#that has a whole year between her initial season

[faejilly]

I just wanted to let you know, I stumbled across your posts after playing Affairs of the Court for the first time in years, and I too have fallen head over heels for Luis!!! My entire heart!!! Anyways, I just wanted to flail in your inbox about him, and your walkthroughs were very helpful for getting the ending I wanted! 😘❤️

YAY! I... do not know how to organize my brain for outside comprehension, so I'm always delighted when a walkthrough/guide thing is actually useful. (Probably also because I am very bad at seeing behind the curtain re: game mechanics, like, I screw up my stats in every game ever because I don't think the line means what the game thinks it means.)

It is such a good time, I do still adore Luis. 😍

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.” 

“or else, what, honey?” 

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him.  initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d  taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here? 

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual  colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory. 

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“ 

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?” 

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it  was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal.  “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.” 

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?” 

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?” 

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.” 

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more. 

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.” 

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time. 

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away. 

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.” 

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother. 

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy. 

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother. 

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk. 

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?” 

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth. 

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped  to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air. 

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon. 

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear. 

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality. 

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from. 

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and  inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well. 

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.” 

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length. 

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair. 

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity. 

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?” 

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”  

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory. 

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood. 

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all,  you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache. 

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two. 

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens.  “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“ 

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness  chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore. 

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top. 

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you. 

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way. 

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins  to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,” 

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?”  the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…” 

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n  down. keep goin’ just like that.” 

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light. 

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not  when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him. 

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close. 

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you. 

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?” 

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair.  the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom. 

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull. 

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him. 

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth. 

he’s going to cum. 

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him. 

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time. 

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good. 

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.  

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words. 

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a  gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?” 

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.” 

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared. 

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger. 

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[willowsnook]

hi! could i get a scotch with lime in a copper mug? 💞✨

lando norris x mclarenrookie!reader

just shut up and come here

-----------------------------------------------------------------

With Max’s car starting to falter, Lando knew he had a real shot at competing for the WDC. As the season progressed, he’d become the favorite, and it finally felt like his time. There was just one problem: you.

In your rookie year in F1, you were holding third place, just 40 points behind Lando. Exceeding all the team's expectations, you’d proven to be a real competitor — and Lando wasn’t pleased. To him, the strategy should have been obvious: you were supposed to help him beat Max. But you saw it differently. After all, you were only 80 points behind the leader, and Zak and Andrea had decided to let things play out between the two of you, which only heightened the tension.

What started as a friendship had quickly soured after you overtook Lando to win in Hungary. Furious, he stormed into your driver’s room after the podium celebration, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, voice sharp.

You didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze. “A clean overtake,” you replied coolly.

“You’re screwing up my chances at the championship!” he seethed, his tone bitter.

"You do realize that I also have a shot at it?" You questioned. "Not my fault that I'm faster than you either."

At that, he got in your face, practically radiating anger. “Just stay out of my way,” he bit out before stalking out of the room.

It was the first of many heated clashes, and even Zak was starting to worry about the tension between his drivers. Things only escalated after your win in Baku, when Lando stood stony-faced on the podium, arms crossed, barely acknowledging the celebration. The media had a field day, and McLaren’s PR department wasn’t happy.

Seeing his growing frustration, your initial resentment slowly turned to concern. His behavior was spiraling, and it seemed no one was willing to address it — except you.

“What’s going on with you?” you demanded one day after a rough qualifying session, pushing open his door to find him pacing.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re being a brat to everyone! It was fine when you were just an asshole to me, but this is getting out of hand.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied venomously.

“If you need someone to talk to, you know McLaren has plenty of resources,” you said softly, trying a different approach.

“I don’t need your help so just fuck off,” he said and you backed off.

That didn’t stop you from giving your own therapist his email, instructing her to email him nonstop until he set up a session. Something must have worked because in the break before Austin, Lando did some press about his struggles with mental health and you heard that he’d bought gifts for the whole garage team as an apology for his behavior.

You two still didn’t really talk but he gave you a head nod now as a hello and there wasn’t much tension between you in front of the media anymore.

Then, on the Thursday before the Austin GP, during your post-free-practice interviews, a reporter brought up Lando.

“Y/N, any thoughts on Helmut’s recent comments?” they asked.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I don’t keep track of what everyone’s saying.”

“He claimed that Lando has ‘mental weaknesses’ preventing him from being a real championship contender.”

You stiffened, feeling anger bubble up. “Yeah, interesting,” you started, your PR manager nodding, likely expecting you to stay professional. Too bad for them. “Honestly, he can go fuck off.”

The press buzzed with shock, and your PR manager hurried over, but you went on.

“Red Bull’s looking for anything to distract from their own mess. It’s 2024, and criticizing a driver for being open about mental health is pathetic. We’d all be a little better off if they put him in a nursing home Lando’s one of the most talented drivers out there, so Helmut can shove it. Thanks.”

You walked off, ignoring your PR manager’s frantic scolding.

Later, after the team debrief, you headed to your room, ready to call it a day. But outside your door, you saw Lando waiting, his expression softer than usual.

“Are you okay—?” you began, but he cut you off, stepping forward.

“Just shut up and come here,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. You rubbed his back as he buried his head against your shoulder, his voice muffled. “I owe you so much. And after what you said today… even more.”

“This stuff is hard, Lando. Sometimes it feels like the whole world’s on our shoulders.” You pulled back to meet his gaze. “I like it better when you’ve got the energy to actually fight me.”

He laughed softly, then hugged you tighter. “Can we… start over? As friends?” he asked, his voice tentative.

You smiled. “Of course — but only after I win the championship.”

He groaned, but his eyes sparkled with humor. “In your dreams, rookie.”

[samkerrworshipper]

Initiation | Barca Femení x reader

part 1

warnings: insinuations of smut, sexual references, don’t read if you aren’t open to non monogamous relationships lol

you are responsible for your own digital consumption this is not made for anybody below the age of 18!

When it all had been proposed to you, you’d been shocked.

It was no secret amongst the soccer world that certain clubs had certain initiation customs, it was also no secret that inside a lot of clubs, especially the European ones, there was a lot of sexual fluidity across teammates. You weren’t oblivious, you’d heard the many stories from your national teammates, but when you’d signed with Barca and had two of your teammates approach you to talk about the Barca initiation you’d been shocked.

You were having coffee with Keira and Lucy, the afternoon after you’d signed and finished up all the media that had been required of you for Barca to put up on their social media and website.

You were sipping on your iced latte, whilst trying to finish off the pastry that Lucy had bought you, when they’d popped the question.

“Has anybody talked to you about Barca initiation?”

It was Keira who had piped up, her voice anxious from the other side of the table.

This was your first senior professional team that you were a proper member of, being only 22 you’d played the majority of your junior career with Manchester United, and your senior career had been a lot of bouncing between different teams. You’d never signed a contract that had you dedicated to a club for multiple seasons, so Barca was a big change for you.

“Lucy said that she had to sing a song or something.”

You hadn’t really thought about it much, you’d gone through the singing thing at your English call-up when you were 17.

“Right, but there is a little bit more to it than that.”

You looked up from your croissant, one of your eyebrows raised in questioning at your two older mentors.

“Are you going to tell me what you are talking about or continue to look at me like I’m about to explode?”

Lucy laughs, the anxiety on Keira’s face only becomes more prevalent.

“Okay, so a lot of the professional teams have different rituals that happen at the start of every season, initiation nights.”

You nod along, this isn’t new information to you, but the squint in Keira’s eyes at your obliviousness is enough to tell you that you aren’t catching on to whatever she is saying.

“Keira, can you get to the point?”

You're getting sick of Keira beating around the bush like you are a 10 year old.

“Barca has a night every year, a special night, it’s very important to some of the girls, no phones, no technology, it’s a very personal night, where some things that could be deemed unprofessional occur.”

You are still so lost, and you are certain that it’s being portrayed in your facial expression, is she talking about alcohol? Dancing? Pranks? Hazing?

“Keira, just tell me.”

Your statement is a plea, a plea for Keira to end this whole awkward encounter and just get to the point.

Lucy laughs heartily at the terrified look on Keira’s face, when she realises that Keira is stuck at what to say she takes over the conversation, both of her hands thudding down on the table.

“At the start of every season, we all get together, we have fun, no rules. This is different to your substandard initiation, this night is about connecting, on a different level with your teammates, on a sexual level.”

Your jaw slackens almost immediately, your eyes blinking aimlessly as you take in the last piece of Lucy’s statement.

“Now, that’s not to say that you have to do anything, if you want we can forget I just said that and you don’t have to be apart of that part of the night, it’s completely optional, a lot of the girls chose not to participate, but we just wanted to let you know that it is a option.”

An option.

It’s such odd wording, like it’s just an everyday decision.

“Sorry, I just need a few seconds to process.”

You take your time, taking a deep gulp of your coffee and a big bite of your croissant before you look back up at your teammates.

“Can I have a bit more of an explanation? I just want to understand this a little bit better.”

Lucy nods her head eagerly, a big smirk covering her face.

It’s such a taboo conversation to have at a fucking cafe, over breakfast, but neither of the other women seem very bothered by it.

“It’s a free for all, a survey is given out every year beforehand, things you are and aren’t open to engaging in. It’s separate to the other initiation, that happens during pre-season. This is different, It’s all very consensual, and if you choose to participate then you're limited on alcohol consumption, for safety reasons. It’s a lot of fun, a lot of pleasure and exploring. Alexia's been organising it for a few years now, so it’s a very secure process. It’s kind of seen as a final hoorah before pre-season and training starts. Normally they book out a suite at a hotel somewhere, but some years it’s been done at teammates' houses or airbnbs.”

You nod your head, it’s a very interesting concept, one that you are completely shocked by. Sure, you’ve heard about sexual innuendo amongst groups of players in clubs, but this is a completely different level. It’s uncharted territory for you, you definitely aren’t any form of prude or innocent type. You enjoy sex, you’re experienced enough to know that you are good at it. But you’ve never experienced anything near what this is.

“You’ve both been a part of it?”

Lucy nods definitively and Keira nods almost ashamedly.

“You’re okay with your partner being with other people?”

It might be an over step, but you figure this whole conversation is an over step.

“It’s not like that. I speak for both myself and Keira when I say that we both like to see each other having fun, that’s what this is. It’s a night of fun, and it’s with people that we both trust and spend every day with, there isn’t any worries about jealousy. There are a lot of the girls on the team that are in relationships, Ingrid and Mapi are together and they participate, Jenni and Alexia, Caro and Marta, there are also people in relationships outside of the team, it’s all consensual amongst both partners.”

You nod your head, it’s not like it matters to you, your not in a relationship, but it does make you feel a little bit better about the whole interaction.

“Sorry-I’m asking a lot of questions.”

Lucy just smiles and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it, I had plenty of questions to ask and I didn’t have a national teammate to ask about it. Ask away, it’s better to ask now then wonder later.”

You nod your head, you are still so shocked by this whole encounter.

“I-What happens at this night?”

It’s a broad question, and you almost palm yourself in the head for asking it.

“I seriously don’t need to give you the birds and bees talk do I?”

Lucy is jesting you, so you roll your eyes, pivoting to Keira with a genuine look of curiosity.

“It differs each year, depending on what people want to do. Toys, kinks, bondage, anything really. If you want to do something, someone is probably likely to want to oblige you. For example, last year, Luce put down that she liked to watch me service other people, and I got the opportunity to do that.”

Keira is stuttering over her words, it’s kind of cute, especially when you catch the glance that Lucy throws at her.

“This is the only time it happens every year.”

Keira cocks her head, looking at Lucy for some kind of permission before shaking her head.

“Not quite, there are agreements between some of the girls, on trips and things often happen but that’s more private, this is common knowledge amongst the team. Although, if you enjoy yourself there is a more than likely chance that more opportunities will come up, if you catch my drift.”

Keira is like your older sister, so sitting down and talking to her about sex has never been something that has ever crossed your mind remotely, but you are kind of glad that it is Kei that you are talking to. Because Keira doesn’t joke around the same as the others do, she wouldn’t make fun of you about something like this, nor would Lucy consider she’s Keira’s codependent.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, and I'm going to be blunt about this. Every year, before the season starts, the Barca women have a massive sex free for all that’s disguised as an initiation party.”

Keira hesitantly nods, but not before she can correct you a little bit.

“It’s not disguised as an initiation party, there will be other new signings there, Ona, who you would know from United, and a few other girls. I can promise you that the newbies get the most attention, if that’s something you want, of course, there is absolutely no pressure for you to participate, this is about you doing as little or as much as you’d like.”

You take a few minutes of silence, whilst you toss up all of the words that have been spoken in the conversation between you and the couple.

It’s a lot to think about, and the thought is massively daunting.

Especially considering that you are going to be walking into a room full of women that you’ve hardly talked to. You’ve met Alexia, she dropped in to meet you when you were going through the process of your signing, but it had been a fairly rushed interaction and you’d been too busy being in awe of her to even think about anything besides the fact that in a few months time you’d be playing on the field beside her.

“If I said I wanted to?”

Lucy broke out into a fit of giggles, a big smile breaking out across her face.

“I’ll text la capitana, she’ll text you any details, you’ll probably get a visit or a phone call confirming your interest.”

You were still a little bit shocked, this whole conversation felt like it had been a dream, so much so that you’d had to reach down to your thigh and pinch it to confirm that this was in fact your life.

“That’s it?”

Lucy smirked and nodded, reaching over to pat you on the shoulder.

“You aren’t signing yourself off to the devil, Ale will be in contact, if you have any questions you’ll see Kei and I everyday leading up to it, and if you want to pull out at any stage that’s completely fine, no hard feelings, no judgement.”

You nodded your head, unable to do much more than that.

“It’s as easy as that?”

Lucy nods her head.

“Easy as that.”

It’s two days later, when you are properly acquainted with your captain.

You are sitting at your kitchen counter, finalising some university work that you are trying to get ahead of when you are rudely interrupted by the sound of a light knocking at your door.

You close your laptop, and turn down the volume of the playlist you have playing across your speakers, before you jog to the door of your apartment.

The last thing you expect to be faced with, is the face of your newest captain.

“Hola, Capitana.”

You don’t really know what else to say, you’ve had zero warning about this sudden visit, and whilst you are honoured, it’s also a little bit daunting having one of the best players the game has standing right in front of you.

“Lo siento, puedo pasar?” Sorry, may I come in?

You are nowhere near fluent in Spanish, Lucy had been giving you crash courses over the past few months once she’d found out about your signing, you had managed to get a cusp of basic conversational talk, the club had told you that once season commenced you’d be assigned a spanish teacher and a translator, so you hadn’t been super worried about it.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, juice, coffee, tea?”

You list off everything that you can think of, as you open the door fully to Alexia.

“Just water should be fine.”

You are slightly shocked by the Spaniards' flawless pronunciation over her English, and also extremely relieved that you aren’t going to be forced to try and understand Spanish, because it certainly isn’t a skill you’ve even begun to master.

Alexia takes a spot sitting at your island bench, directly beside your uni work that had been the previous centre of your attention, which is now being completely occupied by your Catalan company.

“Here you go.”

You pass the glass over to Alexia, electing to stay positioned on the opposite side of the counter, instead of sitting down beside her. It feels less confrontational, more conversational and less one on one.

“Gracias, I’m sorry for dropping in without any warning, I was in the area and I figured it was best to discuss this all with you in person, I won’t be here long, I don’t want to disturb anything.”

You smiled at Alexia, shaking your head at her.

“It’s no trouble at all, I was just getting ahead of some course work, what can I do for you, Capitana?”

Alexia gives you a wry smile, reaching for her handbag which she’d set down on the floor.

“Please call me Alexia or Ale, none of the formality is necessary.”

You nod at her, Ale, it sounds nice coming off of your tongue, it makes you feel a little bit less terrified of the woman.

“Okay Ale, what can I do for you?”

Alexia smiles at you, a genuine smile that somehow warms your soul, it’s like magic, and you give yourself a mental note to ask Lucy about the effect later on.

“I’m just here to talk to you about our initiation night on Friday, Lucia tells me that you are keen to join in, si?”

You nod your head cautiously, it’s impossible to miss the little dimple in Alexia’s cheek as she licks her lips and smirks at you.

“Perfecta, I can assure you that you will have a lot of fun. Has Lucia talked to you about it, or would you like me to give you a bit of a debrief?”

Technically, Lucy has given you the debrief, but you are curious to learn more and see if Alexia has anything else to add.

“Lucy talked about it, but it was pretty brief and non-specific.”

Alexia nods, and gently pushes a sheet of paper across the table to you, one look at the words across the sheet had your eyes nearly bulging out of your eye sockets.

“On the left, you’ll see a list of girls' names, those are the girls from the team that are choosing to participate. Some just come to watch, others come to please, others come for pleasure. Everything that happens on the night is exclusive to the team, and if talked about outside of the team there are consequences. On the right you’ll see a list of common things that occur. I'll send out a survey to you later, the majority of those things will be on the list, you do not have to engage in anything that makes you uncomfortable, there is absolutely no pressure for you to do anything. Please understand that.”

You nod dutifully at Alexia, your eyes scanning the page and taking in the amount of names as well as different sexual acts and activities.

“We’ve rented out a house, it’s on private land, nice and spacious, lots of privacy. I’m sure Keira and Lucia will take you along with them, you can be as included as you wish, we take care of newbies, anything you want you’ll get, just don’t be shy to ask for it, okay?”

You nod sheepishly at Alexia. This conversation would make you uncomfortable normally, but talking about it with ‘La Reina’ like the two of you are discussing the weather is perplexing.

“Don’t stress about it, cariño, you’ll be well looked after, you are well sought after amongst the group, I’m sure that you’ll be very popular if you desire so. If not, I’m always happy to look after our newest additions.”

Alexia sends you a sardonic smile, sweet and sultry, full of teeth and a chunk of her plump pink lip caught in her teeth.

You think that Alexia can sense that you are stuck on what to say to her, a little bit star struck and still trying to process the words that have just left her mouth.

“Well, unless you have any other questions I'll see myself out, I’ll see you in a couple of days, adios.”

Alexia is up and out of your kitchen in a matter of seconds, barrelling towards the door, your body following hers and managing to speak out just as her hand connects with the brass of your door knob.

“Alexia, thank you for coming around, I really appreciate it, just one last question if you have a second?”

Alexia pivots on her heel, turning around to face you fully.

“Ask away.”

You nod your head, working up the confidence inside of you to ask the question.

“What should I expect?”

You are well aware that it’s a broad question, and you don’t know what kind of answer you are going to receive, but there is a part of your gut that’s just begging for more information, for something.

“You really want a spoiler?”

You nod your head definitively, you aren’t a person who enjoys surprises, you like to know what to expect, what’s happening. You’ve been this way since you were a child, and it’s followed you up until now.

“It’s an atmospheric experience, the feeling, the endorphins. There is nothing that matches being in a room full of people full of desire, nothing like being in a room full of women reaching levels of pleasure they never even imagined. I don’t know what else to say, it’s an out of body experience, there is a reason why it is so sacred amongst our team, as a newbie it’s daunting, I know it’s hard to believe but I was once in your position as well, and the best chunk of advice I can give you is to just let go, let yourself live in the moment whilst you are there, nobody is going to judge you, take a leap of faith, okay? I’ll see you in a couple of days, text me if you have any more questions or if you think I’ve left anything out, even if you just want to chat I’m here, take a read from the list I gave you, it should provide some insight.”

