#All the other times I’ve seen it it’s just been book of bill and book of bill spoilers

[chrometheraptor]

BILLFORD AS ONE OF THE GRAVITY FALLS TAGS TRENDING AUSHDJDBDJD

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace

Hello my angels and welcome to Leather and Lace!!! We’ve got a very cute 3 parter (I’ve finished writing it) coming in for you guys. We love a good grumpy x sunshine and couldn’t help ourselves writing another one. Please leave us feedback! We love to hear from you

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Wc- 8.2k

Warnings- oral sex, praise kink, soft Dom h, opposites attract, cum play/swapping

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“How can you be this happy in the morning?” Harry grunted, hoodie pulled over his head as he sat down next to a bubbly Y/N. Her couch was comfortable but it didn’t make up for the fact that he was at her flat at 8 in the morning. 

“It’s not that early, lazy bones.” She hummed, tucking her legs under her as she sat down on the other side. “Thank you for coming to help today, by the way. I know you don’t like getting up early.”

He really didn’t, was the thing. He hated it. Harry only had so many days off and after working a long shift bartending last night, the very last thing he wanted to do was help someone unpack in their new flat. He’d rather claw at concrete than be awake right now, rather eat a raw egg, rather go through tattoo removal. If it was anyone but Y/N he would have laughed in their face at the mere ask. 

But it was her. It was twinkly eyed, pouty lipped, warm hearted Y/N who had asked him a week in advance and promised him a bagel with cream cheese and an iced coffee for brekkie, whatever he wanted for lunch, and ‘whatever he wanted in general!’. Little did she know he was going to say yes anyway, considering he knew he couldn’t say no to her sweet little ask with her smaller hand on his tattooed arm and wide eyes peering up at him. He wasn’t someone who liked to do things for many people without there being some sort of monetary gain, but this was different. 

Y/N had somehow latched herself onto one of the grumpiest bastards in the area while she herself was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever seen. Rarely spoke a mean word of anyone (except when they hurt someone close to her), went out of her way to help anyone who needed it and always wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. He’d seen her take money from her own wallet to cover someone’s bill when they were short, even seen her rush to help an elderly man across the street. It got her into trouble sometimes which was why he was glad that he’d been the hip she’d chosen to attach to. 

Their first interaction had been him sitting in the courtyard of their uni, listening to music under the tree. He’d had his sketchbook in hand, doodling in between classes when he looked up to see a girl with a pretty yellow bow in her hair offering him a cupcake because he looked ‘sad.’. He had been sad, actually, but that was pretty much his normal resting face. He’d tried to blow her off but she’d taken a seat next to him, introducing herself and telling him about her own day to ‘distract him’. He hated to admit that it worked. 

From then on, she popped up everywhere. At first he’d been a bit worried that she was following him but it truly was a coincidence. Y/N had found her way under his skin, wriggled her way into that cold heart of his and made it warm up just a little each time she came around. At some point she’d become a daily fixture in his life, her texts lighting up his phone with emojis and telling him to meet her at the cafe or the library- and for some reason, he followed.

“Mmm. Know y’wanted me here to see me get all sweaty. If y’wanted to see my tats and muscles so badly, you coulda just said so, Sweets.” He smirked, watching her eyes widen. So easy to fluster. 

“No! Stop teasing me, s’not nice.” She grumbled, poking his knee with her socked foot. She’d chosen lavender striped ones today. “I don’t have a lot of strong friends, you know that. Niall’s comin’ by after work to help you put the bedframe together and move the books from the car. Besides, I’ll let you sleepover and everything after we’re all done. I know you loveeeee my bed.”

He did. But more than anything he liked laying in said bed with her. Harry had a hard time admitting he had begun to gain feelings for the girl but deep down he knew he did. He liked that she insisted on cuddles, curling her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, or even better yet the crook of his neck. Loved when she’d sleepily ask him questions about his life and tell him facts about her own. She resembled a tiny kitten while sleepy, insistent on getting all of the pets and attention. 

Harry had decided he wasn’t the relationship type after his last girlfriend had cheated on him with his old best mate- but meeting Y/N had reminded him of the die hard romantic that laid underneath the surface. All the hard work he’d had piling up bricks on top of his red, bleeding heart had seemed to be consistently excavated by the pastel wearing girl who still enjoyed the fairy lights he used to see online in those aesthetic bedroom photos. It scared him a bit at first. Even now, he was nervous about the idea of getting closer to her than they were now because her heart was a tender and precious thing and he didn’t necessarily trust himself not to hurt her- but then again, he knew he’d do miles better than anyone else could. He’d spent the time learning about her as the months went by, listening to her drawl on about the pinterest boards she made, her dream finds she always looked for at the thrift stores, her least favorite reality TV contestants, which pastries she found to be too dry at the cafe and which had the best level of moisture, what blankets she liked, every little tidbit he had stored away in his brain to use at a later date. 

No one would be as protective of her as he would be, which was why lately he’d been entertaining the thought of perhaps moving past the point of no return and trying to see if maybe, possibly, perhaps.. They could be more. 

It had come with a lot of deliberating but he’d come to understand that if he failed, Y/N wouldn’t caste him to the side. She’d never in a million years abandon him like he feared, which only gave him more motivation to go for it though… He was still biding his time. He had to let her get settled here before he shook up her life a bit more. 

They were opposites, the sweet girl and him. Harry was quite literally the bad boy cliche of everyone’s after school special’s dreams. His hair was long and curled, brushing his jaw. He went for darker clothing, usually his ripped black skinny jeans and a band tee but sometimes more eccentric with some silk and leaving his tits out when they went on a night out. His nose had a simple black hoop, his nails painted and chipped though this week they were a bubblegum pink, a la Y/N’s expertise. His body was hard from the gym he liked to frequent and inked, only getting more every month. He wore the occasional eyeliner when he felt spicy. That was only the physical things. 

Sometimes he wondered why she felt drawn to him, as she said. He was dark and moody with a darker sense of humor. Somewhat of a pessimist, he expected the worst from people and tended to stay away from them the best he could. The opposite of a social butterfly, he only usually went out in the past for a drink or to get his cock wet, never for the pleasure of interacting with people. Even then it was rare considering he did quite well in the hookup area being a bartender himself. 

Harry often wondered how and why she felt the pull to be around him and why she felt so at ease in his presence but he figured it had to be that he’d knocked the lights out of a bloke in her philosophy class who’d been riding her ass. He’d made the wrong decision of cornering Y/N at a party Harry had been dragged to, touching her a bit too much and not listening when her smile became thin and she backed away from him after giving a rejection much too polite than the man deserved. There had been no hesitation in laying him out, tugging Y/N into his side and demanding she stay with him for the rest of the party after she insisted she didn’t need to go home. 

Funnily enough she’d been a hit with his own small group of friends, everyone also feeling the same sort of kindred protection over her. Not many people were genuinely warm and fuzzy in the way she was. 

Y/N was… She was the sun, she was a cinnamon roll fresh baked on a sunday morning, she was a kitten sprawled in a sunbeam. All the good things, he could find a way to relate them to her. That probably should have been the indicator he had feelings for her far sooner than he’d ever let himself admit, but she had taken the time to crack him open. 

It was hard to stop thinking about what made her both his opposite and so special. Harry dwelled on how soft her clothing always was, both in color and texture. She liked those pastel colors and fuzzy cardigans, hair bows and those signature mary janes with the tiny heels. Lip oil as opposed to lip gloss because it was ‘too sticky’ but still dragged all his attention to her lips and made him wonder if it really tasted like tangerine like it smelled. 

Her touch was gentle and tender, cautious at first but as soon as she got the go ahead, she showered you in attention. At least, she did to him. Brushing stray hairs out of faces and wiping crumbs off cheeks, she had little sense of personal space once granted permission. She’d been mindful of his distaste for touch at the beginning but once he’d leaned into it, the girl had no qualms about straightening his shirt or leaning into his form, hell- there had been a few times she’d helped herself to his lap when there was no other seating option. Usually that was when she was tipsy considering she would most likely be a little shy sober, but that was something he enjoyed. 

The light to his dark, he doubted anyone else could make him feel the way she could. Hence why he was up after only getting 4 hours of sleep, sipping the coffee she’d gotten him. There was little he wouldn’t do for a hint of her smile. 

—--

“Babe, you’ve got t’make a decision.” Harry said gently, placing the large mirror down and leaning it against the wall. 

“I know, I know but… It’s bad luck to have your mirror facing your bed.” She wrung her fingers together. “I’m sorry, H. I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the rear today. I promise m’not trying to, but It’s my first place and I just want it to be perfect.” Her head looked down, making his heart squeeze. 

God damn it. Leave it to her to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy. Sighing, he tugged the bandana on his head back into place and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “M’not upset with you. Promise. I just think you’re overthinking it a bit.” Her superstitions did tend to make her feel a little squirrely sometimes and he knew it.  “We’re gonna make it look perfect. Incredible, even. Reckon the magazines will be calling you up to feature you, but we can’t just have a freestanding mirror slab.” He’d picked it up for her off of craigslist just a bit ago. Even if it wasn’t a dodgy listing, he wouldn’t let her go on her own. That’s how people got kidnapped. 

“Ugh, I know.” She groaned, flopping into his chest. Never mind it being sweaty, she rubbed her nose between his tits and let out a tired groan, her hair smacking his chin. It’d been tossed up in a very messy bun that was a bit lopsided but made her look doubly as cute, though he didn’t tell her that. “Why don’t we mount it to the back of your door then? Not facing your bed, or another mirror.” 

He could almost hear her brain going as she mulled it over before he felt the nod against his chest. “That will be good, I think. I love that idea.” Y/N had been going back and forth over design choices with him all day as if he had a clue about interior decor, but he had appreciated her caring about his opinion nonetheless. “That can be the last thing we do. Niall’s fucked off somewhere futzing with the books so we can eat after that’s done.” 

The thud of his heart against her ear was steady as he gently ran a hand over her shoulderblade. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Think we’re ordering pizza because I know m’too tired to cook which means you lot have to be too.” She chuckled, finally prying herself out of his chest and blinking up at him.”Then we can go to bed.”  He was thankful her ear was away from his heart so she couldn’t hear the way it stuttered. You’d think after sleeping in her bed a multitude of times that he’d get used to the sound of that sentence but it still did him in every time. 

“Okay. I can run and pick it up after I mount this to the door if you call it in.” He knew she wouldn’t want to go. It was visible on her face how tired she was and it melted him internally. He knew that she’d be a little snuggly menace tonight and fuck if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Gonna run into the pharmacy t’grab some body wash for here, if thats okay?”

“Course it is.” She beamed at the suggestion, making him happy that he’d even brought it up. Y/N used to suggest he sleep heer a lot before and he’d refuse, thinking she was just trying to be polite- but she really did enjoy him staying with her. “I liked the pomegranate one you used last time, just sayin’.” Patting his chest she moved from his grip, heading to grab her phone. “Normal for you?”

“Yeah, love. Same as usual.” He rubbed over the achy spot in his chest that she’d left by pulling away, looking forward to sleeping tonight so he could feel it fill back up.

—-----------

Harry had grabbed the pomegranate bath stuff. He’d grabbed the whole line, actually, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and some sort of ‘skin buff.’ Whatever that was. 

Y/N had squeaked as he showed her, along with a pack of the makeup wipes she usually used and he’d steal. He’d figured it was about time to be the one to buy the replacements. “Ah! And you got the face mask I like.” Her eyes were wide and bright as she bounced on her toes, smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek before looking back down at the holographic packaging. He’d hoped he had gotten the right one when he’d seen a sale on them when on his way to the check out counter. It was worth the little bit of money to feel her lips for a moment. “Thank you, H. You’re the best, as usual.” 

“The hell am I?” Niall scoffed, wiping his hands dry after washing them. 

“You’re great too, but he got me the face masks I like and they usually sell out. So he’s a bit higher up in points today.” She placated him, brushing past him to put them in the bathroom. “Harry, plate up the pizza, pretty please!”

As soon as she had disappeared, Niall shot him a look. “When are you two gonna make it official?” He whispered. “The heat eyes bouncin’ off the both of you is sickening at this point. She’s turned you soft.” 

Harry settled with a glare, placing two slices on the paper plate and sliding it over to him. “Eventually. Her whole life is shifting. Can’t do shit right now without rattling her.” It was the first time he admitted or even hinted at having feelings for her besides point blank telling anyone who came around that she wasn’t available. Y/N didn’t know he did that though. 

“Thank fuck you don’t still have your head up your arse. I was worried you’d never admit you’re gone for her.” He faked wiping sweat off his head making the other man roll his eyes. “She’ll be happy, H. You don’t have to worry about her rejecting you. Just go on and do it. She talks about you like you hang the moon every night at this point even when you aren’t around.” 

A weakness he’d spotted, Harry stood a bit straighter before leaning in. “She does? What does she say?” Oh, he hated how desperate he sounded to hear the answer but the fluttering in his stomach made him insisting on finding out. 

“Oh, how thoughtful and kind and generous you are and how you’re the best person she knows, all of that. She stares at her phone and waits for texts from you when she comes out and you’re working, gets these huge smiles or giggles when you do. or tries to get everyone to move the party to your bar.” 

That last part, he’d hoped for. He liked the idea of her wanting to be physically close to him and suggesting everyone come and see him, but knowing she did the same thing he did when waiting for messages from him soothed a piece of him. He wasn’t alone in it. It was hard sometimes for him to decipher her behavior considering she was genuinely so friendly with everyone and he didn’t want to flatter himself and think it he was special… but apparently he was. 

He didn’t have a chance to answer when Y/N glided from the bathroom, finding her spot on the kitchen barstools. “What did I miss?” 

“Nothin’, Babe. Just chatting shit.” He murmured, sliding her a plate with her pizza of choice on it. “Figured we’d go to the grocery tomorrow, yeah? It’s a bit sparse in here with the food.” He had the next day off and intended on spending it with her. They’d made lots of progress today and had 80% of the place unpacked, but he knew she liked those restocking videos online. “Think they’ve got those organizers back in stock.” 

“Oh!” She gasped.”Yes, you genius. I’ll need your help though, strong man. I like the one trip wonder.” It was a tease considering she knew Harry hated making multiple trips up with bags. 

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a lift now and I’ve got that collapsible wagon.” Reaching out he gently flicked her nose for being a brat. “So we won’t have t’worry about that.” 

—-----

Y/N was either very oblivious or a tease. Harry could never fully figure out which one. 

He sat on her bed, messing with her telly when she emerged from the shower in her little cotton shorts and one of his shirts. It was one he’d just been looking for last week, actually, an old Iron Maiden one with a few holes in the collar area. Unmistakably his. The faded gray complimented her skin, looking extra cozy on her as her powder blue plush bunny slippers flopped against the ground and she made her way to her skincare desk. 

“You little thief.” He grumbled from the bed, leaning against her headboard. “I was searching everywhere for that last week.” Though he had narrowed eyes she would know he was only teasing. 

“You left it with me, remember? I ended up packing it so I wouldn’t forget it but… It’s super comfy.” She smiled guiltily at him, spinning in her chair. “Is it okay if I wear it? It still smells like your cologne and it helps me sleep sometimes…”

Ah, a shot to the heart. 

Y/N didn’t know what it did to him to know he was an aid in good sleep. That it both made his heart stutter and his cock throb at the sight of her wrapped up in his clothing like she had all the rights to it. Like he was her boyfriend and she liked to wear it to remember him. Her scent had a similar effect on him, leaving it in his sheets when she stayed over,  “Totally okay, lovely.” He smiled gently. “M’just teasing you. Though it does wonders for my ego to know you like my cologne that much.” 

He knew he was making her a little flustered considering she didn’t look right at him, but he thrived off of that. Knowing he made an impact on her like that made him feel just a bit more confident that she felt similarly to him. There was no answer from her, but he wasn’t done with her quite yet. Standing up with a groan, he made his way over to her little makeup and skincare set up, placing his hands on the back of her chair. “What are you putting on your face?” He asked curiously, looking over her head to the products she had neatly organized.

“Well, first I wipe with one of these toning pads.” She opened the little tub, using a tiny pair of clear tongs to grab one. “You don’t want to be sticking your fingers in there and potentially making them all dirty so it came with this little thing. You give it a few passes over your t zone.” She showed him as she did it, Harry watching diligently in the mirror. 

“Mmm. Then what? You’re always doin’ all of this fancy stuff to your face. Figure that's why your skin is so pretty.” He let his fingers fiddle with a few strands of hair. 

“Thank you.” She said sheepishly, picking up a smaller tube. “Um, I use this undereye cream to help with puffiness and brightening. Its soothing. I apply it with the smallest finger though, because while I’m not afraid of wrinkles it’s the weakest fingers and the skin under your eyes is more delicate.” 

Huh. “Didn’t know what.” He was actually learning something from this. 

