#Limited Edition Decks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harryspet · 5 months ago

Text

rough hands, soft chains [2] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, DUBCON, loss of virginity, rafe is HUGE, breeding kink, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

In which you meet your new family, the Camerons, and learn Rafe's true intentions.

word count: 5.1k

rough hands, soft chains masterlist

The spare outfit you’d packed for your failed escape attempt was a delicate two-piece set in white. The long-sleeve, cropped sweater that featured a soft ruffle trim that barely grazed your midriff, paired with a high-waisted, flowing skirt that swayed with every step. The lightweight fabric was a reflection of your usual preference for comfortable clothes. A handful of other items hung in the closet, clearly not yours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to accept whatever offering the Camerons had left for you.

After giving your reflection a look, you turned your attention your room. You floated over to the vanity, a rustic wooden display decorated with gold trinkets. You’d only packed the essentials, meaning you’d limited yourself to mascara, concealer, blush and lipgloss. You slid onto the matching stool decking to touch up your makeup, wiping away the smudged mascara and applying a fresh coat of lip gloss. Lip gloss always had a way of brightening your mood, even now. You certainly knew how to get dolled up, like Rafe said, and lucky for him, you liked makeup and clothes that made you feel breezy and feminine.

When the room grew quiet, Rafe’s words rattled around in your head. You’d always done what your father had said, let him lead you in all aspects of your life, because you trusted him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how your father expected you to trust someone else. In the end, he was the reason you were here now. He’d handed you over to someone else, like, what? A trade deal? The whole thing was completely unreal.

Something caught your attention outside the large windows. Rolling pastures stretched out before you, dotted with fences and patches of wildflowers swaying gently. Your gaze drifted toward the yard below. Rain trickled down slowly but you realized the figures moving in the distance, behind a tall white fence, were Juliet and John B. Making his way to the fence’s edge, now adorned in a work jacket and dark hat to protect from the rain, was Rafe.

They were soon deep in conversation. Your eyes lingered on Rafe’s figure a little too long before shifting to Juliet, whose movements were graceful and unbothered. She had been alone for so long, your father had been forced to sell the other three horses your family owned years ago, and her care had undoubtedly suffered as your father’s health declined. Surely, the Camerons had at least a hundred horses and the resources to ensure Juliet was well cared for and had proper company. For a moment, you wondered if she might be happier here, happier than even you.

You were grateful for the distraction when a knock came at your door an hour later. You expected it to be Rafe, but a fleeting thought made you pause, would Rafe even bother knocking?

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find a dark-haired girl standing there, no older than fifteen. She was smiling, her eyes full of curiosity.

"Hey," she said, giving you a once-over with a playful look. "I’m Wheezie, Rafe’s little sister.”

So this was the other Cameron sibling? You smiled instinctively and offered your hand. "Oh, hi! I’m Y/N."

You blinked, studying her more carefully. She looked nothing like Rafe, and in that moment, she seemed almost... approachable. Less intimidating. Her warmth, however, felt almost out of place given the situation.

"I like your outfit," she said, her gaze scanning your clothes and makeup. "And your makeup. Ugh, I wish I could do mine like that. Sarah never has time to show me how."

“Sarah?” you asked, a little confused.

"My older sister," Wheezie explained, raising an eyebrow as if surprised. "Rafe’s never mentioned her?"

You shook your head, realizing she might think you'd known Rafe longer than just today. “Uh, no. He hasn’t.”

"Well, there’s three of us," Wheezie continued, her voice casual. "And Rose, our step-mom."

“Oh, okay,” You nodded, taking in all of the information. You weren’t at all used to meeting new people, “It’s nice to meet you. Can I ask you if Mr. Ward is home yet? I kinda need to speak with him.”

Wheezie’s expression shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in her eyes. “Him and Rose have been gone all day. Cattle auction, I think. They probably won’t be back until dinner.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. It wasn’t urgent, but you had hoped to speak with Ward sooner rather than later. Part of you wanted to officially see the contract he’d wrote up with your father. Could two men really decide together that you should be married off? Was that still legal? Wheezie, sensing your hesitation, brightened up and added, “I could show you around the house in the meantime.”

You thought about it for a second, then smiled. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Joining Wheezie out in the hallway, your tour began. Wheezie led you to Rafe’s room first, just beside yours. “He likes to keep it locked,” she said with a grin, “Or else I’d totally snoop around with you.”

You liked her instantly. Moving down the hall, you passed Ward’s study, a room that felt both timeless and functional. It had a desk covered in papers and shelves filled with books. Next was the master bedroom, a room with dark wood furniture and soft linens.

Finally, Wheezie opened the door to the library. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled the room, and large armchairs were scattered around a grand fireplace. It felt like the perfect spot for quiet moments.

You couldn’t help but feel small in this place. It held the warmth of a family home but it was massive, the ceilings too high, and had decor that screamed “we’re wealthy”.

Downstairs, the living room was the first stop, a grand space with towering ceilings. Soft leather sofas and enormous windows that offered a breathtaking view of the stretching land and mountains in the distance.

Moving through the open archway into the kitchen, you took note of counters made of polished stone, dark wood cabinets, and the appliances all state-of-the-art. The kitchen was bustling with a couple of workers, one chopping vegetables at the counter, the other pulling something out of the oven. You noticed a door that led out to a terrace.

“These are all Rose’s renovations. She’s really into interior design, and all that stuff.”

“And the people. They work here all the time?” you asked, intrigued.

“My Dad can grill, but Rose doesn’t cook at all. So they get help,” Wheezie explained with a shrug. “I think she likes having everything perfect, you know?”

“She does have really nice taste,” You spoke genuinely, fumbling with your fingers as you looked around.

Past the kitchen was the dining room, where a long, weathered table was set for what could easily be a dozen guests. The chandelier above was massive, its crystals catching the light and casting a glow over the room.

Wheezie led you into the garage next. The space was expansive, with polished concrete floors and a collection of vehicles parked neatly in their spots, sleek trucks, a few SUVs, and a couple of classic cars you assumed were more for show. Near the back of the garage, you spotted a few horseshoe-shaped saddles hanging on the wall, alongside an array of hunting gear. There were rifles and ammunition neatly organized on the shelves, a few pairs of boots stacked by the door, and weathered hunting jackets hanging from the walls. It was practical, but still had the polished look of the rest of the house, like nothing here was ever out of place.

“Do you ride?” Wheezie asked as you took in the details of the room.

“Yeah, I have a horse named Juliet,” you grinned. “Do you?”

“I can,” Wheezie replied with a shrug. “I’m not great at it. Sarah’s better, and Rafe—well, he’s good at things like that.”

“Does Sarah live here too?” you asked, curious.

“Yeah, but she’s been MIA for two days.” Wheezie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You can’t tell anyone this,” she continued, glancing around before leaning in closer. “She and John B. are a thing. And she hangs out with his friends.”

“It’s a secret?” you asked, intrigued but still unsure of the family dynamics at play.

Wheezie nodded, her eyes flicking to the door as if checking for eavesdroppers. “My dad wants her to be with someone whose family is... more prestigious, if that makes sense?”

You processed that for a moment, nodding slowly. “But my family’s not... prestigious. But Ward wants me to marry your brother.”

A mischievous glint sparked in Wheezie’s eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “Is it true that Rafe got you pregnant and that’s why you have to live with us?”

You froze for a split second, then blurted out, “I am not!” You suddenly realized how loud you’d been and lowered your voice, grabbing Wheezie’s hand as you whispered urgently, “I am not.”

“Other people don’t think I’m pregnant, do they?” You continued, “Because I don’t think I’ve done anything that could lead to that…”

You questioned yourself for a moment, feeling a pang of uncertainty. You’d learned about the birds and the bees just once, when you were eleven, and it had been before your mother died. After that, your education had been limited, and anything beyond what she'd explained was a blur of confusion.

What you were certain of, though, was that the kiss with Rafe couldn’t have led to that. You had never heard of anything like that happening from a simple kiss. To your knowledge, you needed at least to sleep in the same bed for that to happen, and you and Rafe hadn’t crossed that line. Before your mind could wander to that possibility, Wheezie spoke.

“I’m not trying to be rude, just curious,” She said with a smirk, her tone light and teasing. “No one around here tells me anything.”

A few hours later you entered the dining room again with Wheezie. You’d spend a good amount of time in her room and she’d explained more about her family, including more details about Rafe. You learned that she was Rafe’s soft spot. That he was cold to almost everyone except her. Ward had a lot of expectations for him and Rafe did about everything he could to appease his father.

“I think Rafe just wants to do things his own way,” Wheezie had mused. “But, you know, my Dad has other ideas. He’s been trying to get Rafe to be more... ‘like him.’”

Kindly, you’d accepted her request for you to help her with her makeup. You’d done hers like yours, with bright blush and shiny lipgloss. She was so excited that she practically skipped down the stairs after, her happiness infectious as she bounced in front of you. A part of you couldn’t help but smile. Was this what it was like to have a sister? The feeling was new and strange, but warm, like something you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

Rafe looked you over, as if he was offended by your choice in clothing, “What did I do?” You asked, innocently.

Maybe he didn’t think your outfit was cute.

“Come sit next to me,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something possessive, as if he were commanding you rather than asking. He waved you over.

You hesitated, looking at Ward, who gave you a reassuring, welcoming smile, and then at Rose and Sarah. Sarah’s gaze was sharp, watching you with a kind of calculating curiosity, while Rose barely seemed to notice, her eyes distant and uninterested.

You exhaled slowly, making your way over to the seat next to Rafe. Your knees brushed against each other but he didn’t move his.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. I’ve known her family for years, and after that everything’s happened, she’s going to stay with us. She’s been through a lot.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose murmured, almost absentmindedly. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” Her tone wasn’t cold, but it certainly wasn’t warm, either.

Ward’s words seemed genuine, but you didn’t understand fully why he spoke so kindly. The two of you were practically strangers. Wheezie smiled brightly in reaction. Sarah, on the other hand, was looking you over even more closely than Rafe. You could see the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“I have a question-” She blurted out.

Ward interrupted, “I’d watch yourself, young lady.”

“I just want to make sure everything’s clear,” Sarah said softly, her voice quieter now. “I’m just... trying to understand why, that’s all. A marriage seems a little bit rushed, don’t you think? They didn’t even know each other before today.”

“They didn’t?” Wheezie raised an eyebrow.

The pressure in the room increased, “Sarah,” Ward began to warn her but it was Rafe who spoke up next.

Rafe’s voice cut through the growing tension, his tone firm, almost possessive. “It’s not rushed, Sarah,” he said, turning to look at her. “It’s just what it is. No need to complicate it.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the sharpness of Rafe’s gaze making you shift uncomfortably in your seat. He answering for you, as if you didn’t have a say in how things were perceived.

Sarah didn’t flinch. Her eyes held a quiet defiance. As if to change the subject, Rafe continued, “What is that on your face, Wheeze?”

“It’s called makeup,” She shot back, annoyed, “Y/N did it.”

Rafe turned his head towards you, “It’s a little much for someone her age, don’t you think?”

“I think she looks really pretty. I started wearing makeup way younger than her,” You responded quietly but honestly, “That’s how you, like, get good at it.”

“See,” Wheezie stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

Suddenly, you felt Rafe’s hand touch your knee underneath the table. The warmth of Rafe’s hand on your knee sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite focus on anything else. His touch was unexpected, as though he’d done it without thinking, and yet, there was something deliberate about the way he kept his hand resting there.

Dinner was officially served moments later. Rafe’s hand remained there on your knee as you all began to eat the carefully prepared steak, potatoes and asparagus. Your steak was already cut into a pieces, a luxury that you didn’t even know others experienced.

Sarah pushed around her asparagus, “How do you feel about moving in with us so suddenly, Y/N? I mean, do you really know what you’re getting yourself into?”

You paused, unsure of what to say, your gaze instinctively shifting toward Rafe. His hand was still on your knee, but the grip felt firmer now, like he was holding you in place, keeping you from saying something that might upset the balance of things.

