Okay, in the midst of writing my fic, I've gone and done a thing that might make me go hurl later: I wrote an extensive blog piece on my site about reader engagement, AO3, and comment culture.
As someone who used to be an editor, a writing consultant, a writing TA, an employee in a Writing Center, and a fanfic writer for the last 15 years now, I'm really passionate about this conversation, not so much because I'm experiencing entitlement from readers (my readers have actually been some of the kindest humans I've met), but because I've detected a growing problem with fandom culture that's gone largely unexamined (no spoilers here, you'll have to read the post).
But I also share a few hella vulnerable and painful stories I didn't realize I had blocked from my memory, as a writer. I'll be honest, as a hella private, autistic introvert who prefers intimate convos over posts, this was a MAJOR step out of my comfort zone.
But I feel so much has been missed in this conversation. So many hurts and feelings completely misunderstood, so I hope this post resonates with someone. That was the goal.
Here is a brief excerpt:
Ultimately, we've found ourselves in a living nightmare [in fandom culture], and we don't know how to wake up from it. We know something is terribly wrong, but we can't put our finger on what exactly.
We don't know why this is happening and, what's worse, we don't know who to blame. Is it us? Is it because we haven't done enough, or asked enough, or promoted enough? Or, is it you, the reader? Is it because you haven't commented enough, or appreciated enough, or engaged enough? We don't know. All we know is that we hate this and we hate feeling like this. We want to experience something different but we don't know how to get it...
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WHA spoilers through Silver Eve, up to current.....
I'm sorta fascinated by Eoleo and Deanreldy and the parallels between them and how it's obvious the father's views and goals have been imparted to the son. Both are presented as deeply charismatic and approachable but have a ruthlessness underneath in their quest to attain what they want.
And what they want just happens to be in the possession of a certain master and apprentice currently in their care.
It's another really faceted adult/child relationship the manga likes to explore with masters and apprentices and parents and children and I like that we've gotten some non-witch characters with these dynamics.
The king and prince are so interesting to me because they both genuinely seem to care about helping and serving their people as monarchs and I never read that care as artifice. But, at the same time, they want every tool available to them and view magic as a tool they are specifically denied.
There is an elitism you can read into their words. They want this tool the witches have but speak of it as something they should hold to help the nation, seeing themselves as worthy of that power where the common person may not be.
And this makes me so worried for Beldaruit and Riliphin being around them for any continued amount of time because it's very obvious the father and son are directly targeting them both to obtain their magic.
They both heavily use charm as a weapon. Beldaruit sees through it pretty easily during their conversation and calls Deanreldy out, firmly rebuffing his interest. He seems very aware of what the king wants out of him and how he's using his position as healer as leverage to get something out of a person in a vulnerable spot.
Deanreldy instantly throws that right back in his face as he holds the view that witches do the exact same: offer help disguised as control.
The whole scene is uncomfortable in the way the king shifts tactics through the conversation, trying to win Bel with charm, logic, then by being vaguely threatening when the first two don't work.
There's a menacing, creepy intimacy to the way this is presented, with Bel on the bed gripping the sheets and the king looming over him in a position of power.
Bel is constantly presented through the panels looking up at the king, being framed as smaller or having to lean himself up to engage. And when it's clear Bedaruit isn't going to give him what he wants Deanreldy jokingly dismisses him and ends the conversation.
Someone online pointed out that it also seems the king has not offered Beldaruit the use of a mundane wheelchair, essentially trapping him in bed which leads to the bedsores and his need for treatment, lending an even more sinister edge to the situation.
Later, after Silver Eve, Deanreldy is incensed when the counterclock heals the wounds of the people he'd spent all night doctoring. Here I can honestly sort of understand his upset. He's likely been laboring for hours, fighting to keep wounded people alive and lost who knows how many, when the witches just come in and appear to 'instantly' fix everything.
But in retaliation he uses his position as king to forcefully tip the balance by kneeling to Beldaruit and Lagrah in front of his subjects when they're unable to stop him. He succeeds by backing the witches into a corner and literally forcing them to retreat.
Deanreldy truly seems to want the ability to wield magic as a tool and he will use whatever means necessary to get it.
Eoleo, on the other hand, seems more interested in rekindling the old partnership between king and witch.
He first forms a connection with Tetia when they met during Silver Eve and he's hiding from his bodyguards. From her he learns that the old bond between king and witch might be possible to achieve when she's so open to a friendship with him. He even says "In speaking with you, lady witch, I see a flicker of hope for a dream I'd thought impossible."
Tetia, much like Beldaruit, clocks him pretty quickly, seeming to realize she misstepped by so easily offering him friendship and later expressing discomfort with his proposal. Tetia is a very emotionally intelligent character so it's possible she read the undertones in Eoleo's seemingly innocent request.
Eoleo later meets Riliphin, reaching out to him with empathy while he was overwhelmed in the forest after the leech attack and separated from his master.
His interest in helping Riliphin when he was having a panic attack is presented as genuine. He sees his scars and offers him a way to ask for help if he's being abused. He sits with him, doesn't mock when he expresses fear of crowds, and offers advice that helps him calm down.
When Eoleo realizes that other people might be suffering in a similar way he wants to help and instantly hops to magic as a solution, asking Riliphin if he knows Tetia and seeking his aid to find her.
And Eoleo does succeed in getting Riliphin, Tetia, and the other apprentices to help the evacuated citizens. He does so by reaching out with empathy and friendship to the young witches who are more open to reciprocating this sort of relationship than their elders, which likely only reinforces Eoleo's belief that king and witch as partners can work.
After Silver Eve is over Tetia goes home and isn't in Eoleo's immediate sphere any more. It seems he shifts targets to Riliphin who is stuck in the castle while Beldaruit recovers from his broken arm. Like Tetia he's young and kind but unlike her, at least as far as we know, he has a history of being abused by people in authority.
Eoleo and Danreldy have different tactics when it comes to trying to get what they want but their views and some of their approaches parallel each other quite closely.
They both make a point to highlight the divide between witch and non-witch, Deanreldy to point out how old-fashioned it is and Eoleo to use it to put Riliphin at ease. Both takes seek to break down that barrier with their respective target.
They both use a tactic of being overly friendly and familiar with their witches. Eoleo employs a lot of physical touch, which he can likely better get away with given his age and how well he plays innocent.
Deanreldy leans on verbal familiarity, speaking to Beldaruit in a way that's not really proper between two leaders and also sweeping him up in his bold acts, forcing Bel to participate even if it's not overly wise to do so.
Both of them speak of 'their' witch and their powers as a tool they wish to acquire or something they wish to have. In Eoleo's case he first seems to be talking about Tetia specifically but after Silver Eve he may just be open to any witch.
