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according to lyric âą lyric hamilton [private landing one shot]
SUMMARY: Growing up Hamilton may have its perks, but living life as Lewis Hamilton's son isn't what it's all cracked up to be....or is it?
WARNINGS: cursing, nepo baby ish, celebrity children, f1/racing b.s.
WORD COUNT: 10K+
TAGLIST: @4ftwonder, @iamryanl, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @totallynotluluu, @omgsuperstarg, @amirawrah, @imjustheretomanifest, @greedyjudge2, @muglermami, @irishmanwhore, @barcelonesa, @lewisangel, @scorpiobleue, @iam-lulu, @lewlewlemon44, @lewismcqueen, @purplelewlew
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a Private Landing one shot. Read the story here to understand the characters. This is also first person POV....
The Colorado mountains stretched endlessly in front of me as I sat on the deck of our family cabin, my legs propped up on the railing, watching Larke attempt to teach Brutus and Maximus some elaborate trick through the holographic pet training app she'd downloaded. The dogs were old now - Roscoe's boys - but they still had that stubborn Hamilton streak that ran through everything in our family, including the four-legged members.
"Lyric, tell your sister that dogs can't learn quantum physics," Mama called from the kitchen, her voice carrying that amused exasperation she'd perfected over twenty-one years of dealing with us Hamilton kids.
"Larke, the dogs said they're more of a classical mechanics family!" I shouted back, earning myself a middle finger from my little sister.
Real mature, sis.
"They're smarter than you think!" she yelled back, but Brutus had already given up and was sprawling in a patch of sunlight, completely unbothered by her academic ambitions for him.
This was our thing - winter break at the Colorado cabin before the chaos of the new racing season kicked into gear. Pops had bought this place years ago when I was still karting, back when Larke was just a baby who cried through most of his races on TV. Now here we were, me at twenty-one and working as her race engineer, her at eighteen and already making history every time she got behind the wheel.
Wild how life works out.
My phone buzzed with a text from Laura - L'waura in my contacts because I'm apparently still five years old at heart and it never fails to get an eye roll out of her when she sees it.
L'waura đ: Miss you already. Stockholm is gray and depressing without your stupid jokes.
Me: My jokes aren't stupid, they're sophisticated comedy that you're too Swedish to understand
L'waura đ: I'm literally Danish-British you absolute muppet
Me: Tomato, tomahto. Still love you though
L'waura đ: Unfortunately I love you too. Say hi to your family for me
"Yo, Abel!" I called out as I spotted him emerging from the guest room, looking like he'd just woken up from the best sleep of his life. "Laura says hi to everyone, including your ugly mug!"
"Your girlfriend has excellent taste," Abel grinned, dapping me up with that elaborate handshake we'd developed over the past few months. Kid had grown on me, I'll admit it. Plus, anyone who could keep up with Larke's intensity deserved respect.
"She really does. That's why she's dating me and not you."
"Mate, I'm spoken for," Abel laughed, nodding toward where Larke was now trying to convince Maximus to participate in her holographic training session. "Besides, your sister would murder me if I even looked at another girl."
"True. She's got that Hamilton protective streak. Very possessive."
Pops emerged from the house carrying three cups of coffee, settling into the chair next to me with that contented sigh he always did when we were all together like this. At fifty-eight, he still moved like the athlete he'd always been, but there was something softer about him now. Less of that razor-sharp intensity that had defined his racing years, more of the man who'd taught me how to ride a bike and fix engines and treat people with respect no matter who they were.
"Morning, boys," he said, handing Abel a cup. "Sleep well?"
"Like the dead, sir. This altitude is no joke."
"Stop calling him sir," I laughed. "You're practically family now. He's just Pops. Or Lewis if you're feeling fancy."
"I'm still getting used to it," Abel admitted. "Six months ago I was watching him on TV, now I'm drinking coffee with him in Colorado."
"Six months ago I was convinced you were going to break my daughter's heart and I'd have to end your football career," Pops said casually, taking a sip of his coffee.
"And now?"
"Now I'm only mostly convinced."
"Lewis!" Mama's voice carried from the kitchen.
"What? I'm being nice!"
Abel looked between us, clearly not sure if Pops was joking or not. I decided to help him out.
"He's messing with you, mate. If he actually thought you were going to hurt Larke, you wouldn't be here. Trust me."
"Plus," Pops added with a grin, "Lyric's the one you should really worry about. He's got that protective big brother energy."
"Please. I'm a lover, not a fighter," I protested. "Though I am six feet tall now and I've been working out, so..."
"You bench pressed the bar yesterday," Abel pointed out. "Just the bar."
"Hey! That bar was heavier than it looked!"
Rude but accurate.
________
That night, after dinner and way too much wine (for the adults) and hot chocolate (for those of us who were apparently still children according to Mama), Pops suggested we take a walk around the property. It was one of those clear Colorado nights where you could see every star, the kind of sky that made you feel small and infinite at the same time.
"So," Pops said as we walked, our breath visible in the cold air. "How are you boys feeling about the new season?"
"Excited," I said immediately. "The car's looking incredible, Larke's driving better than ever, and I think we've got a real shot at the championship."
"Nervous," Abel added. "Not about the racing, but about the attention. Larke's getting more famous by the day, and football's ramping up too. It's a lot to navigate."
"The attention never gets easier," Pops said thoughtfully. "But you learn to manage it. Focus on what matters, ignore the noise, and remember that most people are just trying to live their lives and don't actually care about your personal business."
"Most people," I emphasized. "The rest are complete psychopaths who analyze your grocery receipts."
"Lyric's not wrong," Pops laughed. "But here's the thing - you two are building something real together. That's rare in this world. Don't let other people's opinions mess with that."
"Any specific advice?" Abel asked.
"Communicate. Like, constantly. About everything. Schedule, priorities, fears, dreams, all of it." Pops looked at both of us. "And remember that you're both young and figuring things out. There's no rush to have everything perfect right away."
"What about the long-distance stuff?" I asked, thinking about Laura in Stockholm and how hard it was sometimes.
"Make the time you have together count. And when you're apart, be present in your own life instead of just waiting for the next time you'll see each other."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the night air and the kind of conversation that only happened when it was just the guys.
"Can I ask you something?" Abel said eventually.
"Shoot."
"How do you deal with people constantly comparing you to your father? Both of you?"
Ah. There it was. The question everyone was always too polite to ask directly.
"Honestly?" I said. "Some days it's motivating, some days it's exhausting. But mostly I just try to remember that I'm not trying to be Lewis Hamilton. I'm trying to be the best version of Lyric Hamilton."
"Same," I continued. "Like, Larke's not trying to replicate Pops' career. She's building her own legacy. And you're not trying to be anyone else either - you're just Abel, who happens to be really good at football and really good for my sister."
"Plus," Pops added, "people are going to have opinions no matter what you do. Might as well do what makes you happy and let them talk."
"Wise words from the old man," I grinned.
"Old man? Son, I can still outrun you."
"In your dreams, Pops."
"Want to test that theory?"
"Right now? In the snow? At ten thousand feet altitude?"
"Scared?"
Oh, it was on.
What followed was the most ridiculous sprint race in Hamilton family history - three generations of competitive stubbornness playing out on a snowy mountain path, with Abel recording everything because he said it was "content gold."
Pops won, obviously, because genetics are unfair and he's still in better shape than people half his age. But I came in a respectable second, and Abel... well, Abel learned that footballers aren't necessarily built for high-altitude sprinting.
"I'm dying," he gasped, bent over with his hands on his knees.
"You're fine," Larke said, appearing from nowhere with a cup of hot chocolate. "Though you do look like you're about to pass out."
"Your family is insane," he told her.
"You're just figuring this out now?"
_______________________________________________
The view from our family's SĂŁo Paulo home on a hill was absolutely insane on New Year's Eve - the entire city sprawling out below us, fireworks already starting to pop off even though it was only nine p.m. Brazil always felt like home in a way that was hard to explain, probably because Pops, Larke, and I all had dual citizenship and had been coming here since we were kids.
"Lyric, vem cĂĄ!" called Isabela, our housekeeper who'd been with the family for like fifteen years. "Your hair needs work before the party!"
Yes. Isabela gave the best braids, and I'd been growing my hair out specifically for this trip. There was something about having her do my hair that felt like a tradition - she'd been braiding it since I was little, always adding these intricate patterns that somehow looked both classic and fresh.
I settled into the chair she'd set up on the balcony, the warm Brazilian air a perfect contrast to the Colorado cold we'd left behind.
"You're getting handsome like your pai," she said in her mix of Portuguese and English, starting to section my hair. "But you need to eat more. Too skinny."
"I eat plenty, Isa."
"McDonald's is not eating."
"I don't eat McDonald's!"
"Hmm." She clearly didn't believe me, but her hands were gentle as she worked. "Your namorada, she's coming tonight?"
"Laura's in Stockholm still, but she'll FaceTime in for midnight."
"Good girl, that one. Smart. Pretty. You keep her."
Planning on it.
As she worked, I could hear the chaos inside - Larke and Abel attempting to salsa with Uncle Franco and Aunt Aaliyah, who were trying to teach them the steps they'd learned on their honeymoon. Abel was... not good at it. Like, genuinely terrible. But he was trying, which earned him points.
"Meu Deus, your boyfriend has no rhythm," I heard Aaliyah laugh from inside.
"He's English!" Larke protested. "What did you expect?"
"Hey!" Abel's voice carried through the doors. "I have rhythm! Just... not for this!"
Franco was dying laughing, which wasn't helping the lesson at all. Their kids - my cousins Maria and Gabriel - were recording everything, probably for TikTok.
"Done," Isabela announced, holding up a mirror so I could see the back. The braids were perfect - neat, intricate, with a geometric pattern that somehow made me look older and more put-together.
"Isa, vocĂȘ Ă© incrĂvel," I said, giving her a hug.
"Of course I am. Now go take pictures so your followers can see my work."
She wasn't wrong. I pulled out my phone and took a few shots - one serious, one grinning, one with the SĂŁo Paulo skyline in the background. Posted them to Instagram with the caption:
liked by f1, mclaren, and 200K others
lyrichamilton: NYE ready thanks to the best braider in Brazil đ§đ· Obrigado Isa! â€ïž
The comments started rolling in immediately:
BRO YOU LOOK SO GOOD those braids are PERFECT you and your dad could be twins I swear daddy Lewis raised you right đ sir you are FINE Lewis Hamilton's genetics are undefeated both Hamilton men can GET IT
Ugh, gross. Some of these comments about Pops were just weird. Like, I get that he's objectively handsome and all, but these people needed to chill.
lyrichamilton replied with: y'all are nasty talking about my dad like that. He's literally married to my mother. Get help.
"What are you frowning at?" Larke asked, appearing on the balcony looking slightly disheveled from her dance lesson.
"People being thirsty on Instagram. As usual."
"About you or about Pops?"
"Both. It's disgusting."
She looked at my phone and made a face. "Ew. Block them."
"I can't block everyone. There'd be no one left."
"Fair point. Come inside, Uncle Franco's trying to teach Abel how to dip me and it's going very badly."
This I had to see.
Inside, the living room had been turned into an impromptu dance floor. Mama and Pops were actually pretty good at salsa - they'd learned years ago for some charity event and apparently still remembered the steps. Uncle Franco and Aunt Aaliyah were pure poetry together, moving like they'd been dancing their whole lives.
And then there was Abel, who was holding Larke like she might break while simultaneously looking like he was about to trip over his own feet.
"Mate, you're thinking too much," Franco called out. "Just feel the music!"
"I am feeling the music! The music is telling me I can't dance!"
"Here," I said, stepping in. "Let me show you. Larke, dance with your actually coordinated brother."
What followed was me giving Abel a crash course in basic salsa while dancing with my sister, who was trying not to laugh at both of us. I wasn't amazing at it either, but I had rhythm and I'd been forced to take dance lessons when I was younger (thanks, Mama).
"See? It's all about the hips," I demonstrated, earning wolf whistles from our cousins.
"Your hips lie though," Maria called out, recording everything.
"My hips tell beautiful stories, thank you very much."
By the time we switched partners back, Abel was at least not actively dangerous to dance with. Progress.
"Better?" I asked him.
"I didn't step on her feet that time, so yeah."
"Small victories."
As midnight approached, we all gathered on the terrace with champagne (sparkling cider for me and the cousins) and phones ready for the countdown. Laura's hologram was projected in the center of our group, and even though she was five hours ahead in Stockholm, she'd stayed up to celebrate with us.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!" we all shouted together, the fireworks from Copacabana visible in the distance.
"Seven! Six! Five!"
"Four! Three! Two!"
"FELIZ ANO NOVO!"
The sky exploded with color, and everyone was hugging and kissing and shouting. Larke and Abel had their New Year's kiss, Mama and Pops had theirs, and I blew a kiss to Laura's projection while she laughed at me from her Stockholm apartment.
"I love you all!" Larke shouted over the noise.
"We love you too!" everyone shouted back.
Looking around at our family - blood and chosen, present and projected - scattered across Brazil and Sweden but somehow all together, I felt that familiar surge of gratitude.
Tomorrow we'd start gearing up for another season of racing, another year of chasing dreams and managing pressure and living in the public eye. But tonight, we were just us. The Hamilton family, plus one South African footballer who still couldn't salsa, one Danish-British artist beaming in from across the world, and enough love to power this entire city.
"Ready for 2043?" Pops asked, raising his glass.
"Bring it on," Larke said confidently.
"Let's make it legendary," I added.
