#unfortunately i am a fan of less is more

[winepresswrath]

blithely ignoring my own complicated feelings about season one and also all signs that season two is going to be a shitshow to amcwtv post about how I am still sad that they took out one of my favourite Loustat beats (Louis looking down on Lestat for being a gold digging low class illiterate farmboy) out of the show. What of the trashy bimbo Lestat who lives in Louis' head paying rent in very specific ways? Lestat having his own money in that era & being some outward embodiment of institutional power feels like fanfic Lestat would write and I don't like it. However! We can still capitalize on one of my other favourite beats and have Louis completely take Lestat's dad's side in their sadly posthumous but I presume still ongoing-in-Lestat's head conflict. Lestat's dad being dead doesn't mean Louis can't judge Lestat for being a heartless and patricidal to a nice old man while Lestat writhes because he's actually embarrassed that he couldn't bring himself to kill his father even though he sucked. Bring Gabrielle into it in the worst ways. Bring Claudia into it so she can have her own justified patricidal feelings. Let's go give it to me.

[dashiellqvverty]

i still think a league of their own (the show) could and should have just been about max

[arolesbianism]

Shout out to my poor poor friend who keeps sending me video game songs trying to pin down my music taste like oh buddy I'm so sorry but Penny's battle theme is so small beans compared to the stuff I listen to

[lunaicfantastic]

I was talking to someone much older than me about politics and the generational divide, and during the discussion they asked me what the young people who support trump are thinking, what they're discussing among themselves, and I told them the truth, which is that I don't know because I don't interact with any in my day to day life. This is true mostly because I go to a hwc and you'd be hard-pressed to find a conservative who'd be willing to admit it there, but also, I think, because I believe they are temporary.

What I mean by temporary is this: the support of trump and the Republican party by youths is a system of beliefs almost entirely dominated by people one to two decades their seniors, minimum, and i don't think that is a particularly good recipe for long-lasting political beliefs. More importantly, however, is that when I was in high school in the rural southern US, and surrounded by people who sided with the right out of habit or passive indoctrination, it did not take much to get most of them to agree with leftist ideals. Usually, only a single conversation. Most people I talked to almost immediately agreed with "from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" once explained. And, to me, most importantly, very few people disagreed with Greta thunberg. We all saw what she was doing and most of us understood and agreed with what she was saying.

That, more than anything, makes me believe that any sprouting of republican support among usamerican youths will be shortlived and short-reaching. Because none of us want to die, and more of the world is catching on fire every summer. Climate change, more than any other issue, will be the thing that defines our generation's political beliefs and movements, and I don't think people will take a fantasy told to them by their elders seriously when it becomes more and more obvious by the day that it is fantastical. The weather is inescapable, and the summers are hotter and the storms are worse than they've ever been.

To me, "trumpism" and republican stranglehold on people younger than 30 is temporary because we've been told our whole lives that saving the world from climate apocalypse will fall to us and now that it is harder than ever to ignore that said apocalypse is at our doorstep, those right-wing movements aren't giving them anything but platitudes. I don't think a generation conditioned to battle climate change will listen to a party of people, most of whom will not live to experience the horrors their actions or lack thereof have caused, that tell them to cover their ears, close their eyes, and put the fight down all to make numbers on a screen go up while their futures burn.

I think it's not worthwhile to ponder at length about the future of the right in the us because the right is doggedly working to ensure there will be no future for anyone, and I think people's survival instincts are stronger than that.

[ssa-dado]

Cat Equals Sign Of Integration

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, smut (implied) Summary: Aaron, ever the strategist, decides that a little wine might help soften the blow of figuring out with you how to tell the team you’re dating. A solid plan - except for one tiny flaw: wine makes him a whore. Warnings: +18, MINORS DNI Hotch is a touch starved whore, a few cuss words here and there, wine gets a bit into both of your heads. Word Count: 5k Dado's Corner: Did I hallucinate this while working on one of the many requests still on my to-do list, only to realize halfway through that it was completely derailing from the main plot - but too cute to abandon? Yes. Is this fun? You tell me (pretty please).

masterlist(s)

One of the many rules you and Aaron had in your relationship was that if you cooked for date night, he was the one doing the dishes.

His idea.

You had been opposed to it at first - not because you minded, of course. You were actually a huge fan of grown men handling household chores without whining like toddlers about how it might somehow demasculate their poor, fragile egos.

No, you were opposed because you didn’t want him doing it out of some sense of obligation.

It took you a while to accept that Aaron wasn’t doing this because he owed you - he was doing it because he wanted to.

Because that was just… Aaron.

Ever the caregiver, always looking for ways to make life easier for the people he loved. He could give you the world and still come to you like a wounded dog, begging for forgiveness because he thought he wasn’t enough.

It was infuriating - for all the deep psychological reasons you could analyze for hours, but also for a much pettier one: when it was his turn to cook, instead of letting you do the dishes like the so-called rule dictated, he just… did them anyway.

And thus, the noble Mr. Clean - brave warrior of dish duty, his arms submerged in treacherous, frothy depths - found himself utterly helpless against the sudden, most dreadful buzzing of his phone.

A cruel twist of fate, indeed!

Stranded, defenseless, bound by duty to his porcelain captors, he could do nothing but stand there, a tragic figure of great importance, cruelly denied his right to immediately bestow his undivided attention upon whatever poor soul dared summon him.

Oh, the agony! The injustice! How swiftly the mighty are humbled… by a sink full of bubbles.

That was because, logically, if even a single drop of water touched his phone, he would instantly lose all of the very important, highly classified FBI secrets stored inside. Of course, phones couldn't possibly be waterproof.

Ha, imagine?! What a concept.

“Who is it?” Aaron asked, still scrubbing at your wine glass like he was trying to erase its entire existence.

Which – by the way - was completely pointless, considering that in less than five minutes, he planned on refilling it with some more. A different wine, yes. But for God’s sake, you weren’t going to die if the last few drops of white mixed with the red.

…What a fussy man.

“Penelope,” you replied, admiring the view.

What a view, really. That man was all legs and no ass, and you were finally learning to appreciate it. 

“Ignore it,” he said, not even turning around.

Unfortunately for him - and for the HR department still blissfully unaware that their most serious, by-the-book boss was fraternizing with a subordinate - you were a profiler.

The U.S. government literally paid your bills every single month because you were exceptionally good at reading people.

And the way he answered? Yeah, that wasn’t the tone of a man casually dismissing an unimportant text. No, that was the tone of a man caught red-handed, scrambling for plausible deniability.

Embarrassed. Secretive. Suspicious. Frankly, if you didn’t already know what he was hiding, you’d be halfway to slapping cuffs on him. Wouldn’t even be the first time.

And so you read it – out loud.

Penelope Garcia, 7:56 PM:

hotch sir hotch bossman sir, i am DYING please tell me if you found out who her mystery boyfriend is i am suffering!!!!!!!! i know you know. i know it in my heart. if you can’t say it just give me a hint. a tiny one. a cryptic riddle. a blink. i will take anything.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

By her, of course, she meant you - because despite a few months of keeping your relationship under wraps, you still hadn’t gotten around to telling the team. Your colleagues. Your friends. Your unwanted, overly nosy adopted children.

That their elusive "mystery boyfriend" was, in fact, your mutual boss.

You were going to tell them. Eventually.

Didn’t know when. But you would.

Then again, it wasn’t like you were surrounded by some of the best profilers in the country, trained to pick up on the slightest behavioral shift.

It’s not like the second two incredibly touch-starved people like you and Aaron started walking around with even a fraction of happiness, that wouldn’t immediately raise suspicions.

…Except, apparently, it hadn’t.

Because somehow, the team had only managed to land on half the conclusion: you were seeing someone.

But Aaron? Not even a blip on their radar.

It was almost impressive, really. The answer was so obvious that they had discarded it entirely, still wandering around in the dark, trying to piece together a puzzle that was sitting right in front of their faces.

Just like Penelope was doing now, so desperate for some reason that she was straight-up asking him outright - when not that long ago, she still thought twice before even making a dirty joke in his presence.

And so, you got up, walked over to Aaron, and held the phone directly under his nose. “What does this mean?”

He squinted at the screen, then at you. “Oh, honey, I don’t know. She always sends me that - I don’t understand what exactly equals the sign of integration”.

…What?

You were suddenly just as confused as he was.

He blinked at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in that utterly sincere, slightly bewildered way of his. “That sign before it,” he said, completely lost. “It looks Chinese. Thought you knew Chinese, sweetheart.”

…What?

Oh, for the love of God.

If this man hadn’t already seen the absolute worst horrors the world had to offer, you would fight for his innocence with your nails, your teeth, and - if absolutely necessary - one of the worst shooting records ever logged in the Bureau.

You looked at the screen again.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

Oh.

Oh, that’s what had confused him.

“Aaron,” you said gently, doing your absolute best not to kiss him right then and there, “that is a cat.”

You sighed, then pointed at the message again. “By the way, the ‘sign’ in the middle is in Korean, not Chinese.”

He looked at the screen again - then back at you. “…Cat equals sign of integration?”

“No, honey,” you said, barely suppressing your smile, tapping the little text emoji. “It’s just a cat.”

He studied it for another second. “Oh.”

There. That did it. You gave in. Leaned in and pressed a loud smooch to his cheek.

At least your dignity was still intact - he had no idea why you’d done it, just assumed it was one of those spontaneous bursts of affection that came with being hopelessly in love.

Honeymoon phase truly did work wonders.

“Do you think I can have the cat too?” he asked, grabbing the bottle of red and a corkscrew.

That was a trap.

Because Aaron Hotchner still signed every single text he sent.

And while it wasn’t an issue when he was sending something standard -

Lawyer, 6:17 PM:

They found a new body, we’re gathering at the precinct in 30.

A.H.

- it became a lot more unsettling when he sent the filthiest, most depraved things you’d ever read, only to end them with that stiff little A.H. like he was dictating official Bureau correspondence.

Lawyer, 11:51 PM:

Sweetheart, if only these stupid walls weren’t so thin, I’d have you right here with me, bent over, face pressed against this mattress, making you come so many times you’d forget your own name. At least three. Maybe four, if I’m feeling generous.

A.H.

So now, standing in his kitchen, watching him pour wine like he hadn’t just permanently scarred you with his painfully bureaucratic approach to sexting, you knew that if you admitted he could simply copy-paste that ‘cat equals integration sign,’ it would only be a matter of time before you were subjected to something truly traumatizing, like -

Lawyer, very-late-office-hour PM:

It’s your fault I’m getting distracted with the paperwork, because I’m still thinking about how good you tasted last night while sitting on my face. God, I can still feel your thighs shaking, you were so sweet for me, honey, so fucking perfect.

