#If anyone has any questions or something feel free to send me a message or ask ill be happy to answer

[awesamforehead]

Would anyone actually be interested in making/joining a gc or a discord server?

I've been seeing some posts about wanting to talk to mutuals and other bloggers, myself included but we're all nervous to actually have one lol. I'm willing to take on the initiative, planning keep it casual and such. But i dont know if this is something anyone is actually wanting.

(The gc might be a twitter thing only since tumblr doesnt have a gc option anymore)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto being forced to kiss you during a mission but shamelessly making out with you instead

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: It was an easy mission like many others before. Get in, find the suspect, free the innocent. Well, if it wasn't for none other than Geto Suguru who has to play your boyfriend. If it wasn't for that fateful situation that forces you into a heated kiss.

Warnings: I swear this is a dream I had tonight and I HAD to write it down with Geto being the main character lol, no smut but it's getting a little heated y'all, enjoy

You’ve been assigned to many missions before, but this one is different. It’s not the mission itself - that’s pretty standard. Blend in, gather the information needed, free their hostages and get out. No, what makes this different is who you’re paired with.

Geto Suguru.

It’s not that you dislike Suguru. Quite the opposite, really. He’s intelligent, powerful, and intimidatingly good-looking. To be honest, you didn’t really get the chance to talk a lot with him. You’ve met him a few months ago at a party, innocently meeting his gaze for the first time. Since then, you wrote a few messages back on forth without him really kicking off a conversation with you himself.

Working so closely with him? That’s a whole different challenge.

You glance over at him as the two of you walk down a crowded street, playing the part of casual tourists. He’s dressed casually, his black hair tied up in its usual bun, dark sunglasses resting on his face. His tall frame and handsome face draw some attention, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Still, you’re hyper-aware of his presence, every step synchronized with his, every breath you take feels too loud beside him.

“You alright?” Suguru questions, his voice smooth as ever, but there’s a hint of amusement hidden behind it.

You realize you’ve been staring a little too long. Again.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Just focused.”

“Good,” he comments, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“We can’t afford any distractions today.”

It’s funny he should say that, given that he’s been the biggest distraction for you all day.

The two of you are currently undercover in the heart of Tokyo, tasked with infiltrating a high-profile gathering where some curses are believed to be in league with a dangerous rogue sorcerer. You’re supposed to act like a couple - just a pair of normal people attending a party, gathering information without raising any alarms. Simple enough.

Except pretending to be a couple with Geto Suguru isn’t as easy as it sounds.

The party venue is just up ahead, a high-end rooftop lounge that glows with expensive lights and laughter spilling out into the cool evening air. You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your dress as you try to mentally prepare yourself for what’s coming. You’ve done plenty of undercover work before, but never one so… intimate.

As if sensing your tension, Suguru places a hand lightly on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The touch sends a jolt through you, far too electrifying for something so casual. You hope he doesn’t notice the silly reaction of your body, how his touch alone sends shivers down your spine.

“We’ll get in, blend, and be out of here before anyone knows we’re even involved,” he murmurs, his voice so close to your ear it sends another shiver down your spine.

“Just stay close to me.”

You nod, your pulse quickening despite yourself.

“Got it.”

The two of you approach the entrance, and after a quick flash of the fake invitations, you’re in. The lounge is just as extravagant as you expected: soft golden lights, chandeliers glinting like diamonds, and elegantly dressed people sipping on expensive drinks.

The air is thick with the scent of alcohol and perfume, a faint buzz of conversation filling the room. You can feel the tension already, a subtle undercurrent that tells you something’s off. The rogue sorcerer could be anywhere in the crowd, and the curses could be anyone. You can’t afford to relax for even a second.

Suguru’s hand doesn’t leave your back as he leads you through the room, guiding you with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. You find a spot near the back, close to the open bar, where you can observe without being too obvious.

“They’re here somewhere,” Suguru mumbles, his eyes scanning the crowd behind his sunglasses.

You nod in agreement, your gaze sweeping over the guests. You can feel eyes on you too, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Just regular party-goers glancing at the attractive couple standing together, unaware of what you and Suguru are really here for.

Just as you start to relax, a small group of men enters from a side door, catching your attention. One of them, in particular, stands out. He’s dressed sharply, his dark hair slicked back, a predatory gleam in his eyes. You don’t need to double-check him, your palms already starting to sweat.

That’s him. The rogue sorcerer. The man you’ve been searching for.

Suguru notices him too, his posture tensing slightly.

“That’s our target,” he mutters under his breath.

You nod subtly, trying to remain casual, but the moment the sorcerer’s eyes land on you and Suguru, they narrow. He recognizes something. Or maybe it’s just paranoia. Either way, the tension in the air spikes.

“He’s watching us,” you whisper, your pulse quickening.

“Act natural,” Suguru says, his voice low, steady.

He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Just follow my lead.”

Your heart pounds at the sudden closeness. His hand is warm on your waist, his body pressed against yours in a way that’s far too intimate for what should be a simple undercover mission. But you force yourself to relax, slipping into the role.

The sorcerer is still watching, his eyes flicking between the two of you with suspicion.

Suguru leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“We need to do something to throw him off. He’s getting suspicious.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. The last thing you want to do is causing a scene and risking the lives of countless innocent people.

“What do you suggest?”

There’s a pause, just long enough for you to notice the way his gaze switching back and forth between your lips and eyes. No, he can’t really mean this, right? You, kissing Suguru Geto?

But his eyes aren’t joking around. Not the slightest bit.

“We’re going to have to make this look real,” he continues, voice low and serious.

Before you can ask one more time what he means, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, turning your face toward his.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tilts your chin up, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There’s no time to question it, no time to think. His lips are on yours before you can even process what’s happening.

It’s soft at first, just a brush of his mouth against yours, gentle and controlled. It’s meant to be quick, just enough to make it seem real. But then something shifts. The pressure deepens, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

You can’t help the soft gasp that escapes you as his other hand tightens on your waist, his body pressing more firmly against yours. What started as a brief kiss to maintain your cover quickly spirals into something else entirely. The kiss grows heated, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you hadn’t expected.

Your hands move on instinct, holding onto the back of his neck as you lean into him, literally fall against him.

You should pull away. The mission. The rogue sorcerer. You can’t afford to be distracted. This is nothing but a cover-up, after all. But the kiss… it’s overwhelming. Suguru’s lips are firm, his breath hot against your skin as he deepens the kiss, coaxing a response from you that you can’t hold back.

The world around you fades. There’s no party, no rogue sorcerer, no mission. There’s just the heat between the two of you, the press of his body against yours, the way his lips seem to know exactly how to pull you under.

Your pulse races, your mind going hazy as the kiss stretches on longer than it should. There’s an urgency now, a desperation in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s not about the mission anymore. This is something else entirely. Something raw, electric. Something you only allow yourself to dream of.

His tongue brushes against your lower lip, and without thinking, you part your lips, letting him in. The kiss becomes even more intense, your bodies pressed so close you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His hand moves from your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss turns downright needy.

A soft sound escapes you, half gasp, half moan, and you feel Suguru’s grip tighten in response. He’s losing control too. The realization sends a thrill through you, the idea that Geto Suguru, the calm, composed and always in control force of a man, could be folding because of you.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulls away. The kiss breaks, leaving you both breathless, your lips swollen, your heart racing.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his dark eyes staring into yours, wide with something unspoken. His hand lingers on your waist for a moment longer before he finally lets go, stepping back, his expression unreadable.

You blink, trying to clear the haze from your mind, trying to remember where you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, your mind desperately fighting for control while your body still griefs the cold he left behind.

The rogue sorcerer. The mission.

You quickly glance around, realizing the sorcerer is no longer watching. He must have lost interest, convinced by the display. You breathe a sigh of relief, but the tension between you and Suguru remains thick, heavy.

“That… worked,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru nods, but his eyes are still on you, dark and intense.

“Yeah. It worked.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you crackling with something unsaid, something neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge.

But the mission isn’t over yet. You have a job to do, and now, more than ever, you need to stay focused.

Suguru clears his throat, straightening his posture, slipping effortlessly back into his composed persona.

“We should keep moving. We still have to find out what their plan is.”

You nod, trying to steady your racing heart as you follow him through the crowd. But even as you focus on the task at hand, you can still feel the lingering heat of his kiss, the way his lips felt against yours, the way your body reacted to his touch.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr @ryumurin

[omedapixel]

Merry Christmas Everyone!!