“Mhm. Why do you think I tell you to go gentle when you use the makeup remover?” A smile tilted up one side of her lips a bit further, eyes focused on the mirror in front of her. She pretended not to notice the slight shiver he gave her when he leaned down, letting his face get more level with hers- but he did. He noticed anything he could. “A-And then I use some vitamin C stuff for brightening, a serum and a cream. I use the little fan to make it dry faster so it isn’t sticky.” She pointed to the mini pink fan he’d always noticed. He’d just assumed it was for when she got hot. “Do you… Would you like me to use some of it on you when I’m done?” 

She sounded hesitant to ask which he understood. Not a lot of the guys in their friend circle would want that, but he wasn’t that insecure about himself that he’d say no to someone pampering him. Especially not when it meant Y/N getting close to him. “Sure, sweets. I’d love that. Reckon my skin needs it.” 

“What do you usually do with it?” She asked curiously, meeting his eye in the mirror. 

“Makeup remover, wash my face, that cream you left at my place if I remember.” 

“It’s not fair you have the skin you do.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Cruel, actually.” It kind of was. He got long lashes too, which she always complained about. “Go and wash your face first, heathen.”

Harry let out a small laugh before going off to do that. Returning with a fresh face, he stood in his prior position, watching her finish up the routine before holding the fan closer to her face to finish it off. It was an interesting process he hadn’t paid much mind to before, but then again, she didn’t bring every single thing to his place either. 

After putting her hair up in a claw clip, she stood up from the plushy chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did as asked, feeling her residual warmth as she lined up the products for them. “Okay, so we start with the toner pad.” She gently pushed him to lean back in the chair, her face coming closer to his as she delicately swiped it over his cheeks and nose. He was getting an up close look at her, noticing the scar near her eyebrow and a few spots on her face. It made him warm up a bit, being able to see her so close when she was awake. Usually this level of observation was reserved for when she was asleep. “Oi, keep your head up.” 

“Sorry.” He laughed, avoiding the impulse to move the chair back and forth. He liked to swing on it at times. 

“Wait- how about this.” Without giving it much thought, she gripped the chair and swung it over to turn his body to the side, helping herself to straddle his lap. “This seems a little easier, no?” Fingers gently tipped his chin up, eyes focused on her motions. 

Harry’s breath had disappeared. No longer available, he felt her sitting on top of his thighs, innocent as ever as she went through the motions. Tender with her movements and pressure, she was treating him like porcelain while giving him a little makeover. He should be focused on how nice the products felt on his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. 

She smelled amazing, as usual, but having it this close up was a little hard for him. Yes, she sat on his lap before- but not in his shirt, with her thighs on display and tiny little shorts. She didn’t straddle him before either, didn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. All his energy was focused on trying to ensure she didn’t feel the stiffy that was quickly growing in his pants. 

“I can’t believe how good you’re being for me, H.” She whispered. “No whining or anything.” Her smile was soft as she wiped the serum over his face. “You’re so pretty.”

Fuck. He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to not let his cock construe those words into the filthy praise kink he had, but it appeared to be a bit too late for that. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he didn’t want to be a perv, but god damn. If the girl continued, there would be no denying that he’d cream his damn pants. Being pet on, feeling her brush his hair off his forehead while she stroked his face and adjusted his position to where she wanted… He was only so strong. “Thanks.” He murmured, trying to keep his composure. 

“Of course.” She beamed, seeming pleased. “I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, but you’re full of surprises.” It seemed like she didn’t know the battle he was facing internally, which was his goal, but that was soon to be ruined. “Hold on a second.” Shifting slightly on his lap, she stood up momentarily before sliding further up. “Sorry, I was falling down a bit-” 

Harry hadn’t meant to, he really fucking didn’t. But she sat right on top of him, squirming a bit. Giving his dick a bit of friction, making his hands grip her hips and sit her down hard to stop the movement. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t face her as he heard the hitch in her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I promise m’not being a creep or anything.” He winced. “Just been a while and uh-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice rang out, fingers brushing through his hair. “H, look at me. I’m not mad.” Of course, her words were sweet and syrupy, going right to his dick yet again. Y/N had no fucking idea how much she effected him, how many times he’d thought about her in this positon and how guilty he felt that he’d turned a sweet moment into something like this. “C’mon. You don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

He took a moment before opening his eyes, looking at her face. Studying it, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a slight pout on her pretty lips. Y/N didn’t seem upset about it, seeing as she sat still and could most definitely feel his cock under her. He could feel her cunt over him, hot through the fabric and he was doing everything in his power to be fucking normal. 

“There you are.” The tables had finally turned. Harry was the shy one in this moment and Y/N was the one seemingly not freaked out. “It’s a natural body function, H. I know you’re not some kind of perv. I sat on your lap, remember?” She soothed his nerves. “Besides, I’m flattered. Was beginning to think you thought I was some kind of troll or something.” The smile kicked up on her face, but his frown deepened.

“The fuck? Why would you think that?” Brows furrowed, he didn’t like that she thought he didn’t find her attractive. He called her pretty quite a bit. 

“Well, I’m not your type. You go for all those tattooed girls with the bad ass attitudes, which is cool cause I think they’re hot too but… I’m all soft and squishy, y’know? I like the soft things, kinda the opposite of you so I just thought I wasn’t someone you’d be attracted to. M’nothing like what you go for.” She didn’t seem offended by this, rather stating it matter of fact- but Harry couldn’t believe how wrong she was. He had to wonder how long she thought this. 

While he was secretly pining after her, she was thinking he was going off to get blowies by the girls that flirted with him which, sometimes he did. At the beginning of their friendship, he tried to stave off those feelings for her by getting someone else underneath him, fucking away the frustration but he learned fairly quickly that none of it did much when his mind was on someone else. It’d been months at this point. Sure, he liked a bit of flirting to boost his ego, but that was only when Y/N was preoccupied. 

“Well, you’re wrong.” He said sternly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Dunno where the troll idea came in when m’always staring at you.” He scoffed. “No more of that bullshit. Wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t think you were stunning. Trust me.” In fact, she was the only thing that got him hard these days. Thinking of her mouth, her thighs, her tits, her ass, anything. Even her hands, for fucks sake. “Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are t’me. Pisses me off.”

“Sorry.” She bleated, pouting back at him. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just.. You call me pretty but I never would have thought you meant it like that. I like that you let me cuddle you and stuff so obviously I know you aren’t repulsed by me but, I dunno.” She swallowed, looking down at his bare chest. “I’m sorry for getting you… if you’re uncomfortable.” 

God, he was mucking this up wasn’t he? He shook his head, letting his thumbs rub over her hips as he softened his face. “No, sweets. Don’t apologize. S’not a big deal, I’m not mad at you. Just don’t like the idea of you thinking poorly of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.” So stunning that his cock was still hard under her. “I’ll go take care of it when we’re done, but no more squirming. Okay?” Squeezing her, he tried to rectify the situation. “No more fussing.” 

“But…” Y/N’s lips twisted slightly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders. “That’s not fair.” 

Harry blinked a few times, looking her over hesitantly. “What d’you mean? I’m okay, pet.” 

“Well, It’s my fault that you’re like this.” She protested. “I can fix it, if you want. Haven’t given too many blowies before, but I can take instruction pretty well.”

Harry truly thought he was dreaming for a moment, his face hot as she gave him an innocent look. Like she meant it, though it slightly embarrassed her for not having a lot of experience. But feeling her shift on him clued him back into reality. This was real. “You- You don’t have to do anything for me, Y/N.” He was holding on by a string. “You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your responsibility to get me off just because my cock’s got a mind of his own.”

Y/N huffed again, shaking her head. “I want to. Can I?” Her face shifted slightly. “You’re not making me do anything. It would make me feel better If i could take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I mean it. Promise.” 

And god, if Harry was a stronger man he’d lift her off his lap and insist on taking care of it himself. He’d explain that it could make lines blurry and he liked her a bit more than a friend and they’d have that talk. But he wasn’t a stronger man, and she rolled her hips on him again with a hum, making his head fall back when she repeated the action. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. “As long as.. As long you’re sure. I don’t want you to regret it or anything.” 

“I won’t.” She peeped. “I like making you feel good, Harry.” Her face seemed brighter as she watched him nod.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” He sighed. “I’ll show you what I like.” 

Never in a million years had he expected her to be visibly excited, slipping off his lap and on to her knees in front of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eyes looked up at him with curiosity, hands running over his thighs as she waited for direction. He’d dreamt of this so many times, stroked off in the bathroom to this very mental image to get his load out quicker. His cock pulsed inside his sweats. This was really happening. “M’not wearing briefs under these.” He warned, pushing the waistband down as he slowly tugged himself out of the pants. His hand was slightly shaky ass he gave himself a squeeze at the base, a soft hiss leaving his teeth when her hand covered his own. 

“I’ve only done it a few times but…” Her eyes widened. “Yours is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

And fuck if that didn’t get him going. Harry took pride in his dick, as a lot of men did, but to get that compliment was better than anything else. His hair was normally trimmed shorter, but it had been a while. It was groomed a bit at the base, his happy trail leading up his stomach. “Thank you.” He mumbled, removing his hand and letting hers take over. Y/N was eager and that much was obvious, feeling her give him a few strokes as she shuffled closer in between his spread thighs. “I- I probably won’t last long. I wasn’t lying, it’s been a while.” And he’d imagined her in this position so many times that he was programmed to get off to it quickly. 

“That’s okay. You’re quite big so it’ll be better for my jaw.” She giggled. Fucking giggled while her thumb rubbed over the slit, making him shudder. He’d always imagined she’d be much more shy in this situation, but again he was proven wrong. “What do you like?” 

Honestly? He could cum just like this. Her stroking him slow, looking up at him with that pretty little face. Splatter her pretty face with pearly strings leaking from the slit of his cock, let it drip down her cheeks and chin. But she wouldn’t like that answer. “I’m okay with anything you give me, but I… I like to hear you.” He swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving his nose. “And uh, a bit wet. If that’s something you’d like.” 

Y/N looked like she was taking note, nodding at his words. “I want to know what you like, m’okay with anything.” She smiled. “I knew you had to be big cause.. Y’know you’ve got the energy. And I’ve felt it a few times when we cuddle, before you wake up. It’s just different to see it.” Y/N leaned her head on his thigh, continuing to jerk him off. “I’ll probably choke a little bit, cause you’re the biggest I’ve taken. It’s okay though, I’ll be fine. I’ll pinch your tummy or somthin’ if I need a second to breathe.” 

Who the fuck was she? Y/N had never, ever shown or hinted at being filthy in her life, but here she was. Talking about choking on his cock. He throbbed in her hand, making her eyebrows raise. “You liked that. Noted.” Leaning forward, she kept eye contact with him as she dragged her pink tongue from the base up to the tip, letting it sit there for a moment before she pulled away, giving him a few more strokes. “You can show me what you like too. Don’t be shy about it, H. I want you to feel good.” 

Harry nearly lost it as he watched those gorgeous lips purse, spitting right over the tip. It slipped down his length before her hand caught it, stroking and spreading it over his cock. Filthy, filthy things filled his tongue immediately, but he tried to pace himself. “Fuck me…” He whispered, gently gathering her hair in his hand. “I didn’t know you had this in you, gorgeous.” It nearly bowled him over. “Can you.. Take it in your mouth. Suck the tip for me. I want to see that.” 

Normally, he had no problem being a cocky, arrogant man. He was dominant most of the time with his hook ups- but Y/N wasn’t just a hook up to him. She was special. He didn’t want to do a single thing to potentially fuck this up. He wanted her to like this, to see how much he liked it too. She had no problems following instructions, the man watching as her lips stretched around the tip and dipped down a bit as she suckled on it. A soft hum left her mouth and vibrated over him as he curled the hair around his fist, making him groan. “Yeah, jus’ like that, angel. Fuck.” He kept his eyes on her as she bobbed shallowly, taking moments to rub her tongue over his leaking slit. “You’re so good, so sweet t’me. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this.” 

Y/N pulled off the tip, lips wet as she peered up at him. “I’ve thought about it before.” She whispered, lapping over the side of his length. “Wanted to see your cock. I knew it’d be pretty.” 

What the fuck? Harry’s brian felt fried, completely caught off guard by this information. Sure, he had thought maybe once or twice she was teasing him but it wasn’t often. Y/N was just so sugary sweet and kind, a slight air of innocence, and… Now she was telling him she’d thought about sucking him off before. “You have?” 

“Mhm.” She stroked him a bit firmer, the slick sound of her hand around his wet cock getting louder. “I heard.. Heard rumors and felt left out. You like me the best but you never asked me to do anything.” Rubbing the tip over her pouted lips, Harry was shocked yet again. 

“Cause y’mean more to me than any of the other people.” He swallowed. “Too fuckin’ sweet. I like you the best, you’re right but.. You’re my sweet girl. Didn’t want t’use you for anything like that. Would break my heart if I hurt you and you’d not want to see me again.” 

“What if I wanted you to use me?” She asked, peering up at him with those eyes. They drove him absolutely mad. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I asked, H. You’re so good to me… I just want to be good for you too.” Taking the tip back into her mouth, she pushed herself down further and he felt his stomach clench. It took him off guard, feeling the hot mouth take him down and bob herself against him, a soft hum vibrating over him. 

“Oh- Fuck.” He let out a broken groan, leaning further back into the chair. “You are, baby, you fucking are. Hot little mouth… shit.” She whimpered around his cock at his words, sucking a little harder as her hand stroked the rest of him. She liked that. “What is it, hm? Like when I call you baby? When I tell you how perfect you are?” His words got a bit darker. He was slipping into another headspace and Y/N seemed to be coaxing it on. 

She did a half ass nod, not pulling off his length as she continued. Harry wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that she’d be a greedy girl like this, but he was incredibly thankful that she was. “You are. Such a good girl, so gorgeous with your mouth stretched around my cock. Didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby. Should’ve told me.” He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t have wasted my loads in the shower before comin’ t’bed with you. Could’ve pushed into your needy mouth and let you swallow it down.” 

Y/N moaned around his prick, eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. He’d never seen a better sight. “You’re so beautiful, angel. So pretty. Didn’t know such a filthy thing could have you lookin’ even more beautiful.” His throat felt thick as his cock throbbed in her mouth. “Fuck, you don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

Y/N pulled off, panting slightly as webs of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. “How much?” Her voice was a little hoarse, but he could hear that she was desperate to know. “You- You could have. I don’t want you to waste it anymore.” There was the tiny bit of shyness coming back in. “If umm, if you think  I’m good enough at this. I’ll do it.” 

“Fuck me, baby.” His thumb wiped over her spit soaked lips, breaking the threads of spit as he caressed her cheek. “All the fucking time. S’the only thing that gets me off.” Confessions he hadn’t thought he’d be saying so soon, let alone before he’d ever kissed her, spilled from him. “You’re doing amazing. More than good enough, too fucking good for me.” He couldn’t believe she was offering. “You sure you want t’be the one to take care of it?”

“Yes, I want it. I don’t want anyone else to do it.” She pleaded. “I’ll be the best for you. Just- you can tell me and I’ll suck you or, or anything you want.” Harry tested it, gently pushing her head back towards his prick- which she immediately took back in her mouth. The perfect, wet heat bringing him back to that filthy place in his head. 

How could she think he could ever say no? She’d been his weakness since she brought him over that damn cupcake. 

“Oh, sweet girl. Anything?” He cooed. “Dangerous thing to promise me. Don’t want anyone else to do it either.” His breathing was getting harder, trying not to thrust his hips up into her mouth and make her take it all. Sure, she’d probably do it, but he still felt the need to be delicate with her. “Take a little more for me, baby. Just like- there, there you go.” He praised, mouth falling open as she did exactly what he wanted. “Gonna make me cum.” 

This felt a million times better than rubbing one out in her bathroom. His legs were near vibrating, the wet sound of her mouth taking him down and the clicks of her hand stroking his spit soaked cock filling her bedroom. This was the last thing he’d expected was her on her knees for him tonight and part of him wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a wet dream, but he was thanking whatever higher power that was up there that his sweet girl had a dirty side to her. One he wanted to be the only one privileged enough to see. 

“In my mouth.” She gasped, pulling up for a moment. “Want to taste you. Please?” 

How could he ever tell her no? 

Pushing her back down on his cock, he let his hips rise up and shallowly thrust into her mouth as she moaned around him, drooling down her chin and letting him use her the way he needed to get off. The best part was knowing she was enjoying it so much. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long already, but he attributed that to shock. She was dirty, his sweet girl, choking slightly on his cock as the tip hit her throat, but she made no move to want to stop. 

His last straw, though, was feeling her hand over his balls, whining around him as he let out his deepest groan yet. It was sloppy and messy and so fucking good that he felt lightheaded, tummy hot and legs weak as he felt himself approach his end. “Fuck, jus’ like that, your fucking mouth is perfect… fuck, fuck, fuck, baby- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-” His voice failed as his head fell back, lifting his hips as his cum began to pour into her mouth. Ribbon after ribbon coating her throat, pulling back a bit to get it on her tongue while she worked him through it. 

He didn’t realize he had so much in him, but perhaps it was just Y/N that made him cum this much. This hard. His ears rung a bit, curses leaving his mouth as he watched her mouth open and hand stroke him to see the pearly mess on her tongue. At the last little bit,he used his grip on her hair to tug her up to his face. 

