#I like being femme. I like it a lot. I want to be referred to with they/them when I’m feeling femme.

[foxgloveinspace]

For some reason it was SO hard to get this picture 😖🙄

I went with a choppy short Bob this time which is…. Very different from what I set out to do?? But I had been doing REALLY short hair for a long time now when I’d cut my hair and I kinda wanted to change it up.

[pansyfemme]

jude + he/him + nineteen

COMMISSION ME

FTM, fem/femme, faggot, fat boy, colorfreak and general rainbow lover. I’m a visual artist (cartoonist, sculptor, painter, etc,) currently in art school, have a special interest in twee pop, and i make transgender penis jokes on the internet. Stay weird with it always, yknow?

Art: @fagboyfriend

Twee/Indie Pop blog : @upforabit

selfies are under: #Jude pansyfem irl

putting a short faq under cut bc. i get the same questions a lot. check it before you ask about my icon or header or anything

faq:

How long have you been on T/How do you have a beard at 19? I came out at 12 years old, started blockers at 14 and HRT later that same year, and had top surgery at 17, making me 5 years on t and 2.5 years post op.

What show/game/comic is your icon from? its a cropped version of the album cover of the 1999 album “shake the pounce” by vancouver based twee pop band Gaze. It’s a favorite album of mine as well as just a cool little guy i like a lot

Where is your header from? a painting i did in gouache a year or two ago and thought would make a nifty header.

Oh come on, you’re not unboyfriendable! “unboyfriendable” has been my title for about three years now on account of it being a lyric from a song that means a lot to me, “all my little words” by the magnetic fields. EDIT: i am. in fact, boyfriendable, it seems. this has been brought to my attention recently. slight adjustments needed to be made but i carry on the legacy <3 (yes he’s cute)

How do I refer to you? Actually, i don't get this question a lot, and I shouldn't, since this info is both in my pinned above and in my bio. But a lot of people still seem awful confused. I am male. FTM. I use He/Him pronouns and masculine terms with the exception of compliments like 'pretty' and all that. I am not nonbinary, and do not like to be referred to gender neutrally. I simply am a trans man who enjoys gender non conformity and cross-dressing.

Are you Bi or Gay? this world is full of beauty. im queer. take that how you will. I like hot people but especially like pretty men. <- guy who will not shut up about his very pretty boyfriend

What style are you wearing/where do you get your clothes? I started by wearing my personal version of the japanese fashion subculture Decora Kei. My decora became a bit messy and grungy, and while i do still identify as a decora boy and wear full coords from time to time, i consider myself now someone who enjoys colorful fashion and takes influence from 90s harajuku fashion, punk subcultures, drag and other campy fashion. I shop a variety of places, but a lot of my stuff is from Kei Collective or Candy Trap.

What is Twee/Do you Make Music? Twee is a music genre I developed a special interest in a few years back. It's a style of indie pop that originated after the UK rise of the famous c86 compilation tape in the late eighties, and was developed with a focus on low-fidelity, diy sound combined with upbeat, bubblegum-y pop sentiments and a naive, childlike outlook. It's both cute and somewhat rough around the edges. I do not make music, and don’t hold any musical skill. I’m just a major fan.

Do you take commissions? Yeah, Info above!

Can you boost/reblog this post for me? This is a tough answer, i know, but if we are not mutuals, or I do not know you, I cannot do that for you. My reasoning being that I have been baited by very similar asks in the past that turned out to be scams, and I do not want to take the risk of spreading misinformation or scams now that I have a much larger following. I do my best to spread stuff that ends up on my dash and/or I can factcheck, but if I do not have that, I will be wary, considering my past interactions.

Can we be friends/Can I DM you? Anyone is welcome to send me a message of any type at any time, unless I have those settings changed, in which case i likely have it off short term, because i experience fairly regular transphobic harassment and i find it the best way to protect myself. However, just understand that I am a stranger on the internet. I don't always want to continue every conversation, and I'm not online all the time. I have all push notifications for tumblr turned off, including asks and dms, because it's much better for my mental health to be able to opt out of tumblr the moment I close the app. So, if i don't respond, i'm probably just doing something else or didn't see your message.

Do you have a DNI? I haven't in a long time, due to it being pretty frequently ignored and my following count growing to the point i can't really control that anymore. I can and will block people, but i feel my opinions are made fairly clear through what I post here.

[qweerhet]

i have come to realize over the past few days that a lot of bad transfeminist takes on this website are percolating in spaces where it's presumed the transfem experience is one of either attempting to be recognized as a woman socially, or wanting to be recognized as a woman socially but not attempting (with an unspoken "yet" attached), and suddenly everything coming out of those spaces about transmisogyny makes sense.

transmisogyny never applies to men because if you're a woman, you know it already. or if it does apply to men, it always benefits them, because someone who looks like a man and occupies the social role of man could never actually be a woman, at least until they start trying to occupy the social role of woman. if a woman is closeted, she'll come out eventually. people who don't chemically or surgically transition and continue to use he/him are selfishly benefiting from transmisogyny, and don't want to come out because they benefit too much from enacting violence on trans women. transfems are always treated as failed women, and never as failed men, because being transfem means trying to be recognized as a woman. nobody could ever see a real transfem as a man, only men are seen as men, and transfems do things like use she/her and wear women's clothes and go on estrogen, which means everyone knows they're transfem. transfems who are men aren't a part of this conversation. tma people who aren't women don't exist because transmisogyny comes from being perceived as a woman.

and it's like. well. i certainly know lots of people who would directly contest & cleanly disprove your presumptions here (i mean. myself being one of them, even though i do present femme full-time!), but you'll never get the chance to have your worldview shifted, because you've made your social spaces profoundly unfriendly to them!

even if you've already made an effort to decouple transmedicalism from your theory, you still have to make an effort to actually engage with & understand the material experiences of people who don't align with current narratives about transition at all. transfems who use all pronouns and grow massive beards while on e and never legally change their names or gender markers. transneutral and transandrogynous tma people. trans women who refer to themselves as women but do not want to chemically or surgically transition or publicly use pronouns other than he/him, ever. full-time female impersonators who solely use she/her and chemically and surgically transition, but still identify as men. and you have to really engage with what we say about transmisogyny, as in, listen in good faith and understand what we're expressing about its functions in our daily lives!

or you could circlejerk forever about how being a woman is the be-all-end-all of experiencing transmisogyny and personal identification is one and the same as material conditions of privilege, to the point that personal identification automatically prescribes material privilege. and shut out a solid chunk of tma people from your gender theory permanently and irrevocably. and implicitly call a solid chunk of tma people liars for talking about daily life experiences. that's cool too, definitely won't have any negative consequences for trans community and trans spaces in the broader world or anything.

[theabigailthorn]

Love your work, Abi, you introduced me to philosophy. Just wanted to know why your new era videos are, and forgive me, fetish-y? Is it commentary on how women are forced to be overly sexualised in order to be successful? I know each video has a theme, so does it all tie in to one PhilosphyTube Extended Universe? Loved your work and can't wait for more!

They aren't, people just see them that way because I'm a woman now and people sexualise women a lot more readily, especially queer women. Before transition my videos had a lot more nudity, bondage equipment, and explicit sexual references in them than they do now - in fact I've gone out of my way to make them a lot more family friendly to make up for the fact that I'm likely to be sexualised more for being femme.

[saisaixchan]

Re: the One Piece poll

Guys OP has a s literal army of trans characters, it's actually a plot point, there's literally so fucking many trans and NB and genderfluid people in OP its kind of fucking insane

There's Bon Clay/Bentham from as early as Alabasta in March of 2000, 3 years after the initial publication of OP

Bon's powers let him transform into other people, and he's the only member of a bad guy group with male/female partners who doesn't have a female partner bc he's both the male AND female partner in his rank

He doesn't need one bc he's both

Bon is also consistently one of the best characters who helps Luffy, and who deeply respects the bonds of friendship, and he deeply admires Ivankov (next in the list)

Plus, Bon Clay is only one of two in the villain group to become good guys and befriends the main characters

There's fucking Ivankov, Queen of Kammabakka Kingdom an island full of drag queens and trans people, with his hormone powers that lets him trans all the genders for himself and everyone around him (aka the Newkama in Impel Down- a literal army of trans people who help Luffy break out of prison so he can save his brother)

AND he's the second in command of the Revolutionary Army, a group actively against the World Government that controls the entire globe, and is fighting against it's corrupt politics and ideals, such as allowing slavery for the higher classes, fighting the racism against Fishman it's held up for centuries, and all that stuff

Ivankov is one of the most important characters in the series in regards to the world politics and the fight for freedom against the oppression of the WG, and he works with what are unambiguously the Good Guys in the world, who are headed by Luffy's father

There's Okiku in Wano, who its 100% trans and even gets the horny Sanji treatment

(which is kinda important bc there was some Bad Trans/Queer rep earlier in the series involving Sanji running from drag queens who were harassing him and for a while Sanji was pretty transphobic and it was a whole thing, but Oda seems to have learned or educated himself by this point, so yay)

Plus Okiku is a super strong samurai, fucking powerful girl go off, and everyone treats her as one of the girls and she's the best tbh she deserves the world

She's so sweet and kind and strong af and is just as much a warrior as the rest of her group

Plus there's Yamato

Who, to be very clear, is not CONFIRMED as trans, but has a lot of gender fuckery going on that he belongs on this list imo, come to your own conclusions ig

Yamato is 100% confirmed as the biological daughter of Kaido, which is backed up in several other sources and even a colorspread with only biological women, but everyone in the story itself refers to him as he/him, Including Luffy who calls him by Yama-guy/Yamao

(something Luffy only does for men- he calls Ivankov and other more genderfluid or femme leaning queer folks by -chan)

and Yamato calls himself the Son of Kaido multiple times

Yamato saw someone be so awesome that he wanted to emulate that person and become them-

but as an apparently separate decision, he decided he also wanted to be a man, too! Not just because of Kozuki Oden, but because holy fuck look at that gender, I want that for myself!!!

His identity as Kozuki Oden and his identity as Son of Kaido seem to be separate things, bc Kaido, Kaido's forces, Luffy (our main character who helps us understand how to treat situations), and everyone else around him at least acknowledges that Yamato, is, in fact, the SON of Kaido, and everyone, regardless of which side they're on in the war, respects that and treats it as fact

Meanwhile, absolutely no one treats Yamato like he's actually Kozuki Oden

And there's no sign of Yamato being forced to become a man because Kaido wanted a son- 1), he was called Oni Princess fairly consistently as a child by Kaido's forces, and 2) he only became known as Son of Kaido after Yamato himself decided he wanted to become a man

Yamato has refused everything forced on him by his father, and has run away, hid, and fought back at every moment he could, and his gender and pronouns were the only real decision of his own that have been respected as all his other freedoms were taken from him

(Which doesn't say much about his horrible father- Kaido was guided by an incredibly strong female pirate at a young age, and he has plenty of strong women among his crew. Kaido doesn't care about what gender his kid is, or gender at all)

So yeah while Yamato is not confirmed in the text as trans like many other characters are in much more obvious ways, and several sources confirm that he's biologically female, he still goes by Son and he/him by the other characters and by his own choice, so make of that what you will

Please enjoy this spread of Yamato in the Men's bath (he refused to join the women's bc no mixed bathing), and Okiku in the women's

Anyway yeah op has tons of trans, genderqueer, and genderfluid representation in it, it might not look it but it's been there since basically March of 2000 when Bon Clay was first introduced and it hasn't stopped since

[aicedcoffeeandtea]

question for the culture of the ellie x reader community that i’m genuinely trying to understand but also having an even harder time wrapping my head around… and don’t fight me bc i know how this community loves to fight about everything!

in fics where the reader has a second love interest outside of ellie (excluding the ellie x reader x abby or ellie x reader x dina fics), why is the love interest always a man?

i myself have written a fic where reader was a lesbian that had an ex-boyfriend but only because it took place in the 80s and because it was actually relevant to the plot. and even then, i still made sure to tag that there would be references to reader being with a man in the past so that if anybody did read my story, they were doing it on their own discretion.

in a lot of the kinds of fics i’m talking about though, the reader being with a man could literally be swapped out with reader being with a woman and it would not change the story at all. but for some reason the default is 9/10 of the time, a man. it honestly wouldn’t even be that bad for me if 1) people tagged their works better and 2) if this didn’t happen so often.

this is a wlw space, where the common denominator that we all share is that we are attracted to women and non-men regardless of our specific sexualities. therefore, why is there a constant need to still include men in sapphic spaces? when you make reader be in a relationship with a man or have reader cheat on their male partner/love interest with ellie, you are automatically excluding those of us who are not attracted to men. plus, always having a lesbian, even more specifically a masc lesbian competing with a man puts a very strange taste in my mouth that i don’t think i can articulate the way i want to, but i feel like you can understand where im getting at here. i’m not even masc, im a hyper femme lesbian and it still rubs me off the wrong way, especially because most of this also only happens when it’s a fem reader, and the guy they’re with is always masculine.

and i’m sorry but im just gonna say it: ellie getting jealous of reader being with a man? yawn. boring. overdone. overused. predictable. trope ive seen way too many times. ellie getting jealous of reader being with a woman? im sat. adds spice. adds flavor. give me that shit.

if you disagree, that’s fine. we could (like civil adults) talk about it. i’m usually not the type to police people on what kinds of fics they write so i was very hesitant to even post this because i’m actually pro write whatever tf you want. but i definitely feel like it’s something that people do need to be more mindful of, so i guess i’m just asking people to do that, or at the very least can we tag our fics better so that i as a lesbian don’t waste my time reading the millionth fic where reader has both a masc lesbian and a man fighting for their affections? thanks, love yall. 🫶🏾

[gglitch1dd]

Rent a Dam

Hey yall, I just wanted to share the first chapter of a very successful fic of mine on AO3 called Rent a Dam.

Note: OMEGAVERSE, 'Dam' is the genderneutral term for the birth mother of a child in ABO world that I use, ALPHA X ALPHA X OMEGA pairing. POLYAMORY. Kiribaku are MARRIED so expect intimacy there. Reader is kept genderneutral but is referred to as a femme (all Omegas or fem betas).

Kirishima and Bakugou are an Alpha couple which comes with its own challenges, but what they desperately want, are pups. Pups to have and call their own. To raise and watch grow. And the only way for them to get that, is through you. An Omega who is more than willing to help them.

“As you know, Bakugo-san and Kirishima-san, we handpick our Omegas based on their fertility and mother skills. Only the best Omegas are allowed to be part of our program and to be chosen as suitable birth mothers and surrogates.” Mrs. Kubota explained as she sat on her cushioned chair in her office.   

The two Alphas that sat opposite her on another softly cushioned couch both faced her, quiet. Kirishima leaned back against the back of the couch, nodding his head ever so often as he listened to her. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail as to get out of his face. Bakugou however had his arms folded as he sat up straight. His gaze was harsh and intimidating but he was open to whatever she had to say- or at least he was trying to be. The Agency ‘New Chances’ was one of the only agencies in the surrogate and birth mother business that met their needs as well as was eager to work with two Alpha males.   

Mrs. Kubota continued. “So our Omegas won’t be a problem at all. They have been trained in childcare, know basic lifesaving and know exactly what to expect during this process. Now...” She put her hands together. “Then comes the topic of your careers.” She spoke. Both Alphas knew this conversation was going to happen either way, but it didn’t make it any easier to have to tackle. Mrs. Kubota picked up their file and opened it on her lap. “Now we are honoured to be able to cater for such prestigious individuals such as yourselves, but we have to be concerned for our Omegas. As we understand it, you are both high ranked ProHeroes. You are constantly faced with life and death scenarios every day. We worry about this stress being put onto the Dam of your choice as well as fear of the both of you being away. Pregnancy for Omegas is a very intimate time which needs a lot of catering for.”   

Kirishima looked to Bakugou if he should answer but the blond lifted his hand, indicating that he would do so. “We have it all sorted. We plan on alternating weeks until we go on parental leave during the third trimester.” He revealed to her.   

Mrs. Kubota clapped her hands with a bright smile. “Wonderful. That will do splendidly.” She closed their file. “Now...” She reached over to the side to get a pile of envelopes. “Here are a few candidates we recommend based off of your profile. They understand and are easily adaptable especially for your hero work.” She placed the envelopes on the table in front of them. “Call me once you’ve made a decision.” She told them. She stood up and left the room.   

The two of them were left in a warm sunny room that was made to put everyone in it at ease. It had windows that overlooked the city as well as soft items and comfortable chairs. Everything was designed and put to ensure that everything that happened in the room happened without any hostility.   

Kirishima leaned forward grabbing a few of the files in his hands and placing them on his lap. He opened the first one, sniffing inside it. The scents of the Omegas were placed inside with a little handkerchief. He sniffed it some more. “How about this one?” He passed it to Bakugou.   

Bakugou took one whiff of it before instantly pushing it away from him. “Way too sweet. Smells like a sugar coma.”   

Kirishima chuckled as he worked open the next one. “This one?”  

Bakugou didn’t even have to put it too close to his nose before almost retching. He covered his nose instantly. He snatched the envelope out of Kirishima’s hands and closed it before throwing it to the other couch. He stared daggers at it. “Smells like death.”   

Kirishima shook his head. “Come on Katsuki. Every Omega we’ve ever tried to date, you always have some problem with them.” He spoke truthfully as he opened one that he didn’t find unsettling. He pulled the document out, looking over their profile. “This one smells too sweet, that one’s too small, this one’s too docile, the other one’s too feisty.” He shook his head. He passed the document over to Bakugou to look through. “How are we ever going to find the one that’s for us if you keep pushing everyone away without a fair chance.   

Bakugou’s crimson eyes looked over the white document. His eyebrows furrowed. “I hate golf.” He shoved it back in its envelope. Kirishima rolled his eyes at his partner. “Look Eijiro, maybe an Omega just isn’t for us. That’s why we are here.” He looked over to the redhead. “We aren’t looking for a mate. All we want from this transaction are pups. A litter. That is all.”   

