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elizabethrobertajones · 5 months ago

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summer scions!! I absolutely love the new portraits for all their smug happy expressions. Except Y'shtola, who is not going to deign to give a camera a proper saucy look because that's silly. Urianger is smirking twice as hard on her behalf.

Glam review under the cut!

I unlocked Alphinaud first of the twins and didn't know Alisaie had a little necktie yet, so I'm deducting a point from my first impression because the sheer delight that he had a silly little necktie of some sort no matter the situation delighted me so thoroughly. Since they're still engaging in matchy twin dressing to some degree, I have to assume they either like it and won't admit it after digging in so hard, or Ameliance sent them off with cute outfits and matching backpacks, and they still don't really shop for themselves.

He's got the practical watch/compass gloves which are good for a technically proficient Sage and probably the most practical gear he's ever worn except for when he was poncho Alphy, but wearing ankle-length jeans seem like the least weather-appropriate choice of the Scions if we assume their average skin coverage is a good weathervane for the temperature in Tural. I chalk it up to teenage awkwardness.

8/10 unless he and Alisaie chose their outfits themselves, in which case it's a 9/10

I think Alisaie is the only Scion to keep a single piece of their default gear, and those are her usual gloves. She's colour-matched around it.

Because of the gloves and boots, she looks the most ready for hardcore hiking, somehow, and her matching Alphinaud with a cute button down shirt with rolled up sleeves along with that particular choice of baggier shorts (when she normally wears more form fitting shorts) do give me the closest to butch vibes it's probably likely to get for main characters. So I'm giving her an extra point I stole from Alphinaud for the lesbian vibes.

9/10 or 10/10 if she made these choices all by herself.

Everything about this cracks me up, from his portrait above to the image of him tanking open shirted once he pulls mobs.

Believe it or not, he's getting an additional point for those shoes simply because the competition in practicality in tanking is G'raha.

I had a moment of excitement when I thought the necklace was pink because that's always a cute Ryne/Minfillia thing fanartists give him with ribbons and such, but once I got zoomed in on him it was red, so I guess he's just been shopping. Although, the turquoise shorts are her eye colour and the actual large diamond shapes are secretly Mothercrystal coded in those colours, which just cracks me up that you can pick out one of the worse days of his life (Urianger's grand Warrior of Darkness plan) in his Chill Summer Beach Vibes look.

Douchebag beach bro shell bracelet as well, which really makes me double down on him and Urianger spending way too much on tourist bait along the stalls in the Famous Turali Market. The hat and sunglasses are giving him one of the Most tourist-y looks thematically reflecting how a lot of the Scion guys were just here to hang out, narratively or literally. Maybe he's trying not to get such an intense tan again, which is the only reason he's not entirely topless.

11/10 I could not stop laughing when I got him and Urianger to 100 and Beheld The Brilliance in the same moment.

Please note the raised sunglasses in Urianger's portrait, which are not the model his character uses.

I am delighted that I had been incorporating that island watch into my healer glams on both the logic you need to know your clock positionals but also they're largely the smarty pants jobs (WHM being vibes only aside - it gets its own glams :P). And here's Urianger and Alphinaud both using watches.

Now, I had a moment of being vaguely disappointed he had trousers not a skirt or something else swishy and androgynous, but then I did realise that I, a nonbinary weirdo who relates to Urianger since he made me nonbinary, have actually gone to a couple of garden parties dressed in some variation of this exact outfit of light trousers and a nice button up. Plus, the earrings are in both ears, so no "Google, which ear is the gay one?", these are just straight up cute femme dangly earrings with his favourite little dudes on.

More importantly, the colours he's repping are those of Lopporit Radio. He probably tunes in every night for his broadcasts :')

Mirrored sunglasses for the guy notorious for keeping thoughts and plans close to his chest and choosing deliberately to be enigmatic even when it serves zero purpose except for I guess gender affirming care. (The gender is Weird Bitch.)

I can't tell how I feel about those dad sandals. I suppose it depends if he's wearing them like a fashion model (brand new and clean with perfect pedicured feet) or if those are REALLY dad at the beach-like and, since I'm not a foot person, this for me is only a choice between "not off-putting" and "AURGH".

9/10 the proximity to Thancred hauls him up several points of misgivings I had, and the lopporit shout outs are killing me :')

I unlocked Y'shtola last and holy fuck I am a lesbian. I don't even recognise where those boots come from, so either a really expensive glam or something I just have not stumbled on. She has toe rings I think? And painted nails? I have no idea if the garter (?) is part of the boots glam or a custom thing as result of not recognising the boots and how much of them is normal. I feel like they customised a lot on her anyway - the back of her top has purple beads that match her staff (not dyable on the real piece)

and I think the necklace has to be part of the top instead of a separate necklace piece with the way it hangs, AND the bracelets are a glove piece with the original summer glam, but I assume they're layered with the false nails, also in the glove slot. All in all it's giving the sort of effort which is starting to creep up to what I'd expect from the modding community not the game. I mean, not THAT good but getting close. Baby steps towards what fandom can make :P

She really is god's favourite meow meow.

Anyway I can't really judge this fairly because it's really hot and I love her so I'm just going to give it 100/10 and move on. :)

how did I get a picture where Estinien looks like he's stooping to get in the frame...

The fact he has Azure Dragoon Blue Top and then Violently Nidhogg Fuchsia shorts is the colour theory that absolutely killed me. When he lights up during his burst and starts glowing pink all over his shorts are like. Taking him over like the eye once did I think.

love a guy who can embrace his past trauma and dress to match all that has passed before and all that he intends to do now (kill something large and tasty, grill it on the beach, fall asleep with a beer in hand until the waves come in and wake him up).

I gave him that wooden bracelet in the glam he has on my desktop screen so once again I'm feeling weirdly vindicated.

Other details: no ponytail despite the warm weather because he's got enough ventilation. The fact there's cactaurs on his shirt when he's on record for eating them is amazing. We should imagine he's wearing his jobstone like that pendant (since he's one of the only guys with a confirmed jobstone despite being the Guy Without A Job notoriously that one time.)

Unlike Thancred's hat and sunglasses combo, which seems fun and boisterous somehow, he seems the most walled off of all the sunglasses wearers even though he's not the most mysterious. The visor really helps make it a sort of wall. Maybe just because his terse upfront personality and somehow despite his clothes horse habits THIS amount of whimsy seems the most out of character at first glance, but he DOES look uncomfortable to me.

Somehow I find everything about this outfit excellent for his character but also like maybe he was forced into it, everyone cornering him and telling him the Scion Beach Party was a mandatory work event and he was not allowed to beg off of it and he did put some work in expressing himself but also is going to go find a much quieter corner to lurk in for the day, when not competing with Thancred (can't grill, loves it) for the barbeque (Estinien can grill, would only do it because the threat of Thancred doing it wrong is too high).

confused 7/10 mostly because I think Krile is blackmailing him and not because I don't love everything about this.

Here's how G'reenha Tia can still win -

Anyway here's the deducted point for tanking in flip flops (PERFECTLY acceptable BLM gear btw but he's Mr Versatile.)

(I joke but the main character of my novels is a flip-flop wearing menace who could and would tank in them)

Between the padlock and key necklace and the woven bracelet right after we all went feral over the Thavnarian bracelets for couples thing so recently (and Corvos is just across the water!) he's absolutely dripping cutie pie love interest coding yet again.

(Also yes I know the lock and key thing is very funny because we were introduced to him learning he was a fancy key to a big door.)

Gains a point back because the other green g'raha thing is I'm pretty sure people use this shirt glam because it kinda looks like it has weed on it.

Don't quote me on that, vibes only.

Anyway he came colour coordinated (with his original eye colour and hair colour not the bright Allagan dalamud red dye that goes with his normal outfit) so so precise and neat, like he's going to some sort of formal event, and even with flip flops he really does seem incredibly put together like the twins or Y'shtola, just for full outfit cohesiveness.

As someone who would hold G'raha's hand on the romantic gondola vibe, 10/10.

3 out of 10 and a huge cringe if you would not. He's got to stop Striving.

Hey it's the star of the show!! Adorable hairstyle out, cute plot-important earring on, and wearing her exact character colours but adorable beach wear :)

I love that she looks kind of like she went to the girls for advice and got the top from Y'shtola and the shorts from Alisaie, and she probably was very serious and stressed about getting this right even though there's no rules and no one's judging her -

oops.

Anyway the ballet shoes are adorable and go with all the cute picto spins and twirls :)

I think the strict colour scheme does speak to the slight lack of fleshing out she got so far in the story (we don't really have any real character reason that picto in particular spoke to her and this glam isn't one of the many fun takes people had on how to dress to meet that brief ). I don't think DT did more than just repeat that she's serious and sweet and trying really hard to get out of her shell and be more fun and creative and also she's been practicing dodging really hard she shouts mid-Trust combat (bless her). But ALSO getting out of the shell is really hard and she only found out everything and got some closure in the final level 100 quests so there wasn't really much to do with her after that.

This is like her First Non-Plot-Critical Whimsy Moment and losing the hood or any cat ears entirely (and there are perfectly functional cat ears to wear in game) is a good step considering we know she wears it precisely because she needed a sort of advance PR campaign to make her look cute and approachable before she opened her mouth and started bringing down the vibe (serious scary children are SO funny though and i love that for her). Having the same top as Y'shtola is a good thing for trying to make her less childish and have her trying to show that now as she takes this huge step out from the background. I mean, it still has a slight sense of her costuming herself and pushing herself out of comfort zones as she always does, but it's 100% in character so I adore it.