Alexia’s words resonate with you for days to come, the way she talked about the whole situation like it was gospel, her words making it seem like a holy sacrament. You study the sheet she’s given you as if it is the holy bible and you are trying to learn your scriptures.

14 women.

15 including yourself.

That’s a lot of people, and yet as you read over the names it seems nowhere near as magnitudinal as it sounds.

The list of kinks and situations is a source of a lot of your late night self explorations.

You’ve experimented with a lot of things over the years, but some of the things on the list have you weak at the knees just reading them. When your receive the email from Alexia it takes you a whole day to work up the courage to open up the attachments. The first one, as previously discussed is a survey. It has all of the things from the sheet Alexia gave you, plus a surplus of other things, and then some more questions to be personally filled in. It’s near impossible to work through it, it takes far longer than you think it should, but by the end of it you are left with a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach, anticipation, shock at what you are looking at.

There are four boxes for each topic, yes, no, maybe. And below every maybe box there is a little text box which reads ‘please specify’.

It’s well organised, and you have a feeling that Alexia will have put a lot of time into it, from the very short amount of time that you’ve grown to know her you’re under the impression that she takes her role of captain very seriously.

Fingering? yes. Vaginal pentration? yes. Spanking? yes. Bondage? maybe - no ropes or handcuffs. Oral receiving? yes. Oral giving? yes. Use of toys? yes. Double penetration? yes. Anal? maybe - only experimented but open to trying. Sensory deprivation? maybe - no gags. Humiliation? no. Sex with multiple people? yes. Orgasm denial/control? yes. Sex with a couple? yes. Praise? yes. Degradation? yes. Choking/breath play? no. Dominant? no. Switch? maybe - most likely not. Submissive? yes.

The list goes on, it covers every single thing you’ve ever done and then more, it makes you quiver in the depths of your core, just with anticipation.

Once you’ve finished the yes no part of the survey and answered the questions down the bottom you move onto the other attachment, which from a quick skim over outlines the rules, expectations and details of the night.

The main things that cathc your eyes are the sentences relating to safe words and consent. It seems important so you pay extra attention to it. It talks about the traffic light system, that once you consent to the night it is your responsibility to use your words, there will be regular check ins but unless you use your safe word there is no expectation for anything to stop.

Some other topics that catch your eyes are details about time, place, clothes, etcetera.

The majority of it is just information that Lucy and Keira had already outlined to you, the newbie run down.

Three days later, and you are slowly getting ready for your night to come.

Over the past 72 hours there has been one thing on your mind, tonight. You aren’t spared a minute from your thoughts and when Keira and Lucy walk through your front door, running an hour late you are buzzing. You are well aware of the fact that you look like a 8 year old who has just skulled a bottle of cola, every single extremity connected to your body shaking wildly.

You were lost on what to wear, and it had taken a long chat with Keira yesterday to convince you that apparently it was nowhere near as big of a deal as you were making it in your head.

You settled for a matching sweat combo, just because you figured it would be coming off anyway. It was paired with one of your nicest pairs of lingerie, a red set which was probably leaning towards a size too small. The set accentuated every single part of your body though, it hugged your curves, made your ass pop and your tits look delectable.

It felt almost criminal to cover it up with a tank top and nike tracksuit and sweater, but you also found comfort in the extra layer of clothing, it feels like a layer of armour.

You’ve been sitting in your apartment, contemplating everything for an hour and a half when Lucy and Kei finally show up.

They walk in without any warning, and it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes.

You aren’t sure when was the last time you’ve seen either of them glowing and looking so smiley, but it’s definitely a moment where you take a mental picture for the future.

They’re both dressed similarly to you, and for once you don’t find yourself guilty for being curious about what hides beneath the couple's clothing.

“Hola.”

Even your words are practically dripping with anxiety, your voice shaky and stuttery.

“Hola amor, you ready to go?”

Lucy looks especially delighted.

Her hair is down, something that you don’t see very often. She’s got a light layer of makeup on that compliments her facial figures without making it look like she’s over done it.

Keira looks similar, her hair is down and curled every so slightly, if you didn’t know her so well you probably wouldn’t have realised but the effort is noted inside your brain. She’s also got a very light layer of makeup on, both women look stunning, perfect together, the picture of love.

It makes you hopeful, hopeful that one day you’ll find somebody that looks at you the way Lucy does at Keira, and vice versa.

“Mhm.”

You don’t get up from the couch, all of a sudden you feel unable to move.

Keira recognises it fairly quickly, taking a seat down next to you, her hand falling on top of your knee and squeezing lightly.

“Everything alright, little one?”

Keira’s voice is so soft, it makes you feel safe, like you’re at home.

“Just nervous.”

As far as nerves go, you're fairly certain the euros final doesn’t even match this, it’s weird.

“You know that if you want to back out that’s completely fine, nobody is going to make fun of you.”

You shook your head, backing out was the last thing you wanted to do, but it didn’t make everything else less daunting.

“M’ fine, just need a sec.”

Keira’s hand slowly moves up from your knee, to your thigh, her grip becoming a little bit lighter.

“I can think of a way to calm some of those nerves.”

Keira’s voice is unusually confident, and it surprises you greatly when she reaches down to your chin and pulls it upwards so you’re looking at her.

It’s just then that you realise exactly how close the two of your faces are, so close that you can feel Keira’s breath on your face. It’s warm and it tickles against your skin in a way that you’ve never felt before. She’s smiling at you, but there is a deeper connection through her eyes, the way she's looking at you makes you feel like you are the only person in the world.

“Luce?”

You’re well aware of what this whole night ensues, but it doesn’t settle the slight niggle in your gut that you definitely do not want to be reading this situation wrong.

“Yes, honey?”

Keira’s eyes don’t waiver from your own, even as yours look across the room to look at Lucy, who is giving you a similar look to Keira, somewhat predatory in the best way possible. Her voice is practically dripping with confidence, doused in assertiveness.

You look between the both of them, realising that there is definitely no push back from either of them.

“Please tell me I’m not reading this wrong.”

Keira silences you by pressing her lips to your own, you freeze up for a few seconds, your mouth completely unmoving as you realise this really is happening, that for the last week you haven’t been walking around in some kind of weird dream that’s been created because of some weird delusion in your head.

After a few seconds, you relax into the kiss, moving your own lips against Keira’s and savouring the flavour of strawberry gum and coffee that is fresh on her lips. It tastes how Keira feels, warm and content and it calms down any of the previous nerves that were occupying your stomach, the shaking across your whole body as Keira’s hand on your jaw gently caresses the skin with the pads of her fingertips.

After a few more seconds of Keira sucking and biting at your lips she retracts herself, a big smile on her face as she continues to stare at you.

“Luce you need to try, she tastes divine.”

The compliment makes you blush more than you were already, the redness spreading down to your neck as you feel the couple's eyes on you.

“All in due time Kei, we don’t want to overwhelm her, now I think it’s about time we get a move on, hm?”

You nod subconsciously, your brain still floating on a different planet as you compartmentalise exactly what just happened. All you can think about is how Keira’s lips felt, addictively soft and supple, it’s a feeling that you are certain you won’t forget.

“God you’ve gone and broken her Kei, already?”

The feeling of Keira squeezing your knee once again manages to awaken you from your trance, your eyes darting between the couple cautiously.

“You ready to go, honey?”

Keira’s voice is as soft as her lips, you're so effortlessly enraptured by her that it makes you more than a little bit excited for whatever is to come.

You’ve never seen Keira look this carefree, this cheeky and it makes you feel so much more at peace then you had previously.

You allow Keira to guide you out of your own apartment, your brain still working at a snail's pace so before you even realise you are sitting in the backseat of Lucy’s very nice mercedes. Instead of sitting in the front beside Lucy, Keira has elected to sit in the backseat with you, her body pressed up against your own and her hand resting comfortably on the inside of your knee.

Your knee is bouncing up and down under Keira’s hand, and before you can say anything, her hand is moving up to your chin and rotating it to meet her lips.

This time the kiss is more motivated, more purposeful but sweet all the same.

You give Keira control, your lips practically melting into hers as her hand tangles into the back of your head, tugging at the tresses of hair at the nape of your neck.

It feels so good, so good that you part your lips to moan, instead your sounds are silenced though by Keira’s tongue.

Keira kisses with passion and fervour, it’s quite shocking based off of her personality and all the times you’ve seen her around Lucy, but it makes you giddy on the inside all the same.

“Keira, behave.”

The words come when Keira’s spare hand comes up to your covered breast, you don’t even really notice until you see Lucy looking directly at Keira in the rearview mirror and the look on her face is a mixture of displeasure and humour.

“You're just mad that I got her first.”

Keira’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s fairly clear that Lucy isn’t pleased about it.

“You keep talking like that to me and you won’t like how the night goes for you.”

Keira’s hand quickly moves down from your breast but she doesn’t remove it completely, instead moving it down to your lap again, but her kisses don’t stop, she litters little kisses all over your jaw and neck, all whilst you maintain the eye contact with Lucy in the rearview.

She’s smirking, her eyes don’t leave yours unless they go back to the road, and even when they don’t you keep your eyes on her.

Keira is only egged on by the little sounds and moans that leave your mouth as she finds different spots across your neck and face that make you melt even further into her.

“How does she feel honey? Is she getting you warmed up?”

Lucy’s words are directed towards you, it takes a few seconds for your brain to wrap it’s way around them but once you do you reply quickly.

“Feels good, m’ sorry.”

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow, and when the next red light comes she turns around completely to look at you.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

Lucy voice is more questioning than accusatory.

“Sorry for getting Kei in trouble and kissing her without your permission.”

Lucy scoffs and Keira snorts from her spot on your neck.

“Oh honey, not your fault that Kei is choosing to be a bit bratty, these nights always get her quite over zealous, as far as kissing her you’ve got my full permission, you don’t need to ask.”

You nod cautiously, moaning as Keira begins to suck a mark right into the pulse point on your neck.

“Kei, behave yourself, you know what Ale said about not getting over excited.”

It’s the mention of Alexia’s name that has your ears perking up.

It seems to get Keira to back off a bit, her lips at least, her hand continues to rub gently at the inside of your knee and thigh and you slowly drive down a dark and windy road.

“Y’know you're all Kei’s been talking about all week, she’s been very excited for tonight.”

You look over at the older English woman, feeling a little bit confident when you notice that Keira is blushing wildly and avoiding your eye contact completely.

“Lucee.”

Keira is clearly embarrassed, which must mean that what Lucy is saying has come truth, which means that Keira has been thinking about you.

“All she’s been talking about, I can say the same about quite a lot of the girls, you are a popular topic.”

It makes you feel all giddy in your stomach with the acknowledgment from Lucy, she’s the last person that would lie to you, so it makes you feel especially good.

Keira groans and hides her head against the window.

“Really?”

Lucy scoffs once again at the shock in your voice.

“Trust me honey, pretty sure there will be girls queuing up for you, us oldies don’t get that kind of attention.”

Keira rolls her eyes, which is enough of an answer for you to realise that Lucy is trying to be humble.

It’s just as you’re about to say something that the car pulls into a driveway, which is already full of cars.

Alexia is right, it’s the only light that you’ve seen for miles, there is nobody for miles, which is a big comfort.

Lucy opens your door for you, helping you out and immediately beginning to assess your neck.

Once she’s certain that there are no marks she moves her vision up to your face, reaching down for a quick kiss.

It’s different to Keira, rougher, her lips more coarse.

It still feels equally as good.

Lucy releases fairly quickly, Keira’s already walking up the stairs to the house, an extra pep in her step as she makes it to the door.

Lucy and you are quick to follow her.

The door has a keypad on it, Keira quickly punches in a four digit code before the door pops open. The entry hallway is completely empty and silent, all three of you toe off your shoes and leave them and your socks by the door.

Lucy leads towards the door at the end of the entry way, you loiter behind, completely terrified of whatever is going to be behind it.

[byers-bowlcut]

I've seen people say El likes the IDEA of having a boyfriend more than she actually likes her own boyfriend, and jfc it's so true 😭 Like it's all over the show:

Season 1

She's initially attached to Mike because he's the first person to give her shelter, food, genuine human care and just,, not calling CPS immediately. Her feelings for him was born from trauma and dependency in season 1. And throughout the rest of the 3 seasons, we don't see it grow past that.

Also I think it's noticeable in S1 that:

She was uninterested when Mike tried to share his hobbies with her

She also did not seem to mind AT ALL when she questioned if Mike could be her brother. He voice is neutral and curious here, not the least bit repulsed by the thought of being siblings with Mike, like girl does not care 😭

Season 2

This season has zero onscreen moments of Mike and El actually getting to know each other further. They were separated nearly the whole season.

What we DO see:

El's attachment and dependency on Mike that was developed from S1

We also find out how El spent a year of her life watching melodramatic romance films. Many other middle schoolers might identify that relationships in real life don't work like those films. But El is fresh out of lab life, she's literally learning the world through this TV, and has now become obsessed with the IDEA of having a boyfriend/relationship just like that.

Season 3

Again, no onscreen moments of El showing interest in who Mike is as a person.

The very first scene we see of them, she's trying to get him to stop singing along to the song they're listening to. She seems to like kissing Mike. But isn't shown enjoying anything actually characteristic about him, like sharing interests with him such as music.

Hopper indicates that they don't do anything meaningful together either. We see here that before hanging out with Max, El had little sense of her own style, her hobbies, her interests- meaning spending time with Mike for months probably didn't involve many talking points did it?

Also in season 3, El dumps Mike with ZERO hesitation. Then she has the time of her life with Max. The most acknowledgment we get that she's oh so heartbroken is a small frown to Max that her and Mike aren't on best terms. And even that doesn't seem so paramount cause 1 episode later she totally dismisses Mike after he explains how Hopper threatened him. She just tells him maybe Hopper was right 😭😭

It's literally ONLY once she starts becoming in danger that she starts clinging onto him again. I feel like we've seen this film before hm.

Like where are any signs that she likes Mike as an individual, and is falling for who he really is, rather than simply being attached due to trauma, and liking the concept of doing romantic things (ie: kissing, dancing at the ball, etc.)

Season 4

This is the season it becomes the MOST OBVIOUS: El loves the concept of a happy relationship and being loved, but not really loving Mike for who he is. And bringing in Will's feelings just emphasizes this point.

To start, El continues doing all these relationship-y things that she did in the start of S3. She has Mike's name and pictures plastered all over her room. She makes a "Mike box" with his pictures decorated all over it. But the thing is: this is all sort of a façade at this point. We know she's BEEN unhappy with him for months ("From Mike! From Mike! From Mike!"). But with all these items, she's basically trying to convince herself that she's in this happy, fantasy, movie-like relationship, like she probably watched in hopper's cabin in season 2.

And then, there's the sheer difference between her and WILL in their feelings for Mike. We see it right off the bat when Mike comes to the airport: Will and El both have plans to give Mike something.

Will plans to give him a painting he worked extremely hard on. The painting is a connection of what they BOTH love: DnD, and it includes their friends who also play the game. It's very personal and immediately touches Mike. What's more is, the painting illustrates the exact qualities about Mike that Will loves: his leadership, his bravery, his guidance. This painting literally spells out to us that Will truly loves Mike for WHO HE IS.

Meanwhile, El plans on giving Mike a fun reunion date. She has the whole day planned out. And immediately: we see that what she wants to do doesn't actually takes Mike's interests and personality into consideration. You can see and hear the strain in his voice when he talks about "burritos for breakfast" 😬

You can see how he's not that relaxed at rinkomania, and nervous about skating, saying he's clumsy. He probably would've much preferred movies and playing a board game, over skating. But El has her own ideas. When she brings Mike to rinkomania, she tries to act really cool about it. She wants to impress him, wants to seem like she fits in and belongs.

Her present was never actually ABOUT Mike, and about loving Mike that she would plan this huge date for him. Her present was about her desperately wanting to have this cool date like every other normal teen girl might, with a normal boyfriend, and make it seem like they have a happy perfect relationship.

And then finally we reach their S4 fight. I find it extremely interesting how Hopper's cabin is framed in the background during their whole fight. It's almost like an indication that her desperate need to be loved by Mike stems from her trying to cope with losing Hopper and the hole left by him, that clearly did not exist when she happily dumped Mike in S3.

In their fight, when the topic of bullying comes up, Mike says he understands her, but El is quick to say he doesn't. She thinks Mike doesn't understand her, but this is just as much her not understanding HIM as well.

She doesn't get the extent of Mike's insecurities (definitely partially a result of bullying), something that Mike later divulges to WILL and not her. If the writers wanted to show us how much El understands Mike and loves him for who he is, her and Mike would work through his insecurities in their rs together, NOT through a middle man.

Overall it's pretty striking that we've never once heard El actually compliment Mike, or articulate, or even show what exactly she loves about him through four whole seasons. I mean...

Attachment to him due to trauma or grief =/= loving him for who he is.

Wanting to BE loved =/= loving him for who he is.

So really in terms of a relationship, what El ACTUALLY wants is the concept/idea of a regular boyfriend, and a happy easy relationship, all in an attempt to feel normal. And that's why we see them fall apart the way they do in season 4, and why Will is currently so involved. Because Will DOES see and love Mike for exactly who he is.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

hiiii, omg i would absolutely adore more of vampire rhysand fics, especially from that universe you created with them all vampires, will there be more? maybe when reader is turned, she can finally take both azriel and rhysand👀👀👀 or maybe to explore rhysand's relationship with her maybe nesta or someone from her family sneak in to the ball to steal reader back but rhysand is like nu uh tf

those are just some of the ideas that popped into my head, i love your writing and your smut💖

You must be psychic because I had literally just opened up a Word Document to try and write another Vamp!Rhys fic but couldn't figure out where to start!

I've got some ideas, and was thinking about doing some Monster Themed Fics for Spooky Season (More Vamp!Rhys + Bat Boys, maybe a Werewolf or Demon AU) if I can get my thoughts in order enough. Until then, pls enjoy a possessive!vamp!Rhys ;)

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Mine

Content Warnings: Slight SMUT, Possessive!Rhys, Blood and Gore

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“I’m bored,” Rhysand says by way of greeting, as he throws his lythe body onto the chase across from where you sit, curled up in a reading chair in the library.

 The sun sets behind you, the golden rays peeking in through the blackout curtains that usually remain closed during the day. Most of the horde sleeps through the day, meaning, if you let your body’s natural rhythm guide you, you have the entire manor to yourself. And of course, you use most of that time to peruse the thousand year old vampire’s massive collection of books. There’s so many organized on the floor to ceiling shelves you’re not even sure you’re promised immortality will give you enough time to read all of them--that doesn’t stop you from trying, however.

The vampire lord remains in the shadows of the library, the crack of sunlight just far enough away to not burn his otherwise unbreakable skin. Sometimes you think it’s a shame he can only go out at night, while it’s true he looks his best under moonlight, the golden hue of the fading sun makes his bronze skin glow like a god. You’re tempted to set down the book in your hands and climb into his lap, unbutton the already half open shirt and run your tongue over every golden inch of him. Time has not dulled the need you feel for him, even after all these months, he’s still as tempting as he was the first time you laid eyes on him. 