Yeah, definitely worth it.
The 2043 Formula 1 season had been nothing short of spectacular for Larke. Starting with her victory in Bahrain - where she'd controlled the race from pole position and reminded everyone why the Hamilton name meant excellence in motorsport - she'd gone on a tear that had the entire paddock talking.
Australia came next, another commanding performance where she'd managed the challenging street circuit with the kind of precision that made veteran drivers shake their heads in admiration. By the time we reached the third race, the media was already throwing around words like "dominance" and "historic."
Saudi Arabia was a night race, which meant everything felt slightly surreal - the neon lights, the late start time, the way the entire paddock seemed to be running on caffeine and adrenaline. Larke qualified second behind Kenzo Craigie, which was frustrating but not devastating. Sometimes you had to settle for a front-row start and trust that race pace would make the difference.
Laura had flown in from Stockholm, which was a surprise and also the best possible way to start the weekend. She looked tired from the travel but happy to be there, wearing one of my McLaren shirts and a pair of sunglasses that made her look like she belonged in the paddock.
"Shouldn't you be studying for finals?" I asked when I found her in the garage before practice sessions.
"Shouldn't you be focusing on your sister's car instead of questioning my academic priorities?"
Fair point.
"Besides," she continued, "I wanted to see you work. And Larke asked me to come."
"Larke asked you to come?"
"She said she needed another woman around who understood what it was like to date someone in this world. Apparently I'm now the relationship expert in your family."
Interesting. Things with Abel must have been more complicated than Larke was letting on.
The race itself was a thriller - Larke and Kenzo battling for the lead, wheel-to-wheel racing that had the entire paddock on their feet. In the end, she finished second, which was a great result but I could tell she was frustrated by the missed opportunity.
"Good drive," I told her over the radio as she crossed the finish line.
"Not good enough," came her reply, clipped and professional but I could hear the disappointment.
Later, in the garage while the media circus was happening outside, I found her sitting in her driver's room looking frustrated.
"Want to talk about it?"
"He made a mistake in sector two and I couldn't capitalize on it. Should have been my win."
Racing was cruel that way - sometimes perfect wasn't good enough.
"You drove brilliantly. Sometimes the other guy is just slightly better on the day."
"I hate losing to Kenzo."
This was new - Larke usually had good relationships with the other drivers, but there was something different in her voice when she talked about Kenzo Craigie. Something more personal than professional rivalry.
"Why?"
"Because he's cocky and he thinks he's entitled to everything because he's daddy's protégé and he acts like I only got my seat because of who our father is."
Ah. So it was like that.
"Have you talked to Pops about this?"
"What's he going to do? Tell Kenzo to be nicer to me? That would just prove Kenzo's point about me needing daddy to fight my battles."
She had a point there. The last thing Larke needed was for people to think she couldn't handle her own racing rivalries.
"You know what the best revenge is, right?"
"Beating him on track."
"Exactly. And you will. You're eighteen and already giving him trouble. He's thirty-three and supposed to be in his prime. Time is on your side."
She nodded, looking more determined than frustrated now. "You're right. Besides, Abel's flying in tomorrow and I want to actually enjoy having him here instead of being grumpy about finishing second."
There it was again - the mention of Abel with that slightly complicated expression.
"How are things with you two?"
"Better. We had a really good conversation after our fight. About priorities and communication and what we both need." She picked at her nail polish. "He's been trying really hard to understand the racing schedule, and I'm trying to be better about making time for us even when everything's crazy."
"That's good. Relationships take work, especially in this world."
"Speaking of relationships, Laura's been giving me advice about dealing with long distance. She's smart about this stuff."
Laura was smart about most things.
"Yeah, she is. Also probably good to have someone to talk to who gets it."
"Definitely. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only girl in the world trying to balance being a professional race car driver with having a normal relationship. But Laura makes it seem possible."
If anyone could make it work, it was Larke. She was stubborn enough to have both.
lyrichamilton posted on his instagram!
liked by larke_hamilton, lauraaaaaa, f1, mclaren, and 1.3M others
lyrichamilton: Still the fucking best driver! P2 in Saudi Arabia but we clinched in the WDC! #WeMove #NeverDoubtTheOrange #McLaren4L tagged; larke_hamilton, mclaren, f1
view all comments...
lauraaaaaa: go larke the shark!!
‷ lyrichamilton: luv u l'waura đ
‷ lauraaaaaa: đđđ - love you more! đ
f1: đđđđ
mclaren: you got this larke_hamilton! next week we got the dub! đȘđ§Ą
random_girl1001: your so fine!
‷ thirstyhoe11: isn't he? looking like his equally fine af daddy
‷ lyrichamilton: yall this is a wendy's....and we trying to support lil sis. off with that pls đ
Larke was changing the sport itself. Every race weekend brought more young girls to the barriers, wearing #44 merchandise and carrying signs with messages like "Future Female Champion" and "Larke is my hero." It was the kind of thing that made Pops emotional.
The marketing team couldn't keep up with demand for her gear. Larke wasn't just racing - she was inspiring a revolution.
By the time we reached Miami, she was leading the championship by sixty points and showing no signs of slowing down. Three wins in the first five races, and each victory more dominant than the last.
Larke was somewhere in the middle of the popup store she had for her latest merch, taking pictures and signing autographs and being gracious to every single person who'd waited hours to meet her. She was in her element - confident and charming and completely natural with fans in a way that reminded me so much of Pops during his prime.
"She's a natural at this," Laura observed. She'd flown in for the Miami race weekend and was documenting everything for her summer art project about sports celebrity and fan culture.
"Takes after the old man," I said. "Though I think she might actually be better at it than he was at her age."
"Different generation. She grew up with social media and constant attention. You both did."
True. Pops had had to learn how to handle fame; Larke and I had been born into it. Sometimes I wondered if that made us better at managing it or if it just made us think we were better at it than we actually were.
My phone buzzed with a notification - someone had tagged me in a video of Larke signing a little girl's race suit. The girl couldn't have been more than eight, and she was wearing a full McLaren outfit that was clearly several sizes too big for her. Larke had gotten down on her level to talk to her, and you could see the exact moment the little girl realized she was meeting her hero.
Jesus, that was going to make me emotional.
"You okay?" Laura asked, noticing my expression.
"Just proud of her. Look at this." I showed her the video, which already had thousands of likes and comments.
making dreams come true this is why we love you future world champion and class act
"She's going to change everything, isn't she?" Laura said quietly.
"Yeah, I think she is."
The popup was scheduled to run until an hour before qualifying, but we had to shut it down early because the crowds were getting too big for the security team to handle safely. Not a bad problem to have, but definitely a learning experience for future events.
"Next time we're renting out a stadium," Pops joked when we finally made it back to the garage.
"Next time you're hiring more security," Mama corrected. "I aged ten years watching those crowds."
Larke looked tired but happy, still signing the occasional autograph for VIP guests and team members who'd missed the popup. She had that glow that came from doing something you loved and being appreciated for it.
"How do you feel?" I asked her.
"Like I just ran a marathon, but in the best way. Did you see how many kids were out there?"
"I saw. You're inspiring a whole generation of future drivers."
"That's the goal," she said simply. "If I can make it easier for the girls coming after me, then everything else is worth it."
This was why she was going to be special - not just the talent, but the understanding of what her success meant for other people.
Qualifying was later that afternoon, and Larke put the car on pole by three tenths of a second. The popup had been great, but this was what really mattered - showing up when it counted and proving that all the attention was deserved.
"Pole position in Miami," I said into my headset as she crossed the line. "That's how you shut up the doubters."
"Just getting started," came her reply, confident and focused.
God, I loved working with her.
___________________________________________
The basketball court they'd set up near the Miami paddock was supposed to be a fun promotional event - just Pops and me playing some one-on-one to hype up the Grand Prix weekend. What it turned into was me absolutely roasting my father in front of a crowd of fans and media while pretending I wasn't trying to impress the group of girls who'd somehow gotten VIP access to watch.
"You sure you want to do this, old man?" I called out, dribbling the ball between my legs in what I thought was a pretty slick move. "I've grown like six inches since the last time we played."
"Old man?" Pops laughed, stretching his arms above his head. Even at fifty-eight, he was in ridiculous shape - all lean muscle and quick reflexes, his tattoos catching the Miami sun as he moved. "Son, I was playing basketball before you were even a thought."
The speakers were pumping music to keep the crowd hyped, and when a Notorious B.I.G. track came on, I couldn't help myself. Started moving to the beat, adding some improvised bars that definitely weren't appropriate for the all-ages crowd but got the girls in the corner absolutely losing their minds.
"LYRIC!" one of them screamed, and I shot them a grin that I'd definitely inherited from my father.
"Are we playing basketball or are you putting on a concert?" Pops asked, but he was trying not to laugh.
"Why not both?" I shot back, still bouncing to the beat. "Gotta give the people what they want, right?"
What followed was twenty minutes of the most competitive father-son basketball you've ever seen. Pops might have been approaching sixty, but he still had those quick hands and that court vision that had made him dangerous in charity games for years. I had height and youth on my side, but he had experience and the kind of trash talk that reminded me where I'd learned it from.
"That's a foul!" I called when he got a little too physical defending.
"That's just good defense!" he shot back. "You're just soft!"
The crowd was eating it up, cheering every basket and laughing at our banter. By the end, we were both dripping sweat and breathing hard, but grinning like idiots.
"Water break?" Pops suggested, and we headed to the sideline where they'd set up chairs and towels.
"Not bad for an old guy," I conceded, accepting a bottle of water.
"Not bad for a string bean," he replied.
We sat there for a few minutes, catching our breath and sharing the vegan lunch they'd brought over - some kind of quinoa bowl that actually tasted decent. The crowd had dispersed a bit, giving us a moment of relative privacy.
"I've been thinking about getting some tattoos," I said casually, watching his reaction.
Pops raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What kind of tattoos?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe something racing-related? Or family stuff?" I shrugged. "Just feels like it's time, you know?"
He looked thoughtful, tracing one of his own tattoos absently. "It's a big decision. They're permanent, obviously."
"Obviously."
"What does Laura think?"
"She said as long as I don't get her name tattooed anywhere, she doesn't care what I do."
That got a laugh. "Smart girl. Never get someone's name unless you're married to them."
"Even then?"
"Even then. Your mama's the exception to every rule."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You're such a sap."
"Says the kid who posts love poems on Instagram."
Touché.
"So you'd be okay with it? Me getting tattoos?"
"Son, you're twenty-one years old. You don't need my permission to get tattoos." He paused. "But if you want my advice, think about what they mean to you. Don't just get something because it looks cool. Get something that tells your story."
"Like yours do?"
"Like mine do."
Looking at him - sweat-soaked and relaxed, surrounded by the controlled chaos of race weekend but taking time to just be my dad - I felt that familiar surge of gratitude for how normal he'd managed to keep our family despite everything.
"Thanks, Pops."
"For what?"
"For being you. For this." I gestured around us. "For teaching me how to trash talk properly."
"That last one was all natural talent," he grinned. "But you're welcome."
______________________________________________
The Miami Grand Prix was one of those races that reminded you why you fell in love with motorsport in the first place. Larke controlled it from start to finish, managing her tires perfectly and making strategic decisions that had the commentary team comparing her to drivers twice her age.
I was in the garage, monitoring telemetry and radio communications, but I kept finding myself just watching her drive. There was something almost artistic about the way she took certain corners, the way she could find grip where other drivers couldn't, the way she seemed to understand exactly what the car needed at any given moment.
"She's in a class of her own today," Jamie said, shaking his head as he watched her lap times.
"Yeah, she is."
With ten laps to go, she had a fifteen-second lead over second place. Barring mechanical failure or an act of God, the race was hers.
"How are we looking, Lyric?" came her voice over the radio.
"You're absolutely flying. Fifteen seconds clear, tires are good, just bring it home."
"Copy. This one's for everyone who waited in line today."
Of course it was. Larke had this way of making everything personal, of connecting her racing to the bigger picture of what she represented. It was part of what made her special as a driver and as a person.
When she crossed the finish line, the garage erupted. I was screaming into my headset, probably loud enough to damage someone's hearing, but I didn't care. This was my little sister, winning races and making history and being absolutely brilliant at it.
"LARKE HAMILTON WINS THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX!" I shouted.
"YES! YES! YES! Thank you everyone, thank you to all the fans, this is incredible!" came her reply, pure joy and adrenaline in her voice.
Later, watching her on the podium with champagne in her hair and the biggest smile I'd ever seen, I felt that familiar surge of pride and protectiveness. She was eighteen years old and already changing the world, one race at a time.
After the ceremonies, when the media obligations were done and the garage was finally quiet, our family gathered for our traditional post-win dinner. Nothing fancy, just good food and wine and the kind of conversation that reminded you what was really important.
"Four wins in five races," Pops said, raising his glass. "At this rate, you'll clinch the championship before summer break."
"Don't jinx it," Larke laughed, but she looked confident in a way that suggested she might actually believe it was possible.
"To Larke," Mama said. "For driving like a champion and inspiring a generation."
"To family," Larke corrected. "For always believing in me, even when I don't believe in myself."
Yeah, we were pretty lucky.
______________________________________________
The Met Gala was one of those surreal experiences that reminded you how weird your life had become. One day you're covered in motor oil in a McLaren garage, the next you're walking up the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in a custom Tom Ford tuxedo while photographers scream your name.
