#and the photo quality doesn’t suck major ass!

[galloperthompson]

I made another one (now with new characters!)

[yougotthatbilly]

take care (m)

→ member: johnny seo

→ genre: assistant!johnny | smut

→ word count: 15.9k (not surprised atp)

→ playlist: body talk x majid jordan, warm x majid jordan, BoRdErSz x zayn, moment x victoria monét

→ warnings: slowburn, indecisiveness, v  self-indulgent; unprofessional relations, big dick!johnny (ofc; don’t expect anything else), soft dom!johnny, begging (johnny’s a tease), subspace, oral; face-fucking, (and if you squint, ass eating), unprotected sex, squirting, praising, overstimulation, etc. 

↳ summary: your assistant just wants to take care of you

The heavy rain outside mocks you. You were supposed to be at your favorite bar across the street, but here you are sitting at your desk, staring out your window. And that’s how Johnny finds you after being granted entrance into your office.

Your arm is propped up on the arm of your seat, cheek in hand, lips pouted. Johnny does his best not to smile at the thought of you looking adorable as not to piss you off. He just sets your cup of tea down on the coaster on the corner of your desk. 

“How was the meeting?” he asks, taking a seat on the other side of your desk. 

You slowly spin to face him, looking at him with annoyed eyes as you take a sip of your tea. It’s the perfect temperature—a temperature Johnny took almost a month to perfect— and sweetness, and it instantly makes you feel a little better.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh. “Jiyoung didn’t get fired.” You have a three-strike policy; this incident is the second strike.

“Jaehyun,” Johnny corrects, grinning.

You tilt your head at his correction. “I care?��

Johnny just shakes his head, knowing you’re being petty because Jaehyun got his dates wrong and uploaded a post on a few new products a week earlier than the scheduled date, resulting in having to speed things up a little. It didn’t cause a major problem because you’re typically prepared for the worst case scenario, but you don’t like feeling rushed and when things don’t go as planned, so you were pissed. 

“What’s his punishment?”

“That’s between me and him,” you tell Johnny before taking another sip. Your lip curls in disgust at the suggestive look your assistant gives you. “Okay, let’s not be gross. He’s a child.”

“I didn’t know 23 was considered a child,” Johnny teases, mostly because the man of the hour has had a crush on you for the last year he’s been working for you and he’s been trying to get Johnny to talk him up to you. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to get fired in his place,” you say with a tight smile. Johnny decides to switch the subject.

“Mind me asking why you looked so sad when I walked in?”

You sigh once more, slouching in your seat.

“I wanted to go to the bar…” You point to the window beside you. Johnny follows your finger and watches the storm that hasn’t let up since it started half an hour ago. “That’s not happening anytime soon.”

You’ve either been in your office working nonstop or sleeping for the last week or so and you can feel a burnout creeping up. You were going to walk to the bar to get the fresh air you needed, enjoy a drink and your favorite wings because you deserve it—especially after the headache Jaehyun caused the moment you stepped foot into your office this morning—and indulge yourself. Now look at you, hardly munching on the fruit slices Johnny gave you this morning and almost finished with your tea.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going the way you planned today.” Johnny pouts. “On the bright side, you don’t have anything else on your schedule so if you wanted to go home within the next hour, you wouldn’t fall behind.”

“I’ll probably just take a nap on the futon once I’m done looking over the new plan again.” You shrug. 

Johnny wants to roll his eyes, but he catches himself. He’s sure you’ve already gone over it at least five times. There’s nothing he can do about it, though, so lifts himself out of his seat. “I’ll leave you to it. Just give me a call if something comes up or you change your mind.”

To both of your surprise, you actually head out and get yourself a candle you’d ran out of a week ago on the way home to treat yourself to a much needed bath filled with bubbles and essential oils. The scent of the candle reminds you of your assistant because it’s the scent he got you for your birthday, and it’s become your favorite. 

You send a picture of the candle at the end of your tub to Johnny, thanking him again for putting you onto greatness, as he worded it before when you first smelled it in front of him and your eyes practically rolled back. 

[18:14] John Suh: Are you actually relaxing???

You suck your teeth at his response, but you can’t blame him. He’s the only one that knows just how much you put in to get to the position you’re in, while you’re positive a lot of others just think it was handed to you by your mother instead of the school and endless hours work you went through and continue to go through. It’s very rare you give yourself the time to truly sit back and relax aside from when you’re on vacation. And even then, work never really stops. It just gets placed on the back burner for a little.

[18:16] you: Hush.

[18:17] John Suh: I’m just glad you’re taking care of yourself. Your dark circles have been snitching on you.

[18:17] you: Wow. You really wanna get fired today, huh?

[18:18] John Suh: Dark circles or not, you know you’re still beautiful. Now stop texting me and enjoy your bath!

When you find yourself smiling at your phone, you know you should do exactly what he says. Johnny’s always been a complimenter, though his usual kindness goes along the lines of telling you that you look nice. You’re no stranger to this specific compliment, you get it all the time on Instagram from your business partners and supporters. So why does this time settle differently within you?

[18:21] you: Nice save. 

You need a video of one of your popular social media influencer ambassadors using and reviewing your newest skincare products tomorrow—due to Jaehyun’s mix-up—but that’s not happening. She didn’t record it before going on vacation and didn’t think to bring the products with her on her trip. While it isn’t her fault times have moved around, you’re annoyed she didn’t bring the products with her when she’s supposed to be using them every day because she’s one of your main advocates for your products being oily skin-friendly. You have the videos of the other models with their specific skin types, and this is your missing piece. 

The weather is nice today, so you take a much-needed break from electronics and go to the roof of the building. Your peace is quickly interrupted by the body of a six-foot male in front of you, standing in the way of the sunlight you were basking in.

“I know you hate him right now,” Johnny begins, skipping over greetings to get to the point of his disruption. “But Jaehyun has oily skin, he’s been using the products you gave him for like three weeks, he really likes them, and he has a good following on Instagram.”

You take the phone handed to you begrudgingly and look at Jaehyun’s page. Thirteen thousand followers and quality pictures. You’re not blind, Jaehyun is conventionally attractive and looks like a model in the photos and boomerangs. Something is missing, though. “Eh.”

“‘Eh?’” Johnny parrots, confused. He doesn’t know a better last-minute model for you than Jaehyun.

“Something’s missing,” you explain with a shrug. You absentmindedly tap the profile icon at the bottom of the screen and Johnny’s Instagram profile pops up. The two of you follow each other, so it’s not like you’ve never seen his pictures, but it’s been a while since you actually paid attention to detail. He has eighteen thousand followers and apparently uploads his pictures following a color theme. There are pictures of himself, random people, and nature in a strategic flow. When you select a video to watch, you’re sold on the lighting, exposure, and the way he captured the woman’s features. “Sit.”

Johnny does so without any questions. You gently grab his jaw and study his face closely. His skin is supple and dewy, the sun highlighting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Not that his skin was bad before he started using your products, but the texture and scarring have minimized quite a bit. Johnny doesn’t have the typical, bland model face your competitors love so much, especially with the slight stubble he’s got above his top lip and on his chin. 

“What’s your skin type, John?” 

“Oily,” he sighs, knowing what’s coming next. He was doing his job as your assistant, trying to make your life easier, but now he wishes he would’ve left this task to the social media department and stayed out of it. 

You thought so. “Will you do this for me instead?”

“Do I look like an influencer to you?” 

“Yes. I’ll double your next check and everything,” you promise him. “You actually have a personality and everything you post is quality. Women will love the eye candy and all types of men will take you seriously because you don’t have that annoying pristine, perfect look to you like Jaeyoung does.”

Johnny is here to fulfill your needs, so he knows you asking is really just you being polite. He doesn’t have much of a choice, especially with the lack of time you have. He is enjoying the warmth of your hand and the fact you referred to him as ‘eye candy,’ too. And who is he to say no to extra money?

“I’ll have it recorded and edited by midnight,” Johnny smiles, giving you the hope you need. 

“Ugh, you’re the best,” you sigh in relief, shaking his face side to side affectionately before letting him go to stand up. You feel much better now. “Send it directly to me.” 

Johnny stands up with you and leads the way, opening the door for you. “Yes, ma’am.”

Always true to his word, Johnny emails you two links at a quarter-till, with a message attached: 

Good evening, 

I edited two videos for you, one short enough for a regular post on the company’s page and the other that could be used for my IGTV for my followers. I hope these meet your expectations, but if there’s anything you need me to fix or redo, let me know and I’ll get right to it. 

Sincerely, 

John Suh

You get comfortable in your bed with your iPad and tap the first link. You make sure the brightness and volume are high enough to get the full effect, then press play. The quality of the film makes you assume he used a professional camera instead of his phone, and he gets a point for that. 

“Hey,” Johnny starts with an awkwardly endearing smile. “I know this is a little different than what I usually post, but I got scouted by the skincare goddess herself to be an ambassador for Surreal’s new line of skincare, Ethereal.”

You grin at the nickname and note that with him being in the bathroom, there’s no echo in his audio, and that gives him another point.

“I’ve been using the four of the five products I’m about to introduce to you everyday for around a month and before I do my skincare routine for you, I’ll show you what my skin looked like before I started using these products with dates so you don’t think I’m just trying to sell you on them just because she’s been writing my checks for the last year,” Johnny chuckles, then the screen shows a selfie Johnny took with the date of a month ago from today, some hyperpigmentation and small bumps dotting his cheek and jaw. 

Another point for including before and afters. You knew he’d meet your expectations without you having to say much.  

“I’ll get up close and personal at the end so you can really see the results,” Johnny winks into the camera, causing you to blink. 

You knew he’d have personality and that was one of the main reasons he was a great idea, and while in hindsight his actions are predictable, you shake your head. The fact that he’s actually charming makes you scoff, but you’re sure that the damn wink only worked on you right now because it’s almost midnight and you should be asleep right now. You won’t act like he hasn’t always been nice on the eyes, but he’s Johnny. 

You can’t deny that you do thoroughly enjoy the Johnny presented to you through the screen, though. 

“The first product is an oil-based cleanser because the SPF in this collection is oil-based as well,” Johnny explains, then proceeds to show the jar and small spatula that comes with it before he scooped some out, capturing the texture of the product well. 

And that’s how the rest of the video plays out, the unusually deep, gentle tone of Johnny’s voice explaining how well each product works for his oily and acne-prone skin, lulling you into a relaxed state against your headboard. He keeps things short and simple, the video just barely passing three minutes and as promised, his face comes a lot closer to the screen, showing the faded scarring and smooth texture of what used to be his problem areas. Johnny ends the video with a sweet smile and says goodbye. The shorter video is edited to where he’s hardly talking, mostly just demoing your products, just the way you like things to be on the company’s page.

You did great, John. Thanks again for doing this last minute. You can come in at 10 am tomorrow since I had you working overtime today. Rest well. 

Johnny is at your desk with your morning cup of tea at eight in the morning, a bright smile on his face as he tells you good morning. 

You glare at him. “Why are you here?”

“Because it’s my job?” Johnny says, pretending like he doesn’t know what you’re referring to. You can read him well, though. You take the mug out of his hand before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you. 

“You’re either being hard-headed as usual, or you’re anxious about your video being uploaded. Which is it?” 

And that wipes the bright smile off of his face. 

“I slept three hours last night,” he confesses. “I’m not used to this kind of exposure.”

You take a couple of sips of your tea and quietly observe him, thinking. 

“Would you prefer we didn’t post it, then?”

Your assistant looks at you as if you didn’t just speak one of the languages he’s fluent in. You just blink at him and continue drinking your beverage, waiting for him to either say yes or no in case you need to make other plans, again.

“You’d do that for me?” he finally says after a while of staring at you like you’re crazy. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask slowly. “You’ve proven how far you’d go for me and I appreciate it, but I care about you as a person and anxiety is a bitch, so I wouldn’t want you to be panicking over Jaejoon’s mistake.”

The corner of Johnny’s lift curls at your continued pettiness, and maybe his heart does a thing at the fact that you care that much about him. It’s obvious to everyone that he is the closest to you out of all of your employees; being your assistant means you let your guard down a little with him. Along with the more serious side of your personality everyone else gets (especially recently), he sees your soft side. You’re not an overly strict boss, but Johnny gets to see you smile more and pout (he’d lose his job if he admitted to you how endearing your pout is to him). But even with the closer relationship the two of you have, Johnny would’ve never expected you to choose his stage fright over your baby; your company.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Johnny declines with a shake of his head. “I’ll be okay, I promise. Thank you for considering my feelings, though.”

You shrug, not about to press him on the issue. “Alright. I need you to post the IGTV at 2 pm and tag our page in an appropriate caption. I’d suggest you turn your notifications off for a while because as soon as you post it, it’s getting posted to our story then I’m sure you’re gonna get flooded with DM’s.”

“Flooded?’” Johnny asks, head tilted. “I mean, all I’ll have to do is copy and paste the same message answering any questions they might have about the products. Easy.”

You’re the one to look at him like he’s stupid this time. You set your mug down, lean back in your swivel chair, and clasp your hands over your stomach. “You can’t be that dense.”

“‘Dense?’” he asks.

“Are you a parrot?” you tsk. “But yes, dense. You know good and well most of the messages will have nothing to do with my products and everything to do with you.”

Johnny has the audacity to still be confused after your explanation. 

“John, you realize you’re a good-looking guy with a likable personality, right?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t know that. Johnny’s always been a pretty confident guy, with both his looks and personality. His confusion doesn’t stem from being blind or too humble. It’s the fact you of all people are telling him this right now. 

“You think so?” he prompts, just to see how many compliments he can get out of you. This is a rare occasion.

“When you’re not being annoyingly happy-go-lucky and chill out, yes.” You reply. And now he’s pouting. That’s what he gets.

“I thought my cheerfulness brought joy to your days,” Johnny says with a dramatic hand on his heart, offended.

“What brings me joy is everything running smoothly and everyone doing their job,” you correct. He isn’t wrong, but you decide not to stroke his ego any more than you already have. And you’ve already said too much. “With that being said, you do everything I ask of you, and that brings me so much joy. You’re the perfect assistant, so don’t cry.”

“Is this your way of telling me to calm down?”

Your iPad buzzes against the wood of your desk and when you peek at it, you see it’s an email from Jaehyun with the subject: Today’s upload schedule.

“This is my way of telling you to get to work, honey.”

Johnny often finds himself slowly backing out of your office with his hands up in surrender, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the distinct differences between the two of you. He figures it’s why you work so well together and why he’s held this job position for over a year in comparison to the two assistants before him that both got fired before the six-month mark. Johnny’s also positive that you love his excessively positive nature (as Jaehyun has described Johnny’s personality before) somewhere deep down and that he brightens your day after dealing with idiots like Jaehyun. 

When your assistant is out of sight, you grab your iPad, respond to Jaehyun’s email, and find yourself rewatching today’s scheduled video. Maybe more than once. 

The video is up at 2 pm sharp and Johnny does as advised, turning his Instagram notifications off immediately. He even goes as far as taking his phone off of vibrate so he isn’t aware of any other notifications until he decides to look at his phone again. He’s got things to organize anyway, so the work he has to do takes his mind off of any anxiety within him. 

That is until you appear at the doorway of his office an hour later. This is a rare occurrence, so Johnny can’t be blamed for staring at you, and in the process, he appreciates the very fitted pantsuit you’re wearing. You took off the blazer sometime in between when Johnny left your office hours ago and now, and he thinks that the blush pink blouse compliments your complexion and red lips very well. But of course it does. Everything you wear compliments everything about you perfectly. 

Just one of the many observations Johnny has made in the past year.

“How do you feel?” you ask him. Your voice is always so calm and collected, even when you’re ripping someone to shreds because of idiocy. Johnny admittedly admires that about you.