You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts, but when you opened your mouth, it all just came tumbling out. “It’s kinda overwhelming,” you started, your voice soft but a little unsure. “I miss… I miss my Dad. And you guys have all this land, and this house is so huge, it’s hard to wrap my head around it all.” You glanced at Sarah, then back to your plate. “And, like, I didn’t think I’d get married this young, but… if it’s really what my Dad wanted…”

You trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed. Sarah’s gaze softened slightly, “It’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Up until that point, you hadn’t realized you had a choice in all of this. You could see she wasn’t questioning you out of judgement. She almost looked concerned.

“Enough, Sarah,” Ward spoke sharply, “This is bigger than what one person thinks is right. I don’t expect you to understand but it’s about responsibility. Rafe is growing up and he’s decided to take on new responsibilities. I don’t see why you can’t be supportive.”

“I just think she deserves more time to decide,” Sarah said.

“There isn’t a rush. I’m not rushing them, that’s for certain. Rafe and Y/N will take the time to get to know each other.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. You could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. You glanced at him and noticed the subtle shake of his head, as if dismissing the entire idea. “What’s the point in waiting? You can plan a wedding in a few weeks, right?”

“Rafe, son, don’t you think two should spend some time together?”

“No, Dad, we’ll get married as soon as possible. If Y/N wants to have a real ceremony, Rose can plan it, but I’d be down to just go to the courthouse.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Rafe,” Sarah leaned forward in her seat, “Are you actually crazy?”

How did we get here? You had no answers, just a rush of emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe you should’ve said something, but the lump in your throat made it hard to think.

“We’ll figure it out” Rafe said, cutting her off. He turned his attention to you, his gaze intense but unreadable. “Right, darling?”

The way he looked at you made your stomach twist. It was as though he was asking you to confirm something you didn’t fully understand yourself. You opened your mouth to respond, but Wheezie chimed in before you could.

“Dude, that’s like, so not romantic!” she exclaimed, scrunching her nose. “You haven’t even proposed yet!”

Sarah seized the moment, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “Exactly. At least ask her properly, Rafe. Or are you afraid she’ll say no?”

The air at the table grew heavier. You glanced at Ward, who looked ready to intervene, but Rafe beat him to it. His lips curled into a tight smile, though his eyes flashed with something darker. “You think I’m afraid of that, Sarah?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

All you could think about was the way Rafe’s hand hadn’t left your knee, his grip steady, as if anchoring you to him despite the chaos swirling around the table.

“Can we drop it, please?” Rafe asked, his tone deep and final.

“I want Y/N to stay,” Wheezie decided.

“We all want Y/N to stay,” Ward clarified.

“Well, good,” Rose chimed in, her smile polished and hollow. “Then it’s settled.”

At the end of dinner, Ward leaned back in his chair, addressing you, “You’ll find we take care of our own here, sweetheart. Anything you need, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what else to say.

“We should get going,” Rafe announced abruptly, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. His hand left your knee, only to find the small of your back as he helped you up.

Wheezie pouted. “But we haven’t even had dessert!”

“Next time, Wheeze,” Rafe replied, his tone firm. “Come on, Y/N.”

You followed him out of the dining room, feeling the eyes of his entire family on your back.

“Where are we going?” You asked, trying to keep up with Rafe’s long strides. He’d given you his jacket and asked you to put on your boots, before guiding you out the front door. You clutched the jacket tightly, the night beginning to turn cool. The sky was still heavy with the remnants of rain but an orange and pink sun began to lower in the sky, peaking behind soft, gray clouds, “Rafe?”

High grass tickled the bare legs hidden beneath your skirt as you walked into the fields, “Just for a walk. That okay with you?”

“You know, sometimes I think you really don’t care what’s okay with me.” Rafe flashed you an amused look, “Oh yeah? Maybe I like making decisions for you.”

You snorted in disbelief but your heart fluttered nonetheless.

"What's the real reason you brought me out here?" You asked, pushing the conversation forward despite the tension.

Rafe stopped and turned to face you, his expression unreadable for a moment. He studied you, like he was considering his words carefully. "Maybe I just wanted to see you without all the noise around us. No distractions. Just you and me."

The ranch stretched out before you, vast and quiet. The ground beneath your feet was soft as you walked, fast enough to follow Rafe’s steps. A faint hum of crickets began to rise in the distance.

A modest building tucked near the tree line, far from the main house came into view, “That’s the ranch hand’s quarters,” Rafe explained, “You won’t need to be over there, it’s no place for a woman.”

The sun continued to hang lower as you walked, casting a golden hue over the land. Rafe led you further into the sprawling escape, pointing out different landmarks, “This land’s been my family’s for generations. But my Dad was the one who made it what it was today. It’s very important to me. This land and all the hard work that’s put into it.”

“My dad’s tough on me but it’s his legacy, you know? It’s more than just making money or raising cattle. I don’t know, I just want to protect what I have. Make sure my kids and my grandkids have it, ya' know?”

He didn’t look for your understanding, his words genuine, but the look on his face was guarded. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly, “You don’t to get to be part of something big and not feel like you’ve got to give everything you have to it.”

“What if…” Your voice trailed as you tried to collect your thoughts, “How do I know it’s something I want to be apart of?”

“As my wife, you’d stand beside me. You’d build with me. Raise our children. Make a home. You’d make everything that I’m working towards, worth it. That’s a life with purpose, yeah?”

As he spoke, his voice deep and steady, you found yourself drawn to the way his features seemed to soften, despite the intensity of his words. Those blue eyes were focused on you with an intensity that made your throat go dry.

He stood taller now, the weight of his words pressed in on you and you could see the full picture he was painting. It wasn’t just the land. It was you. It was him. It was a family.

“Yeah,” You agreed, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. Your gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his lips. They were slightly parted, the edge of his mouth curling just a bit as he spoke, and for a moment, you forgot where you were.

“Yeah,” Rafe agreed, a knowing look on his face, and his hand found the small of your back, “I owe you something, don’t I?”

“Owe me?” Your voice faltered. What was he talking about?

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he simply pulled you forward, his hand firm against your back as he guided you through the tall grass. You didn’t have time to question him before the two of you reached a secluded barn, tall and clay-colored, tucked far away from the main house. The air smelled faintly of hay and wood, the earthy scent of the ranch settling around you. But you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Rafe was pulling you into him. His hand slid to the back of your neck, drawing you closer, until his lips were on yours.

The kiss Rafe Cameron had promised you.

All those thoughts you had about the land, the future, everything he’d said, it all slipped away.

Someone, something, had overtaken you. Something ached inside of you, a part of your very being that had never been satisfied. You felt like an animal, desperate, grabbing at Rafe’s shirt, wanting him closer. He was already pressed tightly against you but deep down you wanted more.

His lips weren’t as gentle as you remembered, they enveloped your mouth, his tongue tasting you, his arms keeping you where he wanted as he explored you.Without warning, he tugged you into an empty stall, the scent of hay and leather thick in the air. His hands were at the edges of your jacket now, pulling it open, his fingers brushing against your skin as the cool air of the barn nipped at your exposed flesh.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you felt his hands bunching up your skirt, the fabric sliding higher until it was gathered above your hips. Your eyes flew open, but Rafe was relentless, his mouth still claiming yours with fervent, unyielding kisses. You didn’t know exactly how babies were made but you had a feeling you were getting closer than you’d ever had before. Before you could process it, Rafe lifted you effortlessly, his hands sliding to cup your bottom as he held you tightly against him. Part of you began to panic.

Then, with deliberate care, he laid you down. not on the rough ground but on his jacket, which was spread beneath you. Darkened eyes met your panicked ones. This was much more than a kiss. Although you’d enjoyed that part of the exchange, you weren’t sure you wanted more, “Rafe,” You whispered, your voice uncertain, as he moved his mouth from your lips to the sides of your mouth. Your mind raced, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations. You pushed at his chest and felt you were pushing against a boulder. There would know way to get from underneath him, even if you tried, “Are… you gonna put a baby in me?”

He paused, lifting his head to look you in the eye and you had to remind yourself to breathe in that moment, “Jesus Christ. You’re something else, you know that?” Rafe grinned and some of your uncertainty went away. His reaction made the moment feel more lighthearted, like there wasn’t a boundary being crossed, like his intentions were innocent.

“I like the kissing,” You admitted, “It feels good b-but I’m scared–”

Rafe shushed you, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, until he reached the side of your neck. Your thighs clenched tightly, your head tilted back, and you couldn’t control your moaning. Rafe spread your legs with his own, his jeans brushing against the smoothness of your thighs. He pressed his lower half into you and you felt something as hard as a rock, rubbing against your panties. It was then, your core started to feel like it was on fire.

“Don’t be scared, it’ll just hurt for a moment,” Rafe spoke against your skin, huskily, his voice almost sounding like he was in pain, “You’re just gonna lay still for me, I need you to help me to take care of something.”

“Hurt?” You questioned, your mind hanging on that word. Then you thought back to your question. He hadn’t really answered.

He seemed to ignore you again, his mouth moving lower on your body. He pulled your shirt down, and as your breasts spilled from their constraints, he left kisses on your nipples. Your head tilted back again when he took one of your nipples fully into his mouth, “Rafe,” You whispered but the sound of his name only seem to push him further. His fingers traced the edge of your panties before he slipped his fingers inside, brushing over your folds. You were wet down there, you realized, and mostly out of embarrassment, you started to pull away, “Please don’t touch me there.”

You watched his pupils dilate as he stared down at you intently. He kept one hand in your underwear and wrapped his other around your throat, quickly, as if his body was reacting instinctively to your defiance.

“Don’t tell me that,” Rafe said, almost growling, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to push away his hand as you struggled to breathe, “I have to touch ya' here, darlin’. I’m gonna be your husband. This belongs to me, understand?”

Your eyes widened as he rubbed circles over your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked in reaction and you silenced your moans, knowing you only had so much air to breathe, “Say you understand. Say yes.”

You nodded your head quickly, “Yes,” You whispered.

You were grateful when he loosed his grip around your throat, “It’s a good thing you’re wet. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just means this is what your body wants, baby. You already want to make me happy.”

You weren’t quite sure at what moment your body decided to freeze. Your nerves were overwhelmed, of course, and it seemed like you’d come out less scathed from the situation if you did as Rafe said. You could stay still and take it. There was something happening with Rafe you didn’t understand but he was acting as though he needed something and you were only one who could provide it. You could stay still and take it if it would make him happy, right? It’s a good thing to make other people happy.

You focused on the kisses on your lips, the way his soft mouth moved methodically over yours. The faint jangle of metal pulled you back to the moment, a sound you barely registered until you felt the press of something impossibly hard, slowly pushing against a place you hadn’t realized could take him. His manhood, you assumed, what made him different from you. It hurt like he said it would but not for just a moment. Were all manhoods this size? This is what your body really wants?

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing despite the edge of strain. His hand brushed over your trembling thigh, steadying you as your body tried to accommodate him. “You’re okay. I promise.”

He started to rock into you once you felt completely full to the brim. Initially, it felt even worse than him pushing all the way inside you. Tears fell and your breath grew rapid, “It hurts,” You whimpered, “It really hurts.”

“It’s okay,” He said, maintaining his pace, “You’re okay, darlin’. You’re doing great. It’s just your first time. Gotta get used to me, that's all.”

“Are-are you putting a baby in me, Rafe?” You asked, your voice an innocent whisper. His grip on you tightened as his rhythm grew more deliberate, his words spilling out in a low growl.

“Fuck yes, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with unrestrained desire. “I’m gonna put a baby in you.”