The theme was "Future Histories," which was perfect for our family - Pops in a vintage Virgil Abloh piece that somehow managed to be both classic and futuristic, Mama in something flowing and beautiful that made her look like a goddess, and Larke in a stunning gown that incorporated racing-inspired elements without being gimmicky.
"I can't believe this is my life," Larke whispered as we posed for photos at the bottom of the steps.
"Better get used to it," I whispered back. "You're only getting more famous."
The actual event was a mix of art, fashion, and networking that felt like the most expensive party in the world. I spent most of the evening talking to other young people who'd grown up in various spotlights - actors' kids, musicians' children, athletes' families - and was reminded that privilege came in many forms but always with its own unique set of complications.
Laura looked incredible in a dress she'd designed herself, something architectural and flowing that perfectly captured her aesthetic. She was in her element talking to artists and designers, and watching her hold her own in conversations with people who'd probably never heard of her was incredibly attractive.
"You clean up nice," I told her during a rare quiet moment.
"You're not so bad yourself. Though I preferred you in the garage clothes."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You're sexier when you're doing something you're passionate about."
Note to self: wear more McLaren gear around Laura.
The evening ended with our family at the after-party, Larke holding court with a group of young activists and artists who were fascinated by her perspective on sports and social change. She was in her element, talking about representation and inspiration and the responsibility that came with platform.
"She's going to be President someday," Laura observed, watching my sister charm a table full of influential people twice her age.
"Probably. Though I think she prefers racing cars to politics."
"Give her time. She's only eighteen."
True. Who knew what Larke would accomplish once she was done conquering Formula 1.
The Good Morning America studios in Times Square buzzed with the kind of energy that only came with live television. I'd been doing interviews since I was karting as a kid, but this felt different - more formal, more important somehow.
"Five minutes, Lyric," the producer called out, adjusting my mic one final time.
The host today was Janai Norman, who'd taken over the morning show after Robin Roberts finally retired about ten years or so back. She had that perfect morning TV energy - warm but professional, the kind of person who could make anyone feel comfortable on camera.
"So we're talking about the Netflix documentary, your role as Larke's engineer, and growing up Hamilton?" she confirmed, settling into her chair across from me.
"That's the plan. Though knowing me, I'll probably go off on some random tangent about why pineapple belongs on pizza or something."
She laughed. "Please don't. We only have ten minutes."
Fair point.
"So tell us about Life in the Fast Lane," Janai said. "What can viewers expect?"
"It's really about the next generation in Formula 1," I explained. "Kids who grew up in this world, whether their parents were drivers or team principals or engineers. The pressure, the privilege, the way it shapes your perspective on life and career choices."
"Your sister's having an incredible season. As her engineer, what's it like watching her make history?"
"It's surreal," I said honestly. "Like, I remember when she was this tiny kid following me around the garage, asking a million questions about everything. Now she's out there breaking records and inspiring a whole generation of young girls. As her brother, I'm proud as hell. As her engineer, I'm just trying to give her the best car possible so she can keep doing what she does."
"And what she does is pretty spectacular."
"Yeah, it really is."
After the interview, Laura and I met up outside the studio. She looked gorgeous in that effortless way she had - jeans, a blazer, and boots that somehow made her look like she belonged in New York more than anyone else.
"How'd it go?" she asked, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the street.
"Good, I think. Didn't say anything stupid or controversial."
"That's always the goal."
We'd made it maybe half a block when I noticed the crowd forming behind us. Phones were out, people were calling my name, and that familiar surge of adrenaline that came with unexpected attention kicked in.
"LYRIC! Can we get a picture?"
"Oh my god, you're so much taller in person!"
"Is that your girlfriend? She's gorgeous!"
"Laura, right? We love you!"
Here we go.
I grabbed Laura's hand and picked up the pace, smiling and waving but not stopping. This was the balance I'd learned over the years - be gracious but keep moving, acknowledge the fans but don't get trapped.
"Sorry," I called back to the growing crowd. "Late for dinner!"
Which was actually true. We were meeting friends at Carbone in an hour, and knowing that place, being late meant losing your table.
"Is it always like this now?" Laura asked as we finally escaped into a cab.
"Sometimes worse," I admitted. "But also sometimes I can go weeks without anyone recognizing me. It's weird how random it is."
"I don't know how you handle it."
"Practice. And good running shoes."
Carbone was exactly as chaotic and perfect as always. The kind of place where you had to know someone who knew someone to get a table, but the food was worth the hassle. Our group was already there when we arrived - my best friend Marcus, Sophie who worked in fashion, James from my brief stint at NYU, and Elena who was some kind of tech genius and always had the best stories.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Marcus grinned as we slid into the booth. "How was morning television?"
"Exhausting. They make you get up at like five AM for a ten-minute segment."
"The sacrifices you make for fame," Sophie teased. "So tragic."
"I know, right? My life is so hard."
Laura had met this group a couple times when she'd visited New York, but she still seemed a little quiet. I could tell she was trying to figure out the dynamic, which made sense - they were my friends from before her, from the brief period when I'd tried to be a normal college student.
"Laura, tell us about Stockholm," Elena said, clearly sensing the same thing I had. "Are you surviving Swedish winter?"
"Barely," Laura laughed, and I could see her relax a little. "Though my apartment has incredible heating, so I'm mostly just complaining for dramatic effect."
"Very Scandinavian of you," James said. "I spent a semester in Copenhagen and I'm pretty sure I didn't see the sun for three months."
"That's because you never left the library," Marcus pointed out.
"Fair point."
The conversation flowed easily after that - work, travel, relationships, the kind of normal twenty-something stuff that felt precious because of how rare it was in my usual world. Laura fit in perfectly once she relaxed, charming everyone with stories about her art installation and the weird Swedish cultural quirks she was still getting used to.
"So Lyric," Sophie said as we were finishing our pasta, "are you going to tell us about this documentary or do we have to wait for Netflix like peasants?"
"It's actually really cool," I said, trying not to sound like I was doing PR. "They followed a bunch of us around - kids of drivers, team principals, engineers, all sorts of F1 family members. The whole thing about what it's like growing up in this world."
"And you're the star, obviously," Elena grinned.
"Obviously. Though Larke steals every scene she's in, so really I'm just the comic relief."
"That tracks," Marcus said. "Remember freshman year when you tried to explain tire compounds to that girl at the party?"
"Hey, she asked!"
"She asked what you did for fun, not for a physics lecture."
Rude but accurate.
"In my defense," I said, "tire compounds are fascinating when you really think about it."
"This is why I love you," Laura said, kissing my cheek. "Your complete inability to be normal."
"I can be normal!"
"Name one normal thing about your life."
I considered this seriously. "I... put my pants on one leg at a time?"
"Your pants are custom-made by a designer who charges more per garment than most people make in a month."
Damn, she had me there.
"Fine, I'm abnormal. But I'm abnormally charming, so it works out."
As the night wound down and we were getting ready to leave, Marcus pulled me aside.
"She's good for you, man. Laura. Like, really good."
"Yeah, I know."
"Do you though? Because you get this look when you talk about her. Like... settled. In a good way."
Settled. I'd never thought about it like that, but Marcus wasn't wrong. Being with Laura felt like finding something I hadn't realized I was looking for.
"Thanks, man. That means a lot."
"Just don't fuck it up by being an idiot."
"I'll do my best."
lyrichamilton posted on his stories 5 hours ago!
Austin was hands down my favorite race weekend of the year, and not just because the racing was always incredible. There was something about Texas that spoke to my soul - maybe because I'd grown up between California, Colorado, and Monaco, but had always been drawn to that whole cowboy aesthetic.
"Finally," I said, pulling my white Stetson out of my suitcase. "Been waiting all season to break this bad boy out."
"You're such a stereotype," Larke laughed from her bed, where she was scrolling through race data on her tablet. "California boy playing dress-up."
"Hey, I spent half my childhood in Colorado. That counts for something."
"Colorado isn't Texas."
"Cowboys are cowboys, sis."
We were driving to the circuit listening to Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter album - a vintage classic from like twenty years ago but still perfect for Austin vibes. When "Texas Hold 'Em" came on, both of us started singing along at full volume.
"This ain't Texas, ain't no hold 'em, so lay your cards down, down, down," we belted out, completely off-key but not caring at all.
"You know that song is literally about how this isn't Texas, right?" Larke pointed out between verses.
"Details," I waved her off. "It's got cowboy energy, that's all that matters."
The paddock was buzzing with pre-race energy, and I could already see the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders setting up for their traditional pre-race performance. That was another Austin tradition I never got tired of - something about the intersection of American sports culture and Formula 1 that just worked.
"You're not seriously going to do the bull riding thing again, are you?" Larke asked as we parked.
"Of course I am! It's tradition!"
"You nearly got thrown off last year."
"Nearly being the operative word. I stayed on."
"For like three seconds."
"Three seconds longer than most people manage on their first try."
True story. The mechanical bull they set up at Austin was no joke, but I'd been practicing. Well, sort of. I'd watched a lot of YouTube videos, which basically made me an expert.
The bull-riding station was set up near the main fan zone, complete with a proper Western-style arena and announcers who took the whole thing way too seriously. I'd signed up earlier in the week, partly because it was fun and partly because the fans loved it when the teams did the local culture stuff.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, "we've got Lyric Hamilton from the McLaren team ready to take on Tornado Tom!"
Tornado Tom. They'd named the mechanical bull. Of course they had.
I adjusted my Stetson, made sure my boots were secure, and climbed onto the bull. The crowd was cheering, phones were out recording everything, and I could see Larke shaking her head in the background while trying not to laugh.
"Eight seconds is the goal!" the operator called out. "You ready?"
"Born ready!"
Famous last words.
The first few seconds were actually manageable - a gentle rocking motion that made me think maybe I'd gotten better at this. Then Tornado Tom decided to remind me who was boss.
What followed was the most undignified thirty seconds of my life. The bull bucked, spun, and generally tried to launch me into orbit while I held on for dear life. The crowd was going absolutely wild, and I could hear my name being chanted from multiple directions.
I lasted exactly six seconds before Tornado Tom finally won and sent me flying onto the padded mats. But I landed on my feet, arms up like I'd just stuck a gymnastics routine, which got an even bigger cheer from the crowd.
"Six seconds!" the announcer proclaimed. "Not bad for a racing engineer!"
"I demand a rematch!" I called out, earning laughs from everyone watching.
"Maybe next year, cowboy!"
As I walked back toward the McLaren hospitality area, tipping my hat to fans along the way, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline that came from doing something ridiculous in front of a crowd. This was what I loved about Austin - the permission to lean into the showmanship, to be a little extra.
_______________________________________________
The race had been a disaster for Larke - a DNF on lap forty-three when her engine let go in spectacular fashion. Mechanical failures were part of racing, but they always stung, especially when you were leading the championship and every point mattered.
I found her in her driver's room afterward, still in her race suit, staring at her phone with that blank expression she got when she was trying not to show how upset she was.
"Engine failure sucks," I said, settling into the chair across from her. "But that's racing. We'll bounce back next week."
"Yeah," she said quietly, not looking up from her phone.
"Want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to go through what happened, figure out if there were any warning signs we missed."
"It's not about the race, Ly."
Oh. That explained why she seemed more upset than a DNF usually warranted. Larke was competitive as hell, but she was also practical about the realities of motorsport. This was something else.
"Want to talk about whatever it actually is?"
She was quiet for a long moment, scrolling through what looked like news articles on her phone. Then: "Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's life?"
That was not what I'd been expecting.
"Sometimes," I said carefully. "What do you mean?"
"Like... everyone expects me to be this confident, fearless racing driver who never doubts herself. And most of the time, I am that person. But sometimes I just want to be eighteen and not have the weight of representing all women in motorsport on my shoulders."
Ah. There it was.
The pressure that we all carried but rarely talked about - the expectation to be perfect, to never show weakness, to always be on.
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is." She finally looked up from her phone. "And then I feel guilty for complaining because I have this incredible life and opportunities that most people can only dream of."
"You're allowed to feel overwhelmed, Larke. You're eighteen years old carrying pressure that would break most adults."
"I know that logically. But..." She trailed off, then suddenly laughed. "God, I sound like such a privileged brat."
"You sound like someone who's human. Which, despite what the internet thinks, you still are."
That got a small smile. "Barely, some days. And....Abel and I are... struggling."
"The long distance?" I asked.
"Everything. The distance, his training schedule, my race calendar. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it's like we're strangers." My voice cracked slightly on the last word.
"That sucks. Have you talked to him about it?"
"How can I? He's dealing with his injury and getting back to match fitness. The last thing he needs is me complaining about our relationship."
"Larke..." I said, gently. "Relationships are supposed to be a safe space to talk about this stuff. If you can't be honest with Abel about how you're feeling, then what's the point?"
She let out an exhale. "What if talking about it makes it worse? What if he realizes that dating someone who travels nine months out of the year isn't worth it?"
"Then at least you'll know. But hiding how you feel isn't going to fix anything."
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the chaos of the paddock muffled by the walls of her driver's room. Outside, I could hear the post-race interviews happening, the usual analysis and speculation that followed every Grand Prix.
"You know what we need?" I said suddenly.
"What?"
"A Disney movie marathon. When's the last time we just sat around and watched Frozen seventeen times in a row?"
She laughed, the first genuine laugh I'd heard from her all day. "We're not children anymore, Ly."
"Speak for yourself. I maintain that Frozen is a cinematic masterpiece with universal appeal."
"You cried during 'Let It Go' last time we watched it."
"It's an emotional song! Elsa's embracing her true self despite societal pressure to conform! It's basically a metaphor for your entire career!"