I've been pretty quiet on here, but that doesn't mean I've stopped simming! First up I'd like to say thanks (and sorry!) to all the lovely people who've sent me messages :) I'm gonna try my best to reply to everyone asap!

For christmas I wanted to share something special - so here is the public release of the first version of my Decorating Tools mod (or S3DT)

Quick Description - This mod adds hotkeys to the game to allow you to move objects up/down, left/right and rotate in all directions, similar to T.O.O.L for TS4 PDF Guide included below!

To my wonderful patrons - thank you for your support <3 I feel bad that real life has gotten in the way of me delivering more content to you all, so I'll likely be closing it soon! If it's possible, I'll also refund the last couple of months due to my inactivity. Anyone who wants to can still donate to my Ko-Fi

MOD INSTRUCTIONS AND DOWNLOAD BELOW THE CUT

This version is compatible with icarusallsorts' Transmogrifier Mod, and until I can figure out how to script it better, my mod actually REQUIRES it in order for them to be compatible together.

*** EDIT - For some, you might need to use CTRL + SHIFT + Click to bring up object menus! ***

If you would like a version that does not require the Transmogrifier (but is therefore incompatible) send me a message!

FUTURE PLANS: - Adapting movement depending on camera direction - Adding a UI interface for interactions and manual rotations etc. - Scaling interactions with hotkeys

Don't be afraid to reply to this post, send me an ask or a private message if you have any questions or problems. I'm also in the Creator's Cave discord, so feel free to @ me there too :) And please tag me or use the tag #S3DT if you come up with any cool ways to use this mod!

EDIT: DOWNLOAD S3DT V.1.2

VIEW PDF GUIDE

Thank you to @greenplumbboblover for her help with pesky matrix44's, granthes and Misukisu for laying the groundwork for this mod, and @puddingface1902 for his super helpful videos!

@pis3update

[pinkyqily]

JUJU WATKINS X USC WBB TEAMMATES

── contains : swearing,

── authors note: Some headcannos of juju x in a relationship with teammates reader if you wanna see any of these scenario as a fic let me know, also taking headcannos request so feel free to let me know which player you want one for 💕

● you both have a really crazy dynamics because you we're the freshman that could barely make the team while she was everyone's outgoing player, you always thought of her as some show off because of that you could never really liked her which she knew but always kept thing casual between you two, until one practice night both of you were the only ones left at the gym and you guys hit it off from a deep conversation and she wasn't has bad as you thought.

● she always finds ways to be all over you but claims to be nonchalant.

● both of you are arguely the best duo when you step on that court.

● you're both banned from doing press conference together because y'all play a lot and don't be answering them questions.

● when it comes to media day the whole team knows that you and juju gonna end up partnering together there's no hope for them( juju threatens anyone who tries to be your partner that isn't her).

● when you get injured she's the first person to come to you knowing how badly you get irritated getting surrounded by others.

● you both send silly snaps to each other even though the other person is not that far away.

● loves to make you laugh did I mention how touchy she is because she's extremely touchy, infact she hate when other ppl that isn't her or your teammates touching or giving you hugs because she's the only one allowed to.

● whenever an opponent is flirting with you on the courts she makes sure to show out and score on them sending a really clear message.

● is hella touchy any moment she gets to touch you oh she doing it public or private she doesn't care.

● very straightforward to you whenever you have a bad games because she wants the best for you.

● the team started getting suspicious about you both the moment you guys got closer and when juju can barely keep your name out her mouth.

● late night practices with her are always something else.

● swears she's a better dancer than you (no she's not).

● both of you are always defending each other from snapping reporters and fans.

● she's not that active on social media but you are so sometimes she makes what the team call it "special appearances" because no one else gets that treatment only a story mentions that all.

● you both did "two bestfriend in a room they might kiss trend" and when the sound cut off she actually kissed you.

● always sharing clothes that one game you both accidentally worse each other's jersey to a game and it went viral the team did not stop teasing you both about it Ray had a field day with it.

[pumpkennpie]

Osctober 2024

Hello everyone! There's a new event in town- welcome to Osctober!

Let's go over the basics!

What is Osctober?

Osctober is an event made by creators for creators. We've come up with 31 individual prompts, one for each day in October.

Who can participate?

Everyone! Writers, artists, gif-makers- do you make F1/Oscar related content? Then you're invited!

How do I participate?

Create something for the prompt of the day (or any other day) and post it! We are using the tumblr tag #Osctober 2024, and there is a collection on AO3 called 'Osctober 2024'. Post your work in either or both!

There is no sign up, so no obligations!

Do I have to do every prompt/day?

Nope! See one that suits your fancy? Do it up! Create as much or as little as you want!

What if I miss a day?

Feel free to go back to any prompt you've skipped! We'd like to keep the posts in line with the prompt of the day, so try not to post early, but going back is fine!

Are there any rules?

Barely. All we ask is that your work contains Oscar in some form. Feel free to write any pairing, gen fics, anything that focuses on Oscar!

Be respectful and support and uplift your fellow creators. Have fun, and celebrate a fun month of content!

I will post a reminder on the 1st of October, and once a week after that.

If anyone has any questions, don't hesitate to drop me an ask or send me a message!

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝟎𝟐𝟓: 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒. ( as pretty much always, this started off as something for myself until i decided to change some things and make it a template that can be used by anyone and includes fewer elements so more people can have access to it. it's a new multimuse template, and you can find the preview here. it includes a landing / navigation page, a rules page, a muse page, and a connection page. because i changed it from its original form that i may or may not use for myself in the future, it has less than fifty elements and is, therefore, base account friendly. if you want to upgrade anyway, feel free to use my referral code KB4W13V3 because it helps me out. )

―  HOW TO USE

please don’t claim this as your own, and don’t delete the credit.  you can change it’s size or color but it should stay where it is.

of course, you can edit all the colors, sizes, fonts, etc. however you like.

to get this template please click here.  it’s on a pay-what-you-want basis, so it is possible to get it for free if you set the amount to 0. ( if you’d like to leave a little tip, i'd very much appreciate it, though. )

when you first open this template, it might look a little weird because carrd deletes the images i’ve used so there will only be empty spacers of sorts that may look a little out of place.  just upload images and this will fix itself.

actual image sizes don't matter since carrd scales them to fit but you can see examples of the image sizes i’ve used in the demo to get an idea for the dimensions.  or just try your own and play around with the settings to get the desired outcome.

if you have any questions on how to edit it, just send me a message, and i'll try to explain it to you.

[cripplecharacters]

Any tips for writing a disabled villain without making it seem like villainizing disabled people if that makes sense? My story has other characters including the protagonist that are disabled so I’m hoping this helps mitigate this some but I’m still fearful people will read it in that way.

Hey, thanks for the ask.

My main tips are going to be:

Don't tie the villain's motivations to their disability. For example, characters who are like "I lost my ability to walk and it made me so angry I became evil!" or "I was severely burnt and that was enough to make me hate everyone and be evil," or "Because I was born disabled I don't like anyone and want to be evil," or anything like that. These are pretty common in media, and they suck. Often they are also coupled with a cure narrative, or even a forcible cure narrative for people other than the villain.

Don't use their disability’s symptoms by themselves as a signifier of their villain-ness. Scars don’t make you look malicious, if they have prosthetics they don't need to put weapons in them, if they’re blind and their eyes have a visible difference that’s not a sign of them not caring, and the like. In media this also often means a villain wearing a masc to hide their facial differences, and them removing the mask is meant to make them look More Evil or More Ominous, but their facial difference is not what makes them a villain or at the very least it should not be.

Describe their disability’s signs and symptoms as neutral. It's not their Terrible Lack Of Walking, it's just they can't walk. It's not their Horrible Scarring, they just have scars. (I mention these conditions often because they pop up over and over again in media.)

For contrast, maybe they can have a similar disability to a character who isn’t a villain. This can send the message that it's not the disability, it's just that person who is a villain. While of course anyone can be an awful person, even disabled people, the overrepresentation of disability in awful characters makes it so that balance is necessary.

— mod sparrow

Hey, I 100% agree with Sparrow! Here's my two cents specifically about visibly disabled villains;

If you decide to make your villain's disability visible, have equally-or-preferably-more visibly disabled heroes as well. Example of what I see fairly often is "the hero has a cool and badass scar through the eye, while the villain has a major craniofacial condition, or a very large burn scar which is scary and ugly" - this sucks and contributes to disfiguremisic stereotypes. Physical appearance shouldn't be a metaphor for being a bad person. A similar example would be making your hero an arm amputee with a prosthetic that looks just like a real arm while making the villain into a quadruple amputee who uses a powerchair; or making your hero's chronic pain invisible while the villain has an obvious limp, etc.