I found that interesting because I wasn't sure if the story was trying to set up a relationship between Tetia and Eoleo in the vein of Richeh/Eunini. But Eoleo does the same disarming, eager-for-friendship play with Riliphin, so I get the feeling he's not quite so picky.
And now we're at a point where master and apprentice are stuck in the castle with these two for the time being, as Beldaruit requires more treatment.
The discomforting isolation is back when we see a few panels of Bel in bed, surrounded exclusively by the king's staff. It's an opulent space, not a prison cell, but for all intents Deanreldy essentially has Bel at his mercy, again weaponizing his position as ruler and healer to control 'his' witch. (Bel does not look happy about this.)
With Beldaruit in this position it's unsure how much supervision or protection he can provide his apprentice, leaving Riliphin to Eoleo's attentions.
The prince has already started up with the charm and working to build a close friendship with Riliphin much in the same way he did with Tetia.
With her he appealed to her outgoing and upbeat personality, with Riliphin he seems to focus more on his desire not to upset anyone in a way that feels like a guilt-trip. Which is uncomfortable in the light of Riliphin's past abuse.
Eoleo is breaking down the barrier in a slow, personal, 'soft' way in contrast to his father who took a direct, public route that instantly put Beldaruit and Lagrah on the defensive.
There's also a costuming thing going on. Eoleo asks to try on Tetia's hat and apprentice garb when they first meet, blurring the lines between them. There are some visual elements that tie Eoleo and Riliphin together too, such as the flared cut of their sleeves and a noticeable triangle shape to their collars.
Later, Eoleo has his guards clad Riliphin in the same feathered black cape he wore when they first met, tying their visual language even closer together, in a way that feels to me like Eoleo is claiming him.
I'm both anxious and interested to see where the plot goes with these four because I don't at all think it's anywhere near done yet.
These two are just so layered and intriguing to me as characters, with their complex motivations and differing ways of using their skills and abilities to acquire what they want.
I really want to like them both but they're dangerous too and pose real threats to Beldaruit and Riliphin on a personal scale and witchdom in general.
After listening to Olivia Rodrigo's latest release together and going through their past relationship with boys that made the album super relatable for both of them, Michelle casually invited Jake to just spent the night sleeping in her house rather than driving the 1 hour drive home. They've slept on the same bedroom and at times on the same bed in countless sleepover during their highschool time so this is a nice way to reminisce those fun days that felt quite distant now they're in their 3rd year of uni
His hand slid under her shirt, palm hot and possessive against her stomach. Fingers splayed wide, pulling her back harder against him.
“Finally,” he breathed against her ear, voice thicker, rougher than Jake’s usual playful tone. “Been waiting to get this tight little body back where it belongs.”
Michelle’s eyes fluttered open, confused but still drowsy. “Jake…? What are you—”
“Shhh.” His grip tightened, fingers digging into her hip as he ground slowly against her ass. The hard length pressing through his sweatpants was unmistakable. “Don’t be loud. University changed me, baby. Turned this fag cock straight just for your sloppy little cunt.”
She laughed nervously, thinking it was some sleep-mumbled joke, but the way his hand moved—sliding up to cup her sports bra before expertly taking it off and fondle her breast possessively, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger with practiced cruelty—made heat bloom low in her belly despite herself.
“Jake, this isn’t fu---”
“Funny? Pssst.....I give you one more time to be quiet, so shut that bitch ass mouth and let me show you what uni taught me,” He nipped her earlobe hard enough to make her gasp. “You think I’m joking while my dick’s throbbing against you? Feel that, Michelle. That’s years of listening to you cry about how Don ruined you. How he called you his worthless fucktoy. How you came harder than you ever admitted when he degraded you. I thought I was sick for actually getting hard underneath my jogger, turns out, I just craved you all this time and want to try the same shit he did to wreck you.....with you,"
His free hand shoved her shorts down roughly, exposing her. Two thick fingers dragged through her folds, finding her already shamefully wet. He groaned in satisfaction.
“Fucking pathetic. One minute of dirty talk from your gay best friend and you’re dripping like a desperate whore. Bet Don trained this pussy so well it still clenches at the memory.”
Michelle whimpered, torn between pushing him away and arching into his touch. This was Jake—her Jake—but the words, the tone, the filthy confidence… it was doing things to her she couldn’t explain. “You’ve… you’ve never talked like this.” she whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible
“Well, that's one of the thing I learned. University, remember?” he growled, pumping two fingers deep inside her without warning. The stretch made her moan loudly. “Learned what I really wanted. Learned how much I love breaking good girls like you. Say it. Tell me how much you need your fag bestie’s cock.”
“I—I don’t know if we should—”
He curled his fingers viciously against that sensitive spot, thumb circling her clit with ruthless precision. “Wrong answer, slut.” The slap of his palm against her wet pussy echoed obscenely. “Beg. Beg me to fuck you like the cum-hungry hole Don always said you were.”
The degradation burned through her, mixing shame and arousal into something intoxicating. She was soaked, hips rocking helplessly onto his hand. “Please… Jake, please fuck me.”
“Louder.” He bit down on her shoulder, sucking a mark into her skin. “Tell me exactly what you want your newly straight best friend to do to this greedy cunt.”
“Please, Jake—fuck me hard. Ruin me. I need it.”
With a dark, triumphant laugh, he shoved her onto her back and stripped her completely. His tank came off next, revealing the toned, muscular chest she had only ever seen platonically. But tonight his eyes burned with something feral. He pushed her thighs wide, lining up the thick head of his cock and thrusting in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
Michelle cried out, back arching at the sudden fullness. He felt huge, stretching her perfectly, hitting depths that made her toes curl.
“That’s it,” he snarled, setting a punishing rhythm. “Take every inch like the pathetic little cockslut you are. This is what you’ve been missing while crying on my shoulder. Your gay best friend’s fat dick splitting you open.”
He fucked her with deep, angry strokes, hips slamming against hers. The bed creaked. Every thrust was punctuated by fresh filth whispered hot against her ear:
“Look at you creaming all over me. So fucking wet for the guy who used to do your makeup. Bet Don would laugh if he saw how quickly you spread for me.”
“Jake—oh god—”
“Yeah, scream my name while I breed this used-up pussy.” He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other wrapping around her throat just tight enough to make her head spin. “You’re mine now. My personal fucktoy. Gonna fill you up until you’re leaking my cum for days.”
Michelle came hard around him, walls fluttering and squeezing as stars burst behind her eyes. He didn’t slow down. He flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and drove back in even deeper, one hand fisting her hair, the other slapping her ass hard enough to leave prints.
“Arch that back. Present that cunt like a good bitch.” His voice was pure venom and lust. “Tell me how much better I am than Don. Tell me your gay best friend fucks you better than your ex ever did.”