"Oh my God, you're right," she said, laughing harder now. "I'm Elsa and motorsport is my ice powers."
"Exactly. And I'm obviously Anna because I'm loyal and charming and have excellent hair."
"You're Anna because you're goofy and talk too much."
"Hey!"
"But also loyal and charming," she added. "Fine. Disney marathon tonight?"
"Disney marathon tonight. But we're watching it at the hotel because if the McLaren social media team finds out we're having feelings, they'll want to film it for content."
"Deal. But I get to pick the movies."
"As long as one of them is Frozen."
"Obviously."
Later that night, we were sprawled across the oversized hotel room couch with room service snacks and a carefully curated Disney playlist. Larke had changed into sweatpants and one of my old hoodies, looking more like a regular teenager than a Formula 1 driver for the first time all weekend.
"You know," she said during the opening credits of Moana, "this is exactly what I needed."
"Disney movies?"
"This. Just being normal for a few hours. Not having to think about championship points or media obligations or what my success means for the future of women in motorsport."
"You can take breaks from being a symbol, you know. You're allowed to just be Larke sometimes."
"I'm working on it," she said. "It's just hard when everyone's watching all the time."
"Well, I'm always watching too," I said. "But not as your engineer or as Lewis Hamilton's son. Just as your annoying big brother who thinks you're pretty cool."
"Just pretty cool?"
"Fine, extremely cool. But don't let it go to your head."
"Too late," she grinned, settling back into the couch cushions.
As the familiar opening notes of "How Far I'll Go" filled the room, I thought about what Laura had said earlier about life in the fast lane. Yeah, we lived at a different speed than most people, with more pressure and scrutiny and opportunity than any twenty-somethings probably deserved.
But moments like this - just me and my sister, eating overpriced hotel room service and singing along to Disney songs - reminded me that underneath all the chaos, we were still just family. Still the Hamilton kids who'd grown up watching animated movies and dreaming about the future.
"Thanks, Ly," Larke said softly as Moana set sail for the first time.
"For what?"
"For reminding me that it's okay to not be perfect all the time."
"Always, sis. That's what annoying big brothers are for."
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#emjayewrites#private landing#lewis hamilton#sir lewis hamilton x black!reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#emjayewrites masterlist#lewis and rorie hamilton#private landing one shot#lewis hamilton fanfic#sir lewis hamilton
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Just some observations on Astarion learning to see that he is loved
I just saw a clip of Astarion's response to his partner cheating on him with Mizora and it got me thinking. While his entire reaction is very telling and meaningful in its entirety, one line stood out to me:
"I really thought there was more to you. That you were better than other people"
This was striking because it immediately reminded me of something else he says, in the scene after his siblings attempt to capture and return him to Cazador:
"You're the only one. Other people don't have a heart like you. You're you. No one is like that."
These lines feel a little odd at first, because Astarion isn't known for putting the PC on a pedestal. I don't think that's exactly what he's doing here. I think these lines are just capturing the inner chaos and contradiction that naturally come with the gradual unraveling of a long-held worldview. At this point, Astarion is able to process that one person cares for and accepts him, but only one. They must be an outlier: an exception to the rule. Surely they're something special.
Obviously this isn't true, though, and the next step is for him to learn that the PC isn't actually unique in their ability to accept and care for him him. In fact, Astarion is already loved by others and just doesn't see it. This line of his is beautifully contrasted by Karlach's reaction to Astarion's near-abduction. She is righteously angry and protective because she loves Astarion too.
"I dare Cazador to sent more lackeys our way. This is our territory. I'll crack anyone who tries to come into my house and hurt my people."
Earlier in the story, we get a similar moment during the confession scene, showing again how Astarion isn't always able to see the truth of what others feel for him.
When he says this, he sounds surprised. Like the idea of a friend is a revelation. This kind of broke my heart when I first heard it, because I thought it was obvious to him that he already had friends, in both the other companions and my character. But I think a part of him genuinely was stuck in that old thought pattern of assuming that anyone who showed interest in him just wanted to use him. This also makes it clear just how divorced sex is from affection in his mind and experience. Though they've slept together at least several times and grown more emotionally intimate too, Astarion still needs confirmation that the PC actually cares for him.
I made a post once about the two triggers for Astarion's confession here, which further reveal his mindset: going out of your way and into danger to get his scars translated, or choosing not to force him into complying with Araj's dehumanizing demands. Both of these things are concrete demonstrations of respect and care for him and what he wants. Astarion knows very well how empty words can be, so actions are what finally help him believe that the PC cares about him, and gives him the impetus to confess.
Later, If you break up with Astarion, his reaction is extremely telling in that he regresses slightly from this healthier mindset he had developed:
"I can hardly blame you. I don't exactly have much to offer right now, beyond new burdens to carry."
Typically, we witness any traces of Astarion's self-deprecation filtered through irony or dark humor, so his vulnerability in this moment is stark.
He claims that he has very little to offer, but that just isn't true. He may be going through a bit of a crisis, but he is still a shockingly good partner given the circumstances. He is unwaveringly supportive, caring, and clearly tries to lighten his partner's emotional load when they begin to feel the strain of responsibility. Not to mention, just being himself still makes him perfectly worthy of being loved. In any relationship, there will be times when one person needs more support than they themself can give, and that doesn't mean that they aren't enough. We're seeing, yet again, that he sometimes just doesnât recognize how deeply he is valued by others. At this point, maybe a part of him still feels like he needs to be of service in order to be accepted, let alone loved. I also personally interpret this line as partially concerning his insecurity around not "providing" his partner with sex at this time, reiterating this deeply internalized belief that he needs to perform in order to be valued.
All of these little moments add so much subtly and humanity to his character, and make his development feel natural and earned. The payoff is clear after Cazador's death, when we get to see his new confidence:
He doesn't have to ask "really?" this time.
"You believed in me - believed I was enough just the way I am."
He truly knows now that he is loved.
#sorry for the bad screenshots lol and the chaotic formatting#loathed every second of getting the ones of his reaction to cheating / breaking up#astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 spoilers#baldurs gate 3#bg3
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tee hee đ« *shoots @intotheelliwoods in the chest* happy 2 Arms Left aniversary<3
#we love One's character development in this house#rottmnt#rottmnt fanart#rottmnt separated au#separated leo au#2 arms left#2al#slau crossover#dg art#dg fanart#dg animated
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finished reading no home. I don't think I'll ever be the same person every again.
#this goes to the list of series that changed my life /srs#there aren't many things on that list but this one deserves to be in top 5#i can't even begin to rant about everything. it was so so good#the characters. their backstories. their development.#i could talk about them for HOURS.#the way that house went from âjust a place to eat and sleepâ to an actual home for both eunyung and haejoon#how they both made each other better. worked through their bad habits and started mirroring the good ones.#how both of them want to live now. for themselves.#im getting rlly fucking emotional rn#and the side characters are so good too#hara my love... u deserved more panel appearance#also juwan is the friend we all deserve to have. sure hes a bit too much sometimes but humans are like that. we have flaws and imperfection#thats what makes us humans#im goignt o throw up from everything im feelign rn tf#i miss them already i finished reading like 10 mins ago#the way haejoon accepted the grief of losing his mom instead of running from it.. god#also the arc where eunyung confronts his parents stressed me out the most. man I HATE HIS PARENTS.#âIs this the right thing to do?â oh baby. that panel broke me#im so glad haejoon was there with him#the way the author draws sad faces is not for the weak. i sobbed every time i saw them sad#specially baby eunyung who was begging his dad to stop hitting him#JUST THINKING ABOUT IT MAKES ME UPSET AND ANGRY. LET ME HAVE A GO AT THAT BITCH I'LL GUT HIM#also every time haejoon remembered his mom and got sad :(( beloved#oh god im going on and on in the tags#how have i not hit the limit yet#no home#no home manhwa
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Finally done with teen wolf rewatch. Phew
#took me like 3 months#thought I was gonna watch a few eisodes I like because I was feeling nostalgic one evening now I finished the whole thing lol#not the movie tho I don't vibe with it#one of a few things I noticed is that scott smiles fondly at stiles' remarks a lot :')#anyway thinking about how each character change along the way#lydia is like a completely different character from the first seasons#since I'm biased I love the dynamic change with scott and stiles#like they kinda swapped roles a bit but still remain themselves??#scott develops from an awkward teen only caring about living normal life when he has more people to protect and learning to become a leader#he's almost unrecognizable from the first ep too#for stiles. he has character development of course but I think he himself hasn't changed much#even if he said they're not kids running in the woods anymore#he's still the mischievous sarcastic lil guy we know showing up at scott's house. running around looking for trouble & helping people#he always has that dark & anxious side#it's us that know more and more about different sides of him as the story goes on#from the start it's just the two of them against the world. now they're holding hands with their friends facing the world#anyway this show did get a little weird and inconsistent which is not surprising consider how long it went#the scripts also revolve around actor/actress availability also#so many characters with interesting dynamic what wasn't given time to explore#free real estate for us fans
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hey! i really love your fics and i have a special request 4 my 19th birthday ( aug 16 ) . can you do inexperienced yuuta x inexperienced reader or frat boy/play boy yuuta x shy nerdy reader? I really luv u and it would mean alot 2 me if you did this,feel free to say no or ignore this if you want! no pressure!
OH MY GOODNESSS i could never ignore this! i can ABSOLUTELY cook this one up for you and i hope i met your expectations!! i wanted to release this right on your birthday, so here is my gift to you! <3 ILY youâre so sweet thank you for sending in a request!
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
finally.

{frat boy/playboy yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}
summary: yuta okkotsu is a typical popular frat boy player whoâs never been told no, but at one of his regular parties where he spots your pretty little self in the kitchen, and you turn him down? his entire existence resets as he then cannot stop thinking about you and tries his absolute hardest to change the impression you have on him.
warnings: college au, afab!reader, fluufff, mentions of alcohol and drinking, yuta LOVES you, heâs a little weenie at first, character development yuta, no smut in this one!, cursing, party fight, protective yuta, yuta fights someone lol, slight sexual themes but really nothing.
word count: 5k
authors note: OH HOW I LOVE THIS ONEEE!! i hope iâm feeding you guys well this week with these fics hehe!! IM WRITING A FREAKY ONE FOR THIS NEXT SO STAY TUNED!! love you love you <3
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yuta okkotsu was the biggest player and frat boy to ever plague your college campusâ having parties literally every other night and trashing the absolute fuck out of his frat house after every single one, living in the privileges of popularity as he was without a doubt the hottest man there.
he absolutely relished in his reputation, loved the attention, loved the stares he got, and had a body count that absolutely shot through the roof in numbers.
and yuta was quite literally a typical frat boy. he was loud and obnoxious, the most stubborn hot headed man to ever exist on the face of the planet, passed the time playing beer pong for fun and drinking, and had girls practically at his feet, him never having to work for anything to get in his bed and fuck.
until he met you.
you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.
yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.
âhey,â he sipped at his beer. âwhatâs your name?â
you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player youâve ever heard of was talking to you.
ây-y/nâŠâ you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.
âpretty name for a pretty girl,â he hummed. âyouâve never come to my parties before, have you?â
you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.
âwelcome then!â he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. âyou here by yourself?â
âno iâm with a friend, actually.â you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.
yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. âdid you lose them?â
âiâ i guess soââ
âyou can stick with me then.â he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. âyou wanna head upstairs? maybe we canââ
âno thank you.â
he paused.
no?
âno?â
he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.
you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. âiâm sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasnât too much trouble!â
he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.
yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.
except he couldnât. he couldnât shake it off.
his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.
he didnât know why it was happening. he didnât know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.
yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.
you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.
yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.
âa girl like her isnât gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.â one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yutaâs moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.
âand why not.â he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.
âbecause sheâs nothing like us.â he emphasized. âsheâs a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.â
his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. âjust go back to the ones you usually go for. theyâre easy.â
yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldnât deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yoursâ paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.
but you never did.
in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldnât find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.
he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldnât, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on themâ stopping all together in the end.
it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.
these everyday parties were pointless.
he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.
there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.
his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.
âhey y/n,â he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. âhow are you doing?â
your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. âhi yuta! iâm doing okay. how are you?â
he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.
âiâm good! do youâ do you want a drink? or something? i couldââ
âoh itâs okay yuta! iâm fine,â you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.
yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.
the fridge.
âdo you umââ he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. âdo you want maybe apple juice? orâ or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day butââ
you giggled.
his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.
yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.
âsunny d would be great!â
he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. âoâokay! yes sunny dââ
he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny dâs in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.
âhere you go.â
your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yutaâs chest clench.
precious.
he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.
âi wanted to apologizeââ he strained out. âfor the way i spoke to you when we first met.â
you stared at him.
âit was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i justââ he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. âiâm really sorry.â
you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shockâ until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.
âyou donât have to apologize yuta honestly.â your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. âi donât think any less of you if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
âyou donât?â
you shook your head cutely, beaming. âi donât.â
he felt like he could breathe again.
your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.
it would be a lie if you said you werenât hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you wereâ you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didnât show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.
he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to sayâ and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.
âand whatâs this one called?â he asked softly.
you glanced over. âthatâs the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.â
âonly for two to three days?!â he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.
and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.
he wanted to hear it from you.
âand this one?â
he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.
âthatâs the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!â
your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.
âoo! and this oneââ you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.
yutaâs eyebrows furrowed. âwhat? whyâd you stop?â he looked to where you had been staring. âwhat about this one?â
âsorry!â you sputtered. âi felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too muchâŠâ
you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.