“C’mere, sweet girl. Share with me, don’t be greedy.” holding her face while the other had her hair, he pulled back into his lap and her mouth to his and groaned as she licked over his tongue, sharing the remnants of his load with him. It was something a bit nasty and deprived, he knew, but Y/N merely moaned back, her clean hand curling around the back of his neck. 

The kisses slowed from frantic and hot, to softer, slow and sweet. Pecking her lips over and over again, her whimpers melted into giggled as he untangled from her hair, sliding his hand under the shirt she had on to get some bare skin on his fingertips. “Sweetest thing, most beautiful girl.” He murmured between kisses. “Thank you. Best I’ve ever had.” 

“You’re jus’ saying that.” She whispered, though the smile was difficult to wipe off her face. Obviously she liked praise just as much as him. 

“Nope. Mean every word.” He confirmed, rubbing his nose over her cheek. “Thank you, baby. Felt so damn good, can’t feel my legs now.” Harry’d never felt like this after a blowie, both in his legs and the fondness he felt for the girl. If there had been any doubts about his feelings for her whatsoever, they were shattered. He was so far gone for her, it was pathetic. 

“Good.” She smiled, feeling the kiss to his cheek. “I need to finish your skincare, though. So tuck yourself back in, cause m’gonna do that and then brush my teeth again. Though.. I can tell you’ve got a good diet. Tasted nice.” 

Though Harry knew cum never really tasted good, he was chuffed that she hadn’t minded. Even more, that she hadn’t minded indulging in sharing with him. “M’not selfish, I need to help you too.” He reminded, though she merely shook her head. 

“I’ll take a raincheck. M’so tired now, and I want to enjoy it fully.” Pecking his cheek in return, she picked up the moisturizer. “Think you need a lip mask too. Thankfully, you’re in the right hands.” 

Harry was sometimes a selfish lover with hookups and he could admit that, but with Y/N he never wanted to be that way. He wanted to make her feel good, but he could wait. It only made him anticipate it more- there would be a next time. 

“Okay, sweets.” He chuckled. “Do whatever you’d like.”

[gin-juice-tonic]

So, for Starters: Book Of Bill Spoilers warning. Another opinion from me below. This new one is about the lost journal pages again, of course.

Originally, I wanted to make a super big crazy essay about all the reasons I think the journal pages in BOB (The Book of Bill’s given name) are fake, and show off my super-cool totally completely sound deductive reasoning techniques in the process.  

Unfortunately, knowing myself I’m not sure I’m actually capable of accomplishing such a feat. You all know how I tend to post things in parts, sometimes out of order, often never finished. However I would like to share something in particular that’s been eating at me that I’ve seen… partially discussed, but only partially. And certainly not the part that I would like to discuss. 

It’s about the rats.

You know, the rats.

I saw these rats being talked about since before I was even able to have a look at the book myself. 

But before I get further into it all, I would like to start off with a joke: 

Why did dead rats, eggnog, a land orca, shrimp colors, It’s a Small World After All, and an Anti-Cipherite Suit cross the road? 

Well, that’s easy. To get to the other side. 

Of the book, that is. 

If you’re anything like me, you probably skipped right to the journal pages upon contact with the book. And if you’re even MORE like me, you were probably left a little confounded by them. Not only did they seem… wrong somehow. But they also felt random. Full of odd choices of subject that didn’t make a lot of sense. Could these pages really have come from journal 3? If so, why do parts of them feel so… completely out of context? 

And this is where the rats come in. As I mentioned before, I saw many people discussing them. In particular, they were noting a connection to this passage from earlier in the book:

Many of the related discussions also felt odd to me. Though I lacked the knowledge to be able to articulate why at the time. UNTIL, I read the book for myself from start to finish. That's when I realized something:  This is not the only time something from earlier in the book connects back to the journal pages. In fact, it happens many, many times throughout the earlier passages. (Here is a small collection of them for your perusal.)

And then it started clicking into place. The reasons the pages felt like they were so abnormally out of context… is because they WERE lacking context!

Now, before you can finish saying “Gin, you’re an idiot.” I would like you to ponder these three questions: 

1) Why, if these pages were taken from Journal 3, should they require context from outside of it to be able to be completely understood?

2) Why is it that this context can be found in what Bill Cipher has been writing in the preceding passages up till now? 

3) If you put food in a mogwai’s mouth at midnight EST but drive it over the CST time zone line back to 11PM before it can swallow, will it still transform into a gremlin? 

Okay, you caught me, that third one is unrelated. But the first two I believe require further thinking. So let’s delve a little further into the idea. Consider this the real third question: 

3) Are we to seriously believe that these, the only pages of J3 still lost to us, just so happen to tie into the new topics from the rest of the Book of Bill over and over like this?  

And since you’ve done so well thinking thus far, I’ll ask a fourth question: 

4) Are you aware of the concepts of Watsonian and Doyalist analysis? 

Assuming you don’t and you won’t google it, I’ll skip to the important part. Watsonian analysis is to analyze a story from within it, as if you yourself were Watson making deductions in a Sherlock Holmes novel.  

Now, from a Watsonian point of view, what happens when we try to answer our earlier questions? Why should it be that the Book of Bill provides so many of these points of reference to the journal pages? 

One possible line of thought could be that Bill wrote the earlier passages of his book *around* the idea of what was contained in the pages, but I think this doesn’t work for a few reasons. For one thing, the purpose of the book is to get the reader to make a deal, not to take a whole novel to set the stage for a 3 day mini Ford adventure. For another, not all of what I described prior is really fit to be called “context”, is it? The rats, the “Small World” cassette, and the Bill-Suit are one thing, but Eggnog? Shrimp colors? Land Orcas? I certainly wouldn’t define them that way. If anything, they’d be better suited to being called “references”. And unlike the more contextual ideas, there’d be no real need for Bill to sneak mere references to the pages into his grand story.  And lastly, there are a great deal of Bill pages that have nothing to do with the content in the journal pages at all.

So what exactly am I trying to say here? 

If we do intend to think of the callbacks outlined above as references, the only logical conclusion within the story is that the journal pages themselves are referencing back to the Book of Bill, not the other way around.

But… how? And why? Something Ford has written in the 80’s shouldn't be able to reference something Bill is writing post-weirdmageddon certainly. 

That’s because “Ford” isn’t referencing it at all!

And as for why… Well, have you ever noticed when you're writing a story on the fly, things you wrote earlier all come crashing back to you as you try to wrap things up? I believe personally that the journal pages are not pages actually written by Ford, but more a strange endcap on Bill’s crazy train of thought! That Bill is the one writing them, and the "references" are just fuel that further the pages creation. Almost as if, to quote someone much more knowledgeable than me on this subject…

(This single paragraph has been inserted a good deal after the original writing of this post.) I would like to clarify, I am not trying to claim the ideas presented in the pages have no basis in reality whatsoever. Ultimately, what I'm saying is I think Bill wrote them, and they should be taken with suspicion instead of as complete fact. "Did this event happen exactly this way?", "Does some of this feel distorted?", "Did this part even happen at all?" I think those are questions worth examining with the events detailed on these pages.

In the end, all I've described above (as well as other aspects of the pages I've not mentioned here) leave me with the impression the pages are not real.

As I stated only a bit earlier, the idea that these pages, the only pages of J3 purported to be lost, should be so connected to the rest of the book is beyond coincidence to me. Not to mention that in order to take these pages as total truth, you must give credence to several other passages of Bill's book as well. And I'm not too keen on having to trust him that much.

To all who have read this far, even to those who may have scoffed at the ideas in here or think I've only written up nonsense. Thank you for reading and considering my thoughts.

I am not saying anyone must agree with me on this. I know some people have found the pages to be important and meaningful to them, and I do not wish to give the impression that I think my view is the end all be all correct one, or that I think lesser of those who believe them to be Ford's own writings. I only want to share my own thoughts on them. And to anyone else who found the pages to feel "off" somehow, possibly validate their feelings too.

[yanderemommabean]

Hey beans

Just wanted to say some updated stuff, and apologize for being so dry and gone!

The doctors more or less aren’t helpful with the symptoms I’m having and sent me home with a bill and a slap on the back. Told me to just “keep and eye on it” and nothing else other than some antibiotics and a blood test that revealed the same as last time.

And I have a heart doctors appointment in a month which sucks because I would like to be seen now but that’s when they could book me, so I have to hang on I suppose

I’m feeling better than I have been today but I still have to be extremely careful not to fall over or have my vision black out when I stand too long or get up at all

You’re all very sweet with the get well messages and those messages of support and patience ❤️ it means a lot, as I get scared that I’ve let you down somehow (I know that isn’t the case but being ND and such makes me worry that if I’m not up to the task then I’m not a good person, ya know?).

I’m sorry for the lack of posts! And I’m trying to get back with some people, and as far as coms go for now they’ll be closed until I post otherwise 💔 I know it’s a let down but I want the work I make to be full of quality and well, you can’t get that if I’m dying or sick!

I love you guys, I hope everyone’s ok and staying safe, it’s not been easy for anyone lately and I wish there was more I could do on my end.

I’ll try and get some small things done soon! I hope you all have a good day!

-Mommabean

[luveline]

Jade!!! I’m so excited that ur requests are open again!! sorry if this is like. super cheesy. but could I request reader being just tired and sad and Spence just holds her? I’ve been feeling rlly down lately and I need some1 hold me fr

Thank u sm!

ty ♡

Your shoulders slouched inward and your neck angled down, you look exhausted. Your hands sift through letters with a lethargy that makes them seem heavy, as though weights have been tied to your fingertips. Hair mildly unkempt, clothes wrinkled but clean, you're clearly in need of some time to yourself, or at the very least, time spent sitting down. 

Spencer knows all of this, but he doesn't know why you haven't told him what's wrong. Even if it's something small, he could help. Spencer's good at sorting things out because he has a truckload of self help books in his head. That, and he's seen a thousand types of grief. 

The thing is, he's desperate to take care of you, but he doesn't know how to start. What to say or how to say it. 

"Do you need help with that? I can do it for you," he offers. 

"That's okay. Just gotta pay this water bill… and the gas, too… I'm gonna call them."

"I can call them," he says. "Or if it can wait until tomorrow, we can do it then. Why don't you sit down? I can make dinner, we could order something." 

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. "What's wrong?" you ask. 

"With me? Whatever's wrong with you is wrong with me." 

You sigh and put your head on his shoulder. "Sorry, I'm being moody." Your breath warms his arm. "Sorry, Spence." 

Spencer looks down at the side of your head, contemplative for a few seconds, before he wraps one arm behind your neck and shoulders to pull you closer to his chest, the other falling to the small of your waist. 

Your forehead is cool against his bottom lip, his hair brushing your face as he says, "What are you sorry for?" all fondness. 

You don't react at first, but when you do it's clear you'd been waiting for a hug even if you hadn't known it yourself. Your back drops the tight tension stretched between your shoulder blades, your nose digging hard into his collarbone. 

Spencer closes his eyes to just hold you. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" he asks. No matter how over the top it sounds, he's dying to know, his hand roving the length and curve of your back in an attempt to coax it out while your defences are down. 

"Couple of things," you mumble into his shirt. 

"Anything I can fix?" he asks. 

Your hand curls into his shirt. "I think you're fixing most of it." 

Spencer smiles into your head. "Oh, yeah?" he asks, his lips skipping against your skin. "Tell me the rest of it and I'll fix that too." 

"You sound really confident." 

"I have, you know, a couple of qualifications." He pretends to yawn, "Three PhDs. Nothing fancy." 

You laugh weakly, sound smothered and nearly lost in the quiet. Spencer's not kidding, he really will fix everything one way or another, but for now he hugs you, taking the brunt of your weight. Your head lists heavily to one side as he dots a soft kiss into your temple. 

[writethrough]

hi !! i’ve been obsessed with your billy x reader fics <3 could i request smthing fluffy with him? maybe like they both have feelings for each other but r is too shy to admit it, so they try to flirt by doing that thing where they compare hand sizes?? idk just smthing fluffy w billy<3

Lost Things, Found Beginnings

(Billy Hargrove x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Self-depricating thoughts

Word Count: 1907

A/N: Thank you so much! I absolutely loved this request! Thank you for being patient, and I really hope you like it!

It caught your eye the moment you stepped out of your car. For all of the bad points of Hawkins, a good one was the pride business owners took in keeping their sidewalks clean. So, a ring lying on the curb was strange.

The silver gleamed in the sunlight as you crouched to pick it up.

Its intricate design tugged at your mind. Turning it this way and that, you tried to place where you had seen it. Then it hit you.

It belonged to Billy Hargrove.

Your face grew hot at the thought of returning it to him. How would you even approach him? It’s not like the two of you were friends.

In high school, you barely acknowledged one another. Billy had flirted with you once, but you were so stunned and flustered that you couldn’t even look at him when you answered with one syllable. After that, he never came up to you again.

Your stupid brain always short-circuited whenever an attractive guy spoke to you. Therefore, you tried to avoid speaking to attractive guys, even if, deep down, you wanted them to talk to you.

It just felt nice—to be wanted like that.

But you always ruined it.

You supposed it was for the best, though. Billy wasn’t the relationship type in high school. And you weren’t going to be another notch.

You’d seen him around a few times since.

You went to the pool sporadically this summer, and he threw a wink in your direction once, but you were convinced it was to the pretty blonde behind you. Her giggle had confirmed it.

Shaking your head, you slid the ring into your pocket and clocked in at the record store. But throughout your shift, it was all you could think about.

It wasn’t like you could just walk up and say, “Hey, I found your ring.” How would you explain that you knew it was his?

You couldn’t tell him you stared at his hands when he puffed on his cigarette. Or that you imagined the warmth they’d emit if they were on your hips or holding your own.

You traced the ring with your thumb, keeping it in your pocket so no one would catch you and ask about it. And by the time your shift was over, you’d become accustomed to the motion of it. So when you were locking up and driving home, you could still feel the carving rolling over your skin.

You lay in bed that night, placing the ring on each finger. It was big even on your thumb, and you tried to picture Billy’s hand alongside yours: large, warm, and strong.

You huffed, burying your face in your pillow until you couldn’t breathe. You hadn’t seen Billy in weeks and acted like a lovestruck teenager.

You had spotted him from the corner of your eye at the store last month and nearly booked it two aisles over. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen you. Or, at least, you didn’t think he had seen you.

It’s not like he would’ve said anything anyway. Besides, after that cringeworthy interaction in high school, he probably forgot you existed.

The next day you were working the closing shift. It was dead save a few middle schoolers on their way home.

Before you left this morning, you shoved the ring in your jacket, and it’s been a constant reminder that you had to return it to Billy.

You would probably have the most luck just going to the pool and handing it over. But that meant dealing with the eyes on you—on Billy, rather. They’d wonder what you were doing with him and how you got his ring. They’d whisper to their friends their speculations, and before you knew it, some rumor would circulate.

Maybe you could get Steve to do it or Eddie. Make them say they found it. They talked to Billy…

Yeah, that’s what you’d do. You could swing by Family Video and give it to Steve. He’d take pity on you and do it.

You let out a slow breath through your nose.

That was the plan then. You'd close up, find Steve—and if necessary—offer to buy the pizza on your next movie night.

You jumped when the little bell above the door jingled. And heat pooled into your cheeks at who entered.

Someone obviously hated you.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Billy said, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Hey.” You dug your thumb into the ring to keep your heart rate steady. How in the hell did he remember your name?

He strolled toward you, taking in the shelves of records, the clearance section, and the new releases.

“S’been awhile,” he said. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m alright. You?” You pressed the tip of your shoe into the floor and rested your hands on the countertop.

“Better now.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

You furrowed your brow slightly, wondering what he meant by that.

He ignored your look. “Been looking for something, though.” Billy leaned his forearms on the counter, and it took everything in you not to shy away. “You wouldn’t have happened to find a ring anywhere?” he asked. “Lost it yesterday. Kinda like it back.”

You squeezed your fingers. You didn’t know which was worse: Billy asking you about his ring, your faux scenario of approaching him about it, or what you would have to do—pull said ring out of your pocket and act like it hadn’t been on your person for twenty-four hours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you reached to retrieve and hold it in your palm.

“You mean this one?” You hoped he’d glaze over the faint tremble in your voice.

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly in relief as he exhaled.

“Been lookin’ everywhere for it,” he said, taking it and glancing at you. “Glad it was in safe hands.”

You gave him a small smile and nodded. “Happy I could help.”

The way he looked you over set off a trail of sparks on your skin—like he wanted to devour you. An exhilarating feeling since you weren’t his type.

You had floated around each other in high school after the incident. You had paid more attention to Billy than he did you. Watching his games with the rest of the marching band had put a little extra pep in your step. Sometimes he scanned over your section, and you swore he only looked away once he caught sight of you. But that had just been your mind playing tricks on you, making you see things you wanted.

You really tried to shake it off after seeing one of the cheerleaders hanging on his arm. And you rushed to your car before either of them could spot you.