“You’re—fuck—you’re so much better,” she sobbed into the pillow, another orgasm building fast.
He laughed cruelly. “Of course I am. I know exactly how to break you because I knew all the soft spot and all the right answer. Every tear. Every time you let him treat you like garbage. And now I get to do it better.”
He reached around to rub her clit in tight, mean circles while pounding into her. The dual sensation sent her spiraling again, screaming his name as she gushed around his cock.
Only when she was shaking, overstimulated and whimpering, did his pace falter. He buried himself as deep as possible, hips stuttering.
“Gonna cum, baby,” he growled. “Gonna pump this worthless hole full. Mark my territory.”
With a guttural moan that sounded almost triumphant, he came hard, flooding her with thick, hot pulses. He stayed buried deep, grinding lazily as he emptied himself, making sure every drop stayed inside.
Michelle panted, dazed and glowing, still catching her breath. She turned her head, smiling shakily at him. “Jake… I had no idea. University really changed you, huh? I can’t believe we—”
He pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak from her swollen pussy with dark satisfaction. Then he leaned down, chest pressed to her back, lips brushing her ear with terrifying intimacy.
“Oh, sweet Michelle,” he whispered, voice dripping with the bitter, familiar venom she had tried so hard to forget. “You still don’t get it. Jake’s been gone since I slipped into him weeks ago. Every hug. Every late-night talk. Every time you cried about me on my shoulder… it was Don the whole time.”
Everything just went as normal at first before Jake found himself losing his breath as something seemingly blocked the airway. He suffocated and gargled in silence as this thing managed to muffled his noise too so he flailed for several seconds before his body tensed, arched and then flopped back to bed like it just went through some sort of shock. But he instantly opened his eyes and grinned as something sinister seemingly managed to take a hold of him
Her blood ran cold. She froze beneath him. He just smirked
SO, i made a thing and I'm sooo proud of it!!!! I've been wanting to get into typography and calligraphy and making cool sayings and such lately and I'm currently obsessed with Shoot From the Hip [ in case my recent blogging hasn't been an indication eough] BUUUUT I thought what better way to practice typography than to do some long form titles!
I did make an edit without Annabelle and Butch's names on their guns but I also headcannon that they'd have each other's names or initials embossed [idk what the correct word is here for putting letters into metal] BUT they'd definitely have an A and a B engraved [ ENGRAVED IS THE WORD] on the bit of their gun just above the trigger where their thumbs could brush over the letters
Anyways, i love them your honour....
[Please don't repost my work without permission...I worked so very hard on this]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37
Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n
Word count: 6.2 k
Synopsis: Bucky stood, moving over to you. He crouched down and cups your face, “No. It was supposed to be you. I don’t know how, or why- luck, something. But it was always going to be you. I don’t think anyone could have broken through to me like you did.”
MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT. I am not in control of how you interact with my work. My work is not to be used or reused for anything
Notes: *ahem* I somehow missed a week.... I am so sorry... my god... I didn't even realize it until today... Umm... this chapter is spicy, and sexy, and many things.... enjoy
Warnings: nudity, sex, p in v, brief erectile dysfunction, a whole boatload of fluff and cutness.. this is almost exclusively in Bucky's pov... loook he needed it as much as we did
Dividers@/cafekitsune
Saying goodbye to your friends was harder than you expected. Seeing Tony and Bucky talk face to face with understanding and even empathy was something you had never expected to see. Steve and Natasha, openly holding hands, not in a combat form, or looking for prying eyes. Clint talking to his wife on the phone, promising to bring all the little monsters to come and say hi. You’d promise to make sure they had an actual place to sleep and not outdoors, where everyone was covered in bug bites.
Sam stood with Neo; you could just make out the blush on his face, the way he rubbed the back of his head. He’d found a place only a few acres away from yours, where he could learn more about falconry. He was also planning to show how the falcon suit worked for T’Challa, a joint project.
Pepper had hugged you extra tight, having you promise her that you’d come visit sooner rather than later. You couldn’t even imagine being in New York again. The life you lived now had slowed so much, compared to the bustling city. Even so, you knew in your chest that you’d go back. New York would always be your home, no matter how far away you were. James gave Steve a big hug. You hated that he had to leave so soon, but that was the nature of this life. Something you would never get used to.
James came back to you, his fingers lacing with yours. He leaned down to kiss your cheek. You relished every intimate act he gave. Being around friends seemed to have made it easier, his mind and body finally coming to some kind of balance, where he felt safe enough to be with you.
“Going to be quiet,” He murmurs, as you both wave goodbye to your friends.
You lean against him, relish his warmth. “I won’t mind a little privacy.”
Looking down at you, he raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”
Face a flame, you can’t help the small smile. “Uh-huh, I need my boyfriend, and maybe not seeing another person for a few days.”
“I would like that,” James murmurs, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head.
The two of you move back toward your hut, stopping by Sam and Neo. Sam was discussing the African Goshawk, talking about their ambush-style hunting and ability to take various prey. They had the ability to fly high and swoop down onto prey at astonishing speed. Neo seemed to take it all in stride, mimicking the bird's clicking sound with scary accuracy.
“You really are a bird man,” James smiles, the two of you stopping for a moment.
Neo smiles, “Sam learns extremely fast. We are going to be leaving for a few days. Put our hunters to the test.”
“Going to do some actual falconry. I am really interested to see how these hawks fly compared to American Goshawk. I actually worked with the American variety before, was one of my first hawks,” Sam explains, nervous excitement coming off of him.
“That’s pretty cool, Sam. Have to tell us about it when you come back,” You smile, happy that he seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Think we are going to take a week off, just spend some time with the chickens,” James replies, squeezing your hand. “Maybe start a garden.”
“Make sure your fence is strong, or the goats will eat it,” Neo chuckles, patting James on his shoulder. “We will see you both in a few days.”
Bucky places the large kettle on the outside fire pit. It was much too hot inside to run the small wood stove. Normally, cold water wasn’t a problem with the heat, but tonight Bucky wanted warm water. Inside, he could hear you cutting up vegetables for dinner; the chicken had been roasting in a small pot for most of the day. It smelt amazing, reminding him that he definitely was going to put that garden in. Even if the goats decided to eat it, it would make you smile.
Adding a few small logs to the fire, he left that, brushing his hands off on his pants. It wasn’t something he was used to yet. Your willingness to be near him, want to be near him. Enjoying his attention more than he thought possible. The memories of you being together, getting to know one another, the patience you had with him. It was all there. Despite that, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. This ethereal being made of light and stars, so full of hope, and yet you understood his pain. He knew that, knew that you saw him in ways that no one else had. Understanding it and accepting it was proving to be harder than anticipated. Bucky had promised himself, and you, that he’d learn how. Hopefully, this was a step in the right direction.