His hands, his words, the pain between your legs that was slowly turning to pleasure, it made you dizzy, and you couldn’t keep track of your thoughts. You belonged to him? A baby? It didn’t make sense, but part of you felt comforted by the intensity of him. You trusted he knew more. Everything’s okay. You were okay. It felt like something you were supposed to be, so you let go and let him have you.

a/n: i only tag people who reblog the fic AND let me know their thoughts, thank you :)

#rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #dark fic #rafe fic #rafe obx #obx rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #sarah cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader

1K notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 15 days ago

Note

walk with me…

charles x lewis x reader! but wait….………………sainz!reader….i know, crazy! i’m a madman, call the cops. potential plot (i’ll take anything at this point, lewis never gets poly fics and im starving!) readers’s been dating charles for a while, lewis comes to ferrari, reader and charles are down bad for him. what’s worse? reader hates williams blue and refuses to wear it even to support her brother. it drives carlos crazy and everyone else finds it hilarious!

i never request but your writing has moved me, got me reading about drivers i don’t even like, that’s crazy! love you, please never stop writing!

forza ferrari - cl16 & lh44

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x !sainz reader x lewis hamilton

carlos sainz x !sister reader

yn loves her big brother dearly- but her heart has always been with ferrari...quite literally. yn and charles have been dating for a little over two years and even though carlos has departed and has a new team- he can never get yn out of ferrari red. he especially won't be able to after she starts dating both ferrari drivers.

fc : saradeanii on ig (and i used a few pics of alex lol)

(a/n) : thank you so much for the love my angel. im so glad you enjoy my work!! love u smmmm.

such a cute ideaaaa. big brother carlos has had me in a chokehold since i wrote heal your heart.

f1gossipgirls

910,204 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Sainz was seen in the paddock decked out in Ferrari gear (this is the 6th time this season)...even when visiting her brother in the Williams garage. We love the dedication, YN!

view 125,034 other comments.

username00 : “support your brother” she is — from the wrong garage 😭

username8 : this woman would rather be set on fire than wear Williams merch

↳ yn_sainz : yes i quite literally would

liked by f1gossipgirls

williamsracing : yn, please.

liked by f1gossipgirls

↳ yn_sainz : idk who u r stop bothering me

liked by f1gossipgirls

username10 : ferrari PR really hit the jackpot with this one

liked by scuderiaferrari

↳ scuderiaferrari : yn keeps the ferrari fan base alive and breathing

liked by yn_sainz

lando : @/carlossainz55

↳ alexalbon : @/carlossainz55

↳ charles_leclerc : @/carlossainz55

↳ georgerussell63 : @/carlossainz55

↳ yn_sainz : @/carlossainz55

↳ carlossainz55 : guys please. im aware. ive just given up.

↳ alexalbon : i tried to give her a williams cap and she threatened me and pushed it off the table with her fork.

liked by yn_sainz and f1gossipgirls

I walked confidently down the paddock, decked head to toe in my Ferrari jacket, red-tinted sunglasses, and a cherry-colored mini skirt I definitely didn’t pick for subtlety. Heads turned. Some fans cheered. Some of the Williams crew actually groaned. It was exactly the reaction I wanted. I spotted Carlos near the entrance to the garage, mid-chat with someone from his team. He didn’t see me yet, but I could tell from the way Lando caught sight of me and immediately started grinning that this was about to become a moment.

“Oh no,” Lando said dramatically, nudging Carlos with his elbow. “Don’t turn around.”

Carlos froze. “Why?”

“Your sister’s here,” Lando replied, already snickering.

Carlos sighed. “And she’s wearing it again, isn’t she.”

I didn’t even wait to be acknowledged—I launched myself straight into a hug. “Hola, hermanito,” I said in my sweetest voice, squeezing him tight.

He looked down at me, scowling. “Seriously? In my garage? Again?”

“What?” I blinked innocently. “This is my neutral outfit.”

“It’s red. And Ferrari. That’s the opposite of neutral ground."

Alex Albon walked by, did a double take, and cackled. “She’s got the entire Ferrari look on. I think that’s even a team-issued hat.”

“It is,” I said proudly, turning around. “Limited edition. Only for girlfriends, siblings, or traitors.”

Carlos threw his head back in pain. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh come on,” Lando chimed in. “At least she shows up. That’s love.”

“That’s delusion,” Carlos snapped.

“You’re just mad I’m color-coordinated,” I replied, smoothing my skirt like I was on a runway. “Besides, red brings out my eyes.”

“You could wear blue. Just once. Please.”

I gasped, horrified. “Absolutely not. I have standards.”

Lando was practically folded over with laughter, and Alex had pulled out his phone and was already recording us.

Carlos turned to his engineer and mumbled, “I’m an only child. I don’t know who that is.”

I just smiled sweetly and handed him a little Ferrari sticker I had in my purse. “Here. For morale.”

He looked at it like it was poison.

Leaving Carlos to sulk in his navy nightmare felt like a personal victory. I walked back down the paddock toward the Ferrari garage, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder and ignoring the looks I got on the way.

Charles was leaning against the garage wall, sipping from his water bottle, sunglasses on. He spotted me and smirked immediately.

“There she is,” he called. “Williams’ favorite enemy.”

“I’m a symbol of brand loyalty,” I said, grinning as I walked right into his open arms. He pressed a light kiss to my forehead. He gave me one of those squishy, familiar hugs that made me feel like home.

“How bad was it?” he asked, pulling away to adjust the collar of my jacket.

“Carlos is two eye twitches away from changing his last name,” I said sweetly. “I gave him a Ferrari sticker. Thought it might help.”

Charles laughed. “You’re the reason he’s going to age prematurely."

“Good,” I replied, just as Lewis strolled out of the garage, helmet in one hand, towel slung around his neck.

The second our eyes met, his smile stretched wide.

“Should’ve known all that noise was you,” Lewis said, voice rich and teasing. “I heard dramatic sighing all the way down the pit lane.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning innocence. “I’ve been a perfect guest.”

“She terrorized an entire garage.” Charles muttered.

Lewis grinned and looked me up and down—not in a gross way, just… appreciative. “I mean. If you’re gonna commit to a color, at least it looks this good.”

“You trying to win me over to Ferrari too?” I teased, stepping a little closer.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Who says I haven’t already?”

My stomach did that annoying fluttery thing, and I caught Charles side-eyeing us.

“Okay,” Charles said with a smirk. “Can we not flirt while I’m literally standing right here?”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I said quickly.

“You definitely were,” both of them replied.

I rolled my eyes and held out my hands. “Well, come on then. Escort me, gentlemen. Let’s make an entrance.”

Charles looped his arm through mine with a sigh. Lewis took the other side like it was the most natural thing in the world. As we walked, I felt Lewis’ thumb brush lightly against the back of my hand. Just a touch. Barely there. But it lingered. And I let it.

yn_sainz

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 & 5,070,002 others.

yn_sainz : live laugh love ferrari

tagged : carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and scuderiaferrari

view 340,395 other comments.

username0 : the roblox meme im screaming. she is one of us.

liked by yn_sainz

alexalbon : live laugh love betrayal

liked by yn_sainz

carlossainz55 : can someone please tell her i drive for WILLIAMS now.

liked by yn_sainz, alexalbon and lando

↳ yn_sainz : who is william and why is he holding my brother hostage

liked by alexalbon and lando

↳ carlossainz55 : i give up

lando : why weren't you like this when he was at mclaren

↳ yn_sainz : because mclaren sucks

↳ lando : honestly fair

scuderiaferrari : this year is our year.

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : they are going to throw us in the same padded cell admin

↳ scuderiaferrari : no one id rather be stuck with

liked by yn_sainz

charles_leclerc : forever glad you chose me...and ferrari

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : even if you leave ferrari...i am staying.

liked by charles_leclerc

lewishamilton : no one was even paying attention to charles and i with you, roscoe and leo there :)

liked by yn_sainz and charles_leclerc

time skip - mid season.

The cabin lights were low, casting everything in that dim golden glow that always made private flights feel like a dream. Outside, clouds rolled endlessly beneath us, cotton-soft and untouchable. Inside, everything was quiet. Calm. For once. Charles was somewhere toward the back of the jet, still half-typing something on his phone, while I wandered forward from my seat, stretching my legs. That’s when I saw him.

Lewis.

He’d fallen asleep curled on the corner couch—long legs bent awkwardly, hoodie pulled up over half his face, mouth parted just a little. His hand was still loosely holding his phone, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. I froze, just for a second.

It hit me then—how peaceful he looked. How rare that was. He was always on—smiling, focused, constantly carrying a million expectations that most people could never even understand. But here, in the soft hum of the jet, he looked like just Lewis. My friend. My… whatever he was now.

I grabbed one of the blankets from the overhead compartment and walked quietly over to him. Gently, I took the phone from his hand, setting it on the nearby seat. He didn’t stir. Then I draped the blanket over him, careful not to wake him. He sighed, shifted slightly, and then stilled again. I just stood there for a moment. Watching. Heart too full and too confused at once.

“Do you do that often?” came Charles’ voice, soft and low behind me.

I turned slowly. He was leaning against the wall, watching. Not upset. Not surprised. Just… knowing.

“Do what?”

“Take care of him like that,” he said. “Without thinking twice.”

I looked back at Lewis, the blanket rising and falling gently with his breathing. “I guess I didn’t realize I was doing it until recently.”

Charles nodded and crossed the space to sit beside me on the edge of the opposite couch. We both stared at Lewis for a long moment.

“I’ve been trying not to say it,” he murmured. “Because I thought maybe it would go away. That it was just the three of us spending too much time together. That it was… a phase.”

I didn’t look at him yet. I couldn’t. I was too afraid I already knew what he was about to say. So I said it first.

“I like him. Like I really do."

The silence that followed was heavier than the engines.

I felt Charles’ gaze flick to me. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”

I finally turned my head. His eyes were glassy, but he wasn’t pulling away. If anything, he looked a little relieved to finally say it out loud.

“It’s not just a crush,” I added, needing to hear it spoken aloud. “It’s not… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know,” Charles said. “Me neither. And it’s not instead of you. It’s not one or the other.”

My throat tightened. “Same.”

We sat there in the stillness, in the weight of honesty, with Lewis breathing quietly just a few feet away—completely unaware.

“I used to think you were the person I wanted forever,” Charles said softly. “And I still do. But maybe he is, too. In a different way.”

I reached out, linking my pinky with his. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And I love you. I always will.”

A beat passed.

“Do you think he feels it, too?” I asked, the question barely more than breath.

Charles smiled faintly. “I'm not sure but I don't think he would light up like he does around us if he didn't.”

I looked back at Lewis. His hoodie had slipped slightly, revealing the curve of his jaw, the line of his lashes against his cheeks. We’d spent months traveling together, laughing, getting closer without ever naming it. Somewhere along the way, our friendship had started to feel like something sacred. Like a secret we were all quietly protecting. I wanted to wake him. I wanted to say, Do you feel it too? Is this real? Are we already a we? But instead, I leaned into Charles’ side and rested my head on his shoulder.

“We’re going to have to tell him eventually,” I said.

“Eventually,” Charles agreed. “But for now…”

We watched him sleep. For now, this moment—honest and quiet and full of possibility—was enough.

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, lando & 7,090,002 others.

yourusername : ferrari family vacay

tagged : charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

view 205,034 other comments.

scuderiaferrari : where was my invite??

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : don't play w me rn admin. i'll drop the addy.

↳ scuderiaferrari : omw. taking the company jet.

liked by yn_sainz

franciscagomes : you literally own the color red. like no one has ever looked as good as you do.

liked by yn_sainz, charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

↳ yn_sainz : love u love u love u. come gimme a kisssss

liked by franciscagomes

carlossainz55 : you do know that we are family?

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : yes we do share the same name and dna carlitos

↳ carlossainz55 : where was my invite?

↳ yn_sainz : you lost your invite when you started driving for that william guy

liked by lando and alexalbon

charles_leclerc : best vacation ever. ❤

liked by yn_sainz and lewishamilton

alexalbon : how does one even own this much red??

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : the same way you own that disgusting blue color

liked by alexalbon

username10 : yn!! carlando, charlos or carbono??

↳ yn_sainz : the feeling of watching your brother and boyfriend fall in love with each other is gut wrenching and alex is annoying me atm so carlando.

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lando and alexalbon

↳ alexalbon : what she say fuck me for??

liked by yn_sainz

↳ lando : i knew you liked me yn

↳ yn_sainz : do not get your hopes up. i only deal with you because carlos is madly in love with you.

liked by carlossainz55 and lando

The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting everything in that golden-hour haze that made the ocean look like melted gold. The yacht rocked gently beneath us, anchored just far enough out that the only sounds were waves lapping against the hull and the occasional burst of laughter. I was curled up on a sunbed with a drink in hand, still wearing my bikini but now draped in one of Charles’ oversized Ferrari hoodies. It smelled like salt and sunscreen and him. Leo was snoring at my feet, paws twitching in his sleep.