1000/10 because Krile is great and there's so much going on here and it's so fun when a character's whole personality is a costume and then they're like aurgh wait do I even want that??

#ffxiv #dawntrail spoilers #I love these goobers #enough to level all the jobs through Trust rather than more varied and faster means :')

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maxarchive · 1 month ago

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"A season that brought the best out of the best" Motorsport Magazine, February 2025 Issue, by Mark Hughes

We've seen plenty of demonstrations of Max Verstappen brilliance on his way to a fourth straight title this season. But has he become a yet-greater driver in '24? Yes. But not because of what he's done in the car; that's always been remarkable. Rather, in a challenging combination of circumstances where it would have been very easy for the whole team to have come undone, he has been the glue. He couldn't have been that if his power was not underwritten by the enormity of his talent. It was on display this season just as always – the virtuosity of dancing through the Interlagos rain, the steely focus of keeping a closely chasing McLaren from getting within DRS reach for 30 laps in Qatar, the technical perfection of Suzuka, the defensive masterclass of Imola, etc. But the circumstances he found himself in this season brought out a leader. At 27 years old he's no longer only the dazzling hurricane of speed and ambition. No longer only someone so driven, drilled and practiced that he’s virtually unbeatable in an equal car. No longer only someone of which his friend and Formula 1 driver coach Atze Kerkhof says is as good as he is, "because of a brilliant natural talent and millions of hours of training. He’s only got better. The rough edges have gone and now he’s like a machine. You cannot beat him." No, Max Verstappen is more even than all that now. A driver in their tenth F1 season doesn't get faster. They can possibly access their best stuff more consistently. But he's been doing that almost perfectly for seven seasons now, a remarkable achievement in itself. So where has he got better? Circumstances have demanded an extra dimension from him – and he's delivered it. But in a way which has not buried him, which still allows him his easy delineation between racing and home, keeping his mind perfectly uncluttered to focus on performance.

He prepared like never before for the new season, as team boss Christian Horner revealed at Suzuka in April. "He changed trainer over the winter. He's fit and lean. You can hear how much spare capacity he has in the car. He wants to know not just who's behind him, but who is behind them as well and what times are they doing. He's become very astute at managing the tyre. The way he managed to extend the tyre life here [at the Japanese Grand Prix] was so impressive."

But that's just a detail, a polishing-up. The leadership dimension came from the circumstances of Red Bull's season. Specifically the strains arising from the controversy surrounding the Horner internal investigation in the early season. Then the car's mid-season competitive decline.

The serenity in the cockpit at the start of 2024, as Verstappen continued from where he'd left off in his dominant '23 campaign, was very much in contrast to how things were in the team as the Horner controversy about the employee complaint against him played out and Max's father Jos got involved, opposing the team boss, campaigning for him to be ousted.

The way Max dealt with the powerplay, which also involved Helmut Marko, the man who had almost single-handedly brought him to F1, was illuminating. He did not align himself with Jos, stayed on good terms with him but went his own way. He did state his unambiguously firm support of Marko – "If he goes, then so do I" – so sending an implicit message to Horner not to overplay his hand.

But then he helped bring calm equilibrium back, just continued with the competitive imperative and remained civilised with everyone, Horner included.

"What I know is that this team doesn’t give up," said Verstappen after clinching the title in Las Vegas. "There are a lot of very confident people and I really enjoy working with them. I know there was a lot of pressure on them. When you come out of a season like last year where we broke every record and then start to struggle to understand what is going wrong, it's important to remain calm as you try to fix it. Every person in the team has their own emotions which you have to deal with. It's also people-management – because everyone acts in different ways to good results or bad results. But that's something I enjoy as well. Because we all have our own character but we all have to work together to the same end goal and I'm proud of how we stuck together through those races where we were a bit lost."

As Jos was saying that Horner remaining would tear the team apart, Max was ensuring that it wouldn't. Probably this didn't come as much of a surprise to his mother, Sophie Kumpen, the former top-class karter who provided much of his genetic make-up. "Max will always want to solve things first by talking," she explained in a Dutch TV interview. "He is a sensitive person. He gets the fierce racing side from Jos. The gentle side from me. But make no mistake, eh. Under the helmet he is a tiger."

Given Max's childhood and the tempestuous marriage surrounding his early home life before his parents split, it's not much of a stretch to imagine where that diplomatic impulse might come from. It's something so at odds with his racing image, someone who is so uncompromising in his desire to win, he's even prepared to cross the line. As he phrased it in one of his own documentaries, "Sometimes you even have to be a dick to win."

The combination of that sociable, easy-going, even tempered guy outside the car (the Sophie side) and the uncompromising competitive monster in it (the Jos side) is a big part of his strength. But specifically, it has been front and centre in how brilliantly well he kept everything so cohesive in the '24 campaign when it had many ingredients which could have decimated it.

Further fallout from the early season controversy came as Adrian Newey announced his departure from the team, just prior to Miami in May. Max admitted it was a blow, but still he stayed focused. Because there was much to focus on – this was not going to be the breeze the early races had suggested it was going to be. There was a nagging trait in the car, one which had started to become apparent in last year's towards the end of the season: as they applied more aero load to it, so it was becoming more imbalanced. The front end wasn’t keeping up and it was becoming ever trickier to get the car into its sweet-spot window with set-up.

When McLaren made its breakthrough update in Miami, Red Bull's limitation was exposed. It was no longer superior, merely competitive. Then, as McLaren further developed its aero elasticity to give it a great front end at low speeds without compromising its balance at higher speeds, it began pulling clear of Red Bull. The middle part of Verstappen’s season – Silverstone to Monza – was all about wrestling with the competitive consequences of that as Mercedes surged into form too.

It was at this point that Verstappen began visiting the factory at every possible opportunity, maximising his simulator time, working with the engineers in trying to find a solution to the car's limitations. "His workload has been phenomenal this year," says an admiring Horner. But without surprise, for as he’s also said in the past, "The more pressure you put on, the better he delivers… his mental resilience is the strongest I've ever seen."

Only at Hungary did the strain that the competitive struggle was putting on the relationship become apparent. There, he was having an untypically scrappy race trying to overcome the car’s limitations on a day when both McLaren and Mercedes were faster. His race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase (aka ‘GP’) is a tough but calm character, gives as good as he gets and in that sense is perfect for Max. There’d already been a terse exchange between them about Max giving a place back to Lando Norris after having passed off-track. When GP admonished him for not bringing in his new tyres sympathetically, it triggered the sullen kid who hates to be beaten and he responded with (the more-severe expletives removed), “No mate, don’t give me that bullshit now. You guys gave me this strategy, OK? I’m trying to rescue what’s left.” The strategy was perfectly good for the limitations of the car and was predicated on having newer tyres in the last stint, even though that involved getting undercut initially.

It was the low-point of his season – the breaking point after he’d carried the load for so long. It’s where the competitive fierceness conflicted with the leadership role, and it took a sit-down with Horner and Lambiase before the following race to realign that. They were in the car with him, they emphasised. He wasn’t alone, even if it feels like that in the cockpit sometimes. They felt his pain. He took it on board, as always completely straightforward in his communication. He likes to feel he can call the team out when it’s not delivering just as they can call him out when he’s wrong. This was one of the latter times. But there’s never any lingering resentment. “He’s emotional,” says Horner. “Partly that’s where the performance comes from. He’s incredibly strong-willed. He’s a thoroughbred and can be very sharp when emotions are running high. He doesn’t hold back.”

As that sit-down coincided with Monza, with the car at its absolute nadir, we were witnessing how close the whole thing was to falling down. Had the relationship not been repaired and the car’s shortfalls continued not to be understood, it’s easy to imagine a scenario where the partnership broke down irretrievably. But actually not only did they rally around Max and give him the reassurance he needed to get out of that negative place the Budapest weekend took him to, but Monza then shone a big light on the cause of the car’s woes. Which they could set about addressing. Together, they emerged from the crisis.

As they did that, we saw a classic bit of Verstappen hard-headedness in Austin and particularly Mexico against his title challenger Norris. The niggle between them had started in Austria back in June, when they’d punctured each other’s tyres as Verstappen fended off Norris’s attacks in a way which stretched the sporting regulations. It was like that again in Austin and Mexico and in the latter event his move at Turn 7, with no attempt to make the corner so as to ensure Norris went behind once more, was outrageous. It brought to mind his quote about what you had to be sometimes. That’s where he draws his lines; it’s about prevailing and about how extreme he’s willing to be. No one is ever going to pass him around the outside, he says. Something that was drilled into him as a kid in karting by Jos.

If there is turbulence in the aftermath he’ll not acknowledge it. In fact he seemed mystified about why Norris was so upset afterwards in Austria, that delineation for him between on-track and off rarely so well illustrated. Criticism for the incidents by the media did seem to sting him, though. “He’s more sensitive than you think,” Horner says. “Inevitably he’s aware of the criticism and some of it, I think, is very unfounded. He’s a driver that drives aggressively; he’s an attacking driver. But so was Senna, so was Schumacher, so was Hamilton, and they all came under the same kind of spotlight at various times in their careers.”

It was the criticism he received after his incidents with Norris in Austin and Mexico which particularly bugged him. He perceived them as attacks from countrymen of Norris rather than as attacks against professional fouls. He knows he’s the best out there and if there’s some nudging over the specified lines of regulation on track involved in overcoming the competitive limitations of the car, then he probably feels justified. That, for some, puts him in the same bracket as Michael Schumacher as someone whose achievements have an asterisk against them. But he’s not racing for their approval.

