bucked against his face, her entire body trembling with the force of her release. It felt like everything inside her was exploding, over and over, until she was nothing but a quivering mess. Lando rode out her climax with ease, his mouth never leaving her as he licked and kissed until every last bit of tension had drained from her body.

When she finally collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving and her legs still shaking, Lando pulled away slowly, his lips wet and his expression smug. “Better than winning at poker?” he asked with a grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Y/N glared at him, though her smile gave her away. “Don’t get cocky,” she panted, batting his hand away playfully.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, standing and towering over her. “Round one was just the beginning.”

Before she could respond, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto his lap, positioning her so that she was straddling him. His erection pressed firmly against her core, already demanding attention, and Y/N couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice low and husky as he nipped at her earlobe.

Y/N’s response was instant. She ground her hips against him, relishing the way his breath hitched and his grip tightened on her waist. “Show me,” she whispered, her voice laced with challenge. “Show me what else you’ve got.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand on her back and the other guiding himself, he lined his length up with her entrance. Y/N braced herself, her heart racing as she felt the blunt pressure of his tip against her slick folds. Then, with a deep groan, he pushed forward, filling her in one smooth thrust.

“Fuck,” she gasped, throwing her head back as the fullness hit her all at once. It was overwhelming—his size, his strength, the way he claimed her so utterly. She’d never felt anything like it, and the realization only heightened her arousal.

“You feel so good,” Lando growled, his voice rough with need as he pulled back and thrust into her again. “God, Y/N, you’re so tight.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he set a steady rhythm. Each stroke was deliberate, hitting all the right spots and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her veins. The firelight flickered across their entwined bodies, casting a golden glow that made everything seem even more intimate.

“Harder,” she demanded, her voice breaking as she shifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “Please, Lando. Harder.”

He didn’t hesitate. With a growl of approval, he grabbed her hips and drove into her with renewed vigor. The slap of skin against skin echoed in the quiet cabin, mixing with their ragged breaths and the occasional moan that slipped past her lips. Y/N clung to him, her body writhing as she surrendered to the sensation.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she cried out, her voice rising with each thrust. Lando buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he fucked her with relentless determination. He was everywhere—his hands, his mouth, his cock—and it was too much. Too perfect.

“I’m going to come again,” she warned, her voice trembling as her orgasm began to build once more. “Lando, I’m—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a raw, primal demand. “Let go, Y/N. Let me feel you come around me.”

Those words were her undoing. With a cry that echoed through the cabin, she threw her head back and shattered around him. Her inner muscles clenched tightly around his cock as her orgasm tore through her, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Lando’s thrusts slowed as he watched her fall apart in his arms, his own release nearing. He buried his face in her neck, whispering sweet, frantic promises as he continued to move inside her. And then, with a final, desperate thrust, he came undone.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained as he spilled deep inside her. His whole body shuddered as he emptied himself into her, the sensation of being so intimately connected to her overwhelming.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies locked together as they caught their breath. Y/N pressed her forehead against his, her heart still racing as she tried to process everything that had just happened.

Lando and Y/N remained intertwined, their bodies still twitching with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The fire crackled softly in the background, casting a warm amber glow over them as they clung to each other, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between their lips.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were their heartbeats slowing to a steady rhythm and the occasional pop of a log in the fireplace. The storm outside seemed distant now, its fury muted by the cocoon of warmth and intimacy they’d created within the cabin.

Y/N shifted slightly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across Lando’s back. Her skin was still flushed, her body languid with satisfaction, but her mind was racing. She couldn’t believe how deeply she had let herself go—how completely she had surrendered to him. And yet, it felt right. It felt inevitable.

What is this? she wondered, her thoughts a jumbled mess of emotions. What are we doing?

Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his eyes searching hers. His expression was soft, almost reverent, as if he were trying to drink in every detail of her face. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly, her lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah. Just... catching my breath.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “Same here.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer before Y/N broke the silence again. “You’re really bad at poker, you know that?” she teased, her tone light despite the heat still simmering between them.

Lando grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that playful way of his. “I thought I was pretty good at bluffing. Guess not.”

“You weren’t bluffing when you said you’d do anything to win, though,” she said, her voice dropping slightly as she remembered the intensity of his actions.

His grin faded, replaced by something far more serious. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I wasn’t.”

The air between them shifted, the playful tension giving way to something heavier. Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart racing as his words sank in. He wasn’t just talking about the game. He was talking about her.

She swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. “You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He shifted closer, his hand brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her pulse quicken. His thumb traced her skin, his touch warm despite the chill lingering in the air. “You’re worth more than winning a game, Y/N. You’re worth everything.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding against her ribs. She wanted to say something—to tell him how much his words meant to her—but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief moment as his warmth enveloped her. For months, she’d ignored the flickers of possibility between them, convincing herself it was all in her head. But now, there was no hiding from it.

When she opened her eyes again, she found him watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. “Lando,” she started, her voice trembling slightly.

But he cut her off with a kiss, soft and lingering, as if he were savoring the taste of her. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing as they breathed each other in.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. His lips curved into a soft smile, the teasing edge of his usual grin still there, but gentler now. “Just… let it happen.”

And for once, she did. She closed the distance between them, leaning into the warmth of his touch and the quiet certainty in his eyes. When their lips met, it was soft, tentative, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid.

The fire crackled in the background, but all she could feel was him—his warmth, his presence, and the promise held in the quiet stillness of the cabin.

Lando shifted again, rolling onto his back but keeping her close. Y/N curled up beside him, resting her head on his chest as his arm wrapped around her, pulling her even tighter against him. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear was oddly comforting, grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

“So,” she said after a while, breaking the silence with a tone that was equal parts playful and curious. “What happens now?”