Kirishima frowned as he scrunched up his face but he nodded.  

 

When they were both in high school Kirishima had developed a crush on Bakugou. Now at first, he thought it was just his admiration for the guy. Bakugou was just someone you would admire. His strength, looks, ambition and courage. Bakugou was someone people strived to be like. One of the other things were Bakugou was pretty. Absolutely beautiful in a non-Alpha like way. With a body that slowly developed into having a broad heavy chest, slim waist, piercing eyes and hypnotizing legs, he was the envy and want of anyone with eyes. The only problem Kirishima had was that Bakugou was an Alpha.   

And Alphas didn’t normally mate with other Alphas.   

Now it wasn’t as though Kirishima didn’t like femmes. He was attracted to anyone he couldn’t help himself being attracted to, but with Bakugou it was different. Especially because Bakugou was his best friend. Kirishima also knew that Bakugou didn’t like anyone and never talked about femmes or mascs or anyone in general. Bakugou just wasn’t the type to seem to like romantic interactions, let alone friendly ones.   

It was by pure mistake that the two started courting. There was a festival outside of the city and the two of them went along with some other classmates but got separated. Isolated and finding a place to watch the fireworks away from others, the two of them were alone. Kirishima couldn’t help himself. With the light of the fireworks in the dark sky shining on the blond’s face he couldn’t help but stare and fantasize. The next thing the two of them knew, their lips were against each other and suddenly they were kissing. Kirishima pulled back, head fuzzy and slightly dazed. Bakugou was speechless, his face red and his eyes wider than normal as he stared up at Kirishima. Realizing what he had done, Kirishima took a step back. “Oh my... Katsuki. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I... we...”   

Bakugou was silent for the most part not having expected it nor knowing what to do in such a situation. Unlike a lot of his classmates, he had never experienced an romantic relationship at all. Hell, that was his first kiss. He went through ruts of course and knew as much as the next Alpha but still. Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed before looking away from Kirishima. “If you wanted to kiss me... you could have just asked.” He muttered quietly, his cheeks heating up more and contrasting with the cool air of night.   

Kirishima’s eye went wide as he looked down at Bakugou. “I... I thought... you like Alphas?” He tried quietly.   

Bakugou’s face scrunched up. “I...” He started. “I don’t know but...” He looked over to Kirishima hesitantly. “I do like you.” He muttered, trying not to seem weak as his eyebrows furrowed. Kirishima’s eyes widened as he stared down at Bakugou with wide eyes. Bakugou tsked at the look on Kirishima’s face. He shook his head. “What? I thought you were into the whole pretty Omegas with their sweet scents and round bodies.”  

“I mean yah but...” Kirishima took Bakugou’s hand softly. His large hand wrapping around his gently and carefully. Bakugou froze for a moment. He looked down and then back up at Kirishima. Kirishima smiled over at Bakugou. “I do like you.”  

And they went off from there. Yah, it was hard being an Alpha couples. They received some backlash from the media and from some people, but now a days it was a more accepted thing (same dynamic relationships). They had developed a sort of exchange of their own. They had found a way to make it work. Two Alphas. Alphas that run on strength, aggression and power. They made it work and made a relationship that would work.   

The only issue is now, they felt like they needed something more. There was only so much one could satisfy their Alphas. Now their hearts ached for a family. Coming home to little pattering feet and bright smiles. They wanted pups. They wanted something to protect and call their own.   

But Alphas couldn’t have pups. They couldn’t reproduce on their own. Which was why they needed an Omega. It was why they needed someone else.   

Bakugou grabbed an envelope off the counter and tore it open. He started to mutter annoyed. “How hard is it to choose one Omega.” He grumbled to himself. Before Bakugou could continue in his grumbling, he paused. The scent that came from the envelope he opened didn’t set him off. It didn’t annoy him or make his nose itch. It was calming. It made him calm. It wasn’t so strong and yet it still called to him like a siren. Bakugou’s pupils expanded at the smell as he looked down into the envelope.   

He sniffed into the envelope, a little more eagerly. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. Bakugou reached inside the envelope and felt for the soft handkerchief. He pulled it out of the envelope and brought it closer to him. The scent that came from it stirred something in his Alpha almost instantly. It shook him in a way he had never been shaken instantly by an Omega’s scent before. It wasn’t sickeningly sweet but it also wasn’t plain. It was comforting and lulled him almost. His Alpha seemed to be in agreement, eager for this choice.   

The scent would go so well with his and Eijiro’s. Perfect for pups. Perfect for mate.    

“Hey Eij...” He let out quietly. Kirishima hummed turning his attention back to Bakugou. The blond was focused down on a handkerchief in his hand. He seemed so focused on it as if it was some sort of puzzle. “Tell me what you think about this one.” He carefully offered it up to Kirishima.   

Before Kirishima could even brush his fingers on the soft material, he smelt it. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He took the handkerchief and raised it closer to his face to smell. He closed his eyes. It reminded him of the first time he smelt Bakugou’s scent. It gave him the same feeling. Something strange that he couldn’t put a word to. A longing? A need? He wasn’t sure but he liked it. It gave him a similar feeling of unity. Of family.   

Kirishima opened his eyes, his pupils wider than they were as he looked down at the soft piece of silk in his hands. “I swear Katsuki, if you say you hate this one-”  

“No, that’s why I asked you.” Bakugou replied, calmer than he expected himself to. He looked between his redheaded partner and down at the cloth. His eyebrows furrowed. He took out the piece of paper from the envelope to read what was on it.   

Kirishima moved closer to sit next to the blond to see what was on it. “Y/N...” He whispered out the name on the paper.   

On it was a picture of you. A great picture. One with a soft smile on your face to match your scent. The document held all they needed to know about you. Your birthday, your education, credentials, likes and dislikes, your last heat as well as the number of litters you had so far.   

Zero.  

Kirishima looked to his blond partner eagerly. “I think they’re it.” He stated simply.   

Bakugou was quiet. He didn’t have anything bad to say about your profile, which was a surprise to him. He could always find something to say about anyone. He frowned. With a soft annoyed growl at how clueless he was starting to feel, he tsked. “Fine.” He folded his arms and motioned for Kirishima to go to the door. “Go tell the old bat of our choice.”   

Handing the handkerchief over to Bakugou, Kirishima stood up and went to the door. Bakugou turned his head to look out the window down at the busy city. Of all went successfully, you would be moving in with them in a few day. If all went successfully, they would have pups in over a year. Bakugou spaced out for a moment, not focusing on anything specific.   

“Katsuki.” Bakugou blinked as he turned his attention back to Kirishima. The redheaded Alpha came to sit back down where he was previously. He carefully took Bakugou’s hands, his expression soft as he looked down at him. “It’s going to be okay Kats.” He assured the blond. Bakugou’s shoulders lowered slightly as he released a breath. He closed his vermillion eyes. Kirishima chuckled bringing a hand to Bakugou’s cheek. He placed a kiss on his forehead and then rested their foreheads against each other. “I know you’re worried and a bit fearful but there’s nothing you have worry about Kats.” He assured Bakugou quietly.  

Bakugou looked up at the large Alpha in front of him. His smile of sharp teeth and soft candy apple eyes shining brightly like they always did. Bakugou couldn’t help the small smile that went to his face. “Okay.” He nodded.   

Kirishima leaned back, keeping an arm wrapped around Bakugou’s shoulders. “Also, don’t look at them as though you’re plotting murder.” He advised. “We don’t want to scare them off.”  

Bakugou turned to Kirishima with an offended look. “I don’t look that way!” Kirishima raised an eyebrow with a single glance. Bakugou hesitated to respond. He folded his arms over his chest and tsked. “It’s not my fault that people misinterpret my facial expressions.” He defended himself.   

Suddenly, the door opened. Walking into the room was Mrs Kubota, followed by you. You had a sweet smile on your face, following the Beta woman. Instantly, you had all of Kirishima and Bakugou’s attention. You smelled just like your handkerchief, but better because you carried your scent with you. You didn’t seem nervous, especially when you noticed two Alphas in the room instead of a typical fem-masc couple.   

Mrs Kubota motioned for you to sit down where she previously was seated, but you waited a moment. You faced the two of them. “Good morning, it’s great to meet you.” You greeted, then you sat down.   

Mrs Kubota nodded her head to you in approval before turning her attention to the two Alpha ProHeroes who had none of their attention towards her. She found that just perfect. “Gentlemen...” She placed her hands on your shoulders. “This is Y/N. They are to be the birth-dam of your choice, correct?” She asked.   

Both Alphas looked at you for a long moment. They didn’t say anything, but they kept their eyes on you and your entire being. The blond had his piercing crimson eyes, that of a deep blood and of the most aged wines. He looked at you as if he could see right through you. As if your whole being was no match for his gaze. However, the redhead next to him, even though he was so large and a bit intimidating, had the softest eyes that looked at you as if you were a new chance, a new possibility for greatness. His eyes weren’t like the blond’s eyes. His were a soft candy apple red. Sweet and had almost a hue of pink to them, but so unnoticeably that it was still red.  

The both of them looked at one another, before turning back forward and nodding their heads. Mrs Kubota smiled. “Wonderful. Y/N...” You looked up at her. “This is Kirishima Eijiro and Bakugou Katsuki. The Alpha couple that you will become a birth-dam for.” She informed you. She looked up to the two Alphas. “They will move in with you in a week’s time.”  

 ***

Bakugou stood in the doorway of a room. It was empty. Untouched since they had the whole house built, but at the same time it seemed to hold so much possibility. It was one of the many rooms that were yet to be filled and yet he couldn’t help but find it pleasant knowing that it wouldn’t be long till it was. He closed the door to the room, closing it off for now. He turned around and walked over to the other side of the second floor.   

He was heading to the more lived in area, where his and Kirishima’s room was. Turning to a door to the right, he opened the room inside, stepping in. The nesting room was done to perfection. Boxes of your nesting material was in one corner of the room, untouched, unopened and waiting for you. The rest of the room was brightly lit with heavy curtains by the windows. There was a window ceil at the end of the room, a door to an in-suite bathroom and to top it all off in the middle of the room was a huge floor bed with tons of nesting material piled on top of it. Neither Bakugou nor Kirishima knew what exactly you would need so they just bought a whole lot of everything hoping to know through time.   

Bakugou looked over the room one more time. It was clean of any spec of dust or dirt. He made sure that nothing would trigger you here. He also knew that this would be one of the few times he would actually get to be in the room before you move in and until you invite him and Kirishima inside.   

Satisfied with the room, he turned to head back downstairs. His hand was on the rail as he descended to the first floor. Waiting for you to arrive, he went to the kitchen, snacks already prepared for you if you were hungry. As he looked over the kitchen table, he fiddled with the silver wedding ring on his finger. He breathed out a heavy breath as he closed his eyes, putting his hands on the white counter.   

He wished Kirishima was here and that the redhead didn’t have had to go to work today. They were going to spend the next week off work and here with you while you settled in, but Kirishima had left early to finish some last paperwork left for them before you came around. Kirishima was always the better one out of the two of them when it came to dealing with Omegas. Bakugou was worried that he would mess up. That it wouldn’t end up the way they wanted it to be.   

But he didn’t have much time to think about it since the doorbell rang.  

Instantly he straightened up, red crimson eyes looking back to the door. He took out his phone as he walked to the front door.   

Katsuki: They’re here  

Bakugou stood on the other side of the door for a moment, his hand resting on the doorhandle. The moment he opened the door was the moment that it wouldn’t just be him and Kirishima. Even though this arrangement wasn’t permanent, even though your role was just to give them pups and nothing more, you would be with them. You would be a member of their household and someone they would have to look after and protect with their lives.   

There was no going back on this.  

With a deep breath, he opened the door.   

Standing there holding a duffle bag was you. You had a bright smile on your face as you stood next to Mrs Kubota. Mrs K looked to Bakugou and you both bowed to him in greeting. “Good morning, Mr Bakugou.” She greeted him first. “Here I have brought you, Y/N.” She told him with a kind smile. She motioned to you who seemed rather relaxed for this whole situation. “Take good care of them for me.” She told him. Bakugou nodded his head. “Of course.” He told her sincerely.   

“Great.” Mrs Kubota placed a hand on your shoulder, taking your attention. “Be good, dear. Report in regularly and don’t hesitate to call if there are any problems. Alright?”   

You nodded your head. “Yes ma’am.”   

“Good.” With a final wave, Mrs Kubota walked back to the black car that brought the both of you out here.   

You turned your head to look back to the blond. Bakugou towered over you easily, his eyes just as intense as when you first met him. He looked back down at you for a moment, not saying or doing anything.   

He was much taller than you thought he would be and very good looking too. The scent he seemed to carry around him was something savoury and yet sweet. Caramel and smoke, with something like cinnamon undertones. It was a strange scent for an Alpha, but it suited him. His big build clearly showed all the hero work he must do, yet somehow, he remained slender through it all.   

Bakugou felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, which finally helped him snap out of it. He stepped to the side, allowing you through to get inside. You bowed your head in gratitude as you walked past him.   

The house was extravagant, but it had a soft homely feel to it. As you saw from the outside, it stretched out and was huge but, on the inside, it seems all rather spaced out and airy which was nice. You looked around with wide eyes at it all. The clean home that awaited you and would now be your place of residence for over a year.  

As you took off your shoes, replacing them with slippers, Bakugou pulled out his phone to look at the message he received.   

Eijiro: Great! Do your best Kats. I’ll be there soon.  

Eijiro: 😘😜  

Bakugou rolled his eyes but smiled slightly. He put his phone away as he watched you look around the house with wide eyes. Bakugou then realized that he hadn’t taken your bag yet. He internally hit his forehead. Quickly, the blond walked past you, taking your bag off your shoulder without difficulty. You looked at him surprised but you gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. You have a beautiful home, sir.” You complimented him.   

Bakugou stopped walking, gripping the strap of your bag. He looked back to you with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you. Also, don’t call me that.”  

You nodded. “Alright, Dynamight.”  

“Don’t call me that either... unless I’m in my hero costume.”   

“Alright, Bakugou-san.”   

Bakugou paused and sighed heavily in dismay. He tried to remember what he had learnt over the years. He can’t always shout whenever he’s annoyed or angry. Bakugou turned around fully to face you, one hand in his pocket, the other holding your bag. “Bakugou and Kirishima is fine, if that is what makes you comfortable. No need to add the honorific. We wish not for there to be any unnecessary distance between us.”   

You understood what he was trying to tell you. You were going to be staying here for a while and being close to them is a necessity in pup development too. You nodded your head. “Of course. I completely understand.”   

Bakugou just looked at you hard for a moment before turning back around, walking deeper in the house. “Are you hungry?” He asked you.   

“No, but thank you for asking.”   

He just let out a hum as he walked over to a staircase. You watched him for a moment as he started climbing the stairs. The Alpha paused, noticing that you weren’t following him. He turned his head to look back at you. “Waiting for an invitation, cupcake?” He asked. You quickly scrambled to follow him as he continued his ascension up the stairs. He turned left. Going down a short corridor, he opened a door. “You’ll be staying with Eijiro and I.” He informed you, allowing you into the room first.   

The room was wide and open, with a huge bed to the right. There were soft cushioned chairs here and there with a fireplace too. You noticed two doors. One led into a bathroom, the other seemed to be a closet. Once again you were left with a gawking expression as you walked inside, Bakugou following behind you. Bakugou walked into the closet putting your duffel bag on a little cushioned cube before walking back out off the closet. He motioned for you to follow him as he exited the room.   

He walked to another room just opposite the master bedroom. He opened it but this time, stayed in the doorway, allowing you to see a nesting room. You looked around with wide eyes, your gaze instantly catching on your nesting items untouched to the side.   

Bakugou leaned against the doorway. “You’ll be nesting in here.”   

“I don’t have a choice?” You asked turning to him. Instantly the blond stiffened, seemingly not having thought about you might not liking the room. You chuckled, waving a hand down. “I’m joking. It’s perfect, thank you for the nesting room.” You told him genuinely.   

The blond Alpha scowled with a grunt, clearly not happy with your little joke. It just made you chuckle to yourself. Since this room was the one room you were in that smelt neutral it felt like a fresh start to you, which meant that you felt like nesting. Like an itch at the back of your mind you needed to scratch. “Can I nest for a bit?” You motioned around you to the room. “To get the whole room settled and everything?” You asked him.   

Bakugou hadn’t thought you would want to nest immediately, he thought he would at least get the tour done, but it would be best to let you get settled in your own way and relaxed than forcing you to do something else. Besides, he didn’t want a throw a spanner into things when you were feeling comfortable to nest in the room. If anything, it made his Alpha perk up in a pride knowing that you were okay nesting so quickly. Even if it was more for you then for them.   

He nodded his head. “Of course. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Just call.” He closed the door to the room, leaving you alone.   

“Honey, I’m home!” Kirishima opened the door, as he came back from work. The smell of food cooking greeted him more than welcomingly. Taking off his shoes and closing the door, Kirishima was more than happy to be home, especially knowing that you were now here. It was something that he was looking forward to through his day, but at the same time, made his day longer.  

Kirishima walked to the kitchen, the blond Alpha already standing in the kitchen cooking something masterful no doubt. “Sorry I’m late. The UA interns needed to be taken back to UA after helping out in a bank robbery. All that paperwork is no joke.” He walked over to Bakugou who was facing the stove, he wrapped his arms around the blond’s slender waist and placed his head on top of his. Feeling that his mate was truly back Bakugou relaxed against Kirishima’s big frame with a breath making Kirishima chuckle. Kirishima placed a kiss to his head. “Omega driving you up the walls?” He asked.   

“They haven’t come out.” Kirishima gave him a confused look as he tilted his head. Bakugou, feeling satisfied, switched off the stoves and turned around to face Kirishima. He folded his arms with his brow furrowed.  He motioned upstairs. “They’ve been nesting the whole afternoon.” He told him.   