“You wear it?” he asked. And maybe you were imagining it, but he sounded almost hopeful.

You shook your head. “S’too big. Didn’t want to lose it.”

He hummed, slipping his fingers under your palm and bringing it forward. His thumb traced your middle finger—where he had returned the ring on his left hand. Then, he held your hand open with his own so they were pressed against each other from heel to fingertips.

You’d never been this close to Billy and weren’t entirely sure what to do. Should you pull away? You really didn’t want to. What could you even say? You didn’t think you could speak with his body heat blanketing you and his eyes so intent where you were connected. It was like he was deep in thought, and you didn’t want to disturb him.

What could he be thinking about? He couldn’t be mad. You would know it. He didn’t exactly hide his anger well.

He was more focused than you’d ever seen him. And with how gently he touched you—his strong hands melting into your soft ones—you had to stop yourself from slipping your fingers between his.

You’d been so busy staring at your hands that when you finally looked at Billy, you were surprised—and slightly embarrassed—to find him smirking at you. A soft, playful smirk, one you had only seen in movies between a would-be couple.

He lowered your hand, letting his fingertips linger.

“Thank you,” he said.

You furrowed your brow, completely forgetting about why you were talking to him in the first place.

“For returning my ring,” he continued, trying to keep the smile at bay.

You shook your head slightly. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you have it back.”

His head tilted down as he laughed softly before looking up at you.

“The thing is, I do need to thank you.” He held his left hand up so you could see the ring. “This means a lot to me. So, you deserve a very big ‘thank you.’”

You glanced between him and the ring. His tone was suggestive, and it took everything in you to keep yourself from giggling like you were in high school again, and the cute boy you had a crush on was finally giving you attention—subconsciously, you acknowledged that was exactly what was happening.

“Let me take you out,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Take me out?”

Was this just an opportunity for him? You had thought he changed since high school, but maybe you were wrong. Perhaps he still seized every chance to sleep with anyone he wanted. And you were the next one on his list. And frankly, you weren’t interested.

Sure, you had a crush on Billy in high school, but it was the kind that made you want to hold hands with him and cuddle while watching TV. Not the kind where you wanted to jump in bed with him the moment he spared you a glance.

You had thought the way he looked at you meant something more substantial, but maybe it was just surface-level attraction.

You had shifted slightly away from him, and his smooth facade dropped.

Maybe his past flashed through his mind, or he wanted to make you understand him.

“Like a date. Anywhere you want,” Billy said. His eyes were sincere, a look you had never seen on him.

It took you aback.

Your shoulders relaxed, and you leaned toward him once more.

“You wanna go on a date?” you asked. “‘Cause of the ring?”

“I’ve wanted to go on a date since senior year,” he said, lips ticking up at the corner.

“High school?” You didn’t think you could be in any more disbelief. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want you involved in all my shit.”

It took you a moment to figure out what he meant. Then you remembered the newspaper article about Niel Hargrove being arrested. You thought you had understood Billy a little more after reading it. And now, he seemed to be a completed puzzle.

It almost made you want to cry. Billy had been dealing with so much, but he still wanted to protect you in that small way. 

“Okay,” you said, nodding.

“Okay?” His eyes lit up. “You wanna go on a date?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” He cleared his throat. “Good. How’s tomorrow?”

“Depends. Do I still get to pick the place?” You bit your lip to hold back your smile.

“Anywhere you want,” he repeated, eyes traveling to your lips and back up.

“Then pick me up at six,” you said, leaning forward.

His features softened. “I’ll be there.”

Taglist: @moonlightfountain, @steph-speaks, @bookshelf-dust, @nix-rose-q

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 4

Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: A mysterious box shows up on your doorstep, Elijah buys you a drink.

Warnings: Witchcraft, Love Bombing, Stalking, Sugar Daddy Vibes, Feelings of Inadequacy

Word Count: 2.3k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

Klaus’ bloody kiss had stayed with you for days, haunting you throughout your shifts at the hospital as your hormones raged in the absence of his presence, nearly making it impossible for you to focus. It made you wish that you were established enough to focus solely on your art career, that you didn’t have to work well into the night to pay your bills, but here you were, still a slave to capitalism. After your third grueling shift in a row, your legs wearily carry your body up the stairs to your apartment only to find a package sitting square in the middle of your doorstep. You look down the hallway at the other apartments, thinking that maybe it was something from the landlord that everybody got, but all the other welcome mats lay empty.

The box just sits there ominously, devoid of any stickers or labels, letting you know that it’s been hand delivered instead of ordered online and sent to your address. For whatever reason, you’re not sure why, that makes it seem a little bit more unsettling than you care to admit. That shady tarot reading makes you even more suspicious, Klaus’ warning of the witches in this town lingering in the back of your mind, making you approach your door with more caution than usual.

As you get closer, you notice that it’s a small wooden box exquisitely carved of rich cherry, no bigger than a shoebox without any other words or markings anywhere that you can see. Your heart races as you bend down to pick it up, holding your breath as you fear the very worst. What if there’s a dead animal inside or a body part covered in blood with some kind of curse on it that ruins your life once you touch it? What if it’s a distraction? What if….? You’re too tired for this. You grit your teeth and take a deep breath, finally convincing yourself to move your fingers and lift the top half of the box to see what’s inside.

Oh thank God! It’s just a book, but not any old book. It’s a paperback copy of Le Fantome de l’Opera, the first edition ever to be sold in France in the early 1900’s…1910, to be exact.

You exhale instantly as a wave of relief washes over you, carefully inspecting the green and gray cover, turning it over in your hands a few times before opening it to view its yellowed but pristine pages. You’d seen listings of this copy online before, but never actually seen it in person, let alone physically held it in your own hands. You can’t help but smile as you flip through the pages, doing your best to interpret the foreign language until you reach the front cover, reading a small note recently inscribed in perfect cursive:

For your collection, Little Lotte. Let your mind wander. I’ve read this far too many times to keep it Locked away on my shelf.

Your obedient servant. E. M.

E. M.? Elijah, of course! Had you really made as much of an impression on him as he had on you that day in the library? Has he really been thinking about you fondly enough to make a purchase of this magnitude and leave it for you to find in the middle of the night?

You stare blankly at the message for a moment, allowing the aroma of aged ink on paper to fill your nostrils as you bring it up to your face, nearly forgetting where you are and how scared you were just a moment ago. You close your eyes and imagine the intoxicating scent of his cologne surrounding you as that dark voice of his reads to you in French before your body begins to warm all over, instinctively leaning against your front door.

Your eyelids flutter as the weight of them suddenly becomes too much, the comfort of your bed calling to you as you coach yourself to find your keys and push them into the handle, nearly stumbling inside your living room. You bring the book and its box inside with you, sleepily deciding that you can weigh out the pros and cons of both Elijah and Klaus in the morning once you’re showered and rested, but until then, it’s time to sleep.

————————

You don’t wake again until the next afternoon, a rather common occurrence after working so many twelve-hour shifts in a row. You eventually rise and talk yourself into making a strong pot of coffee, glancing over at the book Elijah had left you as your caffeine begins to brew. Allowing the aroma to slowly clear your head as you pour your first cup, you wonder which situation was weirder: Klaus shutting down your Tarot interpretation just to walk you home and kiss you, or Elijah tracking down your home address to send you your favorite book. Both had lines of romantic intentions drawn through them, Klaus’ being a bit more forward than Elijah’s, but the truth remains for each of them.

You can’t remember a time where anyone had vied for your affections more fervently than right now, when two wildly different men had so brazenly inserted themselves into your life, the likes of which you could only compare to the romantic stories you’ve read about in books. You’d always envied those women who had two lovers to choose from, the center of attention at all times as these men competed for her hand. But this is real life, and if your years of experience had taught you anything about men, it’s that one of them will most likely grow tired of you before too long, weeding themselves out of the competition before it even begins. It’s just a book, you tell yourself. That’s all.

Attempting to clear your head of work, magic and ancient copies of classic literature, you decide to watch your coworker Tammy play the trumpet at a small bar in the garden district later in the night. It’s far enough away from where you met both Elijah and Klaus that you don’t have to worry about weighing the options of being in their presence as you settle into your barstool.

You let the music from the instruments distract you for the moment; Tammy’s trumpet painting the humid Louisiana air a shockingly vivid yellow, the saxophone adding bright red to the canvas as the piano dots the page with its vibrant blue notes while the bass guitar’s earthy green tones hold it all together. They blend and build onto one another, creating a beautifully unique masterpiece of sound that’s distinct to this region of the world, but vastly different from anything else anyone’s ever created before. This is what you love about the city, how the music on every street corner seems to take on a life of its own, dousing every inch of it in an almost visible, tangible fresco for everyone around to experience. This city is alive in more ways than one, and you’re just happy to be here to bear witness.

“Your finest whiskey, please, and whatever she’s having.” That dark chocolate timbre brings you back to reality as he addresses the bartender before turning ever so slightly toward you.

Oh, great. It’s Elijah. Is he following you? He’s already managed to find out where you live, so this doesn’t completely surprise you, but the coincidence forces suspicion to take up shelter in the base of your spine as he unbuttons his suit jacket.

“Espresso martini, please,” you tell the bartender softly, looking over at Elijah in disbelief. You aren’t entirely sure if you should be flattered or scared, his determination to find you both admirable and alarming. “Are you following me?” You ask in a semi-joking tone.

“Hardly,” he replies with a satisfied grin, keeping his secrets safe. “But if I was, I wouldn’t have expected you to show up here.”

“Well, if I’d have known you were looking for me, I would have given you more of a run for your money.” You lie, attempting to play it cool as you look at both of your reflections in the mirror behind the bar.

So much for your vampire theory.

“Would you, now?” He chuckles, his nonchalance making you shiver.

“Thank you, by the way… for the drink and for the gift.” You pause as his grin slowly melts into a smile. “The book, it’s remarkable, I’ve never seen anything like it,” you pause, careful not to get too swept up by his romantic gesture that you lose your head. “But that’s a nine thousand dollar book, Elijah, I looked it up on eBay. The first edition ever? I mean, how did you even get that? There are only two copies in the entire world for sale right now. I couldn't possibly accept a gift like this.”

He shrugs as if the money is inconsequential to him, his lips pursing just enough to signal that he’s almost tickled by your refusal. “I didn’t buy it, if it’s the price that bothers you.” He takes a moment to lean in and look you in the eye, his voice dropping down to a sincere whisper. “I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it, because you told me how much that book meant to you.”

“But why would you do that? You don’t even know me,” you counter breathily, attempting to push away what seems too good to be true.

“Not yet, no.” He sizes you up like a snake about to devour its prey. “But I could.”

Goddamnit, who IS this guy?

“Well… first of all, you can’t just stalk me and find out where I live and leave mysterious unmarked boxes on my doorstep at three in the morning.” You hush the tone of your last few words as the bartender brings both of your drinks out.

“I thought you enjoyed elements of danger with your romance, that love was meaningless without any stakes?” He raises an eyebrow and traces the rim of his glass with his index finger.

“I meant in my books, not in real life. I didn’t anticipate you scaring me half to death after a long shift with that box! It could have been anything in there: a dead rat, bloody feathers, someone’s finger, I don’t know!” You helplessly attempt to plead your case of how frightening it is to live in this world as a woman, but a man like him isn’t likely to listen.

“I’ve offended you.” His tone is diplomatic now, his expression hardening. “I assure you, that was not my intention. If I’ve misread our previous interaction, I’ll kindly take my leave.”

“No, that’s not it!” You correct him, grabbing hold of his arm to keep him near. “I'm letting you know that I would be offended if I wasn’t so… if you weren’t so…” you trail off, getting flustered as your lip begins to quiver.

“If I weren’t so what?” He reaches up and pushes a strand of hair away from your face, making your heart leap inside your chest as he gently tucks it behind your ear. You suddenly feel as if all time has stopped, the boisterous barrage of the band fading off into the distance as you fall headfirst into the black abyss of his eyes, letting it pull you down into its darkest depths, abandoning all hope of walking away from this sultry encounter unscathed. “I know you feel it, too.”

Fuck. He’s not wrong, not even a little.

He inhales slowly, creating a long electric pause as he takes you in as if it’s his very first time seeing you, letting you drown in the slick feeling in the very pit of your stomach. “I’ll admit that my delivery was a little old fashioned, but I thought that was something you’d appreciate.” He strokes your cheek as if he knows exactly what to do to make you melt beneath him, that he’s well aware that despite his questionable actions, he knows you won’t get up and leave.

“Mmm hmm,” you stammer clumsily, his fingers lighting up your skin as every tiny hair stands at attention, waiting for him to touch more of you.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He removes his hand from your face and takes the first sip of his cocktail, the stoic confidence radiating off of him like a man who's done no wrong.

“I do appreciate it, I really do, more than you know.” You admit, barely able to find your words as he holds you in his gaze. You struggle to express out loud what you’re thinking right now, how you’re feeling as a haunting sense of unworthiness creeps over you, inch by inch like an insidious gray cloud. You’d know it anywhere by now, for it’s the same one that’s followed you around for the majority of your adult life. “It’s just that one’s ever done anything like that for me before. I guess I’m just… not used to it.”

“Then every man before me has been a fool.” He lets his hand rest on top of yours, his fingers slowly slipping into the spaces between them before gently flipping it over, exposing your wrist. He takes another long draught of his whiskey before tracing little designs into your palm with his fingertips, exciting every neuron on your skin before moving up to your wrist, brushing against your pulse. “I’m sure that isn’t what you came to this city to find, now is it, little Lotte? A life that you’re ‘used to’?”

“No.” You confess almost immediately, feeling yourself sinking down deeper into his chasm of madness as you attempt to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“Then keep the book.”

[ctinalk]

Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel?

A few oversights made millennia ago, and suddenly we have a demon archangel on our hands.

Caution: I came up with and wrote this in the last few hours so potentially crackpot theory ahead. Apologies if this has been proposed before, it’s not one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen A LOT.

So supposedly the miracle Aziraphale and Crowley performed together was something only the mightiest of archangels could have done. Everyone assumes it was Crowley because they think he was a high ranking Angel formerly. Or that it was the two of them together. Or that Jimbriel amplified it. But what if…

“There is always a supreme archangel”

Michael says this in S2E1 when talking with Uriel about who is in charge now that Gabriel was missing. Gabriel was removed from office in the trial we hear, he’s no longer Supreme Archangel. If so, Michael’s statement would imply that as soon as Gabriel’s removal happened, a new archangel already existed. Now obviously the Metatron is making a show of choosing Aziraphale as the new Supreme Archangel. But is that within his power to do so? Or is he suggesting working with Crowley for a different reason, possibly unknown even to him?

“I am the only first-order archangel in the room, or you know, the universe”

During the “2nd Armageddon-that-wasn’t” discussion, Gabriel says these words. As he says them, it cuts (ominously isn’t the right word here, pointedly maybe?) to Crowley leaning against the desk, and lingers there just a bit too long.

“How do you know it wasn’t me?”

Another clue to the powerful angel Crowley was. It was clearly said in a teasing manner throw Shax off. But much like the barrel of red herring in the intro, is it a red herring to something else?

“Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?”

The only other time we see someone calling lightning or using it is, you guessed it: Gabriel in S1 on the airbase to port in and out. I’ve read the theory that Angel!Crowley was the lord of lightning, which I’m not opposed to, but to me this is another link.

“Never change their passwords”

We have one HUGE instance of Heaven being sloppy in their record keeping (passwords), and lax in their security protocol (Crowley bopping about with Muriel). Whereas Hell is meticulous in their record keeping, as shown by the bills, admissions process, and S1 contract.

So what if: when Gabriel was stripped of the title, a new Supreme Archangel was automatically appointed. Except instead of someone else, because heaven neglected to double-check their logs after The Fall, Crowley was still on the books as next in line? This would absolutely play into “God playing games with the universe” and “just think what would have happened if we’d been at all competent” themes running through both seasons. It would also follow the theory that people noticed Aziraphale and Crowley were on the “wrong” side for much of the season. It would also explain a few continuity errors along the way (how did Crowley know Muriel’s rank? He knows it through the knowledge automatically given to the Supreme Archangel).

“Funny ol’ world, isn’t it?”

Caveats and potential weaknesses:

I have no idea how this fits into the fact that S3 will be the actual continuation the Neil and Terry planned, as to my knowledge S2 was essentially a “Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic”. But clearly S2 has to play well into the plan for S3. I also kind of hate my theory because Crowley specifically declined to be an angel again, and his hand has been forced too often already.

Now I am a staunch advocate of the body-swap theory, and I’m not sure how this would play into that. Does Metatron know? Does he think he has the power to appoint? Does he think the title went to Aziraphale because of the miracle? Does he try to get Crowley to come back with Aziraphale to exploit his power? Does he know about the body swap in S1 and if so, was he trying to trigger another one to get the right “soul” to heaven?

There are a few other things I haven’t figured out how to incorporate into this post yet. I’ll try to put them into coherent thoughts in the next few days, but thought I’d throw this to the wolves universe for the time being.

