#everything aligned so beautifully for that to be what it is

[rome-roy]

I should have known. I know I should have known. But I am losing my mind over Jesse Armstrong’s writing credits.

If this man can go from writing for kids tv, to creating/writing iconic British sitcoms and sketch shows, to creating one of the greatest tv shows of all time, you really can do anything.

[lilyprettyremy]

10 Bad Habits to Let Go of for a Beautiful Life (Trust Me, You’ll Thank Yourself)

We all have those habits that hold us back — some sneakier than others. And while no one’s perfect, a little spring cleaning of your daily habits can unlock a happier, healthier life. Ready to drop the bad vibes and level up? Here are 10 bad habits to leave behind for good!

1. The Comparison Game — It’s Gotta Go

We’ve all done it. Scrolling, looking at someone’s perfect life, and feeling like we’re not enough. But honestly? Comparing yourself to others is a losing game. Focus on your own growth, and unfollow anything or anyone that makes you feel less-than. Your journey is yours alone, and it’s beautiful in its own way. Keep your eyes on your own lane!

2. Procrastinating Like It’s a Sport

We get it — that “I’ll do it tomorrow” energy feels good in the moment, but it’s also a trap. The more you put off tasks, the more they pile up and haunt you. Trust, the best feeling is getting stuff done now and freeing up your mind for the fun stuff later. Break it down, set a timer, and just start. You’ll feel like a boss when you’re done.

3. Saying Yes to Everything (Even When You Don’t Want To)

No is a full sentence, babe! If you’re constantly saying yes to things that don’t align with your goals or drain your energy, it’s time to stop. Overcommitting leads to burnout, and life’s too short for that. Start setting boundaries and prioritize what makes you feel good. Your time is precious, so treat it like gold.

4. Relying on Everyone Else’s Approval

We all love a little validation, but depending on it? That’s a recipe for insecurity. Your worth isn’t measured by someone else’s likes or approval. The only validation you really need is your own. So hype yourself up, celebrate your wins, and be proud of the progress you’re making, regardless of who’s watching.

5. Avoiding Your Finances Like It’s Scary

Finances don’t have to be terrifying! Ignoring them might feel easier in the moment, but getting a handle on your money situation is so empowering. Start small — track your spending, create a budget, and set a savings goal. The sooner you take control, the more stress-free your future will feel.

6. Holding Grudges Like They’re Trophies

Honestly, holding onto grudges only weighs you down. Letting go of past negativity isn’t about excusing people’s behavior — it’s about freeing yourself. Don’t let old situations control your peace. Forgiveness is for you, babe. The less baggage you carry, the lighter you’ll feel.

7. Talking Down to Yourself

Would you say those mean things to your best friend? Didn’t think so! So why do we let ourselves get away with it? Cut out the negative self-talk and replace it with something a little more kind and uplifting. You deserve better from yourself. You wouldn’t believe how much your mindset can change once you start being nice to yourself.

8. Expecting Everything to Be Perfect

Perfection is a myth, and chasing it will only leave you stressed and frustrated. Life happens in the in-between moments — the imperfect, messy, beautifully real ones. Give yourself some grace and celebrate progress, not perfection. A “good enough” life is often a perfect one in disguise.

9. Staying in Your Safe Bubble

Your comfort zone might feel cozy, but nothing grows there! Stepping outside of it might be scary, but it’s where all the magic happens. Whether it’s trying something new, starting a project, or meeting new people, discomfort leads to growth. Don’t let fear hold you back — take the leap!

10. Blaming Everything Else for What’s Not Going Right

It’s easy to point fingers and blame outside circumstances, but taking responsibility is where real change starts. You’ve got more control than you think! Instead of dwelling on what’s going wrong, focus on what you can change. You’ve got the power to turn things around — it’s all in your hands.

These bad habits? They’re not serving you, and it’s time to leave them in the past. Letting go of what’s holding you back will clear the way for bigger, better things. You’re already halfway there just by recognizing what needs to change. So let go, level up, and watch your life get a little more beautiful, one habit at a time.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: August 2024

This time last year, the Kickstarter was in full swing, what a journey it’s been since then! Colleen is still working hard to complete the graphic novel and we have some incredible pages to share with you.

There have been many merchandise updates in the past few months and whilst a number of backers told us they loved these, others wanted to hear more directly about the graphic novel itself. So, for this month we will focus 100% on Colleen’s work, and how the various editions of the book are coming along. Everything is shaping up rather nicely, if we do say so ourselves!

You may have seen some of the sneak peeks Colleen has posted recently, such as this wonderful scene between our heroes:

And our favourite angel and demon on the road.

Collen has recently shared a rare view from her drawing board with us. "Working on pages 75 pages apart at the same time" she explains. The joy for us is that these pages arrive similarly out of order, so the graphic novel is unfurling like a magnificent jigsaw.

The reversible alternative covers by Rachael Stott and Frank Quitely are coming together beautifully. Different vibes, both ‘heavenly’ and we’re delighted to share them with you:

Moving inside. Here's an introduction to your introduction: our favourites include: Dog: Satanical hellhound and cat-worrier. Everyone should have one!

With the pencils mapping out the story almost completely in place, here are some samples from across the book – don’t worry we’re not giving too much away. It is always interesting to see these images come in, then watch them evolve over time

As we enter the latter stages of inking and colouring, we're also getting glorious new artwork by the bucketload. Colleen has been working diligently and it’s simply wonderful to see the story coming to life so vibrantly.

We shared this a few updates ago in its inked form. Now here it is in full glass-shattering colour.

A jaunty moustache and some 'definitely not-bad-news' being delivered in the middle of a birthday party.

A prior inked piece we shared before. Crowley venting his frustrations, oh so subtly.

And here's a closer look at some of the Horsemen in situ.

...of course you must also have some snippets of Aziraphale and Crowley having a fine time with books and wine.

And this rather lovely panel ends the previews of our main duo for this update.

But one final thing before we leave our heroes for this month... feast your eyes on this absolutely gorgeous celestial piece.

And now to the admin.

If you have a query, please check the Good Omens graphic novel FAQ page at terrypratchett.com. Some key recurring questions:

The Good Omens graphic novel was listed to publish in July 2024 - why have I not received it? We shared an update on April 16th 2024 introducing the new timeline and full context on why dates had to be moved. You can read that here. We appreciate that some didn't catch the timeline update and had been expecting items to arrive across July and August - the graphic novel and surrounding items are due to arrive in Spring 2025 to align with the new publication date. Thank you for your patience. We promise that it will be worth the wait!  

I've been in touch with a query about my pledge but have not heard back - what should I do? We have been dealing with a significantly increased number of messages recently and our team are working through them as best we can. If you have messaged over a week ago and are yet to hear back, please get in touch again, either via the message thread on Kickstarter or your previous email chain. Rest assured, we are reading and working through all messages as quickly as we can and appreciate your patience.

If your question is not answered in the FAQ, please don't hesitate to contact us and we can get back to you as soon as possible.

Events

We announced in our June update that Crowley's S2 Bentley would be appearing at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow. Unfortunately, our team will no longer be attending, so the Bentley will not appear at this event. We wanted to let you know as soon as possible in case you have booked tickets expressly to see it, or to meet the Good Omens HQ team. Maggie Service is also no longer attending the event, however Quelin Sepulveda, our beloved Muriel, is still appearing on the Saturday, and there are many filming locations around the central belt of Scotland if you are visiting, so you can still make your trip a little more ineffable. We apologise for any disruption to your plans.

Colleen has also had to cancel her appearance at the upcoming DragonCon, as she explains here.

[velvetti]

You are my liberty

T/W: Imply human trafficking, alcohol abuse, mlm relationship, no direct mention of consent, minors/fem aligned DNI, angst/comfort + smut.

To him, you were a fever dream, a beautiful white rose blooming under the moonlight in a garden of wilting wild flowers, a cold gust of wind in the middle of a hot summer night. You make him wonder if you ever existed at all, or if it's just another hallucination he had during his dark times, when he was struggling to live day by day.

The memories of your first encounter had long engraved itself into his soul. It was a snowy day, right in the middle of September just a few decades ago when he was a child. Forced to watch as the pedestrians walk by him, ignore him, trample him while he slowly dies from hunger and cold inside a dark alleyway, he calls that moment one of the luckiest in his miserable life.

Because, it's when you laid your eyes on him for the first time. He wished he could've travelled back in time and embraced you right then and there instead of halting for a moment like an idiot, but he couldn't blame his past self, you are the most beautiful person he has ever witnessed. Can you blame him for smiling stupidly like a puppy when you offered him a loaf of bread?

He really did love you at first sight, if not love, then what could explain his emotions whenever he talks to you?

His dreams were brutally cut off by the sound of his glass of whisky falling from his work desk. This was the third time that he fell asleep while doing paperwork, by the emperor's words, "A commander shall not halt the empire's progress with his personal troubles", thus, here he is, forced to finish his paperwork while being depressed.

He struggles with paperwork every single day after your disappearance, saying that he was worried was an understatement, the world didn't even have colours when you left. He refused to even go into any taverns during his day off as a commander, just because whenever he looked at the wall, he might be greeted with a missing poster with your face on it, smiling as beautifully as he first remembered you.

He wouldn't call you his soulmate, soulmates can live a life without each other, while without you, he just wants to drown himself in liquor so he could continue seeing you in his dreams. He needed you to live, not just exist.

It didn't take him that long to find a lead about you, after all, everything can be purchased by money. Just a few hundred gold coins and he had already managed to find out where you are. To his surprise, you were kidnapped and are going to be auctioned off soon.

So, he simply killed off the owner of the auction house and stole you before anyone else could even think of getting their pesky hands on your body :)

The bastard had the audacity to lock you in a cage, you even felt skinnier than the last time he hugged you! He should've made the death slower, but he was too excited to see you again. He quickly wrapped his cape around your body and hugged you tightly, at least you're back in his arms again.

;

Fearing that you'll find a way to leave him again, he has decided, why not make you his little husband? It's too cruel to lock you up physically and he doesn't want you to be depressed, you won't be able to get away when you're legally bound to him anyways.

So, without much of a thought, he literally begged you to marry him, hugging your waist while whining to your already flustered self, it took him days if not weeks just to convince you, but in the end, he managed and almost pinned you down and did you right then and there. But he held back, he wanted to wait for you guys' honeymoon, for you to have a proper wedding instead of acting by his own desires, he might've been a cruel person but he's not an asshole.

;

How many times was this already?

Counting just today, a total of three times. He had made love with you three times in a single day during your 2 weeks long honeymoon, and this is just the first day.

The first time was quite- no, very long. At first, he was very gentle, he didn't tore off your white suit the moment you both got on the bed, instead he went slow and made sure to prepare you thoroughly. He promptly fucked you in a mating press position right after you have adjusted though, only slowing down slightly when you sobbed and digged your nails into his back, he kept having that annoying sly smirk on his face, proud to be the one taking your first time and making it worthwhile. The total amount of rounds you've both gone in one night? 15 times, with breaks in-between, of course.

The second time, it was a little more tame compared to the first time. Well, if you count fucking in a garden, anything close to being tame. He bent you over the bench and rearranged your insides right then and there. Your body was still sore from yesterday, so he tried going gentle this time, but he had to grip onto your hips for dear life to refrain from losing his mind. You managed to keep your sounds fairly quiet, so no unfortunate servants passing by would have to hear the embarrassing sounds coming out of your mouth.

The third time, he held the grudges from the second time and let all of them out on you after dinner. You were forced to wear a pair of laced underwear, the provocative kind that shouldn't be seen by any children whatsoever. Your wrists tied together by his tie while he makes out with you and fucks you at the same time. The marks before haven't even completely disappeared from your body, yet they've been replaced with a new one, littered from your inner thighs to your neck.

All of that horny stuff aside, you had to give your little husband a kiss on the forehead after all the rounds you both have gone through. He fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, hugging your waist and resting his head on your chest, without any sort of defence whatsoever. Letting out a sigh, at this point, you don't know if your husband is secretly a golden retriever in disguise or not.

A/N: The end was a bit rushed, if you couldn't tell. The golden retriever thingy is a reference to one of my work that's still a work-in-progress. Thanks for reading, I hope you like this post :b

[gffa]

Disney, hire me as your Attachment Advisor, I will shove so many George Lucas quotes at your producers and writers, I will shove so many context-laden clips from the movies and TCW at your creatives, I will make powerpoint essays about how it's more Buddhist-aligned, not Attachment Theory-aligned, I will cite literally every time attachment has ever been discussed by Lucas AND in the show itself and show you that it's always aligned with fear, possessive feelings, and selfishness, I will do this work for you for free, I can even literally just point you to my Jedi Citations collection, DISNEY, HIRE ME AS YOUR ATTACHMENT ADVISOR, I CAN HELP YOU.

Everything I saw in the show aligned perfectly with my view of what the Jedi mean by attachment from the movies (especially with Episode II). You fail to understand that George Lucas words outside of the movies mean shit. You cane have the largest collection of words that has come out of Lucas's ass and it still does not change the movies. Look at the poster for AOTC. A Jedi shall not know love. Obi-Wan speaks beautifully about the undercurrent of remorse he feels for not being able to have an attachment with Satine because he lives by the Jedi Code which forbids it.

You people are so delusional.

Hi! You are so right bestie it has been way too long since I've talked about my love for Mace Windu! You are so right to have brought this up and I will meet your challenge! He is the Force's strongest soldier because the absolute nonsense he has to put up with every day, as someone who deals with the rest of the Council being hilarious assholes, who deals with Kenobi and Skywalker's nonsense, who has Yoda as a friend, and yet he seems to genuinely like all of these people?? Even when they're bonkers?? My man is stronger than I could ever be.

Not to mention, he goes on a whole ass mission with Jar-Jar, has to watch him make out with his girlfriend, the queen of the planet who told falsehoods about your family, and you have nothing but patience and kind words to say about them, and you only roll your eyes a little at Jar-Jar's antics, something even Padme does and she's worked with him even longer than you have, and by the end, you're friends with him, you like him and would probably hang out with him again if the chance arose???? Mace Windu is on ANOTHER LEVEL from what I would have done in his position!

And he's a former theater nerd! "The Council's gain was the theater's loss." Jocasta Nu says about how he didn't have time for it anymore after he got so busy with the Council, like can you IMAGINE Mace Windu doing plays? I want to know sooooooo bad how Jedi plays are different from non-Force-sensitive people's plays, I want to know what kind of cool effects they create with the Force, I want to know if they use their psychic empath abilities to literally connect with their audience! I want to know DOES MACE WINDU HELP THE YOUNGLINGS STAGE CUTE LITTLE PLAYS IN THE CRECHE? BECAUSE I BET HE DOES.

Because that man is so good with kids! Remember that Star Wars Adventures comic where he was so gentle and sweet with the little Twi'lek girl? Reaching down to help her up, smiling openly at her, walking with her back to her village to make sure she was safe, talking with her to make sure she understood how important and valuable she was in the galaxy? Because I'm still not over that!

His relationship with Anakin in canon is pretty great, too, like, yeah, Anakin should take a seat and stop borderline pitching a fit about getting a rank he didn't earn, and Mace still offered to believe him, despite that Anakin had accepted Palpatine's forcing the Council to put him on it. He still trusted Anakin to help him in that fight against Palpatine! Plus, oh, man, their banter on the Endurance when they're teaching the cadets? That was such good-natured teasing, that was exactly the kind of banter Anakin would have had with Obi-Wan, and by the end of that whole fiasco (do you ever think about when Anakin was in danger and Mace yelled, "Anakin!" and desperately yanked him to safety, because he was worried about him? because I think about that a lot), Mace complimented Artoo by saying he saw what Anakin saw in him, that he was complimenting Anakin at the same time? Or pretty much EVERY interaction between Mace and Yoda is absolute hilarity, the side-eye they give each other, the teasing Yoda does when Mace is on a mission with Jar-Jar, the way Mace holds his hand out in the comics for Yoda to springboard off of into the middle of a fight? ICONIC FRIENDSHIP, I WOULD TAKE A WHOLE NOVEL ABOUT IT, DISNEY.