He’s not even racing for achievements. As he says about more titles, “I’m already very proud to win four. Winning one or seven is the same thing. You’re just repeating. It’s nice to repeat but it means the same thing. The first one is what you are chasing, is the whole reason you are there. You’ve done it. After that, it’s just nice and doesn’t really mean as much. What’s been beautiful is that each of the four titles have had different emotions. This one has been the best as we’ve not had the fastest car. But the first one will always mean the most.”

That indifference to the statistics of achievement means he won’t be trapped into chasing numbers that only mean anything to outsiders. But there’ll be a conflict between his love of racing and his stated yearning not to be racing long before he reaches 40 (which is what Lewis Hamilton used to say too!). That conflict will surely play a crucial part in what he decides to do with the rest of his life. He’s never known any other life, of course, as the boy brought up in the circus.

As a driver he’s one of the all-time greats, a more formidable all-rounder even than Fernando Alonso, faster, more extreme. But similar. Alonso is the nearest driver in overall traits. But even the great Alonso bows down to the level Max has attained. The number of times Max has not maximised his car since joining Red Bull in 2016 can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Is he the outright fastest over a lap? Often he is, yes. But this is a misunderstood concept. A driver can only get to the ceiling of his ability if the car’s traits, the way it is balanced, allow him to. There are many reasons why it won’t be, especially in this era of thermally sensitive tyres.

But let’s assume every driver on the grid was magically given a fully competitive car, each perfectly balanced to match the outer edge of their specific style, in how each driver was wired up physiologically. Would Max be the fastest in qualifying? Possibly not. If it wasn’t him, you’d be looking for Charles Leclerc, possibly Lewis Hamilton at the height of his powers. But in the grind of a race and the even grittier grind of a season, would Verstappen in those circumstances prevail? Almost certainly he would, yes.

There’s no weakness. Schumacher had weaknesses, Senna too. Alain Prost was as rounded as Max but not as quick. Before then, we are heavily into the dangerous era – the years which killed Gilles Villeneuve or Jochen Rindt or Jim Clark and mortally wounded Stirling Moss, drivers who, like Senna, could conjure things that left their contemporaries shaking their heads in wonder. None of the current stars, Max included, quite have that. But Max can maximise every situation with unerring consistency like Fangio, like Clark, like Stewart. And if the peaks of his raw speed are not quite as miraculous as some of the past, he runs close to that almost all of the time, probably more than anyone before.

He’ll be missed when he’s gone, when the rewards no longer offset the energy draining irritations.

#max verstappen #f1 #magazine #2024

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helen-with-an-a · 2 months ago

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Christmas Eve (18+)

Did I technically write a Christmas fic back in august? Yes, yes I did. Oh well. Also, will I ever learn to write shorter smut fics? Probably not. Hope everyone has a veyr merry christmas and a happy holidays.

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: Not much else to say beyond a smutty, indulgent Christmas Eve fic.

Word Count: 6.2k

TW: Smut, 18+, cunnilingus, fingering and strap usage (all R receiving: sub-ish reader; dom-ish Lena)

Munich at Christmas was like stepping into a fairytale, a magical transformation where the city seemed to be lifted straight from the pages of a storybook. The cobblestone streets and buildings, bathed in a soft glow from countless twinkling lights, created a scene of enchanting beauty. The crisp, cold air was rich with the enticing aromas of roasting chestnuts and spiced mulled wine, mingling seamlessly with the cheerful strains of festive music and the lively chatter of holiday shoppers. Every corner you turned revealed a new wonder, from the meticulously adorned Christmas markets brimming with handcrafted ornaments and delicious treats to the captivating window displays. The gentle dusting of snow on the historic city added a timeless charm, making it feel as though you had been transported to a world where reality and fantasy intertwined. It was an experience unlike anything you had ever known before, utterly enchanting and deeply immersive.

Experiencing Munich at Christmas with Lena was like stepping into an entirely different realm – one where magic seemed to breathe life into every moment. The city's festive lights, casting a warm, golden hue, mirrored the sparkle in Lena’s brown eyes, which glistened with an extraordinary brilliance that seemed to enhance the holiday magic around you. The crisp winter wind, playfully nipping at your cheeks, had a special way of turning Lena’s face a delightful shade of pink, which stood out beautifully against the snowy backdrop. Her laughter, clear and bright against the wintry air, harmonised perfectly with the joyful ambiance of the season. Wandering through the bustling Christmas markets and admiring the sparkling decorations, each shared glance and tender touch between you felt imbued with a deep, intimate charm, making the experience even more special.

It was Christmas Eve – the anticipation in the air palpable, like the calm before a beautiful storm of festivity. This was your second holiday season with Lena, and there was a special warmth to the occasion. This year, you were spending it together.

Last year had been different. You were in Munich, immersed in the whirlwind of establishing your new life and settling into your new routine, while Lena remained in Wolfsburg, tending to her own commitments and responsibilities. You had managed to visit your family for a while, taking a break from the hustle and bustle of Munich whilst Lena ad returned to her family, spending the holidays with her parents.

Now, however, everything was different. You were wrapped in each other’s arms, lying snuggled up on your bed. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the gentle, soothing presence of Lena beside you. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden light across the room, creating an intimate haven away from the wintry chill.

As you lay together, t the quiet hum of the city outside and the faint, distant sounds of holiday celebrations were nothing more than gentle background whispers. The peacefulness of the moment felt almost sacred, as if the world had paused just for you two.

“Can you believe it’s Christmas?” you whispered softly, careful not to disrupt the serene bubble you were both nestled in.

“It’s gone by scarily fast,” Lena murmured in reply, her voice equally gentle. Her fingers, delicate and soothing, traced through your hair with a tender rhythm that deepened your relaxation as you pressed your face further into her chest.

“But it’s been a good year, I think,” you continued, reflecting on the time that had passed.

“A very good year,” Lena agreed, her words carrying a warmth that matched the cozy atmosphere around you.

You let the question linger in the quiet space, pondering the highlights of the year that had flown by. “What was your favourite part?” you mused, intrigued by her reflections.

“Hmmm,” Lena considered, her fingers continuing their soothing journey through your hair. “Well, football-wise, I’ve got to say the Olympics. I know I wasn’t there for the actual thing but qualifying and seeing all the girls was absolutely insane. Or maybe qualifying for the Euros?”

“And outside of football?” you prompted, eager to hear what else had stuck out to her.

“You,” Lena replied simply, her voice filled with an earnest affection that made your heart swell.

“So cheesy, baby,” you laughed, though your embrace tightened around her, savouring the genuine sentiment behind her words.

“What can I say?” Lena continued, her tone playful yet heartfelt. “I moved in with my favourite girl. I get to wake up with the love of my life in my arms every day. I got to celebrate my birthday with you in person – not just over the phone. You were there for me when I did my knee, in ways I didn’t even realise I needed. I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby.” You whispered, your voice a tender caress in the stillness of the room. As you spoke, you looked up at her, allowing yourself to fully take in the serene beauty of her face illuminated by the soft, warm light. Your gaze lingered on the subtle blush that coloured her cheeks, a delicate hint of pink that seemed to glow even more against the backdrop of the room’s gentle ambiance.

You leaned down, allowing yourself to savour the moment as you pressed a languid kiss to her lips. As your lips met hers, you could feel the subtle texture of her skin – soft and velvety, with just a hint of the natural warmth that had made her blush. The kiss was slow and deliberate, a lingering caress that spoke of the bond you shared and the comfort of being together. Each movement was a delicate dance, a melding of sensations that heightened the sense of closeness and connection.

You could taste the faint hint of the mint she’d had earlier, mingling with the natural sweetness of her lips, creating a sensation that was both refreshing and deeply satisfying. The kiss deepened as you pressed closer, savouring the intimate warmth and the gentle way her lips responded to yours, creating a moment of pure, unspoken communication.

You gently shifted your position, moving with a deliberate grace until you were straddling her. Her hands, guided by a touch that was both tender and appreciative, trailed down your body with a soft, almost exploratory movement. They found their way to your arse squeezing gently, the touch warm and affirming as if she were appreciating the closeness between you.

You allowed your fingers to slip beneath the hem of her hoodie, seeking the bare skin of her abdomen. The sensation of her warm, smooth skin against your fingertips was electrifying. You traced light, playful scratches along her abs, feeling the subtle shift of her muscles under your touch. She shuddered below you, letting out a quiet whimper at the feeling.

“Oh, I like that sound,” you teased softly, a playful glint in your eyes as you registered the reaction. Lena wasn’t usually the most vocal of lovers, her expressions of pleasure often subtle but profoundly meaningful. The gentle moans and sharp, breathy gasps she made were a personal symphony to you, each sound a cherished note in the intimate music.

With a deliberate and affectionate touch, you pushed your hand up further, exploring the smooth, warm curve of her breast. The sensation of her skin against your palm was intoxicating. Your thumb lightly brushed over her nipple, feeling the delicate response under your touch. The soft, responsive sigh that escaped her lips was like a gift, a sound that made your heart swell with pleasure and affection.

“I like that one even more,” you murmured with a loving smile, leaning down to capture her lips with yours again. The kiss was tender and lingering, your tongue licking into her mouth with practised ease.