P.S. How many reports do you still have left? Because I’ve been thinking about having you on my tongue again before the night is over. I think I’ve got about an hour or so left but then I’m all yours.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

Yeah. No. Absolutely not.

That man could not be trusted with the cat.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, pressing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades as your fingers brushed over his back. “I don’t think you can get it. She must have programmed it herself into her phone.”

You truly hoped you were as convincing as he was clueless about text etiquette.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, both of your wine glasses in hand as he made his way to the couch. “I would have loved to send you the cat.”

…Of course he would. Smug ass.

But as the words left his mouth, something shifted in him - just barely. A pause that didn’t usually belong there... weird.

Still, you followed, watching as he settled in, patting the cushion beside him with a half-smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”

A misleading gesture, considering his legs were very much spread - a much clearer invitation. At least, that’s how you chose to interpret it.

Because you could swear - those legs spoke to you. Called to you. So you slid right into your rightful seat - his lap.

…Would have been rude not to answer.

“Back to Garcia,” he said, resting a hand on your thigh as he handed you your painstakingly polished wine glass - so clean, so immaculately spotless, that the red wine inside looked redder than red. A real masterpiece, Mr. Clean. “She doesn’t seem to be letting up about finding out who you’re dating… This is the fourth message this week.”

You raised a brow, taking a sip of your wine. “Well, she’s second only to you when it comes to being nosy about gossip.”

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head, that same small half-smile back on his lips.

That particular smile.

The one he used when he was trying to convince someone he was fine when, in reality, he was not - when he was trying to reassure everyone else while simultaneously refusing to admit, even to himself, that something was eating him alive.

Oh, now you knew what this was about.

He had definitely practiced this conversation in his head - refined it down to the perfect phrasing. Measured. Logical. Reassuring.

A version so well-rehearsed, so carefully constructed, that he’d convinced himself first before trying to convince you - that this didn’t scare him.

That this was just another rational step forward.

That it was fine.

Because if he could make it sound easy, maybe it would be.

Maybe it would give you something solid to lean on, because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were standing on shaky ground with someone just as fractured as he was.

But in the end, even the best-laid words couldn’t withstand the weight of his emotions - whether he liked it or not, even rocks are meant to erode.

“I think it’s time we come clean to the team,” he admitted, completely veering off-script - though, of course, he still made sure to soften the blow with a kiss to your temple.

Not that it made much difference. You both knew this moment was inevitable, but somehow, you’d managed to delude yourselves into thinking that if you just kept putting it off, the perfect time would miraculously appear.

At first, you’d delayed it until things were official.

Then, because you needed to be sure this could work in the long run.

Then, because you wanted time to just enjoy each other.

Truthfully? If it were entirely up to the two of you, you’d probably keep postponing it indefinitely - at least until the day you were both retired, far away from any fraternization rules or painfully awkward team dynamics.

Unless, of course, your eyes had been deceiving you all along, or life decided to be cruel and rip this happiness away from you before you ever even got the chance. All you could do was hope not.

Aaron sighed, watching you carefully. “So, how do you want to do this?”

At least he could take comfort in the fact that his very specific plan of having wine while discussing this was still intact - especially since the very large sip you took the second he asked hadn’t gone unnoticed.

He huffed a laugh.

Yeah.

This was going to be fun.

“Are we sure we have to?” You groaned, tilting your head back against his shoulder.

“I’m afraid so, sweetheart. It’s the only way to keep them from getting the satisfaction of figuring it out first and do this our way…”

It was his turn to take a long sip now… he surely wasn’t thrilled about the lack of an actual game plan.

“…Still need to figure out what exactly we mean by ‘our way,’” he admitted. “But, you know… that’s what these are for.”

He tapped a finger against his temple, then against yours, clearly implying that your very skilled, highly trained profiler brains would surely work this out.

You, however, were placing your bets on your problem-solving skills drastically improving after a few more glasses of wine, because right now?

“We are so fucked,” you commented.

Aaron clinked his glass against yours, deadpan. “Completely.”

You both took long, slow sips of wine like it might somehow provide divine intervention.

It didn’t. You were indeed left pretty much alone in this.

You sighed, setting your glass down on the coffee table. “Well, you definitely have the face of someone who already has a plan...” You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “...a very handsome face.”

Cheesy. But deserved.

Aaron chuckled. “I believe…” He kissed you on the cheek – twice - before setting his own glass down too. “…We should tell them directly. Get ahead of it. Lay it out as matter-of-factly as possible.”

“Matter-of-factly?”

He nodded, all serious, like he hadn’t just suggested the worst possible approach.

“Sweetheart…” You pinched his cheek, making him scrunch his nose, hoping – more like praying - that it would snap him out of whatever fantasy land of logic, reason, and good intentions he was apparently living in.

“If we tell them directly, Penelope will throw an actual partypersonally design matching t-shirts, and have the entire team wear them.” You paused, leveling him with a look. “And you know it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I know.”

“Emily and Derek will immediately start making jokes like two middle schoolers who just learned what sex is and will not let us breathe.”

“I know.”

“JJ will be quiet but then ask all of a sudden, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which will restart the chaos all over again.”

“I know.”

You turned to face him, deadly serious. “Spencer-”

“-Will hit us with a full statistical analysis of workplace relationships,” Aaron finished, exhaling sharply, already bracing himself.

Because there was only one team member left to account for - the worst of them all.

“And… oh God… Dave…”

And with that horrifying realization, he did the only logical thing a man in his position could do - he face-planted directly into your chest with a dramatic, muffled groan of pure defeat.

You blinked down at him, amused. “Honey…”

Why was he even so touch starved like that?

“All I ask,” came his muffled voice, still very much nestled between your breasts, “is five minutes of peace.”

You snorted. “You do realize this isn’t exactly discouraging me from making fun of you, right?”

He sighed again. “You do realize that if you keep laughing, you’re just shoving them further into my face?”

…Damn him and his irritating ability to state the obvious.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly combing through his short spikes of hair. “…So we’re back to square one.”

Aaron exhaled, still very much face-first in his chosen safe haven. “Unfortunately.”

You hummed, “Okay, hypothetically, if we just… never tell them, how long do you think we could get away with it?”

That was so absurd that it actually made him lift his head. He blinked at you, utterly offended by the suggestion.

“I am not spending the next decade pretending I don’t stare at your ass every time you walk away.”

…Alright. That was definitely the wine talking.

In vino veritas, as the Romans said. Wine makes people say dumb shit: the truth.

“Wow. Didn’t know you were a poet, Hotchner.”

His lips twitched. “Don’t pretend you’re above it, because I catch you every time you drift off during briefings just to stare right at-”

“Alright, alright,” you cut him off, slapping a hand over his mouth before he could fully call you out... he was not happy about it. “We’re both shameless…"

You needed an exit strategy. Fast.

You reached for his wine glass over the coffee table. “Well, at least the bright side of telling them is that we won’t have to schedule our coffee breaks in advance anymore and pretend to look surprised when we see each other.”

And all of that was just for one single moment.

The fleeting brush of fingertips as you handed him the cup you always poured for him.

The way his hand was always warmer than yours, despite the fact that you were the one holding the scalding mug, as if basic thermodynamics simply did not apply to Aaron Hotchner.

And if it was one of those days, sometimes, there’d be a little extra something.

A longer touch.

Eye contact that lingered just a second too long.

A slow sip from his cup while still holding your gaze, and suddenly, it felt indecent - like something you definitely shouldn’t be doing in broad daylight, let alone in a federal building.

And now - here, in the comfort of his apartment, with nothing and no one to stop you - he reached for the wine glass you were offering, except… he wasn’t actually reaching for the glass.

He was just holding your hand.

Aaron chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your knuckles. “I think we’re holding onto this touch just a little too long,” he murmured, nuzzling into you, his breath warm against your ear. “Might start looking suspicious.”

Didn’t he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, also some-” you started, or at least tried to, because as if everything else wasn’t enough, now he was kissing just behind your ear, his lips just brushing the sensitive skin there, warm, and slow, and wet and… God…

Okay. Okay.

Maybe it was the wine.

Maybe it was the fact that you were always kind of a little bit obsessed with him.

Either way, the result was the same: you really, really wanted him right now.

You sighed, tilting your head to grant him a little more access - but not too much, or you might actually end up using the full length of his three-seater couch instead of stubbornly remaining curled up in the same cramped two-foot space you’d unofficially claimed as your own. Ergo - going horizontal with him instead of just being seated on his lap.

“I thought we were having a serious discussion,” you murmured, though the breathy edge to your voice wasn’t exactly helping your case.

Aaron hummed in response, slowly dragging his lips from behind your ear down along the curve of your jaw, pressing a kiss at the hinge. “We are.” Another kiss. “What were you starting to say, sweetheart?”

And another one.

You tried to think. Really, you did.

But it was getting increasingly difficult with his mouth still very much on your skin, moving towards places that were making it exponentially harder to form coherent thoughts.

You would’ve made a mental note to never wear anything that resembled a tank top around him again, if only you had the actual brain capacity to form any notes right now.

“Aaron-”

Aaron smirked against your skin. “You were saying?”

…Blank. Absolutely blank.

Your brain stalled for a solid three seconds before mercifully rebooting.

“I-” You licked your lips, cleared your throat. “Penelope.”

That, thankfully, was enough of a keyword to get him to back off - though, the second he did, you already desperately missed the warmth of his mouth on your skin.

He tilted his head, “Penelope?”

You swallowed. “She’s… gonna be beaming.”

Aaron blinked at you. “Beaming.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, because God, he was too cute when he was confused like this. “Her and Kevin have been desperate for another couple to go out with. Ever since JJ and Will stopped leaving the house because they’re too busy baby-proofing every square inch of their lives.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed slightly. “And by ‘go out with,’ you mean double dates.”

You hummed, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mmm. Yeah. Double dates.”

Aaron didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely not.”

You blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wait, what?”

His face was resolute. “I’m not doing double dates.”

You squinted at him. “Okay, but why?”

And that’s how you learned that if there was one thing your boyfriend hated - more than messy paperwork, more than delayed flights, more than the Bureau’s budgeting meetings - it was double dates.

Not specifically with Penelope and Kevin. God, no. He was practically the puppet master of their relationship in the first place. Just… double dates in general.

“They’re impractical,” he said.

You snorted. “What do you mean?”

Aaron sighed. “They are a waste of time. You sit there, and for the first fifteen minutes, it’s fine. The usual small talk, polite conversation…”

You nodded, barely biting back a grin. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Honestly, this just sounded like some classic Aaron Hotchner being the most adorable introvert to ever exist.

He shot you a look, deadly serious. “It’s a trap.” You nearly cooed. Adorable. “Because at some point, you end up talking one-on-one with someone from the other couple. And right when the conversation is actually getting interesting-”

He suddenly paused.

His hand started at your shoulder, innocent enough - until it wasn’t, until it drifted lower, fingertips skimming down until they found your thigh, before sliding inward, squeezing your soft flesh there.

“See?” Aaron murmured, voice deceptively casual. “It starts off innocently. A hand on the shoulder…”He angled his fingers just a notch further up your upper thigh. “…Then the thigh. Then-”

He leaned in, kissing you just at the corner of your mouth.

"A little kiss here," he murmured, lips barely brushing your skin.

Then another - softer, lingering just at the very edge of your lips.

"A little peck there."

Okay.

Ahem.

For a man who hated double dates, he was making a very strong case for them.

This was clearly foreplay.

Had to be foreplay.

You chose to interpret it as foreplay.

So, naturally, just as you were about to pull him in properly - to finally taste the wine on his lips – he pulled back.

Mixed signals whore.

“And then,” he continued, and you swore his voice had gotten even lower - sluttier, if you were being honest - "it escalates.”

...Wine-induced yapper. "Because one couple decides a little peck isn’t enough, so they turn and start devouring each other’s faces… in public.”

The wine that was in your system, instead, suggested you should have him biblically, right here, right now, on his couch.

“Care to demonstrate this part too?” You licked your lips, tilting your head.

Aaron sighed “Honey.” You knew you were in trouble the moment he smirked. “You’re demonstrating my point…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…You want more.” Aaron tutted, shaking his head, feigning disappointment. “Of course you want more. A chaste kiss isn’t enough. How could it be, sweetheart?”

Hell yes you wanted more.

Badly.

You might have even nodded without meaning to.

“But imagine if this was happening in public. In front of two other people. What about them?” he murmured, tilting his head, voice dropping into something dark, silky, dangerous. “In front of two other people.”

You swallowed, very much not thinking about them right now.

“Because at that point, they only have two choices: they either sit there - third-wheeling, watching - or…” His hand slid beneath your shirt, fingers splaying wide over your bare waist, gripping, pulling you that much closer. "… they start doing it too."

Your breath hitched. “Aaron-”

"With just a kiss, it creates an environment," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear, "where both couples get competitive. Where they start copying each other - but making it more…"

He dragged his nose along the curve of your jaw, the ghost of his lips tracing just behind it. "Passionate."

A teeth-grazing kiss against your pulse.

A slow drag of his lips down the column of your throat, before he made his way back up, tilting your chin up with his fingers just so, forcing you to look at him.

And God, that look.

"More tongue," he continued, letting you see it first - his own darting out, wetting his lips just before he brushed them over yours.

Not kissing.

Not yet.

“More biting.” Aaron caught your lower lip between his teeth, pulling just enough to confirm what you already knew -

He tasted like red wine.

Rich. Dark. Addictive.

And so did you.

“More touching.” His hand drifted, fingertips just skimming over your ribs, teasing along the underside of your breast - so close, so close, before he let it trail lower again, just as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"More sounds."

You barely bit back the breathy, desperate little moan clawing its way up your throat because -

Aaron shoved you off his lap.

In one fluid motion, he shifted, pressing you back into the couch, caging you in beneath him, his arms bracketing either side of your head.

His knee slotted between your thighs, pressing up just slightly - just enough to make you gasp, make your hips twitch without thinking.

You were pretty sure now that this was, in fact, foreplay.

“At that point,” he murmured, lowering himself, pressing his body against yours, pinning you down with nothing but his weight, “if you’re already getting ideas…”

Aaron rolled his hips against you, his knee shifting just enough to have you sucking in a sharp breath. “…it’s better off just staying home. Because at least then,” he whispered, “we can do this.”

And then he kissed you. Properly.

Deep and hungry, pressing you down into the cushions until you moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer as one of his hands slipped under your shirt.

“You-” you swallowed, trying to find words, but he stole them from you, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “You expect me to believe this is why you hate double dates?”

“I expect you to understand,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of your neck, “that if I ever go on one…” he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “…I’ll be thinking about this the entire time.”

Then - click.

The sound of the button of your pants being undone, followed shortly by the hiss of your zipper. You felt the warmth of his fingertips slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, resting over your hip bone.

Well, fuck.

“You’ll be sitting across from me,” he continued, voice so unfairly composed, so infuriatingly smooth, “pretending to listen to whatever they’re taking about.”

He tilted his head, kissing along your collarbone, then much lower. You made a mental note to always wear anything resembling a tank top in his presence from now on.

“And the entire time…” his fingers dipped just slightly beneath the elastic of your underwear.

You shuddered. “Aaron.”

He hummed, pleased - so deeply pleased - before finally sliding lower, his fingers finally brushing right where you needed him most.

You whimpered.

“I’ll be remembering,” he murmured, “exactly how you sound right now.”

Your back arched into his touch, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into muscle as his fingers moved.

“And how you look,” he added, his lips brushing the curve of your breast, “when you fall apart for me.”

Your breath hitched-

And then.

Then-

He stopped.

Just - stopped.

His hands left you completely as he leaned back, settling onto his knees above you, looking far too pleased with himself.

You gaped at him, betrayed. “Are you kidding me?”

Aaron just smirked, gaze flicking over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uneven breathing, the way your body was still desperately aching for him.

“See?” he shrugged, voice so damn smug. “This is why I hate double dates.”

How funny would it be if these ended up being his last words?

You huffed, adjusting yourself on the couch, crossing your arms like you weren’t still ridiculously turned on and very annoyed about it. “Alright, you know what? Fine. No need to suffer through a double date if we just… conveniently wait to tell the team about us until after JJ and Will start going back out with Penelope and Kevin.”

Aaron smirked.

At least you’d both come to an agreement - the exact same procrastination tactic you’d been using, just with a new and improved excuse attached.

“…Smart girl.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I wouldn’t dare, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathing heavily, still so deeply unsatisfied, as Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple, then stood, stretching his arms.

“I’ll clean the wine glasses,” he mused, already heading toward the kitchen. “And then I’ll be back to you.”

You stared at him.

He paused, glancing at you over his shoulder, smirking.

You huffed, sarcastic, “glad we could work this out.”

You were not glad. Not at all. Especially because not even a full minute later, your phone buzzed with a text.

From him.

From Mr. Clean himself, who was currently just a couple rooms away from you.

Lawyer, 8:43 PM:

Sweetheart, I hope you're ready, because I’m going to spread you out on that couch and fuck you so deep, you’ll still feel me when you sit at your desk tomorrow.

^.ᆽ.^= ∫

A.H.

"Garcia just told me how to get the cat," came his voice from the kitchen - so damn smug you could hear the smirk in it, followed the sound of his footsteps getting closer.

Before you could turn, before you could say anything, he was there - leaning in from behind the couch, arms sliding around you, caging you in, whispering into your ear -

"It was just a simple copy-paste."

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe2

[multicohn]

summary: fans don’t like lando’s new girlfriend because how scary and emotionless she looks, but he could care less.

warnings: mention of fans not liking the reader

pairing: fem! reader x lando norris

genre: fluff, short one shot, established relationship

face claim: none

author note: lowkey kinda sucks. i don’t have much motivation to write rn but i wanted to upload something 🥲

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the couple had only been dating for only eight months before lando decided to reveal his girlfriend to the public. y/n had no problem with keeping it a secret since they were both unsure if their relationship would even work given the busy schedules they had, but through a lot of communication they managed to make it work. however, fans weren’t very happy since y/n always looked emotionless or angry on screen and in photos despite lando having a giant smile on his face that could rival all might’s ( my hero academia reference ) when he’s beside her. his fans were very vocal about how they felt about her, but neither of them cared.

the british grand prix was only a few days away and ever since they started dating, lando had dreamed of having her being by his side. however, y/n ( had exams that weekend / couldn’t get time off work ). he tried not to show that he was upset, brushing it off with a simple; "well, there's always next year", but y/n knew him too well and knew how much this race meant to him. any other race would have been understandable, but this was the british grand prix.

when lando arrived on thursday, he was immediately greeted by cameras, microphones, and merchandise being shoved at him from every direction.

"you look a little down, lando. not a fan of the weather?" it was quite cloudy that day and the rain was starting to pick up, but it was far from the reasoning behind his mood

"just didn't get a good sleep"

"oh?"

y/n had gone to bed much earlier than usual, saying she needed all the energy she possibly could for tomorrow. lando inquired about what was so important, but she refused to tell him. he had stayed up last night and wondered about what was happening; was her exam worth much more than he realised? / did her job have a special work thing going on that he doesn't remember?

lando sighed deeply as he made his way inside the hospitality area. his hand itching to grab his phone and text y/n despite knowing that she would be busy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n had lied.

she knew how much this race in particular meant to lando and she wasn’t going to miss it, but the thought of surprising him made her lie about school / work.

unfortunately, her plan slightly backfired as she was going to surprise lando when he finished his practice session, but the weather delayed everything.

shrugging it off, y/n entered the garage to find her boyfriend dressed in his race suit with a windbreak over top and looked to be dozing off in a chair.

“lando” y/n tapped his shoulder gently as she sat down beside him

“oh, hey baby” he commented while staring at her sleepily

. . .

he suddenly shot out of his chair making those around them jump in fright at the sudden movement.

“y/n?” lando rubbed his eyes. sure that his brain is still asleep and making him hallucinate

“yeah?”

“am i dreaming?” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the tv where they were showing fans who were in colourful ponchos or raincoats

she almost laughed at seeing someone’s poncho decorated with george russell’s face.

however, all emotion left y/n's eyes as her face popped up on the screen before it shifted towards lando who was just dazing at her lovingly.

if they were in a cartoon, his eyes would've been hearts.

she heard some people let out “awes” and they started cooing at the couple making the edges of y/n's lips twitch upwards. she turned to her boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheeks before caressing softly.

once they were no longer on screen, y/n leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend gently.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[guiltyasdave]

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot. 

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin. 

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men. 

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him. 

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now. 

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.” 

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows. 

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.” 

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less. 

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet. 

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t. 

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you. 

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss. 

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous. 

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed. 

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.” 

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to. 

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators. 

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.” 

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.” 

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now. 

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?” 

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight. 

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to. 

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger. 

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work. 

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again. 

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day. 

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available. 

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up. 

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong. 

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?” 

“Javier is fine.” 

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask. 

“Why do you not like me?” 

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know. 

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?” 

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–” 

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths. 

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.” 

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are. 

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to. 

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him. 

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply. 

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep. 

You’re the one taking it personal. 

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed. 

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for. 

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?” 

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this. 

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–” 

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you. 

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?” 

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead. 

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years. 

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him. 

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself. 

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá. 

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun. 

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.” 

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out. 

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” 

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car. 

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed. 

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know. 

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

[relicsongmel]

Iris, Miles, and their mutual "secret"

The Ace Attorney fandom is no stranger to discussions of homoerotic subtext in the game's script—pretty much everyone who's spent more than five seconds here will be able to tell you that. Screenshots of lines that imply romantic tension between same-gender characters are all over the place, to the point that many fans are drawn to the series purely by its reputation as "the gay lawyer game." Some scenes are more well-known than others, but one I find brought up fairly regularly is this conversation between Miles and Iris:

This is optional dialogue that can be triggered by presenting incorrect evidence on Iris' Psyche-Lock during the Investigation portion of Bridge to the Turnabout. The argument here is that the "secret" Iris is referring to is the same as her own: that being, a romantic interest in Phoenix Wright. Which is definitely hilarious when you consider that Iris has known Miles for less than a day and she's already reading him for filth (granted, she could have been clued in by the similarly infamous "indispensable friend" line, and she's also exceptionally good at reading people despite Miles thinking otherwise). As a Narumitsu shipper myself I am not immune to enjoying that interpretation; however, I feel like there's a lot of nuance in this scene that isn't often addressed by the fandom at large. Which is unfortunate because watering it down to just Iris calling out Miles for being the gayass he is (to be fair. she's not wrong) does a MASSIVE disservice to both of their characters, and I'll explain why.

My bone to pick with the usual analysis of this scene is mostly centered around the larger conversation to be had regarding the treatment of female characters in fandom spaces. All too often they tend to play second fiddle to the male characters, and a similar principle holds true for ships with their canonical male love interests: mostly ignored in favor of the the more popular M/M ship(s). At best these women are sidelined, at worse they are flattened into wingmen for the boys (as is frequently the case with many AA girls and Narumitsu, Iris included), and at the absolute worst they are demonized for their perceived "competition" with whatever gay ship is most popular and therefore the Only Valid One for the male characters involved (as exemplified by some very "passionate" fans that I generally try to avoid interacting with). Whenever this scene gets brought up, the focus is almost always exclusively on Miles and what the interaction says about his relationship with Phoenix; Iris is only relevant insofar as she's the one initiating Miles' Homosexual Moment™—you could replace her with almost any other character and there'd be a similar level of neglect for their role in the interaction. Only very rarely will you see attention given to what Iris' question about Miles' secret means when she is the one asking it, and what it can tell us about her relationship with Miles/what she thinks of him, and vice versa (absolutely wild how even Miles himself is often flanderized despite being the fandom's golden child). It's all too characteristic of the systemic misogyny that has plagued fandom since its inception, which is deeply frustrating to me as someone who adores Iris as much as I do (if that wasn't obvious by now). So that said, let's dive deeper into what I think the missing link is here: namely, the Iris-Miles dynamic as it pertains to their relation to Phoenix.

Iris and Miles is one of my favorite relationships to explore in the whole series—but as I've described above, unfortunately a lot of people get it wrong in my opinion. Discussion about the two is frequently centered around Narumitsu Love Drama—which is a conversation worth having, don't get me wrong—but the elements at play there aren't always represented the way I envision them, which again, is frustrating. Take the idea of potential jealousy, for instance: it's pretty standard love triangle fare that can be (and often is) quickly turned into demonization when it's used in a shipping context, character assassination be damned (re: Narumitsu fanfic authors that project their personal dislike of Feenris onto Miles via his jealousy of Iris and/or how they tend to portray Iris unfavorably). However, it's not inherently a bad thing to explore: personally, I do believe that there is mutual jealousy between the two of them. Miles might not have the full context of Iris' history when this conversation takes place, but he's emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on what Iris means to Phoenix, and vice versa. And him being a jealous hoe about it isn't out of the question when you consider that he's a bit of a loner by nature and doesn't have many close friends or outlets for socialization outside of his job. The crucial element that's sometimes missed, though, is that Miles not only lacks the self-awareness to realize he's a jealous hoe...he's also a self-sabotaging jealous hoe.

And the same can be said for Iris, who is similarly introverted and doesn't often leave her home at Hazakura Temple.

The whole reason Miles is peering into Iris' heart in the first place can be found in this exchange, after he breaks her Psyche-Lock:

Miles uses the Magatama in order to gain the answers he needs to bring the truth to light and get Iris acquitted, and he does so for the express purpose of reuniting her with Phoenix so they can find closure—in fact, he reiterates this to her multiple times. He obviously recognizes how Phoenix is suffering from what happened between them (I'd argue he sympathizes with Iris' plight as well) and has resolved to do what he can to help him heal, but there's no reason for him to be so insistent that she rectify things with Phoenix when it does nothing but harm his own chances with him. Unless, of course...that's the whole point.

To convince Iris to reveal her secret so he doesn't have to face his own, because he thinks himself undeserving.

And Iris, noticing this because she empathizes with that feeling of unworthiness, calls him out on it in an almost uncharacteristically forward manner when she asks him what he's hiding.

Takes one to know one, indeed.

Iris highly respects Miles for taking on her defense despite the risk to his job as a prosecutor. She's willing to trust him after hearing he's a friend of Phoenix, hearing him out and letting him reason with her. She still keeps her cards close to her chest in some regards, but she's more honest with him than she's been with anyone else in her life apart from her sister. She sees his commitment to the truth and how it starkly contrasts with how she's lived her life to this point, and thinks that this is the type of partner Phoenix deserves—not someone like her, who only knows how to survive using lies and deception. She sees so much strength in him but still recognizes the insecurity lurking beneath his tenacity, which is why when he falters in his logic, she takes a leap of faith and gives him one last chance to examine his reasons for pushing the burden of his unspoken affections onto her, as if to say: "Look in the mirror. Is this really for me? Or is it for you? Do you really seek the truth for its own sake, or do you merely hope to find one truth so you might run from another?"

Her question to Miles is a gamble—a coin flip of self-sacrifice. If she loses and he presses on, she has to face the secret within her heart she's been suppressing for five years. But if she wins and he gives in to the truth in his, she has to live the rest of her life watching it unfold and knowing she threw away her chance to finally stop living in fear of her own love.

Either way, there's no escaping heartache for her anymore.

Miles and Iris both want what's best for Phoenix and prioritize their vision of his feelings over their own. However, they are also both deeply emotionally repressed people who find difficulty in being direct with their feelings, and are predisposed to self-sabotage due to childhood trauma. These tendencies may manifest in different ways for both of them, but the fact remains that such people would likely not compete for a person's affection in the traditional sense, which is exactly what we see with how Iris and Miles deflect their feelings for Phoenix. These selfless, lovestruck idiots toss that man around like a game of hot-potato because their mutual self-hatred for the ways they've harmed him has rendered them terrified of the reality of what he means to them, and desperate to find a way out of admitting to it. It's the most compelling explanation I can think of for why the usually unassuming Iris makes such a bold judgment about what Miles might be keeping locked away, and why Miles goes to such lengths to make sure she talks to Phoenix and tells him the truth—his agreement to defend her was conditional on that exact promise. They go through this whole song-and-dance of playing wingman to ignore their own feelings while still trying to bring Phoenix the happiness they think he deserves—and then they wonder why seeing Phoenix give the other one attention burns them up inside.

Because they’re dumb. And I love them.

TL;DR the Iris Psyche-Lock scene in BttT is so much more than just "haha Miles gay" and I wish people talked about it more. Also Iris and Miles are way more similar than they appear at first glance and if I think about it for too long it makes me physically ill thank you for coming to my TED talk

[holyblonded]

team dinner | stargirl

pairings: barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you decide to make the whole team dinner

warnings: fire.

notes: this was so fun to write 😭

“I’m scared, Mami,” Alexia whispered to her mother fearfully as her leg bounced a hundred miles an hour. “My life is at risk.”

“Alexia,” Eli scolded. “You are so dramatic. my Estrelleta will be a wonderful cook!”

“Do you believe that?” Alexia cocked an eyebrow up.

“Yes. Now go monitor her before she sets herself on fire.” Eli responded.

“Mami-“

“Goodbye Alexia. I love you,” Eli said, hanging up before Alexia could even respond.

Alexia stared at her phone in disbelief, her mother’s words still ringing in her ears.

“Monitor her before she sets herself on fire.”

She let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before reluctantly pushing herself off the couch. This was not how she imagined spending her evening. Maybe a nice, peaceful dinner, sure. Maybe even indulging in a glass of wine. But instead, she was walking into what could very well be her final moments. Because you were cooking. And that was a problem.

With heavy steps, Alexia made her way to the kitchen, her heart pounding in anticipation. The second she stepped inside, she was met with the immediate and overwhelming smell of something… burnt? Maybe melted? Possibly toxic? It was impossible to tell, but one thing was certain, her instincts were correct.

You stood at the stove, a look of deep concentration on your face as you poked at something in a pan. Something that looked less like food and more like an unfortunate science experiment gone wrong. There was flour on the counter, an uncracked egg somehow rolling toward the edge, and a suspicious amount of steam rising from a pot on the other burner. And the worst part? You were wearing AirPods.

Alexia’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “Estrelleta!”

You jumped, nearly knocking the pan off the stove as you yanked out one AirPod. “Mierda! You scared me!”

“I scared you?” Alexia marched forward, turning off the burner before the situation could escalate. “Are you trying to gas us all in here? What is this? What are you even making?”

“It’s a surprise,” you grinned proudly.

Alexia looked at the chaos surrounding them. “Oh, I’m sure it is.”

Before Alexia could ask any more questions, something inside the oven started making a violent sizzling noise. Your eyes flickered over to it before you waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, that’s normal.”

“That’s not normal.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Open it.”

Your confidence wavered just slightly. “You don’t trust me?”

“I trust you on the pitch,” Alexia stated firmly. “I do not trust you in the kitchen. Open it.”

With an exaggerated groan, you grabbed an oven mitt, muttering about how no one had faith in your culinary skills. You pulled open the oven door only for a thick cloud of smoke to immediately burst out, swallowing the both of them in a fog of doom.

Alexia coughed violently, waving her hand in front of her face. “Estrelleta!”

“Okay, that might be a little concerning,” you admitted, stepping back.

Alexia rushed to open a window while you fanned the smoke with a towel.

“You’re going to kill us both,” Alexia wheezed, eyes watering.

“Oh, stop being dramatic. This is just a minor setback.”

Alexia turned, staring at her incredulously. “Minor setback? Estrelleta, we are one step away from the fire alarm going off and the neighbors thinking this is an emergency.”

“Good thing it’s not an emergency then,” you grinned.

Alexia let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Mami lied to me.”

“What?”

Alexia pulled out her phone and dramatically typed out a text to Eli:

“You told me to monitor her. You should have told me to evacuate.”

You gasped, scandalized. “You’re reporting me to my avi?”

“Yes.”

“You are such a snitch!”

