#not tagging as anything in particular to avoid too much attention to this post

[kiyo-cant-write]

ciel & sebastian w/ servant!reader around ciel's age ✧･ﾟ

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Hello! My writing blog was always meant to be multifandom, but recently I have had many twst requests. To keep up with my personal interests, here is a Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler post about my childhood bias/crush (when I was 11-12): Ciel Phantomhive.

While this post is tagged Sebastian x Reader, their relationship is platonic in this particular work because of the reader's design.

Please note that while requests are open, they will not be posted until after the 27th of December or more accurately into the new year (January 2025). Feel free to request anything within the parameters of my rules, but keep this scheduling fact in mind! Thank you!

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Summary: [Name] is a recent addition to the Phantomhive Staff, gathered by Sebastian and Ciel. They are around Ciel's age and this leads to some... shenanigans.

TW/CW: canon-typical darkness, manga compliant

Notes: pre-relationship (Ciel), explicitly platonic (Sebastian), the reader is human, the reader is 12-13 years old, they/them pronouns for the reader, take place explicitly pre-Campania

Guest Stars: Phantomhive Staff, Elizabeth Midford (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Ciel Phantomhive

Ciel is initially indifferent to [Name] similar to his feelings toward his other servants about half of the time (even Sebastian).

He doesn't see himself as a child so does it matter?

He honestly tries to avoid [Name] at first because he wants to be seen as an equal to the adults. Baldo commenting to "play" with his "friend" really doesn't help the early stages of the relationship.

Being persistent but not forceful will work well.

[Name] needs to prove their worth and use in the household.

[Name] will quickly prove themselves with "clean-up."

They will kill in the name of Earl Phantomhive.

Ciel notices their willingness to serve.

He admires their dedication to protecting him/the estate.

He is impressed if they do not hesitate to strike.

The more he realizes their use and loyalty, the more likely he is to speak to them or even allow [Name] to speak freely with him.

He doesn't like when Sebastian teases him for it, though.

Sebastian might be the biggest obstacle.

If Ciel feels that [Name] is being overbearing, they get sent to spend time with Finny (16) who is also relatively close in age to them. Though Finny is similar to a child brother at times.

Once they are closer, Ciel may become a bit irritable if [Name] gives Finny too much attention or coddling.

"He needs to act his own age."

Ciel cannot do anything about any possible feelings.

[Name] hesitates to do anything either.

They both understand the betrothal between Elizabeth and Ciel.

Finny had given them a suggestion that they weren't sure what to do with. Was it a good idea? No. Was it a curious one? Yes, indeed. They wanted to know what the master's response would be, but they feared it would only be anger for their disrespect. Still... tempting.

[Name] considered their options as they helped Finny in the garden.

"Do you really think that would be a good idea?" they asked him.

Finny nodded as he attempted to gently weed the garden. The last time Finny did this he ripped out some important plants and Sebastian had been ready to skin him. Since that happened, and after the events of last night's clean-up, maintenance was needed and Sebastian chose [Name] as "Finny Watch."

[Name] accepted it as it was.

"I think it would do the young master some good to have a friend his age who calls him by name! He doesn't have any friends..."

Finny seemed sad about it. [Name] wondered why Finny did not try to be a "friend" to their master, but Finny seemed to sense their curiosity. He shook his head.

"It can't be me, I'm older than the young master for one," he explained, "And the young master doesn't think of me like that."

"And he thinks of me as a friend?" [Name] chose to ask.

Finny nodded.

"I can tell he thinks differently of you!"

The gardener beamed at them and they didn't want to crush whatever whimsy and joy this was giving him. They sighed and gave in, knowing they wouldn't hear the end of it otherwise, especially after Finny told Baldo and Mey-Rin about it.

"I'll try and see," they agreed.

[SEVERAL HOURS LATER]

At the end of the day, Sebastian asked [Name] to report to the young master directly about their supervision of Finny and the state of the estate's gardens. [Name] walked into the room and bowed to their lord, nodding to Sebastian a moment after.

"Good evening," they spoke, not making eye contact with either.

"Good evening, [Name]," Ciel greeted, taking a sip of his tea as he watched them, "I trust you kept Finny under control?"

[Name] nodded.

"Yes, he took care of replanting and weeding. There were no, ah, plant deaths," they explained in as succinct a way as they could, "We talked as we worked and completed everything Sebastian told us to."

They had to ignore the soft stifled laugh that came from Sebastian when they fumbled for a phrase and chose "plant deaths."

"I see, very good then."

He seemed pleased. The master was in a good mood? Hm. This might be their chance so they took it without hesitation.

"Master, if I may speak freely for a moment?" they asked him

Ciel raised an eyebrow but he nodded slowly after a moment of contemplation.

"You may but whatever about?"

[Name] felt bad for confusing him but it was somewhat refreshing to hear the master speak without that underlying darkness in his tone.

"Finny suggested something to me. I would like to try something," [Name] explained, hoping this wouldn't ruin whatever relationship they did have with the master.

"Something. Very specific," was Ciel's comment, "Go ahead."

Ciel seemed certain [Name] wouldn't hurt him and even if they tried, Sebastian would handle them swiftly like he always did.

"Ah, thank you for your permission... Ciel."

There was a silence that fell over the room as neither child spoke. Ciel was frozen in place, Sebastian seemed to be holding back another laugh, and [Name] was unsure if Finny's theory was true.

A faint hue of pink dusted Ciel's cheeks as he averted his gaze.

"Was," he began, "Was that all you wanted?"

"Yes," [Name] admitted, "I'm sorry, sir."

Ciel was silent once again and [Name] worried they really had crossed a line, but then he spoke again, softer this time.

"It isn't as though I care what you call me when there aren't guests around," he said, waving the hand that wore his family's crest, "Do as you like with the estate's image in mind... I suppose."

[Name] couldn't disguise the smile that took over their features.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Sebastian Michaelis

To be quite frank, Sebastian thinks children are brats.

He didn't want another child around but it cannot be helped because [Name] is useful for the estate's security.

Despite not liking them at first, Sebastian is always "nice."

He is never without a polite smile, it's a bit unnerving.

As [Name]'s work proves proficient, he eases up.

They make fewer mistakes than the others.

Because of this, they are not so annoying to him.

"Child, you would do best not to hinder my work. But if you would like to lend me your help, you may."

He refers to [Name] more often as "child" or "littlest one."

He means they are the youngest of the servants.

He often lets [Name] off easy with punishment, similar to how he never scolds Tanaka the way he does with Baldo, Mey-Rin, Snake, and Finny.

Sebastian likes to make fun of [Name] and Ciel's similar ages.

He allows [Name] to sit in for Ciel's lessons at times.

In the end, Sebastian might be fond of the human.

Still, he won't say that kind of thing. What use would kind words be from someone like him? He doesn't much care for anyone.

He is bound to his master until the end of their contract.

That is all. Right?

"What in the world are you doing?" Sebastian asked as he came up to them, essentially appearing from thin air.

The young servant jumped at the sudden voice in the silence of the cellar and whipped around to face him, dropping their cleaning rag on the floor in the motion. Noting it was Sebastian, they let out a relieved sigh and bent down to pick up the rag.

"Sebastian! You startled me!" they told him, brows furrowed, "Why do you like to sneak up on me like that?"

Sebastian chuckled softly, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"I don't mean to. Perhaps you are just easily scared, child?"

"I don't think so," they said softly before they moved to continue their task, "And, I'm not done with this task yet. Did you have something else for me to do?"

They couldn't believe they had more work to do now. That was always why Sebastian came to see them, to give them a task someone else had botched or enlist their help with something else entirely.

"I did," the butler told them, "I seem to require your help with a lesson for the young master."

[Name] paused.

"A lesson?" they asked him, giving a skeptical look though they tried their best to mask it, "Would I be expected to come with you now?"

They were unsure if he was telling the truth. Sebastian enjoyed messing with them, just a little. But it was enough to make [Name] wonder every time the butler told them much of anything. They wanted to go to the lesson, though. Learning was... fun.

Sebastian noticed the look, being a demon and all, but said nothing about it. Instead, he simply nodded and smiled at them as he always did to the guests the manor received.

"Indeed. I would need you to accompany me to the study."

They weighed their options. Sebastian was probably not lying.

"Alright," they agreed a moment later, "Do I need to finish this task first? You did give me a list of things to make certain of here."

Sebastian shook his head.

"No, that won't be necessary. I will take care of it."

They almost bowed to him but caught themself. It was hard to treat Sebastian as a butler when he held himself with as much pride as any man would. Still, the one time they had spoken too highly of him, the young master had gotten upset with them (and Sebastian too).

It had been an... ordeal.

"I see. Thank you, then," they told him curtly though they couldn't help but smile.

A lesson! How fun! They wanted to cheer but didn't.

Even if they were only cleaning the room to spectate, it was a chance to learn things. They would learn something and earl was learning! It seemed like a fairly good deal in [Name]'s opinion.

Too focused on rushing to put away their supplies and head toward Ciel's study, they did not see a softer expression adorn the butler's face as he watched them move past him.

Perhaps they would never know his true affection for his littlest one.

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Imagine the rest yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a kuro-only blog! ^^

[hiddengiggles]

After-Play Clothing

I’ve talked before about ways to prepare to play and aftercare discussions HERE, HERE, and HERE but this is a little more geared toward a way you can care for yourself after any play sessions!

On the list of things you will learn about yourself as you explore kink, how you need to treat your body after playing. There are a few things that are universal, and others that are unique to your particular needs.

We’ll start with best practices that apply to everyone:

Textures should be soft all over. Anything you decide to wear after giving your nerve endings intense attention needs to be gentle on you. I suggest avoiding irritating textures like lace, some mesh, and some linens, and be cautious with tags stitched into your clothes. Pure cotton is usually your best bet.

You should choose pieces that make you feel confident everyday, not just when you’re at your best. For as much of a working over as your body is getting, you’re going to want to relax completely. Your mind may get a hint of drop (of the Dom or sub variety) and try to convince you there’s something wrong or undesirable about your (wonderful) body. Don’t add fuel to an unhelpful fire. Choose clothes that fit comfortably, and thank your body for such an awesome experience if you can.

Try not to choose anything too loose or with dangling parts. Your nerves are going to be on high alert for the next sensation. Something unexpected brushing or bumping you may cause distress or discomfort for reasons you can’t even express. Untied strings or tassels, for example, are not advised.

If you’ll be away from your wardrobe, pack a couple options. What feels right normally may not this time, and you don’t want to be stuck with your choice. I usually bring a couple pairs of panties, shorts and sweatpants, a t-shirt and a tank top. All are interchangeable for what I need in the moment.

Now we’ll talk about some more subjective criteria! This isn’t every option, or every question to ask, but I hope this guides you to comfort!

What kind of neckline is comfortable to you? If you find comfort in something around your neck like a play collar, you may have an easier time winding down with a higher neckline. After play, I need a little more room around my neck, so I prefer lower necklines like a V-neck

What temperature do you need to reach? I run a little cold in general, but tend to get particularly cold and shiver after an intense play session. Others run hot and need to be able to cool down. I generally suggest having light layers to shift as needed, but make sure you’ll have what you need. For people running hot, shorts, a hairtie (as applicable), and a shirt without sleeves are good. For those who run cold, long sweatpants/joggers, socks or slippers to maintain heat in extremities, a t-shirt or thin long sleeve shirt, and a sweater to layer as needed.

Do you need a particular undergarment style? Depending on the kind of play you do, there may be soreness or discomfort around the parts of you with the most nerves. For example, impact play may leave you extra tender and/or need a balm to soothe, which could lead to clothing sticking. If you’re a person with breasts, do they need air or additional support? Consider what is going to be comfortable for you and avoid unnecessary topical irritation.

As most aftercare things are, it’s going to be a little bit of trial and error until you find your unique formula for post-play comfort. Remember to communicate with your play partner if you have one, and if you’re playing alone to check in with yourself mentally and emotionally too!

[cee-grice]

OC Deep Dive Tag

I haven't done a tag game in foreverrrr (gonna need to clear out the backlog eventually), and thought I'd hit it off again with this one:D got tagged by @pandoras-comment-box, thank you!! you can check out their post here

Rules: answer the following questions for your OCs

going with the main ones, Quil and Endra (I keep wanting to say Endra and Quil, as if Endra's the protagonist, and I think that sums up my favoritism well)

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Quil: the ocean. also space. there's something about the vast unknown that's fucking terrifying y'know (I get him)

Endra: needles and other sharp objects (doctors hate him! (except Quil:) ))

Do they have any pet peeves?

Quil: too many to count 😭 mostly social things, though - he especially has a thing about improper manners (assuming the person Is aware of proper manners)

Endra: being treated as immature (he is, in fact, immature)

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

Quil: too many books... ink bottles... plates (because eating in the kitchen is for losers!)

Endra: piano, cat (does that count as an item??), drawings

What do they notice first in a person?