Thought 1: “How have your lot managed to stay in charge all this time?” “I’m not so sure we have.”

Thought 2: I need to do (another) rewatch before I nail this one down (such a sacrifice I tell you), but does Crowley have a visceral reaction like he does in S1 to being called “good” in the current, post Gabriel-removal timeset? Obv in Edinburgh/Job, but that’s in the past. He denies it, sure (with Jim), but he straight up flashes a smile and thanks Mrs. Sandwich when she says “You’re a good lad” (after the denial).

2.1: No one calls him “good” in present day except these two instances. Vast difference in the visceral reactions of season 1 and flashbacks.

Thought 3: Crowley is the only one who can trigger Jimbriel’s recall memory.

[garaksapprentice]

Sewing Zero Waste Culottes from The Craft of Clothes

Zero Waste Culottes From The Craft of Clothes

Behold! Fancy pants!

The pattern for these pants was one of my Christmas gifts. It comes from Liz at The Craft of Clothes, a zero-waste designer. I've really gravitated towards self-drafting and zero-waste sewing in the last couple of years, and this pattern has been on my list for a good six months, so I was excited to get into it.

Drafting

The first step (after reading the pattern through twice) is drafting the pattern pieces.

My biggest starting hurdle was deciphering "the culottes are designed to sit on your waist" when choosing the correct pattern size. Most designers consider "the waist" to be the teapot - that is, the true waist. (It's easiest to find if you bend to the side and stick your hand in the crease - like you're singing "I'm a little teapot".) But some consider belly button height to be "the waist". I generally wear my pants at the latter height, and there's a good 2" circumference difference between those two for me.

I eventually decided to call my belly button my waist, on the grounds that that's where I prefer to wear my pants. It's also easier to take seams in than out, if I guessed wrong.

Decisions over, it was smooth sailing from there. Pattern drafting is not a technically difficult process, as long as you have good instructions, and Liz's patterns definitely fit that bill. But there's a lot of attention to detail required to make sure the end result is good. That sort of thing always makes me nervous. Fortunately there was only two pattern pieces to draft, and they're 98% straight lines and based off rectangles.

Interestingly, this is the first zero-waste pattern I've tried that has you draft pattern pieces to use. The others I've seen (most by the creator of this pattern - our library had a copy of her book, Zero Waste Sewing) have had you draw directly on your piece of fabric to create the layout. (In fairness, I didn't have to draft my own pieces. The pattern came with the option of self-drafting, printing on A4, or printing on A0.)

I much prefer the direct-draw method to faffing about with pattern pieces. But given that this pattern is designed to have the pieces tesselate, having a set of physical pattern pieces does make more sense. It's also got me wondering if I could successfully make a pair out of old jeans legs, using one leg per pattern piece. But then, I'm always looking for ways to use up my denim pile...

Sewing

I prefer structure rather than flow in my butt coverings, so I was somewhat limited in my fabric choices for this first pair. (I know the fabric I really want to use, but I am being a sensible apprentice and trying things out on a nice-but-less-hideously-expensive fabric first.) Most of my stash acquisition has focused on stuff for shirts, since I wear those out faster than pants. I eventually settled on this nice brick red, 100% cotton, table cloth.

The picture is suffering from sun exposure. It's nowhere near this bright in person.

I laid out the pieces and huzzah! The fabric was just big enough! ... But only if I unpicked the hems (they're monsters, a full 3 cm/1.2" each side) and ironed them flat first. Thus, it was time for a marathon unpicking and ironing session.

After that was done, I checked the pattern fit again. Huzzah! I had enough space for all the pattern pieces, and not very much scrap left over once I'd cut them all out. (Of course, it was late and I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have been, so I didn't add an extra inch when I was forced to cut the waistband in two pieces. There was enough extra fabric that this was only an annoyance and not a complete disaster.)

The fabric at the top is scrap. All but a few inches of the stuff on the right became waist bands and plackets.

Sewing was a fairly straightforward exercise, though it required enough brainpower that I completely forgot to take any progress shots as I went. Almost every step of the pattern comes with a diagram to show you what to do, which helped me immensely. So did having the seam allowances specified at each point, as there's three different ones used in different places.

That's not to say I didn't screw up, of course. While sewing the crotch seam, I somehow managed to close up the front of the pants entirely and leave a gap for the placket open at the back. (That will teach me not to double check the direction the pockets are facing before I pin and sew that seam. Maybe.) 

I also made a highly decorative and completely awful to sew with choice for topstitching thread, which I quickly became too stubborn to stop using. So the topstitching is, uh, not great. But it is purple and sparkly, and if I'd had any sense at all I would have left it til last (or even done some sort of hand embroidery with it).

I was tricked by the first line of stitching being so easy. LIES. It was all lies.

Why should I have left it til last? Because it turns out that the culottes are, in fact, designed to sit on one's true waist. Which meant I had a two inch difference between what I needed to fit me, and what the waist measurement was. If I hadn't top stitched the panels, I could have simply ran another line of stitching down the seams that didn't have pockets in the way, and taken the waist in without much fuss or bother. Unfortunately, I didn't do that, so I was left with two choices.

Take out the topstitching and take in all the panels, bitching and moaning about the effort I went to and the number of times the topstitch thread broke while I was sewing the stupid sparkly goodness onto things.

Work out how to take the waist in by the necessary two inches, using only the crotch seam and maybe some darts or pleats or something.

Choice #1 would have been the logical, rational decision, so of course I went with option #2.

An hour and change of basting, pinning and unpinning the waistband, and completely forgetting how seam allowances work later, I managed to get a fit I was happy enough with. I ended up grading in a dart-like object at the centre back. (If I decide later that I'm not happy with the fit after all, I'll try out the modification for adding elastic to the back waistband that the pattern also includes. Probably while questioning my life choices and lamenting the amount of time I spend with a seam ripper in hand.)

The original stitching line is in blue, the new one is in black.

After all that fitting woe, I wasn't in the mood to try buttonholes (my good machine, the one with the automatic buttonholer, is currently out of action). Instead I dove into my snap stash to close the placket.

I love using bright, vivid colours for inner details. It's the sewing equivalent of wearing leopard print underwear.

A nice bonus of using the snaps is that I could put them through just the placket, leaving the fly front clean. This did make the placket pull slightly when I'm wearing the pants, exposing a trace of bright red. I fixed that by invisibly whip-stitching through the placket and outer fabric to hold everything in place. Next time I'll also double check the understitching, and topstitch the edge if needed, before installing the snaps.

Field Test and Adjustments

Trying stuff on as you go is all well and good, but nothing tells you what you really need to fix like being out in the field. I quickly discovered several things:

The waistband needs serious help to stay where it's supposed to be. Which, y'know, I did make a size larger than I should have. This was not surprising.

The crotch needs to either drop a wee bit or (preferably) rise a couple of inches. The latter will likely spoil the skirt-effect somewhat, but it will be far more comfortable for my legs.

I need a loop on the waistband to hold my keys.

For the waist woes, I had a few choices - 1) belt loops, 2) suspenders, or 3) add elastic to the back waistband. Belt loops are fiddly to make and sew on, but would solve the key-hanging issue. Suspenders technically wouldn't need any sewing changes, but the clip-on style are notorious for pulling off when you're doing things. And while the pattern includes instructions for adding elastic to the waistband, I wasn't confident it would do the job I wanted (I stick a fair amount of junk in my pockets and elastic can't always cope with the weight).

After some dithering, I went with the suspender option for this pair. I like the look of them, and the "floating" effect they give when they pull the waistband a bit above where gravity wants it to sit is extremely comfortable. But I didn't want to deal with clips always popping off. So I indulged in a quick side-quest of improving my suspenders, then sewed buttons into the waistband of the culottes.

This used to hold the clips, but the wire was easy to bend flat with needle-nose pliers.

Gee, I wonder which buttonhole I did first?

Fashion Show

Overall, I'm quite happy with how it all came together. I'll definitely be making at least two more pairs - the "men's" version (less flare in the hems), likely out of recycled denim, and a pair in heavyweight stash linen.

The back panel adjustment is basically unnoticeable.

They have great range of movement - maybe I need to make a workout pair?

And I even have somewhere to hang my keys.

This post was originally published on my blog, Garak's Apprentice . I currently syndicate my content at Micro.blog, Tumblr, and Ko-Fi.

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[fordtato]

This ask is just be rambling about how bill and ford are probably just platonic, I say this as a queer person myself, if old men and triangles wanna make out they can I’m all for it

I’ve always seen Ford & Bill’s relationship as platonic, and now knowing the context of the book of bill, I think it really makes me believe they were just friends

Them just being friends shows that this can happen within any context not just relationships, you can find a friend and think you both appreciate each other and find out they’re the worst human imaginable and you regret and hate yourself for ever seeing anything in them worth liking

I also see Ford as aro/ace in some compasity so that probably also makes me think they’re friends

If Alex were to come out and say they were dating I wouldn’t care, good for them, I just think it holds more meaning if they were just friends

In conclusion, they were two dudes chillin in a hot tub, 5ft apart cuz they’re not gay

I mean, I'm fine with that interpretation. I think they used a lot of romance-coded language in the book ("will-they-wont-they," "one thing led to another," "Mabel saying Bill was like "a needy ex," Ford wondering if Bill was "off inspiring some other scientist," etc.) so I definitely am not sure what conclusion the book wants us to have.

I know that in my interview with Alex Hirsch last year (from around the time he was writing The Book of Bill), he specified that Ford's relationship with Bill was specifically not friendship, but something more "complex, and fucked up." I don't think he inherently meant that it was romantic, because he didn't come out and say it was.

Also this isn't me arguing that it must have been romantic, because like - I think people will read the book and come to their own conclusions and that's fine. Even if Alex literally tweeted out "they were boyfriends" tomorrow, I would still encourage people to reject that if they wanted to, because who cares what Alex says - he's just some guy!

Literally take from the book what you wanna takeaway from it. Wanna say this is a meaningful example of an abusive friendship? Have fun! Wanna say this is a personally relatable experience with abusive romance? Have fun! Wanna say the pages aren't even real? Have fun! Nobody on this accursed webbed site, including myself, is the arbiter of The Correct Interpretation.

[ckret2]

Okay am I missing something that’s going on with the website? I’ve seen one or two posts about it but it won’t load on my phone so I can’t check for myself.

and I saw something about there being even more Gatsby connections? If so that’s great bc it’s one of my favorite books that I happen to have read thoroughly multiple times so I feel like I can actually help solve any mysteries on that front.

go to the site, plug in the password TJ Eckleburg, and currently you get an error message (that by now we suspect is intentional and not an error at all) that looks like this:

If you repeatedly click on Soos's upper body, the messages in the top right change. They're funny. One message offers a link to a PDF of The Great Gatsby to read while you wait; another links to the lofi Gravity Falls theme released a few days ago; and one has Soos display Bill's possessed eyes (aka Boos) and show a coded message that translates to "SO! MANY! QUESTIONS!"

Fandom's been going insane the past few hours looking for any clues to unlock anything further on the site. All have been dead ends; there don't seem to be any other passwords.

People who have dug into the code found that it looks like the site is pinging a text file called /is-it-time/well-is-it.txt and if the text file says "no" we stay on this page with Soos's error message; if the contents of that text file are changed to a URL, we'll be redirected to that URL. So we're probably just waiting for Alex-or-somebody to update well-is-it.txt to get a new URL with the next part of the site.

[plutoccult]

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

description: a beautiful stranger shakes up your once boring and repetitive morning commute on the train.

word count: 3.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello! i’m no stranger to writing, but i’m definitely a stranger when it comes to writing for idols. this is the first time i’ve ever done so, and who better to write for than my ultimate bias hyunjin? stray kids is my favorite group, so i’d like to write more content for them in the future. thank you to my pookie wookie lills (YES, we unironically call each other pookie, it’s our thing) for beta reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

soundtrack: beautiful stranger, enchanted

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @rylea08 @br3anna-nels0n @hyunjinloverrrr

taglist form here

you always found an array of characters during your morning commute on the paris metro. there’d always be locals, some on their way to work or home just like you. amongst the locals were tourists decked out in overpriced souvenirs specifically curated for suckers like them. at night, there were drunks who thankfully were smart enough not to drive. the reek of alcohol on them wasn’t that amusing, you must admit.

despite the variety of people you could see passing by on your commutes, it grew boring. always the same thing every single day. not even the music playing in your headphones or the book you brought with you that day could make time go faster. it’s not like it would be any better once you got off the train either. your life was incredibly dull and repetitive. if only something could serve as a change of pace.

to think that your life had become boring in a place like paris of all places. it’s the city of love, is it not? even if you were created out of love and born in a city all about that concept, you had none of it. maybe that’s why you felt this way. no matter how many times you pass the same streets or enter the same train station, you had yet to find the one thing everyone seemed to look for so easily here.

you had basically given up at this point, committed to living an empty life where all you did was work, eat, sleep, then repeat. it’s what most people do in other countries anyway, might as well join the party. the second you had fully lost all hope, however, was when you saw the most beautiful stranger on the train. you almost wanted to slap yourself for being so pessimistic before.

you walked onto the train with the expectation of just sitting around until you got to your stop. as you walked to your usual seat, that’s where you found your beautiful stranger, sitting in the seat right across from the one you sat in every single day without fail.

you knew you had never seen him before. you take this train almost every damn day, so who was he? had he just moved here? was he a tourist? where’s the “i love paris” shirt and the eiffel tower keychain made of shitty plastic? instead, he was dressed like someone meant to be on billboards and magazines. surely had the face to fit the bill too. he was undoubtedly breathtaking, and he ultimately captivated you upon first sight.

it was pathetic how you hesitated to sit down. he didn’t seem to waver, looking down at his phone. from the reflection of his sunglasses—yes, you were that curious—he seemed to be swiping through photos. you assumed they were ones he had taken around the city. paris was definitely filled with photo opportunities, so you couldn’t blame him for that one. it’ll look good on anyone’s instagram feed.

you try your best to make yourself look occupied. shuffling through your bag to find a book, the rummaging sounds catch the attention of your beautiful stranger. your eyes meet for a brief moment when you turn your body to lean back in your seat with a book in hand. despite how quick the moment was, you swore your heart dropped the second you caught his gaze.

oh god, was this the excitement you had been waiting for? you couldn’t mistake it as anything else. leave it up to you to fall for a stranger upon first sight, but who cares? finally, finally, your life had begun to be painted in color. even if it was just for a moment, you’d savor this one train ride that actually seemed worthwhile for once in your life.

you steal glances at him every so often, praying he wouldn’t catch you and make you feel embarrassed for staring. you just couldn’t help yourself, he was like a walking renaissance painting. actually, you don’t even think da vinci would be capable of capturing the essence of someone who looked like a real-life prince.

the moment you knew you had reached your stop, you wished you could glue yourself to your seat so you had no choice but to stay on the train with your beautiful stranger a little longer. as much as you wanted to, you simply couldn’t, having no choice but to say goodbye without actually saying a word at all.

it was silly to think a stranger on the train could change your life in an instant. still, you were grateful for the temporary change of pace. if only you could thank him somehow, but alas, you knew you had no chance of seeing him again.

•••

the next day, you found your beautiful stranger again, this time sketching down something in a sketchbook. you caught him looking at everyone who walked onto the train, and when it was finally your turn to step on, he actually smiled once he laid eyes on you. it all felt like you were dreaming. if this was cloud nine, then you had finally reached it.

when you walked over to your seat across from his, you noticed he clutched the sketchbook close to his chest, almost like he didn’t want you to see what he was drawing. you were too shy to speak up and spark a conversation with him anyway, so it wasn’t like you would pry. still, you were curious to know what was on the page.

it pained you knowing you lacked any courage. you found you were better off acting like you were interested in your book, on a random page as you were too in your head to actually start from where you left off and completely ignored the folded page that indicated that. what would happen if you said hello? would he say hi back? ask if you’d like to see what he’s drawing or ask about what you’re reading? the possibilities seemed to be endless, but the possibilities seemed safer as thoughts in your head rather than facing reality if you were to take a chance.

you can’t help but watch intently as his face scrunched from focusing on his sketch, his only tool a wooden pencil. did he plan to color it later? you can imagine trying to avoid rattling colored pencils leaving his possession due to the bumpiness of the train. he was quite brave for trying to draw in a place like this, you thought.

unnoticed by you, your beautiful stranger’s cheeks flushed and ears burned red as he could feel you watching him draw. the subject of his drawing still remained a mystery to you, however. tempting to spark up a conversation, yet so debilitatingly scary at the same time.

it seemed rude to stare for so long, so you put a stop to it immediately and busied yourself with your phone, catching up with texts you had missed since getting up for work. your phone was always blown up with texts from your friends, today being no different. if you didn’t silence your phone at night, you would never get any sleep.

they had been informed about your current saga, and the update would certainly excite them. it was hard to resist a smile as you texted them about the latest scoop, especially as the subject of said scoop was only a few meters away from you. maybe this should wait until later, otherwise they’d trying forcing you out of your comfort zone by talking to who was still a total stranger at the end of the day.

who knows though? for all you know, he could be a murderer. a stinking gorgeous one too. as if you need to be on the evening news. even so, those were just silly thoughts, all just an excuse to stop yourself from taking a chance at something for once in your life out of fear.

the second you reached your stop, you instantly regretted being so silent. would it have killed you to try? it felt like it would’ve, but you figured this morning was the last chance you’d have. if only you weren’t such a scaredy cat.