In general, try to think on why you are deciding to give your villain a particular disability. Is it because it's "tragic" and thus fits their backstory? Is it something that villains "just have" in other media? Because it's severe, so it would "make them bitter and evil"? Villains and disability have a thousand different tropes connecting them, so try and be aware of the choices you make here, and correct them if necessary.

If you have any further questions, feel free to send another ask.

mod Sasza

[strawhatpoofy]

different one piece menses and braiding your hair

a/n: hi lovelies !!! here is a lil sfw drabble / pref piece about Buggy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Luffy, and Brook & braiding a gn!reader’s hair! I tried to make it as inclusive as possible, pls feel free to message me if you have any questions e any suggestions or notice something I missed. ok ok imma just get to it tbh

warnings: none I think

characters: buggy, luffy, sanji, zoro, usopp, brook

words: bitch idk maybe like 300-500 per character ish?

Buggy 🃏

He’s in the middle of a rant about “that Strawhat buffoon stealing his spotlight” when you ask him to braid your hair for you. He doesn’t even break his monologue, just gestures for you to sit in front of him. Before you’ve even repositioned fully his hands are off his arms and in your hair, detangling and combing through with practiced fingers. Buggy definitely can braid hair, of many different types and lengths and knows a few different classic braid styles, and it’s something you and the rest of the crew are well aware of. You hum as he lightly scratches at your scalp while parting your locks as needed, and he’s deftly maneuvering your hair into whatever creative style his fingers mindlessly deem fit. Buggy is a casual king of hair care, and though he’d never admit it, it warms his heart when you and the crew members ask him for help with things like this. Kinda like chimps bonding via grooming, ya know? So when you close your eyes, relaxing into the captain’s hands, and nod to let him know you’re still listening it’s more than enough for him to take his time making something pretty.

Zoro ⚔️

It’s a golden afternoon on the Sunny when you wake Zoro up from a nap with a soft nudge on the shoulder. He groans, lazily squinting one eye open at you, and you ask him if he wants to try braiding your hair. This motherfucker immediately closes that one open eye. With some giggling and persistence, and the rest of the crew bustling about, hopes of sleep for Zoro are effectively crushed. He grunts, grumbles, groans as he shifts from his sleep-sitting position to accommodate you in front of him. It’s when he starts to crack his knuckles that you begin to doubt your decision. He rakes calloused fingers through your hair, moving surprisingly slowly and taking his time when he catches tangles. You let yourself cautiously enjoy his hands combing through your locks when his hands stop, and he pulls them back to his lap.

“How the fuck do you do a braid?” Zoro has one eyebrow arched, his head tilted slightly. His look of confusion is enough to send you busting out laughing. Zoro may not be able to braid your hair, but he’ll gladly play with it for you and he can put it up into a sturdy ponytail.

Luffy 🏴‍☠️

You guys are on the deck, braiding sweet grass with Chopper and Usopp; it’s something you wouldn’t have expected Luffy to know how to do, but he enjoys it. Everyone is laughing and enjoying the sun, making baskets for Sanji to use in the pantry. When a breeze comes by, blowing your hair in front of your eyes, you’ve barely had time to push it back when Luffy is sitting behind you. He asks you if he can braid your hair for you, voice hopeful and intrigued.

“Wanna see if I can braid that pretty hair just like I can with the grass! C’mon, please?” His puppy eyes are so shiny, how can anyone say no to your sweet captain ever? So that’s how you find yourself pressed against his crossed legs, his hands combing through your hair. You feel your shoulders drop and your lids fall, and you hum as Luffy begins a surprisingly intricate series of braids. He’s giggling and moving a mile a minute, telling chopper it’s “even easier than the grass! So much softer-”. By the time he’s done, you look like some sort of woodland nymph with a multitude of different braids in your hair. Not necessarily a skill you expected of your captain, but one you fully embrace- letting your captain braid your hair whenever he looks at you with those gleaming eyes.

Sanji 🚬

It’s when you’re helping him prep in the small kitchen. Your hair keeps falling over your shoulders, and your persistent huffing and puffing as you try and blow stray strands out of your face has Sanji up behind you. His long fingers are pulling the unruly hair away from your sweat-slicked forehead, about to pull it all back into a bun when you ask him if he could put it up in a braid. His fingers freeze, just for a moment, before he proceeds to plait your locks.

“Of course I can, chef.” You can hear the wink in his voice, and you nearly reach back to give him a warning smack when your hair drops against your back, perfectly tucked into a neat braid. Sanji has washed his hands and is sidled up next to you at the prep counter again before you can even gush about his shockingly impressive hair styling skills. But before he can stop you, you’ve bolted out the kitchen door to show your oh-so-purty hair off to the crew, and to make sure Sanji is spending plenty of time plaiting everyone’s hair this evening.

Usopp 🎯

Usopp is absolutely a hair braiding master. With textured hair himself, he feels confident offering the crew his braiding services. Particularly when you all find yourselves in a hot climate, Usopp is like a newspaper boy desperate for a berry.

“Someone! Anyone! Come on. You know you want to- know you got to show off your iconic hair-do by the famous Sniper King! Please…” He’s starting to pout, and everyone knows he is indeed cuter than Nami. You can’t resist that pout. Too soon, you’re on your feet, hands up in surrender as you make your way to Usopp’s side. He’s whooping and gloating, with promises that everyone else will be jealous for not taking him up on his generous offer. Then he’s plopping you down by the shoulders into a seat from behind you. His fingers are calloused but magical on your scalp, in your hair. He’s chittering away about some new tinkering project as he pulls your hair into tight braids, meant to last at least a week or so. You’re humming and leaning into his hands. He’s done quickly; he’s efficient at this. He finishes his work, tilting your head to make sure the braids are even. He pats the top of your head, and sends you off to “market his business”.

Brook 🎼

It’s your least favorite day- wash day. With wet hair and a strong desire to get it off of you, you find yourself pattering around the Sunny. The first one you find is Brook- unsurprising at this time of night. He’s singing softly to himself and sketching notes down in a work book when you approach him, asking him to braid your hair for you. His surprise is physically tangible as he puts down his pen and book.

“Y-you’d let me? Are you sure? Could I?” Brook is giddy, touch starved and affectionate man he is. You’re nodding and turning your back to him, showing him your damp locks and he stops stuttering over his words, and is sidled up at your back with the softest of “of course, thank you”’s you’ve ever heard. When Brook’s fingers touch your scalp, you’re initially surprised by the warmth. You didn’t expect, well, bone to be warm. He scrapes the tips of his fingers along your head, getting hums of satisfaction to fall from your lips. He gains his confidence at this, and he begins to pull your hair into a simple braid. It falls against your back, dampening your shirt, but it’s finally off your face, your neck. You give Brook a hug of relief and gratitude as you croon over how well he did your hair. It won’t be the last time he does it after he tells you it’s something he loved doing for his crew, before. He’s great at it and so tender with his touch, and is more than happy to acquiesce whenever you ask him to braid your hair.

[certifiedsexed]

It's fucked up that apparently people are calling you slurs and I hope the actual harassment ends soon!!! And it sucks that people are making things up about you to malign you; things should never come to that.

But I do feel like it really would be good to address the genuine criticism instead of just painting everyone who has questions as being just harassors? Like. You started posting about how non-transfems always have a "trump card" over transfems (one post specifically mentioning "cis intersex women") very shortly after Imane Khelif got harassed over the mere assumption of her possibly being intersex and or secretly trans, where her AGAB didn't matter to the bigots one bit. In fact, the mentions of TMA/TME terminology ONLY started appearing on your blog immediately after the Paris Olympics. For me, that was extremely eyebrow-raising.

I appreciate that. It's largely died down for the moment but I'm not sure if that's just momentary or not. Here's hoping.

I wasn't painting anyone who had questions as being harassers, that's very extreme language to use and I'd appreciate maybe reading my posts thoroughly before accusing me of things like that.

I said the people sending me slurs and messages simply calling me names and intersexist were harassers, I also explicitly said anyone who had questions or actually wanted to discuss the issue should still feel free to send me asks or whatever.

I also was not asked even vaguely about what you're talking about. I was only told that I was intersexist for blocking two intersex blogs and then I was accused of claiming something to do with intersex people and autism.