Grabbing the finished chicken, Bucky heads inside, carefully putting the pot onto the counter. You grin at him as you toss the veggies in a salad bowl, sprinkling salt and pepper on it. The two of you move around the kitchen with ease, grabbing plates, forks, glasses. Bucky cuts the chicken into pieces, scooping, yams, carrots onto the plate with it.
“This smells amazing,” You comment, adding the salad onto it. “What were you putting on the fire?”
Bucky takes the plate and grabs a jug of tea, “Water, for later.”
You tilt your head as you both sit down at the small table, “What are we doing later?”
“It’s a surprise,” Bucky says before taking a bite, trying to play up more courage than he actually has.
“Your ears are red, James Barnes,” You tease, suppressing a grin with your cup. “Or would you prefer Sargent Barnes?”
Bucky nearly drops his fork, unable to stop his own smile. Looking away, he tries to compose himself; he didn’t remember you being such a flirt. Not that he minded. At one time he was just as much a flirt. Licking at his lips, he lets out a shaky breath.
“You always flirt this hard with your patients, Doc?” Bucky tries; you nearly snort your water out of your nose, Bucky has to hid his face behind his palm.
“Oh god, we are so bad at this,” You cackle, putting your water glass down with a giggle.
Bucky shakes his head, “You started this.”
“Did I?” Your eyes narrow as you pretend to think. “I think you asked me to go to the library.”
He swallowed, remembering that day; it hadn’t gone as he wanted. Even if it had been the start of something special, that came with never-ending misunderstandings and a mission that went awry. Still it had all worked out, you were still here after all.
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Bucky rubbed at the back of his head. “You gave me the confidence to try.”
Your face flushed. “Just needed a nudge in the right direction. You would have found someone.”
Bucky stood, moving over to you. He crouched down and cups your face, “No. It was supposed to be you. I don’t know how, or why- luck, something. But it was always going to be you. I don’t think anyone could have broken through to me like you did.”
“Going to make a girl cry,” You lean forward to press your forehead against his.
“None of that,” Bucky mutters, standing and wrapping himself around you. “Come with me.”
Without hesitation, you stand with him, mostly eaten food abandoned. He scoops you up, your arms wrap around his neck, as his arm goes under your legs. Holding on, Bucky walks you over to the bedroom, you open the door, and he places you on the bed. The sheets are comfortable and cool. Bucky leans in and kisses you quickly before heading back to the door.
“Hold on, going to grab a few things,” Bucky whispers, making you pout for a moment.
A second dish was filled about halfway with cool water. Before going outside, he grabs the now bubbling hot pot of water, tipping it carefully into the cold bowl. Carefully, he feels the water, making sure it's the right temperature. Happy with that, he moves back inside, gathering towels, and a soap bar that smelled like the flowers you liked. Bucky pauses and looks at the door, or lack of door; it was just a curtain. He’d have to see about getting an actual door soon, last thing he wanted was someone coming over unannounced. Just the thought mad ehis ear flame.
That out of his mind, he brings all the bits into the room he shares with you. It had just been sharing; Bucky had kept a mindful space between you and him; despite wanting more, wanting to push the boundaries. Somehow, tonight he was going to try and cross that line. He needed to let himself enjoy this life.
Opening the door, you lay where he had left you, having kicked off your slippers and taken down your hair. You gave him a nervous smile; the fabric of your wrapped dress shifted as you crossed and uncrossed your legs. Bucky grabbed a chair that you used to dress sometimes, placing the towels on the back, bowl on the seat with the soap, and a lotion bar beside it, then sliding it next to the bed.
You sat up, shifting so that you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “What's the plan, handsome?”
Bucky carefully knelt beside the bed and chair, looking up at you; reaching to rest his hand against your hip. It’s not a position he’d usually liked to be in, lower than someone, vulnerable. That wasn't how he felt. Your hand carefully cupped his face, eyes sparkling; Bucky could lean forward and rest his head on your lap, and you'd just hold him like that for as long as he wanted.
“I’d like to wash you,” Bucky asks, nerves in his chest rattling out. “If you don’t mind.”
“Okay,” You say softly, running your fingertips over the stubble. “How’d you like me?”
He let his hand run from your hip down over your thigh, under your knee to cup your calf. Lifting, he position your foot to sit against his thigh. “This works. Let me know if it’s too hot.”
You nod, relaxing; your toes wiggle a little. He shifts, barely feeling the packed dirt floor under his knees. Squeezing the water out, he starts with your feet; it’s difficult with one hand, but he makes it work. You help by lifting one foot and placing the other where it was. His hands shake as he moves up your calves. The only sound to be heard is water, bugs, you shifting against the bed. It wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was loaded, a palpable shift between you both was happening.
Every bump, mole, texture, he noted, letting his hand remap the skin he had grown accustomed to. Listening to how your breath changed, when his thumb swirled just behind your knee. How your knees were rougher, not just from surgery, but working outside. The dirt embedded around old scars making them stand out like lightening strikes. Small freckles that raised just a little form the skin, a bit darker then it was around it. He wanted to commit every detail to memory, to never forget what was infornt of him, what he had. You were his rock, the person who stood beside him no matter what, and he refuesed to forget it again.
Pushing up the fabric of your dress, Bucky looks up, making sure it’s okay to continue. Not hesitating, you pull up the fabric, so that he has easy access to the upper part of your leg. His heart skips as he runs the cloth over top of your thighs, your lip catching in your teeth as the water trickles over the skin. Not meaning to, he can smell you, how your body reacts to being touched so intimately. It makes him have to pause, his hand resting just above your knee, his own body reacting. It was normal, had happened before, too many times before. Didn’t make any less embarrassing.
Bucky nearly jumps when you reach for his face, fingers carefully cupping face. “We can stop,”
“I don’t want to stop,” His voice is rough, betraying his own feelings, his eyes focused on the pattern of your dress.
You lean down to kiss Bucky, his hand tightening around the towel, as he pushes against your lips. The taste of dinner faintly there, how your heart flutters as his fingers slide up to your hip again. Fingers digging into plush flesh he found, a small whine leaving you. He takes the opening to lick inside your mouth, tongue tangled against one another. God. Bucky could get addicted to how you taste, the sounds you make from just him being in front of you. You reacted to every bit of movement like you’re starving for him. Cupping your face he angles you so that he can nip at your lips, sucking at the plush skin making you shiver.
Moving from your lips down along your jaw, carefully kissing each piece of skin. His skin breaking out in goosebumps, as his cock twitched, making itself known. Your hands slide down is side, pulling him closer, trying to drag him onto the bed.
“M’not done yet,” Bucky pulls back, looking up at you. Your hands still at his waist having pulled him between your legs, eyes dilated, lips kiss swollen.
“I can wait,” Your eyes close for a moment, he can see you pulling yourself together. “Can’t be dusty now.”