“There are a number of things you can do in this manor,” you say, ignoring your instincts and going back to the fantasy romance you’ve been devouring for the last hour. In truth, the smut on the page before you might also play into why your mouth is practically watering at the sight of him. You’re right at the good part, and your mind is torn between finishing the chapter and indulging your own fantasies with the very real, and very eager, vampire before you.

“Not entertaining enough,” he whines. 

Your eyes still on the page as you try and think of something to offer him. He hasn’t been able to throw another ball in nearly a month, not after a group of vampire hunters had come rolling into town. Their presence had been tiresome and even Azriel, for all his talents had not been able to figure out who’d tipped them off and brought them around. Rhys had initiated an indoor ban on the whole horde just to keep everybody safe. That meant for the most part, everyone had been living off of sheep’s blood and well, you. Mostly the sheep’s blood though. Rhys had threatened to keep you locked in his room, for only his enjoyment if Azriel didn’t stop leaving so many bite marks in your thighs--his favorite place to feed from you apparently. There were more than enough bite marks across your throat to give the others pause before they tried to drink from you these days. And it hadn’t helped that Cass had snuck out and nearly been caught, drinking from a barmaid in an alley three nights ago. Everyone was on edge. 

You glance up at him over the top of the worn pages in your hands. He keeps an arm thrown over his eyes, as if, even the little bit of sunlight filtering passed is enough to hurt him. Aside from that, he lays with one long leg tossed over the back of the couch, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, the swirl of ink across his chest on full display. His dark hair is tousled, falling messily over his forehead. He had to have come directly here from his bedroom.

You look back down at the paragraph you were reading, the spicy scene practically leaping off the page at you, then back up to him as you bite your lower lip in thought. It’s usually him that initiates your interactions, him that dictates how and where  you take him. You don’t mind. Truth be told, you love being able to let go of everything and let him dominate you in whatever way he sees fit. It is the height of your pleasure, knowing he could so easily break you, and yet he doesn’t. You think meeting him might actually have put some pieces of your soul back together, rather than shatter them further and you love him all the more for it. And now, in that freedom, you can’t help but wonder if there are still other things to explore?

“We could play a game?” You suggest, voice softer than you mean it to be. Neither of you have ever talked about switching things up. Why mess with a good thing, right? But he’s here, asking, and the idea is literally in your hands as you speak, like fate prompting you to try something new and exciting. It can’t hurt to ask, right? He’s never denied you anything before.

Rhys spreads two fingers over his face, so you catch a glimpse of one, gleaming, violet eye. A grin spreads across his handsome features, fangs glinting in the scarce few rays of sunlight left. There will be nothing but starlight here soon, the plain of existence made solely for him. The others may live in the dark, but it is Rhys who thrives in it. “I’m listening.”

You draw a shaky breath. It’s just a question. No harm can come from a question. But how exactly do you suggest… this? You glance down at the pages again, trying to see if they even gave it a name for you to offer him, but there’s nothing but the promise of pleasure blurring across the pages.

Gathering your courage, you unfurl your legs from beneath you and cross the distance so you can climb onto his lap. Those thighs might have been made just for you, muscle shifting to let you get comfortable as his hands settle on your hips. He sighs contentedly, like this is something he’s been missing as you settle your weight against him.

“I was reading this book and these characters are…” you scrunch your face, trying to explain without sounding crass and failing. A blush works its way up your cheeks as you shove the open book into his hands. “Maybe you should just read it.”

He takes his time, tongue slipping out to wet his full lips as he reads. You count every breath he takes in the silence, watching his face with rapt attention to try and gauge what he’s thinking about it. He’s a master of schooled expressions, always collected and together, but after all these months, you like to think you know his tells. Yet, as he reads, there is no gleam in his eye, no obvious indication of arousal from where you sit over his hips. There is nothing but careful calculation as he reads--and maybe rereads, judging by the time it takes him--the pages.

Finally he closes the book and sets it down on the floor. “You’re suggesting we do that?” 

It’s hard to identify if that is amusement or irritation in his voice and you find your heartbeat quickening regardless of which it is. “I-if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked, Little One,” he tuts, hands resuming their rightful place on your hips. His thumbs stroke gentle circles into your skin, a move that can turn either teasing or cruel at a moment's notice. 

“I don’t know, you said you were bored. I thought maybe, you know, since we haven’t had a ball in awhile you might want to…” the word sticks in your throat and you swallow as the intensity of his gaze pins you in place. “You know… hunt.”

His eyes light up at the word. “And you want me to hunt you?”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at the thought, a move that doesn’t go unnoticed in the slightest. He grins wolfishly, gaze pinned to where your hips rest over his. He could have you right here, like this and he knows it. All it would take is a couple rocking motions of his hips, a slide of his fingertips beneath the thin silk of your top, teasing up bare skin until he can play with your breasts and you’d surrender. He could drink his fill and take you just as you are, right here and now. But there’s no challenge in it, no fun to be had, and he wants you to tell him you want it. Want him like that.

You’d be a liar if you said you’d never thought about what he would feel like if he let loose his control and showed you just how much a monster he was capable of being. You knew that even if he lost his usual composure, he would never hurt you. Even his basest instincts would balk at the thought of causing you pain. If you said you wanted it, he would make sure that you enjoyed every minute of it.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He sits up, swinging his legs onto the floor, moving you with him. His hands slide over your hips to your ass, squeezing playfully as you squeal in surprise over the sudden shift in position. “What are the rules to this game then?”

Your heartbeat quickens in your chest. You’re actually going to do this.

“I want a ten minute head start,” you say slowly, mind spinning. 

He hums as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Done. What else?”

“No going past the gardens.” There is enough yard between the manor and the perimeter walls that you could still feel like you were outside without risking an encounter with a hunter. 

“Agreed,” he kisses the opposite corner of your mouth.

“If you catch me-”

“When I catch you,” he says, lips pressing to my chin.

“If you catch me before the end of the hour,” that gives him a total of thirty minutes before the clock chimes, “then…” It’s not like you’ve never talked dirty before, but still, your cheeks are a deep set of red as you say, “then I am yours to do with what you wish.”

His eyes gleam, fangs glinting as he leans back and grins like he’s already won. “And if I say I want to be so deep inside you that every sorry hunter for miles will know your mine regardless of where I find you?”

You clench your thighs again, or attempt to, this new position in his lap doesn’t give you a lot of room to do so. “If you can find me.”

He slides you effortlessly off his lap, but you find, given the nature of the way he’s looking at you, that your legs feel weak already. “You should get going. You’ve only got ten minutes, Darling.”

You waste precious time leaning down to capture his lips in a quick kiss, but you don’t care. Every kiss, every touch is worth the lost time. He is a promise of endless time, of boundless freedom and new adventures, time is never wasted with Rhys.

He pulls away with some difficulty. “I’m still counting,” he warns.

You grin as you turn and sprint out the library, leaving the doors wide open as you run. It occurs to you now that you’ve never actually seen him hunt outside a ballroom. There’s a lot of strategy to those hunts, as you’ve observed, but he’s never had to chase anything. He’s like a spider, waiting patiently for his prey to get caught and stuck in his web for him to devour. You don’t actually know how fast or strong he is. He certainly has a heightened sense of smell, but how heightened?

You know you want to make it outside, just to let him feel like he’s getting out of the house, but going straight out the back door would be too easy. You run up the stairs to the second floor instead, then into one of the many empty rooms and unlatch the window. This might waste more of your precious time, but still, you’re curious to know if he’ll save time and run right out the door, or if he can actually follow your scent. 

Carefully, you climb onto the roof and pick your way across the slanting tiles, until you reach the side of the manor where tree branches reach for you. The gardens outside the estate are massive, their own little forest, and with the gates closed, the gardeners haven’t been around to trim the trees. Branches that would normally be clipped to keep the leaves from collecting on the roof have been allowed to blossom and you find a sturdy one and nimbly walk across it like a balance beam. He may be the expert hunter here, but you spent years outside the Spring Estate, back when your parents were still alive, exploring the massive gardens and climbing the trees. Until your Governess had dragged you back by the ear, yelling about your ripped skirts and scraped knees. Hardly the lifestyle of a lady, they’d said. You couldn’t care less now as you climb, hand over hand through the dense leaves, moving from tree to tree. This is familiar yet different, you are far more free here than you had ever been back home.

Anticipation sits hot and heavy in your lower belly as you move. It’s hard to tell how much time you have left and you need to decide if the plan is to just keep moving or to hunker down and hide in wait. 

When the trees start to thin, you finally clamber down onto the damp floor below and take a good look around. There are certainly plenty of bushes to hide under, but that feels… boring. 

You glance over your shoulder, the trees blocking out the moonlight that has now replaced the earlier sun. Shadows cling to the trees providing ample cover, for both you and the predator you know is coming. 

You bite your lip. You want it to be a challenge. So you keep moving, ears straining for any little sound that might indicate your ten minutes is up. Every rustle of leaves makes a shiver run up your spine, heart thundering beneath your ribs. It’s a heady sort of rush that makes you laugh as you break into a full on sprint, wind tearing at your loose hair. 

This is freedom. Unbridled and unrestrained, there are no limits on what you can do or want, and right now, you want exactly what he promised you.

You slow to catch your breath, the trees thinning as you come closer to the hedge maze on the far side of the property. There’s usually a whole slew of string lights bobbing overhead, so partygoers can see past the towering hedges full of roses and attempt to find the bubbling water fountain at the center of the maze. It’s a showstopper when lit, but right now, it is dark and unyielding and you inch your way towards it with more than a little trepidation. It would be a good place to make him walk through to get to you, but some of the hedges are so thick and overgrown it blocks out the light, and you do not have the night vision of vampires, not yet.

A twig snaps behind you and you jump with a hand clamped over your mouth to keep from screaming as you turn to face the noise. There’s enough moonlight to see by out here, but there is no familiar shape stalking towards you. There’s nothing there at all but the trees and the maze at your back.

You give yourself a little shake to calm your nerves as you inch backwards towards the opening of the maze, still anticipating Rhys’s sudden arrival. One step back, then another, until you can almost feel the shadow of the hedges against your back. It’s a degree colder within it than outside of it.

The first bit of darkness covers your entrance.

And it covered the hiding place too, because you hadn’t seen anyone or anything within the maze until a firm hand clamps over your mouth. Surprise makes you scream, the noise muffled beneath the weathered palm as a strong arm wraps around your waist. 

How the hell had he gotten behind you?!

Hot breath fans your ear as he puts his lips to your ear. “Scream, and you’re dead.”

That’s not Rhys’s voice at all!

Panic grips you and you have just enough presence of mind to fight, digging your elbow into the stranger’s soft gut, throwing your head back into his shoulder. You twist and claw and bite down on the hand covering your mouth so hard you taste blood.

“You little bitch!” The stranger snarls, his hand slipping off your mouth.

You don’t have time to spit out the blood as you scream, “RHYS!!!” As loud as you can.

The stranger grabs your hair and spins you, face scraping over a cluster of thorny roses that cuts open your cheek as you fight to keep your footing. You stumble, but before you can hit the ground, another rough set of hands grabs your arm and yanks, pulling you deeper into the darkness of the maze. 

“Get off me!” You shout, your game forgotten. There is nothing but wild panic in your blood as you claw and punch at the hands that pull you deeper and deeper into the maze. 

Rhys can find you in here, right? He knows this isn’t part of the game?

Blood trickles down the wound in your cheek, following a trail down your neck and chest as your head whips around to try and get a good look at your attacker. He’s not much taller than you, but he’s twice as large, his arms made of thick, corded muscle. A spiderweb of scars travels up the bare expanse of his right arm, but he has no other defining features you can see in the darkness.

The second remains in the dark as they drag you through the maze. They must have been here awhile, if they know their way through it. In no time at all, you find yourself at the maze’s heart, the fountain that’s usually so dazzling at parties remains full of stagnant water and dead leaves. Sitting on the lip of it are another two men, one carrying a sword and another wearing a bandolier full of wooden stakes. Hunters.

Your mouth dries, heart skipping a beat. No no no! This can’t be happening! How’d they get past the gate? Rhys had it made by some local witches, it was supposed to be spelled to keep hunters out!

“Y/N?”

The world narrows in to the sound of that voice, as the body attached rounds the fountain. The sliver of moonlight cuts through the overgrown shrubs, highlighting the swatch of blonde hair, carefully tied back from a face that looks so similar to your own. 

Though you have no fangs of your own, you pull your lips back in a snarl as Tamlin draws nearer. “You did this?” You hiss at your brother.

He looks older, tired. Emerald eyes framed by dark circles. It’s been months since you’ve seen him. Months since he sent someone to tell you not to bother coming home since you’d ruined yourself with Rhys. Based on the stories you’d heard, he’d trashed the manor in a fit of rage when he’d found out he could no longer auction you off like a mare to be wed and bred by some stuffy, old baron or count.

He takes you in, nose crinkling as he spots the hickeys littering your throat. You’re not wearing anything more than a pair of lounge shorts and a silk top, an outfit that had felt appropriate a moment ago but now, based on the judgment and leering of the hunters, feels poorly out of place.

It’s an effort not to try and cover yourself, to stand there, blood still dripping from your cheek and keep your chin up.

“Where is he?” Tamlin demands. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! Of course he’s not here for you, he’d made it clear you were as wanted as a wadded up gum wrapper. He--they--are all here for Rhys. 

“Who?” You play dumb, trying to buy time. Rhys is walking right into a trap and if you don’t think of something quick…

“Don’t play dumb!” Tamlin snarls. “I know you’ve been whoring yourself out to that blood sucker!”

He can’t know that Rhys is the town’s vampire, there’s no way. Every person that leaves the manor is compelled to forget everything they saw. The whole horde is meticulous, Az has even followed people home to ensure the protection of the den. 

When you don’t respond, he says, a little gentler this time, “Tell me where he is, Y/N, and I will consider this whole mess a compulsion on his part and not hold it against you. We’ll go home and find somewhere safe for you to live. There’s a temple that will take in ruined women…”

You’re seeing red. “Nobody fucking ruined me! It is my body! What I do with it is none of your business!”

He frowns. “Nesta thought you might have been compelled, I didn’t want to believe that you were so weak minded that it could happen to you, but now that I see you…”

Nesta. Your stomach twists itself into knots. She was supposed to be your best friend, and yet she had gone to Tamlin and he’d called the hunters. She must have seen Rhys drinking from you that first night after all. In her rush, she’d pissed off Cass, who had been so distracted with her leaving he’d distracted Az from following her home. She’d gotten out of the den knowing what they all were and Tamlin had spent all this time summoning these hunters. 

The betrayal stings worse than the cut on your cheek, your eyes burning despite your attempts to keep it all bottled up. You can’t cry here! Not in front of them. The four hunters hover near the exits, blocking your escape, but keeping watch for Rhys all the same. They all have stakes. They’re all clearly fighting men, all capable of taking on an unsuspecting vampire. 

“Don’t do this, Tam,” you whisper. If anything happens to Rhys… If they get their hands on him because you suggested going outside the manor, you’re never going to forgive yourself.

“You forced my hand!” Tamlin snarls, advancing a step towards you. “You went and made a mess of things as always! If mom were still alive she would have keeled over and had a heart attack from the strain of having you for a daughter.”

The words hit like a slap. He’d always been good at that; when he couldn’t use his size and strength, his words were just as sharp as a blade, and he’d used them to keep you in line for years. Even now, the freedom you had so desperately craved feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. You feel your shoulders hunch, chin dipping towards your chest. He’s always been so terribly good at making you feel small and useless and so terribly unwanted. Even now, your own flesh and blood isn’t here to make sure you’re alright, he’s here to prove himself a hero by killing a vampire. Your vampire.

Figures, as soon as you’d found something to love, Tamlin found another way to rip it from you.

Seeing a weakness, Tamlin stalks towards you, his footfalls heavy in the damp earth. He reaches out a hand to grab you, but before he can so much as brush a fingertip over your arm, his body flies backwards like it’s been tossed by an invisible hand. He hits the statue guarding the water fountain so hard the old angel’s head falls from it’s stone shoulders. 

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Rhys snarls so loud the ground shakes. He’d come in silently, stealthy as a cat. The power that radiates off him is nothing like the demure courtier you see in the ballroom, there is nothing subtle or charming about this Rhys. There is only cold, unyielding rage as he moves around you faster than your eyes can track. You don’t even have time to warn him about what the hunters are armed with before he uses his teeth to rip the throat out of the first man. Blood splatters across his face as the hunter falls. Another blink at the second falls, his heart still beating from where Rhys holds it in his fist.

The third hunter has just enough time to slide a stake out of its sheath and lunge, but Rhys is so much faster and stronger, there is no contest. He snags the hunter’s wrist, snapping the bone so hard his wrist twists backwards, the stake now aimed at the hunter’s heart. His own momentum keeps him moving forward, even as he screams in terror, and he impales himself on his own stake. Rhys hurls the body into the thorny hedges, leaving it to bleed out as he turns to face the fourth and final hunter. 

It's the one that had grabbed you initially, his thin lips pulled back in a sneer as he flips two stakes around in his large hands. 

“You think you can waltz into my domain,” Rhys seethes. There’s an eerie calm to his steps now, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering the trampled grass. “And try and take what is mine?”

Rationally, you know you should be terrified of him like this--this is who he really is, not the courtly mask and disarming smiles you know, this is a full-fledged vampire in all his glory--but you’re not. Not even a little bit. If anything, the sight of him makes you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I’ve killed worse things than you,” the hunter spits. “You won’t even be a challenge.”

Rhys cocks his head like he’s thinking, a grin spreading across his face. His fangs are longer than you’ve ever seen them, poking into his lower lip, where the first hunter’s blood still lingers. ��Is that so?”

He takes a small step forward, and though the hunter’s fingers twitch around the stakes, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink. He stands still as a statue, his chest barely rising and falling. Almost like he can’t move at all.

Rhys reaches out and plucks the stakes from the hunter’s hands like he’s taking a toy from a belligerent child. The hunter doesn’t move; doesn’t speak in his own defense. 

Rhys lifts the stake to get a better look at it in the moonlight. “These are poorly made,” he tuts, right before he jams it between the hunter’s eyes. The man falls, still completely immobile.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Tamlin hisses from where he’s still struggling to get back to his feet. 

Rhys slides the hand not dripping blood into his pocket, appearing bored as he puts a boot on Tamlin’s shoulder and pushes him back down into the mud. “Humans are so very dull.”

“Yet you keep my sister like a fucking pet!” Tamlin snarls, trying to rise again and losing the battle as Rhys’s heel pushes down against his shoulder until the bone snaps. “You compelled her into being with you and have been keeping her here against her will.”

You stare at the two of them. Rhys is holding back now, toying with Tamlin--the brother that had locked you up, had insisted your Governess cut your meals in half to keep you thin and desirable for a suitor; the brother who had ignored your wishes your whole life and had stolen almost every bit of happiness you had tried to carve out for yourself. Only one of them is the monster here.

“Nobody compelled me into staying,” you hiss. “Nobody compelled me into doing anything! I chose it.”

Tamlin tilts his head to look at you, despite the pain flashing across his face. “He just used his powers to freeze a man in place, you’re too stupid to know if he used them on you.”

Rhys moves his boot from Tamlin’s shoulder to his wrist, heel crushing down until the bone splinters, the resounding crack echoing through the maze. “Try that again,” he dares. 

Tamlin’s howls of pain have somehow not drawn everybody else outside, but you are relieved to see it. As much as you want him out of your life forever, you’re not up for watching them all devour him like a turkey at a Sunday roast. 