âno you werenât. you werenât at all.â
you peered up at him shyly.
âyou can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.â he ruffled your hair. âi like listening to you.â
your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.
âso whatâs this one?â he pressed again, lightly.
the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.
âthose are pansies,â you leaned over the railing. âi like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.â
âlike a little buddy,â yuta commented.
you laughed softly, âyeah! like a little buddy.â
he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.
âthatâs you and me.â
âis it?â you grinned. âwhoâs who?â
âyouâre the white one and iâm the purple one,â yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertipsâ and you let him. âbecause youâre pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and iâm a douchebag and sometimes iâm a mean and scary old fart.â
you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. ânuh uh. i donât agree.â
âyou donât?â he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.
you shook your head again. âyouâre genuine yuta. really genuine. and youâre funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!⊠sometimes.â
yuta laughed, âsometimes?â he softly placed your hands back at your sides. âyeah, youâre not wrong.â
âbut you make me happy, always.â you finished off.
his eyes lit up like a firework. âreally? so does this mean youâll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?â
you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. ânuh uh.â
âaww mannn,â yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.
your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yutaâs eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.
thatâs where he started calling you flower.
âthatâs okay!â he leaned back up. âiâll keep trying.â
and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.
everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.
but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.
his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he wouldâve dumped you months ago already.
and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasnât managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymoreâ and even when they did run, yuta wasnât ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.
âyou have to cut it out man,â one of them said. âthis frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girlââ he stopped. âwho the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla butââ
âwho she is is none of your fucking business?â yuta snapped. âand just because iâm not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesnât mean this frat is turning into a âshit hole.ââ
some of the boys snickered.
âyou wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?â
ânoââ
âthen be my fucking guest.â
âokay fine, iâm sorry man.â he sighed. âwe havenât had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.â
yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.
he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.
so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.
âi knowâ i know parties arenât really your thingâŠâ he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. âbut iâd feel a lot better if you were there⊠and you wonât be alone! youâll be with me the whole time soââ
yuta sighed. ââŠi have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and theyâre pissed at me.â
you gasped softly, âthey are?â
âyeah but i donât give a fuck.â
you both giggled.
âbut i do want to make them somewhat happy so thatâs why i gotta throw this party⊠can you come? itâs okay if not flower donât worryââ
âof course i can go yuta!â you spoke cutely over the speaker. âas long as you give me a sunny d iâll be okay.â
he laughed.
âi feel likeâŠâ you struggled. âthem being mad and whatâs happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta⊠iâm sorry.â
your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.
âwhat?â his eyes narrowed. âno flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?â
âbecause i keep asking you to hang out with me,â you spoke softly. âand i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.â
yuta chuckled and shook his head. âi would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.â he sat up on his bed. âi love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever thatâs happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.â
you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. âokay.â
so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.
yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.
everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).
yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you werenât the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.
the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.
all was bliss, until it wasnât.
âis this her? the girl youâre always talking to?â one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.
yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, âyeah.â
he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. âthis is y/n.â
âhâhi.â
âi see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!â he slurred. âsheâs fucking hot. never seen tits look so goodââ
your breath hitched.
âthe fuck you just say?â yuta tugged you behind him. âthe hell is wrong with you man? donât talk about her like that.â
you noticed several eyes looking over.
âwhat!â he hiccuped dumbly. âthey do! why are you getting pissedââ
âi donât give a shit!â yuta snapped. âdonât talk about her like that!â
he scoffed, swaying a little. âwhat, like you actually care about her anywaysââ
âare you fucking serious?â yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.
âno yuta, heâs drunk itâs okayââ
âsheâs just another one for your body count, once you fuck her youâre gonna leaveââ
yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.
âyuta please!â you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.
yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.
he was furious.
finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.
âthatâs enough thatâs enough!â
âguys stop!â
quickly, you grabbed yutaâs hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.
âyouâre out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!â yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. âyouâre out!â
your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.
once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.
ââfuck im sorry iâm sorry im so sorryââ yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, âi just fucked everything up between us iââ
yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldnât keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didnât deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.
his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.
âiâm so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,â he emphasized. âand iâm so sorry i beat him when you told me not to iâ i just couldnât stand there when he was talking to you like that manââ
he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.
âyuta itâs okayââ
âno,â he shook his head and looked at you. âno itâs not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesnât let me.â
his eyes got so sad, saying words he didnât want to say, but knew he had to. âyou shouldnât be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldnât. fuckâ i donât want you around a guy like me. youâre too precious for that. iâm gonna end up screwing you over like i always doââ
âyuta stop.â you raised your voice a little, your tone one heâd never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.
he shut right up.
âcome sit down with me on the curb,â you pulled his arm. âplease.â
he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.
he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.
âyou donât get to decide what i deserve yuta.â
his eyes shot in your direction âbut as a friend iâm telling youââ
you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.
you kissed him.
yutaâs eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he couldâve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.
him.
you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. âa guy whoâs willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.â
you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. âso what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i donât care. iâd lose but iâd do it,â you giggled. âi didnât like the fight because i donât want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i donât have anything to worry about.â
he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. âno flower thatâs the thing youâre too sweet to me, i donât want you justifyingââ
âyuta be quiet!â you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. âyou talk too much.â
you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something heâs wished upon every star for.
âyouâre so good to me yuta, truly you are. and iâm sorry itâs taken me so long to say this because iâm always nervous butââ you smiled endearingly. âi do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.â
yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.
his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his lifeâ you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like heâs properly healthy, in more ways than one.
âweâre going out tomorrow,â he mumbled into your hair. âbright and early. iâm gonna take you to get breakfast, and then weâre gonna go to that aquarium youâve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then iâm gonna buy you a souvenir, and then iâm gonna take you to get your nails doneââ
âyu!â you pulled back and giggled happily. âyou donât have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.â
he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.
âreally?â
âreally.â
âwell too fucking bad iâm gonna do it anyways.â
he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.
you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yutaâs heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.
he finally had you.
finally.
and he was never letting you go.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#yuta okkotsu x reader#jjk yuta#yuta okkotsu#yuta x reader#jujutsu yuta#gojo satoru#jjk fanfic#jjk x you#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk fluff#nanami kento#choso kamo#jjk yuuta#nanami kento x reader#choso x reader#okkotsu yuuta#toji fushiguro#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#gojo#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#jjk nanami#jjk geto#jjk suguru
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Danny: I need help. I need to get my brother a date.
Tim: Why? You're planning something aren't you?
Danny: Yes, and I need him not to tell Jazz on me so...are any of your siblings single?
Tim: Why my family? Can't you find a random person on tender?
Danny: Absolutely not, my brother is borderline insane. I need someone who could contain that sort of insanity or strong enough to do damage to him.
Tim: Fuck that! I like my family.
Danny: You do?
Tim: YES!
Danny: Please Timbers!
Tim: Fine...what are his interest?
Danny: Ironically he isn't into space like me.
Tim: How is that ironic?
Danny: I'll explain one day. He's really into weird stuff. Occult collectibles, black and white films, vinyl records, really old music, even wine making. His hobbies do not match his looks and I think they make him look like a vampire born in the 50s.
Tim: *sigh* I think I know someone who he might like. And I hope it doesn't work out.
***Two days later***
Jason: So have you read The Silmarillion?
Dan: "Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that came down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures. And of these histories most fair still in the ears of the Elves is the tale of Beren and LĂșthien"
Jason: Nice.
Dan: What do you think of the first adaptation of Frankenstein in film?
Jason: I hated it. It ruined the intellectual and yet spiteful character of Adam into just a stupid beast. Robbing the entire story of its themes.
Dan: Amazing. We could discuss Ulysses and The House of Leaves at my house over some wine. Perhaps I could show you my record collection if you'd like.
*****
Danny: *trying to hide the atom splitter he had been trying to test* Oh, you're back early....don't tell Jazz!
Tim: Heyyyy, Jay.
(Dan developed a love for books and film after the death of his teacher in his original timeline. He matured enough to realize he had Dan's best interests at heart.)
#dc x dp#dpxdc#dc x dp prompt#dp x dc prompt#danny fenton#tim drake#deadtired#brain dead#jason x dan#jason todd#bad blood ship#dark danny#dan phantom#dani fenton
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Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam
how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)
ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.
â masterlist !
reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.
tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.
a/n: happy (late) halloween! đ i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored đ (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.
anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old palsâ the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.
the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.
maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.
and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.
you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.
that same quality may have also been your downfall.
wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.
starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.
roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?
why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.
but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.
that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.
it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.
jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.
jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.
he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.
but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.
if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.
all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.
he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scentâ always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.
it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.
tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.
it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefullyâ all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.
all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.
that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his lifeâ not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.
a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.
all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.
a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.
#đ·... yael's works#series: again & again#yandere dc#yandere dc comics#yandere batfam#yandere wally west#yandere wally west x reader#yandere starfire#yandere roy harper#yandere artemis#yandere conner kent#yandere bart allen#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere#yandere x reader#male yandere#female yandere#yandere x gn reader#yandere x male reader#yandere x female reader#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x y/n#platonic yandere#romatic yandere
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áč â MUSIC TO FUCK TO ! êê àŁȘ
(english)
âĄâ synopsis: songs that jujutsu characters would listen to while having sex with you.
âĄâ characters: nanami kento, gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, ryomen sukuna and toji fushiguro.
âĄâ warnings: raw sex (please use condoms), rough sex, breeding kink, dacryphilia, oral, fingering, male dom, praising kink, hair pulling, degradation kink, alcohol use (only mentioned), size kink, fem!reader.
Ë đČàŁȘ đĄđđĄđđ đ đđđĄđ§đą đčïž
IT IS COMMON SENSE to agree that this man exudes elegance and luxury, in addition to having refined taste â despite his life as a salaryman.
Kento likes to enjoy quality time where he can relax and rest listening to something peaceful, real music for his discerning ears. So he bought a rustic record player in a vintage store that had opened downtown. With that, he could leave the music boxes and headphones aside, enjoying the various vinyls that were on the shelf in his living room.
He loves jazz and blues.
It was a peaceful Friday night, and his apartment was quiet, with the record player playing. You just had a few glasses of wine and enjoyed some cuddling on the black leather sofa. But every time you took a sip of the expensive wine, the contents seemed to go down your throat and straight to your legs.
It seems that your favorite blonde felt the same way, and it didn't take long for the innocent late-night caresses to evolve into heated, intimate touches.
Now you were in the bedroom. Your back was on the comfortable mattress and your hands gripped the silk sheets as your boyfriend held your legs on his shoulders. He held on tight, moving his hips against you. Your clothes were scattered around the house and you were completely surrendered to the heat, feeling it hit your core perfectly.
Nanami's hoarse moans were mixed with the sensual notes of "Sometimes I'm Right" by Hubert Sumlin.
The blonde held your legs, close to the knees, at the end of your thighs, keeping you still so he could be more precise with his hips. His beautiful eyes seemed to look into your soul, intoxicated by the growing desire that made your heart race. The dim orange light from the bedside lamp shone on his athletic body, giving you a perfect view of those muscles.
ââ B-Babe... please... stop torturing me... â you asked in a plea, for him to move his hips faster.
A hoarse, sarcastic soft laugh left his lips.
ââ Oh kitten, you have to stop being so hasty... â he placed a hot, sensual kiss on your ankle. ââ You know me, you know I like to taste every little part of you...
This was an absolute truth. For him, it didn't matter if the sex was going to be slow and sensual or rough and fast. The most important thing was to be able to enjoy every last second with you in that intimate moment.
At a certain point he moved his hips a little further and then thrust in quickly, all at once. This time you cried out in pleasure.
ââ Always being a good girl, taking my cock so fucking well...
This blonde was madly in love with you.
[...]
Ë đČàŁȘ đđąđđą đŠđđ§đąđ„đš đčïž
WE CAN ALL AGREE that this man is one of the most promiscuous on Earth, right?
The strongest have a very strong sexual aura, and all women â even some men â wondered what it must be like to sleep with Satoru. That was a question you never wondered for long, as he had developed a notable interest in you.
He can make jokes all day long, he can take some situations in a more playful way and all that stuff, but when it comes to sex he is super serious. Although life seems simple for the strongest sorcerer in the world, he gets stressed about a lot of things on a daily basis, and there is no one who can help him relieve all of that as well as you can.
You've already fucked in many places, listening to the most varied artists, but in more intimate moments there is a specific artist that he likes to listen to more than the others: Two Feet.
Maybe it was because of the melodic tone, or the acidic guitar notes, or even his engaging voice, but Gojo loved listening to him.
Now you are in the bathroom, listening to "Love Is a Bitch".
Your back was against the tiled wall, and the ideal temperature hot water ran down your bodies, while your boyfriend held your thighs, getting support so he could thrust his hips slowly. You moaned against each other's parted lips, and he sucked your lower lip shamelessly. The steam from the hot water filled the room, along with your moans and the sounds of this sensual melody.
Although the sex wasn't rough this time, it was slow and deep. He could make your mind go wild by moving his hips like that.
ââ Hell yeah, babe... that feels so fucking good...
He groaned in your ear, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed.
ââ I can't get enough of you- ugh! S-Satoru... please...
Hearing this he bit the sensitive skin on your neck, making you whimper louder. He felt the soft taste of the chamomile soap that he had rubbed over your body with a soft sponge a few minutes ago.
You didn't let this go unpunished and brought a hand to the back of his neck, grabbing the wet white strands, pulling a little, making those piercing blue eyes look into your irises. A mischievous smile was plastered on his lips.