You felt Lena’s hands begin to gently paw at the hem of your top, a silent and tentative request for permission to remove it. The touch was light and almost hesitant, filled with a soft, unspoken yearning. You pulled back slightly, giving her a reassuring nod that allowed her to proceed. With a delicate, practiced motion, Lena began to gather the fabric, her fingers deftly working to bunch it up as she prepared to remove it.

As you pulled the material over your head, the cool air met your skin, heightening the sensation of Lena’s lips as they began to explore. Her kisses were gentle and deliberate, a tender exploration that traced a path across your exposed skin. Each touch of her lips was a sweet caress or a teasing bite as she marked her path.

When Lena’s lips finally found their way to your nipple, the sensation was electrifying. The softness of her lips, coupled with the occasional light scrape of her teeth, sent shivers of pleasure through you.

You couldn’t help but moan, your sounds spilling out almost embarrassingly loud in the quiet of the room. Your hands flying to her head, your fingers locking themselves in her hair trying to keep her against you.

Soon, you found yourself lying comfortably on your back, your hair spread out around you like a halo of soft, dishevelled strands. The cool bedding beneath you contrasted with the warmth of your skin.

As you settled into this new position, your gaze followed Lena with a mix of admiration and anticipation. You watched as she stepped into her harness with practiced ease, her movements fluid and confident. Each motion was deliberate, showcasing her well-toned physique. The harness itself was sleek and black but it was the way it accentuated her body that caught your eye. Her muscles, sculpted and defined from both athletic training and natural grace, were highlighted as she adjusted the straps. Your eyes lingered appreciatively on her form, tracing the contours of her strong shoulders, the curve of her waist, and the firm lines of her abdomen. The play of light and shadow over her skin only served to enhance the visual allure. You found yourself captivated not just by her physical appearance but by the confidence and poise with which she wore her body, making every movement seem both effortless and graceful.

When she turned back to face you, you could already feel the blush rising on your cheeks, a warm flush that betrayed your appreciation. Her eyes caught the telltale signs of your reaction, and a playful smirk tugged at her lips. “Were you staring at me?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt that matched the glint in her eyes.

“Just appreciating the view,” you replied with a cheeky grin, trying to downplay your obvious admiration.

“So you were staring?” she pressed, her tone light but with an edge of mock seriousness.

“I was looking at my sexy-ass girlfriend who is getting ready to fuck me into the middle of next week. If that’s a crime, then lock me up, officer,” you said, your voice dripping with playful confidence and affection.

Her eyes widened slightly at your bold statement, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in her gaze. “I didn’t know you were into role play,” she teased, her tone lightening even further as she walked closer, clearly enjoying herself.

Before you could muster a witty retort or respond to her teasing, she took decisive action. With a sudden, swift movement, she grabbed your hips roughly, her hands firm and assertive. She pulled you along the bed with an effortless strength, guiding you until your legs dangled off the edge, a deliciously vulnerable position that had your mind reeling at the possibilities of what was about to happen.

“Fuck me,” you breathed out, the words coming as a whisper, still shocked from such a causal display of strength.

“Not yet,” she smirked, her voice a sultry promise as she leaned closer, the playful edge in her tone contrasting with the palpable desire in the room. Her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away.

You watched with a mix of anticipation and admiration as Lena, her movements deliberate and teasing, slowly sank down onto her knees. Your body was propped up on your elbows, giving you a perfect vantage point to observe the graceful way she moved. The slow descent was both captivating and arousing, making you grow wetter by the second.

“Wait,” you called out, a note of concern slipping into your voice. “Your knee, Lena. Be careful.” Panic fluttered in your chest, a sudden rush of worry that overshadowed your earlier excitement. You could see the faint tension in her posture as she adjusted her position, a reminder of her recent injury that had been a concern for both of you.

Lena looked up at you with a reassuring smile, her expression warm and calming. “I’m okay, Schatz,” she murmured, her voice gentle and soothing as she pressed a soft, affectionate kiss to your thigh. The tender gesture was reassuring, helping to calm your mind a little.

“No wait,” you floundered, your concern not yet fully eased. “Uh, here,” you stammered as you twisted your hands around in search of a solution. Your fingers fumbled as you reached for a pillow, your mind racing to find a way to ensure her comfort and safety. You managed to grab the pillow and quickly brought it down, handing it to her to gently rest on.

The sight of her settling onto the pillow, her movements now cushioned and more comfortable, brought a wave of relief. You watched her with a mix of gratitude and affection, feeling a deep sense of care and protectiveness. The moment, while filled with tension, also highlighted the tenderness and attentiveness that characterised your relationship.

As Lena adjusted her position, her eyes met yours with a grateful smile, a silent acknowledgment of your concern and effort. The warmth and appreciation in her gaze were palpable.

“You can continue,” you said with a rueful smile, nodding at her to restart where you had just left off.

“Oh, can I?” Lena replied, her voice laced with a teasing edge that hinted at her eagerness to resume. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and affection.

“Yes, yes you can,” you confirmed, sticking your tongue out cheekily. Your legs shifted slightly, opening up a little more as a subtle invitation for Lena to come closer.

Lena responded to your playful invitation with a smile that was both appreciative and teasing, a soft curve of her lips that spoke volumes. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief, clearly enjoying the moment. Her movements were fluid and confident as she approached, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your heart quickened with each shuffle she made toward you, the tension in the room quickly growing. Her hands reached out with deliberate intention, fingers brushing lightly against the waistband of your knickers. The gentle touch sent a shiver through you. Lena paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow in a silent question. The gesture was playful yet questioning, a subtle way of seeking your confirmation. You met her gaze with a nod, lifting your hips slightly in response to her unspoken query.

With a playful wink, Lena pulled your underwear down, her movements both confident and tender. The fabric slipped away effortlessly, and she tossed it over her shoulder with a flourish.

As the underwear disappeared from view, you couldn't help but laugh at her playful action. However, the laughter quickly transformed into a deeper, more sensual moan as Lena's lips began to explore the inside of your thighs. Her kisses were soft and deliberate, each one sending a gentle wave of sensation through you.

Her lips traced a path along your skin with a loving, exploratory touch. The contrast between her playful behaviour and the intense pleasure she was delivering created a heady mix of emotions. The laughter that had escaped your lips was quickly overtaken by the growing waves of pleasure, your body responding eagerly to her tender ministrations.

You moaned loudly as Lena’s lips finally found your clit, the sensation instantly electrifying your senses. Her touch was both deliberate and exquisite, a combination of short, teasing kitten licks and long, languid strokes that created a rhythm of pleasure that was both intense and thrilling.

At first, you were a bit confused, as Lena’s movements didn’t fall into her usual, familiar rhythm. The shifts in her touch were subtle but noticeable, leaving you momentarily disoriented as you tried to decipher the change. The sensation of her tongue against you was different, more varied and less predictable than the steady, comforting patterns you were accustomed to.

When her tongue moved sideways across you for a second time, a spark of realisation ignited in your mind. The way she was using her tongue wasn’t random or arbitrary; she was creating a deliberate, rhythmic pattern. Each stroke and flick seemed to follow a unique sequence, and it became clear that she was spelling out something personal and intimate. As the realisation settled in, you understood that Lena was spelling her name with her tongue. The cheeky fucker.

“Lena," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as the pleasure intensified. "Baby, please." The words came out as a desperate plea, a combination of need and yearning that conveyed how much you were feeling. Your body was reacting uncontrollably to her touch, and you instinctively reached down, fingers finding their way to her hair.

You tugged at her hair gently, a physical request for her to continue. Lena responded with a soft, amused chuckle against you, the sound vibrating through her lips and into your sensitive skin. The hum of her laughter sent a new wave of pleasure cascading through you.

Finally, Lena settled into her usual rhythm, her movements becoming smooth and instinctive, like a dance you both knew by heart. Her touch became more assured, each action precisely timed to maximise your pleasure. She knew exactly when to suck, applying a perfect amount of pressure that created waves of sensation, and when to flick her tongue with a practiced flick, hitting just the right spots to drive you wild.

You groaned deeply when Lena’s finger slipped inside, the sensation immediately sending a jolt of intense pleasure through your body. Her touch was deliberate and skilled, the way her finger glided in and out with a smooth, practiced motion.

She quickly added a second finger, the sensation shifting as your body adjusted to the new pressure. The initial sting was sharp, a brief and intense feeling of stretching that quickly evolved into a deeper, more satisfying pressure. The feeling of her fingers working inside you, her tongue working the nerves in your clit had you gasping for breath.

It didn’t take long for the familiar bubble of pleasure to start growing in your belly. The sensation began to build with an intensity that was both thrilling and overwhelming, as if a rising tide of pleasure was gathering strength deep within you. Your breathing quickened, becoming shallow and rapid as Lena’s relentless pace continued unabated. The rhythm she maintained was both steady and relentless, each motion pushing you closer to the edge with an almost hypnotic precision.

As the pleasure intensified, you could feel your body responding with a heightened urgency, each breath coming in quick, sharp gasps. The buildup was unmistakable, a powerful, pulsing pressure that seemed to grow with each stroke and touch. Your senses were fully engaged, every nerve ending alive and acutely aware of the sensations Lena was creating.

“I'm... Baby, please. I’m going to. Can I, please?” you groaned, the words slipping from your lips in a series of desperate pleas.