“I am saving lives! Our lives!” Alexia fired back.

You groaned, grabbing your pan again. “You have no faith in me. None at all. And you know what? I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Alexia eyed the burnt contents in the pan. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” you huffed. “By the end of this night, you’re going to eat the best meal of your life.”

Alexia sighed, already accepting her fate. “I should have just ordered takeout.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose once more. She knew it was going to be a long night.

Deep down, Alexia had hope. Foolish. Misplaced. Hope. Hope that was shattered into a million pieces the moment the rest of the Barcelona squad walked in.

“What the hell is that smell?” Patri blurted out as she stepped inside, her face scrunching up like she had just walked into a landfill.

“I don’t know,” Ingrid muttered, cautiously sniffing the air. “But it’s… strong.”

“It’s Estrella’s cooking,” Alexia said, her tone flat, as if announcing a national disaster. The silence that followed was one of pure horror.

“I see,” Ingrid finally said, taking a step back. “So this is a hazardous environment.”

Lucy’s eyes immediately locked onto the stove. “Do I need to get the fire extinguisher?”

“No!” you huffed, stirring whatever monstrosity was in your pan. “Everything is fine. Totally under control.”

“That’s exactly what people say before things explode,” Pina mumbled.

“What are you even making?” Jana asked, stepping around the counter to get a closer look.

You beamed, grinning with full confidence. “Dinner.” A long, horrified silence stretched across the room.

“Dinner,” Lucy repeated slowly, as if trying to process the weight of that word.

“Yes,” you said proudly.

Patri swallowed nervously. “And… who’s eating it?”

“You all are!”

Another silence.

Alexia massaged her temples. “I should’ve left when I had the chance.”

For the next thirty minutes, the squad gathered around like scientists observing an unprecedented catastrophe in real time. You were fully in your element, whisking, chopping, tossing random ingredients into pans with zero logic or reasoning.

Jana kept peering over your shoulder, visibly horrified. “Is that supposed to look like that?”

“Yes,” you said, lying effortlessly.

Lucy whispered to Patri, “That’s not supposed to look like that.”

Patri nodded grimly. “We’re in danger.”

Meanwhile, Ingrid had taken on the role of an investigator, pointing at a bowl of something questionably slimy. “And what’s that supposed to be?”

“A surprise,” you answered, stirring it proudly.

Alexia just stood there, watching her life flash before her eyes. You turned away for one second. And that’s all it took.

A small but very real fire erupted on the stovetop.

“Oh, shit.”

“OH, SHIT.”

Ona ducked. Jana ran in circles. Alexia almost passed out.

Lucy activated full firefighter mode. Without a second of hesitation, she grabbed the fire extinguisher, ripped the cap off, and blasted the stove into oblivion.

“TARGET NEUTRALIZED!” she shouted triumphantly, standing in the middle of the smoke-filled kitchen like a damn hero.

Everyone just stared at her.

Then, slowly, Ona started clapping with Patri joining in.

Ingrid nodded solemnly. “Lucy Bronze, footballer and fire safety specialist.”

You, meanwhile, waved off the smoke with a towel and huffed. “You’re all being dramatic. It was just a tiny flame.”

Alexia whipped around. “Estrella, you started a fire.”

“Just a baby fire.”

“Small flames turn into big flames,” Lucy scolded. “Lesson of the day.”

After the trauma of the mini fire, everyone somehow managed to sit down at the dining table, staring at the plates of unidentifiable food in front of them.

It was… disturbing. Something was grey, which food should never be. Something else moved, which was even worse.

Alexia, as the reluctant leader, took the first bite. The way her entire soul left her body did not go unnoticed.

Patri gulped. Ona stared at her plate like it had personally offended her. Ingrid blinked twice, then once more, just to make sure she was still alive. But for your sake, they all pretended it was fine.

Jana gave you a thumbs up while chewing in agony. Patri nodded while blinking SOS in Morse code.

Lucy straight up pushed her plate toward Ingrid. “Nah. I’m not dying today.”

Vicky broke first. At first, just a snicker. Then a full-blown cackle.

Your lips twitched up in a smile before you corrected yourself with a frown. “What’s so funny?”

Through gasping breaths, Vicky finally managed to say, “It’s a prank. She actually knows how to cook. You are so full of it, man.”

“ESTRELLA.”

Alexia pushed back her chair, hands on her hips, eyes wild with betrayal.

“You mean to tell me,” she began, her left eye twitching, “that I have spent this entire night mentally preparing to die, for nothing?”

You grinned. “Yep!”

Patri groaned. “I literally called my mom to tell her I love her.”

Jana was shaking her head. “I was drafting my will.”

Ingrid, still looking traumatized, exhaled heavily. “I have never been more stressed in my life.”

Lucy, however, nodded, impressed. “Honestly? Respect.”

You beamed and shook her outstretched hand. “Thank you.”

Alexia sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I hate you.”

“I love you too, Ale.”

In the end, Alexia ordered pizza while you sat back, grinning in triumph.

“You have to admit,” you nudged Alexia playfully, “that was a good prank.”

Alexia didn’t even look at you. “I’m blocking your number.”

[rpwprpwprpwprw]

kim namjoon fanfics: recent readings recommendations 💌

thank you thank you thank you authors <3 love you guys 💌💗🫶🏻

namjoon masterlist

🌟 The holiday pretense by @mortallydeepestobservation (genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff | ongoing)

summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air. Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend. But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request

my review

🌟 i need to touch you by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut with a bit of plot | husband!joon x reader | completed)

summary: After a fight you and Namjoon haven’t spoken to each other in a day. You also haven’t allowed him to touch you. He’s had enough now.

my review

🌟bts halloween party - king and queen by @musicloverxoxo7 (genre: smut) | completed

summary: At the party, Namjoon makes you feel hot. He walks you home, thinking you are unwell. Will you take the chance and finally jump him?

🌟 we have time by @souryoong (genre: smut) | boyfriend!joon x reader | completed

summary: you and namjoon get in a quick fuck before Taehyung comes over.

🌟 heart got teeth by @100vern (genre: pwp; smut, angst, enemies to fwb to lovers (kinda) | completed

summary: the one where namjoon meets his match and isn’t quite sure how to handle you.

my review

🌟 The Boyfriend Experience by @shina913 | Genre: sex!work_AU; smut; PWP | Pairing: Escort!Namjoon x Fem!Reader | completed

summary: It felt very similar to an actual date, as if we’d come back to my place after a dating app meet-up – except the part about me slipping him cash in an envelope, of course. The intimacy happened naturally. He didn’t ask me for directions on how to turn me on, I just let him do his thing. 

🌟Empty Box by @moni-logues | Genre: angst, friends-to-almost-lovers? | completed

summary: No matter what you do, no matter what he does, you can't not love Namjoon. His girlfriend can't stop it, his baby, a thousand miles between you, your fiancé. Nothing makes it any less painful. Nothing makes it go away and nothing can give you the happily ever after you both want.

my review, my review, my review

🌟Take It Off by @jjungkookislife | pairing: namjoon x f. reader | prompt completed

prompt smut - 28 - "This is why I get off to you every night by myself."

prompt fluff - 30 - "Are those my clothes?"

🌟nice try, nerd by @jungshookz | librarian!namjoon | completed

my review

🌟out of reach by @liveyun | pairing. kim namjoon x gn ghost!reader | genre. paranormal, angst | completed

my review

🌟Falling for My Tutor by @hufflepuffwriter1995 | Tutor!Namjoon x Popular!Reader | completed

my review

🌟trivia love by @luxekook | pairing: kim namjoon x reader | genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut | completed

summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

my review

🌟let’s be friends by @bangtanloverboys | pairing - frat boy/stoner!namjoon x party girl!reader | completed

summary: you’re cute, he’s cute; you’re both a bit bored, why don’t you make out with your new friend?

my review

🌟Dirty Thoughts: A Dirty Shorts Fic by @mytaegiheart | Prompt: “How am I supposed to concentrate when I am having the most unholy scenarios about you and me in my head?” | completed

summary: You and Namjoon have been married for 6 years, and to keep your relationship spicy, you like to send him naughty pics via text message that end up distracting him from working and causing him no end of embarrassment to his bandmates.

🌟Drabble by @champagneher | boyfriend!namjoon | completed

summary: YOUR BOYFRIEND KEEPS ASKING STRANGE EXISTENTIAL -OR WAY TOO DEEP FOR 1AM- QUESTIONS AND YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

🌟Naked by @muniimyg | (new) established relationship | non-idol au | fluff, crack, and smut | completed

summary: in which nam joon takes any and every opportunity to see you naked

🌟 Ramen? by @solarwonux | pairing: college!Namjoon x f!reader | genre: 18+, smut, fluff, humor | completed

summary: He read all the signs wrong, but in his defense, according to Jungkook asking someone up for ramen is basically code for sex. Right? 

[earlysunshines]

jealousy looks great on you

hanni pham x fem!reader

synopsis: is she the asshole? hanni—female, 20 years old—pretends to act oblivious to her girlfriend being jealous because she thinks her gf looks soooo good when she’s bothered and protective

warnings: aespa member!reader ; i forgor the order of all of hannis shoots and stuff so pretend its in order ; nothing else??? ; haha kissing making out hahabhahahahjekekkeke ; not proofread, lillll rushed

a/n: am i the asshole for not knowing the order of each hanni gucci sponsor/campaign/event…

everyone and their mom knows that hanni is gorgeous. she's stunning both on the outside and inside, so it isn’t surprising that she’s the global ambassador of gucci.

unfortunately for you, her beloved girlfriend, that means a handful of others get to witness her beauty. you’ve come to terms that she’s not for your eyes only, but it still pains you regardless.

the first time it happened — hanni’s shoots coming out without you knowing beforehand — you were bothered, though not to such an extent.

as you were on the way to your girlfriend’s dorm, you had come across photos on twitter that showed you just what she had been up to. hanni posted phoning updates, and the first thought that echoed in your head was the fact that she would rather send pictures to her fans before you? hell, she never even texted you a selfie or anything.

when you had arrived at her dorm, opening the door with the spare key, you were met with minji making tea in the kitchen. you greeted her hastily, pursing your lips into a smile before crashing in your girlfriend’s room.

you were lounging on hanni’s bed, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, when you heard the door to her dorm click open less than an hour later. your head snapped up as hanni walked in, fresh from her gucci shoot, her face lighting up when she saw you.

"hey, baby," she said softly, setting her bags down with a smile. "what are you doing here? i thought you had schedules tomorrow."

you grinned, leaning back against the pillows casually. "wanted to surprise you." you said with a playful lilt. "i snuck out of the sm dorms to see you."

hanni’s eyebrows raised, amused. "snuck out? just for me?"

you shrugged, trying to play it off coolly, but there was a certain edge to your tone when you spoke again. "yeah, well... i figured i should spend some time with my girlfriend. since she’s apparently too busy being a gucci ambassador to tell me about her shoot. you never told me you had one." the words came out more snarky than you intended, and hanni looked at you, confused.

"what?" she asked, a soft laugh escaping her. she didn’t seem to catch on to your subtle jealousy, but you kept your expression nonchalant. 

"nevermind." you waved it off, sitting up and pulling her closer by her waist as she stood next to the bed. "just thought it was funny how i found out about your shoot at the same time as everyone else."

"huh?" she blinked at you, clearly still confused but too tired to overthink it. she stepped between your legs, leaning into your touch. "oh, i didn’t even think about that... i’m sorry," she said genuinely, but you just shook your head, your fingers tightening around her waist.

"it’s whatever," it’s half of a lie. a smirk pulls at your lips as you tugged her down onto the bed beside you. "i’m here now, so i guess you’ll just have to make up for lost time."

before hanni could say anything else, you started peppering her neck and jawline with soft kisses, your lips brushing against her skin in a way that made her shiver. her breath hitched, and she tilted her head to give you more access, her confusion from earlier completely forgotten.

"you’re so clingy tonight," she whispered, her voice laced with amusement as she wrapped her arms around you. "...not that i’m complaining."

"clingy? me?" you teased, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt as you continued kissing her, your lips lingering a little longer on her pulse. "i’m just giving you the attention you deserve. you know, more than your fans could ever give."

hanni let out a soft laugh, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your touch. "you’re cute when you’re like this."

"you think so?" you smirked, pulling back just enough to look at her, your fingers tracing slow circles on her waist. you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, "i’m just giving you what you want."

hanni’s cheeks flushed, her heart racing as your lips grazed her skin again. she didn’t question your behavior anymore, too caught up in the moment, and truthfully, she loved seeing you like this—playful, affectionate, and just a little bit possessive.

"you’re a tease," she mumbled, but her voice was breathless, and you could feel her hands tightening around you, holding you closer. you grinned, pressing one last kiss to her neck before pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

"maybe," you raise your brows before continuing, "but you like it, don’t you?"

hanni rolled her eyes playfully, but she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. "yeah, i do."

you held her close, the jealousy still simmering in the back of your mind, but it didn’t really matter anymore. being here with her, pampering her with affection, made it all fade away. and hanni—oblivious to the little hint of jealousy—just thought you were being extra sweet, and that was enough for you.

—

it happens again a month later.

you were sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through twitter with a frown as you mindlessly picked at your breakfast. the usual conversation between your members filled the dorm, but you were too distracted by your phone to engage. you kept staring at the pictures of hanni from her gucci shoot, looking gorgeous without even trying in every shot. the problem wasn’t that she looked amazing—the problem was that you had found out about it the same way everyone else had. again.

aeri, who noticed your unusually grumpy expression, raised an eyebrow as she sat down across from you. "what’s up with you?" she asks, taking a sip of her juice. "you look like someone just took your switch. did you lose your animal crossing card again?”

you didn’t answer, scrolling with a deeper frown, your breakfast was barely dented. aeri wasn’t having it though, and before you could stop her, she reached across the counter and snatched your phone out of your hand.

"hey!" you protested, but she had already seen the screen.

"ohhhh," she grinned, holding the phone up. "so this is why you’re all moody. your girlfriend is eating." she swiped through the photos, admiring the outfits and the way hanni posed—effortlessly and elegantly.

minjeong and jimin, hearing the commotion, walked over. "what’s going on?" minjeong asks, leaning over aeri’s shoulder to peek at your phone. when she saw the pictures, her eyes widened. “woah. your girlfriends really pretty.”

“i know. stop staring so hard.” you scold, grabbing the phone back. you look at it again and put your cheek on top of your palm. “but i just found out about the shoot. i’m finding out about all these things the same time as her fucking fans.”

jimin chuckles, sitting down next to you. "so, why didn’t she send you these pictures first? shouldn’t the lover get the exclusive preview?"

"right!" you blurted out, your frustration finally spilling over. "i’m her girlfriend, and i had to find out with the rest of twitter. you’re telling me i’m the same priority as a fucking stan account? i love hanni, like so fucking much, but i just… i don’t know, i really wanted to be the first one to see her like this. i wanted the exclusive." you crossed your arms, feeling a bit ridiculous now that you said it out loud.

aeri, minjeong, and jimin exchanged amused glances before bursting into laughter.

"you’re such a loser," minjeong teases, nudging you with her elbow. "i can’t believe you’re pouting over this."

"i’m not pouting," you grumbled through a pout.

jimin patted your back sympathetically, though she was still grinning. "look, i get it — kinda. but you’ve gotta admit, she looks really good. like, really good."

you couldn’t argue with that. your eyes drifted back to your phone. hanni looked incredible, and despite your initial grumpiness, you couldn’t help but stare at the pictures again, 

"yeah…" you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips. "she looks amazing. so stop staring so hard at her.” you add, hiding your phone from your members dramatically.

aeri looked at you with a smirk. "it’s not so bad. you’re still her number one, even if twitter got the pictures first."

“fuck you,” you sigh, poking at your breakfast.

jimin laughs, shaking her head. "just text her later and ask for your own special ‘phoning’ update. i’m sure she’ll send you something.

you sigh, already feeling your mood lift a little as you turn on your phone, gazing at the photos again. "yeah, maybe i will."

your members tease you a little more before they let it go, but you couldn’t help but replay the thought of hanni looking so good, feeling just a little more eager to see her later. even if you didn’t get the first look, she was still yours, and that was enough — in a sense.

—

it was not enough in any sense. your schedule is too busy for you to really think about it though.

this time it was time for an important shoot on your schedule. you stand in front of the mirror, letting the stylist adjust your outfit for the prada shoot. the makeup artists had done an incredible job, and your stylist had put together a look that was nothing short of flawless. feeling confident, you snapped a few pictures of yourself in the mirror, making sure to capture every angle. after reviewing them, you immediately sent them to hanni, grinning as you opened facetime and waited for her to pick up.

when she did, hanni’s face lit up the second she saw you on the screen. "oh my god," she said, eyes wide with admiration as she took in your look. "you look so, holy— i hate you, you know?"

right,” you chuckled, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way she was looking at the screen with such amazement in her eyes. "i figured you’d like the outfit," you said, grinning as you showed her the full look by angling the phone at your attire. "they really went all out with this one."

"i love it," she says, biting her lip as she watched you through the screen. "you’re seriously killing me right now. i don’t know how i’m supposed to function after seeing this. are you insane?”

you felt your cheeks warm at her words, even though you were used to her compliments. "thanks, idiot," you murmur, unable to stop yourself from smiling like a loser. "but you know, you never sent me any pictures from your gucci shoots. i had to find out through twitter the last two times, you know?"

your tone was light, and you tried to keep it casual, but you couldn’t help the small pout that formed on your lips. hanni noticed immediately, and instead of addressing your playful complaint, she laughed softly.

"oh, we’re talking about that, huh?" she teases, her voice playful. "are you trying to guilt-trip me?"

you snickered, then shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal, but you couldn’t hide the teasing smile tugging at your lips. "i’m just saying. i’d like my own special update, you know? i’m your girlfriend, after all."

hanni laughs again, but instead of responding to your comment, she flirted back without missing a beat. "well, you look too good for me to think straight right now, so maybe we’ll talk about it later," she said with a small smirk.

you roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. "sure, just flirt your way out of it, as usual.”

"hmm, is it working?" she asks, tilting her head with a playful glint in her eyes.

you pout even more exaggeratedly. "maybe…"

hanni’s soft laugh made you melt, and even though she didn’t give you the exclusive photos you wanted, you couldn’t be mad when she was looking at you like that. she was still admiring you through the screen, biting her lip in a way that made your heart race.

"you’re kind of really hot." she admits absentmindedly.

"yeah?" you asked, feeling a flutter in your chest.

"yeah," she admitted. "like, seriously. the pictures you sent are soooooooo…”

you smirk, feeling a bit of pride swell up inside you. "good. you deserve to suffer after what you did to me with that gucci shoot."

hanni laughs again, shaking her head. "fine, fine. i’ll send you some pictures next time, but for now, just know that i’m maybe a little in love with you. i think i have a crush on you."

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, any lingering pout quickly disappearing. "really?” you joke.

“maybe.” she giggles. “i’ll let you go on and be all hot for the cameras, okay?”

“mhm, i love you.”

“i love you more.” hanni says, to which you respond with a roll of your eyes.

—

again. of course it happens again.

you were casually scrolling through your phone during a break at the dorm, not expecting much until you came across her.

hanni’s newest shoot, the one that had her trending all over social media, literally every platform. your jaw immediately dropped. she was in milan, draped in a top that left her entire back exposed, and the way she carried it—confident, stunning—it was like she owned the entire world in that moment. you froze, eyes glued to the screen, unable to tear your gaze away.

even worse, you really can’t tell at this point, was the photos of her in the car. her hair sat perfectly and made her features stand out, the way she looked at the camera made your lips part slightly, and you couldn’t be more amazed.

minjeong, sitting across from you, noticed your reaction instantly. "what’s going on with you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. "you look like you’ve just seen a ghost."

you didn’t respond, too busy staring at the photos. your thumb mindlessly swiped through image after image, each one worse than the last because hanni just looked that good. she was a whole flight away from you, looking like that, and you were here, losing your mind over it.

jimin peers over your shoulder, curious. "is this about hanni again?"

you blink, realizing you haven’t said a word. "…maybe."

aeri snickered, leaning in to see what you were looking at. "let me guess—oh, wow." her eyes widened as she took in the photos. "okay, I get it. no wonder you’re freaking out. jesus christ.”

you felt a wave of heat creep up your neck as the rest of aespa started glancing at your phone, throwing teasing comments about how smitten you looked. but all you could focus on was hanni, her back out for the world to see, and you needed her back here — both her and her back, and her in that top, and her, just her —with you, immediately.

you genuinely couldn’t take it anymore. without a second thought, you screenshotted one of the tweets, zooming in on the picture that was making you lose your senses. you opened your messages with hanni, sent the image, and typed out, “we need to have a talk when you’re back.”

it was a simple message, but you knew hanni would understand the underlying meaning — to an extent. the second you hit send, your heart raced, imagining her reaction.

hanni was in milan, probably busy with her schedule, but you pictured her reading your text and furrowing her brows in confusion. an hour later, she replied with a simple, “what the hell??”followed by a flurry of mixes of punctuation, numbers, and signs.

you bit your lip, fighting back a grin. the rest of your members were still laughing at how flustered you were, but you didn’t care. all you knew was that the second hanni got back, you were going to have a very important conversation with her.

(maybe one that started with a kiss.)

—

hanni had gotten back to seoul a day after you sent the message. to be completely honest, she had been thinking about the message since you sent it.

she didn’t even have time to go to her room, immediately unwinding in the living room and grabbing an extra pack of pj’s in her backpack to bring to the bathroom.

she finished and changed into your t-shirt and her old plaid pants. she opened the door to her room, fresh from her shower with her damp hair falling onto her shoulders, she barely had time to react when you suddenly pulled her in, pinning her to the door with a soft but fixed grip.

she gasps, her eyes wide with surprise.

one: hanni didn’t expect to see you so soon. two: wow, you’re really close and she can’t even deny that this isn’t the slightest bit… hot.

“why didn’t you show me those pictures, huh?” your voice was low, but there was a teasing edge in it as you leaned in closer, your face just inches from hers. “why do i have to find out about your shoots at the same time as your fans? i’m your girlfriend, hanni. i should’ve seen it first.”

hanni tilted her head, smiling up at you as she tried to hold back a laugh. “so this is what it’s been all about?” she asks, her voice playful. “i knew you were just jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” you deny immediately, but your grip on her waist tightens just a little, and you could feel the heat crawling up your neck. the way hanni was looking at you, with that smug, knowing smile, wasn’t helping your case at all.

“oh, come on,” she teases, her voice soft and alluring as she brought a hand up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “you’ve been acting all weird just because i didn’t send you pictures first?”

you huff, turning your head slightly. “i just think it’s fair that i get a sneak peek. is that so much to ask?” 

hanni grins, clearly entertained by how flustered you were. she leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “you know... you look really good when you’re jealous.”

your demeanor faltered. her words, her tone, the way she was looking at you with those teasing eyes, ones that stared more intensely than in the photos—it was all too much. your lips brushed against her jawline, soft and slow, and you heard her inhale sharply. your hands, now resting on her waist, pulled her even closer, and she practically melted against you.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumble between kisses, trailing from her jaw to her neck, your lips lingering longer as you felt her shift in your arms, her breath hitching slightly.

hanni’s laughter was lighter now, softer, as she squirmed just enough to maneuver herself out of your grip and guide you over to her bed. before you knew it, she was in your lap, straddling you, her arms wrapped around your shoulders, and that teasing smile was back on her lips.

“you’re really gonna deny being jealous?” she questions, running her fingers through your hair, her touch sending little shivers down your spine. “you look like, really good when you are.”

you pout, though the effect was probably lost with how warm and flustered you felt under her gaze. “shut up.” you groan.

hanni’s grin only widened.

“see? wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?” she pokes at your nerves, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, then to the corner of your mouth.

you groan, pulling her closer, your hands firm on her waist as she shifted in your lap. “fine. but just so you know, i’ll be expecting all the teaser images.”

“your job is getting to you.”

“shh.”

hanni laughs, her fingers tracing lightly over your collarbone. “deal. though, i kind of like you like this,” she adds, her voice softening as she looked down at you. “all pouty and clingy. might make you more jealous on purpose again cutie.”

you roll your eyes, but can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, here we are,” she whispers, her lips ghosting over yours before pressing against them in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race all over again.

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

[doberbutts]

The rise of acceptable anti-blackness is everywhere, and leftists have insidious way of positioning black bodies and black communities as regressive, monsterous, and in need of guidance. I'm finding it works the exact same way as the neo-nazi pipeline. They ask "genuine questions," that ultimately serve to gather an audience, shift through the ramble for supporters, and fan the flames of fascism. All their questions already have a (bigoted) answer. It's a recruitment strategy:

"Why are black southerners homophobic, but vote Democrat?"

"Why is rap music so sexist?"

"Shouldn't black people know better than to be sexist/transphobic/homophobic?"

These are actual questions I've seen. I'm stumped at what to do about it.

It comes, unfortunately, with being a hypervisible marginalization.

Black people are not allowed to just be. We are required to do so much more than just exist in order to get basic respect and acknowledgement as fellow human beings.

My new manager (a black man) and I were just joking about this- he was complaining that my clinic which is now majority white due to some serious workplace drama (previously was majority Puerto Rican) had some very drying soaps and chemicals we clean with but an ancient mostly empty bottle of hand lotion and how he'd have to fix that. I made a joke about being ashy and we had a giggle about making sure to moisturize the hands, knees, ankles, and elbows especially in a customer-facing job where you are expected to look presentable, clean, professional, well-groomed, always wearing crisp and freshly laundered clothes, and of course your best customer service smile and polite language.

And it's not to say that that isn't true of everyone who works there- but I do find it interesting that one of the white women who work there can show up with frizzy hair and be fighting with the humidity all day and be fine, but I have been Spoken To in this profession for my hair looking "sloppy" and "dirty" while wearing it in a natural style, freshly done up and with products in it. Not at this specific job, but within this career.

Our margin for error is much narrower than others- and our ability to be seen as individuals instead of as a hive mind is even less. Every single person asked me about the Kendrick Superbowl thing- I don't watch football and I don't listen to Kendrick as a general rule (if I'm listening to rap 99% of the time I'm listening to black women and not men because often I like their sound and lyrics better) so it took me several days to even watch the thing. But every white person out there made sure to ask me how I felt about it.

I'm always willing to discuss the Problems in the black community in an open and honest light, but I find I'm less willing to discuss them if I don't feel like the question is coming from a place of wanting to understand and more like the question is coming from a place of ignorance and/or racism. I talk about these things with my white friends sometimes- my white friends who have never given me weird vibes about race and who often are of marginalized experience themselves (and sometimes highly visible marginalized experience such as my Jewish friends and my trans fem friends!) - but a random ask I am less inclined as I do not think that person is actually wanting to understand the answer to such a short question with such a nuanced and complicated reason.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Some General Notes, Week 1

(in no particular order, no you don't have to agree, no they're not "the right answer", no I'm not going to argue. They're just my thoughts!)

-What I definitely enjoyed seeing was (the discomfort and frustration of, rightfully so!) people realizing just how much writing and character design go hand in hand, when told they could not consider the writing! Context is a beast, isn't it? People unfortunately judge with their eyes a lot faster than they bother to read and comprehend (‼️‼️‼️) and so sometimes we have to think about what we've drawn, and what we're trying to or could possibly SAY with that design. It doesn't have to be super detailed, but little things can go a long way.

-White folk tended to overcorrect, with more negative opinions about certain designs than Black and NB fans of color. I don't think it came from a bad place, as much as a place of concern with some lack of understanding.

-Black viewers are overall quite gracious about Black character design if it looks like you cared enough to try (contrary to popular Tumblr and Societal Belief, we don't bite!) But it did sometimes feel that it was to the point of being too nice. There are a lot of Black people who will accept the bare minimum just to feel included, and I hope to one day see less of that. We deserve the effort!

-Measured in three separate groups, we actually tend to be on the same page about design! We won't see the end result of the polls til next week (sorry ahead of time about the poll notification onslaught) so I could be wrong, but usually after the first thirty minutes, our bars tended to trend similarly from what I saw. This is likely due to the bias of my userbase; I'm sure if this poll reached The Unfortunate Masses of Fan Racists, it would be different. We shall see!

-There is usually a beginning wave of NB fans of color that actually find designs better than Black people will, which I found interesting, but then it evens out over time.

-Professional artists seem to be real big fans of the fade. The fade and the killmonger. The fade is funny because fades have been around for decades, and no one ever cared this much, but suddenly there are fades every other character. I wish there were more teeny weeny afros and short locs and just loose curls. Twists too!

-A lot of people were surprised about some characters who were supposed to be Black (and actually were). Which is telling, both on your side as the viewer and their side as the artists! Because that means something was not conveyed, communicated, or understood when you consumed that media!

-Black folk, I love y'all, I'm saying this kindly and I want you to hear me: I think there were times where your emotional attachment to the design affected your answers, even when told to only base it off visuals (e.g., yes, I know that particular character wears wigs! I know that's in the writing! I hear y'all! But unfortunately, when told to look at that character with the pictures provided, without the writing, given the genre, no, that is not an apparent piece of information. I am sorry.)

-I think NB fans of color especially understood this concept, which is just because a character isn't Black doesn't mean they aren't still a person of color. I say that to mean, some of these people felt ambiguously brown to a point that yes, they could be anyone else! 80% of the blue haired characters submitted (and the majority of the gacha ones) fell into this category, imo. Like, we should not all have to share the One Brown for Representation.

-I definitely didn't think that people would assume that the answers were "is this design Black, nonblack, or white"... I must admit that it doesn't make much sense to me 😅 it explained some of the answers I saw, though. Felt like some folks had to be trolling. Unfortunate, not something I can control once posted. Moving on.

-I do wish more people understood that this was meant to be a thought exercise moreso than "this is the right answer" (though sometimes, there was a right answer lmao. Beau is trash IDC.) It's not to gauge "do you know" as much as "based off of what you know, what would you say". It's for you (and me) to gauge where you are! It's okay to realize that you don't know what you don't know!

[teatime-at-4]

Update: I was Wrong (incorrect info in red)

FLYING BARK IS NOT GONE: about the trailer animation

PLEASE DO NOT SPREAD THE IDEA THAT FLYING BARK WAS REPLACED.

THIS IS FALSE.

Flying Bark made the decision to outsource additional animation, this includes things like trailers and promos- not the actual show. this decision was made because Flying Bark is also currently working on the upcoming animated ATLA movie, and they needed to lessen their workload. Flying Bark is still handling the animation of the actual episodes and specials, they just needed some breathing room and got that by giving some of the less important responsibilities- like promos and trailers- to someone else for the time being.

the animation isn't even bad, there's no need to act like this is the end of the world and start acting like everything will be changed forever. though I will give some of ya'll the benefit of the doubt and say you probably didn't know these details, but we shouldn't have jumped to conclusions anyway.

edit: there is a post saying that Wildbarin has a deal for two seasons + specials of LMK, this was a misread, the site this info was taken from was mentioning the already existing content for LMK on Amazon Kids+. the deal wildbrain was, again, for the additional animation. Please do not harass this blog if you see the post however.

edit 2: it has been alleged that Wildbrain has been given a 1-2 year deal for two seasons + a special per leaked "legal documents" from Flying Bark, and I may have been wrong in the above edit. this has yet to be confirmed, if it comes out as true then I will be removing this post, so far I have seen nothing but the misread website however. that being said if it is true, FLYING BARK IS STILL SET TO RETURN ONCE THAT DEAL IS FINISHED. but be warned, my word is not law, and I'm not infallible.