ââ You'll be the death of me someday...
The sorcerer wasn't lying every time he said you were his strongest weakness.
[...]
Ë đČàŁȘ đđđ§đą đŠđšđđšđ„đš đčïž
THIS MAN IS much more reclusive when it comes to his particularities. But you noticed that he was almost always smoking around, while wearing his headphones and having black strands of hair thrown across his face.
Maybe it was hard to tell what he liked to hear, he was so quiet. His voice was soft, he wasn't as "scandalous" as Gojo Satoru, Geto was always a guy who had his own vibe. However, he really liked listening to rock, especially alternative and indie.
You started getting closer when he saw you in the park, it was summer and you were under his favorite tree, reading a book you had gotten from the library and listening to some music on your headphones. He had no problem "sharing" his favorite space with someone else.
There was the beginning of your friendship with that beautiful boy with siren eyes. And it didn't take long for this friendship to evolve into a beautiful relationship â thanks to a little help from Satoru.
It was now a rainy afternoon in the city, not as cold as it seemed. You were lying on his bed, your panties were probably on top of some random pillow and he had his head buried between your legs. Drops of rain wet the window glass and you saw the wind ruffle the leaves of the trees, but you couldn't pay much attention while he was eating you out.
There was something very addictive about your pussy, something that not even he could say what it was, but he was on his knees for it. Literally.
"Knee Socks" by the band Arctic Monkeys was playing.
You were wearing one of Geto's shirts, which had the fabric pulled up, exposing your stomach and breasts. White socks that reached just above your knee covered your legs, which were draped over his shoulders.
ââ Uhmm... this pussy is so fucking delicious, darling â he groaned against your body, while his skillful tongue worked on you.
Suguru's soft lips also moved in sync, making you want to close your legs. You pressed your thighs against his head and you could feel him smile against your sensitive skin. Immediately those big cold ringed hands of his went to the sides of your thighs, squeezing a little and holding them open so he could rub his face there.
ââ S-Suguru! Yes, babe! Yes!
You screamed slyly, taking a hand to his soft, long black hair, squeezing and pulling a little. He really liked that and would never deny it.
ââ Like this?
He asked, in a hushed tone of voice, as you felt him slide two fingers on your wet sex and penetrate, sliding easily, curved slightly upwards to reach a spot that made you scream. He used his mouth again, but this time on your clit as the rhythmic chords of the music played, mixing with your needy moans, his muffled moans and the erotic, wet sounds.
This man is your deepest desire.
[...]
Ë đČàŁȘ đ§đąđđ đđšđŠđđđđšđ„đą đčïž
THIS HELL OF A MAN is a walking question mark. He really was a big unknown, but unfortunately â or luckily â for him, you loved solving puzzles.
Toji wasn't the most "difficult" person you had ever met, but he was certainly the most reserved. He didn't talk about the past, about life, he didn't express his feelings, he didn't share personal tastes and there was no way he would spit out the secrets he carried behind his frown. But, despite everything, that wall of muscles could talk about some things that wouldn't expose his particularities so much.
For example, you once brought up a topic about musical taste, a very vague and silly subject, but it was the starting point for you to approach him. Yes, it was much more varied and had much more culture than you expected.
It was perfectly eclectic.
He really liked listening to music when he was fucking too. You were in his room, with the neon light on, not too strong and not too weak, illuminating the room and your features in a shade of blue mixed with purple. The soft bed's sheets were a little wet due to the obscene and intimate acts being performed on top.
You were on all fours, your palms and knees serving as support so you were comfortable. It was playing "Hotel" by Montell Fish.
Toji was right behind you, with that beautiful physique exposed and illuminated by the neon light, that made everything more arousing. He thrust his hips roughly against your ass, and this caused the erotic sound of your bodies to echo throughout the room. His big, strong hands were holding your waist tightly; maybe it would leave some marks.
ââ Now that's a pussy... hmm... so fuckin' tight around my cock, am I too big for your poor little hole to handle, my angel?
He practically growled, followed by a rude laugh, in a bitter tone.
ââ I-I can handle! â you replied, in a desperate tone, lowering your head a little.
Immediately Fushiguro took one hand from your waist and reached for your hair, holding it in a sloppy way. This caused you to whimper and look at the huge mirror there.
ââ No, no. Don't look away... keep watching the way I ruin you!
You would be completely destroyed afterwards, but it would be so worth it, just like it was every time before.
[...]
Ë đČàŁȘ đđđąđŠđą đđđ đą đčïž
HAVING A SHY BOYFRIEND could be difficult for other people, but it wasn't so much for you. It's okay when you approached him you didn't have much to talk about, since he didn't do "mundane" things like everyone else did.
Curses generally didn't listen to music or watch cartoons and go to parties, as is normal to see human beings doing. He was also very inexperienced in several aspects, because despite having centuries of years, he didn't do much and didn't interact with people in general.
But he had no problem learning from you.
You introduced Choso to music little by little, first you started by showing him what you liked and then you started introducing him to what he might like. This worked out really well, as little by little he began to accept this as something natural and listened to music more frequently.
Kamo discovered that he really likes rock and metal, and is now willing to learn how to play the guitar. Maybe that's a topic for another time, the most important thing is what you were doing at that moment.
The song "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" was playing, it was originally by The Smiths, but the version that flooded the room was by Deftones. He had put together a playlist full of songs with this theme that walked a fine line between being horny or going into depression.
You were riding him in reverse cowgirl. The elastics that held Choso's hair had come loose a long time ago and now he had his black hair loose, framing his face. He was panting and begging beneath you, his hands on your hips, squeezing your ass a little, watching as you moved it up and down at a slow yet very satisfying pace.
Since he was still a bit inexperienced, he had no problem letting you be in charge most of the time. And you loved having the honor of being on top of that beautiful and arousing man. You could hear the sound of your bodies along with your boyfriend's moans and the whimpers of the Deftones singer, as well as the distorted guitar riffs.
Without any prior warning, you began to move your body faster.
ââ F-Fuck, my love! If you keep this up I'm gonna cum inside of you! â he whimpered as you felt his cock twitch against your walls.
ââ But that's exactly what I want, silly.
You looked back with a wicked smile on your lips, seeing his pale cheeks completely flushed and his strong chest going up and down as he tried to catch his breath.
[...]
Ë đČàŁȘ đ„đŹđąđ đđĄ đŠđšđđšđĄđ đčïž
THE GREAT KING OF CURSES was an ambitious man, who desired greatness and power at all times. He did not accept anything that was different from the standard he was used to receiving as a powerful and feared entity.
He was not at all monogamous, he was used to having several women in what would have been a harem. He was insatiable, a ferocious beast who depended on sex as one of his main sources of fuel. However, now Sukuna had to get used to the modern world, whether he wanted to or not.
Curses were no longer respected or feared, as sorcerers were on hand to fight them. By the irony of fate, you ended up crossing paths and since that day there was no concubine to feed his desires, he only wanted you. Despite the countless declarations of love coming from him and all his talk, you weren't easy.
You didn't sleep easily with anyone, even more if this person was him.
But he was a trickster, he wasn't the king of curses for nothing. He approached you with that soft talk and that naughty way until you were finally able to create a bond. But flirting with people in the modern era was a bit tricky for a man who had been away for many, many years.
You introduced music to Sukuna, and over time he became more fond of it. He really liked rock and classical music, they were two different extremes, but who were you to question the taste of the king of curses?
Although when he was fucking you he wouldn't listen to Mozart or anything like that.
You were in his castle, in a room filled with the most diverse and luxurious tapestries. There were extremely comfortable cushions and silk sheets everywhere, as well as treasures, pillars and chests. Sukuna was on top of you, his naked body full of symbols a little sweaty and his gaze devouring you.
Your legs were comfortably crossed around his hips, while those strong hands with purple nails grabbed your wrists and pinned them high above your head, leaving you immobilized. He had a rough pace and really loved every little inch of you, every time.
The song "One Of The Girls" by The Weeknd was playing. That song had a very strong sexual atmosphere, and that made him even more likely to fuck you.
You felt some of his pub hair touching your skin every time he moved back and forth with his hips. He was thrusting deep inside you, making you tear up from so much pleasure you were receiving. That was a the best thing in the world for that sadist who found it adorable to see the salty tears running down your hot cheeks as you begged for relief.
He knew he wasn't hurting you â because if you indicated he would stop instantly. You changed Sukuna a lot, took away from him that kingly immediacy that he possessed, and above all consent was sexy as hell.
ââ Baby... I-I don't know if I can cum any more... â you cried out, because he had already made you cum several times today, you didnât know if your body could take any more.
ââ Aww, are you so sensitive that you are crying, my princess? â a sadistic smile was on his lips while those red eyes seemed to be darker from the lust flowing through his veins.
ââ Y-Yes...
ââ But you are a very obedient princess, and I know I can make you cum again. You don't need to control yourself and give it to me again. I'm only going to stop when this pussy is squirting all over my cock, understood?
He took one hand off your wrist and brought it to your face, squeezing your cheeks a little and making you nod. With your free hand, you pulled him closer to kiss him intensely, making your tongues touch each other in a bold way.
He had found his other half.
[...]
à đ đđđđđ đđđđÂč: this is my first time posting something in english on tumblr, and as it's not my first language i'd appreciate it if you could correct any grammar mistakesË. á”á”
à đ đđđđđ đđđđÂČ: all of this is created by me, i do not authorize adaptations or inspirations without creditsË. á”á”
XOXO, kisses that taste like blood o negative, see you next time little bats đ
â brazilian-vampyra, 2024.
#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru#gojo satoru#choso kamo#ryomen sukuna#toji fushiguro#nanami kento#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#choso x reader#toji x reader#nanami x reader#sukuna x reader#jjk x you#jjk x fem!reader#gojo smut#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#sukuna smut#nanami smut#choso smut#toji smut#toji x you#gojo x you#sukuna x you#jjk headcanons
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Sun In Synastry : The Light They Bring Or Burn You With
Note: First of all, these are my personal observations based on client readings and what I have observed in real life relationships whether flings, short-term romances, long-term commitments, or marriages. We will be looking into both good and the shadow side of it. No single synastry aspect determines if a relationship is âmeant to beâ or if someone is your soulmate. True soulmates wonât bring you constant pain, abuse, emotional neglect, or detachment. They wonât harm you, manipulate you, or make you question your worth.
Now, with that said⊠letâs dive into todayâs post! âš
Sun in 1st house:
The Sun person is instantly drawn to the house person's presence, style, and energy, like a moth to a flame. You hype each other up like having a personal cheerleader. You don't feel the need to impress the Sun person as just being yourself is enough. This overlay creates an undeniable sense of "We just fit".
Now, the bad is that if one person has a fragile ego or jealousy, competition can creep in. The Sun person here would make the house person feel like a supporting character in their own life. Sometimes, this placement manifests as them being too comfortable with each other early on can lead to treating each other more like siblings or just a "buddy" rather than lovers.
Sun in 2nd house:
The Sun person sees the house person as valuable in some way. This creates a strong sense of mutual support and building together. Can work well in practical marriages or partnerships and also a stable goal-oriented relationships.
This placement can be seen with business partners or business romances. The house person might feel used if it isn't mutual. Can lack passion and deep emotional bond.
Sun in 3rd house:
The conservations between you both never dry. Endless chatter about anything and everything. The sun person thinks the house person is witty and logical. The house person would feel mentally alive and heard around the Sun person. Both parties feel comfortable and relationship feels natural here. Can build a lasting mental connection.
The Sun person may find the house person predictable. It feels right to the Sun person but not exciting. In some cases, the couples lacks sexual chemistry and need other aspects for passion.
Sun in 4th house:
Feels like instant family and deep emotional intimacy. The house person feels safe and comfortable around the Sun person. The Sun person might help the house person to heal their childhood wounds. Both of them could develop a strong desire to build a home or live together.
The house person can become too emotionally dependent. The house person might project their family issues onto the Sun person. Sun person might feel drained by house personâs emotional needs. I've seen in marriages where if things go south, it even resulted in a divorce. More comfort than passion.
Sun in 5th house:
This overlay gives instant chemistry that's fun, flirty and full of romantic energy. Sun person lights up the house personâs creative and playful side. There is mutual admiration and both of you make each other special. If kids are involves, there is a strong loving bond around them.
In some cases, it can feel more like a fling or a one-night stand than a real relationship. House person may see the Sun person as childish or too playful. Can burn hot and then fizzle out fast. If one person wants long-term and the other just wants fun, it gets really messy. I've seen this overlay on single parent households where the Sun person is absent from the kids life.
Sun in 6th house:
The Sun person helps the house person stay on top of their game in terms of health, work, and routine. Both of them know you can count on each other. This synastry overlay points to a productive lifestyle. It could be a great working partnership or supportive relationship. In marriages/LTR, I've seen this overlay manifest as the couple adopt pets which serves as a bonding factor for them.
In some cases, might feel like co-workers or roommates than lovers. House person might feel nagged about their habits by the Sun person. If unbalanced, resentment can build over time.
Sun in 7th house:
Sun person ticks all the boxes for what the house person wants in a partner. You feel like you belong together. It can be great for marriages and LTR or partnerships. Both of you just get each other.
On the flip side, The love-hate dynamic is very real. You admire them but also want to strangle them. They can be overly dependent on each other. Fights can be brutal but this relationship would feel like fated. If not balanced, one person compromises too much.