Lando chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, lifting her head to look at him, “we can’t exactly keep playing strip poker. Not without clothes, anyway.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying her teasing. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we’re out of games.”

Her eyebrow arched in question. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“How about truth or dare?” he suggested, his voice dripping with mischief.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Seriously? You want to play truth or dare? After all that?”

“Why not?” he countered, his grin widening. ���It’s a classic. And who knows? Maybe we’ll learn something new about each other.”

She considered his proposal for a moment, her curiosity piqued. “Alright,” she said finally, sitting up slightly so she could look at him. “Let’s do it. But fair warning—I don’t hold back.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, his tone confident. “Your move.”

She bit her lip, thinking for a moment before deciding. “Truth.”

Lando’s grin turned sly. “Alright... what’s the last thing you Googled?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the simplicity of his question. “Really? That’s your big question?”

“Yep,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “Spill.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I Googled the best places to visit in Switzerland.”

“Huh,” he said, his expression thoughtful. “Planning a solo trip?”

“Maybe,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if there was anywhere else worth checking out while we’re here.”

Lando’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Well, if you’re looking for recommendations, I’m your guy.”

“Good to know,” she said, tilting her head as she studied him. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Her grin widened, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright... I dare you to kiss me until I forget my own name.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he processed her challenge. Before he could respond, she slid her hand along his jaw, guiding his face toward hers. Her lips met his in a kiss that was slower, deeper than before—a kiss that left no room for doubt about how much she wanted him.

He groaned softly into her mouth, his hands gripping her waist as he deepened the kiss. Every movement, every touch, seemed deliberate, as if he were etching the memory of this moment into his very soul.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing heavy as she looked up at him. “Okay,” she said breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think you win this round.”

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. “Careful,” he warned, his tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good,” she said, her smile turning wicked. “Because I like it hot.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him again, her hands sliding down to his shoulders as she pressed herself closer to him. The fire roared behind them, the storm raged outside, but all that mattered was the connection they shared—a connection that was growing stronger with every passing moment.

They stayed like that for a while, lost in each other, the world beyond the cabin fading into obscurity. And as the night wore on, they continued to explore the depths of their desire, pushing boundaries and discovering new ways to bring each other pleasure.

It was a night unlike any other, a night that would stay with them long after the snow had melted and the fire had burned out. A night that marked the beginning of something extraordinary—something that neither of them could have predicted but that felt utterly, undeniably right.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 3

(Rafe Cameron x reader, series, 5.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/themes, heavy drinking, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

The game was on, and Carter wasn’t one to go down without a fight.

You however, were much less invested in her scheme to set you up with Tom, already feeling tired and confused after 24-hours of this little reunion trip. You laid in bed for quite a while replaying the almost-moment you’d had with Rafe in the kitchen in your head before taking a long, dreamless nap. It was the smell of the barbeque wafting through your bedroom window that woke you up. You threw your hair up in a bun, too groggy to care about putting any more effort into your appearance.

As you reached for the handle, you heard two hushed voices arguing behind your bedroom door. You opened it slowly to reveal Carter and Topper facing each other, both with their arms crossed as they carried on a heated whisper-argument.

“What are you even doing up here Topper?” Carter demanded.

“I don’t know, what are you doing up here Carter? Trying to get a leg up?” Topper snapped back, towering over her in height yet still somehow looking small under her glare.

They were so locked in on each other that neither of them had even noticed your appearance.

“Um, hi,” you waved your hand between their faces to get their attention. “Can I help you?”

They looked at you, startled as their arms fell and stances softened. Carter eyed your outfit up and down, trying to hide her distaste at your choice of leggings and a t-shirt.

“Well, I don’t know what he’s doing up here but I came to see if you needed help getting ready,” Carter replied.

“I am ready,” you said, eyeing her suspiciously.

“You’re, uh,” Topper scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You squinted at him, you could understand Carter critiquing your outfit, knowing she was trying to set you up with Tom, but what stake did Topper have in your outfit choice?

“We’re literally just going downstairs,” you countered.

“Maybe throw on something a little nicer,” Carter urged gently.

“Okay, fine,” you gave in. “You two are being so weird today.”

Topper gave you a thumbs up as you closed the door in their faces.

A few minutes later you reemerged in a new outfit, a crocheted halter top and some cut-offs. You had let your hair down and ran a brush through it, dabbed on some mascara and lipgloss. It was the maximum amount of effort you were willing to put into a big night out in the backyard.

Despite everyone’s relentless teasing, Topper actually was a pretty good cook. The food was great and everyone thanked you, Rafe, and Tom for going out to get it.

“Tom paid!” you announced. “So everyone make sure to be really nice to him or he won’t bankroll us anymore.”

You smiled at Tom, who grinned back and waved you off in joking modesty. You let your eyes linger as he leaned over the firepit on the other side of the sprawling patio, skillfully stacking the wood before lighting a match and holding it under. He crouched low to blow gently on the kindling, causing the fire to roar to life. You could see a sliver of his toned lower back peeking out from his shirt as he reached for another log, dropping it straight into his newly sparked flame with a bare hand. The whole thing was unbelievably attractive.

The only thing better was the stoney look on Rafe’s face when you caught his eye, realizing he’d noticed the way you were looking at Tom like you wanted to have him for dessert. Good. 

Playing and replaying the scene from the kitchen in your head all afternoon, you came downstairs determined to freeze Rafe out. Sure, he remembered your favorite candy and maybe almost even apologized, but it wasn’t enough to erase the sting you felt when he pulled away from you like you had the plague as soon as anyone else entered the room.

After dinner, you were perched on the railing of the porch, sipping something strong and chatting with Carter and her childhood best friend, Maddie.