Quil: this is setting-specific, but whether or not they have visible magical mutations, then their fashion (this informs him of their culture and thus expected social etiquette)

Endra: their facial expressions/body language (to see how friendly they seem)

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Quil: 10/10, dude could walk off a bullet wound

Endra: like a solid 5/10

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Quil: depends on the pressure! normally, fight mode, but if it's related to his Trauma, then flight (or freeze) all the way babey

Endra: fight fight fight

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Both are an only child, actually! Quil's parents wanted more, but he required so much attention because of medical stuff that they just couldn't afford to, and Endra was an accident lol

Quil used to be very close with his parents, but, well. shit happened lmfao. and Endra absolutely despises his mother ahaha (but would like his own family someday!)

What animal represents them best?

Quil: a snake (but not in the stereotypical 'grrr he's a snake' way! snakes deserve better>:()

Endra: puppy :) (he'd hate that)

What is a smell that they dislike?

Quil: the smell of dye

Endra: nothing in particular

Have they broken any bones?

Quil: he's shattered bones beyond recognition, does that count

Endra: probably lol

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Quil: so polite! so helpful! what a charming young man, not sure what everyone's on about, calling him a 'menace' ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Endra: kind of quiet and reserved at first, but once comfortable, way too excitable and talkative, I should probably be annoyed but I'm unwillingly endeared by his enthusiasm

Are they a night owl or a morning bird?

Quil: sleep is for the weak <3 (so...both.)

Endra: he'll be the first out and the last up

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

(I actually wrote about this one lol)

Quil: he avoids anything sweet like the plague, and loves to oversalt everything (it's borderline inedible to others, and his heart will definitely not thank him for it)

Endra: he doesn't hate anything in particular, and baked apples <3

Do they have any hobbies?

Quil: he actually really enjoys reading fairytales, but he's pretty much obsessed with biochemistry, so that's what most of his time goes into lol

Endra: playing the piano!:) and drawing:) and traveling (that's a new one)

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

Quil: he'd be frazzled for a second, but then he'd snap into the expected role (that'd also be his reminder that it's his birthday)

Endra: he'd be delighted (but only if there weren't too many people present)

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Quil: jewelry is big where he's from, and he's into it, too. he usually opts for more discreet and delicate stuff, though

Endra: he wouldn't go out of his way to get/wear it, but if it was a gift, he would

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Quil: very neat, but in the over-practiced way

Endra: um. um. hard to say, because he doesn't know how to write ahaha

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Quil: reaaaally depends which timeline we're in (pre-death or post-death). in pre-death, endearment and determination. in post-death, anxiety and stress and panic and anxiety (you try to remain calm post your own death :|)

Endra: excitement and paranoia

Do they have a favorite fabric?

Quil: probably silk tbh (yeah, he's that kind of person)

Endra: linen 🔛🔝

What kind of accent do they have?

Quil: in the text, I describe it as 'lilting and honeyed'. in terms of speaking mannerisms, he somewhat adapts to his company, but usually it's quite proper and 'clinical', always impeccably polite (unless you've slighted him, then he'll go for the fucking jugular)

Endra: warm and soft, but if he were to speak in a different language, he'd sound kind of rough. he speaks quicker than thinks, so he often cuts himself off and restarts lol. tends to ramble (especially when stressed)

softly tagging @mrbexwrites, @sam-glade, @rodentwrites, @raevenlywrites, @eccaiia, @amaiguri and anyone else who'd want to!

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Do they have any pet peeves? What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? What do they notice first in a person? On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? What animal represents them best? What is a smell that they dislike? Have they broken any bones? How would a stranger likely describe them? Are they a night owl or a morning bird? What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Do they have any hobbies? Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Do they like to wear jewelry? Do they have neat or messy handwriting? What are the two emotions they feel the most? Do they have a favorite fabric? What kind of accent do they have?

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Sauvignon Blanc | Guest Check

Tags: Nina first person POV train of consciousness, suicidal thoughts, self harm, substance abuse, it's a heavy one, sorry

The year I was born was the year that the government made it so that paracetamol had to be sold in blister packs rather than bottles. It was meant to prevent suicides as opening up individual packs was harder and gave a person more time to think. I want nothing more than to kill myself every time I have to dig my nail in to pop the foil but whatever. It worked, at least from what I've been told, never bothered to actually look it up.

Paracetamol poisoning is lousy fucking way to go anyways. Very English to choose a slow and miserable death. On par with the other preferred, yet slow, method of alcoholism. Nothing beats a destroyed liver and kidneys, I suppose.

I decided years ago how I'd kill myself. I won't mention it here in case someone gets nosy and gets me sectioned. It's not something I dwell on, but it feels like a back up plan, I guess. Like how some women have a secret cash fund in case their boyfriend beats them, I have my suicide plan.

I don't want to kill myself. More out of not wanting to hurt Kyle than anything else. It also seems like too much work most days. Why kill myself when I can drink a bottle of wine and curl up in bed?

There are rough days.

Like a spring is being compressed inside me and one day it'll release in some violent display against myself. I have to gently release the pressure. Always quietly. Always invisibly. Fear of my father trumped all other emotions growing up.

Plucking body hair (avoid the face!) and skin picking and scratching (avoid face and hands!) being two particular favorites of mine. One pair of tweezers can reliably do both. Sit in the tub to clean away any hair, skin or blood. Come out and present myself like the glossy, red eyed girl I am.

It's my biggest secret, strangely proud of that. Kyle doesn't know, despite once walking in on me aggressively plucking arm pit hair out (Do you not own a razor, you weirdo?). Growing up in the early era of "mental health awareness" that hammered in this behavior was not done for attention. That only made me feel worse as a teen, who fantasied whole heartedly about her father walking in on her, razor in hand, who would then fall to his knees and sob out apologies for not paying enough attention to her to notice. I never good at getting his attention in the first place so feeling like it was faux pas only increased my covert skills.

None of that helps with the post pain shame. The patheticness of it all. If I was a man I could simply punch a whole in the wall and break my fist. I don't want any more pity. My family is already dead.

Everyone looks at me different now. i try to act like it doesn't bother me and most of the time it doesn't. I'm not really friends with the rest of the staff at work.

It's Kyle though. Twenty odd years of friendship and he looks at me differently. I don't know if its pity or something else but I hate it. It's like he gets sad looking at me. I don't want to be that. Sex was never rough rough but now its like he doesn't want to break me, like he's afraid to touch me.

We broke up. I couldn't fucking do it. It was like chewing glass.

The only person who doesn't look at me differently, abiet he rarely looks at me at all, is Simon. Maybe it's why I let him take me home and basically give him free reign.

I don't have to think about it. I don't have to worry about him telling me he loves me. I don't have to worry about disappointing him. It might be because he doesn't actually like me so nothing I do will make him think less of me. I can just lay there. He does the work to make me cum and that's it. Wears a condom without complaint too.

It's easy.

He doesn't stay the night, which is fine, I can just enjoy myself with a bottle of wine in bed.

Tag List: @queen-ilmaree@macravishedbymactavish@gogh-with-the-flow@water-bearz @pvssytrux

[thepoolhead1]

since literally no one will look at this post because of the lack of tags (idk how that shit works), i will proceed to vent about what i hate about the stupid church im forced to participate in.

my immediate family goes to a conservative christian megachurch and it is agony. since it is a megachurch that probably doesnt pay taxes and gets its members to donate (checks notes) over a million dollars a year to support their totally ethical business.

as a young person, i am apart of this church’s student program where young, impressionable teenagers are hammered to death with teachings that rely way too much on one source (doubt it would fly in ap lang). one program in particular is one where people pay up so their kids can leave the concrete hell of (sub)urban life and live in the middle of the woods for a week while we learn about jesus fucking christ.

now how the camp works is that we are split up into groups of about 10 led by one adult. we all share a small cabin and we learn about jesus fucking christ together. each day, we would team up with another group for the ultimate collab and we would learn about jesus fucking christ. in these discussions, you could really see these people’s true colors. one thing that cropped up was the brief but apparent animosity towards the lgbtq+ people. this isnt anything new but it made me want to get up and leave. i just couldnt. i may be a bit biased as a closeted bi but i think it’s not that good to have seemingly irrational hatred toward a group of people that try to be who they are.

the biggest pisser for me were these two people that were getting on my nerves even though i tried my damndest to silently say fuck off.

every night, everyone would gather in a worship center and we would all sing about some weird metaphors and shit. me, being the edgy badass i totally am, didnt give a flying shit and made it apparent by plopping in earbuds and listening to whatever i felt like. this caught the attention of the group leader, who threatened confiscation, so i sat on the opposite side of the row as him. easy. then this fucker showed up.

at first it was just one. she saw i was sitting down during the songs. she saw i had earbuds in. “blasphemy,” she thought. “he must be dealt with.” so she approached me and asked what was up. i responded as vaguely as possible, not willing to give any ground. she eventually fucked off until i was a repeat offender i accidentally let my guard down and let something slip.

shit.

i was somehow able to get out unscathed though. i was lucky. the next time, she brought backup. a brother? a boyfriend? i didnt give a fuck but i didnt like him. they pestered me, asking me questions. they were merciful enough to keep prodding to a minimum, but i had to stand my ground. eventually, the backup tried his final attack: asking for my contact info so he could watch my every move. this attack was sneaky but i avoided it. the nightmare was finally over. i couldnt wait to get back home so i could pretend i overslept so i could skip church.

my favorite part of the camp was the free time. i would just sit under a beach umbrella and look out over the lake water and think: “damn. god aint shit.”

this is my first personal rant and this will not be the last. this is tagless because i just want to get shit out there. not commercialize it. its three am and i might sleep.

[miraculousmusing]

So this got too long for the tags, and then I rambled into text-to-speech for a half hour drive to produce 15(!) pages of barely coherent notes app transcription, then I started writing this out longhand in a full size-notebook, and 6 pages and a hand cramp later started transcribing to notepad, and then dumped 2500 words into a Google Doc to get it to my phone, and now here we are.

Whoops.

Anyway.

MariChat. Always MariChat. I'm extremely fond of particular scenarios involving the other sides, but I'm always more excited for anything MariChat in general. For example- the way LadyNoir haunts the narrative of any post-canon no-reveal reunion stuff, even when it's the last side to actually be shown? Exquisite, even in briefer or simpler executions than Bakery Enemies AU.

But MariChat has my love for three primary reasons:

1) Most interesting interactions with least amount of required suspension of disbelief

2) Simultaneously the most honest and dishonest side

3) As a result of 1 & 2, intoxicating amounts of a specific kind of dramatic irony.

Absurdly long breakdown under the cut.

As a foreword note, I know OP asked to avoid talking about why your fave is better, but comparisons are necessary for explanation. I don't intend anything below to be disparaging. All sides of the love square have their charms, but MariChat just excels in the particular aspects I appreciate most.

For 1, note that there are two axes here- antics vs feasibility. MariChat combines the two most chaotic faces, incentivizes them to be stupider at each other, and does so in a way that requires the least set up for the widest array of results.

Adrien is free to be as dumb a catboy as he likes, or to dramatically play up the hero angle. He craves Marinette's attention, and has no reason to hold back once he knows she's seen through the posturing. Mari has no urge to impress this idiot, or reason to play team leader/guardian. It's just Chat, and she's off the clock. She'll play the clueless normal girl card until he catches on, but after that she's free to be as weird and passionate as she wants. Weirder even, if she's trying to hide a Kwami or a dozen.

And if this is a balcony scene based relationship? Out of the public eye, at night, in her own space? All bets off.

I think the balcony stuff is so popular because the set up is so so easy. Why is Mari on her balcony? It's her bedroom! She's got plants and a comfy chair up there! Why is Chat there? Adrien is escaping for a bit. Why talk to a random girl as Chat Noir? Well, they know each other, of course. And that works for other situations as well. Why is he giving her extra attention during an Akuma attack? She's in the middle of it somehow and he knows she can handle herself. Why risk being seen together in public? Well, butterfly bastard has already targeted her several times, she's friends with the ladyblogger, and he's seen her willingly dodge crazy fans. If she's okay with it, he's fine with it.

Contrast Ladrien. Why is LB sneaking into his closed room? Why would either of them risk being associated? How/when is Bunnix going to bail them out of endgame "Gabe was momentarily an attentive parent" scenarios? How relaxed can either of them really manage to be with the object of their affection, who they have no casual dynamic with while using these faces? How convoluted does the scenario need to be to overcome these issues? (Note that if you enjoy this kind of awkward dancing around and ice-breaking, that's a different matter.)

On the other axis, how much can Adrienette get up to? They're teenagers. Teens with big secrets, but not with secrets that (they're aware) directly relate. The identity drama and anonymity based dynamics are absent, so pure Adrienette is a high school sitcom/drama.

LadyNoir allows for most of the same rooftop privacy considerations, but at the same time limits how casually open they can be about their private lives. They're both transformed as superheroes, but that also means that they're both also, always, the heroes of Paris. They fight and die together to carry the weight of the city, they're the most important people in each other's lives, but they're also coworkers in a job they can't fuck up.