Bucky smirks before he moves his hand from your face down to your thigh, pushing up at the fabric. “Can you take this off, please?”
Your face flushes, “Only cause you asked so nice.”
He chuckles, helping you pull the dress off over your head; leaving you in panties and bra. Bucky can’t stop his eyes from roaming over your body. How your body curves, bends, folds just right. His eyes move up over your breasts and land on the scar above your collarbone from a bullet you’d taken. Then down your arm where a few marks lay along your arms and ribs from where you’d fallen. Older ones from your time as a medic. Each one brought back small memories. His fingers had to touch each one, remember them. Bucky was not going to forget them.
“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky whispers before looking up at you. Your face was dusted pink, as your hands grip the blankets, like you didn't know what to do with all the attention.
“Leaving me without words,” You reply. He can hear your heartbeat pick up. The unique beat grounds him into the moment.
“Hands first,” He holds out his hand, and you place yours in it.
Carefully he cleans each finger, around the nails, making sure to be careful around the small bumps and bruises. The idea of wrapping you in a protective layer came to mind, you weren’t clumsy, or careless, but that didn’t stop you from getting these little marks. The deep primal need to keep you safe was always surfacing. The Soldier made it clear that nothing would happen to you, he didn’t want you to be out of his sight. Any cut, scrap, bruise, and, or bump felt like a personal failure. Bucky knew that was ridiculous, that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, the Soldier needed more proof. Meaning Bucky had to regularly remind him it wasn’’t the forties anymore.
He moved up your arm, taking time to map each piece of skin. Right arm first, his fingers tracing the outline of muscles that were starting to develop and change. With you no longer having to use your crutches you had started to work out, moving pails of water and feed. Another thing the Soldier often scoffed about, you having callouses on your hands from doing chores. Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face, the guy from the forties still held on inside.
“What you smiling about?” You ask as he moves over to the left arm. Bucky had been purposefully trying not to stare at your breasts and how they moved as you talked.
“It seems silly,” Bucky murmurs, feeling nerves crawl up his chest.
The hand Bucky is working moves to stop him, tipping his chin up so that he is looking at you. “Nothing is silly, not between us.”
Sighing he nods, continuing to work on your hand and up your wrist. The movement’s of his hand firm as he cleans you. “The Soldier.” Bucky huffs and cleans the towel in the water. “I know that we aren’t separated anymore, but he talks to me sometimes.”
You tip your head, not concerned, just curious. “Oh? What does he talk about?”
Bucky’s face flushes even more as he goes up over your upper arm, “You.” He looks up, watching you hold back a grin. “He’s very protective of you. I think-” Another pause. “He’s old fashioned.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” You smirk, as he cleans the cloth again. “What else?”
“Thinks I, or us, I guess, don’t do enough. Shouldn’t have you working so hard.” Bucky shakes his head. “I know you’re capable, strong, independent. Think he’d like to have you wrapped in paper and not let out of the house.”
A burst of laughter escapes you, “Not a fan of me getting bumps and bruises?”
He reaches up and traces over the bullet wound. “Think he’s worried about losing you.”
Your hand wraps around his over top of the now healed wound. “Well, you let him know that I don’t plan on going anywhere. I am also very capable of handling myself.” Your thumb runs over top of his hand, soothing circles that almost tickle. “I also have the best backup in the world.”
Shifting, he sits up more, the two of you looking at one another. Your eyes lit up, the small lamp on the side table making your features almost glow. He didn’t understand how he deserved you. How he was allowed to feel comfort and warmth, when all he’d known for so long was coldness. His eyes flick down to your lips, lips he loved to kiss, and yet this felt so much more intimate before. Like the first time all over again. Was that even possible? He’d just kissed you.
Leaning forward, you run a hand up into his hair, the long strands falling past his shoulders. “Can I kiss you?”
Bucky nods, remembering how careful you always are. The towel dropping into the bucket with a plop. One hand tangled at the back of his neck, the other tracing along the stubble, he could get lost in the way you look at him. Your lips press against his, the softness of them feeling almost sinful as he lets himself just feel. How you suck his lip into your mouth, fingers caressing against his cheekbone, as your other fingers tug against the hair. Enough that a small whine escapes him; you know what he is going to do and swipe your tongue against his. Bucky’s stomach tensed, feeling heat press against his spine.
You pull at him, hand moving from his neck to his back, pushing him further in between your legs. The warmth and smell of your body were so overwhelming, intoxicating, and he needed more. Instinctively, he moved forward, crawling on top of you. A low whine leaves you as you fall back against the bedding. Bucky pushes your legs up, as your hands move underneath the wraps of his own clothes, too many clothes, and too many layers.
Clothes were pushed off of him, your hands roaming over his shoulder, carefully tracing over the scars. Bucky barely held himself up, as his lips seemed attached to yours; he nipped and suckig at them. Brief memories of having you underneath him made his heart pulse. He shivered and pulled back, resting his face against your collarbone, letting himself relax on his elbow. Despite wanting to, his dick had other ideas and was not responding with its usual gusto. Of all times to have performance anxiety, he wanted to groan and put his fist into a wall.
Your hands rubbed soothing circles along his back, your own heart pounding fast in your chest. Legs splayed open so that he fit just right, could feel the heat and dampness there, and yet the thought of going further made him almost shake. You were everything he wanted, and needed, and god his body sure knew that. But he struggled to actually move, to not just lay partially paralyzed on top of you.
“It’s okay,” You whisper, kissing the side of his neck, hands still moving gently against his skin. “We can stop here.”
He closed his eyes, hating how embarrassment flared up. This was you, someone he had been with on more than one occasion, many, fun occasions in fact. Sighing, Bucky rolls beside you, hand running into his hair, as his eyes squeeze closed. He hadn’t even gotten fully hard, what the hell was wrong with him? This should not be an issue.
The bed dips beside him as you roll to face him, your hand resting against his chest. He could feel your eyes looking him over, waiting for him, always so patient. You deserved so much better than this. A man whose mind wasn't betraying him. Who didn't struggle with intimacy.
“You're over thinking things,” You lean to kiss his cheek, and then down to his jaw. “Do you want me to take over?”
Bucky can’t make himself say anything, just gripping at the roots of his hair like he could pull himself together by it.
The warmth of your body makes him let out a small gasp, as you slide on top of him. You rest your elbow on his chest, head in your hands, as you look down at him. He couldn’t look up at you, not yet. Embarrassment still holds him hostage, while the Soldier marches back and forth on his forehead like an angry drill master. His other half seeming just as frustrated by the situation as Bucky was.
Your lips press against his collarbone, small tiny kisses, fingers finding different scars and marks. Bucky’s heart starts to slow down, breathe evening out, the thumping of boots not stomping so hard. His hand loosens, letting himself just feel your weight, warmth, your smell wrapping around him. Kiss moves from his collarbone down along his chest, then up along his neck. Bucky finally opens his eyes as you look up at him.