You pick your way around the mess of bodies until you can grab Rhys’s hand, the blood now cold and sticky over his palm. You do not balk from it. This is still your Rhys. He is still what you would choose, if you could go back to that first night on the dancefloor. Bargain or no bargain, you would have come back time and time again, to be with him and this family you have made for yourself here. This is the life you want, messy and full of monsters.

Rhys glances down at your joined hands, yours so small and delicate against the mess of his own.

You intertwine your fingers. “Please don’t kill him.”

He reaches out with his free hand to run a thumb over your ruined cheek, checking how deep the cuts are. “Why not?”

“Can he be compelled to forget about all of us? Can you make it so that we never existed?”

“Y/N!” Tamlin screams. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

“I could,” Rhys admits. “Is that what you want?”

“I want to be with you,” you say confidently. “As a human or a vampire.”

Tamlin tries to move out from under Rhys’s boot but gets nowhere.

“I want him to no longer have control of my life. I want to be free to choose where I go and who comes with me. I am angry at him. I’ve been angry at him my whole life. But… but I don’t want him dead.”

Rhys nods, then brushes a tender kiss over your forehead. “It’ll be done then.”

Azriel appears from the shadows then, as if he’d been hovering somewhere in the maze just in case. That intense hazel gaze sweeps over you, taking stock of your injuries before he hauls Tamlin to his feet. 

Your brother still tries to fight it, but his right arm hangs limp and twisted at his side, and even if he was whole, he’s no match for either of them. 

Rhys takes Tamlin’s chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding him in place with just those two fingers alone. “Any last words, Darling?”

You flash your middle finger at Tamlin, “If you come back through these gates, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“Vicious,” Azriel praises, tongue running over his lower lip in appreciation to this new side of you. 

Rhys keeps his attention pinned to Tamlin. “You’ll return home. You’ll forget this vampire business. You went out and got drunk and got your ass handed to you by the barmaid.”

Azriel snickers at that. 

You’ve seen that barmaid, she very well could hand Tamlin his ass, the story will be convincing. 

“If anyone asks about your sister, you’ll tell them she ran away to be with the people that love her. There is no need to look for her. She is happy.”

And you are. Your chest warms at the words. You are happy here. You will always be happy here, with this new family you’ve found. 

Tamlin repeats the words in monotone, like they’re being forced out of his head.

“You’ll have to find and compel Nesta too,” you say softly. “She saw us that first night.”

“Leave it to Cass to put us in this mess,” Azriel grumbles. “I should make him compel her for the trouble.”

“He’d just turn her for shits and giggles and then we’d be in bigger trouble,” Rhys responds as he releases his grip on Tamlin. Your brother’s head sags to his chest, unconscious, and Azriel drags him out through the back gate.

“It’s done?” You ask, watching them leave.

“It’s done,” Rhys confirms. 

You turn to face him again and stretch up on your toes to kiss him gently on the lips, despite the blood. “Thank you.”

When you try to pull away, he slides a hand into your hair and pulls you back for another, ravenous kiss. “Are you all right?”

“A little shaken,” you confess, reaching up a hand to brush a tendril of dark hair off his head. “But alright. Are you?”

He slides his arms beneath you and picks you up like you weigh nothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up and I’ll feel better.” 

In no time at all, you’re back safe inside the house, perched on top of the counter in the bathroom attached to his room. Candlelight flickers to give him a better view of the gash across your cheek, now forming a bruise beneath the split skin. 

“It doesn’t hurt too bad,” you assure. “Just stings a little.”

He frowns as he pokes at it, then brings his wrist up to his mouth and sinks his fangs into a vein. “Drink,” he orders, bringing it to your lips. “My blood will heal you.”

You stare at him for a moment. It has become an easy thing to accept that he likes to drink from you. He needs blood to live and you want him to keep on living, it is an easy exchange--and one that always ends pleasurably for you at that--but this is different. It’s not necessity. He’s offering because he wants to. Because he cares about you.

“Please,” he says gently, pushing his wrist a little closer. “Let me take care of you.”

You wrap your hand around his arm as you bring his wrist to your mouth, unsure of how to go about this. He holds you steady, pressing his wrist to your lips, guiding you through it like he has everything this far. His blood is a coppery tang in your mouth as you run your tongue over the two puncture marks in his wrist and swallow it down. 

By the time he pulls away, the stinging in your cheek has subsided. 

“It’ll taste better once you're one of us,” he explains as he grabs a towel and cleans the remaining blood off your skin.

You watch the slow pace in which he moves now, all that rage and strength once again contained within the confines of courtly manners, but there is a stiffness to those usually graceful motions. You can almost taste the unease coming off him as he uses the same towel to clean the blood off his own face and hands.

“You’re not changing your mind about turning me after this mess, are you?” 

He tosses the towel in the hamper near the door and comes to stand between your legs. You have to tilt your head back to look at him as he cups your face in his large hands. “Never.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for doubt. “I never wish to be parted from you again.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. This bargain between you is fun and exciting, and truth be told you are more fond of him than you’d ever dare say out loud, but you had always assumed those budding feelings were one sided. This was a game and a bargain at the end of the day, what was one human in the span of eternity to a thousand year old vampire? Daring to believe that you meant more to him was not a luxury you had let yourself indulge in.

“And I thought…” he shakes his head and kisses you gently at first, grounding himself in the reality that you are safe and in his arms, but it turns rough and desperate as he considers what he’s saying. “I thought I might lose you.”

You run your fingers through the silky strands of his hair, knocking a few loose leaves that had gotten caught when he’d come running after you. 

“If anything were to happen to you, I don’t…” he shutters as he slides his hands beneath you and lifts you off the counter, carrying you towards his large bed with ease despite the shakiness of his breathing.

 “I’ve killed thousands of hunters. I have drained entire covens of witches and packs of werewolves.” He lays you down in the center of the black silk sheets, body propped up against a dozen pillows someone who is undead doesn’t really need, his large frame kneeling over yours as he kisses you again. “I have fought and won hundreds of battles and taken down an army of other vampires. Bloodshed is in my nature. It is woven into the lifeblood of creatures like me. I am used to the killing, but I have never enjoyed it. I avoid it if I can, but tonight, when I saw those hunters around you…”

He steals another kiss, tongue sliding behind your teeth to try and claim your very breath as his weight settles between your legs. “I wanted to take my time. I wanted to make them pay for putting their hands on you. I enjoyed making them suffer. And I’d do it again.”

Perhaps the long lasting effects of being locked up has altered your brain chemistry, because such outright aggression should be a warning sign to run, but it makes heat flare in your chest instead. This is a dangerous amount of possessiveness and yet, you enjoy it. It is nice to be looked after so deeply.

“And I know that I should turn you,” he continues. “You have more than fulfilled your part of the bargain and after seeing those hunters today, I should give you an edge over them, just in case, but…” Another kiss, his hands slipping beneath your top to skim your sides. “But to turn you I have to… You have to die to become a vampire. How am I supposed to do that, knowing that it’ll hurt, even for a moment? Knowing that I will have to be the one to do it?”

Your fingers drift to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open so you can touch him. “It doesn’t have to be today. We never set a time.”

“I saw that scratch on you and almost went out of my mind,” he says as he leans back enough to let you push the shirt off his shoulders, but as soon as the article is off he’s right back on top of you again, kissing you like he won’t ever get enough. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “I have never loved a human before. I have never been so conflicted before. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I’m just not ready to turn you yet either.”

Your hands skim up his tattooed torso, tracing every curve of ink up his chest and shoulders until you can cup his cheek. “You’re not going to lose me. Like I said, I choose you. I want to be here with you. Like this or otherwise. I am in no rush.”

He tilts his head and kisses your palm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you assure, using your free hand to grab him behind the neck and pull him down for another kiss. “I trust you. When the time is right to turn me, we’ll know. It’ll feel right.”

His lips pull away from yours just long enough to catch your breath before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw and neck. You let yourself relax beneath his ministrations, eyes drifting shut. It no longer feels strange that this has become the place you feel safest; this is right.  

“I love you,” you say softly.

He all but purrs into your throat, the kiss he was placing there more forceful than the last. “Careful, that’s a dangerous thing to say to an immortal.”

“You said it first,” you counter, hands sliding off him to reach for the hem of your shirt. You want it off, no clothes between your bodies, the warmth of him like this seeping into your skin. There is no telling how different it’ll feel once you’re no longer human, you want to relish every experience you have while you still have it.

He nips teasingly at your throat, fangs just barely scraping your skin. Not enough to feed, but just enough to remind you they’re there. “What power you wield over me, Little Human.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” you reply.

He laughs at that, the sound rich and deep, and you think you might do just about anything to hear it again and again. “Be careful how you wield it, I would do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You ask with a grin, a few things coming to mind. 

He nips at your throat hard enough to leave a bruise this time. “No questions asked.”

“So if I have other scenes in my books I want to try out…” 

“What a dirty little mind you have,” he tuts. “And when we didn’t even get to finish the first one.”

“That really is a shame,” you muse. “I was looking forward to it too.”

“Another night then,” he promises, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. “Tonight I want to take my time with you.”

And how can you say no to those kinds of promises?

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 5: #10-1

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here, part 2 here, part 3 here, and part 4 here. all of my seasonal reviews are on my ko-fi and under my anime reviews tag, mixed in with my occasional musings. thanks!

And we are in the home stretch! I didn't want to split up my top 10 like last year, so it took a couple days to get it all together. Thanks for your patience.

​As you may have noticed, some of these reviews are longer than others. I've reviewed most of these shows before, so I didn't want to be too redundant while talking about shows I've already reviewed. You can, of course, go back and read my initial reviews in my previous seasonal roundups.

Also, I just wanted to quickly shout out a few shows that I haven't watched much or any of, but would likely have placed well in these rankings, namely Dead Dead Demon's Dededede Destruction, YATAGARASU, the Spice and Wolf remake, Orb: On the Movements of Earth, Sound! Euphonium's third season, and the late Akira Toriyama's SAND LAND and Dragon Ball DAIMA. I only have so much time in a day, week, month, and year, but those series have been on my radar and I do intend to pick them up sooner or later.

But for now, let's focus on what I did watch. Off we go:

10. Blue Box

This is a slightly biased placement on my end because I picked up the manga this year and quickly fell in love with it, and I’m just happy that it got a faithful, well-made anime adaptation. If you have an issue with that, I’m gonna let you in on a little secret: This whole list is biased. It’s MY list, after all.

After an uneven summer output between My Dear Friend Nokotan and Suicide Squad Isekai, WIT Studio is in full form adapting Kouji Miura’s gorgeous high school sports romance. Rising first-year badminton player Taiki has a huge crush on his basketball star senpai Chinatsu, who practices in the same high school gym he does. He’s happy enough to keep a friendly distance as they improve at their respective sports, but that distance is closed significantly when her parents go abroad for work and she ends up moving in under the same roof as him. The spirit of competition is in the air, and is that a whiff of romance I smell as well?

The reason I felt the need to call out my own bias at the start is because Blue Box’s debut cour is, on balance, probably just “pretty good,” but I was just so overjoyed that this anime even exists that I was willing to overlook the early story’s growing pains. Taiki, of course, is the POV character for most of the first cour, and most of the romantic tension we see so far is entirely from his end as he swoons and huffs and goes into cardiac arrest over any and every gesture Chinatsu throws his way. You know, teenage boy stuff. There have been criticisms that Chinatsu doesn’t get much interiority for a bit and that she’s a bit of an enigma in terms of her role in the central “romance,” such that it is so far, which is a valid criticism of a lot of shonen romance stories. I’m generally of the mind that these things are more potent when the object of the protagonist’s affection is treated as more than a puzzle for him to solve, but I think Blue Box does a fine job of establishing what Chinatsu means to Taiki before we do indeed begin to get a feel for how she operates and what she might think of him. If you found that part a little maddening early on, trust me when I say it’s worth sticking it out.

Regardless, the character writing is what made Blue Box such a hit in Weekly Shonen Jump. Taiki is a flat-out good kid, if a little naive, and his boundless determination to achieve and exceed his goals in both badminton and romance makes him easy to root for. Chinatsu is fairly taciturn, as mentioned, but that’s by design; she’s a notoriously difficult person to read, as even her friends and teammates note that they can rarely decipher what she’s thinking. She’s still an effortlessly charming character, and it’s not hard to figure out why Taiki’s got it so bad for her. The real highlight of the series, though, is Taiki’s classmate and longtime friend, Hina, a rhythmic gymnast and an absolute troll. She is an absolute delight in every scene she’s in, whether she’s knocking Taiki’s knees out from under him, focusing on rehearsing her next routine, or prying into Taiki’s love life and realizing that, oops, she really cares about him too. Hina is wonderful and I just want the best for her.

Characters this likable will need the voices to match, and I am over the moon about this show’s casting. Shouya Chiba is tremendous as Taiki, in a far cry from his Epic Based Stoic Chad role as Ayanokoji in Classroom of the Elite. Every line read for Taiki sounds exactly as gung-ho about sports and devastatingly down bad for his crush as you’d expect of a hormonal 15 year old. Reina Ueda is terrific as the soft-spoken Chinatsu, but I’m looking forward to hearing the always-delightful Xanthe Huynh (Haru in Persona 5, Marianne in Fire Emblem Three Houses) take on the role in the dub just as much. Akari Kitou channels much of the same gremlin energy she did for KamiKatsu to portray Hina’s mischief, and I look forward to hearing her nail Hina’s excellent upcoming character moments. And although it’s a secondary role, the casting I was most excited to hear was Chiaki Kobayashi (Mash in Mashle, Stark in Frieren) as Taiki’s teammate Kyo. Kobayashi’s languid tsukkomi affect was exactly what I had in mind whenever Kyo would put Taiki’s lovelorn antics into stark relief in the manga. It’s like he was born for the part.

This show looks tremendous, perfectly adapting both the soft, doe-eyed character designs from the manga as well as the lower-detail gags. The pastel color palette and gorgeous lighting effects are exactly what I was hoping for while reading the manga.  If I have any complaint, though, it’s mostly that I want to see more of the sports action. The granular details of the badminton matches and basketball games are hardly the focus of the story, but the action panels are usually the best part of Miura’s art in the manga. Shot-for-shot, it certainly does hew close to the manga presentation, but it’s mostly a racquet swing or close-up jump shot followed by an onlooker’s reaction. I’d have liked a bit more follow through. The CGI used for background competitors can get a little distracting after a while, too, but it’s easy to forget about.

Blue Box is continuing into 2025, and I’m waiting for every new episode with bated breath. If you liked the first cour enough but still have doubts, trust me when I say it just keeps getting better. I look forward to coming back to the second half of this season in another year for my victory lap.

9. Girls Band Cry

This is one of the most inventive girls-band anime out there, certainly the most so since that one from 2022 that I swore I wouldn’t bring up by name. Gorgeous 3D-CG animation, stirring original music, and a compelling cast of characters combine to make Girls Band Cry even more than the sum of its parts.

More than anything, I think what makes Girls Band Cry a terrific showbiz series is that it depicts the uncomfortable reality that a lot of artists are just flat-out unpleasant people and often don’t mesh well with one another. Protagonist Nina is messy, stubborn, and angry at the world and her parents and will not hesitate to make it your problem. She butts heads with her friends and bandmates at any provocation, but stubbornness is a major driving factor in the plot: Each of the five members of Togenashi Togeari has something they’re trying to move on from with their music, and while they each have an opinion on how to get there, they do come to realize, after a lot of silly yelling matches, that they want to do so together.

As a vehicle to push Girls Band Cry and Togenashi Togeari as a real-world multimedia experience, this show is a success. It’s a terrific-looking show in ways we rarely see outside of Studio Orange productions (and allegedly Love Live! Sunshine!!, which director Kazuo Sakai also had a hand in); the 3D computer-generated character models and animations are terrifically expressive and lively, and creative visual effects add a compelling sense of synaesthesia to Nina's emotional highs and lows. The voice cast, all pseudonymous contest winners, are also the real-life band members, and they fully nail both elements of their roles. TogeToge’s music in the show is terrific, and as an already-existing Gorillaz-esque virtual band, I’m excited to dig into their back catalog.

Girls Band Cry finally got an official English translation, so there’s no longer any excuse to sleep on this one. It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, and above all else, it fucking rocks. Don’t let this one fade away just because you might’ve missed it when it aired.

8. Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, second cour

When I ranked the first cour of Frieren as the best anime of 2023, I wrote:

The debut season of Frieren will continue into 2024, and if the quality remains a constant, it could very well be one of the best anime of next year too. It has remained as MyAnimeList’s top-rated anime ever for its entire run, warding off the legion of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood fans. Frieren deserves it.

A year later, it is still MAL’s top-rated anime, and by a healthy margin. Another 12 episodes aired to kick off 2024, and it was indeed one of the best anime of this year as well. I stand firm in my convictions that not only is it one of the best anime of the decade so far, it’s one of the best anime I’ve ever seen.

I really shot my wad by praising Frieren so profusely midway through its run, to the point where I still don’t really feel the need to add much more here. The second cour mostly focuses on the First Class Mage exam arc, allowing us to learn more about the present state of magic in the modern day and adding some much-needed depth to the cast. It continues to strike a lovely balance between the quieter moments and bonkers action sequences, as well as the more serious moments with laugh-out-loud goofiness. It may be a lesser arc in this story, but it would be a standout in so many others.

If I haven’t been clear enough, I remain over the moon about Frieren. The second cour looks and sounds just as incredible as the first, and this show’s success should serve as a reminder to the industry that investment in quality pays off. Madhouse knows they have a banger on their hands, and if the next season can maintain this level of production value for the major arc that is still to come, Frieren may very well earn GOAT status. Even if another season somehow never materializes, I’ll still be talking about this season in five years when it comes time to talk about the best of the decade. Watch this goddamn show.

7. A Sign of Affection

For all the romance anime and manga I consume, I’ve shamefully been lacking on the shoujo/josei front. I really gotta fix that. If reading more shoujo was what spurred Yukinobu Tatsu to make DanDaDan, then who knows what it might do for me? A Sign of Affection isn’t my first shoujo, strictly speaking, but it does feel like one of the first I’ve seen of the good old-fashioned flowery romance type.

What a gorgeous show. A Sign of Affection looks terrific, sounds terrific, and above all feels terrific. This is just a lovely, fluffy romance with low stakes and easy payoff; just two pretty people getting to know each other and learning to overcome their differences. It’s low on gimmicks and plot contrivances, and for as much as I like romcoms and romance stories with a unique bent, I love a good straightforward romance just as much sometimes. Everyone looks beautiful and likes each other and Jesus Christ look at the lips on these boys. There’s even a double-date to Costco, and what better depiction of marital bliss could there be?

I’m still pleasantly surprised at how this show handles the main character’s disability. Protagonist Yuki’s congenital deafness isn’t a single-note character quirk or a plot device to make her seem helpless; it simply is. It’s a part of her life that serves as the lens through which all of the people in her life see and treat her, and it leads to the only thing that resembles a major conflict in the show. Itsuomi, the main romantic interest, doesn’t baby her or walk all over her; he instead gently tests her boundaries while learning to accommodate her in a way to ensure her comfort. Her childhood friend Oushi, on the other hand, is very jealous of this development because he seems to feel entitled to her just because he did the bare minimum to accommodate her. The circumstances aren’t common, of course, but it’s a good lesson for a shoujo to have: Don’t settle.