This rolls right into item 2. LadyNoir is the most honestly un-honest side, at least on the interpersonal front. They both have entire secret lives, but they both also know this! The secrets are not secret. The bounds are known, even if they sometimes get pushed. LB and CN both know their partner is deliberately hiding their personal life, if not occasionally lying outright in order to misdirect. The depth of the dynamic arises from how critical their connection is, while at the same time being so very shallow.

In contrast, MariChat is wide open as far as either of them knows. Chat is some random boy entirely disconnected from the rest of Marinette's life. Why shouldn't she show him her hobbies and her family and use him as a sounding board for issues with her friends? Mari is a girl that Adrien knows to be discreet, and he trusts her advice. She's largely outside of miraculous drama, but with enough experience to have context. He knows she's not judgmental, but even if he does something wrong and messes up, he can't lose her entirely. If he stops visiting as Chat, he can still see her as Adrien.

And she's just a normal girl! He's just her Chaton! She doesn't have anything to hide from him! He's wearing a mask, but what does the boy under the cat ears have to do with her?

Except. Well. She's Ladybug. He's in love with her, or pretends to be, but whatever else, no one in the world is as close or familiar with who she is in spots. If she knows things she shouldn't about Miraculous or Akuma battles, or says something that she's said to her partner as his partner, then the world will literally end.

And he's not just Chat Noir visiting a random girl. He's Adrien Agreste, her classmate and friend, who pays closer attention to her than even he realizes. He's enough of a closed book as Adrien that he can be surprisingly open- if vague- about his private life while he's Chat Noir, but he knows so much more about Mari's day-to-day than he has any way of explaining. If he says the wrong thing, or reacts the wrong way, he has very few justifications to give.

I don't buy into the true selves stuff. They're the same kids in and out of the masks, but context determines what parts of themselves they showcase and what parts they suppress. I think that the MariChat dynamic shows the most relaxed and comprehensive versions of them both. Marinette gets to be more Marinette around Chat Noir than she gets to be around Adrien, and Chat Noir gets to be more Adrien than he can be to Ladybug, and more Chat than Adrien can be to Mari. And in many ways Marinette gets to be more Ladybug in front of Chat Noir than she can in front of Adrien. Chat Noir knows she can face down an Akuma without a Miraculous, and that she's absurdly talented with one. [Side note: CatMouse is also an extension of MariChat, so] Chat Noir gets to see confident, casual Marinette, while Adrien only catches glimpses. Chat Noir knows that she's willing to argue with him and treat him as neither a statue on a pedestal or delicate crystal.

But at the same time they're both constantly, actively, intentionally engaging in deception, to hide secrets that are actually secret! So tasty.

This brings us to item 3: Dramatic Irony.

Dramatic irony is, of course, the secret sauce that makes Miraculous so damn addicting. It's the source of tension in all the identity shenanigans, the supports propping up the corners of the lovesquare, and the bomb wrapped in a bow in the middle of the overarching plot.

As the audience, we have all the pieces that no single character possesses. Nobody knows that Marinette has a crush on the boy under the cat ears. Nobody knows that Adrien is both Chat Noir and Hawk Moth's son. Nobody knows that Chat Noir is a Senti. (Except Tikki, but she's not sharing.)

And all of these secrets are so tightly interconnected that knowing only some of them can cause more drama than knowing them all. In the best moments of the show and the best kinds of fan works, characters make perfectly reasonable (or at least understandable) choices based on what they know, and those are still the wrong choices! They play perfectly, but can still lose. A casual, harmless remark can undo the world, because it's made to someone who knows more than they should, or who has just the right pieces of the puzzle to suddenly snap everything together into a dangerously wrong picture.

And MariChat dances on those knife edges even in the silliest moments.

There are so many things that Marinette would never tell Adrien, but who is Chat going to tell? She'll dance around the name because she's embarrassed (and the plot would end too early), but it's not like he knows everyone at her school anyway. And Chat Noir can admit things to Mari that he'd never tell Ladybug, because he's trying to keep up appearances, or he doesn't want to hurt her, or he thinks she's overwhelmed and needs to be supported and not asked to provide support, or he thinks she already knows. It's fine! Marinette and LB don't talk, and Mari would never betray his trust like that. And some things stay between superhero partners, and LB would definitely never spill. So Marinette is safe.

Except. Well. She's Ladybug. He may not be managing to communicate how he's doing to LB, and she may be too blinded by her own assumptions to figure it out, but he'll spell things out in detail to Marinette. And Marinette can't speak for LB to reassure him, but now LB can't act on it either.

And Marinette and her stray catboy may be increasingly close, but Marinette and Adrien are as distant as ever. Or is she drawing away, no longer so desperate for that particular blond?

Or Marinette and Adrien may be closer than ever. They're friends, real friends, closer than friends. But why does she still seem closer to Chat. What is he doing wrong as Adrien?

And while Chat doesn't know why bakery girl is so automatically comfortable with the leather-clad superhero, Marinette has no way of knowing how much of his behavior is actually specific to her, with or without the mask. Adrien doesn't even know for the longest time. If Chat is goofy and touch obsessed and occasionally startlingly sweet or romantic with both girls she's seen him in private with, how much of it means anything?

And later, as things get really knotted up, and Marinette has all of the pieces except the most important one but can't let anyone know that Marinette has any idea there's even a puzzle, while LB thinks that Chat Noir is actually in the dark about everything and doesn't have a personal stake anyway:

How is Chat supposed to know what Marinette knows about what he is and isn't supposed to know? If he admits he's used the snake then the whole house of cards topples, but what if he admits to smaller things, like knowing other identities? What if he's a bit too familiar with the Agreste situation, in a way that might be expected of LB's partner from the outside, but which LB knows he shouldn't be? What if he says something about what happened to him during the final fight, expecting Marinette to have no way of knowing about Adrien's circumstances?

How dramatically can an avatar of destruction unravel, if nobody knows there were threads to catch?

Anyway. I'm going on too long.

The real key to picking a favorite side of the love square is that you're doing it in comparison to the other sides. That's easy if you're a salty hater, but if you like the whole polygon (and all the other dimensions that continue to emerge) then you've got to weigh the merits.

So in brief:

LadyNoir is really fun. You've got the superhero partner thing, there's a beautiful kind of bounded honesty. They know there are things they can't talk about, they're on the same page, but within that they can talk about whatever. They get to the real deep life-or-death kind of stuff, because that's the reality of their situation, but there's not the same kind of irony. There's no "okay, I've gotta actively mislead because I don't want to say something I shouldn't know about", they're just superheroes. They know each other as deeply as possible in these faces, and they don't have any reason to suspect they know each other in other faces. So they get on with it, and they can get zany, you've got the mask stuff, but there's not anything so casual as there is in Marinette's bedroom, in that kind of vulnerable private space.

Ladrien is really the inverse execution of the honest dishonesty thing MariChat has. For me, the key to really good Ladrien is vulnerable Ladybug, right? But they're both at peak awkwardness here, which is really the painful part. Adrien's really trying to put himself out there and be honest, to make a connection, but he's also got to be quiet. He can't be Chat Noir. He's got to be vulnerable. And Ladybug is either trying to be vulnerable or she's trying to look strong and confident, but she can't get too personal because if she gets too personal Marinette peeks out. And if Ladybug gets too personal with this model boy she has no reason to be so open with, it comes across as a betrayal of Chat, which is always awkward.

Adrienette is good, really. It's cute, and it’s relatively straightforward. For the most part it ends up as a foil to the other relationships though, you know? Or it's just a school romance, which has its own charms. It just doesn't hit quite the same way as other sides of the square, because while it's a keystone part of Marinette/Ladybug + Adrien/Chat Noir, in isolation it avoids most of what makes Miraculous uniquely engaging. I've really deeply enjoyed some purely Adrienette works that never include a transformation or a Kwami, but the very best of those are very dependent on how Chat Noir is part of what Ladybug is, and Ladybug is part of what Chat Noir is, and how Ladybug is central to who Marinette is and Chat Noir is central to who Adrien is. Even in no Miraculous AUs, where Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't superhero alter egos, they're still key parts of characterization.

What this poll is: A place for you to share why it is, your favorite lovesquare ship is your favorite! To share what exactly about that particular drew you to it (feel free to include in tags what your favorite ship is if you'd like)

What this poll isn't: a place for you to salt on the ships you don't like, or talk about why your favorite is better than others. Please and thank you! 😊

[aganyakreation89]

Pearl Earrings: A Guide to Stud Earrings and Their Versatility

Pearl earrings are among the most cherished pieces of jewelry, thanks to their natural beauty and timeless appeal. While there are various designs of pearl earrings, pearl stud earrings have gained widespread popularity for their simplicity, elegance, and versatility. In this article, we explore the allure of pearl earrings and why stud earrings, in particular, should be a staple in every jewelry box.

1. The Timeless Appeal of Pearl Earrings

There’s something undeniably sophisticated about pearls. Known for their lustrous sheen, pearls symbolize elegance and refinement. Whether in the form of a necklace, bracelet, or earrings, pearls can add a sense of luxury and class to any outfit. However, it’s pearl earrings that hold a special place in many people's hearts due to their ability to elevate any look with ease.

pearl earrings have been a symbol of wealth and status for centuries, often worn by royalty and famous figures. This connection to timeless style and luxury makes pearl earrings a coveted accessory for those looking to make a lasting impression.

2. Why Pearl Stud Earrings Are So Popular

Among the various styles of pearl earrings, pearl stud earrings are the go-to option for many women. These earrings consist of a single pearl set into a metal post, and their simplicity is what makes them so appealing. Pearl studs can be worn with almost anything, making them the perfect accessory for both casual and formal occasions.

The versatility of pearl stud earrings is unmatched. Whether you’re wearing a traditional sari, a cocktail dress, or even a T-shirt and jeans, pearl studs can add just the right touch of sophistication to your outfit. Their understated beauty ensures they won’t overwhelm your overall look but still stand out as a refined accessory.

3. Styling Pearl Stud Earrings

One of the best features of pearl stud earrings is their ability to blend into almost any style of outfit. If you're dressing up for a wedding, pearl stud earrings can complement a classic ball gown or a bridal ensemble. They also work beautifully with formal business attire, offering a polished and professional look.

For more casual settings, such as brunch with friends or a day at the office, pearl stud earrings can be paired with simple, everyday attire. They add a subtle, elegant touch without appearing too formal or out of place. Moreover, they are the perfect accessory for when you want to add a little sparkle without drawing too much attention.

4. The Different Types of Pearl Stud Earrings

Pearl stud earrings come in a variety of options, and selecting the right pair depends on your personal preferences and style. The most common types of pearls used in stud earrings are freshwater pearls, Akoya pearls, and South Sea pearls.

Freshwater Pearls: These are the most affordable option and come in a variety of shapes and sizes. They are perfect for those who want the elegance of pearls without the high price tag.

Akoya Pearls: Known for their round shape and lustrous shine, Akoya pearls are a classic choice for those looking for a more refined, high-quality option.

South Sea Pearls: These large, round pearls are considered one of the most luxurious options and are often used in high-end pearl jewelry.

In addition to the type of pearl, you can choose the metal setting for your studs. White gold, yellow gold, and platinum are popular options that can enhance the overall beauty of the pearls.

5. Caring for Your Pearl Stud Earrings

Pearls are delicate, so it’s important to take good care of them. After wearing your pearl stud earrings, wipe them with a soft cloth to remove any oils or dirt. Avoid exposing them to chemicals, cosmetics, or perfumes, as these can damage the pearls' surface. Store your pearl earrings in a soft pouch or jewelry box to prevent them from scratching against other pieces of jewelry.

Conclusion

Pearl stud earrings are the epitome of timeless elegance. Their versatility, ease of wear, and ability to complement almost any outfit make them a must-have in every jewelry collection. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion or looking for a simple yet elegant accessory for everyday wear, pearl stud earrings are the perfect choice for adding sophistication and charm to your look.

[mariekavanagh]

How can you preach about ‘not taking the books seriously’ but you have a bunch of in depth fics about Orion, Walburga and other members of the Black family who were barely even mentioned in the books? Sounds like you’re taking the books seriously.

What I do is write stories set in a fictional universe which I have enjoyed since childhood and which still brings me a sense of enjoyment and escapism from the stresses of the real world. This is, I would say, quite the opposite of taking the books too seriously. My “in-depth” fics are me using my imagination to further enjoy magical fantasy world that the story is set in.

What I don’t do is spend my time over-analysing every moral situation in this fictional universe, especially since the books were not written to be interpreted so deeply in the first place. Harry Potter may be enjoyed by people of all ages, but it is classified as children’s literature and was written for a young audience. Had the books been written for adults, then perhaps it may make more sense to question the rights and wrongs of every little aspect of the characters, plots and world-building, but the fact is that they were never designed to be read by adults or seriously critiqued by adult readers. If JKR had been writing for an adult audience then perhaps the world would have been written differently in many ways, since she’d have known that it would be judged far more critically. 