I had two people in my inbox mention the possibility people were upset that I discussed transmisogyny, but neither of them were sure and only guessing, so I didn't want to throw guesses out. [I did get a more concrete mention of this late last night tho from an anon!]

But no one else said any of the shit you're talking about to me.

I don't remember mentioning cis intersex women in particular but I might've. I had a lot of questions from people about transmisogyny but I did definitely say that anyone who isn't TMA or transfeminized does definitely have leverage explicitly over people who are in the context of transmisogyny. That's true and literally how every type of bigotry works.

I'll address the Imane Khelif bit in a second but first, I do want to point out that my blog started around that same time, Anon.

I didn't start posting about transmisogyny because of the Paris Olympics. I started this blog around that time and transmisogyny is one of the issues I've reblogged posts about and afterwards, gotten many questions about, that's all.

It had nothing to do with the Olympics; I don't watch them and while I paid attention to some of the issues that arose from them [the blatant ableism, sinophobia, COVID issues, intersexism, racism, etc], I didn't make any posts on my sex education blog with the Olympics in mind.

As for Imane Khelif, I do want to mention that what happened to her was not solely about the possibility of her being intersex and/or secretly trans, nor is it true that her AGAB didn't factor into what happened.

What happened to Imane Khelif was very explicitly intersexist but it was also extremely racist. I mention that because it's very important that's not left out of the conversation. It's a very common racist, misogynistic tactic that has been revitalized in current politics and to ignore the racism is to ignore a good part of the picture.

I also don't want to ignore your claim that her being not-transfem had no affect on what happened with her.

To ignore that transfems were largely disallowed from competing in the Olympics at all is absurd and to insinuate there's not privilege in being allowed to compete is not a claim that should be made. If not being transfem didn't affect Imane Khelif at all, she wouldn't have even been in the Olympics.

Nor would it have been as "controversial" as it was [because they likely would have had genuine evidence], nor would she have been allowed to compete afterwards, nor would she have the legal standing to be able to sue people for accusing her of being intersex and/or transfem.

I do understand being wary but absolutely nothing I said had anything to do with Imane Khelif or even vaguely denies or belittles what she and many other people have had to go through because of racism, misogyny, intersexism and transmisogyny.

Just to be absolutely clear, because the poor are absolutely drenched in piss from the way people keep trying to misinterpret my posts:

I did not make any posts on transmisogyny to argue that what happened to Imane Khelif was not awful, nor did I make any posts to insinuate cisgender intersex women do not experience oppression, nor did I start posting about transmisogyny because of the Olympics.

But if that's what people are upset about, I appreciate you letting me know, fr. It's absurdly convoluted and feels like a lot of assumptions were made but it's very kind of you to tell me and I always appreciate people coming into my inbox to discuss things.

Hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 5 | Big Austrian Bastard

Check out part 1 here. Check out the rest of the story on AO3, up to chapter 33 over there.

After you won the bet with Ghost you became something of a tourist attraction. Every man who moved through the office would stop by your desk. Often you were on a phone but many would wait for a chance to ask how you won the bet with Ghost or if you had any dating advice. When Roach finally appeared back in the office after a month you asked him about it.

“Why does it feel like my desk is the hottest place to be in the office? Don’t these guys have paperwork to be doing?”

Roach replies, the clack of his keys not even faded before the message hits your screen.

>No one deals with Ghost like you do. Word has gotten around that you two fight and he loses more often than he wins.

“I can’t say that I think he has won once.”

>Exactly, plus everyone wants to witness another showdown. Anyone who wasn’t at the bar when you took that hot redhead home has heard the story about a dozen times from someone who has. Plus all the bets on what crazy nonsense you two will fight about next. And I know at least some of the guys want to know how you got such a bombshell to go home with you.

It takes three reads over the message before you are semi-confident that you understood everything.

“How much money is in these betting pools?” You rub a single finger against the headache forming behind your forehead.

>Would say a several thousand at this point.

“And what exactly was the defining moment that everyone decided to start taking bets?” You have a sneaking suspicion you know what it was.

>The lap dancer.

“Yeah,” you suck your teeth, “I thought that might have been it. Now for the record Roach and you tell this to anyone who will listen; I didn’t know he had already booked her. It’s not my fault she chose my pretty face over his ugly mask. And if he could string two sentences together to a woman that didn’t leave her wanting to slap him he wouldn’t have to pay for company in or out of his bed.”

>Behind you.

“Thanks, Roach,” you deadpan, “What a great job saving the day.”

Spinning around you see Ghost standing at the edge of your desk.

“You know I think you would pay for male company as well, I’m not really one to judge.”

Without a word, he drops several files on your desk and turns on his heel leaving you and Roach with more questions than before. Not picking a fight over your words felt outside of Ghost’s character. You tuck the information away for later. No one had died recently and there were no issues with any other companies or governments. No obvious reasons surfaced as to his dour mood.

Your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number.

>Can you make gingersnaps?

<Yes. Fresh ginger okay?

>👍

<Should have a dozen ready by 3.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you unplug your computer. You’ve figured out how to read emails while creaming butter by hand. Emails consumed you as grated ginger and sifted flour into your wet ingredients. Once the dough had started chilling you got a call. It took twenty minutes to look up the temperature conversion to turn on the oven since the other party had some extremely specific requests and questions that had you searching skills and cross-referencing times when certain guys would be free.

“Okay, for the final time, the timeline you need this job completed on will not allow for me to get Price and Reb on the same job. I have a different sniper who can complete the task or I can have a different lead but they are not available at the same time,” You wave at Harold as he leads a beast of a man down the hall. “At this point, you can trust me to schedule a team who can handle the task or I can send you the contact info for my counterpart at KorTac.”

You rattled off the number for KorTac as the cookies came out of the oven. Disconnecting the call you stretched your arms high and set about moving the cookies to the rack to cool down. In the five minutes they take to cool you reply to seven emails. God, you needed to talk to Kate about an assistant. The number of emails was becoming untenable. Storing the cookies in a dish you hide in your cabinet you take a quick picture of the completed request.

Cleaning up from baking had become its own soothing ritual. Once you have everything set out to dry you head back down the hall. You forget to send the text message since an email reply comes into a proposal you had just sent off.

“If those motherfuckers want to change up the date again…“ you mumble to yourself.

You kick something as you approach your desk. The beast of a man Harold had walked back to the desks is reclined in your chair and snoring. You can’t tell past the sniper’s hood draped across his head if he is asleep. Looking around you find the bay of computers empty. With a sigh, you set your computer awkwardly on the desk and remember your message about the cookies.

Sending the message a phone ding sounds before you. The man rouses, pulls a phone from his pocket, checks the message, and startles when he sees you standing at his feet.

“You the one who wanted the gingersnaps?” You ask carefully. One man in a mask you know could almost be considered a friend, the other firmly a foe.

“Ja.” He stands, towering over your frame.

Blowing a breath out your nose you make a decision. Better to have fewer foes if possible.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where I put your cookies.”

The only sound following you is the rare swish of fabric. Stepping into the kitchen you open the cabinet that held your cookies. Pulling them down you place them in his waiting hands. More men covering up like the devil would worm his way in through any flash of flesh. This man wore gloves too.

“Ah! Liaison you found the big Austrian bastard! We’ve been all over the office looking for him.”

If you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would have missed the flinch in the big man. Something about someone so strong-looking taking pain from words wormed into your heart.

“Tactic I swear to god if you don’t think before you speak.” You snap at him. “Obviously this man is on loan to the 141 and you know what we don’t do to people who are here to help us? We don’t insult them. It makes my job to fucking hard when you can’t keep your jackass statements inside.”

Tactic’s mouth shut with a click.

“Anything else clever to say?” you push.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to my friend here.”

“Sorry König.”

Spence, who had been standing behind Tactic, fled the moment your tone turned angry.

“Now unless you have a hard leave time I am going to sit down and enjoy some cookies with Konig and will deliver him to a conference room when we are done. Got a problem with that?” You aggressively lifted a brow at Tactic.

He backed out of the kitchen slowly.

“Whatever you say Liaison, sorry again König.”

With a huff, you turned back around and smiled up at the big man.

“Do you want to sit down and enjoy your cookies? I appreciate any feedback you can give.”

He looked you over, neither his expression nor his body language giving away his thoughts. König sits at one table, pushing out another chair with the toe of his boot. Settling in you wait to see what he does next. You fold your arms and rest them on the table.

“We friends?”