My praise for A Sign of Affection mostly boils down to “it’s just really nice,” but it does “just really nice” so goddamn well. It’s fluffy, it’s comfy, it’s cozy, all of those adjectives that would set off my fight-or-flight response if I heard them from someone else, but I was enthralled by this show week in and week out. I can’t believe I neglected to start reading the manga, and I’m gonna have to get on that ASAP because I can’t wait for another season.

6. The Apothecary Diaries, second cour

I found myself more intrigued at The Apothecary Diaries at the end of 2023 than most other shows I’d watched that year. I grew more and more invested in the idiosyncratic Maomao as she investigated mysterious ailments and navigated imperial palace politics, all the while being a lovable little shit. 

Before I’d realized it, though, the 2024 half of its run knew it had its hooks in me and took me for a ride. What looked at first like a series of one-off puzzles quickly began entangling into a much larger mystery, rapidly gaining momentum until exploding into a massive emotional payoff. So many of the small details in what you assume are episodic mystery-of-the-week mini-stories become relevant in unexpected ways and draw you in ever further. I adore this kind of lowkey long-term storytelling, and for it to be part of such an appealing package is basically catnip for me.

For as gorgeous as The Apothecary Diaries can be visually, sonically, and sometimes even emotionally, it’s worth mentioning that this show is also hilarious a lot of the time. Maomao is on permanent goblin mode whenever she isn’t carrying out official business, and any time the palace officials have to rein her in is a delight. The push-and-pull between her and Jinshi is endlessly entertaining to the point where I can wait forever for that payoff if I have to.

I neglected to read the Apothecary Diaries manga after the first season went off the air (though I nearly bought all of it sight unseen), and with the second about to drop, I guess I’m holding off for another six months. Can’t say I mind, though. I’m along for the ride and I want this show to keep surprising me for as long as it can. This is easily one of the best anime of the 2020s so far and I’m gonna be there front row center for every new episode.

5. Bang Brave Bang Bravern

People say “peak fiction” too goddamn often these days. Not that it was a meaningful term to begin with, but it’s been memed to hell and back and is mostly just thrown out ironically to mock garbage writing. To be honest, I’m not above it myself, but I prefer to ascribe it, even jokingly, to stuff that can only truly come from a brilliant and/or deranged mind. Preferably both. Peak fiction, to me, is the intersection where talent meets insanity, no matter the degree of either.

Bang Brave Bang Bravern is peak fiction.

I gushed about this show after the winter season, and I almost don’t want to say anything further about it, mostly for two reasons: Firstly, because I don’t really want to give the game away any more than I already did back in April, and secondly, because I think it may have permanently burrowed into a specific part of my brain and then melted it. All I’m left with is “this show fucking rocks, dudes rock, you need to see it, it’s peak, don't ask questions, just watch it.”

Indeed, Bravern is the Dudes Rock anime of the year, and an essential piece of Dudes Rock media. It’s Top Gun with aliens and a giant talking robot. And the robot wants to fuck his pilot. This show is loud, horny, stupid, and self-aware, combined just so into a cocktail of legitimate brilliance that is, for better or worse, unlike anything I’ve seen before or since. Nearly every single episode had me clawing at my hair and shrieking “WHAT THE FUCK AM I WATCHING,” and that is the highest praise I can give just about anything.

I might be overselling it just a touch, but Bravern is just as earnest as it is utterly wild. It’s an intentionally hilarious show, but it means everything it does and says. It’s a love letter to mecha anime and tokusatsu, and with its top staff sporting Gundam and Macross bona fides, that love oozes into every aspect. The mechs, both manmade and alien, all look tremendous, the music is a throwback to the goofy bombast you’d find in series like this as far back as the Showa era, and the ensemble cast outside of our silly leads are just as gung-ho and serious about Saving The World as you’d find in just about any other mech show. Anything that can be this goofy with a completely straight face is going to hook me in.

All in all, Bang Brave Bang Bravern is hypercompetent lunacy with heart. Call it weaponized genre awareness if you must, but it knows exactly what it’s about, grabs you by the collar, and takes you for a ride, all while doing badass tokusatsu poses and calling out special moves with silly names. This is legitimately what fiction is all about. 

Also, if you don’t like Lulu just because she screeches a lot, you’re a weakling. Gaga-pi, motherfucker.

4. The Dangers in My Heart, season 2

This was a series whose first season was conspicuously absent from my 2023 rankings, but I caught up shortly after finishing that list in order to catch up to the second season. I’d watched a glut of slice-of-life romances in 2023 and figured I could afford to miss this one. I’m overjoyed at how wrong I was.

To paraphrase the second season’s exceptional OP, The Dangers in My Heart is indescribably beautiful. As I said with A Sign of Affection, I love me a straightforward anime romance, and this middle school slice-of-life is just that: Underdeveloped edgelord boy ends up making unlikely friends with, and falling for, the cheery popular girl in his class. This is easy wish-fulfillment on paper, but that’s hiding the trick: Kyotaro isn’t gonna get anything he wants by keeping his quills out for anyone who comes near, and he has some growing up to do if he’s ever gonna get what he wants.

Season 2 picks up right where the first left off, with Kyotaro’s arm still broken from his family trip and Anna feeling guilty because she thinks her distraction was what led to the injury. Right out of the gate, we see the care these two have developed for one another: Anna wants to help while he can’t do his own schoolwork, while Kyo is quick to try to cheer her up when she no longer feels like she’s able to. Already we’re seeing Kyotaro’s character development coming to light: The Dangers in My Heart isn’t a story about a Nice Guy getting the girl just by being there; it’s a story of self-improvement, of trying to become the type of person whom your crush would want to fall in love with. For a story about and ostensibly marketed to early teenagers, that’s a good lesson to have, and I absolutely devour stories like that.

As can be the case with plenty of adolescents, most of the conflict here is internal. Kyotaro spent the early part of his middle school education keeping a safe distance from everyone in order to avoid getting hurt, and as you can imagine, that did a number on his self esteem. Though he’s mostly kicked the chuunibyo mindset, Kyo still prefers to keep his distance, less because he doesn’t want to get hurt, but now because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone else. Specifically Anna. So much of this story is about him learning to be okay with letting people in and not just falling in love, but making friends and becoming somebody whom people just want to be around. It’s a chuuni rehabilitation story. You love to see it.

With all due respect to mangaka Norio Sakurai, the biggest surprise that came from reading the manga was how much better the anime looks than its source material. The anime looks tremendous in its own right, but compared to Sakurai’s doodly, occasionally messy style, the love put into the show stands in stark relief. Characters, backgrounds, and lighting are all soft, squishy, and warm, almost like the entire thing was run through the filter through which only a 13-year-old in love can see the world, even as a little edgelord. Little flourishes in the environment and music highlight the minute but consequential motes of progression in Kyo and Anna’s relationship. The OP ended up shaking out as my favorite of the year, even with 2024 being bookended by Creepy Nuts bangers. It’s that special to me.

And just like that, The Dangers in My Heart went from “eh probably not for me” to “yeah this is one of the best anime of the decade so far.” It’s a simple slice-of-life romance on paper, almost literally so in the manga, but this is a transformative adaptation. There’s much more of the story to tell, and I wouldn’t complain about more, but as it stands after two seasons, The Dangers in My Heart is damn near perfect as it is.

3. Oshi no Ko, season 2

Another year, another season, another top-four finish for one of the best manga adaptations I’ve ever seen. 

The anime adaptation of Aka Akasaka and Mengo Yokoyari’s showbiz-revenge manga made shockwaves last year following its thunderous feature-length premiere, and its source material made even more waves due to some questionable plot developments that fortunately went nowhere. Doga Kobo was undeterred by any negative attention brought to the brand, though, and pressed forward into the next arc with a level of swagger you rarely see brought into an anime’s sequel season.

The 2.5D stage play arc in Oshi no Ko’s manga wasn’t my favorite, but it was one that you could tell just from reading it would translate well to the screen. Even then, I wasn’t prepared for just how hard Doga Kobo would go in adapting it. Character animation is sumptuously fluid, color used to amazing effect, and personal expression bursts forth into impressionistic abstraction to such a degree that it made manga artist Yokoyari cry. Everyone looks and sounds incredible beyond any way I could’ve imagined from reading the manga, which, at the risk of sounding defensive, is still very good as a whole.

This being a story largely about the music industry, the music remains as on-point as ever. It’s too soon to tell if the second season’s OP/ED pairing tops the instantly-iconic “Idol” and “Mephisto” from the first, but these are no slouches. This season’s OP, “Fatale,” is a whiplash-inducing banger by Tatsuya Kitani and idol Kento Nakajima, performing under the collaborative name of GEMN (itself a relevant name to the show; twins without the i/Ai, DO YOU GET IT???) with visuals that might actually top those of "Idol." The new ED, “Burning,” is Hitsujibungaku at their fuzzy, 90s-style alt-rock best, and it takes on a brand new meaning by the end of the season. Of course, there’s also the story-relevant music; while the bulk of the season focuses on the stage play, the last few episodes give us a glimpse into the pop music process, with the season capping off with an in-universe music video that, while not sonically my exact cup of tea, features 90 seconds of some of the best-looking dance animation I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s a flex if I’ve ever seen one.

And just like the first season, the second capped off with an announcement that Oshi no Ko will indeed be returning for another season. At this rate, and with the anime’s success, they will adapt the entire work, which will raise some eyebrows. I’m not going to litigate the manga’s later controversial developments nor its widely-panned ending, but if Doga Koba was able to handle everything that came before those things with such aplomb, I have faith that it will at least be done well.

2. DanDaDan

I want to preface this by saying that I agonized over whether this or the final entry is my anime of the year. I’m comfortable with what I chose, but if I’m being realistic, DanDaDan is basically 1b. This is a masterpiece already.

Although the source material was a bit of a cult hit until this year, DanDaDan came with a considerable amount of hype. If you were even peripherally familiar, it wasn’t hard to see why: Yukinobu Tatsu’s art is absurdly detailed in almost every panel, character designs are easily recognizable (one of the leads dressing similarly to a Persona 3 character was fortuitous for the anime to drop in the same year as Reload), and so many bizarre things happen in the plot that relaying them to anybody who wasn’t already familiar would make their brain briefly touch the void. Above all, though, Science SARU was tabbed to animate it, and any project by them is immediately worth your attention.

Sure enough, DanDaDan made an instantaneous splash, its first episode adapting the manga’s bombastic, twisty 63-page opening chapter nearly beat for beat. I’m not gonna “don’t look it up, just go in blind” this one, but almost too much happens for me to properly detail it all without just writing a complete synopsis. It boils down to “lonely nerd boy believes in aliens, angry kogal believes in yokai, it turns out both are real and now they have to deal with it.” It’s silly, it’s wild, it’s action packed, and if you can stomach the sexually-compromising alien abduction of the girl, you’re along for the ride.

I’m not gonna harp too much on that last point. It does stink that the female lead, Momo, is stripped to her underwear for the sake of alien sexual “research,” but said aliens get their comeuppance before anything happens to her. It’s still not great, and it’s not the last time female characters are portrayed in their underwear, but I do promise it’s for story reasons, it takes a backseat to the onscreen action and is pretty clearly not done for the sake of fanservice. I know such things can be beyond the pale for some people, but if you think you can compartmentalize that, I recommend you watch the first episode with that caveat in mind and decide from there. You may be pleasantly surprised.

DanDaDan is effectively two stories at once; on one side, we have Momo and the boy, Okarun (a nickname Momo devised for him to preserve her own sanity), gaining wacky supernatural powers in order to fight back these occult threats and regain what was stolen from Okarun from his first encounter with the unexpected (IYKYK). Because these threats can come out of nowhere, their daily high school lives can completely pop off without warning. On the other side, we have quieter slice-of-life tension as Momo and Okarun get to know (and frequently misunderstand) each other and realize they are completely and hopelessly head-over-heels for one another.

Surprise, motherfucker: DanDaDan is a romcom.

Yukinobu Tatsu, formerly an assistant on the first saga of Chainsaw Man, long struggled to get his own work serialized. At his editor’s urging, he read something like a hundred manga for inspiration, including several shoujo romance series. That research shows through in DanDaDan; although the bonkers action sequences and off-the-wall monster designs are what draw in readers and viewers alike, what’s kept this many people along for the ride is the beating heart just barely under the surface in the form of the romantic tension between Momo and Okarun. It’s easy to write this off as some “lonely nerd gets the cute gyaru just by being a Nice Guy” wish fulfillment, but that’s not really the case here; Okarun was a weird little twerp right from the jump. Similarly to Kyotaro in the aforementioned Dangers in My Heart, Okarun believes early on that he’s nowhere near Momo’s league, completely unaware that she quickly grows to actually like having him around, so he puts in the effort to become a more well-rounded person so that he can be confident enough to be seen next to her. He also just wants Momo to think he’s cool, and she thinks that’s adorable. And she’s right! These two are cute as fuck together.

So you come for the wild action and stay for the tremendous character dynamics. It should go without saying that Science SARU nailed all of the above, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Reading the Manga+ comments on each chapter as I read through the manga, readers were begging a top-flight battle shonen studio like MAPPA or WIT to pick up the series, and I think these fans got more than they bargained for. Masaaki Yuasa hasn’t been in charge of a series at the studio since Eizouken, or anything they’ve put out since Inu-Oh, but his influence is all over their recent works, including last year’s fellow top-three series, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off. It’s beyond impressive how, much like Scott Pilgrim, this series manages to maintain the source material’s art style while still looking very much like a Science SARU anime. Everyone is bouncy and malleable as their moods dictate, line weights are wildly varied, and action animation is kinetic and unpredictable. Each fight with an alien or cryptid is awash in eye-searing color or eerie greyscale. The music is a boatload of fun as well; even putting aside the Creepy Nuts OP (banger after banger after banger from those dudes) and Zutomayo ED, regular proceedings are punctuated by a wildly varied score, from funk to folk to an insane chase scene set to an electronic mashup of the “William Tell Overture” and the can-can. Everything about DanDaDan keeps you guessing.

I was looking forward to DanDaDan enough that I went to the theatrical premiere of the first three episodes and was sufficiently blown away. If you’ve seen the show, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise that it looks and sounds incredible in a cinema setting. I left the theater positively buzzing, telling anyone who’d listen that they had no idea what was coming, but even knowing the entire story, I wasn’t prepared for more of what was to come. The literal next episode after what I’d already seen in the theater had one of the most bonkers action setpieces I’ve seen since Gurren Lagann, and just three episodes later an unbelievable emotional gut punch, prior knowledge of the manga be damned. Every single aspect of DanDaDan as an anime was given the same level of love and care that Tatsu put into his own work. It’s one thing for an anime adaptation to be faithful to its source material, and another entirely for it to elevate and transform it. DanDaDan somehow does both.

If there’s anything that held this back from being the anime of the year, it’s that this season kind of just… ends. With the 12-episode runtime that was given to the debut season, DanDaDan ends its first run right after the beginning of the manga’s next arc, which feels bizarre. There’s no resolution, but there’s no real cliffhanger here either. Which I kind of get, the story is driven by a constant forward momentum, but a little warning that the season was ending would’ve been nice. It’s only a six month break until the show comes back, but judged on its own, the way this season ended left me feeling a bit cold and the season itself feeling incomplete. Even shows that have year-long breaks between cours rather than seasons tend to put some kind of cap on each individual run, but DanDaDan just kinda left the toilet unflushed, and next to it a Post-It note promising to come back later. For something this lovingly crafted, that seems like a bizarre oversight.

That was hardly enough to temper my enjoyment though. Anything this well-made is deserving of the attention and success it’s attained, but to have this story, with these characters and this level of bonkers action made this well, is just an embarrassment of riches. And God help me, I’m shamelessly greedy. July can’t come fast enough. I need all of it.

1. Delicious in Dungeon

At the end of its run midway through the year, I declared Dungeon Meshi the best anime of the year up to that point and that I’d be impressed if anything would manage to overtake it. Though the other two entries in my top three made extremely strong cases, nothing else quite hit the spot and nourished the soul quite like Dungeon Meshi.

Barely a year removed from one of 2022’s best anime, Cyberpunk Edgerunners, Studio Trigger kicked off 2024 with another Netflix original, this time with its first proper manga adaptation since the studio split from Gainax a decade prior. It seemed an odd fit at first to have a studio known for wacky, hyperkinetic action productions like Kill la Kill and Promare to adapt this quirky fantasy dungeon manga, but hey, they also did Little Witch Academia. It turned out to be an odd fit, but in the best way: Dungeon Meshi is pretty offbeat as it is, so for it to get picked up by one of the more oddball prestige studios ended up making a tasty stew.

I struggled to elaborate on what makes this show so good after each of its cours, and six months later I remain a little lost for words. It’s an exceptional story adapted exceptionally well. Between the characters, the story, the setting, the emotional stakes, the comedy, the highs and lows, they nailed it all. Trigger just gets it. Even when characters go off-model for the sake of an intentional animation quirk, it still has that inimitable Trigger charm to it. It sounds just as good as it looks, too: The orchestral score highlights the quieter, sillier moments just as well as the tenser action setpieces, the foley work behind the dungeon’s bizarre and varied flora and fauna is immaculate, and the cast is perfect in both Japanese and English (I rarely ever say so but seriously, shout out to the dub).