Kirishima perked up at this. Then a broad smile went to his face at the news. “Well, that’s amazing.” He said truthfully. “I didn’t expect them to nest on the first day.” He said truthfully.  

“Yah, well now they haven’t left the room and I don’t know what to do.” Bakugou threw his hand up in the air in exasperation.   

“Wait…” Kirishima closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to think. “So, you haven’t checked in on them since?” He asked the blond Alpha. Bakugou opened his mouth, but he hesitated. He grimaced at the realization that he sort of just left you to do whatever you wanted upstairs. Kirishima looked at him in amusement and disbelief. He shook his head. “Come on Katsuki.” He turned around, heading out the kitchen.  

“But Eij,” Bakugou quickly double checked on all the stoves and the oven, before following the giant redhead in his pursuit in finding you. He easily caught up to Kirishima who had already reached the stairs. “We can’t just enter their nesting room.”  

“I never said we will. All I’m saying is we check in on them.” Kirishima told him simply. Bakugou still had a confused look on his face as the two ascended the stairs. Kirishima thought best to trying to explain why this was important. “Remember Kats, them nesting is them creating a place where they can feel safe, especially now that they’re living in an unknown place with unknown Alphas for who knows how long.” Kirishima motioned to the both of them. “So, us checking in on them and making sure that they are okay, will show that we care about their well-being and their nest even if they don’t show it to us ever.”  

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows as they finally reached the second floor. He let out a grunt as he looked off to the side. “I don’t see why it has to take so long to build a nest.”  

“Nesting is an art.”  

“It’s something, alright.” They found themselves standing outside the front door. Kirishima motioned for Bakugou to knock. Bakugou looked at Kirishima as if he was crazy. “What? Why me?”  

“Katsuki, it’s a wooden door.” He stated simply. “I’ve seen you blast open two-inch steel enforced doors open with a single blow, are you really going to not knock because of a single Omega on the other side?” He asked with an amused raised eyebrow. Bakugou huffed as he crossed his arms looking away from Kirishima. Kirishima let out a chuckle at the blond Alpha’s behaviour. He knocked on the door.  

“Just a second!” They heard from the other side. Kirishima gave Bakugou a pointed look. Bakugou ignored him. Before either of them could say anything, the door opened just enough for you to poke your head through without showing your nest or anything inside. Your eyes widened at the ginormous redhead. Bakugou already towered over you easily but with Kirishima standing here he made even him seem smaller. Kirishima was around a good five inches taller than Bakugou. He had a broad sharp toothed smile on his face but what really got you was the eyes. The eyes you saw a few days ago. The ones filled with kindness and good intent. You smiled matching his broad grin. “Afternoon big guy! It’s good to see you.”  

Kirishima was like an excited puppy as he looked to Bakugou with wider eyes at the nickname. It only made the blond roll his eyes. Kirishima then looked back to you. “Its great to see you too. Are you doing okay? We wanted to check in on you since dinner is right about ready.”  

“It is?” You asked with a high raised eyebrow. You scratched the side of your head in shock. “Have I been stuck here for so long?” You asked.  

“Yes. Yes, you have.” Bakugou answered you bluntly.  

You chuckled not thinking much of Bakugou’s attitude as you switched off the lights to the room. “Sorry Bakugou, I kind of just left you all alone. I’m sorry.” You apologised with a soft smile.  

The blond Alpha looked at you a bit taken a back before letting out a soft growl. Not at you, but at the fact that he had allowed himself to let you apologise when you had done nothing wrong. He looked away from you. “Don’t apologise, idiot. It’s fine. You did nothing wrong. If you want to fucking nest, then nest. Be my guest.”  

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “As you can see here, Katsuki isn’t the best at communication, but he tries.” Bakugou opened his mouth to say something to Kirishima, but the giant redhead just kissed his forehead, instantly making all the words the blond Alpha had to say, evaporate. You watched slowly as his face turned pink as he just turned around fully, huffing as he grumbled. You couldn’t help but giggle at him. He was rather cute. Like a cute angry puppy. Kirishima smiled before turning to you. Seeing as you were not uncomfortable with see them be affectionate towards each other, he saw it as a good sign. “How about you come down for dinner? Kats is an amazing cook.”  

“Sure thing! I can’t wait to taste.” You smiled as you closed the door, following them downstairs.  

-Glitch1d

This was just the first chapter that I'm uploading onto here. All other chapters are on AO3 which you can access on the link below. Thank you for all the love and support I've experienced writing this fic<3

<Kiribaku Masterlist>

[your-gay-grandma]

Butch/Femme history and culture introduction (written by a femme lesbian, deeply in love with being so)

💖Ideal for people immersing themselves in lesbian culture for the first time

🤍This post will contain brief summarising information about butch/femme culture and history as well as an introductory resource list for continuing your learning journey.

🧡It is by no means exhaustive and is intended as a very basic and simplified introduction that people can and should easily build on. Please try to keep this intention in mind before telling me i have neglected something!

⚠️ Disclaimer - this post is admittedly very centred on butch/femme history of the US and western culture in the 1900s. If there is a different culture or time that you’d be interested to learn more about, I would be overjoyed to research it so please let me know! Lesbianism has existed everywhere in every time and the cultural variation of this is beautiful and SO important. I do not want to neglect that but cannot fit it all in this brief introduction post.

“Whether reclaiming femininity from the male gaze or rejecting feminine gender norms by embracing butch, the subculture is intrinsically radical: it empowers lesbians to renounce patriarchal standards of beauty.” - Megan Christopher

What is butch/femme?

butch/femme is a lesbian subculture with a deep and rich history and culture. It goes far beyond masculine and feminine aesthetics and informs lesbian identity and dynamics. Butch/femme culture is a crucial part of LGBTQ+ history and culture as a whole.

It has existed for a very long time but it is very important to know that not all lesbians are butch/femme. In fact, most lesbians will not identify with either label and that is completely okay! You will see some lesbians describe themselves as butch4butch or femme4femme.

Traditionally, there is nothing in between butch/femme and to suggest otherwise negates the rich significance of the identities. Some people suggest it is a spectrum with “futch” in the middle. This is however not the case and the significance of this will become clear as we delve further into the importance of butch/femme identities to queer culture and history. Crucially too, straight women cannot be butch/femme

Aren’t butch/femme just replicating traditional heterosexual gender roles?

Absolutely not! In fact, they outwardly challenge them.

Gender and sex are constructs. A lot of lesbians find that butch/femme are gender identities in of themselves (myself included)

Instead, butch/femme are identities that encapsulate a particular “performance” of gender. The attributes of these may seem “masculine” or “feminine” but this is only because of the strict gender binary our society ascribes to gender performance.

Judith Butler, in their book Gender Trouble, notes that a lot of lesbians in general have a complex relationship to gender. This is because our binary perception of womanhood is constructed on the basis that “male” is default and “female” is the only sexed other. Because lesbianism is the only identity that totally de-centres men, a lot of lesbians (regardless of being butch, femme or neither) will not feel like they are conventionally “women”.

A lot of the time, butch/femme roles were and still are a source of safety and solace

Butch

Butch refers to masculinity in any number of ways

Butches typically and historically face high levels of discrimination and harassment for their gender non conformity.

A very important butch text is Stone Butch Blues, written by Leslie Feinberg

In the book, Feinberg discusses the importance of working-class identities to butchness.

Some butches are transmasculine. This doesn’t make them less of a lesbian, as long as they have ties to butchness and lesbianism.

Stone butches are lesbians who do not like to be touched (or “receive”) during sex

Femme

Femmes are lesbians who present more “femininely”.

Femmes do not necessarily conform to society’s perception of womanhood. Many will have complex relationships to gender identity or will present as hyper-feminine.

Hyper-femininity is an exaggerated performance of womanhood where aspects of dress, character and/or mannerisms of femininity may be heightened.

This is why a lot of the time lesbians can still “clock” (or recognise) femmes as being gay. Straight women tend to feel put off by the level of femininity common with hyper-feminine femmes.

History

In western culture, butch/femme culture existed underground or secret up until the mid 20th century. We can assume however that butch/femme dynamics have existed for a long time.

In the early 1900s, butch/femme dynamics were confined to underground gay bars.

In this case, femmes were often considered in a position of privilege as they were “straight passing” and could only be recognisably lesbian when accompanied by a butch.

Femmes will often assert sexuality through their femininity.

In the 1940s, butch/femme dynamics were extremely important and a thriving part of lesbian culture.

Women were allowed to enter bars without men.

In the US, butches would have to dress femininely in order to hold employment and avoid harassment and assault based on their preferred gender non-conformity.

Butches dressed in a way that was accepted by society, while still presenting as more masculine than the norm. Alix Genter writes that "butches wore long, pleated skirts with their man-tailored shirts, sometimes with a vest or coat on top"

In the 1950s, many butches refused to live these double lives. Their full-time masculine presentation made it difficult for them to work so they were often employed in factories or as taxi drivers. (hence the importance of working-class solidarity with butches)

Increased lesbian visibility and a strong anti-gay political stance at the time of McCarthyism led to increased attacks on queer women and resulted in a particularly defiant gay bar culture.

Butches are therefore extremely important in our fight for LGBTQ+ rights. It was butches and trans women who were known for fighting back for our rights and visibility.

In the 1970s, particular sentiments of lesbian separatist feminism declared masculinity and butchness was harmful to women. This led to the popularisation of more androgynous fashion amongst lesbians including boots, jeans and flannels. This movement weakened butch identifiers and is known for alienating lesbians of colour and working class lesbians.

Lesbian separatism is essentially the idea that lesbians should exist separate to men and heterosexual women. That is why some theorists believed performances of masculinity were harmful (while others did not believe this and it is obviously not true)

Introductory reading list (online articles that are short and accessible)

how butch/femme subcultures allow gay women to thrive by Megan Christopher for VICE: https://www.vice.com/en/article/wjwzqx/how-butch-femme-subcultures-allow-gay-women-to-thrive

A good introduction to the radical history and importance of butch/femme identities.

The Lesbians That Founded The Gay Village And The Mafia Alliance They Made For Protection by Diana Robertson: https://www.huffpost.com/entry/the-lesbians-that-founded-the-gay-village-and-the-mafia_b_5941d7a1e4b0d99b4c921126

Really helpful history!

No Matter What’s Gendertrending, the Butch is Here To Stay by Jack Halberstam

https://web.archive.org/web/20180907141513/https://www.afterellen.com/tv/443117-no-matter-whats-gendertrending-the-butch-is-here-to-stay

I don’t like the suggestion of the title but the article itself has good information. Jack Halberstam is an important queer theorist. I also recommend his writings on queer failure. This article has some generally good direction about butchness, especially in modern media. “Butch is always a misnomer; masculine but not male, female but not feminine, the term serves as a placeholder for the unassimilable, for that which remains indefinable or unspeakable within the many identifications that we make and that we claim.”

Key books for a deeper understanding (and their pros and cons)

The Persistent Desire: A Femme–Butch Reader by Joan Nestle

Gender Trouble by Judith Butler (one of my favourite books of all time. Really difficult to get through but very worthwhile and completely changed the way I understand sex and gender)

Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg (an incredibly important lesbian text. Can be very difficult to get through, especially emotionally. Please make sure to check triggers before reading)

Dagger: On Butch Women by Lily Burana

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 3 - Head in the clouds

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings for: drunk minor character, violence by a minor character to reader (she's okay!)

Thanks so much for the response to this story so far, so glad people are enjoying it. As always I appreciate reblogs and comments. Thanks! Also sorry for anything I get wrong about biker clubs/rules/rituals etc - just pretend that's how it works in this specific AU!

You’d been working at the bar for a few weeks and had just started to find your stride. You’d already whipped Tom, the blundering bartender from that first night, into shape by teaching him a few tricks of the trade. You’d even showed him how to make a couple of simple cocktails. Not that they were ordered much in a biker bar, but always good to have them in your back pocket. Sure, Tom would spill the syrup all over the bar and break at least one glass every shift…but he was trying. He was the brother of one of Bucky’s buddies and it was almost sweet the way Bucky wanted to help him out – even if it meant turning a blind eye to his often less-than-competent performance.

You’d also gotten to know more of the club and had learned about some aspects of the motorcycle club (or MC as they referred to it) and how it worked.

There was Steve of course, the no-nonsense blonde from that first night, Bucky’s righthand man. He was Vice President. Steve had been a little frosty with you initially but had warmed up and the two of you were becoming friends. You understood he was just a little protective, and that meant he was careful with outsiders and like to vet them first. He was strategic and careful, always one step ahead to ensure that the club were safe from potential threats. He didn’t always say much, but it was clear you’d know if he had a problem with you – so you settled into a quiet understanding with each other.

Bruce was the Treasurer, he was sweet and smart and easy to talk to. Sam was the Road Captain, he was amiable and easy-going, he teased you a little, but it wasn’t with any malice. You gave it right back to him, of course.

Nat, the beautiful redhead you’d seen playing darts, was the Sergeant-At-Arms, which apparently meant being the enforcer and keeping things in order. This had initially surprised you until you saw Nat in action whipping them into shape after some of them had a bit too much to drink one poker night at the bar – she was slightly terrifying, taking no shit from anyone. The whole MC respected (and were slightly terrified of) her… (maybe even Bucky). But the two of you got on well and she was sweet as pie to you, and you were always happy to have another friend.

Thor was the club Secretary, possibly the largest man you’d ever seen – well named. Until now you’d always associated secretaries with typing and pencil skirts – no more. Although seeing Thor in a pencil skirt would certainly be something.

Parker…or Peter, as you found out was his first name, was a recent prospect who had become a full member. He was still finding his way a little, and the others were still ribbing him, but he was sweet and enthusiastic, and you liked him a lot. The dart incident was all forgiven, although he still tiptoed around you a little despite your insistence everything was fine between the two of you.

You were still getting to know the other members – Scott, Clint, Loki, Drax to name a few…Then there were the hang-arounds – not members. Some were prospects but some were just buddies of the club. But Steve was very discerning about who they associated with, he would weed out any sycophants or creeps who just wanted the glory of an MC on their side. It was a whole new world, and you were still learning.

There were also a gaggle of girls who hung out at the bar most nights. They were sweet, some of them were involved with various members, some just wanted to be. All very pretty, very fun. They would drink and play bar games and keep the mood light. Perfectly nice to you, decent tippers.

It hadn’t bypassed your notice that Bucky, as President, was their ultimate target. They’d follow him around, laugh uproariously at his jokes and hang off his every word. Amber, who you’d sussed was their de facto leader of sorts, seemed to have staked some sort of claim. All blonde hair and long legs, skin that looked like an Instagram filter and tonight wearing a, frankly, gravity defying halter top. She’d give the other girls a certain look if they got too close to him and they’d dutifully scatter. Your instincts told you she was not someone you wanted on your bad side.

Bucky didn’t exactly deflect her advances. He’d grin at her with amusement when she would drape her long-manicured nails across his arm, whisper something in her ear that would make her giggle and playfully bat him away.

Which you were fine with.

Obviously.

It wasn’t like you had developed a huge crush on Bucky since you’d been working here, or anything like that.

You didn’t steal glances at him when he moved across the bar, his large, toned arms always bare under his kutte – one flesh, one metal. Some threadbare tee worn underneath, straining against his chest and impossibly flat stomach. Didn’t notice the way he’d absentmindedly brush his hair back out of his eyes, scoop it into a loose bun or small ponytail as he chatted. Definitely didn’t feel a little rush of giddiness when he’d lean over you to get to the cash register and you’d get a whiff of his cologne…

“Sugar? You still with us…?”

Your head snapped towards the intrusion, Bucky’s smile tearing you away from your little daydream as he leaned over the bar. Sometimes it seemed like he could read your thoughts.

“Uh, sorry,” you recovered, wiping down the bar with a washcloth. “Was just thinking I need to do inventory”.

He chuckled, “you work too hard, Sug”.

You smiled at one another for a moment before you saw Amber snake her hand around Bucky’s arm. “Buuucky”, she whined. “Come play pool with us,” she said pleadingly.

He looked at her then back at you, opening his mouth to say something before-

“Can I get a beer here or what??”

The three of you glanced down the bar towards the voice. A broad man in a trucker hat stood sullenly at the other end of the bar, gesturing dramatically at his empty bottle.

“Of course, sir, coming right up”, you chirped a little more cheerily than he deserved.

Bucky frowned. You knew that frown well already. He didn’t like the demanding customers who liked to bark their orders.

“It’s fine,” you told him softly as you pulled another bottle from the fridges. “I got this, you go play pool”.

He continued to frown but seemed to relax slightly at your words, looking over at the man sternly as he got up and Amber squealed excitedly at her victory.

Ugh.

“Just come get me if he gives you any shit” he said harshly as Amber tugged on him.

“You know I’ll give him shit right back if he does,” you winked.

“See? She’s a pro. Let’s GO” moaned Amber as she smiled sweetly at you before shoving him towards the pool table.

Bucky looked back at you for a second before the others cheered at his arrival and Sam handed him a cue. Amber had her hand on his back, rubbing it up and down.

You sighed and moved to hand the new beer over to the customer. You smiled and placed it down in front of him and in response he wordlessly tossed a bill from his wallet onto the bar. Charming. You peeled the money off and gave him his change from the register, then did your best to look busy as you kept an eye on the activity by the pool table.

Honestly, you didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were a grown woman, Bucky was your boss and you’d be out of here in no time anyway. Why were you feeling jealous of another woman about a man like this? You weren’t at school anymore. Grow up. The house was coming along nicely, it wouldn’t matter for much longer. You’d get over your crush and move on. You got the impression Bucky had a whole rotation of women…and that was perfectly fine. None of your business. Everyone knows getting involved with your boss is a terrible idea anyway…especially when that boss heads up a biker gang.