Maddie was nice enough, the Kook academy prom queen two years in a row, but she had never shown much interest in you. Until you showed up here looking much more instagram-worthy than you had in high school.

“So, omg,” Maddie started, playing with a strand of your hair like you were the closest of friends. “When are you gonna drop the workout routine? You look gorg.”

Never once had one of Carter’s friends complimented your looks. 

“Thanks,” you grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I play a lot of volleyball and jog a little.”

“Well it’s working!” Kelce hollered from across the porch, already wobbling slightly from his inebriation.

There it was again, your blush, always showing up at the least opportune times. All eyes were on you, such open talk about your body making your skin crawl with self-consciousness. You looked over the railing to the sand a few feet down, wondering how badly the jump would hurt.

As always, knowing you better than anyone, Carter felt like she could read your mind. Protectiveness roared in her chest, she set her hand over yours to silently tell you she understood before turning to the party and announcing, “okay, we’re playing a game! Everyone around the fire pit!”

No one argued with her wishes, they never did. The group gathered around the bonfire, each with a full drink in hand as Carter unnecessarily explained the rules to never have I ever as if this same group hadn’t played it a hundred times in high school. 

You appreciated Carter moving the attention off of you, but clearly she didn’t know this was your least favorite game in the world. The second the name of the game came out of her mouth, your heart dropped to your stomach, hit with memories of sitting off to the side while her friends played, all of your fingers embarrassingly still up, revealing you had done nothing interesting or scandalous in your life.

Sure, you’d definitely added a few notches to your belt since then, but you knew these people and had no doubt you were still way behind. The sad thing is you didn’t even care, but you knew they would and you couldn’t help that nagging desire to prove that you were just as cool as them. You sighed as you settled in your chair next to Carter, frustrated that just as you were starting to feel somewhat normal, you were transported right back to your loneliest days.

Carter went first, “never have I everrr…shoplifted.”

Sabrina took a giggly sip from her solo cup.

“Isn’t your dad’s networth like a billion dollars?” Kelce asked.

“Yes, but he never would’ve bought me those red panties, so I took ‘em,” she winked at him, and he scooted his chair closer to her.

Everyone else still had all ten fingers up, making you think maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

But your relief didn’t last long. One by one they went around the circle, revealing each other’s secrets and leaving you with ten fingers up.

“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.” Your fingers stayed up.

“Never have I ever hooked up in a public place.” Your fingers stayed up. 

As the group got tipsier, the revelations got dirtier. You were sure some of them were lying and there was some temptation for you to put a finger down as a lie too just to level the playing field, but that was such teenage bullshit. You might not have as a high of a body count as some of them, but you still had your pride. 

The blood rushed from you face when Maddie said, “never have I ever been with two people at once” and Rafe put his last finger down, smirking as he finished off his beer.

A few more rounds passed and everyone else had put at least a couple fingers down while you still hadn’t done a single one of the things listed. You chewed on your lip, wondering how early was too early to excuse yourself to go to bed.

You were about to make a break for it, when a now sloppily drunk Sabrina pointed at you and slurred, “aww bambi’s still got ten!”

Bambi was another one of the many teasing nicknames they’d called you in high school, and it might just be your least favorite. 

“You’re still such a good girl,” Sabrina jibed. 

She must’ve been beyond wasted. She wasn’t necessarily nice, but she wasn’t usually this much of a bitch.

Your breaths got short, the anxiety erupting like fireworks in your chest. You could feel Carter’s mind spinning next to you, trying to come up with some way to defend you, but another voice beat her to it.

“Well,” Rafe said, drawing all eyes off of you and across the firepit towards him. “Never have I ever gotten so crossfaded at a boneyard party that I pissed my pants in someone else’s truck.”

He shot Sabrina a vindictive smile.

“Rafe!” She protested. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” 

At her admission, everyone broke out into laughter, aimed at her.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Rafe chuckled, “you just did.”

“Bruhh,” Kelce hollered. “That’s nasty!”

Sabrina went red, completely humiliated. You tried to be a girl’s girl, but after years of her teasing and making you feel like a loser, you couldn’t help but join in the laughter at her expense. 

As she emptied her cup spitefully, you caught Rafe’s gaze across the fire, the air between you wavy with the flame’s heat. He smiled a crooked, satisfied smile at you, and you mouthed “thank you.” He gave you a reassuring wink and your stomach did cartwheels. 

Carter straightened in her lawn chair next to you, kicking herself for giving Rafe the chance to save you before she could.

“I’ve got one!” she announced, and the crowd hushed to hear their queen. “Never have I ever skinny dipped in the campus fountain and got caught by campus security but successfully flirted my way out of a citation and ended up getting the cop’s number.”

Everyone looked around the circle quizzically, wondering who that incredibly specific anecdote was aimed at.

“No fucking way!” Topper shouted when he saw you put down your pinky finger with a bashful smile.

Topper and Kelce whooped, and the girls all gave you impressed looks.

“Okay baddie!” Maddie gasped. “Was he cute? Did you call him?”

“I mean he wasn’t not cute,” you mused, taking the obligatory sip of your drink. “We hung out a few times.”

“So does that mean you’re into handcuffs now orrr…” Kelce chimed in.

“Oops, I put the wrong fingers down,” you lifted your hand and theatrically put all down except your middle finger, aiming it at Kelce.

The crowd erupted with laughs and amused ohhhh’s. Even Rafe was smiling, and you couldn’t help but wish you knew what he was thinking, noticing his soft eyes on you as you bantered with his friends, all attention on you. This time, you weren’t blushing, you were just enjoying yourself. It felt so nice to have such a naturally fun and easy moment, but it was short lived.

“Never have I ever,” Sabrina interrupted, hiccuping. “Failed an entire semester of college.”