I’m just as sick of saying “this show speaks for itself” when I have trouble finding the words as you probably are of reading it, but I have little else to add here. I’ve written plenty already. Just go watch it. This is already one of my favorite manga ever, and by the time the series wraps up at the end of its second season, it will easily end up as one of my favorite anime ever.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Alex Cabot x Casey Novak x Reader SFW Fluff Alphabet

Big thanks to to @scealaiscoite for their SFW Poly Fluff Alphabet for the inspiration here!

a = affection Is anyone more overtly affectionate than the others? You are definitely the most outwardly affectionate. Not in a PDA sense, you just tend to be the most sentimental. You don't initiate physical touch a whole lot, but Alex and Casey both know you are down to cuddle at any time, and they take advantage of it often. Alex is the snugglier of the two, but Casey gets FOMO when you snuggle without her, so she'll jump in, too. b = bed What's the sleeping situation like? California King (no twin bed! no roommates!). Casey on the right, Alex on the left. You are forever the middle spoon because (a) you love it, (b) you're by far the smallest, and (c) both Casey and Alex can feel a bit smothered after a whole night of middle spoon-ing. c = comfort When someone's feeling down, how do the others look after them? When you're down, your self-esteem takes a hard hit, so Alex and Casey do their best to be extra reassuring. When Alex is down, you and Casey do your best to make her feel important and to distract her. Nice clothes, expensive dinner, all your attention all night. When Casey's down, she needs to take a fucking break. The problem is that she never wants to. You and Alex usually have to take her phone and laptop away and force her to relax. Bubble bath, takeout, snuggles, the works.

d = dates What do dates look like? Who usually plans them, and are they individual or a group affair? You take turns planning, but also enjoy the occasional spontaneous date. Everyone is always invited, but not everyone always goes. You have lots of things you like to do all together, like dinner and a movie or a weekend at the beach or a trip to the farmer's market. But there are things you do in pairs, too. For example, you and Alex love classical music, so you've got season tickets to the NY Phil, but Casey's ears would explode if you made her go. Alex will attend a sports event with you and Casey once in a blue moon, but mostly it's just you two. Alex and Casey love dancing, from ballroom to clubbing and everything in between. You are a truly awful dancer and have a really hard time in loud, crowded environments, so you usually send them on their way and enjoy an evening to yourself.

e = events Who drags everyone else to their family's and friends' events? When it comes to family, you do all the dragging. Casey's parents live in the city, so you see them at least a few times a month, and Alex doesn't talk to her dad (her mom died when she was 17). You're very close to your family, and you're the only one who has siblings and nieces and nephews. Christmas at your family's is a given, and Alex and Casey are 100% there for it. But friend events? Those are all Casey. Alex will drag you to one, too, mostly out of obligation, but Casey genuinely enjoys going out and grabbing drinks with friends and will convince you both to go with her sometimes.

f = fights Are fights something that happen often? How are they resolved? Of course you fight. Everyone fights. But the fights are usually civil and logical and respectful. You've got twice as many relationships to maintain in a triad, so direct communication is a priority for you all. Casey and Alex have had to learn how to tone down their "lawyer-ness" during arguments, though. At first, they'd sometimes fight you so hard–like they were in court–that they'd end up making you cry. They always felt awful and backpedaled real quick. They're a lot gentler with conflicts now.

g - getting together How did you all get together? Alex and Casey met at work, a slow-burn career romance. By the time you came along, they'd already been together for several years. They'd discussed polyamory before and, while neither was necessarily opposed, neither one of them had anyone else they wanted to date either. So it was very much a we'll cross that bridge when we come to it situation. They came to the bridge when you moved to the city and joined Casey's rec softball league. It was Casey who fell for you first, Casey who started inviting you out to lunch with her and Alex after softball games, Casey who cautiously, gently asked Alex how she'd feel about her dating you. To which Alex said, Yeah, of course, if it'll make you happy. But I think I kind of want to date her, too. Can we all date? Do you think she'd be into that? It turns out that, yes, you were into that.

h = hobbies Do any of you share hobbies or passions? How do you include your other partner(s) in them? There's a foundational understanding between you that you don't all have to enjoy the same things. You and Alex share a deep love of reading and often spend evenings on the couch reading together, snuggled up against Casey as she plays video games or watches sports. You and Casey play softball together, and you love watching sports–baseball, basketball, football, you name it. Alex will watch with you, but she's mostly in it for the game day snacks you make. And obviously Casey and Alex have a whole career/calling in common, so they talk about that a lot, but they always try to make sure you're included in the conversation, and make sure to explain patiently when you have questions.

i = in sickness and in health When someone is sick, who's the caretaker and who's the germaphobe? Who's resistant to being taken care of? It depends on what kind of sick. If puking is involved, Alex and Casey are on their own. You are out of there, probably staying in a hotel, leaving soup deliveries outside the door with a mask on. Any other kind of sickness, and you absolutely dote on them. Casey eats this up. She is a pitiful sick person. Alex, on the other hand, will keep going until she literally can't anymore. And even then she'll tell you she's fine, and you have to force her to rest and take it easy. You can't exactly talk, you're pretty resistant to being taken care of, too. But that's mostly because Casey and Alex have important jobs to do, and you don't want to distract them.

j = joker Who's got the best sense of humor? Do you all like to tease and banter? You are by far the funniest of the three of you. You love making Alex and Casey laugh. It's one of the highlights of your life. Their jobs are so serious; they can tend to be on the serious side, too. So you make it your mission to brighten their days. That being said, there's a lot of good-natured teasing and insulting that happens on a regular basis. Casey calls you asshole more than she calls you anything else, probably. Alex has a razor sharp wit which is mostly funny, but every once in a while she'll toe the line between funny and mean. She can immediately tell when she's taken it too far, though, and is quick to make it up to you.

k = knowing Who can read their partners like a book? Is there anyone who has their walls up, even around their partners? By nature of being incredibly intuitive, you are the best at reading emotions. The problem is that you can usually tell what they're feeling but not why or who it's related to, so you almost always think it's somehow your fault. You're working on that one in therapy. Oddly, you're probably also the hardest to read. You have walls up, though they're slowly coming down. And Casey and Alex can have tunnel vision when it comes to work, so sometimes they miss things. Of the two of them, Casey is the more open with her emotions. Alex is open with anger and anger only. She's working very hard on being open with her other feelings, too.

l = lavish Is there anyone who really likes to lavish and show off their partners? How do the others react to it? Alex. Alex all the way. She's proud of herself, proud of the work she does, and proud of having not one but two stunning girlfriends. She dresses you and Casey up to the nines in clothes it would have taken you years to afford. When she walks into a room with you in a tailored Valentino suit on one arm and Casey in a designer gown on the other, she just knows everyone's jealous that she's living the best of both worlds. Since neither you nor Casey came from money, you both had a hard time with Alex's generosity at first, but you came to accept that showing you off is just Alex's way of telling you how proud she is of you and how happy she is that you're hers.

m = memories Is anyone more on the sentimental side? You, 100%. Although Casey and Alex have their moments, too. But you're the one who packs lunches with little loves notes. You're the one who surprises them with flowers at work, who cooks their favorite dinner because you know they had a bad day. You'll pick up that book that Alex wants so bad, but doesn't have time to go get. You'll record the Giants game instead of watching it while Casey's at work because you know she'd rather watch it together later. Of course, they do sweet things for you, too. Like Alex asking you to read your favorite book to her because she wants to read it with you. Or Casey organizing a game night with the SVU folks at your house, because she knows you want to hang out with them, too, you're just much more comfortable at home. You all have your moments, but they'd both agree that sentimentality just comes so, so naturally to you. It's a gift.

n = nights What's the nighttime routine like when you're all together? You are a big, big fan of parallel play so, even though you usually like to quietly read a book before bed, you want to do it wherever Alex and Casey are. Alex spends an eternity in the bathroom on her skin care routine before putting on the softest, most luxurious pajamas. She fixes herself a cup of peppermint tea and curls up next to you with her own book. Casey always has "more work to do," but she'll go through case files while you and Alex read. Or she'll finish the newspaper if she didn't get to that morning. She always has a gigantic, messy collection of file folders, old newspapers, and half-full glasses of water on her nightstand. You almost always fall asleep first, and they don't stay up too much longer because "you're just so adorable" and "I can't pay attention when you look that snug-able!"

o = open How open are you with one another? Very. You don't keep secrets. You don't tell lies. When you first got together, Alex suggested you all lay down "relationship rules." Those were two of the biggest. It sometimes takes longer for you to open up about what you're feeling, but they've learned that it doesn't really have anything to do with how much you trust them, it's just how you process things.

p = PDA What's PDA like with them? Is there anyone who loves it? Anyone who hates it? Alex would full-on make out with you in public, but she knows that's not a good look for someone in her position. Also, you and Casey do not like PDA. Casey will kiss you on the cheek or put a hand on the small of your back at a party, but that's it. You might hold their hands, but you won't do anything else in front of others. Alex won't either unless she feels like someone's infringing on her territory (her territory being you and Casey). Then she gets really possessive and is not afraid to show people that you're hers.

q = quiet Who prefers to spend their time out and about, and who likes to spend it at home? Casey is the most social of you. She loves going out with you or going out with friends. Alex is kind of in the middle. She's very, very good with people and socializes quite a bit, but often out of political obligation (to grease the wheels, so to speak, and make connections) rather than for fun. You are a hardcore homebody. You'll go out with them because you love them, but you're always very excited when you all decide on a night in.

r = romantic Is anyone a bit of a sap for their partners? You. So, so you. You just truly can't believe you lucked out with these two gorgeous, strong, confident, crazy smart women. Oddly enough, both Alex and Casey tend to be more affectionate with you than they are with one another. It's not that they love each other less, but you've got a couple of theories as to why they're just a little more romantic with you. (1) You're much, much smaller than them. Like a full 10 inches shorter. So they sometimes baby you a bit. They think you're very cute. You both love and hate it. (2) They were together first, and then kind of simultaneously fell for you, so you sometimes think they see you as collectively theirs, tag-teaming to take care of you and love you. You don't mind. They're collectively yours, too. (3) You're more sentimental than either of them, so it's easier for them to be sentimental with you than with one another. But, all in all, there's plenty of romance to go around.

s = sharing Is there anyone who's particularly territorial of their partners? ALEX. Very possessive of both of you. Casey's pretty damn possessive of you, too. Less so of Alex, but that's probably because she knows nobody fucks with Alex. You are the least territorial, mostly because you're just glad to be there. It doesn't leave a whole lot of room for jealousy. Just as Alex and Casey did before you came along, you all have an open understanding that if someone else were to come along–for any of you–you'd be okay with one of you pursuing a relationship with someone else, too. But it seems unlikely. You're all deeply content with things as they are now and don't really see yourselves bringing anyone else in.

t = terms of endearment Nicknames! What are the nicknames!? Alex uses honey or my love. Casey uses sweetheart and honey and sometimes baby. You mostly use lovely, which drives both of them wild, and also honey on occasion.

u = urge Who's the most impulsive? And who reins them back in? None of you are very impulsive. You think things through before acting. But of the three of you, Alex is probably the one who lets her emotions get the best of her, which can sometimes get her into hot water. Both Casey's and Alex's emotions (and impulses to do something brave and stupid) run high during hard cases. Thankfully, you're usually there to talk them out of it.

v = vacations How do vacations go? And where do you travel? You do vacations big. Alex has a lot of money, and you all love traveling. Alex considers it her absolute joy to make you and Casey's travel dreams come true, because she knows you didn't grow up with the kind of money to make them happen. She whisks you away on far-flung vacations as often as she can. An even bigger test of her love: she'll go camping with you because Casey loves it so much. But only with the highest end camping gear. And she will not touch a fish or a fishing pole, but she'll sit in a chair and read with you while you and Casey go fishing. Your favorite vacation so far? A surprise holiday trip to Soneva Jani in the Maldives. You'd always wanted to go to the Maldives, but it was very much a pipe dream. Alex packed for you, and you had no idea where you were going until you boarded the connecting flight to Malé. You were so excited you cried a little. When you stepped into your overwater bungalow, you just couldn't contain your excitement, running around the building, staring out at the crystal blue water, and kissing Casey and Alex over and over again, saying "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

w = worthy How are insecurities handled? Are any of you more self-conscious than the others? You're the most self-conscious. Casey and Alex are just so conventionally beautiful and successful and confident. They're smart, powerful, career-driven women and you're... a dorky, tiny, androgynous little work-from-home ad copywriter. Sometimes it's hard to know what they see in you. Alex is almost never insecure because she's cocky as fuck. Unless she screws up at work, and then she needs a lot of reassurance. Casey is insecure in that she's never able to live up to her own standards, so you have to remind her often that she doesn't need to be perfect and she's doing great. Insecurities in your home are always met with love and reassurance, never annoyance or frustration.

x = xoxo Who checks up on their partners a lot when they're apart? Do they call or text? Casey. She'll call to check up on you at least once a day. If you're out of town, she calls you at night, too, right before bed, on speakerphone with her and Alex (or vice versa, if Alex is out of town). Alex misses you, too, but she's more likely to text sporadically throughout the day. You text or call when you see something funny or something that reminds you of them.

y = yearn Who misses their partners the most, even just throughout the day? You really like your alone time, so you miss them but you really like having your space (working from home is great for this). But Casey and Alex miss you. Because you're home so often, when you're not home–out with friends, spending the weekend at your parents', etc.–they almost don't know what to do with themselves. Bonus POV: The Group Chat Casey: babe when are you coming home 😢 💔 😭 💌 😫 Alex: my love I need you here in my arms You: omg chill you guys i've been gone for like 2 hours! Casey: yeah 2 hours 2 long

z = zealous Who was especially eager in pursuit of the relationship? Was anyone more reserved? When it was just Alex and Casey, Alex made the first move. With you, it was Casey who came after you the hardest. Alex was a bit more reserved because she didn't want to make you feel like you had to date her, too. She wanted to be sure that you knew if you just wanted to date Casey and not her, that was okay. but she really did want you. She was trying so hard to be respectful that you eventually had to ask her out. Alex, can we go out sometime? Yeah, I'll see when Casey's free. No, I meant... just me and you. I mean, obviously Casey can come, too, if she wants, but... I'd like to take you out if you'll let me.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Reading what @gayofthefae wrote about Mike never initiating anything in his relationship with El, I had a thought. I was gonna just reblog, but it turned into something much bigger than planned.

You're mostly right, but I think you're simplifying a bit.

I think you're right that El initiates everything, but it results in Mike feeling like it's his responsibility to be her boyfriend. And he does admire her, we know that from how he talks about her.

We don't really know if Mike invited her to the Snow Ball in season 2. That information isn't provided. We know enough that El was aware of it since Hopper specifically asked Owens about El leaving the cabin for one night. This tells us that El asked Hopper about it. Yeah, she knew about the Snow Ball because Mike told her in season 1. It can be assumed that the others told her about this year's Snow Ball. Did Mike ask her to go? That's just unknown. He certain didn't expect her there, though, judging by his surprise when she arrived.

I do think that Mike wasn't thinking of El romantically through season 2, though. That was all her. He just felt horrible about what happened to her and wished for her to come back safe. You can see when she leaves to go with Hopper to the Gate that he doesn't respond as she leans in to kiss him. Between that and El arriving at the Snow Ball, I think he gets the message that he's supposed to be with her.

Mike didn't get back together with her in season 3, no. Not from what we could see, at least. He makes some efforts to smooth things over with her, but they're pretty half-hearted. Even his "blank makes you crazy" thing seemed more about trying to say it without saying it.

However, we can't ignore that he did blurt out "I love her and can't lose her again!"

But I think this is more about his fear of losing her than anything else. They're talking about using her and her powers, and all he's thinking about is how he thought she died in season 1 and had to watch her go off to the Gate in season 2. He knows overuse of her powers is dangerous for her, and I think he blamed himself for how she overused them in season 1.

He's never able to utter those words again to her, even when she all but begs him to, and I think that's telling. She says it directly to him as she gets ready to leave Hawkins, and he just freezes and stands there. This goes back to how I don't think they were back together at this point. Just like when she left for the Gate in season 2, El staked her claim. They were together again. Mike was stuck again.

I think Mike was being honest with Will when he said that she would figure out she didn't need him anymore. To him, being her boyfriend has been about keeping her close. He thinks that's all he is to her, and she'd eventually decide he wasn't worthy of her. She's a sort of status symbol for him, but not to show off to others, just for himself.

I think there might be a bit of truth to the whole "if I said it, it would hurt more" thing. Mike has terrible self-esteem, but having a literal superhero as a girlfriend, knowing that she chose him, makes him feel worthwhile. He's afraid of losing that because, to him, it would mean that he's not worth anything, after all.

So, yeah, Mike doesn't initiate anything. He wants her to. That was the point of "blank makes you crazy." He was testing the waters. He wanted to see if she'd say it. She didn't. Not because she didn't feel it, necessarily, but because she had no idea what he was talking about.

However, when she finally does say it later, he realizes that it didn't make him feel like he thought it would. It felt wrong. But, by now, he was in too deep. She just lost her dad. So he goes along with it, now fearing for the end of their relationship and what that would mean. It was easy while they were apart. He didn't have to worry about anything.

But, once they were back together...ooh, boy. It was clear the whole thing was a shitshow. Not only was he weird with El, but also with Will. It's important to remind people that Mike had seemingly made things right with Will before the Byers moved. We saw that he was back to being his nerdy self in Hawkins, playing D&D again even though he acted too cool for it in season 3. It's because El was gone. She never had an interest in his nerdy interests, so he pretended he didn't like it. He always tried to change himself around her to seem more "worthy."

Going to visit them in California, though, we see Mike is changed again. He's dressing differently. He seems to be trying to be trendier, which is called out by Argyle when he says its not Ocean Pacific, but "a shitty knockoff." It's not who he is. He's putting on a performance, just as he did in season 3. He plays the part of boyfriend, but can't manage it when it matters most. Just look at how callous he seems when El gets bullied. It's because she doesn't act like how he thinks a superhero would, and she even calls him out on it when she says he thinks she's a monster.

Mike is more genuine again after El leaves. He starts opening up to Will more, once again making things right with him. He's no longer playing a role. He's just Mike again. He tries to talk to Will about the problems he's having, and Will, the selfless little dummy, keeps reassuring Mike that they'll get back together because he assumes that's what they both want. However, Mike seems to resonate with Will's words when Will says that it can be hard to be honest with those important to you because they may not like the truth. The truth being "I'm sorry, but I don't love you like that, but having you choose me as your boyfriend is the only reason I think I'm worth anything."

Both Mike and El seem like they're on their way to being more honest with each other. El is realizing that seeing herself as a superhero is not a mature way to think. She left to become the superhero Mike wants her to be, but she learned that it wasn't what was best for her. She needed to accept herself and be her own person. Mike started to see that hiding the truth wasn't helping anyone. Unfortunately, Will's attempt to reassure Mike led to him pretending his feelings for Mike were hers. In his mind, if he sees Mike that way, then El must, too. Why wouldn't she? It's Mike.

However, El stops initiating. They share a forehead touch on their reunion, but that's it. She quickly notices Will, and, with Mike's help, goes to embrace him. We see no real conversation between them until the pizza place, where they share a rare genuine (and, curiously, not especially romantic) cute moment before El gets a solemn look on her face. She takes Mike's hands and makes him take the sensory deprivation glasses off to look at her. She's initiating something now, but it doesn't seem like it's gonna be happy and romantic. Unfortunately, Argyle took Jonathan's master class in "Interrupting Important Moments" and chose that moment to bring them some pizza. We can argue later about whether or not there's symbolism in Argyle and El forcing Mike to try something he wrote off as disgusting, only for him to concede he likes it.

Mike wouldn't have been able to do anything in the pizza place without Will. He was at a loss. Even after all that happened, and with El's life on the line, he's still hesitating. Selfless dummy Will just made things worse because he didn't realize it was a lie, so he pushes Mike to "be the heart." Mike's fear of losing El combined with Will's reminder of how El "always will" need her pushes him to say what he previously couldn't. Will is basically holding this ship together like in Spiderman Homecoming. Yet, we don't see Mike and El be remotely romantic afterwards. The most we see is El leaning on Mike in the hospital. She all but ignores him in the cabin later. You'd think that after what happened to Max she'd need his support.

I still can't understand why people think that monologue was romantic. I guess they haven't thought about what built up to it.

[kyliafanfiction]

One of the things I like to do sometimes is imagine the canon - any canon - as the fanfic, with all the tropes and changes that implies, and try to imagine what the notional canon of that would be.

And one of my many fic ideas is a little write up of what the notional canon for what was the 'source media' for Worm would be. It's actually a crossover between three things:

a novel centered around Eidolon and the Triumvirate, includes Scion and the Endbringers,

a fairly dark, aimed at like college-aged people graphic novel series about New Wave (and especially Amy and Vicky) that really delves into how fucked up having superhero parents and them being open about it could really be (like what Worm/Ward canon does with them),

and a cartoon about the Undersiders that's like, aimed at 12-15 year olds. And it would get a little more serious with each season, as the initial audience got older or something. Though obviously not as much as Worm canon did. Vaguely 'saturday morning cartoon network superman/batman/etc' vibes perhaps.

And the idea would be that Worm is a crossover fic between all three media, taking bits and pieces of all three and combining them into one surprisingly cohesive fanfic world.

And the Undersiders cartoon idea just really sticks with me.