You find him watching you with guarded eyes.

“Do you want to be friends?”

“Ja. Name is König, not Konig.”

You repeat his name a few times to solidify the pronunciation in your brain.

“Okay, well you’re my first friend here so I will now text you random updates on my life. Feel free to do the same.”

Sitting in silence you tap out random beats on your fingers as König lifts his cowl to eat his treat.

“Da cookies are good.”

You send him a bright smile. “I’m glad you like them. Whenever you are ready I can deliver you to the conference room.”

He nods once before closing the container of cookies. He stands and slides the whole box into a side pocket on his pants. There isn’t even a bulge against the fabric. You can’t prevent a sneer at the now offensive pants.

The tension rises in König, you can feel it wafting off him in waves.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the patriarchy that doesn’t give me pockets I can hide cookies in without getting caught,” you fold your arms and puff air into your cheeks.

The booming laughter from König brings a smile to your face. It sounded rusty as if he didn’t get a chance to use it often.

Part 4

Masterlist @nicroyal02

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

 “I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.  

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.  

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp

[dreamingundone]

Infinite Space

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female OC Rating/Warnings: No real warnings. Angsty but with a happy ending. Summary: Her life has consisted of work, trying to find her way in the world, and more work. Until he walked through the doors of her bakery. Disclaimer: I don’t own TG:M, Jake, or the lyrics I used for the title and that are at the beginning of the fic, which is from “Infinite Space” by Young Mister. Please don’t repost or translate my work without my permission! Author’s Note: Feeling some type of way about my lack of love life lately. I also read Mixed Signals by B.K. Borison last week and it gave me feelings. So here we are. Hope you enjoy!

Are you listening? Are you sending out a message of your own? Show me some flashing lights Give me a signal I'll be waiting by the window

Baking makes perfect sense to her. It’s scientific, exact measurements that when put together and baked, create something beautiful in the end.

She always thought love was like that too. Two people with the ingredients the other is missing come together, and something beautiful comes out of it. It’s just not been the case for her, ever in her entire life, and it’s something she struggles to make sense of.

It’s not like she’s miserable. She has her friends and her little house that she loves, and her bakery. She spends her days surrounded in a cloud of flour, sugar, and butter, and she makes people happy by giving them birthday cakes, little treats for their friends, and breakfast pastries to brighten up their mornings.

It’s when she leaves for the day that she feels the absence of something to make her feel happy. Her little bungalow, as cozy as it is, starts to feel too quiet sometimes, and if she lets herself think her own thoughts for too long, that emptiness starts to fill her up.

The arrival of the newest Top Gun class keeps her really busy. They come in for sweet treats and coffee and take up space at the tables at the front of the store. There’s whispers about some top-secret mission that no one really knows much about, but also everyone knows about it. It makes her grin. Nothing is ever a secret at Miramar for too long.

She’s in the middle of sliding a tray of mini cinnamon rolls into the oven when the bell over the door chimes, and she frowns, annoyed that someone is coming in this close to closing time.

“We’re–” She turns around and stops, seeing the most bedraggled fighter pilot she’s ever seen standing in her lobby, looking for all the world like he’s been in the air for hours.

“I know you’re about to close, I’m sorry.” He says, dragging a hand across his face. “Any chance you have coffee left? I’ll pay extra for it.”

“Are you okay?” She asks, coming around the counter. She slides out a chair to one of the tables, and he collapses in it gratefully. He looks a little bewildered at her question, like he can’t remember the last time someone asked about his well being.

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “I can go, I’m sorry if I’m–”

“No, I have coffee left. Made a fresh pot a half hour ago. Just let me…” she steps quickly towards the door and locks it, flipping the sign to “closed”. Heading back towards the counter, she grabs a to-go cup and starts pouring, hearing his audible sigh when the coffee steams.

“Long day?” She asks, walking back to the table and setting down the cup.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He says, eyes closing as he inhales the steam. “Seriously, let me pay extra. I don’t mean to keep you.”

She shrugs. “I’ll be here a while longer anyway.”

“Thank you.” He takes a sip, and swallows a groan. She grins. She may be known for her pastries and cakes, but she makes a mean cup of coffee, too. “I’m Jake,” he says, holding out his free hand.

She introduces herself, and shakes his hand. “I’ve seen you here before,” she says, and he nods.

“Anyone who’s been at Miramar long enough knows this is the place to go for breakfast. I think your donuts have single handedly helped me stay in my weight class.” He grins at her now, and it’s such a difference from the man that walked through the door a few moments ago, she’s momentarily blindsided.

“Any reason you’re here in time for dinner, then?” She heads back behind the counter to begin stacking plates for the next day’s morning rush.

He winces. “I’m due back at the base tonight. It’s—” He stops himself, raises an eyebrow. “I really shouldn’t be telling you this.” He stands, and it looks like it takes all his energy to haul himself to his feet. He drains the rest of his coffee in two gulps and sets the mug down on the counter. He starts to dig into his pocket for his wallet, but she waves her hand.

“That one’s on me, Jake.”

And so it goes like that, at least once a week for the next month. Jake comes just before closing to beg for a cup of coffee, and a few times, he scrounges up the leftover pastries to bring back to base with him. He insists he’s not hoarding them all for himself, but really, she doesn’t mind.

Jake is easy to talk to. There’s an alarm bell clanging in her mind every time he leaves, because she knows one day he might not be back at all. He could get deployed, or reassigned, and then where would that leave her?

Right back where she’s been, going home alone at the end of a long day.

They don’t even really know each other besides the basics. She tells herself not to get attached to him, to the way he swaggers in now like he owns the place, that little dimpled smile she’s starting to think is only for her.

He moves from a table to the counter, and watches with his coffee as she preps pastries for the next morning, or does dishes, and he offers a thought here or there about bear claws or croissants or whatever it is she’s trying a recipe for.

In turn, she listens as he complains about work, about the endless training they’re doing for some mission he can’t tell her anything about.

There’s some tension between him and his coworkers that he also doesn’t open up much about, but that’s okay with her. They’re in this little bubble, she and Jake. She bakes, and he samples. They don’t get too deep. She feels like it’s an escape from the rest of her life.

It absolutely aches every time he leaves, and the emptiness she feels when she goes home at night only gets worse. She feels like she’s been waiting forever for a connection like this, and it’s that feeling that makes her hesitant. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The next time she sees Jake, he’s tense, his shoulders drawn up and face stoic.

“Jake?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. She starts to get worried, starts to wonder if it’s finally happening - he’s here to tell her that he’s leaving and he’s not coming back - or worse, going to tell her that he’s been being nice by coming here so often, but that there’s nothing really there between them, and he’s sorry.

“I, uh–” he takes a few steps closer, and when he gets within arm’s reach, he stops, looking at her with an unreadable expression. “You smell like cinnamon.” He smiles, his voice a little rough.

“Occupational hazard.” She replies, smiling.

“I’m being deployed.” He blurts, and he flexes his hands like he’s not sure what to do with the energy running through his veins. “I wanted to tell you, I didn’t want to just disappear…”

Her defense mechanism kicks in right away. “That’s okay,” she says quickly, busying herself by tidying up the counter by the register. “You didn’t have to come by just to tell me that. I mean, we’re not–” she gestures vaguely, not able to meet his eyes.

If she did, she’d see the way he blinks rapidly, taking a small step back, before clearing his throat. “Right.”

She forces a bright smile and looks up, seeing how he’s still standing by the door. “I appreciate you letting me know. I’ll have to stop leaving the coffee pot hot past three in the afternoon, now.”

His answering smile is a little brittle. “Hopefully not forever.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he just nods at her once. “I won’t keep you. Thanks for… well, for everything. The last few weeks.”

“You’re welcome, Jake.” She says. She wishes she could just open her mouth. She wishes she was brave enough to tell him that she wishes he would ask her out for real, instead of coming by for a cup of coffee and pastry. She wishes she could just say that his company over the last few weeks means more to her than he knows.

She doesn’t.

He leaves.

……………….

What if I never reach you What if I never get to see your face I've been dying to break through I know you're somewhere out there in the infinite space Somewhere out there in the infinite space

Not being picked for the Dagger mission would have been a blow to Jake’s ego on any day, but it’s especially a kick to the gut a week after his last conversation with her.

“We’re not–”

She had said it so quickly, so casually, he was just glad that she hadn’t been looking at him in time to see the way he felt it like a physical blow.