Or that time even AT THE END OF THE CLONE WARS, like they are just a MONTH out from Revenge of the Sith, if that, and Mace is STILL trying to get the droids to stand down, that he's destroyed thousands of them, none of them have listened, but he's still trying, offering them a better life away from the war, a purpose again, even if he knows it probably won't work, that man still believed in compassion for anyone and everyone. Like, baby Boba Fett TRIED TO KILL HIM and Mace STILL argued for leniency and rehabilitation, rather than jail, because he saw a young child who was hurting and he wanted better for him. He was direct with Boba, he didn't try to befriend him, Boba would never have accepted that, but he told him, you're going to have to get over your hatred for me, he says this for Boba's sake, not his own, because he knows what poison the desire for revenge is, look at the path it's already leading Boba down.

Or EVERYTHING WITH THE ZILLO BEAST, he tried so hard to rescue that poor creature, he fought the Senate so hard, he was so gentle with the hand he carefully pressed to its face, even when the Zillo beast was dangerous, even when it had attacked them and could so easily kill more, he wanted leniency for it, he wanted to save it because he understood where it was coming from.

Or EVERYTHING WITH PROSSET DIBS, that guy tried to murder him, was ranting about how he would dance on their graves or whatever, and Mace looks at him and says, we need to help him, it's our duty to help him find the light again. And his big punishment is literally just library duty, because when Mace can decide the outcome, that guy always goes for helping people, always goes for the option that would bring them back to the light.

Even as a young Padawan, his greatest struggle was to temper his anger, which was sparked because PEOPLE WERE BEING HURT by the false prophet on Mathas, he was angry because he saw how many people were suffering and the people in charge just let it happen, his heart hangs heavy when he witnesses people in pain, because Mace Windu deeply, deeply cares about the people in the galaxy.

He cared about civilians, he cared about clones, he cared about his fellow Jedi, he didn't have to be bouncy or super smiley to show that, either. It was in every action he took. He cared so much.

And, okay, yeah, he was COOL AS HELL AND WOULD HAVE BEATEN PALPATINE'S WRINKLED ASS IN A FAIR FIGHT.

OR THAT TIME ON RYLOTH THAT WAS LITTERALLY THE COOLEST SCENE THEY EVER ANIMATED, THE SOUND DROP? THE ABSOLUTE BANGER PHYSICAL STUNTS MACE WAS CAPABLE OF? GODDAMN HE WAS SO GOOD.

AND LEST WE FORGET--CUTEST BB YOUNGLING EVER!!!!

[sassydefendorflower]

I've just realized something about General Olivier Mira Armstrong.

Finally, I've come to understand the reason why she hates Mustang so much - and why she still respects his men.

Olivier Armstrong is a military woman down to her very core. In that she is an interesting character because she is in many ways complicit with the military dictatorship ruling Amestris while also condemning it. She's a political moderate, a mediocre politician, a fierce warrior, and a great leader.

We don't know much about General Armstrong outside of her military career - and her relationship to her brother. We know she's the only female general in the upper brass, we know she's been nicknamed "The Northern Wall Of Briggs" and "the Ice Queen", we know she cares greatly for her soldiers... and she despises cowards.

Now how does she define a coward?

That's were things are starting to get interesting. Because General Armstrong called her brother a coward multiple times because he failed to do what was right in Ishval - but, important to note, it wasn't the heinous acts themselves that she condemned (though it is implied that she does indeed condemn them) but the fact that her brother didn't follow his own principles. He didn't abandoned the Amestrian army to fight for the people he had sworn to protect even though he wanted to. He just went home. And that's what makes him a coward in her eyes.

This aligns with everything else we see about her. She calls Mustang a "sniveling coward" multiple times and notes his lack of a backbone. And yet her dislike of him doesn't seem to run as deep as her disappointment in her brother. Some of that might just be that Alex is family and that means personal relationships do indeed play a role... but some of it is probably the very simple truth that Mustang is trying his best to make up for what he did.

He also failed in her eyes, following orders he knew were wrong, but where her brother fled, Mustang had the strength to stay and look his victims in the eyes as he killed them.

Mustang's team on the other hand did something that General Armstrong very much appreciates: they chose Mustang and his goals the same way the men of Briggs chose her.

Mustang might be a coward and a fool in her eyes, but she can respect the choices his team made.

There is one scene near the end of the show that showcases that beautifully. In episode 58 (or 57) Izumi and General Armstrong get the general to confess the brass' plan to sacrifice the Amestrian people in front of a bunch of soldiers and - after hearing their own death sentence uttered by a commanding officer - the soldiers are unsure how to proceed.

And Armstrong gets angry at them.

Because they are simply following orders. They were killing her people and condemning her country - simply because of some orders that they never learned to question.

And in General Armstrong's eyes that's the actually unforgiving act. Killing and slaughtering for the army is not something she has any problem with (as evident by the Briggs soldiers bloody takeover during the Promised Day) but it needs to be an act of conviction. Looking away and hiding behind orders is what Armstrong sees as cowardly.

It's what Mustang did in Ishval and what his men failed to do when they followed him willingly. It's what Alex couldn't see through, but Olivier made sure her soldiers knew before joining her.

She wants to change Amestris and it's military, not because she's an idealist like Mustang, but because she wants a military in which each soldier is responsible for the people they kill.

It's fascinating because General Armstrong doesn't have the moral high ground - she doesn't see the military as rotten the same way Mustang does, and she doesn't see killing as wrong the way Edward does. She doesn't even contemplate her own kills with shame the way Hawkeye is prone to, or judge the system as harshly as Izumi does.

But she does have a strong moral core as a character, one that would perhaps even agree with Kimblee's famous quote: "Look straight at the people you kill; don’t take your eyes off them. Do not ever forget them because they won’t forget you." - and if you don't agree with an order given? It is your duty as a soldier to defy it.

That's why she can trust her men to plan a coup without her being there to lead them - because she knows every choice they make will be one they can live with. Just as every order they follow is one they can justify.

She is an interesting character because she questions the system while endorsing it - and that puts her at odds with both the military complex and Mustang and his team. It achieves complexity in what could very easily have been a simply narrative.

Olivier Mira Armstrong hates cowards - but she respects those who stand up for their believes, even if those believes defy her.

[rainbowsky]

I can't help it, I have to critique this.

Disclaimer: I'm about to rip this logo to shreds. If that's is going to offend you, don't read on. Especially don't read on and then get pissed off at me, because you will only have yourself to blame. 😅

I also want to start off by saying that this has absolutely nothing to do with who designed it (or didn't design it), or who it was designed for. I love GG and DD, but ultimately my reaction to this logo design has absolutely nothing to do with either of them.

I have to say it couldn't be more disappointed with this logo. I feel that it fails on every level. Here are a few of the reasons why:

It is devoid of any personality. I guess I've been spoiled by the cool panther logo that we have known and loved, but I would have preferred to see something with more street style to it. Something with more individuality - something connected to Yibo and his aesthetic. This doesn't scream 'Yibo' to me. It just looks very conservative, like something designed for a brand (which it was, I guess). That's not to say the illustration isn't well done, because it is, and it does do a decent job of bringing in some automobile elements into the snakehead design (the geometric scales, the flames under the eye), but no matter how well illustrated something is, it's not going to make a good logo just because it's pretty. Logo design is actually a complex process that requires a lot of skill and experience, and a solid background in communications and design. Being able to draw well is only a very small part of that skillset. In fact, there are some outstanding communication designers who can't draw very well at all.

It fails as a logo design. The number one thing any logo needs to do is communicate. This doesn't communicate anything at all. It doesn't even immediately read as a snake. In fact there's really very little snake-ish about it, and all of the coolest elements of a snake - its long winding body, its forked tongue, its glassy eyes - none of those features are incorporated here. It also doesn't read as an 85, it could be an 89. Terrible - a truly inexcusable error. For a racing logo, there's really nothing speedy or fast being communicated here at all. The snake looks like it's about to fall asleep. Even the kinetic energy that could have been communicated through the position of the snake's tail is wrong. The tail is pointing in the opposite direction it should be, and the snake does not look like it's moving forward, it looks like it's draped over the logo, exhausted, and like the entire snake is maybe 5" long.

The designer doesn't seem to have respected the spirit of the original design. They should have used that original design as a starting point and built upon it rather than go in their own direction and then paste what they did on top of the existing logo. As a result the overall look is disjointed and unharmonious. It just doesn't crackle with the exciting energy that comes from a well-designed, well-balanced, aesthetically strong logo design.

I really can't stand it. Yes, the snake itself is beautifully illustrated, and the illustrator is talented, but they have failed as a logo designer in this particular case.

I love the idea of the snake being incorporated into a racing logo, but everything that makes a snake cool, everything that makes a snake well aligned with a racing brand, everything that conveys speed and energy is just completely lacking here.

Just to give you an example of some more dynamic snake logos, here are a few just from Google image search (and I'll put the Evisu one here again so you can compare). I'm not saying that I love these designs, but they are much more energetic and dynamic than this logo:

And I find this one pretty inspiring simply because it gives me ideas about creating a snake with a tire tread underbelly, which would be so cool.

And if you look at the classic Ford Shelby logo, compare that with the Evisu one you can see how much more dynamic and unique and distinctive and exciting the snake is in this one, even though its position is more static and it's not as smoothly rendered. It has style.

There's a part of me that feels a little bit bad for ripping into Yibo's new logo, but I'm angry on his behalf, because I feel like he deserves a lot better than this.

And all the designer would have needed to do to make this a more exciting logo and one that communicates what it needs to communicate is to make the snake head a little bit smaller so it's not blocking the number 5, give it a more dynamic pose where its mouth is open and its fangs are showing and its tongue is sticking out, and expand its body so that its body is visible behind - or even winding around - the numbers, and where you can see the curls of its body, and its tail is facing in the correct direction to make the snake look like it's moving forward.

Edit: here's what I mean:

I still don't feel that the illustration style is compatible with the original logo design, but I could overlook it if it was actually making any effort at all at communicating a racing theme.

Just my two cents. It's possible I will warm up to it more when I see it on the car. Placement and context can make a big difference.

I think it's cool that Yibo wants to use that green bamboo snake for a logo, I just wish it had been better designed.

Edit: more on this here.

[alinksta]

not me being quite upset by how little talk there has been (amongst mexicans/center latinos) about how Talokán was beautifully adapted from its mythological concept/inspiration, I was loosing my mind.

Allow me to give y’all a little of mythological context because I am a history nerd and the Mesoamerican cultures and mythology are very rad. 

(A spoiler ahead with my interpretation)

Culturally wise, Talokán and its culture take a major inspiration from Maya/Aztec cultures, but the name of the place is strikingly resemblant to that of the Tlalocan from the Mexica culture.

One of the most beautiful heavens/paradises.

The Tlalocan is ruled by Tlaloc the (Mexica) god of lightning, rain, earthquakes, and agriculture. This place was described as a paradise from which the waters that benefited life on earth flowed; in this place resided Lord Tlaloc's favorites, those who died: 1) drowned, 2) of leprosy (as well as the bubonic, mangy, gouty and hydropic), 3) fulminated by lightning. 

It was said that the souls that dwell in this paradise are extremely happy and would enjoy the fullness of a place where there would always be cornfields and all kinds of herbs that were green and fresh, and fragrant flowers.

I also noticed a little wink with his Maya counterpart Chaac who dwelt in caves and cenotes, the entrances to the Mayan underworld, the Xibalbá.

With this information in mind, you can imagine how I was loosing it when Namor explained what happened before and after he was born and how it brilliantly aligns with some of the conditions of HOW TO ENTER INTO THE TLALOCAN.

Magical plant aside (which was found underwater in the entrance to an underwater cave/cenote, and the future civilization resides in/is a literal underworld), they were dying of Small pox (if I remember correctly) and that easily falls under condition #2 for a soul to enter the Tlalocan; after ingesting the plant they did die but condition #1 is also fulfilled because they can no longer reside on the surface because they would “drown”/suffocate.

I'm so overjoyed how well portrayed/adapted/researched everything was, and as a history nerd and Mexican I’m very proud of how my culture was represented, this movie overdelivered even in the mythological.

LÍIK'IK TALOKAN!

[cherubofthenight]

Manifesting my Dream Self 🍦🍓

i had to post this cuz i culdnt find it when i posted it privately yikes

if someone does read this, note that i do acknowledge 'her' as me and this is just to make it more fun :)

1) characterization

Determining her physical, mental and emotional traits. Her goals, her values, her morals. What is she like? How would you want people to describe her? Does she have a good relationship with her family? Does she have a s/o? Things like that.

2) bring her to life

Do as she would do. Dress as she would dress (if possible). Act as she would act. Stick by everything I decided for her. Positive self talk- which will be manual until I grasp it and it becomes automatically. Even if I slip. It’s okay, after all I’m human - I make mistakes.

3) staying on track

Keep a log of this by journalling. Create playlists that align with me. Pinterest boards that align as well and all of my social media will align with me (following blogs that align with me and my goals, subscribing to YouTubers who encourage what I'm looking for etc) so I’m surrounded by this energy.

Yuh, getting into it!

When I picture her, I see what I decided about her, thus that’s what I see when I picture myself.

So what I decided about her.

She has pretty, big doe eyes with perfect 20/20 vision, and long, full, cartoon-like lashes. Her lips are soft, plush, and two-toned, and her dark brown 4a/4b hair is healthy, thick, and long. She’s got the cutest button nose that makes you want to boop it, and her eyebrows? Absolutely perfect. Her face is beautifully balanced, with clear, glassy, dewy skin that’s soft and smooth. She’s got small hands and feet, and a pear-shaped body with curves in all the right places. And aside from her scalp, lashes, and brows, she’s completely hairless—taking care of herself is her priority.

People often compare her to a doll, but she’s known for her sweet yet take-no-shit attitude. She’s an absolute sweetheart and a treasure, and luckily, she knows it. There’s no one quite like her, and she only deserves the best. Anyone who gets to be in her presence is lucky, and she knows she’s her own muse. Despite the confidence she exudes, she’s always working on bettering herself, knowing growth is part of life. She values authenticity and surrounds herself with people who appreciate her strength and softer side.

She’s independent, self-assured, and deeply compassionate, striking the perfect balance between confidence and kindness. Her sweetness is just who she is—it’s not something she tries to perform. She’s all about meaningful connections and is always there for the people she loves. She moves through the world with a gentle grace, and her kindness reflects how much she loves herself. She never seeks validation because she already knows her worth. She’s happiest in her own peace, and her warmth radiates wherever she goes. She loves her own company and is her own greatest inspiration.

She recently moved into her own apartment, where everything reflects her style—immaculate and organized. She drives a matte black Audi RS, a white Honda CRV, and a pink Mazda Miata. Her closet is filled with the finest pieces, blending simplicity and elegance, so she’s always effortlessly chic. And of course, accessories are a girl’s best friend (besides herself, obviously). She’s committed to her well-being, practicing yoga or Pilates daily for balance and serenity. When she wants to push herself, she turns to calisthenics. She loves cooking healthy meals and experimenting with recipes to nourish her body and mind.

She’s got a boyfriend who’s intelligent, attentive, and hilarious. He has an incredible job with flexible hours, and he’s got two cars of his own. He can dance, sing, and is a family man, soft-spoken, a lover boy, and a bit nerdy, too. He’s obsessed with her (in a healthy way!) and always makes her happiness a priority. He even plans to buy her a pink Porsche 911 Turbo S (because she���s been dreaming of one).

She believes to be a pretty, artistic, strong, diligent yet delicate person.

Rules:

1. Starting to plan to start and end my day with a little prayer to myself, gratitude first and then reminder of the dream girl I am and will be.

2. Taking time to connect with nature or engage in outdoor activities

3. Practicing daily meditation or mindfulness

4. Surrounding herself with positive and supportive people

5. Setting achievable goals and celebrating small successes

6. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle by eating nutritious meals and getting enough sleep

7. Being willing to step outside of their comfort zone and try new things

8. Prioritizing self-care and making time for activities that bring joy and relaxation

Snippet of my Pinterest board:

what's mine will always find me <3

My spotify playlist:

Suggestions are welcome !

