#when my style was never that in the first place.

[immoral-stranger]

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 // 𝐌𝐕𝟏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒. 🪐 “I like to stick to walls. Observing conversations, lifting them when they fall.” – Foster the People, Fire Escape.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: There's a dinner party and reader is a chef, so a lot of talk about food. Reader is also very self-deprecating. Allusions to issues regarding mental health and self-worth, but it's not really the main story. It makes sense, I promise, I just don't know how to warn about it.

A/N: My sister requested this after we watched the movie Sommartider (very swedish), so there's a similar scene in that. I personally find this one very cute. ♡

The apartment smelled of butter and garlic, the scent clinging to the sun-warm kitchen, filled with light that spilled through the sheer linen curtains. It was small but charming, a snug little nest tucked into the hills of the French Riviera, not too far from Nice. You stood at the counter, hands damp from having peeled potatoes, a half-prepared gratin tray in front of you. It had been a gift from your parents, a fittingly named Marseille bleu Le Creuset roasting pan. You would’ve never bought it for yourself—too expensive—but as a gift, you’d been thankful to receive it. 

“Did you decant the wine like I told you?” Imogen’s voice drifted from the other room, where she was preening in front of the gilded mirror you’d picked up at a flea market. It wasn’t her style—too rustic, too worn—but she’d said it added “charm” to your place, always opting for a backhanded compliment instead of the truth. She hated your style because it was the opposite of hers. 

You didn’t look up from your work. “No, uhm—”

“Kinda busy,” she interrupted, breezing in. Imogen always moved like she was on a runway, even barefoot in her sister’s modest kitchen. Her hair was swept into a sleek bun, and she wore a silk blouse that you suspected cost more than your entire apartment deposit. Sponsored, most definitely. She paused to eye the tray in front of you. “What even is that?”

“The base to dauphinoise potatoes,” you said, flicking a glance at her. She didn’t care about the answer; she never did. Imogen asked questions to fill the air, not to gather information. You also suspected that she loved the sound of her own voice so much that she never felt the need to shut the fuck up. 

She wrinkled her nose, but it was half-hearted, like a habit she wasn’t willing to break. “I still can’t believe you do this out of pure enjoyment.”

You shrugged, lifting a knife to thinly slice another potato. “Everyone needs to eat, Imogen.”

“Yeah, that’s what Uber Eats is for,” she said breezily, perching on one of your barstools. “No need to go to culinary school.”

You turned to give her a pointed look, hand on your hip. “And who do you think works in the kitchens at the restaurants you order from?”

Imogen made a face, part exasperated and part amused, and waved you off. “You do not always have to poke holes in other people’s logic. It’s an unattractive trait.”

Before you could respond, the sharp trill of the doorbell cut through the room. Imogen’s eyes widened, and she hopped off the stool in a single fluid motion. “Oh god, that’s them—” She smoothed her blouse and gave herself a quick glance in the reflection of a hanging copper pot. “Do I look good?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but your voice softened in spite of yourself. “You always do. It’s your job.” 

As Imogen floated toward the door, a knot of tension twisted in your stomach. It wasn’t jealousy—it never had been. It was more complicated than that: a mix of frustration and yearning that you didn’t want to untangle. Imogen walked through life as though she owned the air around her, while you had spent most of yours holding your breath. 

She pulled the door open with a practiced flourish, stepping aside to let Daniel stroll in first. His confidence and laughter preceded him, a quick kiss placed on Imogen’s cheek, and she giggled in a way that made you want to hurl. 

Daniel moved with the kind of ease that made it impossible to tell if he was posing or simply existing. Former Formula 1 driver, now Imogen’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, who appeared far more interested in globetrotting and sponsorships than in anything truly meaningful with her. With a bit of self-distance, you actually really enjoyed Daniel’s presence. He was funny and kind, even though you had nothing in common. 

���Danny, always good to see you,” you said, managing a polite smile as he stepped into the kitchen, lifting your attention from the food preparations. 

“Whatever it is you’re cooking smells wonderful,” he replied, inhaling deeply. “This is Max,” Danny added, stepping aside to reveal the man behind him. 

Through a gap, you could spot Imogen in the entryway, observing your reaction and how you greeted the both of them. It was almost like she wanted to make sure you wouldn’t embarrass yourself—or, worse—embarrass her. You, of course, knew who she had invited over for dinner. You’d had to sit through hours worth of gossip all the times you and Imogen caught up on each other’s lives. So, having two world-famous athletes stand in your kitchen wasn’t as surreal as it may sound. 

Max was taller than you’d expected, his broad shoulders and quiet presence making the doorway seem smaller. Clad in a simple black t-shirt, he seemed like any other guy your age. He looked relaxed but not indifferent, his gaze curious as he took in your modest apartment.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist the rising amusement. “Danny, I don’t know if it’s funny or offensive that you think I don’t know who he is.” 

They both chuckled slightly at your words, and it was like you could see how tension released from Imogen’s shoulders, instantly becoming a couple centimeters shorter. 

“I would shake your hand, Max, but I have oil all over mine,” you said, holding up your slick fingers as evidence, before returning to the food, dealing with a marinated cut of meat. 

“Right,” Danny said, clapping Max on the shoulder and steering him further into the room. “She’s got this whole culinary genius thing going on, doesn’t she? Always smells like a five-star restaurant in here.”

“Not exactly,” you said, though the compliment made your cheeks feel warm. You glanced up at Max, who was still watching you, his smile small but genuine.

“Well, don’t let us interrupt your masterpiece,” Imogen said airily. “We’ll stay out of your way. You’ve got this under control, right?”

You only nodded, turning back to the food. It wasn’t until you heard Imogen’s laughter trailing into the living room that you allowed yourself to relax. There was a faint comfort in being in your element, even if you weren’t entirely alone.

In the background, you heard them talk as Imogen poured up glasses of wine for everyone. The wine she had forgotten to decant—that you knew needed air to taste decent. You heard her talk about the wine like it was something special. You, however, knew that she had stolen all of her knowledge from when she shot an ad for a winery somewhere in South Africa, and it didn’t particularly look like either Max or Danny cared that much. Ironic, for someone who had their own wine company, but you also got tired of hearing Imogen talk about things she didn’t really care enough about to research but talked about anyway to seem interesting. 

As she poured the fourth and final glass, you saw Max pick up two of them in your periphery. You tried to not visibly tense up as you heard his steps approach across your creaking wooden floors. He set both the glasses down on your kitchen island with a careful clink. 

With a wordless nod, you thanked him, picking one of the glasses up and swiveling the red liquid around to aerate it. 

Max lingered near the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets as he studied the array of ingredients you had spread out around you. “Is that you?” he asked, nodding toward a framed photo on the wall. 

It was one of the few remnants of your short-lived modeling career—an editorial shot of you, disturbingly close up, showing skin texture and flyaway hairs, vivid watercolour-like makeup in patches around your face and neck. You didn’t even look like yourself in it, which maybe was why it was the only photo of yourself you could bear seeing every day as you spent time in your kitchen. 

“Totally narcissistic, I know,” you snorted, keeping your eyes on the frying pan sizzling on the stove. 

“No, uhm, I didn’t mean it like that.” Max’s tone softened. “I think it looks cool. You must model too then?” 

“Nope.” You shook your head, glancing up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “I mean, I tried to, but I quit a while ago and went to culinary school.”

“That explains all this.” Max said, gesturing to the kitchen.

“I may have gone overboard,” you admitted, laughing softly. 

Imogen, perched on the edge of the sofa like a cat surveying her domain, twirled a lock of her hair idly before cutting in smoothly. “Is she boring you with her food talk, Max?” Her voice had that lilting quality you recognized well—equal parts teasing and dismissive, designed to simultaneously charm and belittle.

You stiffened instinctively, your movements freezing, spatula scraping the bottom of the pan. 

Max, however, straightened slightly, his casual stance shifting. “Not at all,” he replied, his tone easy but resolute, as if dismissing her suggestion entirely. Then he turned toward you. “Actually…” He hesitated, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can I help with anything?”

“Oh, probably not,” you said, trying to recover from sounding too surprised. “Imogen always says that I’m like a dictator in the kitchen and that my recipes are unreadable.” 

Max stepped closer, peering down at your notebook with recipes, pages filled with messy handwriting, arrows, and scratchy diagrams. “No, I get it. It’s like a mind map. Makes it easier to see the process,” he said after a moment. “Even if I don’t know what half of these things mean. What even is… a wild turkey?” 

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised that he could make sense of your ramblings. Looking over, you saw his finger point to one ingredient. You let out an unguarded laugh, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. “It’s bourbon, for the marinade,” you explained. “Does this look like turkey meat to you?”

The meat sizzling in the frying pan was obviously some cut of beef, to judge by the colour. You didn’t need to be a culinary expert to know that. 

“No,” Max admitted with a grin. “And it would be weird to measure meat in tablespoons.” 

Your lips quirked upward, and you reached for a pear from the fruit bowl beside you, along with a cutting board and a little knife. You were hesitant to give him one of your good knives, worried he’d cut himself the first thing he did. It was quite common for people to do when they were unfamiliar with the sharpness a chef’s knife could have. 

“I guess you can chop that pear in little cubes, if you want to help.” 

Max took the pear from you, turning it over in his hands as if he were inspecting some foreign object. “A pear?” 

“It’s for the salad,” you explained, already turning back to your own task. 

“You can put pear in a salad?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “I don’t think I’ve eaten a pear since I was about seven.” 

You arched a brow, glancing at him over your shoulder to see that he was fully sincere. With swift movements, you took the knife and cut a slice of the pear before dipping it into a vinaigrette you’d already prepared. 

“Try it, for science,” you said, holding it up for him to taste. 

Max hesitated before taking a small bite, his brow furrowing slightly as he chewed. Then he nodded, his expression lightening. “Huh, you know what you’re doing.” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you dismissed his comment, turning to look at the stove again. 

Max chuckled in response, shaking his head. He then stepped closer to the counter as he grabbed a knife. His movements were unpracticed but deliberate, the pear wobbling slightly as he began chopping it into uneven pieces. You felt the familiar itch of not being in control, almost taking over your own movements. But, you stopped thinking for a moment. Dinner wouldn’t be ruined just because the pear wasn’t in perfect cubes. And Max was actually putting in effort, biting down on his tongue, a line forming between his brows as he focused.

“Are you always this much of a perfectionist,” you asked, viewing his motions, “or are you just showing off in front of me?” 

“I’ve never put this much brain capacity into anything before,” Max joked, adding a laugh as he examined one of the misshapen pear cubes. 

For a moment, the kitchen fell into an easy rhythm. Imogen and Danny’s laughter floated in from the other room, a sharp contrast to the quiet concentration shared between you and Max. You didn’t usually let anyone help in the kitchen—it was your sanctuary, your domain—but for some reason, with Max fumbling his way through chopping fruit and throwing curious questions your way, it didn’t feel like an intrusion. 

When the food was done, the four of you gathered around your dining table, decorated with pottery and plates that you had collected throughout the years. Nothing matched, just like you preferred it. The golden hour crept through the windows as the room filled with light from the sun and flickering candles. 

And the dinner went fine, just like it always did, even though you couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario of accidentally poisoning someone, or forgetting an allergy, maybe dropping the main dish right on the floor. Your sister and her company ate like they enjoyed it at least. The added blur of wine helping with the atmosphere. 

You were always the most quiet one in group settings, only speaking when spoken to, really. But you liked it that way. The stories Max and Daniel could tell from their lives were vastly more interesting than anything you had experienced anyway. Imogen too lived a more eventful life with fashion weeks and world travelling. Everyone seemed to like it that way too, the scrape of forks against plates punctuating Danny’s latest story. 

“…and when I finally got the bloody thing out of the house, the neighbour’s dog chased it straight back in,” Danny concluded, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Imogen giggled, dabbing her lips with a napkin in that poised way of hers.