The next few hours passed uneventfully with a solid but not overwhelmingly throng of customers, the occasional whoop and cheer from the pool table as the club played and showed off.  You chatted with Nat for a while as she perched on a bar stool, then Vis and Wanda came by to see you which was sweet of them. Over in the corner, Amber was treating Bucky like a soldier back from battle solely because he’d potted a few balls.

The bar thinned out and only a few customers remained. You were at the bar by yourself just refilling the straw holders when a slurred voice interrupted you.

“Another fuckin’ beer” said the demanding customer from earlier, barely able to keep upright as he slammed his hand onto the bar.

What? No way had you served him that much. He’d had about 4 beers all night…What on earth-

“Sir…” you responded as he swayed and wobbled.

Just then, a small glass bottle fell out of his jacket and clunked hard onto the wood below. Ah, yes. That’ll be the culprit.

Your eyes flickered to the gang across the room who hadn’t yet noticed the small disturbance. You were tempted to call them over, but you didn’t want them thinking you couldn’t handle a single drunk guy.

“Sir…you’ve had enough. You need to go home,” you admonished. “You’ve brought outside liquor in here too and I’m not serving you anymore. You need me to leave, alright? I can call you a cab if you need-”

“Another beer…” he repeated, as if you hadn’t said anything.

“Sir, I told you – no. Now please leave,” you folded your arms, the annoyance of dealing with him all evening boiling over into anger. Maybe a little Amber frustration was there too.

“Ano-”

“No,” you cut him off. “Enough. Please go…”

“Listen here, bitch…” he pointed a dirty fingernailed hand at you. “If you don’t get me another beer-”

“You’re not getting shit, so save us both the trouble and get the fuck out before I get Security to throw you out. Hell, I’ll do it myself if I must” you spat back.

He stared back at you agog, seemingly surprised by your change in attitude. The confusion quickly shifted to rage, and it took a moment for your reflexes to catch up with your brain as he suddenly curled his fingers around the discarded glass bottle and-

You ducked, but unfortunately, a tiny bit too slowly. The bottle bounced off your forehead and hit the bar, shattering and sending little shards of glass into your arm. You stepped backwards in surprise and stumbled, crying out in pain as your lower back hit the bar shelf behind you.

You heard the stampede a second later, a flurry of leather and denim enveloping the bar as the man seemed to levitate – but in actual fact he’d been grabbed by Thor and unceremoniously hauled up by his collar. You briefly heard him stumble apologies, but the sound faded fast as Thor pulled him towards the door, flanked by Sam and Steve.

“Oh babe, I’m sorry we left you” said Nat who was leaning down in front of you and checking out your injuries. “You’re okay. I promise”.

You looked down at them too, your arm was bleeding slightly but didn’t look too rough. You couldn’t see your head but could feel a little lump forming. You didn’t feel pain, not really. The adrenaline of the shock saw to that.

“Why didn’t you call us over?? Jesus Christ, Sugar” Bucky chastised as he jostled past Nat and delicately moved your hair out the way to look at your head. You widened your eyes in surprise as he moved his face to yours, measuring your reflexes with his finger in front of your vision.

“I didn’t realise he’d flip…he was just drunk” you mumbled, slightly dazed for more reason than one. “I just told him to leave. I’m fine…”

“No, you’re not, you’re bleeding,” Bucky scoffed, carefully inspecting the cut on your arm.  “And maybe concussed”.

“Bucky…” you frowned.

“Don’t ‘Bucky’ me. You could’ve got really hurt. Why are you bouncing customers? That’s our job”. His tone was angry, condescending.

“Jeez I misjudged it, okay?” you scowled. “He seemed like a mouthy drunk is all. Don’t talk to me like I’m a baby..”

“I’m not! I just-”

“You were busy! I didn’t wanna interrupt…”

“Just playing fuckin’ pool, Sug! Not too busy to stop you getting brained by a bottle…”

“Alright, break it up you two,” Nat interjected. “We don’t need more trouble tonight”.

Bucky scowled but shut up regardless.

She squeezed your hand. “Let me take you in the back, we’ll get you cleaned up. And then let’s get you home, alright?”

You smiled at her, grateful for her kindness.

“No…I’ll take her” Bucky said. “Get over here…”

“Bucky…” you said with insolence.

But he just ignored you, grabbing your hand from Nat’s and dragging you to the back room.

“Buuuck,” whined Amber from across the room. “We still gotta finish the game”.

“Sam can take my shots” Bucky grumbled, continuing to pull you along without looking up.

“But-”

“Amber, what?! Can’t you see I’m busy here?” he spat, looking daggers over at her. “Ask Sam”.

She went quiet, then pouted and harrumphed. Bucky ignored her and kept going.

“Fuck, Sug,” he muttered. “What are we gonna do with you?”

*

[a-libra-writes]

Hello Libra, I just like to say that I really love your work and I love how you depict all these characters so well!

I was wondering if you can do some jealousy headcanons for the Lackadaisy characters?

Danke!! GN reader, most reference a relationship or romantic interest.

♣️Rocky - His jealousy is very obvious to anyone who bothers to pay attention. It is not less obvious or pathetic when you're in a relationship, either. Rocky will find any excuse to interrupt you and the other person, scare them off, redirect your attention, and so forth. It can become very distracting and annoying, so it's best to address the problem right away. The jealousy 100% stems from Rocky's fears of abandonment - not that he'd recognize that - so reassuring him and soothing that insecurity helps a lot. Sometimes his jealous reactions are just that, knee-jerk reactions that he doesn't fully think through. It's safe to say the insecurity is less of an issue the longer you both are together, especially if you're already a very affirming and affectionate partner.

♣️Freckle - The big-eyed boy has a quiet, passive jealousy that he may not notice right away. It stems from inadequacy, and he believes himself to be inadequate in many things, especially when it comes to relationships. He doesn't exactly have a lot of experience, you know? It'll be a constant needling build-up, though his uh, night time shooty activities helps get a lot of that aggression out. He's very open to talking things over, but you'd have to bring it up first. Freckle would rather stew in Catholic-level feelings of guilt before ever talking about it; but talks help a lot! Reassuring him goes a long way, and making sure he brings up his negative feelings before they get so bad.

♣️Ivy - While she's quite easygoing and not prone to jealous thoughts that often, when they do pop up, it manifests as an intense "my best-friend-who-I-tooootally-have-platonic-feelings-for-is-dating-someone-new-and-I-suddenly-hate-that-person". She pouts, she plots, she makes her displeasure known to you - she just gets an off feeling from that person. No, it's not mature, and she can get pretty catty about it - but she's also only 18~19. If you're femme then Ivy can easily dismiss her feelings as just missing her best friend - it'll take extra time to realize they aren't entirely platonic. If you both were together and already had conversations about this, that burning jealousy melts away to a little spark she feels now and again. She'll ignore it, knowing it's just a dumb thing that'll pass as soon as you're back at her side.

♣Mitzi - As much as she acts like she's above such things, Mitzi is the same as anyone else in developing jealous feelings. She recognizes them at once and just wants to bury them down, it's so embarrassing. It's even worse if she gets antsy about someone being overly friendly or flirty with you. What is she, a schoolgirl? The anger at herself might irk Mitzi even more than the person whose being so forward with you. She can get quite passive aggressive toward them, coating her barbs with honey - and that might get directed toward you if she feels you're also being too friendly with them. None of this lasts long - Mitzi would rather have a drink and kiss and make up. She's too old too ladylike for this silly nonsense.

♣Viktor - Just because he recognizes what he's feeling doesn't mean the old Slovak processes them in a healthy way (like, at all). To strangers, he's his usual frightening self, but to those who know him they can tell there's a distinct animosity coming off him. He's not a possessive type, but Viktor already feels miserable about himself and that he doesn't deserve you in the slightest - the idea of someone better coming along is not an impossibility. Now, he can't simply grab them by the neck and throw them out a window just for talking .. .and that'd upset you. So Viktor settles for being in a terrible mood until you soothe him. Attempting to talk him through it just makes him feel worse about himself.

♣Zib - Oh, he recognizes it quick, and Zib haaaates feeling this way. It's so pathetic, so annoying. He should be the bigger person, just suck it up and walk away, but ... nah. If he's been drinking, he's absolutely going to make snide comments and act inappropriate. You drag his drunk ass aside and he does feel a little (kinda) bad about he acted ... some days he's better about it. It's so cliche, but he knows what he's like as a partner. He doesn't offer much, and even if you've made it clear you still care about him, the insecurities and negative feelings can dig into him... especially after booze. He perks right up after some cuddling.

♣Atlas - He doesn't show it outwardly at all. Atlas keeps his impassive expression, outsiders can't tell the difference, but you and his two closest triggermen might pick up the iciness in his eyes. Eventually, that frost would melt into his voice. He would consider any jealous feelings beneath him, if he deigned to call them that. Instead, he'd translate it as disrespect: Whoever is being too personal with you and inspiring these feelings is disrespecting him. It's ... probably best that they move on.

🏵Serafine - Jealousy isn't something that comes easily to her. She's too free-spirited, and she doesn't like the idea of holding another down. She'd hate for you to restrict her, so why should she do the same to you? That said, there are a few times when it comes up. There are always those who want to flirt with you and get too close for her liking, but ... it's also fun to watch. She lets the little pangs of jealousy build up until you return to her side, and Serafine will tease you for doing it on purpose. There's a reason she likes to leave lipstick stains and bites on you. Note, if you try to incite jealousy in her on purpose, she'll see it as a game - but if you're seriously trying to provoke something, it's just irksome. Isn't that a bit childish?

🏵Nico - Like his sister, Nico isn't one for jealousy. He's inspired plenty of it and isn't a fan, and like Serafine, he won't tie you down if you don't do the same to him. Truthfully, he has much less patience for it. Some may think he doesn't feel jealous at all; but Nico is actually just good at dealing with it in a healthy way. He waits until you're back at his side and showers extra attention on you - it's pretty funny when the person who was flirting starts glaring at you. As long as you're not intentionally trying to get a rise out of him, he's chill.

🏵Mordecai - He's awful about it, made worse that he refuses to acknowledge it. It really doesn't kick in until you both have this sort-of-kind-of understanding that's a mess to navigate to begin with, never mind if jealousy comes into play. Mordecai both feels it strongly and denies it with as much strength. Some stranger trying to be smooth is irksome, but not the end of the world. But someone who has a sustained relationship with you? Who gets to touch you and be close to you on the regular? Nope. He's argumentative and prickly anytime they come up. By the time he figures out what his feelings are about, he'd rather chew off his own tail than ever bring it up.

🏵Wes - His flavor of jealousy tends to come from either inadequacy or possessiveness. If the person flattering you and getting too close is some idiot he works alongside, you better believe his hackles raise and he puts them in their place. If it's someone he can't immediately beat down, or if they seem ... well, better than him in some way, the jealousy quietly simmers underneath. Your initial attempts to talk it out are bust, considering the time period and his own machismo ... but he can come around once you reassure him. And wait, didn't he want this to be a casual thing? What's he getting so worked up about, anyway?

🏔Wick - When they build up, he quickly recognizes the jealous feelings in himself. It's something Wick is familiar with, and dislikes - as if it's a personal failing, and not a thing everyone goes through. Depending on how long it sticks around, he can become a little withdrawn and even unsure. It just feels so childish, but he's still glad to get some reassurances. He insists it's not necessary, but Wick still gives you that dopey, painfully affectionate smile you're used to. He's also someone who handles it maturely, and they seem to go as quickly as they come. They may linger if there's already some obstacle between you two - maybe he hasn't brought up his feelings, you're masc so he can't be as open with his affection, and so on - but he's still recognizing these negative feelings and willing to work through them.

[themaveriqueagenda]

it's trans+ history week, and i want to talk about something.

as a trans maverique, i can't relate to large parts of trans history. a lot of it, even the nonbinary parts, always refer back to the binary in some way, like being fluid between both, blending both, femme or butch as genders etc.

as someone whose gender is disconnected from all of this, i only relate to those things on a surface level, if at all.

the only person i at least somewhat relate to was a neuter person on a talk show in the late 80s. they were the only historical reference i have for being separate from the binary.

and being alienated from what's meant to be your history feels very weird. it feels like there's a void where your ancestors should be.

it feels like my experience isn't real because there's nothing in trans history i can point to and say "look, they're like me, we have always existed". and this goes way beyond just language.

feeling like you have no history feels like the people who claim that your gender was just made up on the spot 2 weeks ago were right after all.

not seeing myself represented in history also means i don't know what the lives of people like me looked like, or what they can look like now.

it raises so many questions: do we grow old? do we get to live long and happy lives? where did we find community? what did we call ourselves before "maverique" existed? were we able to exist openly, or did we only get to be ourselves in the privacy of our journals?

who are my ancestors that i can honour?

[genderqueerdykes]

what is androgyny? how do i be more androgynous?

we get this question a lot- a lot of people are curious about what being androgynous means, and what it means to present androgynously. some people believe they want to be more androgynous, but struggle with how to integrate that into their comfort zone. here are some tips and some information on what androgyny is, and how to accomplish it, from an intersex androgyne.

what is androgyny?

androgyny is a state where one's gendered behaviors, presentation, roles, and so on, feature both masculine and feminine elements at the same time. androgyny is not to be confused with total gender neutrality, or genderlessness- androgyny is often times very pointedly "both male and female", and this is the distinction between the two presentation styles and identities.

how can i be/look/present androgynous?

figure out which elements of masculinity and femininity call to you, especially, if you think androgyny, and not gender neutrality is right for you. if you like feminine clothing like skirts and 'women's' shoes, you don't have to forego wearing them just because you prefer to wear men's everything else. the point of being androgynous is to pointedly wear very feminine + masculine things at the same time.

facial + body hair with women's clothing are a wonderful combo, don't be afraid to wear bulky men's jackets, blue collar working clothes, thick flannels, and other hyper masculine clothing with tights, skirts, short shorts, body suits, leggings- creativity is the name of the game. there is no one way to be androgynous, the only goal is to combine masculinity and femininity at once. if you are seeking to gain a completely genderless appearance, you are looking for gender neutrality, not androgyny.

not all men and women dress the same, by the way, so you may just want to take the time to search and look at different men and women's clothing to see if there are different styles that appeal to you. if you are alternative, look into alternative clothing for both men and women, if you are into high fashion, combine elements from both men's and women's outfits- bulky masculine jewelry can change a look drastically, or, delicate feminine necklaces and earrings can make a statement.

have fun with the way you wear your hair. you can do literally whatever you want- try men's and women's hair cuts of all types. you will have a few you hate, but it's worth trying. if you really find that you hate shopping for shoes, you may just be shopping in the wrong gender's section. same goes for any other garment. you may naturally just find yourself wanting to combine mens and women's clothing- let yourself do that. don't feel like you "have" to dress any type of way- literally be free. break the binary in your head that outfits have to be 100% male OR female, masc OR fem

play with combining masculine and feminine names, terms, pronouns, roles, and so on. be a guy who's a wife. be a girl who's a husband, be a male girlfriend, a female boyfriend, a male mother, a female father, etc. combine gendered pronouns and use he/she or she/he together. call yourself both a boy and a girl in the same sentence. break the binary in your head that a person can only use 1 set of gendered terms at once!

drag is absolutely an option here and encouraged- please play around with drag looks. experiment with gender and go nuts with it- be over the top masculine one day and over the top femme the next. wear extremely garish, campy, ridiculous looks that highlight the enjoyable parts of your gendered presentation and have fun with it. don't be afraid of drag, drag loves androgynous ppl

what if xyz men's/women's articles of clothing, being referred to by male/female pronouns/names/etc., being seen as a man/woman make me dysphoric?

androgyny may not be for you- if you are very strongly dysphoric, and struggle with being called by the "opposite" gender's pronouns, names, etc. and struggle with wearing strongly gendered men's or women's clothing, androgyny is not for you. it's totally okay if you need to avoid things that make you dysphoric, just know that in being androgynous, you are adopting both 'male' (andro) and 'female' (gyn-) appearances, roles, presentation, and so on.

can being more androgynous help me with dysphoria?

androgyny can also help you cope with dysphoria, however, if you are in a stage of your transition where you are capable of being okay with being misgendered in a sardonic way, or are okay with seeing your agab as a separate identity, or a part of you, without invalidating your current gender. many trans people do in fact identify as both, or as a "guy who was a girl" or a "girl who was a guy," etc. it's okay if you want to play with both genders once you've lived as both for a while. it's fun. it's cool. it's sexy

how do you find out if you are androgynous/if androgyny fits you? does every androgynous person choose to be androgynous?

every person's journey is different. some of us are born like this- i am intersex and am naturally very androgynous. my body is very much 50/50 "male and female," so to speak. nature did not cleanly put me in one box or the other, i fell right between. so for me, adopting androgyny was a way of coping and healing and being myself- i did choose the labels, but i didn't choose my identity, if that makes sense. i've always been a genderfucker, personally, and i've always loved being "both", a "boygirl" a, a "he-she", a dyke AND a faggot, and so on. just be mindful that intersex people don't choose our traits, so many of us are just born like this and want to be ourselves. perisex people who choose to become androgynous are just as cool and important

if you like being a boygirl, a girlboy, a boy and a girl, a girl who's a boy and a boy who's a girl, whatever the case, you very well could be an androgynous person. the sky is the limit, but just remember that there are some basics. if you are avoiding gendered presentation, androgyny isn't right for you. but if you love combining male and female aspects of gender and being a "both", it could be right for you. good luck, take care.

[technicallyverycowboy]

playboyy: no fags, no femmes

okay, so. playboyy meta. thanks to @lugarn, @chaos0pikachu, and @cryptidafter for talking all this out with me <3

i originally started this post with "not to be that guy," but honestly, i do want to be that guy. because so much of the critique and analysis of playboyy i'm seeing is a) grounded in a lack of knowledge about queer history and aesthetics and b) veers unintentionally but wildly into unexamined homophobia.

so, given i'm going to reference susan sontag's notes on camp several times, i've decided i might as well go full queer studies major about it and copy the list style she uses. (i would highly recommend reading notes on camp. it is academic and somewhat dense, but it's a tame 13 pages)

1. so many people are confidently asserting that playboyy is not camp, regardless of what the creatives behind the show think. to which i have to ask: how are you defining camp? what things are campy to y'all?