He’s not stupid - he’s not in love with her or anything, but he feels… something. He felt it the minute he came in, hoping the bakery was still open, desperate for a decent cup of coffee to give him the boost he needed to get back to work.

When he looked up and saw her there, it was like a punch right to his chest. She had flour on her cheek and there was the smell of butter and cinnamon in the air, and she asked him if he was okay.

That was all it took, really.

He kept finding excuses to come back, and at first he kept saying it was because he’d never had a neighborhood place, a place where he walked in and they knew his name and his order. This was better. She knows his name, and that he likes his coffee with one sugar and one cream, and sometimes she gives him a free cookie or croissant or asks him to taste something she’s working on.

That’s all it is.

A place where he can go where she doesn’t know him, doesn’t know that everyone calls him Bagman, doesn’t know that he’s a grade A asshole to his friends on a daily basis.

He can be someone else. And the worst part, the part that really makes him wonder where it all went wrong, is that he wants to be someone else. He wants to be better. He wants to be more deserving of that smile he gets from her when she puts that cup of coffee in front of him.

Maybe he read it all wrong. Maybe she was just being nice, humoring the exhausted pilot who kept showing up and mooching her coffee.

He runs a hand over his face, trying to concentrate on the mission specs for tomorrow. Even though he’s the spare for this, he’s determined to be ready for his moment, to prove he’s supposed to be here.

Of course the whole thing goes sideways, because of course it does. His heart is in his throat and he feels helpless the entire time, and finally he just does what he needs to do.

He says fuck it, and he takes off, unable to listen to a second more of everyone else deliberating whether or not they should sit there while Mav and Rooster get killed.

So he goes AWOL, and he does what needs to be done. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s felt he did the right thing, and he can see it in the eyes of all his squadmates.

It makes him feel more like the person he is when he’s around her.

It scared the shit out of him, too - the entire day was one non-stop adrenaline ride.

He wishes he was back in San Diego, wishes he could drive the few miles from base to the bakery, and let her talk him down. She’s always got that smile, and she always smells like chocolate and sugar, and he wishes he wasn’t such an idiot.

He should have asked her out weeks ago, so there wouldn’t have been that awkward moment. At least then he’d be sure he hadn’t just imagined the connection between them, that he wasn’t making it up. He feels like he’s known her for years, and he doesn’t even have her phone number.

He resolves to fix it as soon as they get back, as long as he’s not facing a court martial first.

...............

She wonders how Jake’s deployment is going almost every day. She keeps herself busy, tries not to replay every second of their last interaction in her head, and tries to convince herself she did the right thing.

But the look on his face when she told him not to worry about ghosting her… was there something there?

She feels like she’s been waiting for her person for so long, that it seems impossible that one day he’d just show up out of the blue asking for a cup of coffee. But what if he did?

What if she ruined it by trying to protect herself?

Too busy daydreaming, she groans as she looks down at her ruined bowl of buttercream frosting, moving to the trash can to begin scraping it out. All day she’s been like this, distracted and making mistakes.

She’s watching the clock drift closer to time to go home, and without much else to keep her busy, she’s dreading going home where all she’s going to do is overthink more than she already is.

The chime on the door surprises her, and her heart stutters.

“Any chance you’ve got one of those cinnamon rolls left?” A familiar voice asks.

Her heart lurches. “Jake?”

He looks tired, but his eyes are almost sparkling as he looks at her. “Hey.”

“You’re back.” She blurts, and immediately feels stupid. He’s standing right in front of her. Of course he is. It doesn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only makes him smile wider.

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that you were wrong, the last time we talked.”

Her brow furrows. “Wrong?”

“When you said it wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t let you know I was being deployed.” He takes a few steps closer. “When you said we weren’t…” he trails off, gesturing between the two of them. “I know it’s just been a few weeks, and I know we’ve only had conversations over coffee about non-important stuff.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was struggling to find the right words. He looked up to meet her gaze. “I’d like to take you out, if you’ll let me.”

Everything she’d been feeling over the last few weeks felt like it landed on her shoulders in the moment. She felt the relief of knowing that she wasn’t alone in her feelings. She felt guilty for pushing him away in the first place.

“I think I owe you an apology, Jake.” She says quietly, coming around from behind the counter. “I just… I didn’t know if you were just being nice to me, coming here all those nights. I didn’t want to assume anything. And I didn’t want you to feel obligated when you came back.”

He frowns. “I kept coming here for you, no offense to your coffee.” He takes another step closer, so the tips of their shoes are almost touching. “The cinnamon rolls are a plus.”

She laughs, and his grin widens.

“Is that a yes? You’ll go out with me?”

“Only if you tell me what happened on this not-so-secret top secret mission.”

He rolls his eyes. “Everyone around here is such a gossip. I can’t tell you everything but I can tell you about how I was a hero and saved the day.” His smile is smug.

“Perfect.” She says, and there, in the warm light of her bakery, surrounded by everything she’s ever known, she thinks she’s finally ready to take the leap and see if he’s the one she’s been waiting for, the other half she didn’t know she was missing all these years.

And for once, she’s not scared anymore.

[heavenlyakin]

Bluelock Tinder Hookup Series: Rin Itoshi

wc: 2520

Warnings: a little ooc for Sae I think, fem reader, use of “brat,” “slut,” and “princess,” spitting, fingering, orgasm denial, and kitchen sex.

Description: Hookup #1 in my latest series. College AU Tinder Hookup Series: starring Rin Itoshi. This is a nontraditional hookup and I hope you enjoy the story! This one is light and silly at first but of course, you get some steamy scenes. Also, if someone guesses what drink Rin makes, I’ll write you something!

The man who sits across from you is not who’s picture you’d been looking at for the last few days. His red hair is definitely not the dark green you’d been expecting, and his features, except his strikingly familiar eyes, are all wrong. 

“You’re not Rin,” you say softly, leaning forward on the table with your elbows. 

“Correct. I’m Sae,” his tone is colder than you expected. “Why’d you want to match with my brother?” 

You laugh, put off by the abruptness of his question. “Why is it any of your business? Where is he? How’d you know I was meeting him here?” 

“Oh, I run his Tinder. He wouldn’t be caught dead in that cesspool. I just like to fuck with people.” He admits, leaning forward. “You’re really pretty, though. So I’ll entertain you.” 

“You’re fucking weird,” you move away, sitting back in your seat and grabbing your purse from the ground. “But, do feel free to give your brother my regards.” 

Sae laughs, a smile plastered on his once bored expression. “Your loss,” he calls back as you walk away. 

Everything about that has triggered something in you. So much so that you delete the Tinder app from your phone. Your walk home is fine, but you find yourself looking behind you to make sure that creep isn’t following you home. He didn’t give you stalker vibes, but who the hell uses their brother to match with girls on Tinder? Especially when they’re that attractive on their own. It’s fucking twisted. 

When you check the time on your phone, you’re not spatially aware of your surroundings and run into someone at the end of a crosswalk. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid, I didn’t even see you in front of me and-” You look up and notice that it’s none other than the man you originally matched with on Tinder; Rin. 

“Watch where you’re going and this won’t happen.” He scoffs, wiping off his shirt. “Wait, are you —-.” 

“Yeah, why?” You look up at him towering over you. 

“You ghosted me today.” He frowns, looking unimpressed with your response. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re the girl from Tinder right.” He asks, quieter and looking around to see if anyone is listening to the both of you. 

“Yeah, actually I am. But I’m confused, your brother-” 

“What about my brother?” Anger flares in his voice.

“He met me where we were supposed to meet and I guess tried to flirt with me in some creepy way, and claimed he ran your Tinder account.” 

“What?” He looks shocked. 

“You two need to sort that out. I’m not playing games with either of you.” You start to walk away but Rin grabs your arm. 

“Can you please explain what happened?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Walk with me, we can get a drink at my place. I’ll tell you everything.” You begin walking towards your off-campus apartment and explain in detail what happened. It clearly wasn’t a lot but you can recall every word since it was just a few minutes ago. 

“We didn’t agree to meet at the student union though,” he frowns. 

“You changed it last minute, remember?” You say and he shakes his head no. “Check our messages. I got so mad at your stupid brother that I deleted the app. You’ll see that ten minutes before our date you messaged me to meet at the student union instead.” 

He pulls out his phone as you open the door to the lobby of your apartments. He notices and grabs the door above your head. “After you,” he says. 

You smile and lead him inside and to the elevator. “Well, did you see it?” 

He’s frowning at his phone as you press the button to your floor. “Yeah, but I didn't send this. That fucker must really have my login information.” 