•••

after your shift, an unexpected reunion occurred on the evening commute. the train was quite crowded at this time of day, majority of the aboard trying to get home after a long day’s work, including you. the surplus of people made it quite difficult to find seating, but luckily for you, your beautiful stranger had a seat occupied by his bag, perfect for you to sit.

this was the extra chance you craved the second you got off the train earlier, cursing yourself throughout the day for not even attempting to just say hello. you were so thankful to see him again, it was almost like the universe blessed you for this very purpose. you were such a wuss this morning, but you refused to allow that reputation to continue now.

once you took a deep breath, you walked to where your beautiful stranger sat, trying to keep your balance as the train moved at rapid speed. in the midst of your struggle, the sound of your footsteps thumping on the ground caught his attention. he looked up in surprise, not expecting to see you, but thrilled nonetheless.

“hi.” you miraculously manage to speak out, your accent making an appearance during your pathetic english. it was agonizing how your heart raced a mile a minute just by uttering one word, so you tried your very best to calm yourself down. “is this seat taken?”

“no, no…” he replied to your question, picking up his bag and moving it to the floor by his feet so you could sit. “here.”

“thank you.” you say before taking the seat next to him.

god, your heart was thumping like the loudest drum ever created. to sit across from his was one thing, but right next to each other, shoulders brushing due to the lack of room? if only you could put a stop to this rapid percussion inside you. at least the sounds of the train rumbling against the tracks could serve as buffer for the unspoken tension between you and your beautiful stranger.

his sketchbook rested unopened on his lap. you recognized it as the one he had earlier, previously held close to his chest as if he were hiding secrets. what could someone as dashing as him be hiding in there, you wonder?

almost as if he were reading your mind, he suddenly opened up the sketchbook, flipping the pages—which revealed beautiful drawings in the split second you saw them—until he landed on a page of a finished sketch, one that you swore looked like you sitting on the train yesterday.

you look up and catch his eye. “is that me?”

“mhm.” he nodded with a soft grin.

his art style was something to be proud of, meant to be showcased in somewhere exquisite like the louvre. could this guy be any more perfect? drop dead gorgeous and talented? to see yourself captured in such a bewitching way was truly the greatest compliment one could ever receive.

the sound of the page ripping away from the binding of the sketchbook startled you. what was he doing? it was so perfect! why mess it all up? you couldn’t help but say something about it.

“what are you—”

“you can have it.” he interrupted you, holding the page in his hands, waiting for you to take it.

“oh…” your cheeks flush as your fingers accidentally grazed over his upon grabbing the sketch. “thank you.”

you almost felt bad holding this in your hands, afraid of ruining it just by the touch of your hand. how could he just let you have this without hesitation? even if this was a drawing of you, it felt like you didn’t deserve to have it.

you examine the drawing down to the details of the clouds behind you. you look for some sort of signature, assuming every artist had one in hopes to find a name. in the bottom corner, you see the name “hyunjin” written in cursive. you had finally put a name to your beautiful stranger.

“hyunjin?” you attempt to pronounce his name. your accent did you no favors, but you tried your best regardless. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until you pointed to where his signature was, then receiving a nod confirming that was his name.

“hwang hyunjin.” he said slowly. you repeat his name in full, speaking slower than him to make sure you were saying it correctly as you desperately didn’t want to screw it up. hyunjin, as you’ve now learned, gave you a nod of approval once you’ve won the battle with your accent.

“i’m y/n l/n.” you tell him. it would be awfully rude if he didn’t learn your name, after all. it seemed hyunjin didn’t seem to struggle at all when it came to pronouncing your name. his english was far better than yours, which wasn’t a shock as he seemed to be so insanely perfect in every aspect possible.

“are you an artist?” you ask, making an assumption based on the clues given to you the past two days. if he were anything else, you’d be surprised.

“i sing and dance.” hyunjin replied. you couldn’t believe his perfection could get any greater, but it just did. it would shock you if you learned your once beautiful stranger was a world famous one.

“well, your art is lovely.” you say.

“thank you.” he blushed shyly. to hyunjin, it felt so nice being treated like a normal person, appreciated for his art above all else. while there was no denying you found him to be the most breathtaking person you’d ever seen, there was more beneath the surface, and hyunjin was grateful to be seen for what he loves to do.

“is this your first time in paris?” you question, a chuckle escaping hyunjin’s lips over your pronunciation of your homeland. you were trying to get as much information out of him as possible before you were tortured with reaching your stop and leaving him once more. you had to take this chance while the universe let you have it.

“this is one of my favorite places to visit.” hyunjin said. truth be told, he always loved paris for its scenery and art, but yesterday he found one more reason to love it. is there any other place to love better than a city known all about that?

a visitor’s perspective was certainly different than the perspective of someone who’s lived here their whole life. there were so many reasons to love paris when you didn’t experience the greatest things about it everyday. to you, it was the same old thing. but to hyunjin, it was like a brand new experience each time in the rare event that he visited. but meeting each other allowed the both of you the ability to find something new to appreciate about this city.

“the eiffel tower gets old after a while.” you joke. hyunjin burst into a fit laughter, one more obnoxious than his calm chuckle from before. it infected you instantly, and you craved more of his laugh now that you’ve fully heard it.

hyunjin calmed himself down, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head back with his eyes closed and a grin on his face. he was truly the most beautiful person you had ever seen. “i hope i never get sick of this place.”

“i hope you never do.” you tell him, looking at his face as if he were a sculpture in a museum. “don’t wear it out.”

“i won’t.” he opened his eyes and responded to you, his smile not going away as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

you can’t help but stare at one another, almost like magnets pulling you together. was it normal to feel like this about someone you barely know? even so, it felt like you knew hyunjin before you ever met. such a thought would seem like insanity to someone else, but not to you, at least not in the moment.

your once unwavering stare was unfortunately interrupted by the sudden thrash of the train stopping. you look out the window and recognize it as your stop. if you were crazy enough, you’d stay on the train until they kicked you out, but you weren’t all that brave enough to try your luck. maybe you were better off savoring this moment for what it was; just a moment with a beautiful man who was once a stranger to you.

“ah, that’s my stop.” you say with a frown. hyunjin’s smile from before faded too. it was clear neither of you wanted this to end.

“oh, alright.” he replied. hyunjin watched as you quickly collected your things, not forgetting the drawing he gave you when you first sat next to him. you would cherish it as long as you could, and he could only hope that’s what you’ll do.

“maybe i’ll see you on the stage here someday, yeah?” you force a smile. you were actually sad to see this end, but if you keep a grin on your face, then maybe it’ll hurt a little less.

“yeah…” hyunjin nodded. “i hope you do.”

“bye, hyunjin.” you wave goodbye, hyunjin doing the same.

“thank you for making the train less boring for me.” you get those final words out before following the line of people exiting the train. hyunjin kept his eye on you for as long as he could, even staring out the window as you disappeared into the sea of people. if only he could have went with you.

“bye, y/n.” he said to himself, clutching the sketchbook that once held his masterpiece; a drawing of you, his beautiful stranger.

•••

on the third day, hyunjin was nowhere to be seen. you saw it coming, really. you knew last night was probably your final chance to ever see him again. still, a part of you hoped he’d magically appear on the train when you went to work the next morning.

the thrill you once had was no more. the spark lit aflame in your heart all gone. you weren’t sure if anyone would make you feel the same way hyunjin did. maybe meeting him was a lesson, something to teach you what the city of love was truly about, what you’ve failed at your entire life. at least now you were able to succeed, even if such a success was temporary.

you were thankful that your once black and white world finally had some saturation in it for once. if you were to meet hyunjin once again, no matter what the circumstance may be, the world would be in full bloom. you would look for him in everything you see, down to the bakeries you’ll eat at and sceneries you’d visit, for as long your thoughts echoed his name.

while your routine became repetitive once more, at least you had hyunjin’s image in your brain and his drawing in a picture frame on your shelf. if you were as talented as him, you’d try your hand at drawing him too, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to capture him like your eyes ever did. at least you have the memories.

hyunjin dreaded watching you leave, and he hated it even more when he left for the airport in the morning. he wondered if you thought about where he went, hoping you thought about him like he did now with you. you’d remain ingrained in his mind. whenever hyunjin thought about paris, a place he loved just as much as his hometown, he would think about you too.

he couldn’t explain this sadness inside him to anyone else. hyunjin couldn’t fathom anybody understanding the feeling of love at first sight like he did. a true romantic at heart, maybe you were the only one to be just as foolish as him when it came to romance. after all, you were instantly captivated by one another.

maybe, just maybe, hyunjin could write a song about this and sing it to the thousands of people he performed for like clockwork. but no matter what the days ahead held, hwang hyunjin, your beautiful stranger, was all that he would ever remain, and you would remain as his.

•••

(bonus)

@hynjinnnn: 파리에 있는 동안 기차에서 이 사람의 모습에 반해 그려보기로 결심했습니다. 나는 그들이 그것을 좋아했기��� 바랍니다. 언젠가 다시 보고 싶습니다.

i was enthralled by this person on the train while in paris and decided to draw them. i hope they liked it. i'd love to see them again someday.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[deathbyhertouch]

3 Musketeers

stripper!reader x boygenius

AN: Sorry this took so long, I wanted to really make it special. I hope you like it. I'm happy with it, maybe a bit too much lol

word count: 3.8k

warnings: smut (18+, mdni), group sex, stripper, pussy eating, face riding, fingering, bad descriptions of dancing, multiple orgasms, overstimulation ( if you squint), fluff at the end

here is the playlist for this fic

Your shift was running at a glacial pace. The money wasn’t coming in and there were little to no customers at this point. You were last to be cut for the night, internally kicking yourself for agreeing to pick up the shift. You would’ve much rather been cuddling up in your lonely apartment with a bottle of cheap wine and a blunt. Perhaps another night for that.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Please give it up for Poppy!”

You made your way to the stage, before grabbing some cleaner and a cloth. You shook your hips as you walked towards the pole. You made quite the spectacle of cleaning it thoroughly before walking the rag and cleaner back to the side stage. You wrapped a hand around the pole, shaking your ass, perhaps a bit too dramatic. You smiled widely, looking at the 2 people actually sitting at the stage. 2 older guys that probably didn’t want to be here, let alone to watch your routine. You flashed a wink at them anyway, as they each hesitantly threw a dollar bill at your foot. You turned to face the pole, wrapping your legs in unison with your hands. You twirled around, making sure to show off your scantily clad breasts. Your body flowed so smoothly, almost as though you were being puppeteered. 

As your song played to its end, you finished up your song before collecting the very small payload off the floor. You grabbed your small bag that you keep your earnings in. You waltzed off the stage, towards the DJ Booth to give him your next couple songs, instead of that happening tho, you felt a heavy hand tap your shoulders. You turned to see one of the bouncers, a large burly man with a greasy ponytail.

“Champagne Room, you’re booked for the next hour.” He grumbled at you. Your eyes widened, an hour? You flashed him a small smile, and turned on your heels. You were nervous, after all, you had never been booked for that long before, usually just a lap dance or two. You anxiously made your way to the gilded room, golden beaded curtains and a bright neon sign reading ‘champagne room’. You took a deep breath, stabling yourself before drawing back the curtain and heading inside. You looked along the plush, carpeted room, and saw three figures seated across the far end of the room. You made your way to the small bar cart, pouring four glasses of the strawberry champagne, provided by the club. You placed the glasses on a tray and strutted over to your audience. It felt like forever before you were in front of them, finally seeing their faces for the first time, it was three very attractive women, something familiar about them, but you couldn’t quite place it. 

“Welcome to the champagne room, ladies. My name is Poppy, please enjoy a drink with me.” You spoke, with a smile on your face as you handed each of them a glass of champagne. They looked at each other, seemingly sharing a telepathic conversation. You brushed it off, taking a swig of your own drink.

“I’m Lucy, this is Phoebe, and Julien.” The raven-haired woman spoke, pointing towards the other two as she said their names. You smiled and gave a wink to them. You nodded and set your drink down on a small table beside them. 

“Lovely to meet you, so rare to get booked in the champagne room, let alone by three of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life.” You cooed at them. “Is this your first time here at the Lioness Lounge?” You were certain you would’ve remembered faces like theirs. Fuck, this must be a dream. Your eyes moved from each one, taking their sweet time memorizing each of them.

“Yeah, we are celebrating tonight. A friend of Lucy’s recommended this place, said something about the best dancers, hoping to have a great night, especially considering you are gorgeous.” The smallest one, Julien, told you. Her words making a blush creep up your neck, you hummed contently. 

“Thank you, doll. So, what are we celebrating tonight?” You asked, connecting your phone to the nearby speaker, putting on your dance playlist. You began to sway your hips, making your way to the small platform. 

“W-We are in a band, our new album releases tomorrow. We wanted to have a mini party of our own tonight before the release party.” Phoebe murmured, her eyes fixated on your body. Normally, you didn’t care for lingering stares, but this was your job, and you made bank so it was fine. Seeing how her eyes, as well as the other two, were fixated on you, made you feel warm and excited. 

“Ah, I see. Well, that does call for celebration. How does a show sound?” You purred at her, moving your body as seductively as you could, wanting to impress them. The thought of actually wanting to impress a customer, enough to get them to remember you, was a rarity, one that hasn’t happened in quite a while. You bent forward, tightening the straps of your heels, before standing up slowly. You made sure to push out your ass, running your hands sensually over your body as you fully stood up. You rubbed a hand over your pussy, rubbing a small circle over your clit, before you moved to grab your clothed breasts, pinching your already hard nipples between your forefingers and thumbs. You heard a small ‘fuck’, although you couldn’t figure out which one. 

You moved off the platform, moving onto your hands and knees before crawling towards them. You had your best ‘fuck me’ eyes on, making sure to push your tits between your arms, really wanting to accentuate them. As you grew closer, you could feel the nervous tension off each of them. As you were kneeled in front of them, you placed your left hand on Lucy’s knee, the right on Julien’s, and you placed a chaste kiss on each of Phoebe’s knees. You snaked your way up, dragging your breasts across her lap, before pushing against hers. You were inches apart and her eyes were wide, pupils blown. 

“Hi.” You whispered, before placing a small kiss on her nose. You were quick to notice her breath start to waver, a dark red crawling across her cheeks. You took that as your cue to continue, moving your head towards her neck. You made sure to drag your lips down her jawline, before pulling her earlobe into your mouth. You let out a loud moan, making sure the others heard. You swirled your tongue around the soft flesh before letting go. You pulled back enough to see her face. She was in bliss, mouth slightly agape, eyes quick to meet yours. You blew her a kiss and stood up to make your way around the back of the couch.

 In unison, all three heads followed your movements as if there were strings attached to them. You stood behind Julien, her head fully leaned back against the couch, so she could keep eye contact with you. You placed a kiss on her forehead, making her grin up at you. You matched her smile.

“May I?” You asked, placing your hands on her shoulders, giving them a slight rub. She nodded a bit too excited and you let out a small giggle, loving how adorable she looked under your touch. You lowered your head so it was next to hers, blowing on her ear. She shuddered a bit from the sensation, letting out a whimper. You moved your hands from her shoulders, down to her collarbones, just above where she wanted you to touch her. Your fingers inched across her skin, almost feather-light to the touch. 

“Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you use your words.” You breathed against her ear. “I-I want you to touch me. Please.” She whined, her eyes watching your hands closely. You giggled, obliged to give this sweet thing anything she desired. Your hands slipped under the button up shirt she wore, wrapping your fingers around her breasts. You kneaded the soft flesh achingly slow. She let out a breathy moan, melting under your skilled hands. You rolled her nipples under your fingers, pressing a kiss to her neck. You were incredibly turned on, wanting nothing more than to end your shift, and take these girls back to your place. You gave her breasts one more light squeeze, before removing your hands completely from her. If looks could kill, you would be 6 feet under. Her brows were furrowed at the abrupt stop. 

“Sorry baby, I want to keep all 3 of you happy.” You murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. She huffed, yet made no further protest. You moved from the back of the couch, rubbing a hand across all of their shoulders. You strutted to the front of the couch, stopping in front of Lucy. She swallowed harshly, her eyes on yours, waiting for your instruction. You smiled and held your hand out for her. She smiled and brought hers to yours, interlacing your fingers. You placed her hand on your breast, allowing her to touch you. She graciously accepted, squeezing your boob, as if she was going to break you. You let out a moan, pushing your chest into her hand, inviting her to touch you more. Your eyes closed, head falling back onto your shoulders. Her hand moved down, moving to your hip, the other joining the first on your other hip. She pulled you forward, moving you to straddle her lap. You opened your eyes, wanting to focus on her. Your hands moved up to her shoulders to support you. She had a large smile on her face, red lips calling out to you. You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers.