Lewis walked over first, shirtless and sun-kissed, holding two cold lemon drinks and offering one out without a word. I smiled up at him.

“You’re spoiling me,” I said, taking it.

“Someone’s gotta,” he teased, settling down beside me and slinging an arm over the back of the lounger. His fingers brushed the back of my neck and stayed there—casual, but warm. Familiar.

A few seconds later, Charles flopped down on my other side, still damp from his swim, curls dripping onto the towel wrapped around his shoulders. “Leo’s living his best life,” he murmured, reaching to rub the sleeping dog’s belly.

“Leo’s not the only one,” I said, smiling into my glass. Because how could I not be? With the sea breeze in my hair, Charles pressed against my side, and Lewis’ fingers now gently tracing patterns at the nape of my neck.

Charles looked over at Lewis and nudged him with his foot. “We should do this more often.”

“What, take a yacht out and pretend we don’t have media day in 48 hours?” Lewis smirked.

“Exactly,” Charles said. “We’re very busy people. This is bonding.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I laughed.

“I mean,” Charles said, reaching over to pluck my drink and take a sip, “If the PR team asks, I’ll say I was just strengthening teammate relationship.”

Lewis chuckled. “And what about her?”

“Oh, she’s just here for emotional support,” Charles said with a wink, handing me back the glass.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the warmth in my chest.

We lay like that for a while—Lewis’ hand moving slowly up and down my arm, Charles humming something under his breath as the sun dipped lower. Everything about it felt easy. Natural. Like the three of us had fallen into some kind of perfect, delicate rhythm without even trying.

Eventually, Lewis turned his head toward me, voice quieter now. “You happy?”

I looked at him, then over at Charles. At the soft smiles, the lazy closeness, the way we just fit—like maybe the sea wasn’t the only thing we were floating in.

“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”

Charles leaned in and kissed my cheek. Lewis took my hand. And for a long, quiet moment, none of us needed to say anything else.

Charles was still asleep back on the yacht, one arm draped dramatically over his face, Leo curled up on his chest like a weighted blanket. I’d watched them both for a minute before I climbed down the ladder and stepped onto the sand, the heat of the day still lingering beneath my feet.

Lewis was already down there, walking barefoot along the shoreline with his pants rolled up to his calves and sunglasses perched lazily on his nose. He turned when he saw me, a slow smile spreading across his face—soft, warm, something private tucked in it.

“You escaped,” he said.

“Charles is unconscious,” I replied, falling into step beside him. “Leo’s his emotional support."

Lewis laughed, low and rich. “That dog lives the life."

We walked in silence for a while, the waves licking at our feet, the sun brushing the horizon in molten amber. The wind caught my hair, and I felt him glance over. Twice.

“You look happy here,” he said finally, voice softer now. “Not just today. Lately.”

I looked up at him. “I am. You’re part of that.”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

“You think I don’t notice?” I asked, gently bumping my shoulder into his. “You bring me my favorite juice every morning. You always walk slower when I’m tired. And you’re the only one who can get Charles to stop overthinking for five minutes straight.”

He looked away, like maybe it was too much to meet my eyes just yet. “Yeah, well. I like seeing you smile.”

I stopped walking. So did he. The breeze moved between us, teasing the hem of his shirt, curling around the silence stretching long and charged.

Then, so quietly I barely heard it-

“I think I’m in trouble with you.”

I didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because you’re with him.”

His eyes searched mine. “And I shouldn’t—”

He kissed me. It was quick. Messy. Barely even planned. His hands stayed frozen at his sides, like he hadn’t meant to do it, like his body betrayed his mind. My breath caught, my heart thundered. He pulled back immediately, eyes wide, regret crashing over him like a wave.

“Shit,” he breathed, taking a step back. “Shit—YN, I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

“Lewis,” I said, stepping toward him, catching his hand. “Hey. Breathe.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his curls, pacing half a step away. “You’re with Charles. I can’t be that guy. I won’t be that guy.”

“You’re not,” I said quietly. “You could never be.”

“I crossed a line.”

I touched his chest—right where his heart was racing under his shirt. “You didn’t cross it alone.”

That got him to stop moving.

“Charles and I… things with him are real. But they’ve also changed. We’ve both changed. And what’s been happening between the three of us isn’t a secret. We’ve just been too scared to say it out loud.”

He looked at me then. Really looked.

“You’re saying he knows.”

“I’m saying,” I said carefully, “that Charles and I talked about you on the flight here. About how we feel. About the possibility that this—you—is more than just something we’re trying to ignore.”

Lewis swallowed hard. “And what did you decide?”

“That we’re not pretending anymore,” I said. “And that we should be honest—with you. And with ourselves.”

His expression cracked, a flicker of hope breaking through the storm cloud guilt.

“So,” he said slowly, his voice low again. “I didn’t just ruin everything?”

I shook my head. “You kissed me. That’s all. And maybe that kiss… meant more than either of us are ready to say out loud yet. But it’s not wrong.”

He reached for my hand this time, gently lacing his fingers through mine. “I’ve been trying so hard to be careful with you. With him. With this.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s what makes you you.”

He smiled, a little broken, a little disbelieving. “So what now?”

I looked back at the yacht in the distance, sails swaying. “Now? We walk back. And maybe when Charles wakes up, we tell him what happened. Together.”

“And after that?”

I squeezed his hand. “After that, we stop pretending we’re not falling into something that’s been waiting for us all along.”

He leaned in, slower this time, forehead brushing mine. And when his lips met mine again—softer now, no panic, just warmth and truth—it felt like something we had all already agreed to, even if we hadn’t spoken it yet.

By the time Lewis and I climbed back up the ladder, the sky had gone pink and deep lavender, the stars barely starting to blink through the haze of the day. My hand was still tucked into his, both of us quiet, steady, unsure what the next few minutes would hold. But when I stepped onto the deck, I knew. Charles was awake.

He was sitting on the padded bench, hair a mess of flattened curls from sleep, hoodie half-zipped over his bare chest, Leo tucked under one arm like a pillow he refused to give back. His legs were lazily sprawled out in front of him, but his eyes—sharp, clear, knowing—were locked on us before we could even speak.

“Oh,” he said lightly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So I was right.”

Lewis froze beside me. I held my breath.

Charles tilted his head. “You kissed her.”

It wasn’t angry. He didn’t look upset, just… open. Curious. A touch amused. He was watching us like we were characters in a movie he already knew the ending to.

“I—” Lewis started, instantly dropping my hand. “I didn’t mean to. It just—happened, and I freaked out, and I told her it was a mistake, which it wasn’t, but—”

“Lewis,” Charles interrupted gently, raising a hand. “It’s okay.”

Lewis blinked. “It is?”

Charles smiled, soft and crooked. “Yeah. It is.”

I stepped forward then, close enough to see the faint pink still clinging to his cheeks. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he laughed, shaking his head. “No. I think I’m mostly relieved.”

“Relieved?” I echoed.

Charles looked between us—me still in his hoodie, Lewis standing like he was waiting to be exiled. Then he stood up, slowly, walking over until he was right in front of us.

“Because now we’re not dancing around it anymore,” he said. “Now we can actually say it.”

My voice dropped. “Say what?”

He looked at Lewis first. “That I love her.”

Then he turned to me. “That I love you.”

And finally, back to Lewis—his voice lower now, heavier, but full of truth-

“And that I think I might love you too.”

Lewis’ breath caught. So did mine. There were no fireworks. No dramatic music. Just the sound of the waves against the yacht and Leo sighing in his sleep. But it felt louder than anything I’d ever heard.

“I’ve known for a while,” Charles admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “That this thing between us... all three of us... it wasn’t just in my head.”

“It wasn’t,” I said softly. “Not for any of us.”

“I’ve been trying not to screw it up,” Lewis said. “Trying to be respectful. But I—I haven’t stopped thinking about either of you.”

Charles stepped closer. “Then maybe we stop trying not to feel it. And just figure it out together.”

Lewis looked at me, eyes wide and soft and unsure.

I nodded. “I want that.”

And then, before I could even breathe again, Charles reached up and took Lewis’ face in his hands and pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek. Lewis looked stunned. Beautifully stunned.

Charles turned to me. “Come here,” he whispered.

And I did. Right into the space between them. Between us. The three of us stood there, on a yacht rocking gently in the open sea, wrapped in something that finally, finally had a name. Not confusion. Not guilt. Not chaos. But something real.

And just as the sun vanished behind the horizon, I whispered, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Lewis smiled, pulling us closer. “God help your poor brother when he finds out."

I don’t know what time it was. Just that the track was buzzing, the garage was loud, and Charles was supposedly off doing media rounds, which left Lewis and me alone in his driver room with five stolen minutes and a locked door. Or… so we thought.

Lewis had me perched on the edge of the little leather sofa, fingers in my hair, lips pressed softly—then not so softly—against mine, his free hand sliding over my hip like he very much wasn’t thinking about the race happening soon.

“Five minutes,” I whispered against his mouth.

“I only need three,” he murmured with a smirk.

I swatted his chest, laughing, just as—

BANG.

The door slammed open.

“CHARLES! Have you seen my—WHAT THE HELL?!”

Lewis physically flinched back from me like he’d been electrocuted. Carlos stood in the doorway, eyes bugging out of his skull, pointing directly at us like he’d just walked in on a crime scene. I froze. Lewis looked like he saw a ghost. A very angry, spanish ghost.

“I—SHE—YOU—NO.”

“Carlos—”

“NO. NOPE. I AM HAVING A FULL STROKE.”

He started pacing, hands on his hips, eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you kissing him? Why is he kissing you? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING IN CHARLES’ ROOM?!”

Lewis opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He looked like a guilty golden retriever.

Carlos pointed at him again. “And YOU! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ZEN! You’re supposed to be—like—YODA or something! WHAT HAPPENED TO YODA?”

“I—I can explain—” Lewis stammered.

“Can you? CAN YOU REALLY?” Carlos turned to me. “And you! Miss Ferrari Cult Leader—you said you hated drama!”

“I do!” I protested. “I just happen to also… love charles and his teammate. Who loves me back.”

Carlos made a noise like a deflating tire. And then—perfectly timed, calm as ever—Charles strolled in, towel around his neck, water bottle in hand.

“Ah,” he said casually. “You found them.”

Carlos whipped around. “YOU KNEW?”

Charles took a long, slow sip of water. “I encouraged it, actually.”

Carlos choked on his own spit. “You what?!”

Charles shrugged. “It’s very healthy, emotionally. We communicate. We’re very evolved.”

Carlos blinked. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means your sister is in a consensual, loving throuple and you need to calm down before your heart explodes,” I said sweetly.

Charles high-fived me. Lewis still looked vaguely traumatized.

“I need to sit down,” Carlos mumbled, dropping into the armchair like it had betrayed him. “Is this why you won’t wear Williams blue?”

“That’s always been unrelated,” I said.

“Unbelievable,” he groaned.

There was a long pause. Then, finally-

“You’re dating both of them?”

I nodded.

“Like—romantically?”

“Yes, Carlos.”

“Like—kissing and cuddling and—”

“CARLOS.”

Charles dropped into the seat next to him, patting his knee. “You’ll adjust.”

Lewis finally cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, man… I respect her. And you. I’d never do anything that wasn’t right by both of you.”

Carlos stared at him. Then stared at Charles. Then stared at me. Then back at Lewis.

“You’re all lucky I love you,” he muttered, before pointing sternly. “But if you hurt her—either of you—I will run both ferrari's off the track."

Charles raised his water bottle in salute. “Fair.”

Lewis nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Carlos groaned again. “I’m going to the Williams garage. At least there no one’s dating my best friend and Lewis Hamilton at the same time.”

He stood, dramatically, and paused at the door. “Also, you two owe me therapy. And maybe some dinner."

Then he left, muttering in Spanish. The door closed. A beat of silence.

Then Charles leaned against the wall and smirked. “Well. That could’ve gone worse.”

Lewis exhaled hard. “I genuinely thought he was going to punch me.”