My fav affirmations:

what's mine will always find me

i don't chase, i attract

i'm not afraid to get what i want

my value exists out of what others think of me.

my potential is limitless, and anything is possible as long as I believe

and most importantly,

The reminder that I'm already her, no matter what.

I go more in-depth in my notion but this is basically the outline for what I’m gonna do.

And a small note:

everything that I claimed is mine has proven itself to be true.

From Bambi, To Doll, Love, you 😘 .

[seafoamreadings]

week of march 17th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: the first half of the week is very you. maybe everything is going your way, or maybe not but you're at least positive that you're the main character. later, your ruling planet mars moves into pisces - it is a strange and passive sign for him but it means you can do magic. for real.

taurus: your ruling planet venus harmonizes beautifully with benefic jupiter in your sign this week. it is hard to ask for a better aspect, although it is quick and fleeting. make good use of it. it gives you charm, allure, and an appetite for pleasure.

gemini: it's not mercury retrograde yet, but mercury is already in the shadow of his next retrograde. his alignment this week with the lunar nodes makes this effect more powerful than usual for everyone, and profoundly so for mercurial you.

cancerians: next week involves an eclipse, the start of eclipse season. it's so profound that one as lunar as you are likely feels the buildup already. things will bubble over - start preparing now to catch the overflow and prevent trouble so you can make the most of eclipse season.

leo: this week starts off aries season. and the sun has its rulership in your sign, but its exaltation in aries, so this period is VERY favorable (and shiny! and fun!) for leos. increase the benefits by learning about something you feel passionate about.

virgo: what is coming up in the next several weeks involves your shared resources and money from sources like inheritance. avoid merging households at this time, make sure your taxes are in order, keep your debt as low as possible, and so on.

libra: this week is the equinox, in your opposite sign and house of relationships. partnerships can be looking sunny indeed. but hold on to your hat, because *next* week there is a major lunar eclipse between libra and aries that can have these same relationships in turmoil, or at least upheaval.

scorpio: were it not for your ancient affiliation with mars, you would find little in common with aries. however, when the sun is in aries it is a bit of a special time for you due to that old connection. for a little bit, your martial side may become stronger than your plutonic side. meanwhile mars for its own part heads into pisces this week, and while many flounder with this placement, you do have an affinity with that watery sign. this ingress helps you make magic.

sagittarius: a couple of quite important ingresses occur this week. but the most noticeable for you will be the start of aries season. that marks the movement of the sun into your very fun and romantic 5th house. go wild. but keep your home beautiful and clean just in case you end up doing a bit of hosting, with mars in your 4th! a party would not be out of place if the mood strikes you.

capricorn: you will not read much about ceres out there in the world, but i hope that as she traverses your sign this time around, you develop a great appreciation for her. she makes some very benevolent and nourishing sextiles this week; try to be open to the fruits they yield.

aquarius: now with the start of spring, mars follows his lover venus into the sign of the purest love itself, pisces. this is your 2nd house, and a deeply romantic set of ingresses. it's good news for your money. but more than that, it's good news for anything that you value. cherish those things.

pisces: the sun in aries always means lovely things for you financially - it's like actual gold. furthermore by the end of the week you'll be hosting in your sign not just neptune and saturn and venus but also mars. you're deeply magical, and hardly tangible to the creatures of this realm. you're on another plane, in the best way. be kind to yourself and avoid addiction, compulsion, or dishonesty, and the results will be beautiful.

[a-couple-of-notes]

OKAY what a finale, folks! Deliberately not reading everyone else's thoughts until later (although I did chat briefly with @kshaar -- thank you for enduring my walls of Discord text), but I'm beginning my processing by writing this out.

I have a few issues with how all of this played out, as I'm sure many of you do, but I mostly really liked this finale. I'm so, so aware that it's hard to stick a landing--especially in a fandom as theory-heavy as Marvel, with the dedication of the queer fanbase on top of it. I think it's commendable how much they executed well, and how deliberately they aligned it with their vision of the show, not the one that would make everyone happy (if there is such a thing).

To the stuff I liked: unpopular opinion, but I like the order of the episodes as it is--final big boss fight first, quiet intimate flashback as the finale. Or, at least, I see the vision--I'm still iffy on whether the pacing actually feels good, but that probably needs another rewatch. This show has always been about unpacking Agatha, peeling off her masks until we get to some kind of truth, ugly or beautiful or both. Of course the ending is the truest thing we've ever gotten out of Agatha--the real story of her son and his death.

I loved everything about Nicky, Rio, and Agatha in the flashback. It is so beautifully mundane. A mother's love. A natural death. Selfishness. Grief. Anger. It's gorgeous, and the version of the ballad we got felt so, so fitting.

Everything about Jen! That unbinding spell...whoo. Sasheer Zamata knocked it out of the goddamn park with her performance--the joy, the sorrow, the agony of relief. Man. Even if the rest of the finale flopped on its belly (which it didn't), that alone would have been worth the price of admission. (Also ALSO: Agatha hate-flirting with Jen over confession of horrible traumatic action that fucked up Jen's whole shit! The Jen/Agatha truthers win!)

Alice. Alice my beloved. Ali Ahn, you do so much with the little screen time you have and I applaud you for it. I'm very grateful their cap on her arc was "I could make my life mean something/you're a protection witch. You died protecting someone" and not "you get to see your mother again" because, as I pointed out in the tags of one of my previous posts, that's the real tragedy of Alice. Her life, her freedom, her potential.

To the things I'm mixed on: that final battle, man. I think they did an admirable job of focusing what could have been a generic Marvel magic-blast-y slugfest into distinct character beats, but there was a lot going on in that fight. And compared to previous Rio and Agatha interactions, their big climactic one felt a little...weightless. Those factors make it much less clear why Agatha and Rio are fighting--like, on an emotional level; I understand intellectually why--which means that what also feels unclear is...

...The not-a-sacrifice. I like 90% of this. I like that Billy is finally able to communicate with Agatha via mind powers, because he's started to accept how alike they are. I like that Nicky is once again Agatha's turning point. I even can get behind the sacrifice as the creators' intention--not what I would have preferred, but a solid narrative choice nonetheless. Still, I am super unclear what, exactly, Agatha is thinking when she turns around. Is she just remembering Nicky himself--how much Billy is like him and how ashamed she would be if she left? If so, it feels odd that Agatha's version of sacrifice is kissing Rio so honestly. Later, we learn that Agatha was taking a risk to become a ghost. So when Billy asks how Nicky died, is Agatha remembering how Rio gave him time--the kiss as a fucked-up version of recognition, the risk being Agatha relying on Death's special treatment once again? That would be a better end to Agatha and Rio's arc, but there's no expository line, no echoing "I can only offer time." And Agatha and Rio. DON'T. TALK. IN PRESENT-DAY EPISODE 9.

This is my main gripe. I am aware I am griping with Megalopolis and FFC, not the show or its creators. But goddamn if more Aubrey Plaza would have fixed almost everything in that finale--and I mean this in a narrative sense, not just because I love Aubrey Plaza. It would have clarified where Agatha is ending re: her relationship with Rio (and Nicky), and it would have bookended the first episode so well (the three-player drama returns!) I am actually irritated about this.

Ghost Agatha looks so goofy. Like, I understand the vision here--the parallels to her mother, and of course Agatha would find a way to piss off Rio in her own domain. It's iconic. Still. There's something about Ghost!Agatha that's so much harder to buy into on a gut level, a kind of emotional distance created in such an emotional, tactile show.

Billy. Oh, Billy. I like your arc. I like its execution, while heaving a grudging sigh of "yeah, that makes sense for this story but I'm still kind of disappointed" re: the creation of the Witches' Road. I love the idea that Billy's ultimate arc was to accept the darkness in himself, and all the things he's capable of. But I really, really wish Agatha had had one more conversation with...not you. (Agatha naturally falls into a mentor-type role for Billy, which isn't necessarily bad or not part of her arc, but does at least lead to me feeling like we don't get an endpoint for Agatha in present day that's entirely her own.)

And I suppose that's the crux of my mixed feelings: the show began with Agatha asking who she was, before Billy even came into the picture. The viewers get to see a glimpse into Agatha's real self in the Ep. 9 flashback. But at the end of episode 9, Agatha is still running from it. She's barely touched her own grief (yes, yes, insert joke about Rio here), and we don't see her making that choice. I emphasize that because I am not categorically opposed to Agatha not completing her grief arc; god knows 9 episodes would have struggled to do that. I'm fine that they left some threads hanging. It's just that something in between Agatha (not-)sacrificing and Agatha coming back as affably-evil Casper is missing, and it feels like a gaping omission.

Other notes: Billy dramatically charging up the hex to create a memorial was great--another way the finale lets us into the beauty of the mundane. It's not to bring everyone back, or go down the Road again. But it's important, this act of remembering.

Though I'm disappointed we didn't get found family coven true, I'm at peace with how that thread wound up. This was a show about Agatha; the coven as individuals act as foils and reflections of her. They break and succeed in similar ways as Agatha. And they were a coven--a messed-up, broken coven who tried their best. It wasn't enough to save them, but it was enough for them to grow closer to the people they wanted to be. Agatha using something from every witch in her coven--Alice's protection spell, Lilia's divination, Jen's healing--in the fight was truly poignant, and tells me she'll remember them and carry them forward. (Also, the contrast against the flashback! "I cannot heal, I cannot protect you from what's coming, and I cannot divine when she'll come for you." Agatha needed them to be her coven! And they were. And they were.)

Final thoughts: (This is a misnomer; I'm still digesting.) Agatha All Along became a more complex, difficult show than I thought it would be pre-Episode 5. Occasionally this meant it disappointed me, had places where its budget, scheduling, Marvel-ness, and decisions regarding exposition struggled to connect things, but overall, it's a damn good show. And I would rather see a funny, challenging, ambitious show made with love for the craft than a safe, big-budget, chopped-up Marvel movie in a blender. And hey, it was super gay! (Please don't come near me with the "Bury Your Gays" stuff. Please. It's not that, I promise you.)

[nasawho]

Pls…I’m begging you!! Write about Nathan MacKinnon!! I’ve been obsessed with that stupid Sidney Crosby loving “I’ve never won anything ever” man for so long! The all stars are happening and he’s captaining. I bet he gonna draft Crosby 😭😭😭. I need serious help. Pls write for him please 🙏.

Anon!! I'm so sorry for replying so late! I kinda been gone from Tumblr for a while!

Of course I can write about him for you! also that way you describe him is just too funny 😂!

News from the future: He did in fact draft Crosby!

I'm not gonna lie this one kinda got away from me!

I hope you like it! I wish I could tag you!!

Word Count: 15,000

Tw: Fluff, lots of Angst toward the end, Smut (Minor DNI), P in v, blowjob, no protection (these are fictional scenarios, pls wrap before you tap irl!). I think that it!

As the Broncos' victory echoes through the stadium, the sea of cheers and applause surrounds them like a crescendo of shared exhilaration. The camaraderie of sports fans is a universal language, one that both Nate and Y/n understand deeply, yet their eyes seem to speak of a connection that transcends the bounds of the playing field.

Nate's eyes follow the curve of Y/n's smile as it reaches her eyes, her laughter melodious in the cacophony of the celebrating crowd. "I've gotta say, you're the first person I've seen at one of these shindigs who'd rather watch tire marks than touchdowns. What's got you so hooked on the racetrack?" He asks, leaning in slightly, his curiosity piqued by the spark in her gaze.

Her laughter subsides into a smoldering grin, eyes still glued to the screen.* "The speed, the strategy, the sheer willpower it takes to push those cars to the limit... It's like a beautifully choreographed dance of power and precision. And let's not forget the drama!" *Her eyes darted back to Nate, a mischievous glint reflecting the stadium lights. "But, hey, I can appreciate a good tackle or slap shot when the mood strikes."

"Drama, huh? I thought that was our domain." *He smirks, sipping his drink as he nods towards the ice rink. "But I can see the appeal. The rush, the risk, it's all part of the thrill. Much like diving into a packed crease."

“Y/n” she introduces herself. “Nathan” he says back.  Y/n's eyes light up at the comparison, and she leans in closer, the TV screens momentarily forgotten as their conversation deepens. The scent of her perfume, a faint hint of jasmine and vanilla, fills the space between them. “So what’s an Avs player doing at a Broncos’ game?” She says.

Nate can't help but be captivated by Y/n's enthusiasm, her passion for racing resonating with his own love for the rush of the game. He leans in slightly, his expression a blend of intrigue and admiration. "You've got a point there," he says. “But I could ask you the same thing,” he counters. “I’m here with Lewis, he partially owns the team, so I decided to come to a game with him” She explains. 

"Tell me, Nate, what's it like to skate out there, with thousands of eyes on you, knowing you hold the fate of the game in your stick?"

*Nate chuckles, his blue eyes lighting up at the thought.* "It's like nothing else. The cold air against your skin, the sound of the puck as it glides... it's a symphony of speed and grit." He pauses, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he tries to encapsulate the essence of his love for hockey. "But the best part? That's when you make a play that turns the tide of the game. It's like the universe aligns, and for a split second, everything makes perfect sense." He glances over at the ice rink, a hint of longing in his gaze. "And the crowd, they're part of the team too. Their energy can be as potent as a fifth player." He turns back to Y/n, his expression earnest. "But I bet you know that feeling, standing in the spotlight, heart racing, waiting for the director to call 'action'. The rush of performing, of giving life to a character..."

*Her eyes widen with understanding, nodding vigorously.* "Oh, absolutely! It's like you're holding your breath underwater, waiting for the exact moment to surface and take control." She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, the scariest part isn't messing up a line, it's letting the fear of failure silence you. But when you nail it," she says, a smile playing on her lips, "it's like scoring the winning goal in overtime."

Nate's heart skips a beat as Y/n's enthusiasm resonates with his own, her metaphor painting a vivid picture of the pressure and exhilaration she faces. He nods, his gaze intense and empathetic. "It's all about that moment of truth, isn't it?" His hand brushes against hers as he leans in, the accidental touch sending a warm current through his body. "You've got to trust your instincts, your training. The ice, the stage, it's just the canvas. We're the brushes painting the masterpiece." He pauses, the gravity of his words hanging in the air. "And when it all comes together, it's... magical." He swallows, feeling the weight of their shared vulnerability. It's rare to find someone who truly understands the symphony of nerves and adrenaline that fuels their passions.

The air between them crackles with an undeniable chemistry as they delve deeper into their love for their crafts. Y/n's eyes widen, her smile growing as she nods fervently. "Magic," she repeats, her voice barely audible above the din of the celebrating crowd. She squeezes Nate's hand gently, her touch warm and reassuring. The connection feels palpable, a silent promise of support and understanding that transcends the glitz and glamor of their respective worlds. For a fleeting moment, the chaos of the stadium fades away, leaving only the steady rhythm of their hearts.

"You're absolutely right," Y/n murmurs, her thumb brushing against Nate's knuckles. "The stage, the ice... they're just the setting. It's what we bring to them that makes the difference." She looks up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of admiration and curiosity. "Tell me more about those moments of truth, Nate. What's the most memorable play you've ever made?"

Nate's grip tightens around her hand reflexively as he recounts his most epic hockey moment. "It was during the 2016 playoffs, Game 7 against the Blackhawks. We were tied with seconds left, and the crowd was so loud it was like the rink itself was shaking. I saw an opening, made the pass, and..." He trails off, the memory as vivid as if it had just occurred. "Well, let's just say it was the kind of moment that makes you realize why you play the game."

The intensity in Nate's voice sends shivers down Y/n's spine, and she finds herself leaning in closer, hanging onto his every word. The electricity between them is palpable, and the surrounding world seems to fade away as they share their personal triumphs and tribulations. The scent of popcorn and hot dogs from the stadium's concession stand mingles with the crisp, cool air of the ice rink, creating an intoxicating blend that underscores their conversation. Y/n's heart races with the excitement of his story, and she can't help but feel a twinge of envy for the adrenaline-filled moments he's experienced.