“Hey, handsome,” You say softly, leaning in to kiss him. A groan left him as you aligned your hips with his and rolled them gently. “I need to know you want this. Or I am going to stop, okay?”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Bucky all but whines, trying hard to just feel. To not let his mind control how he felt, it was like arguing with a brick.
Pausing you cup his face with one hand, the other holding yourself up. “You were stuck in your head for weeks. Now you have a new voice, that is you, but it’s got an opinion. It’s all new and amazing, but sometimes our bodies don’t know how to process it. It’s perfectly normal.”
“What do I do? I do not want this to be normal.” Bucky looks up at you, how your brows have scrunched a little, your hand so warm. He wanted this so badly. Could feel it in his chest, and lower stomach, yet it won’t translate further.
“We can do a few things, can stop, get under the covers and cuddle,” You reply easily, offering solutions like options for dinner, and not laying mostly naked on top of your boyfriend. “We can lay like this, try moving and grinding together, see if that creates a reaction. Or I can try to touch you, with my hands, or mouth.”
Bucky groans at the thought of you touching him, his hips involuntarily moving upwards seeking you. That was a step in the right direction. Your face flushes, as you grind back in response.
“The last one.” Buck pants, his hand going down to your hip. “Or something. Please.”
“Alright,” You rock your hips again; he can feel the slick and heat of you through the fabric, and it’s not enough.
Leaning back, you slide down onto his thighs, your hands tracing across his chest, along the lines of his abdomen, to rest on his hip bones. Bucky felt himself tremble, wanting to melt into the bedding. Your fingers slide along the elastic of his boxers, making his stomach suck in automatically. If you noticed, you didn't say anything, instead continuing to tease along the edges of his underwear before sliding a hand down over top of his cock. His eyes rolled up as he bit his lip; goddamn, that felt really good.
One hand went lower to cup his balls, rolling them across your fingers, making Bucky’s mouth fall open. The other caressing over his, now taking an interest, cock. It felt so wildly different than when he touched himself. Your bold hand flattening to cup and press against his shaft, fingers teasing along the slit as you rub up and then back down. Bucky closes his eyes, focusing on just the feel of you touching him, of knowing what he wants, and how he likes to be touched. Silencing everything but what he was feeling. The act is incredibly intimate, making his body start to twitch and push against the feeling.
“Mmhmm,” You coo, pushing his underwear down so that you can release Bucky’s stiffening cock.
Bucky swears several times, as you start to stroke him. Your hands are soft as you grip him, watching his face, which Bucky has to cover with his hand. He tries to just feel relaxed and enjoy the moment, but focusing on it so much makes him feel like he’s going to explode. The sensation had gone from zero to a hundred with such intensity his blood feels on fire.
As you move over to one of his thigh, hips pushing down to rub yourself against his skin. At the same time your hands working on his cock, the free hand removing one hand to slide of your bra. Bucky’s mouth goes dry watching as your tits move and jiggle, making his hips pump upwards, thighs trembling. Reaching for you, Bucky tries to get you to move on top of him, wanting more direct connection.
“Please,” Bucky pleads with you. “Want you on top.”
You quick to comply, letting go of him and slipping off your underwear and pulling his the rest off the way off. Grabbing his hand you place it on your breast, urging him to feel and focus. His mind pulled into several places: the heat pressing against his cock, your legs squeezing his hips, your breast in his hand, and the noise you made when you ground against him.
Hips moving in small swivels had Bucky feeling everything, the way your hair ground against sensitive skin, the heat and weight of you completely bare on top of him. His body finally caught on that this felt good, really good. Bucky squeezed at your breast, cupping it and massaging it. Your nipple goes hard underneath his palm. He moves himself more upright, hand grabbing your hip as he finds every piece of sensitive skin. Your reaction is instant, as he sucks a mark just below your ear, wetness slicking the way for the two of you to move together.
“That's it,” You groan, as his cock continues hardens between you.
It almost felt like too much, Bucky's body lighting up so fast. Heat rushed down his spine like fire, he couldn’t help the pathetic noises that escaped him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, as his mouth nips below your collarbone, he wanted to cover you in marks. His marks, you were his, and he was never letting anyone else have you.
Moving his hips with you, he flips the two of you over. A small oomph leaves you as you gasp up at him. Bucky moves your legs onto his shoulders, opening you up for him. He wanted his mouth on you, but his dick was demanding more.
Looking up at you, “Can I?”
“Yes, please,” You begged, hips tipping up offering yourself to him with wanton need.
Bucky had to close his eyes for a moment and breathe to not cum from hearing you like this. Leaning against your legs, he looks down at your dripping cunt, fuck, he shuddered, you were beautiful everywhere. Carefully he dragged his painfully hard dick through your lips, making himself slick. Notching himself against your hole, he slowly pushed in.
“Oh fuck,” You keen, one hand finds his hip, the other digging into his thigh.
The feeling narrowed everything, so warm, wet, and tight. It took all his control to not lose it again. This was the closest he'd ever get to heaven, Bucky decided right then. You underneath him, looking completely blissed out, his body lit up with pleasure he didn't know he could feel. All that as he slides deep inside of you. Having your stomach ripple as you squeezed around him with a small cry.
You start to roll your hips, just slowly, your lip caught between your teeth as you took pleasure from using him. Bucky groaned, steadied himself on his arm, as your legs dragged him closer. Chest heaving as you moved against him, body shining with a thin layer of sweat, your fingers scratching and digging into as you used him.
“You're mine.” It slipped out so quietly he was certain you didn't hear it.
Then you fluttered around him, back arching, eyes catching his before replying. “I am yours, James Barnes.”
Whatever restraint he had snapped inside of him. The sudden unbearable need to claim you overwhelmed him. It was impulsive, reckless, and so primal it didn't feel like him, yet that was part of him. The part of him that could let go, be free, fuck you, and love you exactly the way he wanted to. To mark you, and take you, and make you his in every way.
Sitting back, he pulled you up onto his lap, watching you keen as he slides somehow deeper inside you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, his hand gripping your ass. Both of you start to move. Bucky thrusting up, as you move down, pelvis grind against the other. Your mouth smashed against his as you ride him, finding a rhythm easily. Bodies linking in interwoven pleasure that made his balls tighten, your pussy clenching around him as both of you make endless noises. There was no one to hear it, and Bucky doubted it would have mattered at this moment.