2. the personal definition of camp that i arrived at after writing a bunch of papers about it is two-fold: camp is exaggeration, treating things that are serious casually and treating things that are casual seriously. camp is about an aesthetic of inhabiting a role, where something is a little bit off or being something that it's not meant to be.

and to be clear, this is a wildly incomplete and simplified definition, because one of the points of camp is that it's a vibe, not something concrete. It’s also something that shifts over time the relationship between queerness and society changes.

2a. camp often intersects and overlaps with surrealism, like in rocky horror picture show. very often media that is campy exits the mundane world and enters a heightened world of exaggeration and stylization. 

3. so, is playboyy campy? i sure as hell think it is. i think lugarn and chaos0pikachu both made really good points about the campiness of playboyy and it being specifically sexwork camp. (both replies are at that link.)

4. a brief list of things that specifically resonated as campy to me: first throwing american dollars in the pool for soong to catch, zouey's fantasy of feeling up teena in art class, every single element of nant's room (especially the projected images), captain's sports plot that involved zero doing the sport and 100% fucking and fantasy, the softly romantic framing of nuth and phob's sex scenes, jump's pleather tank top & coverall combination, prom wearing assless chaps to a rooftop party at 2:30 in the afternoon, the entire concept of investigating a disappearance via a themed party... i could go on and on, but i said this was brief.

5. i think the actual problem a lot of people have with playboyy is that it doesn't care about straight people.

6. what i mean by that is that playboyy is not a universal story. you could not plug different characters with different sexualities into the plot and preserve the essence of the story. the gayness of the characters is integral to the plot. the sex work is integral to the plot. this is not a world where homophobia doesn't exist and being gay is just like being straight.

7. additionally, these characters are all performing gender in a specifically queer way. they are femmes and fags, they are obvious, they are clockable, they're visible. when nice gays talk about the people who are giving gays a bad reputation and making it harder for everyone (to assimilate into heteropatriarchy) they're talking about playboyy gays.

8. comparing playboyy to only friends is low hanging fruit at this point, but i would argue that the reason boston stood out in that cast and was so viciously punished by the ending is because he was a fag stuck in a nice gays narrative.

9. and this is where the fandom homophobia comes in. so, so many people describe these characters and chaotic and messy, watchable as incoherent and vaguely amusing from a distance, but without real substance. the resulting narrative is often that no one could take their characters or their stories seriously or resonate with them.

10. again, why? why was ray and sand's high and low, blow up fights, calling each other whores relatable but soong and first's miscommunications about what they mean to each other unbelievable chaos? why is white taking black's place an acceptable plot point, but nont pretending to be nant is absurd?

11. most bls do not deal with flamboyance except in limited capacities by comedic side characters. flamboyance is a baseline trait for most of the playboyy characters. so if they feel too much, too loud, too out there, consider asking yourself why they do.

12. to a large extent, i think a lot of the criticism of playboyy is rooted in a bad faith refusal to engage with the show beyond a surface level pearl clutching about the sexual content. the unspoken belief here being that sex scenes are inherently vulgar distractions. they can't be integral to characters or their relationships. they can't be vital pieces of a narrative.

to which i say, there are nine thousand other BLs out there where the kissing is chaste and sex scenes are ~tastefully abstracted shots of shoulder blades and hands. watch those instead.

13. if you decide you want to watch it anyway, take a couple minutes to examine what parts of the show make you uncomfortable and why. and to be clear, i think there’s a lot of value in watching things that make you uncomfortable; media is often one of the best ways to dip into interrogating your emotional responses from a safe distance. 

but don’t use discomfort to dismiss the possibility that there’s meaningful artistic and stylistic choices made to serve a meaningful narrative. take a second to sit with your reactions and ask yourself where it’s coming from. 

[crippleprophet]

Is it okay for people with agoraphobia to look and take some of the advice you have for housebound people on here? I'm not really great at picking up nuance so I'm worried that it'd be crossing some boundary or that it's not the intention of the tag

that’s completely okay, i appreciate your desire to be respectful even though i’m sorry you were concerned! i absolutely consider folks with agoraphobia my comrades + community members and i’d be super honored if anything i’ve shared is helpful (+ am always interested in hearing what that was if you’re comfortable!) the rest of this is not anything you need to answer your question, just thoughts i’ve been having on the subject

i haven’t had the opportunity to talk to enough homebound [due to chronic illness / “physical” reasons] people to know if this is a common experience but for me i’ve noticed that similar to chronic illness often carrying depression with it, since becoming homebound i’ve become terrified of leaving the house.

this is definitely influenced by the fact that it’s untenably painful, my photosensitivity (in the UV sense not the epilepsy sense), the ongoing pandemic, the fact that i only left the house to go to the doctor for over a year & i’m afraid of the doctors appointment itself due to medical trauma, etc etc but like. there’s also the very strong pull of habit – i’m an incredibly obsessive & ritualistic person – and what Goffman refers to as “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people sheltering from a hostile society, a phrase i read in undergrad 5 1/2 years ago that’s stuck with me ever since for how profoundly it resonates.

i’m not trying to say these are necessarily your or any other person with agoraphobia’s feelings & experiences, more to illustrate how the liberation of all homebound people & shut-ins & hermits is bound up together; any sanist strategy for oppressing agoraphobes can easily be leveraged against me, not least because as a severely underdiagnosed person, the medical establishment does not think there is any “legitimate” “physical” reason for me to be homebound. to respond to this oppression by arguing it’s inapplicable because i’m not crazy would be untrue + a cruel act of lateral violence.

i’ve been reading a lot of butch/femme history recently (i post about that on my main @campgender; followers age 18+ only please) & have found myself entirely reconfiguring my understanding of the queer art of isolation, the incredible ability of our ancestors to hunker down & survive under circumstances unimaginable to the average person. i absolutely don’t want to deny the deep pain – not only the aspects i experience but also the heightened isolation of people without or before internet access + the ways these circumstances / forms of oppression can foster abuse –

but my god, so many 50s butches didn’t leave their homes during daylight hours for years in order to not be hate crimed for their gender presentation, & that’s the folks who were making it to the bars. so many others – “discreet” couples who didn’t want to risk being outed by engaging in queer community; people assigned female who “passed” as men & their partners; butch sex workers & other people with identities perceived as contradictory or unacceptable – existed marginalized by both queer & normative communities.

every time i think substantially about homeboundedness i always get tracy chapman’s “subcity” stuck in my head. obviously my access to housing period is a huge position of privilege, & i’m in the most economically secure position of my adult life so far; the abjection i experience is nowhere near the scale of people in the position of the speaker of the song, who’s implied to be street homeless. but the line “people say it doesn’t exist ‘cause no one would like to admit that there is a city underground” is such a succinct & accurate depiction of living the kind of life society tries to convince itself is impossible. but there truly is a rich genealogy of homeboundedness especially in queer history.

again i hope some of my posts & such are helpful / resonant! wishing you all the best 💓💓

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

(PART I.)

Pairing: Roommate!Harry // Nameless 1st-Person Femme Protagonist

Word Count: ~ 12k words

‼️Mature/18+‼️

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Lots of Flirting, Pining, Love/Hate Dynamic, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Body Objectification (M & F), References to Masturbation (F), Mentions of Body-Type Biases, Alcohol Consumption (Legal & Responsible Drinking), References to Ovulation & Implications to Breeding

**ANY & ALL IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE**

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Weeknights deserve more credit. For many of us, it’s the peaceful resolution to our day. It’s the time when we come home after being excused from our lectures or meetings, or when we clock-out at the end of our shifts. We’ll safely make it back to our comfort zones and our open time slot can be occupied with whatever we want. Those few free hours are sacred. They give adults a necessary recharge. Personally, I share my humble homestead with an egotistical, British businessman—Harry Styles.

Harry was employed as a marketing executive for a unisex fashion brand located in Portland, Oregon. ‘Vol. 6’ started out as a small business, and had recently made waves in the industry with its diverse designs and overall style inclusivity. The company’s roots were planted by a few local, starving artists who set up an online shop with the most modest of intentions. The amateurs were blindsided by how their ideas blew up in overwhelming popularity via the internet. It was like winning the lottery. They eventually accumulated so many orders that they needed to expand their operations—hiring an A-team of designers, tailors, and legal professionals(for copyright purposes, of course). International sweatshops and inhumane labor conditions were far from what Vol. 6 sought to create. And so they stayed in Portland—keeping their focus upon ensuring exceptional product quality, as well as enforcing flexible, comfortable, and progressive working environments for its employees. Although an underdog in the fashion scene, Vol. 6’s excellent reputation continued to soar without a hitch. It turns out that a cohesive process of structured business management and clever marketing can be achieved without sacrificing empathy, creativity, realness, or substance. The only disadvantage is the limited supply of merchandise whilst there’s a metastasizing demand. It’s not like this kind of business structure is rare. High-status designer brands have been known to keep their stock low—or at least that’s what they say—for their popular items to seem more valuable and special. As an operation that works against those capitalist games, Vol. 6 values employee and customer satisfaction over profit. The company’s active attention and true kindness are what separates them from the rest.

So, as I mentioned before, Harry is a part of Vol. 6’s marketing team. He often collaborates with the designing team when he’s working on new promotions or adverts. Creative cohesiveness is essential to successful marketing. Hence why Harry and Mitch became close friends as they had consistently developed ads together for a couple of years.

Some have referred to the boys as yin and yang. One of the two tended to present himself as intimidating and pretentious, whilst the other was comparatively quite mild and personable. It was a mystery how these men befriended one another instead of becoming enemies. Harry was the type that wanted to complete tasks his way, and his way only. In total contrast, Mitch liked spontaneity—preferring to ‘go with the flow’ rather than planning ahead. That method of living was despised by Harry. He was set in his ways. It didn’t make sense to him how his friend could act so unbothered by the world’s chaos. Maybe it was just his hot temper, or maybe it was the way his natural responses to conflict were either instigating a verbal quarrel or using bitter humor as a defense mechanism…but Harry just wasn’t a people person. Mitch had thankfully brought him out of his comfort zone a few times—reminding Harry of his university days when his mates had turned him into a womanizer. The results, however, differed from those times due to Harry developing a bleeding heart as he progressed through his twenties. He was open to new experiences and fun banter with strangers as long as Mitch accompanied him. And so they became somewhat of a package-deal. Well, at least that had been the case before Mitch started dating Sarah Jones.

Harry had nothing to dislike about Mitch’s girlfriend. They got along just fine. However, Mitch became less and less available to Harry outside of work…Which meant Harry wasn’t going out much, and that was his issue. Of course he was happy for his friend—Mitch was supportive of him when he was in a serious relationship a few years back. There was no reason for Harry to be bitter. I personally believe he was just lamenting; that he was struggling to accept the fact that life would no longer be the same as it was. He looked back to when he was working towards a degree and reminisced about how he felt more socially fulfilled from living with, and eventually befriending, complete strangers. Those college memories had been the stepping stones of Harry’s development into true adulthood. He had no intention to ever stop growing and improving as a man. Thus why Harry sought to make a big lifestyle change in order to work towards branching out on his own accord. No more was he to reside in a bachelor-pad apartment with a shitty landlord who had never fixed the rattling air-conditioner. He was going to move somewhere more permanent. A place where he could enter his thirties as successful, single, and not lonely. A housemate would solidify the latter.

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Having met him briefly a few times, Sarah recognized a few of Harry’s traits as noticeably familiar. She knew someone personally with identical mood swings, a goofy laugh, and an annoyingly specific taste regarding every little thing. The combination of resemblances felt bizarre to witness up close. She felt like Harry had been performing as some sort of parody—speaking in hyperboles and absolutes as a joke. But she soon realized she was wrong and that he was just like that. Reacting emotionally was actually his genuine response to any sort of change. Sure, she’d interacted with the moody type before. She’d also certainly met plenty of picky control-freaks. Only, the person Harry reminded her of was unique in that she was entertainingly campy, yet sincerely empathetic; and Harry was the same. That person who’d come to her mind was me. And as soon as Sarah heard the news that Harry was looking for a roommate, her ears perked up and she reached out to me immediately.

But I guess I should probably explain the origin story of Harry and me, together, in more detail…here, I’ll start over:

My introduction to Harry was when a friend of mine, Sarah, gave me the news that her boyfriend’s officemate, Harry, was looking to lease a new place. The house was located in a nice suburban area just outside of Portland. Seeing that the neighborhood had been on the upscale side, he wanted to find a roommate to split the pricey rent with. Me, working full time and desperately seeking a replacement for living with my parents, saw this as the golden opportunity to finally have true independence. My initial excitement almost deterred me from wondering whether this ‘Harry’ dude was decent, or reliable, or if he was just some complete prick. I’d never met the guy. I didn’t know a single thing about him besides his name, and yet I’d already begun to mentally pack my bags. I still should’ve had more reservations about it. But then again, I was already aware of how uncomfortable living with a complete stranger was—thanks to college life in the U.S., of course. Also, Sarah’s boyfriend, Mitch, was (and still is) a respectable guy and I was sure he’d only surround himself with people of the like…logically speaking. After all, he was my closest friend’s boyfriend. If Harry stepped on my toes even once, Mitch would endure a hurricane of wrath from my Sarah.

The added layer of safety provided by my best friend’s loyalty was comforting. But this was still a gigantic step for me as a young adult. I’d be actually moving out of my parents’ house entirely for the first time ever. You could say I was blissfully naive of what challenges and obstacles my future held. Apart from all my idealistic daydreaming, I couldn’t help seeking a clearer picture of who Harry actually was (literally and figuratively).

Sarah had given me a basic description:

“He’s a sweet guy. But he tends to act kind of… ambiguous at times? His vibes go back and forth, you know? Kind of unpredictable. Hot ‘n cold…” she trailed on.

Ok. That obviously required significant elaboration—of which she’d eventually come around to providing after I sang the classic Katy Perry lyrics she’d unintentionally referenced.

“…Yeah, yeah, yeah…” She dismissed me, my sing-songy tangent coming to a giggly close.

“…But I’m serious—Mitch has told me all about Harry’s passive narcissism and how much of a stubborn grump he can be…I don’t know, maybe it’s a British thing. A stereotype, I know; but he switches from sarcastic to compassionate on the flip of a dime…” Sarah rambled.

I squinted at her and shook my head in disbelief. This was starting to sound a little sketchy. A grumpy, moody, narcissist? Awesome.

“Psh, so he’s a crabby geriatric divorceé? Wonderful…It’s no wonder he’s got that old-timey name, to boot. The guy just needs a caretaker…also, why would Volume 6 hire an old dude to handle their marketing campaigns..?” I joked.

Sarah shook her head and laughed as if I’d just said something utterly ridiculous.

“HA! Oh, god…I’ll have to remember to tell Mitch all of what you just said.” Sarah wheezed, entertained by my very false assumptions of Harry.

I blinked at her, not understanding why she found what I said so funny.

“…You have it all wrong, babe. He moved here from the UK, like, 10 years ago I think? Mitch said he hopped around from LA to New York City, then from New York to…um, well…to here, in sweet ole Portlandia.” She concluded.

As a young woman in her early-twenties, I wasn’t very enthusiastic about this living arrangement coming to life.

The look on my face must have revealed my doubts because my friend chuckled, waving her hands around for emphasis, and quickly clearing the air for me.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Before you tune out—He’s in his late 20’s! Just realizing how weird that sounded…Yeesh, I’d never let you live with some stinky, old, Englishman, you dummy!”

Phew…That sounded much better. It wouldn’t be too different from living with my older brother, then. But that one word, ‘ambiguous��—it wouldn’t leave my mind. Adjectives like that just leave too much to the imagination…well, to mine, anyway. What was Harry being all ambiguous about? My overzealous curiosity pushed me to spiral, conjuring up whatever dirty secrets that would be instant deal-breakers for me…

Did he smoke inside? Did he hate cats? Dogs? Or worse, was he the leader of some creepy murder cult? And if so, would he reserve our living room for their weekly meetings?!

...Would I be spared as a sacrifice because of my not-so-virgin blood?

Was he a fratty douchebag who peaked in college and succumbed to alcoholism?

Was he the type who’d refuse to be my roommate once he saw that I wasn’t a size-00? Would he feel catfished and tell me I looked “bigger in person?” …Not like that sort of thing really mattered to me—I’d just heard that before from a few guys around his age who were surely expecting to be faced with some petite porcelain doll…

Anyway, I guess I just hoped he’d be direct enough to tell me…you know…anything worth mentioning before I’d officially become his roommate. For all I knew, he was probably just a snobby little brat with an annoying, pompous accent.

Amidst my internal ramblings, Sarah added that Harry was a perfectionist.

So, I was right—he was a brat.

I wanted to stay positive, though. Maybe he was just a neat freak, and that’s what Sarah was implying. I mean, that didn’t sound too intolerable, right? And if he was moody, maybe he’d just keep to himself most of the time. I was perfectly fine with that. I tended to keep to myself most of the time, too...though, I never thought of myself as that moody…

Whoever he was, I just crossed my fingers that he wouldn’t have any attitude similarities to Simon Cowell. Just imagining that possibility made my head hurt and my self-confidence plummet. Whatever. That was probably unlikely, right?

Nonetheless, I was desperate for answers. Sarah just shrugged at me and told me to look him up myself if I wanted to know more. And so, I went to work.

Who was Harry Styles? Aye, that was the question…sorry, I’ll continue:

Doing some basic Googling, it seemed that Harry was at least somewhat active on social media…enough that he wasn’t untraceable, at least. This was one of those (very)few times where I was legitimately grateful for the existence of online social platforms. I scrolled and scrolled, and clicked, and scrolled some more…for probably 3 solid hours. Daylight had actually run out by the time I’d realized how badly my corneas were stinging. I’d looked at myself in the black reflection of my phone and could see the popped blood vessels in the whites of my eyes. At least I found what I was searching for.