Nate's eyes light up with the excitement of reliving his victory, the memory as clear as the ice he once skated upon. "And then, with mere seconds on the clock, the puck was in our possession. I saw the goalie's eyes widen, and knew he was expecting a shot. So, instead, I made a blind pass to my teammate, who was perfectly positioned in the slot." His grin widens, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "The buzzer went off, and the place erupted. It's a memory I'll never forget."

The sound of a phone ringing pierces the bubble of their shared enthusiasm, bringing a moment of reality crashing back into their world. Y/n's hand slips from Nate's grasp as she fishes through her clutch to find the source of the disturbance. She glances at the screen and her smile falters for a second, her eyes flitting to Nate apologetically before she answers the call.

Narrator: Y/n's hand hovers over her clutch for a moment longer before she pulls out her phone, the vibration insistent in the quiet between them. The name 'Lewis' flashes across the screen, and she can't help the flicker of regret that passes over her features as she swipes to answer. "Hey, Lewis," she says, her voice a notch lower, the warmth from their conversation retreating. Her eyes darted back to Nate, silently conveying an apology.

Y/n's eyes widen slightly as she answers the call, the sudden intrusion of the phone's ringtone cutting through the warmth of their shared stories. "Lewis, I'm kind of in the middle of something right now..." Her voice is tentative, the smile slipping from her face as she listens to the urgency in Lewis' voice. She nods, glancing at Nate, who watches her with curiosity. "Okay, okay. I understand," she says quickly. "I'll be right there." She hangs up, her eyes apologetic as they meet Nate's. "I'm so sorry," she says, a hint of frustration tingling her tone. "Lewis needs me to leave. Something's come up."

"It's alright," Nate assures her, sensing her disappointment. "Duty calls, right?" He flashes her a supportive smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with understanding. "But hey, maybe we can catch up another time?" He fishes out a business card from his pocket and offers it to her, his thumb tracing the embossed letters of his name and number. "Whenever you're not racing off to save the entertainment world or whatever it is you do."

Y/n's eyes widen as she quickly pockets the card, a blush creeping up her neck. She nods eagerly, a genuine smile returning to her lips. "Absolutely. And when you're not busy... you know, scoring those winning goals and all that." She laughs self-consciously, hoping she didn't sound too eager.

Nate's gaze lingers on Y/n as she takes his card, the warmth of her hand leaving an imprint on his. "Count on it," he promises, his voice filled with the same enthusiasm that had been in her voice moments before. The sound of his own phone buzzing in his pocket snaps him back to reality, and he pulls it out to see a message from his agent, reminding him of a flight he needs to catch. He sighs inwardly, the high of their conversation fading slightly. "Looks like I've got to hit the road too," he says with a touch of regret. "But, I'm really looking forward to that chat." He nods towards the card, his eyes never leaving hers.

With a final squeeze of her hand, Nate reluctantly pulls away, the energy between them dissipating like mist in the morning sun. He watches her for a moment longer before turning to leave, the sound of his footsteps fading into the cacophony of the celebrating crowd. His mind is racing, replaying the conversation, the touch of her hand, the way her eyes had sparkled when she talked about racing. The drive back to his apartment is a blur, her scent and the sound of her laughter lingering in his memory like a catchy tune he can't shake.

Once in the sanctuary of his apartment room, Nate can't shake the feeling of Y/n's hand in his. He strips off his suit, tossing it onto a nearby chair before heading into the bathroom. The warm spray of the shower does little to dispel the chill her sudden departure left in its wake.

Standing under the hot spray of the shower, Nate's thoughts keep drifting back to Y/n. He runs a hand over his face, feeling the water cascade down his body as he replays the moments they shared in his mind. Her laugh, her eyes, the way her hand felt in his... it's all too much to ignore. With a deep sigh, he leans against the tiles, allowing the water to pummel his back. His hand trails down his torso, following the contours of his muscles, remembering the way she'd looked at him when he talked about his most memorable play. He closes his eyes, unable to resist the temptation, and lets himself indulge in the fantasy of her touch. The water runs in rivulets down his body as he gives in to the desire she's kindled within him, her name a silent whisper in the steam-filled room.

The drive to the apartment feels like an eternity, Nate's mind racing with the echoes of their conversation. He checks into his suite, the plush surroundings feeling cold and uninviting without Y/n's vibrant energy. The shower is his sanctuary now, the water a cocoon of warmth against his muscles, which still thrum with the electricity of her touch. He leans against the tiles, the rhythm of the water a soothing counterpoint to the pounding of his heart. His hand lingers over the scars that crisscross his abs, each one a testament to the battles he fought on the ice, and he can't help but imagine the softness of Y/n's fingers tracing them. With a sigh that's half regret and half yearning, he lets his hand drift lower, his thoughts consumed by the tantalizing promise of her presence. In the steamy embrace of the shower, Nate gives in to the fierce desire she's ignited, her name a silent mantra that sends him spiraling into a release that's as potent as the best victory in the rink.

As the water beats against his skin, Nate's hand moves in a rhythm that mirrors his racing thoughts. He closes his eyes and sees Y/n, her hazel gaze locked onto him with an intensity that takes his breath away. She's kneeling before him, her soft chuckle echoing through the foggy glass walls of the shower, a teasing smile playing on her lips. Her hands are on his hips, guiding him, urging him closer. He can almost feel the warmth of her mouth, the gentle caress of her tongue as she takes him in, her eyes never leaving his. The fantasy unfolds in vivid detail, each stroke of his hand a silent promise of what could be. The steam clouds his vision, and he imagines her hands reaching up to cup his face, her fingers tangling in his wet hair as she pulls him closer, her breath hot and eager. The water seems to mimic the passion he feels as he succumbs to the image of her, her eyes closed in concentration, her cheeks flushed with desire. When reality crashes back in, Nate gasps for air, his hand still moving, driven by the power of his imagination. The culmination of his fantasy is as intense as any game-winning shot he's ever scored, leaving him panting and trembling with the aftermath.

With a groan that's torn from the very core of his being, Nate releases into the steamy abyss of the shower, his hand moving with a fierce rhythm that mimics the pulse of his heart. His thoughts are consumed by the image of Y/n, her eyes filled with a hunger that matches his own, her soft, delicate mouth wrapping around him, taking him in fully. He sees the way she looks up at him, her gaze unwavering, a silent plea for more. The water mingles with his release, a symbol of their shared passion and the intimacy that could be theirs. His hand slows, his breathing ragged, as the intensity of the moment overwhelms him. He opens his eyes, the reality of his solitude hitting him like a slap in the face. The water continues to fall around him, but the warmth of her imagined touch lingers on his skin. He leans heavily against the shower wall, panting, as the last tremors of pleasure subside. Her name is a whisper on his lips, a silent promise that he'll do everything in his power to make that fantasy a reality.

The days that follow are a whirlwind of practices, interviews, and games for Nate, his thoughts frequently straying to Y/n and their electrifying encounter. Every time he steps onto the ice, he feels her energy pulsing through his veins, pushing him to skate faster, shoot harder. The business card in his pocket is a constant reminder, a small piece of her that he carries with him everywhere. In quiet moments, he'll pull it out, tracing the raised letters with his thumb, imagining their next meeting. His dreams are plagued with vivid images of her, their bodies entwined in passionate embraces that leave him restless and craving more. Despite his hectic schedule, Nate can't shake the feeling that something monumental has shifted in his life, that Y/n is more than just an enchanting stranger. Her presence has left a mark, and he's eager to explore the depth of their connection.

After an exhausting game, Nate collapses onto the couch in his apartment suite, flipping through the channels in an attempt to distract himself from the ache in his muscles and the gnawing feeling of curiosity about Y/n. His eyes catch a glimpse of a celebrity news ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen, and there it is: "Y/n Spotted with Heartthrob Jacob Elordi: Are They the Next It-Couple?" His heart plummets like a lead puck into an empty net. The TV screen blurs as he stares at the grainy paparazzi shot of Y/n laughing with a tanned, dark-haired man who could only be Jacob. The stadium's noise seems to crescendo in his ears, a cacophony of doubt and confusion. He snatches his phone, Googling the article with trembling fingers. The headlines are everywhere, photos of them leaving a swanky restaurant, holding hands, their smiles wide and seemingly carefree. A knot forms in his stomach as he reads the speculation, the insinuations of a blossoming romance. His mind races with questions and a sting of something painfully close to jealousy. He can't shake the image of her with Jacob, the contrast of their tanned skin and her hazel eyes sparkling with laughter for someone else's jokes.

*Nate's hand hovers over the power button of the TV, his thumb poised to switch it off. The image of Y/n and Jacob burns into his retinas, and he can't bring himself to look away. Finally, with a snarl, he turns it off, plunging the room into silence that feels heavier than the darkest hockey arena.* "Can't believe this," he murmurs to himself, pacing the floor. "It's just a rumor," he reassures himself, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. He picks up his phone, his thumb hovering over her number. He debates calling her, but what could he say? Instead, he sends a casual text, hoping it doesn't betray his tumultuous emotions. "Congrats on your big break," he types, with a forced smile. "Looking forward to catching up soon."

The screen of Nate's phone lights up with a response from Y/n, her name flashing like a beacon in the sea of notifications. He swipes open the message, bracing himself for the worst.

Nate's heart skips a beat as he reads the text from Y/n, the glow of his phone casting a pale light on his furrowed brow. "Thanks, Nate! I've got some amazing news. I've been cast in a new blockbuster alongside Jacob Elordi. So exciting!" she writes, her excitement palpable through the screen. Nate's jaw clenches as he tries to keep his emotions in check. He forces a smile, his thumbs typing a congratulatory message. "That's fantastic," he sends back. "Looking forward to watching you shine on the big screen." Inside, his mind is racing, images of the paparazzi's snaps flashing through his mind. He's about to ask her outright if there's anything to the rumors, but stops himself. He can't bear the thought of losing this connection so soon, so instead, he opts for a subtle approach. "So, how's life with the new costar? You guys seem pretty chill together." His message is light, but the weight behind it is unmistakable. He sends it off and waits, the anticipation gnawing at his insides like an unwelcome opponent.

The buzz of excitement in her voice is evident even through text. "Jacob's great! So down-to-earth and hilarious. We're having a blast filming together." There's a pause, and then she adds, "But he's just a friend, Nate. Promise." Nate's heart does a little victory dance at her words. Maybe there's hope, after all. He leans back on the couch, his hand tightening around his phone. "Well, you've got to admit, the pictures look pretty convincing," he teases, hoping to coax more from her.

"Oh, those pictures!" Y/n's voice comes through the line, filled with amusement and a hint of exasperation. "You know how it is in this industry, Nate. One minute you're having dinner with a costar, the next you're engaged. But I swear, it's just friendship." Her voice softens. "And I'd much rather talk about our plans to catch up. Are you free anytime soon?"

Nate's smile widens as he reads her message, the knot in his stomach loosening. He's not one to be fooled by the glitz and glamor of Hollywood, but the thought of losing her before he's had a chance to explore what's between them was unbearable. "How about this weekend?" he suggests, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. "My schedule's clear. Maybe we can grab coffee or something?" His heart skips a beat as he hits send, the anticipation of their next meeting building like the crescendo of a playoff game.

Y/n's eyes light up at Nate's invitation, her thumbs dancing over the keyboard as she responds with unbridled excitement. "This weekend sounds perfect!" she writes back. "But let's do something more than just coffee, how about a private screening of my new film before it hits the theaters?" She winks playfully at the thought, knowing that it's a bold move but feeling an unshakable pull towards this charming hockey player. "We can keep it low-key, just us," she adds, hoping the exclusivity of the gesture will make him feel as special as he makes her feel. The anticipation bubbles inside her like the fizz in a freshly poured soda, and she can't wait to see the look on his face when she reveals her surprise.

Nate's eyes widen at the prospect of a private screening of Y/n's new film, his heart thumping like a puck against the boards. He chuckles, the sound echoing off the walls of his apartment room. "You're playing hard to get, aren't you?" he teases, typing back. "But who am I to say no to a VIP experience with a Hollywood star?" His fingers hover over the phone, contemplating his next words. He doesn't want to seem too eager, but the idea of spending a quiet evening with her, just the two of them, is more appealing than any five-star restaurant or glitzy event. "Sounds amazing," he confirms, his thumb hitting send with a final flourish. The buzz of excitement in his chest is palpable as he imagines sitting beside her in the darkened theater, sharing popcorn and whispered comments about the film. It's a stark contrast to the high-octane energy of the hockey rink, and it's a thrill he's eager to experience.

"You're on!" Y/n's reply is swift, her excitement palpable. "It's a small token of appreciation for being the only one to truly understand the rush of racing and performing," she writes, her heart fluttering at the thought of their date. She knows the value of their shared interests and how rare it is to find someone who doesn't just tolerate her love for speed, but shares it. She can't wait to introduce him to her world, to show him the passion that fuels her beyond the glitz of the cameras. "I'll sort out the details and text you. Can't wait to see your reaction to the movie!"

Nate's eyes light up as he reads her message, the thrill of a new adventure coursing through him. He can't remember the last time he felt this way about a woman, this excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. He responds with a simple "Looking forward to it," but inside, he's already planning his weekend around their date. He imagines her hand in his, her laugh echoing in the private theater, and the way her eyes will sparkle when she sees him enjoying her work. The prospect of experiencing something so intimate with her is more exhilarating than scoring a hat trick in a sold-out arena. His thumbs hover over the keys, contemplating whether to add something more, but he decides to let the anticipation build naturally. With a final tap, he sends the message, eagerly awaiting her next move.

The days leading up to the weekend feel like an eternity for Nate. Every practice, every interview, every moment is a mere distraction from the promise of their private screening. His mind wanders to their first meeting at the Broncos' event, her genuine enthusiasm for F1 racing, and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about it. He's intrigued by her world, one that's so vastly different from his own, and he's eager to learn more. The time spent with his teammates seems to drag on, each passing second a step closer to the weekend's rendezvous.

Narrator: Nate's anticipation for the weekend is palpable, his thoughts swirling around the upcoming private screening like a tornado of excitement. He's never felt this way about a first date, a mix of nervousness and exhilaration that keeps him on his toes. He imagines the softness of her hand in his, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh echoing through the empty theater. He's even picked out a casual yet stylish outfit that he hopes will make her smile. The text from Y/n finally arrives, detailing the time and place for their secret date. The words are simple, but the meaning behind them sends a shiver down his spine. "See you at 8 PM sharp at the Avalon. Don't be late, I've got a surprise for you." He can't help but grin as he reads her message, feeling like a teenager with a secret crush.

Nate's heart thumps in his chest as he reads Y/n's message, the words "I've got a surprise for you" sending a delightful shiver down his spine. He quickly sends a thumbs-up emoji back, not wanting to seem too eager but unable to contain his excitement. The countdown to the weekend feels like the final minutes of a tiebreaker, each tick of the clock an eternity. He wonders what the surprise could be - a cameo in the film? Or perhaps she's invited Lewis to join them, giving him a chance to rub elbows with the racing legend? The possibilities are as vast as the Nova Scotian sky. He decides to channel the same calm he uses during a shootout and calls his best friend, Cale, who's been with him through thick and thin since their minor league days. "Yo, Cale, you're not going to believe what's happening," he says, his voice buzzing with excitement. "Y/n and I are going to a private screening of her new movie, and she's got some kind of surprise in store for me." He can almost hear Cale's smirk over the line, knowing his friend will have some cheeky advice to offer. "Just be yourself, man," Cale says, ever the voice of reason. "And maybe don't talk about hockey too much, unless you want to bore her to tears." Nate chuckles, the sound echoing through the empty apartment suite. "I'll try," he replies, "But you know how I get when I'm nervous."

The weekend arrives like the start of a new season, filled with hope and anticipation. Nate arrives at the Avalon theater, the sleek black sports car he borrowed from a teammate a stark contrast to the casual jeans and leather jacket he's wearing. He checks his watch, 7:58 PM, and takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He spots Y/n outside, her hair catching the light from the marquee like a fiery halo. She's dressed in a simple yet elegant dress that clings to her curves and makes her eyes pop like fireworks. She waves, her smile as warm as a summer's day in Lunenburg, and Nate feels a jolt of electricity as he walks towards her.