“I’ve done everything under the sun to avoid my phone,” Johnny confesses with a weak laugh.

You nod. “Well, just know that I’ve had multiple companies and modeling agencies ask why I’ve been hiding you. So don’t be surprised if you have job opportunities waiting for you.” 

“Wow… this means I can finally quit,” Johnny hardly whispers with a victorious fist pump.

“I wish the hell you would,” you deadpan, breaking Johnny’s act and causing him to laugh loudly at the lack of expression paired with your response. “You’re mine unless there’s a tragic accident, God forbid, or you’re moving up in the ranks.”

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” you confirm, sending him a wink before turning on your heel and strutting back to your own office. Johnny licks his lips at the sight of the natural sway of your hips before shaking his head and getting back to working on the excel sheet staring at him.

“How is it that you all have the skills and training for the very simple tasks I ask you to complete, yet lack common sense and proper work ethic?” 

Everyone in the room, excluding Johnny, just looks up at you from their seats, pitiful expressions on their faces. Their eyes follow you as you slowly walk to the other side of the room. You’re trying to stay calm and be professional, so pacing around the room is your best bet. 

To Johnny, you look like you’re on a runway in slow motion, modeling the slim-fitting pencil skirt and red bottoms you’re adorning. Though still attentive to every word coming out of your mouth, Johnny lets himself get lost in each step you take because he’s not the one getting chewed out. 

Mark, one of the newest additions to the marketing department, leans into Johnny’s side to whisper into his ear. “How have you managed to not fuck up and be on the receiving end of her talks yet?”

You don’t hear anything, but you see whispering happening, and now is not the time for side conversations. Johnny doesn’t even have the chance to turn to Mark or tell him to shut up until the end of the meeting before you’re speaking again.

“Mark Lee,” you call as you make your way towards him, causing him to sit up straight. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

“No, ma’am,” he responds nervously. Johnny internally shakes his head at Mark not being able to think quickly and lie. “My apologies.”

“Is there anything anyone wants to say or am I just a narcissist who loves talking to hear my lovely voice? Should I sing?” you ask, standing next to Johnny at the end of the conference table, hand on your hip. “Y’all want a performance?”

Johnny bites the inside of his cheek to refrain from laughing. Your sarcasm only intensifies the unsettled looks on everyone’s face and they all side-eye Jungwoo, their savior from the last time they got chewed out as a whole. Jungwoo raises his hand before saying, “There’s nothing we can say to excuse our actions—or lack thereof, but we will get right on it and do our jobs correctly this time. You won’t have to repeat yourself again.”

Johnny is impressed at how quickly your features soften. The ready-to-fire-someone look melts away as you nod at Jungwoo’s promise. You do have a bit of a soft spot for the latter, though, so it makes sense. 

“I’ll take your word for it. You’re dismissed,” you announce, waving everyone off. 

The room is empty, save for you and your assistant, in mere seconds. 

“You’re going to give them nightmares,” Johnny chuckles, gathering your belongings before opening the door for you to exit the conference room. He laughs once more at your responding yawn.

“How? That was me on my best behavior,” you retort, your heels clicking loudly as you walk to the elevator. “And what was Lee whispering about?”

“Your employees are just amazed that I’ve kept you satisfied for so long.”

You walk into the elevator once the doors slide open and lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. Your eyes are squinted as you give Johnny a once over. He has done everything right since he completed his training. “You think you can keep me satisfied?” 

There’s a challenging tone in your voice that causes Johnny to lick his lips. “I’d never disappoint you.”

Your response is a nod of your head paired with a drawn-out hum, and then you walk out of the elevator to your office once you hit your floor, walking ahead of Johnny without another word. You laugh at yourself when you replay the short conversation in your mind at the feeling you got in your gut at his response. And then you’re scoffing because, once again, it’s Johnny.

Johnny… Over six feet, amicable, charming, handsome as all hell Johnny. The scene of him licking his lips and saying those four words in that promising, deep voice in the elevator flashes through your mind once you’re seated at your desk. Your fingernail taps against the wood as you roll your lips together, stuck in your head. The ironic conclusion you come to before getting back to work is that you’re working way too much and just lacking male attention because there’s no other plausible reason for your goofy-ass assistant to have been on your mind so much for the last couple of days. 

“Really?” Johnny asks when he walks in and sees you slumped over your desk.

Your eyes flutter open at his voice.

“I was just resting my eyes” you yawn, waving him off. 

“What work is there possibly left for you to do at this point?” The products go on the market tomorrow, meaning all the work that had to be done in preparation for the launch was completed before everyone left today (the marketing department got their shit together quickly because they know about your policy and how unforgiving you are when the deadline is right around the corner). The only thing left for your marketing team to do tomorrow is look over everything once more and then you’re free to sit back and wait for customers to buy the new products and idly watch over social media if you really wanted to. It frustrates Johnny that you always find something extra to do. 

“I was doing some last minute, um”— another yawn —“touches on the-”

“Well, that’s enough,” Johnny interrupts your explanation, walking around to your side of the desk and plucking the pen out of your hand.

 You just nod and lean back in your ridiculously big swivel chair, blinking up at him slowly, because he’s right. There’s literally nothing else for you to do and you have the most full coverage concealer under your eyes; you need to rest. 

“Am I driving you home tonight?” He asks as he packs your belongings into the massive purse on the box by your feet then places it on your desk so he doesn’t have to bend back down to retrieve it.

“Yeah, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumble, thankful you spent so much money on the chair you’re oh-so comfortable in. 

Johnny puts his hands out for you to grab, and once you do so, he pulls you up. You groan and lean forward into him to catch your balance after not being on your feet for many hours, but then Johnny’s hand on firm on the middle of your lower back, and the pressure makes you stay. He’s just helping you steady yourself, a position you’ve been in once or twice before because you like to push your limits (says both your therapist and your assistant), but he smells good and he’s warm; his presence is comforting. It always has been, which is why he’s made the perfect assistant for you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking down at the top of your head that simply nods in response.

“Think I pushed my limit,” you admit, much to your assistant’s surprise. It’s not that you’re prideful, but you don’t exactly like showing weakness, especially in front of your employees.

Though tempted to just let you rest your head on his chest because he doesn’t mind the proximity at all and knows you’re somehow comfortable, Johnny makes sure you’re standing steadily by yourself so he can drape your coat over your shoulders. He grabs your purse and wraps an arm around your waist then guides you out of your office, all the way to the parking garage, saying goodbye to the confused cleaning staff on his way out. 

He presses the button on the handle of the passenger side’s door to unlock it, opens the door, then fits you inside of his car. Johnny leans over your body to buckle your seat belt, and when he’s back away, he catches you looking at him with a look he can’t quite decipher. 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head and blink slowly. “I just really appreciate you, John.”

Johnny just nods to save face and closes the door before making his way to the driver’s seat. He’s not quite sure how to feel or respond to the soft-spoken, sleepy side of you since it’s been months since the one other time you’ve been in a similar situation, and he wasn’t as smitten as he is now. 

You’re fighting your sleep because even though you trust Johnny, you want to be as aware during this trip to your house. It’s a hard feat, though. His car is big and comfortable and the hum of the engine is trying to lull you into a deep sleep. 

Johnny looks over at you after getting on the main road and notices your internal fight. 

“You can fall asleep, you know.”

“You might take my organs.” 

“I would’ve done that a long time ago if I wanted to,” Johnny humors you. His response brings a small smile to your face, and that keeps a smile on his own. 

“You have a really pretty smile, John.”

“Thank you,” Johnny says, figuring it’s just your exhaustion talking. 

“I’m almost jealous of how pretty your lips are,” you sigh, mouth not filtering your thoughts at this point of exhaustion (you’ve gotten 10 hours of sleep in the last week, but no one, especially not Johnny, needs to know that). You don’t care enough to try to “correct” yourself because the pretty curl of his lips gets even deeper.

“Really?” Johnny asks, trying his luck again because he’s sure tonight isn’t like the other day in your office. “You think my lips are pretty?”

You hum and cuddle into his seat even more. After staring at his profile a while longer, you tell him, “I think you’re pretty.”

That makes him laugh again, taken aback at the string of compliments coming out of your mouth towards him of all people. It’s not that you’re mean or don’t applaud him for his great work, but this is a very different side of you that he’s seeing. He likes it.

“That’s a first, but I’ll take it,” he says, taking a moment to look at you again before focusing on the road again. “Thank you.”

“Are you used to hearing ‘handsome?’ ‘Fine?’ ‘Sexy?’” You notice how Johnny’s brows lift. “Too far?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re good. I like you when you’re nice.”

“You like me regardless,” you say with a sassy scoff, pretending to flip your hair even though it’s slicked back in a low bun, the same as every workday.

Johnny nods slowly, contemplating if he should humor you or just laugh you off. It literally takes him 0.5 seconds to go with the former option because he’s been waiting for the day the two of you step out of professional talk and get into something more personal, specifically between the two of you. “You got me there. I mean, what isn’t there to like?”

Your eyes squint as you analyze him and process his words. There’s a subtle but still very noticeable shift in the air after his question, and while you’re sure it’s your fault for letting your exhaustion let you feel comfortable enough to open your mouth and start spewing out nice things to your assistant, his response is enough to keep it up. It also doesn't help that this is a far more intimate setting than work. 

“Be careful, you keep saying things like that and I’ll think you have a crush on me,” you tease him, chuckling at the snort he responds with. 

Before Johnny snitches on himself, he flips the script. “Says the one staring at my lips long enough to deem them ‘pretty’ and calling me pretty, of all things.” 

“Well,” you start as your gaze goes right back to his mouth at the mention of it. “It would be unprofessional of me to tell you that I think you’re fine as hell, so,” you shrug.

You and Johnny have always had a bit of banter between the two of you, and while this topic isn’t something that’s been covered before, it’s hard to really care when you feel comfortable enough to cross that line right now. If he hadn’t been playing along, you wouldn’t have said anything more than the simple compliment from earlier, but with the reciprocity, the logical voice within gets pushed away. Exhaustion isn’t much of an excuse at this point because that high from tiredness has passed. 

The timing of the traffic light turning red is a little too perfect. Johnny takes the opportunity to look at you again, and something lights up in his chest when he catches how your eyes travel up from his mouth to look into his own eyes at his attention. 

“It would be unprofessional,” he agrees with another nod of his head. “But I can’t say the feeling isn’t mutual.”

You hum and nod. “Good to know.”

“You must not be sleeping well for you to be throwing out compliments like that.” Johnny leans onto the middle counsel.

“I’m not saying anything I haven’t thought of for a while.” You tell him after a beat, choosing to reply honestly since you’re already here. Johnny quirks a brow to prompt you to elaborate, and you do so, mirroring his position and propping your chin in your hand. His face is a lot closer now, but you keep your eyes on his own orbs to avoid losing focus. “I hired you because of your experience and skill set, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt to have some eye-candy around me. Pretty privilege and all,” you wave a nonchalant hand. “You were perfect until you opened your mouth.”

“You can never be nice to me for long, can you?” he snorts.

“You’re perfect tonight, though,” you add on, specifically for the quirk of Johnny’s mouth that comes from the praise. Yeah, you failed the challenge. 

“How so?” Johnny questions, quickly checking to see if the light has changed yet. It hasn’t, and for once in his life he’s grateful for a long light. He feels good about where this conversation could possibly get him after a year of silently admiring you, so good that he not-so-subtly gets even closer, definitely in your bubble, but nothing too crazy.

“You’re calm and collected and taking care of me,” you admit. The silent deep breath you take to calm yourself grants you access to the scent of Johnny’s cologne again, and your mind is so close to deciding that logic is unnecessary. A tiny voice in the back of your mind has been trying to get your attention and steer you in the opposite direction of the one you’ve decided to take, with how you tilt your head up to get just a little closer to him.

“You like being taken care of?”

“I love it,” you confess, and Johnny takes the chance to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as he hums, content with your response. Definitely an excuse to test the waters and see how far he can go and how willing you are to really cross this line. You turn your face into his hand so he cups your jaw, but then there’s a horn sounding behind you because the light is green, and Johnny begrudgingly has to pay attention to the road. You blink, the trance you found yourself in with him so close but so far away dissipating, the situation becoming a lot more real now that he’s out of your space. You slump back into your seat and look out of the window, that voice becoming louder and grounding you as you take another deep breath. “But allowing myself to be vulnerable with someone like that? Yikes.”

He knows your defense mechanism is trying to kick in, but he’s not having it.

“Aside from me?” 

You hum. “Not quite…” 

You set yourself up. From that moment in the elevator to now, you’ve been digging your own grave, and Johnny has done nothing but assist you, encourage you to dig deeper. You’re not sleepy anymore, there’s no more foggy brain from earlier when he found you asleep in the office. Just desire you’ve done a grand job of ignoring up until the last few days. But unfortunately, you have to remind yourself you’ve been ignoring it for a reason.

Your assistant almost doesn’t say anything because he loves his job and you clearly switched the direction of the conversation for a reason, but so much (yet so little) has already been said during your time in the car and you’ve already said enough to get the gears in his head turning. 

“So you mean a different type of care?”Johnny asks. He pulls into your driveway and parks. He wants to get back to the space the two of you were at when stopped at that light, but you’re already unbuckling your seat belt and grabbing your purse, signifying that the moment is long gone. That doesn’t stop him from trying, though. “Do you need me to walk you in?”

“I think I’ve got it now, thanks.” You need to get inside and get some sleep. Are you running right now? Of course. You’re a responsible person and the most responsible thing for you to do as the woman that signs his paychecks, is to get the fuck away from him before he persuades you, because you both know it’s possible.

“Let me rephrase that:” he licks his pretty lips and your fist balls up around your purse’s straps. “Do you want me to walk you in? I know you didn’t need me to do most of what I’ve done tonight, but you let me because you wanted me to.” His ability to read you so well is both a blessing and a curse. “Now would you like for me to continue taking care of you tonight or not?” 

You do. You absolutely do. You’re tempted to say yes in the case you don’t end up alone tonight, but you know it’s not a good idea. And you’re sure the atmosphere of this car ride will disappear by the time you wake up. At least that’s what you tell yourself because you know, ethics.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell Johnny, opening the door and stepping out. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe.”

Johnny watches you walk up to your door, unlock it, then disappear into your house. He lets out a deep sigh before backing out of your driveway and driving home.

Tea, fruit slices, and avocado toast are set down in front of you the moment you walk behind your desk. 

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you calmly. “Your eleven o’clock meeting has been pushed back thirty minutes, so I’d suggest using the opportunity to get out of the building and get some fresh air. You know, get away from electronics and people to recharge.”

That’s exactly what you’ll do. You’re going to be monitoring the Instagram engagement and website sales for a while, even though you pay people to be on top of numbers, so a break will definitely be needed. 

“I love your brain, you know that?” you ask, looking up at him once your jacket and bag are off of your body, meeting his eye. The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. 

“I told you I’d never disappoint you.”

“And I’m holding you to that.” You ignore the fact that there’s definitely another meaning behind his words. You can’t say the tension that last night’s conversation produced has gone away completely, but it’s weak enough for you to ignore it and stick to the amicable atmosphere the two of you have built for the last year plus.

“Would it be alright if I accompanied you during your walk?” Johnny prompts after a moment of him just standing there, pursing his lips together to refrain himself from grinning at you. “There’s something I’d like to run by you because I trust your opinion as my boss and my friend.”

“We’re friends?” you joke, settling into your seat.

“Last time I checked,” he responds, unfazed. “We could be even closer if you let yourself be vulnerable with me.” 

And there it is.

“John,” you say after a brief pause. He’s got his hands in his pockets, face mostly void of emotion. Johnny doesn’t want things to go back to normal, and he’s decided to let you know in the most subtle, yet obvious way. Why ignore the feeling when it’s clearly mutual? 

“Yes, boss?”

“You can leave now.”

The grin on the male’s face falters. He examines you to see just how serious you are, and he knows this isn’t one of your playful banter moments. He tries to call your name, either to ease the situation and tell you it was just a bad joke or to apologize, but you just remove your attention from him and get on your iPad. 

And when he’s out of the room, the door closed behind him, you let out a frustrated sigh. Up until you fell asleep, if you weren’t thinking about your launch, you were thinking about him. If you weren’t thinking about the numbers from your last launch and the possibility of exceeding them, you were thinking of the way you felt and the words he said while you were in that intimate bubble before the horn honked at him. You had to take a couple melatonin gummies to shut your mind up and knock out. The sleep was amazing, the best you’d had in a while, but then when you were conscious again, Johnny was back.

You could have done without stepping into uncharted territory last night. To him, it may not seem as deep as you’re making it out to be, but there’s too much on the line for you. Your professionalism. Your pride. Your job, quite possibly. His job. You could pay him off if you decided to fire him, but you don’t want to deal with bribes making you feel like a shitty person. You don’t want a new assistant. You want Johnny.

At that very last thought, you pick up the phone and call Jaehyun to have him run the plan by you one more time. He thinks it’s because of his fuck up from before, and you just let him think that. 

Thankfully, Johnny is out of your way until later in the night. He didn’t try to accompany you on your walk, but he has no choice but to be here at the company outing taking place to celebrate your products selling out within 4 hours. 

All shots are on you, so your employees are taking advantage of this, recording  as everyone clinks their shot glasses together and downs the painful alcohol down. You’re two shots in and you mentally note that three is your limit for tonight. Maybe four. You’re already a bit of a lightweight, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to make a fool of yourself in front of your employees. Regardless, you’re having a pretty good time. As a gift, your best friend rented out the bar, so it’s empty save for your large group, and Joohyun’s presence is a godsend. She’s being friendly enough to your employees and for the most part she hasn’t left your side, being the comfort she doesn’t realize you need. 

“Congrats again, babe,” she says excitedly to you, pushing another shot in front of you as she scoots into the seat next to you. “Can we take that vacation in Bora Bora now that you’re free and even richer?” Her teasing smile makes you crack one of your own and sigh.

“You know that trip is for August. Be patient, Bae.”

She rolls her eyes but her expression doesn’t falter. Her gaze wanders a bit as she sips from her mixed drink and then she’s looking at you expectantly. You raise a brow to prompt her.

“How is it that all of your employees are hot as fuck?” she asks bluntly. “Even the women.”

You take a glance around like you don’t remember what everyone looks like. “I mean, I guess.”

“Especially a certain assistant.”

“Go for it,” you tell her, nodding in his direction. The said male is at the bar ordering something with his arm draped over Jaehyun’s shoulders, the two of them laughing about whatever the latter just said. 

“You know that’s not why I said that,” Joohyun scoffs, swatting at your arm. You may have mentioned to her a while ago that your assistant is very nice on the eyes and you sometimes enjoy watching him as he does his job. “Plus, Jaehyun’s more my type.”

You shrug. “I’m sure they’d be down for a threesome.”

Your best friend hits you once again. “What’s with your mood? You’re not acting like someone who just sold out in only a few hours.” 

Before she decided to bring a certain assistant up, you were doing pretty well. You’d been able to not look at him for too long or even have to speak to him much aside from a greeting and his congratulations before he was by Jaehyun’s side and Joohyun was by yours. But now, with him being mentioned, your eyes are having a hard time pulling away from his figure. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his shirt are undone. His sleeves are rolled up right under his elbows and show off the tattoo on his arm. 

You rip your eyes off of him and down your shot. Yeah, you’re thinking four.

Joohyun’s incredulous laugh brings your attention back to her. “You didn’t.”

“What?”

She leans into your side to whisper, “You’re in a mood because of Johnny?”

You side-eye her because you don’t like how quickly she read you, and her smile grows wide. 

“Oh, my—you slept with Johnny?!” she continues to whisper-yell.

“No,” you hiss. “I did not. But I could have and that’s the issue.”

“Not seeing the issue?” She’s always been the little devil on your left shoulder. “The only reason I brought him up is because I’ve noticed how often you have his attention when you’re not even in the same area. And I know the difference between a look of concern and a look of want. He’s got a good ratio of both going on.”

“Okay, Miss Couple’s Therapist,” you mutter. “You ever heard of conflict of interest?”

And that shuts her up. Only for a few seconds, though.

“All I’m saying is I know you’ve thought about it… and you’re probably thinking about it now,” she giggles, making it hard for you to keep glaring at her. “I’m just trying to help you understand that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if there is a mutual understanding between the two of you on what flies and what cannot and shall not happen regarding the matter. You’re both consenting adults and it’s obvious he’d be on his knees for you with the snap of a finger.”

You decide against telling her about last night’s situation nor do you let her know you’re considering her words. That you’ve been considering the whole thing for days. 

You change the subject instead, asking her about how her latest trip overseas went.

It lasts for only so long when Johnny and Jaehyun make their way over to your table. 

They greet the two of you and you give a nod, choosing now to be the perfect time to check your notifications, while Joohyun says, “Hey guys.”

“Why are you checking your phone when you should be enjoying your time?” Johnny asks right by your ear, his voice lacking excitement but instead low enough to almost make your thumb falter as you scroll. “Get off your phone and celebrate, please?”

You make the mistake of looking up. He’s too close to your face to use the music playing through the speakers in the bar as an excuse. His eyes don’t have their usual playful glint in them. They look down at you with a purpose, and you’re kind of embarrassed at how fast you comply with his request. You drop the device into your purse and zip it up for extra measures.

“Thank you,” he smiles. “I got this for you two, by the way.”

Johnny slides a plate of your favorite wings on the table.

“Aw thank you, Johnny,” Joohyun coos, shooting you an annoyingly smug glance. “Are you gonna sit with us?”

“Is that okay with you, boss?” Jaehyun asks after sharing a look with his friend.

“Have at it,” you smile tightly, gesturing to the seats across from you. While they make themselves comfortable, you steal your best friend’s shot and actively ignore the way she looks at you from the corner of her eye.

Joohyun and Jaehyun fall into conversation easily after she compliments the watch he’s wearing. You nibble on some celery, actively ignoring how Johnny’s still too close. He subtly squeezes your knee to get your attention, and when he’s got it, he tilts his head in the direction of the bar. 

“I drank enough,” you tell him with a shake of your head.

“It’s not about a drink. I would like to speak to you alone, please,” Johnny explains in a whisper. A tiny voice in your mind says hell no because of what Joohyun has put in your head, but the rational voice reminds you that he is your assistant and you can’t avoid him forever. 

You tell your best friend that you’re gonna get a drink and that you’ll be back, and when she notices Johnny getting up with you she nods with a whisper of a smirk on her lips all without breaking the conversation she’s having. 

“What’s up?” you ask once seated on a barstool, at least a few seats away from everyone else.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was trying to make light of the situation and I took it too far. As for last night, it was wrong of me to make a proposition like, so I want to apologize for that, as well.”

You nod as he speaks, letting his words process in your brain. 

“I spoke out of line last night and gave you an opening, so that part was on me. I apologize and I hope we can move forward from it. Thank you for your apology.” You try to get up and make your way back to your table quickly, but Johnny gently grabs your hand until he knows you’ll stay in your seat. 

For a moment he wanted to just apologize so you can stop being distant with him and he can stop purposely avoiding you for your space, but your response rubs him the wrong way and now he doesn’t really want to drop it. He wants to talk about it because the topic clearly came up for a reason last night and he’s tired of denying how he feels towards you, especially now that he knows he’s not alone after a while of thinking there was no way in hell his little crush would even get him this far. 

“Can you not shut me out right now?”

You really don’t like his ability to see through you.

“I accepted your apology and gave you the one you deserved... how am I shutting you out?” you bullshit him anyway.

“I’m not gonna pretend that what happened last night didn’t happen. I can’t,” Johnny tells you honestly. “Can I speak to you as a friend instead of your employee for a moment?”

“I guess,” you shrug.

“As your friend, what I say cannot be held against me as your assistant.”

“Whatever, John. Go ahead.” 

“I want you,” he confesses, and there’s really no going back from here. “I am very attracted to you and when you spoke about wanting to be vulnerable and taken care of last night it only made me want you more. And if there’s anyone you can let your guard down with and that will take great care of you, it’s me, and you know this.”

All you can do is stare at him for a while. If you hadn’t had that conversation with Joohyun a while ago you would not still be in this seat, letting him know you’re truly considering his proposition. The dip in your gut at his confession confirms your feelings, but your brain and your body conflict. 

Can you separate business from pleasure in this instance? 

If you allow your desires to become reality and it’s nothing like what you imagined, you’d never be able to look at him the same, no matter how good he is at his job. You’d either have to fire him or become so distant he’d want to quit. Would a bribe really have to be offered for the well-being of your precious company? The thought alone rubs you the wrong way.

But if you’re being honest with yourself, you just know it wouldn’t be a bad experience because it’s Johnny. He’s calculated and good at anything that gets thrown at him. You truly believe him when he says he’d never disappoint you. But how will you go about seeing him five days a week without seeing him in a different light? You’re professional but there would definitely be a change in your dynamic.

“I adore you as my assistant, John,” you finally speak up after too long. “And I do consider you a friend. I just don’t want to compromise our relationship over lust.”

“It’s not just lust, though,” Johnny states. “I’m not in love with you or anything but I care about you and want to take care of you the way we both know you need and deserve.”

He’s saying all of the right things and it’s almost as if the universe is rubbing him in your face. Your control is slipping and you don’t like it. You would love to be taken care of. You crave it. Running a business right before the age of thirty comes with so much stress and bullshit and you haven’t been taken care of in years, at least not properly. You’re content with being single because you give yourself everything you need and you love having your own space, but it does get lonely sometimes. And you can’t do everything yourself, at least not to the extent you need. Your eyes scan down from his face to his hands and your resolve gets a little weaker. 

“I’m not going to push you, okay? I just had to let you know that I’m here to help you in many more ways than in the office and that if anything were to ever happen, my lips are sealed. I’d even sign a damn contract if that meant I could have you for just one whole day.”

“A whole day?” you ask before you can stop your curiosity from being known. 

“I can’t elaborate on that. I can talk to you as a friend all I want but I know that too much detail can fuck up my job if you’re not down and I’m perfectly content with my job right now.”

He’s so vague, yet he’s said just the right amount. It’s easy to imagine what exactly could be in store if you release your inhibitions and just agree, but it’s not that easy. And Johnny understands that.

“Just think about it, alright?” He requests, and you nod slowly. “What drink would you like?”

“I’ve already had four shots—”

“No one said it had to be alcoholic,” Johnny laughs. 

“Hello?” Johnny’s morning voice grumbles. 

“Okay.”

It’s quiet on the other end of the line for a while as Johnny wakes up and decodes your single word. When he understands, his smile can be heard through his next words.

“Would you prefer I go to you or you come here?”

“I’ll go to you.”

“How does noon sound?”

“Good,” you nod, even though he can’t see the movement.

“Alright. There’s a couple of questions I have before you come over, though,” he tells you, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than it was before.

“Okay, go ahead,” you sigh, curling into a ball on your sofa. 

“Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Of course you trust him. Johnny smiles at how quick your answer. “You know that.”

“Trusting me with your work and trusting me with your mind and body are completely different things,” he tells you matter-of-factly. “But yes, I did know. I just needed to ask.”

“I clearly trust you enough to be hours away from going to your place without thinking you’re gonna exploit or blackmail me.”

“And I appreciate it. As I said, I’ll sign a contract if you’re still in your head about it.” At the dismissive response you give him, he continues with his questions. “We’re not gonna be weird about this before, during, and especially after everything, right?”

“No, I won’t be weird,” you chuckle, knowing his ‘we’ translates to ‘you.’ “It would’ve took me way longer to give you an answer if I was still gonna be weird or standoffish.”

“What made you change your mind so quickly?”

You blink at the tree on the other side of your window blankly. It took less than a day to give him a response, and while he may have popped up in your dream last night, Joohyun was right. You want him and he’s not shy about letting you know how much he wants you in return, so why play this game of tiptoeing and faux unclarity?

“You’re asking too many questions now,” you deadpan. “I’ll see you later.”

The last thing you hear before you hang up is Johnny laughing quietly to himself, sounding endeared.

You’ve always been punctual, so when you knock on his door, it’s twelve on the dot. And Johnny was expecting this, with it only taking him a couple of seconds to unlock and open the door for you. 

“Hey,” he greets you with a smile and you immediately take in his appearance, having never been around Johnny in anything but formal wear. You take in how he looks in the comfort of his own home, his brown hair is parted down the middle in comparison to how he always has it pushed back, and his fitted white tee shirt and joggers are a stark difference from the button-downs and slacks he usually adorns around you. He looks good either way, you note. 

“Hey.” 

You walk past him into his home and take your shoes off, and while pleasantries are exchanged, it’s Johnny’s turn to give you elevator eyes. The grey color of your athletic wear draws attention to the curve of your ass and hips. Your hair isn’t in its signature style, but out and flowing about freely. When you turn back around to face him he notices you don’t have your typical red lipstick on, just a clear sheen covering your lips. He didn’t think you could look any better, but here he is, being proven wrong. 

You’re guided down a hallway and into his room, and the first thing you notice is a cute stuffed animal on his dresser. One you remember buying him for his birthday because that was his only request, seeing that it was limited edition.

“I still can’t believe you wanted this of all things,” you laugh fondly, picking it up and examining it.

“You gave me a budget and this fit in it,” Johnny shrugs, coming up behind you. His chest molds into your back naturally, causing you to look up from the plushie and up at him through the mirror in front of you. “There was no way in hell I was coming out of pocket for that myself when you were willing to spend big bucks on me.”

You relax into his chest, the vibration against your back a very pleasant feeling. “Touché.”

The last few days of building sexual frustration did nothing to prepare you for the suffocating blanket of tension that envelopes you once Johnny lifts your head up to the side and presses one of the gentlest kisses to your lips. Followed by another chaste one, and another until you find yourself chasing his lips.

“Feel free to bite into it when it becomes too much for you,” Johnny graciously offers in a whisper that tickles your lips.

You scoff, amused by his confidence. 

“I’m a grown ass woman,” you remind him. “I promise you there’s nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And I’m gonna hold you to that.” He nods, using your own words against you. You’re turned around by his hands on your hips until you’re facing him. A moment of silent eye contact translate to him challenging you before his pretty, soft lips slowly slide in time with yours. 

The longer he kisses you, the more your body melts into his. You find yourself being pulled forward, him walking backwards. The kiss interrupted when he sits down at the foot of his bed, but then you’re pulled onto his lap, straddling him to resume it. A hand on the side of his face prompts him to deepen the kiss, and your mouth instantly opens when you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip, the wet muscle minty when it touches your own and you curl yours around it to get an even better taste. 

Your hands find his hair as his own grip your ass, pulling a muffled whimper out of you. And then you’re flipped onto your back, legs falling apart to give Johnny freedom to stand. He swiftly takes his shirt off and then he’s interrupted by your palms glide up his abdomen. You’ve never felt small around practically anyone in your adult years, but with how he hovers over you, you feel tiny. You know he and Jaehyun have been going to the gym frequently, but at this angle, you can really appreciate just how big and broad he is.

Originally, you figured you’d give him the reign to do whatever he wanted and you’d bask in being a pillow princess for once in your life, but in the position you’ve found yourself in, with his print in your face, you drag your hands back south and tug his waistband down. 

Johnny just watches you silently until he understands you’re doing more than just assisting him with stripping. Your hand grabs hold of his semi (your mouth waters at how hung he is and you briefly wonder how you never noticed before), his sweatpants forgotten halfway down his thighs. The way your eyes have tunnel vision and you lick your lips tells him your plan. “You wanna suck my dick?” he asks anyway, making sure he accessed this correctly. 

Your eyes fly up to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You want me to?”

“You think I’d ever say no to you?”

His response goes straight in between your legs, so you focus your attention back on his dick, which has grown some during the time of your small interaction, and you might be a little more excited about this than you initially thought you’d be. 

You let spit fall from your mouth onto his tip, then spread it down with your hand. You flick your wrist up and down a few times and lean forward, licking a broad stripe up his shaft. At the deep exhale he releases, you glance up at him through your lashes, and the sight of him with his jaw tightened in anticipation makes you want to give him so much more, so you suck the tip into your mouth. 

Fingers move your hair behind your ear for you and if you still had any inhibitions at this point, they’re lost now. Your head bobs back and forth slowly as you continue to look him in his eyes; it’s hard to look anywhere else when you’ve never been looked at so intensely in this position. You gather spit on the tip of your tongue and spread it across his head, circling the wet muscle around it until he hums and you need to feel the weight of him back inside. 

“Tap my leg, okay?”

You furrow your brows at his words, but your silent question is answered when there’s a hand on the back of your head and the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat lightly as if in warning before his hips pull back then he’s back in your throat. Your hands come up to his thighs as he sets a slow pace to fuck your face, and when his head falls back the moment he realizes he can go as far as he wants, you close your eyes and prepare for the onslaught you know you’re about to take.

Johnny’s hips instantly pick up speed and roughness, and while he’s still in control of himself, he loses a bit of sanity. After a year of silent pining and thinking this would never happen, he’s fucking his boss's face, and of course, of fucking course you don’t have a gag reflex. 

You stick your tongue out flat to lick at the bottom of his shaft as he does the rest of the work and the feeling of spit bubbling out the sides of your mouth and making its way down your chin digs your fingers into his skin since you can’t clench your thighs together. Your hair is gathered for extra leverage, and the pull of your scalp is such a delicious feeling you moan helplessly just when your nose comes in contact with trimmed hairs. 

“Shit,” he hisses, picking his head back up to watch as he slows back down but thrusts in rougher. You clearly enjoy being used like this, spit traveling down your chin to the point of landing on your jacket and darkening the material. You’re a mess in the best possible way, and this is an image that will haunt his memory for a very long time. 

More of his resolve crumbles at the feeling of your hands curling around to his butt to press him even closer into you, even further down your throat. You haven’t even been touched, barely kissed, but you’re lightheaded and extremely aroused. While he contemplates if he should cum down your throat or wait until he’s buried in your pussy, you’re silently hoping he lets you taste him soon. 

Johnny drags his dick out of your mouth at an extremely slow pace, and how you wrap your lips around him and open your hooded, darkened eyes to look at him again shoots a shiver of pleasure up his spine. 

“Never would’ve thought,” he says around an amused exhale.

“Hm?” you prompt, releasing him with a loud pop. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. He grips his dick with his free hand and taps the tip on your awaiting tongue, amused and extremely turned on. Smearing fluids over your tongue and lips, he softly demands: “Play with your pussy for me.”

The smile you give him is a concoction of wicked and endearing. He releases your hair as you manage to wiggle out of your leggings. You soaked through your lace and leggings, you both notice, and Johnny stops you with a disapproving hum when you make a move to remove your panties as well. You squint, he laughs and shakes his head. 

“Over your panties.” You roll your eyes but listen nonetheless, slipping your hand in between your thighs. The material is extremely wet to the touch, and the slickness helps with making the friction pleasurable when your fingertips find your clit and begin rubbing circles. “Slowly.”

Johnny finds your huff of frustration adorable.

The tip of his dick taps your mouth again to gain your attention. You suck spit up to the front of your mouth, then your mouth is stretched wide once again, hand back in your hair. 

Having your throat fucked with the additional pleasure on your clit, even with the slow pace you’re forced to go at, has you practically whining, the sound going in and out as he goes in and out your mouth. That vibration only spurs Johnny to grip your locks tighter and thrust in deeper to feel as much as your mouth and throat offer. 

“You were made for this, huh?” 

“Mhm,” you affirm, eyes rolling back at the way he pulls your hair to tip your head back and get a different, much better angle. 

Johnny honestly didn’t expect you to submit so easily to him. The visual of your face all messy, eyes hardly opened to look into his eyes and hair out of place while touching yourself sparks that feeling in his lower abdomen.

 “You want me to cum in your mouth?” You hum again and even with a mouth full of dick you manage to smile. You’re getting what you wanted. “Don’t swallow it until I tell you to.”

It takes a few more strokes for Johnny to fulfill your wish. The moment his head falls back again you use your free hand to caress his balls, and that does it. He leaves the tip in so that his cum pools onto your tongue and strokes every drop out. The groan he lets out causes you to unintentionally swipe at your clit faster, but he’s distracted anyway.

“Let me see,” Johnny says after collecting himself and stepping back. You straighten your head so none slides down your throat and open your mouth wider for his inspection. He smiles in approval, wishing he could take a picture of the sight before him. “Swallow.”

You lick your lips and wipe away all the spit that traveled outside of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket after doing so.

Johnny completely removes his pants before he leans down to kiss you again. His tongue languidly licks against the seam of your mouth for an entrance that you grant instantly. While it curls around your own and he gets a taste of himself, Johnny’s hand guides you to bend one leg and he caresses your outer thigh.

“Good?” Johnny asks for extra measure, lips just barely dragging across your cheek to press opened mouth kisses on your jaw. Your head automatically tilts to the opposite side to give him more real estate. You hum, your mouth a bit preoccupied with how your teeth have trapped your bottom lip. 

Your breath stutters at the gentle scrape of his teeth along the length of your neck after he unzips the high neck of your top to expose more skin. Whichever scent you chose to put on today has Johnny latched onto your neck for a while, kissing, licking, nibbling the skin to the point of your breath coming out a lot louder than before and the seat on your underwear getting uncomfortably wetter. You’re throbbing at this point and not being touched enough, so you claw at his sides and call his name quietly.

Johnny eventually spreads your legs more and maneuvers himself in between them. Both of your legs bend at the knee to accommodate his large build in the middle of them, and the hand that isn’t keeping himself propped up by your head kneads your hip. 

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

“How long?” you prompt, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Since the day you gave me a tour of the building,” he admits and slowly rises until he’s up on his knees. 

“That’s a long time,” you respond lamely, hardly caring when your pussy is practically screaming at you to be touched. He raises a brow, and when he looks back up at your face, your lip is back in between your teeth. 

If he doesn’t touch you soon you might explode.

“I’ve wanted this for a while, too,” you decide to confess, hoping it gets you somewhere. And it does. It’s almost like you’re rewarded for it by Johnny walking back on his knees until he’s far enough to settle on his stomach, face barely inches away from the apex of your thighs. He subconsciously licks his lips at the smell of you. He’s been wanting to taste you for so long now, but he refrains himself because he sees how you’re affected by the lack of attention to your heat. He promised he’d take care of you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. But not before breaking you. 

“Wish you would’ve told me sooner,” he eventually tells you after having you hold your breath for way too long.

“You know I couldn’t.” The way Johnny looks at you, attentive to every word that comes out of your mouth while he smoothly scoops your legs over his shoulders to wrap his arms around your thighs, makes you continue speaking. “Seems like everything fell into place, though.”

Johnny nods, rests his head on one of your thighs, and looks up at you, brown eyes still watching your mouth intently, as he unhooks one of his arms to push your right leg further to the side. His fingers are soon on your center, gliding up and down your slit, bumping into your clit with each pass. 

“I guess it did.”

Before you can reply, he adds more pressure behind his touch, and your hips just barely lift to get even more. The smile you get in return is attractive as all hell but annoying. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you or he’s just really enjoying himself. Either way, you’re getting more impatient by the second, if the way your hips rise to grind your core against his fingers again says anything. 

“Stay still for me, okay?” You almost pout because you need more, but you promised to give him total control of the situation and you’ve done well thus far, so you press your ass back into his comforter. “There you go.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing.

The light pressure on your clit is soon gone and then the zipper of your jacket gets dragged down all the way. “Take this off for me.”

Sitting up, you do as told. You toss it where your leggings had been dropped and now you’re presented in front of the awe-struck brunet in just your matching set of underwear. You figured you’d wear something nice under your clothes, both for Johnny’s pleasure and for your confidence, and with how Johnny’s eyes settle on the way your breasts are trying to burst out of your snug lacy bra, you know you chose well.

A hand slides up your torso to grab one of your breasts and squeeze it. Somewhere in the midst of him fondling your chest and pressing teasing, yet promising kisses on your inner thighs your eyes drift shut again as you bask in the pleasure. One of your own hands comes up from your side to slide under the cup of your unoccupied tit and pull at your nipple. 

The tip of Johnny’s tongue drags dangerously close to your annoying-still-clothed heat and your patience is shot. 

“John…”

“Yes?” 

“I need more.”

He has the audacity to hum and give your clit a kitten lick. “Do you?”

You huff, stuck between just pushing his face into your pussy or doing what he asks of you, but you promised, so you suck in a breath and give him what he wants.

“John,” you say again, almost whining. 

He doesn’t say anything, just continues to look at you expectantly. And when too much time goes by, it somehow hits you what he wants from you and you groan quietly to yourself.

“Please.”

“That was very convincing,” Johnny snorts. His nose glides across the inside of your thigh like he’s got all the time in the world. It tickles in the best way, but it’s nothing but teasing and you’ve been stimulated enough that if you go more than a couple of seconds more without his mouth giving you direct pleasure, you’ll go insane. So with a great amount of willpower, you try again.

“Johnny,” you whine, giving him your best pout. Addressing him so informally feels foreign, but the way his eyes light up encourages you to keep going.“Please?”

And of course a big smile takes up half of his face and you mentally prepare yourself for what’s next to come. He peels your panties off, both of you watching the line of slick that stretches then breaks in the process, and when you spread your legs even more for him, his mouth salivates. 

Johnny makes sure you’re looking into his eyes as his tongue licks a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. He wants to be smug at the gasp you let out, but the taste of you shuts his ego up quickly. 

You squeak when you’re suddenly flipped onto your stomach and your ass is lifted up into the air. With yet another broad lick to coat his taste buds with your essence, Johnny buries his face in your pussy. He uses the tip of his tongue to collect the puddle of wetness you’ve produced and smears it over your clit, soon digging  inside to directly stimulate the bundle of nerves. 

Johnny’s lips close around your clit and he sucks on it softly. As the moments pass he gradually sucks harder to the point of you not being able to fight the way your eyes flutter shut and hips push back. He’s nice about the movement, just grabbing your hips to keep you still, soon caressing and kneading. 

“Mm, that feels good,” you compliment. At that very moment, Johnny decides to roll his tongue in up and down motions and apply more pressure behind his hands. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

He prompts you with a hum of his own. 

With how your moans start to get louder and your breath gets quicker and harder, not to mention the tingles you feel building in intensity, you know you’re already close. It’s a beautiful yet frustrating feeling because you don’t want this to end so soon after waiting so long. But you also want him inside of you so bad now.

Johnny comes back up to circle your entrance, and then he goes even higher.

“Are you— fuck,” you groan deeply. 

Your hands grip the pillow your face is buried in and your eyes have found the back of your head again. Johnny just hums at the way you react, the octave of your voice as you let out your sounds of pleasure go straight to his dick. His tongue licks filthily up and down, not leaving an inch untouched nor missing a drop of your juice. His fingers rub your entrance until he slides one in. One becomes two after a few pumps, then his thumb presses into your clit and your back is arched almost uncomfortably.

“Johnny,” you whine again, breath hiccuped. 

“Yes?” he prompts, lifting his head and looking up to see your face peaking around your body, smushed into his pillow still. 

“I wanna cum,” you tell him. It feels too good now. “Fuck, I need to come, Johnny.”

“Then cum for me.” His voice is so gentle yet commanding as his digits speed up. He tongues the skin between your holes sloppily and you try to curl into yourself, your mouth wide opened with no sound coming out of it, your walls clenching madly around the fingers inside of you, and your grip on the cushion is borderline painful.

Johnny helps you ride out your orgasm for as long as possible until your body begins shuddering due to oversensitivity. He gradually slows down to a stop, then removes himself from your body to let you breathe correctly. While he sucks on his fingers, he uses his clean hands to soothingly rub your back, waiting for you to calm back down. 

You’re a bit dazed during the transition of more kissing that leads you on top of him, straddling him once again. You vaguely remember the caresses on your waist or the pinch of his fingers playing with your nipples, but the feeling of your bare pussy dragging against his dick is very memorable because it sparks a desperate need within you to sit on it. 

Johnny’s hands on your hips move you to continue the friction, moving you back and forth on his dick easily. Foreheads connected as you catch your breath from the kiss you just broke away from, the two of you watch silently as his head reappears and disappears behind your lips, turning you both on until he’s fully hard again and you can’t handle him not being inside of you anymore.

You lift up on your knees to align his tip with your entrance. A silent look is exchanged where you ask and he nods once. He lets you take your time, enjoying the feeling of his tip directly rubbing against your sopping entrance.

Your labored breaths at the sensation bring his attention to your chest, and his mouth wraps around a nipple without a thought. By now, you deem his dick wet enough to press his head in your hole and press your hips down. The moment he slides in your head falls back because the stretch burns in the best way. It feels like time doesn’t exist as you work your way down his length, inch by inch. Your hips naturally find a slow rhythm as you lift and drop them to take in more until he slides in and out easily. 

When your features no longer show discomfort, Johnny begins moving with you. Every time he lifts his hips up a little to meet your thrusts his body slumps down the headboard. His hands are loose on your waist as you move your body up and down and he’s got the perfect view of his dick going in and out of your core while you’re controlling the pace and intensity. The muscles in your thighs start to burn, so you slow down to a stop and carefully slide your way down until your clit comes in contact with his pubic bone, resulting in your eyes rolling back, hips grinding on their own accord. 

“How the fuck do you feel this good?” Johnny groans deeply, hands gripping your ass to assist your movements.

His compliment, his hungry, intense gaze as they take you in from your eyes—which mirror his own—down to the trail of slick you’ve left behind on his tamed curls from the swivel of your hips, and the way his cock rubs against your g-spot send you over the edge within moments. Johnny soothingly rubs a cheek with one hand while the other caresses your arched spine, keeping his hips still to let you ride your orgasm out on your own. 

You slump into him, head on his shoulder, panting against his neck. A sigh of content slips out when Johnny hugs you tightly against his broad chest right before asking, “You alright?”

“Great,” you reply breathlessly. 

Johnny smiles at the positive response. He lifts his hips experimentally and gauges your reaction, which is a satisfied hum. 

“You want more?” he asks, hands moving to your hips to carefully grind against him. How could you say no? “Hands and knees, baby.”

You begin climbing off to the side of him then he follows your lead and lifts himself up so you can settle on your knees and bend until your face slides onto his pillow. Your hands grab the sides of it in anticipation. 

A deep groan sounds from behind you, so you crane your neck and see the way he stares down at how he can see everything you have to offer him at this moment. One hand goes to his dick while the other massages one of your cheeks. He runs the swollen tip of his dick along your slit, collecting what’s oozed out. You close your eyes and relax the side of your face into the cushion beneath it and take a breath, preparing yourself for the stretch and intensity this angle never fails to bring.

He slowly starts to breach your entrance. There’s a pause, then you hear him spit down before more of him slips inside of you inch by inch with each roll of his hips. He keeps his movements shallow for a while and your walls reaccept him easily. A particular thrust sends him deep inside of you, his tip just barely kissing your cervix. Your body’s first instinct is to run away from it. His hands on your hips stop you from fleeing, holding you still and rubbing the skin there to ease you. 

“I won’t go too deep,” he tells you, hips still as he kisses up your spine and makes you dizzy by the tenderness of it all. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You nod at his promises and take another steadying breath, then the pleasurable friction is back. You’d believe anything he told you with that intoxicating voice of his. 

A loud, embarrassing squelch comes out of your core when he’s sheathed inside that makes you bury your face into the pillow. There’s one last kiss at the top of your spine before the body heat from his chest is gone and he’s back upright. He finds his rhythm easily, and hands return to your backside, fingers digging into the flesh, no doubt leaving behind white imprints. He uses his grip as leverage to fuck down into you at a different angle that allows him to speed up and rip an unrestrained moan from your throat. 

“You okay?”

You nod violently and sob, “Yes! Oh, my god, yes.”

Content, Johnny hums and you just know he’s grinning down at you by the sound of his voice when he asks: “Feels good?”

“So good,” you whine, unable to close your mouth or stop noises from coming out of it. You begin dropping your hips down to meet his thrusts, the loud smacks of skin against skin echoing and bouncing off of the walls of his room. “Fuck it feels so good, Johnny.”

“I know, baby” he groans. “And this pussy feels so fucking good—shit.”

The two of you get lost in the rhythm you’ve created and no more words are exchanged for a while, just the sound of groans that comes deep from Johnny’s throat and whines and pants that make you drool all while drying your throat out. The room has gotten increasingly hotter and your bodies now shine with a thin, sticky sheen that makes the back of your thighs stick to the front of his own every time he fucks back into you. Your sensitive nipples rub harshly against the sheets, stimulating you even further to the point of another sob ripping out of your throat and your walls fluttering around his girth. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. Your divulgence prompts him to reach his arm under you to graze his fingertips over your engorged clit and then you’re repeating your words over and over again until your actions meet your words and you’re cumming all over him. Your essence drips down the insides of your thighs and his balls and his thrusts create wetter, louder noises. A swivel of your hips causes his dick to pop out and suddenly your body is vibrating. 

“There you go, baby,” Johnny praises you, sliding back into you and precisely hitting that spot within you a few more times until your pussy clenches again and he pulls out again, letting more wetness spray the sheets under you. 

“Look at you,” he continues with a deep chuckle. “Making such a big mess.”

You don’t know if he really meant for you to look but your curiosity gets the best of you and you lift your head and look in between your legs. There’s a dark puddle on his sheets and another whine leaves your body, your head falling back into the pillow. 

“Can you handle more?” Johnny asks you softly, slapping the top of your asscheek with his dick. 

You need more. You don’t know what the hell Johnny has done to you and your body but you feel empty and not satisfied enough. Your core is raw at this point but you want nothing more than to feel the velvety skin of his thick, long dick sliding in and out of you and hitting every spot in you that makes your body convulse again. 

“Please,” you beg, wagging your hips to emphasize your needs. “Please, Johnny.”

“I’ve got you begging now?” He sounds so turned on yet taken aback, another dark laugh vibrating your body at the nod of your head and movement of your body. If you were in your right mind, you would be ashamed of your behavior and submission to your assistant, but you’re not. And who cares when you’ve never felt this way before and crave to feel even more?

“I need it,” you confess without shame. “Need you back inside of me.”

Johnny doesn’t need any more convincing to be back, deep within you and instantly satisfying you again. Your breath stutters and it’s not easy to speak in coherent sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to voice your pleasure and appreciation to the brunet whose self-control only continues to dissolve the faster he slams into you and the higher your voice gets.

Both of your breath patterns get quicker, loud, more erratic, signaling the approach of his first release and your third? Fourth? You can’t keep up with it when your brain has turned into mush and you can barely remember your own name, only his own registering in your brain. His name rolls off of your tongue like a mantra, driving him insane behind you. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he pants. It takes you too long to swallow in an attempt to lubricate your throat and answer him, Johnny humming in question impatiently. 

“My back,” you manage to squeak out. You’re impressed with the amount of control he has, the slamming of his hips into your ass somehow speeding up and getting rougher. Johnny lacks the control and precision from before, and the way his tip kisses your cervix rips a yell out of you, eyes watering as you hold on for dear life. He releases a drawn out groan from deep within, and not too long later you feel ropes of cum land on your lower back and ass.

Your body is shaking. Tears leak out of your eyes, your breath is hard to catch, and quiet cries come out. You’re gently flipped over and pulled into strong arms, quickly finding comfort in the chest you settle into. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Johnny’s soft voice says to you, but you can’t open your eyes or your mouth to acknowledge him. You’re confused about why you’re reacting to this, but you don’t dislike it. Especially when you have Johnny to soothe you and help you calm down. “Are you hurting anywhere?” 

You shake your head and finally try to respond, but it takes a couple of coughs and harsh swallows of spit to do so. “No. I feel good. Everywhere.”

Your speech is choppy, unlike your usual way of speaking, but stringing words into sentences that flow well is too much work right now. Johnny doesn’t mind; he loves that he had that effect on you after you’ve had him under your spell for so long. He loves the fact he successfully kept his promise to you and now you’re boneless in his arms. 

He reaches for the glass of water on his nightstand and hands it to you. “Are you ready for a bath?”

“Can I fall asleep in the bath?” you ask, wiping your face tiredly.

“Sure,” Johnny says softly before setting you down on the dry part of the bed. “I’ll come get you once it’s ready.”

That’s how the rest of the day plays out, you getting taken care of in multiple ways. Your favorite method is with his tongue and fingers as he made out with your pussy for what felt like hours in lieu of an apology for going so hard. And maybe Johnny purposely falls asleep next to you after you’re bathed, fed, and exhausted from coming, curled up into his side in the new sheets because he wants you to stay a little longer. There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get to see this side of you again after today.

“Good morning,” Johnny greets you. It’s eight in the morning the following Monday, and he’s got your avocado toast and fruit in his hands as he walks up to your desk.

You're rummaging through your bag looking for the bobby pins you threw inside of it this morning in your rush to get to work on time because believe it or not, you overslept. You give up in favor of looking up to greet him back, but your voice decides not to come out when your eyes lock with his. There hadn’t been any contact since you woke up in the middle of the night and he walked you to his door with a lingering kiss that quite literally took your breath away to close out the short chapter of your relationship you’d just created. You were still tired, but you definitely were not supposed to sleep over, so it was nothing. 

But now, seeing the same eyes that stared into your own while you came and cried his name multiple times, all you can do is blink. And then he licks his pretty lips. You knew this would happen. You’re not mad at it, though. How could you be when you’d never experienced someone like him before? In hindsight, there was no possible way to go back to normal after the intimacy, tenderness, and raw attraction you shared that day. No possible way to never want another taste. 

“You okay?” he asks unsurely, setting your plates down. 

And here it comes.

“Johnny,” you say lowly, setting your bag down. The quirk in his brow and the corner of his mouth lets you know he’s onto you. And that just makes things easier for you. “Lock the door.”

yikesssssss

[d-dumais-blog]

Keijo!!!!!!!! Review: I Like Big Butts & I Can Not Lie

Keijo is awesome! It’s insanely stupid and yet, somehow it succeeds at nearly everything it attempts. Keijo’s success is quite honestly an anomaly.  A quick glance at premise, studio, and staff would suggest this show should have been forgotten before it even finished airing, and yet somehow it stuck around and resonated with fans, particularly in the West, in a way that no one involved saw coming.  Its success in the West isn’t only a surprise to me, it appears to be a surprise to license holder Funimation that currently has NO merchandise available for purchase. No posters, no key chains, no announced bluray release.  So let’s talk about why it works and why I love it so damn much.

Let’s start with the basics; this show is not for everyone.  Keijo is a show about girls fighting each other in bathing suits using only their boobs and butts atop a variety of floats in an Olympic sized pool. Yes it is as dumb as it sounds. Yes there is an obscene amount of fan service focusing primarily on the girls’ butts.  I completely understand why some people might be turned off by its objectification of the women portrayed.  You might consider the show sexist, and you might consider me sexist for my enjoyment. A quick note on that, I’m a fan of all fan service both male and female.  I’m a straight male with a particular affinity for the female rear end, check the title of this review, but you bet I appreciate some well drawn men in various states of undress.  Anime has the opportunity to unrealistically portray human sexuality and I think artists are free to draw all manner of people however they’d like.  I hope this helps you to understand why I won’t be talking about the sexism debate that surrounded this show.

 Keijo’s fan service is excellent, and a show so focused on fan service would never succeed unless it was good, really good.  The show focuses on a few girls, but has a great ensemble cast full of all sorts of girls of varying shapes, sizes, age, and color.  Two points of clarification, there are very few different colored women, none of which are black, and that’s a bummer, and two while they vary in age all girls in the series are over eighteen years of age which we’ll discuss further down this post.  Back to the subject at hand, how to properly handle “tasteless fan service.” Keijo’s fan service is omnipresent, leaking into every scene.  This means it’s not a major shock when a butt fully envelopes the screen, it’s expected and not even that distracting.  This differs from a majority of shows that feel the need to randomly insert their characters in compromising positions so that the viewer gets a better look at their body.  It’s low hanging fruit but let’s compare this to Sword Art Online, it makes an easy comparison because pretty much everyone has seen it and most know its flaws.  SAO II episode one while introducing new female protagonist Xion pans up her body while she lays down in a sniper position.  The camera literally stops and does a quick zoom on her ass before finishing the shot.  It’s disgusting, it’s distracting, and it feels completely out of place in a show that intends to be about technology and coping with grief.  

The other most important thing about the fan service, aside from the age, is the fact that all of the girls are complicit in the fan service.  They might be shy, and a bit embarrassed, but they are never forced into a compromising situation against their will.  There seems to be this prevailing idea in anime that anime characters are cuter if they are pure, but we also need to see them without clothes on because of course we do.  This results in a number of horrible tropes that need to stop, the most prevalent, light novel guy walks in on light novel girl changing.  It’s almost always the establishing shot for their relationship over the series and I just hate it.  The other trope is somehow even worse, girls in fan service shows need to stop being raped! People generally consider Asuna’s rape scene in the second arc of Sword Art to be the beginning of the decline which is absurd considering Silica was sexually assaulted by a plant in the first twelve episodes and no one seemed to care.  It’s so gross and so often over looked.  There’s nothing wrong with a girl being okay showing her body, and if an anime character is going to be undressed, I hope that character is willfully undressed. This goes a long way to help make your characters actual characters and not simply objects.  I think the girls are surely still being objectified, but there’s a difference between looking at a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and looking at leaked celebrity nude photos.  The context matters and Keijo gets the context right.  Our secondary protagonist Miyata even admits that she started Keijo because she wanted a cute swimsuit made custom for her and I think that’s something all of the viewers would also like!

 This show did far better in the west than in Japan, and that’s largely thanks to the way it was adapted. Xebec isn’t exactly known for its great adaptations; in fact I’d argue they generally suck.  Their best known for To Love Ru and Shaman King; two shows that don’t do a lot to improve upon their source material.  Most recently they were responsible for the horribly bad Clockwork Planet.  Apparently that’s actually a pretty good light novel, which should be no surprise considering it’s written by Kamiya Yuu, the celebrated author of No Game No Life. I can’t speak to the actual quality of the Clockwork Planet books because the first episode of the show turned me off of anything that has to do with it.  Point being adaptation is not a strength of Xebec, hell Xebec doesn’t honestly have a ton of strengths aside from their willingness to get smuttier than other studios if that’s your thing.  

This is entirely different in Keijo, the adaptation is immaculate, and makes it far more appealing to a western audience.  For starters, the anime skips the entire first arc where our two female leads are still in high school and under the age of 18.  The girls first appear in their bathing suits in the anime after entering the Keijo training school.  In the manga there are multiple battles that take place before this while the girls are learning Keijo for the first time at the stadium event shown at the start of the first episode.  This arc is also gross for western fans for a number of reasons on top of age.  For some reason at this point in the manga guys are allowed to compete in these non official Keijo matches.  Guys of course only compete for the opportunity to rub up against girls in swimwear.  Girls who, I’ll reiterate again because it’s important, at this point are underage.  There’s also a ton of guys in this manga, which is weird considering there’s really only one in the anime and he’s less of a creep more of a sports fan.  The men in the Keijo manga come to watch and gamble on Keijo and are depicted as perverse onlookers.  Nozomi’s teacher is one such male who has a gambling addiction and comments on his underage student’s physique more than once. The anime made the right decision removing him from the series.  This first arc also has an extremely uncomfortable and short lived love interest in the form of Nozomi’s brother.  They might actually be cousins, the translation I read wasn’t exactly clear on that, but still something western audiences always frown upon.  His feelings are never reciprocated by our star Nozomi, but the whole situation is uncomfortable, especially since he’s eager to jump in and battle her in her first mock Keijo match.  There’s also more preliminary try outs the anime totally skips and that’s to the show’s benefit because again the girls are underage, and it cuts out a plethora of characters that don’t matter at all.  The adaptation also does a great job with its references, choosing series that are particularly popular in western fandom. Attack on Titan and Fate/Stay Night are popular around the world, but really struck a chord in the states and Keijo very obviously references these shows multiple times to great effect. Other references to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, One Piece, and Dragon Ball are all also greatly appreciated and largely absent from the manga.  

Keijo performed very well in weekly viewership numbers, both legally and illegally, but was quickly written off by most.  Everyone who watched it seemed to enjoy it, but wrote it off as “just another fan service show” and that’s unfair.  It stands out among its peers, and should be celebrated as such.  It was ranked the fifth most popular show according to Myanimelist, beating out shows with more popular appeal in pedigree like Occultic;Nine, Izetta the Last Witch, and season 2 of Ajin.  It also beat out several truly spectacular shows in Sound Euphonium season 2, Flip Flappers, and the fifth season of Natsume’s Book of Friends. This wouldn’t have happened if it was “just another fan service show.” If you’re still in need of proof that season had just another an service show, it was Brave Witches, a fairly tasteless follow up to a reasonably successful show about young flying military girls who don’t wear pants for some unknown reason.  People talk about Keijo as if it’s like Brave Witches, and no one talks about Brave Witches because no one cares.  It might be easy to right it off if you don’t watch a lot of fan service shows, but let me tell you Keijo is special.  I’ve lived in Trash Mountain for some time and am an expert in awful anime fan service, please don’t compare Keijo to that garbage; it’s far too good for that. Keijo is excellent! End of statement, no caveats no excuses, it’s really great.  The show is easily the best thing director Takahashi Hideya has ever helmed. It’s arguably the best series Xebec has ever produced solo, inarguably the best this decade.  I love Keijo, and I hope someday fans look back on it with the respect it earned.  

 8.5/10

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: GM 77 - DET - Us

I was listening to the Beyond the Blade Podcast yesterday before this game. Chad and Bill joked about how even during these truly rough times the Buffalo Sabres still pull us in: It was Lawrence Pilut’s call up and now it was Victor Olofsson’s call up. Here I am thinking long after the bleakness threshold and several games after this team was mathematically eliminated that I might miss a good Sabres game. Two games ago I kicked myself for skipping the Sabres game. I don’t know how to feel about this game. On one hand it saw the Sabres climb back from two, two goal deficits. On the other hand, it plays like all the season’s greatest disappointments like a best hits album: the opposition scored first, the opposition had more powerplay opportunities, when the Sabres did score it was mostly guys who haven’t scored much, when the Sabres did come back to tie it again in the third they forced overtime just to lose it. The highlight of this game is easily Jack Eichel looking Victor Olofsson in the eye and yelling “fucking right.” If by fucking right he means “fucking right I might have some good wingers in my future” or “fucking right the Amerks are going to win a Calder Cup” then amen! However, I think we’re all losing faith in this organization more and more by the day now. If it hadn’t been for Olofsson’s call up and (chuckles) Matt Tennyson’s call up, then the majority of the social media discussion before, during and after this game would have been about the circular logic of hiring a President of Hockey Operations. I weighed in on that conversation a couple days ago when it wasn’t dominating Sabres twitter and now it turned into some kind of all-roads-lead-to fuck the Pegulas somehow. I gave most of last game’s post to the Pegula’s comments, so I really don’t want to hyper analyze how what they said reveals certain leadership qualities or flaws of reasoning. If you think they can’t do a good job and will only continue to do a bad job as owners then what’s your recourse? In real life there are useless conversations, but I don’t know if twitter knows that. Either way, its easy to not have a lot of confidence in this team getting better over the summer and next season considering now they’re effectively tanking and will not even reach the minimum preseason expectations we had for them. It would seem we’ve decided as a fanbase here that Jason Botterill stood by all season and watched his team sink and his coach go down with the ship. It’s going to take a bang-up summer to restore faith in this organization again. Unfortunately, we won’t know that for a while, we’re still five games away from the end of the season. Until then, let’s talk about this game.

The shots were pretty even throughout the game except when the Sabres outshot Detroit in the second period. I mention this only because the Sabres should level a team like the Wings but here we are having just lost to the Senators and Detroit is only four points back. All expectations for this team have been killed or died a slow, agonizing death last month. Speaking of agonizing death, I saw Jordan Peele’s new horror “Us” during this game last night. Much like this game the movie involved dapple-gangers who look identical to the ones you love but actually suck. Don’t worry, I won’t write any spoilers here but trust me, it goes about as well as the Sabres season has gone. Buffalo found themselves down 2-0 a minute into the second period and then some dude tripped Johan Larsson and the Sabres on the powerplay. Kyle Okposo doesn’t score much but when he does he tries to look as much like Alex Ovechkin as possible. He got the puck in the circle all alone and rocketed one home past Jimmy Howard. For the first time in a few games the Sabres looked to have a little fight in them as the middle frame went on and Marco Scandella, whose recent scoring surge maybe attributable to breaking up with his girlfriend… yikes, Sabres twitter really sucks when the team is ass. Anyway, Marco Scandella gets the puck from Zemgus Girgensons in a quick pass that was too fast for Howard and launches the equalizer into the net. This game had some pretty weird stuff in it as you can see. Just like the villainous dapple-gangers in Us the people red came for business and Tyler Bertuzzi, on top of getting two goals and an assist, went around like a murderer. If you want a headshot photo that is quintessential hockey than look to his.

Dylan Larkin singe-handedly lifted Detroit into the lead again in the third. Two goals that utilized some skill but mainly poor defending by the Sabres got Detroit to 4-2 with five minutes left in regulation. That would seem like a great place to end a recap of the March Sabres but this game sprinkled just a tiny dollop of November Sabres in and what felt like a comeback ensued. First Jeff Skinner sliced a great pass in front of the Red Wings net to Casey Mittelstadt who proceeded to do his best impression of November Jeff Skinner. Casey held onto the puck for a hot second, did a little figure-skating spin and fired it past Howard to make the game 4-3. If Mittelstadt and Skinner didn’t joke about how Skinner-like that goal was afterwards than they’re no fun. Less than a minute later Victor Olofsson was carrying the puck along the right wall entering Detroit’s zone when he got it out to the middle of the ice where Jack Eichel was somehow all by himself. Eichel did Eichel and fired it past the netminder to even the game at 4. Victor Olofsson said in a pregame interview that he thinks he’s good enough to play at this level. If he keeps playing like that he will be. The guy hasn’t practiced with Eichel since Training Camp and registers his first NHL point as the first Sabres 7th round pick to play for the big club since… the George W administration? I don’t recognize the guy before him at all. Either way, the game was tied and went to overtime. That reminds you of a more joyous time doesn’t it? Well, drink that in and fantasize because this Sabres game happened in March not November. The Buffalo Sabres lost this game 5-4 in Overtime like the twist at the end of Us. That was the first point in five games and yet again we are at a fifth straight loss. I won’t be looking up how that puts the Sabres historically because I don’t want to be sad anymore than I already am about this team.

Well last night’s game was a little easier than the last few to write about I have really struggled writing these lately. I think it’s clear to see why but we’re just too close to the end for me to stop now, eh? I was laying in bed last night wondering if I should make the whole post a big Us review but I decided against that seeing a couple of the Sabres plays in this game. I did want to carry through one of the big metaphors in Us into this postgame thought. Jordan Peele did a great job loading his film with meaning and one of those themes was us versus them. When it comes to the Sabres right now I see a lot of us talking ourselves into corners: whether it be about the Pegulas like I mentioned earlier or whether it be about a President of Hockey Ops or a coaching replacement. When we’re mad at the team we separate ourselves from it and blame the shit out of them running it. That’s not wrong but when the team is doing good its very much an Us thing. This team is not us versus them. This team isn’t even us versus another NHL team anymore, the chance for improvement this season is basically gone. As we struggle to deal with another lost season I can’t help but remind us that being paid to handle this team only makes you more invested in its outcomes. You don’t need to shit on these guys non-stop to show your disapproval of this state of affairs. They know. They’re certainly looking for answers now. That said, Phil Housley definitely needs to get fired, eh? Like, comment and share this blog around if you want to make being a Sabres fan easier for one of your friends today! I can’t imagine I make it harder to be a Sabres fan, right? That’s it for today. Let’s Go Buffalo!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. I didn’t do Playoff Trash talk for Ottawa and now Detroit too? Well fuck it. None of them or us are going to the playoffs and frankly I don’t have it in me.

[moonbelt]

»supernova

↳ soulmate au | somewhat best-friends to lovers au

⇢ pairing: bambam | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + soft angst

⇢ word count: 7.432

⇢ authors note: as i have realized, i am a complete and utter fool for soulmate aus lmaoo

You were pretty sure that the voice in your head was out to get you. Not only was it sarcastic, a smartass, incredibly witty, never really helped in answering any internal monologues, it was also the voice of your supposed soulmate.

Not that you actually believe that because there was no way your soulmate was someone that took pride in you falling out of a tree and breaking your nose when you were seven. You'll never forgive that treachery.

Although, you guess there were a few perks about having the voice in your head. For starters, you were never truly alone. When you needed to hash out at someone, the voice became useful. He always had a comeback, no matter how small. Whenever you needed to gloat about something, he was there too. And surprisingly he was also good at getting you to calm down when things got too much.

You realize that you're listing out many good qualities and nothing that's truly irredeemable. Back to the matter though, you didn't even know if the voice was but a simple figment of your imagination. Instead, you decided to believe in something greater.

In any case, the point of the present situation is that right now you're ridiculously pissed off. Like you're ready to get a baseball bat and whack the air until you've released all your pent-up frustrations. It'll be better, you muse, than heading back to your dorm and eating junk food till you pass out. Not that that's a bad idea but you promised yourself during New Years to practice healthier habits and truth be told, healthier life habits suck.

"I can feel your anger all the way up from here. What's up, Princess?" You've long stopped trying to get him to stop calling you that.

"Nothing," you huff, stomping your feet on the ground and planting your butt on one of the park's benches.

There's a snort and then the voice says back, sounding highly amused: "that doesn't sound like nothing."

You roll your eyes at him and wish he could see it. "And how would you know that?"

You're sure that if he was in front of you, you'll be able to see him shake his head with a tsk sound and his lips quirked up into a smirk. It's just one of those things you know even though you've never seen him.

"Because I can literally feel everything you emotionally feel, [y/n]."

Same goes for you though. You can feel almost everything that he feels or what you think he feels. But he never likes talking about himself, at least not as much as you like talking about yourself. Clearly, you're more of the talker in this relationship. Bambam is always here to listen no matter how stupid the issue seems to be. You won't ever admit it to him but he does help with rationalizing your thoughts. Especially considering how you over analyze almost anything.

You sigh into your chest, taking in the deep January air. "It's really nothing. I'm just... can you believe I bombed that test yesterday? I got a freaking C. You know how I thought I did pretty good on it? Well, I just got smacked in the fucking face. If I don't get an A in all the remaining exams then I'm doomed. How—"

"Getting a C isn't exactly bad, [y/n]," he voices out. "It's your first test, you've never taken this Professor before. It's normal that you didn't do that well on it."

"Yeah, okay. But I studied my ass off, Bam," you sniff your nose a little bit. "If I can't even get a B on the first exam then how am I going to get it later in the semester?"

Bambam sighs lowly and for a minute you wish he was there next to you. Not just in your head. Every time you talked to him like this, all it did was fuel you into thinking that maybe he wasn't your soulmate. You couldn't feel anything exponential. Not through this. All you felt were thoughts, the kind of things he liked, the fact that he broke his arm once while riding his bike. But nothing that screamed hey: this is The One!

"Princess, it's not as bad as that. Think of it this way; now that you've seen how your teacher poses questions, you'd know how to study better."

“Yeah, but now I have to work extra-extra hard to get a better grade and I’m already exhausted. Tell me Bam, why did I decide that Political Science was the major for me?”

A snicker threatens to break Bambam’s resolve but he masks it, albeit skillfully,  with a cough. “I’m exhausted too. Everything is so hard these days, but you know what wouldn't be hard?”

Your mind perks up at that. “What?”

“Getting an A on the next exam.”

"I guess...” you're really thankful for such a friend like Bam, but you're still a tidbit irritated at yourself. “I'm still mad though. I know I could have done better if I had just... I don't know what I could've done better but there must have been something." 

"Yeah. Something like sleep?"

You furrow your eyebrows and when you remember that he cant see it, you say. "Explain."

Imagining him staring down at you in a sort of deadpan stare, his voice rings out. "You barely sleep when you have an exam. It's like you're running on cans on cans of energy drinks and caffeine. Healthy habits be damned."

"Hey," you sit up abruptly on the bench, the air whipping your nose furiously. "That's a low blow."

He knows how bad you’ve been trying to keep this particular New Year resolution. Although you flunked out of going to the gym three days a week, you barely use your bike to go anywhere anymore, and the only healthy thing you’ve been doing is cutting junk food out of your daily diet — a fact that Bam knows all too well. 

"Is it?" He taunts. "You basically keep me up all night and into the morning with your ramblings because you're cramming."

"It's for the greater good of my grades."

"Sure it is."

Reluctantly, you get up from the bench and throw your cold fingers into your coats pockets. You feel way better than you had when you started the journey back to your dorm. In fact, it was instances like this that made the whole wanting-a-soulmate epidemic make sense.

Of course, anyone would want someone that could calm them down when they're thought to be inconsolable. It was the stuff written in fairytales that had no real reason to be in real life but found it's way in anyway. You'd heard and read about soulmates hearing each other's voices in their heads, a passive indicator that only left the minute you finally met them physically.

You and Bam had never discussed actually meeting each other. Maybe because it made it more real than any of you could handle. There was so much pressure. As if the minute the two of you connected eyes everything will suddenly align in the World.

Right now with him being the voice in your head, it was safe. Safe was better than uncertain. You don't know what you'll do if Bam's presence suddenly vanished from your life. It's not something you want to think about.

You don't realize that he's been trying to gain your attention until he yells, rather loudly too considering he's literally taking home in your brain.

"Hey, [y/n]? Listen to me!" He wails and you scoff at his antics, finally dragging yourself to pay him attention.

"What, the stupid voice in my head?"

He chooses to ignore your jab and instead asks you a question of his own. "Where are you right now?"

"Outside," you answer almost immediately.

"Well, look up at the stars," and after a beat, he adds. "Please."

You scrunch your nose together as you sigh exaggeratedly to yourself. You don't particularly like stars. Mainly because they embody something unattainable and you guess they are beautiful but the point still stands. They get to stay all the way up there while you look from down here and it rubs your nerves wrong. To be a star must be so lonely, you think, to just watch and watch but never interact.

You know it's nothing but petty resentment but you can't help but feel a certain way when you see them. They represent almost everything you're not: amply beautiful and indescribably phenomenal. And as pretentious as that sounds, you'd rather feel like that than feeling as if most of your efforts are amounting to nothing. Frankly, you hate this feeling.

Contrary to how you feel, you angle your head up and look up at the few yet blinding lights that stream along the night sky. Pretty. Really damn pretty and before you can stop yourself, you take out your phone and snap a landscape photo of them.

"Okay, are you looking?"

"Yep. Can I ask why you want me to do this?"

There's a pause and you think Bambam is gathering his thoughts and trying to find a way to work them out properly. You dunk your phone back into your pocket and wait for him to say something. You see, with Bambam you can never be to forward or pushy, unlike the way he handles you.

Bambam prefers to talk about what he wants when he wants without feeling pressured to, you feel the same way too, but he knows you'd rather cave into yourself than actually let anyone in. Bam lets you in, slowly but assuredly.

"I'm looking at the stars right now too. So, technically we're doing this together."

You're not sure if what he said is supposed to make your heart beat a little bit faster but it does. You suck in a deep breath and let yourself look at the stars more closely. "That sounds really romantic."

"That's kind of what I was going for," he doesn't feel anything like embarrassment.

"Well, congratulations, babe. You succeeded."

It's pretty rare that you feel any sort of silence when you're awake so now that it falls over the two of you, providing a blanket from the rest of the world, you're not sure what to say. You want to ask him if it would be truly horrible if the both of you meet face to face. You've heard his voice for a decade and then some. It shouldn't be this hard to—

"Do you think it would've been better if we had a timer?"

Your brain stutters to get back into its groove, so it takes a while before you ask. "What do you mean?"

"Like you know one of those things that tell how long until you meet your soulmate or something."

"You mean like the ones in the movies?" You say incredulously. "What's the point of knowing when you'll meet your soulmate? Doesn't guarantee you'd actually end up together forever."

He hums to himself a bit before he agrees. "True... but at least you'd know it's real and concrete. With us, it just feels like..." his voice trails off but this time he fails to complete his sentence.

Any other thing and you wouldn't have pestered him about it. But this, you have to know. "What? Say it. It feels like what."

"It feels like running into something we don't know. After all, you could be something I conjured up. If I had a timer then it'll mean that at least we're destined to meet. And that maybe you're out there actually looking at the stars like you say you are."

You bite your lower lip, understanding where he's coming from but it still stings your heart a little. Actually, no. It stings a lot. Just a few minutes ago you'd been thinking the same thing: if Bambam really existed. But you'd been naïve to think he wouldn't be doing the same.

"Do you think we should do it?" You manage to ask against the tepid beating of your heart.

"Do what?" If the voice in your head could whisper, he would be doing so right now.

For as much as you dislike stars and all they portray, you take another glance at the sky. Maybe to calm your nerves? Maybe to fuel you to take the next step? Because if you don't do it now when the heck would you ever?

Then you watch as a star peals itself neatly from the dark sky and lands softly into your hands. And that's when you feel it. The exponential thing. The thing you've been searching for. It lights your body and sets everything it touches into a mass of blundering confusion but it also gives you that push. The push to say what you truly mean and want.

During times like this, you end up saying things you ordinarily wouldn't. Without even noticing how it's happening, you open up your heart and just start talking to the person inside of you.

"Let's meet up somewhere. Like, for real this time." After a moment you add. "We should play an active role in this."

"Explain."

"We don't need a stupid timer. The universe already did her part in putting you in my head when I was seven. I think she's done enough for us." You say as you blink a few times at the cold and restart the walk back to your dorm again. "The rest is up to me and you."

A beat passes before he speaks. "What if we're not even in the same city, let alone the same state or—"

"Bam, we've literally known each other for twelve years. I know what university you go to; it's the one about an hour and a half from mine. I highly doubt that's too far for us to meet each other."

"You really want to do this?" There's uncertainty painting his voice. "We can't go back if we do meet each other and find out we're soulmates."

Go back to what? If you really are soulmates, doesn't that make it better? If it is what you think it is. Then why on earth would you want to go back to this? The reason why you’ve been apprehensive all this time was that... what if you're not soulmates? What if you've spent the last five years having a crush on someone that doesn't even exist? That's what truly has you afraid.

According to your parents who also had the honors of being able to hear their soulmates before they actually met them: Once you and the person in your head exchanged words in the confinements of real life, their voice in your head will vanish. Before you didn't really care about this minor — used to be insignificant — fact. Because you didn't believe that the boy in your head that called you 'princess,' was going to be anything but the voice in your head.

But as the years went by, you admit, you began to wish for it to be true. For him to really be out there like he says he is. Your dorm slowly comes into your view and you sigh in relief. It's so cold outside and you're ready for some warmth.

You’d tried before to arrange the two of you to meet each other physically but something was always trying to prevent that. School trips, exams, family vacations, friends... life. But this time you find yourself pushing the words out, no matter how small, this time you don't think you want to settle for a ‘maybe.’

"I really want us to do this," you finally say. "We won't know anything unless we try."

His response doesn't come immediately, in fact for a moment you're scared it will never come at all and that he’ll skillfully change the topic. 

"I guess you're right, Princess. I'm just hoping that..." but unlike the other times, Bambam doesn't complete his train of thought. At least not to you.

You wait for him though. As you climb the stone steps that lead to your dorm, you wait for him. Because he's not good with pushy people and you've already pushed him enough to agree to meet you. Although, you do know that he wouldn't have even given the idea the light of day if he didn't want it a little bit. 

That pacifies you more than you can say. He wanted to see you and even if nothing else came out of this, at least you could say you tried. 

You slot the key into your room door and jack it open. Your roommate doesn't get back home until hours later, so you don't bother notifying her that you’re back. Instead, you trudge into your room and land in a heap on your bed. You figure you've waited a long enough time.

"Bam, what are you hoping for?"

You know he's listening and that he's still up there in your head. You can still feel his presence — a little pressure at the back of your head that feels satisfyingly comforting — so by deduction, you also know that he doesn't want to answer the question. So, it doesn't come as much of a surprise when he sighs deeply and you know that if he was in front of you, he'd shoot you a smile to ease the tension straining in your chest. Now, you wonder how his smile would look like.

"Goodnight, Princess."

It's really rare that you ever feel completely alone and this time is one of them. He's gone, retreated back to himself and you're left with only the residual moments. You stuff your face into a pillow and scream until you run out of breath. The sound comes out muffled and strangled but it helps elevate your mood to a higher degree, regardless how little.

Maybe this is wrong? Maybe he already has someone and that's why he's not fully on board with seeing you? You know that's impossible because Bambam tells you everything. Or at least, you think to yourself, almost everything. Imagine if you've been crushing on him for five — almost six — years all on your own. Oh God, the horror.

It takes weeks and weeks of failed planning before Bambam finally agrees to set a date for the two of you to meet. In fact, he barely has the time to talk to you anymore. You don't call him out on his bullshit excuses only because you get highly embarrassed after every attempt. 

He is not surprisingly "very busy," these days and doesn't have the time to talk that much. You know, it's him trying to put distance between you and him but you don't know why and it drives you up the wall.

The place that the two of you agreed on is somewhere between the half-mark between the two of your universities. It's one of the really huge shopping districts in the area and has the best food. You remember some time ago telling Bam about the place and how bad you wanted to go. You don't necessarily want to admit, but it fills you with something akin to immeasurable happiness when he remembers this seemingly little detail.

You watch amusedly as your friend, Mark, attempts to help you pick something out to wear. Mark is a great friend. If you had to choose anyone else closer to you than Bam, Mark would be it. Mark was usually a very quiet person, given the occasion. But got infused by the God of Words whenever it came to the topic of your supposed-soulmate. He seems more excited about this meeting than you are and that says something. 

"Ah," he says now. "Wear that shirt. You know the shirt I’m talking about right? The one that makes your eyes pop? You know, the one."

Okay, so just because he gets help from the God of Words occasionally doesn't mean his sentences come out coherently.

You shake your head as you snicker to yourself. "What shirt? I've got like a thousand —"

He pulls the particular shirt from your wardrobe drawer and waves it in your face like a flag."This one! Take, wear it."

"So bossy," you remark but do as he says. "Also quick question."

"Shoot."

"You don't think I'm stupid, do you? For doing this? Meeting with someone I don't know and expecting something more. Like what if this is all a joke fate is playing on me."

Mark gives you a look of understanding laced with undoubting resolve. You see, Mark is a sucker for the soulmate epidemic. He hasn't found his own yet but he knows his soulmate is out there. If the name on his wrist is anything to go by. He doesn't particularly believe in the system but he definitely believes in the name printed on his body. You would too if you had one.

"Wrong. You do know him, better than anyone else, I think. And the situation isn't that bad. Maybe not the most ideal, but either he's your soulmate or he's not."

Either he's your soulmate or not. Right, you're just hoping for everything good in the world that he is.

"I hate that you’re right," you sigh out. "Give me a minute." You disappear into the bathroom and change your shirt into the one Mark suggested.

It does look good on you, he's right about that. But you still fumble with the corners of it, nervous. You wish Mark could come with you but that defeats the purpose. Besides, Mark is pretty occupied these days with someone else.

He doesn't talk about the person that much but when he does, his smile looks brighter than you remember. You wonder a little if it's his soulmate... probably. He tells you close to nothing about the person, only that he's "working on it," whatever that means.

You walk out of the bathroom and show Mark how you look. He nods, giving you a thumbs up. "Knew it," he smiles as he passed you one of the coats lying on your bed.

You slip it on and look at yourself in the mirror. You're still nervous but at least you look pretty good. Rather look amazing and feel like a cluster of nerves than the opposite. You pick your boots off the floor and proceed to hustle them on.

"Don't worry about the soulmate thing, [y/n]." Mark breaks the silence. "Think of it as meeting your online friend... or something."

"Thanks," you say and mean it.

You think the topic of conversation has ended as you run your hand through your hair, doing your best to calm yourself. In fact, Mark walks with you outside as you wait for your Uber to arrive and your mind has already picked something else to fret over.

Using the tip of your foot, you kick stones on the floor and watch them fly across the street. You're about to continue the endeavor when Mark finally speaks up again.

"You mind if I say something?"

Your head snaps up and your lips pull into a frown. "Go ahead."

"Don't just see. Your soulmate is more than how they look. It's how their eyes light when they smile, how much they care and have compassion for you and others. It's different things that add up to make them much more attractive."

You're not sure where he's coming from but you pay attention to his words because he knows something. You don't know much about Mark's soulmate mark but you know it's not the first one he had. You know his first one had ended among stardust, something to be forgotten about with someone else.

"Sometimes the system is shit but usually it's pretty right. So, don't give up on them before you've even met them."

"Thanks, Mark," his words hit somewhere deep in your chest and it stays there. "I needed that."

The Uber driver pulls up and before you can think of anything else, Mark is pushing you forward. For a moment, you're tempted to remain here and not go and find the voice in your head. But this is your chance! it's the only time that you truly think you'd be able to go through with this. Bam is the childhood friend you've never seen, how hard can it be to finally meet him.

You take in a deep breath, pulling the car door open and strengthening your resolve. You're doing everything you can on your end, everything else is up to the universe to discover and work its magic... hopefully. At least, that’s what you're hoping for.��

The shopping district is packed. Completely full. If it were any smaller, it would be pouring out unto the streets. Actually, wait, people are on the streets. It's humongous and for a moment you wonder how the fuck you're supposed to find Bam. Especially now that he wasn't answering your incessant cries for him to hear you. 

There’s a low thrumming in your chest, you cant really believe that it's finally happening. You’ve waited so long for this and now that the moment is here, you can feel the hairs on your neck standing at attention like you would know the second your eyes connect with him that it's him.

"Bam!" You manage to duck around a group of high schoolers that have no sense of boundaries and get back on the sidewalk. "Hey! Answer me! Where are you?"

It takes several moments and even more almost near-death instances with other passerby's before he finally hears you.

"[y/n]?"

"No, who else is the voice inside your head Bambam."

There's a laugh, no matter how small, that leaves his lips and it soothes your bones. You stop moving and find a corner near one of the numerous shoe stores and lean on one of the cream-colored pillars. You’re anxious. Actually, no. You are agitated. There are so many things that could go wrong, so many things out of your control —

"Where are you?" He asks as if you hadn't asked the same question mere seconds ago. "I just got here."

Sweat lines your brows as you look around and notice a few landmarks beside you and narrate them to him. He clicks his tongue in agreement and you assume he's on his way over. Wow, your heart is starting to pound faster than you thought possible. 

He lets out a worried chuckle. "Are you nervous?"

"As fuck."

"Do you think being soulmates is all that is cracked up to be? What if it's all a scam and they're all just pretending and we’re just going to get disappointed?”

You think back to Mark's words and the feelings bubbling in your chest. If this isn't what being a soulmate is, then what is? You don't care how Bam looks, you don't care about Bam’s flaws. Not when you know them by heart already.  You just want to meet the boy that makes you believe that there is a deeper meaning of stars. You just want to meet the person that's kept you afloat for so many years.

"I don't know Bam. I just really really want to meet my best friend.”

His breath hitches and a smile tugs at your lips. “You’ve never said that out loud before.”

“But I think it. I think it all the time.”

“You’re my best friend too, Princess. Hardly any competition,” he says with calming certainty but you already know. 

Neither of you have ever said the titles aloud to each other because there was never a reason to. It had become one of those things that just happened.

Wrapping your arms around your waist as a quick breeze moves by, you breathe out. “I think being soulmates is more than we can understand."

Bambam doesn't say anything in response but you think that if you could see him, he would be nodding his head. Not in agreement but not in disagreement either. You can't help but think that maybe Bam likes you better as a best friend than as a soulmate. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that since they both get love in their own respective ways. But you're not sure you can take being just a friend... not when you're finally taking the initiative to be something extra.

Another sharp breeze whizzes past and you watch amusedly a few people shriek as they try to rein in their hair and children. You're about to bend down and re-lace your shoe to help curb your nervousness when you feel the first drops of unsuspected rain. Shit, the weather forecast said today was supposed to be clear skies. That's why you and Bam agreed to meet today, that was also why there are so many people here on a Thursday. That’s why—

 Today is supposed to be a good day.

"Bam, what are you wearing?" You say just as he says,"I'm here!"

You don't know what you were expecting. Maybe the skies will crack open and a dove will fly down and tell you exactly who you came all the way here for but nothing like that happens. In fact, the only thing the sky is cracking is a dark and loud thunder. You push yourself off the pillar, trying to find something — anything — amidst the frenzied crowd. 

"Is that you in the yellow beanie?" His voice comes out in frantic pants and you think maybe he ran here. "The red one? Black?"

"I'm not wearing a beanie. Are you in a leather jacket? A coat? What are you wearing?"

"Uh, um, it's a brown coat. Reaches somewhere near my knees. What about y—"

"I can't see anyone in a brown coat—" you get rudely awakened when someone bumps hard into your side and you trip over your feet, but before your face can come in contact with the ground, someone graciously reaches out and steadies you.

She looks like she’s also in a hurry and doesn't even wait for you to thank her before she's back on her way. You still shout your gratitude and hope she knows it's for her. You're not paying attention to in front of you and just as you whip your head around to keep searching for Bambam, you run into someone else. Something goes off in your head as you repeatedly bend your head and apologize to the person, cursing yourself for being so out of it. 

"Bam, I'm in a blue coat. It's three sizes too big, my hair is a mess, I have my phone out and I'm waving like a mad woman," when you realize that you've gone too long without him interrupting you, you ask almost solemnly and with an almost dejected feeling in your chest. "Bam?"

That's when you feel it. That sense of being utterly alone that you don’t want to ever feel. You feel it now and you know this is wrong. So incredibly wrong. You whip your head back, looking for the person you bumped into.

This cannot be happening. Where is he? He was right there, wasn’t he? Why can't you remember anything about him? Why can’t you see him?

Browncoatbrowncoatbrowncoat.

You felt it. It was sharp and it was loud and it ripped your walls apart and it felt like your mind was being dowsed in cold water, again and again, and again. It felt like the first time when you were seven years old and suddenly the voice in your head came in without a filter. It felt strikingly beautiful and now it’s gone.

This shouldn't be happening... but it is. Rain droplets are falling down faster and people are hurdling around, heading to their cars, entering empty stores but you can't do that. You have to find him. You swear on everything that you are, that you just met him and this shouldn't be happening. Things weren't supposed to take a turn this way. He was right in front of you and you didn't —

Is this it?

Pushing through the decreasing crowd, you try to find something you don't even know. Is he looking for you? You don't know if you should scream his name and hope it reaches him. He couldn't have gone that far if he'd felt what you felt. 

You're begging the universe now. You'd done your part, it wasn't supposed to be like this. He was real, he is here. You should be able to find him, you have to be able to find him. Everything hurts as your mind runs thoughts into each other, drawing up blanks, muddling into themselves. Nothing is helping because as the pain increasingly gets worse, so is swelling in your chest. Like you'd finally found it. That thing that everyone's been talking about. That stupid, damned soulmate epidemic. And like you’d stupidly allowed it to slip right through your fingers and —

"Please, please, please... The system, the universe, whatever you are... I believe in you even though I do not fully understand you, but you can't do this. You can't wind me up to this point and then laugh right in my fucking face."

You're ridiculously on edge now and you're pushing forward in the crowd. Looking, scanning. Bam said he'd dyed his hair blonde-silver weeks ago. You look for any sign. Anything that points to him. You're not even sure about your next course of action when something else catches the corner of your eye.

There's someone else you see that's dividing the crowd away. Everyone else is moving one way; out of the rain but he... he's different. There's a sort of unadulterated fear and glint in his eyes and for a second your heart stops.

It's like looking into a mirror. Truly a moment in time that you would never be able to forget, not that you'd ever want to, but its the principle of the thing. You weren't even a hairsbreadth next to each other, weren't sharing a kiss, weren't even exchanging words, but the unexplainable intimacy that skittered and burst between the two of you as you wordlessly and hopelessly locked into each other's gaze was intangible. It choked around your chest and demanded to be felt and you did. You suddenly feel like you can sense everything and anything all at once.

I feel you around me even though I can't exactly describe what I'm feeling.

Your legs are moving before you realize it and you shouldn't be crying like this. Tears shouldn't be streaming down your face, mixing with the rain. You shouldn't feel as warm as you do under such circumstances but you do. Oh god, you do. You've been told that you're an ugly-crier but you can't stop the heart wrecking sounds leaving your lips because you can just tell.

Intimacy is not something defined by purely physical attraction. It's the act of connecting with someone so deeply, you feel like you can see into their soul, you'd read this somewhere and how right the person had been.

Fourteen-years-old you that had begun to fall for the voice in her head is over the moon, begging the universe to not bring her down. The present you is on a train wreck. Piecing things about yourself you'd never bothered to do before.

Your mind keeps going back to the person who tells you when you're on some bullshit and smacks sense into you. The person that knows how to calm you down during times you don't think you can. The person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. The person that has always been there. That's what your soulmate means to you; the person who shows you everything that's holding you back.

A few months — heck, a few days — ago, you would have never come to this realization. That Bam simply is the most important person you'll ever meet. There's no dispute about it, nothing you can say that would change how you feel at this moment.

He's standing in front of you and you know you've forgotten how to breathe. How can you? When everything you've heard in your mind has to have led you to this moment. This moment that the two of you have been so afraid of. You don't want to go back, who in their right mind would want that? You want forward, forward, and then some.

Everything is connected, like an ocean that twirls and fills, ever-growing and ever-changing. New rivers flowing into oceans day by day, and once the bond is created, no matter how superficial, the connection is unbreakable. That’s what this feels like.