“Yeah, you should change your password.” You comment, not really sure what to say. 

“No wonder I keep getting ghosted.” He sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“You should. It’ll do society a favor.” You tease, nudging him with your elbow. 

He smiles, barely, but it’s there. “Yeah,” he agrees and looks up at the numbers changing above the elevator door. 

The elevator finally stops and you lead him to your apartment, opening the door and walking in before him. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you smile and let him walk in passed you so you can shut the door. 

“It’s nice. Reminds me of my place.” He tells you and stands awkwardly in the middle of your living room. 

“You can sit, make yourself comfortable.” You walk into the kitchen, grabbing some Moscato from your fridge and then you realize you don’t know what he drinks. “Do you like wine? I don’t have beer. Um, I have some vodka and tequila too…” you look through your liquor cabinet. “Oh, I have this gin too.” 

“Do you have lime juice and simple syrup?” He asks, walking over to your breakfast bar across from the cabinets. 

“I think so,” you look further in the fridge and find the simple syrup and a few limes. “I do! Thank god my old roommate was a bartender and left me all this.” 

“Oh, do you live alone now?” Rin asks as he starts to mix himself a drink. 

“As of a few days ago, yeah. She moved back home.” You take another sip of your wine, enjoying the sweet peachy flavor. 

“Ah,” he pours the drink into the glass you hand him after he’s done shaking the drink. He tasted it and buns softly, it must be good. 

“Can I have a taste?” You ask, curious about the drink. “Pretty please,” you bat your eyelashes for effect. 

He grins, shaking his head no. “It’s mine. No.” 

You walk around the breakfast bar, taking the glass from his hand quickly. “It’s my glass. My liquor.” 

He’s faster taking it back, then holding it up so you can’t reach it. “Brats don’t get what they want.” He challenges and your body heats up. 

Oh. 

“I just want a little taste,” you beg, pouting your bottom lip out. 

He takes another sip, his hand caressing your cheeks. As he swallows his thumb grazes across your lip, tugging it down to open your mouth. You oblige, parting your lips and letting him have his way. He takes another sip. 

In a blink of an eye his hand is squeezing your mouth open wider and he spits the drink into your mouth. Your eyes widen and you clench your fists, your body heating up more than before as you slowly swallow the slightly sweet and sour drink. He went heavy on the lime, you realize as it slides down your throat. 

“Good girl, swallowed without me even asking,” he pats your cheek with his fingers and you step closer to him. 

“I-” before you can finish your thought, Rin’s lips are on yours. The taste of his drink floods your mouth with his tongue. You reach for his shirt, grabbing the soft fabric and pulling yourself closer to him so your body is flush with his. 

His hands settle on your hips, pulling you against him, his cock hard under his pants and pressing against you. A moan slips past your lips against Rin’s. 

“Moaning already?” He pulls away, his right hand moving from your hip to your cheek, his thumb teasing your bottom lip again. “I’ve barely touched you, slut.” 

Something about the way the degradation slips past his pretty lips so effortlessly turns you on more.  “Can’t help it,” you shrug looking up at him. 

“I bet you’re soaking wet under those shorts.” He whispers next to your ear, his thumb pressing into your mouth. You close your lips around it and suck lightly. “Should I find out?” 

“Mmhm,” you hum around his thumb desperate for him to touch you. 

His left-hand moves from your hip, tugging your linen shorts open just enough so he can slip his hand in. You feel his fingertips tease the outline of your panties. You want to beg him to hurry up, but you also enjoy the teasing look in his beautiful teal eyes. He wants to drag this out, you realize. He finally presses his fingers against your clit through the thin fabric, and you whimper. 

“I was right,” he smirks, his fingers tracing slow circles as your thighs quiver slightly. “Soaking wet through your flimsy underwear.” 

You pop his thumb out of your mouth, grinning before speaking. “Didn’t expect a soccer player to be so good with his fingers,” his smirk turns to an intense frown. “Aw didn’t like that?” 

“I prefer you with your mouth full.” He tells you, pushing you back against the breakfast bar. His fingers slip into your underwear. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as his thumb teases your clit and his fingers start to enter you. 

“I like that sound as well,” he tells you, a small chuckle leaving his lips. 

Suddenly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your shorts and panties down around your knees as he goes. You gasp and your fingers go right to his hair as he leans forward and his tongue swipes across your cunt. 

“Rin,” you gasp as he slips a finger in you as he sucks on your clit. His hair tangles in your fingers and you grip the breakfast bar with your free hand to steady yourself. He hums against you sending shivers down your legs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ you moan, pulling his hair. 

His fingers pump into you faster while he continues lapping at you like you’re a meal he intends to devour. You throw your head back, letting yourself feel and enjoy every single sensation Rin blesses you with. It’s overwhelming and takes all your strength to stay standing still for him. His grip on your right thigh with his hand is intense, and probably going to leave a bruise. 

Just as you start to feel the familiar build of tension in your lower stomach and your body starts to shake, he pulls away abruptly. 

“Rin, what the fuck,” you gasp, catching your breath and staring down at him. 

He smiles, actually smiles at you. “Impatieny slut,” the words sound beautiful coming from that cruel mouth. 

Your body just wants more, more of him and his cruelty. He stands up, pulling you close and kissing you. The taste of yourself on his lips is erotic. You pull him closer with his belt loops, leaving just enough room for your hands to undo his belt and pants, unzipping the zipper next. 

“Want to go to my bedroom?” You ask as you slowly take his cock in your hand, stoking it once and then twice. 

“Who needs the bedroom? I could take you right here on this counter.” He tells you, his voice serious and rough. “Or do you need some pillows, princess? Can’t take the hard counters?” 

“I can take you, and that’s all that matters, right?” You squeeze his cock a bit tighter and he inhales sharply. “I’m desperate for you,” you put on the sexiest voice you can muster, almost making yourself laugh. 

“Oh shut up,” he mutters, closing his eyes as you continue jerking him off. “Turn around.” 

You let go of him, turning around as he ordered and bracing the breakfast bar with your hands and arms. You feel his hands on your ass before you hear the sound of his pants hitting the ground around his ankles. He cock grazes your ass and you wiggle it at him. 

“Stay still,” he grips you tightly and you feel the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. 

“Oh god,” you whimper as he thrusts inside of you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. He makes you feel so full, you’re unable to think of anything but him and his cock inside of you. He moans quietly, barely audible, but you catch it. 

He begins to thrust in and out of you, gripping your hips to keep you still as he fucks you. It’s intense, like him. Everything you imagined this moment might be like is completely shattered and blown away by the actuality of it all. 

“Harder,” you ask, breathless against the countertop and looking back at him as best as you can. 

He laughs, “You need more, princess? Fucking dirty slut.” 

Before today, you’ve never had someone bounce so effortlessly between sweet to cruel names for you and it’s doing something to your body. You don’t think you’ve ever been this aroused or needy for someone in your life. You feel that familiar tension building again, coming back from where Rin denied it earlier. Your body heats up and you try your best to keep from cumming now. 

“Go ahead and cum, princess.” Rin leans down, his body pressing against yours and pushing him deeper into you. “I can always make you cum again. Don’t hold back on me.” He whispers against your ear. 

That’s all it takes. 

You clench around his cock, cumming and moaning a slur of his name and curses. Your body goes limp against the counter. He continues to fuck into you, supporting you with his hands. 

“You feel incredible,” he mumbles, and you imagine he has his head tossed back and is enjoying every second of being inside of you. From what you can see behind you, you’re correct. 

He stops suddenly, and you push up with your arms and look behind you fully. “What, is something wrong?” 

He pulls out of you and without saying a word spins you around. 

“Jump up here,” he pats the top of the breakfast bar. 

You oblige, gripping the edge of the bar with your hands and jumping up. He pushes back inside of you and you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips are on yours before you can think to kiss him first and he begins to fuck into you harder than before. 

You can’t focus on his lips or tongue, only on holding onto him and moaning against his lips. This position feels much more intimate and overwhelming with pleasure. Your nails dig into his skin, his shoulders feel so strong under your fingers that you’re sure this isn’t even noticeable to him. It makes you curious. 

You drag your nails down his back and he groans against your mouth. “Do that again.” 

So you do, and you feel him twitch inside of you. His thrusts become sloppier and faster if that’s even possible. His stamina is unreal, and it makes you want to thank whoever the fuck his coach is for the conditioning he must have put Rin through to build this up. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he groans as he cums, thrusting into you a few more times before stilling inside of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours, and it's sweaty, and his hair sticks to your forehead and his. “I need another drink before we go again.” 

