#the one where I had pre-cut these cards

[lazywitchling]

“Jes, what do you have?”

A NEW PROJECT!!!

“NOOO!!!”

[bitchesuntitled]

Wrong Delivery

Summary: Sleepin' with the hot construction guy doing the remodel at your work, he winds up buying flowers for someone else...

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI go on get! No outbreak/pre outbreak(you decide), fluff, smut, miscommunication, cussing, oral f!receiving, unprotected piv(don't do that, make smart choices), cream pie, Joel being a dork.

A/N: First time I've ever actually finished a Joel story I started working on! Many thanks to @strang3lov3 for the encouragement and taking a look at this, @jay-zzle as always for giving me ideas and making moodboards for me because I hate doing them myself! ❤️❤️❤️

🌹This is for @morallyinept’s flora & fauna challenge! 🌹

Divider provided by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist||AO3 Link

As you rush into the building, trying to avoid the construction team surrounding the place, a timid smile crosses your face when you spot Joel, the man responsible for why you’re running late this morning. Instead of getting ready for work like you were supposed to, Joel Miller decided he wanted to spend his morning coaxing another orgasm out of you, as if the three last night weren’t enough. It’s been a couple of months of this. 

It had never been your intention to start sleeping with the hot contractor who had been doing construction at your place of work, you both just happened to be at the same bar one night. One thing led to another and now it’s been this, whatever this is.

“Mornin’ guys,” you say passing the crew, each giving their own sort of greeting back, be it a grunt of acknowledgment or repeating the greeting.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Joel says with a cheeky smile, “Runnin’ a little late?”

“Yeah, woke up late,” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up.

“There you are!” Becky shouts, making her way towards you, “Angie is up my ass right now about where you are with those reports you said you’d get done yesterday.”

“On it,” you sigh, “Nice talking to you Joel.”

“Oh!” Becky said with a smile, grabbing his bicep, “Hi Joel! You guys sure have been working hard on all of this.”

You try to keep your eyes from rolling at Becky’s consistent attempt at flirting with Joel. She has definitely tried her hardest to get his attention, made cookies “for the crew” but only handed some of them to Joel, tries to talk to him every chance she can, wearing lower cut tops so her cleavage is on full display, batting eyelashes and laughing at any dumb thing he says. It’s starting to get on your nerves, if you’re being honest. Making your way to your desk you open the drawer, shoving your purse inside before closing it and turning on your computer. You open the teams app, sending Angie a quick message to let her know you’ll put the file with the reports in the folder outside her door, grabbing the file and making your way to her office.

Becky is still talking Joel’s ear off and you have to stifle your laugh, watching his eyebrows scrunch together and his polite nod before excusing himself. She catches you as you're on your way back to your cubicle to start the work day.

“That Joel Miller is a man,” Becky sighs, walking beside you, “The things I would let him do to me.”

“Oh jeez,” you laugh awkwardly, sitting down at your desk.

“I wonder what his dick is like,” she continues, “I bet it’s big.”

You turn to your computer hoping she can’t see the look on your face because then the jig would be up.

“Uhm,” you say, clearing your throat, “You better be careful. Don’t wanna get turned into HR.”

—

“Hello,” a frazzled delivery guy announces himself at the entrance to your cubicle. “I have a delivery for you, miss.”

“For me?!” Becky asks excitedly, seeing the bouquet of flowers. The delivery guy nodded, handing her the flowers. “Who are they from?!”

“Uh… Joel Miller?” The guy says, looking at his sheet. Your jaw drops upon hearing his words. Why on earth would Joel send Becky flowers?

“Oh my god!” Becky squeals with delight, grabbing the card, “Aw! Look! It says darlin’ on the envelope!”

Becky opens the card, reading it aloud:

“Figured a pretty lady like you should have some flowers to look at. Been havin’ the time of my life gettin’ to know ya and would love to take you out. He signed it off with a heart and J. Miller! How sweet is that?!”

Beside yourself on handling this, the only thing you could think of was finding the man himself. If this entire thing between you two was just for fun so be it, but you needed answers.

“Real sweet,” you mutter standing up, “I’m…  uh… I’ll be back.”

“Okay.” Becky hums dreamily, staring at the flowers on her desk.

You make your way to the front of the building, spotting Gus, one of the construction guys.

“Can you tell Joel I need to talk to him?”

“Sorry ma’am, he had to leave earlier, something about Tommy.” Gus shrugs. 

“Uhm… okay.” You nod, deciding to make your way to the breakroom, sitting at one of the tables trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe it’s for the best that he left. That way the entire building wouldn’t see you blow up. Are you even still supposed to see each other tonight? That had been the plan when he left this morning. What the actual fuck, you think to yourself, give annoying ass Becky flowers to ask her out, and then fuck you? That two-timing son of a bitch!

“So fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself.

—

You make it through the workday, as best as you can, trying not to think of Joel and how mad you are all while Becky continues to talk about him all day. What should she wear, wondering where he’d take her, what they would do, should she sleep with him on the first date. Hopefully, the Excedrin will kick in soon to help with the teeth grinding headache you’ve had all day. Walking to your car Becky’s shrill voice rings out wishing you a good evening.

“Yeah, you too,” you grumble, pulling your car door open and throwing your purse inside. You’re still so mad, fuming, seeing red as you drive towards your place. Once getting home, you quickly change into comfy clothes, and see you have a text from Joel.

JMiller: Can’t wait to see you beautiful ;) Leavin’ Tommy’s

You scowl looking at the text. How do you even respond to that? Petty, that’s how.

You: K.

You see the text bubbles pop up, disappear then pop up again before his face shows on your screen with an incoming call.

“Hello,” you snap.

“Hey,” Joel says hesitatingly, “Bad day at work?”

“Well, Becky got some lovely flowers delivered at work.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” you say with a harsh pop at the end.

“And?” Joel asks, “Is that it?”

“Delivery guy and card said they were from you.”

“Fuck me,” Joel groans “Those were not for goddamn Becky!”

“Sure about that?”

“I got them for you.” Joel argues.

“Yeah, okay.” You huff into the receiver, rolling your eyes. “Look, I get it. It’s fine if you didn’t want this going anywhere but you could’ve been honest with me about it.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel groans, “I do want this going somewhere! Like I said, the flowers were for you!”

“Sure,” you say, shaking your head, “Just be honest, Joel. This has just been fun, that’s it. You’re getting your dick wet, stringing me al—“

“God damn it! I am telling the truth!” Joel growls, cutting you off. “I even have proof!”

“What proof?!” You spit back, “The proof of the flowers you sent Becky? Yeah, I saw them, and the card too. Sweet touch signing it off with a heart and then your name.”

Suddenly there is a knock on your door. You cock your head to the side, hearing the knock sound through the phone as well. Of fucking course, Tommy’s is a five minute drive to your place, making your way to the door you swing it open to see Joel standing there. His nostrils flared, phone held up to his ear, dropping it and angrily stuffing it back into his pocket.

“Just give me five minutes, I swear, they were meant for you and I have fuckin’ proof,” Joel says, holding up a piece of paper.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You groan, smacking your phone onto the entry table.  “Why are you here?”

“I was on my way home from Tommy’s. Figure I’d come here first,” Joel says, holding the paper out to you, “Go on, look at it.”

You grab it, glancing it over. Farrah’s Flowers printed at the top, with your name listed as the order’s recipient, eyes bulging out of your head as you look at him.

“Told you.”

“Wait, then how the fuck did they get to Becky then?”

“Somebody fucked up, that’s all I know but that is my copy of the receipt for buyin’ them in the first place, and that is your name on it,” Joel smirks in triumph, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

Your shoulders relax as you open the door wider, motioning your head for him to come in. He gives a subtle nod, making his way into your home, you slump against the door once it’s closed.

“Joel,” you start, “What the fuck are we?”

He cages you against the door, pushing his lower half into you. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck, looking at those dark chocolate eyes.

“Well,” Joel says, kissing your cheek, “I want you,” placing a soft kiss against your lips, “More than just for sex,” he whispers, against your lips breathing in each other's air causing you to feel a dizzying arousal. Lips collide with him in a hungry kiss, tongues rolling against one another, gasping when his hands creep down to hook around your thighs lifting you, grabbing onto your ass before pulling you away from the door and carrying you to your bedroom.

Joel lays you down on your bed hovering over you, never breaking away from your lips, licking into your mouth with desperation like this might be his last chance. Arousal begins pool in your underwear. Hands gliding down his back, feeling the warmth radiating from him, lifting the bottom of his shirt until he finally lifts to fling it off.

“Don’t want anyone else,” Joel husks, lightly biting your neck, causing you to moan at the sensation of his teeth against your skin, “Just you.”

“Joel,” you whimper as his hand travels down the length of your shirt, pushing it up to expose your tits, ducking his head down. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiffened peak before switching to give the other equal attention, kissing a trail down the soft flesh of your stomach until he reaches the top of your leggings.

“Can I?” He asks, looking at you, fingers hooking into your waistband. You give a firm nod and he pulls them off along with your underwear. He sighs once they are off, using his shoulders to spread your legs further apart, “So fucking pretty,” he hums, nipping and kissing along your inner thighs, slowly making his way to your center.

You can feel his breath against your folds, trembling with anticipation for his tongue and lips to make contact, letting out a soft moan Joel begins lapping at your folds, sucking your bundle of nerves into his mouth. Tongue massaging circles against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moan, raking your fingers through his hair and lightly tugging.

Joel’s hum reverberated into your core. His mouth opened and he began to fuck you with his tongue while firmly holding your gaze. You’re back arched at the sensation, letting out a gasp. You roll your hips against his face, his nose pressing deliciously against your clit. He grunts, moving his thumbs to spread your lips, licking a stripe up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. Your legs begin to shake at the sensation.

“Oh my god, Joel!” You whine, arching your back, feeling the band tightening within your core, begging for release. Joel sinks two of his thick fingers into you causing you to cry out, moving them to massage that sweet spot against your walls, “Yes! Oh my god, fuck!” You could feel the smug smirk on his face, knowing you’re about to come.

“Come on,” he coos, firmly licking your bundle of nerves “Let me have it baby.”

You cry his name out over and over as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing through you. He continues lapping at your folds, wanting to make sure he gets every last drop before you push his head away. He crawls up the length of your body, the denim of his jeans scratching against your skin.

“Good?” He asks, you nod giggling and he smirks, grabbing the nape of his neck you pull him closer to your face, looking into your eyes he whispers a hi. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, surging forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into your mouth, grinding his bulge against your center, the rough denim providing friction against your core. His hand moves to his belt, swiftly unhooking it and unbuttoning his jeans. Hands sliding down to help him push the denim off his hips, boxers following suit. You grip his hard length, stroking it from tip to base. Palm spreading the precome over his long thick length. Joel lets out a soft moan at the touch.

“Want you inside me,” you whimper, rubbing his cock against your slick heat. “Please.”

He bats your hand away, grabbing his cock to tease your folds more, rubbing his tip up and down your slit. You let out a moan when his tip catches against your entrance. Only for him to slide back up to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles against you.

“Joel,” you begged, titling your pelvis, “Please, please fuck me.”

Joel smirks, sliding his cock back down to your entrance, feeding you his bulbous head. You writhe, feeling the stretch. He sinks into you slowly, filling you up until his tip kisses your cervix. Fingers gripping his back, each of you letting out a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Joel murmurs into your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, letting you adjust to his size, “Best pussy ever,” placing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Joel, move,” you plead, hitching your legs up on his waist, “Need you to move.”

He pulls out slowly before snapping his length into you again, letting out a shaky breath at the harshness of his thrust. Your grip on his back tightens, sinking your nails into his skin. He lets out a hiss as he rocks his hips into you, trying to find that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, “Don’t want anyone else, darlin’.”

Breathy moans shared between kisses, sweat slicked skin gliding against each other. He pushes your thighs back further into a mating press, finding that sweet spot inside your walls.

“Oh my god,” you whine, back beginning to arch, “Right there!”

His cock massages that spot with every stroke, causing your muscles to tighten. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, walls beginning to flutter around his shaft as he drills into that spot over and over.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel growls, feeling the heat of his skin slapping against yours, “I need you to come, baby. Ain’t gonna last much longer.”

You moan wantonly as you feel his dick twitch inside of you. Joel holding out to make sure you come first. The coil in your belly finally snaps, sending you over the edge, white hot electricity flowing through every limb. He thrusts into you harshly half a dozen more times before his hips stutter.

“Only you, darlin’, only want you,” he grunts, as he empties himself inside you, painting your walls with his sticky release, “only want you.”

Joel collapses, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your head, nuzzling his nose against yours, placing soft kisses against your lips.

“Only want you,” he sighs.

—

You spent the next hour, in each other's arms, talking, snuggling and kissing.

“I can’t believe you would think I’d want Becky,” Joel booms with laughter, eyes crinkling around the edges. You smirk playfully, slapping his arm.

“Look,” you giggle, “I didn’t know if her flirting finally wore you down!”

“Hi Joel!” He says in an exaggerated high pitch, batting his eyelashes, “My, you sure have been working hard!” he adds with a girly giggle, lifting his pecs to create some sort of cleavage.

“Oh shut up!”

“Did you see the flowers though? Like actually look at ‘em?”

“Not really,” you sigh, playing with a loose thread on your blanket.

“Purple tulips for new beginnings and love,” Joel says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “Jasmine for devotion,” he continues, kissing your other cheek, “and pink roses for appreciation,” he smiles before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really?”

“Yep, the florist helped me pick them out,” Joel says, grabbing the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss, “Told ya they were for you.”

[leclsrc]

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver. 

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are). 

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases. 

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.” 

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max. 

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest. 

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed. 

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving. 

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome. 

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?” 

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm. 

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck. 

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up. 

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

[admirxation]

彡 𝙃𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚

𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

ʚ 𝐟𝐭. 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 | 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐜𝐰 — 18+ mdni, pure smut (porn with little to no plot), NSFW, only fans, masturbation (m and f receiving), orgasms (m and f receiving), watching porn, obsessive behaviour and technically porn addiction, overstimulation (f receiving), squirting, and dirty talk.

By continuing to read after the cut-off, you’re consenting to see the content I have already pre-warned. Continue with your own discretion.

Paying a subscription to see someone naked? That was the most pathetic thing Choso could think of. He thought it was ridiculous whenever he scrolled through his phone and heard multiple stories of how people were putting tons of money into a website to see a girl get naked and touch herself, hearing how much money some people would make off these idiots; he didn’t see the point nor get the hype, just get yourself a girl or if you’re struggling that much go to a free porn sight where there are tons of videos with every fantasy performed without needing to break the bank—there were loads of good enough girls on there… right?

Well, Choso soon ate his words when he had been experiencing, to put it lightly, difficulty, in the dating field. He had been on a few dates and even got lucky sometimes with the odd hook-up from the midnight swiping on dating apps; but he always felt unfulfilled, bored even. He never knew why exactly, it’s not like there was anything wrong with them, many of them were nice and he had a good time with them, but none of them gave him that thrill or excitement, just felt like convenience if anything—that’s not how you should feel if you meet a future partner. 