Luckily for me, his—albeit, ancient—Facebook page looked genuine and free of any red flags. To my dismay, I had to send a friend request and a follow request to his socials in order to actually have access to the profiles. Did that make it obvious that I was in the middle of e-stalking him? Quite likely, yes…But I’d let my excitement and curiosity overtake my sense of self-preservation that night. Tiptoeing around so I could naturally stumble across a morsel of information would’ve been agonizing. My main objective was more important to me than playing mind games with that stranger, Mister Harry Styles. I wanted so badly to free myself from the confines of my childhood home, regardless. Ugh! I was the only one in my friend group who still lived with their parents, and the lack of privacy only weighed heavier on me as time progressed. My dear friend, Sarah, kindly gifted me my long-awaited chance at freedom by sending Harry’s offer my way, and I wanted to run with it.

Yes, I may have been diving face-first into a serious commitment with a complete stranger. Sure, I’ve never lived with a man who wasn’t related to me. And, yeah, I was nervous that this guy was going to reject me because I was younger, eager, and…kinda on the chubby side, to be honest. I know, I know…

My size shouldn’t matter, I knew that, and I still know that. It never truly matters. I knew my situation wasn’t the same as meeting a lousy Tinder date or whatever, but I felt paranoid regardless. All sorts of men have burned me in the past with their shallowness, so I wasn’t about to hold onto a false guise of confidence just for my big break to disappoint me in the end. The age difference felt somewhat significant on top of that. I’d been made aware that Harry was a few years my senior, but it didn't bother me. I hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either…that, and everything else about me, of course…I just had to wait and see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He accepted my friend/follow requests immediately, and I dove head-first into research (lowkey-stalker) mode. From awkward prom photos and blurry, live music performances, the innocence of his Facebook profile finally put my worries at ease. His most recent profile picture was of him, his mother, and his sister. The candid, selfie-style photo successfully pulled a smile out of me. It’s not a secret that there are wolves in sheep’s clothing out there. But my gut assured me he was safe—that he was a decent guy. The back and forth comments on those family photos were friendly enough for me to assume a close bond between the two siblings, especially. My cheeks started to ache from my incessant smiling and giggling. The pictures were just so cute, I had to message Sarah about it.

[Text Messages]

Me: stfu this guy is adorable 😫

Sarah: HA I’ll have Mitch let him know u think so 😏 ❤️

Me: Oh my god, fr pls don’t

Sarah: Too late 😉

Me: Alrighty 🙂 Brb…gonna go play in traffic 🤪

Sarah: Ur such a drama queen lol

Me: Yep, that’s me 😚

Sarah: xoxo 😘💋

** one week later **

Sarah told me Harry was a bit different than the way he seemed in those family photos. She said he had tattoos and that he was a total frat boy at heart. All shyness aside, “…his true colors shine their brightest when he’s riled up…I’ve seen it. Little crabby pants man-child.” It was safe to say that Sarah was explicitly giving me a warning for Harry’s hot temper. I looked past it at the time because–as a sensitive crybaby myself–I assumed he was just in-tune with his emotions. I saw nothing wrong with that. I actually found it to be quite refreshing. A handsome man who isn’t an emotionless narcissist or a bird-brained himbo? Sounded pretty exciting to me! I looked forward to possibly cohabitating with someone who had a solid connection to their empathetic side.

Also, basically everyone and their mom has a tattoo or a sleeve. Harry wasn’t different or special in that way to me at all. I completely shrugged it off. Who cared? Still curious as all hell, I scrolled around for a link to his Instagram. The link was right there on his Facebook profile.

Nice.

This is just too easy, I thought. I’ve got all this information on this man at my fucking fingertips.

Wow wow wow wow…

So, uh…Needless to say, Harry presented himself as a little less, um…well, I definitely wouldn’t have pegged him as a “mama’s-boy.” I mean, it wasn’t like he was unrecognizably different or anything. Sarah’s depiction of him, although vague, was right on the nose. All of this was meant for research purposes only. But it was objectively true that he was insanely gorgeous. It was just a fact. Pretending like Harry was average in attractiveness…I mean, why would I do that? Why would I lie to myself when the man was just an innocent sight for my sore eyes? That’s all he was…he was cute. Handsome. Adorable. It was as simple as that. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stop coming back to his Instagram time and time again. No matter how paranoid I’d been about accidentally liking a post from like…5 years ago…I still kept clicking on his profile for more.

He had a few videos of him working out—pull ups, bench presses, deadlifts—all of which featured a very sweaty, and very shirtless Harry.

He also had a few group shots with friends. Sometimes there would be a picture of him with his mom or his sister.

The latest posts revealed his plethora of tattoos to my unexpecting eyes. It was obvious that he knew he was attractive. He knew he wasn’t some average Joe. And I swear he had to have known I was looking. Surely he was looking at mine, too. But I was quite conservative and innocent on my instagram profile—similar to the way he looked on his Facebook. I had to admit, the general vibe of this virtual scrapbook was indeed leaning on the fratty side. Sarah was right. He also seemed aloof in some ways. It looked like he preferred small gatherings to larger ones. He didn’t post very often, and it was hardly ever him who’d be taking photos of himself. Someone else would capture Harry’s beauty.

The contrast between the two online profiles distracted the hell out of me. Specifically, I found myself gawking at him in his sweaty workout videos. His defined shoulder muscles quickly caught my attention, my gaze drifting across the defined blades until I ventured lower. The butterfly on his abdomen was both creepy and beautiful. It reminded me of the moth from Silence of the Lambs. Its wings glistened with a layer of moisture as he pulled himself up and down on the steel bar. Beads of sweat made his chestnut curls cling damply to his skin. I salivated watching this man strain and flex continuously; and I felt myself arch my back while I sat, pressing and grinding my clothed core against my mattress.

Jesus…What was happening to me?!

So, uh…the truth is…I thought Harry was really fucking hot. There was no point in lying about it. His hair just looked so soft and silky, and I wanted to run my fingers through it. I wanted to pull at it. I wanted to slide my soapy hands across the art on his body under a steaming hot shower. I wanted to kiss my way down until I was met with what I was 10000% convinced would stand a girthy, 7-inch masterpiece. Oddly specific, I know. But it was obvious he had a gorgeous dick to compliment the rest of him. He just had this vibe—this aura about him. It’s hard to explain. What was worse was how it seemed as if he knew he exuded that ‘big-dick energy,’ too.

So why 7 inches? Well, the dildo I’d been using for a while was about 6 inches—which was very nice, don’t get me wrong. But it just didn’t quite fill me…completely. And so I’d begun to fantasize about how Harry could stuff my holes instead. Fantasy Harry was a motherfucking dreamboat, let me tell ya. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about him—from carrying heavy boxes into the house and helping me unpack, to flat-out forcing me onto all fours, spanking my ass, and fucking me to tears. The fantasies only evolved over time, no matter how hard I tried to push those perverse thoughts away…but to be honest, I didn’t want to…

Nevermind his admittance of vanity, he still had a gentleness about him…hiding somewhere beyond those pale, teal eyes. Or maybe it was my overwhelming attraction to him that cast a rosy hue to how I perceived his character. I guess that was possible. However, I tended to have a good radar for these sorts of things—people, I mean. Harry made me feel excited, secure, comfortable, and very horny. I had no intentions of backing out from signing that lease, and I decided it was time to officially confirm that with him.

My addiction had only worsened from there. I’d begun to shamelessly use his posts as some sort of spank bank for my regular sessions of alone time. My body reacted quite positively to the change in routine. I couldn’t get too into it, though, as I hardly ever had the house to myself. That was one reason why I wanted out of there. Of course, I was still able to have my fun; I just needed to keep quiet. But fucking myself to Harry made staying quiet extremely difficult. It was like masturbating on Hard Mode. I was constantly hyper aware of how I handled my phone with my one free hand—so as to not double-tap. Then there were some photos of him where I’d pinch and zoom in closer, straining my eyes to see if I could make out the outline of his bulge. He wore black athletic shorts a lot of the time, so he was usually protected by the camouflage of the dark fabric. In one of his weight-lifting videos, though, he brought the bar up from the floor up to his knees, then slid it up just below his hips, and—oh my god. The metal pressed so closely to the tops of his thighs that he had his whole package propped up. His shorts tightened perfectly around him. It was so subtle, most people would probably miss it upon first glance. But I didn’t. I saw it. And now I can’t unsee it.

Oh…but he wouldn’t post him with a…or would he…?

Ugh, that cocky little smirk…Fucking asshole.

I hated him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, I felt really dirty for thinking about my new roommate like that.

Oh, yeah…Sorry, uh, I forgot to mention: the two of us had e-signed the lease. I know, I know…but I needed to take the offer! How could I pass up the chance to 1.) move out of my parents’ house, and 2.) move in with a sexy, brooding, successful British man whom I could trust because he was a mutual friend AND…I honestly loved the house. It was old, but not broken or in shambles. The floors were amber hardwood, and the whole house was finished with matching carved, wooden railings and accent wall paneling. Having recently been remodeled, the kitchen was in excellent shape. Appliances were updated. The property was managed by an association which handled the lawn, utilities, and small, miscellaneous amenities. We had our own driveway, a connected two-car garage, and our mailbox was labeled with both of our last names.

The charming little cottage condo was now officially, and contractually, mine and Harry’s. I was ecstatic about it, honestly. We still hadn’t met in person yet, which I knew wasn't the smartest approach, but we’d at least chatted a bit over text and shared some friendly phone calls. His voice was insanely sexy, might I add. I knew he was from the UK, as per Sarah, and so of course I was expecting to be greeted with that accent. What I was not expecting was this slow, deep…rough…

Eek, sorry—um, I wasn’t expecting a voice like that to come out of the speaker, that’s all. Dare I say it, he actually sounded nervous to talk to me on that first call. He’d stutter his words whenever I posed a question, and I could practically hear his boyish smile through my phone. It also took forever for him to end our calls—our goodbyes resembling the never-ending midwestern kind that I was unfortunately very familiar with. They didn’t feel nearly as painful or awkward, though. Listening to his accented mumbles on the other line released a flutter of butterflies in my belly.

I later learned that Harry had performed his own research on me. The only difference was that he’d done most of it a week or so before we’d e-signed the lease together.

It was simple. At work, Mitch mentioned me in a conversation regarding the house Harry had his eye on. He was interested the moment my name was suggested, a gut-feeling making him latch onto me. Once he’d discovered my online profiles by searching through Mitch’s mutuals, his infatuation with me soared. He had a juvenile crush on me from the get-go.

Feeling 17 again, Harry would look for openings in their casual discussions so that he could bring me up. Mitch, being a good sport, spent day after day playing his role as the messenger between the 4 of us. He wished Sarah had just given Harry my phone number straight away instead. If she did, Mitch would’ve been able to eat his lunches in peace. Not only did Mitch lack the answers to those questions, but he’d also only interacted with me a handful of times. He struggled to provide Harry with even the barebones descriptions. How was he supposed to know whether I was a morning or a night person, or what my thermostat preference was, or which days I did my laundry, or how often I had guests over? My private social media accounts offered better information about me than that of the fleeting memories my best friend’s boyfriend stored in his brain.

Harry intended to use somewhat of a surreptitious approach to voicing his curiosity to Mitch. But his sly efforts were useless, as Mitch caught onto his scheme quite easily. There wasn’t anything indicating to me that he was interested in me in any way. Well, not until Sarah let it slip that Harry couldn’t keep my name out of his mouth whenever he spoke to Mitch. But I thought he was just curious…I mean, I was a random, younger woman whom he was going to be living with. It made sense to me that he wanted to know so much about me. I was just as curious.

Casual lunch conversations between the two men had begun to form a particular pattern of redirection. At first, Mitch thought Harry was simply just eager to send in his deposit before anyone else could. The rent cost was a steal for how nice the house was and for the lovely neighborhood it was in. However, he knew all this enthusiasm was directed towards me, in particular, when Harry’s eyes were perma-glued to his screen whilst scrolling through my photos. I didn’t really have that much to scroll through, but apparently Harry spent enough time staring at each individual picture that one may have assumed I had an endless gallery. He’d even taken the liberty of digging further and eventually found my LinkedIn page. I remember how the week before our first phone call, I’d gotten a notification from LinkedIn telling me that someone viewed my profile…I didn't even know why I kept the app on my phone since I was content with my current job. Nevertheless, Harry’s investigation wasn’t as covert as he’d hoped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was scrolling around on my LinkedIn profile in the Vol. 6 breakroom. Without thinking, he outwardly deduced to Mitch, “She must be the commitment type,” referring to my short, yet impressive résumé. He promptly followed up his inference by chiming,“She’s lookin’ for something’ serious then, hm?”

As soon as the words escaped his lips, Harry’s nonchalance disappeared.

Mitch stopped in his tracks as Harry decided to drag the comment out further.

“I-I mean, like, for a serious living arrangement, y’know?” Harry squeaked.

Mitch cringed in discomfort as the cracking of Harry’s voice pierced his eardrums. To the man’s dismay, his friend didn’t know how to shut his mouth.

“…Some people can be quite fickle ‘bout it, yeah? And what, she’s 24? Surely she’s been disappointed by dozens of pricks by now. Must be dying for someone she can actually rely on, dontcha think?”

Mitch pursed his lips and half-heartedly agreed, “Mhm, probably sick of the fear-of-commitment type.”

Harry nodded and pulled at his lip with his thumb and forefinger. He then continued to ramble on.

“Now tha’ I’m edging on 30…I dunno…’guess I’m just looking—” He paused to clear his throat and scratch his nose with his knuckle. He looked considerably anxious. “—looking forward to, uh, commitments, and all tha’.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed towards his friend who kept fidgeting with his hands on top of the table and dodging all eye contact. He found Harry’s clumsiness entertaining. He wanted to see how long he could get him to chase his tail. Instigating, Mitch said,“Yeah…So, uh, did you find anything else interesting about her?”

Harry lifted his head up to meet with the other man’s suspecting stare.

“Huh? Well, y-yes, definitely! ‘Course I did. She, uh…well, she’s—”

“—She’s a pretty girl…yeah, H?” Mitch interrupted, cutting him off from his stuttering. Harry swallowed dryly in response. At that point, it seemed to him that Mitch had finally picked up on his crush.

“Uhm, yeah…yeah, I think she is. Quite lovely, now that y’mention it.” His eyes blinked down at the zoomed image of me in a bridesmaid’s dress displayed on his clutched phone screen. Mitch patted Harry’s shoulder, heartily laughing at the glassy-eyed brunette in front of him.

Except, Harry wasn’t laughing. The shells of his ears turned red hot and his knee bobbed awkwardly under the table, unintentionally knocking on the hard surface a few times.

“Ah! Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, holding his nervous knee down.

“Harry, it’s ok if you have a lil crush on her...” Mitch assured him. Harry gnawed on the inside of his lip as Mitch kept on. “…God, y’know, I haven’t seen you down this bad since…well, since Cam, I think...”

Harry gulped at the mention of the woman’s name…the woman who broke his heart several years earlier. His discomfort with the subject was apparent to his friend who then swiftly rephrased. “Shit…Sorry…I just mean, like, you’ve got heart-eyes for a girl you’ve never even met. You don’t know her. She doesn’t know you…”

Harry stayed silent.

“…Honestly, I’m surprised. ‘Used to you always going for the Barbie-type. It’s nice to see you’re, uh, broadening your horizons, hm?” He smirked and drew an exaggerated hourglass in the air with his hands.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and got defensive at the suggestive implication. “Besides having dated all women, I’ve never had a type, Mitchell.” He scoffed. “And another thing—” Harry quipped, his pupils swallowing the soft green of his irises. Mitch, unintimidated, seemed quite amused by his friend’s sensitive temper.

“—You shouldn’t talk about her like tha’. Inn’ she close with Sarah?! That’s your girlfriend’s best friend. ‘S fucked up.”

Mitch nodded in agreement with a dismissing chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sarah’s known her for years, but I was just messing with you, man. Relax.”

The men were quiet for a few moments before Mitch sent a warning Harry’s way.“Don’t fuck around with her, ok? ‘less you’re looking to mop up the poor girl’s tears every day. You’re signing a 3-year lease, remember? Try not to think with the wrong head.”

Harry glared at Mitch.

Wha—mopping up tears?! That’s a bit dramatic…

Contrary to Mitch’s assumptions, Harry wasn’t planning to create an uncomfortable living space. That’s the last thing he wanted. Sure, he was attracted to me and felt little butterflies fluttering in his belly when he read my posts and my texts. So what?! That’s his business if he had a teeny tiny crush on his potential housemate. It felt like Mitch was deliberately egging him on, and that’s precisely how the conversation escalated.

“What—? What are you going on about?” His voice strained to release the words. Mitch was done beating around the bush—he realized how the aftermath of Harry’s pursuit of me could end with lots of crying on my part; and worst of all, a very angry Sarah Jones. He wanted to avoid that outcome as much as possible.

“H, you’re stalking her Facebook and shit—”

“—Oi! ’S not like tha’! I just wanna know who I’m asking to move in w’me!”

“Ok, well I’m pretty sure you don’t keep looking through all her photos because you wanna know how good she is about washing the dishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” Harry huffed. “…’Sides, you know it takes me a bit to get comfortable with people. Not to mention, I've never had a bloody roommate befo’, either.”

He was telling the truth—omitting some personal details in the process, but that didn’t matter. Not to Harry, at least. He knew Mitch was terrible at keeping secrets and that Sarah would be in the know before he could even finish a confession. There was no way he was going to risk jeopardizing such a safe and pleasant option with sharing his feelings so soon.