Take, for example, Walburga’s portrait. There are huge numbers in the HP fandom who swear blind that the shrieking, mad portrait of an old woman is proof that Sirius was definitely abused at home. The portrait was only ever meant to be a comedic was of demonstrating the Black family’s pureblood beliefs. But people insist on over-analysing (and seem very determined to find more tragedy in this story that already has many sad canon features already) and in some cases, misinterpreting the text. This widespread interpretation of the Blacks has resulted in an area of the fandom which can be downright rude to anyone who disagrees with their interpretation or questions their evidence of “canon abuse”. I’ve stopped communicating with the fandom on basically all platforms except Tumblr and the reviews of my fics because I’m tired of being spoken to rudely or being accused of being an “abuse apologist” or being told I “condone child abuse” for disagreeing with their decision that a painting of a woman who was supposed to be something children would find funny is proof of both physical and emotional abuse.

Neville’s boggart. Neville’s “worst fear” being Severus Snape is supposed to be a token of solidarity for the countless schoolchildren over the generations who have experienced that one school teacher who they find a bit scary or teaches a subject they don’t like/aren’t the best at and therefore are a bit afraid of. It is not meant to be canon proof that Snape is unforgivably evil because Neville fears him more than the woman who tortured his parents into insanity. The whole concept of boggarts is something that can really only be written for a children’s book in which a worst fear is spiders or clowns rather than death and disaster. Had the story been written for adults, the concept would be seen as too unconvincing. 

Now take the issue raised with love potions in the post I shared earlier today, in which the OP said they couldn’t believe love potions weren’t illegal because of potential misuse. Had the Harry Potter books been written for adults, then absolutely, the concept of a potion which can manipulate someone’s feelings and has the potential to lead to many wrong-doings of this nature would certainly be expected to be illegal or controlled. But this is, and I cannot emphasise this enough, a CHILDREN’S BOOK. Are you really going to go into detail with a primary school child reading Harry Potter for the first time that love potions should be illegal because they can lead to sexual assault/manipulation? No, of course not. Because it’s not age-appropriate and would definitely ruin their enjoyment of this magical fantasy world which they’ve escaped to as part of a fun reading session. 

I could list further examples all day, but I won’t. My point with this accidental essay is to explain my point of view that the details of this magical, fictional world are taken far more seriously than they were ever designed to be. And I simply cannot fathom why people choose to spend their time judging the morality of every little tiny detail of this children’s book series, something which I cannot imagine truly brings them enjoyment, rather than putting that energy either into simply enjoying the stories or channelling it into something more productive. Lord knows there’s plenty of better real-world reasons to criticise JKR than for her decision not to make love potions illegal. If people spent as much time and effort calling out the injustices of the real world as they do fictional ones, the world would surely be a far better place.

Ending on the main focus of your ask, my writing in-depth fics about very minor characters in Harry Potter is my way of finding further enjoyment out of a book series and fictional world that I have loved since I was eight years old and which is my main source of enjoyment (yes I am that sad) and stress-relief now at the age of twenty-five. That is not something I would define as my “taking the books too seriously”

[bookishdiplodocus]

How to convey information through dialogue without shoehorning it in

So you have information you want to plant into your story, and you would like to do that through dialogue. Naturally, you'd want to make the dialogue look natural, so that it doesn't scream -> This Piece Of Information <- Will Be Relevant To The Plot Later!!! I never saw any writing advice about this subject, so I thought I’d write up a post about it.

Say, for example, you want to plant the information that Barney is afraid of fridges. Fridges? Jup. That's weird. Jup. Which makes it all the more difficult to bring up in a scene. And what makes it even more difficult, you decided you want this dialogue to take place before the Thing With The Fridge Happens later on, so you're in a pickle. How do you bring up a fear of fridges, when there are no fridges around?

First, I'm going to show you how shoehorning the information in a dialogue would look like.

Don't do this:

Annie and Barney are in a scene that has nothing to do with fridges.

Annie: "By the way," she asked casually, "have I ever asked you what your worst fear is? Since we’re on this quest together, we should know these things about each other."

Barney: "Fridges. They scare the bejeebers out of me."

Annie: "Fridges?" She laughed incredulously. "How come?"

Barney: "Well, one time my brother locked me into a fridge, and I've been afraid ever since."

Annie: “That makes sense, Barney. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Try to avoid using things like “by the way” or “suddenly” in this part of the dialogue, because that’s a shoehorn red flag.

Instead, you want the conversation to flow from something inconspicuous to the information you want to plant and then into at least one other topic.

Do this:

Annie and Barney are in a scene that has nothing to do with fridges, for example they are thrown into a snake pit during their quest.

Barney deals with venomous snakes without a second thought.

Annie, in the corner, trying to get a hold of herself: "I can't believe you're not afraid of those snakes."

Barney: "You just got to know how to handle them."

Annie, in awe: "You're fearless."

Barney, laughs: "Trust me, I'm not. You should see me around fridges."

Annie: "Fridges...?"

Barney: "My brother locked me into one when we were little. I almost suffocated. Never trusted them ever since. Nor my brother, obviously."

The conversation continues about his relationship with his brother, making it seem like that's the important bit. You sneaked the information about Barney's fear for fridges into the dialogue about snakes and his brother.

Let’s break that down, shall we?

This conversation has three topics: snakes, fridges, and Barney’s brother. The snakes and Barney’s brother don’t really matter. They could just as well be completely different topics. (I'll show you later.) Their only function is to ease into the conversation about Barney’s fridge fear and ease out of it without drawing the reader’s attention to its importance.

Topic 1: Something present in this scene that has a thing in common with topic 2

Discussing the snakes feels organic and natural, because they are kind of hard to ignore in this scene. Make the first topic something related to what the characters see, feel, experience in that particular scene… Write a piece of dialogue about topic one.

Topic 2: The information you want to plant

Then transition into the topic switch. How? The topic of fridges and the topic of snakes have one thing in common: fear. Specifically, Annie is afraid of snakes and Barney isn’t, but he is afraid of fridges. Bringing this interesting bit into the conversation changes the topic again, because how can you not go into a sentence like this?

Topic 3: Anything related to topic 2 you can latch onto

The topic is changed yet again after the information you planned to plant. Just let this part of the dialogue run its course. It doesn’t matter much what you do with it, as long as you don’t stop the dialogue right after the moment you delivered the line you needed to deliver. The trick is to make the conversation flow to and from your chosen topic.

Let’s look at another example, something more realistic. You still want to convey the fact that Barney is afraid of fridges, but this time, Annie and Barney are not on a quest, they are in a romance novel.

Barney and Annie are looking out over the ocean. She brought a bottle of wine, a light breeze cools their skin, in the distance, a cargo boat slowly glides along the horizon. It seems like a perfect moment.

Barney raises his glass and compliments Annie: “You pick great wine.” (topic 1)

Annie: “Thanks. I did a wine course last year in my local community center, a series in which we learned all about the different kinds of wine and what to pair it with.”

Barney: “Sounds like fun. You should teach me sometime. Did you get to taste everything?”

Annie: “Yeah, of course. That was the main reason I joined. What about you? Which wine do you prefer?”

Barney: “Oh, I’m not a connaisseur. I like anything but white wines.” (change of topic)

Annie: “Why not?”

Barney, embarrassed: “Red wines are usually kept at room temperature, and white wines go in the fridge.”

Annie, after a second: “I can’t see the problem there.”

Barney, embarrassed: “Ah. Well. I don’t like fridges. Like, not at all. My brother once locked me into one, and – well, let’s say it was a hugely traumatic experience.” (boom, there it is: topic 2)

Annie, confused: “But – How do you keep your food fresh?” (change of topic) (doesn't necessarily have to happen so soon after The Line)

Barney, still embarrassed: “I go to the supermarket every other day.” (topic 3)

The conversation continues about going to the supermarket every other day and foods that Barney can't eat because they spoil too fast outside of the fridge. Annie is surprised to hear how many things can be kept at room temperature for a day or two. (topic 3,5)

That's it, folks :)

I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing! This post was inspired by a question from @therska.

Follow me for more writing advice, or check out my other writing tips here. New topics to write advice about are also always appreciated.

Tag list below the cut. If you like to be added to or removed from the list, let me know.

@therska @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @the-words-we-never-said @writingwhithotchocolate @i-rove-rock-n-roll @maskedlady @no-time-like-write-now @timefire25 @black-lakritz-dragon @nzmayart @fandomrandomness-stuff @dangertoozmanykids101 @anaestheticdisaster @storytellingofravens @purpleshadows1989 @mathematicpony @i-don-t-know-words @notquitenovelist @coffeescribles @reffaces @livingthelovelylife @katsglabella @lokitty-is-my-spirit-animal @thefallenbibliophilequote @watchmewritedumb @sting-the-scribe @kais-writing-shit @dameschnee123 @curiosityonmars @oodlittlething

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[kpopxx]

Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems

Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader

4579 words

Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic​, @nsfwtwicecatcher​, @nsfwflint​, and @ggidolsmuts​ in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work. 

One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.

As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!

***

“Coming up on the target now.” 

“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.

“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.

You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.

“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.

“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.

You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.

“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.

“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”

“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you. 

As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.

A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…

You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out. 

Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.

“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”

“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”

“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa. 

“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”

You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.

You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.

It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.

You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up. 

Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.

You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.

As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.

“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments. 

“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”

“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”

Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.

“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.

“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.

“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”

Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl. 

Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.

“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.

You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it. 

Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.

You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.

Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.

“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.

“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”

“Shut up and suck my cock.”

Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.

For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.

“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?

“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”

“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.

“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”

“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was. 

You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.

Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.

“I don’t have all night.”

More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is. 

“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.

You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.

With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.

As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.

You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.

“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.

Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.

You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.

Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.

Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.

“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.

Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.

You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.

“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”

“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”

Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.

“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”

Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.

Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.

Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.

“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”

“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.

“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.

“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.

After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.

“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”

You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night. 

After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.

“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.

“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”

“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”

There was no command in the world easier to follow.

Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.

“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”

“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”

A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.

And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.

“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”

Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.

“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.

“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.

“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.

“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”

“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”

“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”

***

A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.

You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear. 

“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”

“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”

“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”

“You did WHAT?!”

[chasingpj]

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐭-𝐔𝐩

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 3,887

warnings: none?? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! I was supposed to post this yesterday, but oops. I don't have much to say. again, it's a little bit of a slow start just because I want to introduce characters and establish relationship dynamics before getting into the good stuff. anyways, i hope you like it! i love hearing feedback so don't hesitate to reach out to me!

Part One Part Two Part Three

When you were stressed or needed to be alone with your thoughts, you often found yourself in the strawberry fields, either helping collect the harvest or simply sitting on the grass patches nearby. You usually preferred being in the fields alone, peacefully listening to the chirping of the birds and cicadas while inhaling the scent of sun-baked strawberries. However, there were times where you did stumble upon the company of the girls from the Demeter and Aphrodite cabin. You didn't mind hanging out with them, always amused at their banter and choice of conversation. They were always bubbly, taking advantage of the leisure activity to gossip and have girl talk, and it was nice, even if you were just listening.

Today was one of those days where you weren’t alone in the fields. Standing alongside Silena, Katie, and your half-sister, Lou Ellen, you find yourself zoning in and out of their conversation. Their chattering and giggling serve as background noise as you focus on cutting the strawberries from their stems to carefully place them in your basket.

"Who do you think are the cutest boys at camp?" You hear Silena ask when you decide to tune back into their conversation. A silence falls amongst the group; Katie and Lou Ellen were suddenly hesitant to speak. You look up, waiting for one of them to break the silence because it definitely wasn’t going to be you.

"I know what you're doing! You're trying to find out our crushes," Katie points her finger at Silena accusingly. Lou Ellen nods,

“Yeah, we know your tricks, Silena! You’re gonna try and set us up with people.”

"What? No!" Silena denies, but the smirk on her face said otherwise. "I'm just asking in general! You can find someone cute and not have a crush on them,” she points out. The three of you weren’t convinced at Silena’s claims, and the silence returns. You turn back to what you were doing, not really wanting to trap yourself in this conversation, and you decide to leave the pressure of confession to Katie and Lou Ellen.

"Okay.” Katie turns her body to face you. You hesitantly meet her gaze, already knowing what she's going to confess. "... this might be weird, but I think your brother is really cute," she admits, giggling nervously as she looks at both you and Lou Ellen. You scrunch your nose, shaking your head while Lou Ellen joins your reaction as she gags theatrically. The confession didn't surprise you, but it still felt weird to hear it.

"He's ugly!" You exclaim. Silena laughs, her head thrown back as Katie gasps at your insult about Atticus. Even though this wasn't the first time you've heard this from girls at camp, you still found it strange. Even your mortal friends have told you that they think your brother is adorable. You’ll never admit it out loud to anyone, but you were aware that your brother definitely wasn't ugly. Obviously, he wasn't if almost all of your friends had to mention his appearance at least once. Not only was Atticus conventionally attractive, but he was also a natural flirt, so he got attention from girls fairly easily. So much so that before your mother claimed you, Connor and Travis Stoll swore you guys were going to be claimed by Aphrodite.