Max chuckled but shifted his gaze to you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “So, how did you end up going from modeling to cooking?” He asked, after Danny was done telling the detailed story about a snake entering his house back home in Australia. 

You didn’t realise for how long you’d been quiet until you were now forced to speak, your voice sounding foreign to even your own ears. Setting your fork down, you answered, “I gave myself one last runway season to see if I could support myself. I walked three shows, while Imogen walked like thirty.”

“Thirty-two,” Imogen corrected, not missing a beat. She reached for her wine glass, taking a delicate sip before adding, “I’ll always believe you could’ve done it if you didn’t give up so easily.” Her tone was light but pointed. 

Your lips tightened. “I didn’t give up, Imogen—I moved on.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it,” she said with a faint shrug. “You never see yourself as anything special, always such a plain Jane.” 

The words settled heavily in the air, their weight pressing against your chest. For a brief moment, the table fell silent, the only sound the faint clink of cutlery against porcelain. You forced yourself to maintain an even expression as you reached for your glass of water. 

“It’s kind of hard to when you’re having dinner with three child prodigies,” you answered, letting out a pathetic laugh to conceal your emotions. 

For someone who was so afraid of you embarrassing her, Imogen really had no issue with her own words causing embarrassment for others. 

Max frowned slightly, his hands stilling as he turned toward you. “I wouldn’t call myself a prodigy,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else—discomfort, perhaps.

“Yeah, right,” Danny said, nudging Max with an elbow. “Modesty doesn’t suit you, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Max smiled faintly but didn’t reply. There was a softness in his expression that made your stomach twist, though you quickly moved your gaze to look at your plate; the uneven shapes of pear in the salad were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. 

The conversation shifted, as it always did with Imogen, back to her. Something about a designer or a photographer saying she was the best model to work with. Something about a socialite event where ridiculous things had happened. Ridiculous meaning stupidly expensive or over the top. You wanted to laugh, knowing that they most likely didn’t use the real thing for the crazy champagne fountains she talked about, or that the sturgeon caviar they had served was a cheap knock-off, because no chef in their right mind would use the amount she mentioned. 

You zoned out as she talked, only starting to pay attention again when the conversation drifted towards what they were doing tonight and that they might need to call a cab soon. 

“Oh, where are you going?” you asked, unsure if you actually cared. 

“A sponsored event on a yacht in the marina. You know the jewelry company I did an ad for?” she replied casually, her tone almost bored.

You nodded, though the familiar ache of exclusion began to settle in your chest. You knew the exact advert she was referring to, not because you cared, but because those freaking pictures of her were everywhere. In stores, on every social media app, on digital billboards across multiple cities of the French Riviera—hell, you’d even seen it at a bus stop. 

“I assumed you wouldn’t want to come,” she added. The statement wasn’t cruel, but it stung all the same. “You never do.” 

Your fingers curled around the stem of your glass as you gave a small nod, keeping your face neutral. “No, I guess you’re right.” 

Max hesitated, glancing between you and Imogen. “I mean, she could come if she wanted to, right?”

“Yeah,” Imogen said, tilting her head as though the idea had never occurred to her. “I guess I could make a call to get you on the list.” 

“Don’t bother, you know it’s not my scene anyway,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you intended.

Danny grinned, leaning back in his chair. “A wild night for her is solving a crossword puzzle with a pen you can’t erase.” 

“Or,” Imogen added with a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief, “when she’s brave enough, watching an episode of Criminal Minds instead of Friends like she usually does.”

Their laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls with the kind of ease you’d never quite mastered. It wasn’t malicious—at least not intentionally—but it still left a weight in your chest, heavy and familiar.

You kept your head down, pushing the last bit of salad around your plate, and told yourself you didn’t care. This was the dynamic, after all. Imogen had always been the star of the show, and Danny loved playing her supporting act. You had other friends who understood you better, who you had more in common with. Max, though—Max had been a surprise. And even now, as their laughter rang on, you caught him glancing at you from across the table, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

The dinner ended not long after. They had places to be, important people to talk to—while you had sitcoms to watch and dishes to take care of. You were happy to see Imogen every once in a while when she and Danny were both in Monaco, and you loved cooking for people, no matter who they were. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little happy knowing that Imogen was busy with work all throughout the upcoming month. 

As they filtered out, their voices trailing off into the warm Riviera night, the apartment felt suddenly too quiet. Locking the door after them, you slid down onto the floor, sitting with your knees tucked up towards your body, rubbing your tired eyes with the back of your hands, not caring if mascara crumbled all over your face. You felt empty, the hum of the refrigerator filling the silence. The half-drunk bottle of wine on the kitchen counter looked temping as you considered finishing it yourself. 

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Max trailed behind Danny and Imogen as they strolled toward the cab waiting just down the street. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of the sea, and the stars twinkled faintly above the rooftops.

Danny was cracking a joke, and Imogen’s laughter rang out like a bell, but Max barely registered it. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his mind somewhere else entirely—back upstairs, at the table, watching you push your food around with that faint, detached smile.

He slowed his steps, his feet dragging. The idea of the yacht party, the glitz and endless small talk, suddenly felt suffocating. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of leaving felt… wrong. Max hated events like that. Everyone knew that. And while it was nice to catch up with Danny since they didn’t see much of each other nowadays, he found Imogen insufferable. He could play padel with Danny tomorrow if he wanted to talk more with him. Before he could think better of it, Max stopped altogether.

“Hey,” he called after them, making Danny and Imogen turn around.

“What’s up?” Danny asked, his brow furrowing.

Max hesitated, then gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “I think I forgot my phone. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Imogen gave him a bemused smile, her head tilting slightly. “You sure? It’s not like we can wait forever.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Max said firmly, already stepping back. He waved them off. “Have fun.”

He turned before he could see their expressions and made his way back to the building.

The walk up the stairs felt oddly daunting now, each step heavier than the last, as though the weight of his own indecision was pulling him back. The soft hum of the building at night—the faint creak of pipes, the muffled sounds of life behind closed doors—seemed to grow louder with every passing moment. Max reached your door and hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly near the wood.

What was he even going to say? He wasn’t the type to overthink things, but this felt different. He didn’t want to overstep. What if you didn’t want company? The evening had already been a mixed bag of awkward moments, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

Max sighed, his arm lowering slightly, just about ready to turn back when he heard your voice from the other side of the door.

“I miss you too, like craaazy,” you said, your voice muffled but clear enough through the door. Max froze, his curiosity getting the better of him. You sounded close, as though you were standing right by the door. Picking up the pieces, he figured you were talking to someone over the phone. 

“Imogen and Daniel came over for dinner earlier, and he brought a friend of his, and it was the most awkward thing ever,” you spoke again. 

Max frowned slightly. He was the friend, of course. While he’d sensed some discomfort during the evening, particularly whenever the conversation turned toward you, he hadn’t thought it was that bad. Who would you be talking to like that anyway, debriefing something that had just happened? Did you have… a boyfriend? 

“Mum,” you added, your voice cutting through his doubt, “of course it was a boy.”

He relaxed a fraction, leaning slightly closer to the door without realizing it.

“A cute one, too,” you admitted. 

Max blinked, warmth creeping into his face. A cute boy. That was a twist he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t help but grin, his chest lifting slightly at the thought. And you definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.

“You don’t have to ask if I bottled it. You already know I did,” you said after a brief pause, your voice quieter now. “I’m not like Imogen. I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be that easygoing.” 

Max was back to frowning, this time for a different reason. He didn’t like the sound of that. He wanted to knock, to interrupt, but he didn’t move.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you,” you said, your tone softening into affection as you ended the call. “Tell Dad I said hi. Buh-bye.”

Max barely gave himself a moment to think before he raised his hand and knocked. There was a pause, long enough for him to wonder if you’d heard, and then your voice came through the door. 

“Did you forget something?”

By the sound of your voice, he could tell that you were expecting it to be Imogen coming back for something. Not him. 

Max smiled despite himself. “Yeah,” he said, the words coming out more confidently than he expected. “I think I did.”

For a moment, there was silence, and then he heard rustling from behind the door, almost as if you’d stumbled to reach it. The lock clicked, and the door opened, revealing you with wide, startled eyes. You looked more tired than you had before, makeup and clothes a bit askew. He assumed Imogen had something to do with how polished you’d looked at the beginning of the evening. 

“Max?” you asked, your voice pitched slightly higher in surprise.

He cleared his throat, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I was wondering…” he started, shifting his weight but keeping his tone light, “if maybe, I could stay here and be boring with you?” 

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, though the words sounded stupid the moment they left his lips. He half-expected you to laugh, but instead, you blinked at him, your surprise melting into something softer.

“Uhm, yeah,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “Sure.”

Max stepped inside, and for the second time that night, he was struck by how inviting your apartment felt. The uneven warmth of the terracotta tiles beneath his feet, the mismatched chairs around the small dining table, and the array of plants lining the windowsill. It was nothing like he was used to, yet it felt like the picture-perfect definition of the word home.

Moving into the kitchen, his eyes landed on something on the counter—a tray of something, its surface dusted with cocoa powder.

“You made dessert?” he asked, tilting his head toward it.

“Yeah,” you said, shutting the door behind him, smoothing out your shirt with your hands. “I made tiramisu. Want some?”

Max didn’t hesitate. Moments later, he was seated on your sofa with a fork in hand, his first bite of the tiramisu silencing any lingering awkwardness. “Fuck me, this is like the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.

You laughed, a soft, almost shy sound that Max couldn’t help but find adorable. You really couldn’t handle compliments well, and Max was going to use that to his advantage to make you wonderfully uncomfortable. “And you were going to have all this dessert for yourself instead of going out with us?” he asked, setting his fork down briefly to give you a look of mock betrayal.

“Well,” you said with a small shrug, sitting down beside him with your own plate of dessert. “I wasn’t really invited in the first place.”

Max frowned. “That’s not fair. They should’ve—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s not my scene anyway.”

Max studied you for a moment, his fork hovering over the dish. You were the opposite of so many people that he knew. And so similar to himself that it was almost scary to him. 

Tucking up your legs under your body, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa before you continued talking. “I tend to stick to the walls in places like that anyway. Just observing conversations, trying but failing to lift them when they fall.” 

“Do you also feel like you’ve got a foot in your mouth whenever you open it?” he wondered honestly. 

“Exactly. Always putting my foot in my mouth,” you replied with a chuckle. 

“Sounds impressive to me,” he joked with a grin. “I’m not that agile.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You were the one to bring it up.” 

For a moment, the apartment settled into a quiet hum, the faint sounds of the outside world barely audible through the walls. Max leaned forward, setting his plate down on your coffee table. The TV was noticeably black in front of the two of you.

“So,” he asked, tilting his head slightly, “what is it tonight? A crime show or… what was the other thing?”

“Friends,” you replied, reading in his reaction. “You’ve never seen Friends?”

Max’s brows lifted. “Not really. Maybe bits and pieces, but I couldn’t tell you much about it.”

“Oh my god,” you said, your tone equal parts horror and humor as your eyes widened dramatically. “You have a lot to learn.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me everything I need to know.”

You smiled, a real one that softened your whole face. You picked up the remote, turning on the pilot episode. Max wasn’t really paying attention, but he liked how certain funny things made you audibly laugh. The more you watched and the more tiramisu you ate—the more the comfortable feeling spread like a fire through your living room, silently burning as he placed an arm around you and shared your blanket. 

This wasn’t where he’d thought he’d end up as he had entered your apartment the first time tonight, but now, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think ♡

౨ৎ [ main masterlist . taglist . other love letters ]

Taglist: @koko-mei @anamiad00msday @floweringanna @lucyysthings @yelenam5 @firefirevampire @alexxavicry @emails-i-can-send @freyathehuntress

[hotvintagepoll]

Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing (The Curse of Frankenstein, The Horror of Dracula)—Obviously never canon romantic but the definition of toxic old man yaoi. Whether it's the look on Lee's face as Dracula about to bite Van Helsing in "Horror Of Dracula" (1958) or Cushing destroying his life and engagement to create Lee's monster in "Curse Of Frankenstein" (1957). Such a popular team that the "Dracula" sequel lifted their final fight from the original and used it as a prologue even though Cushing isn't in the rest of the film.

Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire (Top Hat, Swing Time, The Gay Divorcée)—When they danced, they made their character's thoughts visible, letting us in on their intimacy. A quote from a 1995 NYTimes article: "A kind of spontaneous combustion took place when they danced together; they enhanced each other, as all good couples do. Other actresses cast opposite Astaire were invariably drawn into his orbit, overwhelmed by his charm. Only Rogers held her ground."

This is round 3 of a mini tournament. Each poll lasts for three days. If you'd like to send additional propaganda supporting your favorite hot couple, you can reblog this post with your propaganda added, send it to my asks, or tag me in it. To vote in all the polls, click here. Happy holidays!

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee:

Not exactly propaganda but I received this ask after Cushing and Lee's submission:

oh, I completely missed the qualifiers for the couples poll! Nevemind. Unless we count characters attempting to murder one another in multiple movies as peak couple behavior, Cushing and Lee tragically don’t qualify.

Editor's note: in this case I'll absolutely count that as romantic.

Rogers and Astaire:

Oh my gosh, just watching them dance together. They can move around the floor like two parts of a whole, making incredibly difficult moves look effortlessly smooth. Or they can tap side by side, clearly equals, but with their own style. But, whether dancing or not, they make you believe their characters belong together when they're on the screen.

Why are they the hottest? They have so much chemistry when they're dancing together, even in plots where she doesn't like him at first there are always sparks when they're dancing, he's always down so bad for her in every single film, and their dancing is so energetic and so full of joy and so much fun to watch.

God Top Hat just…I cry a little watching Cheek to Cheek, they’re just so beautiful in that sequence

[nanpecan]

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊ pt 6

{nanami x f!reader}

pt 1.  pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt. 5

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You’re a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and you’ve now had two three four extremely intimate encounters with grade 1 sorcerer Nanami Kento, but who's keeping count.... You're preparing for your morning date at your place when you get some unexpected company.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, nanami gets a little jealous but don't worry bc I can't stand miscommunication tropes, explicit smut towards the end (mdni)

˚₊✩‧₊word count: 8.6k SORRY LOL

˚₊✩‧₊author’s note: lemme start by saying im sorry for taking so long to post the next part but i have been going through it :D i am so grateful for all the positive feedback and messages i've gotten in my absence, i've missed my fellow nanami freaks, so this one is for all yall<3 also i posted this on A03 yesterday...i just feel like its faster posting it there bc im lazy. thank you to everyone for reading!

taglist at the end and feel free to let me know if you want off or if want to be added!

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After about thirty minutes of scrubbing you came to accept that the pink frosting stain wasn’t going to come out of your shirt. You sighed and put down the wet fabric. Another shirt lost to your shenanigans with Nanami. You laughed to yourself as the realization hit you. You’d lost three shirts in the last four days…you should probably plan to go shopping soon. You grimaced, maybe you should have saved that extra money you’d sent your mother earlier in the week. 

You went around your apartment cleaning here and there, you had found it in better shape than you remembered, but compared to his apartment you felt that yours was definitely lacking in cohesive design. Your eclectic furniture was a little bit of every style, the art on your walls didn’t really follow a theme, you just framed things you liked. You tidied up more than you think you ever had and smiled as you looked around. It may not have been much, but it was home. You felt safe here. 

The building as whole was another issue. You’d frowned when you had seen the elevator was still out of order. Nanami would have to take the seven flights of stairs just like you had. You looked down at your phone, maybe you could reschedule? Meet somewhere else to have breakfast? No, he had been looking forward to seeing your apartment. It was such a silly thing but you could tell he really wanted to. You wiped down your kitchen countertops one more time before cleaning the small dishes in your sink. 

You were planning on going to bed a bit earlier than usual. You were going to prep breakfast to make some pastries for him in the morning. It had been a while since you’d baked. You looked around, satisfied at your cleaning streak. You decided to shower before continuing, maybe you’d be able to catch anything you had missed afterwards.

You stepped out of the shower and walked up to the sink. What a crazy few days you’d had. You hadn’t really had the chance to be alone and process everything. You stared at your reflection as you wiped the mirror. You’d never really thought of yourself as someone worthy of being desired. An odd thing to admit, but you had also never really had the luxury of having the sort of life where that would matter. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery was a fast paced one and every day could be your last, so you often found yourself discouraged from participating in things people your age did. Dating, partying, traveling…it's not like you could afford it either. The only reason you’d really ever gone out was because of Akari. She would invite you to go out to places where she could relive her delinquent youth. She was also the reason you had gone on any dates in the first place. That reminded you, you needed to text her and see when she was free to hangout. You had a lot to catch her up on. 

You walked out to your living room and sat on the couch, picking up your phone. It suddenly dawned on you that you had never gotten Nanami’s number. You seemed to remember Akari saying she gave him yours. You opened your messages and scrolled to confirm. 

Something made a noise in your kitchen. 

Your blood ran cold. Was it an intruder? A curse? Had something broken in? You slowly reached under the couch and pulled out a baseball bat. You sat up and looked towards the noise, but didn’t see anything. A cup holding your washed silverware had been knocked over. Okay…maybe it had just come unbalanced. You got up holding the bat up and slowly approached the kitchen. You cautiously made your way around the counter looking down and jumped. 

It was your neighbor's cat. 

You sighed in relief and lowered your bat. “Messi, what are you doing here?” You picked up the orange cat who meowed in return. “How have you been? It’s been a while.” He meowed again. “Really?” Meow. “I’ve been good. I met someone.” Meow. “Well he was someone I already knew.” You walked out of your apartment, cat in tow, and made your way next door. Your window had a tear in the screen and Messi had made a habit of going through it and somehow prying open your window (which didn’t lock) and wandering into your place. You didn’t mind, you had actually set up a little water bowl for him in your apartment. 

You knocked on the door. “Hi, it’s Y/N. I'm returning Messi, I haven’t been home for a couple of days, so I don’t know how long he’s been in there.” 

You heard some shuffling and suddenly an older lady opened the door. You had never seen her before. She looked at you and then at the cat. “Keep the damn thing.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice from behind the lady, your neighbor. She made her way to the door and you saw she was crying. She took the cat in her arms and held him close, starting to cry again. “Thank you.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Osuke had his second trial today and was convicted,” she said through tears. Osuke was her husband.

“That stupid lawyer, I should curse his entire family,” the old lady muttered. You had a feeling she was Osuke’s mother. 

“I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help?” you asked. You had known about the trial, it had been ongoing for a couple of months now. He had been arrested after being framed for a robbery. The story you had been told was that his boss had been the one to frame him. He was a bottom tier worker, and the perfect scapegoat for the crime. 

“No, thank you though,” the woman said. 

“You can take the damn cat. She’s moving out of here. After the lawyer’s fees and the loss of his income she’s moving in with me, I don’t want to take care of that thing,” the older lady said.

“I’ll take care of it, please,” the woman cried. 

The lady grumbled something else and went back inside. “Thank you for bringing him back.” She wiped her tears and offered you a hug. “We’ll be out by tomorrow, I can't afford the rent. I’m already behind on the last two months.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I hope everything works out. You have my number, call me if you need anything. Anything at all.” You smiled at her and she nodded and closed the door. 

You stood alone in the hallway. Everything was so silent. You heard the women arguing again and you sighed. You went back into your apartment, sitting on your couch again. You hoped everything would work out for them. The couple next door had been so nice. Osuke and Makiko and their cat Messi, they’d lived here longer than you had. You sighed and rubbed your temples. There really wasn’t much you could do for them.  

You reached for your phone again and went to text Akari. 

-sorry i meant to text you earlier, and then i got distracted again. messi was in my apartment and scared me to death. -when are they going to fix that damn window for you? -i don’t mind, i love that cat.  -but if he can get in so can other things, my skin is crawling just thinking about it  -someone is on the road to getting uninvited from my place.  -no way, you owe me from all the times I’ve let you crash at my place -damn…speaking of, when is your next free day? we need to hang out.  -i can do the day after tomorrow, i have a half day, does that work? -perfect, i’m also just coming in in the morning -you can tell me all about your adventures with the old man. have you said yes to being his girlfriend yet? -he hasn’t asked me yet -boooo

You started typing when you received a notification from an unknown number. 

-Did you make it home okay?- It read. You smiled.  -is this who I think it is? -Y/n it’s me, it’s Nanami Kento.  -then it is who I thought. I did make it home safe, I found my neighbor's cat in my apartment so I’m glad I came to check, they’re moving out tomorrow morning. -So you’re free now? -…yes ? -That’s good, get some rest. Have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow.

Hmm you thought he was going to ask something else. You looked at the clock. It was 7:53, earlier than you thought. I should probably get started, you thought to yourself. You pulled yourself off of the couch and went into your kitchen. You would make your dough tonight and let it proof overnight. 

Overnight proofing is the best way to make bread. 

You were shot back into a memory. 

The best things in life are worth waiting for you know. And what’s better than fresh bread? Nothing! Ask anyone that comes in tomorrow, I dare you.  

You smiled fondly as you rolled the dough into a little acorn shape before rounding it out and setting it in a glass bowl. 

As you finished up you checked the time. You had gotten done pretty quickly. You just needed the topping for the melon bread, which you could make as the oven heated up in the morning. You checked your pantry one last time for brown sugar and you realized you didn’t have any. You frowned. You’d run out for some in the morning. If you didn’t go to bed soon you weren't going to want to get up in the morning.

You sat for a moment and noticed the silence again. It’s not like it wasn’t ever quiet around here, but maybe after the events of the last four days something about being alone bothered you. It surely hadn’t before.

You moved into your bedroom and lay on the bed. You usually felt stuffy in here, that’s why you preferred to lay out on the couch, at least it seemed more of an open space compared to your bedroom. But now it felt nice. You felt safe. 

You stared at your ceiling. “Maybe I should call him,” you said out loud to yourself. You closed your eyes and imagined his smile. The way his perfect teeth shone, the way his nose crinkled a bit when the corners of his mouth lifted, his lips on yours. You swallowed and opened your eyes. If you let your mind wander any longer you’d be in trouble. You groaned in frustration. You missed him, how pathetic. You had always been one to make fun of how quickly people in your field tended to get together, but here you were. 

You heard your neighbor and her mother in law faintly arguing through the walls. You frowned trying to think if there was really nothing you could do. 

You had too much “compassion”, you had been told by one of the old professors at Jujutsu Tech. There’s no way to save everyone and to try is to doom yourself. You scowled as you remembered what he had said to you. The arguing died down and you hoped to yourself they worked it out. At least they had each other going through this. Things were tense now but hopefully they’d adjust. You made a note to check in on them tomorrow. You went to set your alarm when you remembered Shoko had wanted you to stop by her office early in the morning. You groaned and set your alarm for earlier than you had intended. Nanami said he’d be by around 7, it would have to be a quick breakfast as you wanted to get to the school by 8, you hoped he didn’t mind. You finally drifted to sleep. 

You groaned as your alarm woke you up, but you quickly sat up and went to wash your face. You needed to split the dough, and lay the cookie topping over it and let it proof for another 30 minutes at least. You could run out to your corner store while they sat and you preheated the oven. 

As you opened the door to exit, you almost tripped on a pile of items placed in front of your place. Cat toys, a litter box, cans of cat food, a small bed, and a note. 

Messi got out again last night and I’m afraid we just don’t have time to look for him. I think he’s better off with you anyway. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. If it’s too much I've contacted a shelter that would take him. Here is the number. 