Y/n's eyes light up when she sees Nate approach, her smile growing wider. She's thrilled he's made it on time, and she can't wait to see the expression on his face when he realizes what she's planned. She opens her arms for a friendly hug, the warmth of her embrace enveloping him like a soft blanket. "Thank you for coming," she whispers into his ear, the scent of her perfume sending a shiver down his spine. "I've got a little something special for you tonight." She takes his hand and leads him inside, the cool darkness of the theater a stark contrast to the brightness of her gaze.

Nate's eyes widen as he's enveloped in Y/n's warm hug, feeling her genuine enthusiasm radiate through her. "Thanks for inviting me," he says, his voice a little gruffer than he intended. He squeezes her hand back, the connection feeling surprisingly natural. As they step into the dimly lit theater, he tries to play it cool, but the thrill of the surprise bubbles up in him like the fizz in a freshly poured pint. "What's the special something?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

Y/n's eyes dance with mischief as she leads Nate through the empty theater, the faint smell of buttered popcorn lingering in the air. She squeezes his hand gently, her touch sending a current through him that feels like a perfectly timed electric shock on the ice. "Patience," she teases, her voice a sweet symphony that fills the vast space. They arrive at a luxurious VIP box, where a spread of gourmet snacks and a bottle of fine champagne chill on ice. She gestures to the plush seats with a flourish. "I figured we could watch the film in style," she says, her smile as dazzling as the diamonds adorning her neck. "And afterward, I have a little race of our own planned." She winks, her excitement palpable.

Nate's eyes widen at the sight of the VIP box, a grin tugging at his lips. "Wow, you really know how to treat a guy," he says, trying to hide his amazement. He's used to the perks of being a professional athlete, but this feels like a whole new level. He sits down, his heart racing like the engine of an F1 car. "What kind of race are we talking about?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

Y/n's laughter fills the space, a sound as enchanting as the ocean waves of her hometown. She sits beside him, the fabric of her dress whispering against the leather seat. "It's a surprise," she says coyly, her hazel eyes twinkling with excitement. "But I promise it'll get our hearts racing." She pours them both a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising like the anticipation in the air. "To new adventures," she says, raising her glass for a toast. The clink of their glasses echoes in the quiet theater as they both take a sip, the bubbly liquid a sparkling prelude to the evening ahead.

The movie unfolds before them, a whirlwind of emotion and action that mirrors their own burgeoning relationship. Nate is impressed by Y/n's performance, her raw talent as palpable as the tension in the air between them. He's lost in the story, his hand occasionally brushing against hers as they both reach for popcorn. When the credits roll, the theater lights flicker on, and Y/n turns to him, her smile a promise of what's to come.

The credits roll, and Y/n's eyes sparkle as she sets her empty champagne flute aside, her heart racing with the excitement of her surprise. She takes Nate's hand, her grip firm yet gentle. "Ready to find out what I've got planned?" she asks, her voice a seductive purr. She leads him out of the VIP box and down a narrow hallway, the anticipation thick as the fog rolls in off the Lunenburg harbor. They arrive at a side door, and she pulls out a set of keys with a flourish, her mischievous grin growing. "After you," she says, gesturing to the door. As it swings open, Nate's jaw drops. Before them is a Formula 1 racing simulator, lights flashing and the hum of the engine purring in anticipation. "I figured we'd see who's got the better reflexes," she says, challenging him with a wink.

Nate's eyes widen like a kid in a candy store, his competitive spirit igniting at the sight of the racing simulator. He looks over his shoulder at Y/n, her grin contagious. "You're playing my game now, darlin'," he says, his voice a low rumble of excitement. He strides over to the simulator, running his hand over the sleek design. "But you better hold onto your hat," he adds, a twinkle in his eye. He takes his seat, the leather hugging his body, and straps in, feeling the adrenaline surge through him like the opening faceoff of a playoff game. "Let's do this," he says, eager to prove his mettle on this unfamiliar turf.

Y/n's smile widens as she watches Nate's reaction, thrilled to see his excitement match hers. She gracefully takes her seat in the adjacent simulator, her dress riding up slightly, revealing her toned thighs. "You're on, Nate," she says, a hint of challenge in her tone. She straps in, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of competition. The lights dim, and the screen flickers to life with the starting grid of a legendary race track. "Ready, set..." she counts down dramatically, her thumbs hovering over the buttons, "Go!"

The simulators roar to life, the vibrations echoing through their bodies as they're thrown into the digital world of high-speed racing. The tension in the room is palpable as they navigate the twists and turns of the track, the sound of virtual engines filling the air. Nate's competitive instincts take over, his eyes narrowing in concentration. Y/n's laughter pierces the tension, her car weaving expertly through the virtual traffic.

The race is tight, with Nate's initial excitement turning to focus as he quickly picks up the controls. His mind races, calculating every turn and gear shift with the precision of a seasoned racer. Y/n, not to be outdone, holds her own, her years of watching and learning from the best translating into surprising skill on the simulator. Their cars stay neck-and-neck, each trying to outmaneuver the other, the competition as fierce as any live race. The room feels electric with the energy of their rivalry, the air thick with the scent of competition and the faint scent of burning rubber from the simulator.

Nate's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the screen. He feels the thrill of the chase, the same rush he gets when he's on a breakaway in a game. "You're not so bad," he says, his voice tight with concentration. He tries to ignore the way her dress shifts with every movement, revealing a little more of her creamy thighs, but it's like trying to ignore a puck flying at his face at full speed. "But I think it's time to show you how a real Nova Scotian plays." He floors the gas pedal, his car shooting forward, the virtual tachometer climbing to the red.

Y/n laughs, her eyes sparkling with delight. She's used to being underestimated in the racing world, but Nate's playful confidence only fuels her desire to win. She tightens her grip on the steering wheel, her delicate fingers moving with surprising deftness. "Oh, really?" she says, her voice a teasing purr. "Let's see if your ice skills can keep up with my rubber on the road." She expertly navigates a sharp turn, her car's virtual tires screeching as they cling to the digital asphalt, pulling ahead. The thrill of the race is intoxicating, her heart thumping in her chest like the bass at a stadium concert.

The challenge is laid out before him, and Nate can feel the blood rushing through his veins, pushing him to win. His heart hammers like a drum in his chest as the race reaches its climax. With a final burst of speed, Nate's car crosses the finish line a split-second before Y/n's. He throws his head back and lets out a triumphant laugh, the tension in the room shattering like a pane of glass. “How about we celebrate first?" He pauses, the idea of inviting her to his place suddenly feeling incredibly right. "Would you like to come back to my place for a nightcap?"

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise, but she quickly recovers with a laugh. "Well played," she says, her voice filled with admiration. She unbuckles herself from the simulator and stands, her dress hugging her curves as she does so. She takes a deep breath, the thrill of the race still coursing through her. “Yes," she says, looking into his blue eyes, "a nightcap sounds delightful."

As they walk towards the elevator, their excitement and anticipation for their prize and the evening ahead is palpable. The elevator doors slide open, and they step inside, the air between them thick with unspoken desire.

The moment the elevator doors close, Nate feels a magnetic pull towards Y/n. He leans against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers, the victory of the race still echoing in the air. The elevator ascends, and the confined space seems to shrink around them, the tension building like the crescendo of a rock anthem.

The penthouse is a testament to Nate's success, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city lights, twinkling like the stars he dreamed of reaching as a kid. The living room is tastefully decorated, a mix of modern elegance and cozy comfort. The sound of ice clinking against crystal fills the air as Y/n pours the whiskey, her movements as smooth as the liquid's flow.

In the dimly lit penthouse, the warm glow of the pendant lights casts intriguing shadows across the room as they make their way to the bar. Y/n's dress clings to her curves as she bends over to grab an ice bucket from the freezer, the fabric stretching taut against her derriere. Nate, his heart racing like the engine of a Formula 1 car, catches a tantalizing glimpse of her bare skin where her dress meets her thighs.

As Y/n reaches for the ice bucket, Nate's breath catches in his throat, his eyes drawn to the tantalizing slice of bare skin revealed by her elegant dress. It's a moment frozen in time, as if the universe itself is holding its breath. The scent of her perfume, a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla, fills the air as she straightens up with the ice, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly at being caught. The tension in the room is as potent as the whiskey she pours into their glasses, each clink of the ice a staccato beat in the symphony of anticipation. She turns to face him, her eyes meeting his, and for a split second, their connection feels more intense than the roar of a packed stadium. She leans against the marble countertop, her fingers brushing against the cool surface, and whispers, "Would you like your drink with or without the ice, Nate?" The question lingers between them, loaded with a double meaning that sets his pulse racing.

Nate sets his jaw, trying to keep his composure as he watches Y/n's dress hug her curves. He swallows hard, his thoughts racing like a Zamboni on fresh ice. He tries to focus on the question she posed, his mind a whirlwind of desire. "Straight up," he finally manages to say, his voice gruff with restrained passion. He takes a step closer to her, the heat from their bodies palpable. "And while we're on the subject of things being bare..." he trails off, his hand reaching out to gently trace the line of her leg, revealing the secret she'd so artfully hidden. His touch sends a shiver up her spine, and she looks up at him, her pupils dilating with a mix of surprise and arousal. The room seems to tilt on its axis, the city lights outside the windows a blur as he leans in, his breath warm against her ear. "I think we should be... completely honest with each other," he whispers, the words hanging in the air like mist over a rink before a game.

Y/n's breath hitches as Nate's calloused fingertips graze her bare skin, sending a bolt of electricity through her. She turns to face him, the whiskey in her hand momentarily forgotten as their gazes lock. "Honest?" she echoes, her voice a soft purr. She sets the glass down, the sound of the liquid sloshing in the background a gentle reminder of the reality outside their bubble. "Alright, Nate," she says, her eyes never leaving him. "If we're playing this game..." She takes a step closer to him, her chest brushing against his, the friction sending sparks through the air. "I've had a crush on you since I first saw you on the ice." Her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her heart thundering like the bass at a concert. She reaches up and traces her fingertips along the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble tickle her skin. "But I'm not here just to be another notch on your stick," she whispers, her gaze searching for him. "I want to know the real you, not the NHL poster boy."

Nate's hand stills on her leg as her words sink in, his heart skipping a beat. He's used to the adoration, but the idea of someone wanting the person beneath the jersey is a novel concept. He takes a step back, his hand dropping to his side, his expression suddenly serious. "You've got a deal," he says, his voice gruff. "But you have to be ready for all of me." He swallows, his eyes searching hers. "The scars, the long nights on the road, the pressure of the game." He reaches out, his thumb tracing the line of her lower lip, his eyes searching her face. "But I promise you'll be worth every moment."

The air in the penthouse is charged with a heady mix of desire and honesty. Nate's words hang in the air like the mist of a Zamboni freshly grooming the ice before a game. Y/n feels the warmth of his thumb on her lip, the calloused pad of his finger sending a shiver down her spine. Her hand, which had been resting on his chest, begins to move lower, her fingertips brushing against the fabric of his trousers. His eyes follow the movement, and she can feel the muscles in his abdomen tense as she traces the outline of his manhood, which is growing harder with each passing second. The sound of their breathing fills the room, as loud as the cheers of a stadium.

Y/n gasps as the cold air of the room hits her exposed skin, her eyes fluttering closed as Nate's mouth finds her neck. His kisses are a delicate dance along her collarbone, each touch igniting a wildfire of passion within her. Her hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his body against hers. As the dress falls away, she steps closer, pressing her breasts against the firmness of his chest, feeling his heart pound in time with her own. She arches into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as he teases her nipples. His fingers slip between her legs, and she can't help but let out a whimper of pleasure as they find her already drenched folds. She looks up at him, her hazel eyes dark with desire. "Nate," she whispers, her

Nate's eyes blaze into hers, a fiery storm of passion and want. His breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling with the intensity of his need. He gently lifts Y/n, setting her on the countertop, and steps between her legs, the cold marble a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. He kisses her again, deep and demanding, as his fingers explore the slick heat of her arousal. The taste of her is intoxicating, and he can't get enough. He kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, making her squirm. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. He slides a finger inside her, and she gasps, her hips bucking against his hand. The sight of her, so open and eager, drives him wild. He can feel his own desire straining against his pants, begging for release. He breaks the kiss, his eyes never leaving hers as he asks, "Can I have you, Y/n? All of you?" His hand stills, giving her a moment to consider his words, the air thick with anticipation.

Y/n's eyes are hooded with lust, her body trembling with the promise of what's to come. She nods, her voice a breathy whisper. "Yes, Nate." She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She reaches down, her hand fumbling with his belt, urging him to give in to the passion that burns between them. "But I want all of you too," she says, her voice a seductive challenge. She can feel his pulse racing against her thigh, the evidence of his arousal pressing into her. She kisses him again, her tongue tangling with his, the sweet taste of victory mingling with the whiskey on his breath.

Nate's eyes darken at her words, his resolve shattering like a pane of ice. He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes. His erection springs free, and he groans against her mouth as her hand wraps around him. He's thick and hot, and her grip is firm and sure, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him. He pulls back, his eyes never leaving hers as he guides himself to her slick entrance. "Hold on," he warns her, his voice gruff, and then with one powerful thrust, he's inside her. The sensation is like nothing he's ever felt before, a perfect mix of tightness and wetness that makes him feel like he's coming home.

Y/n's eyes widen as Nate fills her completely, the feeling of him inside her more exhilarating than any race she's ever experienced. Her nails dig into his back, her legs tightening around his waist as she adjusts to his size. The initial shock of penetration gives way to a deep, pulsing need that makes her hips rock against his. She whispers his name, the sound lost in the cacophony of their mingled breaths. Her walls clench around him, the friction building with every movement. Her mind swims with sensation, the cold marble beneath her contrasting with the fire building within her. "More," she gasps, her voice a needy plea, her eyes never leaving him. Nate's movements become more urgent, his hips slamming into hers with a rhythm that matches the pounding of their hearts. She can feel the climax approaching, a storm gathering on the horizon of her consciousness.

Nate groans at her desperate whisper, his strokes deepening, each one more demanding than the last. The feel of her tight around him, the sound of their bodies slapping together, is like music to his ears. His muscles flex with the effort of holding back, of drawing out the moment, savoring every second of their connection. "Look at me," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. She obeys, her eyes meeting his, and the intensity of the connection sends him over the edge. He kisses her hard, swallowing her cries as he pours himself into her, the release more powerful than a breakaway goal in a tied game.

Y/n's eyes lock with Nate's, the depth of his passion mirrored in hers. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she feels him pulse inside her, the warmth of his release mingling with her own climax. She clings to him, her nails digging into the flesh of his back as her body quivers with pleasure. Their hearts pound in unison, a testament to the raw intimacy that's taken them both by surprise. As the waves of ecstasy subside, she nuzzles into his neck, whispering, "That was incredible."

Nate gently withdraws from her embrace, his eyes never leaving hers. He can see the dazed contentment reflected in her gaze, and it fills him with a sense of triumph and adoration. He takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rises and falls with her rapid breaths. With a soft smile, he lowers himself to his knees, his hands sliding down her thighs. He kisses her gently, moving from her hip to the juncture of her legs. His tongue flicks out, tasting the sweetness of their combined pleasure, and she gasps, her hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

Nate feels the tremble of her thighs as his mouth finds her sensitive spot, his tongue delving into the warm, wet heat of her. His movements are slow and deliberate, savoring the sweetness of their union. Her grip tightens in his hair, and he knows she's close again. He presses his thumb into her clit, and her body arches off the counter as she cries out, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. He laps at her, relishing the sound of her pleasure, until she's trembling and boneless. He kisses her inner thighs, his eyes meeting hers with a smoldering look. "Ready for more?" he asks, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.