You've only seen him flirt a handful of times, usually with the wood nymphs and playfully with the girls from the Aphrodite cabin. It was strange seeing girls flirt with him and giggle at all his stupid jokes because that “smooth” Atticus they meet is so different from the Atticus you saw. The Atticus you got to see was a clumsy dork that obsessed over Harry Potter and had a habit of bursting into song whenever he was bored, most often singing his own rendition of a song from a broadway musical or of a rock song from the 90s.

"No, he isn't! His facial structure is amazing!” Katie gushes. “And he's tall and has broad shoulders. He's also really funny!" You and Lou Ellen stare at her with a straight face before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

“He’s a dork!” Lou Ellen chokes through her laughs, and you nod, agreeing with her.

"Hey! I get where Katie is coming from! As his sisters, you guys are biased. Of course, you’re gonna say he's ugly," Silena points out, and you sigh,

“Live with him in the Hermes Cabin for a couple of weeks, and when you see him in his natural state, you won’t find him cute anymore,” you joke. Katie shakes her head,

“I don’t believe you. I bet he’s even cuter! You’re calling him a dork, but jokes on you, I like dorks,” she says playfully, crossing her arms over her chest, and you smile at her.

“To each their own, I guess.”

"What about you? Who do you think is cute?" Silena asks you. You side-eye the other, and you feel your face heat up. You really didn’t want to be the target in this conversation. Turning back to the bushes, you answer her question with a shrug of your shoulders. Silena scoffs, "there has to be someone! We have a good group of guys to choose from at camp."

"I mean, yeah…" you trail off hesitantly, and you feel the stares of the girls as they wait for your answer. You knew they weren't going to let this go, and so, you sigh softly, taking a moment to find the courage to confess. "I guess Percy is cute-"

"Y/n!"

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your shoulder tenses up at the sound of the familiar voice. It was too much of a coincidence that Percy showed up the exact moment you were speaking about him. The girls laugh at your reaction and your cheeks somehow become hotter as Silena smiles at you knowingly. If she didn't sense your crush before, she definitely sensed it now. Snapping your gaze away from her, you find the courage to turn around.

"Hey, Percy," you say, smiling sheepishly. You fiddle with your fingers as you take in his appearance. Percy was wearing his orange camp half-blood shirt and cargo pants. His cheeks were a little flushed at the summer heat, and you assume he probably came from training. As usual, his dark hair was slightly disheveled, and you couldn’t help your lips curling into a soft smile.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. You left these on the dock," he says, presenting the black pouch filled with your crystals in his hand. You gasp softly as you take it from him.

"Oh! Thank you. I can’t believe I forgot them," You shake your head at yourself as you put them in your strawberry basket in the meantime. You didn’t understand how your forgotten crystals never came to your mind once, especially this late in the day.

"No problem. I think they’re all in there," he smiles at you before acknowledging the girls standing behind you. "Hey, guys.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as they giggle amongst themselves. They murmur a few things to each other before turning their gaze to him again.

"Percy, I wanted to ask who do you think is the prettiest girl at camp?" Silena asks as the girls move to surround him. You're stomach flutters crazily with nerves, and you cringe, feeling embarrassed even though Percy was oblivious to the motive behind the question.

Percy looks around him, shifting his weight from one foot to another,

"This… feels like a trap,” he says slowly, making the girls giggle.

"It's not! We just want to know. Anyone, in particular, stands out to you?" Silena steps closer to him.

"Any crushes?" Katie asks.

"There has to be someone, right?" Lou Ellen smiles.

"Um… I- why are you guys asking so many questions?" He mutters, his shoulders tense up as he avoids the stares of the three girls practically towering over him.

"Guys, leave him alone," you laugh shortly. "You don't have to answer all that," you reassure him, cutting through their little circle as you squeeze between Silena and Katie.

You stand beside Percy, the girls deciding to step down and return to their original places. Silena smiles, and you can't tell what she's thinking, but you knew that the smile playing on her lips made you nervous. You awkwardly exchange a look with Percy, noticing that he was just as flustered as you were.

"You know… I noticed that those bushes over there get a lot of sun," Silena says, breaking her silence as she turns to Katie and Lou Ellen. She points at the bushes about three rows from where you were all standing, and Katie nods,

"We should go pick the strawberries over there. Percy and Y/n can work on the ones here." Silena gives you a smirk, winking at you before turning around and taking the other girls with her.

You resume your strawberry picking, chewing on your button lip. You were hoping that he didn't witness Silena wink at you because if he did, it was then way too obvious that the girls spontaneously set up this. There's a silence for a moment, and you feel your palms start to sweat as you try to figure out what you were going to say to him.

"Where's Ambrose?" Percy asks softly, and you glance over for a second, watching as he picks the strawberries beside you.

"Oh, uh, he ran off a little while ago with my brothers. They're probably playing somewhere." You smile, remembering how Ambrose wasted no time, running over to Alabaster and Ernest the moment they had offered to play with him.

"... how do you play with a ghost dog?" Percy gleams, amused at the idea of playing with Ambrose considering he couldn’t touch many things.

"There's a process where you can offer things to his spirit, so he has a few toys that he can play with," you explain. “He and I play with his toys all the time, but he’s with my brother’s right now, so they're probably wrestling."

"What? Really? I wouldn’t want to wrestle Ambrose,” Percy admits as a short laugh comes from his mouth.

"Yeah, me neither. He would definitely win if we did. Once he was so excited to see me; he jumped on me and knocked me down no problem,” you shake your head. “I think he forgets how big he is, and he ends up getting carried away sometimes.”

You look up from what you were doing, unexpectedly meeting Percy’s green eyes that resemble the color of the Caribbean sea as the sun shines into them. The butterflies in your stomach return, and you’re trying not to focus on the fact that the other was already looking at you. You look elsewhere, suddenly too shy to look at him, but your eyes couldn’t help but flicker back to his face. From this close, you noticed things about him that you didn’t see before, like the scattered freckles on his face, his long eyelashes, and his slightly chapped lips.

“I-” he stops himself suddenly, and your eyebrows furrow. The tension between you both was something you've never felt before. You didn't understand why Percy looked dazed, staring at you as if he found you to be the most captivating person in the world.

You open your mouth, but before you could speak, you see something moving at the end of the bush row. Breaking your gaze with Percy, you notice Silena's focusing intensely on you and him. It suddenly dawns on you that the strange tension was because she was working that love magic that all the Aphrodite children can do. She smirks when she sees that you’ve noticed her, and you swore you saw her mouth a “you’re welcome.” The tension suddenly falls as she hides behind the bushes right as Percy turns around to find out what you were looking at.

You giggle nervously, “um, yeah. Anyways... Ambrose can put up a fight,” you say, trying to revert to the original topic because you really didn’t want to discuss what just happened. You give him a second to get himself together, Percy looking a little disoriented after being under Silena's look magic. He blinks a few times before turning abruptly toward the strawberry bushes. A nervous chuckle leaves his lips, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. He shifts on his feet and nods,

“Yeah, I can imagine.” He clears his throat, his voice coming out a little higher than he had intended it to be. You bite your bottom lip, trying to refrain from laughing, and you hum softly in response.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit before your conversation had picked up again. Surprisingly, even after being unknowingly manipulated by Silena’s magic, Percy moved on quickly from the awkward tension. You found it was easy to talk to him, the two of you chatting as if you didn't just meet yesterday. The two of you talked and laughed a lot, sharing funny stories from quests or about your mortal parents.

You’ve never been a closed-off person, and you were able to share things easily with people, so the conversation flew naturally. You guys talked about the weird perks of your powers. One of the weird perks you shared is your ability to see and communicate with ghosts, and you end up freaking him out with the many stories of your paranormal experiences.

You weren't sure how long you were talking to him, but time felt like it flew by, and eventually, your baskets were filled with strawberries as you finished picking the row. The sun was lower in the sky, and you assume that it was almost time for dinner. You figured you should find your siblings, and Ambrose and Percy had mentioned that he had plans to climb the lava wall with a few of his friends. So you guys placed your baskets in the drop-off section where they package the strawberries, exchanging a short “see you later” before parting ways.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

The last thing Annabeth was expecting to see today was an out-of-breath Atticus bursting into her cabin, but there he was. She jumps in her seat at the sudden bang, the sound cutting through the silence. Her gaze snaps from her book to the door, concerned for a second as Atticus looks panicked. He lets himself in, scoping out the room in search of something.

"What are you-?"

"Have you seen Harvey?" Atticus asks, frantically looking for his familiar. Harvey is a black-footed ferret that was given to him by his mother. When you guys found out that Ambrose was for you, Atticus was pretty bummed. He was jealous that your mother had given you such a cool gift, and you had assumed that she had seen how upset he was because a few days after Hecate officially claimed you, Atticus received Harvey as a present. The morning he met Harvey for the first time, Atticus was thrilled to wake up with the ferret casually sitting on his chest.

"I'm sorry, Harvey? I don't know a Harvey?" Annabeth turns in her chair to face him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"My ferret, have you seen him?" Atticus drops to his knees, looking under the beds and the nightstands. He just saw him jump into the back window of the Athena Cabin, so he was sure that Harvey was hiding somewhere.

"Um, no?" Annabeth rolls her eyes, finding it rude that he has barged in as if he lived there. Suddenly, a small animal jumps from the top of the bookcase beside her and right on her desk. Annabeth yelps, getting up from her seat quick as Harvey snorts, and he clumsily runs across her papers before prancing across all the desks that were lined against the wall.

"Harvey, what are you doing?!" Atticus exclaims as he moves to stand up. He attempts to meet Harvey at the last desk, but Harvey jumps out of his reach just as he closes his fist to grab him. Harvey zooms across the room, forcing him to play a one-sided game of tag that Atticus was definitely losing. He occasionally slips and stumbles, the snorts that leave his snout starting to sound like mocking laughter.

"What's wrong with your rat?" Annabeth jokes as her eyes follow Harvey around the room.

"He's a ferret," Atticus corrects her, mumbling under his breath. He sighs as he tries to catch up with the animal, failing miserably as not only was he crazy fast, he was able to find the smallest corners to hide in.

"Similar family," she shrugs, smirking at him. "And you didn't answer my question."

Atticus sighs, getting on the floor to try and grab Harvey, who’s tucked in the corner under one of the beds. He squints at the small animal, not sure why he’s acting this way when Harvey was curled up on his desk, peacefully taking a nap about 20 minutes ago.

"He does this sometimes. I don't know. He wants to play, and then he causes chaos," Atticus grunts, almost grabbing Harvey, but he runs out of his reach once again. Atticus groans as he sits back on his heels, pinching the bridge of his nose. He decides he might as well take a breather since he's been chasing him for the past 10 minutes, and he considers that he should stop entertaining him since Harvey obviously saw this as some game.

He sighs softly, choosing to forget about Harvey as he looks over at Annabeth. Her gray eyes are fixed on him as she leans against the edge of her desk. Her curly blonde locks are pulled back in a messy low ponytail allowing the front strands to frame her face prettily. Atticus smiles as he admires her, taking in her appearance before she starts telling him off.

"You look pretty like that," Atticus compliments, his heart skipping a beat as their eyes meet. He watches as her expression softens for a second, her eyes wide at the random compliment. Atticus smirks softly, not surprised, as her face suddenly darkens into a scowl. If Annabeth felt anything for him, she was good at hiding it.

When Atticus had first arrived at camp last summer, Annabeth and he spoke here and there. Their conversations were brief but pleasant, and Atticus found himself wanting to talk to her more often. As his crush for her grew, he had taken it upon himself to harmlessly flirt with her, hoping she’d get the hint that he was interested.

"Like what?" She asks, her chin up as she moves to stand up straight on her feet.

"With your hair in a ponytail like that. It's cute.”

"Hmm. Thanks for letting me know, so I'll never do it like this again,” she says in such a serious tone that made Atticus laugh. There it is. Annabeth was always quick to shut him down, and she never failed to make witty comebacks. He was pretty certain that it was just banter, but it made it hard to tell if she was maybe into him. But he never failed to notice how occasionally, she’d momentarily be lost for words or have a flustered look on her face before it hardened as it did a moment ago.

"You'd be pretty regardless, Chase.” He feels his knees start to ache, and he sighs as he gets back up on his feet.

"Don't call me that," Annabeth says abruptly.

"What? Chase? What do you prefer? Annie? Beth? Anna?" He teases.

"I prefer Annabeth, thank you." She gives him a tight, sarcastic smile, and a short laugh comes from Atticus’s mouth.