The crowd fell silent once again, no one daring to bring their eyes to Rafe, the clear target of her comeback. He just rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, like it didn’t bother him at all. But you could see the hint of shame in his eyes, a rare glimpse of vulnerability hidden under his tough facade. You used to spend so much of your time digging for those deeper layers that it was easy for you to pick up on them when they rose to the surface, even if it was just for a second.

Maybe you should let him flounder, leave him hanging like he’d done to you so many times before. But tonight, for the first time ever, he had jumped in to defend you, and maybe one act of kindness wouldn’t kill you.

“Fuck this game. Topper, didn’t you say something earlier about a beer pong tournament?” You prompted him, hoping desperately he’d see what you were trying to do and play along.

Topper looked confused at first, so you smiled tightly and flicked your eyes to Rafe and back as quickly as possible, urging him to understand.

Ever the king of subtlety, Topper’s eyes went wide as he mouthed “ohhhh!” 

Rafe saw the whole thing.

“Beer pong! Yes!” Topper said, excited to finally be in the loop. “Let’s do it!”

“I wanna play!” Sabrina stood quickly from her chair, immediately tripping over her own feet.

“Woah,” Carter caught her and held her up with some effort, Sabrina so far gone she couldn’t even use her legs. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

Carter stabilized Sabrina and guided her towards the house. You knew she was pissed at Sabrina for picking on you, but Carter would never leave a drunk girl to stumble around a party by herself. She looked at you apologetically, but you nodded to let her know you were fine.

After they disappeared into the house, Topper and Kelce got to work clearing the long outdoor dining table for beer pong, filling cups and placing them with great attention to detail. You chuckled at the way they were arguing over correct cup spacing and fill levels as you reached down into the cooler for another drink. When you stood, Tom appeared by your side.

“I didn’t realize I was sharing a house with a criminal,” he drawled, mouth quirked with a crooked smile.

“Oh yeah,” you played along, popping the top of your drink. “I’m wanted in four states and Puerto Rico.”

“And Puerto Rico, wow,” he leaned his arm against the porch rail, his body angling towards yours in a way that made your skin prick with goosebumps. “I need to hear that story.”

“I’d tell you,” you lowered your voice and lifted your mouth towards his ear to whisper. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“You’re in that deep, huh?” He placed his other hand on the railing on the other side of you, effectively caging you in, though he held himself back far enough to give you some space. You didn’t want space, though, the enticing scent of whiskey and the smoke from the fire drawing you to him.

“Mhm,” you leaned in so your chests were almost touching, a smile tugging his full lips when he noticed the way you intentionally closed the space between you. “If you thought the campus fountain story was bad…”

“I didn’t think it was bad,” he shook his head.

“No?” You grinned, eager to see where he was going with this.

“Not bad, kind of hot, but not bad,” he confessed.

“Only kind of?” You furrowed your brow in mock offense.

He broke into a smile and blushed, flustered as he said, “I mean, uh…”

You giggled. His bashful, dimpled smile was so painfully cute you were suddenly seeing the value to Carter’s matchmaking plan.

The alcohol in your system mixed with the warmth radiating off of him made your body go hot, tingles shooting up your spine as his eyes fell to your lips. He was so damn pretty. Warm brown eyes and messy hair you wanted to tangle your fingers in.

Rafe grabbed the fire poker and busied himself by tending to the flames, which didn’t really need it, considering Tom had built such a sturdy fire. The sound of your sweet giggles floating through the air as you flirted with Tom made him want to walk straight off the porch and into the ocean. He’d surely put his lifelong friendship with Sabrina on the line, not to mention his own pride, to keep you from running away in embarrassment, and now Tom was reaping the rewards of his chivalry. 

He remembered, though. Maybe you didn’t think he did, but he remembered. The nights you sat in the corner, lonely, pining, and the go-to butt of his friends’ stupid jokes. And he’d just sat by and let it happen, so many times. It’s no wonder you were leaned up against someone else, sharing stories about a whole chapter of your life he’d missed. He only had himself to blame.

Once the table was set up, Topper turned and frowned at the way the group had split, you and Tom cozy in the corner while Rafe stood by the fire alone, shoulders tense. He needed to step up his Cupid game, like, now.

He clapped his hands loudly, voice booming as he announced to the party that it was time to play. The startling sound forced Tom away from you just as you were about to ask him if he wanted to walk down to the water. Topper pointed right at you and pronounced you would be on his team. You were going to protest before you remembered beer pong was your idea in the first place, your ruse to protect Rafe. You couldn’t back out now.

Beer pong was another thing you’d added to your skill set in college. In high school, you were never asked to join when parties inevitably broke into a tournament. Instead you’d sit quietly and watch with hearts in your eyes as Rafe played with the competitiveness of an Olympian in a gold medal race.

He was known for his terrible sportsmanship, everyone expected a full tantrum if he didn’t win. The same went for school sports, you’d spent every night after a rare loss up on the phone with him listening intently while he ranted about all the ways the refs were wrong or the umps were blind. At the time, you took it as an honor that you were the one he wanted to find solace in. Now, grown and mature, you saw it for what it really was; no one else wanted to listen to him bitch and moan, so you were just his only option.

“Let’s go, Little Carter!” Topper raised his hand for a high five as you approached the table.

“If you call me that, I’m not playing,” you left him hanging.

“My bad, my bad,” he conceded.

You gave in and high fived him, stepping up to the table with your game face on. Kelce and Maddie stood across from you. They were both terrible shots, and you sunk every ball, but Topper was keeping them in the game with his many misses. 

Topper was great at beer pong in high school and you were sure he’d had plenty of practice at U of F, so there was no reason he should be playing so horribly.

“Dude, what the hell is up with you?” You scolded him after another throw that was way off.