“Ohohoh,” You chanted, forehead resting against his as your mouth fell open. “Jamesjamesohgod,”
Bucky squeezed your hip, urging you towards his own inevitable ruin. Your head tipped back as a guttural sound came out of you, your body shaking as you squeeze and pulse around him, your orgasm rushing forward. He is barely a breath behind you, his body jerking several times as he cums deep inside you. Your nails dig into his skin as you hold onto him, your face buried into his neck. It was like he couldn't breathe for a moment, just lost in the feeling.
A small sniff breaks him from the spell, pulling you gently away from him. Your eyes glimmer with fresh tears, sending panic shooting through him.
“Oh god, did I- did I hurt you?” Bucky tries to push you off him, but your arms hold him firmly in place.
“Stop.” Your voice is rough as you squeeze him with your arms. “You didn't hurt me.”
He reaches up and wipes at the tears, not understanding what was happening.“You're crying-”
A small laugh slips out of you, “Yes, because I just got my world rocked by my boyfriend.”
Bucky’s face flushes immediately as the words wash over him. “Oh. Oh-”
You lean in and kiss him softly, “Yeah, oh is what happened.” You kiss him again, keeping your arms secured around his neck. “It’s happy tears, James, I promise.”
Leaning forward, he presses his head against yours, “You sure?”
“Yes,” You reply, “I would never lie to you.” He feels your body relax against his. “Just got to find were my brain disappeared to.”
A smile cracks across his face, “Still got it.”
Both of you break out into laughter, your head tipping back as you hold onto him. His hand pressed against your lower back to keep you in place. The thought of staying here forever warms his soul; he was so lucky to be here with you. Someone who held onto him and understood him, let him be whatever he needed to be
“Love you, James,” You say softly, nuzzling your nose against his.
“M’Love you too,” Bucky replies, relishing in the comfort of your being right against him.
You wince a bit as you shift back, a reminder that he was still very much inside you and was a lot rougher than he normally had been.
“Lay down,” He gestures with his head. “No arguments.”
Doing as he said, you carefully slide off him. Your brows scrunch for a moment as he slips out of you; Bucky can hear how your breath catches. He worries at his lip, hoping that he didn’t actually hurt you with his recklessness. Trying his best to trust you, that won’t stop him from checking.
Standing up, he wobbles for a moment, then grabs a bowl and towel off the chair. Moving quickly, he dumps the soiled water out the kitchen window before filling up the bowl with new water and grabbing a clean towel. He brings that in before leaving again to grab the pitcher of water and glasses; it’s awkward with one hand, but he makes it work.
You lie on the bed, having adjusted the pillow and blankets to be more comfortable. Bucky moves over and pats your legs, getting you to open them for him. Relief floods him seeing no sign of injury except being a little swollen and tender. You grimace as he cleans you up, but don’t complain.
“Stop staring at me like that.” You try to close your legs, which just makes him hold them open
“Just making sure you’re clean,” Bucky grumbles before tossing the towel and moving the chair with the bowl away from the bed.
“James.” You close your legs, reaching up to drag him onto the bed. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He grumbles, but curls himself against you, his head lying on your chest, arm tucked underneath you, holding you close. “I have to be careful. I wasn’t.”
Tipping his chin up, you look directly at him. “If I had told you to stop, would you have stopped?”
Shoulders sagging, he nods, “Yes, that’s not the-”
You put a finger to his lips, “You’re my whole world. I love you to the end of the universe. Stop being so stubborn.” You pause for emphasis. “That was probably the first time you just let yourself -” You chew on your lip for a moment; Bucky can see your brain try and find a way to say it. “Been able to experience sex without having to hold back.
“I’ve enjoyed our times together,” Bucky reassured you, fingers running along your skin, struggling to remain eye contact while talking about something so intimate.
“Yes, but this was different. This was just experiencing the act, enjoying it,” You keep going, almost vibrating with excitement. “I’ve always enjoyed being with you, but I knew you were being careful, gentle; you were always holding back.”
Bucky feels his face flush. “Was I that obvious?”
You kiss his forehead. “I knew you were nervous, and it was all new. It didn’t make me want to be with you any less. This was just different, another layer of armor removed.”
“And that was a good thing? It felt good, like really good.” Bucky feels like his face is burning at this point.
A small giggle escapes you, “Yes, it was good, intense, but amazing.” You look away for a moment. “I wouldn’t say no to it happening again.”
This time, Bucky lets out a chuckle. “Nuh-uh. Not tonight. You need to sleep. You’re already going to be sore.”
You push at him playfully, “Oh, now you got an ego. Big dick Barnes.”
Bucky buries his face against your neck, “Please don’t give me that nickname.”
“It’s accurate,” You tease, tickling his sides and making him squirm.
“Average,” Bucky pushes back, blowing air against your neck, making you squeal.
The two of you lay there, content in a happy haze, Bucky feeling sleep pull against his eyelids. You hold onto him like he means the world, and he does the same.
Note: Aren't they cute.... be a shame if anything happened to them...
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SOURCE: Blue Lock by Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura
A/N: Rin is my everything he's literally my wife <33 he’d prob slime me out tho
Congratulations to Blue Lock for being the only anime with Itoshi Rin! Rin is a striker within the Blue Lock project, led by Jinpachi Ego, which seeks to find the best striker in Japan and mold them into a winner of the World Cup. The end result of this project is that there will be one person left out of the three hundred teenage strikers they have selected, having fought their way through with their skill, talent, and ego. Rin is such a significant counterpart that critics, otherwise known as me, can confidently state the entire anime is nothing without him. However, per my lawyer’s suggestion, “significantly less than what it could’ve been” is a better description. Regardless, I stand true to the facts. Rin’s character substantially elevated the quality of plays through his skill, as well as the quality of the characters and plot through his ethos.