PLEASE REBLOG AND SHARE THIS REPOST TO OTHER SITES IF NEEDED

SPREAD THE WORD

PLEASE DO NOT HARASS ANYONE FROM LMK'S TEAMS OR WILDBRAINS'S OR ANY OTHER PERSON SPREADING NEWS ON THE SHOW

UPDATE:

thank you to @anxiescape for providing more information/confirmation directly from Flying Bark

(Tweet from a director at Flying Bark)

unfortunately Flying Bark does seem to be fully parting ways with LEGO Monkie Kid due to the inability to keep up with deadlines, likely contributing to the decision to sign off the license to Wildbrain as that would make a change from hand drawn animation to puppet 2d/3d animation.

please note that the voice teams and writing teams are remaining the same, only the animation team is being changed.

that being said looking at the trailer the main differences in the animation appears to be in the dept and lighting, things that can be easily fixed and likely are only off because the are unfinished. the animation we see in the trailer is likely not the final product, and I implore fans to remain patient and respectful with our new animation team.

(but again, please do not take my world for law, I am not immune to human error)

I apologize for helping further misinformation about lmk s5.

farewell Flying Bark, you'll be missed.

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART TWO-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. I would also like to apologise for the previous tag list not working! It has been fixed now! Gif by @fifty5hades

|PART ONE|

The horses had been restless ever since you had arrived in town. Lady Worthington, Elizabeth and Mary had been traversing between multiple shops for hours now, the three of them making multiple trips back to stuff every inch of the carriage full of boxes and bags that contained every expensive item of clothing imaginable.

The horses flinched every time the carriage doors slammed closed, their heads lifting upward as they were startled by the harsh sound. But after a few gentle pats and sweetly whispered words, the two black geldings calmed down and went back to their idling. You released a deep sigh, gently ruffling the horses’ mane as you people watched. Lords and Lady’s strolled by, some of them sneering at your dirty and slightly big dress, but you didn’t mind. You never had minded.

Sure, these clothes weren’t kept in line with their usual standard upkeep, but it was all that you had. Clothes were better than none at all. You had been so caught up tending to the horses, that you hadn’t noticed the figure creeping up behind you along the cobblestones. You jumped as the culprit tickled your sides, releasing a loud shriek as you spun around to meet the face of a young girl you knew all too well.

“Oh god, Eloise! Don’t do that!” You cried, the young Bridgerton cackling at your fright. She smiled, lightly punching your shoulder as she cried “Oh come on, this is the first time I have seen you in weeks! Does that wicked woman lock you up in a tower or something?”

“She might as well…” You replied sharply, gripping the harness of the horse closest to you “I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Don’t you joke about that, you know I will actually have my brothers come and save you from that hell” Eloise teased, pointing her finger at you with a stern expression. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as a small yet grateful smile graced your lips.

Eloise Bridgerton, the fifth eldest in the Bridgerton family, had figured out who you were the first moment she had met you. She was smart and witty, and had instantly put two and two together, and had no problem reminding you whenever she ran into you on the street.

The daughter of one of the most prominent Lords on the ton, suddenly vanishes after her father’s unfortunate and sudden death, running away due to the grief and sadness at the loss of her parents. Then not two days later, a new maid is hired. The ton wasn’t the biggest fan of the Worthington family, according to Eloise. The horror stories she had heard from Daphne and her brothers were more or less disturbing to say the least. She had never met your stepsisters, and prayed that she never would, but of course with the latest season coming up, that might be a little hard.

You turned to face Eloise fully, leaning back slightly as the horse’s head chased after your attention, obscuring your view slightly. “And just what are you doing in town? I thought you would have been at home preparing for Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?”

Eloise groaned loudly, slumping against the side of the carriage with a loud thump. You laughed softly at her behaviour, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze skyward. “Though I so wish that I could stay at home and read the night away, my mother has made it clear that I am to find something nice to wear for this evening. I am being chaperoned by my brother-“

“Oh?” You asked teasingly, chuckling at the glare that formed on her face “and which brother do you have the pleasure of accompanying you tonight?”

“Oh, you are so funny…” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms over her front with a huff “…I am being chaperoned right now! ‘So that I may not run away’, according to Anthony.”

Your laughter echoed throughout the street, as Eloise rushed forward and begged you to keep quiet. You held your stomach and wiped a stray tear from your eye, releasing the horse’s harness as you did so. “Oh Eloise, I will say I do not envy you-“

“Oh but I envy you! But remember you used to be a part of this life”

“The only ball I went to was when I was a child, and even then, I don’t remember that much of it”.

Eloise scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “To be blessed with such fortune as you have, though I suppose being related to Lady Worthington can be accustomed to being related to a toad-“

“Shhhhhhh!” You hushed, pressing a finger to your lips as Eloise smirked “Don’t say such things out loud! They could be back any minute-“

“Oh, I don’t care much. That woman is despicable-“

You watched her eyes widen, her words dying out as a small squeak replaced her sentence. Focused on the space behind you, you turned quickly and froze, suddenly feeling rather small and very aware of your current dress.

Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount himself stood before you. He stood tall, hands clasped together behind his back as his deep brown eyes flickered between the two of you. You suddenly felt self-conscious the longer he stared at you, but you were the first to look away as you bowed your head, and once again returned to tending the horses.

“Must you always be difficult, dear sister” The Viscount spoke sarcastically, a small huff escaping him as he clenched his jaw in annoyance. You heard Eloise groan, “Must you always insist on stopping and chatting with every Lord you see? Surely it gets rather tiring”.

“It is polite, Eloise…” he spoke through gritted teeth “need I remind you that your prospects this season rely on me helping you to find a suitable husband-“

“Ah yes, because Daphne’s season went so unbelievably well. Tell me dear brother, how was it that Lord Berbrooke became our dear sister’s only suitor for some time, hm? Who, pray tell, was responsible for that match, until our lovely Daphne married the Duke of Hastings?”

The scowl that formed on the Viscount’s face caused an unpleasant shiver to run down your spine, but you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Eloise stuck out her tongue in retaliation to her brother’s disapproving look.

You turned your gaze upward and met the Viscount’s eyes. He was looking you over, his scowl turning into a gentle smile as he sighed heavily. “You’ll have to forgive my sister, unfortunately she seems to forget her manners when in public” he spoke informatively, sneering at Eloise as she rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath.

You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s nothing to forgive, my Lord. I am well acquainted with your sister’s antics I’m afraid-“

“Don’t you dare take his side Y/n!” Eloise screamed, stomping her foot like and annoyed child. You laughed a reply, noticing the man beside you chuckling alongside you “We both know you’re not the biggest fan of society Eloise, I am simply stating fact-“

“I never thought you would betray me like this…how could you” She spoke softly, clutching her chest in mock-hurt as she dramatically slid down the side of the carriage, coming to rest on the step below the door. You heard the Viscount laugh, “Perhaps Miss Y/n here as a point. You will have to be on your best behaviour tonight, so I suggest that perhaps you should start practicing your etiquette before then-“

“You are both the worst” Eloise grumbled, standing up from the carriage step and slowly walking towards the store front before her. “If anyone needs me, I will be inside. The two of you can gossip about me at your own leisure while I suffer numerous dress-fittings inside” She whined, opening the door and disappearing inside.

You once again turned your attention back to the Viscount, looking up at him shyly as you fiddled with your hands in front of you. “Your sister does mean well, you know. Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am lucky to have a friend like her, especially at my status.”

He smiled at your words, his eyes meeting yours and softening on your form. You felt nervous under his gaze, with how he was looking at you with such interest. No Lord had ever looked at you like this, nor even recognised your presence. It was nice.

“I know she has the best intentions, yet it is the way that she goes about them that sometimes hinders her reputation” He replied, sighing heavily as he watched you intently for your reply. You shrugged “Well, she is a part of one of the most famous and revered families on the ton, she is constantly under the public’s watchful eye. What is the harm of having some freedoms here and there?”.

Your question was innocent enough, but you noticed the Viscount’s brow furrow as he thought on your words. His gaze fell to the cobblestones in contemplation, before returning to your figure with a mischievous smile. “You certainly know a lot of the ton. Tell me, how do you know so much?”.

Your eyes widened and a small blush crept onto your cheeks as you stuttered, “W-Well, Lady Worthington and her daughters discuss these sorts of matters quite openly-“

“Wait, Lady Worthington?” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide with what you could only assume was fear. You eyed the Viscount suspiciously, tilting your head to the side as you spoke. “Yes?...What of them?”

“Oh no, nothing. It has only now just dawned on me that you are the same Y/n that Colin mentioned when he returned from the Worthington household after calling on Miss Elizabeth, and the same Y/n that Eloise calls a friend. I feel rather stupid for not realising it until now.”

A smile formed on your lips as you dismissed his revelation, “Well, I’m not the most memorable person around, I am merely a maid-“

“A maid who has the ear of my sister…and now mine I suppose.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your cheeks once again flushing a bright red as you turned to face him. “You’re…you’re not ashamed to be speaking so openly with me?” you asked him softly, your eyes wide with shock as you waited anxiously for his reply.

The Viscount shook his head, lightly lifting his shoulders as he hummed. “Should I be? Anyone who works for Lady Worthington has my sympathies.”

Perhaps he would be ashamed, if he knew who you really were.

You were left speechless, unsure of how to reply to his words as your mouth fell open and closed. Before you could think of a reply, the store door burst open to reveal Eloise, who now looked incredibly pale and distraught. Both you and the Viscount shared a look of confusion.

“Are you alright Eloise?” You asked cautiously. She looked between you and her brother, breathing deeply in a panic.

“My dear brother, if you wish to keep your marriage prospects hidden until the ball tonight…I suggest we run” Eloise replied breathlessly, rushing over to her brother and taking his arm in hers.

“What are you talking about-“

“Oh for the love of god, Lady Worthington and her daughters are inside! We should run, now!”

Your eyes met Eloise’s, and then those of her brother who were just as wide, perhaps even more terrified. Without thinking, your shoved both Eloise and the Viscount down the street, laughing as you did so. “Go! Don’t become trapped as I have!”

The Viscount’s laughter caused your heart to soar, as he waved a quick goodbye while Eloise dragged him away and around the corner, right on time as Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth stormed out of the store in a huff. You returned to stand by the horses, trying desperately to contain your laughter as the three of them stumbled towards the carriage, boxes in hand, and struggling to squeeze into the already overstuffed carriage.

“I suppose you found everything you were after, my lady?” You replied quickly, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from chuckling, “should we perhaps return home?”

Lady Worthington’s icy gaze settled on your form, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Did I tell you to speak? I think not. Just go, we have a lot to do before the ball.”

Tag List:

@infectedbypedropascal @erysione @spookystitchery @scoopsahoyspidey

@misscaller06 @slayqueenizzy @everythingmarveltopgun @idek-what-to-put

@everythingbagel00 @thecraziestcrayon @bollzinurmouth @reejero

@pinkcat246 @ambitions-like-ribbons @jackierose902109 @ladybirdbeetle7

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