“I dunno,” Topper said with an exaggerated drunken slur in his voice. “I think I’m just too wasted to play. You might need another partner.”

Before you could mock him for his dramatics, he had called over to Rafe, who was sitting back in a lounge chair looking at his phone, anything to keep his eyes off of you.

“What?” He grumbled, eyes lifting from his screen and avoiding yours.

“Need you to sub in for me,” Topper fake hiccupped and you rolled your eyes.

You were sure Rafe would see you were his proposed partner and pass on the opportunity, but then he and Topper had some kind of silent conversation with their eyes that you couldn’t interpret, and Rafe stood from his chair.

“You don’t have to,” you offered as he stepped up and took the ball from Topper.

You hated that your instinct was to apologize for inconveniencing him. He shrugged and lined up his first shot.

“Someone’s gotta show ‘em how it’s done,” he said with an easy grin that made your heart beat a little faster. 

If only your younger self could see how your night was progressing. Impressing everyone during never have I ever. Flirting with a gorgeous boy from another school. And now, Rafe smiling at you and acknowledging your presence in front of all these people, willingly agreeing to be your teammate. She’d have died and gone to heaven.

He had every right to be cocky; he was really good. And to his great surprise, so were you. You and Rafe made quick work of Kelce and Maddie, then Kelce and Jack, then Kelce and three more partners that tried to step up to the plate, Kelce’s aim worsening as he teetered on the edge of a blackout.

“When did you get so good at this?” Rafe asked you after a partcualrly skillful shot.

“I was always good at it,” you scoffed. “You just never let me play.”

After that comment, Rafe was suddenly an extra encouraging teammate. Before each shot he’d pull you back, leaning down to whisper in your ear conspiratorially about which cup you should call, like an NFL coach rallying his quarterback.

“I can’t hit the far corner, my aim isn’t that good,” you said when he proposed the risky shot. 

Self-doubt filled your face as you bit your lip, Rafe recognizing the nervous tick instantly.

“Nah you got it!” he grabbed you by the shoulder and shook you playfully. “You just gotta believe in yourself.” 

Despite yourself, you broke into a smile, making a feeble attempt to brush him away, though he could tell you didn’t mean it.

“Let’s go slugger,” Rafe placed the ball in your hand and guided you into position by your shoulders. He stood behind you and leaned in to bring his mouth close to your ear. “You got this.”

You loved it. You hated it. Your head swirled with conflicting thoughts, but when you sunk the ball with a flick of your wrist, they all faded.

“Let’s fucking gooo!” Rafe yelled.

He lifted his hand for a double high five and you stood on your tiptoes to reach. Your arms came down, but your hands were still in his.

“Told ‘ya,” he said tenderly, smiling down at you as his large hands enveloped yours. “You just gotta believe in yourself.”

Despite the alarms blaring in your head, telling you to run, you let it all linger. The deep sound of his voice in the air, his eyes on your lips, his rough hands folded in yours.

“Okay!” Carter chose that minute to emerge from the house after Sabrina finally fell asleep. “That’s enough wins for y’all, time for some real competition.”

The sound of her voice snapped you out of the moment, and you pulled your hands away from Rafe quickly, nervous about all the eyes on you for the first time since you’d started playing.

“I need a partner,” Carter said, surveying the group on the patio. “How about…”

You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where she was going with this show and wishing she’d just fast forward to the end.

“Tom?” She raised her eyebrows in his direction, as if it was a crazy idea she had just come up with. “Do you play?”

“I may have taken part in a tourney or two,” Tom said humbly.

“Bullshit,” Kelce exclaimed, slumped in a chair as his head spun. “This guy was the Alpha Tau champion all four years. He’s got a plaque and everything.”

“Damn, I didn’t know we had Alpha Tau royalty in our midst!” Carter bantered.

“Jesus, enough with the fanfare, are you playing or not, dude?” Rafe snapped.

Carter eyed you, her lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. No one was surprised at Rafe’ gruffness, more than used to his competitive mean streak. It was not one of his more attractive qualities. The pull you’d just felt to him faltered a little at the reminder of this particular weakness. You were sure that’s exactly what Carter was hoping for.

“Alright I’m in,” Tom said, stepping up to the table and rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.” He winked at you.

“Yeah, yeah, just call your shot, champ,” Rafe said.

The four of you reset the cups, not much work needing to be done on you and Rafe’s side of the table since almost no one had scored on you. As Tom lined up his first shot, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, adjusting and readjusting his stance to get comfortable.

Rafe crossed his arms over his chest mumbling something along the lines of “this fuckin’ guy” and you couldn’t help but smile, admittedly also kind of getting the ick from how seriously Tom was taking this. 

Then he sunk every ball. After a few particularly good rounds, he made his third shot in a row, and Carter called “fire.” She handed him balls one after another like he was taking free throws, wiggling her eyebrows at you to make sure you were paying attention to his triumph.

You drank each cup obediently, ever the rule follower. After your fourth, you were getting so sick of the stale beer, you and Rafe’s cups had been sitting untouched all night and the cheap hops had soured significantly. When Tom sunk another one you grabbed the cup hesitantly, queasy, nearly gagging.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Rafe volunteered, grabbing the cup from you.

“Y’all don’t have to drink those if they’re really that bad,” Tom offered, pausing his next shot when he noticed how disgusted you looked.

“I got it, man,” Rafe waved him off, holding his nose and shooting back the beer as quickly as possible. He dropped the empty cup with a grimace.

“We can just call it a game,” Tom suggested, clearly feeling bad.

“Do you want to forfeit?” You asked Rafe, dropping your voice so Carter and Tom couldn’t hear.

“What and just wave the white flag?” Rafe replied, eyebrows raised. “Do you?

Your lips spread in a slow smile, “not a fucking chance.”