"That's not fun, though…" His hand comes under his chin as he studies her. He ponders for a second, trying to come up with a name that he can personally call her. Annabeth shifts, avoiding his gaze as she looks elsewhere. She was weirded out that the other was looking at her for so long, and she tried not to show how flustered she actually was. She grunts,

"What?! What are you look-"

"Goldilocks," Atticus blurts out, his finger pointing into the air as his face brightens, thinking he’s an absolute genius for coming up with that name. Annabeth shakes her head,

"Don't call me th-"

"It's been decided. I will call you goldilocks. No one else can call you that," Atticus cuts her off, the same proud smile plastered on his face even though Annabeth’s eyes narrow dangerously at him. Atticus takes a step back hesitantly. At first glance, she didn’t come off as intimidating, but Atticus knew better. He was always sure not to push her too far because he was completely aware of her ability to kill him.

Atticus suddenly remembers Harvey, noticing how the sound of his little feet pattering along the wooden floor ceased a while ago. He scans the room finding Harvey standing on his hind legs a couple of feet away, calmly watching them. Atticus still couldn’t understand why he had acted so strangely. Familiars couldn’t talk, obviously because they’re animals but their actions are never out of vain. They’re usually trying to tell you something if they’re acting strange, and it takes a while to put the pieces together since there is only so much they can do. After thinking for a second, it dawns on Atticus that Harvey purposely made him come to the Athena Cabin so that he can talk to Annabeth. He smiles to himself, walking toward Harvey. He didn’t run away this time, allowing Atticus to put him on his shoulder.

"He just stopped,” Annabeth points out, her head tilting to the side.

"Probably got tired?" Atticus makes an excuse for him, not wanting to admit that Harvey had decided to be his wingman today. "Sorry for barging in, by the way," he apologizes. “I saw him jump in from the window, and I was worried he’d break something.”

"Whatever. Don’t do it again.”

"Got it. Well, I'll see you around, Goldilocks. Happy studying.” Atticus turns on his heels, hearing a scoff coming from Annabeth as he walks out of the cabin.

"When did I ask you to be my wingman?" Atticus asks Harvey as he walks off the steps of the Athena Cabin. He reaches up, his index finger petting the top of his head. "You're crazy, bud... But she is cute, isn't she?" Atticus laughs, Harvey snorting as if he agrees with him.

masterlist

[jackiebuttcakes]

Juvia’s Response To The Haterz

Decided to do this because I don’t think anyone has done it yet. 

Juvia: Hello everyone! How are you? Juvia hopes you are all safe and healthy. I was really nervous about doing this at first because I didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire. But after constantly asking my guild members about what Juvia thinks she should do, they all said that I should be completely honest with them. So here Juvia goes!  

The majority know about my past and my affiliation with the dark guild Phantom Lord under the direction of Master Jose. Juvia had no one else that showed her the kind of affection and generosity. All of Juvia’s life I have been ridiculed, abandoned, and drenched in my rain of solitude. When I had my first encounter with Fairy Tail, that being Lucy-san, the fierceness in her eyes sparked something in Juvia. Juvia initially thought she was fragile but her confidence and aura radiated, even if she couldn’t do anything when she was encased in my Water Lock. The moment Fairy Tail knew about her disappearance, Juvia’s stomach churned because she could feel their anger from miles away.

Juvia thought really hard about why she was so anxious about fighting Fairy Tail. Phantom Lord has fought countless of guilds beforehand and nothing sparked Juvia’s interest. There was just something particular about that guild that was so fascinating. And when I had finally met Gray-sama... the sadness and loneliness I once knew,  was gone. Juvia can’t even describe the feeling and the experience of seeing the sun peaking through the clouds and the way his smile warmed my cold heart.

Juvia hopes you understand that these new feelings that I was foreign to, was so overwhelming. I did not know how to react and how to comprehend them, but all I knew that in my heart, I had fallen for the man that saved me from my own rain. Juvia understands how cringey that may seem, despite the cringey affections Juvia has thrown herself into. But, even so, even if you’ll never believe Juvia… I really love him with all of my heart. Even if some people think that Juvia is just thirsty for attention or screen time… I really do love him.

Juvia will be honest and say that she is not the greatest at expressing it discreetly, which can make people uncomfortable… but I can’t help but light up whenever Gray-Sama is around because his presence makes me so happy… is Juvia not allowed to be happy?

Juvia is aware that “stalker” might be associated with her name for a long time, if not forever….. and trust me, I have tried to move on, after Phantom Lord officially disbanded. Gajeel-kun was very kind in asking if I would like to stay by his side for a little while until he found something for the both of us... but all I kept thinking about was Fairy Tail. So Juvia took matters into my her own hands, let myself be free from hesitation and allow my curiosity to flow. Natsu-san's team dynamic was so strong, they were like family. She saw how important they were to him. She had seen some parts of his fight with Gajeel-kun and she could tell that his fighting drive and fury came from his dedication to protecting his friends. And she could see why...

Juvia is saying this because she really wanted to be in Fairy Tail for the bonds she desperately wanted to cultivate. I know some people think that my whole existence revolves around Gray-sama... but I know that that is simply not true. I have made so many lifelong friendships with everyone in the guild, even to the ones I don’t spend as much time with, because the energy that Fairy Tail brings is so desirable  that any enemy that challenges them, respects them. Juvia knows that for sure because Gajeel-kun and I do, and why Juvia pushed him to  join in the first place. Juvia has never seen Gajeel-kun in such a positive light, mentally and being in Fairy Tail is the reason why we grew closer.

Gray-sama has rejected Juvia multiple times so many people have asked why Juvia is trying so hard to earn his affection. It is true that Juvia tries not to leave Gray-sama's side because I really care about him. But as hard as it is to believe, I would  never force Gray-sama to reciprocate his feelings. Of course, I wanted him to and when he does reject Juvia, it does hurt. But even so, Juvia knows that Gray-sama changed me for the better which is why Juvia has been holding on for so long. If Gray-sama really wanted me out of his life, Juvia would respect his wishes even if he fell in love with someone else, because I would rather love than be loved :)

Juvia has tried really hard to avoid talking about this... but I know I have to because so many of you have a lot to say about it... and I completely understand why. When Gray-sama and Juvia were forced to fight each other during our battle with Invel, I have never been so frightened in my entire life. Killing myself was the last thing I ever wanted to do. There is so much more of the world that I want to explore and memories I want to create. To label Juvia as “homicidal” really pains my heart... because Juvia knows how it felt to feel helpless and not worthy of life... but being a Fairy Tail member, I realized how grateful I am to be alive with the people I care so deeply about. Making that decision was the most difficult one I had to make and you know why Juvia did so. 

*takes a deep breath* If you had made it this far, thank you for taking the time out of your day to listening to the girl you may not tolerate as much in the guild. It really means a lot that you listened to my truth. And even if you do not agree with some of the things I said, and you still hate Juvia and don’t support Gray-sama and I, Juvia is completely fine with that and I respect your opinion. But Juvia knows herself now and she will do the things that make her happy, no matter what anyone else says.

 Gray:  *walks in*  Hey.. you’ve been talking to them for quite a while now. Everyone back at the guild is starting to get a little worried. You okay?

Juvia: Gray-sama! Juvia is alright! It actually feels really relieving to finally let this all go. It has been bothering Juvia for quite a while now.  *tries to hold back tears of happiness*

Gray *smiles and sits next to her* : Just to let you all know, she didn’t have to sit down here and talk with you guys. She shouldn’t even be the one carrying all this weight because I, myself was a jerk to not only her but myself. In fact, I tried to convince her not to do this because we both are in such a better place that no one and nothing could ever change that. 

Juvia: Juvia isn’t trying to defend herself and I respect all of you no matter how you view me. But I just wanted to sit down and tell you about how I feel about the things being said because Juvia will be forever grateful towards you all for supporting our guild for so long and you all deserve my transparency. 

Gray: You guys also earned my respect. *smacks a card in the haterz’ hands.* Which is why you’re invited to our wedding :)

***

I have been watching A LOT of apology videos lately LMAOO. Should I post this in the antigruvia tag too? XD

[fallen-in-dreams]

Rumours

Also on AO3. Pairing: Gaara/Sakura. Summary: Sakura overhears a spicy rumour about her relationship with Gaara and their friendship will never be the same again. GaaSaku. Canonish. Prompt: Week 1: Dating. Rated: T. Words: 4,433. Status: Complete.

Author note: My first of the weekly prompts for the tumblr GaaSaku Events. *Cross your fingers that I can do all of the ones I'm trying to finish.* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just some mild angst and mentions of ShikaTema.

This is for the 2021 GaaSaku Event @gaasaku-fanfests​. I seem to be posting for events late or barely on time this year. Sorry. :)

.

  .:.

“Sometimes your heart sees what your eyes can’t.”

.

  It was supposed to be just another harmless outing. Sakura often took Gaara with her when she went shopping for presents. He was so hopeless at remembering birthdays and holidays like Christmas that she was doing him a favour by dragging him around with her.

And picking out gifts from both of them.

She hadn’t really thought there was anything wrong with that. Or that anyone would read more into it than it really was. Of course, the Kazekage spending time with a foreign kunoichi would get everyone’s attention, but like all exciting new things it would get old, and they’d soon move onto other things.

This was why, all these months on from their first public shopping outing, Sakura was still brushing off the curious glances as she pulled Gaara along, by the sleeve of his work robes. Twelve months she’d been in Suna. Six were spent aiding in a joint training of medical personnel as a part of a healing exchange program to further relations, and then eight weeks as the head of the hospital because Gaara was adamant nobody was doing it better. The last four months had been her lazy months, which consisted of her usual physical training regimen but also acting like a tourist and dragging Gaara along for the ride. So just what she’d been doing before, minus the teaching and hospital visits. Sakura had already achieved what she’d set out to do in this mission, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind to cut her time here short.

And she was finally used to being a constant source of scrutiny for the people of Wind. So here she was, for the second time this week, dragging Gaara out of his office on the rare occasion that he didn’t have either a shit load of paperwork or overdue training of his own to do.

The retailer looked up at them as they stepped into her shop, then smiled and bowed lightly.

“Welcome, Lord Kazekage. Haruno-san.”

“Kitana-san,” Sakura addressed her quickly before tugging on Gaara. He obediently followed and as usual, she did not notice the knowing smile of the elderly woman as she led the redhead around. Her eyes perused the rows of trinkets instead. They were supposed to be getting an engagement present for Temari and Shikamaru. It had been three weeks since the date for their party had been announced and nothing seemed to be good enough.

“Maybe we should get them each a present,” she thought out loud. “What do you think, Gaara?”

His eyes widened slightly. “One from each of us?”

“No, I mean one each from both of us.” He still looked confused. “A total of two presents,” she added, and he nodded. She didn’t remark on how he had stiffened and then relaxed at her words. Gaara was just weird like that.

“Ino got them a weird sex toy,” she said, rubbing her cheek with her finger as Gaara’s face turned pink. “Uh, and I think Hinata said she wanted to get her some wind scrolls.” Her friends’ letters had been all over the place. Everyone was excited that Temari and Shikamaru had finally gotten official and were moving their relationship forward.

“I…uh.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which was actually more of a nervous habit for him these days. “Well… we can do better.”

She giggled and locked arms with him. “Of course. I was thinking,” she said as they moved through the shop slowly. “Temari’s always gotta pretend to be this tough, warrior woman. But I’ve smelled the candles coming from her room. I was thinking of bath salts, but it isn’t a good gift for Shikamaru. But that was before this whole individual gift idea.”

Gaara thought that Shikamaru could use a decent salt bath. They could use it together. The idea of it made him blush and he pointedly avoided eye contact with Sakura as she babbled on about clothes accessories. Apparently, Shikamaru had once confessed to her that he thought belts were interesting.

“Maybe bath salts and candles.” Gaara said, interrupted her gushing about the embroidery on a handmade belt. “His & Hers style.”

Sakura squeezed his arm affectionately. “Brilliant idea.”

She pulled him along gently, not needing to tug too hard because he was fine with following her lead. This shop was mostly popular among young women and older couples. Their wares ranged from scented candles to antique dolls and handmade clothes.

“What do you think about this one?” Sakura asked, taking a strange bust off a shelf. Maybe his mind just went to stationery too quickly, but it just looked like an oversized paper weight to him.

“No good?” She asked when Gaara didn’t respond. He sighed and she tossed it aside. “Okay, next odd little smelly thing.”

He let out a light chuckle at that. Gaara pointed out a few more ideas and they half-heartedly argued over them. They picked up a few bath salts anyway, since Sakura was interested in some for herself, before leaving the story without a present for his sister and future brother-in-law.

“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Sakura said, nodding to herself as they made their way through the crowds of the downtown market. She was oblivious to the interested stares and giggling children.

Truth be told, Gaara was fine with letting Sakura make the decision for him. He hadn’t had to worry about choosing gifts for almost a year and he was happy with that. Growing up with no childhood had ensured he had little experience in the matter, but she was a good teacher when it came to social situations.