You frowned a bit. You loved Messi but you didn’t want a cat. You dragged the items into your apartment and quickly went out the door. You’d deal with this later, you were already running behind.

As you stepped back into the hall, winded and trying to catch your breath after returning and climbing the seven floors, you looked up to see a man in a suit knocking on your neighbors door. This wasn’t your man in a suit, quite the opposite. 

You approached him cautiously. He had jet black hair, his suit was dark, and he reeked of alcohol. 

“Please, just let me apologize- I did all I could. I won’t charge ya any money, just please, I’m sorry.” He stumbled as he continued to knock. You were going to have to get past him to get to your door. There was no avoiding him. 

“Excuse me,” you said, announcing yourself behind him. The man turned to look at you. His eyes were tired and sleepy, he had deep bags under his eyes and his sharp nose was red. He was definitely drunk. “If you’re looking for the residents, they’ve moved out.” 

“What?” 

“They’ve moved out, what did you need to tell them?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re sorry?” 

“I need to apologize to them. Osuke was jailed. It’s not fair. The whole system is corrupt. I should-” 

“Were you their lawyer?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he turned back and started pounding on the door again. “Please let me speak to you!” 

“Tell him to stop that before I call the police!” an old man from down the hall had stuck his head out of his door to yell. 

“Sir, no one is in there. You have to go, it’s too early to be causing such a ruckus,” you said. 

“I need to apologize,” he whined. You noticed a buzzing coming from his pocket, his phone was ringing. 

“Do you need to get that?” you asked. 

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and handed it to you before turning back to the door. The caller ID said Shimizu. You grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him away from the door as you answered with your other hand. 

“Hello?” 

“Yes, hello… is this Higuruma’s cellphone? Who’s speaking?” A woman spoke on the other end. 

“Ah, he just handed me his phone. He’s very drunk and knocking at someone- I think maybe one of his clients' doors.” 

You heard her curse, “Would you be able to tell me where he is? I apologize for the disturbance, I’ll come by to get him as soon as I know where to go.” 

“Ah, yes-” he pulled himself from your grip and started going towards the door again. “Sir-” 

“There is no justice!” he cried out. 

You stared at him a bit shocked, what was he on about? You told the woman your address. 

“I can be there in around 25 minutes. Would there be any way you could keep him put? I apologize again for the inconvenience.” 

“I’ll try my best…” you looked at the man as he collapsed onto his knees, staring forward at the door. You walked over to him and handed him his phone. “Shimizu is on her way to get you,” you said. He just stared. You looked at your apartment and sighed. “Would you like to wait for her inside?” You pulled the man up to his feet and unlocked your apartment. You held the door open as he stumbled inside. You reached inside and grabbed a couple of cans of cat food to hold your door open. The last thing you wanted was for Nanami to get the wrong idea.

Once inside you rushed over to your kitchen to check on the bread. The man walked around not looking at anything in particular, but just moping. “Have a seat,” you motioned to the small table and chairs. He sat down and you turned back to your baking, unpacking the sugar you had just bought. You quickly grabbed a plate and spread the sugar, then you rolled the diamond patterned tops in the sugar. You placed the six little buns you had made back on the baking sheet. The oven still had a couple of minutes before it was ready. 

You turned back to the man and were shocked to find him staring at you. “You just let a strange drunk man into your apartment, while alone?” 

“I left the door open…” you muttered. “Besides, I think I could take you in a fight. I’ve dealt with worse.” He gave you a questioning look. “Would you like some water? Some tea? Coffee?”

“Water.” You poured him a glass and walked it over to him. He began rubbing his temples with his hand. He seemed to be sobering up quickly. You grabbed a couple of crackers from your shelf and handed them to him too. 

“Eat something, get a grip before your friend comes to get you.” 

You heard the oven ding and you walked over to put the pasties in the oven. You set a timer for twenty minutes. Looking at the clock you had about 30 until Nanami showed up, probably less since he seemed to be pretty punctual. You turned back to the man and saw he had chugged the water and was gingerly taking a bite out of the crackers. You started cleaning up the kitchen, putting the bowls in the sink and clearing off your small drying rack. 

“Who is coming to get me?” he asked.

“Ah, your friend, I think her name was Shimizu,” you answered. He muttered something under his breath. “More water?” you asked. 

He nodded. You went over with a pitcher and filled his cup, this time sitting down across from him. “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“So…there’s no justice in the world, huh?” You asked. He frowned. “I don’t think that’s something I’d want to hear from my lawyer,” you eyed him curiously. 

“I apologize for my outburst.” 

“No, no I understand. From what I know Osuke was innocent. It must be frustrating to lose a case, especially when what happened was so unfair.” You thought back to the old woman grumbling about the lawyer. “That old lady was very angry, I can’t imagine that’s easy on you.” 

His hand gripped the cup tightly. “People have no sense of understanding right or wrong. Everything is so black and white to them. But there are so many complications before you can see one or the other clearly.” He stared at the cup. “Most only see the bad, the ugly, that’s the easiest thing to pick out, the easiest to understand. I think most people assume that others are inherently bad, so expecting bad things to come from them is second nature.” You stayed silent as he contemplated his words. “It doesn’t help when your client looks like a bad guy, it’s an uphill battle, but I try I really do.”

He sighed, taking a drink of water before continuing. “ If I lose a case, it's easy to blame me. I'm much more tangible than blaming some higher power for not being in your favor. No one wants to believe that I do this out of a want to help others, they see me as wanting money, as taking advantage of those in dire situations. They only ever see me as greedy when I lose. Another bad guy. I want to help, but when it comes down to it, who am I to a jury, to a judge? I’m another bad person, defending a bad person who did a bad deed. They think if they were truly innocent I wouldn’t have to work as hard, I wouldn’t have to find such cunning ways to prove their innocence, but I try. Not out of trickery or malice, but because I want to believe that not everyone is bad. But again and again people only see me as a bad guy defending bad people, and I'm afraid I'm losing sight of what this all used to mean to me.”   

You looked at the cup he was holding. “I see…” you thought about everything he had just said. You thought a part of him was just feeling sorry for himself, but other points he made were valid. There was a time when you thought everyone in the world might have been bad too. “When I was sixteen…I left my home because of an incident,” you started. “I was alone and scared and I thought that it had happened to me because I was bad.” You frowned slightly as you recalled the events. “And because I thought I was bad, I justified a lot of the things I did. I snuck onto buses and trains to get to Tokyo, away from where I was because I didn’t feel like I deserved to be there, I didn’t deserve to be close to my family. And I stole…a lot…not big things, not precious things, food mostly. I was hungry and had no place to stay and I saw others do it…and so I became ‘bad’. I became what I thought I was, what I believed the world wanted me to be.” You looked up at him, he was staring at you trying to figure out where you were going with this. “But then I met someone, someone who was good, someone who only ever saw the good in people no matter what and that…changed me.” 

“Who did you meet?” he asked. 

“I went to a bakery,” you smiled fondly and looked down at your hands on the table. “I had known about it since I arrived in Tokyo, the line was always out of the door by 7 am, but I had never had the chance to go in. I mean, I never even had the money for it and the owner, she was this sweet old lady and even though I was already stealing food from other places, I felt like if I stole from her I would be too far gone. 

But as it goes, the more I stole, the more I felt entitled to, and after a month of fighting it, I finally gave in and made a plan.” You shifted in your seat, you had never told anyone this story. “I made a plan, and woke up early, to be one of the first in line. I was sixth or seventh outside the door, and when I finally got to go in I felt like crying, it smelled so good and it was so warm. She greeted everyone with such kindness and it was just her that day. I had seen a granddaughter with her before, but this morning it was just the lady. 

“I pretended to look around, considering what to buy. I let people go in and out before I finally decided on a single piece of Melon bread, delicately wrapped in plastic. It was the most beautiful thing I think I’d ever seen. I grabbed the piece and tucked it under my arm and started heading towards the door. I turned to check if anyone had seen me and I saw her staring at me.” You laughed and shook your head. “She was just staring at me and her eyes went to the piece of bread I had tucked under my arm and you know what she did?” You looked up at him. “She looked back into my eyes, smiling the whole time, and said to come back soon. I ran out of there, terrified for my life. I thought she was going to call the cops, but there was something about her smile that just seemed so genuine. 

I think I got about ten steps down the road before I stopped. The guilt was too much, I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t deserve to have something so nice. I was bad, and I had done a bad thing.” You scrunched your nose. “I went back immediately. I pushed past the people in line and went right up to her and I handed her the bread back. She looked at me confused and just shook her head. ‘You can have it, it’s your first time here right? Take a seat, let me know what you think of it.’” You laughed and covered your face with your hands. “I sat down and just cried while I ate it. I bawled, like people stared at me out of concern.” The lawyer stared at you. “When I finished she came up to me and asked how it was. I started apologizing profusely and she just handed me another one, and asked if I’d like to learn how to make my own,” you shook your head incredulously. 

“She offered me a job and a place to stay. I still don’t understand how she was able to see right through me.” You heard the timer go off and you shot up to get the bread out of the oven. You smiled as you saw how perfectly the six little buns had crisped up. You transferred them over to a plate and grabbed one for the lawyer. You placed it in front of him. “There are bad people out there, but there are also good people. There has to be a natural balance otherwise everything would fall apart, don’t you think?” You looked at him as he stared at the pastry before him. “I can see that you really care about your clients. Even if this was a bit inappropriate to do, drunkenly asking to speak to them and all, but the right sentiment is there.” He pressed his lips together into a thin line. “The world needs more people that are willing to look past everything and find the good. I hope you can keep doing that.” 

You heard laughter from the hallway and looked over the lawyer’s shoulder at the open door to see Nanami and a sharply dressed woman stepping out of the stairway. The woman suddenly looked at you and then at the lawyer. “Higuruma!” She quickened her step towards your place. Nanami followed behind her. “Pardon my intrusion,” she said as she entered. She stomped up to the man checking on him before turning to you. She bowed slightly. “I apologize for his behavior. This is completely out of character for him, I don’t know what he’s thinking. I’m sorry-” 

“It’s okay, he explained some of what’s been going on. Do you work with him?” 

“Yes, my name is Shimizu, I’m a colleague of his, I’m also a lawyer.” 

“I’m Y/N, sorry we have to meet like this.” You turned your attention to Nanami who was staring at the man. “Sorry our breakfast plans got thrown around a little.” 

Shimizu turned towards Nanami and then back to you. “Ah, I see...” She smiled at you. “I’ll take over now, thank you again for your help. Here’s my business card, let me know if there’s ever anything you need.” You took her card and smiled. Fancy, you thought to yourself.

“Wait,” Higuruma said. “Have my card too,” he felt around his pockets for them but couldn’t find anything. 

“Don’t tell me you lost your wallet,” Shimuzu said, annoyed. She pulled out another card and handed it to you. “Here’s his card as well.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Thank you for listening to me…” Higuruma looked like he was trying to remember your name.

“Y/N,” you repeated. 

He smiled at you. “Wait!” he said again as Shimuzu started pushing him out. “My melon bread…” he muttered, turning back and grabbing it off the plate. Shimuzu sighed and continued to push him out. 

You watched the two bicker as they went down the hall and into the staircase. You became aware of Nanami’s eyes on you. You reached down to move the cat food out of the door frame and let the door shut. “If I ever got called to fetch you out of some stranger’s apartment after you had a drunken night out, I don’t think I’d be as calm as she was,” you said. You turned back to him after he hadn’t said anything. “I hope you’re not getting the wrong idea. I helped him out and we just talked.” You frowned. “I feel like saying that makes me seem more guilty, but I don’t even know why I’m defending myself here.” You turned to him and stared for a bit. “Are you mad at me?” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “No?” 