“Atta girl,” he nodded, returning his gaze to Tom. “We’re no quitters, hit us again big guy.”

And he did, over and over, until there was only one cup left on your side of the table. As he prepped for his final shot, Rafe turned to you, a playful, tipsy smile on his face.

“We had a good run,” He said, reaching out shake your hand. You took it with a smile.

When Tom and Carter won, high fiving each other in a loud celebration, all eyes fell to Rafe, waiting to see how he’d react to losing. You tensed, hoping his chipper attitude when you were winning would carry over into a graceful loss. But then he rounded the table, striding towards Tom, and you cringed in anticipation of a classic Rafe Cameron Temper Tantrum.

“Oh boy,” Carter mumbled under her breath. “Here we go.”

But there was no blow up, just Rafe extending his hand to Tom, who took it with a friendly shake.

“Good game, man,” Rafe said. 

“Yeah, you too, dude,” Tom smiled, not realizing this show of sportsmanship was a historical first.

Rafe tilted his head in a friendly nod towards your sister, “Carter.”

“Rafael,” she returned his sarcastic tone, purposefully using his least favorite nickname.

With that, Rafe walked away from the table, one last glance towards you as he returned to his seat by the fire. You watched him go, feeling sad not that you had lost, but that your fun night with Rafe had seemingly come to an end.

It was dizzying, your ever-changing emotional state, and you suspected it had very little to do with the beer. Thinking over all the events of the day gave you whiplash. One second you were about ready to ask Tom if he wanted to come back to your room, the next it felt like you and Rafe were finally sharing the moment you’d dreamt of for years. All the while, you weren’t sure you actually wanted either of them, or if you even wanted to be here at all.

“Wanna play again?” Carter asked, noticing the distracted look on your face.

“I’m good,” you smiled at her appreciatively, deciding you’d had enough excitement for one day. “I think I’m probably just going to bed now.”

“Aww, but it’s so early grandma,” Topper called over to you from the firepit.

You walked over to his chair and peched on the armrest.

 “Ah yes, another one of my favorite nicknames,” you joked. “No one’s called me that in four years.”

“Another inside joke?” Tom inquired, joining the circle, he and Carter each grabbing a chair.

“In high school, she was always the first to leave parties. She’d rather be at home in bed with a book by 9pm,” Topper explained to him.

You rose from his chair, eager to ditch this little trip down memory lane before it got too embarrassing. You almost made a clean escape, but then a very drunk Kelce decided to chime in.

“Unless Rafe asked her to stay,” he laughed. “Then she’d be there allll night.”

Embarrassed doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’ve been embarrassed a thousand times in your life, but this was something different. You looked down at your feet, not sure what you were supposed to do. No quick, face saving remark was coming to mind.

Carter smacked Kelce on the arm, while Topper shook his head with a disapproving, “dude…” 

Your eyes drifted to Rafe, who was looking down at his hands uncomfortably. Whatever protective instinct that had inspired him to stand up for you earlier was clearly gone as he left you to drown in the painfully awkward silence.

“Oh, were you two…?” Tom asked, pointing between you and Rafe quizzically.

“Nope,” you told him with a stiff smile.

He looked like he was about to ask more, but caught on at the last second, reading in between the lines. There it was, the last person here who didn’t know about your pathetic past was now caught up to speed. Yeah, you’d definitely had enough.

“Kelce, you’re such an asshole,” Carter began reprimanding him.

“Just stop,” you urged her. “It’s fine, I’m just going to bed.”

“Wait!” She called after you, but you were already walking toward the house, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. She gave Kelce one last slap and rushed after you.

Kelce, barely conscious, still hadn’t caught up with his own party foul.

“Where’s she going?” He asked Topper.

Rafe stood from his chair suddenly. 

“Will you get him out of here please?” He spat at Topper, sidestepping the fire as he stormed off toward the house.

Rafe followed your path into the kitchen, not sure what he was going to say when he caught up to you, but suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make it right. He should’ve said something as soon as Kelce put his foot in his mouth. He’d deal with that dumbass later.

He slid the kitchen door open, headed towards the stairs that lead to the second floor, but he stopped short when he heard your voice. He stayed back, out of sight but close enough to hear your conversation with Carter on the stairs.

“Carter, it’s fine,” you sighed.

“No it’s fucking not, he made you cry,” Carter practically growled.

Rafe’s heart dropped. You were crying? He was gonna kick Kelce’s ass as soon as he was sober enough to feel pain.

“I’m just tired,” you sniffled. “Please, just drop it for now. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, her voice starting to crack. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to stay.”

“It’s not your fault,” you assured her. “I knew he was gonna be here.”

Rafe frowned. Was the ‘he’ you were referring to still Kelce, or was it him? Was his presence really so distressing to you that you were in tears?

Carter reluctantly bid you goodnight, and Rafe slipped into the pantry so she wouldn’t see him when she descended the stairs back into the kitchen, storming towards the backyard, surely on her way to give Kelce hell.

He stood in the walk-in pantry for a minute, collecting his thoughts. 

Maybe he should be the one to leave. If his presence really was such torment to you, it would be the right thing to do. But you didn’t seem tormented earlier when you were playing beer pong with him, cheering each other on and laughing like friends. Or before, at the fire, when you’d come to each other’s defense. Even his two best friends hadn’t seen that Sabrina’s words actually hurt him, but you did. You always knew him better than anyone.

While he stood in the pantry, illuminated only by the single light bulb above his head, his eyes grazed over the shelf. Between a stack of paper plates and some hamburger buns, sat the candy he had picked out for you at the store. He smiled at the memory of your many car rides as teenagers, fueled by the snacks you had brought when you picked him up. Maybe you regretted those times now, but something about the fact that this was still your favorite candy made him feel better.