“You’d deserve it,” I teased, looping my arm around his waist. “But it’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

“He’ll recover,” Charles added, coming to wrap an arm around my other side. “Eventually.”

I smiled between them. We were chaos. But we were ours.

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, lando & `11,034,003 others.

yourusername : i love ferrari sm that i decided to date both of their drivers.

tagged : charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

view 354,035 other comments.

williamsracing : oh great so we really don't stand a chance.

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : never did

lando : how is carlos?

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : traumatized but we fed him lobster and alcohol so he is healing slowly

scuderiaferrari : how does it feel to be living MY DREAM? 😭

liked by yn_sainz

↳ yn_sainz : ily

charles_leclerc : mes amours ❤

liked by yn_sainz and lewishamilton

carlossainz55 : my worst nightmare come true.

liked by yn_sainz, charles_leclerc and lewishamilton

lewishamilton : happier than ever. love you both ❤

liked by charles_leclerc and yn_sainz

832 notes · View notes

lady-luckk · 2 months ago

Note

Can I get more magical girl content? I love magical girls so much :3

lights, glitter, action!!!

# pairings: yandere batfam x magical girl reader

# synopsis: you randomly fall out of the sky and into the arms of the batfamily. now you get to experience wacky adventures with them.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# notes: reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

thinking of a drabble about a magical girl (aka you) who crash-lands—quite literally—into gotham, face-first into a rooftop during a red hood stakeout. your transformation sequence sparks brighter than the bat-signal, and jason todd immediately points a gun at you before you finish your glittery intro pose. “i am celestia radiant, guardian of purity and—” click “you’ve got three seconds to explain the sparkles.”

“do not shoot that sparkly person,” dick grayson says through comms, voice full of older brother exhaustion. “that’s not a sentence i thought i’d say today, but here we are.”

you insist your wand only “dispels negativity,” which doesn’t go over well when you try to boop jason with it and his helmet actually falls off. “what the—kid, that thing costs more than your tiara.”

tim drake attempts to scan you with his tech. the scanner explodes in pink glitter. he blinks. “great. now my system’s infected with lisa frank malware.”

“i can sense your inner turmoil,” you tell him, solemnly. “do you even sleep?”

“define sleep.”

“when your soul regenerates through restful peace.”

“yeah, no. i run on coffee, spite, and childhood trauma.”

damian challenges you immediately and calls you ��a delusional pastel distraction.” you politely deck him with a glitter beam. alfred bandages him while muttering, “perhaps don’t insult people with projectile sparkles next time.”

you enter the batcave and gasps, “so much repressed emotion... this place reeks of unhealed trauma!” bruce walks out of the shadows and deadpans, “welcome to gotham.”

dick pokes your wand, curious. it responds by turning into a cat. neither of them say anything. they just nod like this is normal.

bruce finally sits you down and says, “are you a threat?”

“only to sadness, injustice, and tight schedules.”

“...”

you’re officially listed in the batcomputer as “magical girl (?) – harmless (???) – very pink (confirmed).”

after months of you showing up to “aid gotham’s bravest hearts,” the batfam starts developing a crushing, all-consuming soft spot for you—like an airborne glitter virus of affection.

jason is furious about it.

“they’re weird, they’re loud, and they smells like vanilla cupcakes!”

“you mean the vanilla cupcakes you keep stealing from them?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT.”

dick develops a habit of dramatically appearing next to you with his shirt slightly torn. “oops, must’ve gotten grazed again. guess i need magical healing?”

“you’ve got twelve band-aids on and none of them are real wounds,” tim whispers.

“don’t ruin this for me.”

tim claims he’s above it all. “we don’t even know what dimension they’re from.”

“your made them a custom batphone,” jason says.

“for tactical reasons.”

“it’s shaped like a heart.”

“tactical. heartline security.”

damian insists he feels nothing. "you’re a distraction." but when you calls him “gallant” after he saves a kitten, he literally freezes. the kitten escapes. he doesn’t notice. he’s still staring.

bruce has, very clearly, stated:

“i don’t care about you personally.” completely straight-faced. like he’s reading a grocery list. everyone heard it. everyone quotes it.

and yet… every time you so much as glance at something remotely out of budget, he’s already pulled out his black card.

“i’m just funding mission efficiency,” he says.

“that’s a limited-edition 40th anniversary magical cow figure from meow meow doki.”

“you seemed interested. we might need it.”

you mention wanting snacks once during patrol. the next day, the cave fridge is stocked with every brand you’ve ever casually mentioned.

“it’s for team morale,” bruce says, not making eye contact.

“you bought six flavors of celestial-themed ice cream.”

“they were on sale.”

you say it’s cold in your room once.

bruce upgrades the entire manor’s heating system by the end of the day.

“old wiring,” he says. “dangerous.”

over time it becomes apparent that they’ve grown an unhealthy attachment towards you.

whenever dick spots you, he clings to you like he can't bear to be apart. he’ll throw his arm around your shoulders with a grin, holding you a little too tightly. “did you miss me?” he’ll ask, leaning in just a little too close as he whispers in your ear. you can feel the weight of his gaze even when he’s not looking directly at you

jason has a habit of “accidentally” touching you. when you're walking together, his fingers will brush against yours, lingering just a second longer than necessary. he’ll give you a low, almost inaudible chuckle when you flinch. “i know you don’t mind,” he’ll say with a wicked grin, his hand remaining a little too close to yours.

tim loves to stand behind you when you’re busy, too close for comfort. you’ll feel his breath on your neck, his fingers lightly brushing against your back as he "casually" adjusts your chair. “just making sure you're comfortable,” he’ll say with a tone that feels like more than just a comment. when you turn around, he’s already walking away, as if he never meant to invade your space at all.

damian doesn’t shy away from showing his possessiveness. if you're out in public, he’ll stand a little too close to you, his presence always hovering just behind you like a shadow. sometimes, when you’re sitting, he’ll casually rest his hand on your knee, as if to remind you that you’re his responsibility. “stay close,” he’ll say, his voice unyielding.

bruce doesn't need to say much; his actions speak louder. he’ll touch your arm with a hand that's just firm enough to be a reminder. if you're sitting near him, he’ll make sure his leg brushes against yours, the slightest physical connection making it clear he's always aware of your presence. “are you comfortable?” he’ll ask, his gaze unreadable as if keeping you within his reach is the only thing that matters.

something that i've wondered was what people did during those long ass magical girl transformation.

imagine this: the city was in chaos. explosions echoed in the distance. the batboys were in the middle of a high-stakes battle against a villain whose name they still hadn’t quite figured out, but who was throwing around enough toxins and lasers to give gotham a new reason to be paranoid.

dick was leaping from wall to wall, trying to outmaneuver the villain’s henchmen. jason was head-butting a wall, making sure no one tried to flank them. tim was hacking into a control panel, eyes flicking between screens like a caffeinated squirrel. damian was already fighting the villain head-on, his sword clashing against their armor.

then, a voice crackled over the comms, interrupting the chaos:

“hey guys, be ready—i’m just finishing my transformation!”

everyone freezes. like someone hit pause on the action.

dick paused mid-flip, hanging from a ceiling beam. “wait—did they just say ‘transformation?’”

jason’s fist was raised, but he didn’t punch, staring at the comms like he’d been told the laws of physics were invalid. “they’re really doing this now?”

tim blinked. “are they seriously transforming? right in the middle of all this?”

damian, standing with his sword poised and looking perfectly ready to end the villain’s reign, sighed audibly. “this is… highly inefficient.”

but he didn’t move a muscle. not even to attack. he was waiting.

bruce, who had been silently observing the chaos and directing the others via comms, sighed too—his voice just low enough to avoid detection. “if we’re waiting, then wait. no need to rush this. hold positions. let’s see how long this takes.”

there was no mistaking it. he was as much a part of this ridiculous ritual as everyone else.

the villain, who had been watching the absurdity unfold, narrowed their eyes. “what are they doing? are they—waiting? are they—really pausing for a transformation?” the villain scoffed, clearly annoyed by the delay.

they pointed a glowing gauntlet at the group. “you’re all pathetic!”

but the batboys? completely unmoved. they were all still. all waiting. they were locked in place, every one of them silently enduring this ridiculous delay.

jason, gritting his teeth, turned to face the villain for the first time in a few minutes. “we’d love to keep fighting, but... you know. waiting on them.”

tim, flipping through some data on his wrist computer, half-checked out. “i’ll just optimize our schedule for the next one, but... they better have a good reason for this.”

dick was already making a list of things he could do during the wait. "i mean, it’s a whole process. at least we get a breather."

the villain, becoming increasingly frustrated, clenched their fists and began pacing. “no. i will not wait any longer!”

they leveled their weapon toward the batboys, preparing for an attack—but they didn’t move. everyone stood frozen—the batboys too disciplined to break formation, and you?

still getting ready.

there was another long pause. the villain shot a glare at bruce, who was calmly scanning the room, not even bothering to acknowledge the interruption. “are you all seriously letting this happen?” the villain snapped, voice rising. “i can’t believe i’m waiting on—”

and then it happened.

the unmistakable sound of sparkles filled the air. a soft chime echoed through the comms.

“magical girl transformation, initiate!”

dick’s eyes practically sparkled. “here it comes…”

jason let out a low groan, leaning back against a pillar. “this better be good.”

tim was frantically refreshing his mental list of everything he’d need to do to process this information later.

damian folded his arms and glared at the villain. “this delay better be worth it.”

there was a soft flash, a trail of glitter, and—there you were. in your full magical girl outfit, sparkling like a dream—the colors bright, the fabric catching the light, and your transformation complete in all its glory.

there was an awkward silence.

jason blinked, covered in what was still residual glitter from the earlier mishap. “okay, that... took a little longer than i thought.”

tim let out a long sigh. “i swear, the next time we’re scheduling this—everyone gets a 30-second limit.”

“done!” you announced, twirling dramatically. “let’s do this!”

bruce stared at you with a level of composure that barely hid his tiny sigh of approval.

“...now, we can continue.”

dick, ever the dramatic one, clapped. “absolutely worth it.”

jason just groaned and rolled his eyes, but the tiniest hint of a smile twitched on his lips.

“yeah, yeah, but next time, let’s maybe—i don’t know—not do this during a fight?”

the villain, now fuming, was clearly done. “this is your strategy?” they snapped. “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

they swung their weapon, clearly intending to take you down—but the batboys weren’t having it anymore.

in perfect sync, they moved, attacking from all angles.

you, of course, were already ready, using your powers to effortlessly counter their attacks.

the fight lasted all of five minutes after that.

once the villain was down, the batboys stepped back, eyes on you. jason let out a snort. “well, that was... something.”

tim raised an eyebrow. “maybe next time we make a better schedule for these things?”

damian just crossed his arms. “you’d think after all these months, we’d learn not to wait for their transformation.”

dick, flashed a smile. “what can i say? it’s worth it.”

bruce, just muttered, “next time, no delays.”

you, oblivious to their frustration and somehow enjoying the chaos, smiled brightly. “i’m glad you guys handled it without me!”

the villain, now completely defeated and embarrassed, could only mumble as they were carted off. “i cannot believe i lost to these people.”

and the batboys? they’d just endured yet another ridiculous chapter in their lives with you. but they all secretly agreed on one thing.

no matter how much it annoyed them… they’d always wait for your magical girl transformation.

507 notes · View notes

wiredwizard2068 · 3 days ago

Text

Enchant Your Collection: Bicycle Disney Princess Playing Cards 👑✨

Collectors, cardists, and magic enthusiasts—get ready to add a touch of royalty to your collection. The Bicycle Disney Princess Playing Cards (Pink) are more than just a deck—they’re a regal blend of fantasy, nostalgia, and top-tier craftsmanship. Whether you’re deep into deck collecting, love captivating visuals for your cardistry routines, or simply want to dazzle an audience with a little…

0 notes

prokopetz · 11 months ago

Text

Inadvisable tabletop RPG premise #137: To Shreds, You Say – a oneshot-oriented game in which the group generates a set of characters, then frames an opening scene where all of those characters are found dead in some ridiculously violent fashion, with each corpse bearing several very specific injuries and accompanied by several pieces of faintly absurd physical evidence, both drawn from a large random table or card deck.