“Can I kiss you, darling?” She whispered, leaning in halfway to yours. You didn’t answer, moving to capture her mouth with yours. Her lips were soft, forming against your own. You moaned into the kiss, and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue in your mouth. You were so enamored with Lucy, you barely noticed Phoebe moving behind you, running her fingers up your arms. She pressed her lips to your ear, letting out a low growl. 

“How soon can we get out of here, babe?” She asked, lips never leaving your ear. You broke your kiss with Lucy, looking up at her with big doe eyes.

“Whenever you want, love. I just need to cash out.” You murmured. She smiled down at you, looking over at Julien, who gave her a small nod. Lucy, not wanting to be forgotten, pulled your hips down, grinding your dripping core against the rough fabric of her pants. You moaned, and Phoebe’s lips moved down your neck. She sank her teeth into your neck, sucking a bruise into your flesh. You gasped, already feeling your orgasm drawing near. 

“JB, care to join?” Lucy posed the question to the third girl, who had been silent for the most part. She smiled before standing to join the three of you. She switched places with Phoebe, wrapping a hand across your chest, pulling your heaving tits out of the confines of the strappy lace bralette. Lucy groaned at the sight of you, Phoebe moving to sit closer to achieve a better look.

“Whaddya think, boys, shall we make her cum before we take her home?” Julien asked, her inked hands moving south towards your wet, aching cunt. You whined, nodding your head. “Please, let me cum. I’ll be so good for you.” You bargained, wanting to please the three of them. 

“I believe she’s earned it, JB. Pheebs?” Lucy quipped, looking to the blonde beside her for an answer. Phoebe smiled and hummed, nodding her head. You felt Julien’s other hand grab your jaw, pulling your face to look up at hers. She pulled you into a heavy kiss, teeth mashing and tongues wrestling. You gasped into her mouth as you felt her fingers finally run through your slick folds. Her middle and index fingers slipped inside your pussy and her thumb moved to rub sweet circles on your clit. You moaned into her mouth. You could feel a hand roughly grab your tit, and another gripping your hip tightly. Julien giggled into your mouth, pumping her fingers faster, her thumb applying more pressure to your swollen nub. You whined, feeling your orgasm drawing to a close. The girls, also noticing how close you were to your release, only doubled down on your assault. You broke off the kiss, leaning your head back against Julien’s chest. 

“You gonna cum for us, princess? Make a mess all over Lucy’s thighs for us. C’mon pretty girl.” Phoebe purred in your ear, massaging your nipples, egging you on further. Your body listened, attentive to their guiding words and touch. You felt your orgasm hit you hard, no doubt your arousal leaving a mark over Lucy’s pants. You cried out, as they rode you through the ecstasy that filled you to the brim. As you came down, you could feel your legs shaking. Julien pulled her fingers out of you and brought them to your mouth. You happily suckled on them, moaning at the taste of your release. She pulled them out of your mouth before leaning down to kiss your lips briefly. Phoebe stood up, quickly downing her near-forgotten glass of champagne. Julien backed up, allowing you to stand off of Lucy’s lap. As you moved to stand for yourself, Lucy grabbed your hips and pulled you back down, bringing your lips back to hers. She hummed sweetly into your mouth, pulling away as quickly as she pulled you in. You smiled, blushing harder than ever at the sweet gesture.

“C’mon sweet girl, go close out, and grab your purse. We’ll meet you outside.” Phoebe assured you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You nodded, pulling your lingerie back in place. 

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

You had closed out, gotten your belongings, and were now seated on the very plush sofa in your apartment. You were currently naked, Phoebe on your left, Julien on the right. Lucy’s face was currently buried in your wet cunt. Your legs were over her shoulders, while the other two were alternating between sucking dark hickies into your neck and groping your boobs. You could die happily here, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind about it. 

“Fuck, Luce, I’m close. I can’t hold it much longer. Please fuck let me cum.” You moaned, your hips bucking hard into her face. She moaned against you, the vibrations threatening to push you over the edge. She pulled back, her chin dripping with your juices. Phoebe smiled at her and pulled her into a wet kiss, eager to taste you. You whined, turning to Julien, who had a shit eating grin on her face. She pulled you onto her lap, your knees on either side of her hips. 

“Does our pretty girl want to cum? Again?” She cooed at you, pulling your hips down so your wet cunt was grinding against her jeans. You gasped and nodded at her. She mockingly nodded back at you. “Guess you’ll have to be a good girl for us, huh?” She teased. You wanted nothing more than anything to please her.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, pet. We can really take our time with you.” Lucy spoke to you, enjoying how much of a puddle you were for them. You stood up, grabbing Phoebe’s hand, the other two following behind, leading them to your room. You turned on your small lamp, setting a subtle glow for ambience. 

You felt a pair of hands on your waist and a pair of lips on your bare shoulder. You turned your head to see Phoebe, already looking into yours. You smiled and drew her into a passionate kiss, humming at the taste of her tongue on yours. She turned you in her arms, tapping the back of your thighs to signal you to jump. You gladly did, wrapping your legs around her waist as she carried you to the bed, laying you down on your back before settling on top of you. She broke the kiss to move back down to your neck, biting into it, soothing the forming mark with her tongue. You looked over, seeing Julien and Lucy locking lips, undressing each other. It was cute, you weren’t sure what the dynamic was between the three of them, but you could tell there was a lot of passion and devotion, something you felt honored to be a part of, if only for the night.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.” Phoebe had pulled your face back to look at hers. She was hovering above you. “Hi.” You whispered, making her smile at you.

“You’re so fucking adorable. I love it.” She giggled. Lucy and Julien had now joined you both on the bed. Julien moved to switch spots with Phoebe, her lips ghosting down your chest and resting at your stomach. Your hands found their way into her hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. She pressed a kiss to your pubic bone, eyes waiting for your permission to go further.

“Please, eat me. I need it.” You whined, waiting for her mouth where you had needed her most. That was all the sentiment she needed before diving into your wet cunt. You moaned, loudly, your grip on her hair tightening. She slipped a couple fingers back into your entrance, curling them inside of you. Your eyes peeled open and turned your head to look at the other two. Lucy was straddling Phoebe’s face, making the most tantalizing sounds. She looked down at you, running her hand over your hair, soothing you. Julien had pulled you back down to earth, suckling on your clit, her fingers were pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace.

“C’mon pretty girl, come for her, make a mess on her fingers. She needs to taste how heavenly you are. Julien, go faster. Get her there.” Lucy’s words worked magic on you, as you felt yet another orgasm begin to unfurl inside of you. You cried out, and Julien’s fingers begin to slow down, to help you ride out your orgasm. She pulled off your puffy pussy, to show you her beautiful face. 

“You weren’t kidding, that’s the sweetest little pussy. She’s practically gushing on my face.” Julien beamed up at the raven-haired woman. Lucy laughed and pulled her into a kiss, swapping spit and your release between their mouths. You slowed your breathing, slowly raising yourself up on your hands, before scooting over between Phoebe’s legs. You placed a small kiss on her clit. The small action was enough for Phoebe to let out a muffled moan, the vibrations in turn causing Lucy to gasp and grind her hips down onto the blonde’s jaw. 

You began to eat her out like you were a starved man, and this was a decadent feast laid in front of you. You wrapped your arms around her thighs, essentially imprisoning her against your body. You could tell she was growing close, so you sucked her clit into her mouth and began to suction hard on it, tongue flicking rapidly against it. She tried to match your pace, trying to get Lucy over the edge as well. Lucy moaned out, her buttery smooth voice sounded like an angel’s against your ear. Julien was rubbing circles on her own clit, wanting some relief of her own. Lucy’s orgasm was first, making her cry out against Phoebe’s mouth. 

“Pheebs, I want my turn with her. She can cum again, let me help her.” Poor Julien, feeling a bit left out, helped Lucy off of Phoebe’s face, and grabbed her hips, moving her onto her own face. Lucy was all fucked out but couldn’t resist the brunette’s sweet praises and encouragement. You were a bit busy, trying to get Phoebe to cum as well. You released one of your hands to reach up to tweak her own nipple. She cried out, and ran her hands through your hair. She gripped your hair tight, only encouraging you to keep going. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so close, princess. I want to cum f’you. Please let me, I want to cum so bad.” She pleaded, and who were you to deny such a request. You moaned against her dripping pussy and fucked into her hole with your tongue. She cried out against you, her arousal now gushing over your face. Your arms tightened back around her thighs and her hips were bucking incessantly against your face. She tapped your arm once you came down, and you released her. You brought your face up, inches in front of her, and you reached your hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She blushed and kissed your lips. 

“We should keep you around. You are quite a fun addition.” She mumbled against your lips. You smiled at the statement. “Whenever you want, sugar.” You quipped back at her. A gasp broke your concentration, you both looked over, seeing Lucy finish, her juices coating Julien’s face with a sheer layer. Her hands were fisting through your sheets, absolutely enjoying herself. You smirked and moved to take one of her nipples into your mouth. Phoebe moved behind Julien, placing her mouth on Julien’s aching cunt from behind. Lucy moved to sit up a bit, Julien laying her head in Lucy’s lap. You brushed her hair, helping her relax a bit as Phoebe worked her magic on the smaller girl. 

“She’s right, y’know. We like you, we’d love to do this again sometime.” Lucy breathed down at you. You bit her nipple, not enough to hurt, just enough to elicit another moan out of her. You pulled off of her tit, looking back up at her. 

“I wouldn’t want anything else. I want you, all of you, all the time. Not even sexually, but in general.” You spoke truthfully. You wanted this to turn to more, you couldn’t get enough of them. Julien moaned loudly, cumming against Phoebe. You felt her slump forward a bit, exhausted from the intense orgasm. She hummed, and kissed Lucy’s thighs, wrapping an arm around her thigh, the other rubbing soothing circles on your own thigh. 

“My real name is Y/N, by the way. I just realized I never gave it to you guys. My apologies.” You let out a laugh, the realization of your fucked out brain forgetting to relay the information to them. Phoebe snorted, sticking a hand out to you.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N.” She quipped at you, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smiled and snuggled back into Lucy’s side. Phoebe quickly moved to your backside, spooning you. You were overjoyed at tonight’s events. 

Love, A

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Backdoor - an Original Scenario written by Akira

Backdoor is a short original story written by Akira-sensei to accompany the release of the Crossroad animated series. I recommend watching it before reading this, especially if you haven't read the original Crossroads.

Please enjoy my translation below!

—

Backdoor

I break in from the backdoor. I feel like a super cool outlaw from one of those movies. Avoid the countless traps, blindly shoot the enemies like bang bang bang! Feast your eyes, idiots of the world!

I am the great Oogami Koga…!

"..."

By the back door is a guy with blond hair who’s sorting the trash out, probably works here part time. Since I came in and started acting like a weird middle schooler, he looks at me, surprised.

“Hey, you–” Part-time-kun (tentative name) puts his hand out with a totally bored expression. “One thousand yen. It’s the entrance fee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Next time come in from the proper entrance, ‘kay?” Part-time-kun (tentative name) doesn’t lecture me any further and exchanges my 1000 yen bill for a sleek plastic card.  If I show this at the bar, I can get a drink and stuff. I thank him. “Enjoy your night～♪”

Part-time-kun (tentative name) is side-eyeing me, and at this point in time I’m so embarrassed all I want to do is go home but I pull myself together and head inside. 

I’m in a cheap underground livehouse in the downtown area, near Yumenosaki Private Academy, the school I’m going to attend. 

My sanctuary is here.

My god is here.

***

The livehouse I've been hanging around in lately is built a little weird. The entrance to the stairs is in a back alley. At the bottom of the stairs, there’s two corridors, one leading left, the other right. There’s a lot of soundproof doors, standing one after another. The majority of these small rooms are booths, meant to be hired out by amateur bands to practise in. If you look through the window of one, it’s normally empty since nobody really uses them.

Well, these days people don’t practise by actually picking up an instrument, playin’ until their fingers hurt.  I’ve been doin’ that too lately, sittin’ at home ‘n staring blankly at my computer screen. I dunno. 

At the end of the empty corridor, there’s the employees only room, the kitchen, and the back entrance which I found by accident when I was trespassing. 

I’ve been short on cash lately because I’ve been buyin’ like, introductory books to playin’ the guitar ‘n stuff so I’ve been sneakin’ in that way ‘cos then I don’t hafta pay the entrance fee. No-one’s ever around anyway. 

“I won’t be able to come in that way next time,” I complain as I walk down the corridor in low spirits, stopping when I find the soundproof room I’m looking for. 

The biggest, most extravagant door is in the middle of the corridor. At the back, at the heart of this place— is the livehouse, or I guess you could call it a music hall. 

“♪～♪～♪”

I open the weighted door and my entire body is blasted by music. 

This is it. This electrifying feeling.  

At the back of this relatively wide space is a really nice stage, and that’s where bands that have signed up to perform do so. The entrance fee also covers one drink, but you can order more food and drink and enjoy the show at the same time. It’s your average livehouse. I dunno though. I’m underaged, so I stick to a non-alcoholic tomato juice whilst enjoying the show.

Since this place is close to Yumenosaki, a lot of the customers are scruffy-looking students. I never thought young me would come to a place like this. I’m just in ordinary clothes. This place pays attention to its customer base, so there's not a drop of alcohol or a single cloud of cigarette smoke to be seen. Only super cool music is playing. It’s echoing. 

“～...♪”

My God is in the middle of the stage, singing enthusiastically. The lyrics are in English, and I understand almost none of them. The lyrics are probably about wishing for world peace, or religious sacrilege; something complicated but meaningful. When I asked what he was singing about later, he said something like “I’m so happy because my cute little brother has recovered from his cold!”

Is he stupid? Or am I the stupid one for being so entranced by him?

But. I didn’t know that sort of thing back then, so I was genuinely moved by him.

Illuminated by the dim stage lighting, his pale corpse-like skin stood out in the shadows— him.

Crimson eyes like hellfire. 

Black hair that melts into the darkness.

From between his seductive lips that are sexier than any girls’, comes a masculine, deep voice. 

He looked simultaneously like an angel that could rescue the world and a devil that could destroy it too. Whether angel or devil, his singing voice was powerful enough to completely change the very fabric of this world.

“～...♪”

The name of the person I respect the most in this world is Sakuma Rei. 

My God.

***

I was born and raised in an unremarkable environment. 

We’re middle class. My dad’s an office worker and he earns a pretty decent wage, and my mum’s a housewife, which is rare nowadays. 

They bought a nice detached house in a nice place. Both of my parents like kids and like taking care of others, so I grew up pretty pampered. I’m aware that since I was spoiled, I grew up to be a selfish, cocky brat. I was given whatever I wanted. I didn’t know what I really wanted though since it would be handed to me before I could even think about it. When I got to an age where I didn’t need to be looked after, my parents got a dog to satisfy their overflowing need to help others (?). His name’s Leon. He’s the best dog ever. 

I fussed over him too, but not in the way my parents did. Everyday, they’d treat him like he was a baby, doting on him, probably the same way they treated me. It made me sulk a bit. 

I could tell that my parents’ interest had shifted from me to Leon. Leon isn’t bad. He was bought to be loved. He’s a pedigree, he was born for this, to be doted on. He’s a really good boy and whenever I felt sad he’d snuggle up close to me and put his face next to mine. So I wouldn’t be lonely. So I knew I wasn’t alone. 

But I felt that the amount of love I had received up until this point was steadily decreasing, and it made me anxious. 

—Alas! Miserable, spoiled Oogami Koga-kun!

But I wasn’t shameless enough of a person to say “pay attention to me instead of the dog!” Leon deserved to be loved as much as I did— I wandered around town, searching for someone other than my parents who could love me.

I was starved, yearning. I looked like a stray dog scavenging around for something to fill me up. My parents aren’t bad. Neither is Leon. I’m probably not bad either. 

I’ve already finished compulsory education. I had reached the age where I could fend for myself. So I should have. I’m sure other people are doing that. We leave the watchful eye of our parents, tackle teenagehood, and find out who we are. Find what we want to do with our lives. After countless trial and error, I found what I was looking for— Sakuma Rei. His music satisfied what my soul had been craving. 

***

The performance ends, and Sakuma Rei disappears behind the stage. 

I’ve never been on stage before, so I don’t know what it looks like back there. There’s probably a passageway that leads to a green room or something. The livehouse is weirdly dark and it’s hard to see much of anything, so it really looks like Sakuma Rei vanished like a ghost. 

The person who fills the gap in my heart, vanishes. 

So I grow anxious again and begin blindly searching for him everywhere. I make my way through the livehouse, pushing through the swathes of people who came here to see Sakuma Rei.

—Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei.

My soul wants him. 