His stomach twisted with worry that after what Kelce had said, you would decide to leave. The only worse thought was that he might let you go without finding the courage to say the words he’d been holding onto since he saw you on the beach. Maybe you’d slam the door in his face, but he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Rafe grabbed your candy off the shelf and climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to knock on your bedroom door before he lost his nerve.

(Chapter 4)

a/n: I LOVED hearing all your Team Tom vs. Team Rafe opinions!! The competition is heating up!!!! (not my outline for this chapter starting with “note: google rules to beer pong” lol)

Ch 4 predictions? 👀

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[lifeinked]

Why I Love Caitlyn, and Why You Hate Her

⚠️ READER DISCRETION: I am not condoning Caitlyn’s actions and behavior, I am simply exploring the depth of her character and explaining what motivated her pursuit of revenge.

There’s no denying the gravity of Caitlyn’s actions as they are unquestionably wrong. However, her character cannot be reduced to these actions alone. This sudden, devastating behavior of hers is shaped by a thread of complex motivations and circumstances, but many choose not to acknowledge this simply because of her elite background. 

Like many others, I initially overlooked the point of the gassing in Zaun, which I think is a crucial thing everyone must first understand before diving into the discourse over Caitlyn's character. 

The Grey, often misunderstood as being used indiscriminately, was strategically deployed against the Chem-Barons to limit collateral damage. Caitlyn chose precision over chaos, targeting those directly responsible for Zaun’s turmoil. Furthermore, Caitlyn didn’t kill the Chem-Barons; she captured them, with net-deploying bullets. While her methods are controversial, they reflect a calculated approach; mischaracterizing her raid as a reckless attack ignores these details.

This isn’t to deny or excuse the fact that Caitlyn did, indeed, gas Zaun. Who’s to say that gas didn’t seep into the streets where innocent Zaunites roamed, harming them in the process? It’s entirely possible that innocents were affected and devastated. However, my brief explanation is only added to gain better perspective over the objectives of the gassing itself.

Now moving on, despite her privileged upbringing, Caitlyn shows a genuine effort to understand and connect with Zaunites. She places her trust in Vi, a Zaunite she’s never met before, to guide her in her search for Silco. Her journey through the undercity opens her eyes to the struggles of its people, challenging her perspective.

In S1E4, when investigating the airship attack, she encounters an undercity resident and reassures him, “I can protect you.” Later in the season, when Vi gets stabbed, Caitlyn encounters someone formerly connected to Vi. He’s grown a distaste over himself due to his appearance, and yet Caitlyn embraces him with compassion and tenderness, as a silent sign of gratitude. Then, she surrenders her cherished firearm—her only means of protection—in return for a healing potion to save Vi. In S1E7, Caitlyn’s heartfelt monologue in her conversation with Ekko perfectly captures her hope and determination: “This city needs healing. More than I ever realized. Please, let me help you.”

When Caitlyn and Vi stand in front of the Council, Caitlyn declares: “Councilors, this is Vi. She was born in the undercity. Even though we failed her in countless ways, she risked everything to show me what life is really like down there. People are starving, sick, ravaged by Shimmer. They live in constant fear of the coordinated efforts of violent crime lords.” This monologue alone shows how Caitlyn embodies optimism, believing in the inherent goodness of people, even Zaunites. It also shows that she is very willing to fight for them; she sees helping Zaunites as an act of bringing justice and equality into this world.

Many overlook the depth of Cassandra and Caitlyn’s relationship, reducing it to a simple narrative of a daughter mourning her mother. However, Caitlyn’s mourning is more layered than that. Throughout her life, she has been rebellious, driven by a desire to uncover the reality her mother tried to shield her from. In S1E4, Caitlyn reflects on this by saying, “She’d do anything to keep me from seeing the real world.” Caitlyn’s defiance wasn’t just rebellion for its own sake—it was a stand for her ideals. She sought enlightenment and understanding, even if it meant stepping outside the privileged bubble her mother built for her. By venturing into the undercity and aligning herself with Vi, Caitlyn rejected her mother's own ideals.

Here's another scene in S1E8 that emphasizes this:

Cassandra: You're a Councilor's daughter. Your actions reflect on the entire body. Caitlyn: My actions? You know what else reflects on the Council? Its citizens living on the streets. Being poisoned. Having to chose between a kingpin who wants to exploit them and a government who doesn't give a shit!

In a way, her actions mirror Vi’s: just as Vi betrayed her people by working with the enforcers, Caitlyn betrayed her own mother by involving herself with Zaunites. Remember: The last time we see Caitlyn and Cassandra interact on-screen is during Caitlyn’s plea before the Council. And in that moment, Caitlyn was fighting to protect the very kind that would soon kill her own mother.

You say that Caitlyn’s drastic shift is unjustified, as she’s only experienced a fraction of the suffering Zaunites have been enduring. But that’s precisely the point! Her transformation shows how personal loss can drive the change of one’s entire character; she’s never experienced loss before which is why it feels so heavy for her. And unlike Zaunites, Caitlyn actually has the power to act on her grief. Zaunites have only known misery their whole lives. When their loved one dies, they know there is nothing more they can do but grieve. They don’t have an inch of the privilege and military support Caitlyn has. If you had given them the same resources as Caitlyn, they wouldn’t hesitate to bring ruin to Piltover. Simply put, they don’t fight Piltovans because they don’t want to, but because they can’t.

When Jinx takes her mother away, her compassionate ideals completely shatter. Having always sought justice and understanding for Zaun, Caitlyn feels deeply betrayed, as her faith in the good within every Zaunite is overturned. Her mother’s death becomes a turning point—driving her to abandon her ideals and adopt Piltover’s disdain for the undercity, finally understanding the resentment many Piltovans harbor.