Like, I envision the Undersiders cartoon being about them as like, friendly neighborhood supervillains, they rob sure, but it's mostly harmless and they usually go up against supervillians (like sanitized versions of Bakuda and Lung) most of the time in their robberies anyway.

Coil could still be their boss, but he'd be played for laughs, probably regularly exasperated in a comedic way by the Undersiders antics. Armsmaster would the hapless superhero who keeps trying to bring the Undersiders in but eventually has to accept they're not actually that bad (because of course that would be an arc of the cartoon, them becoming heroes of a sort).

I have this image of Piggot being a police captain or something that keeps having to not prioritize the Undersiders or something, and at one point she lectures and scolds them like a principal. Just seems like a funny mental image and fitting for the medium/genre/target audience there.

The show would start with Taylor joining the team. There'd probably be a lot more chance of the Trio getting punished, maybe near the end of the first season, and some of what they do would be toned down. Sophia being a hero who bullies in her civilian life could be kept. Taylor's power would probably not be exploited to the fullest in the cartoon, but I think they could make it work. Rachel couldn't be called Bitch, of course, and Regent and Heartbreaker, etc, would need to be toned down some, but I think you could keep the broad strokes and put it on implication.

Uber and Leet would probably be in the cartoon, and they'd probably be more the mostly fun and friendly version of them some fics paint them as, rather than the jerky assholes who also beat up hookers just for the bit version they are in canon.

I hardly have the whole idea worked out, and the notional fic Idea would probably be like, an outline of the 3-4 season show (and related summaries of the other two media) focusing on what Worm took in from the media and how the 'OG' version differs, etc. All in good fun. No idea if I'll ever write it, but the idea of an Undersiders Cartoon is just an alluring notion that I can't get out of my head.

[fantastic-nonsense]

obviously I'd be thrilled to just get the whole PJO series adapted and then end it there. However: Heroes of Olympus as a story can be cleaned up sooooooo much in a way that PJO just doesn't need to be, and a tv adaptation offers the perfect opportunity to do so

like honestly my hottake is that I think Disney could solve both the problem of adapting a long, convoluted sequel series and a lot of the problems HOO as a story has if they a) do The Lost Hero and Son of Neptune in the same season and b) deliberately wait until the PJO actors are in their 20s to do it

Just thinking about this a bit more:

three 12-14 episode seasons, with TLH/SoN in S1, a modified MoA in S2 that deals with some of the Argo crews' HoH subplots, and then HoH/BoO in S3

Percy and Annabeth are in their 20s and newly engaged when he disappears. This sets up the arc of Percy dreaming about settling down with Annabeth in New Rome in a more organic, functional way and also gives us as viewers a chance to see that the aftermath of the Titan War has resulted in tangible, lasting change for the demigods of Camp Half-Blood

Grover replaces Coach Hedge as the Seven's collective Protector+chaperone, which solves the series' problem of Grover's absence and the absence of the PJO Trio's friendship

the whole show/story takes place over ~6 months instead of the year it did in the books, and Percy+Jason's individual quests happen concurrently (simply not letting Percy sleep for 8 months and making an episode where he establishes himself at the Roman camp for awhile before he's forced on the quest with Frank and Hazel would solve about half of the problems on the Roman side of the series)

Season-wise, things mostly sort themselves out:

The first season starts off introducing the Lost Hero trio and we find out that Percy's missing at the end of the first episode. The second episode opens with Percy waking up at the Wolf House and starting his journey to New Rome. We get one episode entirely devoted to amnesiac Jason and Percy integrating into the new camps, making friends, and learning about their missing counterpart before the quest plots start up.

The season then alternates between Jason, Piper, and Leo's "Find Hera" quest and Percy, Hazel, and Frank's Alaska quest, with intermittent jumps to the Greek and Roman efforts to find Percy and Jason. It ends with Percy and Jason regaining their memories and each camp realizing their leader is on the other side of the country in "enemy" territory.

The second season opens around a month later as the Argo II docks in New Rome. Percy and Jason have both been given time to make friends, integrate themselves into the opposing camp, and become adjusted to a different way of life with all of their memories intact. They haven't physically returned to their home camps as they've both independently come to the conclusion that Hera switched them to initiate inter-camp unity and are wary of doing anything that would disrupt that goal. However, Percy and Jason have both managed to get messages to Annabeth and Reyna respectively at some point in that month, so everyone knows everyone is safe when the Greeks finally arrive in New Rome.

Cue MoA's various plotlines, which would be cleaned up and streamlined significantly while also integrating in some of the HoH arcs like Hazel learning how to manipulate the Mist, Frank learning how to use his shapeshifting powers, Piper coming into her own as a daughter of Aphrodite, Leo's seventh wheel arc and the Calypso subplot, Jason struggling to figure out what his place is, the Jason-Nico friendship, etc. Also set up the Greek v. Roman dispute and Reyna following them to Greece. Season ends with the Annabeth-Arachne confrontation and Tartarus fall.

The third season combines HoH and BOO; the season alternates between Percy and Annabeth's journey through Tartarus while the rest of the Seven finish their various character arcs via gathering the elements for the Physicians' Cure and journeying to the Doors of Death. After they rescue Percy and Annabeth and close the Doors, they plan to head straight to Athens to take on Gaea. Reyna reaches them just after, and Annabeth sends her and Nico off with the Athena Parthenos with Grover as their Protector.

The final battle switches between The Seven+Gods vs. Gaea+The Giants at the Acropolis and the Greeks vs. Romans at Camp Half-Blood. The Gaea plotline is resolved at the Acropolis, the Greek-Roman plotline is resolved as Nico and Reyna triumphantly arrive at Camp Half-Blood with the statue, a functional Greek-Roman working relationship, and the gods' blessing. This helps streamline the mess that was Blood of Olympus and actually provides a workable story resolution.

We get a final aftermath/epilogue episode that sorts out and ties up all remaining plot threads, teases Solangelo, and ends with Percy returning home to see his mom and planning out how to move to New Rome after he and Annabeth get married.

Obviously this is the roughest possible sketch of how it could be done, but I genuinely believe doing something like that could fix some of the biggest issues HOO has conceptually while streamlining all of the quest bloat. It'd be interesting to see them try, anyway.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

Corlys & Rhaenys — physical touch

Corlys pulls her close to ease her worries and comfort her. She puts her hands on his chest, perhaps in a subconscious attempt to speak to his heart, to reach him, or in defence. He holds onto her shoulders to ground her and make her listen. She puts her hand over his mouth to silence him and make him listen. He covers her hand with his own, perhaps to kiss it.

It’s about communication, it’s about making the other listen, signalling what is important to them.

They appear as a unit and of course, Corlys is proud to have Rhaenys by his side.

After Laena’s funeral, a discussion about inheritance. Another attempt to make Corlys listen, by connecting physically. It’s a bridge between their differing opinions. A reminder that they are a family, a team. We’re in the same boat, we both lost. But Corlys pulls away, figuratively and literally, denying Rhaenys access to his vulnerability. He struggles to share his grief with her, and Rhaenys feels alone in her suffering.

Possibly, this is why she pushes Corlys away when they find “Laenor”. Corlys’ first instinct is to comfort Rhaenys with his touch, to hold her, to protect her, but she refuses him.

Corlys returns home with severe injuries after being gone for six years. Rhaenys is deeply hurt, having been left alone with her grief when she’d needed her husband, the only person who understands her pain, her loss. And yet, as soon as he wakes, she puts a damp cloth on his forehead, initiating physical contact. When he tries to sit up, she puts her hand on his chest. He takes her hand, holding it tight. He tries to connect with her through the physical when he knows her emotional barriers are up, she’s bitter about his actions, rightfully so.

This scene doesn’t need many words. They’re in each other’s embrace, as close as they can be, connecting with every part of their bodies. It’s intimacy, and perhaps the closest they have physically been in both seasons. They’re on the same side, there for each other (at least momentarily). It’s about being present, keeping war and death at a distance just for a few minutes, although not from their minds. Just Corlys and Rhaenys. Husband and wife. Feeling whole.

There’s a divide between them, and yet they try to cross it in multiple ways. Corlys feeds her, Rhaenys caresses his hair and puts her hand on his shoulder, Corlys grabs her waist, Rhaenys puts another hand on his shoulder, he pulls her even closer, he takes her hand in both of his and presses a kiss to it. All desperate attempts to hold on to each other, feeling the other slip away and trying to remind them that one is here, even if not in the way the other wants and needs. There’s pleas, apologies, reassurances, love.

I think this scene has the most physical contact in both seasons (aside from the bed scene).

Even here, with a heavy weight hanging over them and a difficult conversation to be had, Corlys takes her aside, touches the small of her back to bring her in, to bring her close, even if he avoids the topic and gets defensive verbally. They only have each other and their grandchildren left, so much loss, so much time apart—he needs her close, even if he can’t show his vulnerability let alone speak about it.

Overall I just think that for Corlys and Rhaenys communication happens a lot through touch, even if they sometimes fail to speak openly. There’s always a truth in their gestures, like a secret language, they understand each other through it. Rhaenys also does it with her grandchildren. It’s how they express their affection. I might be off with some of my interpretations, or missing something, but that’s just my thoughts. :)

[mandaplease10]

A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #6

Show Polin Vs. Book Polin Part 1

I have seen a lot of fans upset over the way the showrunner/writers handled Polin's story in comparison to the book version. Of course, we're always going to compare because it's a given. However, I'm a little shocked on how so many are complaining about it when their story was never really true to the books to begin with.

The biggest differences are their ages and time frame & their relationship prior to getting together.

In the book, both Pen and Colin are like a decade older than their characters in the show & they didn't really have a friendship before getting together either. The book is very much a best friend's brother's trope.

In the show, they're teenagers and have an established friendship meaning it's a true friends to lovers trope.

Let's take a deep dive and compare their stories and why the show handled it differently.

Show Polin: Ages

So, obviously the fact that they are teenagers/early 20's in the show means that they would not have the same level headedness as an adult. Both Pen and Colin are trying to find themselves and their purpose in life.

Colin very much feels like he has to be like Anthony & Benedict in order for them to take him seriously. They have always seen him as the little brother who tries to hard and doesn't think. He feels like he has to be someone he isn't because most people don't care about him truly being himself because every time he does he is talked down to and treated like he's too young to know what he wants. No one cares about his travels and no one even bothers to respond to his letters, which then makes him wonder if he's even wanted by his family.

Pen is tired of being the laughingstock of the Ton and in her own family. The only minuscule of happiest she gets is her time with Eloise and the Bridgertons & when she is writing her column. After her sisters are married and she's faced with living with her mother as a spinster, she is determined to get out of the house and get married, even if it isn't to the one person she wants. She still has the self esteem of a young naive girl, so she must learn how to grow her confidence into the clever, beautiful woman she is.

Book Polin: Their Ages

Colin has spent the majority of his teens and twenties traveling and being away from home. He has seen the world and has lived a well experienced life. We really don't get much of how he's feeling in regards to his life or how he felt over the years.

Pen has lived with her mother this whole time and as given up on the marriage mart. She's happy with living as a spinster and has created an empire with Lady Whistledown. She is super close with her younger sister and Eloise and doesn't seem to have the same initial longing as show Pen when it comes to marriage.

Show Polin: Friends to Lovers

In seasons 1 & 2, we see Pen and Colin's friendship blossom and grow into a very close relationship. I would even say that their friendship was closer than Pen and Eloise just because they both seemed to really listen to the other and offer support. We see the way that Colin is there for Pen when Cressida teases her and with Featherington Scheme in season 2. We also know that their letters to each other are meaningful and Colin started viewing her in a different light when he came back in season 2. Being with each other means they both can talk about anything that they couldn't with others because no one else bothered to take the time to listen.

Book Polin: Best Friend's Brother

We don't really see a relationship with Pen and Colin in the books other than Pen being Eloise's friend and a close friend to the family. It's mentioned that there were times Pen and Colin danced at Balls together, but it was purely at the request of Mama Bridgerton. There were no letters exchanged between them.

**

This is going to be multiple parts because it's gonna be a long one.

Stay tuned for part 2

Falling in Love

Lady Whistledown Reveal

Wedding & Aftermath

Part 3

Cressida's Blackmail

Love Confession

Epilogue

Part 4

How all of these changes affected the way the show storyline was written versus the book version.

Also, let me know if there are any other comparisons you want that I haven't thought to include.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 7.5: The Only Escape

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

A/N: I know I've been kinda awol lately, so please enjoy this outtake that I never posted for "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" as a bribe. It takes place between Chapter 6 and Chapter 8. Oh and yes I did name Soldier Boy's Dad, James, but only because I couldn't find it.

*************************************

Philadelphia 1936

"Where the hell is he?" The snarl shakes your entire house and wakes you from a fitful sleep.

"Who?" You hear your father say back to the voice.

"Benjamin!" The initial voice shouts back and you recognize it, sending a chill down your spine. 

Ben's father.

Ben stirs in the bed behind you, the arm he has thrown over you waist in his sleep to secure you into his chest is heavy, unyielding. And if it weren't for the circumstances you would stay and pretend to still be asleep so you could enjoy your close proximity.

Boarding school nine had been the longest stint that Ben had spent in any school. You wondered if that was because he genuinely tried or because he knew you were still at the Dawson School for Girls and he didn't have anywhere to go. Of course now you were on break, and although you had been surprised when he showed up at your window the night you returned home, you were happy.

You had missed your best friend more than words and when he crossed the threshold through the window you had practically crushed him against you in a hug that, much to your surprise, he returned with just as much enthusiasm. The most you'd been able to do was send him a few letters, but seeing him in person made you feel like your heart was whole again.

 School for you was going as well as you'd think. The only thing you'd ever been good at was art, but you were trying your best. You'd actually been able to make a few friends, but none of them filled the hole that opened in your heart when you left Ben standing on the train station platform watching you leave through the window.

"He’s not here James." Your father's voice is calm, controlled. You’d never seen him lose control, he was always well composed, even in the most stressful situations.

"What's wrong?" You hear your mother say from the stairs. You can imagine her bathed in the soft light from the hall lamps, wearing her perfect dressing gown, and looking effortless, not like she'd just been woken from sleep.

Your eyes go to the clock on your bedside table. It was past two in the morning, which meant that Ben's father was probably halfway through his second bottle of whiskey.

Probably has it with him.

"Where is y/n?" Ben's father roars through the door so loudly, you flinch.

Ben’s grip tightens on your waist and you turn to look over your shoulder at him. His eyes are wide, and you can see a vulnerability behind the green that strengthens you.

"It’s okay." You whisper to him. Your hand drifts to his arm where it rests around your waist, to soothe him. Ben doesn't remove it. "I'm just gonna go tell him that you're not here."

"Don’t go out there” Ben’s grip is unbreakable.

"It’ll be alright." You breathe.

Ben’s eyes are wide and for a moment you see the little eight year old boy hiding from his father in your fathers study all those years ago.

"No." He shakes his head.

"Ben. It's okay. I'll be right back." You say as you pull yourself reluctantly from his grip and slide out of the bed beside him. When you look back at the bed, Ben is still watching you with wide eyes, his hair mused on one side from sleep, and it takes everything for you not to return back to him.

"I know that son of a bitch is here! He's always here!" Ben's father shouts as you exit your room, the force of his rage no longer muffled against your bedroom door.

"Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?" You rub the sleep from your eyes, looking towards the staircase at the end of the hall where your parents stand in the way of Ben's father.

Each time you see him, you're always reminded of how much Ben looks like him. They have the same green eyes, the same handsome features, the same dark hair. But there are differences- his father always looks worn, his hair slicked back over his head and streaked with gray, his eyes were like two coal black pits that did not hold the warmth that Ben's did, and his father's features, although handsome, made him look cruel, not the same boyish ruggedness that Ben possessed.

"You!" His father snarls, pushing past your parents to stomp up the final stairs towards you. His suit is rumpled and unbuttoned, his usual slicked back hair is hanging in his eyes in long greasy strands, with unshaven cheeks, and he carries a half-full bottle of whiskey. "Where is my bastard of a son?"

"Y/n, go back to bed." Your father says from behind Ben's father, but you ignore him.

“Sir you are unwell. Perhaps you should go home and sleep.” You say keeping your voice as composed as you can. A small shiver of fear travels down your spine, but you shake it away remembering the look in Ben's eyes when he heard his father.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Ben's father snaps, continuing to advance on you, but you hold your ground. "Where is he?"

"He's at boarding school." The lie is immediate.

"You're lying." He takes a long pull from the bottle hanging from his hand. “Get out of my way.”

“No."

The smell of the alcohol on his breath washes across your face causing your nose to wrinkle. His eyes are blazing with the force of his anger, face contorted in rage. By now his father is standing a few feet away from you.

Too close.

"Ben’s not here. And this is my room.” You're clutching the sides of your nightgown so tightly that your fingers are white. The fear that rises in the back of your throat is pushed away by the anger you have towards Ben's father and the need to protect Ben. You'd always protected him the same way he protected you and that meant that you were not going to let his father into your room.

His father raises his free hand to move you away from your door, but your father intervenes. Your father's hand fastens on Ben's dad's wrist. “James. Do not touch my daughter.” Your father says. It was the first time you'd ever seen him sound angry and that scared you a little bit.

It seems to do something to Ben’s father, who takes a step back from the door, eyes burning with rage.

"If you see my son," Ben's father levels his gaze on yours, his eyes soul-less and cold, sending another shiver down your spine. "Tell him that I'm looking for him." He wrenches his hand from your father's grip, stomps down the stairs, and out the door, slamming it so loudly that the picture frames that line the hallway shake.

You release the breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Are you alright?" Your father asks, putting his hand on your shoulder.

Your mother is still watching from the top of the stairs and you can only imagine what she's thinking.

Probably that it's improper for me to be out here in my nightgown.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna- go back to bed." You begin to say, but your father hugs you before you go.

"Tell Ben that he doesn't have to leave." He whispers in your ear before he releases you and gently pushes you towards your bedroom door once more.

"What?" You look up at him with wide eyes, surprised.

How does he always know when Ben is here?

"Go on back to bed." He smiles tightly, but you can see how angry your father is in the tension in his shoulders.

"Okay. Goodnight mother." You say as you open your door.

"Goodnight."

When you close your door behind you, you realize that Ben isn't in bed anymore, he's halfway to the door as if he was going to come out of the room but stopped.

“Ben?" You whisper looking up into his wide eyes. You can see his anger, frustration, and beneath it all, you see genuine fear. You'd never seen Ben afraid before, not since the night you met and it breaks something deep down. But before you can do anything, Ben closes the distance between the two of you and pulls you tight into a hug, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. Warmth explodes wherever you’re touching and it take a great deal of effort for you not to melt.

“Hey. It’s okay.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair. “He’s not going to come in here. He’s gone.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is no more than a whisper. “I was going to come out-“

“Yes I did. You’re my friend. And I’m glad you didn’t.” You wonder what his father would have done if Ben came out of your bedroom. Ben’s father never hit him, but it didn’t mean that what he did do was any less okay. Standing here with Ben is enough to make the anger and frustration you felt melt away. You’re not aware of anything else but Ben. The rapid beat of his heart against yours, the breaths he takes, and the way the warmth of his body floods through where you are pressed against one another. 

“I should go-“ He begins to pull away.

“Like hell I’m going to let you go home to be with him. Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

Ben stands there for a minute. You’d never seen him look so lost.

“Ben?”

He blinks a few times. “Hmm.”