Rin's skill far transcends the rest of the players. For example, Isagi first recognizes everyone on the field as Rin’s “puppets” in second selection (Episode 21, “I’m Not There,” 6:50). His domination on the field is unseen, rather heard. It starts at the beginning of their second game. Every move of Rin’s is surgical, and all of the players acknowledge this. In fact, when Nagi approached him in the first half, he was incredibly wary of Rin’s conservativeness. “Not a huge fan of the awkward amount of space he’s giving me,” Nagi thought in response (Episode 20, “Super Link-Up Play,” 7:41). The reason for this is Rin’s knowledge of Nagi’s excellent first touch. After one game, Rin already knows the behaviors of the players, so much so that they get suspicious themselves. Even the others’ off-the-ball movements are calculated into his precise shots (Episode 20, “Super Link-Up Play,” 15:00). Rin’s presence influences the other player’s movements, and broadly, the outcome of the game. Alongside the contrasting skill levels, Kaneshiro highlights this "him and them" hierarchy in Rin’s stark goal philosophy. Rin states, “You didn’t know whether I would shoot or pass. Your analysis is so off. It was never a two-choice situation. The goal was always mine” (Episode 21, “I’m Not There,” 20:40). This differs significantly from the other characters’ goal philosophy. Isagi's goal formula was mainly to find the most accurate path to the goal according to the game, relying heavily on his team's chemical reactions and individual strengths. This renders them as an interconnected team with delicate strategies. However, in Rin’s plays, the opposition is an extension of him and his orchestrated sequence of moves. He dominates, not by needlessly devouring every opportunity, but by controlling the game through action instead of reaction. Beyond Rin's methodical playstyle, his "ugly" flow state during the U-20 game also showcases his superiority. For example, his improvisation in the first half of the game allowed them to frequently gain possession of the ball (Episode 31, “Itoshi Sae,” 16:57). This shows Rin’s plays are not entirely orthodox and “by-the-book,” it has an element of intentional critical thinking. This is much more pronounced in Rin’s flow state. When he confronted the defenders of the U-20 team, he completely butchered them with their strengths (Episode 38, “Last Attack,” 1:31). His moves were so unique and unpredictable that Isagi himself stated, “This is sheer craziness. It’s nothing like the Rin I know. His moves are totally irrational” (Episode 38, “Last Attack,” 1:49). Even Isagi was unable to read his calculated plays, signalling the depth of Rin’s meticulousness. Because of Rin's superior skills and ego, many of the Blue Lock plays are uplifted through the tension, sophistication, and development he contributes.
However, Rin’s excellence is not simply inherent, it is developed as more of Rin’s inner psyche is unraveled. Consider Rin’s most famous line from the manga, “Have you ever played soccer… with your life on the line!?” (Kaneshiro Chapter 273, “Monster of Destruction,”). This sport is more than his hobby, career, or even life. It is survival, as substantial to living as oxygen. For others, ego comes first. Playing to their strengths, creating chemical reactions with others, etc., is the common success route for other players. For Rin, ego is the byproduct of soccer being his sole identity—granting him many consistently winning plays. Kaneshiro accentuates this vast difference in everything, even Rin’s mannerisms. For example, after the match against the World Five, all the other players on his team were shown as exhausted, panting on the floor. Rin was the only one sitting upright, not physically weary, but permeated with frustration (Episode 24, “The Time Has Come,” 6:48). The difference in positions symbolizes the difference in status—how Rin’s frustration stems from viewing the World Five as equals and how he was unable to defeat said equals; as well as his obsession. The other players will give in to exhaustion, realizing defeat, but Rin will not release his breath until victory. Additionally, the other players’ inability to adjust to Rin’s plays during the U-20 match presents the harsh realization that nobody is enough to coordinate with him. Rin also realizes this, and weaponizes his individualism. However, this is not completely due to circumstances. Kaneshiro intentionally wrote it this way. During the second half, Rin thinks, "Blue Lock is keeping up with my play. I'm not alone?...It makes me want to puke" (Episode 37, "Not Alone," 20:30). Rather than the joy of synchronized plays and cohorts, he immediately discards it as an unacceptable idea, to the point where it is grotesque. This suggests that Rin is disgusted by the thought of leveled teammates, because he would be another one of "them." This is the prime example of Ego Jinpachi’s ideal striker. The Blue Lock project was designed to hypercompetitively siphon a singular striker from a crowd of three hundred, one that would reject dependency and rather dictate their own opportunities and own goals. Rin's well-written character adds depth and complexity to Blue Lock's understanding of an "ego," furthering its narrative richness.
Despite Rin's superior character, some could argue that the anime would still function without his presence because the anchor would be the actual main character; Isagi Yoichi. However, the themes and the structure of Blue Lock would simply disintegrate, because Isagi's role is not the main character, but the audience's perspective. Kaneshiro uses Isagi's metavision to "decode" players, then uses that information to ultimately prevail. This communicates to the viewers the mechanics of the anime and the lessons needed for success—also stating how "you" can "do it too." For example, it was Rin's world-class playing that coerced Isagi to utilize his vision and spatial awareness to a higher extent in second selection (Episode 20, "Super Link-Up Play," 6:15). It was Rin's final goal that taught him luck, which he was able to exploit in the last goal of the match against the U-20 team. Without Isagi’s application of Rin’s skills, the audience would not know the true value of luck. Through this, Isagi only weaponizes being a leech. For the majority of the game, Isagi’s movements were mainly to extend Rin’s presence in the field, as he was constantly surrounding and passing to him (Episode 31, “Itoshi Sae,” 16:00). Even Isagi’s egoistic advancements were only permitted because it had an advantage to Rin’s strategies (Episode 32, “Blue Genes,” 6:10). Isagi’s awakening is only accredited to none other than Itoshi Rin. Without him, Isagi's level plateaus to the level of his other rivals, and would not have been introduced to the Neo-Egoist League because he would not be able to prove his potential. This proves that Rin remains the primary anchor of the anime narratively. Furthermore, Isagi’s rapid improvement proportional to Rin’s advancement on the field reinforces the environment that Rin’s presence constructs; either adapt to him and survive or die. Despite his antagonist role, Rin’s substantial participation in the tactical plays and beyond names him the true nucleus of Blue Lock.
Unlike Isagi, Rin awakened and his skill matured on his own accord despite the main motivator being Sae, his elder brother. From the introduction of Rin until the last minute of the U-20 match, Rin’s sole objective was to claim victory over Sae—just to prove he was worthy enough to be his brother and play by his side once more. His meticulous and calculated playstyle also derived from this, as it closely emulated the ‘beautiful’ playstyle of Sae’s. In confronting him, Rin realizes a brutal truth, “The one who needs destroying…is me” (Episode 38, “Last Attack,” 9:52). Rin understands the impacts of being a clone of Sae, as his identity deconstructs. If he restricts himself to Sae, he will stagnate at that level and never surpass it or Sae. This realization was also the cause behind Rin’s disgust at Blue Lock’s adaptation to his play (Episode 37, "Not Alone," 20:30). If he lingers at the level of the other Blue Lock players, he will be surpassed. Rin continues, “‘Little brother of a genius.’ ‘Partner.’ ‘Rival.’ Stop violating my life with your cheap, easy values. I’m not some object in your lives. Sae Itoshi’s little brother? I’m done with that” (Episode 38, “Last Attack,” 10:01). His objective, to be Sae’s little brother once more, is demolished. Rin regards the “little brother” status as simply a way for him to be used as a tool, and he will never outgrow Sae Itoshi’s shadow. Through this rejection of his earlier ideals, Rin rejects the parameters of the game himself. He reconstructs his identity—wild and “ugly” to the point where nobody can ever reduce him to a “partner” or a “rival” or some other tool that will benefit themselves. This is the true making of an egoist, an individualist, and the sole conductor. While Sae did motivate him, his presence restricted Rin’s talent. Rin’s ideals of a world class striker only matured when Rin confronted himself rather than Sae.