We also tend to forget that, aside from losing her mother, Caitlyn has directly suffered under the hands of Jinx. Caitlyn was held captive by Jinx in Season 1—and God knows what was done to her during that period. In the tea party scene, we see Caitlyn break down in tears, visibly flinching when Jinx moves toward her. It’s clear that Jinx has traumatized Caitlyn not just once, but twice. These experiences deeply shape Caitlyn’s actions moving forward. The pain and fear she’s endured push her to a place where she’s willing to sacrifice almost anything, even if it means putting a child’s life at risk (Isha's) or severing ties with Vi.

While they share their differences, Caitlyn and Jinx are the perfect example of foil characters. Here’s an instance which proves this: Both allow themselves to be influenced by manipulative, powerful figures all while being in a vulnerable state of mind.

Jinx is haunted by guilt; her attempt to save her family only ended up killing them, leaving her with the crushing weight of self-blame. She clings to Silco, not because he was the father she needed, but because he was the father she wanted. Silco indulged her destructive tendencies, keeping her at an all-time high on the edges of chaos. Fragile and broken, Powder crossed paths with Silco at the right moment; he saw the perfect chance to mold her into someone bewildered, unrestrained, and astray.

Caitlyn has her own Silco: Ambessa, the ruthless Noxian leader with a brutal philosophy of war. Ambessa enters Caitlyn’s life at a pivotal moment, stepping in just as Caitlyn is grappling with the devastating loss of her mother. In a spiral of self-identity, Caitlyn struggles with the weight of Piltover’s expectations and her unresolved guilt over her strained relationship with her mother (as explained in previous paragraphs). Just as young Powder mourns her family, Caitlyn blames herself for the death of her mother. Caitlyn got herself involved with the Zaunites even when she was warned not to, and at the expense of her defiance came the death of her mother. Driven by guilt and a thirst for vengeance, Caitlyn steps fully into her role, declaring in S2E1: “I am a decorated officer. Leader of House Kiramman.”

Jinx and Caitlyn share a tragic parallel: they both lose everyone they hold dear. Jinx loses Vi, Vander, Claggor, and Mylo. Caitlyn is left without Cassandra, Vi, Jayce, Mel, and Tobias. Stripped of their support systems, they are left isolated, with no one to confide in or rely on. They become vulnerable, used as pawns in the larger schemes of Silco and Ambessa’s strategic games.

Caitlyn's inner turmoil is exactly why Ambessa’s manipulation is so effective. Caitlyn is compelled to take revenge, but she doesn’t know how to. And without anyone else to guide her, she places her complete trust in Ambessa's expertise. Ambessa doesn’t just give Caitlyn the authority and power to avenge her mother; she teaches her how to use them to their full potential. She toys with Caitlyn's vulnerability, making her adopt the Noxian values of wrath, bloodshed, and ruthlessness. 

It’s easy to downplay Caitlyn’s grief since she comes from an elite upbringing. While Cassandra Kiramman is laid to rest in a golden casket with a proper burial, countless innocents in Zaun become victims of merciless violence, being left to die on the streets. After the timeskip however, Caitlyn is shown to recognize the moral cost of her actions. Though the series portrays this realization subtly, it becomes evident that Caitlyn is grappling with the inhumanity and immorality of her pursuit of revenge. In S2E4, this internal conflict comes to light during her conversation with Ambessa. When Ambessa attempts to stoke her fury again, Caitlyn disarms her with a piercing question: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?”

Here's another scene that subtly depicts her realization and remorse:

Caitlyn: You're a monster. Why? Why do all this? Singed: Why does anyone commit acts others deem unspeakable? ... For love.

When Caitlyn steps further and sees Orianna, she realizes that Singed's revenge is a reflection of her own: a person grieving the death of their family member. Here, there's a saddened glint in her eyes. She finally understands now, that love and grief made her do things that once seemed so foreign to her. In this case, going against her own principles just to succeed in her revenge.

Caitlyn is now forever haunted by the outcome of her mistakes, but she knows her past cannot be erased. During her confrontation with Jinx in the prison, she admits, “No amount of good deeds can undo our crimes.” While this statement is directed at Jinx, it feels like Caitlyn also holds this against herself for her own wrongdoings. 

Caitlyn’s acts of atonement are done quietly. She’s not good with words; she’s bad at articulating how she feels. Ironically, Vi is much better than Caitlyn when it comes to confronting and vocalizing internal conflict. So instead, Caitlyn’s actions speak for herself. By removing the guards at the prison, she tacitly allows Vi the opportunity to rescue Jinx. She knows Vi will come to save her sister, and yet she lets her. She finally lets go of Jinx and the grudge she held against her, as a silent act of her love for Vi.

And in S2E9, Sevika is shown to be sitting among the Councilors. But thanks to a fan's keen eyes, we find out that she is sat particularly on Cassandra Kiramman's chair (which not many notice). By allowing a Zaunite to occupy her mother's seat, Caitlyn gives them a chance to be rightfully represented, a chance for their voices and suffering to finally be heard. It’s a quiet display of Caitlyn’s evolution and willingness to bridge the divide between Piltover and Zaun.

That said, Arcane’s ending left much to be desired regarding Caitlyn’s arc. The heavy focus on Hextech overshadowed the sociopolitical dynamics of Piltover and Zaun. This is the main reason a lot of hate is thrown toward Caitlyn—there is an act of accountability, but there a lack of consequence. While Caitlyn acknowledges her mistakes, her privileged status keeps her from real repercussions, unlike the tragedy other characters had to face. This is frustrating, even to me, as someone whose favorite character is Caitlyn. Yet, in a way, it realistically portrays the inequalities in our own world—where the elite are often shielded from justice, and repentance is the closest they ever come to redemption.