“Come on.” You gently take his hand and lead him to the bed, drawing him back under the covers with you.

Your hands go under his arms and you hold him to you, not caring that you usually didn’t hug in bed. But Ben doesn’t pull away, in fact he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his forehead into your shoulder again.

“It’s okay.” You breathe, moving your fingers back into his hair. Deep down you know that this is different than all the other nights you’ve shared together, that you shouldn’t do this, but you can’t stop. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest and you desperately want him to be okay.

He sighs and tightens his arms around your waist, pushing himself further against you.

“I -um- missed you.” You hear him mutter into your shoulder.

You can't help, but smile, warmth blooming in your heart and making your heart flutter with his confession.

“I missed you too. No one annoys me as much as you do.” 

Ben”s chuckle is soft, but you love how it shakes your body due to your close proximity.

“What did you do to get out of this one?” You ask.

“Fight.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.” He rumbles.

He doesn’t embellish and you don’t ask him to.

“How’s yours?”

“Boring.”

“Hmm.” He sighs leaning further into you.

You feel yourself begin to drift, the comfort of Ben’s warmth lulling you into a soothing slumber as you fingers stroke through his hair.

And when you wake up, Ben is gone.

*******************************************************

A/N: This was just a little outtake from the story, thought y'all would like it. I can't remember why I never posted it. Maybe because it seemed a little too soon for them to be this fluffy with one another?

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this story let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @carpenterswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit @valryomen @cassieriddle713 @shaggzthatsnottheworm @lil-soup @ej13928 @topstory21 @boywivlove @mrsjenniferwinchester @vivre-dans-la-nuit @megara0224 @daisy-the-quake @thesilmarillionblog @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @libby99hb @peachhiz @tinydancer40

[charlie-lec-stories]

Some Odd Numbers are Even // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Max knows that he's always been in love with his best friend, even if she was driving for the enemy, and he could live with that, but her dating the rival he has a crush on it's where he draws the line.

Warnings: Some angst, but they all take it like champs. Max kisses people when he's drunk. Some sexual comments.

Author’s Note: I had to work on this one a lot to make it fit the theme of the blog, but it motivated me to keep editing my stories, this is the beginning of everything. Rate: +18

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When Max Verstappen met Y/N he was the most hormonal 15 years-old on Earth, or at least that's how his father called him, always running around chasing girls instead of focusing on what was important. He has to admit that his head wasn't filled with the purest thoughts when they got introduced by their mutual friend, Pierre, but when she humiliated all the boys on the track winning by almost twenty seconds, he knew he fell hard. She called him her best friend the second time they hung out and, to Max's dismay, their destiny seemed to have been sealed. Best friends. He hated it, but he would take what he could get. With time, he learned to live with it. She was the first person he told he was feeling "confused", as he initially called it, and then the first he decided to let know that he was bisexual when he finally understood it. He was glad that she took it great and she was kind of surprised that he ever thought she could get mad about him liking people. They enjoyed gossiping around and sharing their opinions on the different people they liked, but he never dared to tell her how he felt about her. She has had at least five boyfriends and countless one-night stands since they met and everything always ended up in heartbreak for her. He spent years wanting to scream "I'm here, just look at me", but she never looked his way, at least not like he wanted. Still, he tried to be supportive, because she still was his best friend and his massive crush on her wasn't her fault. He was supportive when she dated that weird dude from Canada who was obsessed with her hair, when she told him that she wanted to learn how to play the guitar and when she decided that she wanted to drive for Mercedes in F1. He was still a little pissed off that she signed with Mercedes, but he took it like a big boy.

However, there was something they could never see eye to eye about and that something was actually a someone: Charles Leclerc. Max and Charles had quite the history when it came to their relationship, they were rivals above all but, unknown to Charles, the monegasque was also Max's bi awakening when they were 16. The dutch took his time getting there, but he ended up understanding that even though he was constantly wanting to rip Charles' head off, he also find him attractive. Of course, that didn't make Max like the other, he knew the difference between finding someone good looking and liking them at all. Would he have sex with Charles? Probably, in another universe. Did he stopped disliking Charles? No, definitely no. But his best friend adored Charles. Y/N could write a whole encyclopedia about Charles, she was in love with him, but Charles was that unreachable entity that never looked at her as more than Pierre's friend. He was always nice to her, attentive, charming, funny, even warm. He liked her, not the way she liked him, but he liked her anyways. The three of them were trapped in this weird triangle and Max hated it. He hated Charles for getting the attention he wanted and for getting even hotter with time. But for Max things only got worse.

They were all 24 and it was the first time in a long period that the three of them were single simultaneously. Charles had broken up with his girlfriend of two years before the start of the season, Y/N was on a celibacy run since the beginning of the year and Max broke up with his latest boyfriend who he only dated for three months. On the first race of the season he noticed that the Ferrari driver was a recurring character at the Mercedes garage. For a moment, Max thought that Charles was considering moving to Mercedes, but he soon found out that the Ferrari driver had other intentions.

"... And then I said "I'm coming on your camera, mate". Never felt so stupid in my life". Y/N laughed at Charles' story and Max could feel his blood boil inside his veins. "But well, at least I wasn't the one who suggested to milk the goats on Goat Simulator". He added softly looking at George Russell, Y/N teammate, and making the girl giggle.

"Good to know you're funny, Leclerc, now you can make a career in stand-up when you finally fail making one in racing". Charles rolled his eyes and then smirked.

"Look at that, Mr. World Champion is scared of a little competition". Charles taunted him. "What is it, Verstappen? Afraid of me stealing the title this year?"

"Okay, enough of the testosterone battle". Y/N cut them off before Max could reply. "Neither of you got the bigger stick".

"Are you sure about that, Cherie?". Max was five second away from murder. The wink was like playing with fire, but Charles did it anyways. The championship wasn't the only thing he was stealing from Max that year. "Never say things like that without proof".

That same night, around 4 am, Max opened his hotel room to an extremely happy Y/N: "You won't guess who helped me break my celibacy streak". Well... he could guess.

By summer break Charles and Y/N were officially the paddock's favourite couple, for everyone except Max. He was furious about it, and Charles fighting him the championship so closely wasn't exactly helping. Even the fans could see how much Max resented the relationship between his known best friend and rival. Every podium, cool down room and interview that included the two was filled with drama. Petty comments, eyes rolling, arms crossed and even once, Max calling Charles an idiot. But what Max didn't want to admit was that the more he was forced to spend time with Charles, the more he started to like him. He was funny and Max found himself having to suppress a laugh at one of his jokes more than once. He was also extremely good at racing and that was something that Max liked, it was the first thing that made him fall for Y/N in the first place. Also, his best friend was constantly telling him how nice Charles was to her: romantic, loving, caring. And even if Max didn't like it, he could see that Charles actually cared about Y/N, he could see that Charles was in love with her. It broke his heart, it pained him like anything before. He thought he could take it, that he was mature enough to let her go and be happy for her. But he couldn't, so he decided to put some distance, to take care of himself and protect his heart.

The second part of the season was intense. Max won his second championship, but he had put so much distance between him and his best friend that she wasn't there to celebrate with him. She was at the Ferrari garage, hugging a defeated Charles and running her hands up and down his back. The monegasque had the prize that Max wanted the most and, suddenly, the award on his hands wasn't that important. Not when she was there, supporting him. It hurt to watch, her kissing Charles and hugging him tight. Charles smiling at her, nodding his head as he accepted her words of encouragement. She was probably giving him the same speech she gave Max when he first started in F1. "You're more than enough". "Your time will come". "You have what you need to be a champion". He could remember it like it was yesterday when she would ran her fingers through his hair, his head on her lap, softly crying, the ghost of another DNF haunting him. It always worked though, her mumbled sweet words, fixing his broken ego and shattered heart. No matter the distance, Max just couldn't let her go and now he had nothing, not even his best friend. Around Christmas he had come to the conclusion that the main reason why he hated Charles and Y/N's relationship so much was because he didn't know if he wanted to be her to date Charles or be Charles to date her. He liked them both, and if learning he was bi was shocking back in his teenage years, addressing the fact that he liked two people at the same time was even more. So he did what he did best when it was off season, he got drunk. Shit-faced drunk, so wasted that he couldn't remember his own home address.

The red door in front of him was familiar and for a moment he wondered if he actually made it home. That door made him feel home, somehow. He knocked on the door a few times. His head was spinning and thinking hurt his brain. The door swung open, his best friend was looking up at him worried from the other side of it. He didn't think it through, he just grabbed her face and smashed his lips on hers. For a moment, he thought he could feel her kiss back, but as quick as the kiss started, it ended. With a mumbled "You don't know what you're doing" and sad expression on her face, Y/N led him inside and dropped him on the couch. Charles was sitting there, without a shirt and looking at him with a pissed off expression. Max had lost whatever self control he had and the words just started pouring out of his mouth like a river.

"What are you looking at, Leclerc?". He asked, words slurred.

"You just kissed my girlfriend". Charles knew it was pointless to argue with Max on that state, but he was as angry as his face showed.

"Deal with it". Max rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "And put on a shirt, for fuck's sake, or I'm kissing you too".

For Max, there weren't many feelings worse than a hungover. It was easily on his top 5, along with heartbreak, losing at basically anything, visiting his father and eating tuna, not in that specific order. He did the best he could to look around but the sunlight was burning his eyes off, figuratively, but he felt it literally. The feeling of the furniture underneath him was oddly familiar and the smell in the air was definitely Y/N's. For a moment, he closed his eyes and decided to go back to sleep, satisfied with the feeling of being home. Suddenly, he remembered that he shouldn't be there. Sitting straight up, he found himself ready to throw up from the sudden movement. He took a look at his surroundings, Y/N's home was different from when he last remembered, a few months back. A lot of Ferrari merchandizing adorned the living room and a few framed pictures on the walls showed Charles' smiling face. Max felt the pain in his chest when he noticed that she still had up all of their pictures together. He was the most horrible friend on Earth, she loved him and he pushed her away. A picture in particular caught his attention, it was a podium from the first half of the season, in Silverstone. The three of them got into the podium on that occasion and Max had agreed to take the picture without much drama. Y/N was in the middle and both Max and Charles had their arms around her waist. They all looked genuinely happy. Max couldn't help but feel like he messed everything up, he was the only one to blame for that being the only picture they all had together. The only one, and Y/N had it hanging on her living room like it was a moment as cherished as the other life changing moments hanging on those walls. He couldn't take it anymore, he had to get out of that house. He picked up his phone and wallet from the coffee table, but his keys were nowhere to be found. He searched the whole living room desperately for almost fifteen minutes.

"You're awake". Max stopped moving at the voice of Charles ringing through the air, deep and raspy from sleep. The dutch was currently kneeled in front of the couch, trying to see if his keys were underneath it, and his back was facing Charles. He took a deep breath before he stood up and faced him.

"Yeah...". Was the only thing that Max could manage. He wanted to spit a mean comment, say something sassy enough for Charles to go away, but after seeing all of the monegasque's belongings so naturally laying around the house he didn't have the heart to disrespect him in what was undoubtedly his home.

"You had quite the night last night". Charles walked further into the living room, looking at Max with a puzzled gaze. "Do you remember anything from it?"

"Well, the last clear memory is downing something that tasted awful". Max scrunched his face remembering the taste.

"You came here around 4 in the morning-". Charles stopped talking suddenly. His tone insinuated that he had planned to say more, but he backed out last minute. He was visibly tense.

"I'm sorry". It was the first time Max had ever apologized to Charles in over ten years knowing each other.

"For how long had you liked Y/N?". To say that Max was taken aback by the question would be an understatement. His hungover head tried to think of an excuse, something that could spear him from admitting the truth. Charles could practically see the gears turning inside his head. "Don't bother lying. We know".

"We?". Max was pretty pale, but he managed to get paler.

"Listen". Charles relaxed a bit, moving closer to the couch. "You may don't believe this, but I actually like you, Max. I know that we don't have the best relationship, I'm willing to meet you half way, but I can't do that if you're not honest".

"There's no point in that anymore". Max admitted plopping himself on the couch. "She hates me. I'm the last threat to your relationship, Charles".

"She doesn't hate you. She loves you. Which is kind of awkward because she's my girlfriend". Charles sat next to Max on the couch, the other looking at him with a confused expression. "You kissed her last night".

"Fuck". Max hid his face on his hands. "I'm so sorry, Charles". Twice in less than 30 minutes?

"She kissed you back". There was this tension between them, neither knew what to do with the conversation. "We talked about it when we went to bed". Charles shifted on the couch. "It was an interesting conversation though. We freely left out some things we were hiding". Max sat straighter and looked at Charles, trying to show him that he was actively listening. "Like the fact that we both have had a crush on you for ages". That was something unexpected. "I know that I hasn't been the kindest guy to you through the years, and this doesn't excuse it, but it was really confusing when all of this started happening and I wasn't sure of what to do with it". Max remained silent. "You can say something, you know?"

"I don't know what to say". Max was perplexed. "I guess I just have so much to say that I don't know where to start".

"Morning". Y/N's voice softly entered their charged atmosphere. She walked to the couch and sat down, reading their conversation on their faces. "Are we talking about it right now?"

"I hope you don't mind, but we started without you, mon amour". Charles grabbed her hand and lightly squeezed it.

"I don't mind". She sighed deeply. "Max, we've talked and we want to propose you something". Max nodded his head. "We both really like you, like really like you-"

"Already went through that, amour, he's still processing it". Charles chuckled.

"Oh, okay. To the point then?". She asked mostly to herself. "We know that this is kind of weird and you may not be into it, Charles himself is still working on the idea, but we'd like to know if you'll be interested into adding yourself to this". She pointed between herself and Charles. Max kept quiet.

They waited patiently for Max to gather his thoughts, they knew that it was a lot to take in and they weren't aware of his crush on Charles, so there was also this fear of him not liking Charles back. They spent the night talking, went through all the options: ignore it, break up, take some time, open the relationship, and lastly, they ended up with the only option that made them happy. They both liked Max, they both wanted to be with him, but they loved each other and hated the idea of breaking up so one of them could date Max. Charles had a few contradictions with the idea, he was too wired into monogamy and found the idea uncomfortable, but at the same time he felt like it was the right choice, the one that could make him feel complete. He still had a lot to think about but he wanted to give it a try. Y/N was more open to the concept, she was more in touch with her feelings and less into monogamy than Charles.

"I have been in love with you for so long". Max said softly out of the blue. His eyes met Y/N's when she looked at him. "You have no idea. No idea how much I dreamt about you saying that back to me". He clicked his tongue. "Do you remember when I was 16 and I told you that I saw a guy and felt weird?". Y/N nodded her head. Of course she remembered when he first came out to her. "It was Charles. We had had the most intense race ever, I was just so pumped up, the adrenaline so high. And he took off his helmet and all I could think about was punching his face and then kiss it". Chales, who had been looking at his lap since Max confessed his love for Y/N, looked up at Max.

"For that long?". Charles asked. Max nodded.

"It was my bi awakening". The three of them laughed softly. The air became lighter around them.

"I always thought it was Pierre, you know?". Y/N told Max.

"Oh God, no! I mean I love Pierre, but c'mon, you both are more my type". Max said with more confidence.

"Does that mean that you're in?". Charles asked. Max looked between him and Y/N a few times and then smiled wide.

"Yeah, I'm in".

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Okay! So, this is the beginning of the relationship. remember that none of these stories are published in chronological order. They are just short stories about different situations those three went though. I hope you like it!

[777bae]

can i request one for the paddock princess series where y/n is like really like protective of yuki and will like defend him to the death (maybe even going as far as trying to learn Japanese so he has someone to talk to in his language) and at first people assume she has a crush on him but really its because he reminds her of an old friend of hers or like a family member she really misses. any length is fine but the longer the fic the better <3

MY LITTLE BRO

PAIRING… f1 x driver!reader | WC… 0.8k | Masterlist

You have a large range of different dynamics with the drivers on the grid, many consisting of father-daughter like relationships as well as sibling like love.

Many fans have constantly pointed out the fact that you treat Yuki as if he were your younger brother, despite him being older than you.

Unfortunately, other fans believe that you have feelings for the boy, stating that the way you act around him ‘shows’ that you love him. You obviously found this ridiculous and chose to ignore the rumours, already pointing out that you, in fact, have a boyfriend but still decide to not respond and make the whole situation worse.

He’s always talked about how you were the first driver to properly greet him during his first F1 race and how kind you were to him. You had initially found him adorable, especially due to the fact that he was pretty much your height and so this love consequently spiralled into you treating him as you treat your own little brother.

You obviously miss your own little bro, travelling around the world constantly meant you could only see your family a few times a year, mainly during your breaks. This would probably explain why you have such familial relationships with many of the drivers, to which they also love.

Lot’s of moments have been shared with the boy. Like when you finally got pole in quali, or when he opened up to you on how secluded he felt from the other drivers, mainly due to his heritage. That quickly lead you to try and learn Japanese to help him feel included.

Another moment would be when you invited him over to your house to finally meet your family and he was forever grateful for you letting him have another home he could always come back to.

Many found your actual brother and substitute brother’s interactions to be quite amusing, the constant arguments between the two, trying to prove that they were your favourite. Of course, your blood brother was your favourite, Yuki knew that, he just loved to rile up your brother to get a reaction.

With all that said, you were absolutely ecstatic for the boy when he finished the recent season with his highest finish yet. Of course it helped that you had become the World Champion for that season, managing to pull a hand on Red Bull and just finishing above Max, which he was not too happy about.

You were both so proud of each other, enclasping yourselves into a tight hug.

After the podium celebration, you brought to the interview section, the welcoming smile of the reporters already calming down your nerves.

“First off Y/n, congratulations on the win and newfound title!” The interviewer exclaimed, earning a large smile from you.

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Well, I’m ecstatic to say the least. This moment just feels so unreal, to be able to say that I’m a World Champion is something I always dreamed of but I never believed would actually come true.” You ramble, unable to continue from the excitement.

“Many have loved watching your celebrations with both your team, and fellow drivers. Could we just ask about the hug you shared with Tsunoda after the race?” You nod your head lightly.

“The hug we shared was our way of congratulating each other. He’s like my little brother and so I was so proud of him as he achieved his best finish this season. Of course there have been a lot of questions but he’s basically like family, just like how Seb, Lewis, and many of the other drivers are.” You conclude before bidding goodbye and moving on. Yuki was quick to fill in your place, ready to answer the questions.

“To start off, congratulations on the great finish.” He says.

“Thank you.” Yuki responds.

“There have been many celebrations today and so we’d like to know how you’ll spend the rest of the evening.”

“Well, I’ll probably party with other drivers.” The boy giggles. “I’ll also call my family.”

“We saw you congratulating the new World Champion after the race, how proud are you?” The interviewer asks.

“I’m so proud of her, I’ve watched her grow throughout the season and to see her finally achieve her dreams was nice.” Yuki answers, smiling.

“How would you describe your relationship with Y/n?”

“I’d describe it as special. She’s been there for me from my first race and she’s done so much for me. She even tried learning Japanese for me so I could feel more included. She’s basically like an older sister.” Yuki finishes, reminiscing the moments he’s shared with you thus far.

You all eventually finish up the interviews and decide to go out together, celebrating the many achievements from today’s race as well as the finishing up of the season.

You had made sure to give Yuki yet another massive hug as you had witnessed his interview, loving the fact that he also pictures you as an older sister.

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