His lack of excitement and interest just resulted in him giving up, spending endless nights in his room scrolling through his laptop and going through porn videos like a horny boy who had never seen a girl before. At this point he probably went through every category, finishing to some videos, but after a while, it got dull, lifeless, and utterly boring. He hated the overproduced porn videos, with the lights and a camera set up, knowing the actors didn’t feel anything and were just turning their minds off by overacting, faking every moan and squirt, he knew porn was just a fantasy but… let's just say the fantasy wasn’t being sold well in those videos. 

But there was one person who managed to sell it well to him. Someone that actually provided him that thrill and excitement he had been searching for. After another lonely night with his hand, he stumbled on your Instagram. He wasn’t expecting it, he was just looking through his feed until he saw you in a bikini with a suggestive pose and caption, seeing loads of men salivating for you in the comments; you were attractive, no, you were more than that to Choso, you were gorgeous and soon caught his attention and enticed him to scroll through all your pictures.

You had a fake name, obviously, and in every picture you were barely wearing anything, looking into the camera with those bedroom eyes with teasing and temping captions and poses; Choso could already feel his pants tighten as felt himself hardening, just looking at your revealing pictures. You were an only fans girl and he was already fantasising about you. He pressed onto the link in your bio, out of curiosity, until he whispered to himself about his initial hesitations. 

“No, I’m not paying for this… I’m not pathetic,” he whispered to himself as he looked at your fees. They were affordable but he obviously knew why; if it was affordable more people would buy it and continue to keep up the subscriptions, hence making you a hefty profit from seeing how many followers you already had. 

Fuck it. He thought to himself. “I’ll just pay the subscription once, get my fix and cancel it before the next one comes,” he reassured himself in whispered hushes as he got his card out, putting the details in and getting a notification the money had been taken out, taking in a large breath as the pixelated screen was no longer blurred images and showed him the full, gorgeous, vision that was you. 

Oh how naive he was to think he would get a quick fix and be over it. 

He was already obsessed, transfixed to the screen. Feeling a heated pool to his core as his cock twitched and throbbed in his tightening pants, his eyes half-lidded as he loved everything he saw with his dilated pupils. He bit his bottom lip watching you spread your legs for the adoring camera, massaging your fingers along your wet folds, moaning and gasping as you circled your clit, staring into the camera with those sexy sultry eyes; he felt himself already start to cum, his warm release darkening his pants, finishing from just the sight of you—no girl had managed to have that effect on him before. 

This little subscription fix was just supposed to be a one-time thing—as he kept telling himself—until another month rolled around, and another, until he was upgrading it to see more videos of you, god he felt so pathetic, being utterly obsessed for a girl just touching herself on screen, but he couldn’t go a day without fisting his cock and moaning alongside your videos, watching his laptop screen and imagining what you would look like on your knees for him, making you suck his cock, maybe even ride it—he could understand now why people liked this onlyfans business.

One night, coming back from work, he got a notification that you had uploaded another video; seeing your name and the title of it made heat rush through his body with a wave-like sensation, his blood boiling and collecting into arousal. He hurriedly stripped off his clothes, lying in bed in his boxers as he opened his laptop, springing free his member as he shoved his tight boxers off, palming himself as your video started. 

It started with the usual teasing, that adorable smile you would give to the camera as you gave it a show, he found it so sexy and alluring how you would slowly strip off and show more of your delicate and soft skin; he was already palming the base of his dick, watching as you took your lace bra off, squeezing and playing with your tits as you released soft and sensual whimpers that made him throb and ache with need. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he whispered as the video kept going, biting his lip till bite marks were formed on the skin of his bottom lip, his hand motioning up and down his large and warm shaft. 

Your legs were spread, moving your underwear to the side as you started to tease yourself. 

“Mmm~” you moaned as your fingers circled your puffy clit, your cunt already wet for the camera to see. “Ooohh, do you like that?” you asked in a seductive tone to the camera. 

Of course, Choso knew you weren’t going to magically hear his reply but he loved the fantasy of being with you, wanting and needing you just to be in his bed, he needed nothing more but to hear those lewd and hot moans as he whispered every praise and desire into your ear. 

“Oh fuck yeah… s-such a dirty girl, mmmph… Want… need you so bad nnghh~” he whimpered.

He pumped his hand harder, moaning and whimpering as he wraps his calloused hand and lets it run and smear the dribbling precum along the prominent vein on his warm shaft; his cheeks flushing red as he continued to watch as you pushed your digits into your soaking cunt. He would do anything to just fuck that pretty little pussy, to feel your tight walls spasm around him, wondering what it would feel like to pump you full of hot seed and fuck it further into your snug core as he made you his cumslut. 

You pinched your nipple with your spare hand, pushing your fingers inside and out of your aching core, your body already shaking and trembling as high-pitched moans flowed from your glossy lips.

“Ah, fuck~” you cursed, the audio capturing every moan, and the sound of how wet you were as you kept your legs open, giving eye contact to the camera as you exposed yourself; that drove Choso wild, imagining himself fuck you senseless as he looked into those pretty eyes. 

His cock continued to throb, his hot seed already pooling along his fingers, but he kept going, still painfully hard as he watched the whole of the video and moaned louder as he watched you overstimulate and slut yourself out on camera. His breathing was hitched as his adam’s apple bopped up and down as he panted and tugged on his dick. 

“Ahh, ahh… ooohh keep going pretty girl,” he moaned to the screen, feeling his balls tighten as he imagined what it would be like to glide his length in between your puffy folds, to rile you up with teasing motions until he finally rammed himself deep enough for the tip to bruise your cervix, to watch your tits bounce with every thrust he would give, and he knew you’d take it like a good girl as you screamed out his name. 

He heard your pants get heavier, your bottom lip quivering as your brow furrowed and your eyelids beginning to flutter as you rolled your eyes to the back of your head; you were about to finish, he watched you so many times he knew the rhythm of your breathing and look on your face when you were about to finish. 

“That’s it you dirty girl, oh please please cum, you’re so sexy when you squirt,” he released whispered pleads to the screen, wrapping his hand harder and pumping more quickly; he timed his final release just right when you released the loudest pornographic moan as you orgasmed and let your cunt paint your inner tights and fingers dripping wet. The video left Choso panting and overheated, his fingers and stomach covered in his hot ropes of cum.

Taglist: @bratbby333 @styrofoamplat3s

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a/n: heart divider by @/cafekitsune // lookey lookey here we have another choso smut, can we tell I found a new man to obsess over? Hehe. Hope you enjoyed this and if you’re interested in more JJK content or other fanfiction from other fandoms please consider following me and/or being added to the taglist here [x].

[pickingupmymercedes]

"dont ask me that" from yours and "i dont even know if any of that was real" from my own. one where lewis overheard a conversation between reader n her brother/family after his breakup with her. in which the breakup broke and changed her so much shes become a different person who just doesnt believe shes worthy for love anymore. and it hurts her so much that she cant even believe that any of her happy moments with lewis was real, maybe it was just a game for him. angst and pleasee sfw

Asshole Lewis incoming. He does try to make things a bit better in the end though.

Also, this is only the second time I write from his perspective, and it's hard ngl.

"dont ask me that" and "i dont even know if any of that was real"

The cacophony of the paddock was a familiar background noise as Lewis weaved through the throng of team personnel and sponsors; a practiced smile plastered on his face. Yet, the usual thrill of pre-race anticipation was muted. All he craved was solitude, anywhere he could escape the prying eyes of the media.

He ducked into a secluded corner; a sliver of shade offered by a towering hospitality suite. Quietness for a few seconds, only to be instantly replaced by a gut-punch of surprise. Y/n. She was just on the other side of the wall of tires, face illuminated by the glow of her phone, a serious expression etched on her features.

He should've known retreating wouldn't guarantee escape. And the sight of her, so unexpected, made him suddenly regret his decision and long for the fans and media.

But he couldn't help eavesdropping. It wasn't intentional, not at first. Her voice was laced with a vulnerability he had only witnessed once before. The other voice on the conversation was her brother, he gathered, and his tone was laced with concern.

“You sound exhausted, Y/n,” the man's voice cutting deep into the silence. “Seriously, you need to take a break. The team won’t crumble without you”

Y/n sighed, the sound so different from the girl he remembered. “I’m fine, busy season. That’s all.”

“Is it just the work, or…” He trailed off, the question hanging heavy.

“Don't ask me that,” Y/n cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, and Lewis winced. That wasn't the Y/n he knew. The bubbly, optimistic girl who'd lit up a room with her smile.

Lewis felt a pang of guilt. He knew exactly who she was trying to avoid mentioning. The one who'd left without a real goodbye, the one who'd taken a piece of her with him.

“You know I can't help you if you don't talk about it,” her brother continued gently.

“There’s nothing to talk about” Y/n said, a hint of defiance creeping in. “It’s over. And honestly, maybe I’m glad it is. I don't even know if any of that was real for him.” The anger in her voice barely masked the underlying hurt.

The air grew thick, suffocating. His blood turned to ice. The weight of his actions, the cowardly way he'd ended things before they could get too serious, slammed into him. He'd been the one afraid. Afraid to let himself care, afraid to risk another heartbreak. He'd ended things abruptly, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of the very thing Y/n was now questioning – how real their connection had been.

“Focus on your career, then,” her brother said. “It’s the one thing that won't let you down.”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, her voice distant. “At least I can trust that.”

A few days later, a bouquet of lilies arrived at Y/n's desk. Nestled amidst the pristine white blooms was a small card. The note was short, filled with a remorse he couldn't express in words:

"Y/n,

Those moments were real, to me. I never meant to led you on but I was too afraid to admit I was letting myself get too close. I hope you find someone who’s unapologetic about his feelings. You deserve the world.

Lewis."

______________________________________________________________

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[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Usual Suspects | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: creepy police officer (not that that differs from real life), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Ooh damn, this one was interesting to write. I tried the best I could to make this as coherent as possible. Y’all enjoy! Also, this'll be another creature-double-feature Saturday to make up for the short chapter! Love you, my darlings!

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“I don’t wanna have to keep asking this, kid. Who are you?” the man who’d been interrogating you asked. He was a member of the Baltimore police department: Peter Sheridan. He’d been a complete dick to you thus far after arresting you in the boys’ motel room with Sam. 

“I told you, Ann Wilson,” you replied. 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Listen, dollface—” he leaned across the table creepily, and you fought the urge to recoil under his predatory gaze, “—I’m done playing with you. You were found with Sam and Dean Winchester; one of which was supposed to be dead. They’ve got some pretty serious charges stacked up against them, and you, by proxy. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one… puzzled me. Grave desecration.

"But still, these are a long way from murder. Then, we get a fax from St. Louis. Where Dean’s suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman.” He got up from his chair and began pacing. “However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly he died there. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person he murdered. And what about Sam? He was pre-law before dropping out after the death of his girlfriend. He’s twenty three years old, no job, no home address. His mother died when he was a baby; his father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's you.”

“Can you cut the monologuing, man? It’s really starting to get on my nerves,” you replied. You had been sitting back in your chair with your arms and legs crossed confidently the whole time he spoke despite the anxiety you had given your situation.

He slammed his hands down on the table; you didn’t even flinch. “Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to the Winchester brothers?”

You sucked in air through your teeth and relaxed back in your chair. “Seems you got nothin’ on me. You can’t really hold me if you can’t even pin down who I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have you on one thing— over a dozen possible matches when we ran your prints.”

You tsked, cutting your eyes at him challengingly. “Possible. You can’t hold me on possible.”

“But I can hold you for forty-eight hours under suspicion of accomplice to murder,” he responded. “So you might as well start talking.”

You scoffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Sweetheart—” you nearly punched him when he called you that name, “—Dean’s life is over. Sam’s probably is, too. Yours doesn’t have to be. If you tell me who you are— maybe a bit about your place in all this— maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. We can look into your history, check your record; see how well you clean up. How does that sound?”

You considered for a moment before talking, repeating the story you and the brothers had discussed before your arrests in case you got caught. You had one of these stories for every case you’d ever worked on with them. “Sam and Dean’s dad knew Tony Giles. They were old friends; in the service together and everything. So we showed up as soon as we heard about his passing.”

Obviously, none of that was true. You and the brothers had found a story about a man’s throat that had been slit in the papers and headed up to investigate. 

You continued your story. “Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time. Anyway, that’s when we went to see Karen. She was… she wasn’t doin’ well. We just wanted to be there for her.”

Karen was Anthony Giles’s wife, and you’d gone to see her to get information. She said he’d told her there was a woman standing at the foot of their bed the night before he passed away, and she'd been bleeding from the neck.

“And that was it. End of story,��� you said.

“No, it’s not,” Sheridan pressed. “We have an eyewitness who said they saw two men and a woman fitting your description breaking into Giles’s office.”

“Karen just wanted us to get some old photos, okay? Police weren’t letting her in. I know it was wrong to break in, but she gave us the key,” you lied flawlessly.

In actuality, that was where you’d found a stack of papers littered with “danashulps” written over and over again on the tray of the man’s printer. The poor guy’s throat had been slit so deep, part of his spinal cord had been severed. Your working theory was that a Dana Shulps had died with her throat slit, and now she was back to wreak havoc. However, you found no evidence of any person by that name. So, you were back to square one. 

“Dean went back to Karen’s place to check on her and bring her those pictures and stuff,” you explained.

“Hm, and why didn’t you or Sam go with him?” Sheridan responded.

“We just went back to the motel,” you shrugged. “How’d you know we were there, by the way?”

“Why would I tell you?” he snapped.

“Whoa, pump the hate brakes, Biff,” you remarked, “I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t get cute with me, dollface. Now, you were with both brothers the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because Dean left you. To go murder Karen.”

You tried to seem unfazed, but your jaw clenched in anger. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

He slammed his fists on the table. “I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.”

“Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean,” you said. You stared him down. “Let me ask you something, babe. Do you have a murder weapon? Do you have a motive?” 

He seemed to have no response.

“That’s what I thought. Come back to me when you have something interesting to say.”

He angrily stormed out of the room, and your lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk.

***

You sat alone in your room, repeating “Dana Shulps” to yourself on a loop. You suddenly got an idea. ‘Maybe it’s not a name.’ You reached across the table and pulled a pen and paper pad toward you. You wrote several combinations of anagrams as to what it could possibly be. The only plausible thing you came up with was “ASHLAND SUP.” ‘But what would the S-U-P be? Ashland… a city? A town? …A street?’

***

You listened carefully to the commotion going on beyond the wall of your room. There was no two-way mirror, and from what you could tell, no camera nearby. You listened as footsteps hurriedly crossed in front of your room heading to the left and then growing quieter. You gathered your courage and took that opportunity to make your escape. Quickly, you opened the window and climbed out onto the outside of the building. Looking down below, it was almost a four-story drop. However, you knew you could make your way to the fire escape a few window sills over if you were careful enough. 

You clung to the wall, nervously, careful not to look down or move too quickly when the wind picked up. Thankfully, you made it to the fire escape safely and headed down as fast as you could. You weren’t sure if Sam or Dean had escaped, but you decided to try the trick they taught you to find each other: searching for Jim Rockford in the guest list of the first motel that appeared in the yellowpages. Thankfully, when you did, you found a Jim Rockford. You quickly made your way over to said motel and broke into the room. Sam had his gun drawn on you when you opened it.

“(Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!” he huffed, putting the gun down.

You grinned and ran over to him. He scooped you up in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” you told him. “What are we gonna do about Dean?”

He sighed. “I don't know, honestly. He’ll figure something out. For now, let’s focus on this ghost, huh?”

“I’m guessing you figured out it was an anagram, too, right?” you asked.

“Duh,” he grinned. 

“How’d Dean give you the cue to escape?” You sat down at the table across from him. 

“Got our lawyer to give me a note. Called me Hilts on it,” he smirked back.

You laughed. “The Great Escape? Nice.”

“I gotta say, man, I’m worried,” Sam told you. 

“Why?” 

“I’m guessing they read you the charges,” he replied. 

You nodded.

The brunet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is bad, (Y/N/N)."

“Yeah, I know.” You stared down at the table in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. 

Sam huffed and tried to remain cheerful, changing the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’? Ashland’s a street, but what’s S-U-P?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. Initials, maybe?”

“Sounds like a good enough place to start to me,” Sam grinned.

The two of you began pouring through online resources to see if anyone had died ugly on Ashland Street.

“Dude, how’d you get all these files, by the way?” you asked Sam, referencing the many manila folders and photos laid neatly on the table between yours and Sam’s laptops. 

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door. You looked through the peephole to see a frightened woman in her mid-forties, and you opened it to her. 

“Wait, (Y/N)—” Sam stood upon seeing her, and you put two and two together that she was probably a cop at Sam's end of the case. The woman shrugged and entered the room. She showed Sam her wrists which were lined with a ring of bruises. She explained to you that she had seen the same ghost Karen described seeing and that she saw “DANASHULPS” appear on the mirror in the bathroom at the same time the lesions appeared around her wrists. 

“These showed up after you saw it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” the woman responded. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. So is she.” She gestured to you. “I should be arresting you.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you questioned pointedly.

“Diana Ballard, Baltimore P.D.,” she said. “And… what was your name?”

You snickered. “You’re not getting that out of me that easily. Hey, do me a favor, look through these for us.”

“Why would I do that?” She suddenly seemed to register what she was looking at. “How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

Sam chuckled. “You have your job, we have ours. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She flipped through the stack and stopped on the photo of a drugged-out-looking blonde woman. She stopped on it and held it up. “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker,” you nodded. “Twenty-eight; disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Diana asked.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide,” the detective answered.

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

“It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place and didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves,” you added.

“Why would we do that?” Diana asked.

“See if we can find her body,” Sam explained. “We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

***

Turns out, poor Claire’s body had been hidden right where the moon shone through the window of 2911 Ashland Street labeled “Ashland Sup.”

Diana noticed the necklace on the corpse and touched it cautiously.

“That mean something to you?” Sam asked.

You could see she was beginning to get angry. “I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” She pulled out the necklace from her shirt and showed it to you and Sam. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” you murmured. 

“Now it all makes perfect sense,” Sam began.

“I'm sorry?” Diana scoffed.

He nodded, explaining, “Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen.”

“Claire's not killing anyone,” you chimed in. “She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” You turned to Diana. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

She thought for a moment before breathing out, “Oh my god. About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam huffed. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

“C’mon, we gotta find him before he kills somebody else,” you said.

*** Claire drove you and Sam on the route to the police station to confront Sheridan. She snapped her phone shut and huffed in annoyance.

“What?” you asked.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean,” she replied.

“What?!” you and Sam stiffened in your seats.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio,” she said.

“Radio? He took a county vehicle?” Sam questioned. 

She nodded. 

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on,” he noted. 

Somehow, Sam managed to track down the vehicle Sheridan had taken. You arrived just in time to see him aiming a gun at Dean who was kneeling on the ground behind the van.

“Wait! Wait,” Dean pleaded. “Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” His voice became louder as you got closer.

You drew Diana’s gun from her holster and aimed it at Sheridan. “Drop the gun!”

Sheridan turned his gun on you. “You!”

You cocked the gun. “Me,” you smirked.

Sheridan suddenly seemed to notice his partner. “Diana? How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said evenly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” you ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sheridan scowled. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” Diana interrogated.

“I didn't do anything, Diana,” he said. “It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?” Diana pressed.

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan’s sorry attempt at emotionally relaying his story was enough to induce an eye roll from you.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?” Diana asked dejectedly. 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just one more dead scumbag,” Sheridan chuckled coldly.

“Hey!” you barked. 

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he told her, faltering slightly as he looked at his partner. Dean rolled out of the way, and you took the opportunity to fire and hit Sheridan in the stomach. 

Diana didn’t even flinch at you shooting Sheridan. “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

You kept the gun trained on Sheridan as you rushed to Dean’s side, crouching in front of his slumped-over form protectively. You tried to get a lock on Sheridan, but he and Diana were fighting too erratically for you to be able to get a clear shot. At some point, Sheridan lost his gun, and Sam went to go for it.

Pete grabbed it before Sam could, shouting, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it.” He rose from the ground and kept the gun trained on Sam as he backed away.

You stared past Sheridan to see Claire having appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. You tossed Diana her gun as Sheridan turned around, and she shot her former partner in the back. He fell to the ground, much more permanently this time.

You turned your focus to Dean. You got the keys to his handcuffs from Diana and helped him out of them.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you asked, putting your hands on either side of his face and looking him over.

He grabbed your wrist gently. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

You nodded before throwing yourself into his arms. He hesitated in what you assumed was surprise but hugged you back tightly. You let go of him as the morning sun began to hit your eyes. You looked over to Diana who was crouched over the body of her ex-partner.

“You doin' alright?” Sam asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She swallowed, her breath coming out unevenly despite the fact that she tried to hold her composure. “The death omen, Claire— what happens to her now?”

The brunet shrugged. “Should be over. She should be at rest.”

Dean brushed his hands off on his jeans as he stood next to his brother. “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed,” she replied.

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam questioned.

“I hope so,” Diana said. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless—” your and the boys’ heads perked up at her slight change in tone, “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

Dean pointedly looked at his brother. “Yeah, she's sure, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” She turned to go. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?” Dean asked her.

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson.” She noticed Dean’s calculating look. “Don't... even think about it.”

“It's okay, it's alright, don't worry,” Sam chuckled. “We'll, uh, we'll just improvise. I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

Diana nodded. “Yeah. I've noticed.”

You and the brothers began to walk down the road. 

“Nice lady,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?” Dean turned to you.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know where from, though,” you answered.

“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, you guys hungry?”

You nodded, but Sam shook his head.

“For some reason, I could really go for some pea soup,” Dean said.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[love-and-deepspace-fanfic]

Rafayel Fanfic - Drunken Intimacy

This story is inspired by the 4* Rafayel card "Oceanic Nightfall," though I personally don't like how MC handles the situation, so here's a different scenario where I think things could get better.

Hope you've been enjoying my delulu so far

Imagine you just came back from a tired mission trip, and Raf has just finished throwing a party and got drunk....

Drunken Intimacy

You had just finished carefully placing your suitcase back in your bedroom after a long mission trip when you spotted a figure slumped against the sofa by the window, holding a glass of wine you had set down countless times since you saw him.

"Argh, this boozer."

You muttered under your breath. Resigned, you navigated around the remnants of a party scattered across the living room, making your way towards a collection of overflowing wine bottles. The sight of the trashed mansion after a long and tiring trip filled you with a mixture of surprise and disappointment.

You'd envisioned a different homecoming with Rafayel – a walk by the lake or a visit to his favorite restaurant, as usual. But this scene was far from what you'd expected. Since arriving home, you'd been deliberately avoiding Rafayel's gaze, not wanting to betray your disappointment, even though deep down you knew he must have had his reasons.

Rafayel remained motionless on the sofa, swirling the wine in his glass. His eyes, usually sharp, held a strangely gentle glint as they met yours. An unsettling silence lingered between you, broken only by the jarring ring of a phone.

You recognized the ringtone as your own, but couldn't find it anywhere. It wasn't until you spotted it lying beside Rafayel on the sofa that you realized he must have noticed your avoidance too.

You approached Rafayel with your gaze fixed elsewhere. You quickly snatched your phone and answered the call from Thomas. Just as you were about to move away to talk, Rafayel suddenly grabbed your wrist, pulling you down. Taken off guard, you fell onto Rafayel's lap, right as Thomas' voice echoed from the other end of the line.

"Is that […]? Are you home already?"

You shot Rafayel a glare, but his grip was firm, preventing you from moving. You sighed and switched on speakerphone to answer. "Yes, I just got back. Is there something wrong?"

“Oh, you're back already? The party organizers and I wanted to apologize to you! The party tonight was supposed to be held at the pre-booked hotel, but due to unforeseen circumstances, they couldn't accommodate us. That's why I had to ask Rafayel to let us use his place. He usually refuses these requests, but for some reason he agreed today, which is why the party ended up being such a success. Please don't blame him, he didn't want any of this. On another note, there was a sudden power outage, and by the time Rafayel chased everyone out, we couldn't clean up. We'll send some staff over tomorrow to tidy things up."

You cast a sidelong glance at Rafayel before replying, "It's alright, Thomas. I understand."

Relief washed over Thomas on the other end of the line. As he was just about to ask about your trip, the call abruptly cut out. A moment later, it dawned on Thomas that Rafayel must be sulking again.

You yourself were also taken by surprise. All you'd heard was Thomas' voice on speakerphone, and the call had just abruptly ended because somebody’s slender and beautiful fingers pressed on the disconnect button. Still sprawled across Rafayel's lap, you lifted your eyes to meet his, their gazes locking. His eyes, glazed over with intoxication, held an undeniable intensity as they looked back at you. His body burned with heat, his cheeks flushed a deep red all the way across his face to his ear. Despite the haziness in his eyes, his focus remained fixated on you. His hand reached out to take the one holding your phone, gently setting it aside before wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close as if to meld you into his chest. The intensity of his grip startled you. You pushed yourself up, bracing your hands against his chest to create some space, forcing him back onto the sofa before sitting above him to catch your breath. A mix of annoyance and amusement bubbled within you.

“What is it? Are you trying to convince me that all this mess wasn't intentional?"

Rafayel remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he stared at you. His scorching hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest. He squeezed it tightly, then began to stroke it gently, sending shivers down your spine. You realized there was something different about Rafayel today. You let him keep hold of your right hand while reaching out with your left to touch his cheek.

“Tell me," you said softly, "What’s bothering you today?”

Rafayel finally spoke, but his words were nonsensical.

“Do you think a mother turtle can climb trees now?"

What? Mother turtles?

As if lost in his own thoughts, Rafayel continued rambling. "Jellyfish must be able to walk, and sharks know how to eat grass as well."

You finally realized what he was hinting at. You sighed reluctantly, "Didn't I tell you the trip would take two weeks?"

"You said two weeks, but you came back a day late without telling me!"

Rafayel said, his voice laced with a hint of sulking. You felt a pang of guilt. You had indeed been delayed a day, preoccupied with finding a souvenir for him and forgot to inform him. This was serious… he was really upset.

You sighed and gave in, "I’m sorry…"

"We haven’t done yet!" Rafayel’s voice grew more "ferocious.”

“Do you know how annoying those people were today? The ladies with their suffocating perfume, the pot-bellied old men with their sly faces, just looking at them made me lose my appetite. But more importantly..."

Rafayel suddenly stopped, his voice dropping, gloomy

"...Without you, I don't want to do anything."

Rafayel’s hand moved from holding your hand to stroking your cheek. His eyes softened but were still filled with sadness.

“To you... it's just a day... but to me it has been long enough that I've stopped counting... until I see you again..."

Ah, it’s this topic again...

Though you knew about Rafayel’s Lemurian heritage, he rarely spoke about his distant past.

Except at times like this.

Sometimes, you wondered what had happened to make Rafayel show such pain, and you had a feeling it was connected to you...

Maybe you would never be able to change or control what had happened in the past, but at least, at this moment...

Putting your thoughts aside, you leaned down, your hands gently touching Rafayel’s handsome face and then placing a kiss on his forehead. You kissed him deeply and forcefully on his forehead as if to create your own "protective" mark.

"Do you know what kissing the forehead is for?"

You leaned your elbows on his chest and gently stroked the mark you had just left,

“This is a mark only for those who need to be protected. I don't know what you've been through, but as long as I'm here, I'll be your bodyguard, protect you like how you 'hired' me before."

You looked at him and smiled mischievously, making Rafayel sink into his old distant memories.

The girl in the Lemurian outfit, radiant as the sun, smiled and declared that she would give him everything. He was her belief, and she would become his faith. She always stood on an equal footing with him, never backing down.

While reminiscing about that distant memory, Rafayel felt a gentle pat on his face. You were staring at him with scrutinizing eyes. Before Rafayel could even react, you had pressed down on him. Seeing his ears gradually turn red, you blew gently on it and teased,

"But let me warn you, my bodyguard fees aren’t cheap."

[biolumien]

when'd you get so cool? (always was)

jo togame x gn!reader pre shishitoren arc, post choji becoming leader mentions of implied violence word count: 1022

“fuck.” 

jo togame, vice captain to the shishitoren, was currently bleeding pretty hard from several gashes on his arms, and one fairly nasty scrape across his face. you’d found him limping back to the ori, his orange jacket draped over his shoulders as he held onto his arm, applying loose pressure over his wounds—and his characteristic orange glasses dangling unevenly against his nose. 

you’d rushed him back to the ori, towards an upper floor where you were less likely to be bothered, and had found the medkit you kept for emergencies like this. shishitoren might be devotees to power, but they didn’t have to be devotees to constant open wounds and injuries. or something like that, 

you held a cotton ball with a set of tweezers, just after you dunked it into some rubbing alcohol, but togame kept jolting—not enough to stop you from being able to disinfect his wounds, but enough that he kept pressing closer and closer towards you. 

“stop moving,” you say, finally exasperated, your cheeks flushed at the proximity. “i’m trying to disinfect your wounds, genius.”

“aww. you think i’m one?” togame’s eyes brightened for a moment as he drawled. “a genius?”

“…” 

the face you made must have been pretty bad, because he snickered, the sound low, almost like a rumbling in his throat. 

“when’d you get so cool?” togame mutters, pressing close to your face. your cheeks are flushed—they must be, and you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. his facial expression falters for a second, wincing in dramatic pain. “mean it. when?” 

in the rundown room of the ori, you feel a sudden rising of chill air, and you shiver, despite the warm heat of togame’s body pressing close to yours. 

“i’ve always been,” you tease. “guess you just haven’t noticed what was right in front of you.” 

bolder than you usually are, at least. you think something curdles in you–shame for saying something so bold, maybe? you worry, for a fleeting, desperate second, that togame’s just going to mock you, but he doesn’t. togame laughs. it’s a nice sound, a slow thing that makes his chest shake with each chuckle. 

“really…” he whistles, the note low. “didn’t realize, then, i guess. my bad.” his nose scrunches when he laughs. your face feels like it’s on fire, and then you realize you have to get back to patching him up—so you cut some gauze with the scissors in your small medkit, gesturing to togame to extend his arm. 

he’s wiry, but you’ve seen this man punch so hard he’s dented metal sheets without even flinching. his arms feel hard. 

“knives do this?” you ask as you tie the gauze tightly around his arm. 

“yeah,” togame says. he stares down at you, a small smirk crossing his face slowly—at the pace of trickling honey. “worried about me?”

you scoff.

“out of everyone, i worry the least about you,” you murmur. and you’re lying, you know it, because you do worry about him–you lie awake in your bed, staring up at your ceiling fan, at ribbons that you’ve tacked up on the blades that flow hypnotically–and you worry and wonder and hope that togame is safe. even though he hits the hardest, he’s built like a truck–he’ll be safe, so long as he plays his cards right. 

“i know you can handle yourself. just wonder if you bite off a little more than you can chew sometimes. with choji, with the rest of them,” you continue, wrapping gauze around his other arm. 

togame’s green eyes darken a little bit–you can see the point at which they harden, like flint. you realize maybe a little belatedly that you’d fucked up–choji was a sensitive subject, even now–you never asked about the depth of togame’s devotion, but he was the self-sacrificing type in the end, too–the kind of man that would wade in the river lethe if it meant that his friends wouldn’t touch the memory-erasing waters.

he’d lose himself if it meant protecting someone else. that’s what scared you, what kept you awake at night. 

“sorry,” you say, picking up the medkit to pull out some bandaids–fabric kinds, that come in a variety of cute patterns. “i know it’s a touchy subject.”

“... s’fine,” togame says, and his eyes stay that strange, dulled color–but the smile’s back, and this time you can realize how fake it is–the edges of his masked facade coming apart at the seams. you fish through patterned bandaids, settling on an orange one with black cats across it. 

“tilt your head,” you murmur. “away from me, so i can put this on. then you’re done.” 

togame does so, his glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose as he looks away. you press the bandage against his face, carefully making sure it adheres. his skin is warm, and you can almost see the places where he’s shaved at his jaw with a razor, and your thumb brushes against the faintest hint of stubble.

“all done,” you say, pulling back.

“thanks.”

togame’s voice is clipped, strained. he seems to be looking at something far away–further than the walls of the ori. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” you ask as he stands up, pressing away from you.

“me? never better,” togame says, and you can tell it’s a lie from the way his smile strains, too strained to be genuine. “don’t worry about me.” he leans forward, taking your hand in his for a moment–and you’re startled by the feverish warmth of his hand for a moment, as he leans down to press a kiss to the tips of your fingers. 

his lips are warm, too–a little dry, but soft. the kiss itself is almost reverent, and you think your breath gets strangled in your throat for a desperate, wheezing second. 

he smiles, almost sheepishly at you for a moment, before he turns and shrugs his jacket on past his bandaged arms, and leaves.

you raise up the hand that he’d kissed, pressing your fingers to your lips contemplatively for a moment–as if you could, by kissing the faint reminder of his ghost, feel his lips on yours. 

[sanctus-ingenium]

Another one of these since i haven't done it in a while! Sketch -> finished illustration

Thoughts & process below the cut :>

Out of Bounds: i deleted the sketch of this off my ipad because i didn't like it, and for months it only existed as a screenshot on discord. finally in january of this year i was like Wait Actually and decided to keep working on it. I didn't achieve the look I was going for (kind of foggy and vague. It came out too sharp and high contrast) but it was fun to throw the kitchen sink at it for an afternoon and then call it done finally. I don't remember which horse this was originally supposed to be, I think Macha?

I reused the pose, you'll find the same one in my Pascal sketchbook from the section on gait studies. That's the cool thing about doing 30 sketches at once, you can finish them up any time you like for a different drawing

The Fool ft Islin: the original concept for this is from [takes a moment to decipher the american date system on discord] January 2022

It wasn't dynamic enough, but I've had this on the backburner for sooo long. I think I completed like 4 cards in between this sketch and the final version lol. But, for a bit of background, this is from my series of major arcana based in Inver, and in particular the events of the 1860s-era book series, Moth Viper Foal (a demo of the first book, Said The Black Horse, is available for free/pwyw in my shop). This scene is a companion to Said The Black Horse, depicting the aftermath of the traumatic fight that caused Islin to storm off. He had been working at the mill as a semiprofessional back alley surgeon when he received an offer to join the church and work as a trained surgeon in their hospital. But when he brought the good news back to his friends it was met with utter rejection, driving him to basically run away to join the church. while gay and trans. thus the card.

he didn't actually bring a bag with him when he ran out but for the sake of the card i drew him with one

Gryfon and Pantera: This is how 99% of holy beast drawings start out, even the super stylised ones. I struggle a lot to draw them in procreate so they start in sai and then i transfer them over. The story of this is already explained in the caption of the original post so I'll just talk about the process which was... honestly torturous. I actually don't like too much textures and effects on things (wild, I know) and this one and Out of Bounds are ones where I kind of preferred it pre-texturising.

The text on the side is the official in-universe report of the event, detailing the casualties, the valiant actions of Gryfon's knight before he died and so on. There's also spoilers in there :>

My main struggle with this art style is how it always ends up slightly TOO sharp and crisp in a way the just a blur filter never can correct. There's not a lot of immersion to break, to be fair, but I think this still does it a little. I need to get more comfortable doing the lines with larger and softer brushes, and allowing imperfections.

[haetrack]

mark couldn’t help it. he couldn’t help but to place his hand over his pants, palming himself when the only thing racing through his mind was how pretty u looked today, ordering a coffee from the cafe that he worked at. he thinks about how u pursed ur lips, reading the menu in concentration, the way ur chest heaved up and down when u came running into the store, escaping the rain. a groan catches in his throat, knowing that this was so wrong, getting off to someone he’s never even talked to, but oh god did it feel so right when his hands slipped past his waistband, fingers curling around himself. the outline of his hardening dick was too prominent thanks to the plaid pyjama pants he wore. he bit his lip, inhaling deep breaths as his hand started stroking himself. he remembers the spark he felt when ur hands brushed his as u handed him ur credit cared, he imagined it was ur hands that were rubbing against his skin right now, ur hands that were playing with the warm pre-cum that was dripping out of his swollen tip. the little voice in the back of his head was still telling him that it wasn’t too late to stop, but all he could hear was how silky smooth ur voice was ordering a drink, he wished he could listen to all the pretty sounds u would make if he was buried inside u. his pace quickens at this fantasy, imagining that he was fucking u right now, not his right hand. groaning at the thought of how good he would feel surrounded by ur warmth, his hips thrusting up into his fist harder and faster. his grip tightens when he remembers how ur white tshirt had gone slightly see through from the rain, how he must’ve been the only one who had the honour to see the traces of ur blue lace bra before u threw a crewneck on top. he couldn’t help but smile at the fact that u were wearing his favourite colour. his deep breathing now morphing into shallow whines with how long the pleasure has been building up inside. it’s the thought of ur pure, innocent smile that pushes him over the edge. the orgasm causing a string of swears being grunted out. his hips sputtering at the thought of cumming all over ur sweet face. his hands continue stroking, milking himself for everything he has. the clarity starts to settle and shame creeps over him at that fact that he really did just get off to a total stranger. but the shame didn’t last long when he discovers that none of his cum spilled and he doesn’t have to change his sheets, grateful for the fact that he was so horny, he didn’t even bother to take off his pants.

ngl smoothie dance practice mark has me in such a chokehold i had three other scenarios i started writing for him but they were all getting SO long i had to stop myself 🧍‍♂️ mark pls hmu i want u so bad 🙏

- 🌱

GODDDDD WHY MEEEE... perv mark who doesn't even realize he's being a little perv... i need him. 🌱 anon get in line bc i need him FIRST!!!!!

he would tell himself it wouldn't matter that he got off to you. it was probably just a one time thing that you came to the coffee shop he worked at. if he doesn't have to see you, it doesn't matter that he came in his pants because he'll probably never see you again anyways.

except, there you are again, pretty smile on your face as you enter the cafe. you're not drenched this time, but you are wearing a low-cut top. you're quick to order this time, same order as last time. mark tries so hard not to stare too hard at your chest, but when you hand him your card, he takes a moment too long to grab it, too busy staring at you. you clear your throat, and you're met with a sheepish look as his face turns red.

he's trying hard not to mess up your order, hands fumbling all around in embarrassment. he's also trying very hard not get a boner at his job where quite literally anyone can see him. when he calls out your order, he swears that your hand lingers on his for a while, and he swears it's on purpose. he watches you walk away, saying goodbye to him as you go about your day.

he waves goodbye to you. although he said it was a one time thing, he might just have to fuck his fist again tonight because of you.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Happy with the staff content this year but am I the only one who is disappointed with the PV we got? It's basically a slideshow of art we've already seen, major downgrade from the year 1 PV that had literally all the events. There was a drop in quality of the anniversary PVs over the years and it really shows this year. Sorry if you find this too negative I don't mean to hate I just wish Twst would do better for it's ANNIVERSARY.

[For everyone's reference, here are the anniversary PVs in order of release: 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024]

Mmm, now that you mention it, I noticed this trend with the Halloween PVs 🤔 For year 1, there was a video that showed all members of the NRC casy, even those that did not receive cards at that time. There were then several short variants of the PV released for year 2/Endless Halloween Night (part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4). Altogether, they feature all of the characters, including the students from year 1 but heavily shadowed and with glowing eyes to indicate ghostly possession. Even Glorious Masquerade features all of the students that get new cards for the event plus Rollo, although there are notably more still shots here. The Stage in Playful Land CM, by comparison, is significantly shorter and only shows us the three SSRs (Ace, Ortho, and Kalim) as well as the two new characters (Fellow and Gidel).

As this anon has said, the anniversary PVs have changed a lot over time too. The first one was the most animated and integrated several event outfits. The second one was also animated a fair amount, but you can tell corners were cut in some places where they transition to photographs/still images. This alone works thematically given that the player is a photographer, but you can still catch dips in quality when it comes to the art style. I remember finding Deuce running and the Kalim + Silver flying scene odd, as well as Jade and Trein's faces strange in general. Then the third PV rolls around and it only features the third years; the animation also seems to be much more sluggish (although this could be a stylistic choice; not sure). A friend actually recently pointed out to me that Lilia's pose looks like he was pulled straight from other assets; his artwork in the animation is almost the exact same as his smiling expression in the game. This year's is the most different (+ most static) and, like year 3's PV, only provides "new" content for a select few characters (the dorm leaders). They also reuse pre-existing illustrations already found in the game that don't seem to be picked for any particular reason (like, there are random Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles groovies in there). This direction, I'm guessing, is less costly and more efficient than making an entirely original animation, which is what was done in previous years. (Not that Disney or Aniplex is hurting for money to fund this, lol) Would I have preferred another PV in the style of year 1's? Yeah, for sure. I want to see other events and their outfits animated! Was what we got this year bad? Not necessarily; I think the production and editing was very technically impressive, but I'm still sad we didn't get anything substantially "new" to chew on (as someone who isn't a fan of most third years or the dorm leaders). Maybe it's just something we perceive as a deficit only because year 1 set the bar so high. It is what it is; whoever was in charge of the anniversary PV was probably doing the best they could with whatever budget they were given 😔 Let's hope that next year's will be a return to form, or that at least the money/effort is being redirected to other bigger projects (maybe the anime?).

[snek-panini]

Book time! I want to post all my new stuff but don't want to flood people with them, so I waited a bit after my last one to put this one up, but I can't wait any longer to show it off. This is The Rose and the Serpent, a Good Omens Beauty and the Beast AU by Atalan. I know there's some kind of fairy tale fic event going on in the fandom right now but this one is from a few years back, so if that's your thing and you're impatient go check this one out.

I'm totally in love with how this one came out. It's like, if you had a cartoon character who's reading a plot-relevant book of fairy tales, this is the book you'd draw for them. Belle has this book. It's perfect for its niche. The front cover is burgundy cardstock with brown faux leather on the spine, and antique-brass-finish photo corners to protect the edges. The rose was done with gold embossing powder and a stamp, since I can't draw and those lines are too fine for the cricut. The batch of books I'm working through now is my first time experimenting with legal quarto size (legal size paper (8.5x14 in.) folded twice) and everyone who raved about it is right. It's very satisfying to hold and was a joy to make.

Check out the rest of my photos under the cut!

Close up of the photo corners and a view of the spine. I've never used photo corners before, partly because I don't ever see them on commercial books, but they just felt right for this project so I felt it was time to experiment. I didn't glue them down, just clamped them closed with jewelry pliers, and I was worried they wouldn't stay in place but they seem to be fine. Cardstock isn't a very hard-wearing material, and if it has a white core it tends to show at the corners of the book where it rubs against things, even under light handling. Hopefully the metal corners will protect it.

The spine title came out well. I was worried about matching the color with the embossing powder color on the front, but they came out fine and I'm very pleased.

Top view, with handmade red-and-green endbands and a green ribbon bookmark. Both of these were chosen to match the absolutely gorgeous endpapers with this mosaic flower pattern. They're chiyogami from ChibiJay and they're stunning; the photos don't do them justice. I bought them because they remind me of the stained glass windows in the Disney Beauty and the Beast. CJ has this great deal where you can make custom paper packs in pre-cut sizes for a discounted price, and they've got hundreds of patterns. This isn't sponsored, by the way, I just think they're awesome.

Some photos of the title page and first page of the story. I'm experimenting with DaFont some more. The one on the title page and for the chapter numbers is called Christmas Card, and the drop capital is called Floral Capitals, both free to use for personal projects. I've only done drop caps on a couple of projects, because for purely personal aesthetic reasons I don't like when they sink into the paragraph, but if I can mimic them by just making the first letter huge? Love that. Defintely going to keep doing that. Can never get the kerning to look right when I do it the regular way, but with this it isn't an issue.

The graphics on the title page are re-used from an older project, but they were so perfect for this one that I just went with it.

As I said above, this is my first legal quarto but it for sure won't be my last! There are three more in this batch, and they're so pleasant to hold that I'll for sure be making more before too long.

[gardens-light]

Finding Peace

Taking shelter in an abandoned petrol station, tension builds between you and your family. As blame and arguments raise- not like you didn't feel guilty enough already. You didn't ask for this- any of this! You just wanted to help Optimus. And it's not like the Autobot leader didn't have problems of his own. Being hunted down by humans for reasons yet unknown was bad enough- but ignoring the yearning of his Spark has slowly become problematic. Occasionally shaking his helm attempting to get you out of his processors, trying to convince himself that a 'Sparkmate' was nothing but a romancide idea that the younger bots came up with. Or is it?...

Content: Minor coarse language. Event's take part in Transformers- Age of Extinction. (Leading to major spoilers in Part 4.) Optimus x Human F/Reader. Fluff. (Reader insert.)

Sparkmate Series- Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

"Well... on the bright side." Tessa's voice lowly spoke, while sitting upon a dusty bar. Playing with some fairy lights. "You two have finally met.."

"Where's he from?"

"I told you. He's a driver from Texas."

"Texas?" Cade scoffed at Tessa's words. "Where? Dublin, Texas? Shamrock, Texas? So why does he sound like a leprechaun?"

Shane's brows knitted together, as he leaned against the bar. "You'd get your ass kicked in Ireland for saying that."

"Well we're not in Ireland, Lucky Charms. We're in Texas." Cade's attention turned back onto Tessa. "So he drives? What's that supposed to mean? Like he drives for a living?"

"Yeah... at least he makes a living."

Tessa's words caused Cade to fall silent. His eyes flickering up to you, frowning as you tried to avoid him.

"How old are you?" Cade challenged, approaching Shane.

"Twenty."

"And my daughter is seventeen. So as far as I'm concerned, this can go two ways." Cade leaned on the other side of the bar, glaring at Shane. "One, I punch you in the mouth right here, right now. And you call the police on me."

"Dad!-"

"Or two. I just call the cops on you because this is illegal. She's a minor!"

Steady... Steady... your thoughts wandered, while trying to focus on making a 'house of cards' out of beer coasters.

"We're protected by the 'Romeo and Juliet laws'-"

"We dated for a little while." Tessa explained, cutting Shane off. "I was a sophomore, and he was a senior. It's fine."

"We've got a pre-existing juvenile foundational relationship. Statute 2705-3." Shane took out his wallet, showing Cade the small card stating the law. "We're above board."

Cade sighed, "Romeo and Juliet, huh? Do you know how they ended up?"

Just... one more coaster...

"In love-"

"Dead." Cade turned to you. "And you, Y/N?"

Shit...

An unamused expression fell across your features as the coasters came tumbling down.

"Don't look at me like that, young lady. How long have you known about this?"

Cade rubbed his temples as you silently responded with a small shrug. "Well tell me. Days? Weeks?-"

"Months."

"Months...? And you didn't think that I would of wanted to know about this?-"

"Dad. Tessa is a full grown ass adult." You groaned. "She's capable of learning from a mistake or two."

"I trusted you. Both of you-"

"To what?" Tessa butted in. "Never have fun. Take a risk. Be a normal teenager like you?"

"I am your father, okay!" Cade firmly spoke, turning his attention onto Tessa. "And I've been busting my ass to take care of you and your sister!-"

"Oh so is that why I'm busting a gut trying to juggle two jobs?" You scoffed. "And here I thought, I'm the one who took care of this family."

"Is that what you were doing when you continued working on that damn truck?" Tessa spoke to you. A frown forming upon her lips, "all you had to do was report it.-"

"You know I couldn't do that-"

"And now we're forced into hiding. And my life is over! So 'thank you', Sis. You've taken 'real good' care us-"

"None of this would of happened! If you just kept your fucking mouth shut!-"

"Don't talk to your sister like that!" Cade stepped in.

"Sure Dad. Take her side... you always do."

"Y/N-"

"Look! I get it!" you raised onto your feet. "I know I'm 'the disappointment', 'the let down'-"

"Sweetie, I've never said that-"

Your eyes wandered over your dad's disappointed expression. "You didn't had to..."

---

Sitting upon the petrol stations' roof, the gentle breeze of the cool night air felt refreshing against your skin. Soft chirping of crickets eased your headache, your eyes gazing out into the dark empty road. The sound of small grunts and sighs caught your attention, briefly gazing over your shoulder. Rolling your eyes, once seeing Tessa struggling to climb the ladder with a mug in hand.

"What do you want?" you sighed, turning your attention back onto the road ahead.

"I thought- ouch!- that you could do with a hot drink."

The sound of the metal roofing warping and creaking, under Tessa's feet suddenly felt loud. As she approached you, taking a sit upon the roof's edge, leaving a small gap between you.

"I made your favourite." She kindly spoke, handing you the hot beverage. "I couldn't make it exactly to your liking, but it's the thought that counts. Right?"

Her weak smile faded as you remained silent. Speechlessly accepting the mug from her and holding it in your hands.

"You're not a disappointment." Tessa spoke after a brief hesitation. "For if it wasn't for you, we would of lost our home ages ago."

Tessa bit her lip before continuing, "I... did tell a friend about the truck. B-But I honestly didn't think he would believe me! If I knew- I wouldn't of..."

Your side glance caused her voice to trail off into silence.

"Well... what I'm trying to say... is that I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Sipping the hot beverage, feeling the gentle warmth fill you inside. Tessa followed your gaze, a small smile returning to her lips.

"You're worried about him. Aren't you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes." Tessa teased. "Like a lovesick girl."

You returned her smile, playfully pushing her away. "Oh shut up. You're talking nonsense, I'm just concerned about him. That's all."

"Uh-huh?" Tessa raised an eyebrow. Seeing a glimpse of you trying to hide a shy smile behind the mug.

"So... What's Dad doing?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"Playing with some drone that he stole from the one of the guys. Dad's convinced that they would of truly killed us."

Tessa's heart sank as she watched you pull your legs close to your chest, hugging your knees a little while resting your mug against them.

"B-But that's just Dad's crazy thought." Tessa's guilt weighed on her heart a little more. Starting to wish she never said anything.

"Everything would of been fine, if only I watched what I was saying." You buried your head, resting your forehead against your knees and hiding your face. "I-If I didn't panic..."

"Shhh. Shhh." Tessa cooed, closing the gap between you. Placing her arm around your shoulders and resting her head against yours. "It's not your fault. You have a big heart, Y/N. Never be ashamed of that."

She gently pulled away, cupping your tearstained face and making you face her. "You are a rare treasure, and that Transformer better know that."

Finally smiling through your tears, Tessa rested her forehead against yours. The sound of a horn blaring in the distance broke the silence, while bright headlights burned the darkness away. You quickly raised onto your feet, causing Tessa to catch the falling mug while the hot beverage spilled onto the ground below.

You placed both hands against your chest, while gazing at the oncoming truck. Feeling it flutter with joy, as the sound of a faminular engine came to your ears.

Tessa rose onto her feet, giving you one last soft glance before leaving. A knowing smile forming upon her lips. You've got it bad...

Optimus carefully reduced his speed, as he walked out of his altmode. Trying to slow the pulsing rhythm of his spark as he approached you. Being mindful of each step he took, so it didn't appear like he was in a rush to be beside you again.

"Optimus..." your voice was low. Trying to hide the excitement within your tone.

"My deepest sympathies for your home." His soothing tone washed away the doubt and worries, that had been building up inside you. "And for leaving you so promptly. But I had to confirm we weren't followed."

You speechlessly nodded, trying to hold a relaxed expression as your eyes took in the sight of him.

Oh my...

Rust and dirt no longer coated his exterior, instead deep blue metal plates framed his chrome fisque, like pieces of armour. Your heart skipping a beat as your eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail of his broad shoulders and strong biceps.

Red flames danced across the gauntlets, but it was his torso you couldn't look away from. Your cheeks matched the warmth of Optimus' spark, as you gazed at his chest plate. Hands clutching onto your shirt, stopping the urge to reach out and run your fingertips over his toned form. Knowing that your touch wouldn't just stopped at that chromed waist of his.

"Loving the upgrade." Forcing the words out of your mouth, after swallowing your nerves.

Optimus got down on one knee, as you edged a little closer to the side of the roof. His blue optics studied you for a moment.

"You've been crying..."

Something inside him ached a little, as you temporarily turned away from him.

"It's nothing." You assured, brushing the dried tears off your cheeks. "I've just been... a little worried that's all."

"And I admittedly have been concerned about you."

That little sentence erupted butterflies in your stomach. Simply gazing up at him with wondering eyes.

How the stars sparkled in your eyes almost caused Optimus to choke on his own breath. Warmth begun to build beneath his metal plates, as his yearning spark called out for you.

His head tilted slightly as his scanners picked up something. Your body froze as he slightly hesitated before reaching out to you. Optimus' servo curled into a relaxed fist, your eyes peering down at it as he gently placed the knuckle of his index digit under your chin. While his thumb rested against your cheek.

His spark skipped a beat as a loving sigh slipped out of your mouth. Enjoying the cool touch of his metal against your soft skin.

Optimus carefully turned your head from side to side, studying your features. His scanners picking up the bruise that begun to form upon the bridge of your nose.

"That bastard hurt you." The small underlying anger within his tone caught you off guard. "I promise... I'll make him pay for what he's done to you."

"Optimus." You cooed, placing your hand on the back of his servo. Bringing it to the side of your face, resting your head against his digits.

His fans tried to push the warm air out of Optimus' vents, as the heat beneath his plates begun to build. His spark aching with a yearn he could no longer deny.

Closer... The word played on his processors. Causing him to fully kneel against the concrete ground, leaning in a little more.

Your loving eyes met the soft glow of his optics, as his servo slowly trailed down towards your waist. His thumb tracing the curves of your thighs, hips and waist.

The butterflies in your stomach tangled your nerves, your heart fluttering against your chest as a small gasp slipped from your lips. Eyes lingering over his features before closing, as you rested a hand against his chest plate.

As your heart matched the beat of Optimus' spark, syncing in harmony. A beautiful glow enveloped the pair of you, creating a warmth that made you almost forget about the world, as your lips ghosted over one another.

"Mr. Leader of the Free Galaxy is back!" an unknown mechanical voice caused you to quickly jump away from Optimus. "I knew you'd make it! I never doubted."

Crosshairs... Optimus' processors sighed. Trying to hide his disappointed expression as the leader faced his joyful Autobots. The sound of their roaring engines calming, before stepping out of their altmodes.

"We've got your warning." Drift greeted, "we've been waiting."

"Hell yeah! Boom time!" Hound cheered. "We've got the gang back together."

Drift tilted his head to the side, as his blue optics switched between you and Optimus. Smiling to himself as his processors picked up, the afterglow that slowly faded from the pair of you.

Optimus cleared his throat before speaking, "Autobots. The humans have asked us to play by their rules. Well... those rules have just changed."

"Humans, bunch of backstabbing weasels." Hound groaned, causing the ground to shake as he disarmed. Throwing heavy weaponries onto the floor.

"Hound, find your inner compass. Loyalty is nothing but a flower in the winds of fear and temptation."

Hound raised a brow at Drift's wise tone, "what the hell are you saying?"

The blue Autobot smiled, "it's a haiku-"

"Cut the crap! Before I drop a grenade down your throat."

You backed away from the edge of the roof, as Drift unsheathed his swords. "Try it" he challenged, "you'll be dead."

"Oh please do it." Hound taunted. "I wanna see you do it."

"You know what?" Bumblebee's radio buzzed, "it save us so much time."

Optimus gave you an unimpressed expression, as you gazed up at him, raising an eyebrow. A small chuckle left you as he speechlessly gestured to his Autobots. As to say, 'look what I have to put up with.'

"Well raise your hand, if you're thoroughly disenchanted with our little 'Earth vacation.'" Crosshairs spoke, while circling the petrol station. His green optics studying you, "so who's the spy?"

"Whoa! Whoa! Put those things away!" you yelped as Hound and Crosshairs immediately withdraw their guns, and pointing them at you.

"Stop, Hound! Both of you!" Optimus commanded, stepping in front of the building.

Both Autobots gave their leader a puzzled expression, as he continued. "Y/N, risked her life for mine. We owe her..."

Drift gave Bumblebee a playful nudge, discreetly pointing at you and Optimus. While Hound and Crosshairs briefly looked at one another, and turning their attention back onto their leader. Watching him stepping aside, and silently encouraging you to return to the roof's edge.

"Has there been... any sign of the others?" Optimus asked.

"No..." Hound sighed, withdrawing his weapon and settling himself upon the ground. "We're all that's left."

"They're picking us off, one by one!" Crosshairs explained.

"We're the pathetic, dirty foursome." Hound joked, "and you make five."

"Is this our best-case scenario?" Shane's teasing voice questioned you. Your eyes gazed at him, watching the Irishman climb onto the roof. "Autobot witness protection?"

"Hey Lucky Charms." you spoke, placing a hand upon your hips. "You're welcome to leave at anytime."

"Well, for the record, Super Sister. I'm not hiding with you." Shane gestured towards Optimus, "I'm hiding out with that big guy."

Tessa and Cade followed Shane's lead, as the three of them approached your side. All looking at the Autobots and they chatted among themselves.

"Sensei, with your fate unknown Bumblebee has held command." Drift's optics gazed at the yellow scout.

Bee fist bumped the air, while Drift rolled his optics. "Despite his complete and total lack of anything resembling warrior discipline."

An annoyed whirl weeze out of Bumblebee, as his optics narrowed on his comrade.

"He's like a child-"

"This 'child' is about to kick your ass!" Bee's radio buzzed. Landing the first hit against Drift's helm.

"Cage fight." Hound whispered to you, slightly leaning against the petrol stations' roof.

"What's the matter with them?" Tessa lowly asked, reaching out for your hand.

"They're on edge." You briefly explained, allowing her hand to slip into yours. "Who could blame them? They're being hunted."

"Am I the only one who sees through this puppy-dog act of yours?" Drift taunted Bee, while holding him in a headlock. "It's beneath you."

"Yes, I've been waiting for them all to dispatch each other." Crosshairs cheered. His servos gently clapping, "so I could take charge with no trouble at all. Just me. Reporting to me."

"Well, it sure looks like you've been missed." You said to Optimus.

"Autobots, humans are hunting us down. We need to know why."

"Listen..." Cade spoke, stepping towards Optimus. "I don't know why, but I might have an idea about who..."

---

"This drone I stole recorded footage of an Autobot raid." Cade explained.

You placed an affectionate hand upon Optimus' knee, as he sat cross-legged upon the floor. His servo clenching into a fist, as the dragonfly-like drone projected the video footage.

"It's in pieces, but watch what happens here." Cade pointed out, "they ripping them apart."

"That's Leadfoot." Hound spoke, as he placed a part of his helm over his spark. Feeling the saddened energy sink within his chest plates. "Savages."

"And later, this truck comes to haul him off to K.S.I. Kinetic Solutions." Cade continued. "They're creating defenses, aerospace, government contracts. They designed this drone."

"So these government guys are hunting you down, and then passing you of to this K.S.I?" Shane questioned.

"Do you know anything else?" Optimus asked.

"Only that their company headquarters is in Chicago." Cade spoke.

Perhaps... There's a chance of the Autobots being taken there. You thought.

"No way to get inside without a battle." Hound thought out loud.

"What if you had some human help?" everyone looked at you.

"Sweetie, no." Cade protested. "Besides, what are you two partners now?"

"Dad, we're targets now too." You spoke, feeling his worried stare on you. "We need to know why, or we'll never get our lives back."

"Y/N. You have done more than any of us could've asked for." Optimus kindly spoke. "I do not-"

"I'm coming." You gently argued. Seeing Tessa's encouraging smile from the corner of your eye.

"It's going to be dangerous." Drift warned, as he lend towards you.

The blue Autobot stiffed as you placed a comforting hand upon his knee. Giving him a warm smile, "you're important Optimus. Therefore, you're important to me.

A suttle warmth radiated from underneath Drift's metal plates.

"Autobots." Optimus spoke, as he raised onto his feet. "I have sworn to never kill humans."

"Big mistake." Hound mumbled

"But when I find out who's behind this. He's going to die..."

Tag List

@ursamajor17

@crowleysthings

[sanyu-thewitch05]

F! Yuu’s Dad in Twst Wonderland pt. 5

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4

Please save Yuu’s dad from the boys in this world.

Turns out the boys at RSA are a different type of annoying

Instead of selfish brutish boy, it’s selfless boy polite boy who lives in a fairytale and doesn’t have the self awareness not to be handing out pre-engagement rings to the first person they fall in love with.

Like he has to give Yuu the “Don’t be a Disney Princess talk”

🦀: Yuu, what’s on your fingers?

🦐: My platonic engagement rings.

🦀: You’re what? W-what’s a platonic engagement?

🦐: They said I was really pretty and could tell I had a nice personality and warm spirit in need of help and a permanent place to stay so they slipped a ring on my finger and said that if I still needed help I could stay with them in their manors and castles and all they wanted in return was my love and companionship.

🦀: That last part doesn’t sound pretty platonic.

🍎🐦: Ah, Yuu, here’s the rest of your platonic engagement letters.

Yuu’s dad snatches a letter and opens one.

🦀: My dear Yuu, I crave your presence and companionship wherever I am. Would you please do me the honor of living with me after your graduation?! Oh God, I’ve made a terrible mistake!

Yuu’s dad shakes the rings off her fingers, grabs Grim, and runs out of RSA.

🦐: Dad, where are we going to go?

🦀: Well we haven’t tried NBC?

~~~~~~~~~~

Spoilers: It didn’t last an entire day due to Rollo’s obsession with Yuu not having magic.

Yuu’s dad literally found Rollo on his knees, hands clasped with Yuu’s, begging her to be with him forever so she’ll never have to deal with those “magic freaks” again.

And so, the father, daughter, cat crew is back at Ramshackle.

Which is also where they see a pile of cards on Ramshackle’s doorstep.

🦐: They’re all Valentines Day cards! I completely forgot today was Valentines Day! Malleus’s card is so sweet!

🦀: Lemme see that. “Dearest-“ ugh- “My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or…Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself. -Malleus Draconia.” Sweetie, you do realize he indirectly called you ugly, right?

A/N: Real talk, do not accept the feelings of someone who offers you the gift of beauty. Please do not accept the feelings of someone who says they love you but is indirectly calling you ugly at the same time. I am telling you your self-confidence will plummet if you do.

🦐: Well…you know what it does sound like he’s saying I’m ugly. He thinks I’m ugly…HE THINKS I’M UGLY!! *Wails*

🦀: Don’t worry baby, he wouldn’t know what a pretty girl looks like if she hit him. Hell, his father probably abandoned his mother when he found out what her face looked like and realized it passed onto his son.

🦐: Dad…

🦀: No boy is going to insult my baby directly or indirectly and get away with it.

And so your dad storms out of Ramshackle, leaving you alone.

🦀: Malleus, come here!

What ensues is your dad grabbing Malleus by the collar and giving him this interesting sentence.

🦀: Malleus, I swear to God that if you ever make my daughter cry like you did with that stupid fucking letter, I will cut your horns off and have them displayed as a trophy.

⚡️: Let go of Waka-Sama!

Your dad drops him to the ground and gets a phone call from you.

🦐: He’s here and I lost sight of him.

🦀: Who’s at Ramshackle?

🦐: Rook! I saw him in the bushes with a pair of binoculars, and when I looked back he was gone!

🦀: Oh for fucks sake! Honey, don’t worry, I’m coming back as soon as I can.

🦐: *the phone call suddenly ends*

🦀: Shit, this is so not good. Maybe the cat got him and burned him to death. I hope the cat burnt him to death.

When he returns to Ramshackle, he finds you dancing, albeit very uncomfortably, with Rook in the backyard.

🦀: Hey! Hey! HEY! Hands off my daughter, French creep!

🏹: Non, Non, don’t misunderstand my intentions. I was simply inquiring her status about a visitation to Pomefiore. Vil wanted to see if she wanted some of his unused makeup.

🦀: But why are you dancing with her? Why were you in the bushes? Why didn’t you text her? You have her phone number! All of you do actually!

🏹: well quite frankly because you blocked us, and who wouldn’t want to spend time dancing with such a girl under the moonlight while waiting for an answer to a questi-Ah!

Yuu kicks Rook in the crotch and your father couldn’t have been happier

🦀: Good job, sweetie! Though you might want to kick a bit lower next time so instead of hitting the base of his penis, you hit his testes. Lemme show you.

Your dad picks Rook up and stands behind him so Rook’s body isn’t sliding downward.

🦀: Take another chance, honey!

You take another kick hitting Rook in his balls. You squeal in delight that you accomplished your dad’s helpful tip.

🦐: Yay! I did it! Did you see that?!

🦀: Sure did! Let’s bring the cat for a night time treat out in the town.

Your dad goes inside to get the baby carrier and Grim.

Meanwhile your first and second year friends are slowly walking up to you out of fear for what they just saw.

🦐: Oh, hi! What are you guys doing here?

♥️: Umm…💧💧💧….we were going to invite you to a beach party *sees Yuu’s dad walking out with Grim in a baby carrier strapped to his chest* but now I think we should leave and let you get a good nights rest for tomorrow’s academic activities hahaha!

🦐: Oh no, I can totally come to the party! I’m just going with my dad to the town for a snack!

🦀: *mouthing: you better not try anything or let anything happen to my daughter or else everyone will find you like this* *moves his hand to Rook’s body on the ground*

♥️: ….Yessir!

🦀: Come on, Yuu, let’s take you out for a snack and then you can enjoy your party.

You laugh and skip along with the your first and second year friends while your dad squishes Grim’s toe beans.

[meimi-haneoka]

Clear Card Trivia 3 ~ Sakura's journey of growth and self-understanding throughout Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card

Hello and welcome back to my "Clear Card Trivia" series, a collection of informative posts where I delve into certain aspects of the story of Cardcaptor Sakura Clear Card! ✨

The topic I will talk about today has been on my "to-do list" for long time. It's something I felt the need to talk about, and I won't hide the reason why: the desire to fully eviscerate this topic grew particularly after reading around certain criticism of Clear Card Arc. But also after listening to CLAMP's Twitter Spaces, particularly the ones towards the end of the story.

It's something that, setting aside my obvious love for the new characters, will always make me think that Clear Card Arc has been a very welcome addition to the series.

This post will delve into Sakura's growth throughout Clear Card Arc.

Sakura grew up considerably during the story, and had a character development that sadly not many people truly realized.

I'm not talking about an evolution of the character design which, despite changing and evolving throughout the story (as it's expected for a long-running serialization), kept depicting Sakura consistently with quite young looks...no, I'm talking about her mental growth, in relation to her self-knowledge and her relationship with her magic powers.

A journey that might almost feel "frustrating", because it is full of "up and downs", and Sakura sometimes seems to be taking one step forward and two back. Aside from the obvious practical reasons (the plot had to develop several other storylines simultaneously), it very much reflects the realistic growth of a pre-teen, which is never a straight line but is made of improvements and relapses.

Along the journey, I couldn't really avoid mentioning some bits of the development of Sakura's relationship with Syaoran, which will get its own deep and detailed post another day.

There's also an extra about the significance of the Clear Cards in the story, at the end.

I have to be honest, the post is very long, but I tried to insert visual elements to make it easier on the eye. If you're curious to know how the hell I found so much to talk about for this specific topic, follow me under the cut and dive into Sakura's journey throughout Clear Card (it's also a good way to review the story)! ✨

A Disconnected Beginning

Clear Card Arc starts in a very "festive" and happy way: everything is peaceful, a new exciting chapter of Sakura's educational life is starting with the beginning of middle school, Syaoran is back to Tomoeda, this time to stay forever with his beloved girl...everything seems so perfect. And precisely in chapter 1, before everything takes an unexpected turn, we have this scene here, which I consider the "true" beginning of everything:

Sakura says "I haven't been using this lately...well, that's for the better".

At the beginning of Clear Card Arc, Sakura seems to be feeling disconnected from her natural gift.

Despite she had to go on a quest to collect all the Clow Cards, which later she gave a new life to by changing them into Sakura Cards, we have to remember that Sakura was born with magic powers. They weren't bestowed on her by Kero-chan, nor by the contract with the Clow Book: she always had magic in her blood, and it apparently "woke up" on that fateful day she found the Clow Book in the library of her father.

At the beginning of this arc, Sakura seems to think that the purpose, the meaning of this natural gift which is literally part of herself, has been fulfilled by transforming all the Cards, and splitting Eriol's power as he had requested. Her words here seem to be suggesting a general idea of "if I have to use this key (therefore, my magic powers), it means something troublesome is happening, so it's better if I'm not using it because it means everything is okay".

And although we can't really deny that what happened afterwards is far from being able to be considered "peaceful", this scene here always left a bad taste in my mouth because there's almost a negative vibe attached to the idea of her magic, transpiring from Sakura's words. It's almost as if she's politely rejecting it.

Precisely after she places her Star Key in her jewelry box, probably hoping to never have to use it again, she has her first premonitory dream of the events that will shake her life afterwards. Almost as if her powers were trying to tell her "no my dear, this is you and you'd better come to terms with it as soon as possible".

Then, as we all know, the Cards turn blank. Sakura produces a new key while having another dream and a quest to fight and "secure" some strange phenomena happening around her begins, leaving her in a state of increasing confusion.

This is the beginning of the part of the story that I quite literally call "Sakura loses sight of herself".

At this very early stage of the story, she still doesn't know that she started losing control over her increasing magical power, and it is definitely not a coincidence that all of this began when she thought of shutting her main magic tool away in a box, hoping to ignore it forever. For plot reasons, this also happens simultaneously to Syaoran taking the spirits of the Sakura Cards away from her (because in the beginning, you had to be tricked into thinking he was up to something shady and was the real mastermind behind all the incidents).

Syaoran expected for Sakura to lose control over her powers, as his mother predicted a general period of trouble for her that could lead her to unhappiness, albeit without any clear indication of what could happen: Syaoran came to Japan knowing something was bound to happen to his girl and her powers, and that something was going to lead her to grief, but he had no idea about all the rest. So his uncertain and reckless approach, which ended up in some cases worsening the situation, is also somewhat understandable. He was acting like a worried, overprotective boyfriend at his wit's end.

The strange events, which Sakura materializes into a new set of Cards, surely leave her distraught and confused, not to mention the situation with the Sakura Cards and Eriol's missing replies, but I feel that what really destabilizes her core are the constant dreams she gets, sometimes even in the middle of her waking hours, making her faint on the spot wherever she is.

Premonitory dreams are a part of her natural gift that she began to express ever since the OG manga, but she never seemed to really understand them or take them seriously.

This time around, she keeps seeing this cloaked figure and this terrifying dragon, no one speaks a word despite her relentless questions and the cloaked figure seems to be wanting to take her newly made key away (Lilie!!! what were you trying to do!! *facepalm* she probably tried to pull her closer so she could talk to her), so it's just normal that all of that leaves her increasingly stressed and anxious, even though initially you never see her openly and verbally stating that, due to her overall positive nature ("I'll manage it, somehow" is part of her "everything will be alright" invincible spell, and this is indeed what she keeps telling herself in the beginning of the arc, even though in some occasions it turned out to be a double-edged sword, as sometimes it looked more like sweeping her fears under the carpet, to me).

"Something Is Not Right"

Dream after dream, Card after Card, Sakura begins to have these general feelings of discomfort and of "something is not right, here", as she openly states to Syaoran in this scene of volume 4, chapter 14. There's something about this situation that is pricking her sixth sense, and makes her uneasy, but she can't quite put her finger on it yet. All she can do is to keep "fighting" these phenomena happening around her, hoping to find out more along the way. She reiterates the same feeling of uneasiness at the end of chapter 15, after what I consider one of the most concerning side-effects of her poor control over her powers: Sakura seems almost "in trance" while she leads her guardians to the exit of the maze, and acts in a very uncharacteristic, cold way by shoving her bag in front of Yue to make him hold it for her. It's almost as if her magical sixth sense worked too strongly and warped her personality in that moment: an effect that has been mentioned several times in relation to powerful magicians like Clow, Eriol and later Kaito too, so it's not farfetched at all to attribute this one-off occurrence to her loss of control over her strong powers, which ended up affecting her personality too. Luckily, it didn't happen again in the rest of the story and the capture of this Card was completely changed in the anime (a wise decision imho, since the JP fandom is particularly fussy about the integrity of Sakura's character, and she needed to stay "Sakura" in order to do what she did at the end).

At the culmination of a "mini arc" (the visit to great-grandpa Masaki) characterized by uncontrolled visions of Nadeshiko, another frightening dream (one that ended up dragging even Akiho in, due to the synchronization) and Sakura for the first time ever confronting Syaoran about the things he's been hiding from her, we reach the following scene of volume 5, chapter 23.

"I Wish I Had A Mirror"

I always considered this scene extremely important, because for the first time Sakura spells out clearly the inner turmoil that's been gnawing at her soul ever since this ordeal with the new Cards started.

"The truth is...I'm the worst at understanding myself. And that is probably causing lots of concern to everyone." "I wish I had a mirror. A mirror that could reflect the real me. Then, I would probably understand how to not make everyone worry"

Here, Sakura clearly spells out the frustration of knowing, feeling in her bones that there's something wrong with her, something that she's not understanding about herself, and that something is causing problems, but most importantly, is causing her loved ones to worry about her. Let's not forget that not only Syaoran, but also Yukito, Touya, Fujitaka, Tomoyo, Eriol & his family have all been watching her situation in apprehension, each of them making decisions and moving discretely in a direction they felt was right (and admittedly, not all instances were so).

Sakura can somehow feel all of that, she can feel that it's related to something she still hasn't realized about herself. This tends to be forgotten because it happens in a relatively early part of the plot, but notice how this is the same problem Kaito suffers from. A quite stunted ability to understand oneself. Sakura and Kaito definitely have lots in common, when it comes to this specific part of themselves. Keep this in mind, because it'll be relevant later.

And then, the situation worsens.

Sakura's dreams start to terrify her, because they begin to show Syaoran's face under the cloak of the mysterious figure who's scaring her in her dreams. An apparent truth she cannot accept, she won't accept, even though she's still unsure about what exactly these dreams she's having are. Despite her boyfriend has been acting shady for long time, she decides to trust him and wait for him to talk to her about all the stuff he's holding inside, instead of putting him through the wringer. This also means, though, that Sakura will keep all her fears to herself, eventually bottling up.

Furthermore, Kaito starts to rewind time to fix a situation without a way out (in chapter 28, Akiho was on the verge of going berserk completely and unleash the artifact), creating an additional sense of confusion when Sakura can feel that her finger is numb due to strain, but she can't understand why (she had fought Kaito's time magic unconsciously). Whenever Kaito will rewind time, even later on, Sakura's magical sixth sense will try to wake her consciousness up more and more, giving her these vibes of "deja vu" or making her act in an apparently inexplicable way.

In the first part of Clear Card, Sakura sometimes literally looks like a soul wandering about in confusion, dragged by the events.

I wish to point out that this is not a flaw in the characterization, it is a precise design by CLAMP. Sakura IS, in this part of the story, confused and lost, overwhelmed by the events. She has no idea how to approach this matter other than "treating the symptoms" as they come. This happens because she's still, surprisingly, quite reluctant to embrace a fundamental part of herself: her innate magic power, which expresses itself mainly through her intuition. But we'll gradually get there.

Around chapter 30, before the big realization, Sakura's situation reached a point where:

- her Sakura Cards unexpectedly became blank; - almost everyday (sometimes multiple times a day) there's a new incident that she secures into new transparent Cards; - she constantly sees ominous dreams (in scattered order) with a cloaked figure acting in a questionable way and a scary dragon, and at some point she starts seeing her boyfriend under that cloak; - her boyfriend acts shady, Eriol doesn't reply to her messages; - there's a general feeling of "something is not right" with her magic and some stuff starts to not make sense to her (because Kaito rewinds time)

It is at this point that Sakura finally moves one (giant) step forward and connects all the "puzzle pieces" she collected (particularly, how much more "obvious" the creation of a Card became) and understands that she's been the one causing subconsciously each and every single incident that lead to the creation of a new transparent Card.

"I'm Angry At Myself"

And with Syaoran finally coming clean with her (because at that point he had no reason to keep things hidden anymore, as the thing he was trying to delay ultimately happened - and believe me, I'm sure he partly felt relieved to not need to lie anymore, as that took quite a toll on him too), Sakura can at last give an explanation to at least a part of the things that are happening. And she finally realizes that the doubt that was tormenting her was true: she DID, in fact, not understand something very important about herself, she didn't realize that it was her own power going out of control and that all the incidents that happened bore "her magic signature", so to speak. She failed to "tune in" with her magic.

For the first time ever, Sakura expresses anger at herself.

She will direct that anger (to a lesser extent) to Syaoran too, but I'll tackle that in a separate post.

This is a moment of deep reflection and regrets for Sakura: the poor understanding of herself, the poor "communication" between her heart and her magic powers brought to a situation where her most beloved person was putting himself in danger in order to protect her, while trying to not make things escalate. This is a very sensitive, beautiful and important moment, steeped in conflicting and complex feelings (and remember, Sakura is just a pre-teen. It is normal for a pre-teen like her to not understand herself, but there's just one tiny detail: she's not a common pre-teen, due to her natural gift, and she needs to take that into account). Eventually Sakura calms down, and after creating Rewind, her resolute face while hugging tightly Syaoran suggests that from now on she'll face this matter from another, more courageous and determined perspective.

Or at least, these were her good intentions. Because unfortunately, insecurities are hard to eradicate and in the central part of the story it's shocking to realize how far longer Sakura will insist in shutting away her emotions and refusing to listen to her heart (and intuition) fully.

"It's Just My Imagination"

Part of Sakura's anxiety might have been sedated with the revelation that the Clear Cards are produced by the girl herself, but unfortunately the true core of her problems was not solved at all and will only surface more clearly in the next 20 chapters.

Sakura actively starts having "premonitory bad feelings" when she sees Akiho in volume 7 chapter 34, a bad feeling that she does check with Syaoran, but quickly dismisses as "well, it's just my imagination". This will basically be one of the major problems preventing her from reaching the complete control of her magic. Sakura, knowing her magic potential, should've given way more credit to her sixth sense, but her anxiety, her insecurity and her crippled connection to her innate gift still pushes her to dismiss these "signs" as nothing really important or true. Timely as hell, a few hours later something bad will indeed happen to Akiho, where she completely loses consciousness for the first time and the clan/Association actively starts to absorb Sakura's power through the artifact implanted in Akiho. All of this was caused by the high concentration of magic that "triggered" Akiho's artifact (and here I have to sarcastically "applaud" Kaito, just like Syaoran he's another one who does stuff before thinking through, ultimately worsening the problem).

Once trapped in Akiho's artifact, thanks to her power Sakura can see the most horrifying glimpse of Akiho's past, when she was turned into a magic artifact, by living it on her own skin. And even though Kaito is forced to rewind time once again to save the situation, erasing these memories from Sakura's head, her heart (which is tightly connected to her magical sixth sense - I'd daresay her heart is straight up the source of her magic) DOES REMEMBER, pushing Sakura to act in an apparently irrational way, crying and hugging Akiho tight in empathy. Sakura is particularly shaken by this feeling, still in pain even hours later, but once again she doesn't understand where it comes from. However, she does express with Syaoran an intention to talk to him about it once she's able to put it into words, and in the meantime do her best with all the rest. At least, there's an intention to understand better this part of herself, but it's still soon to see actual results.

Aaand CLAMP really seem to be wanting to test Sakura in this arc, because at this point of the plot, they add the electrocution spell. 😅 No one seems to understand who caused it (it's not Sakura, nor Kaito, but now we know it was none other than Yelan!!) and Sakura's anxiety increases once again. The fact only Syaoran gets affected by it inevitably reignites the doubts in her mind, unwittingly reminded of that terrifying dream of Cloaked Syaoran she keeps seeing...but she stubbornly keeps telling herself "no, it's not like that, it's just a dream". It's undeniable that this situation where she cannot understand her foretelling dreams yet, and the way they show her scattered hints because her power is out of control, has surely contributed to Sakura's insecurity when it comes to trust her own intuition.

Her power is so out of control at this point, that even when Kaito shrinks her and throws her in a hole carved into a tree (landing in a "world" created with magic where he hopes she'll create the right Card) her dreams take over again (it's apparent by the "shaaan" sound and how everything turns suddenly pitch black, a common background of her dreams), showing her Akiho in the dress she was wearing when she was turned into an artifact and, inevitably, Sakura's biggest fear, "Cloaked Syaoran". Pay attention because these visions she's getting here thanks to her power match what will happen later on: what the talking flowers tell her here will turn out to be the beginning of the lyrics of the main theme of the "Alice in Clockland" play. This vision of Cloaked Syaoran seemingly "about to do something" to Akiho horrifies Sakura to the point of screaming in terror and creating one of the most unsettling Cards, "Break". It is after this very scary moment that Sakura starts to wonder very specifically for what purpose she is creating all these Cards. The purpose is actually more than one, but she definitely posed herself THE RIGHT question, as this brings her one step closer to the core of the problem and eventually embracing her own magic abilities.

Then, between chapters 43 and 45 we finally start to see some changes in Sakura: surprisingly, she begins to listen more to her sixth sense, first catching Yukito red-handed while activating a newly acquired magic, and then wondering about a strange painful feeling in her chest when her father tells her that lately she and Akiho became even more similar. We were all lead to believe that this was the foreshadowing of Akiho taking her place (cause everything in the plot at this point deceivingly hints at Kaito wanting to switch them), but she actually was getting foreshadowings of the "rewritten world", where Sakura would genuinely feel wrecked to know that someone important to Akiho was missing, precisely when Akiho would've become part of her family as her twin. In fact, in chapter 45, before falling completely asleep, she hears again the ominous "you won't be able to come back" (the Association's threat to Kaito), wondering WHO wouldn't be able to come back - somehow, Sakura knows that it's not directed at her.

"Just Tell me Honestly How You Feel"

And then, we reach another moment that I consider pivotal for Sakura's growth during this Clear Card Arc. The moment when she's on the verge of breaking down and finally lets all her feelings out.

Her anxiety over the dream with the Cloaked Figure reached the highest peak, so much that she finally manifests a Card, Mirage, that challenges her precisely with that appearance. While Sakura battles that Card (which at the moment she still believes it's an actual person), she seems resoluted to get to the bottom of this story, and to pull down that hood to know the truth. You can really feel that she's so done with all this psychological torture. The fact the real Syaoran appears right at that moment and she finds out the person she saw was just a Card is partly a relief for her, but also throws Sakura again in despair because who the hell is that person in the dream, then??

Syaoran, as the good and attentive boyfriend he is, can just feel that Sakura is stressing over something, so he brings her to his home to help her calming down. And to her umpteenth attempt at sweeping her negative emotions under the carpet, beating around the bush commenting over the tea with a fake smile, he cuts immediately her bullshit and just tells her : "You don't need to force yourself. Just tell me how you feel right now". When she hears that she's allowed to speak out her emotions with honesty, Sakura wears on her face one of the most heartbreaking expressions of the entire manga. She's literally about to break down in tears of exhaustion, as you can see it above. ☝️ Listening to her, gradually, Syaoran encourages Sakura to get out all that's been torturing her lately, particularly about the dream with the Cloaked Figure. It is a very difficult moment for her, because she has to relive the dream, and expose in front of him all the fears and doubts that were trying to tamper with her trust in him. Courageously, she goes through with it, even though her denial ("it's just a dream!") is so strong that she ends up creating another Card: "Dreaming". Sakura at first seems relieved to see the Card, in the hope that everything she saw was indeed a mere messed up dream and nothing else (see? she's again self-sabotaging her relationship with her magic) but Syaoran with his frankness is quick to bring her feet on the ground: the kanji on the Card show "yumemi", and the word can also indicate a "foretelling dream".

Although Sakura seems disheartened at first, her next dream with the Cloaked Figure is much more relaxed, so much that even the dragon doesn't particularly scare her anymore: our girl's intuition makes her correctly feel a sense of loneliness in this dream, which she attributes to the hooded figure, not realizing that it was more likely coming from the dragon itself (aka, Kaito). After all, in chapter 72, Lilie will confirm that her presence ended up distracting her from the one "character" she should've paid all of her attention to. Her intuition, despite being misattributed, ended up having a positive effect through the synchronization with Akiho: the girl will wake up with the same feeling of discomfort of her friend, and as if guided by hitsuzen, she will head to the garden where she'll find a sickly Kaito staring at the moon - most likely feeling the loneliness Sakura perceived in her dream. I like to think that in this scene of chapter 48, Sakura subconsciously helped Akiho comforting Kaito, by waking her up with the unresting feeling, precisely when Kaito needed it the most. Still not completely embraced her magical sixth sense yet, but a significant improvement.

The road between chapter 48 and chapter 52 is paved with lots of struggles, as the Mirror Sakura Card gets stolen by Kaito, Sakura runs the risk of being absorbed into Akiho's artifact again, she meets Momo for the first time and she's even given a hint about Kaito's plan (or what Momo thought was his plan, as he had benignly lied to her about that), but almost all of that gets rewound and erased when Kaito intervenes. Moreover, despite not remembering anything consciously, Sakura is left with a sense of unhappiness when she looks at her home, a remnant of her brief journey in the world of Momo's book which straight up threw her into despair, showing her what her life would be if everyone forgot about her. She also finds once again a Card produced out of nowhere, "Time": I'm convinced she produced this Card because her conscience was awake while Momo and Kaito talked in stopped time, and their conversation triggered her sixth sense to produce Time as a result. Needless to say, all of this worsens her state of mind once again, which leads to the other pivotal, and finally resolutive, scene of chapter 52.

Never Avert Your Eyes From Your Heart

We finally get to what I consider THE scene, the one that will definitively shake Sakura from her deadlock, from the anxiety that stunted her connection with her innate gift and her deepest emotions. And the one who helps her overcoming all her fears is, of course, the love of her life - with a honorable mention for none other than his mother Yelan!!

Chapter 52 got a very, very special place in my heart, because it's basically one giant parallel between SyaoSaku and YunaAki. The two pairings experience similar situations, but the response from one side of each pairing is quite different. Let's remind you for a moment of the part earlier in this post when I told you that Kaito and Sakura, for most of Clear Card, surprisingly have one thing in common: they don't seem to understand themselves well enough, and both have a tendency to look away from feelings that cause unrest to their hearts - anxiety for Sakura, love for Kaito.

Syaoran, always attentive and observant towards his girlfriend, notices immediately that Sakura is suffering, as soon as he sees her at school. Despite being unable to touch her to comfort her, he offers all of himself to support and listen to her concerns. Sakura is visibly and pleasantly surprised of how the boy could read behind her mask, that usual contrived smile with which she tries to dissimulate her emotions and not make him worry. A bad habit she's consolidated lately, but that Syaoran is gently determined to dismantle. After opening up with him (and this is where Sakura differs from Kaito - by having an established relationship made of love and trust with Syaoran, Sakura lowers her walls with him), she falls once again into the usual trap of "but maybe it's just my imagination" and I love to see how Syaoran is her anchor to the ground, making her see the concreteness of this situation: he straight up tells her "you produced a Card out of it, it cannot be 'just your imagination'. " And then, like a precious family gift, he passes on to her the priceless words of wisdom of his mother Yelan, an advice that not only Sakura, but also the other "lost soul" of the other paralleling pairing should listen to:

"People with magical power should never ignore the turmoil and stirring in their hearts, the so-called 'intuition'. And it’s not limited to people with magical powers. People should never avert their eyes from the changes in their heart."

This is a turning point for Sakura. These words seem to positively "break" something inside of her, showing her the correct path to follow. CLAMP beautifully portray this process of "embracing and assimilating" the words she's just heard, by making her place her hand over her heart. I love when they do that (they used the same visual when Akiho heard Kaito's true name, and 'wrote it' on the most important page of the book of her life). Sakura is truly grateful for the words Syaoran relayed to her, precisely what she needed to get out of her impasse with her feelings and magic. She knows she can always count on the support of her soulmate even in the darkest moments, and she's thankful for having him in her life.

From this moment onwards, Sakura will experience several instances where her magical premonitory senses give her signals through the "stirring" of her heart. Contrarily to before, she starts to actively take them seriously, listening, without dismissing them as the delirium of an anxious little girl. This allows her to activate the Siege Card in the fraction of a second, successfully shielding herself from Kaito's time magic, making her the first person ever who achieved that. This also leads her to effectively remember that she saw Kaito using magic, even when time was rewound by him, and contact immediately Syaoran to talk about it, planning how to move from that moment onwards. A little relapse on her bad habit is immediately dispelled by Syaoran, and our girl even goes as far as saying "there's something inside Akiho", even though she's not sure exactly why she's feeling that way. But it's an intuition she's having and she decides to not dismiss it anymore, with everyone trusting and supporting her in that direction. By listening more and better to what her heart tells her, Sakura also decides to not confront Akiho about Kaito and his magic, because she's well aware of the feelings Akiho got for Kaito and she doesn't want to potentially disrupt their relationship. So, she decides to wait for her friend to talk about it first.

Thanks to this better understanding of her own intuition, she also says in chapter 57 that she wants to meet the guardian of the book "Alice in Clockland" once more, despite not remembering if and when she's met her before. This also ultimately leads her to accept the role of Alice in the upcoming play scripted by her friend Naoko, because her sixth sense tells her that it's inevitable for her to do so. It's important to emphasize how the other characters support and encourage her to listen to her innate gift, at this point, without trampling over her self-determination like they did before.

It is a moment of big growth and character development for everyone.

The Ultimate Growth: Finding a Meaning and a Purpose

What happens afterwards is history: the fateful "Alice in Clockland" play unfolds, and Kaito completes his plan to push Sakura to create the Card he needs, exchanging his magic artifact (the watch) with Akiho's one (the book), in addition to activating the forbidden magic to rewrite the memories of everyone, to fit Akiho as part of Sakura's family.

Sakura's intuition will be crucial to wake her true self up while in Clockland, succeeding in beating Kaito's magic multiple times, till Syaoran comes in and gives the "final blow", cutting off the spell definitively.

And even when everything seems lost because Kaito successfully activated the fobidden magic, changing their memories and erasing himself from their existence, Sakura's magic and sixth sense keep making her say things she either already said or heard before in the "unrewritten world". Not only that, but even after meeting Lilie in a dream and forgetting her face (due to the strong influence of the forbidden spell), bit and pieces of that conversation keep coming back to her, and she listens dutifully to every single one of these "feelings". Kaito might have overridden part of their memories (only the ones concerning him, Akiho and the events connected to the creation of the Cards), but the experience, feelings and personal growth of each character were left untouched, that's why the chemistry between Sakura and Syaoran is the same as before the play started, but also Sakura's personal relationship with her magic is far better than before (an information that might have seemed random and unimportant is that now Sakura summons Mirror even just to chat, an indication of her completely changed perspective on her magic).

Now that Sakura finally embraced her magical power, all that's left for her is to find a true purpose for it.

A question echoes in my mind, "What am I creating these Cards for?". Sakura poses herself this question halfway through the story, and she finds the answer to it precisely at the end of the journey.

Her powerful magic intuition, combined with her immense empathy, leads her to realize that somebody is missing from their reality, and that person is the one Akiho loves. At this point Sakura is unstoppable: she wants to listen to the voice in her heart that's screaming "Go and help them!! Give the true happiness back to Akiho!", and everyone can only follow her lead as she assertively puts into practice what her heart is telling her to do.

Sakura in this final part of the story shines brighter than ever. She's more assertive and self-confident than ever. All of this is because there's something she strongly wants to do with her innate gift, as Eriol unequivocally says in chapter 75: her power grows exponentially again, but this time it's not out of her control - it is Sakura herself who's voluntarily boosting it, thanks to her strong wish. And that allows her to control it and use it exactly as she wants.

In chapter 79 her growth reaches the highest peak, by handling the resolution of Akiho and Kaito's personal problems in an admirable way (she steps aside for a moment to give Akiho all the agency she needed), but also finding herself in front of an uncomfortable dilemma, which leads her to an unavoidable reality: Sakura quickly understands that she cannot be on everyone's side and there are lines to be drawn at some point. She can't be a pure and oblivious girl forever. She needs to grow up. There are choices to be made, especially when dealing with real evil people.

And Sakura choses to go on with the people she loves, even if that means she has to "stain" her "moral record" a little bit.

Empowered by this strong wish to fix the situation, she literally gives life to a miracle, protecting her dear friend and her beloved from the grasp of their abusers, simultanously giving everyone their true memories back. The effort exerts her greatly, but what she achieved is by far the most important thing she's ever done with her magic power till now: she helped two dear people lost in a life-and-death situation. Her magical growth went along with her personal, mental one.

This is also the reason why the accusations of "the other magicians should've trained her" end up being in vain: Sakura's problem with her powers was mainly on a personal level, not on a technical one. This was a journey she had to mainly walk by herself, finding the right balance and confidence in her abilities, deep down in her heart.

No one could've done that for her.

Merely training the practical aspect of it would've just worsened the situation, because Sakura wouldn't have been truly "in it" with her heart and mind. She needed to go through this process of growth, before reaching this stage of self-awareness in relation to her magic powers. I truly feel this is the reason why CLAMP made certain choices inside this story. Again, as I always say, a good part of Cardcaptor Sakura does revolve around magic, but the main focus and linchpin of this story is and always will be the main character's heart, her growth and the interpersonal relationships with her loved ones.

This makes Clear Card Arc, in my opinion, a worthy sequel and a full-fledged part of the Cardcaptor Sakura series. I think those who decide to skip it or read it with a superficial approach miss a journey of tremendous growth for our beloved protagonist.

So much for those who kept saying "This is not Sakura's story".

How can all that ☝️ NOT be Sakura's story?

I'll let you judge. 😊

Extra: The Significance of the Clear Cards

I want to digress for a moment about a thorny topic: the significance of the Clear Cards in this story.

Sakura isn't always completely passive towards the events happening around her, but wonders several times during the story why all those Cards are manifesting like that. While the first and easiest answer is of course "because her powers are going out of control" (and this is something Momo herself questions Sakura about in chapter 50), it becomes apparent at some point that the more the story goes on, the more the Cards that are created by her are particularly relevant and connected to the events that will happen in the final part of the story.

I know this is a sore spot for many who complain about not understanding the purpose of the Clear cards. It's because people tend to compare this set of Cards with the ones Sakura captured previously. That's not the right way to look at them, because their origin and purpose are different and change throughout the story. Forget about the Sakura Cards, even though so many of these "Clear Cards" (which are never called so, not even once, in the story itself, but just "new cards" or "transparent cards") might look so similar in purpose to the previous ones.

First of all, the Clear Cards are an outlet for Sakura to vent in a healthy way her power in excess. Power that if kept inside, untapped and confined in her body, might have unpredictable harmful effects on her (<- probably the grief Yelan foresaw). God bless the Clear Cards for existing and allowing Sakura to vent out these bouts of uncontrolled power in a relatively safe way.

The Cards that Sakura produces in the beginning are sometimes reminiscing of the Sakura Cards, because her power manifests itself basing on Sakura's experiences, feelings, thoughts and wishes. The Sakura Cards are an important part of her life (before Syaoran took them, she literally acted like their "mom", keeping them alive with her power) so it's only normal that the first base for some of these new Cards would be a magic tool that she already knows. In this sense, it becomes easier to understand why many of the "captures" seem so easy, way too easy compared to what a reader would expect from a sequel: the goal of the capture here isn't to make her power and experience in capturing cards grow. She already had 2 arcs to do all of that. The capture of the Cards in this third arc becomes something new and unexpected: a "damage control" of a regrettable situation with Sakura's powers, while she learns to dominate them and enter into harmony with her supernatural abilities. The growth Sakura needs here is mainly a mental one. Performing her magical power aimlessly without having a true connection with it and a true understanding will only exacerbate the problem. This is the reason why, despite having a "capture" element, Clear Card derails from the previous arcs in the purpose of the capture. It's a pity that an element that should've brought freshness to the plot was in many cases received as an actual flaw.

In the beginning, as Sakura's power is completely out of her control, some Cards might look completely random too - they don't look based on Cards, thoughts or wishes (like Appear, Reflect, Action, etc.). But pay attention, because the more the story goes on, the more the Cards begin to become particularly specific to something that shook Sakura's heart in that moment, or referencing events/feelings that will become pivotal to the events Sakura will experience later. Especially regarding Kaito's plan. Many of the later Cards Sakura produces are a direct reflection of the feelings and wishes that Kaito infused in the activation of the forbidden magic, with the creation of "the story for Akiho", the one he wanted to absolutely have a happy ending for. Cards like Repair, Promise, Choice, Kindness, True and False, Synchronization, Rewind....many of them didn't even get to express their magical abilities in a "conventional way" (everyone expected to see Sakura literally activating them like she does with all the others), but it's just because at that point the Cards Sakura is producing are born following her premonitory intuition: thanks to the hints/speeches that those Cards give her in Clockland, Sakura little by little regains consciousness of her true self (it's a pity that many English readers will never realize all the times Sakura was about to "wake up" in Clockland, because the translation didn't respect the change in fonts of the JP text). Sakura wasn't supposed to "use" them in a conventional way (how do you "use" Kindness? You force people to be "kind"? 🤨 and what about Choice??), she was supposed to listen to them and let them guide her towards the truth. This is also the reason why all of these Cards bear the face of her loved ones. Think of them as tarots. Which is, incidentally, another use of the original Clow/Sakura Cards. I am basically sure of this interpretation because the kanji of some of those Cards I mentioned above are brought up during the climax: particularly when Akiho talks to Kaito in chapter 78, she uses two specific verbs, referring to Kindness (慈愛 - a kind of gentle and tender love) when she describes the love and support her family gives her in this rewritten world, and to Choice (選択) when she questions Kaito about his choice to disappear completely from her life. So to summarize, the last Cards Sakura produced "accidentally" weren't accidental at all, but were actually specifically produced by her power in reference to Kaito's plan, to help her finding the way out to a dire situation. This represents a very important indicator in the plot: at that stage of the story, Sakura started to listen more and more to her intuition and her sixth sense, finally quitting her bad habit of downplaying it ("maybe it's just me") but actually giving it credit and taking it seriously, trusting her instinct to lead her in the right direction. And this was, of course, all thanks to the speech Syaoran gave her back in chapter 52. It is also the case of the Rewind Card, which Sakura will ultimately understand the purpose of on her own, at the very end of the series. That's the moment where everything will become clear and make sense to her: "This Card, too...I created it precisely for this moment". The Clear Cards ultimately became the embodiment of her foretelling powers. Which then led to the birth of the first two consciously created Cards, Blank & Remind, which will become so important in the climax.

If we ever get a new arc in the next years, we'll certainly deal with a more mature Sakura, who's more in sync with her magical powers 🩷.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

03/06/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; David Jenkins; Kristian Nairn; Ruibo Qian; Fuckeries; Watch Party Polls; Watch Party Reminders; Fan Spotlight; Cast Cards; Pink News; Q+ Magazine; Stats; #ReleaseTheJenkinsCut; Love Notes/Morale; Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

== David Jenkins ==

David popped his head out today with all the Jenkins Cut talk going around. @bbviago thank you for bringing Dad out of hiding!

Our friends at @adoptourcrew captured the fandom reaction pretty well me thinks:

Also too, @skrifores had a really excellent point about how different the interpretations of this were. Which way were you all thinking? Any thoughts?

== Kristian Nairn ==

Remember the book Kristian kept hinting about? It's up for preorder! It comes out Sept 24! Wanna pre-order it? Visit Kristian's Linktr.ee

Src: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Ruibo Qian ==

Our pirate queen singing and playing the guitar for us. In addition... there's some clown/honking going on because of the note she added to her Instagram. *Resurrection* with 3 tiny stars, anyone? 👀

Ruibo Qian's Instagram

== Fuckeries ==

Save OFMD Crew is calling out for some help! Please reach uot to businesses, streamers, personalities, etc today to bring in more engagement if you have a few spare minutes!

== More Watch Party Voting! ==

We need you!

Our crew-mate @iamadequate1 implores you to come vote for the final version of the watch party hashtags! They're neck and neck!

Final Short Poppies Watch Party Hashtag Poll

Flight of the Conchords Watch Party Hashtag Poll

== Watch Party Reminders ==

= A League Of Their Own =

Tomorrow the 7th is ALOTO Episodes 6-7, and then OFMD 6-7 Time: 1-4PM EST/6-9PM GMT Where: You can watch ALOTO on Amazon Prime

Watch Party Hashtags:

OurFlagMeansBaseball

ALeagueOfTheirOwn

SaveOFMD 

= Mar 4 - Mar 8: Wrecked Season 1 =

Don't have access? DM @iamadequate1 on Twitter or Tumblr

Season 1 watch from March 4th to March 8th. 

Times will be 10pm GMT / 5pm EST / 4pm CST / 2pm PST.

Saturday there will be a re-watch for those who need to catch up (time TBD) .

Hashtags: 

#WreckedPirates

#SaveOFMD

#RhysDarbyFaction

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards! =

Thank you thank you @melvisik for recognising our dear Gabriel, Nick Kroll! So glad to see some of the actors from just one episode getting some love! Another card to add to the collection!

= Pink News =

I realise that Pink News is an actual news site, but they are joining under the fan spotlight tonight for their continued dedication to #OFMD and quality content/memes.

= Q+ Magazine =

Our friend @spanishjenkies caught Q+ sending some incentive over to Chaos Dad 😉. Just more reasons to love Q+ for their continued support!

== STATS STATS STATS ==

Great News Everyone Looks like Season 1 and 2 are ranking in the top 20 Comedy shows in Germany! WAY TO GO DEUTSCH CREW! Thank you @quirkysubject for the update!!

= @AdoptOurCrew Data Updates! =

== #ReleaseTheJenkinsCut ==

Thank you to @sweet-little-goldfish-stede (@Rowan_ofmd on twitter) for bringing this new hashtag to our attention! #ReleaseTheJenkinsCut is being used not only for fun, but to encourage streamers to #AdoptOurCrew! Please feel free to use it liberally, especially with your favorite BTS scenes! Also, kind thanks are in order for catching Jenkins trending!

== Love Notes / Morale ==

Hey there lovelies! Today had some pretty great excitement going on! Chaos Dad popped his head out, Kristian's book got announced, our Ruibo put out a lovely song for us. All good news! Even though a lot of folks had peaks today, I know some of our crew is still having some troughs, so I wanted to send out a little reminder that it's okay to have bad days. It's okay to not be as excited as everyone else. It's also okay to be excited when others are feeling down. We are all individuals and we all have our unique experiences and struggles we deal with every day.

You don't need to compare your experience to others-- you're allowed to be exactly how you are right now. If you feel down, give yourself a hug, you don't have to come out of it right now if you're not ready, but if you are, there are plenty of things happening to give you some joy.

I was going to save this song for when I wanted to talk a bit about mistakes and dealing with them, but I think it's pretty applicable to any situation where we're feeling down. It helps keep me grounded sometimes when I'm not feeling up for things. Here's just a couple lyrics from: "It's Alright - by Mother Mother"

"It's alright, It's okay, it's alright, it's okay You're not a demon, there's a reason You behaved in that way It's alright, it's okay, it's alright, it's okay And I believe, yes I believe that you will see a better day It's alright"

Another lovely note from @spanishjenkies I thought was really important to include tonight-- Jen is right, David didn't say stop :) Remember that whenever you're feeling like the gravy basket is feeling too deep. Chaos Dad is still fighting the good fight in the background and he hasn't told us to throw in the towel.

Goodnight/G'day Lovelies, hope you all get some rest and have a wonderful day tomorrow!

==Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika==

You can blame thank @celluloidbroomcloset for the inability to think after that Darby gif. @ofmd-ann thank you for the reaction gif for all of our brain cells in the form of Taika.