Y/n's eyes glaze over with passion as she nods vigorously. Her breath is still coming in gasps, her body still quaking from the intensity of her climax. She watches as Nate stands, his muscles rippling with the effort of holding himself back. She reaches for his hand, pulling him closer, her voice a soft purr. "I could never get enough of you," she whispers. Her legs wrap around his waist again, and she feels the tip of him at her entrance. She tilts her hips, inviting him in, her eyes never leaving his. As he sinks into her, she throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. She gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders as the sensation consumes her. The room spins with the force of their love making, the only constant the beat of their hearts and the rhythm of their bodies joined in ecstasy.

Nate's grin widens as he feels her body welcome him back inside, the heat of her enveloping him like the warm embrace of a sauna after a long, cold game. He takes his time, savoring the feel of her around him, her wetness coating him. He moves in a slow, steady rhythm, their eyes locked as they climb the peak of passion once more. The penthouse fades away, the only reality the sound of their breathing, the scent of their desire, and the feel of their skin sliding together. His hand moves up to cradle her neck, his thumb resting gently on her pulse point, feeling it race like a car chasing the checkered flag. He whispers sweet nothings into her ear, their bodies speaking a language more profound than words could ever express.

Y/n's eyes flutter shut as she feels the waves of pleasure build once more, her body moving in tandem with Nate's. Her breath catches in her throat as he hits just the right spot, a spot she didn't even know existed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, leaving a trail of half-moons on his skin. She can feel the tension coiling in her core, tightening with every stroke, every whispered word, every kiss. Her heart races, her body alive with sensation, the penthouse spinning around her. The world outside no longer matters; there is only Nate, only this moment. She whispers his name, a chant, a prayer, as she feels herself getting closer to the edge.

Nate's eyes never leave hers, watching her intently as she succumbs to the pleasure he's giving her. Her body's responses are a symphony he's eager to conduct, each gasp and moan a note that tells him where to take her next. He speeds up, feeling her tighten around him, her walls clenching and releasing in a delicious rhythm. His own need is building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing unbearable. He leans in, capturing her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he feels her body start to shake. He knows she's close, and he's determined to take her over the edge.

The taste of her is addictive, the scent of their arousal intoxicating. He can't get enough of her, his tongue delving into her mouth as his hips piston in and out of her. His hand moves to her clit, pressing and rubbing in time with his thrusts. He feels the tension in her body coil tighter, her legs quivering around his waist. He kisses along her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, and feels the moment she tips over. She cries out, her body arching, and he follows her into oblivion, his own climax hitting him like a body check against the boards. He holds her tightly, their bodies entwined, as the aftershocks of their shared release ripple through them.

The night has passed in a whirlwind of passion and whispers, the early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the disheveled penthouse. The sound of distant city traffic and the faint hum of the air conditioner serve as the soundtrack to their quietude. Nate stirs, the warmth of Y/n's body a comforting presence beside him. He rolls over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and can't help but smile at the sight of her peaceful, sleeping form. He gently traces the curve of her cheek with the back of his hand, feeling a sense of protectiveness and affection wash over him.

Nate's eyes follow the curve of Y/n's bare shoulder as the morning light kisses her skin. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the hollow of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of their mingled cologne and perfume. He whispers, "Good morning," his voice a gravelly rumble that tickles her ear. She stirs, a lazy smile playing on her lips as she opens her eyes to meet his gaze. The room is alive with the electricity of their newfound connection, the air thick with the promise of the day ahead. He runs his hand along the soft curve of her waist, feeling the smoothness of her skin. "How about a shower?" he suggests, the hint of mischief in his eyes as he playfully nips at her earlobe. She giggles, nodding in agreement, and they both swing their legs over the side of the bed. He stands, pulling her to her feet, and leads her into the en-suite bathroom, the marble and chrome gleaming in the early light.

Y/n stretches languidly, the fabric of Nate's shirt, which she's been wearing from last night, sliding up to expose the tautness of her midriff. She nods sleepily at his suggestion, her eyes still half-closed, the smile on her face a silent agreement to the unspoken invitation. She allows him to guide her into the spacious, gleaming bathroom, the sight of the oversized shower sparkling with the promise of warm water and intimate moments. She reaches for his hand as they step into the shower, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the heat of their bodies. The water cascades over them like a waterfall, and she gasps as it hits her back, the sensation both soothing and invigorating. She turns to face him, her eyes sparkling with excitement, the droplets catching in her lashes like diamonds. "Race you to the shampoo?" she teases, a glint of challenge in her voice.

Nate chuckles, his eyes lighting up at her playfulness. "You're on," he says, the competitive spirit flaring in his gaze. He reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into his palm, and they both laugh as they attempt to lather their hair. The soap bubbles up, mixing with the water to create a frothy veil around them. They playfully shove and bump into each other, the tension of the race giving way to a more tender moment as they help wash away the remnants of the night. Nate's hands glide down from her hair to her shoulders, gently massaging the tension out of her muscles. "You know, I could get used to this," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the outline of her collarbone.

Their laughter fades into a contented silence as Nate's touch sends a shiver down Y/n's spine. She feels his eyes on her, and the heat of his gaze is like a brand, leaving a trail of fire wherever it goes. She bends down, her knees hitting the cool tiles with a soft thud, and takes him in her hand. His gasp is music to her ears as she looks up at him with a smoldering gaze. She licks her lips, the anticipation palpable, before leaning in to take him in her mouth.

Nate's eyes widen with surprise and desire as he watches Y/n drop to her knees. Her mouth envelops him, her tongue swirling around him in a dance as mesmerizing as any she's performed on the screen. His hand automatically reaches out to cradle her head, his fingers tangling in her wet hair as she takes him deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that has him groaning her name. Her eyes never leave his, the hazel pools reflecting the steamy ambiance of the shower, her cheeks hollowing as she applies suction. He feels the tension build in his body, his legs trembling slightly as she expertly teases and pleasures him. The sound of the shower's water mingles with his labored breaths and the soft wet sounds of her mouth working him.

Y/n savors the taste of Nate, the salty sweetness of him mixing with the scent of his cologne. She loves the way he feels in her mouth, the power she holds in bringing him such pleasure. She continues her rhythmic motion, her hand gently squeezing the base of his cock in time with her bobs. She feels his hand tighten in her hair, the pressure increasing, and knows he's close. The knowledge fuels her own arousal, and she can feel the throb between her legs, a testament to their unbridled passion. She moans around him, the vibration sending him over the edge. He bucks into her, his body tensing, and with a shout, he releases into her mouth. She swallows every drop, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him.

Nate's knees almost buckle at the intensity of his climax, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to hold onto reality. He can feel the last tremors of pleasure rippling through his body as he opens his eyes to look down at Y/n, who's still on her knees before him. He can't believe she's real, that this incredible woman is here, with him. He reaches down, gently helping her to her feet. "You're something else, you know that?" he says, his voice husky with emotion. He pulls her into his arms, kissing her deeply, the taste of themselves mingling on their tongues.

The shower turns into a gentle embrace, the steam wrapping around them like a warm blanket. They wash each other's bodies with the same tender care they had shown in their lovemaking, the warm water cascading down their skin as they reconnect in a more intimate way. Their kisses are soft and lingering, their touches gentle and explorative. They're learning each other's curves, each other's hearts.

Y/n's eyes dance with mirth as she looks into Nate's, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers under the steady stream of water. She reaches up, her hands sliding over the planes of his chest, the droplets of water tracing paths down his muscular frame. "I could get used to this too," she murmurs, her voice a soft purr. She reaches for the body wash, the scent of the ocean filling the air as she squeezes a dollop into her palm. She spreads the soap over her hands and begins to glide them over his body, her touch feather-light yet firm, her eyes never leaving his. As she washes him, she can't help but feel a sense of awe at the power and beauty before her. His body is a testament to years of discipline and hard work, a canvas of muscles that flex and tighten under her touch. She pauses at the scar on his cheek, tracing it with her thumb before kissing it softly. "What's the story behind this?" she asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and affection.

Nate's eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks down at her, his heart swelling with affection. He takes a moment, the warm water washing over them both as he recalls the memory. "That?" he says with a small smile, his voice a little softer, a little more serious. "It's from a game a few years back. A high stick that got a little too close for comfort. Reminds me that no matter how good you are, the game can be unforgiving." He pauses, his gaze drifting to the ceiling before coming back to hers. "But it's also a reminder of the camaraderie in the locker room, the guys patching me up, making sure I was okay." His eyes hold hers, the intensity in them unmistakable. "It's a part of me, just like all the other scars and bruises from the ice. Each one has a story, a piece of my journey." He leans down, his forehead resting against hers, the water beading between their faces. "But right now, the only story I want to write is the one with you."

Y/n's heart swells at his words, feeling the weight of his past and the depth of his passion for his sport. She kisses the scar softly, her eyes never leaving his. "I can't wait to hear all of your stories," she whispers, her voice filled with genuine interest. "But for now," she says, her tone turning playful, "let's finish this shower before we're prunes." She grabs the shower gel and starts to wash herself, her movements sensual and mesmerizing, her eyes never leaving Nate's.

Y/n's departure to film her next movie is bittersweet, leaving a void in Nate's life that only the adrenaline of the impending Stanley Cup playoffs can begin to fill. As the Broncos' event fades into a cherished memory, the buzz of the NHL season crescendos. Nate throws himself into training, pushing his body to its limits, each stride and slap shot fueled by the memory of Y/n's touch. Meanwhile, Y/n immerses herself in her role, the vibrant colors of the film set a stark contrast to the starkness of the ice rink. Despite the distance, their bond strengthens with each shared moment, every video call a bridge spanning the miles. Nate's excitement for her new project is palpable, his eyes lighting up when she tells tales of the set, and her voice hushed with wonder as she describes her scenes. Yet, the ache for her presence is a constant reminder of their newfound love.

Nate's phone buzzes with a notification as he walks into the Avalanche's locker room, a gossip article titled, "On-Screen Sparks Between Y/n and Jacob Elordi Heat Up!" The room fades into the background as he clicks on the link, his heart racing. Photos of Y/n and Jacob in passionate embraces on set flood the screen, the headlines painting a picture of a blossoming romance. Nate's stomach twists with a mix of anger and jealousy. He tries to shake it off, telling himself it's all for the cameras, but the doubt lingers, a pesky fly buzzing around his head. He glances around, hoping none of his teammates noticed, and quickly locks his phone. He doesn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but the thought of Y/n with anyone else sends a cold shiver down his spine. He grits his teeth and heads to the ice, channeling his turmoil into his game.

The game that night is intense, the pressure of the playoffs magnifying every move. Nate plays like a man possessed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Y/n and Jacob. Each hit on the ice feels like a blow to his ego, and every time he looks up into the stands, his gaze unconsciously searches for her. She's not there, of course; she's on a different continent, living a life that he's only a part of through a screen. He scores a goal, the roar of the crowd briefly drowning out his thoughts, but as the game ends in victory, the doubt returns with a vengeance. He dresses quickly, eager to escape the arena, the cold shower doing little to cool the heat of his jealousy.

After a grueling practice session, Nate sits on the bench, wiping sweat from his brow. He pulls out his phone, the weight of the earlier article still lingering in his mind. He opens it to find his inbox flooded with articles about Y/n and Jacob, each one more intrusive than the last. He scans the headlines, his jaw tightening as he reads about their "intimate" scenes and "off-screen chemistry." He tries to focus on the upcoming playoff games, the smell of the ice and the echo of skates a comforting reminder of his own world. But the doubt is like a slow burn, a persistent whisper that nags at him. He texts Y/n, trying to keep the inquisition casual. "How's filming going?" he asks, his thumb hovering over the send button for a beat too long before finally hitting it. The wait for her response feels like an eternity, his thoughts swirling with images of her in Jacob's arms.

Y/n, on the set of her movie, is bombarded by the same articles. Her cheeks flush as she reads the fabricated narratives, knowing the truth behind the scenes. The kisses and touches are just part of the script, a dance they perform for the camera. Yet, she can't help the sting of guilt that pricks her conscience. She quickly responds to Nate's text, her thumbs flying over the phone's screen. "Filming's amazing, but tiring. Lots of long days. How's your game?" she writes, her heart racing. She tries to keep the conversation light, hoping her words can be a beacon of truth in the fog of doubt that's starting to form between them. She sends a selfie with a cheeky smile, her hair in messy curls from the day's filming, the glitz of the movie set just visible in the background.

Nate's phone buzzes in his pocket, the sound piercing through the fog of his thoughts as he exits the shower. He pulls it out, his heart jumping at the sight of Y/n's name. Her smile on the screen feels like a warm embrace, but the set behind her is a cold slap of reality. He smiles back, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. "The games are intense," he types, his thumbs moving with forced casualness. "Just scored the game-winner. But it's all a bit hollow without you here to celebrate." His eyes dart around the empty locker room, and he wonders if he's fooling himself. He hits send, hoping she can't feel the weight of his unspoken words.

Y/n's eyes light up at Nate's message, a welcome respite from the sea of scripts and lights. She takes a moment to breathe in the quiet of her trailer before responding. "Aww, you're too sweet! And a game-winner?! That's incredible, Nate!" she writes, her heart swelling with pride. She adds a series of celebratory emojis, trying to inject some of her usual vibrancy into the digital conversation. "Send me a video of the crowd going wild. I wanna see that magic!" Her mind wanders to the thought of their hands entwined, her cheering echoing through the arena, but she keeps it to herself, not wanting to add to his stress.

Nate's face softens at the sight of Y/n's message. He quickly pulls up the video of his winning goal and sends it to her, the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears. "Here's the moment," he says, his voice filled with both excitement and the tension of unspoken words. "It's nothing without you here to share it, though." He watches the video again, remembering her cheers from the Broncos game, and wishes he could hear her again. The silence in the locker room feels like a vacuum.

Y/n's heart skips a beat at Nate's admission. She wishes she could be there to celebrate with him too, but the world of Hollywood waits for no one. She looks at the clock on her wall, the hands ticking away the precious minutes she'd rather spend talking to him. "You're amazing," she texts back, her voice filled with warmth and pride. "But I gotta run. I promised Jacob I'd grab lunch. Just two friends, you know?" She adds a winking emoji, hoping to ease the tension she feels through the screen. Her eyes flick to the door of her trailer, where she knows the paparazzi are lurking. "It's all part of the job, babe," she reassures him, trying to keep her voice light despite the heaviness in her chest.

Nate's smile fades slightly at the mention of Jacob's name. He nods to himself, trying to keep the jealousy in check. He knows it's just work, but the thought of her with anyone else is a thorn in his side. "Yeah, of course. You go enjoy," he responds, his voice a mask over the turmoil inside. He forces a grin into his tone. "Send me a pic of you two, will ya? Maybe I'll photobomb your next set." He laughs, trying to play it cool, but his heart feels like it's in a vice.

Y/n can almost hear the tightness in Nate's voice. She knows he's trying to hide his feelings, and she can't blame him. The distance and the nature of her job make things complicated. She sends a quick photo of herself and Jacob on set, both of them in costume, surrounded by the bustling crew. They're laughing, their friendship as real as the love scenes are fake. "Here's one for the road," she writes, her thumb hovering over the send button. She's careful with her words, not wanting to stir the pot any more than necessary. She adds a heart emoji at the end, hoping it's enough to remind him that she's his.

Nate's eyes widen as the photo comes through. The sight of her with Jacob does nothing to ease his jealousy, but he forces himself to appreciate the humor in the situation. He laughs awkwardly, trying to play along. "Looks like you two are having a blast," he writes back, trying to keep his tone light. Inside, he's torn. He's happy she's living her dream, but he can't help the green-eyed monster that rears its head every time her name is linked with another man. He puts his phone down, trying to push the thoughts away. He knows she's with him, but the doubt still lingers.

Y/n's stomach flutters as she and Jacob return to set. The PR manager, a stern woman named Margaret, beckons them into her office. The moment they're behind the closed door, she wastes no time. "We have a situation," she says, her voice tight. "The tabloids have picked up on your... friendship, Jacob's popularity is soaring, and we think it's time to announce your relationship to boost publicity for the film." She slides a mock magazine cover across the desk, Photoshopped images of them looking like the perfect couple. "What do you think?" Y/n looks at Jacob, whose expression is unreadable. She feels like she's on thin ice, not sure if this is a good idea for Nate and her relationship. She takes a deep breath, the smell of the set's fake snow and the buzz of the film's lights filling her nose. She glances at her phone, a silent reminder of Nate waiting for her reply. "I know you're dating Nate but the public doesn't know that." Margaret says. "I think if you both were on board we could play up the whole Y/n and Jacob, the new Hollywood sweethearts image".