Events then flash back to the day before, notionally representing the investigators' reconstruction of what happened. Play proceeds conventionally; however, at any time, a player can step into the role of one of the investigators trying to figure out how the player characters died, and propose a theory based on one of the injuries or pieces of evidence: e.g, why did this character have electrical burns on their left arm? Why were they carrying a plastic shopping bag full of rubber ducks at the time that they died? Why wasn't their corpse wearing pants? Actions which advance the proposed theory receive mechanical bonuses, and theories can also re-write previously established details; the injuries and evidence thus serve both as a resource pool and as character-specific set of dramatic editing triggers.

Each injury or piece of evidence can only be invoked a limited number of times before a final conclusion regarding it is reached, and when the last one is exhausted, that becomes the immediate reason the character in question died. (Yes, even if it it's the pants thing.) There's thus a tension in play between the investigator persona, whose goal is to reach final conclusions as quickly as possible, and the victim persona, whose goal is to not die before their objective is complete. If a PvP twist is desired, you might have each player assume the role of a different player character's investigator.

#concepts #gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #game design #violence mention #injury mention #death mention

1K notes · View notes

mo-mode · 1 year ago

Text

Okay but if the Mythomagic cards were so accurate about the Minotaur and his underwear, and Grover used them to “train” Percy, does that mean the satyrs designed and mass produced these cards themselves? Whose idea was it? Did they like have a big meeting about recruitment and go “What do the kids like these days? Pokey-man? Let’s make a Greek myth Pokey-man game. That’ll help,” and they interviewed a ton of campers like, “Hey, I know that time you almost got killed by a Gorgon was super traumatizing, but we just wanna make sure our cute little card design is accurate. Were her snakes green or purple? Also, would you classify her as Class A or B in power?” Did the campers get super into it too? Was it a group effort? Do they have to update the decks regularly based on new information? Which generation of Mythomagic cards did Percy use? Is the OG packaging limited edition? How popular are they in normal life? Do they get covered by the Mist, and people like Rachel think they’re just insane when they see Mythomagic in a shop window, and everyone else thinks it’s a Pokémon deck? Are there satyrs out in the world running game shops, and whenever someone asks about Mythomagic, they’re like “Do you come from a single-parent household, and also do you want to be friends?” How deEP DOES THIS GO??

#mythomagic #I need the card game lore Rick #the satyrs are absolute champs at the game now #percy jackson #grover underwood #camp halfblood #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson the lightning thief #pjo series

4K notes · View notes

queenpiranhadon · 1 year ago

Text

A/N: Was missing my baby so I decided to type this up <3 Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Katsuki’s down bad but to be fair, so are you lol, you’ve been married for over a year, you two live together, pre-established relationship, anti social Katsuki, you have a lot of Dynamight merch, Katsuki publically simps for you <3, f!reader, Katsuki refers to you as his wife and vice versa, reader’s a little childish lol

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•────•°•❀•°•──── ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ʙᴇᴀʀ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It's no surprise that Bakugou loves to talk about you, his pretty wife.

Ever since the two of you got married, the public could definitely see the impact you had on him- even though you didn't come fully public with your marriage. He's kinder now, softer in a way, still the powerful hero he used to be, if not even stronger, but he's not the same person who flips off a camera once paparazzi flock to him after a mission.

Instead he gives a slight nod of acknowledgement before moving on- he had places to be.

Places being back home, to you, in your awaiting arms, where you would greet him with a smile that could heal the world of its sins if it wanted to, a smile that to him, was the purest and most beautiful thing in the world.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't a man who truly believed someone was better than him, having enough confidence in himself to become was he was not with enough determination, but you...

You were his heaven, his haven, his home. You were the sun and the moon, and land and the sea, everything beautiful in the world, it was you.

And the whole world could tell. Probably even extra terrestrial species on other galaxies.

Well, everyone but you.

You, being the absolute angel you are, didn't think of yourself that way. You were just… you - trying to achieve your goals and have a happy life, alongside your Katsuki, who you'd support no matter what, and him, you.

You knew Katsuki loved you, of course you did- though the blonde wasn't well versed when it came to expressing his feelings through words, he was more than adequate in showing it through his actions instead.

You probably wouldn't be able to even comprehend the amount of love Katsuki held in his heart for you.

Until one special night that is.

Katsuki's been invited to one of your favorite talk shows, and after a lot of convincing ( read: pleading ) he gave in. He couldn't say no to you anyways.

Katsuki had left for the filming a while ago, leaving you to deck out in your limited edition Dynamight merch while turning on the TV to watch your husband.

The familiar opening plays and you see the set of the show you always loved to watch- pride warming your heart as you see your beloved on the screen.

"Live from Tokyo, it's your host, Seiko Nishimura and tonight, we're here with the only and only, Pro Hero Dynamight!- also known as Bakugou Katsuki."

Your husband nods, and mumbles out a "Thanks for havin' me." and you feel your heart melt at his adorable attempt to be social on camera.

Seiko grins, and turns to her stack on notecards nodding to the audience. "Well, I've got a set of questions from the audience all around the world! And we've got a lot, so let's get right to it!"

The night goes on smoothly enough, with Katsuki answering questions about his career and his schedules signing events that were coming up. You hug your Dynamight themed teddy bear closer to your chest as you feel overflowing love for your husband. You were more than proud of him, overcoming trauma from his high school years and bad habits that you know still plague him to this day, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He overcame it all- and you were just truly happy to be by his side.

All the questions are relatively the same- nothing really sparking your absolute interest (your focus was really just on Katsuki and how stupidly good he looked in his muscle shirt and cargos, matched with glossy jet black Prada boots)- until Seiko asks a question that makes you perk up.

"Many fans have noticed a ring around the chain you always wear when you're out fighting - do you perhaps have a special someone at home?" the host asks with a cheeky grin, expecting the blonde to give a flustered outburst but instead, Katsuki shows a hint of real emotion for the first time that night, a small genuine smile stretching across his face.

He takes out the chain in question, and runs his callused thumb over his fondly.

"Yeah, I gotta wife at home" he says, love seeping into his gruff voice. "She's probably on the couch watching this with that stupid Dynamight bear she got me for our last anniversary."

You gasp and look at your bear incredulously. "He did not call you stupid." you grumble, hiding half of your face into the plush of the stuffed animal but still peek over it to watch the screen.

You felt giddy, like a schoolgirl- wondering what Katsuki would say about you on live television. It was silly, you knew- but even after all these years Katsuki still had you flustered like he did all the way back when you were both sixteen.

"Damn woman uses that thing more than I do." he grumbles playfully and sighs."But...I don't think I would be where I am today without her."

You feel your cheeks heat, unable to be tear your eyes away from your husband on the screen.

"She's my rock, the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins, the fire the keeps my goin'- I don't think I'd ever be able to tell her how much I really do love her."

You feel unbelievably hot, overwhelmed by love and affection even though he's not here with you. A watery smile forms on your face as you wipe away the tears that slip down your face.

You hold the teddy bear tight, breathing in Katsuki's scent- though he claims that you use it more than he does, know you that he sleeps with it whenever you're away.

Katsuki never failed to make you feel loved, through his actions, and right now, through his words too.

ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ:

this was one of the 247 posts Mina and Ejirou sent you the day after- Katsuki didn’t leave the bedroom once he saw, taking the teddy bear to cover his red face

2K notes · View notes

tropes-and-tales · 4 months ago

Text

Lieutenant Steal-Your-Girl, Part III

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader; Jake Seresin x F!Reader)

CW: Angst (relationship woes); open relationships; violence (the boys be fighting); 18+ only.

Word Count: 3871

AN: This is part of a larger mini-series, found here, and it was requested by several anonymous folk!

AN2: This has not been edited in any way, shape, or form!

Jake has the idea to follow you and Bob. A nauseous rage courses through him from where he sits, tucked away in the shadows. He has the idea to follow Bob’s truck as it drives to Bob’s place, to confront the two of you: his treacherous girlfriend, and his fellow Dagger.

But from his vantage point, he watches you and Bob. He sees how broadly you smile, how Bob says something that makes you laugh. When was the last time Jake made you laugh like that—where you pause in your steps, throw your head back, and actually laugh?

Then he sees Bob Floyd—fucking Baby on Board—lean into you, sees the scrawny fucking back-seater kiss you. He sees how you melt into the kiss, the way your body arches into Bob’s. He sees you when you break away, the little laugh you give as you reach up and adjust Bob’s glasses, the tender gesture needling at Jake’s heart.

He has the idea to follow you and Bob, but Jake finds himself frozen in place. He sits in his truck in the side alley. He stays there long after you and Bob leave, his hands clenched so tight on the steering wheel that it creaks from the pressure of his grip.

*****

Bob knows from his work that there are always limits. A plane, designed in such a way, can only go so high or so fast before systems start to fail. Punishing speed, the crush of gravity, extreme cold or heat…engineering can only do so much. There are always limits where a system starts to fail.

Bob knows this thing with you is exactly the same.

He’s reaching his limit. Maybe he’s already reached it and has been a dead man flying for a while now.

He went into this thing with open eyes, he thought. This thing. Hell, he doesn’t even know what to call it. A fling? An affair? A relationship? No word really captures it, and half of the words make it feel tawdry, even though Jake was the one who opened up your relationship. The other half of the words make it feel tender and promising, which is hard to believe when you’ve only ever spent the night once.

Like tonight: Jake told you in no uncertain terms that he was going off to fuck another woman. You watched him leave the Hard Deck. Moments later, you left with Bob, came back to Bob’s apartment, and fucked Bob.

And now you’re dressing and getting ready to leave. You sit on the edge of Bob’s bed and pull your shirt back over your head, and Bob is left tangled in his sheets and feeling about as badly as a man can.

There are always limits. Steel, carbon fiber, titanium…it all cracks under pressure, if there’s enough pressure.

“You can stay,” Bob says. He sits up and reaches to the bedside stand for his glasses. He slides them back on his face and watches how your shoulders tense up at his offer.

“I should head home.”

Bob snorts at your choice of wording. Home. Where you live with Jake, when Jake deigns to come home and be with you. When he’s not out sleeping with other women, sowing his wild oats—too scared of being locked down for life to one woman, but too much of a coward to cut you loose in the meantime.

The noise makes you turn and look at him. You study his face and must see something there, because you frown and say his name in a way that sounds like a warning.

“Bob.” You meet his gaze and shake your head faintly.

“What?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” He leans forward and takes your hand in his, but you pull it away. He sighs.

“Don’t…just…I don’t want to—” You try to find the words, but he cuts you off.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

You turn away, hang your head, and with your back to him, Bob can see the tension in your shoulders, the slump in them. How tired you look even from this angle. Worn down. The pressure must be getting to you too.

“I don’t know,” you finally reply. Your voice is so quiet, barely above a whisper, he has to lean closer to hear you. “He…he wants to take me home with him for the holidays.”

Another snort, but more bitter. “So he can play Boyfriend of the Year? So he can pretend like he hasn’t been fucking around on you for the past year and making you feel like shit?”

You curl in more on yourself, wrap your arms around your waist, and isn’t this why Bob has steadily grown to hate Jake Seresin? That he’s made you into a cringing, insecure creature, so unsure of yourself that you can’t even voice what you want?

“Honey, c’mon.” He moves towards you and you don’t dodge him, so he settles behind and wraps both arms around you. He pulls you close, and he feels how you sag against him. He lays his cheek against your head and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair. “I don’t wanna fight.”

“Then don’t fight.”

He kisses your temple, sighs again. Settles back against you and takes in the scent of your shampoo, the scent of you that manages to linger in his place long enough after you leave that he aches with how much he misses you.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, and that’s the truth. He wants to see you laughing and smiling, and if Jake could do that for you, Bob would step aside even if it hurt. “Are you happy with him, honey? Are you happy with the life you’re living with him?”

You shake your head in reply.

“Then why…” He trails off, doesn’t finish the question, but you understand it anyway.

“Because he’s all I’ve ever known. The only boyfriend I’ve had. I’ve…Bob, I’ve followed him all over the country my whole adult life. Everyone back home knows me as Jake Seresin’s girl, for heaven’s sake.”