She hummed her answer, a soft, approving sound that resonated with a gentle, reassuring vibration, not wanted to break her steady, relentless pace. You could feel the pleasure intensifying with every deliberate movement. Your toes curled instinctively, The tension in your body was palpable, each muscle taut with the building excitement.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned loudly, the sound escaping your lips without permission. Your eyes squeezed shut even tighter, the intense pressure building to an almost unbearable peak as the bubble of pleasure finally burst. The sensation was explosive and all-encompassing, a sudden release that washed over you with a powerful surge.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, you were left in a state of blissful exhaustion, the echoes of your moans and cries slowly fading into a contented sigh. Your body twitched uncontrollably, small spasms coursing through you as the aftershocks of your climax rippled through your system. Each involuntary jerk was a reaction to the lingering stimulation, a sign of just how deeply she had worked you through the intensity of your orgasm. The sensation was almost too much, your body hypersensitive as she continued to guide you through the final waves of pleasure.

With deliberate care, Lena began to pull her fingers out, her movements slow and gentle, mindful of your heightened sensitivity. The withdrawal was tender, her touch soft and soothing as she eased you back down from the peak you had just reached. Before fully drawing away, she leaned in to place a final kiss on your clit, the gesture both affectionate and comforting. The kiss was light but lingering, a sweet, gentle goodbye to the pleasure she had just brought you, leaving you with a final shiver of satisfaction.

As she drew back, you couldn’t take your eyes off her, captivated by the sight of her in the aftermath of such an intimate moment. You watched as she brought her fingers to her lips, her gaze still locked on yours. Slowly, she licked her fingers, appreciating the taste of you with a hum of approval. The sound was soft, almost purring, as she smiled, clearly pleased with the taste and the experience you had just shared. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and affection.

Lena reached out for you, her hands gentle yet insistent as she guided you to sit up. The warmth of her touch was comforting, her fingers brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. As you adjusted to the new position, she moved with fluid grace, lowering herself into a crouch before you. Her eyes held yours, filled with a mix of affection and lingering desire, and you could feel the magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer.

Without hesitation, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a messy, passionate kiss. The intensity of the moment surged back to life as your mouths collided. It was raw and unrestrained, a collision of emotions and sensations that left you breathless. The taste of yourself on her lips was unmistakable. The salty-sweet tang blended with the warmth of her mouth, creating a unique flavour that was as intoxicating as it was intimate.

“Turn around,” Lena whispered, her voice soft yet commanding, the words sending a shiver down your spine. Her fingers, still warm from the heat of your body, traced soothing patterns up your thighs, the touch both calming and electrifying. Each gentle stroke of her fingers was a promise, a tender reassurance.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, the breathlessness from your kiss still lingering in your chest. As you turned, the world seemed to narrow down to the feel of her fingers on your skin, the warmth of her breath ghosting over your back, and the quiet, heady rush of expectation that made your heart race.

When you finally settled into position, your back to her, you could feel the intensity of her gaze, the way her eyes lingered on every curve and line of your body. Her fingers continued their gentle exploration, trailing up and down your body with a tender, almost reverent touch. She guided you to bend over, her hands gently pushing and pulling your body exactly where she wanted it. “So beautiful”

Lena’s hand remained firmly on your waist, a grounding point that kept you connected as she prepared to take you to new heights of pleasure. Her grip on you was steady and reassuring, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to remind you of her presence and control. The warmth of her hand contrasted with the cool air around you.

With her other hand, she gripped the strap, her movements slow and deliberate as she guided the smooth plastic against your slick, sensitive skin. The sensation of the strap running up and down your soaking pussy sent a shiver through you, each pass sending sparks of pleasure rippling through your body. The coolness of the plastic was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from you, intensifying every touch.

She took her time, teasing you with each slow, deliberate stroke. The plastic slid effortlessly through your folds, collecting the wetness that had pooled there, heightening the anticipation with each pass. Slowly, she sank into you. The deliberate pace she set was maddeningly slow, every movement designed to drive you wild with desire. You could feel every ridge, every contour of the strap as it brushed against you.

Lena’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of her control, of how well she knew your body and exactly how to push you to the edge. The pressure she applied was just enough to keep you on the brink, teasing you with the promise of more while drawing out every ounce of pleasure she could.

Your hips began to move of their own accord, instinctively chasing the friction, but she held you steady, keeping the pace agonizingly slow. The rhythm she set was torturous in the best possible way. Each time the base of your strap bumped your clit, you felt a surge of electricity shoot through you, your body responding with a keening need that only she could satisfy.

“Faster.” you huffed, your voice tinged with desperation as the need for more intensified within you. The words came out ragged, each syllable laced with the urgency that had taken hold of your body. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the burn of need coiling tighter in your core. You didn't need to see her face to know she was grinning, revelling in the power she held over you, and how utterly desperate you sounded.

Without missing a beat, Lena shifted her position, moving over you with the grace of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. You felt her gather your hair up into a loose ponytail, her fingers tugging gently at the strands before giving a sharp, commanding pull. The sensation sent a jolt of excitement through you, your scalp tingling as the mix of pain and pleasure heightened your arousal. The action was assertive, a reminder of who was in control, and it left you even more breathless than before.

“Is that how you ask for things, Schatz?” she taunted, her voice dripping with playful dominance. The teasing lilt in her words sent another wave of frustration crashing through you, and instead of speeding up like you had begged for, she slowed down even further. Each deliberate stroke of the strap against you was achingly slow, a calculated move designed to prolong the torture and push you to the edge of sanity. The maddening pace made you whimper, the need for release becoming almost unbearable.

"Please, baby. Please go faster," you pleaded, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the kind of raw, unfiltered need that left you feeling vulnerable.

"Much better," she hummed, her tone rich with satisfaction. You could hear the approval in her voice, the way she relished in your submission. The sound of her humming was like a soothing balm, a sign that you had said exactly what she wanted to hear.

With that acknowledgment, she finally began to increase her pace, the sensation becoming more intense with each movement. The sharp contrast between the agonizing slowness and the sudden increase in speed made your body hum with relief and pleasure. The rhythm she set was exactly what you needed, each thrust of the strap hitting that perfect spot, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

You could tell she was close too. The subtle shift in her breathing and soft sounds gave it away. The quiet grunts that slipped past her lips, normally so controlled, now carried a raw edge of desperation. Each sound was a clear indication of how close she was to losing herself in the pleasure, just as you were.

Her movements became more insistent, more urgent. The steady rhythm she had maintained now quickened, her hips moving with a newfound determination that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You could feel the heat radiating from her.

You gasped as you felt her hands leave your hair, the gentle tug that had grounded you moments before now replaced by a different kind of touch. Her fingers trailed down your spine, each inch she covered sending a shiver through you, the sensation both tender and electrifying.

When her hand reached around your waist, you could feel the anticipation build as she moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly what you needed. The moment her fingers made contact with your clit, a spark of pleasure shot through you, so intense it nearly made you buckle. Her touch was deliberate, a perfect balance of pressure and movement that had you writhing beneath her.

She began to rub in fast, tight circles, her fingers working in perfect harmony with the thrust of her hips. The dual sensation was almost overwhelming, the combination of her hand on your most sensitive spot and the insistent rhythm of her movements driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Every stroke of her fingers, every push of her hips, brought you closer to the edge, your body responding to her touch with a raw, undeniable need.

Her fingers moved with practiced skill, knowing exactly when to apply more pressure, when to slow down, and when to speed up, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from you. The insistent rhythm she had set became a crescendo, building you up higher and higher, until you were teetering on the brink of release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body alight with the intensity of her touch, the pleasure mounting to a fever pitch as she expertly guided you toward your climax.

“Cum with me, Schatz,” she grunted, her voice rough with the strain of holding back her own release. The command in her words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, your entire body responding to the urgency in her tone. You could hear the need in her voice, a raw, unfiltered desire that mirrored your own.

The way she said it – low, breathless, yet full of authority – left no room for hesitation. It was more than just a request; it was a promise, a vow that you would reach that peak together, bound by the shared intensity of the moment. Her breath hitched as she spoke, a clear sign that she was on the edge, teetering between control and surrender.

The sound of her voice, thick with desire, spurred you on, pushing you closer to the brink. Your muscles tensed in response, every nerve in your body tuned to the sensations she was creating. The connection between you was electric, a palpable current that ran through you both, linking your pleasure to hers.

Each thrust, each stroke of her fingers on your clit, was designed to push you both over the edge, the final push you needed to let go completely. The urgency in her voice was matched by the urgency in her movements, her body driving into yours with a force that spoke of her own desperation. The moment was intense, overwhelming, as you felt the pleasure build to an almost unbearable level.

And then, with her words still echoing in your mind, you felt the dam break. The wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body giving in to the release that had been building, spurred on by her command. You could feel her shudder against you, the shared climax bringing you both to a place of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment where nothing else existed but the two of you, together in the throes of ecstasy.

She stilled inside you, her body pressing against yours as the aftershocks. slowly faded into a warm, lingering glow. Her hands, which had been so urgent and commanding just moments before, now rested gently on your lower back, the touch tender and reassuring

The room was filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and laboured at first, but gradually evening out as you both began to catch your breath. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a quiet, shared understanding passing between you as you remained connected, neither of you in a rush to move or break the silence.

Her fingertips traced small, soothing patterns across your skin, a soft caress that sent gentle waves of warmth through you. The weight of her body was comforting, grounding you in the present as you both basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. The air between you was thick with the scent of sex, mingling with the subtle aroma of her skin, creating an intoxicating blend that made you want to stay in this moment forever.