Sun in 8th house:
The Sun person feels the connection in the house person's soul. There is an intense magnetic pull and high sexual energy. The Sun person shines a light on the house personâs inner demons which can be healing or horrifying. Together they could explore the themes of psychology, occult or spiritual awakening as well.
The house person may hate the Sun person and hates to be seen with them. If the house person isnât attracted? Major ick. They might cringe at the Sun personâs presence and behavior. Sometimes one of them has the upper hand and it can get toxic fast. In some cases, these relationships could feel like a walking PR disaster. You get me?
Sun in 9th house:
This overlay is where the Sun person idealizes the house person sometimes to the point of idolization. Late-night existential debates and long walks after midnight are common with these two. I've seen this overlay in travel vlogging couples. The Sun person expands the house personâs worldview, pushing them to think bigger. They could be inspiring and lifting each other up.
The house person may blindly follow the Sun person or reject them outright if they push too hard. In some cases, the Sun person talks too much and the house person has to listen and gets bored fast. Sometimes, the Sun person can come off as preachy like an annoying guru or act like a know-it-all and the house person tend to tune out completely. If one person is too rigid, this dynamic can feel overwhelming or dismissive.
Sun in 10th house:
This overlay is great for business partnerships where both of them has strong ambition and shred goals. The Sun person motivates the house person to reach their full potential.they see each other as high-value individuals. The Sun person boosts the house personâs public image & confidence. This can be a âpower coupleâ dynamic if both are goal-oriented.
In some cases, this overlay seems transactional rather than real partnership. One of them could be focused more on status than love. The Sun person may dominate or try to control the house personâs career choices. The house person may feel pressured to impress or live up to expectations. If the Sun person loses respect for the house person, the relationship can fall apart fast.
Sun in 11th house:
Well, this is a relationship built on camaraderie and mutual respect. They accept each otherâs quirks and support individuality. they may introduce each other to new friends or professional networks. This overlay can support long-term relationships as friendship is a key element in lasting love. They may enjoy humanitarian work or social activism together. The couple could even adopt kids.
Sometimes may feel more like "best friends" rather than lovers. Actually this could lead to a platonic or casual connection rather than a passionate one. The Sun person might take the lead in social settings, which could make the house person feel overshadowed.
Sun in 12th house:
This overlay could feel otherworldly. The Sun person illuminates the house personâs subconscious, dreams, and hidden fears. Thereâs often a sense of deep understanding without words like reading each otherâs souls. If both individuals are emotionally evolved, this can be a highly healing and compassionate connection.
One or both may not see the relationship clearly at first. This overlay also can be seen in crushes or favorite artists where the house person could be completely unaware of the Sun person's existence or their feelings. It can create feelings of longing or a sense that the connection is just out of reach. If boundaries are weak, one person might sacrifice too much for the other, leading to resentment or exhaustion. Another overlay for single parent households.
Check out my post about Synastry Red Flags!
âšđ« DM me for a complete astrology reading / synastry compatibility reading and check out my pinned post for pricing! đ«âš
#astrology#astrology readings#birth chart#astro observations#astro notes#zodiac signs#spirituality#spiritual awakening#spiritual journey#vedic astrology#western astrology#astro posts#astro blog#astro tumblr#astro community#astrology notes#astrology content#natal chart#synastry#astrology observations#astro placements#synastry observations#synastry reading#synastry aspects#synastry chart#synastry astrology#sun in astrology#sun synastry
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⯠what remains unspoken. (teaser) ⥠featuring c. bahng



đȘ : Christopher Bahng x implied! fem. reader
TROPE. best friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, jealousy, angst, two idiots chasing their own tails believing their love is unrequited (ă
ă
), based in australia, summer! au, beachhouse! au
WORD COUNT. estimated to be around 4k-7k words
WARNINGS. cursing, jealousy/shame, reader moves away, mentions of drunkenness at a party, nondesc smut
AUG'S NOTES. my annual summer pieces are unearthing themselves as we speak and iâm so so so excited. i began this as a tiny snippet of thought while on the train :) who knew itâd be developed into a fic! although this is just a teaser, please let me know your thoughts!!
PLAYLIST.
SYNOPSIS. Attached to the hip, you and Chris might as well have been twins in a past life. And yet, itâs always that tiny inkling, so many years where one of the two wants something more. So when you bring home a boyfriend one summer and both you and Chris begin drifting apart, you wonder if that denial will become something permanent.
or alternatively :
Until when do you stop pretending?
Among many things, Chris likes to think there was an âoh shitâ moment to his life. One, exactly.
Over the years he tried pinpointing when that would be, what that would be.Â
And then you brought a boyfriend home. His home. To a beach house you two would occupy together. Making shadow puppets with your hands and running out to the beach in the early mornings.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Making sand castles, running into the water with your clothes on and running out giggling messes.
For two weeks every summer, always. Together.
Never with a plus one.
He debated upon subtly sizing up the guy or appearing overly friendly, but not an ounce of his face seemed to move. Steely.
Cold.
Chris was never cold, and he felt that pang in his chestâguiltâseeing you notice it. That miniature knit of your brow, the purse of your lips.
Did he know you like Chris did? Know when you were angry, or frustrated. What your favorite song was, or how you preferred your hair when you were focused?
He wanted to hate comparison, he used to hate comparison.
And now heâs hating himself for being too late, letting you slip from his grasp like sand between his fingers.
When you were once protagonists of a novel written with a happy ending, that love interest was now home to another.Â
And he was a bystander to a love story that was never his, watching you smile at someone else.Â
Someone that wasnât him.
Breakfast is hellish, not to mention the sleeping arrangements. This boyfriend of yours in the guest bedroom, while he sleeps in his.
Alone. Without you, or your pretty hair, or your pretty eyes. Void of your warm body snuggled up to his, where you used to make silly jokes beneath covers and muffle laughter in turn.
A part of him wants to cry, wants to ask you what you two used to be. What was under the covers?Â
âAh.. Chris..â The soft moan of yours, all those years back. Stupid, seventeen, single. A cursed pair of âSââs he hadnât realized would come to haunt him each time he closed his eyes.Â
What was your pretty sounds, his face between your thighs those five years back?
Was it all pretend? Exploration as friends?Â
No, you were smarter than that.
So he tells himself he was too late, and endures.Â
Because maybe, maybe theyâll be a plot twist one chapter. Where you fall for the side character.Â
No, no book ends like that.
It all started in an editing firmâs office.Â
Well, not literally, considering you hadnât even been in your motherâs mind until Jessica Bahngâmother of a four-month old Chris Bahngâheld back a poor womanâs hair while she belched into a toilet.
That poor woman being your mother, who found out she was pregnant that evening after work.
And through a few Saturdayâs at the corner cafe and prolonged conversation by the officeâs monitors, the two became the best of friends. Watching little Chris grow into a toddling one year old, and in the process welcoming you into the world nearly ten months later.
From there, almost every waking moment consisted of time together. Chris as the lanky teenager with his brown hair sweeping across a tanned forehead, and you, following after him each step he took at less than a year younger. Kindergarten, Primary School.
Although, in the midst of the friendship, your father had found a better job opportunity in Brisbane, a decent ten-hour drive from the Bahng household youâd found second home in.
Though, after plenty of crocodile tears and mumbled âIâll miss youââs tumbling from an eighth grade mouth too absorbed in worrying about the matter of leaving rather than the fact youâd likely visit every month, you departed, off to a city so different from the Sydney you had known of.Â
Even if it was Australia all the same.
And in turn, the annual summer visits began.
Summer before your freshman year of high school, where Chris finally got his braces off in his sophomore year and you soaked up every ounce of information given on surviving the first few days of school.
Then your own sophomore year, filled with feelings and discoveries and struggles unearthed you didnât think could be experienced so vividly, expectations in need of fulfillment the board expected a sixteen year old to answer immediately.
What do you want to do with your life? Any plans for college? What about taking these extra classes? They look good on a résumé.
And simultaneously rip the ounces of childhood from your fingertips, but no school board puts that in the papers.
So the moment the car door opens after hellish voyaging to Sydney, you allow your lungs to inhale each ounce of salty air the Bahng family house offers, the childishness allowed for once amid crushing pressure.Â
It is a meager five minute walk to the lapsing shoreline after all, and the ocean keeps good secrets within the sand, washing away your footprints as to flush away traces of whatever happenings occurred there.Â
Yet, never truly forgotten. Instead, taken into the waters for little children to tell their mother of whom never believe the ocean spilled someoneâs precious secrets.
âChris.â
June eighteenth of your second year in high school, pajama-clad knees curl close into your body, lashes dusting open in the sparsely lit room to focus on him.
A dilation of the pupils, a hitch of the breath when he turns to you.
High school has changed Chris, but not in a foul manner. Blond curls, heâs exchanged from his usual russet locks. Round cheeks shifting in tandem with a sculptors hand, the marble of his skin a bit more toned, defined.
His jaw that clicks when he grows angeredânot often, sometimes at his gaming system.Â
Thickened brows furrowing and knitting in concentration.
Though those eyes are the same, and always will be. No other will have eyes like his, and you know in any life, in any state of amnesia, they would be recognized.
An âahaâ moment where a switch flips in your brain, formulating a mere sentence involuntarily.
I love this boy, and I hope for forever heâll look back at me.
And for that, youâre selfish. But honest.
If Christopher was a stranger, a look into that gaze and you think youâd know him instantaneously.
How silly.
But just as you had spoken, youâre reminded that childishness was something found each time you visited this place regardless of your actions. Youâd hold onto that.
âI donât want to grow up.â
The bit of fat at his under-eyes cause his eyes to form into crescent moons when he smiles, wrinkles at the corner of thick lashes crinkling.
Chris has always liked the moon.
A warm hand of his reaches forward, cupping your cheek as if the first time.
You think you like this more.
âThen donât.â
A stroke of his thumb, and you snort a laugh when the cold of your nose bumps against the digit.
âAnd when you want to go back to being sixteen, come to see me, okay?â
Little did you both know that the future had a way of testing just how long sixteen would last.
Until when do you stop pretending?
sunboki, may 2022 ©
#skz x reader#straykids x y/n#straykids x you#straykids x reader#skz x y/n#skz x you#skz fluff#skz angst#skz smut#straykids fluff#straykids angst#straykids smut#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids angst#stray kids smut#bangchan x y/n#bangchan x female reader#bangchan x you#bangchan x reader#bangchan smut#bangchan fluff#bangchan angst#bang chan x gender neutral reader#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader
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Edwin is a fascinating character for a lot of reasons, but one I haven't delved into very deeply yet is the juxtaposition between the fact that he is genuinely, earnestly kind while also simultaneously being unsure of how to express that kindness.
He was raised in a time when physical affection and emotional conversations were avoided if not actively discouraged. On top of that, he's had 70 years in hell in survival mode that did not help him hone his people skills at all.

But we see him try, again and again, especially for Charles.
The most memorable instances are, of course, when Edwin offers Charles comfort after his breakdown at the beach, the two separate offers to talk if Charles needs to, the hug, and their meeting in the attic with the lantern.

But there's one small moment that isn't as obvious; I didn't notice it at all on my first few watch-throughs.
It's just after the Devlin house, when Charles has had a truly awful night. Edwin has just started to understand the scope of how upset he is by what happened there, and why.
And then we get this remarkable exchange:



While Charles is lost in his thoughts somewhere behind that thousand-yard stare, Edwin gives Crystal a straightforward, earnest, not at all backhanded compliment. It's the first time he does; compared to the one he offers her in the episode with the sprites, this is practically effusive.
By itself, it's a very sweet moment between the two of them as their relationship develops.
And it is that.
But it's something else, too. Because this is how Edwin follows it up:



Crystal hearing it isn't enough.
He wants Charles to hear it.
In fact, he wants Charles to hear it so badly that he pauses, waits for Charles to react, doesn't get a reaction, and asks again.
Yes, this compliment is meant for Crystal, but it's meant for Charles, too â in a different way.
This is Edwin playing nice, like Charles has been wanting him to do since episode one. This is him giving Charles what he's been making puppy dog eyes over for days now.

This is Edwin pulling out the thing he thinks will make Charles the happiest. This is Edwin, fumbling to figure out what will help.
The hug that Charles needs so desperately isn't for some episodes yet â and these boys do get there eventually.

But I dearly love this first uncertain step on the path to Edwin figuring out what Charles needs from him.
He may not have the best instincts when it comes to handling social situations, but by god, he's so very kind, and he's trying, and there is something unspeakably sweet about that.
#dead boy detectives#dbda#payneland#edwin payne#charles rowland#netflix#meta commentary#DBDACharacterAppreciationWeek
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Ok, but why do I imagine Eight being the unofficial child of Pearl x Marina?
Because I imagine Eight was minding their business and all of a sudden, Pearl would slam the paper down and said âYouâre adopted nowâ
Basically OTH at the start of their world tour haha, I love that they took Eight with them.

I have more detailed thoughts under the cut for those interested in my ramblings, analysis and interpretations of the characters.
Disclaimer: This is my own take on it, donât let it ruin your fun!
I personally donât really subscribe to the fandomâs âpearlina momsâ headcanon.
On the one hand, I am an absolute sucker for the âfound familyâ trope, and I definitely think Agent 8 and OTH fit in it!
On the other hand, I think people immediately put Pearl and Marina into the âparenthoodâ box, a little too eagerly. Not saying this specific ask is that, btw, it just reminded me of some instances iâve seen.