“Oh.” You turned back towards the door. “You were just being so quiet…I mean I heard you guys laughing…the lawyer lady, Shimizu. She was really pretty. She looked so professional..” You smiled half heartedly. “You looked good together.” You muttered. You frowned as you realized how ridiculous you sounded. “Anyway…” you turned towards the kitchen and started walking to the counter. “I made some pastries this morning. It’s not much, but we’ll also have to be quick because I forgot I promised Shoko I’d meet her early. So I only have time to change and then we probably need to head out. Sorry for rushing things.” you frowned again. “I should have told you to stop by earlier, but I got a little distracted.” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“M-me?” You felt your face grow red. “No-no I’m not- why would you- why would you think that?” you laughed awkwardly. “I was just saying she’s super pretty and I’d just never heard someone laugh with you like that before I mean other than me- but I mean I guess I don’t really know you-I mean I know you but not like I know you now- and she’s-I mean she’s super pretty you have to admit-“ 

“I wasn’t a fan of the way he asked for your name at the end of your conversation,” he said looking down at his wrist and fiddling with his watch. “I know that look he gave you��� I’ve given you that look.” 

You smiled and felt relief. “Seems like we’re on the same boat.” You shook your head and went over to him, looking up with a playful frown. “Was she really that funny?” 

“She was the only one laughing, I don’t think anything I said was particularly interesting.” 

You thought back at the way her eyes had turned from you to him and back to you. Oh I see, she had said. “She was into you,” you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ve done that before, laughed like an idiot at someone who’s not funny because I thought they were hot.” 

“Have you done that with me?” He asked. 

“No, you’re actually funny. It’s never forced with you.” You looked up at him again. “It’s your fault, you’re so handsome. We have to do something about your face.” 

“Well then, what do you suggest we do about yours?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He was quite taken with you.” 

You made a face and shook your head. “Men will rant about their problems to you and then think they’re in love just because you listened.” 

“Did he rant about his problems? His alcoholism? His brutishness? What was he thinking coming into someone’s apartment in that state? He’s lucky he didn’t-“ 

“He was having a rough time of it actually. I do feel a bit bad.” You turned back to look at the door and then the cat items. “He was my neighbor’s lawyer. They’re a young couple, the husband was arrested on some unfair charges and he seemed devastated by the outcome.” 

“That’s not very professional.” 

You shrugged. “I think it’s been a long time coming. Hopefully my pep talk keeps him back on track for a while longer, but I have a feeling he’s going to snap one day,” you said darkly. “There was something unhinged in his eyes.” 

Nanami pulled you back and hugged you tightly again as you buried your face back into his chest. He smelled nice. 

“Speaking of my neighbors. Do you like cats?” 

“I don’t dislike them.” You nodded, backing out of his arms. “Why?” 

“They left me in charge of their cat, Messi. Well not left me in charge, it’s more like they gave him to me. They left me all his stuff, he got out of their place yesterday before they left and somehow he always ends up at my place.” 

“How does he get in?” 

“Oh I guess I should show you around my apartment. Though there isn’t much to look at.” You ran a hand through your hair as you looked around. You pointed at where he was standing, next to the table. “Dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom door, bedroom door, ta da!” You smiled cheekily as you pointed back where you started. “Bet that’s the fastest you’ve ever had a house tour, huh.” He looked around slowly, taking in the frames on the wall, the knick knacks on your shelves and the books piled all over the place, stacked not so neatly. “It’s- it’s really not much but it’s home,” you said feeling a little insecure again. Maybe you should have cleaned more. 

“It’s lovely,” he said. “It feels very much like you.” 

“Thanks…” you said. Your eyes went to the clock in your kitchen and you perked up. “Oh wow, is that the time…” 

“May I see your bedroom?” He asked. You felt your face go red again. 

“Oh, sure,” you started walking towards it. “I need to change anyway, hope you don’t mind.” 

“Never.” You felt the blush grow and your stomach get tingly. 

You opened the door and gestured briefly. “This is it, again it's not much... I think the bed is too big for this space, but it’s comfortable.” you went around to your closet pulling out a pair of black slacks and a white button down. You laughed to yourself. “That pink frosting was not coming off of my shirt. That’s two shirts you owe me, Kento.” 

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he said as he looked around the room. “What about this weekend? Are you free? I could take you shopping.” 

You laughed again, “You’re like the main lead in a drama series. You’re too much, you know that?” 

“Sorry?” He offered. 

You smiled at him.“Thank you, but I’ll take a rain check on the shopping. I can get my own stuff. I’m hanging out with Akari on my half day, but Sunday I’ll be free,” you said as you buttoned your pants. “That is if you want to meet up on Sunday… if you’ve available.” 

You turned to him and saw him blush this time. “Sunday…works.” You smiled victoriously as you walked over to him in just your bra. He stared at your face and you nodded briefly as if to give him permission to look. His eyes trailed down. “It’s a shame we have to hurry to campus. Are you sure Shoko can’t wait.” 

“She’s doing me a favor by offering to teach me, I can’t do that to her,” you said. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you forward. You looked up expectantly and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You smiled. 

You finished getting dressed and you felt his eyes never leave you as you moved around. He walked behind you out of the room and into the kitchen where you proudly showed him the bread you had made. 

“This is a very secret recipe, I doubt you’ll ever have one as good as this.” He looked down at the bread and smiled fondly. He picked up one of the little buns and slowly bit into it. You watched his face carefully for a reaction. You saw his eyes water slightly as he savored the treat. 

He smiled and nodded. “Good.” 

You were a bit confused. “Yeah…you okay?” He seemed to be lost in thought. “Kento?” 

He smiled again and blinked a few times. “Yes, sorry, it brought up some memories. This is very good, Y/N.” 

You smiled, deciding to not push it. “I worked at a bakery for a short time.” You looked at the buns. “They're good but you should have tried the ones where I learned… I guess people are masters for a reason.” He nodded and continued to eat. 

“Did you want coffee or-” Suddenly your phone rang. You pulled it out of your pocket and read the name, Shoko. 

“Hello?” you answered. 

“Hey, Y/N. I’ve been called out to do something so I won't be at the school this morning. Is there any way you could come in during your lunch?” 

“I think that should work,” you said. Nanami looked at you curiously. 

“Great, see you then.” 

“Ooo~ is that Y/N?’ you heard Gojo’s voice in the background before she hung up. 

You looked at your phone and then back up at Nanami. “So it looks like we have time after all, Shoko just rescheduled.” You sighed and leaned against the counter. “Sorry for rushing you before. Did you want some coffee or anything? I need a little pick me up.” 

He shook his head, “Sit down, you’ve had a long morning. Do you mind if I make us some coffee?” 

“I can make it for you, it's no problem-”

“I insist. It’s the least I can do,” he said with a smile. You smiled back and nodded. 

“Fine, let me atleast get the ingredients out for you.” 

“I’m sure I can find what I need,” he said, gesturing for you to go sit at the table.

You obliged and sat down with a happy sigh. You watched as he moved around the kitchen, looking for ingredients. The coffee, the sugar, etc. You smiled as he grumbled to himself as he searched for items and he would occasionally look over at you for some guidance. You pointed at your cup drawer and he looked over at you as he pulled out two mugs. He held one in his hand and read the text. 

He frowned. “I used to work at this company,” he said. 

“Ah, I got it as a freebie after signing up for their newsletter or something like that, I don't remember now.” You laughed, “I wonder if you were at that event. It must have been around the time you worked there. Before I had this apartment I used to rent one close to their headquarters, so I would walk by almost daily. We were so close and had no idea.” 

Nanami smiled, bringing over two cups of coffee and the tray of bread. “I don’t think you would have liked me then.” 

“What do you mean?” You took the warm cup from him. 

He sighed as he sat, “I feel as if I was a soulless shell of a man focused on money”

“Was?” you teased. 

He gave you a look, “Am I still?” You blew on your cup and smiled slyly. He smiled, “I guess I am still focused on money, but soulless?”

“Definitely not, I can tell by the way you made this coffee,” you said, taking a sip. He shook his head and looked down at his cup. He had taken the one with his old company logo. 

“Would you have liked me?” He mumbled. 

“Probably not, if I’m honest,” you said bluntly. You smiled, “I hate stiffs in suits and I don’t have much money so I doubt you’d have given me the time of day anyway.” 

“Stiffs in suits? Isn’t that what I am now?” 

“At least you’re helping people, now. That company always had a fishy vibe, there was always a tan blonde man in sunglasses who would try to pick me up with bad English phrases.” You scrunched your face. “Sound like someone you know?” 

He laughed. “Unfortunately I know who you’re referring to.”

The two of you finished up your breakfast and Nanami offered to do the dishes while you tidied up. You wiped down your counters as he rinsed the cups. You moved on to the table. 

Laying on the table were the two business cards the lawyer had handed you. You examined the sturdy ivory rectangle and the elegant gold lettering of the man’s business card. Hiromi Higuruma, it sounded like a name out of a tv show. You looked up and saw Nanami staring at the card in your hand with disdain. You smiled, laughing a bit at his expression. 

“Here,” you reached out and handed him the card. “Hold on to this for me, you never know when I might need a lawyer.” 

He begrudgingly took the card and scanned the writing, the scowl still on his face. “I’ll keep you out of trouble.” He tucked the card into his pocket. 

“Did he really bother you that much?” 

“Please, enough about him,” he said with a sigh.

“I kind of like that you’re jealous,” you teased. “Anyway, what are you so worried about?” You reached out and put a hand on his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.” You felt his cheek grow warm as a blush came over his face.

Nanami looked down at his watch, he seemed to be calculating something in his head. “We have about thirty minutes until we have to leave right?”

“Yeah, why?” 

He suddenly moved closer to you, putting his hand on either side of the table around your waist. “Should we make use of our morning?”He gave you a cocky smirk as he gently moved one of his hands under your chin, tilting your face upwards.

You felt your face burning now. “What can we even do in only half an hour” 

He tilted his head as he thought. “Well we really only have twenty minutes,  I would allow us another ten to compose ourselves.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” you asked, laughing. 

He shrugged as he brought his face closer to yours. “We can make it work.” He closed the distance between you, delicately placing his lips on yours. He was so warm, so soft. You pulled him closer, placing your hand on the back of his head and lacing your fingers within his silky blonde locks. His lips moved softly against yours, his hand gently placed on your back as he settled himself between your legs. You pulled back for a second and looked up at him. His lips were glistening with your mixed saliva and face was flush. You smiled. 

“Seeing as I haven’t really had the time to do laundry, and the fact that I’m down a couple of shirts, and that we have a record of being…messy. I propose we move this to my bedroom.” 

He smiled and nodded. He placed another soft kiss on your lips before backing up to let you move forward away from the table. 

“I’ll try to not let it become a habit.” 

“What?”

“Ruining your shirts.” 

“To be fair you only ruined two, the other one was that monster.” You shrugged, “Some things are just inevitable.” You turned towards him once you were in your room and started unbuttoning your shirt. “Should we set a timer?” you joked. 

Nanami set his blazer aside and loosened his tie. “We can be quick about it. We made do in that bathroom.” 

You felt your cheeks go red, “Oh my god,” you buried your face in your hands and sat on the bed. You heard him chuckle and you looked up. He placed a hand down onto your cheek and you smiled at him. He slowly lowered his face down towards you and kissed your forehead. He pushed you onto your back as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. You shifted your weight as you reached down to pull your pants down. You slipped them off of your legs and suddenly felt him grab your right ankle. He smiled coyly as he placed it up onto his shoulders, you felt your face go red as you looked at him. He held your leg firmly as he lazily unbuttoned his pants and shuffled them down to expose himself. You felt your heartbeat quicken as he moved forward and ran his cock over your underwear. He moved forward, placing his knees on the bed as he brought your legs up onto his thighs. He picked up your left leg and pressed it against his side as he moved forward to kiss you. You groaned as you felt your right thigh stretch against his chest. You moved one of your hands onto his shoulder and the other laced into his hair bringing him closer. Your tongues danced as you desperately kissed him. He continued to buck his hips, running his cock over your now soaked panties. He grunted at the friction and quickly moved back suddenly. You whimpered again as your leg moved back up with him. He let go of your left leg and moved it over opening your legs wide before him. He looked up at you, his pupils wide and his mouth wet with your spit. He swallowed hard as his eyes trailed down your body. “Y/N…I don’t know how to explain what you do to me…” He licked his lips as he thrust his hips forward against your clothed cunt. “I apologize in advance if I’m being too rough.” He looked back up at you. “Please let me know if I’m too rough..” He moved a hand down and pushed aside the wet fabric easily. 