She slowly slid out of you, her movements careful and deliberate, not wanting to cause any more discomfort than necessary. The sensation of her leaving your body left you feeling both empty and vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the fullness and intensity you’d just shared. A soft whimper escaped your lips, the involuntary sound a mix of sensitivity and the lingering remnants of pleasure.

"I'm sorry, Schatz," she murmured, her voice tender and filled with concern. Each word was a gentle caress, meant to soothe you as she eased herself out of you. Her apologies were soft and sincere, spoken in a tone that carried both regret for the momentary discomfort and a deep affection that made your heart swell.

She kept her hands on your body, one stroking your side in slow, comforting circles, the other brushing lightly over your hip. The warmth of her touch, combined with the gentle rhythm of her words, helped to ease the ache that came with her absence. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“C’mon,” she said tenderly, her voice warm and soothing as she helped move your spent body toward a standing position. Her hands were gentle but firm, offering a steady support that you gratefully leaned into. The effort of moving felt almost herculean in your exhausted state, but her reassuring touch made it easier.

“Shower time,” she added with a soft smile, her eyes glinting with a mix of affection and determination. The promise of a refreshing shower was just what you needed to feel a bit more human again, even if the idea of moving felt like a monumental effort at the moment.

“Tired,” you murmured, your voice heavy with fatigue as you allowed yourself to be guided. The weariness in your body was palpable, a deep, lingering sensation that made each step feel like it was dragging through molasses. You leaned into her, finding comfort in her presence and strength.

“I know,” she said sympathetically, her voice a gentle balm to your tired nerves. “We just need a quick shower, and then we can get into bed.” The thought of slipping into the cool sheets, finally able to rest, was enough to make the effort seem worth it. Her words were a promise of relief, a gentle encouragement that made the prospect of moving seem more manageable.

With her guiding you, you began to shuffle toward the bathroom, each step a bit easier with her support. Her touch was reassuring, her presence a comforting anchor as you made your way through the dimly lit hallway. She guided you with a practiced ease, her hand warm against your back, making sure you didn’t wobble or lose your balance.

As you reached the bathroom, she turned on the shower, the sound of the water cascading down creating a soothing backdrop to the moment. The warm steam began to fill the room, wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You could feel her gentle hands massage your hips and back gently, her movements both efficient and tender, always mindful of your tired state.

You leaned into her as she helped you into the shower, the warmth of the water beginning to ease the last remnants of tension from your muscles. Her touch was gentle as she lathered soap over your skin, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate motions that felt like a soft massage. The water and her soothing presence worked together to wash away the exhaustion, leaving you feeling cared for and cherished.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you muttered sleepily, your voice barely more than a soft murmur as you burrowed deeper into her.

Her smile was immediate and bright, a tender expression that lit up her face with genuine warmth. She chuckled softly, the sound a sweet, melodious note that blended with the calm that washed over you.

“Merry Christmas, Schatz.”

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 5 months ago

Note

In response to the Mile High Job post, I hate that Parker implies that poor flight attendant slept her way to a promotion/better shift. Her day is super weird but her cat is fine and her life is saved. That rumor, however, might stick and that didn't really feel like Leverage to me.

Agreed!

The thing with Leverage is that it's a show from the late 2000s; it feels contemporary, but actually it is a bit dated. And, like all shows, it had some problematic elements, which get a bit more Obviously Problematic as time goes by (I am just waiting for someone to write a lengthy call-out post in 5 years' time and for the Discourse to start.) For example, Tumblr loves to declare that Leverage has a "canon" throuple, but if anyone read that and then watched the show they would be profoundly disappointed - while it's a fantastic ship with a great many shippy instances, Elliot has a lot of onscreen No Homo moments, and frequently is shown sleeping with random women (I personally read him as aromantic). Similarly, there are two big relationships in that show: Nate/Sophie, and Parker/Hardison. And we all wax lyrical about the brilliance of Parker/Hardison and how healthy it is, and for good reason; but we gloss over how unbearably "I hate my wife/father I cannot click the book" Boomer humour Nate/Sophie is.

(He literally calls her a shrew in one episode. She throws a tantrum and sulks if he doesn't remember the exact details of how/where they met. She's stereotypically 'romantic' and he's stereotypically 'cynical' and she has to Save Him From Himself, and he self-deprecatingly says he should just know when to stop arguing because she's always right. Like... it is a grubby and uncomfortable dynamic; but, it's also aimed at a different segment of the audience that is older than me, and that's okay, actually. It just means I don't much care for the ship myself.)

Anyway, this is one other such instance. Clearly someone in the writers' room thought that was a funny joke, and not enough people disagreed, and so in it went. What's nice is that Sandi McCree, who plays the other flight attendant that stays on the plane, actually kind of saves that joke for me with her performance. When Parker first boards and declares that her co-worker is not coming in, McCree looks disgruntled at the sudden change to her staff list when she wasn't informed; she's annoyed at management. Then Parker makes the sleeping-with-pilots comment, and McCree looks disgusted and furious -

An expression she then pulls at Parker every time she sees her for the rest of the episode, even when Parker is technically not doing anything particularly weird. It's not necessarily intentional on McCree's part (Parker IS very weird in this episode, so it very much can be a response to that), but to me it means you can read it as "This woman is absolutely furious at the lateral sexism of this white girl because We Love And Support Each Other On This Plane." So, for me, between that and the aforementioned revelations of the day (the plane was brought down by the domestic terrorists of a Fortune 500 company, but saved by... a few unexplained Official People who snuck aboard??? And the other flight attendant was made to miss the plane after all under mysterious circumstances and was not promoted??? What???), I don't think Sandi McCree's character wouldn't put those pieces together.

#asks #leverage

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leroiestmortvivelareine · 1 month ago

Text

masterlist of aftg essays

mostly so I can find them - but you may as well have this too

Other Masterlists

Why aftg is well written by @feelingthedisaster

(the OG - symbolism, structure, and other examples of Nora's brilliance)

Numbers in aftg

(includes timelines for aftg events)

Plot insights

Parallels / exy positions by @atticusfinchismydog - also in the masterlist above but deserves special mention

Andrew’s protection was not physical by @awildtei

Andrew agreeing to go to the Hemmicks by @afurtivecake

The effect of cults by @cultpastorkevin

Why steal Wymack's painkillers by @i-did

Why Kevin needed to keep his distance by @cowbilover

What was Mary's plan by @your-local-mixed-race-bisexual

Fun lists

Jean’s awesome descriptions of everyone by @swampthingking

Unsung heroes of aftg by @problemduetest4life

Character insights *

(* many more are in the Masterlists at the top, this is for posts that don't fit otherwise)

Nathaniel / Neil - flip a coin by @neilljcsten

Neil as an uncanny creature by @sncwbaz

Andrew wanting to be known by @foxholecore

Andrew really nailed by @afurtivecake

Andrew and Kevin by @afurtivecake

Andrew and Roland by @afurtivecake

Andrew cursing Nicky by @afurtivecake (technically a fic but too perfect not to include)

Andrew and losing control by @palmettoshenanigans

Andrew and breaking the cycle by @palmettoshenanigans

Andrew's promise to Kevin by @coldsaturn

Kevin as the sun by @adaysgrace

Kevin as a bitch by @thatsnotevenmyname

Kevin as a temptation but never a connection by @jeanmoreaue and @afurtivecake

Kevin and Wymack by @fairvstairs

Kevin learning to live in the light by @odetojupiter

Understanding Aaron by @minyard-05

Aaron's need to feel normal by @interstellar-productions

Aaron and Andrew by @figuringthengsout

more Aaron and Andrew by @allforthegaymes

Neil through Aaron's eyes by @bloodfiresandabram

Dan as captain by @minyard-05

Riko hmm I wrote an essay on Riko

Nora's ec

The extra content (master link provided by @peggyrose19)

The ec link

on tumblr

Nora's now-deleted kandreil scenes (fyi scene breaks show as ".....")

How the fandom started and grew - by @coldsaturn

For writers generally

(because we all are, aren't we)

not aftg, but a list of most interesting essays

what emotion do you create from (quiz). I can send you the text of all 15 answers, if you're like me and want to see it all

Feel free to share others that you know of.

I'll keep a running list of anything else i think of in the reblog.

#i started this to get all my favourite Andrew posts in the same place #then i realised they were all by the same person #:)#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #tkm #aftg tsc #trk #the sunshine court #the golden raven #aftg tgr #masterlist #nora sakavic

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aquamarixx · 3 months ago

Text

breaking the internet

blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, angst, fluff

SYNOPSIS

Hiori Yo may be one of Bastard München’s most technically gifted players, but he’s hardly the most popular. Stoic, soft-spoken, and an unapologetic introvert, Hiori’s tactical and supportive play style tends to get overshadowed by his flashier, extroverted teammates. Fame was never his goal—until, unexpectedly, it finds him.

When a mid-season slump raises doubts about the team’s future, an insightful article by an up-and-coming sports journalist shines a new light on his understated brilliance and strategic approach. Her piece goes viral, drawing fresh interest in both the team and Hiori, and challenges the flashy “egoist” narrative with a deeper look at his impact.

As her articles captivate fans and bring unexpected attention to Hiori, their interactions both on and off the field spark a fan-fueled fascination. Their chemistry is undeniable, to say the least, and Bastard München’s marketing team jumps on the opportunity of pairing them in official content.

What begins as a mere marketing tactic quickly becomes more personal. As their chemistry continues to captivate fans, Hiori finds it harder and harder to ignore the person who believed in him before anyone else did. He wants her to keep watching him, to see the player he’s becoming — and for the first time, he doesn’t mind the attention.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s not the only one getting caught up in the unexpected connection under the eyes of the world who’s watching, waiting and hoping for something more.