“Okay…” Mitch trails off. The air in the room was still and it made him uneasy. Harry scratched the shadow of stubble adorning his jaw. His impulsive mouth thankfully filled the silence that was suffocating them previously. As grown men and friends, the boys seemed to act like stubborn adolescents when it came to women—specifically, when it came to Harry and women.

“Um…so, you said you’ve met her before, yeah?” Harry couldn’t let it go.

Mitch drank from his water bottle and gave Harry the thumb’s up with his free hand.

“Then uh, why don’t you tell me ‘bout her? Like…Wha’s she like in person…?” Mitch took a deep breath and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin mockingly. It was like Mitch was searching for ways to further tease Harry about his crush. Harry chose to ignore it this time.

Despite lacking approval in Harry’s newfound love-interest, Mitch offered him his honest knowledge anyway.“Hmm…well, I first met her at Sarah’s birthday party a few years back…She was nice, just a little on the quiet side. Seemed like she was holding herself back in that way, you know?”

The sincerity of his recollection shocked Harry. He was expecting to be turned down or mocked once again—he was even planning in his head what to send me via DM to further get to know me, assuming Mitch would’ve ended the conversation by that point. Luckily, he was mistaken.

“I remember her, like, tearing up at a picture of Lexi’s daughter. I thought that was a bit dramatic—the crying, I mean—but, I guess she hadn’t seen Lexi and her baby in almost a year or something..? I dunno…”

Harry frowned, empathizing with my reaction. It broke his heart whenever he couldn’t see his godchildren for long stretches of time, too. Mitch then tapped his fingertips against the table, traveling deeper into his memory to provide more details for Harry.

“…I’d say she’s sensitive in general, though. Sar told me how she’s always the one crying at movies, crying’ in arguments…cries whenever she sees a cat video on TikTok. Kind of a hot-mess, if you ask me…”

Harry’s lips twitched into a smile imagining my expressive emotions.

“...OH!” Mitch clapped his hands and chuckled before proceeding.

“She’s got this laugh that’s, uh, it’s like low-key really loud. Like, sometimes it’ll be this crazy wheeze and then, right away, she’s as red as a fuckin’ tomato. Sarah thinks it’s hilarious and they’ll basically laugh at each other for an hour. But yeah, you can tell she gets all weird and embarrassed after she laughs, though—and she apologizes for everything, all the time. Always sayin’ sorry when she literally didn’t do anything. I swear, dude…Someone could knock her onto her ass and she’d be the one to apologize. Wait, I think she’s from somewhere in the Midwest—like the northern nicey-nice states, y’know, so maybe it’s that? I’m not sure.”

“That’s…kinda cute.” Harry mumbled, his cheeks turning rosy.

Mitch grinned. “Oh, you think so?” A pink hue then washed over Harry’s skin entirely and he bashfully ran his hand through his loose curls. “Yeah, she seems quite lovely—I mean…”Harry stumbled over his admiration, trying his best to sound cool and detached. He failed miserably.

“…I-I dunno…Jus’ forget it.” He then buried his face in his hands, shamefully admitting defeat.

Mitch rolled his eyes and chuckled at his lovelorn friend. He guessed Harry was only randomly feeling things for me because he’s lived in a bachelor’s paradise for too long. It was also a known fact that he’d only have short flings once every blue moon. Those flings have become fewer and farther between as of late. Romance and commitment weren’t really Harry’s forte.

It’s not that he didn’t want a partner, but that he viewed the whole relationship-building process to be strenuous and stressful. Life and work were already difficult enough to balance. And so, for the past few years, Harry let himself be completely occupied by his job at Vol. 6. The go-to excuse to his friends (and especially his mother) for not settling down yet was that he carried a heavy workload, and he didn’t want to be an absent partner because of it. He’d end those conversations with a snippy “‘S as simple as that” phrase.

Even so, Harry was praying to God in the privacy of his lonely bedroom that he’d have the chance to settle down soon. All his adult life, he’d aspired to meet ‘the one’ and for him to give that one all his love and all his babies—a hopeless, hungry romantic Harry was. Dreams like these passed through his subconscious more frequently the more he aged. The British businessman was famished, desperate for love and connection.

Dating around was disappointing and redundant, and one-night-stands made him feel gross. He wasn’t simply a dumb, horny teenager anymore, he wasn’t even much of a dumb hornball of a man in his early adult years. Nay. He always kept an underlying craving for passion and compatibility. Harry was going to enter his 30’s in less than a year and he desired more than lackluster, meaningless sex with boring strangers. He needed more than arm candy. He needed more than a weak flame. He longed for an all-encompassing wildfire to eat away at his flesh from the inside out. He wanted to feel someone’s presence consume him.

Recently, Harry’s dreaming intuition had been signaling to him that he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to finally find his person. He was so needy for someone to genuinely love, and he felt overwhelmingly drawn to me from the very start—to my smile, my innocence, and my bleeding heart that matched his own. My lucky arrival into his life had only increased his determination towards lifelong romantic and sexual fulfillment. He just knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time had come for us to meet in person. We’d gone out for drinks with Mitch and Sarah one weekend. It was a safe choice. This way, no one would feel uncomfortable, left out, or excluded. But in all honesty, it felt more like a double-date than a friendly gathering at a local bar.

I had been somewhat apprehensive about drinking around Harry knowing how I was a bit of a flirty(slutty) drunk. All it took was 1.5 cocktails for me to be a giggling, cock-hungry devil woman. Sarah knew this about me. She’d witnessed my nymphomania from the sidelines whenever we’d go out for a girls’ night. Yet, this knowledge did nothing to prevent her from ordering the 4 of us tequila shots before I’d even stepped into the establishment.

Of course, I was late—I’m late to everything. But that night, it was different. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown with hangers and loose clothes strewn across my bed and crumpled in clumps on the floor. Even my mother felt the need to knock on my door after one of my particularly loud outbursts of frustration—making sure I wasn’t actually in pain. I was fine. I just needed to look my absolute-fucking-best when I met my dream guy face-to-face for the first time! Was that such a crime to try and accomplish?!

My mom didn’t get it.

I’d finally slipped into a pair of high-waisted, dark wash jeans that made my ass look like a big, juicy peach, and a red, ruffled peplum-blouse that deliciously hugged my curves—my large breasts, especially. I topped it off with a tin cup choker and a pair of black, knee-high, heeled leather boots. My self-confidence switched from plummeting to soaring once I’d done a final mirror check on my way out the door.

I knew I had the ability to somewhat ‘make an entrance’ (in dim lighting, at least). However, as soon as Harry and I locked eyes, I saw his mouth hanging open as if I was an A-List celebrity approaching him. My stomach glittered with butterflies at witnessing the effects of my gorgeously buxom appearance. The high-pitched ring of Sarah’s playful wolf-whistle pulled me back to reality.

There he was. He was real. And he was even hotter than I thought he was. Yet, it was him whose features reacted to me with lusty enchantment.

His pupils were devouring me as we stood in a lull. My hand extended towards him for a cordial handshake. But as his large hand gripped mine, he pulled me into his chest for a hug—planting a soft kiss on my cheek. What was even more unexpected was how natural it felt to have his arms around me. The four of us then did a few rounds of shots that night. As a (heavy-weighted) lightweight, I was giggling like crazy after the first two throws. Harry laughed every time I did, and vice-versa, and so we’d run out of breath repetitively—basically falling to the floor on top of each other. We looked like a goofy, touchy couple out on a double date, but we were completely ignoring the other couple. Sarah found our loopy mingling to be quite entertaining, as did Mitch. They both had intimate knowledge the other didn’t. The night eventually wound down and the snoozy (actual)couple left for home via car service. I definitely wasn’t sober enough to drive, either. Thinking back, I suddenly remember sharing a private moment with Harry around that time. Nothing R-rated. Not even PG-13, really.

Our friends had already parted ways, leaving the two of us drunk and cozy at a corner-table in the back of the bar. He ordered us some ice water, of which I’d gratefully accepted. I was mid-gulp when I felt his fingers tuck a section of my hair behind my ear. In hindsight, that was a cheesy, 90’s romcom thing for him to do. However, it felt so gentle and sweet in the moment, I didn’t care. My eyes blinked up at him, my mouth occupied with chilled fluids, and he smiled dreamily down at me. Swallowing and setting my glass down, a soft giggle escaped my lips.

“You’re even prettier in person, y’know.” Harry drawled. More light laughter came out of me before I returned the compliment. “Mmm, you too, Mr. Styles.” His cheeks dimpled and he shook his head at me. “Tha’s cute, but I’m serious.”

I raised my eyebrows at his accusation. “So am I.” My arms folded over my chest in playful defiance. We sat there for a few beats, deeply drinking each other in as if the other person was the bartender’s last call. Harry broke the trance first. “Need t’get ya home, love.” His hand moved to cover mine on the tabletop. Out of instinct, my glassy eyes followed his touch. He was cold, clammy even, yet I could feel my skin flush red-hot in retaliation.

Harry seemed hardly intoxicated or loopy anymore. He had more to drink than me, for sure. However, I had to hold onto him for stability in order to exit the building. Leaving the bar that night gave me the same satisfaction as going home after an amazing first date. I hadn’t met a guy so instantly enamored by my presence since high school…back when I was a size 8! As a size 16 in my early twenties, I’d gotten used to men talking over me and looking right through me. There was no reason for them to treat me that way. I’d always been told that I’m the nicest person in the world—that I was beautiful and hilarious and passionate and brilliant. None of that mattered, though. I was either met with pure indifference or blatant, manipulative narcissism from the opposite sex. But Harry was the diamond in the rough. He treated me better than just decently. He made me feel like a person deserving of much more than the bare minimum—more than just mere kindness—worth love, attention, effort, adoration, and affection. I hadn’t felt that in a long time…if ever.

And don’t worry, neither of us drove home. Harry ordered an Uber for me and rode along so that he could make sure I got inside my parents’ house safely—escorting me to the door like a proper gentleman would. I’d only really experienced that kind of ‘chivalry’ once or twice before. Not that every guy I’ve dated was a complete asshole to me, but the bare minimum was certainly a chore for some…It was refreshing to be treated so delicately—by someone who hardly knew me, to boot.

That entire first impression…it was a solid confirmation for me.

I liked Harry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry and I have grown to be quite friendly with one another since we first met a little over a year ago. However, we sure as hell didn’t start out that way—yeah, the amazing time at the bar was a false first impression. Sure, Harry would still have his moments where he was genuinely caring and gentle. But for the most part, his demeanor changed into that of an antagonistic older brother. So, you could say the initial acquaintanceship was tense.

For starters, we had that 5 year age-gap; and so Harry used that as a pass to be an arrogant, cynical, pretentious know-it-all. It was like he always needed to be the one and only expert on everything. And I’m certain he’s always gotten off on every rare instance where I’ve shown to be naive. Yelling-matches would occur every so often for months as both of us are sensitive hot-heads. We ended that streak of arguing when Harry’s big mouth had inevitably put me in tears. I think it was around the 6-month mark (of living together) when it happened. What’s silly is how his comment didn’t even deserve my dramatics, really. I’d already been in a piss-poor mood that night, and I’m just a crybaby in general. So you betcha any joke about me and my body, no matter how innocent the intentions behind it, throws just enough of a punch to unleash the hysterics.

I was in our living room watching YouTube when Harry came home from work. The video on the TV had pulled a full-blown guffaw out of me a minute or so before the door opened—which felt like a wave of relief after a long, miserable day at my job. I typically would spend more of my time enclosed in my bedroom, but I guess I just felt like switching things up that day. Besides, Harry acted as if he owned the whole goddamn place. The house was 50% mine, too (per our rental agreement). I had every right to venture away from my compact sleeping quarters for the evening. There was still a high probability that Harry would be a grump about it.

Fucking whatever.

If I wanted to enjoy our shared entertainment room, then I was gonna fucking enjoy it! My confidence was torn out from underneath me the moment that prick made his entrance. The door swung open, and there he was—white-collared, spotless, and as smug as ever. He released a generous sigh, an attempt at drawing my attention, but I refused to acknowledge his homecoming. What? Did he want a freaking ‘welcome home, honey’ from me or something?! Being a part of Harry’s House’s Greeting Committee wasn’t in the fine print of our lease. Plus, the last time I kindly acknowledged him after work, he brutally mocked me.

[“Hi!!!” I exclaimed with a sweet smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he slipped his shoes off. “Uh, hello.”

I was in the middle of stowing the last of the groceries away. I’d been in a pretty good mood that afternoon. I don’t know why or what made me so excited for Harry to come home, but I just was. Typically, I wouldn’t be keen on asking him to talk about his day. But, again, I was just feeling good. I didn’t understand why that deserved such an adverse response from the man.

“How was your day?! Oh yeah, you had that big meeting, or whatever, right?”

“Mhmm.” He muttered, unbuttoning the wrist cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves up to his shoulders.

I grinned brightly at him and opened the fridge. The way Harry looked with his stuffy work clothes always made me melt. He kept his tattoos well-hidden, but simply pulling his sleeves back would reveal the art…and that was something he’d do as soon as he got home. The action was so small and innocent, but witnessing it so closely—whilst simultaneously inhaling the faint notes of his expensive cologne—sent rushes of heat down to my core. He had no idea how hot he was when he did that…actually, he probably knew exactly how hot he was…little shit…

“So…Did your presentation go ok?”

“Uh, yeah, ‘went fine. It was fine...glad to be home, though.” Harry sighed, but I saw him fighting a smile once I’d turned around to face him.

“Oh? Just fine?” Judging by his subtle cheekiness, I had thought he had some news to tell me. It just seemed that way to me, at least. Or maybe that he was hiding something, or about to make a joke. My latter suspicion was quickly confirmed as true.

“I dunno…It went well, I guess…couldn’t wait to get home...” Why was he smirking at me?

I giggled and continued the banter.

“What are you being so modest about? I’m sure the reps at Gucci fell in love with the designs.”

Harry slipped onto one of the bar stools and watched me unpack the remainder of paper bags from behind the kitchen island. He leaned back against the seat’s backing with his arms folded and resting comfortably atop his abdomen. After making silent eye contact for a moment, I resorted to laughing lightheartedly and raising my eyebrows at the man.

“Eh?”

Harry just smirked.

I’d begun to fold up the empty paper bags. My cheeks were definitely blushed pink, reacting sheepishly to his stare. To conceal my submissive appearance, I reached up—pushing up onto my tiptoes—to stack the paper bags above the refrigerator. It didn’t matter that my back was facing him. I could still feel his eyes following my every move. Why did he have to intimidate me so much?

“Fine, be that way. Just so you know, I bought cookies for us, but now I'm not gonna share!”

“Oh really?” He hummed, leaning up to rest his forearms on the counter.

Scoffing, I stepped forward to face him from the other side of the island and grabbed onto the edge of the countertop. My upper half was angled towards him so that I could talk more directly to him.

“Really, really.” I purred, not realizing my voice would sound so erotic. Instead of backtracking, I just ran with it. Harry’s pupils expanded much like a feline’s when they’re hunting their prey.

But he just sat there smirking at me. My pleasant mood wasn’t to be ruined by his teasing. I wasn’t going to allow it. I could play, too, Styles.

“What kind of cookies did you get us, hm?” His low, British drawl sent chills down my back.

“Oreos.” I didn’t sink into that ‘subspace’ as they call it. Not yet.

Harry basically moaned a hum out in approval. I swallowed, still combating my natural instinct to surrender like a desperate little puppy. This was getting more difficult.

“You know those are my favorite, don’t you?”

I blinked. “Uh huh.”

“I bet you got’em just f’me…you weren’t gettin’ them for us...” He paused for a moment. “…were you, sweet girl?”

“I…maybe…” I squeaked, earning Harry’s immediate amusement.

“I’m gonna take a guess at something real quick, a‘right, doll?”

“Ok…” He was so close to me. I was just thankful I’d been chewing gum at the time…

“Are you ovulating right now? Is that why you’re being so doting and domestic?”

My face fell.

“Wha—Excuse me?!” I stepped back from the counter and put my hands on my hips. What kind of guessing game was that?! Who even asks that?!

In the most annoying way, Harry stood up from his stool and copied my stance. He was using far too much sass and flamboyance to be accurate, though. I did not look like that…

“Oh, don’t you give me that look, sweetheart.” Harry chuckled, walking over to me. He then reached his long index finger up to *boop* the tip of my nose. I huffed in response. The breaking point was nearing closer with every word he’d spoken. But submission was not an option.

I knew that he knew. He had to have known. He must have caught onto my shyness, saw how much he made me blush, sensed how bratty I’d become whenever he teased me. I was putty in his hands.

“Awe, You’re cute…” He mumbled under his breath. His hand rose to my shoulder and he twirled a lock of my hair around his finger.

I was furious. It was obvious he was just trying to rile me up. That’s all this was…reaction bait.

“Harry…—”

“—I’m just sayin’, one might think you were trying to sweet talk me into letting you milk me dry and put a baby in ya. I’m sure you’re just as fertile as you look, aren’t you, babe?” He grinned and drummed his rings back against the marble counter, now leaning back all cockily.

There it was again—that smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect, dimpled face. What did he mean by, “as fertile as I look?!” God, a woman can’t be mean or nice without a man having some bullshit to say about it. Whatever. I told myself at that moment that the next man who dared to comment on my missing smile would be a dead one.

I gave him a dirty look and hustled my ass up the stairs to my room. Thankfully, I was finished putting all the groceries away. There was no reason for me to stick around playing this silly game with Harry. As I was making my way up, he called out to me, “I may have a high sperm count, but I’m not quite ready to be a daddy, yet, love!”

“Shut up!” I groaned and slammed my door shut. I think I could still hear him snickering to himself downstairs. Such a dick. Also, how the hell did he know I was ovulating..?! Ugh!

Oh, and Harry wasn’t even finished with his jokes yet, because he’d leapt up the steps in long strides and knocked on my door…just 5 minutes later. I opened it, having then changed into a crop top and pajama shorts in the meantime. Not only was my round ass falling out of the shorts, but my heavy, unsupported tits were also threatening to peak out from the bottom hem of my shirt.