He pressed his tip lightly against your opening. You moved a hand forward and pressed it against his abdomen stopping him momentarily. “Kento…” 

His head snapped up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

There was a desperation in his gaze that made you feel a warmth in your chest. “It’s okay.” You moved your hand back and lifted your arms over your head. “Be rough with me, please…” you moaned and arched your back as you felt him dip a little deeper inside you. 

Nanami quickly grabbed your other leg and pressed it back against you as he moved forward and buried himself deep inside of you. You let out a yelp, which was muffled by him devouring your lips. He pushed his hips roughly against you, desperately, quickly, as he held your legs further back. You were folded over yourself and you felt the head of his cock bully the deepest parts of you. You gasped everytime he pushed into you, becoming a mumbling mess under his touch. He slipped an arm behind you and brought you closer to him and you gasped at the change in position. He had you trapped in a mating press and all you could do was mutter incoherently. “Kento!” you cried, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasure. He moved his mouth from your lips and trailed sloppy kisses down to your jaw and into your neck. You felt him bite your skin gently before latching onto the side of your neck. He was going to leave a mark, you were sure. You moved your arms forward and hugged his large torso towering over you. He wasn’t slowing down and you were reaching your limit. You dug your nails into his back and you heard him hiss as he released your neck. He smiled snarkily before moving to the other side of your neck and biting down on it. You dragged your nails along his back again and he bit down harder. You cried out as he desperately moved his hips with more force, his knees slipping and forcing him deeper as he temporarily let his weight drop on you for an instant. You moaned loudly and clenched your entire body as you came. He grunted into your ear as he thrust his hips one more time before releasing with a roar. 

You were both breathing heavily as he stayed inside of you for a while longer, twitching against your contracting walls. He kissed your face gently as he tried to catch his breath and you smiled, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling. After some time he finally moved back, releasing your legs which had been trapped between the two of you. He took a moment to massage your thighs in his hands. You hummed in appreciation. 

You felt him move back and pull out of you. You winced as you felt warm liquid ooze out of you. You pointed to your bedside table and he quickly fetched a handkerchief to clean you up. 

“I might have gotten carried away again.” 

You laughed and sat up sorely. “It's only 8 am.” You mumbled. He smiled at you and you saw his eyes trail to your neck. You put a hand over the spots he had leeched on to. He smiled satisfied as he made his way off the bed. 

“I’m going to take a quick shower…would you like to join me?” You nodded and scooted off of the bed. You looked at him as he turned his back towards you and winced. He turned to look. “What? Is something wrong?” 

“Your back,” you said with a frown. “I didn’t realize how hard I was scratching.” 

He peeked over his shoulder at the sharp red lines. “Nothing you can’t fix,” he said. He went over to you and scooped you up in his arms. 

After your quick shower together you went back into your bedroom to get dressed. You looked in the mirror at your body. He had left a mark at the base of your neck, just low enough to be covered by the collar of your shirt. You looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw he was staring with a smile on his face. “I might have been caught up in the moment, but I made sure I was careful.” 

You smiled back and looked at the mark again. You looked back up at him. “This…this doesn’t have anything to do with you being jealous does it?” 

He blinked and you saw his eyebrows furrow slightly. “No,” he huffed, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeve.. “Why would you- No, I’m not-”

You laughed. “Sorry, I had to tease. I love when you get flustered.”

He sighed and came up behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Do you have the lady lawyer’s card? What was her name? Shimizu? I think I should hold on to her card as well.” 

You frowned and leaned your head into his. “I knew it. You’re leaving me for her.” 

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you bringing you closer to him. He buried his face into your neck and took a deep breath. He pressed a kiss into your shoulder before moving up to kiss your cheek. “We should get going.” 

You turned to look at him. “Okay.” He took your hands and lifted them to his lips to give them a gentle kiss. 

“Make sure Shoko doesn’t go too far, she has a habit of getting carried away…”

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

pt 1.  pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5.

˚₊✩‧₊thank you for reading my way too overly complicated fic, i have so much planned and its all really self indulgent but I'm glad I can share it with other nanami lovers. i'll try to be better about posting the next part without a three month ghosting period, but in my defense the end of 2024 was out to get me....anyway much love to you all and as always if you saw a typo, no you didn't -Nana

˚₊✩‧₊ taglist: @wrldtups @rjreins @phattyboo90 @tnyblacklesbo @silkija @justwantedachange @inthedarkshadows000 @nniiyyaa @starkmila09 @sikuthealien @wifenanami @bloombb @kentos-glasses @inciteterr0r @naturalismi @kimkimoruo @thatvintagefanboy @lavenderdaydream97

[alms4oblivion]

Things I love about Avatrice:

- "I would die for you" x "I would burn the world for you"

- meet cute at the business end of a blowgun

- "I'm worthless unless I'm of use" x "you don't have to be so perfect all the time"

- "my biggest fear is being alone" x "you'll never be alone again"

- chemistry so good the actors almost kissed each other in the wrong scene by accident (one pulled away at the last minute)

-the way there was only one bed in their apartment, and then they moved into a billionaire scientist's mansion, only they still slept in the same bed

- touch starved (paralyzed) x touch starved (lesbian who became a nun) = they cannot stop touching each other at inappropriate times, even when they're still "just friends," and it's beautiful

- they way they can't stop looking at each other’s lips

- the way Beatrice can't stop glancing at Ava's chest, except in the one scene where Ava is trying with all her might to get Bea to look while taking off her cardigan and Bea very carefully looks at a featureless bartop

- the way Ava uses Beatrice's fighting style after Beatrice trains her

- the way they communicate (apologizing immediately after they fight, respecting each other’s perspectives)

- the way they stare jealously when a prospective romantic alternative shows up

- the way Beatrice (the one WITHOUT magicsl powers) turns into an unstoppable killing machine when anyone takes Ava away from her

- the way Ava literally does not care about protecting her ally/heterobaiting romantic interest, to the point that when Beatrice puts Ava's hand on him so they can all escape a dangerous situation together, Ava takes her hand back, puts it on Bea, and flies away, leaving the guy to fend for himself

- the way Ava pulls back from their first kiss when Beatrice is too shocked to participate, then so softly moves back in when Beatrice kisses her back, and the whole tenderness of it...the kiss is what got me to watch the show in the first place.

Top Femslash Ships Bracket - Quarterfinals

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with some of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement of anything included in the bracket, and refrain from harassment.

[hurlumerlu]

i feel like i’m missing something about the ashtray that you’re seeing, so i must ask, what do you find so fascinating about it?

Well this is probably going to end up being a bit embarassing for me, but no, I don't think you're missing anything about the ashtray. I think it's meant to add just a touch of unease and not much else.

The reason I'm so obsessed with it - my neuroses aside - is because of how gratuitous it feels.

As a transition shot (which I'm using to mean "first shot we get to signify we cut from one scene to another", my apologies if it's not the right technical term) it's kind of a jarring one: a simple, abrupt cut from a relatively colorful shot of Kant in his home to this close up of an object in predominently dark and sepia tones. It's also not the most informative one.

All the clues as to where we are (the computer, the notebook, the chair, the lamp) are background things, out of focus. The one thing that is in focus is something that's never really been brought to our attention: yes, the captain is the only character we've seen smoking so far, and yes, the ashtray is technically present in his office when we're introduced to him, but I had to look for it to find it and would have never noticed it otherwise:

So we've got all those rather discreet, almost subliminal informations about our location, and smack in the middle of it the figure of a naked woman tits up, laying under one of tv's most beloved phallic symbols, and it's just... why? Why put that shot in? What's the point? They very well could have just put a shot of the office through one of its doors, they even did it in the cut version.

(informative, very easy to read, but does not set any particular tone)

But they didn't want to, so it has to be purposeful. My thoughts on its purpose below. It turns into me trying to analyse the captain and Kant's relationship, so it gets kinda long, and just as a heads-up, I discuss sexual coercion down the line.

So, like I said in the begining of my post, I think it's meant to add just a touch of unease and not much else. I stand by it, but I am very interested in that unease. Frankly, even if it was the most tasteful sculpture of a bare lady I had ever seen, I would still question its presence in Christ's office (where he works as a police captain.) But it's pretty far from tasteful, isn't it? Regardless of aesthetic considerations (I think it's fugly), it's an ashtray. The captain stubs his cigarettes and drops their ashes on the figure of an arched, naked body. There's inarguarbly an element of sleaze to that choice of prop, or as my wife would put it "yeah, it's here to tell us that cap's kind of a creep."

And it's not the first time the subtext got sleazy around these two either. They had one of their talk in a bathhouse (probably a universal spot for gay hookups, but certifiably a thai spot for gay hookups) in a steam room (even if there wasn't a long history or eroticising those places, Style almost jerked off/blew Fadel in one last episode). Of course, it's also an hommage to spy stories, spies sure love their saunas, but I don't believe it's only that. Because 1/again, that FadelStyle scene one episode prior. 2/I will not do JoJo Tichakorn Phukhaotong the insult of implying he does not know his gay porn and 3/

they didn't have to touch. They could have exchanged informations and gone their separate ways without touching even once. If they had to touch it could have been a hand on the shoulder or a handshake. (That's what I thought would happen! When we got a glimpse of that scene in the trailer, and I wrote my very first fic for this fandom, I genuinely thought the scene would only be an hommage to spy stories, and that all the potential sleaziness I was seeing there was just, well, me being me. I wrote the fic because I thought the show wouldn't go there!) But instead we got the captain following Kant to a bathhouse, the both of them meeting in a sweat room (something made explicitely sexual in the previous episode), Christ telling Kant he has to "up his game" and to not "tell anyone about this" and then slapping his thigh in a manner very reminiscent of another thigh grab we saw in episode 2, this one definitely sensual.

I'm calling that subtext, and I'd say whoever did the cut for the tv version agreed with me, since they completely removed that damn ashtray. Now, it could simply be a matter of female-presenting-nipples, but I'm willing to bet the thigh grab was also cut (if I'm wrong, feel free to point and laugh). EDIT: @deliriousblue checked, and I was in fact wrong! They kept the thigh slap. I don't think it detracts from my point too much, though, as it doesn't negate anything I said before about sexual subtext/coding. (but If anything, it makes the switch from ashtray close-up to wide office shot stands out even more)

So there's something sexual lurking in the outskirt of Kant & Christ's relationship. It's implied, it's light, but it's there.

I think part of the purpose is just a little playful nod to porn clichés, but I would argue that there's a bit more to it, because Kant and the captain's relationship actually has a very clear sexual component.

Not in that I think they fucked (in canon. i don't think they fucked in canon. i do think it should be explored in fics.), but the plain fact is that Christ is whoring Kant out. It probably didn't start that way, the begining of their partnership was probably more "you have names and contacts and I want them" but how could it stay like that? Once Kant gave all the name he already had, once the captain started to assign him to cases he had no previous contacts with, no point of entry, do we really believe Kant wasn't expected to exploit a sexual angle? I think the people who say Kant didn't have to make Bison fall for him are kidding themselves, and not only because there would be no story if he hadn't. Our societies are far less suspicious of the idea of a stranger suddenly getting close to you because they're hoping for sex than it is of a total stranger getting close to you with hopes of friendship. That's just how it is! You make friends in the circles you already run in, and with the general understanding that real intimacy will be slowly built overtime. Meanwhile a random hookup can have access to your bedroom the very night they met you. There's just no contest: for the kind of missions Kant seems to be sent on, with absolutely no backup or cover story or anything, seduction is pretty much the only trick up his sleeve, especially if the captain presses him for fast results like he did in the show. (not to mention that, on an almost "meta" aspect, the captain chose a young man who's Thai BLs level of conventionally attractive to do his dirty work) The captain may not have said "I need you to have sex with dangerous people", if only to have a layer of legal plausible denial, but he certainly expected it, and even if - a big if - Kant got the idea himself for expediency the first time, Christ kept placing him in situations where he would have to do that again. The captain's a pimp, the currency is intel, and the show said "you don't have to face it if you don't want to, that might be a bit much for a romcom, but we are not shying away from it." Or at least that's where my reading currently lands.