They agreed their last chance for a good gift would be the ninja resource store on the edge of the market. Such a place would normally not be in the civilian district, but the proprietors were very good at preventing civilians from buying shinobi utensils. Gaara bought an ornate spear from them two years ago that had been imported from the Land of Iron. He’d started collecting special weapons and suggested to Sakura that they have something ordered in.

It would solve the problem and save time. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Gaara looked forward to these outings more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Geez.” She hip-butted him. “You’re full of great suggestions today.”

Sakura watched as he blushed and mumbled about looking for something for himself in the shop and as he wandered away, this gave her the perfect time to sneak away. She knew full well he was collecting unique weapons and had one in mind for him. It wasn’t a gift for any special occasion, and she didn’t bother guying things for his siblings unless it was for something in particular, but Sakura couldn’t help herself with Gaara. Her friendship with him was on another level compared with Kankuro and Temari.

When it came to birthdays, Christmas, or just her wanting him to have something special, she’d long ago stopped agonising over the “what does one even buy a kage who doesn’t seem to want anything?” question. Personal gifts that showed she knew him were always well-received. He still had the katana shaped candlestick ornament that she’d bought him for his birthday, sitting in his study. Temari said he never lit it up, which to anyone who knew him, meant he loved it. It would never get used and therefore last.

Sakura kept one eye on where Gaara was in the shop at all times, and the other on the aisle of antique weapons as she perused. That was how she ended up standing in an aisle listening to two gossiping kunoichi. She’d just been minding her own business, looking over a row of ornamental kunai, when the voices carried over to her from the other side of the shelf she was leaning toward.

When she heard her own name being uttered, Sakura peered through the gaps in the shelf. They were a couple of chunin and either had below average sensory skills and didn’t notice her or didn’t care that she was eavesdropping. Sakura didn’t recognise them, so they definitely weren’t a part of the medical units she’d trained, nor did they frequent the hospital. They were also both staring off in the direction that Sakura knew Gaara to be.

The blonde giggled. "Lord Kazekage dotes on Sakura-san, it’s so cute! They just have to be dating!"

The brunette nodded. “Of course. But why haven’t they announced it?”

“Because they’re shy, silly.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. Minamo said everyone’s talking about it.”

“He’s probably still innocent I bet.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. It was so weird to hear people claiming she had a romantic relationship with Gaara while discussing whether or not he had sexual experience. But it was just a couple of awe struck chunin (and the claim of some random friend of theirs). She decided to turn away but stilled at the next line out of the blonde’s mouth.

“Maybe Sakura-san took his v-card,” the girl snickered, much to the appreciation of the other chunin. “Can you just imagine?”

Sakura flushed from head to toe, struggling to hold her composure. She didn’t want to imagine that. Her heart might just explode. Sure, Gaara was… attractive. But would she have sex with him? He was her friend. They’d never been anything other than friends.

Not that I would want more, she told herself, holding a hand to her chest.

“I bet he’d be a tender lover,” the other girl said, sighing deeply. “Haruno-san is so lucky.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the blonde said, a devious look on her face. “I think Lord Gaara’s hit the jackpot too. Sakura-san has all that medical knowledge about the body. Imagine what she could do with it.”

“Like what?”

“Get his blood pumping. Warm him up. You know,” the blonde waggled her eyebrows and they both giggled. “She’d have him hard in no time!”

They giggled again and the brunette snorted before covering her mouth, mortified at herself.

Sakura stood there like a stunned mullet as they turned away from watching Gaara and started giggling and whispering among themselves. What the hell had she just heard?

“Sakura.”

She spun on the spot, startled. She hadn’t noticed his approaching chakra, engrossed in the conversation she was overhearing. Sakura turned beet red. He looked concerned when she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. When he made to move toward her, Sakura went into panic mode, charging at him and grabbing his arm. She ushered Gaara away, hoping he hadn’t heard any of that conversation. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even realise what they were talking about.

Gaara leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I found something special for you” and Sakura let out an involuntary sound she’d never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

Two random chunin had just inserted mental images of her having sex with Gaara into her head. She was not okay. But she nodded anyway, not wanting to explain why her heart was now thumping. Blood rushing to her head. His hand fell to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch had never been more prominent than it was right now as he added a slight pressure to steer her toward the front counter. He wasn’t pushing her. Gaara never pushed her. He was always kind to her. It was so stimulating when he did that.

Feelings she’d kept buried for almost twelve months started bubbling to the surface and Sakura wasn’t prepared for the onslaught. How could she have forgotten this? Suddenly, she remembered the first time his touch had affected her. They’d known each other for years and two weeks into her long-term mission to Suna, she’d been lonely and exhausted when quite suddenly, Sakura realised those warm and fuzzies she’d been feeling were directed at a certain Kazekage. Her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, and she didn’t have any life goals other than revolutionising the medical world. It was a great goal. Professionally.

But after an innocent comment from Hinata about her love life, her birthday had gone from celebrations of “I have my whole life ahead of me” to morose “I’m going to die alone” thoughts, which were reflected in her spending the rest of the night drunk and being shadowed by Ino who was worried she might bring down a building or two, in her destructive angst.

Gaara continued to watch her as she worked through her mental problems but said nothing. He didn’t need to tell her he was concerned. It was written all over his face. It was just another thing she loved about him.

“Let me take you home,” he said. That deep voice of his made her shiver. Sakura felt her body flush again when she heard giggling behind her. (Were those girls following them now?) There was no way they hadn’t heard that.

After a few moments, he started rubbing her back in what he obviously thought was a soothing manner and she blinked heavily at him. Right. She needed to get out of here.

She cleared her throat. “Sure,” she said, her voice a little strained. Out of habit, she wrapped her arm around his. He was a lifeline as she tried to sort out her dysfunctional thoughts. The chunin girls’ conversation had opened a can of worms and she didn’t know how to put them back in.

Sakura glanced backwards in time to catch the women whispering behind their hands and staring at her and Gaara unabashedly. When had her outings with Gaara started such salacious rumours?

And more importantly: why did these people think they were dating?

  .:.

  “Gimme a screaming orgasm!”

Kankuro took the seat next to Sakura as she made her order to the bartender and chuckled.

“You might want to tone that drink down a little,” Kankuro said with a wink. “Gaara might get jealous.”

“Ugh!” Sakura groaned. “Not you too!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You all are talking about me behind my back. Starting rumours and talking about my sex.”

Kankuro snorted. “Your what?”

“I’m a joke, Kankuro-chan.”

“Please don’t call me that.” He grimaced.

She sighed. “What are you doing here?”

Kankuro waved a hand at the bartender. “Another screaming orgasm, please.”

Sakura snorted. “You’re getting more than I am, then.”

He chuckled. “Never delved into the local cuisine since you got here?”

Well, there was this one guy she danced and flirted with the first weekend after she started this mission, but her burgeoning feelings for the Kazekage wouldn’t let her do anything more. She wasn’t a slut and she appreciated that Gaara wasn’t one of those guys that slept around and used their testosterone to excuse it, either. So, she’d been able to settle into routine with him. Friends who gravitated toward each other. Friends who had dinner with each other (alone) quite often. Friends who decided important decisions together instead of alone. Friends who rarely had eyes for anyone else. Friends who didn’t have lives outside of each other...

She groaned and dropped her head on the bar. The awareness of her situation was painful. She wished she could go back to being oblivious. Because it was clear now that Sakura had been accidentally dating Gaara for almost twelve months. Did he know? Or was he as oblivious as her? Everyone had noticed apparently, according to two chunin and their friend. Did Kankuro and Temari know.

“I’m secretly but not secretly dating Gaara,” she mumbled. “And I didn’t know.”

Apparently, even though her face was pressed into the bar, Kankuro had heard her.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

Sakura groaned again. “We’re not dating!”

“Uh-huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “Going back and forth then. You’re in denial.”

“Why are you here?” He didn’t respond and Sakura lifted her head up slowly. “Kankuro?”

“He’s lonely,” he said, staring into his drink thoughtfully. “I know everyone thinks Gaara’s put together and doesn’t need anything more in life than family and friends. But I know that under that oblivious and calm exterior that he’s a romantic at heart. He wants what you two have. But he just doesn’t know how to go about getting it.”

She frowned at him. His seriousness was giving her a bad feeling. Everything had come together so quickly, and she wasn’t even sure what to do with her feelings yet, let alone whatever Gaara might be feeling.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

That was an understatement. Sakura used to think he wasn’t clueless, since he often said things with such confidence that she believed he was more aware than he let on. But then moments like that day in the shop with the chunin girls and Gaara seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. She had no idea what to think of him anymore.

It was why she’d been ignoring him. She couldn’t handle the idea that he might actually return her feelings. She was a coward.

Kankuro put his drink down and patted her on the back. “Just… don’t hurt him, okay?”

Right. Easier said than done.

  .:.

  There were many things Gaara was good at. And so many things he sucked at.

He was proficient with multiple types of weapons and political nuances. But in matters of the heart, he found that he still hadn’t learned anything. He had no idea why Sakura was avoiding him and why his siblings were being more careful about how they talk to him. It felt like it had been back when he housed Shukaku and went on rampages.

The knock on his door startled him and Gaara debated ignoring that chakra signature out of spite but gave in and called her in.

“Gaara?”

He looked up and the slight drop in her smile told him that she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. She’d been avoiding him, and they both knew it.

“I need to tell you something.”

Gaara swallowed heavily and braced himself. Her contract in Suna had only a few weeks left but since the particulars of the mission had already been fulfilled, she was free to leave at any time, if she wanted to. This made his hear race. More than anything he didn’t want her to go. He enjoyed her company and valued her friendship. What he truly wanted from her was more than that and it had taken him months of going along with her intrusion into his life for him to realise what that “more than that” meant for him.

Gaara wanted to date her. He wanted to be doing all the things with her that Temari did with Shikamaru and that Kankuro was currently trying to do with Matsuri. And for that to happen, she had to stay in Suna.

Temari and Shikamaru are dating and he’s still living in Konoha, he begrudgingly reminded himself.

But he didn’t care.

Gaara sat back in his office chair as Sakura closed the door behind herself and shuffled her feet, twiddling her thumbs. She was nervous. And worried about his reaction. He attempted to smile and shift his body language to put her at ease. It seemed to work and before he knew it, she was approaching him with a sad smile and sitting down across the table from him.

“Gaara…”

“Does this have something to do with why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I, uh… found out something. And kind of overreacted to it, got drunk, and took it out on Kankuro.”

Gaara couldn’t help the snort that accompanied a chuckle. “Story of my life.”

She smiled a little wider now. “It does seem easy to do that.”

“Did you hit him?”

“A little. In the training grounds,” she added quickly. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

She went back to twiddling her thumbs.

“You wanted to tell me something.”

Sakura nodded. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come right out and say it. The whole village thinks we’re dating.” She paused to see his reaction, but he just stared, stone faced at her. “And uh… we kind of have been.”

“All the outings and joint gift giving.” Not to mention how he treated her so preciously in public.

Sakura frowned. There was no question in his voice, just his usual factual tone. He wasn’t surprised. “You knew?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything?”

He blinked heavily and lowered his gaze to the table. Parchments were lined neatly across it as he rarely let them fall out of place. The only matter in his life that Gaara let get messy were his relationships. They were inherently messy, so he had no problem dealing with them as such. Which was why he was so anal about everything else.

“Gaara?”

Gaara didn't seem to want to explain himself.

He didn’t want to deny or confirm that he may or may not be dating the Fifth Hokage's protégé, to the public. He let the rumours spread and did nothing to quell them. Gaara had even played up to them which he’d known was wrong but couldn’t help himself. There was no way that admitting this to Sakura would go well for him. Perhaps he could inform her over time, but right now the realisation of what had been going on was too raw for her.

And she could see his hesitation for what it was. Avoidance of setting the record straight. Sakura frowned. Was it because of appearances? Or something more personal? It could be embarrassment. She knew he’d grown up with little human contact, none of which would’ve prepared him for adult relationships. It left him in the lurch for so many important social interactions.

But why wouldn’t he want to fix this? It would look bad for the village if the Kazekage was pretending to date someone. Especially since she was going home in a few weeks. Her heart clenched at that, and she had to close her eyes to stop herself from losing control. Sakura had only just allowed herself to remember and acknowledge that she’d developed feelings for Gaara months ago, she didn’t want to break down in front of him now.

Why didn’t he tell me?

What was he playing at?

Maybe it was because he liked her? Sakura felt her skin flush at that. No. It was probably pride or indolence. Likely, he didn’t fully understand the ramifications.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

Had Kankuro meant that romantically? Or sexually? Or perhaps socially? She bit her bottom lip as Gaara turned his head away. The skin along his neck was tinged pink and his face looked slightly flushed.

All of the above, then.

Maybe he really was too embarrassed to push back at the rumours. Gossip was a poison though. In order to successfully rebuke it, you had to do so fast. And with the truth, not silence or denial on their own. Sakura knew this from experience back when she was still listening to Ino’s ramblings about Sasuke. This rumour had run its full course and nothing short of a very public breakup would get them out of it.