Typically, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing that kind of getup in front of anyone. However, I thought I looked deliciously thick and absolutely, downright-fuckable that night. Of course I’d been aware of this, as well. And so I used my innate feminine sexuality to my advantage. As soon as I opened the door, Harry’s eyes (unsurprisingly) flickered back and forth between my chest and my face. How classy… I took the liberty of folding my arms together in front of me to feign some modesty.

Looking back on it now, I definitely watched a similar scene in porn...

He just stood there at my door, all of a sudden at a loss for words. I wish that silence would have lasted longer. It took only a few seconds before he was flashing me his signature dimpled smirk again. He then mirrored my body language and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He teased, plucking at the hem of the shirt sleeve that hung loosely past my shoulder.

My back straightened up, an attempt at asserting a smidge of self-confidence amidst my pink cheeks and pounding pulse.

“What do you want, Harry?” I tried to act annoyed, but I think I sounded too timid…and to be honest, the idea of Harry filling me up with his cum had caused my panties to dampen significantly. They were surely leaking through my shorts, but fortunately my thighs were meaty enough to hide it.

“Hmm…No bra? Tha’s interesting…” I could tell he lowered his canter when he said that, but I still heard him.

“Gross, you pervert.” I spat, squeezing my arms closer against my chest.

“Ay, hold on, little miss sunshine. What’s with the bratty attitude, huh?”

“Shut up, mister big loads. Go impregnate a sock.” My expressive irritability only further inflated his ego.

“Hmm, I’ve gotta say, tha’s tempting, but…I wouldn’t wanna make you jealous.” I wanted to scream.

“Ugh! Get out of my room!” I pushed at the door, but Harry held it open with his hand—and there was no way I could win against him in that impossible match of strength.

“First of all, I’m not in your room.”

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing.

“Second,” he held his finger up. “Would you like f’me to order us some dinner?”

I huffed. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

He shook his head and tsk’d in response. “Mm-mm, tha’s not what I asked.”

My teeth clenched at his audacious snark.

“I don’t care, Harry.”

His rings then tapped awkwardly against the smooth wood.

“Ah…” he sighed with his head bowed. “…Look, I’m sorry. I was just tryin’ to mess with you...I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed…”

Even though I couldn’t stand him, I’d begun to feel my heart soften at his puppy-eyed expression. Why did he have to be so irritating and so adorable at the same time?! Just choose one!

Hmph…whatever.

“…Well, I know you’re hungry…I’ll pay…?”

I sighed and chewed at my lip. I was starving…

His boyish apology was reluctantly accepted, but I made a point out of picking something expensive. He could afford it.

We ate and watched a movie on the couch together. To my surprise, there were no more stupid comments coming out of his mouth for the rest of the evening. Impressive. I noticed his eyes turned basically black. It wasnt like we had all the lights off; plus, it was August—the sun didn’t set completely until 9pm. I felt those pupils following me.

It was apparent that Harry found me attractive. That night he certainly did. Or maybe he was just high? Either way, after he’d pointed out my lack of undergarments, I decided to brush him off as simply horny. At least that was the best explanation I could come up with for all the sneaky eye-fucking. There was no way I could’ve convinced myself he was actually giving me that kind of attention consciously…

After we’d finished eating, he went out of his way to fetch me a blanket(our good one, no less) and then proceeded to drape it around my back and shoulders, tucking me in as if he’d done it a million times before. Look who’s the doting one now, Styles!

I also remember how he basically bolted for the bathroom and took a shower as the film wrapped up with the end credits…Ok, ok…so, I may have purposefully bent over in those shorts while cleaning up the coffee table…but surely he just had a long day and was desperate for a hot shower…Surely.]

It’s safe to say that I toned down the ‘domestic’ part of me from that point on. Even though Harry just likes to get my goat, I still wanted to make it more difficult for him to have a reason to tease me. The night when our door to the garage swung open, his voice echoed through the house with such vigor that it sent yucky chills down my spine. Oh, the irony...

“Well, shit—Mitch wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout y’laugh being loud as’ell! ‘Could hear ya from the driveway!”

This man survived off of my agitation, I swear. I shifted in my seat to face him and my eyes narrowed at the sight of his stupid, cocky face. I’ve always felt embarrassed about my somewhat-loud, slightly obnoxious laugh—and the thought that it’s been a main point of discussion between Harry and Mitch (and who knows who else) stung even worse.

It’s fine. Don’t listen to him. Don’t react. Just…breathe…

“Hi, Harry.” My intonation was as unimpressed as I could make it sound. He of course snorted at my brattiness, slipping his shoes off and tossing his wallet and keys onto the kitchen counter before taking long-legged strides in my direction.

“Good evening, doll.”

I huffed and waved my hand half-assedly. Something that drove me mad was how he was fiercely antagonistic towards me, and he insisted upon giving me little pet names. I knew he was just teasing me. That’s why I made sure to always swallow my bashful giggles whenever he said them. My subby-ness was not to be easily accessible anymore.

“So, what’s this, hm? Grown tired of hiding from me all the time?” He casually gestured to me with his flat, open palm.

I exhaled through my nose in aggravation as he plopped abruptly down onto the couch—his arm propped up next to him and one leg resting on the opposite knee. His draping arm was stretched out towards me. I refused to take part in Harry’s game at that time, and so I returned his question with silence. But it didn’t even matter because he could tell I was holding my anger in.

“Oh, I get it. It’s some sort of opposite day or summat.”

He stretched his fingers closer to where my head was resting on the back of the couch. They wrapped themselves around a smooth lock of my hair and twirled it continuously. This man thought it was absolutely hilarious to get even the faintest reaction out of me. Harry was generally the ‘touchy’ type of person when he’s around those he’s comfortable with. It made me feel special whenever he went out of his way to be affectionate towards me because…well, I had a crush on him for a while. And so, at first, I naively understood those soft touches as hints for his deeper feelings. At least that’s how I perceived things privately. But the more time I’d spent living with him, the more I had to come to terms with the fact that he was out of my league, and that he probably only viewed me as a little sister. My mind convinced me that Harry just enjoyed taking advantage of my innate submissiveness. He would never be attracted to someone like me. In order to protect my heart from the shattering effects of rejection, I chose to play into the little sister dynamic and behave as though Harry Styles was just a stupid fucking boy, and nothing more.

My behavior shift from the bashful sweetheart to the indifferent recluse somehow drew him closer to me anyway. I was so fucking pissed. I was sick of his games! Most of all, I hated Harry Styles. I hated him, and I hated his wandering hands, and his cockiness, and his giant ego.

My hair is not a toy, and I am not a doll reserved for Harry’s cruel amusement. And yet I kept living with all these antics because I…

…Because I liked his attention…honestly, I loved his attention. I’ll admit it! There was no way he could ever find that out, though!

That night when he (once again) twisted a piece of my hair around his long fingers, I pretended it didn’t make my heart flutter. My face stayed emotionless. It had truly been an award-winning performance by yours truly. To an outsider, this scene would’ve looked as if Harry and I were a bickering couple. They’d probably assume I was just a crabby girlfriend punishing her partner with the silent treatment. To be honest, that’s what it felt like for a second before I caught myself leaning into his gentle contact. I smacked his hand away from my hair and he just smiled at me.

Ugh!

He smiled at me, and then he poked my cheek with his index finger. I swear to God, my skin was on fire.

“So what’s next on the opposite day schedule? ‘You gonna go for a run?” Harry snickered and let out an amused sigh. “That would be the shock of the century, wouldn’t it?!”

He kept laughing at his juvenile dig. I let out a weak scoff, unable to swallow my pride that time. The air in the room was stale. Harry faced the television screen and sunk further back into the cushions. I sat there in mopey silence.

So I live a sedentary lifestyle, so what? And yes, I’m overweight—I’ve been struggling with my body my entire life, so there’s no need for anyone to give me a reminder. Regardless of the obvious and regardless of Harry’s ‘opposite day’ joke, I wasn’t in the right mindset to just brush it off…not that night. Starting a fight wasn’t the route I wanted to take either. I was exhausted. A retreat into solitude felt like my best option.

But, God…why did he have to fucking say that?

My bottom lip quivered and I was unable to blink back the tears for a moment longer. Every last ounce of patience I had left was dried up at this point. My long hair shielded my face whilst I bowed and dabbed my dripping eyelashes with my sleeves. Noticing the lack of verbal retort from me, Harry turned his head back in my direction. His breath hitched in his throat and his sage irises washed over to stormy blue.

“Oh, shit…” he muttered.

I sniffled and got up from the couch, making a beeline for the privacy of my bedroom. He never meant to make me cry. It was obvious Harry was just poking fun at me, but words can still hurt regardless of the speaker’s intent. It was too late for him to consider that now. Harry quickly jumped in front of me. He leapt into action so fast that I was physically startled back against my bare heels.

“What the fuck, Harry? Move!” I whined frustratedly at the man as he stood there with similarly glossy eyes.

Then he reached out and held my shoulders in his strong hands. His thumbs did that rubbing thing that most people only do when comforting their loved ones. Back then, I wished so badly that the simple gesture hadn’t sent such soothing goosebumps down my arms. It was so infuriating how this man held that kind of power over me.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, love. Please don’t cry. I—”

I gritted my teeth at his pity.

“—why? Are my big, fat tears too loud?! Or are you worried I’m so huge that I’ll get stuck, and my arms and legs will burst out of the fucking house?!”

Harry’s brows furrowed at my imagery. “Uh, wait—are you trying to reference…Alice in Wonderland—”

“—ALSO! Last time I checked, YOU were the one who ate all the cookies last night—YOU and your RABBIT TEETH fucking decimated my Oreos! So why don’t you go for a fucking run!”

Harry seemed amused with that one. His stupid dimples popped out at me and I was fed up.

“Get out of my way!”

I pushed against his chest, but he stood firmly on the carpet in front of the stairs. I remember fighting my urge to stomp my feet like a toddler. He wasn’t letting me retreat. He wouldn’t get out of my fucking FACE!

“I know you want to yell at me, so do it.”

“No, I don’t want to yell at you! I want you to move so I can go to my room!”

“Cmon, love. Talk to me…Give me all y’got. I know you have it in ya.”

“MOVE!”

Then he laughed. Why? Because I actually stomped my fucking foot—just like how I’d previously forbade myself to. And I’m sure the performance was quite entertaining for him.

“Don’t you throw a tantrum on me, sweet girl. Use your words!”

“You’re such a fucking smartass.”

“Oi, don’t talk about my ass like that! I’ll have you know, it’s quite dumb!” He grinned.

Un-fucking-believable. I can’t believe that got me to crack a smile. Harry instantly mirrored my surrendering, his hands drifting down from my shoulders to my elbows. My arms were crossed over my chest, but he wiggled them loose.

“YES! There’s that pretty smile…”

I huffed and groaned, feeling like a total child.

“…Don’t you be teasing me for my teeth—Y’look like a bunny just like me, babe.”

I giggled and playfully shoved his chest. “I do not!”

“Uh-huh! You definitely do!”

My hand rose up to cover my mouth and Harry just laughed at me. Lowering himself closer to my height, he *booped* my nose which caused me to scrunch it up in response.

“Aww, you are just a lil’ bunny, aren’t you?”

I squirmed and whined, annoyed as all hell with his patronizing.

“Don’t you start stomping your feet again, sweet Bunny. You’re better than that!”

I couldn’t help myself from just letting my guard all the way down at that moment. Inhaling deeply, I circled my arms around Harry’s middle and buried my face against his chest.

“Sorry…I just want us to get along, H.” My small voice was muffled against his shirt.

Harry frowned and wrapped his arms around me, reciprocating my surrendering embrace. My ear was pressed against his chest. There was a strong beat beyond his hard surface–my head pulsed with each fierce thump. That was the closest we’d ever been to each other. One of his hands slid up to my hair and combed through it.

“I do, too…I’m sorry.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharing a house was less expensive for both of us 20-somethings, and rent has thankfully stayed reasonable and affordable since we two moved in a couple of years ago. I’m happy in my living space with my roommate. It’s a platonic situation between me and Harry—regardless of what family and friends want to believe. And I doubt it will ever venture beyond friendship any time soon. It can’t. Things are perfect right now…exactly the way they are. I keep my little fantasies to myself within the privacy of my bedroom. Harry can never know.

I’ve been single for a while. It’s possible that my holes are the tightest they’ve ever been, and that it might feel like I’m losing my virginity again whenever I do get some dick. So what, sometimes I think about what would happen if I just accidentally sent a racy photo to Harry…

…Whether he’d keep it and pretend he never saw it (as a way to be gentlemanly)…if he’d be disgusted and laugh at my body…or if he’d turn feral like I hope he would, bursting through my bedroom door and finally taking all that I’ve unconsciously reserved for him…

Don’t fret, my pet — smut will come in part 2 😈

Writer’s Notes: Hi, everyone🥰 Phew…well, there she is! Part 1! Thought I’d celebrate my birthday today by posting my first H piece💕 I’ll start off by saying…I’m kind of an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to my writing…so I won’t be super speedy when posting updates on my work, as I really want to be certain that I’m posting exactly what I want you to read. I know that other content creators on here are excellent at keeping a quick, reliable posting schedule—and I will be trying my best to do the same(I hope to make it in the same ballpark as them, at least). However, please be patient with me💕🙏🏻 💕 I have devoted a lot of time, love, and creativity into my work just so that I can share it online with strangers for free. I greatly appreciate any and all support, suggestions, criticism, questions, etc., so please don’t hesitate to comment or send me messages/asks. (Anons are welcome!) I’ve been working on this piece for a while now and I’d really like to get your feedback on it. If you would like to be tagged in future updates/parts, please let me know!!!👏🏻💗👏🏻🩷👏🏻💖 👏🏻

xoxo ~ Regan 😘💕

@victoria-styles @harrystylessmuttyfics @therealhousewifeofharrystyles

[azure-cherie]

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑*̑˚̑*̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

These are based on people ik irl , so idk if you relate , well i hope you do (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ , i am not a professional astrologer so take this with a grain of salt. Have a good read :)

This is based on tropical astrology

Refer to your Venus Persona Chart

♡︎Having an exhaulted sun makes you Intimidating to the other gender , they fear your attitude .

♡︎Air sign Ascendent will give you a manic pixie dream girl vibe .

♡︎Aries mercury wants someone to actively approach them or they themselves will do it , they don't like to wait for love confessions.

♡︎Saturn in cancer are prone to crying when their crush gets into a relationship.

♡︎Saturn in cancer becomes extremely irritable when they go through a heartbreak and if your Saturn is in 1st it may also affect your appearance .

♡︎Neptune in Aquarius gets prophetic dreams about their love life . Uranus pisces and Uranus conjunct Neptune as well .

♡︎Pluto in Saggitarius are the ones who give advice although their own love life is messed up .

♡︎Node in earth signs may like to go for the nerd ,or be a nerd or be kinda sapiosexual .

♡︎The wild untamed archaetype is very Lilith in gemini .

♡︎I don't know about anyone else but pisces to me is a sign of detachment, although it represents two fishes , to me it's like two energies within us like yin yang , but they're mostly closed off to the outer world , likewise a pisces moon doesn't desire a relationship they like to dream about it but they have no wishes to pursue it .

♡︎Jupiter in Scorpio or Aries can go for the dark feminine aesthetic if they wish to succeed with the help of their looks it will give them abundance.

♡︎If you have your sun conjunct mercury people might be attracted to your voice or you can pursue a creative career regarding singing , and yes it can give you a raspy or a Alto or baritone voice as well .

♡︎All baddies have moon trine venus , in their natal or persona , I'll tell you why , moon represents the unconscious, no matter what you think unconscious is a dark place to be , and moon also represents emotions when one is aware of their emotions only then they can master it , this aspect is of development, to be detached you need to surpass attachment.

♡︎Chiron in Capricorn must engage themselves into a self care routine after any harsh phases of life , this will help them feel better.

♡︎Venus conjunct mars are the type being active in love , bringing each other's gifts and going for adventures, about oneself, they like to buy themselves gifts which is amazing!

♡︎Jupiter trine saturn is a glow up placement .

♡︎Sun trine Pluto likes to burn themselves down , they like the idea of growing from ashes like a phoenix.

♡︎Venus - Pluto femme fatale vibes but prone to oversexualisation .

♡︎Venusian mars in Venus persona chart can go into the fashion industry or any industry that deals with aesthetics.

♡︎Gemini venus are indecisive in love , they get many offers for companionship, they mostly reject them , they don't know whom to love . I have seen them go through so much because the person whom they want doesn't want them and they can't love anyone else .

♡︎Moon opposite mars - passive aggressive in love .

♡︎Leo mercury gets or gives a lot of love letters .

♡︎Mars in leo bold expressive, confesses their love regardless of how scared they are .

♡︎Sun /Venus / jup in cancer gives the native a mommy vibe , bigger breasts as well .

♡︎When lana del rey said "because i am pretty when i cry " she meant sun-moon , sun-pluto, moon-venus , Venus -neptune .

♡︎One of the most beautiful person I know has a Capricorn and aquarius stellium in her vpc.

♡︎Mars in Aries , masculine vibe they generally need men who can defeat their masculinity, they aren't much into feminine men.

♡︎Sun in Libra , soft girl aesthetic, likes shiny things , super friendly, everyone loves them.

♡︎Mercury in Virgo , really polite knows how to craft words , I've seen them always saying thank you sooo much, welcome, good morning etc

♡︎Venus in Libra don't tell me you didn't have a phase when you binged on fs readings.

♡︎Virgo stellium -people fall in love with them because of their intelligence.

♡︎Venus in cancer - becomes beautiful in their later life , attracts a lot of jealousy.

♡︎Venus in Scorpio, people being jealous of their good looks .

With love, 🌷💞

-Azure