And I do think it's interesting that the two times we were reminded of this aspect of sexual coercion, it was followed first by the KantBison mutual dubcon of episode 3, and second by the captain actually bothering to look physically threatening to Kant for the very first time. Because as you pointed out in the tag under this post, the show plays super interestingly on First Kanaphan's actual height and how often Kant is dwarfed by others, but the captain almost never bothers to use his own considerable height. He sits. He lounges. When he gets up it's never into Kant's space. He can turn his back on him without fear. He doesn't threaten, he reminds. Until Kant himself threatens not just to quit but to bite back and suddenly the confrontation is physical, even though they're not touching. A reminder not just of the consequences, but of their respective place. Then it passes, and here's the nonchalance again: Christ goes back to his ashtray.

And if I may abandon sincere media analysis for just a second and be a little cheeky? Here's a picture of the captain in his sofa, knee slightly parted, Kant coming toward him. And the cigarette I called one of tv's most beloved phallic symbols?

yeah, it's pointing up.

[vvachillessongvv]

2024 Fandom review

💜

When I was in third grade, I wrote a short story about a girl who had been shrunken down to the size of a grape and had to find a way to grow back to her regular size. My teacher wrote a note on that story that said I should be a writer when I grow up- I held onto that even though all my adults told me writing wasn't a good career choice. I guess they never thought about the alternative, which is writing fluff and smut for free on godless AO3 😂 I can't explain how much every single comment means to me, the little community we have here, it is truly such a wonderful space and I feel like I gained so much in 2024 just by being a part of it. Thank you for being here and reading my words. I started reading and writing Young Royals fic in 2024, so it was a truly magical year.

Fics written:

First fic posted in 2024: Popcorn 2024-06-02

Something that popped into my head, and made me think "Yeah, I could probably write a Wilmon fic" 😂 it's sweet and sort of silly and it means a lot just because it's my og baby.

Last fic posted in 2024: stay with me

2024-12-31

Filthy smut with a bit of feelings, because it's Wilmon 😏💜

Fav fic I've written: Siren

This one is just everything to me. I loved being creative with it, I loved collaborating with people, I loved the slight switch in writing style to fit the time period, it is a true ode to my love of writing and Wilmon combined. Bonus, it introduced me to someone who is now a truly important part of my life.

Fic recs will be after the page break 💜💜💜

Fics read:

Who knows how many- my bookmarks are sitting at 150, but I'd say probably closer to 400-500. There's genuinely no telling 😅

First fic I bookmarked/read: I was on ao3 as a guest for a hot minute, so the first Wilmon fic I read was Fuck the Monarchy by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic (a truly beautiful place to start!) but the first fic I bookmarked on my profile is Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me on ao3

Last fic I read: I'm assuming this means the last fic I read in 2024, which would be Now we're falling like snow by @skibasyndrome I absolutely adore his fics, and this one was no different.

Some favorites I've read this year:

You are Unbreaking by @unfortunate17

This is absolutely beautiful, the premise is amazing and just so different while still capturing that amazing Wilmon magic.

Doesn't everyone belong in the arms of the sacred by @alltoowille

This one meant so much to me I was messaging the author from my personal Tumblr to tell them how much it meant to me, before I'd even created my sideblog or ao3 account 😅 it's beautiful and genuinely changed the way I look at religion

Is it over now? by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic

This one is so visceral, it still has an impact on how I write wilmon, and I will probably cry every single time I go back to it

i don't feel like our love it brand new @prince-simon

This fic lives in my heart indefinitely. Prince Simon is absolutely everything to me. Not to be dramatic, but this changed my life a little.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon

This is basically what I'm trying to emulate any time I write smut. The way their intimacy is written in this smut is pure magic, the original characters have made a home in my heart and mind, and it's just one of my favorite Wilmon fics of all time

do you think you'd like me more if i was less like you by @toffeelemon

This fic meant the world to me on my genderqueer journey, in fact I'm rereading it just for the amazing gender feels.

Align by Ripki on ao3

Some of the most gorgeous writing I've ever come across. Every chapter touches me and blows me away all at once, and makes me want to write my own beautiful words

Hungry by @earlgrey-lateatnight

I have 2 vampire Simon docs and it's all this fics fault 😂 it's so hot, intimate, and written so wonderfully

now we're knee-deep in this mess by aqua_rius on ao3

This one broke me and put me back together. I had to pause reading multiple times because their pain and longing hit me so hard. It's incredible.

Love drunk and we're never sober by @caramelpenguin

This is so lovely and written so beautifully. It made a little home in my heart and I now think about it when I'm writing anything close to friends to lovers.

To hold (in return) @saynomorefic

I'm telling you, I think about this fic unbidden at least once a week. It is so soft and wonder.

and if my heart should somehow stop by @grapehyasynth

Such a unique premise, the longing and love is so palpable, and of course, the writing is just perfectly beautiful

Baby I know how to use a gun by @saynomorefic

Another AU that lives in my head rent free. Completely amazing, I'd read 200,000 words of just them.

futile devices @jordensgolde

The writing is immaculate, the premise is different and so incredibly Wilmon. The beauty of these words truly inspires me.

one hundred and seventeen @prince-simon

Dare I say this one trans'ed my gender? I read this and suddenly had words for how I felt about myself. I still cry every time I read it. Genderfluid Simon has a special place in my heart, and it's just written so beautifully. Love entirely.

Say a prayer for me in the dark by witchjeons on ao3

This made me want to write poetry again, which I did for one of my fics, and I've continued to do so just for myself. It is utterly beautiful, and I sob each time I read it.

I hate accidents except when we go from friends to this by @cloudywilmon

This is my ultimate feel-good/fully dissociate from reality fic. It is hot, and funny, and ridiculous in all the most perfect ways. When I'm having the shittiest day imaginable, there's these boys having sex and pretending it means absolutely nothing.

Outlines of You by @enjoythesilentworld

Genuinely some of the most beautiful smut I've ever read

Knowing what it feels like by strawberryxcreqm on ao3

This is another fic that just lives in my head, and I can't listen to Mazzy Star without thinking about it.

for the tree's sake by @enjoythesilentworld

This is one of my favorite dynamics. I absolutely adore poetic Wille, it is so soft and sweet and captures them so perfectly

Final reflections:

Thank you to everyone who participates in this fandom in any way. Lurkers, commenters, people making art, gifs, sharing those amazing scene/character analysis'. And of course each and every fic writer, you who have inspired me to find writing again. This is such a beautiful little corner of the internet that I can't wait to spend another year in. Thank you 💜💜💜 feel free to come yell at me or just say hi in my inbox or ask box. I'm shy but I promise I'm always up for talking about Wilmon 🥰

[asheepinfrance]

GOOOOOD this is weird ok. First fic! Ever! Anywhere! Huzzah! I hope someone likes it :) Please feel free to leave comments on like grammar things or writing style things to improve because I do genuinely want these to not give people frontal lobe migraines to read. Also im essentially 85 and have no idea how to make these look pretty and have pictures so Sorry I Guess. Thanks lovelies <33

It’s frankly astonishing that someone can look this good at their most vulnerable. It’s enough to question if God really does have favorites, though the vision in front of you is essentially confirmation. If he does, Tashi Duncan’s a good choice. You’d probably make the same choice, if given that grand, unimaginable celestial power. Not that it really matters, because here she is, laying in your bed like it’s so simple. So easy to find a spot in someone else’s space. For her, it is. She fits herself seamlessly into just about every piece of the world she finds herself. You’re lucky she’s willingly found herself here, and on multiple occasions, no less. Her injured knee is tucked under her, and she’s contorted her back into some position that looks absolutely horrific to be in for 8 hours of sleep, but she looks calm. And isn’t that what matters? You can always help with the aches later. Her hair’s not in place, and yet it doesn’t really look out of place, either. She’s got this incredible ability to never look bad. It’d be aggravating if it wasn’t so damn nice to look at. You reach out to touch the smooth skin on the cheek of that calm, restful face, but it feels sacrilegious, somehow, to touch something that beautiful. Is it allowed? You grant yourself the possible sin, because it’s just too painful not to. And when her brown eyes peek open, and she’s offering that perfect smile in your direction, you notice that she’s looking at you the same way you look at her: with pure, unadulterated reverence. Whether or not that’s deserved, especially from her, doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s there. So when she doesn’t move your hand from its spot on her face, mumbling something about how “my neck is fucking killing me”, it feels like a victory from some battle that you never knew you were fighting. You’d been right after all. You do end up helping with the ache.

[inspirationallybored]

For anyone and everyone who needs to hear this ( including my own pessimistic little self):

If you're surrounded by amazing, talented people who are filled with creativity and the skill to pursue their passions, or if you're in a place (literal or metaphorical) where creativity is not appreciated unless it is a 'masterpiece', and if that makes you feel like you're not meant for artistic endeavours because you'll "never be good enough", STOP IT! You are just as capable of creating something as anyone else. Everyone is unique in their own ways, including their form of expression.

Like personally, I am a science student, and all my life I've felt like I'm not meant for creative writing, because writing requires imagination, not analyses and technicalities and theories upon theories of life's intricacies. I know people who are amazing at visual and performing arts, while I can't act or draw to save my life. My poems have always followed some sort of rigid rhyme scheme, the humans look like aliens and all I can draw are inanimate objects using geometric tools. I have been told by people who analyse people for a living that arts and I are like oil and water, not a drop of creativity in me. But, none of this should stop me from imagining stories in my head, creating characters with incredibly detailed lives and writing them down. I can analyse the living hell out of my story and it's themes and the world-building and the characters.

Trust me, you can create whatever you want to. But first, build up the courage to put it down in reality, wether it is a 'masterpiece' according to you or not. Draw those little stickmen, write that self-indulgent story or that rant of a poem, sing and dance like nobody's watching. Write in the language you are comfortable with, even if it is not your native language or English or a language that anyone knows, draw abstract or a replica of the Renaissance or even go caveman-style. Maybe we aren't the next Poe or Picasso, but who's stopping us from imagining ourselves as one? In the end, art isn't made for the world, it is your own little creation, your reflection. Don't let the 'great' stop the 'good'.

And if there is a part of you that wants to share this part of your mind, then do it. For the love of this world, share it. You will always find an audience for your work. There will be people whose days brighten when they see you, and look for the little easter eggs in your piece of creation, whether they be on the internet or in life.

Don't be afraid of 'not being right' to pursue the artistic side of your mind. If you want to do something, you are meant for it.