His hands connect with your forearm as he pulls you gently out of the rain and into the nearest café. You don't pay the surrounding environment any mind, so you can't even describe it if someone asked you. All you can think about is his hands on yours, how warm it feels, how you should be feeling cold but all you feel is burning hot sensations. It's hard to explain something you've never felt before but it feels safe. 

Your mind is busy running loops around each other, taking him in. His appearance. The silver-ish hair looks breathtaking on him. You have a hard time placing the former voice in your head to him. He's so... different. Different meaning good, by the way. Something you’re not used to but something you want to get used to.

Bam leads you to a booth somewhere near the back and even when you take seats opposite each other, his hand doesn't break away from yours. Instead, he reaches down form your forearm to grasp your fingers. You take your other hand and furiously swipe at the tearstain marks drawn across your face, sniffling as you do so. You’re a mess. A real fucking mess. But so is he.

You'd always imagined meeting your soulmate in better conditions. Most certainly without crying your ass off like an idiot, but you can't bring it within you to care anymore. The rainwater has caused your clothes to stick unceremoniously to your skin but the same goes for Bambam. There's nothing to be done though. It's already happened and that's that.

He wipes the tears from his eyes too and you smile through your wheezing. It wasn't just you, and that makes you feel inexplicably full. You both wait for your emotions to settle down before anyone attempts to say anything. Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest and you're sure he can hear it because you can hear his.

"Never knew you were such a crybaby, Princess."

You scoff amidst your predicament. "Yes, you did. I never knew you were so into dramatic entrances."

"That's was totally unplanned,” his eyes widen a fraction. “I thought... I thought I'd lost you. It felt like I was being torn open.

Honest. You decide you'll be honest too.

"Yeah. I felt like I'd just missed my only chance and I was never going to get it back. I started praying—"

His laughter breaks your sentence, his eyes are lit up and damn, you do understand what Mark was saying. His smile is so much better than you could have ever imagined. It's greater. It breaks through the walls enclosing your heart — something that rubs you almost the same way the stars do. Even if you'll never be able to reach it, you don't care as long as you see it.

"Praying?"

"Shut up," you use your free hand and cover your eyes. "I was really distressed. I thought I would never be able to hear you again and I —"

You feel his hand wrap around the one across your eyes and he pulls it slowly down. Now both of his fingers are tangled into both of yours. Christ, this is better than his voice in your head. This is better than anything you previously thought you knew.

"I prayed too," he says even though there is still laughter on his lips. "I couldn't imagine my life without you at all. Can you imagine how dark that would be?"

No. You can't. You can't and you don't want to because you've met a boy whose eyes show you that the future, the present, and the past are all wrapped around the same thing. There's something indefinite about being with him. Like it could never really be broken. That your chance with him was never even lost, to begin with. It was always there just waiting for one of you to reach out and close the distance.

"I mean, this is so much better."

"Than what?"

You bite your lower lip, trying to find how to word your thoughts without sounding like the sappy romantic that you are. "Than imagining you in my head. I can see your smiles, your smirk, your mannerisms. There's no comparison really."

"Do you think we'll last?"

"I think we met and know each other for a reason. I think if the Universe didn't think we could last, they wouldn't have bothered to give us each other."

He nods, your words making him feel better about this situation. It's beautifully terrifying this feeling. When he was just the voice in your head, it had felt like you were inseparable. Now, at this moment, it feels like you are one and the same; one soul inhabiting two people.

"You're right." He reluctantly lets go of one of your hands but keeps the other wound tight. "You know what I think?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, but rest your chin on your palm. "What do you think, Bam?"

His face turns serious, he wants you to understand that this is something he's felt for a long time. Something that he's hard a hard time coming to terms with. Something that kept him wide awake in the middle of the night. Something that while he was trying to put distance between the two of you, he realized.

"That things happened the way it's supposed to," he says.

"Really?"

"If you hadn't fallen out of the tree that day when you were seven and broke your nose, you wouldn't have cried so hard that it physically drew me into you," he licks his lips before he presses on.

"If you hadn't let me convince you to dye your hair any other color but brown when you were fifteen, I would have never known how stubborn you were when you wanted things your way. If you hadn't bombed your Biology exam and gotten so pissed that you wanted to whack something with a baseball bat, we wouldn't have looked at the stars together that day and subsequently, we wouldn't be here because neither of us would have had the courage to do anything."

You know he's right. If all these small, seemingly unrelated things hadn't happened, you doubt you'll be here. Sitting in front of him and wondering how the universe did something so beautiful. There were so many things about him that added to this moment too.

His uncanny urge to always seek you out before he went to a dance audition when he was nine and got dumped in the playground by the most popular girl in school. Concurrently punching his ex-girlfriends new boyfriend in the face and you having to calm him down when he was freaking out about heading to the Principals office. When—

He traces the back of your palm with his thumb, effectively bringing your thoughts back to the present. "People usually fall in love. But some people — we —  were already born in love. That's how it feels between you and me."

Forever. That's what this feels like. A promise for more and with everything you are made of, you know this will last for forever.

Frankly, you really believe that there is an invisible red string tied between him and you and that it has stretched and tangled for years. It has withstood everything your soul has to offer. Been there for you when you didn't know it even existed. You know that it won't, or rather can't, break because your souls are tightly fitted together. 

You and him until when forever is meant to be. You and the former voice in your head; the boy that you truly believe deserves the name as your soulmate. You’ve got nothing left to give him that he doesn't already have or know. There's a new awareness soaking into your bones. That the two of you, now that you're together, are spectacular.

A/N: oh my god, i hope people like this and tell me what they think. thank you so so much for reading!! ahh, please do tell me if you liked this :)

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2018 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[echobasegazette]

Stranger Things

I haven’t ever written about a TV show before, mainly because I don’t watch much non-sports TV. I really just watch movies and reruns when I turn on the TV because I can’t seem to ever remember to watch shows I like when they air. But recently I have been watching TV shows, on a strictly binge-watch basis, on Netflix or HBO. Like most people, when I can’t find something to watch, I browse the “you might like this” on the Netflix homepage, and a recent addition to that category was Stranger Things. I still don’t know why I decided to watch it; maybe it was because of the ticking timer that showed up when I first clicked on the show, “4 hours until the release of season 2,” or maybe it was some of the hype I’d heard from people I know. But once I started the series, I couldn’t stop. I plowed through all 18 episodes in seven days, and when it finished, I couldn’t help but think that the final episode was absolutely perfect.

For those who haven’t seen the show I will give you some quick points to peak your interest and then suggest that you stop reading until you’ve finished the series.

Super Quick Review

The show takes place in the mid-80s, in the fictional town of Hawkins, Indiana. There are four kids who are playing Dungeons and Dragons in the basement when the show starts. After the conclusion of their mission/quest they all head home. One of the kids, Will, is attacked on the way home by a creature from another dimension called the Upside Down. Meanwhile there is a secret facility in town run by the United States government, and as you would expect, they are up to all sorts of no good. This show is advertised as scary, but it’s more of a thriller and suspenseful, very similar in feel and “scare” level to Super 8 by J.J. Abrams.

Now if you haven’t seen the show, I would advise you to stop here since everything going forward is full of spoilers.

This show is really freaking good so I am not going to write a review on the show itself. What I am going to do is talk about a few things that I have been thinking about since I finished watching. Some of the following points have come from reading other articles online, and some are just my own perceptions and reflections.

Why do people care about Barb Holland and Bob Newby?

It took me seven days to finish this series, and while watching it I refrained from reading anything online about the show. The main reason that I do this is so the ideas of authors don’t infect my own.  So, when I finished the show I went online and started reading articles and reviews about the show and people seemed to really like these two characters, and I have no idea why.

As soon as Barb was captured, I knew she was dead. They had to start killing characters to create the perception of threat to the main characters, and she was the perfect fit. Online there started to become a #justiceforbarb following on social media, but why? She appears to be a good person and a good friend to main character Nancy Wheeler, but her biggest contribution was being dragged to party she didn’t want to go to and trying to cock-block her friend. Do I think her parents should have been told of her death so that they didn’t sell their house trying to pay to find their daughter? Yes, of course. But someone had to die in that first season, and she is easily the best option.

Bob Newby is different than Barb; he wasn’t a throw-away character who had to die just to create the potential of a threat. Bob is a main character who dies because he made too many mistakes. First, he convinced Will Byers to tell his dream demons to go away. Sure, that’s sound advice if you are having run of the mill nightmares, but its shitty advice if you are being stalked by an interdimensional power known as the shadow monster. Second, Bob nominates himself for a suicide mission because he is really the only one who is capable of operating the computers. But once he’s finished he leaves his gun on the table before heading to the exit. Rookie mistake Bob, when you are being chased by aliens, zombies, talking toys, or inter-dimensional Demi-Dogs, you never forget your gun.

The third and final/fatal mistake Bob makes is he doesn’t complete the catch before looking up field. This might not make sense to anyone who doesn’t watch football but sometimes a WR will be about to catch a pass and then he will turn to look up field, taking his eyes off the ball leading to a dropped pass. So, make the catch and then turn up field. Bob makes the same mistake, metaphorically. He has just escaped a maze of horrors and slammed the door in the face of a Demi-Dog, he is within 30 feet of safety and he looks up and celebrates the moment. In the next instant the demi-dog crashes through the door and eats him. Bob died because he didn’t stay focused on his objective; he was too busy trying to be “Bob Newby, Superhero”.

What was the deal with Eleven’s standalone episode in Season 2?

Eleven has been stuck in a cabin for 350+ days, and Hopper has been driving her crazy because he never shows up on time. She is pissed off at Mike because she saw him chatting up Max, and so she decides it’s time to go visit her mother. While she is there, she sees a vision of another girl, Eight/Kali, and takes off to Chicago to meet up with her. Kali is the leader of a gang which robs people and kills “bad people”, and she convinces Eleven to join for a short time.

I hated this entire episode; everything about it was completely horrible. Eleven is “good guy”, sure she was a little impulsive, but she was getting training at the hands of Chief Hopper. She was on the right path. Then she meets up with Kali and her gang of losers. I was so happy when Eleven finally decided to head back to Indiana to help her friends.

My other complaint was that this episode, “The Lost Sister”, existed outside the rest of the story timeline. Every other episode jumps around between the different characters so that time passes evenly for the cast. But not this episode it’s just an entire episode of bad decisions by a 13-year-old with superpowers. It would have been better if this storyline was split between several episodes throughout the middle of season two. But really, I still don’t think I would have enjoyed the story line.

Why did Dr. Brenner want to be called by Papa by the experiment kids?

Dr. Brenner is the main human villain in the first season, and he runs the Hawkins Energy lab building. One of his duties at this covert CIA-type laboratory is training the captured children in the use of their powers. He is also in charge of keeping the experiments at the Hawkins facility a secret for the local community. In his normal duties, he has to experiment on children and kill anyone who finds out the secret nature of the facility, so basically his job sucks. Even if he donated part of his salary to charity he would still be a “bad guy” best compared to Joesf Mengele, the Doctor at Aushwitz who experimented on children. But the creepiest thing about this guy is that the children call him “Papa”. Why? The kids are isolated from the rest of the world, he could tell them to call him anything. But instead he has created this weird father relationship with the children. He should probably be investigated by the Officers of the Special Victims Unit because something weird is going on here.

Why isn’t Nancy creeped out by Jonathan Byers?

Early in the first season Jonathan Byers is walking through the woods looking for his brother Will when he stumbles on Steve Harrington’s house. There is a party going on at Steve’s house, so Jonathan pulls out his camera and starts taking pictures of the frivolities. While taking picture he captures a photograph of Nancy taking off her clothes in Steve’s room.

After developing his photos Jonathan is walking through the school parking lot and happens upon Nancy, Steve, and his goonish friend. Steve and the goon take his photos and find the revealing photo of Nancy; they proceed to rip up the photos and smash his camera. At this point Nancy feels bad for Jonathan, which is understandable given that her “friends” have just bullied the poor kid. But she ends up becoming friends with Jonathan and later dates him. Why isn’t she creeped out by the fact that he took these photos? I know he gives her some lame excuse about capturing people as they actually are, but it’s still completely creepy. I just don’t understand why this isn’t a huge red flag and major turnoff.

Who is the MVP of the first two seasons of Stranger Things 2?

Stranger Things has now completed its first two seasons, 18 episodes of content, and there is a lot going on. But my favorite thing to think about is who is the biggest hero of the show. Who is the MVP?

There are certainly a lot of quality options. The two most obvious choices are Eleven and Chief Jim Hopper. Eleven is a 12/13-year-old with some X-men like powers. She took on the Demogorgon and kicked its ass, then she threw down with some demi-dogs and closed a massive portal to the Upside down with her mind. There were some rough patches along the way, like shoplifting and joining up with a crew of losers, but she always shows up when the bread needs to buttered.

Chief Jim Hopper is just a local police chief, but he can really kick some ass. In fact, I think he punches out every person at Hawkins lab.  He has no powers except an awesome beard and a willingness to battle interdimensional beings, even though it’s way out of his jurisdiction. Heck he even looks out for Eleven when she has no place to live.

With any MVP race there has to be some dark horse candidates and here are those four options. Joyce Byers is Will and Jonathan’s (why doesn’t he go by John?) mother. She doesn’t give up on Will even when everyone thinks he is dead and that she is crazy. But her ex does throw her off for an episode. In season two she really steps up her game as she helps Hopper solve the maze that Will has drawn. Her and Bob team up to locate the missing Chief Hopper, and finally, she teams up with Nancy and Jonathan and gives heat to the shadow monsters to save her son.  

The trio of Mike, Dustin, and Lucas would also make a solid choice. Sure, they make some mistakes, they often need to be rescued by other characters, and they fight amongst themselves. But they go toe to toe with a scary ass monster with nothing but a slingshot. The also use their knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons to explain everything that’s happening to the rest of the characters. They do have some rocky moments but they remain steadfast in their desire to help their friend.

Neither Jonathan nor Nancy has a strong case by themselves, but together they are a pretty sweet team. The buy some bear traps and other tools in an effort to distract the Demogorgon. They help Murray the reporter bust open the secret on the Hawkins facility, kicking those bastards out of town. They even manage to help out Barb’s parents avoid losing their home and all their money in a desperate search for their daughter. And with the help of Joyce, they manage to save Will from the clutches of the shadow monster.

Billy Hargrove is a complete asshole and would never have a chance at the MVP, but his mullet is freaking awesome. Every time Billy does something awesome, smoking while lifting weights, seducing Nancy’s mom, playing shirtless basketball, that’s the power of his mullet. But even his mullet couldn’t save him from getting his ass kicked by his sister.

If you’ve seen the show you know none of those people have a chance. The real MVP is Steve Harrington; he even has a sweet nickname perfect for the MVP of the show, King Steve.  Steve is the only character who really changes throughout the events of the show. He starts out as a douche who is just hooking up with Nancy to get another notch in his belt. Next, he morphs into bat wielding defeater of the Demogorgon. Steve then becomes a good boyfriend, ready to take the next step with Nancy Wheeler, even putting up with a depressing dinner of KFC with Barb’s parents. Don’t worry he’s not done. Next, he gets his heart crushed but comes back as super-babysitter, equipped again with nail embedded bat. Steve closes out the show dispensing lady advice to Dustin and even drives him to the dance. Steve and his breathtaking Farrah Fawcett hair is your undisputed MVP of the first two seasons of the Stranger Things.

 The Duffy brothers are set to make a third season and there are rumors of five seasons in total. Hopefully they start filming soon because I am really excited for the next part of the show. Plus, the kids are all set to hit puberty and we don’t 20+ year old high school students in future seasons. Lets just hope that future seasons don’t ruin the absolute perfection of that final episode of season 2.

Big O