The admission stings Bob a little, but he can’t say he’s been your boyfriend. He’s mostly just been your hook-up.

“I’ve dated him since I was a kid,” you add. “It’s been so many years.”

“So many years and he still won’t commit.”

That makes you untangle yourself from him, and you stand up from the bed and turn to look at him. If he expects rage or tears, he is disappointed: there’s only your eyes fixed on his and a deep exhaustion behind them.

“Maybe all he needed was this time to get all this,” you gesture broadly, “out of his system.”

Bob shakes his head in frustration, and he reaches down on the floor to snag his boxers, his t-shirt. He pulls them on and stands to face you, and when he places his hands on your upper arms, you don’t pull away.

“And I need you to understand that a real man who really loved you would have had nothing left to get out of his system,” he tells you. He jostles you lightly, tries to get the words to sink into your skull for once. “He would have given you so much love, he wouldn’t have even looked at another woman. He would have given everything to you, with nothing left for them.”

You reach up and grasp his wrists where he holds you. You look so sad. Defeated. Bob can see not just the past year but the years, all the time you invested in Jake—so much that you aren’t even you to many people. You’re Jake Seresin’s girl, and your identity is wrapped up in your feckless boyfriend. Bob can guess that you only see yourself as a pale reflection of Jake’s bright fly-boy persona.

“It’s been so many years,” you repeat sadly. “It has to mean something, Bob.”

Then you gently pull yourself from his grasp, and Bob can only stand there as you leave.

*****

Bradley has a sense about these things: something bad is coming.

He has a preternatural feel for doom which, not to be dramatic, probably comes from his dad dying in a freak accident and then his mom withering away from cancer years later. He got both ends of the death spectrum—sudden, violent, and slow and wasting—and so he feels particularly sensitive to certain atmospheric conditions that signal trouble.

Then again, Hangman’s fucked up life blowing up during a Saturday game of dogfight football is hardly on the same scale as Bradley’s path to being an orphan.

Bradley scoffs at himself (dramatic asshole, he thinks), but his stomach does do a warning twinge the moment all the relevant players are on the field.

There’s Hangman, the Golden Boy from Texas, his jawline clenched so hard that Bradley imagines his teeth cracking under the pressure.

There’s you, you hand held firmly by Hangman until you get set up in your perch higher up on the sand—you shake out a blanket, weigh down the corners with your shoes and a cooler. You tilt your head towards Jake for the bruising kiss he lays on you before he turns away and makes his way to the other Daggers.

And then there’s Bob, standing quietly with the other Daggers, watching quietly as Jake kisses you.

Something about the scene makes Bradley go on alert, and the thought drifts through his head the moment Jake walks past Bob.

Jake knows.

Which should be fine. Jake should know. Bradley is entirely confused about how the man couldn’t know, since the open relationship was his idea. Since Jake brazenly took other women home while you watched like an abandoned kitten from the sidelines of the Hard Deck. Since Jake joked around about it sometimes, months ago, playfully tried to drum up dates for you with the other Daggers. Hell, Bradley was there when Jake sidled up to Bob once, asked the guy if he wanted to fuck you, and if it was all just joking around, Jake still shouldn’t be surprised if Bob eventually took him up on the offer anyway.

Goddamned Jake and his fucked-up life. Bradley never saw the point of it, opening up a relationship like yours. That sort of shit probably works fine for couples where both parties are into it, but any casual observer could see how miserable you’d been at the start of it.

You hadn’t really started smiling again until Bob came along, and that is something worth pondering, Bradley thinks.

The problem with Bradley’s sense for impending doom is that he’s rarely wrong. Almost never. So ten minutes into the first game of dogfight football, when Jake—who is on Bob’s team—hits the backseater, all hell breaks loose, and all Bradley can think is shit, I’m right again.

*****

One minute, Bob is standing in the sand, watching Harvard drop back and throw a perfect spiral to Coyote. As his gaze shifts to take in the other ball—currently tucked against Nat’s stomach as she tries to weasel past Javi—Bob’s world suddenly shifts sideways, and he finds himself with his face in the sand before the pain from the blow even registers.

“Wha—” he starts to say, but something presses him down into the sand, someone’s on top of him, and Bob only gets a glimpse of Jake’s red, furious face before a fist connects with his face. The wire frame of his glasses dig into his cheek, and Bob stops thinking and just reacts.

He jabs his elbow up and connects with Jake’s belly; the man grunts out in surprised pain and ease up enough for Bob to roll out from under him. He finds his feet, does a quick scan of himself. Ribs hurt. Face hurts from the hit and the cut from his glasses. Nothing catastrophic though.

Jake stands too, but only for a second—then he charges Bob again. Bob only has a split second to react. He takes a quick step to the side, manages to dodge being completely tackled, but Jake gets an arm around him and drags him back to the ground.

Bob’s never been much of a fighter. Aside from backyard squabbles with his brother and cousins when he was a kid, he’s never been in a proper fight until now.

He probably gets one half-assed blow in for every three of Jake’s. The man’s fists come fast, steady—timed to the hammering of Bob’s heart, almost—and each new bloom of pain is immediately replaced by a new one.

It feels like it goes on forever. It feels like Bob and Jake are the only two people in the world because everything is quiet except for the blows that reverberate through Bob’s skull. Later on, he’ll realize the entire fight is less than a minute, really just a handful of seconds before the Daggers understand what’s happening and pull Jake away.

Bob lays on the sand, gasping, sun-blinded and stunned in pain. The only sounds are his own pulse thudding away in his aching skull…but then he hears screaming. He manages to turn his head, blinks against the spots dancing behind his eyelids. His vision is blurry—his glasses are long gone—but he knows it’s you running towards him, and even against the royal beating Bob just took, he smiles.

*****

It’s funny how much can change in less than twelve hours.

You’d left Bob the night before, exhausted and confused and unsure of what to do.

Half a day later, here you are: kneeling on the sand between a bleeding Bob, glaring up at Jake, and the decision is so fucking clear to you.

“What the fuck, Jake?” you yell. You turn back to Bob; his face is already swelling, and a shallow gash on his cheekbone oozes blood. You notice a glint in the sand and see his glasses, but when you pluck them from where they are half-buried, you see that they are beyond repair.

“You know what the fuck,” Jake growls back. He takes a half-step towards you, but Bradley holds him back. You study Bob, take in each wince as he catches his breath.

“You okay to stand?” you ask him, your voice low.

Bob nods, and Nat kneels on the other side of him. Together, you each get an arm under him and help him stand up. He staggers for a moment, leans on you, and you brace yourself to take his weight.

Then you turn back to Jake. His expression is stony: his eyes cold and impassive as he takes in you and Bob.

“I’m closing our relationship,” he tells you.

That’s what makes you laugh. That’s what transforms all the hurt and confusion and self-doubt to a sad sort of hilarity. You take a sharp inhale at his words, but then breathe them out in punched-out laugh, a shrill giggle that probably makes you sound insane…but once you start laughing, you cannot stop.

You know it sounds hysterical, but it’s been years of this bullshit. Instead of screaming or crying, you laugh—until tears flow down your face, until your ribs ache from the effort. Bob has an arm around your waist, and he squeezes your side in a grounding, questioning gesture, but you let it all out.

It’s so fucking stupid. It’s been stupid for so long. You’ve been stupid for so long. Trailing after Jake like a whipped puppy, eating every bit of shit he ever fed you. And for what? For a man who never put you first, rarely even put you second, and who only wants to shut down this entire stupid open deal the moment it stops being fun for him. All those years meant nothing after all, and even if you’ve only ever been Jake Seresin’s girl, it hasn’t amounted to much anyway.

Are you happy with him, honey?

Bob asked you the question only hours ago, and now you know the answer with a certainty you’ve never felt before in your life.

“Oh, Jake.” You reach up with your free hand and swipe at the tears that have finally slowed as your laughter died down. You study the faces of the Daggers around you—their expressions range from wariness to confusion, and Bradley has a faint grin—and then you look your boyfriend dead in those gorgeous eyes a shade of greenish-blue you’d never seen in another person.

“Fuck you,” you spit out. “Forever until the end of time, fuck you.”

He sputters some reply, but it washes over you. You never note it at all.

That’s how you finally end your relationship with the only boyfriend you ever had: walking away from him on a sunny San Diego beach, staggering under the half-dead weight of the man who just took a hell of a beating for doing nothing but caring for you.

*****

Bob is not exactly clear the next few hours. He never loses consciousness, but he’s not entirely all there either. Pain makes time skip and drag in a weird way.

There’s a trip to urgent care. X-rays. His dislocated nose is reset; a dislocated finger is taped into a splint. He’s packed in ice packs, given prescription-dose ibuprofen, and sent home.

You and Nat take care of him: hover at his elbow, keep him steady as he totters from Nat’s car to the urgent care waiting room, then back, then home.

Nat disappears for a while, then returns with a pain pill left over from her wisdom tooth removal surgery. Together, you and her get Bob cleaned up, tucked into bed. The pain pill is just starting to pull him under when Nat calls out from the doorway of his bedroom.

“I’m gonna take her over to her place. Pack a bag or two. You okay on your own for a bit?”

Bob nods, and he wants to ask for you—he wants to see you, wants to take your hand in his, wants to make sure you’re okay—but his tongue is thick in his mouth, and his eyelids feel like they are weighted down.

He sleeps. Despite the pain, he sleeps deep and dreamless, and when he surfaces back to wakefulness, the day has ended. Long shadows creep across his bedroom floor.

He gets up on unsteady feet. Makes his way to the bathroom, studies his face in the mirror. He looks like shit, swollen and bruised.

He hears the low murmur of his TV, and when he makes his way to the living room, he finds Nat sitting alone. She stands up, makes her way over to him.

“How you feeling?” she asks.

Bob chuckles. “Like I got the shit kicked out of me.”

She helps him sit, then perches on the couch beside him. He doesn’t even have to ask the question before she answers it for him.

“She’s at my place. I told her she could crash there as long as she wants. I have the spare room, and things are…well, they’re a lot right now.”

“She could stay here.”

Nat nods, bites at her lower lip. “Yeah, she knows. It’s just complicated.”

Bob shakes his head. “Seems like it just got a lot less complicated.” The dark thought crosses his mind then, so he adds, “unless she didn’t break up with him after all.”

“She did.” Nat sighs, and she turns herself to face him. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

He doesn’t like the ominous tone in her voice, but he nods.

“You need to let her go,” she says simply.

He’s stunned by Nat’s order for a moment, then he laughs. It’s ridiculous—after all of this, he’d just let you go? Now that you’re finally free of Jake?

Nat’s eyebrows furrow together. “I’m serious, Bob.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be let go.” It comes out defensive.

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Nat agrees. “But maybe you need to be the bigger person anyway.”

It takes his pilot a long time to get through to him, but in the end, Bob sees the sad wisdom of what Nat is trying to say. They talk for hours—interrupted only long enough to order food, then eat—and then they talk more.

Nat understands your situation as well as he does. Maybe she understands it better, even. She points out what everyone knows—you and Jake, your long history together—but then she adds more that Bob never knew, bits and pieces gleaned during girl-talk at the Hard Deck, then a flood of intel freely given during the past few hours as the two of you tended to Bob.

“They grew up in a small town in Texas,” she explains. “I grew up in a similar sort of place. Towns like that, they aren’t democracies. They are some weird fiefdom system, and people like Jake and his family are at the top of the heap. Jake’s dad owns a Chevy dealership, you know? His mom was the county fair queen. They live in this big, sprawling ranch and just rule the town. Then comes along your girl, and she’s from a middle-of-the-road sort of family. Nothing spectacular. But Jake noticed her, and a guy like him noticing a girl like her…that’d be like me turning down a date with a prince, Bob. She was so young, and everyone around her was telling her how lucky—how blessed—she was. Of course it warped her thinking. She was just a dazzled kid, and by the time she started to wise up, she’d invested years into her relationship with him.”

“I get it.” He lifts his hands, helpless, then lets them drop. “So I’m too late either way.”

“No.” Nat reaches out and puts her hand on his knee, pats him gently. “Not too late.”

“Then what? Let her go, then what?”