[carelessflower]

sunday recap 👚💅🏻

literally play all day lmaooo

me and my friend set up a date for today so we go have jjambbong ramen near the place. we also have some crispy pork with sweet and sour sauce. the noodle get a 10 while the pork get a 9. it the smallest portion on the menu yet it enough for two. also everyone get one fried egg and I mix it with kimchi, sweet and spicy sauce, chilli and soy sauce 9/10

next there was like a festival in range of the lunar new year and that our main destination, look at home crowded with shop and shoppers lmaoo

the many many outfit i have tried on, plus the one shirt I thought was cute (the blue one).

white lace shirt: so close to buying it but I remember I already bought one I similar style literally this week

red bow shirt: they got some get-two shirts with half-the-price thing going on but it like so skin tight

yellow shirt: I love big ruffle collar so bad but this one one size smaller than mine :((

black dress: again with big ruffle collar that doesn't suit me but I want them anyway. my friend said it make me look like victorian maid

gingham dress: kinda giving cottagecore flowers on hair maiden

what i bought...this is 2$...if you wanna yell at me...consider i am very beautiful and smart

some random stuff i saw browsing through the market. lmaooo look at that shirt and that store. also the bracelet is cute but way out of budget. the necklace look cute too but I already got too many jewelry. and the perfume:DD love sugar baby and something like called sexy, and some tea scent. the tea scent istg is a dupe of matcha meditation like bergamot, tea, white chocolate. maybe im considering hmmmmmmmmm it cheaper than matcha meditation

then me and friend went to mixue for some milktead (black sugar boba tea btw 7.5/10 wayyy too sweet) and got this little blindbag figure...it look like discounted chocolate candy. then we ordered like thai style spicy and sour chicken feet and cause the boba tea didn't allow outside food so we gotta go to the park near that and then there only one pair of chopsticks and then we drop it and gotta share using a stick. fun.

at least when we dropped sauce all over our hand we decided to go to the mall near there and it the right decision cause I gotta satisfied my perfume crave by going around sniffling again, these stores I never got the chance before! look at my trophy

hmmm first one i checked is diptyque , the candle smell amazing btw. for the perfume I like most of it cause it very natural subtle scent. check some stuff people rave about. didn't like l'eau papier that much, something about it was giving mineral to me. fleur de peau is good tho (alec scent btw). glad I didn't order philosykos out of hype cause I discover I dislike fig note so much lmaooo. love love eau duelle and do son. warm vanilla cake and very sophisticated white floral, which once again alec would use dont @ me

next is jo malone. their spray test papers are so cute. peony & blush is still so pretty, and I'll add bluebell into my wishlist. not very long lasting tho

tried delina exclusif and it definitely more rose than lyche compared to of delina. need to come back and smell other bottles tho. did smell meliora cause they said they dont have valaya in stock and it very much giving ice queen

when i saw memo paris stall i cheer, i laugh, i giggle. most definitely i finally got a verdict for sintra memo, which I almost ordered a sample before. it suck ASS bigger than alec's btw. smell like rotten milk with rotten dried fruits. i clearly dodge a bullet. smell marfa and madurai and it sooooooo alecore mecore me so genius core. inle are pretty and siwa is my type (sweet vanilla)

there some launching pop-up for a hair curling iron brand and like they were doing it for free and I thought why not. first pick freshly iron second pic was after 1-2 hours. i can say curly hair doesn't suit me lmaooooo

dinner with noodle cause im outta money

[hopleii]

how they act when they're drunk. . .

content: jean x gn!reader, eren x gn!reader, armin x gn!reader, erwin x gn!reader (seperate), fluff, not proofread, tiny bit ooc (first time writing for these characters), alcohol mention, slightly suggestive on erwin's part, lowercase intentional

a/n: OMGOMGOMGOMG first time writing for aot kinda scaredddd, did u guys know I binge watched aot for 3 weeks because the movie is coming out and i never finished it in s1 back in 2021? omg. i forgot just how much i loved jean and armin. RAHHHH

JEAN KIRSTEIN

jean would be the clingy type of drunk. whether its just you two or with other people, he needs to have you in arms reach 24/7. going to the bathroom? okay, he's going with you. need a glass of water? he'll walk you to the cupboard. want to talk with your friends? he'll talk with them too!

when its just the two of you, he's not afraid to be clingy and openly hugs you or touches you. its just you two, right?

when its with other people, he's more careful, but it's still painfully obvious and embarrassing. he tries to brush it off with excuses like "i just don't want them to be alone", "what if they get lost?"

"jean, i have to go to the bathroom."

he groans dramatically, rolling his eyes and pouting petulantly. "but what if you get lost? you never know what could happen!"

you roll your eyes at his slurred words, but deep down, you find his intoxicated state adorable. when you finally give in (he totally started throwing a tantrum) he follows you to the bathroom and he just lingers outside, pacing around and checking up on you every millisecond.

"are you done?"

"i'm fixing my hair, jean."

"is it fixed now?"

"patience, my dear."

"damn it..."

EREN YEAGER

eren would be the talkative type of drunk. when he's intoxicated, he mostly starts to open up about random things. how he feels about the dish you cooked weeks ago, how he hates how he styled his hair that night, etc.

but as time goes on and he drinks a few more bottles, he starts opening up about deeper topics: how he misses his mom, how he thinks the world is a rotten place, how much you mean to him and more!

he'll play it off with his usual bravado, though. but he is literally the definition of "drunk words are sober thoughts."

you and eren are at a small gathering with friends, and the alcohol has started to loosen him up a little, becoming more talkative and loud than usual. after too many drinks, he's on the couch, words slurred and eyes too heavy to even look at you. he pulls you aside, arm slung around your shoulders.

"you know," he starts, his voice quieter than when he was ranting earlier. "i don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me." his words slur slightly, but you recognize the sincerity in his voice.

you chuckle lightly, "you've told me before, eren, a lot, actually."

he shakes his head, cupping your face with his calloused hands, "i did? well, you just mean a lot to me. i don't know what i'd do without you, you know?"

you blink at his sincerity, surprised by his openness, but when he sees this, he grins. "i just wanted you to know, okay? 'cause you keep forgetting."

ARMIN ARLERT

armin gets shy and giddy (or "kilig) when intoxicated. occasionally getting bashful but constantly expressing his admiration for you. he has the biggest crush on you whenever he's drunk! he's the type to act like a highschool boy in love when he's drunk with you, all puppy love-ish and giddy. he gets giggly and tends to ramble, sometimes too much.

it's a quiet evening, and after a few drinks, armin's smile gets a little wider as the alcohol starts kicking in. he looks over at you, leaning in with a slight blush on his face.

"you know," he says slowly, his words mixing with his giggles, "I've always thought you were really amazing. I mean, super amazing, but now that I've had a few drinks, you're, like...the most amaaazingg person who ever lived."

you couldn't help but laugh, taking away the wine glass from his hand. "you've had too much to drink, armin."

armin shakes his head insistently, "no, no! it's just...you're so smart and so pretty, and you're so kind too..."

he stands up, moving his chair beside yours, leaning on your shoulder. "you're amazing..."

ERWIN SMITH

erwin, the level-headed and composed commander, is the type of person to get extremely relaxed. too relaxed. of course, everyone wants their hard-working commander to let loose a little bit, but when alcohol gets mixed in his system, all responsibility seems to slide off his shoulders.

he starts to crack lighthearted jokes, telling all sorts of silly stories, and starts to flirt a bit more with you.

the survey corps had just wrapped up a long day of strategizing and reviewing reports, and everyone decided a victory celebration should be held. during this celebration, however, erwin had downed too many drinks, and his usual composure and stern attitude was slowly slipping away. you and the rest of the squad were gathered around the briefing table, preparing to discuss tomorrow's agenda and finishing any leftover work.

the room was filled with serious chatter, discussing and planning, until erwin stood up, swaying slightly. "erwin...?" you tilt your head, thinking you or the squad suggested something wrong.

"you all," he began, his words slightly slurred, "all you do is talk about work...we've all worked hard, haven't we?" his voice was a bit louder than usual, more booming and firm. the room stopped what they were doing, exchanging confused glances and looking at you.

you shrug your shoulders, also perplexed by your lover's behavior. he waved a lazy hand in the air, sitting back down on his chair, "forget all of this...just do it tomorrow."

and that was enough for you to know that erwin smith was completely and utterly drunk. “but erwin, we still have important reports to finalize and the logistics for the supply run tomorrow…”

"we've been doing that all week, my love! you're all telling me a few more hours of paperwork is more important than a peaceful night’s rest?"

you watched your lover with growing disbelief, this was a side of erwin that even you haven't seen. laid-back, relaxed, and...lazy?

"erwin, are you seriously drunk...?"

"maybe it's time to stop being so serious, hm? i happen to like it when you're happy and having fun, my love." he whispers into your ear, dismissing the others afterwards.

© — hopleii

[thebestjjenthusiast]

narcotic

jj x pogue!reader (best friend!reader)

where reader moved in the obx a few years back -if moved is what we’re calling it now- and ever since has been very close friends with the pogues. but what happens if she gives in to jjs flirting instead of brushing him off like shes done years and years now?

masterlist | 00 | 01

y/n is a person that if youd ask one of her friends to describe her to them, theyd say shes creative, confident but mostly, friendly.

when shes talking about her friendship with the people around her, you can just understand that she values it more than her own life.

although kildare is a small town, with beautiful sights and a beach about ten feet away from you at all times, whenever she gets the chance to sit on a rooftop and enjoy life from far away, she seizes it. whether it means spending her time on there with her dear friends, or alone.

its not rare for her friends and she to argue about what movie theyre going to watch on their free nights. while sarah is arguing with kie about whether theyre going to watch a romance-comedie or a national geographic documentary, she just hopes a tom cruise movie will pop up in the recommendations so she can watch her favourite genre -with her favourite actor- thrilling, adrenaline-rushing, adventure movies.

its often for people to want to get to know her better, befriending her, and so they throw compliments all over her. mostly about her looks, her style and her aesthetic but she never seems surprised. what touches her heart as a compliment is any compliment about her personality. and that goes for the people around her too of course, she would rather not say anything if its not about someones personality.

as y/n is from a small european country, which is the home of every pretty olympian god’s statue, she admires whenever she comes across one. she didnt always use to enjoy observing them, but after she went away, every little thing that reminds her if her origins and her home makes her nostalgic.

you can easily catch y/n listening to her favourite rock albums whatever shes doing. whether thats getting ready, taking a shower, studying or even moving from one room to another.

one day, the friendgroup was discussing, “if we were a mythical creature, anything, what would we be?” they had all agreed on kie being a mermaid, jj being an alien (from mars specifically), pope a mummy and y/n a vampire.

a lot of her previous friendships and relationships with people in general have suddenly stopped, the moment y/n started sensing that someone is being ignorant. shed always complain to her closest friends about how much she hates ignorant people, and the feeling that comes with that that makes her feel invisible.

whenever the weather in the obx is a little chilly and breezy, y/n would be at the patio, music being almost not noticed by anyone a foot away from her, but she would enjoy listening to her favourite song, “everybody’s chaning” by the keane and just sitting back and relaxing.

another deep conversation shes had with john b on a very late night, they agreed that if their lives were a book, y/n would be the villain. but not in the actual villain way, in the way that in the beginning the reader would have a gut feeling about her but in the end theyll end up loving her more than the hero itself.

lastly, the obx is where y/n belongs. if she were to be in another place, she’d grab her belongings and catch the first ferry to the obx and run to the château in an instant.

and that pretty much sums up y/n as a person and a friend.

an: okayyyy first time tumblring how do we feel? is that good? anything would be appreciated, from support to suggestions to hate. i want to know how to be better and hyyave some motivation doing something nice with my time (because im bored of just reading rafe aus when im a jj girly but i think ive read EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!)

[dragonicstyle]

well damn there's already big improvements🧍

[fauvester]

something something seeing things through different eyes

[thedrotter]

re:kinder doodle dump part three !!! drawings with wildly different moods www they are more polished ans complete than my other doodles because. why not🥺!!!

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[mabaris]

I know it’s probably just my age and I’m Too Young To Possibly Get It and You Had To Be There but I’ve always kinda rolled my eyes whenever people talk about how joss whedon was some titan of nerd media and everyone loved his work

avengers came out when I was 13 and I thought that was. all right. at the time, everyone on the internet was nostalgic for firefly, so I watched that and found it extremely underwhelming, and wasn’t interested in seeking out more of that writing. but it is inescapable huh