Y/n feels like she's been hit by a freight train. "I...I need some time to think," she stammers, her heart racing. She sends Nate a quick message, her hands shaking. "Something's come up, baby. Nothing bad, I promise. Just need some time to sort through some work stuff." She looks back at Margaret and Jacob, the gravity of the situation setting in. She thinks of Nate's smile, his gentle touch, and the passion they shared. "I'll get back to you," she says firmly, walking out of the office, leaving the fake magazine cover behind. She retreats to her trailer, the walls feeling like they're closing in. She paces back and forth, her thoughts a tornado of doubt and fear. She needs to talk to Nate, but she doesn't know how to begin.

Nate's stomach twists when he reads Y/n's message. He can feel the distance growing, and it scares him. He tries to focus on packing his gear, the familiar motions offering a semblance of normalcy. "Take your time," he texts back, his voice cooler than he intends. He throws his bag over his shoulder and heads out into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of his emotions. He needs to clear his head, to figure out how to navigate this minefield of emotions and expectations.

Y/n's eyes are glued to her phone, her thoughts racing. She knows she needs to tell Nate the truth, but she's terrified of losing him. She takes a deep breath, her chest tight with anxiety. "I can't lie to you, Nate. They want me to go public with Jacob for the movie, but you're all I want." She pauses, the silence of the trailer pressing in on her. "But if it means keeping us a secret, I don't know if I can handle it." She sends the message and waits, the seconds stretching into an eternity. The scent of her trailer's artificial flowers is a sad reminder of the artificial world she's trapped in.

Nate's heart stops when he reads Y/n's text. He understands the pressures of her career but can't shake the fear of losing her to the spotlight. "It's okay, babe," he replies, his thumbs trembling. "Do what you need to do for the movie. I just want you to be happy." He tries to sound reassuring, but the weight of his words is palpable. He leans against the cold brick wall outside the arena, the chill seeping into his bones. "But I need to be honest with you, too. This isn't easy for me."

Y/n feels a pang of guilt as she reads Nate's response. She hates that she's putting him through this. She sits down on the edge of her bed, her costume a stark contrast to the softness of the comforter. "Nate, I know it's not easy, and I'm sorry. But I promise you, it's all just for show." She pauses, her voice cracking. "You're the only one who makes me feel like this." She sends the message, her heart in her throat, hoping that her honesty can bridge the gap between them.

Nate's eyes scan the empty streets outside the arena, the distant honks of cars and the occasional shout of a fan echoing in the stillness. He takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air fill his lungs. He types back, "I trust you, Y/n. I just don't trust them." His eyes flicker to the photo of her with Jacob on his phone, the fake smile on her face haunts him. "But if this is what you need to do for your career, then I'll support you." His voice is steady, but his hand is shaking. "Just don't forget who you're coming home to." He hits send, his heart hammering in his chest.

The world seems to spin faster than ever as the news breaks. Headlines scream "Hollywood's New Power Couple!" and Nate's phone is bombarded with notifications. His heart feels like it's been run over by a Zamboni as he reads the articles, seeing picture after picture of Y/n and Jacob, looking every inch the perfect couple. His teammates pat him on the back, whispering congratulations that feel like knives. The arena is alight with excitement for the love story playing out in the glossy pages of gossip magazines. Meanwhile, Nate is left in the shadow of their newfound fame, his own victories on the ice overshadowed by the glitz of Hollywood romance.

Nate's heart sinks as he reads the headlines. He tries to focus on the upcoming game, but the words on the screen keep pulling him back. He sends Y/n a message, trying to keep the pain from seeping into his tone. "Looks like the world's pretty excited about your big news. Congrats." His thumb hovers over the send button, his mind racing with what he wishes he could say, but doesn't dare.

Y/n's hand shakes as she reads Nate's message, the weight of the situation crashing down on her. She takes a deep breath, the smell of her trailer's vanilla candles offering a semblance of comfort. "Nate, please, you know it's just for the movie," she writes quickly, her voice desperate to be heard over the din of the set. "Jacob and I are just friends. You're the one I love." She sends the message, the words feeling both true and hollow in the face of the glaring spotlight on her and Jacob. She can't help but wonder if Nate will ever truly believe her, or if the illusion the tabloids have spun will overshadow their reality.

Nate's eyes narrow as he reads Y/n's text. He nods slowly, his jaw clenched. "I know," he responds, his voice tight. "But it's hard to ignore the whole world thinking otherwise." He turns his phone off, unable to bear the onslaught of notifications. He throws himself into training, the cold steel of the rink a stark contrast to the heat of the rumors. His thoughts are a maelstrom of doubt and anger, the ice a reflection of his tumultuous emotions.

The set of her new film is ablaze with excitement over the "relationship announcement," but Y/n's heart is heavy with the weight of her secret. She tries to keep her composure as she's bombarded with questions and congratulations from her castmates, all while her thoughts are with Nate. She can feel the distance growing between them, stretching like a taut line of barbed wire across the country. Her eyes well up as she thinks of his pain, and she retreats to the solace of her trailer. "I love you, Nate," she whispers into her phone, "and I'm sorry." She takes a deep breath, the scent of her favorite lavender lotion a sad reminder of their stolen moments together. She sends the message, hoping it can serve as a bridge over the chasm that threatens to swallow their love whole.

Teammates slap him on the back, congratulating him with smirks that feel more like punches. Nate forces a smile, his heart feeling like it's been scored by the skate of his own stick. He retreats to the shower, the water scalding his skin, trying to wash away the doubt. His phone vibrates with Y/n's message. He reads it, his heart in his throat. He whispers back to the cold tiles, "I love you too, Y/n. But this...this isn't what I signed up for." The hot water turns cold, but Nate can't find the strength to move.

Y/n reads Nate's response, feeling the chill of his words. She knew this would be difficult, but she didn't anticipate the ache in her chest. She sends another text, her thumbs moving almost of their own accord. "Nate, I need you to trust me. It's all just an act. I'll tell them the truth when the movie wraps. I can't live a lie." The silence of her trailer feels like a vacuum, sucking away the joy of her victory. She clutches her phone, willing him to respond, to understand.

Nate stands under the cold shower, letting the water hit him like a thousand tiny hammers, trying to dull the pain. He reads Y/n's message and sighs heavily, the steam from the water obscuring his vision. He steps out, grabbing a towel, his skin pink from the heat. "I do trust you, Y/n. But it's hard to ignore the headlines." His voice is quiet, echoing in the empty locker room. "I'm going to bed. Let's talk when you're done with... whatever you need to do." He hits send, feeling the finality of his words.

Nate's words hang in the air, a stark reminder of the turmoil their relationship has been thrown into. The locker room feels colder than the ice rink outside, the silence a stark contrast to the cacophony of the game that just ended. The scent of sweat and disinfectant fills the space as Nate towels off, his shoulders slumped with the weight of his emotions. He glances at the clock, wondering if it's too late to call Y/n, to hear her voice and feel the warmth of her reassurance. He dresses in silence, his mind racing with scenarios, each one more troubling than the last.

Nate's phone buzzes with another article. His hand shakes as he clicks it open, bracing himself for the onslaught of images. The sight of Y/n and Jacob holding hands, laughing, sends a knife through his chest. He closes his eyes, willing the pain away. When he opens them again, the headline reads, "Y/n and Jacob: The Love Story of the Year!" His breath catches in his throat, and he sends her a text, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need you to tell me this isn't real." His thumb hovers over the send button, his heart pounding in his ears.

Y/n's eyes widen as she reads Nate's message. Her heart squeezes in her chest like a fist. She quickly responds, her voice raw and desperate. "Nate, it's all for the movie. You're the real thing. The one I love." She looks at the script on the table, feeling sick. "Please, I need you to trust me. This is almost over, and then we can be together, really together." She sends the message, her pulse racing.

Nate's heart skips a beat. The weight of his gear feels heavier than usual. He takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the images in his head. "I want to believe you, Y/n," he types, his eyes never leaving the screen. "But it's hard to ignore what everyone else sees." His thumbs hover over the phone, contemplating whether to say more, to express the depth of his feelings or to give her space. He opts for brevity. "Talk to you soon." He sends the message with a heavy sigh and tucks his phone away, trying to focus on the upcoming game. The smell of the locker room's pine-scented cleaner does little to ease the turmoil in his gut.

The game starts with a roar from the crowd, but Nate's mind is elsewhere. He plays on autopilot, his eyes searching the stands for Y/n's familiar smile, his heart heavy with the burden of doubt. The final buzzer sounds, and the Avalanche emerge victorious, but Nate feels no triumph. In the locker room, the celebration feels hollow as whispers of his personal life reach his ears. The words cut deeper than any slap shot. He retreats to the quiet of the shower, letting the water drown out the taunts.

The locker room buzzes with excitement, the victory shower spraying cold water over the players. Nate's usually vibrant blue eyes are now a stormy gray, his thoughts consumed by the whispers and glances. The laughter of the wives and girlfriends reaches his ears, and he overhears a comment about Y/n and Jacob that feels like a punch to the gut. He grits his teeth, the pain fueling his decision.

Nate's grip on his towel tightens as he hears the casual conversation turn into a discussion about Y/n and Jacob. He can't ignore the sting of jealousy and the ache of doubt any longer. He storms out of the shower, water dripping from his hair and down his muscular back. Grabbing his phone, he calls Y/n, his voice laced with a mix of anger and pain. "I can't do this," he says without preamble. "Everyone's talking about you two, and it's like my heart's being squeezed by a vise." The sound of her voice is like a slave to his wounds, but he pushes through the hurt. "I think we need to take a break. Maybe... maybe it's better if we just... end this." The words feel like shards of ice in his mouth, but he can't deny the truth in them. The locker room noise fades into the background as he waits for her response, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/n's heart plummets as she answers Nate's call, the sound of his voice filled with pain. She sits on the edge of her bed, her hair still damp from her own shower, her eyes brimming with tears. "Nate, no, please, it's all a lie," she begs, her voice trembling. She runs her hand over her face, smudging her makeup. "You're the one I want, you're the one I need." The set of the movie seems to spin around her, the glitz and glamor suddenly a prison. "If we end this now, it's like admitting defeat to the paparazzi. I can't let them win." She takes a deep breath, willing the tears to stay put. "Please, Nate, just wait for me. The movie wraps in two weeks, and then I'll tell the truth. I promise." Her voice is a desperate whisper, her heart racing in anticipation of his answer.

Nate's chest tightens as he listens to Y/n's pleas, his heart torn between love and doubt. He paces the locker room, the sting of the cold water still lingering on his skin. "Two weeks is a lifetime in the spotlight," he says, his voice gruff with unshed emotion. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, the bruises from the game stark against his tanned complexion. "But I don't know if I can handle watching you with him, knowing it's all for show." He runs a hand through his wet hair, the towel sliding to the floor. "I don't want to be the guy who can't handle his girl being famous." His eyes meet hers through the screen, searching for the truth. "But this is too much for me; I can’t share the woman that I love with someone else. Goodbye Y/n" The words hang in the air—a promise and a challenge all at once.

[hum-suffer]

"You're my god." Said Kans, looking at the pregnant belly of his sister, looking at the future that was predicted to kill him. How bad must the child be, if it had the potential of killing him. A murderer. A god.

"You're my god." Whispered Vasudev as he kissed the forehead of an infant, who was covered in blood from his mother's womb still and yet smiled prettily at his father. He had saved him from rain and flood. A rescuer. A god.

"You're my god." Said Yashoda, cradling him in her arms, laughing and kissing his dusky cheeks. She held him close to her chest and somehow, she felt her heart align with every giggle he let out. An enchanter. A god.

"You're my god." Said Nand, as he ruffled his son's hair that curled in ringlets that shined even in darkness. Yashoda had told him of their son's miracles. Universe in his mouth. Somehow, beyond his love for her, Nand believed her. His played with his fingers. A hope. A god.

"You're my god." Said Radha, laughing as he bowed in front of her with flowers of different colours and scents. Tears dried whenever he appeared. She flourished with him, her becoming simply more. A flash of mischievous smiles, and she was his. A melody. A god.

"You're my god." Said Ugrasen. Bones and frail flesh scarring, hands shaking as he was held. Dusky and smooth skin contrasted every silver scar he had and blood returned to his fingers once more. He stained his grandson's yellow clothes with his blood. A healer. A god.

"You're my god." Smiled Rukmini, an open secret between the two of them, eyes shining with love that none could see but him. His hands held her feet and helped her up. He led her, homeward bound once more. Home wasn't a palace, home was at his side. A love. A god.

"You're my god." Said Sudama, tears glistening in his eyes as he gazed at the shredded skin of his friend's feet. Blood that rewrote everything that Sudama ever had been, blood that bled when words failed. A shelter. A god.

"You're my god." Said Arjun, meeting a cousin he never wished to part from, recently married and aching raw. Morals broken, vow forsaken. A hand held him up, a shoulder to lean on. A saviour. A god.

"You're my god." Said Yudhisthir as he knelt before a throne of his own, blood on his hands of those who lived before him. Blood stained hands washed the feet of the man who was the reason the throne was built. A kingmaker. A god.

"You're my god." Draupadi sobbed in his arms, bruises littering her face and arms, lip burst and forehead cut. At his feet, reverently cursing all and blessing him all the same. Lonely, inviting death with every word. A protector. A god.

"You're my god." Gandhari wailed, an accusation on her lips and tears coming to her throat. Blood dripped down her knuckles from where she had hit him fruitlessly. Her words, punctured and breaths shallow, all but dead. A killer. A god.

"You're my god." Balram tells him, calm and serene. So unlike everything they saw in their mortal lives. His clothes suffocate his skin almost beautifully and the sunset is something to watch. He's not watched the sunset since he was six, he thinks. He's not properly felt the sunset in this lifetime.

He smiles at his younger brother. The brother he was supposed to protect. The accusations still make ugly scars on his skin and Balram wants to accuse them all back for a moment. They never knew his god. None of them, except his Mata, knew his god. So serene, so calm, so wise, so innocent. His god is everything and anything and nothing at once.

They don't know what godhood is.

And as Balram leaves his body to return to his abode once more, he wishes they knew better. He wishes they didn't claim to know godhood or his god.

He waits to be reunited with his god and goddess again.

[bafvkun]

I’ll never shut up about how much I respect MXDX as a writer, she’s just THAT amazing and writes beautifully. She’s so good at writing different kind of character developments depending on the age and it’s particularly flagrant in MDZS.

Im just so found of how in the present of the story all the adults, the ones that were old enough during the whole Wei Wuxian ascension, Burial Mounds etc etc, have such deep rooted opinions. They lived through what WWX did and will never forget, they’ll teach the younger generations how dangerous and bad him and his cultivation were and that if he ever came back around the world needs to reunite to beat him again.

But ! Some juniors (and I’m mainly talking about Sizhui, Jingyi and Jin Ling since they’re the main ones) have been in direct contact with Wei Wuxian for a fairly good amount of time. They didn’t know it was him, either not suspecting it could be him at all or just not believing it could be WWX in Mo Xuanyu’s body.

They’re still so very young, just about 15, and they are still capable to build their own opinions and views on things. Despite their educations young people tend to trust what they see since they don’t have experience, what they’re seeing right now is what will be considered and experience and proof when they grow up. As for the adults they only believe what they saw in the past, what was their own experiences when they were young themselves.

Sizhui never doubted Wei Wuxian. When they all got kidnapped and WWX, Lan Zhan and Wen Ning came to save them he knew deep in his heart that Wei Wuxian would have never done it. He saw with his own eyes how he took care of them, how he saved them time and time again, how he put himself in danger for them. He’s still young and not yet entirely influenced by the elders, he still has a mind of his own and now that he witnessed the good, caring and mischievous side of WWX he has his own strong opinion (seeing Lan Zhan trust him so utterly must have helped a lot too).

Jin Ling is in a very dire position compared to the Lan Juniors. His parents are dead because of Wei Wuxian and his uncle hates him more than anyone. He grew up seeing the hatred that Jiang Cheng has for WWX, he was educated to brandish his sword to him if he ever came across him. But just like Sizhui and Jingyi he saw Wei Wuxian with his own two eyes, he saw him tease him and take care of him, he witnessed how despite what terrible thing he did in the past he still has a good heart deep within him and that guilt and grief are still driving him.

He is torn between what he was taught to believe, what his family taught him about someone that he should consider as the devil himself and what his heart itself learned and believes, that in the end he is the one that saved him and took care of him when his own uncle would have threatened to beat the shit out of him.

Wei Wuxian is a good mentor, as mischievous as he can be he also knows how to teach (surprisingly). He makes experiences into lessons in a very endearing way for the juniors, he teaches them through life itself and not through oh so boring lessons.

The juniors, no matter how much they mock him and insult him, appreciate him. He’s a good person, he’s social and nice to have around, he makes everything more bearable for everyone. They were able through their own experiences with him to build their own judgment. Either it will align with their mentor/family or it will not, but no matter what they’ll never fully hate Wei Wuxian the way the elders do.

[satoruzlove]

best friends to lovers with tsumu):

you two had become friends via osamu, because he loved how witty you were and this lead to you going over to their houses. atsumu comes back from a workout one day and sees you in the kitchen, for a moment he’s confused and then he realises that osamu has finally brought you over- so ofc he starts interrogating you. he asks you everything about yourself ; siblings, hobbies, parents, etc and osamu walks in on you explaining why you think that your zodiac sign doesn’t align with you. he immediately knows that you and tsumu are gonna get on amazing.

so as time goes it’s not just you going over when there’s no lectures or just to see samu, but now atsumu too. you three sit in the living room in silence as you play on your phones, or you cook together, little things. atsumu starts to feel very comfortable around you and when him and samu are alone he asks , “does yn have a boyfriend or anything?” and his twin IMMEDIATELY knows what’s going on😭😭😭😭it’s sooo embarrassing gelp me cus osamu gives him the most atrocious look ever, and he puts his drink down, “ why are you asking?” he questions. atsumu mumbles an aggressive, “‘m just fuckin’ asking, twerp.” and leaves. osamu wanted to tell you, but he really wanted to see how this played out.

so now when you came over osamu always had ‘things to do’, leaving you alone with tsumu. he knew what was going on but he refused to mention anything. you became acquainted with tsumu’s other friends and they always gave him a cheeky side eye whenever you sat with him or hugged him. this is when your suspicions raised. it ends up being a year of friendship and he still doesn’t know what to say because god if you knew how he felt you’d understand just why he can’t seem to confess.

he didn’t know how to describe it at first , and he didn’t understand. so much as seeing you against the counter of his childhood kitchen made his tummy do back flips because he had leaned on it too . he touched it- you’re touching what he touched. your hair looked so perfect although disheveled by the sheets of osamu’s bunk and the colour of your clothing complimented your skin tone gorgeously. the way your beautiful eyes widened in surprise when he entered the kitchen, light bouncing off them and displaying a sparkle that he never would’ve noticed on anyone else.

when you two talk, about everything and nothing - his heart squeezes for you. the way you spill your guts to him with a childish giggle and the way your eyes lock with his as he does the same. atsumu cant get enough of everything about you. it’s always the small things about you- the things he never noticed about anyone- that make him so impossibly warm around you. so impossibly famished of your love and attention that he could just collapse because it feels like he has no air to breathe when you place your attention on samu rather than him.

it’s because of samu that you found out ; or told rather. atsumu had grown so frustrated with samu this week. he kept stealing you away, taking you places, walking you to lecture halls knowing damn well that atsumu’s were too far away to do that. it upset him. the worse part is that he knew that his twin was aware. atsumu concludes that that’s why he was even doing this, to get him to confess. and it worked beautifully.

atsumu had texted you, “ meet me at my house, backyard , love ya!” .

it wasn’t unusual for him to randomly crave a late night talk so you went with zero suspicion. you trotted through the front door and slowly made your way to the back yard calling for tsumu. he never responded. his heard- was pounding and his palms weeped sweat as he heard your footsteps become closer and that’s when you saw it.

a blanket splayed on the ground, fairy lights adorning the awning above you as the dew cling to the ridges of it. the yellow hues bouncing off of your best friend’s golden hair made him look heavenly - of a religious book - as a smile widened onto his pretty face. he rushes up to you, wide form holding you. it’s soft , childish and if you tried hard enough you could feel the excitement radiating off him. when he pulls back a bit, you hear him whisper ,

“i have something to tell you, gorgeous. cmere.”

[slut4daviii]

character: r.sukuna

pt: 01/02

cw: grinding | degradation | humiliation | orgasm control | slight comedy | slightly ooc sukuna | hopefully funny internal dialogue

summary: “everyone’s gay until proven straight” -Albert Einstein 1994

a/n: the quote above is satire, please do not take it seriously. also, minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT [s.name] = sister name, you don’t have a sister? then your really missing out.

title: one down, one to go

wc: 1400+

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The Itadori's estate was something that existed beyond the imagination. A large residential reserve of land tucked comfortably away in a three-way forest covered reservoir. The north, south, and east sides were completely surrounded by towering trees, rocketing higher than the eye could see.

The south side was the only actual entrance to the large building, a winding driveway that spun beautifully around a dove shaped fountain situated in the middle of a crystalline indigo-green pond.

It was passed down the family line, never losing its luster. It was usually used for casual parties: gowns and suits, champagne popping, fancy displays of money, marriage, and even the birth of heirs.

And today was no different, a party was held, yet, in contrast to the past, this was not a political party. No bow-ties or high hats.

───

music blared loudly, some teens drinking, some making out, some… conceiving other actions, and yet, some still lay passed out, enamored to the oddly comforting ground.

however, the highlight of this party came from the upstairs infinite pool. inside sat teenagers tispy and intrigued. yet, around it lay half empty bottles of all types: hennesy, schnapps, bourbon, vodka, cognac, and a magnificent magnitude of other alcohols.

a simple game of truth or dare. “a simple ‘do or don’t’ game between underage drunk teenagers” you’d say, knowing damn well it was anything but.

due to the interference of Maki Zenin, four distinct rules were cultivated to make the game much more enticing.

in her words, “the game is really simple, however, the rules make it much more complex.”

RULE ONE: the order in which everyone sits is immutable, so if you want to change your seats, I advise you do it now.

nobody thought to move, leaving the oder of participants as so: Sukuna, You, [s.name], Megumi, Nobara, Toge, Pan (Panda), Yuuji, and finally, Maki.

RULE TWO: there is a limit on how many dares and truths, if two people choose dare, then the person after them has to choose truth. and vise versa for two truths.

RULE THREE: anyone can dare anyone, nothing is off the table. however, if you pass up the dare you have to take a shot, and if you pass up a truth, you have to take two shots.

RULE FOUR: if a dare involves you, you cannot declare if you want to pass it up or not, that’s the choice of the person being dared. but, if they do decide to pass it up, then the both of you have to take three shots.

now looking back on it, you scoffed at yourself for not thinking to switch your seat. you should’ve known your sister was going to… fuck you over.

but, you can’t go back in time, and everyone had already agreed, nodding happily.

“Alright let's play.”

the game started off simple, small dares and obvious truths. the group couldn’t be sure of what to make of each other’s boundaries. but, like everything else in the world, they were pushed to their limits.

you had answered two questions and done one dare: down a whole bottle of vodka in thirty seconds. you failed. but, now, a new round had started and Yuuji was the forerunner.

“Yuuji.” [s.name] called, her voice trailing over the water like a fresh coat of paint. “truth or dare?”

the boy in question cut his eyes to her, a tension setting between them. you knew [s.name] was forming some sort of plan, but you couldn’t figure out what it was yet.

after some hesitation— mainly Yuuji objecting the question and grumbling to himself about [s.name] owning him something— he answered, meekly. “truth.”

Nobara shot up at the inclination, taking it as an invitation to mess with her boyfriend, “is it true you lost your virginity to Megumi?”

quiet reigned over the group, even you, the quiet and stoic hothead, were rendered speechless.

Yuuji on the other hand however was sputtering, his voice coming out jumbled and without full attention. “I— n— Nobara! you—you’re dating M—Megumi! how would I’ve lost my vir—virginity to him?!”

“that’s not an answer, Yuuji-kun.” she responded, lapping at the blush slowly creeping upon the pink-haired blunders face.

“n—no!”

everyone laughed, watching as Yuuji tried to shake the blush crossing his features. his entire neck was a shade of light pink.

you couldn’t care less, ‘why would you want to loose your virginity to another guy?’ now of course you kept these thoughts to yourself, not wanting to upset anyone but you just didn’t understand why or even how two guys do the do.

despite these thoughts, you still found yourself wondering how it would feel— no. you don’t care, you told yourself.

tuning back into reality, you saw Maki blushing, pointing at Toge, who was looking stoic all the same. “Just answer the question.” he edged her.

“n—no! I hate [s.name]!”

it finally clicked, Maki had a crush on your sister. you inwardly grimaced at this, not wanting to even think how two girls… ‘I mean who does the actual fucking?’ you asked yourself

“anyways, Sukuna’s turn!” [s.name] yelled, her voice laced with a malignant grin.

you looked at Sukuna, your eyes traveling over his body before locking on his thighs. ‘if I were to fuck a guy, it’d definitely be— wait, what the hell am I saying? this is Sukuna. he wouldn’t want to do it.’

it took a few seconds, but soon your words registered within your own head ‘AND NEITHER WOULD I!’

but, now that you were thinking about it, Sukuna alway seemed to be staring at you. I mean, not like a normal stare but the type of stare that you give to someone you wanna fuck. and whenever you two are together for longer than five minutes, he starts getting nervous and blushing like a horny schoolgirl.

“alright Sukuna! that’s two truths, now you’ve got to choose a dare.” [s.name] screeched. you winced slightly, rubbing you ear to rid it of your sister’s annoyance. “does anyone have a dare for Sukuna?” not even a second later, [s.name] continued, “good.” you deadpanned.

“now, Sukuna, I dare you to— your sister looked directly at you, her expression matching that of a black cat, mysterious and low— “sit in [name]’s lap. and not just sit, you have to straddle him.”

Sukuna turned a bright shade of pink, his body stiffening against the cold tiles of the pool. you looked at your sister through narrow eyes, she knew you weren’t gay. she knew you didn’t like guys but still pulled this.

“I’ll just drink—“

“that’s not your choice. it’s [name]’s”

you looked down, avoiding not only Sukuna’s but also your sister and everyone else’s gazes. you didn’t want to have him on your lap but… you also didn’t wanna take three shots.

‘fuckfuckfuckfuck.’ you were stuck, not knowing if you should weird out your best friend by telling him to sit on your dick or tell him to just drink three shots like it was nothing.

Sukuna touched your bicep, but pulled his hand back when he felt your muscles contract. “uhm— you—we can just drink. it—it’s f—fine, really [name].”

this was the first time you’d heard Sukuna stutter, was it because of the situation or just because he wanted to sit in your lap?

“[n—name]?” you shook your head and brought your hands to Sukuna’s waist. as much as you didn’t want another guy straddling your dick, there was something in you that want to know why Sukuna was stuttering all of a sudden. and if it was because of you, then how would it change things?

Sukuna slid through the water, his skin glistening against the brightly-lit moon behind his house. you pulled him onto you, slightly rubbing against the tip of your semi-hard cock. why were you hard?! was it Sukuna?! NO. no, no, no, it was because you hadn’t masturbated in over a week. yeah, yeah that’s what it was. and— and Sukuna had a really nice ass— wait! no! that came out wrong.

Sukuna had placed his legs on the sides of your thighs, steadying the both of you. ‘calm down. calm down. it’s alright, it’s your fault that you hadn’t touched yourself and Sukuna really did have a nice ass, better than some of the girls you’d dated in the past.

He wrapped his hands around your neck, pulling himself closer to you, further rubbing his ass against your cock. by this point, there was no way he hadn’t noticed your half—full—boner. but, he didn’t react, he was really quiet actually. just a small blush going across his face.

you shifted, moving yourself so that your back could support the newfound weight. this time Sukuna reacted. quite vulgarly. a moan escaped him, the sound violently sending your body into a violent malfunction.

‘fuck. that was hot. scorching even.’ you felt your cock harden even more, the tip poking at Sukuna’s clothed backside. he squandered against you before meeting your eyeline.

you almost came on the spot.

his face was flushed beyond recognition. tears pooling in the corners of his cornea, panting softly; his tongue hung slightly out his mouth, and his pupils—in your vision— had hearts in them.

he was also hard. harder than you—if possible—

his tip was pressing against your abdomen, making him squeal and squirm every time you did as much as breathe. you gulped, shifting your lower body to left to see his reaction.

he fell against your chest, suppressing his moan with his fist— oh, what you wouldn’t give to hear it— some of your friends looked at the two of you with questioning looks, but after a shrug from you, they resumed the game.

you leaned to Sukuna’s ear, his breathing labored and ragged with pleasure. you didn’t know what you were doing, you just knew it felt good, almost like lust had completely taken you over.

“you’re such a slut.” you pulled, watching as his shaking multiplied by the dozen, and he began softly thrusting his hips against you. “oh? do you like it when I tell you how everyone sees you? like a shameless slut?” suddenly, a surge of confidence rushed through you. your thoughts were plagued with the same repetition: ‘I’m doing this. I’m the one making the bold and outrageous Sukuna feel like putty.’ truthfully, you didn’t know if this was the truth or just your ego.

speaking of him, he was panting harder, his hips scrambling against you. he was chasing an orgasm you didn’t intend to let him have. placing your hands on his waist, you stopped his movements, “do you really want everyone to see how desperate you are? see how easy it is to make you cum? Sukuna let out a quiet sob, his eyes rolling back at the taunt, or was it the idea of actually getting caught? something that you quickly voiced to him: “or is it that you wanna get caught? want everyone to see me fuck you senseless? hm, I’d expect nothing less outta a slut like you.”

“m—m’not a s—slut!” he barked back, barely above his panting. you cocked you head to the side and smirked at him

“then why are you so close to cumming without anyone touching you?” you cut your eyes around the pool, quickly catching the eyes of Sukuna’s younger twin, Yuuji Itadori and your thoughts instantly ran away from you ‘if he’s anything like his brother, he’d be a good fuck.’ you shook your head at this ‘naw, he’s definitely an innocent one, would let you do anything you wanted.’

“m’not gon’ c—cum!” Sukuna combatted, trying to bring your attention back to him.

the prolonged eye contact with Yuuji hadn’t ended yet, he was still starting at you with half-lidded eyes, clarifying his intentions with you. ‘another time. another time to take his innocence and make him as sinful as those eyes he making at me.’

you turned your attention away with a wink, bringing your free hand to Sukuna’s swin trunks. “oh you’re not? then— you gently grabbed his tip through the fabric, twitching your muscles to jerk her up and down a few times— what’s this?” you finished

Sukuna bucked into your hand, trying so hard to cum. “not here.” you brought your hand back to your side and locked eyes with the Itadori. “do you want them to see? huh S’kuna?”

like the confidence coursing through you, the nickname also came out of nowhere, shocking the both of you.

“d—d’care! I don’t c—care! just fuck me!”

you were tempted, definitely tempted, but you had something Sukuna didn’t. dignity. “not right now, S’kuna. now be a good boy and cum for me.”

the sudden raspy nature to your voice made Sukuna moan, harshly thrusting his hips against you. and within seconds he came, the white ropes being trapped in by his swimwear. “ngh! nngk! [name]!”

the moans fell on deaf ears as you looked back past him and to his twin, maintaining another long session of eye contact. he was immobilized by your gaze, not able to do anything until you broke it to look at your sister.

“your turn [name]! truth or dare!”

you looked back at Yuuji one last time, cascading your tongue along your lips.

“dare, of course.”