“Then you do like the cliché says. If you love her, let her go. If she comes back to you, then you know she’s yours.”

Bob shakes his head. He wants to disagree, wants to make Nat understand how he feels with you, another cliché: how he feels like a complete person. Not that he is missing pieces and you’re there to shore up the missing parts. It’s harder to describe, the calm that washes over him when you’re with him. A charged calm, a paradox, because he feels like he can finally relax, knowing he’s found his person, but he also feels a jolt of energy because he’s found his person and wants to face each and every adventure with you.

“You have to give her time and space to be alone. To learn who she is without Jake fucking Seresin jerking her strings. She’s never been alone, Bob. Doesn’t she deserve a chance to find out who she is? Who she might be?”

His voice, when he finds it, comes out rough-edged, a croak. “What if she doesn’t come back to me?”

Nat’s hand back on his knee, bracing him. “Then you’ll still always be the man who broke Jake’s spell over her,” she replies. “And that will always count for a whole fucking lot.”

#tropes and tales #bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #top gun maverick #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader

408 notes · View notes

qiu-yan · 1 month ago

Text

rabbit buns

image source

after wei wuxian's death, the yunmeng jiang sect is poor in everything from manpower and public goodwill to actual funds, so jiang cheng is open to all possible avenues of revenue and/or goodwill generation for his sect.

then, someone floats the idea of the ancient chinese equivalent of a bake sale. as it turns out, jiang yanli had taught jiang cheng many of her dessert recipes before she left for lanling, and jiang cheng thinks that it would be a massive waste to let these recipes disappear. so jiang cheng agrees to give selling some of his baked goods a shot.

to jiang cheng's surprise, his custard buns (no innuendo) are a massive hit - especially the novelty rabbit-shaped ones. as it turns out, the real draw is not just the buns themselves (though they are aesthetically pleasing and do taste quite good), but rather the sight of sect leader jiang, fully decked out in the aprons and headwear of a baker, swearing his ass off as he wrestles with a wad of dough. furthermore, because jiang cheng is too busy and too proud to spend that much time baking, he only makes a small number of sweets - thus, everything he bakes is also limited edition and exclusive, and yunmeng jiang gets away with charging more.

thus, yunmeng jiang's bake sake is a massive success, and jiang cheng decides to make it a biannual event.

meanwhile, lan xichen can tell that lan wangji is doing really badly in seclusion. even though lan wangji has a-yuan to consider, mentally and emotionally, he's still rapidly declining.

as a desperate last measure, lan xichen travels to yunmeng in the hopes of finding something that will remind lan wangji, in a non-tragic sense, of wei wuxian. and when he finds out about yunmeng jiang's bake sale - more specifically, when he sees the rabbit-shaped custard buns that jiang cheng made on a whim - he feels as if he's struck gold. wangji loves rabbits. these desserts are shaped like rabbits. what a splendid idea!

as for who made the desserts....well, what wangji doesn't know won't hurt him.

so lan xichen buys a large order of rabbit buns and brings them back to lan wangji and a-yuan. a-yuan is immediately enamored by the rabbit buns, and lan wangji is cheered to see that wei ying's child(?) also loves wei ying's favorite animal.

thus, the rabbit buns become somewhat of a source of strength for lan wangji. and lan wangji forms an emotional attachment to these rabbit buns specifically: while other bakers also make rabbit-shaped buns, the taste is different and somehow they are not as cute. thus, even when lan xichen tells lan wangji that the baker who made these rabbit buns only releases them twice a year, lan wangji still is not deterred - instead, surviving and recovering well enough to eat those same rabbit buns half a year later becomes a source of motivation for lan wangji in his journey to recovery.

because lan wangji is an exceptionally strong cultivator, he actually ends up recovering physically from the damage dealt by the 33 lashings after only 2 years, after which he signals he is ready to exit seclusion. however, lan wangji then finds out just where lan xichen has been getting those rabbit buns for the past two years. this information is so horrifying to him that it sends him right back into seclusion for another year.

so the rabbit buns were made by the loathsome jiang wanyin. truly one can rely on him to ruin all that was pure and good. well, lan wangji supposes, then he will simply have to give up on the rabbit buns, because he refuses under all circumstances to even touch anything created by jiang wanyin.

.....except he can't do it. the rabbit buns are too good. they are too cute, soft and white and fluffy just like a real rabbit. and they taste divine, perfectly balancing a subtle yet unique sweetness in a way that no other baker can quite match. when yunmeng jiang announces the return of their bake sale, before lan wangji even realizes what he's doing, he's aleady filled out the preorder form.

thus, for the next 10 years, lan wangji continues to be the number 1 patron of the yunmeng jiang biannual bake sale. lan wangji soon becomes paranoid about jiang cheng figuring out that it's him ordering the rabbit buns, so he quickly devises some system by which other lan disciples order the buns on his behalf. this way, lan wangji reassures himself as he guiltily nibbles on a rabbit bun, at least jiang wanyin won't know that the orders are coming from him.

and then wei ying returns, everything hits the fan, and then there's the debacle at the lotus pier ancestral hall. and then there's the other debacle at the guanyin temple. and then wei ying starts living with lan wangji at the cloud recesses, and refuses to mention jiang wanyin's name at all.

but this is all well and good, because jiang wanyin is terrible and wei ying is good and so wei ying must be protected. jiang wanyin will only hurt wei ying, so lan wangji is correct in encouraging wei ying to stay away. and if wei ying seems to shine a bit less brightly than he did before.....well, nothing in life is perfect.

and then comes the time for the yunmeng jiang biannual bake sale. lan wangji fills out his preorder form as per usual, only to receive a notice afterwards that he has been banned.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #lan wangji #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yanyan speaks #yanyan summaries

112 notes · View notes

niuttuc · 3 months ago

Text

Weird Magic: the Gathering effects: Fourth edition

Starting last year, and on three separate occasions, I've ran polling games listing weird magic the gathering card effects among which hid one fake one, to see how easy it was to figure out. It's time for another!

Like previous instances, this is intended for people who aren't experts at magic and would recognize all the cards instantly, more as entertainment for people outside the game, but I've been told it also works for plenty of actual magic players. There are certainly effects there I didn't know existed in specific before pulling this poll together.

As last time, only the current text of effects is used, not necessarily the one printed on the card. Limited to cards that exist in paper, and are legal to play in at least some tournament formats. Though I did expand in previous polls to text that's part of keyword rules or that's part of the current reminder text on at least one card, and that might apply here as well.

This time some of the cards are less obscure, but I wanted to include them because they're flavorful bits of text. Without further ado...

I will give one bit of context for people who don't play the game at all: your library is what your deck of cards is called while a game is going.

EDIT: the poll is over, time to add the solution under the cut on this message! It is also available in a reblog here, if you prefer that.

First, the Correct answer, and then the rest by order of voting percentage.

Whenever this creature becomes goaded, it fights up to one target creature (35.4%)

This first answer was the correct one, as was recognized by the majority (most of which, I assume, are Magic players who recognized the rest.) It was written as something that makes flavorful sense, and inspired by both Goad and the old mechanic of Provoke using similar meanings. Provoke later evolved into Fighting.

As mentioned, I like this effect, I ended up making a custom card with that mechanic while waiting for the poll to be over, though the wording is slightly different and that won't be in this post.

This creature isn't a creature (17.5%)

This text doesn't appear printed on any card, but it is the current text of Weeping Angel from the Doctor Who set following a templating update of cards to avoid using their own name to refer to themselves, except for legends. Of course, within larger context. I've seen some people guess Gods from Theros as the source of this text, but since they're all legendary, they use their own names still, or a shortened version rather.

This is such a nonsensical line to be on a card that I knew it needed an inclusion here.

Put a +1/+2 counter on target creature. (10.7%)

In the early days of magic, stats-buffing (or stats-reducing) counters weren't relegated to mere +1/+1 and -1/-1 counters. There were some +2/+2, -0/-1, +0/+1 counters and more, and when they mixed it made tracking the size of a creature with them a nightmare, so they stopped doing that. During that time, exactly ONE card, Armor Thrull, was created that put a +1/+2 counters on a creature. Neat and also weird!

Redistribute any number of players’ life totals. (9.1%)

A very unique effect, Reverse the Sands is rarely worth the inclusion in any deck, but it is quite impactful. Printed in a game before commander hit big, expecting two players most of the time, it wasn't that different from other life swapping effects, but with Multiplayer becoming such a big part of the game nowadays, it's fun to have around.

Your devotion to each color and each combination of colors is increased by one. (7.5%)

Devotion is a mechanic found in the ancient greek mythology setting of Theros within magic, caring how deeply you commit yourself to any given colors by encouraging you to play harder-to-cast permanents of that color. In the latest return to Theros, there is one card, Altar of the Pantheon, that has a weird effect of artificially altering your devotion without any cost shenanigans.

If this creature would be destroyed, regenerate it. (5.8%)

Mossbridge Troll has a unique effect of just ALWAYS regenerating for free whenever it would be destroyed, be it by damage or destroy effects. In practice, it's mostly a fancy version of indestructible.

It also allows me to mention Mossbridge Troll from Shadowmoor is the creature associated with Mosswort Bridge from Lorwyn. Each of the five original Hideaway lands in Lorwyn had an associated "awakened" creature in Shadowmoor! Not the most obscure fact, but neat to know about.

Other creatures are Food (3.9%)

A delightfully flavorful (well, except for all the salt) piece of rules text from Ygra here. Everything is Food for the Eater of All.

1/1 named Legitimate Businessperson. (2.9%)

Witness Protection is a pretty normal design, but changing the name of the creature is a really neat touch that just adds a bit of flavor and makes it a card dear to many. It's funny how a small change like that can make a boring common into a card many remember for years to come. It even made its way into the "core" experience of the game through the Foundations expansion later on!

You draw cards from the bottom of your library rather than the top. (2.6%)

Another appearance from Doctor Who, this time with River Song, who has an ability that is pretty flavorful, but in practice doesn't do much, since the cards at the bottom of your library are just as random as the ones on the top. Or are they? It's marginally easier to set up the bottom of your deck than the top of it, and to create loops with that and cards that put stuff back onto the bottom of your deck from your graveyard.

Unfortunately, that easily devolves back into infinite extra turns, which is very flavorful for a time traveler, but generally frowned upon in more social environments.

Whenever another creature you control dies, investigate. (1.9%)

This one isn't that weird, but I wanted to include it for just how flavorful it is to investigate the murder of your creatures. Except of course you're likely the one to be doing the murdering for all those sweet clues. Oops?

This effect does not specify nontoken creatures, which means it's actually quite easy to make bucketloads of clues with it. Or an infinity, if you turn your clues into creatures themselves, so be wary of that because it's easy to end up in an infinite loop you can't stop, which causes the game to end in a draw, drowned in clues.

Protection from everything (1.6%)

Protection from everything has appeared on a few cards, but the most iconic (though not the most played, that'd be Teferi's Protection), is Progenitus, the first to feature it. A giant creature that's almost impossible to cast and can't be cheated into play from the graveyard, Progenitus has impressed many a player!

Unfortunately, it's both clunky to actually use and not immune to everything. While EVERYTHING does mean everything, Protection has a relatively narrow definition in the game rules, and Magic is a game where very specific rules matter. Getting rid of a Progenitus is difficult, but far from impossible. Any effect that blankets destroys or exiles all creatures will remove it just as easily as everything else.

Venture into the dungeon. (1%)

Venture into the Dungeon was one of the main mechanics for the first D&D set Magic has done, Adventures in the Forgotten Realms. They revisited it later on in the second with a slight variation. While flavorful, the mechanic involved a lot of extra baggage involving having three extra Dungeon cards to pick from each with several abilities and to plan a trip through them and... It ended up seeing just a little bit of play, and not being the designers' best work, even if it had a LOT of flavor.

Thank you for participating and reading through all this! See you in the fifth edition if I ever put it together!

#mtg #magic #the gathering #polls #tcg #game design #not really #a few iconic cards in there #but it's also for non-magic players to see some of the weird stuff #Honestly I kinda want to make a custom card out of the fake one #Maybe once the poll is over #someone remind me

111 notes · View notes