CHAPTER LIST (ongoing)

chapter one (1.6k words) after Bastard München's third loss, Hiori Yo finds a spark of hope in a warm, unexpected article by a cute keen-eyed journalist

chapter two (2.6k words) Hiori discovers Miss Journalist might be a loyal fan of his — and learns the hard way that stalking someone on Winstagram can quickly get complicated.

chapter three part 1 Miss Journalist follows the day-in-the-life of Bastard München for the midseason promos, unexpectedly bringing her closer to Hiori in ways she didn’t anticipate.

chapter three part 2 after one video and a candid photo, Miss Journalist and Hiori go viral as their chemistry together off-camera stirs up unexpected fan attention, leaving them both wondering what’s next.

chapter four (5.3k words) a whirlwind of chaos and laughter turns into something much more when Miss Journalist and Hiori Yo can't ignore the spark between them any longer.

chapter five (4.1K words) a win turns bittersweet for Hiori when the person he wants to share it with the most seems just out of reach—as he sees Miss Journalist running towards someone else.

chapter six (5.1k words) a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all.

chapter seven (4.9k words) Hiori and Miss Journalist share more than just a passionate night, opening up about their relationship and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

chapter eight (3.9k words) when some clout chaser claims to be the mystery girl in the photo, Hiori shuts down the rumors and teases about the girl who truly has his heart

chapter nine (6.6k words) sparks fly as Hiori finds himself with unexpected realizations and plenty of "oh" moments, proving that love and self-discovery often come hand in hand.

chapter ten

chapter eleven

author's notes: i have hiori yo brainrot for weeks now. and i just have to get this out of my system because i fear for the lack of hiori fanfics for my himejoshis out there (if there are any huhu) it is a very lengthy synopsis so bear with me, it's my first time writing a fanfic will update the chapter list as soon as i have the energy to finish it

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #hiori yo #hiori yo x reader #bllk x reader #bllk hiori yo #hiori yo x reader fanfic #bllk #bllk x you #bllk fanfic #blue lock fanfic

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my-name-is-apollo · 4 months ago

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So, Apollo and jewellery!!

I want to start off by saying that Apollo (or any male god, really) wearing jewellery is not a common occurrence in the ancient greco-roman art forms. So there's not a lot you can get, but I've put together whatever I've found so far.

On the vase paintings, you'll find body chains across his chest and there's bracelets too:

^ He also has a leg bracelet in this one

In this painting, along with a body chain and a bracelet, there's a thigh band and a finger ring as well.

Then we have waist belts. I did entertain the possibility of this being an embroidered belt. However in the first image, the belt is gilded with gold, so imo it's meant to be a belt with gilded gold, if not made entirely of gold.

In this Etruscan painting representing Apollo going to/coming back from Hyperborea on a swan, he's wearing necklaces.

Apollo wearing a necklace and an arm band seems to be a fairly common sight in the Etruscan art (so Aplu, technically ig), as seen in these two statuettes:

and some Etruscan mirror arts:

Now moving onto the diadems! A diadem referred to something you could tie your hair with - it could be a ribbon, a wreath of fresh leaves, or a jewelled wreath/head piece - it's the last one that I'm counting as jewellery. Diadems like the one Apollo is wearing below were usually worn by noblewomen.

You can also find depictions of Apollo with a jewelled wreath on his head. They resemble a laurel wreath, but they're made of gold, and have gems embedded. Here's a statue for example:

There are also Roman frescos and mosaics that show you what it actually looks like in color.

And here, you can see not just a gold diadem, but also bracelets on both his hands as well as anklets on his legs:

And there's what seems to be earrings as well? But honestly I'm not that sure, it could just be a damage on the fresco (even if that's the case, we can still appreciate the winged eyeliner amirite)

There's also this fresco of Apollo judging a beauty contest between Venus and Hesperus. Here he is not wearing a gold wreath, but there is a gold band upon his head:

And unlike other pieces of jewellery, you'll find literary references as well for Apollo's diadem:

"When Apollo was born, Zeus equipped him with golden headband and lyre and gave him also a chariot of swans to drive" – Alcaeus, Hymn to Apollo (trans. David A. Campbell)

"Apollo puts his hair in order by shaping his flowing locks with soft foliage and braiding it with a golden diadem." – Virgil, Aeneid 4 (trans. Ingo Gildenhard)

"...he fastens bay about his lyre and the woven brilliance of his coronet, and ungirds his breast of the pictured girdle..." – Statius, Thebaid 6 (trans. J. H. Mozley)

"But you will say, Phoibos has a goldgleaming diadem." – Nonnus, Dionysiaca 4 (trans. William Henry Denham Rouse)

[Inscription]: "Apollo the mighty, Lord incomparable of the Diadem, who hath set up statues of the Gods in this kingdom" – Ammianus Marcellinus, History 17 (trans. John Carew Rolfe)

[Inscription]: "Mighty Apollo, seated upon truth, Lord of the Diadem, who hath gloriously honoured Egypt as his peculiar possession" – Ammianus Marcellinus, History 17 (trans. John Carew Rolfe)

And that's pretty much everything I've come across so far. I was a bit surprised at the lack of literary references for the effeminate gods. Not just Apollo, even Dionysus' effeminacy is described by his fair face and long hair and perfumed garments, and there are no mentions of jewellery afaik. But of course, just like with Apollo, you can find jewellery on Dionysus in the visual arts.

#Apollo #“is that an earring or just a very strangely drawn earlobe?” <- me looking at some of the vase paintings #and it was indeed a weirdly drawn earlobe everytime #lol #also I was internally giggling when I was zooming in on Apollo's finger ring in that one painting #i know rings as symbols of betrothal wasn't a concept in that time period but-!!#i couldn't help but think “ooooh who gave him the ring? 👀”#also anyone who knows more about ancient greek jewellery please tell me if men wore body chains at all??#because I couldn't find anything to support that historically #but in the paintings several male figures wear it so it couldn't be coming out of nowhere right??#mine #apollo info #jewellery

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lovezbrownies · 1 month ago

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Pillow Talk Peony.

General Masterlist - Yuna's Masterlist

Synopsis: You always manage to slip away from her at the very right second. With you unintentionally avoiding her far too many times Yuna decides it's better to wait for you to wake up as she sat in your bedroom.

PAIRING: Yandere!F!Pop Idol x GN!Reader.

Yuna sat quietly in the corner of your dimly lit bedroom, her piercing gaze fixed on your sleeping form. Her hands rested delicately in her lap, the pristine perfection of her manicured nails betraying none of the turmoil bubbling beneath her serene facade. The clock on your nightstand glowed faintly—6:00 a.m. In just an hour, you’d wake up, blissfully unaware of how much effort she had expended to reach this point.

It hadn’t been easy. For months, it felt like a cruel game of cat and mouse, a game she hadn’t agreed to but had become consumed by nonetheless. Yuna had carefully orchestrated every encounter, every fleeting moment where your lives could intersect, but each time you had slipped away as though guided by some invisible hand. Whether it was chance or some unconscious instinct to avoid her, she didn’t know—and frankly, she didn’t care anymore.

You weren’t going to evade her this time.

The frustration of your near escapes still lingered in her mind. She thought back to all the fleeting opportunities: the coffee shop where she had accidentally brushed past you, only for you to disappear before she could utter a word; the countless handwritten notes she had left, each one folded with meticulous care, only to be ignored or discarded. Yuna’s obsession with you had grown sharper with every failed attempt, her calm exterior masking the storm that brewed within her.

But now, everything had fallen into place. Her patience, her persistence—it had all led her here. Sitting in your room, the faint scent of your cologne clinging to the air, she allowed herself a small smile. This time, you wouldn’t leave her sight. This time, she’d make sure of it.

The first time Yuna noticed you, it was the kind of moment she would have shrugged off if it were anyone else. But it wasn’t.

The show had just ended, and the crowd’s screams still echoed faintly in her ears as she stepped backstage. Her face, still lightly flushed from the adrenaline of the performance, was calm and relaxed. This part of the night—the part where everyone rushed to pack up, chatter filling the air—was just background noise to her. She usually ignored it.

But this time, something caught her attention.

She was leaning casually against a stack of equipment cases, one boot crossed over the other, waiting for her stylist to let her escape the post-show routine. That’s when she noticed the lights. Not just their brilliance, but the way they moved during the performance. They hadn’t just matched her energy—they had enhanced it, telling a story she hadn’t realized she was crafting.

Her eyes flicked lazily toward the lighting rig. That’s when she saw you.

You weren’t front and center, just another crew member buried in the chaos, but there was something about the way you worked. Calm, focused, like the whirlwind around you didn’t exist. You were crouched by the console, checking something with practiced precision, and for a moment, Yuna just…watched.

It wasn’t like her to care. Usually, she let the credits for the technical side roll over her without a second thought. But there was something different here. Something about you.

She didn’t overthink it. Sliding her hands into her jacket pockets, Yuna slipped away from the assistants fussing over her and strolled toward the lighting area, her movements unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. Her makeup and stage outfit were still intact, but she carried herself like it didn’t matter—like none of this was a big deal.

She was close now, her lips twitching into a small, lazy smirk as she rehearsed the simplest way to thank you. No need to overdo it. Just a quick “Hey, nice job,” and she’d be on her way.