Of course, I’m not part of his family. We’re not even acquaintances, let alone friends. He’s probably never even heard of me. But I didn’t mind either way. I found him, met him, fell in love with him, and had my yearning quenched. That alone made me thankful. Sakuma Rei, without a doubt, saved me. That’s all I wanted. I was just a sheep, one of hundreds who came here. To me, he was the night sky, something I thought I could never reach. I didn’t mind just watching from afar. That’s how I really feel. If I never got to see him closeup, I’d be fine with that.

And yet. 

“What you’re drinking looks good.”

Suddenly, the tomato juice I’d ordered, which I didn’t end up liking because it was weirdly sweet, is taken from my hand by someone next to me. 

—The hell, bastard? That’s mine. When I go to look up at whoever grabbed my drink with a belligerent expression, I realise it’s Sakuma Rei. 

“If you’re not drinking it, I’ll have it. Singing’s got me workin' up a sweat.”

Naturally, my body stiffens.

That’s Sakuma Rei.

If I reach out my hand, I could touch him.

I’m so surprised by what I originally thought was something that could never happen, I have nothing clever to say and instead, like an idiot, I freeze with my mouth ajar. 

“What’s up? Oh, you’re at that age where you think indirect kisses are embarrassing, right…?” Sakuma Rei says with a somewhat apologetic expression. Then he says something absurd.

“Oopsies, sorry～…Don’t worry, I take full responsibility for stealing your first time. Mhm.”

That was the first conversation we had, and it’s not exactly something I can brag about to anyone. 

Ever since then, ever since that moment, I’ve been at the mercy of this arrogant person.

***

I step through the backdoor.

The unmotivated-looking blond employee is slacking off on his phone again today– he’s a playboy called Hakaze and is actually the manager of this place. He’s also supposedly one of my senpai from Yumenosaki. He glances up from his phone at me with a gross expression.

“Look look. I just got another girl's number. I’m typing out my first message now.”

“Shut up, I don’t know you. Don’t talk to me, playboy.”

About two years have passed since I had my first conversation with Sakuma Rei, Sakuma Rei-senpai, a conversation I’d rather not remember. 

I’ve got a bit taller and a bit stronger. 

I practised intensely so my guitar and singing skills have somewhat improved. 

Whilst I was growing, Yumenosaki had gone to the dogs.

Yumenosaki Private Academy’s an idol school steeped in a rich history and tradition. But inside, it was rotting. 

I wanted to be like Sakuma-senpai, so I followed him without thinking and took Yumenosaki’s entrance exam like an idiot. I was blinded. I didn’t know anything. Every Yumenosaki student is shit. Naturally, I noticed that since I frequented the livehouse in order to see Sakuma-senpai. 

A rotted miniature garden where those with dead eyes spend their sad youth reeking of corpses. Sakuma-senpai was weirdly energetic despite the backdrop of death, so I got it wrong. No. I think I was just an immature, stupid brat, so I didn’t notice. 

Sakuma-senpai had those same dead eyes. 

In the mountain of dead bodies, he was clinging onto life. He was the only one who didn’t want to die, he was the only one praying for something to happen.

No-one could save him. 

A bespectacled monk boy from a temple came along and evoked anger in him, trying to make him into a human— into something more than human.  The stupid, lost dog just wagged his tail and followed the hand that fed him. 

We didn’t realise that the person that was always grinning like a fool, and living what appeared to be a happy life, was actually suffering more than anyone. He desperately needed help. You can see why we didn’t notice; he looked like he was having fun.

When he stood on stage with me and Shitty Glasses as Deadmanz, he lived each day like it was his last. He looked genuinely happy—he looked like he was alive. But that was only a short-lived dream. Once he steps off stage, the spell breaks, and he turns back into a corpse.

A revolution takes place at the rotted Yumenosaki.

Sakuma-senpai was seen as a cause of evil and exterminated by those who claimed to be on the side of justice. The evil monsters had been defeated, and everyone lived happily ever after. It’s creepy when a corpse moves. Yeah, nothing will change if you don’t exterminate all the gross monsters, right?

—Fuck you, you bastards!

***

“Wan-chan, will you be singing today too?” The bored-looking playboy asks, on his phone as usual. Guess he doesn’t really want to talk to me. “You should stop because you’re dampening the mood. People think you're one of Sakuma-san’s henchmen, so people think you’re evil too and will persecute you like he was.”

“I don’t care. I… I’m.” I growl, the shallow first person pronoun Sakuma-senpai sometimes used slips from my mouth [1]. I cling onto what I’ve got left of him. “I just wanna sing with all my energy. I don’t care what the rest of you do.”

“But you’re creating problems for the livehouse. A customer pokes fun at you or Sakuma-san, you get angry, and you start a fight—I really don’t want things like that happening.”

“I won't create any problems, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Will you really? But you’re like the rest of the customers— You always look like you’re going to start arguing with other Yumenosaki students. You come in from the back entrance like, everytime, to avoid any trouble, right?”

“I still pay the entrance fee.”

“Why do you go out of your way to perform here even though you’ve got to jump over so many dangerous obstacles to get here? It’s super bothersome.” Playboy's grumbling as usual. He pulls out a key and throws it to me. “Here. I’ll give you a key to a room so you can change clothes and get ready. If you swear to not cause any more trouble, you can become our new breadwinner, Wan-chan. I actually want to cheer you on,” the playboy said and laughed insincerely. 

I hate his demeanour, so I snap back. 

“Don’t call me ‘Wan-chan’.”

“Sakuma-san calls you ‘Wanko’. I call you ‘Wan’ as in, ‘number one’. Honest, honest to god.” [2] Playboy’s face goes serious for a split second and he waved his hands around like he was trying to hide his embarrassment. “You can be my number one breadwinner, like Sakuma-san.”

“Don’t hafta tell me twice.”

Just like Sakuma-senpai, I’ll become the best guy in the world. My voice alone will excite the crowd. A flirtatious glance will have women swooning. With a single look, even the strongest of men will bow down to me. In an instant, their souls are gripped, I captivate everyone. I’ll become like Sakuma Rei too. But the journey is a long one. “Let’s go. I’m singin’ tonight.”

I reach my booth, key in hand, and change into my costume. I take out my guitar, who’s as important to me as my parents and Leon are. Once I’m ready, I head to the stage. To tackle this head on.

“Shake, you fools! Imma show you what real music is!”

I sing. My guitar does too.

Just like Sakuma-senpai did.

Right now I’m blindly copying him, but I pray that one day, I’ll be able to be just like him.

I hope this song reaches him, wherever he is. 

***

Once, I was starving, yearning. But when I found Sakuma Rei and his music, my soul was satisfied. 

—Now it’s my turn. 

“Rock ‘n’ roll…!”

Come on, idiots of the world. I’ll open your eyes with my music. I’ll become your God. 

~~~~

Translation notes:

[1]  in the line above this one Koga says ‘俺...俺様は’ or ‘ore…ore sama wa’. Oresama being the first person pronoun rei sometimes used, and its very egotistical.

[2] number one is pronounced as, in this case, ‘nanbaa wan’

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Drabble Series

"We're still on break, got it?"

“Y/n?” a female voice is muffled by the sound of the music outside. Fixing my curls, I tighten the strap of my two-piece before turning to Yoona, the host of the nightclub I’m currently working at. Very odd pairing, I know, I’m still not sure how I got the job, but it’s quick money, right? It’s only been a few weeks since I started, but I still cringe over the idea of satisfying the male gaze, so, I try to numb that part of my consciousness at work. As far as I’m concerned, this is temporary, just until I can pay off my mom’s hospital bills. She was diagnosed with Diabetes a month ago and had to be hospitalized for treatment, which unfortunately, as with everything in this capitalistic world was not free. 

Cut scene to the present time, I’ve learned to somewhat navigate this nightlife business, learning a few tips and tricks from the other girls, who are way older than me but are also struggling financially. I guess we are all just trauma-bonded in the end. To be quite frank, money wasn’t the only thing that fueled this decision of mine. Today also marks a month since Jungkook and I decided to take a break from our relationship. Nothing really happened aside from the fact that I was stood up and caught him with another girl, the usual plot, right? Anyway, I think this job came to me as a source of distraction, dissociating myself from reality until the thoughts in my head outscream the DJ at the front. Why didn’t we just break up, altogether? Fair question. Well, based on Jungkook’s words, he was meant to “change” over this period of separation and supposedly “can’t bear to lose me”, or something like that.  We’ll see, he’ll either be my everything or yet another lesson. 

“Someone is here for you. They’ve booked out a VIP room?” Yoona sounds and looks unsure, resting her head on the door frame before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Who? Is it Mark? I told the security not to let him in anymore,” I say almost irritated by the mere thought of that man. Ugh, he was the epitome of a manchild, always whining and demanding everything to go his way. I’m sorry, but my dignity will not be negotiated over money. I would rather die poor than have someone walk all over me because they can. 

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry. It’s so busy out there, you know with Valentine's Day and all,” she sighs, rubbing her temples. Oh, right. It’s also my first Valentine's without Jungkook in about two years. Just more fuel to the fire, I guess. 

“That’s okay Yoona, thanks for letting me know,” I reassure her with a soft smile, taking a deep breath before heading out. She wasn’t lying, the club is full to the brim. Every corner is occupied by a man with a stack of dollar bills in his hands, surrounded by bottles of champagne and naked bodies. 

Knock Knock Knock 

“Hello … what? What are you doing here, Jeon?” I almost yelp, jumping from the sight of his rested form on the velvet couch. Those naked bodies that I mentioned before, well, turns out I wasn’t an exception, covered in nothing but a lacey two-piece bedazzled with fake rhinestones. So, you could imagine the panic in my eyes, as I tried to pathetically hide behind a nearby curtain. Technically, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen already, but now it’s different. 

“I don’t know, what do people usually come here to do?” Jungkook grins, stretching his body before resting his head on his tattooed hand. 

“How did you find me?” I snap, still behind the curtain, too ashamed to come out. 

“Does it really matter if I’m already here?” there is a distinct hint of lure in his tone as his eyes focus on my furrowed expression. 

“Stop playing. I told you we needed a break,” I snap again, only this time with my body fully exposed to his visual field. Crossing my arms over my chest, I walk towards him, determined to prove that I in fact am not flustered by his presence. 

“I am on a break … and it’s pretty relaxing so far if I say so myself,” Jungkook grins, eyeing me up and down before leaning his arms on his knees, moving in closer. 

“Well, I’m not dancing for you if that’s what you want,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at his teasing sense of humour. 

“That’s okay, I don’t want you to dance,” he reassures with a soft smile, except nothing about him or this situation is soft. Suffocating at best. 

“Then what exactly do you want?” 

“Sit on my lap, y/n, and we’ll see what happens next,” he says hushedly, hooded gaze looking up at my scattering eyes as his hands trace up my thighs. 

“Fuck off Jungkook,” I try to walk away until his grasp on my arm tightens, pulling me back onto his lap. Now, inches away from each other, there is virtually no air to breathe. 

“Careful love, you know I only ask nicely once,” he whispers into my ear, softly nibbling on the skin before looking back at my flushed face.  

“Let me go, Koo,” I insist with my gaze still lowered as I try to push myself out of his grip. 

“Mhmm … Koo. I missed your voice. Say it again, y/n,” Jungkook pleads softly, leaning his head closer to meet my eyes. “Please?” he adds, caressing my red cheek with the back of his hand. Feeling my chest heave up, it’s hard to breathe. Unable to break out of his possession, there isn’t much I can do but give in to his desires. 

“Koo?” I say softly, innocent eyes looking up at his darkened orbs as his fingertips traced my lips.  

“Good girl, aren’t you?” he grins with a sly wink, before nuzzling his face into my neck, hugging my form tighter than before. Feeling his hot breath on my skin, I can’t help but succumb to the adrenaline and panic running through my veins. 

“I have to go,” I stutter abruptly, moving his face up to mine. Searching his eyes, there is an evident sense of emptiness behind them. Sadness even. 

“Please stay, y/n. You must be tired, let me take care of you,” he pleads into my palms, placing a soft kiss on the tip of my index finger which was covered by a bandaid. And, although I knew I would regret it later, I stayed. 

“Okay,” I whisper, straddling his thighs as my legs go numb at this point. Nibbling on my lips, I watched as he pulled out a black ribbon out of his jean jacket. 

“May I?” he asks innocently. 

“Oh, do I have a choice?” I chuckle at the way that innocent smile of his quickly turned into a sly grin. Tucking a few curls behind my ear, Jungkook leans closer before tying the ribbon over my eyes, gentle with his touch. Giving up yet another sense to his possession, I feel the panic rush in again. 

“Wait!” I snap abruptly, gripping his arms. “Whatever you do … this doesn’t mean anything. We’re still on a break, got it?” I try to convince both of us, before finally giving in. 

“Of course, whatever you say y/n,” Jungkook whispers into a needy kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip as his hands unclasp the bedazzled bra. Feeling his kisses go down to my neck, purple hues of desire begin to mark my skin. One thing is for sure, our lust for each other has been desperately fueling the whole of that break. And, as I hesitate to touch him, Jungkook senses my tension before placing my hands on his exposed chest, gliding them up and down his defined abs. 

“It’s still all yours, baby,” he whispers into my ear, laying me down on the velvet couch. Alarmed by the cracking sound in the background, my chest heaves up in suspense before a cold sensation hits my consciousness. Gliding an ice cube down my stomach, Jungkook’s hooded eyes watch in satisfaction as my back arches from the feeling. Licking the trail of melting water, he sucks on the soft skin, leaving a few love bites behind that turn me into a whimpering mess. 

“Koo,” I whine, reaching out to feel his arms. That is until a yelp escapes my parted lips as he glides the melting ice cube under my panties, which are already wet. With my chest heaving up, there was no time to even protest as his grip on my thighs tightened, moving me closer to him. 

“I’ll warm you up, baby,” Jungkook reassures with a raspy tone, helping me take off the lacey fabric before putting it in his pocket. Leaving a trail of kisses up my thighs, he stopped by my throbbing core which was now hot and cold at the same time. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” he grins.

Don't Get Attached Masterlist

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bad-mouthing my boyfriend’s toxic family?

(🐈‍⬛ For me to recognize my post later)

I (20f) have a boyfriend (21m) who is physically disabled and still currently living at home with his parents for a while as he tries to scrape his savings together to move in with me. This wouldn’t be an issue, if his parents weren’t immensely transphobic (he’s trans) and outright abusive towards him. Despite having an official doctor’s diagnosis for ALL of his issues, both mental and physical, they just?? Like to pretend that he’s completely able-bodied, and that he’s making up his issues “for attention” (<- something that they’ve actually said to him)

My bf isn’t ready to leave the house just yet because he doesn’t want to feel like a burden and wants to be able to support himself without my help, despite my constant offering and support, but this ofc just means that he’s STAYING in that house, and it’s clear that it effects him really negatively. He’s improved a lot since I’ve met him in high school, but him being in that house is just. Awful for his health, his self esteem, literally everything. I guess I understand his reasonings for not leaving (he’s on his parents’ health insurance, his dad’s a vet so he gets a ton of money off his college bill, he’s got a little sister at home that he doesn’t want to leave alone, etc etc), but at the same time, I fucking HATE his parents, more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. He’s such an amazing guy, but I’ve seen him reduced to panic attacks just on their words alone, and it’s awful and I hate them.

I’m also very vocal with this hate. I tell him all the time. Whenever he vents to me, or mentions something awful that his parents have/had done in passing, or tries to excuse their behavior, I will tell him point-blank that I hate his parents and that he needs to leave. He gets incredibly upset whenever I say stuff like that, however, and has asked me multiple times to quit it, but it’s just so hard to see him loving them so fiercely when they literally only give him the bare minimum in return.

The reason for this post at all is because I started going off on a tangent about two days ago when he managed to escape (he has to ask for permission every time he wants to go out) to my place to destress and have a small date night, and I specifically asked him how his parents had been treating him recently because he’d been pretty quiet about it. He got really quiet and eventually told me that they keep adding really weird stuff to do for his household responsibilities (ex: dusting the UNDERSIDE of tables??) and that they’re now threatening to take away the things he loves (his phone, his books, his DOOR) if he doesn’t keep up with the new workload, which is especially hard because, again, he’s DISABLED. Well this pissed me off, because they’ve done shit like that in the past and it never ends well for him, and I started talking about how much his parents suck and how I wish he would just leave, and he got really quiet and just said “I think I’m just gonna leave now” and just. Left

In the aftermath, I feel awful about it. We’ve texted a few times since then, and he says that he’s okay and that it was fine, and how he just needs to get over it, but it’s very clear that he’s still upset by it and just trying not to make it a big issue. I know that he hates it when I badmouth his parents, but I genuinely do not know any other way to get it into his head that he needs to leave as soon as possible, if only to save his own health. I love him so so much, we’ve been together since high school, we would die for each other, and we’ve been through so much that not very many couples have had to go through, especially not at our age. I sincerely just want the best for him, and this feels like I could open the topic again and try to make him SEE, but I’m just worried that I might have upset him this time in a way that he might not be able to get over.

Sorry for this getting so long, I just feel very strongly about it and I want to know if I’m the AH here and should lay off, or keep trying to make him see that he just needs to get out as soon as possible. So tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?