I personally think that the relationship between OTH and Agent 8 is a little more nuanced & sibling-esque, for the following reasons:
1. Within canon, we often see 8 being referred to as a friend by both Pearl and Marina.
Pearl does it more explicitly (see that one interview at her house), whereas with Marina itâs more insinuated (ex. In the Side Order dev diaries, she starts calling Agent 8 as âEightâ, which is stated to be a name used by their friends).
Pearl seems to be an accidental-duck-parent of sorts who haphazardly collects octoling teenagers & young musical talent. It goes in line with her whole mentor-esque leader personality, and iâm sure these disoriented teens find relief in an idol who seemingly knows what sheâs doing (she really doesnât).
However she doesnât act in a parental manner. More-so like your estranged gay cousin who hit it big in another country and is down to show your queer little butt the ropes.
Marina on the other hand seems to have a more empathetic approach with Agent 8 (opposite to Pearlâs brashness). Marina clearly connects with Agent 8 through their shared experience as defected octoling soldiers, and probably sees her younger self in them. Sheâs already caring as it is, but this is accentuated during octo expansion given the circumstances.
I feel however that, unlike Pearl, Marina has a bit of a harder time actually forming a bond with Eight at the beginning. Their similarities (seemingly) end at their shared experience, and probably leaves Marina awkwardly wondering how to approach them further. What we can assume though is that they become closer friends during OTHâs world tour, given the events described in the Memverse Dev Diaries.
Meeting Eight during difficult circumstances (OE) and helping them get out creates a sense of camaraderie between them, which probably devolves into genuine care, established friendship and a strong bond amongst the three overtime.
2. Pearl and Marina are very career-centric both in Splat 2 and 3.
It is reasonable that the two young idols, who see their fame and musical recognition rise spectacularly & fast, are not particularly interested in settling down at this point in their lives.
Now entering her late 20s, Pearl is most definitely still interested in keeping the ball rolling with Off the Hookâs international success. Her character often points towards restlessness, freedom and discovery. There has definitely been character development in regards to her maturity in Splatoon 3, but these aforementioned traits are still ever present in her demeanour & decision-making.
Marina on the other hand can be seen slowly blossoming from a supporting character to being her own person. She definitely develops more self-confidence by Splatoon 3, but is still naturally bashful. Itâs clear that she is allowing herself to explore & open up to new things for her own sake. She remains a caring and somewhat nurturing individual, but she is at a stage where sheâs learning to live for herself and not for others.
Parenthood (and all the responsibilities and sacrifices it entails) at this moment of their lives would probably freak Pearl out, and stunt Marinaâs personal growth.
3. The age gaps between OTH and Agent 8 are too close for it to create a parent/kid bond.
This makes their relationship a little hazy in regards to roles; 8 is still young enough that they may seek out rolemodels and mentors (still relatively influenceable), but theyâre also nearing their 20s. By this point they are fairly self sufficient, have a sense of their personal values & identity, and they are relatively responsible & mature.
Pearl and Marina are 8âs seniors by approximately 4-6 years. However, in Splatoon 2 theyâre entering their early 20s and their career has just begun to take off.
They are both still relatively youngsters, albeit older & more mature(? glancing at Pearl) youngsters than 8. This places them in a position where they can guide 8 and offer certain support and resources, but lack the maturity and experience of a full-fledged adult. This would approximate their relationship closer to that of siblings in a family setting.
Pearl & Marina are also less likely to feel a duty towards Eight as an adult would with a child. Instead, the latterâs circumstances are more likely to incite feelings of rapport and compassion as a fellow young inkfish.
Now, with all of this said, I will acknowledge that friendship/found family is MUCH more nuanced than a strict binary.
From personal experience in my last years of college, I did find myself caring for my fellow freshmen as though they were my kids, in certain ways. Hell, I called them my kids.
I acted as a proud parent whenever some of them achieved something, attempted to pass down my knowledge to them, and was protective of them to a certain extent.
They also annoyed me sometimes, like younger people do haha. And iâm sure I annoyed them too!
So I wouldnât put it past OTH to call Eight their kid and have this mentor/parent-esque rapport with them in certain circumstances.
This is all based both on canon & my own interpretations of it, but still closely aligned to what has been shown in-game.
So if you have a different interpretation of Agent 8 and OTH, thatâs great! I love to see peopleâs personal headcanons. Ultimately, Agent 8 is meant to be somewhat of a blank slate for the players to mold, with some hinted-at personality traits of their own.
As long as you have fun with these characters, thatâs all that matters. This is just my personal opinion on their relationship in-game.
If you read all of this, you deserve the biggest golden star for listening to my incessant yapping đ€Čâïž
Feel free to bother me about this or other opinions you may have in my inbox, just be kind please!
#squid asks#off the hook#marina ida#pearl houzuki#Agent 8#splatoon 2#splatoon 3#side order#character analysis#headcanons#splatoon headcanon#splatoon fanart#long ramble#I hope this person doesnât regret this ask *crying*#sometimes I take things too literally#splatoon#my art
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âblue lock is just a manga about soccerâ âblue lock is fruity and nothing elseâ i think nagi's character writing alone can immediately shut down all of these accusations. so now that chapter 302 has finally been released, let's have a (not so) quick discussion about nagi's character.
let's start from the beginning, during nagi's childhood. we've never seen a flashback in the official manga of nagi's backstory, nor do we see one in episode nagi, but there are numerous hints that lead us towards what might be nagi's childhood. in the egoist bible, it's said that nagi was raised with a very hands off style. in episode nagi, nagi says that his parents once told him âdon't die before we doâ.
so there's a lot to unravel there. for one, we can safely assume that nagi's parents likely weren't extremely involved in his life. judging from the way that nagi goes to an elite prep school and can live on his own with a consistent amount of food and lots of furniture, nagi is well off. judging from these factors, i wouldn't be surprised if nagi's parents were people who had to go on business trips often.
now, about the thing that they had told nagi. for one, nagi is seventeen when reo first meets him. a parent probably should say these sorts of things to their child in the first place, but for the argument's sake, let's just say that his parents are extremely inexperienced and not good with social cues. we can see that nagi is clearly emotionally stunted, likely from a lack of parental guidance or warmth as a child.
a parent telling their child about dying at such a young age is already alarming. yes, i know that there are warm and loving implications. that the parents wouldn't be able to live without nagi. but at the same time, considering how there are some people who are extreme pessimists, wouldn't that also imply that the parents should die before the kid?
and i'd also like to bring up another point. when nagi goes back âhomeâ, he goes back to his dorm at school, not his parentsâ house. i know that nagi still has to go to school, but does he not even bother to go to see his parents? do his parents not care enough to go and visit their son, who they watched fall from grace?
but i digress. basically what i'm saying is that from all of the hints we recieve throughout the story and additional media, nagi was likely emotionally neglected as a child due to his parents.
now let's talk about his relationship with reo. you can interpret their relationship in any way your want, though i personally see them as romantic. i think kaneshiro wrote them as soulmates, considering how they're both opposites and the same. reo recieved a suffocating amount of love in his childhood because his parents were so involved in his life. at least, that's how it is at face value. although, like nagi's parents, i have no doubt that they surely love reo, reo's parents definitely view reo as an heir to the corporation sometimes rather than their own son.
reo is seemingly always emotionally mature and calm, but that's not the case. we see numerous times throughout the series that reo has seemingly âgrewâ and that he has gotten over nagi or that he can do everything by himself from now on. but the momnt that something happens between him and nagi again, his development always end up shattering. reo is emotionally immature when it comes to nagi. i donât think there's any other way to put that.
i think that nagi began to care more about everything after meeting reo. but at the same time, i also think that nagi is the type of person who cares too much. he cares so much that he pretends that he's just some nonchalant guy. in chapter 302, we see nagi walk by the stairs that he first met reo on and reminicing the time he met reo. but he continues to deny his love and desperation for soccer, until the end of the chapter, when he breaks down in tears.
nagi reminds me of a parent in a way. the type who continuously puts their child through hardship and always making their child do so many extracurriculars and sports, and the child just htes them, but when the child ends up being a successful adult due to the extracurriculars, the child finally realizes that the parent was just trying to thelp them all along but wasn't good enough at communication to tell them. i think that was reo and nagiâs relationship during the second selection, though nagi isn't reo's parent in any way shape or form.
i think nagi was originally just suppoed to be the stereotypical lazy relatable lovable genius character who would get blue lock more popularity, and i think reo was originally supposed to just be some annoying little brat who only saw nagi as a dog. and during the first selection in the original blue lock manga, before episode nagi released, i do believe that's how it was.
but i digress, i'm reaching too far there. so now let's talk about isagi and how isagi shaped more of nagi's characterization.
reo was the reason why nagi ever played soccer in the first place, isagi was the reason nagi continued, and reo was the reason why nagi kept on playing soccer to the end and why nagi couldn't play soccer anymore.
i think that isagi, similar to reo, serves as an opposite to nagi. but unlike reo, who still shares many similarties with nagi, isagi is completely different to nagi. i think that's the real reason why nagi chose isagi's team during the second selection, and not actually because of isagi's goal during the team v vs team z match.
so yeah, sorry for the yap session again. basically nagi is someone who pretends to be nonchalant but secretely cares too much lmao.
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock x female reader#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#nagi x reo#seishiro nagi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi#bllk nagi#blue lock nagi#seishiro nagi#nagi seishiro#nagireo#nagi x reader#reonagi
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I love Mel through and through but I cannot find it in myself to say that her and Jayce shouldâve continued romantically in season 2, or that meljayvik/melvik could ever work.
While she def did love Jayce in season 1 she did use him and viktor for political and financial gain. And her and viktor always hated each other (also viktors 100% a gay man)
Also I think even tho canonically labels and homophobia donât exist in arcane it was def some form of heteronormativity that caused jaymel maybe likeâŠ. Classism or smthâŠ. Idk đ
Mel and sevika is my favorite Mel ship because Mel should be with someone who wonât fold as easily as Jayce đ
imho jayce/mel was always a relationship of convenience with a very clear economical stipulation of success that is planted all throughout s1 act 2 (mel literally walking out on jayce when he doesnt present his new gizmos on progress day bc she had already promised them to investors. lol. later on pressuring him to do a whole round of black market shakehands under HER inherited opera house which is used as a meeting point between all the corrupt topside politicians. do i even need to expand.) and its only made worse when the phony-ruler training stuff comes in and both ambessa and mel start competing to see who can manipulate jayce into making weapons for the empire faster. I've always said that storyline was inconsistent as fuck and it does a lot of flip flopping near the end of s1 (do you want weapons or not? it changes every scene.) but at least people cant call me crazy anymore bc they WERE grooming jayce into being the pliant triggerfinger figurehead and once that fails all the attention is shifted onto caitlyn, who's just so ready to fall for the bait.
Like this is why jayce brings up the investment stuff during the breakup scene. this is why mel is fighting with caitlyn against her mother at the end of the series as a complete reversal of her goals. This was supposed to be a Thing. Character development for this bit in specific was RUSHED AS FUCK since they wanted to put all of the political tidbits as far away from the core plot as possible but its still there when you look. The ''empathetic'' political stringpulling ambessa does with cait is one she has taught her daughter, and she perpetuates with jayce, who is ofc upset at all the bullshit when he realizes what's happened in the end. And that it didn't just impact him, but also viktor and the cities at large!
clean break was actually the best thing they could have done with both of these characters and for a second I didn't believe they'd HAVE the balls to do it, but I'm happy to be proven wrong lmfao! if jayvikmel has no haters im dead. I'm not even getting into that whole thing but it bothers me *so deeply* to see viktor defanged and made into a fogbrained centrist yes-man when his entire arc is about the fatal consequences generations of these rich oligarch games have had on the low class people of the undercity. One of the only scenes of him raging in the entire show is him showing his disgust for mel's weapon proposition, and we just forget that happened? nuh uh. not on my watch
#arcane#jayce talis#caitlyn kiramman#mel medarda#ambessa medarda#viktor arcane#jayvik#jayce league of legends#viktor league of legends#jayce lol#viktor lol#vikjayce#league of legends#hexposts#meta tag
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Saturn in Aries: âScars fade with time. And the ones that never go away, well, they build character, maturity, caution.â â Erin McCarthy
Saturn in Taurus: âMaturity, one discovers, has everything to do with the acceptance of ânot knowing.â â Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves
Saturn in Gemini: âDon't you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn't developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don't expect to see.â â Douglas Adams
Saturn in Cancer: âChildhood isn't just those years. It's also the opinions you form about them afterward. That's why our childhoods are so long.â â Kim Stanley Robinson
Saturn in Leo: âIn the end, it's a mental maturity to let your best come out.â â Lindsey Vonn
Saturn in Virgo: âIf youâre any good at all, you know you can be better.â â Lindsay Buckingham
Saturn in Libra: âMaturity implies otherness... The art of living is the art of living with.â â Julius Gordon
Saturn in Scorpio: âTo live with fear and not be afraid is the final test of maturity.â â Edward Weeks
Saturn in Sagittarius: âSometimes problems donât require a solution to solve them; instead they require maturity to outgrow them.â â Steve Maraboli
Saturn in Capricorn: âMaturity is when you stop complaining and making excuses in your life; you realize everything that happens in life is a result of the previous choice youâve made and start making new choices to change your life.â â Roy T. Bennett
Saturn in Aquarius: âBeing popular or not, having company or being alone, are not issues of concern for the developed soul.â â Donna Goddard
Saturn in Pisces: âThere are many forms of love as there is moments in time, and you are capable of feeling them all at different stages of your life.â â Shannon Alder
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