“Again?” You laugh, praying your pussy will make it through the day.

[gayaest]

I just want to say your Paravolley AU has helped me a lot with overcoming internalized ableism, made me learn about sitting volleyball, and has also gotten me to read and watch Haikyuu again after years. I've been a volleyball person my whole life but I got a sports injury in highschool and now use a cane (and hopefully a rollator walker in the future).

Kageyama Tobio has always been my favorite character and seeing him in your AU hit me really hard. Though we don't have the same injury, I saw myself in your portrayal of him very much.

Your AU had made me re-evaluate the Haikyuu manga and anime through a disabled lense, and made me fall in love with Furudate's story all over again. Even stronger than it was before. And I adore the parallels you decided to put with your own AU.

I've since been searching up if there's sitting volleyball in my area (with little luck so far but dammit I'm going to keep looking). I'm so disappointed that it's never been brought up to me when I got injured. I'm upset that I was convinced that I'd never have a place in volleyball again. I legitimately started crying tears of joy when I learned sitting volleyball existed.

Thank you so much for your AU. I think it'll have a special place in my heart for a long time.

This is a genuinely sweet and kind-hearted message, and I have to thank you for sending it.

It means a lot that my AU brings comfort to not only myself, but other disabled people as well — the idea that my experiences, thoughts, feelings, research, etc is being put to good use to help and soothe people is more than I could ever wish to achieve or want.

I think something so important in my AU with Kageyama is that he wasn’t born disabled, he got his spinal cord injury at one of the worst points in his life, while simultaneously losing his support system (grandfather). He had no idea how to cope with becoming disabled because the people he surrounded himself with previously (MiddleSchool Volleyball Team) all turned their back on him and his drive to still want to play volleyball and feel lost without it. In turn, he turns that anger and fear and disappointment into internalized ableism, and even some outwards ableism he doesn’t even realize he needs to fix, because it’s just something most able-bodied people get told or believe. He pushes himself past his limits, hoping that he could one day be back to his old self, but that old self no longer exists, and that’s something the Karasuno Sitting Volleyball team teaches him. They teach him acceptance, support, community, etc when he didn’t even know it existed before.

I’m glad my AU can resonate with so many people, and I wish I could blab even more about it because it’s always in my head constantly, so if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask about it.

Furudate’s story is truly amazing, and to me, it doesn’t lose it’s charm and meaning for me as a disabled person, in fact, in makes me want to form even bigger bonds with community and other disabled people.

Thank you again for the ask, anon! It’s very sweet.

[acourtofthought]

My husband finally put into words for me something that has been the main problem with this whole Anti Gwynriel because of Gwyn's past narrative.

According to Anti's, it's not ok to ship Gwyn with Az because she's not healed enough and hasn't shown that she's ready for a relationship.

According to Anti's, fanart of Gwynriel in provocative positions are not appropriate because it's disrespectful to Gwyn due to her SA, that she needs to first give verbal consent before we're allowed to imagine what a HEA for Gwynriel might look like.

And at first, it almost feels like a gotcha for them because you question whether you're disrespecting real survivors by saying, "she doesn't need to give consent for us to ship them since it's a book." This statement is true, I don't think readers should be forced to abide by real world morals when it comes to possible paths a characters arc might take, however it makes you pause for a moment to question whether what you're saying is disrespectful to those who have been victims.

But he actually flipped that entire thing on it's head when he said, "if the issue is about consent, then why is only being applied to a SA victim? Shouldn't consent be applied to everyone?"

It was kind of a lightbulb moment for me because those Anti's never vocalize how it's wrong for people to ship Eris & Az, Mor & Emerie, Vassa & Lucien (SA victim), Lucien, Jurian & Vassa, the LoA & Helion (because at this point they are not a consenting pair), Nesta & Eris. There are a bunch of non canon, non consent ships in this series and nobody has an issue with those. Nobody takes up the crusade arguing that it's wrong for people in the fandom to imagine those pairings together or drawing fanart of them in NSFW positions. Most of the time they're celebrated but has Emerie consented to having a sexual relationship with Mor? All she did was call her beautiful and Feyre had done the same in ACOMAF. Why do they never call out fanart of that pairing? Or Neris after Nesta harshly rejected him? Where Eris is currently suffering torture at the hands of Beron and we've got no clue as to his sexual preference. Also, Elain only consented to a fully clothed kiss in the bonus (remember, she grew up with human morals which she still holds fast too, she didn't jump right into bed with Graysen), we have no evidence she wanted more yet there's plenty of NSFW E/riel artwork out there and I'm betting some existed before SF, before she even consented to a kiss.

The only time I've ever heard anyone argue for consent or argue against NSFW art is in relation to Az and Gwyn and the message they're sending is that only female characters who have been SA need to give consent before fans should be shipping them.

That's when the shipping agenda makes itself known because if no other non-canon / non-consenting pairing disturbs them to the point they need to create post after post surrounding how wrong people are for shipping them, then it's clear to see that it's only Gwyn being shipped with Az that they take issue with and when only E/riels make these arguments, it seems highly suspect.

Gwyn's SA is irrelevant in terms of consent because EVERYONE should have consent before engaging in physical acts with others no matter their past. However, Gwyn's SA should not be the weight dragging her character down, the scarlet letter on her chest that means the fandom isn't allowed to give her the same treatment that all other characters receive. Where we're free to imagine and create fanart / fanfiction / headcanons (even the NSFW variety) for any pairing that we desire, regardless of their past or preference, even those who have never expressed romantic interest towards one another, except for Gwyn.

Consent in the actual book will be important but consent having already been given in our imaginations so we can imagine possibilities beyond what is currently written is the right of any reader.

[changingplumbob]

Me? Forget something? Surely not.

Please send any questions in via the ask box or message and I will add them to this post!

Can I make my sim and have you give them a trait from a pack I do not own?

Absolutely! Just let me know in either your sim post or the notes you send me with the download link and I can make the change for you. Please note I do not own Lovestruck or Life & Death so I cannot add those traits.

Similarly if you want them to like an activity that you don't have the pack for such as nectar making I can also add this in for you.

Does Deanna have an exact age in your game?

Yes she does, in my rotational save unlike my SBL I give my sims exact ages. Deanna is 21 and a half so would probably be comfortable flirting with anyone between 20 and 30.

Why are submissions open for so long?

Because real life exists and I would like people who have busier lives to be able to submit a sim if they wish. I will not be playing with any of them for introductions until next year so I can give a long window.

What if I submit a sim then want to withdraw them?

This is absolutely fine IF you do so before December 25th. This is so I can figure the schedule out with the numbers. If after the introductions you wish to withdraw your sim for your own or someone else's use I am happy to write them out of the competition with a flu or something.

Help! I've already sent you my sim but I want to change something about them! Can I edit them?

Again if it is before December 25th feel free to change your sim as much as you like. I will be adding the final versions to my game after December 25th so if you get the urge to change a trait, or on second thought you really don't like that dress, go for it. Just make sure I have the link to your final version by Christmas.

Can I put my sim on the gallery instead of SFS?

If your sim has no custom content and you would prefer to send them in via the gallery that is fine. Just let me know when they're up and what your gallery ID is.

How do I put my sim on SFS?

Once your sim is complete in CAS, save them to your library and take a note of the time. In your documents head to where your sims 4 folder is and go to the Tray folder. If you sort by file creation date you should be able to see several files that were all made at the time you saved your sim to your library. These are your sims tray files, if someone puts them in their own Tray folder they will show up in that person's library. Select them all and copy and paste to a separate location on your computer. There select them all and by right clicking you should get the option to compress to zip file. Once you have the zip file make a SFS account. If you do not have one me and many other simmers are able to get a code for you to use to make an account. There upload the zip file of your sim, there's a big upload file button. Once it is up there will be an option on the same line as the file to copy the link. That link is what I will need to download the folder. If you want to check, like I do sometimes, you can open a new tab or window and paste the link in there to see where it will lead. You should see a regular SFS page with the name of the file and the options to download or heart.

Can my spellcaster have xp and known spells?

Yes! So the skills that the contestants will be choosing to work on are things that may impact their performance in a challenge. That's why skills such as fitness will be set to zero. Since not everyone is an occult there won't be any occult specific challenges. Feel free to have your spellcaster know spells and/or be higher rank than apprentice.