But before she could say anything, your phone buzzed. You sighed, pulling it from your pocket as you stood, already turning away.

“Yeah, I’m still backstage,” you said into the phone, your voice steady but distracted. “I’ll finish up and head out soon.”

You brushed past her without so much as a glance, completely absorbed in the conversation.

Yuna blinked, pausing mid-step. Then she huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Alright,” she muttered under her breath, her tone low and amused. “I’ll let you go this time.”

She didn’t chase you or try to interrupt. That wasn’t her style. Instead, she turned and wandered back toward her dressing room, a faint smile tugging at her lips. You had no idea she’d even been there, and somehow, that made you even more interesting.

Cool. Quiet. Diligent. You stood out in a way that didn’t demand attention, but still held it.

For the first time in a long while, Yuna found herself curious about someone.

Back in the quiet sanctuary of your room, Yuna sat slouched in the chair she had pulled close to your bed. One leg hung lazily over the armrest, the other tucked beneath her. The faint light of dawn crept through the blinds, casting long stripes of pale gold and muted gray across the floor. Her sharp eyes hadn’t left you, her chin resting idly in her palm as she studied your peaceful form.

Her mind replayed the endless string of almosts—the times she had been so close, only to watch you slip away, completely unaware of her presence. It was maddening, really, the way you moved through life with such an unintentional knack for avoiding her. And somehow, despite herself, she found it endearing.

There had been that one time when she lingered backstage after the concert, ditching the afterparty in favor of what she thought was a perfect opportunity. But you’d slipped out the back door before she could even say hello. Then there was the time she wandered into the crew lounge, the faint hope bubbling in her chest, only to find a scrawled note on the table: “Out grabbing coffee. Back in 10.”

Always just a second too late.

Yuna let out a soft sigh, the corners of her mouth twitching in a faint, self-deprecating smile. She wasn’t used to being the one left waiting, the one left unseen. She was Yuna Claire, the star, the center of attention everywhere she went. And yet, here she was—sitting in a borrowed chair at six in the morning, staring at you as if the universe might finally hand her a break.

Her gaze softened as it lingered on your face, serene and unguarded in sleep. You looked so different now, so completely still compared to the version of you she’d spent months chasing, always moving, always busy. The faintest pang of something unfamiliar bloomed in her chest, somewhere between tenderness and frustration.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured under her breath, her voice barely a whisper. “Do you even know how hard it’s been to catch up to you?”

The quiet hum of the room swallowed her words, but Yuna didn’t care. Her hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as she leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees.

Then you stirred.

It was subtle at first—a slight shift under the blanket, a soft exhale as your brow furrowed and your body adjusted against the mattress. Yuna’s eyes sharpened instantly, her lazy posture disappearing as she straightened.

You shuffled again, this time letting out a faint murmur, your head turning toward the light filtering through the blinds. Yuna rose silently, sliding from the chair with smooth, practiced ease, and knelt beside your bed.

The carpet muffled her movements as she settled there, hands resting lightly on her thighs. Her gaze flickered over your face, studying the faint twitch of your eyelids, the slow transition from sleep to waking.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, blinking slowly against the soft morning light.

Yuna leaned in just enough for her presence to register, her voice low and steady, barely above a whisper, but rich and warm, like the first sip of coffee.

“Good morning.”

Her lips curved ever so slightly, the smallest trace of a smile, as she waited for you to notice her, anticipation crackling in the air like the moment before the lights dim at the start of a show.

Your eyes blink open groggily, still caught in the haze of sleep. It takes a moment for the blurry shapes around you to sharpen into something coherent. But when they do, the sight before you sends a jolt of panic straight through your chest.

Yuna Claire, Yuna Claire, is kneeling right next to your bed.

Your breath catches, the shock hitting you like a slap of cold water. You jerk upright instinctively, the blanket slipping down as your brain struggles to process what’s happening.

“Wh—what the hell?!” you stammer, your voice cracking with disbelief. “Yuna? How—? Why are you—?”

You don’t get far.

Before you can tumble into full-blown panic, Yuna moves. She’s startlingly quick, her body pressing against yours as she swings one leg over your lap and straddles you with ease. One hand slides firmly over your mouth, silencing you in an instant.

“Shh.” Her voice is calm, steady, but there’s an undeniable weight to it, a quiet authority that makes you freeze in place. Her gaze pins you, sharp and unwavering, yet oddly soft around the edges.

You’re still too shocked to do anything but stare at her, your wide eyes locked on her impossibly composed expression.

“That’s better,” she says with a faint sigh of relief, tilting her head slightly. “I was worried you’d start screaming. That wouldn’t be fun for either of us, you know?”

Her cool demeanor is unnerving, as if she’s in complete control despite the surreal absurdity of the situation.

“Look,” she continues, her tone casual, almost conversational, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “I know this probably looks…weird. Alright, maybe very weird. But you’ve left me no choice.”

Her hand stays firmly over your mouth as she leans closer, her face inches from yours. You can’t decide if you’re terrified or just utterly bewildered.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you for months,” Yuna explains, her voice dipping lower, softer. “Every time, you slip away. I show up, you’re gone. I get close, and you’re already off somewhere else. It’s like you’re allergic to being in the same space as me or something.”

Her lips curve into a faint smirk, her thumb brushing lightly against your cheek as she continues, “And honestly? It was kind of funny. At first. But after a while…” Her smirk fades, replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable. “After a while, it just started to hurt.”

You blink rapidly, your muffled protests dying in your throat as her words sink in.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” she says, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. “But you’ve made it impossible for me to get through to you any other way. So, here I am.”

She sighs, as though the weight of the situation is finally catching up to her, and then—without warning—she leans forward, resting her head against your shoulder. Her body softens against yours, and for a moment, she seems completely at ease.

Her hand finally drops from your mouth, but before you can say anything, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace so natural, so deliberate, it feels like she’s done it a hundred times in her head.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” she murmurs, her voice low and warm against your ear. “Just…let me stay here for a minute.”

You sit frozen, your mind racing to catch up, the warmth of her body pressed against yours sending your thoughts spiraling in every direction.

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” she whispers, her tone a strange blend of contentment and determination. “You’re not slipping away this time.”

And with that, Yuna holds you closer, resting against you like she belongs there, while you remain wide-eyed and utterly stunned, unsure whether to push her away or give in to the surreal weight of her presence.

A week later, life had taken a strange, almost sitcom-like turn.

No matter what you did, no matter where you went, Yuna was always there. Like an omnipresent force of nature with impeccable timing and an uncanny knack for foiling your every attempt at slipping away.

Take yesterday, for example. You’d woken up with a foolproof plan: sneak out before sunrise, head to work, and keep a low profile until the end of your shift. Simple. But as you cracked open the door to your apartment, the unmistakable scent of coffee hit you.

“Morning,” Yuna greeted casually from your kitchen, one leg propped up on the chair as she sipped from your favorite mug. “Thought you’d try that.”

You froze, staring at her in disbelief. She just smirked over the rim of her mug, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

And it wasn’t just the mornings. Oh no, Yuna had somehow infiltrated every part of your routine.

At work, you’d tried slipping out the back door during lunch, only to find her lounging against the wall outside, scrolling through her phone like she’d been there all day.

“You really need to pick better hiding spots,” she said with a chuckle, not even looking up.

One time, you even pretended to leave the building, doubled back through a side entrance, and ducked into a storage closet. A storage closet!

Five minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Yuna’s voice called from the other side, light and amused. “You do know you’re not invisible, right?”

The door opened before you could even think of a response, and there she was, grinning like a cat that just caught its favorite toy.

By now, you were pretty sure she had supernatural powers—or at the very least, a sixth sense dedicated solely to finding you.

It wasn’t that Yuna was mean about it. In fact, she was too nice, always making it seem like these encounters were no big deal. Like when you tried hiding in the break room after work, and she casually strolled in, holding a takeout bag.

“Figured you’d be hungry,” she said, plopping the bag down in front of you before sitting across the table. “Don’t worry, I ordered your favorite. Oh, and no use running—I already checked the other exits.”

You wanted to be mad, frustrated, anything. But somehow, Yuna made it impossible. Her confidence was maddeningly smooth, her smile disarming. She acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to constantly shadow you, and part of you had to admire her dedication.

But today? Today was going to be different.

You had planned meticulously. You’d taken half the day off work, packed an emergency bag, and even scoped out a back alley route to the train station. There was no way Yuna could know.

So, there you were, creeping down the alley like a secret agent in an action movie, your heart pounding with both excitement and fear. The train station was only a block away. Freedom was within your grasp.

And then you heard it.

“Going somewhere?”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Slowly, you turned to see Yuna perched on a stack of crates, one leg dangling lazily as she leaned back against the wall. She looked completely at ease, as if she hadn’t just foiled your most elaborate escape plan yet.

“How—?!” you spluttered, your jaw dropping.

Yuna just grinned, hopping down with the kind of effortless grace that made your frustration boil over. “Come on,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Did you really think I’d let you go that easily?”

At this point, you couldn’t even be mad. The absurdity of it all had reached cartoon levels, and Yuna’s smug satisfaction was somehow both infuriating and hilarious.

“I give up,” you muttered, throwing your hands in the air.

“Good,” she replied smoothly, her smile widening as she steered you back toward your apartment. “I’m way more fun to hang out with, anyway.”

You groaned, but deep down, you couldn’t help but laugh. Because, really, what choice did you have?

#yandere #gn reader #oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #gender neutral #female yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere female #yandere female x reader #yandere female oc

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