“Is it…” he started slowly, breaking her out of her thoughts. Gaara looked up to catch her gaze. “Is it really so bad?”

Is the idea of us really so horrible?

She heard that unsaid question loud and clear.

Sakura stood up and circled the table to stand in front of him as he swivelled on his chair to face her. “No.”

Gaara smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You want this?” She asked.

This was the moment of truth. He could lie and revert their relationship to the way it was before, except with them being more conscious about not appearing to be a couple. Or he could take a hold of her and ask for the one thing that had been plaguing him for months. He swallowed heavily and she watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Was it weird to be turned on by that?

“Yes,” he said huskily.

Desperately, yes.

She didn’t react for a moment, just scanning his face. He held his breath, waiting. Then Sakura leant forward, closing her eyes as his widened. But he didn’t pull away as she pressed her lips to his gently. His hands went to her hips as she rested hers on the arms of his chair, caging him in.

Gaara deepened the kiss, making her gasp and then plundered her mouth. He’d never done this before, that much was obvious to her. So, she took control, slowing their pace and sucking on his lips gently when he tried to hasten her. Sakura fell into his lap, her hands tugging at his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. As she straddled him, she lost herself to the feel of his body beneath hers and Sakura moaned.

The sound broke their reverie and the Kazekage bit her lip. Without pulling out of their kiss, he sent his sand out to lock the door and knocked everything from his desk with no concern for their wellbeing. Fuck caring about that right now.

Sakura grinned into their kiss as he pushed her back onto the table. This had been the right choice after all.

  .:.

  Sometime later, Sakura emerged from the Kazekage's office to find his siblings nearby, like they’d been waiting to find out the result of her talk with Gaara. She knew she needed to reprimand them, but she was too happy right now to care.

Kankuro raised an eyebrow at her. She looked dishevelled. Like someone had snogged the crap out of her. He fought to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

“Sakura?”

She cleared her throat and stared down at him. “You’ll be interested to know that Gaara is no longer clueless.”

Temari groaned as the Leaf kunoichi sauntered out of hallway. Kankuro waited until Sakura was out of earshot and gave his sister a shit eating grin then stuck his hand out expectantly.

“I won,” he said.

She scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

“Hey! I said they’d end up dating!”

Temari shook her head and took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk, then said, “you said they’d sleep together within an hour of resolving this. They clearly just made out.”

“Temari!” Kankuro pouted.

“Not paying up,” she sung, before following Sakura’s lead and sauntering off.

He huffed. Siblings were evil.

  .:.

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Three: Anosognosia

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): drinking, drunkenness, light smut, sex dream, implications of oral sex, obsessive behavior from an ex, unhealthy relationship dynamic (not on part of Yoongi & OC)

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

Notes: This was originally written and completed on Wattpad between 2018 and the beginning of 2020. I’ll be slowly posting the chapters here. I may make a tag list depending on if enough people want to follow along with updates. Leave me some feedback if you would like added to a tag list.

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Yoongi saw the look in your eyes shift from soft curiosity to sheer panic. He felt the pit of his stomach fill with guilt. He shouldn't have slept with you; sure, the two of you would still have this problem, but no one would've had reason to find your shoes. You wouldn't have had reason to leave them behind. 

He'd felt betrayed, he'd felt lonely, he'd felt unloved by those he wanted to love him most. But, that was no excuse to sleep with the first attractive girl he found. 

"Have you told Bang PD yet?" Namjoon asked, his demeanor calm, but Yoongi could see the slight shock cross over his features, causing his thick lips to pout and his chin to jut out. 

Yoongi shook his head.

"I'll call him," Namjoon said. The leader placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He blocked Yoongi's view of you. He worried in those few seconds you were blocked from his view that you would collapse into Namjoon's chest and cry the tears meant for him. The tears because of him. 

Namjoon left the room, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He tried his best not to focus on the way your tank top hugged your chest and exposed the hickeys he'd left the night before and that Namjoon probably noticed it too.

"You look tired," Yoongi said. "We can't do anything until tomorrow anyway. Try and get some sleep."

You nodded and Yoongi wasn't sure if you were just trying to reassure him or yourself. He remembered the way you'd fallen asleep long before he did. The way you'd fit against his body; how it felt like two puzzle pieces joining together for the first time. He blinked away the thoughts and tried to focus back down on your eyes. 

"We'll pay them off," Yoongi said. "We'll make sure nothing comes of this."

---

Jihee (9:00 am): Are you all right?

Jihee (9:05 am): I heard you're in the hospital

Jihee (10:01 am): None of your members are texting me back

Jihee (12:31 pm): Baby, the news is reporting something about your soulmate? What happened last night?

Jihee (2:43 pm): Yoongi! Please respond to me! I'm worried

Jihee (5:12 pm): Yoongi...what I did last night...what happened was all a mistake...

Jihee (5:12 pm): I still love you

Jihee (6:00 pm): The news said you were released hours ago! Respond to me!

Jihee (8:20 pm): Yoongi, I miss you

Jihee (9:30 pm): I know I don't deserve you. But, please just tell me you're okay

Jihee (11:50 pm): Goodnight. Love you.

---

"Baby," you moaned. Your hands slipping beneath Yoongi's shirt. They were cold, but he still loved the way they moved over his stomach and chest. Your fingertips grazing over his skin, a fingernail occasionally catching and causing him to squirm.

His hands were in your hair, messing it up and causing it to form mountain ranges as his fingers hiked the peaks and valleys. He loved the way it felt between his fingers, soft and light. 

Your lips moved from his and down to his neck where your lipstick stained his skin. He kept his grip on your hair, feeling it tug slightly as you move downward. He helped you slip his shirt off as your lips connected with his chest. 

"You don't have--"

You silenced him by tugging on the waistband of his jeans and rubbing your thumb over the button, teasing him slightly. 

"I want to," you responded, unbuttoning his jeans. 

Yoongi tightened his grip on your hair, trying not to focus on the way your lipstick was smeared above your lips. He could already imagine the way they'd look...

His head lulled back and his fingers loosened. 

---

Yoongi awoke. He was covered in sweat and ran his hand through his hair. He glanced down at his phone: 6:41 am. He sighed and headed to the bathroom. 

He slapped himself softly, trying to stop the thoughts that continued to cross his mind. He didn't have feelings for you, it was simply lingering from he slept with you. Nothing else. 

He wasn't going to deny he was attracted to you, he wouldn't have gone back to your apartment otherwise, but he felt nothing romantically for you. Yoongi knew the attraction would continue and probably only get worse, but he had to fight it. The last thing he wanted to do was break either of hearts more than they already were. 

Yoongi turned on the shower, the water colder than usual.

---

You stood in Yoongi's studio where he kept his computer. You'd suppressed your laughter at the ridiculous amount of hoops you'd had to jump through in order to enter. A doorbell, black curtain, and two doors. You respected the fact he took his work seriously though. The wall full of awards and trophies he'd won, a few even separate from BTS.

There was a couch in the corner, but you were too anxious to sit. You just wanted your shoes back and whoever took them to get their money and leave you alone. You were thankful your name hadn't been released and the only other person who knew the full truth was Eunji.

"There's many of us trying," Yoongi said. "Me, Namjoon, our managers, other people at the company. One of us will get them." 

You nodded and watched as the countdown on the auction neared two minutes to the end. There weren't many bids, but the shoes were somehow already over 300,000 won ($276 USD). You'd brought your knitting needles and some yarn and mindlessly knitted.

"What are you making?" Yoongi asked, a small smile breaking out across his lips. It was tiny and barely recognizable. You weren't sure if he pitied you or if simply trying to break the tension. 

"Nothing in particular," you said. "I just need something to keep me busy." 

Normally, when you went in without a plan, it turned out as a scarf. You bit you lip as the timer hit a minute. 

Yoongi saw your gaze shift to his screen and he readied to enter his bid as close to the end as he could. He entered one million won ($920.00 USD) and hovered his finger over the enter button. 

"That's too much!" you said. 

"No one will outbid it."

"I know," you said. "But I feel bad. I shouldn't have forgotten them in the first place." 

The timer hit twenty seconds. Ten seconds. Yoongi waited just a few more seconds wanting to time it just right. 

You heard a scream and a crash and almost simultaneously an error message appeared on Yoongi's computer. Please connect to Wi-Fi.

"Shit," Yoongi said. "Jimin!"

You followed Yoongi to the living room, leaving the partially started scarf behind. You saw Jimin and Jungkook crowded around the router working to connect the cord back into it. 

"Did you trip over it again?" Yoongi asked, his voice breathy and exasperated. 

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not used to it." 

Yoongi sighed and turned back to you. His dark eyes looked down at you apologetically and he sat down on the couch, pulling out his phone. 

"I'll try and see if I can see who won." 

---

"It looks like they're going to have to come out and fix it," Namjoon said, hanging up the phone. "We won't have internet until then." 

The members groaned. 

Jungkook walked into the kitchen and brought back a case of beer, a smirk plastered on his face. 

"Let's play a game," he said. "To welcome Sumi to the dorm."

"What game?" Namjoon asked. 

"Answer or drink," he said. "On your turn, someone asks you a question and if you don't want to answer it, you have to drink." 

Everyone agreed and sat in a circle. Yoongi sat on one side of you and Hoseok on the other side. Your knee brushed Yoongi's and you felt a small pang in your chest as you pulled away.

"All right, we'll go in order of age. Jin, you're up first." 

You didn't really pay attention to the questions. You'd fall somewhere towards the end. Between Jungkook and Taehyung. 

Jin answered the question. He didn't seem like the type to be embarrassed easily, a quality you admired in the eldest. 

---

"Yoongi," Jungkook said. "Your turn."

The room stayed silent. No one had a question for the boy and he couldn't help but smirk slightly. However, Taehyung meekly raised his hand. 

"What happened with Jihee?"

Yoongi cussed to himself. He knew she had been texting the other members about him. The other members would always consult him first before telling her anything when it was obvious he wasn't talking to her. 

"She cheated," Yoongi answered simply. 

The other boys' eyes widened and they nodded. However, it wasn't their gazes Yoongi felt boring into him. It was yours. He could feel your eyes staring at his profile. 

Yoongi had been careful the night he met you. He managed not even to tell you his name. He'd only mentioned he'd recently gotten out of a relationship. He figured you didn't need to hear his sob story. Besides, he planned on keeping Jihee's betrayal a secret. Just as she wanted. The only people he could trust with the truth were his members. 

But, you deserved to know the truth. It was unfair to keep you completely at a distance, especially when he'd overheard everything about your ex.

Yoongi noticed you drinking, you'd already cracked open another can by the time it got Namjoon. He felt a twinge in his chest. Yoongi quickly suppressed it, your drinking habits were none of his business. And based on the way Eunji talked the night at the bar, it didn't sound like you drank much. Only when your heart was broken.

"Sumi," Jungkook said. "Your turn." 

Again, the room fell silent. No one knew Sumi well enough to ask her such a personal question. But, then again, everyone was tipsy, or in a few cases, already drunk. 

"How's Yoongi in bed?" 

Everyone except for Yoongi and you laughed. 

"Seriously?" Yoongi asked. 

He knew it was the alcohol that asked the question, but it was still inappropriate. He didn't want you to have to drink. Your eyes were glazed and your cheeks rosy. 

Yoongi reached over and drank for you, crumpling the can when he finished. 

"Move on," he said. "It should be your turn, right, Jungkook?"

"Wait," you said. "I didn't answer." 

Everyone turned to look at you. It was obvious you were too drunk to notice that Yoongi had technically already drank for you. 

"He's good," you answered. "Better than my ex and I hate that cause..." 

You drifted off not noticing the seven stunned faces staring at you.Your words slurred, but they hung in the room. Your eyelids drooped and your head lulled forward into your chest. 

"I think it's time for bed," Namjoon said, standing up and helping you stand. He threw an arm around you and led you down the hall towards your bedroom. 

Despite the fact that the situation was perfectly appropriate, Yoongi still felt a small pang of jealousy. He knew he shouldn't and that it was all the soulmates thing, but that didn't stop his fists from clenching. 

"She probably won't remember this in the morning," Yoongi said. "Don't remind her."

Yoongi swallowed the rest of his drink and left the room on the pretenses of being sleepy--which he was--but he also didn't want anyone to see the blush come to his cheeks. 

---

You awoke the next morning with the worst headache you'd ever had. You clutched your forehead and glanced at the time: 10:30 am. You sighed. 

You spotted your knitting things from yesterday placed on top of the dresser. You didn't remember fetching them from Yoongi's studio, but then again, you barely remembered anything after Jimin knocked the Wi-fi out. 

"All I drank was beer," you muttered to yourself. 

You weren't known for being a lightweight causing you to wonder just how much you'd drank the night before.

As you squirmed you felt something soft move in the crook of your arm. You looked down and saw Kitty. You smiled at the stuffed cat and her droopy eye. 

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz