#then I remember how nice it is not to have people project onto you because they are mad about other shit

[itendtothinkalot]

daddy's girl! (enemies to lovers)

summary: beomgyu's teasing is getting out of hand, and you're constantly left wondering what you did to deserve it. does he hate you? and if he does, why don't you hate him? your major crush on him certainly doesn't help. when he's teasing you, all you can do is stare at him, wondering if he’d ever like you back.

genre: FLUFFFFFF

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 9668

warnings: none!!!

You’ve always considered Beomgyu the single biggest annoyance in your office. He’s the type who breezes into work with a cocky grin, always a little too casual, always quick with a teasing comment that seems specifically designed to get under your skin.

You’ve somehow managed to ignore him for your first few months in the company, but recently over the year, he’s been… everywhere. Offering to help with projects he has no reason to be near, popping into your workspace with coffee, even catching your eye during meetings. 

And the worst part? Lately, instead of just being annoyed, you’ve started noticing things: the way his laughter lights up the room, or how he remembers your favorite coffee order, including yours. It’s maddening, and the more you try to brush it off, the harder it is to ignore that twist in your stomach whenever he’s around.

And...you hated every bit of it, you think. Every time he’d tease you—calling you “princess” when you were stressed, smirking when he made you flustered—it was like he was actively trying to get a rise out of you. And it worked. Every. Single. Time. 

“Boo.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it made you jump so hard that your coffee slipped right out of your hand, splattering across your dress in a warm, sticky mess. You whipped around, finding Beomgyu standing there, barely holding back a laugh as he took in the damage he’d caused. 

“Beomgyu,” you gritted out, grabbing a paper towel in a futile attempt to dab at the stain. “Do you enjoy terrorizing your coworkers, or am I just special?”

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you with an amused tilt of his head. “I don’t know, maybe I just have a soft spot for you.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, fully aware of his gaze lingering on you as you tried to clean up. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, hoping he couldn’t see the faint pink on your cheeks.

He shrugged, a slow, lazy smile creeping onto his face. “You know you’d miss me if I didn’t keep things interesting.”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you shot him your best death glare, then turned sharply on your heel, whipping your ponytail right in his face. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you heard him stifle a surprised cough behind you.

“Mm, raspberry,” he said suddenly, taking an exaggerated whiff. “Nice shampoo choice.”

You spun back around, crossing your arms and giving him a look that could curdle milk. “Dude!” you snapped, appalled—and maybe a little flustered. “People are staring.” You shot a glance at a few of your coworkers, who were desperately stifling their laughter.

Everyone in the office was all too familiar with the occasional “spat” between you and Beomgyu. For some reason, the two of you bickering like an old married couple had become prime entertainment around here.

He laughed, completely unbothered. “They’re just enjoying the show.” His grin didn’t waver as he looked at your coffee-stained dress with obvious amusement.

“I’m not in the mood for this,” you muttered, pushing him aside as you made a swift exit out of the pantry. “Not after you’ve essentially soaked me from head to toe with coffee.”

“Okay, okay.” He jogged up beside you, catching your arm just as you were about to storm off. Your eyes dropped to his hand on your arm, a spark of warmth rushing up to your cheeks. You’d blame it on surprise, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart picked up speed at the contact.

Beomgyu seemed to notice, too, because he let go almost immediately, a flicker of something in his expression—guilt? Amusement? You couldn’t quite tell. He recovered quickly, though, shooting you an apologetic smile that, annoyingly, looked almost… genuine.

“C’mon,” he said, voice softer than before. “I have an extra shirt at my desk. It’s clean, I promise.”

You crossed your arms, trying to look unimpressed, even though you were already considering it. “And why exactly would I want to wear your shirt?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirk slipping back into place. “Because…you either wear my shirt or walk around smelling like a coffee spill all day.” His eyes glinted with a challenge.

Your glare returned, but this time, you hesitated, the discomfort of your soaked clothes settling in. With a huff, you crossed your arms. “Fine,” you relented, narrowing your eyes. 

A few minutes later, you were standing in the bathroom, staring at the shirt Beomgyu had handed you. You sighed, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. There was no way you were going to wear this. You could practically feel your dignity slipping away with every second you stood there.

“Doing good in there?” Beomgyu’s voice floated in from the other side of the door, his tone teasing.

“Choi Beomgyu,” you called out, your voice dripping with disbelief. “I am not wearing this.”

From the other side, you could hear his laughter, muffled but still unmistakably filled with overconfidence. “I don’t think you have a choice.”

With a sigh, you stepped out of the bathroom, already bracing yourself for the inevitable ridicule. The moment you emerged, you looked up to see Beomgyu standing there, absolutely dying of laughter. His eyes formed perfect crescents, his whole face lit up in a way that made your heart beat faster than it did before.

It was a bright, obnoxious shade of pink, with Beomgyu’s face cartoonishly plastered on the front, a goofy grin matching the bold words scrawled across it: “Daddy’s Girl.”

Beomgyu was clutching his stomach, laughing so hard he could barely stand. "Oh my god," he gasped between breaths. "You look—" He paused, wiping tears from his eyes. "You look adorable."

You stood there, face flushed with embarrassment, glaring at him. “Why do you even have this damn shirt?”

His laughter slowly died down, but that infuriating grin of his remained. “It was a gift from Soobin,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just never expected to see it on you. However, I do have to say…” He trailed off, his grin widening as he stepped a little closer.

“What?” You didn’t want to ask, but it was already too late.

“Well, you pull it off better than I expected. Almost like you actually are Daddy’s Girl.” His voice dropped a little as he teased the last part, his tone playful and teasing. He inched closer to you, his presence suddenly a little too close for comfort.

“Y-you’re... an asshole,” you stammered, pushing him in his chest with more force than necessary.

You walked away, but you could still hear his laughter echoing behind you, completely unbothered that he had essentially broken down all your walls.

Your cheeks were burning, but as much as you wanted to keep the little pride you had left, you couldn’t help but suppress a grin that tugged at the corners of your lips. Beomgyu might be the last person you'd ever want to give the satisfaction of seeing you flustered, but there you were, cheeks red, heart racing, and trying to hide the smile that was slowly creeping across your face.

You could hear him still chuckling in the distance, and, despite your best efforts, a part of you almost hated how contagious his laughter was.

–

The whole office seemed to be buzzing with energy as everyone gathered for the afternoon meeting. You tried to act normal, to slip into the routine of things, but the moment you walked into the conference room, you felt it—the eyes. The teasing smiles. The laughter that seemed to linger just behind every glance directed your way.

You walked to your usual spot, only to have Soobin glance over at you with a mischievous grin. "So," he started, his tone light but laced with something that made you instantly uneasy, "How does it feel to be Daddy’s Girl?" His words were casual, but there was no mistaking the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Your face immediately flushed, and you could already feel the heat creeping up your neck. "What? No! That's not—" You stammered, but your words faltered, and before you could regain your composure, Yeonjun jumped in.

“Oh my God,” he teased, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Didn’t expect the whole ‘Daddy’s Girl’ look to work for you, but Beomgyu definitely has good taste. You make that shirt look way better than he does.”

“Seriously? He spilled coffee–” You attempted to explain, but quickly gave up, realizing no one was really listening, too busy giggling. “Beomgyu, aren’t you going to explain why I have to wear this?”

“Because you’re daddy’s girl?” He laughed, clearly enjoying the moment way too much

The entire table broke into laughter, with some of the interns joining in, adding their own playful remarks about how you and Beomgyu seemed to be “matching in more ways than one” and how “that shirt definitely tells a story.”

Trying to maintain some dignity, you crossed your arms and glared at Beomgyu, who had his usual half-smirk on his lips, though his eyes held a playful spark. “You really had to do this, didn’t you?” you muttered, barely able to mask the irritation creeping into your voice.

Beomgyu’s grin widened. "I didn’t know you’d look so cute in it," he teased, completely unbothered. "Guess I should have made you wear it sooner."

“Seriously, Beomgyu?” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

—

The next day at work, you walked into the office with a scowl, still trying to shake off the embarrassing memory from yesterday. You had barely managed to avoid Beomgyu for most of the morning, but as you rounded the corner to your desk, you found him standing there—leaning casually against your cubicle wall, as if he’d been waiting for you.

He looked up with that all-too-familiar grin, the same one that had made your cheeks flush the day before. "Well, well, if it isn’t Daddy’s Girl," he teased, his voice dripping with that playful tone you couldn't escape.

You groaned inwardly, trying to hide the heat rushing to your face. "You’re really not going to let that go, are you?"

Beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly, still smiling like he was having the time of his life. "I mean, it’s a pretty good look on you," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You might want to consider keeping it as your new work uniform. Though, of course, you still look good in this little office siren look you’re going for.” He looked you up and down, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.

You couldn’t help but push his face away, trying to avoid his gaze, and quickly looked away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. "You're impossible," you muttered under your breath, focusing on anything but him.

Beomgyu paused, his eyes back on you, "You look good," he said, this time a little more serious, like he meant what he was saying.

You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. For a moment, the usual playful mischief was gone, and it was just him, staring at you with an intensity you hadn’t expected. You looked at him, unsure of how to respond, the tension in the air suddenly making you feel even more awkward.

"And you’re still annoying," you snapped, trying to regain control of the conversation, though your voice betrayed a hint of something softer beneath the words. You looked away, unable to meet his gaze for too long.

“Okay, okay. Look, I’m sorry if I took things a little too far yesterday,” he apologized.

You examined his face for any sign of mischief, but soon realized he was being sincere. You nodded, walking away.

—--

A few hours of working in silence passed, everyone was in their own little cubicle typing away with whatever they had to. 

Just as you were getting into the groove of things, you heard footsteps approaching. Soobin’s voice broke through the quiet office. "Hey," he greeted, leaning on your desk with a smile. "Where’s your Daddy?" He raised an eyebrow playfully, clearly teasing about Beomgyu.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden question. "My what?" you repeated, confused for a moment before you realized what he meant. "Oh, please, don’t encourage him," you groaned, rubbing your temples.

Soobin chuckled. "I mean, you are Daddy’s girl, aren’t you?" He laughed again, clearly enjoying your discomfort, making you glare at his way. "Anyway, wanna grab lunch? We haven’t done that in a while.”

“As long as you stop calling me that.” You rolled your eyes.

Soobin raised his hands defensively, smirking. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

“I just have like a couple more e-mails to sort out.”

“Got it. I’ll wait for you outside.”

You went back to typing, trying to wrap up your task quickly so Soobin wouldn’t have to wait too long. You were back to focusing, but just as you were picking up the pace, you felt hands cover your eyes from behind.

“Beomgyu,” you muttered without looking up from your screen.

Beomgyu’s voice came in soft and teasing. “How’d you know it was me?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing his hands away. “You’re the only one who bothers me when I’m trying to do work.”

He chuckled, sliding into the chair next to your desk. “Guess you just know me so well, huh?” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” you said, shaking your head as you finished up a few last details.

There was a minute of silence before you finally did look up at him. Beomgyu hated to admit how cute you looked when you looked up at him—your eyes meeting him with that slight furrow in your brow, your hair falling perfectly around your face. It took everything in him not to smile, but he quickly masked it with his usual smirk.

“So what do you want?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you finished up a few last details.

“Lunch with daddy?” he replied with a casual grin, though his eyes held a glint of something that made your stomach flutter.

“Oh, I’ve already made plans with Soobin, dad” you said, not thinking much of it as you slipped your phone into your bag.

“Soobin?” Beomgyu’s voice hardened ever so slightly, but you didn’t catch the shift at first. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes narrowing just a touch.

You shrugged, focusing on gathering your things. “Yeah, just grabbing lunch. We haven’t hung out in a while.”

Beomgyu’s smirk faltered for a second, his usual confidence slipping just enough for you to notice. But before you could react, he leaned back, his demeanor slipping into something more casual, though there was still that slight edge to his words. “Right. Of course. Soobin.”

You looked at him, slightly confused by his changed demeanor. “Okay?” you replied, furrowing your eyebrows.

Beomgyu didn’t immediately respond. He just leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he watched you. There was a tension in the air now, something unspoken, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. His eyes, which were usually so playful, were now unreadable, like he was deep in thought.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his tone back to its usual teasing edge, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Enjoy your lunch, I guess.”

—-

During lunch, your mind replayed the previous scene with Beomgyu one too many times. Why was he so pissy after you mentioned going to lunch with Soobin? Weren’t they good friends? Why was he being so dramatic? Crazy ass, you thought to yourself.

“Are you even listening?” Soobin’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You snapped out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” you mumbled, offering him an apologetic smile.

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been acting weird since we left for lunch. Did you even hear my harrowing story about how Beomgyu’s been acting up at home?”

Right, they’re roommates, you remembered, a pang of curiosity hitting you. “Wait, what did he do now?”

Soobin chuckled, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe it—he’s been sulking around the apartment lately, for reasons he won’t even explain. Just moody and snippy about everything.” He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’m starting to think he’s hiding something.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Beomgyu’s strange mood earlier was connected. Trying to play it cool, you asked, “Does he, like…do that often?”

“Nope, which is why it’s weird. And this all seemed to start around…” Soobin paused, giving you a suspicious look, “…around the time you two started bickering at work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Don’t blame this on me.”

Soobin laughed, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. “Hey, I’m not saying anything,” he teased, though his smirk suggested otherwise. “Actually… there is one thing that might explain it.”

“What is it?” you asked, curiosity and a tinge of dread mixing in your voice.

“Well,” Soobin began, leaning in a little, “he was on the phone with one of our friends the other night, talking about some girl he’s into.”

Your heart did a little flip. A girl he’s into? Was it you?

“Yeah, someone from his yoga class,” Soobin added, watching you carefully.

Oh. Yoga class. You didn’t go to yoga. You felt a mix of relief and… something else you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

“Oh,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, though your disappointment was evident. “That’s… nice.”

Soobin tilted his head, amused. “You sound thrilled.”

“I am thrilled,” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Glad he’s happy. Maybe then he’ll stop fucking with me.”

Soobin leaned back, watching your expression with that same knowing look. "Yeah, apparently she's, like, really flexible," he said, barely holding back a grin.

You forced a casual nod, hoping your face didn’t betray you. "Good for him, then."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your reaction. “What, you’re not jealous, are you?”

“What?” You scoffed, trying to brush off the question, but your voice came out a bit too defensive. “Why would I be jealous?”

Soobin chuckled, leaning forward. "I mean, you guys do spend half your time arguing, and the other half looking at each other like... well, like something is going on.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We’re just… coworkers. Besides, he’s obviously into some yoga girl I’ve never even met. Who’s apparently really flexible.”

"Uh-huh," Soobin said, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t buying it. "Well, for what it’s worth," he added, "I don’t think he actually likes yoga that much."

“Oh, sure. I don’t actually care,” you replied, trying to sound casual.

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief.

“Really,” you said, the words coming out a little too firmly—as if you were trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Soobin’s gaze dropped to your plate, and he chuckled softly. “Then why’ve you mashed your rice into porridge?”

You looked down, realizing your grip on the spoon was practically turning your knuckles white.

Your face heated with embarrassment, and you shot Soobin a glare. “You seem to be really enjoying this, Soobin. What happened to ‘I missed you, let’s catch up’? You’re practically using our only hour to tease me.”

Soobin laughed, leaning back in his chair with an innocent shrug. “Hey, I am catching up. I just happen to find your love life… fascinating.”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to brush it off. “It’s not my love life.”

“Right. Just your very intense work rivalry,” he said, grinning. “But fine, I’ll ease up. For now.”

—

You sighed, glancing at the clock. Just one more hour, and you’d be free. It was Friday, and the idea of slipping into bed and sleeping through the night was the only thing keeping you going. Unlike your coworkers, who were always up for late-night drinks, you had a steadfast love for sleep.

Well, at least until…

“You coming tonight?”

Startled, you looked up to see Beomgyu leaning against your cubicle. His hair was slightly tousled from a long day, and somehow, he looked even better when he was a little worn out. You felt a pang of frustration at yourself for even noticing.

“Where?”

“The team’s going out for drinks,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes fixed on you.

You hesitated, glancing away. “I don’t know. I was planning on just heading home,” you replied, trying to ignore the way he made it hard to focus on anything but him.

He tilted his head, a playful smile forming. “Come on, you’re always skipping out on these things. One night won’t hurt.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. “Right, because I’m sure you’re really hoping I’ll be there.”

“I was,” he paused, then corrected himself, “I am.” He looked at you seriously, as if making sure you knew he wasn’t joking or lying.

“I—I…” You stammered, unsure of what to say.

“Please?” He added, his tone softening, almost like a plea.

“Fine.”

—

The bar was buzzing with the chatter and laughter of your coworkers. The group had claimed about four or five tables, but you’d positioned yourself at the bar, seated on a stool. You weren’t sure why you even agreed to come—maybe it was Beomgyu’s pleading, or maybe the way his eyes softened when he asked you. Damn it, he could be so cute without even trying.

You stirred your drink, watching it swirl as your mind wandered. Every so often, you glanced over to where Beomgyu was standing, sandwiched between two tables. He was in his element, effortlessly drawing people in with that easy, curse that confident charm of his. His laughter filled the air as he joked with your colleagues, their faces lighting up at whatever he’d just said.

He had a way of making even the most mundane conversation feel like the most interesting thing in the room. His smile, his gestures, the way his eyes sparkled when he said something funny—it was like he could command the room without even trying. It was no wonder people were drawn to him, and you couldn’t help but be drawn in too, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

You watched as he shifted from one group to the next, always moving with such ease, always the center of attention. His effortless charm left a weird knot in your stomach, but also a strange flutter, something you didn’t quite know how to process.

Damn it, you thought again, taking another sip of your drink. You were making yourself dizzy just watching him.

“You’re going to catch flies with the way you’re staring at Beomgyu,” Soobin teased, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous grin. He placed a finger under your chin, gently tilting your head up.

You sighed, trying to brush off the comment, swatting his hand away. “Soobin,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “If you’re just here to mock me about my stupid crush on Beomgyu—”

“Oh, so we’re admitting it’s a crush now?” Soobin interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“What? No! I—I… it slipped out,” you stuttered, feeling heat rise in your cheeks as you tried to recover.

Soobin leaned in, his grin widening as he pressed, “So you are admitting it—”

“I’m not admitting anything!” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively and giving him an exaggerated glare.

Soobin chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that," he said, giving you a wink before turning his attention back to the table, though his smile lingered as if he knew something you didn't.

You huffed, trying to push the thoughts of Beomgyu out of your mind. The alcohol wasn't helping; if anything, it was just making things feel more awkward. You shifted in your seat, glancing back toward Beomgyu. He was laughing with your coworkers, his hands animated as he told some story, effortlessly commanding their attention. It was almost maddening how easy he made it look, his charm radiating off him like it was second nature.

"Are you sure you don’t have a thing for him?" Soobin’s voice brought you back to reality, and you looked at him, annoyed.

“I already told you, I don’t—" You stopped, realizing how defensive you sounded, how your heart was racing at the mere mention of Beomgyu’s name. You ran a hand through your hair, frustrated at yourself.

"So, what's going on then?" Soobin asked, his tone suddenly softer, less teasing. "You can’t keep pretending you don’t care."

You looked away, avoiding his gaze as you focused on the edge of your glass. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

For a moment, Soobin didn’t say anything, just watched you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. Finally, he spoke again, quieter this time. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now, but don’t pretend like it doesn’t matter."

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat.

“Okay, what if I do…” you whispered, barely audible, eyes darting around nervously.

Soobin leaned in closer, eyebrows raised. “Come again?”

You sighed, feeling your face burn as you tried to keep your voice low, as if somehow that would protect you. “What if I do… have a tiny little bit… the tiniest bit… of a crush on him…” you whispered even softer, almost too quietly to hear.

Soobin leaned in further, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips as he mimicked your whisper. “I can’t hear you.”

You rolled your eyes, swallowing your embarrassment. “I said,” you shouted, louder than you intended, and immediately felt the weight of your coworkers' stares on you. You quickly smiled awkwardly at them before turning back to Soobin. “I said... what if I did have a tiny crush on him?”

Soobin burst into laughter, loud enough that it felt like the whole bar could hear it. His laughter, bright and unapologetic, drew even more stares from the surrounding tables. You felt your face flush even more.

“You know,” he said, catching his breath, “it’s about time you admitted it. You’ve been looking at him like that all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Right, because I didn’t just see you staring at him while he was telling that story about his yoga class.” Soobin grinned knowingly.

You groaned, sinking lower into your seat. “Can we drop it now?”

Soobin held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, it’s obvious to everyone here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said, finally calming down. “Trust me, you’ve got the ‘I’m-trying-to-hide-a-crush’ look written all over you.”

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling in defeat. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Soobin said with a grin. “If you’re embarrassed, then that means you care. And that’s actually kind of cute.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

Soobin patted you on the back. “No problem, now go get your man.”

You snorted. “I’m not ‘getting my man’ anywhere besides isn’t he into this yoga girl you keep mentioning about?”

“First of all,” Soobin sighed. “I mentioned her once. Second, you're really gonna use her as an excuse now? I was just kidding. There wasn’t any “yoga girl”, I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“You lied?”

“For a good cause!” Soobin said, defensively.

“Look, I don’t even care. I mean... it’s not like he’s even looking my way,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to Soobin. “In fact, he hasn’t even talked to me all night.”

Soobin gave you a knowing look, the kind he always gave when he knew you were being a little dramatic. “You’re really gonna do this right now?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. “You’re letting one night ruin your mood?”

You sighed, resting your chin in your hand. “I mean, it's fine, really. I didn’t come here to be his entertainment plus free drinks!”

Soobin rolled his eyes. “It’s not about that, though, is it? You didn’t come here for him to entertain you, you came because you wanted to see him.”

“I did not come here…to see him.” You attempted to defend yourself. “I could be here to see you. You’re a pal.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Soobin rolled his eyes. 

You shot him a glare but it only made him laugh. He could always tell when you were hiding something, and right now, he was enjoying it a little too much.

“Fine, maybe I did want to see him,” you finally admitted, your voice softer than you wanted it to be. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s just—he told me to come, which I did but now he’s been avoiding me all night and talking to everyone but me.”

“Have you tried initiating the conversation first?” Soobin said. 

You stared at Soobin, momentarily taken aback by his insight. “I just… I’m not sure what to say anymore." 

"Say hi or something, in fact," Soobin said, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet. "You talk to him tonight, and... yeah, that’s it. Just talk to him. No ands ifs or buts."

"W-what? No! I can’t... I’m not ready! I’ve only had one shot of vodka. I’m not ready for this level of commitment—"

Soobin sighed in frustration. "Damn, you’re stronger than you look." He grunted, struggling to pull you up as you continued to thrash in your seat.

You dug your heels into the ground, still trying to resist as Soobin tugged at your arm. "No, seriously, Soobin! I'm not ready for this. What if I screw it up?" You felt the panic rising in your chest, your pulse quickening. The idea of talking to Beomgyu, of finally doing something about it, felt too overwhelming.

“And what’s going on over here?”

The two of you stopped your struggle, realizing it looked as though you were hugging, and quickly turned around, both of you frozen like deer caught in headlights.

“Beomgyu,�� the two of you muttered in unison.

“You’re making quite the scene,” Beomgyu said. His tone was hard to place, but you would guess he was either slightly annoyed or, more likely, not at all amused.

“Sorry.” You glanced around, realizing no one was really paying attention to the two of you, which left you a bit confused, but you decided to ignore it.

“Soobin, Taehyun’s looking for you.” He pointed over to the table of interns.

“Taehyun’s here? Doesn’t he have…” Soobin gulped. “Okay. I’ll go find him.”

Soobin gave you one last glance, his smirk still lingering as he followed Beomgyu's direction. “Don’t think I forgot about this,” he teased, then strolled off toward the interns.

You let out a small breath of relief, now alone with Beomgyu. He was still standing there, his expression unreadable, though you could have sworn you saw something in his eyes when Soobin had left.

“So,” you started, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Thanks for... saving me from Soobin.”

Beomgyu chuckled, his gaze softening slightly. “Not sure you’re saved when a bigger devil is here.” He smirked.

“Right,” You chuckled before turning your attention back to your drink.

"Care for a conversation?"

"Now?" You hadn’t meant to sound sarcastic.

Beomgyu looked at you with a hint of confusion in his eyes before replacing it with his usual smirk. "What’s wrong with a little conversation?"

"I just... don’t you have a whole parade to lead? Aren’t people waiting for the life of the party?"

“Well, the life of the party needs a break, and I was kind of looking for my own relief.” He glanced over at you.

“And?” you prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Found her.” He locked eyes with you, a hint of mischief in his gaze.

You shifted awkwardly, trying to gauge his intent, but he kept his eyes on you, unfazed.

“So, this is where you take your breaks?” you asked.

Beomgyu’s smirk deepened. “Only when the company is worth it.”

Your breath caught slightly, caught off guard by his boldness. You didn’t know how to respond right away, so you turned your attention back to your drink. The silence stretched on, and for a brief moment, it felt like there was something unspoken between you two.

“Oh, right!” You pulled out a small paper bag from your work bag. “Here.” You handed him the washed t-shirt he had lent you.

“You can keep it,” he said casually.

“And why would I want to keep a shirt with your face on it?” You rolled your eyes, holding the t-shirt up with mock disdain. 

Beomgyu chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Y’know…I always thought you were pretty, but I think wearing my face has made you ten times prettier than you already were.”

He leaned back, watching you closely, his smile softening into something more sincere. “I’m serious though. You look good in it.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly brushed it off, trying to maintain your playful composure. “Sure. But I think I’ll pass on wearing it as a permanent look.”

You glanced at your watch, it was still early. If you were home you’d probably be binging a drama. You shook your head. It was time to say goodnight. You didn’t feel like overstaying your welcome. 

“I’m gonna take off,” you muttered.

“What? So soon? It’s only 10,” Beomgyu said, sounding surprised.

You shrugged. “Yeah, and I’m wasting my Friday night being surrounded by drunk colleagues.

“Okay, then at least let me send you home,” he said, his tone softening.

“It’s totally fine! I can take the bus!”

“The bus? We can share a cab!” Beomgyu insisted.

“I’ll be fine, I swear.”

“And I won’t be until you let me take you home safely!” Beomgyu said, pouting ever so slightly, his lips curling downward. You stopped yourself from smiling at the sight of his pout.

“It’s really fine! If it makes you feel better, I’ll get Soobin to drive me back. I mean, he drove me here,” you replied, trying to brush off his concern with a casual shrug.

Beomgyu’s demeanor shifted immediately. His face tightened, and you noticed a flicker of frustration in his eyes. "Again with Soobin," he muttered, his voice a little sharper than before.

You glanced over at Beomgyu, seeing the almost imperceptible shift in his expression. He looked... frustrated, almost as if your mention of Soobin was a trigger. You weren’t sure why, but the change in him caught your attention. 

“Yeah, I mean, he drove–”

“Do you enjoy torturing me?” Beomgyu sighed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy… torturing me?” he repeated, sounding almost exasperated by your sheer density.

“Are you drunk?”

He shook his head.

He pulled you aside, guiding you into a quiet corner of the bar. Now, there was no sign of your colleagues—just the two of you, standing by a plant. The sudden isolation made the air feel heavy.

“You’re torturing me,” he muttered, his voice low. “You actually hate me.”

You blinked in surprise, unsure if you had heard him right. 

“Hate you?” You frowned, trying to make sense of what he was implying. “Beomgyu, I don’t hate you.”

“You avoid me,” he sighed, frustration laced in his voice. “You’re always making jokes with everyone around you. Yeonjun, Soobin—dear God, you even make jokes with the new interns, Taehyun and Kai.”

You stood there frozen, caught off guard by the intensity of his rant.

“You laugh with everyone, you smile, you bat your eyelashes at Soobin, you touch Soobin’s arms, you go on one-on-one lunch dates with Soobin… You like Soobin.” His words came out in a rush, and each sentence hit harder than the last. “And you don’t feel a single thing for me.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his accusation, your stomach dropping. 

“I–”

“Why won’t you like me back?” Beomgyu repeated, his voice softer now, but still laced with an underlying pain. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer that you weren’t sure how to give.

And it was… three seconds of silence before Beomgyu hurled onto your shoes.

You stared in disbelief, mouth agape, as the reality of what had just happened set in. The mixture of complete shock and disgust made you freeze for a moment, unable to process what had just unfolded.

“No liquor, my ass!” You screamed, stepping back in horror as you looked down at your shoes, now a disgusting shade of… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

Beomgyu collapsed onto the floor, his body crumpling like a ragdoll.

“Oh my God!” You shouted, hands thrown up in the air, unsure of what to do. You were stuck between wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all and wanting to strangle him for ruining your night—and your shoes.

Beomgyu’s head lolled to the side, eyes barely open as he slurred, “I... I didn’t mean for it to... to go like this. I just… I thought you’d—” He cut himself off with another groan, clearly too far gone to finish his sentence.

Your mind raced, torn between sympathy for his state and pure annoyance. You didn’t sign up for this. 

—

Soobin had driven the two of you back to your place. Beomgyu, half-conscious and heavily leaning against your shoulder, made no effort to support himself as you navigated him out of the car. 

You reached your front door and stopped, fumbling with the keys for a moment before Soobin broke the silence with a sigh. “You sure you don’t want him to just go home with me?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the concern in it, even if he tried to mask it with a teasing tone.

You shot him a tired glance as you finally unlocked the door. “Isn’t your mom visiting right now? You sure you want her to know this is the kind of roommate you have?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you nudged the door open with your foot, glancing at Beomgyu, who was mumbling nonsense under his breath.

“Yeah?” Soobin shrugged, clearly not thinking it through. “But, you know, I could always—”

“You sure you want your mom to see all this?” you interrupted, gesturing at the disaster that was Beomgyu, who looked like he might pass out any second.

Soobin blinked, his face faltering slightly as the reality of the situation hit him. “...You’re probably right,” he said with a chuckle that barely covered his embarrassment.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping despite everything. “Thanks for the ride,” you said, offering a strained smile before you turned your attention back to Beomgyu. “Alright, let’s get you inside.”

Beomgyu stumbled and flopped onto the couch as soon as you let him go, groaning dramatically, his head lolling to the side. His disheveled hair and the faint smell of alcohol coming off him was enough to make you feel a little queasy, but you refused to let him see how uncomfortable you were. Instead, you turned to Soobin, who lingered by the door, looking unsure about whether to stay or leave.

“Is there anything I can do?” Soobin asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You looked at Beomgyu again and sighed. “Just help me change him.” You half-smiled, trying to reassure Soobin despite feeling like a mess yourself. 

Soobin chuckled awkwardly. “You should probably get him some water or something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you said, already moving toward the kitchen, your mind racing as you debated what to do next. You glanced back at Beomgyu, still sprawled out on the couch, looking like he had no care in the world. He was out of it, sure, but the way he had acted earlier still lingered in your thoughts, leaving a pit in your stomach.

Soobin finally left, his footsteps fading as the door clicked shut behind him. You were alone now with a drunk, insufferable Beomgyu, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever this night was about to throw at you next.

—

You were thankful Soobin stayed long enough to help change Beomgyu out of his puke-soaked clothes. It was an awkward scene, but you couldn’t exactly leave Beomgyu in his state. Soobin had managed to get him into a pair of comfortable sweats and a t-shirt before he left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

As you walked back into the living room, you found Beomgyu still sprawled on the couch, his head resting awkwardly on the armrest. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep but uneven. Despite the mess he’d made, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.

You grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and gently placed it on the coffee table in front of him, hoping he’d wake up enough to drink it.

It’d been a few hours since the incident happened. You had just been sitting on your armchair, waiting for Beomgyu to wake up.

His eyes fluttered open a moment later, his vision blurry as he blinked a few times, trying to focus on his surroundings. When he saw you standing there, a faint, sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re still here…” he mumbled..

“Of course,” you said, sitting down on the edge of the couch, keeping a safe distance. “You’re kinda at my house.”

Beomgyu let out a groan, rubbing his forehead with his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into all of this…”

You sighed, watching him closely as he sat up, trying to get his bearings. “You didn’t drag me into anything, I just so happened to be standing right in front of you, waiting for my prince charming to puke on me.” You replied, trying to hide the slight irritation in your voice, but the frustration from the whole night was starting to seep through.

Beomgyu winced at your words, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “Yeah... that wasn’t my best moment.”

“No kidding.” You leaned back, folding your arms across your chest. “I’ve never seen you this... well, out of it. What even happened tonight?”

“I don’t know. I think I just... lost it. All the stuff with you and Soobin, it’s been bugging me more than I want to admit. And, well, I guess it all came crashing down at the wrong time.”

“So… you remember what you said in the bar just now?” You asked, the tension in your voice barely masked by the casual question.

Beomgyu nodded, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was trying to piece everything together. “I’m puke and black-out drunk. Not the kind to forget about the stupid shit I do when I’m drunk... kind of drunk.”

You laughed awkwardly, trying to process what he was saying. "So you… were—are—jealous of Soobin?"

Beomgyu nodded slowly, his gaze avoiding yours as he seemed to wrestle with his own feelings. “Kind of. I guess. I don’t really know. But listen, he’s a great guy and clearly in better shape than me, so I… genuinely think the two of you would be great together.”

You blinked at him, trying to process the unexpected confession. "I don’t know… I kind of had my eyes on someone else, actually."

“It’s Yeonjun, isn’t it? It’s because he’s up there with that whole manager position and his weird party tricks… damn it, I should’ve picked up rollerblading when I had the chance.”

“No—not Yeonjun. He’s a little too intense for me,” you said, the memory of Yeonjun yelling at you for accidentally dropping a pack of Skittles down the garbage disposal flashing through your mind.

“Then who is it? Not Soobin, not Yeonjun—I’m gonna be so for real with you right now, we’re kind of your only options if you were into like hot people–”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I just… I’m curious to know who this guy is! Who’s this less attractive person I’m losing out to, y’know?”

“Well, he’s kinda cute to me.” 

Beomgyu sighed and ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but also trying to mask it with a weak smile. “Okay, fine. I get it. You like someone else, and that’s cool. But you’re really killing me here with the suspense. Actually, you know what…maybe I don’t wanna know.” He sat up from the couch, shaking his head.

You were leaning against the wall opposite him, your arms crossed loosely over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. Your eyes flicked to Beomgyu, watching him as he ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly wrestling with his own thoughts.

The way he shifted uncomfortably on the couch made you feel almost guilty for not speaking sooner, but you weren’t going to lie, you kind of enjoyed this little mental torture he was going through. 

Served him right for teasing you so much.

The truth was, you had been trying to avoid it, trying not to make things complicated especially with someone you weren’t even sure that liked you back. 

Come on. Dropping your coffee and making you wear the ugliest t-shirt? That didn’t really seem like someone who liked you.

“Look, y’know what, I’m fine. I’ll just go home,” Beomgyu sighed, standing up from the couch. “Thanks for taking care of me. I’m really sorry about the shoes. I’ll get you a new pair. I promise.” He ruffled his hair, clearly trying to hide the awkwardness with a forced smile, but you could tell he was feeling guilty.

“Beomgyu–”

“I’m good. Look, it stings. The girl I’ve been pining for, for about a year or so, doesn’t like me back. It’s cool. I’ll get over it. Not now, but soon enough. I just hope this guy—whoever the fuck he is—treats you well… but like, I hope he’s not that hot. I don’t think that’d be good for my self-esteem. But you also deserve the best so I hope he’s at least hot-ish…? I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m being really immature right now, aren’t I? This is not a good look on me,” Beomgyu rambled, his voice wavering slightly as he shifted uneasily on his feet.

“Dude, you gotta let me talk.” You sighed, walking over to Beomgyu and gently pushing him back onto the couch. He blinked up at you, still looking a little frazzled, but his shoulders visibly relaxed when you didn’t back away.

“This guy…that I’m into–”

“Oh great. We’re still talking about this asshole.” 

“He’s really funny,” you spoke, your tone exasperated but softening.

“It’s that one tall dude from marketing, isn’t it?” Beomgyu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not listening!” you yelled, cutting him off. Beomgyu gave you a sheepish, apologetic smile, slowly realizing that he was spiraling. You pulled his chin toward you, making sure he was looking at you. “He’s funny. He’s kind of an asshole, actually.”

“You’re into that?”

You shrugged, “And he’s really handsome.” You looked up at Beomgyu, giving him the sweetest smile, which made his heart leap.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You’re just gonna make me more hung up on you.” Beomgyu’s voice was softer now, the playful edge gone, replaced by a vulnerability that made your heart race. 

You chuckled, “He’s also really cute. Didn’t peg him for the jealous type.”

“What?” He tilted his head, confused.

“He’s also really narcissistic. Has apparently zero alcohol tolerance,” you mumbled. “He also puked on my shoes.”

Beomgyu blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. “Wait, he puked in your shoes? And you’re still into him?” He let out a disbelieving laugh, though it was edged with a hint of nervousness. "And you think I'm the one who’s messed up?"

“Beomgyu, it’s you. How are you not getting it?”

“Oh.” 

Beomgyu’s gaze softened, the realization sinking in fully. His lips parted as if he were about to say something, but he hesitated, unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the conversation.

“I’ve liked you for awhile now.” You continued, “I just thought you genuinely…disliked me. Or at least just enjoyed making my day miserable.”

“Miserable? Baby, I was entertaining you,” he said, his voice low, teasing but with an undeniable sincerity underneath.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling both amused and flustered. “Entertaining me? By making me spill coffee on myself and tricking me into wearing that ugly t-shirt?”

Beomgyu chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well–” he started, clearly trying to defend himself but failing to keep his grin in check.

“How about two weeks ago when you took out the screws of my chair at work and I fell and hurt my ass?” You crossed your arms, a playful yet accusatory tone in your voice.

“To be fair, that was Soobin’s idea,” Beomgyu said quickly, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. He looked genuinely innocent for a split second before breaking into an even wider grin. “But I did help, so I guess I’m partially guilty.”

You scoffed, unable to suppress a smile despite yourself. “Partial guilt? You’re the mastermind behind most of it.”

"You don't get it!" Beomgyu sighed dramatically. "You're just so... adorable when you're mad! Your eyebrows furrow, your eyes widen, and when you pout... it's just... God, if you could see yourself the way I see you."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. "Adorable? Really? You think I'm adorable when I'm mad?"

Beomgyu nodded eagerly, his eyes lighting up. "Yes! You don’t get it! You’re like a firecracker. When you get all huffy and your cheeks puff up, it just... it drives me crazy." He looked almost embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's like the cutest thing ever."

You couldn’t help but laugh, a genuine sound that surprised both of you. "Am I just your daily work stress ball or something?”

"Yes!" Beomgyu replied instantly, his voice a little too eager. He leaned in slightly, his tone softening as if revealing a secret. "I swear, if you could see yourself, you'd understand. It’s like you’re all fierce and pissed off, but still so... you. And God, it's so easy to fall for."

You smiled shyly, “You’re a little weirdo, aren’t you?” 

Beomgyu grinned, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you’d come to know all too well. "Maybe," he said, his voice low and teasing. "But I'm your weirdo. If you’ll take me."

He leaned in just a little closer, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, and for a brief moment, the air between you seemed to thicken. You felt your heart skip a beat, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but your voice came out softer than you intended. "I don't know if I’ll like that," you teased, though you couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Beomgyu chuckled, his expression softening into something more sincere. "You should. I swear, I’ve got the best intentions. Even if I do mess with you a little."

Your breath caught as his words hit you in a way you hadn't expected. He wasn’t just being playful anymore—there was something real behind his eyes.

"You’re... kind of sweet when you’re serious," you murmured, unable to stop yourself from feeling a little flustered under his gaze.

Beomgyu leaned back just slightly, his smile turning a little shy, like he hadn't meant to let that much of himself show. "Yeah, well... I mean it, you know?" he said quietly, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. "You make it hard not to feel this way." 

“You’re being ridiculous.” You puffed your cheeks.

“There! There it is!” Beomgyu shouted, jumping up and down on your couch in excitement like a little kid.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, your heart skipping a beat at how effortlessly cute he was. “You’re being insane!” you said, still smiling.

“I’m not!” Beomgyu responded dramatically, flailing his arms for emphasis. “How are you not seeing how cute you are?!” His voice was nearly exasperated, like he was trying to make you understand some grand truth about yourself.

“It’s probably how I see you!” you shot back, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips.

A moment of silence filled the room, the weight of what you had just said hanging in the air.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened slightly, his expression faltering as he processed your words. “That’s how you see me?” he asked, his voice softer, almost unsure.

You nodded, your gaze shifting as you tried to put your thoughts into words. “Yeah. You’re… well, close to perfect, as far as I can see.” You shrugged slightly. "The way you put your tongue at the side of your cheek and poke it when you're feeling smug after winning an argument with me... Maybe that's why I let you win sometimes. You look... sexy when you do that."

Beomgyu froze, his eyes locking with yours, a mix of surprise and something else flickering in his gaze. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a grin, that mischievous glint returning. “You think I’m sexy when I do that?�� he asked, scooting closer, his hands coming to rest beside your thighs on the couch.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, suddenly self-conscious as you realized what you'd just admitted. But before you could retreat, Beomgyu leaned in a little, his face lighting up with that playful yet sincere spark. “Well, now that you’ve said it... I’m definitely not letting you off the hook,” he teased, his tone warm and a little more serious than before, making your heart skip a beat.

“What else do you like about me?” he asked, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your lips.

You blushed, feeling your heart race. “When you… when you make everyone laugh. You’re just so effortlessly you,” you said softly, your voice warming as you smiled shyly at him.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered your name. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere. “You’d see the most beautiful person in the world.”

You stayed silent, your heart pounding as his words settled in. The air between you seemed to thicken with unspoken feelings, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice.

He leaned back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "And, would the most beautiful person in the world... let me kiss her?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You could feel the tension, the way everything seemed to slow down as you locked eyes with him. He was so close, and his expression was so genuine, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

Slowly, you nodded, barely able to whisper, “Yeah... I think I would.”

His eyes lit up, and in that instant, the world around you seemed to disappear. Without wasting another second, Beomgyu gently cupped your face in his hands, leaning in until his lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet at first, testing the waters, before deepening as you both relaxed into the moment.

Everything felt perfect. Well…until…

You pulled away, suddenly aware of the rules that had always been lurking in the back of your mind. “Wait. Doesn’t our company have a rule about dating?”

Beomgyu froze for a second, his lips brushing yours one last time before he pulled back, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I could quit tomorrow if it meant I could kiss you every day,” he sighed dramatically, but there was a sincerity in his eyes that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything, Beomgyu pulled you gently but insistently closer, guiding you to sit on his lap. He leaned in again, his lips on yours.

“Beomgyu, I’m serious.” You mumbled between the kisses, your voice breathless but laced with uncertainty.

He only grinned wider, his hands lightly gripping your waist, “Rule, schmule,” he muttered dismissively, pushing you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. "We’ll figure it out. Besides, isn’t Taehyun like the boss’s son or something? We could bribe him."

“What?!” You gasped, pulling away from the kiss, your eyes wide with disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that,” he muttered sheepishly, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes was unmistakable as he shrugged and pulled you back into the kiss.

“You did not just drop a big bomb like that!” You tried to protest, but your words were muffled by his lips.

“Less talking, more kissing,” Beomgyu murmured between kisses, his hands gently guiding your face to meet his again.

“But we have all night,” you teased, breathless but still managing a smirk.

He paused for a moment, his face a little too close to yours, his grin playful. “I’m listening…” he said, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, pushing him playfully away just enough to get a word in. “You’re also gross.”

Beomgyu’s expression faltered for just a second before he burst into laughter, his arms wrapping around you tighter as he pulled you back against him. “Gross? I thought you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest made it hard to stay mad. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, even as you found yourself leaning in again.

“Impossible to resist,” he corrected with a wink, his lips capturing yours once more, and this time, there was no pulling away.

[ballsballsbowls]

Saw a post yelling about retail pharmacies re amphetamine shortages and I briefly thought about jumping into the fray and explaining some things, very politely.

Then I remembered that I'm no longer being paid to explain how retail pharmacy works and federal law and that actually we are both victims while getting shouted at because they have to yell at someone and I am right there and they have convinced themselves that *I* am the sole obstacle between them and their meds.

Hopefully, I will never ever not even one single day in my whole life be paid to do that again, and only an absolute masochist would do it for free.

So I deleted the whole post and I'm going to do a face mask instead.

[kooyabooya]

OMISSION

m reader x julie // 21k words

There’s always going to be that one occurrence in your lifetime. Where, even when all possibilities of it happening just doesn’t seem to line up, still does. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Doomed to regret, or relieved of the fact that you’re given a chance after waiting for who really knows how long, it all arrives in the same fashion. You’re pretty certain that things like these transpire for a reason; and sometimes, the best part about this mystery is what’s to come after. 

Truth be told, it’s an unexplainable miracle how Julie still remembers you after all these years. 

Okay, that statement itself might be an over exaggeration, and it’s been roughly about five years? Maybe seven? Shit, it might be even eight or more. The game of life doesn’t have time for someone like you to stand idly, dozing off and unbothered like that’s how you want things to be. 

Nonetheless, you analogized this to your circle of friends about how you and Julie are like parallel lines: destined to be side by side, never to cross each other's paths to meet in the middle. You’ve convinced yourself long ago there would never be any form of instance crossing past that line of being in love with her, ever. Despite what everyone says otherwise, the teasing never stopped; a recurrence every once in a while with your high school friends (and hey, it’s not your fault that you tense up at the bare mention of her name or see a picture of you and her together from when you were kids and not have a crossing thought of what could’ve been). She’s been the one person who was always there for you, until eventually going away and out of your life before you could even understand what any of that meant in the first place.

It doesn’t matter if it’s the first time you’ve set eyes on her or the last, because a part of you seems to stop in their tracks whenever she’s within line of eyesight. 

–

Midday, at the peak of rush hour traffic around the airport, there’s a scramble of newcomers and departing travelers through the doors of the terminal. The sporadic influx of people with one or two hand carries, and various cart goers with enough baggage to stay in the country for more than a projected month. 

You pull the corner of your lip when you see a familiar shade of bright ash colored hair, retro shades shielding her face from anyone that might notice at a glance. Her luggage was surprisingly less than what you have expected: a bulky backpack that’s roughly the size of her entire midsection (she could go hiking or backpacking for all you know) and a large suitcase with a duffel bag stacked on top of it. 

Julie being Julie, she decided to go the comfort route of her outfit rather than the haute couture style that she always plasters her social media profile with which was a nice change to see considering the amount of sponsors she has at her age. She scans the line of cars with the hazard lights on along the lane, immediately bee-lining for yours while you’re leaning against the side with the engine still running and not with the hazard lights on, just to make it easier for her to spot you. 

When she finally stops her footing a few inches before the curb, she lets out this sigh when the handle of her suitcase clicks back in, plopping the duffel bag onto the ground as if she’s making her presence known, you take a quick look around ensuring that she wasn’t trying to make a scene. “Hey,” she calls over. There’s no second thought; you could be fifty feet away and still spot her. 

Julie runs a hand through her hair, chin tilted up slightly when you get onto the sidewalk from the street, signifying the clear difference in height. She’s at your neck, and you’re glad that she stayed around there - you know, just to annoy her. 

Coming off ever-so casually, “Hey.” 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

You lift your eyebrows with one at the highest point you could take on your forehead. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” 

A shake of the head, you’re giddy in an instant second. 

“Seriously?” She starts, pulling out her set of earbuds and her glasses simultaneously, raising an eyebrow before squinting her eyes closely to your face, and all you’re doing is just letting your head fall a few degrees left to keep her second guessing. “There is no way they let you be my personal chauffeur for today.” 

“Well, about that.” you scoff, stepping on the concrete away from the asphalt while also fishing out a folded twenty dollar bill from your pocket. “I was doing some errands for my parents before I got hit with the last minute memo to pick up some girl that’s been too busy with stardom.” 

“What’s the adult dollar for?” Julie asks, fighting the smile terribly while you’re matching the same energy. “Are you tipping for yourself?” 

A pause forms between the two of you, staring, reading into each other’s expressions. The white noise of cars coming occasionally broken with scattered honks across the place. You kinda look stupid with the twenty dollars in between your fingers, but Julie breaks first by looking down, you’re rolling eyes at how simple it’s been after all this time - easing into her, and she does the same. 

She steps forward with swinging arms, capturing you in between them. Julie was always the outgoing one with affection. Growing up, you kinda got sick of her being up all in your space. Now, you’ve come the long way ‘round; her hand lightly grips the back of your neck, you’re shaking her side by side with your arms around her waist, suddenly she’s got a hand to your cheek before she pinches it just to annoy you. One thing for sure: you enjoy the small bubble entrapping you with her, not giving a care for what’s going outside of it. 

“Oh my god?” you tell her breathlessly, half drunk on the sweet scent of her hair, pushing her back slightly to get a second look at her, trying to process how much she’s grown. “You- your hair….”

“I know right?” she acknowledges, tilting her head off to the right while hiding away. “Didn’t think that orange would be my color in the first place and now, I own it.” 

She looks good, and somehow she’s still the same Julie you remember spending a good chunk of your entire childhood with to know that unchanging fact. 

“Long flight?” you ask her, hands on her shoulders with a quick massage. “You know what they say about airport crushes; see them once, and they’re gone the next moment for forever.” 

“No one has ever said that.” Julie laughs, flipping some of her hair over the shoulder, her lone hand lightly underneath your forearm, not letting the faintest clutch of your sweater get to you because it will, and it seems that the personal point still stands, but you remember the conversation with her regarding that all those years ago - unsure if the sting is still present or not, you’ll have to ponder sometime later. “Always the one to say complete nonsense to me and expect to understand it,” she closes the distance with you again, a slightly more prolonged hug, relaxing into your embrace again with a sleepy sigh, “But yes, I’m still tired.” 

“So much for getting lunch.” 

“Oh, we can still get lunch, if you’re paying of course.” She says, pressing both of her index fingers together innocently, dodging your eyes on purpose before you realize what she’s actually doing. 

“Typical of you, Julie.” 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” She replies, shaking her head. Your peripheral view catches a person wearing a neon yellow vest approaching you two, probably coming over to issue a warning that you’re picking up and not parking. Looking in the same direction, she too, takes the hint, realizing that you’re in a slight time crunch and the reunion can take place somewhere else. “Besides, I was always the one to get you lunch after school when you said that you weren’t hungry.” 

“I could just take you straight home,” you say, popping the trunk to put all of her belongings in the back.

“Don’t! I’m kidding, obviously.”

That’s your Julie. 

“Unless you don’t let me pick the place to grab something, then I guess you could take me home then, if it isn’t that much work for you.” She remarks while you’re rounding the car from behind, slotting in the gap to open the door for her before she swaps places with you on the outside and her on the opposite side. 

Regardless of the absence, she’s hit it off with you again like nothing had ever happened, the habits of goodwill when you’re shielding her head from the roof of the door frame and shutting it when she finally sits in. 

It’s like a rerun of old memories coming back. When the whirr of the engine springs to life from the ignition, paired with the dragged out sigh of Julie settling into the passenger seat of your car, leaning the seat all the way back with her feet on the dashboard. She’s also surprised that you kept a few trinkets that she put in the interior, but the main takeaway was the polaroid on the left side of the speedometer. The image wasn’t that big of a deal if you’re looking at the date scribbled with a sharpie, but it’s her lips pressed against your face on the last night before she went away to pursue her own endeavors. As for the gesture itself, Julie laughs it off since the main reason was because she had one too many drinks - which was understandable, to say the least.

(Well, friends have their own ways of showing off their love from a platonic standpoint, so this was just one of those instances; nothing more.)

You and her just talk for what seems like ages, forget with the notion of playing catch-up. She’s only been here for probably less than an hour and half at this point, and you could care less with the traffic on the way to the niche coffee spot where you and Julie have always gone to after school days and study sessions. 

She points out to you that everything is pretty much the same since she left it - like she runs the place - and in a way, it felt like that to you for a while. It’s all in the scattered corner stores, the park with those two stationary bikes that she’d ride just because she’s bored, that one avenue of houses that you and her talked about owning one day if the lottery was won between the two of you. All of these things start coming back to you like stills from an old film camera. 

“I helped get the house redone with flooring and everything,” you tell her, flicking the blinker up and looping right into the parking lot of the cafe. “Figured that it was time to change some things up around there for once.” 

Right when you set the car to park, clicking off the seatbelt and she too does the same; you glance over to the passenger seat while grabbing for your wallet and keys, seeing Julie on her side, head propped up to her hand, a leg tucked to her chest before she nods her head down to let the set of sunglasses fall weirdly on the bridge of her nose, fixing it soon after while softly smiling back. “Anything else that I missed out on that I haven’t heard from the others?” 

You look up, pursing your lips together with a hum, trying to give somewhat of a legitimate answer, “Perhaps one thing: me.” 

Julie stares at you unimpressed, slightly cringing at what was just said while you’re wearing a dumb grin spread across your face. Her chin dips diagonally, insisting silently that you give her a valid explanation, but you don’t. She knows your fair share of flings and failed talking stages, and she’s not far off the cut too; coming to you for advice about how guys operate because you understood well that some of them only think with their fucking crotch and not their brain most of the time. 

She sighs, this time with a light smirk in acceptance. “Fine, I’ll take that to be an acceptable answer.” 

Phone and wallet in one hand, the other opening the door, a turn of the head shields you biting your inner lip, mind slowly falling into the delusional thought of filling the gap in your amygdala of what should’ve been done in the first place. 

Maybe if you had the chance to go back in a time machine to alter the causes, the outcomes might’ve been in a much different space entirely. 

–

Though, it’s worth mentioning that you and Julie have never actually tried dating each other up until she left during junior year. The idea itself wasn’t necessarily tempting, but the lone strings in your heart decided at best that it wouldn’t escalate anything higher than what you already had with her. 

–

Sure. 

Everything comes natural when it’s with Julie. Out of everyone in your small circle of friends, it was you and her that have been tethered together since you two were basically in diapers. She was born a few days before you; in the same hospital, on the same floor. Your mothers already had a tight-knit connection even prior to you and her even stepping in the picture of their lives. Then there’s the special aspect of being a pair since preschool; nearly all the moments were either you and her not too apart from the other. 

You poke a straw through her latte before handing it to her first, only to take the same drink and bring it back around for you to have to take the additional one you bought instead. Everything starts to settle like old times. She’s telling you stories about what she’s doing with her career; nothing short of traveling around the world, giving you the most colorful way of what occurred even if it was the most simplest of things. The brand deals, the collaborations, how she loves what she’s doing. You couldn’t be more proud of her for taking her life by the reins because you and her both agreed that staying here in this town would only hold her back to what she really wants. 

“So,” she starts, placing her phone down after showing her pictures of her recent outing somewhere in Poland. “Remind me what you’re doing again?” 

She’s sitting across from you on the table, leg over the other, hands linked at the knee. Her drink is almost finished, there’s a half eaten croissant while you’re playing back all of the things that might be worth noting. You look up to see that subtle smirk, a hint of her dimples that you’ve probably fantasized about kissing because they’re just there, her pretty cat-like eyes, low and heavy, and her hair just looks amazing to see since the papaya color really suits her well. 

“Well, it’s nothing really worth sharing,” you say, grabbing another sip through the opening of your drink, “This job I got starts in a few weeks, and oh- grad school’s finally done and over with.” Julie nods in excitement, clapping quietly with her fingers while you’re waving a hand up to save the embarrassment. You show her the grad photos and ceremony, and tells you looked good, apologizing for not showing up earlier to be that for your massive accomplishment. 

“Anything else that you’re doing to pass time?” she asks, stealing your drink since she finished hers. 

“I write a little here and there. No big deal.” 

“You do?” 

You shrug, “Kinda, sort of struggling with this one story or idea that’s been rattling my brain for the past couple days now.” 

Julie does the similar action like she did earlier while getting out of the car; that slight lean back with narrow eyes to subject something suspicious. “Is it the kind of writing that I think it is?” 

“Jul, it’s just poems.” you tell her, adjusting your chair closer while she spills a mess of giggles while you snatch back your drink for another sip to keep yourself distracted. “You know that I get lost with reading. It was just that one time that you caught me red-handed.” 

“You’re not at fault for hooking me onto that kind of stuff too.” she replies, fingers bridged together to support her chin with her elbows on the table, “I will say, the mind can create the wildest imaginations.” 

“Have you noticed what you’re doing with those outfits and dances?” 

“Hey, I read those comments every now and then.” Julie takes back your drink to finally finish it, placing the cup off to the side with the half-eaten croissant to open up the table for conversation. “It’s just one way of staying engaged with fans without even interacting with them.” 

That’s the kind of line you drew with Julie: being her supporter while she’s coming into her own. Making a name for herself through her own route of success to being famous, garnering attention by the minute with every post that she makes of herself or with others. You find yourself staring at pictures of her in outrageous outfits a little too long at times, watch the parts of her in videos on loop because she’s radiating with happiness, enjoying what she does. Her voice is distinct for you to pick out, and you’re wondering also: what did the world do to deserve an angel like her for just being the way she is? 

She was a constant in your life, the couple of minutes you set aside in your schedule to see what she’s up to while in school or work - an out reaching thread you’ll dip down to see where she is or what she’s doing. 

Can’t be mad at her for not keeping up with you after all this time anyway. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Julie asks, her tone serious with hands now on her lap. 

Instead of sugarcoating the inquiry, you’re mature enough to the point where some things are best given flat out the first try rather than scaffolding the truth bit by bit. 

–

(It’s a flashpoint in the same spot years ago; the end of one thing, the start of another. Only main difference of this was the seating arrangement: you with your back against the fence and Julie on the opposite end with someone carrying a tray back inside the cafe. 

The receipt was already on the table, empty orders of drinks just waiting to be discarded. It’s sundown, and the inside was already packed with various students cramming in bits and pieces of study guides for that history test they’re all convinced that they’ll fail. Not you, because you’re confident in your academic abilities so why lose sleep over it. 

“I’m finally going forward with this.” Julie tells you, sitting idly while she just went you through the potential plan of her journey to success. Bottom line still stands: she’s going away, and the news still hits you like a deer caught in headlights. She nudges your shin that makes you snap out from your trance off into the distance, “Are you even listening?” 

“I am- I was.” you answer, shaking your head while scratching, because you’re aware of the facts. Julie has been pushing to get herself off with her feet up in the sky, and managed to land a chance to finally make that silly dream of being famous into a reality. It’s been brewing behind the scenes, seeing her pace back and forth between phone calls while having a quick bite before dinner at her place. “So it’s really happening this time.” 

“Yes.” She says, as if the news itself already didn’t tear an opening in your heart from the beginning. Any lingering feeling that was there for her was about to be ripped away from you in the next few days, and there’s not a lot of time left either; so why put in effort to even try and convince her when her mind is already made. 

“Only a matter of time until you’re finally gone.” 

“Don’t say it like that.” 

“You know how I am with things like these.” you tell her, flatly. “The sentiment coming from me feels wrong, but it's your dream and I don’t want to jeopardize that.” 

Julie’s expression softens, meeting your eyes. They’re filled with fading stars while hers are glassy, lip quivering while she reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing the ridges across the wrinkles of your knuckles - how the touch will be an unknown to her, inevitably. 

“You’re not hurting me.” she says, smiling, confessing like it’ll give you some comfort to live with. “You never did.” 

She knows your wavelength better than anyone else besides your parents. Nodding at her reassurance, you put away the one thing that you should’ve said in hiding, since it’s already too late. You don’t even know when she’ll be back let alone have the expectation for things to be the same later, because it won’t be. 

It’s also impossible to satisfy the urge in telling her everything right here and now, put all of your thoughts and feelings on the table with no regrets; it’s there, but you’ve stomached the feeling deep down enough to keep it inside.) 

–

“I mean, this is where we left things,” you tell her, bearing a smile, “why not start right where we left off?” 

–

What’s talked about throughout years is all recapped in the matter of a few hours. You’ve gone around the town in different spots, talking about the notable events that occurred in each and every one of them. There’s a fill-in between different friends and shakeups of relationships and careers that has Julie in shock at the misdirection through the juicy details that never in a million years she would believe had happened. It’s still going, even when you drop by your home to see your parents and their adopted child (figuratively speaking) for a bit before carrying on with the drive to absolutely nowhere with the switch from your car to your mom’s SUV. 

“What’s it about?” Julie asks while you stop at a red light. “Don’t tell me it’s a shitty sob story you’re struggling with.” 

A press on the brakes, maybe a little too hard that slightly sends your body and hers jerking forward. And to that she punches your shoulder while you’re laughing. “For calling my story shitty.” 

You’re reminded of her rudeness with words - letting out all the profane words that she’s been forced to bottle up for so long, letting it slip here and there for comedic relief. But with you, the rules never really applied to her, and you’ll do a limit test of crossing various things off the list, it’ll happen. 

“Still haven’t answered my question.” she reminds you, a pinch to your arm also to let you know that she’s not playing around. You let her get her way, something that you’ve accepted a long time ago. Now with her newfound image, she’ll use that to her advantage that won’t definitely come back to bite her in the ass. 

The glow from the excruciatingly long light catches Julie’s face from the corner of your eye. She raises a brow in suspicion when you look forward out into the open road, endless waves of darkness swallowing up the fading street in the distance. “It’s about past lives.” 

“What.” she snorts, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

(You wave your hand back at her while she giggles, and you say that maybe staying at your house was a better idea than going back into town.) 

“This was exactly what I was talking about,” you tell her, glancing at her side profile, the canvas of her cheeks, her hair in a loose ponytail that she’s twiddling around between her fingers, eyes looking up to the sky above before looking back as an implication to continue. “I found inspiration about this one movie where two friends who’ve been forced apart from each other, only to find their way back in the most cliché way possible.” 

“So original.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Julie lets out a bigger smile, the one where her eyes also mirror the same movement as her lips. “Give me a more indepth version of this when we get to our destination and I’ll reconsider your pitch.” 

As soon as she says that, the light finally turns green, and you gradually press down on the gas pedal. 

–

Here’s what the general consensus doesn't know about you and Julie; an omission of facts, one might say. 

Only a few handful of people among your circle of friends would know of the situation where Julie had convinced you to pose as her fake boyfriend sometime around sophomore year. To be fair, the guy trying to court her during lunch was a bit of an ass when talking to her - being so stuck up and over his own head that made you want to punch the dude, so not even more than five seconds of their interaction was enough for you to shut any sort of speculation down entirely. 

Everyone from the outside looking in would all share the same tune: there would be no way in hell that you’d get past the friends aspect with Julie. 

(But it did happen; in that short time, and even if it wasn’t actually a real relationship with her- well, that didn’t really matter anyway.) 

It’s all over your face. In pictures from different hangouts, videos in school projects, people calling out of you daydreaming during in between classes or breaks, getting in trouble for cutting class just to make sure everything was according to plan (and not because Julie forced you to ditch since you would say yes regardless).  Most guys who were gunning to have their chance turned down by Julie would fall back entirely whenever they see you and her walking together - because they somewhat already knew of the endgame about to occur.  

As for the memory itself, you faintly recall some sort of verbal agreement with her, things to sell the whole act from both parts: hand-holding, the mandatory dates, and all of the other stuff that was easy to fall into since you and her were so comfortable with each other already. The only issue, however, was the projected timetable of how long this fabricated ‘relationship’ was supposed to last. 

“We have everything down,” she tells you, scruffing up the soles of her shoes along the sidewalk one day after a ‘much needed debriefing’ at the park. She’s pulling you by the sleeve - you know, for good practice. “I think we’ll be fine going forward.” 

“You didn’t say how long we’re supposed to keep up this act for.” you say, opening the gate to her front yard and up the steps to the door. “The three month rule exists for a reason.” 

“And you expect me to believe that?” 

“It’s an unspoken requirement.” you reply flatly. 

Julie bats her eyelids at that, getting on the first step of her porch to make herself taller to you, twists her body mirroring yours with hands on both sides of your collarbones. She lifts your face up, thumbs on your cheeks that could pose as teardrops because of how solemn your expression was, and she smirks at the appearance. “You’re nervous.” 

“Nervous?” you ask, face slightly flushed and side-eying her fingers pinching your cheek. “I was just a little hesitant, that’s all.” 

“What’s there to be afraid about?” she asks, stepping closer to the edge where it was natural for you to circle your arms around her waist. Deliberate, but every action with her was just right without having to question yourself if you’re doing what she wants you to do. “I helped you with all of the things that I wanted you to do with me in this relationship.” 

You sigh, “Not all things.” 

Julie looks at you puzzled, head cocked to the side at the unknown mentioned. Knowing her, she’s quick enough to realize what was being implied without having to say it explicitly. Few seconds pass, humming, trying to let those nerve synapses do their work before eventually realizing what was running through your mind. “Ah,” she says, nodding along to your level of thinking. “If you wanted me to say that, then you should’ve.” 

“What were you thinking?” 

“You’re a terrible kisser.” 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” you tease, scanning Julie’s eyes, her pert smile, the subtle lip bite you catch at the last second before hiding the lower half of her face with the oversized sleeve of the sweater. 

It was the last thing that was necessary to do. You’re thinking of the test drive of that from the other day, how you just gave a weak peck of a kiss only to poorly play it off as being ‘not ready’. Julie assures you that it was okay, and you tried it again. 

(The second time was a lot better. And, uh, it still needs more, hm-) 

“If we really want to make this work,” you tell Julie, fingers clasped together behind the small of her back, gravitating her closer to your chest. Her hands are slithering around the back of your head and neck, “Best to have it done properly. No mistakes.” 

Julie nods in agreement, reminded that she was the one who roped you in to do all of this for her. This facade could have some sort of meaning when it’s over, but for the moment you could see on her face that she was relieved. “Right, if you want the part, you have to own it.” 

Her head dips down to yours, sealing the deal with a kiss, smiling at the improvement when you return it fantastically well. She pulls away with half-lidded eyes, and maybe this lip lock was the first of many, time can only share so much. 

“Alright then,” she whispers against your lips, brushing against yours delicately, “that was a whole lot better.”

–

Aside from selling the act from nearly all of your friends, you kept it to yourself that this ‘relationship’ with Julie should’ve been real from the start. Though, you can’t even blame yourself for the idiot you’d become whenever Julie’s steamrolling into your personal space in between classes. If anything, even if they knew the thing was real or fake, they all took the hint of backing off to give you two the respected space whether it was intended to be actually authentic or not. 

Even if you wanted to be discreet - which, more often than not, was the complete opposite -  it did feel like they were invading your guys’s privacy if it was in the halls, in front of the door for her next class or yours, or even at parties to which everyone spread word that you couldn’t stand being a few seconds away from Julie - keeping yourself in close proximity unless she said otherwise. 

(Like you’ve admitted; you’re an idiot for letting yourself be this way for Julie. You can't really help yourself when she’s so forward with wrapping arms all over, keeping herself magnetized with you before her going away was even in the picture. Laughing about silly things that others from the outside could never really comprehend what you and Julie talk about. Having conversations with her was incredibly easy; that, and along the hands on hands or hands on legs or arm on shoulder. Then there’s the loving gaze you’d give her - staring shamelessly and blatantly doing it with no problem at all as if it was the last few seconds you’d ever have, and it would be everything.

So. The ‘act.’)

Sometimes you’d completely forget the whole purpose as to why you’re even doing this thing with her in the first place, since it felt so natural. It’s typical for a high school romance, kissing with a reason behind it or without having one at all. 

You’d do it to punctuate something, convince her to consider otherwise, lower your eyes and tilt your head, slot your lips with hers. If you were with anyone else besides her in this scenario; it would have the same effect, but wouldn’t hit your heart as hard as you wanted to. Julie would stare at you, nodding, understanding, having known that this cosmic binding was meant to stay that could transcend time itself - linking pinkies together, as an extension of your hearts being hitched together. 

When she finally called the verbal agreement of the fake relationship off, you were certain that things would still stay the same between you two; which it did, of course, but she was open about the loving intentions you had for her, regardless if there was a label to it. 

(You and her would hide away from others after that, still, just because the company with each other was better compared to your friends - no disrespect to them, of course. And all of those times of doing that - well, you made it known how you really felt about Julie without saying it. The kissing was there as a plus, remember?)

–

The point still stands: you remember all of it. You expected Julie to be the same; hoping to shield the feeling of her leaving with every intent as possible until the clock would eventually reach zero. It was never a part of the conversation, but the weight hung heavy even if you or her mentioned was coming to pass. 

You’ve learned to drop such expectations - much like taking things with a very small grain of salt, because any solid assumption would only lead to thoughts that would only crumble you from the inside out. The more blanks you have, the better. 

Delusion might be one thing, blindly falling in love was a shot in the dark to your own admission, but that silly idea of ‘she fell first, he fell harder?’; come to think of it, it might’ve been put in writing long ago and it all circles back without any single warning at all. 

This is what people realize about Julie, and you were the first person to know of this: she always breaks through other’s expectations. 

She’s an ever changing current of some form that could only be described as groundbreaking. Pushing boundaries of standards to new horizons. A highlight that was destined to shine brighter given the right tools and exposure to let her do that one simple thing that she’s good at, being herself. 

Miles ahead of everyone, never wanting to look back. And there’s you, falling slightly behind from her, on purpose - because watching her take on the world was something that you could handle for as long as you lived in the same space with her. Distant, but not far. The small thread of imaginary rope in your head clinching onto the fact that she’ll see you for you, and maybe the labels could all be sorted out in due time.

“And here we were,” she begins, arms out to the sides like gliding on air. She’s in your varsity jacket, in trade for the unfinished ice cream in your left hand, nursing it for yourself while she’s elevating herself on planters or benches; anything to bring joy with the simple things no matter how silly it was. “Feels so good to finally be home for a quick minute.” 

It’s a little bit late, the light posts are on, wind gusting through the small park where you’ve shared countless memories when you and Julie were kids. Everything around the place is timeless, only replaced with a few renovations scattered here and there around the area, but still the same. She’s alongside the railing, the other side a calm river housing scattered sounds of crickets and cicadas. 

On the opposite end, was your mom’s SUV with the back parked in. Some fine luck that they made a space to be near that big old tree with enough branches and leaves to serve as shade when the sun hits the highest point in the sky. Despite the darkness, you liked it compared to the daytime, whereas Julie was the inverse. 

“Does anyone know?” You stop short when she turns around, hands pocketed in that lent jacket. “You, being here. On vacation if this was your plan for a while now.” 

“Well yeah,” she responds, approaching closer with her mouth open while you spoon feed her another bite of butterscotch from the small cup, pulling lips inward to clean any remains of the desert. “Sure, I could’ve gone anywhere else to have time off, but I chose to come here. Decided that it would be a good thing to come and see everyone after so long.” 

You nod at that, admiring the reason. Hiding that small tug in your heart that should be small enough to not notice. 

Julie knows you better than yourself sometimes, and she can see from your eyes that you’re trying to go beyond what's being said. 

She steps forward, because she can, and you’re not against that. This is where she thrived back then: doing everything to make you uncomfortable. And yeah, it was very simple for her to do back then in high school; the little gesture she does with her shoulders and scrunching face to let you know that she’s won. Putting up with her antics was one thing, but it was nothing that you can’t handle - practicing all of the little tricks and quirks to perfection in the hopes of holding your own if it ever happened again, just like now. 

“Look at you,” you chuckle, “always on some form of borrowed time.” 

She steps closer, hand out to guide yours with the empty cup of ice cream, setting it on the stone adjacent from you two. 

You’re not sure who’s really in control of who in this current moment. All of this was led on from the continuation of bouncing stories between your work life and hers, the details of people in your corporate circle commensurating a string of complaints and drama that you’re not all invested in, but kept an open pair of ears for them just out of the goodness of your solid gold heart. Julie also spills her fair share of things that she’s done, telling all with that maddening grin of hers, the way her cheeks elevate at the pull of her lips, how her eyes draw this curve that hides the irises while you could see the gums beyond her teeth. The low glow of the light post casts this in bronze, the timeless features you’ve seen countless times, in all of its glory. 

“Do you remember,” she prompts, closing the distance once more with her chest slightly puffed up, shoulders rounded back and relaxed, hands still in the pockets of your jacket she’s borrowing. “About that time where we posed as a fake couple back in high school?” 

“All because you couldn’t take the fact that everyone wanted you back then?” 

“Maybe say it a little better than that,” Julie muses, nudging your elbow to keep on teasing, “You’re within the ballpark, however.” 

“Right.” 

Julie smirks, mixing a noise between a soft laugh and sigh, looking up dutifully with those doe eyes. “God,” she says, studying your stoic expression, “even now, you’re still the same after all we did.” 

This might be a double-edged sword of words, a back-handed compliment if you’re going to dissect the linguistic skeleton. That old rhyme of ‘stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me’, has never been more true than now. You remain unfazed, smirking, staring. The wind suddenly picks up where it sweeps Julie’s stray strands of hair in front of her face. 

You can’t help but giggle at the way she leans down with a small squeal, hands covering the top of her head to prevent any mess caused by the natural course of nature. Helping her stand up straight, your fingertips sweep those tousled strands, smoothening them to eventually make it look more presentable, not giving any care with how your hands are cupping her face. 

Her question pops up in your head again: about how all of this seems familiar. Feeling the small pull of tension in the air when you gaze into her eyes again - filled with a longing that was tucked away, radiating with sparkles that shouldn’t even look real, but they are. You’re trying to think, and yet, “Maybe. You could be right. And you being here with me like this tells me exactly everything that I need to know.” 

“Really.” Julie coos, dimples deepening, “Would you like to elaborate on this?” 

“I think you can explain that a whole lot better than me.” 

She nods her head, raising a hint of suspicion with an eyebrow, “You think?” 

“I know,” you respond. Guilty as charged, she played you this entire time, and somewhere along the lines of accepting it the best way, “Well, you know too.” 

Thousands of miles apart, decimating that to the single digits, now being mere inches apart - closing in like before; and maybe you were just falling into an old habit the way you pull her face towards yours. Something like this takes practice, could honestly come off as a natural action at this moment: you kissing her, like it was meant to happen. You could never forget all the times she made you feel like this. Only difference is, she’s slipping through the cracks along with you. 

Julie tugs herself closer to you, trying to mend her body into yours; becoming one. She’s ballooning more into the press of your lips before shying away, shrinking, hands moving from your elbows straight up to the nape of your neck. One of your hands snake to the smallest point of her back, holding her curving spine steady, not letting up the exchange of her intoxicating air passing through your mouth and nose - it only has you feening for more. 

And she hums this sound, low and deep, firing impulses within you that will take nearly every bit of brainpower left to resist. 

“Juls,” you murmur softly, pulling away for a slight second, feeling the clutch of her hands around the fabric of your sweater-

All of that attention is zeroed in on this transcendent sound that she makes, sealing it with your lips again, all needy and deprived and in desperate want that would literally kill you on the spot. She’s willing to take you away, devour every bit because she will, and you’d be okay with that. 

“You have–” she gasps, “no idea.” Dear Lord, she’s breaking by the instant - pulling herself back with your fingers tangled in her hair. The moonlight towering over illuminates this glow on her skin, basking in it while you’re giving her this same look of endearment that you’ve had for most of your life. You might be deserving of it, she could say otherwise; maybe it’s one of fate’s tricks blessing you for once. 

“You do remember.” Playing into Julie’s mind game, falling into the sinking temptation that she’s unknowingly doing over you. It feels tense, but at the same time it doesn’t. “And here I was beginning to wonder if you’d forget everything–” 

“Trust me,” she tells you, hand ghosting over the length of your collarbone while yours reels her small body closer. By the neck, she pulls you to close the distance. “My memory is just as good as yours.” 

(Oh, and it’s how you’re reminded again and again: at how Julie is one half of your brain - a perfect compliment to you for so many years. No one even comes close, and some have tried; they could never get you like she does.) 

“I want you,” Julie’s soft voice twists your ears right back. “Fuck, I’m only gonna say this one more time: I need you.” 

You probably don’t recall the number of things you dreamed of hearing, but this might be one of them. It’s not a question or an answer, nor a quote said intrusively. If anything, this was the green light you’ve been waiting for; there’s just only one thing left to do then. 

–

Forgetting Julie was always going to be an impossibility. 

When a girl like her has her face in literally everywhere that you could imagine: in photoshoots, brand events, social media engagements; the magic of being famous really transforms one’s landscape if they can break the threshold - which she has, and in one way or another - she could never hide away from the bright lights. 

Except at a time like this, you’re glad the darkness envelops both of you. 

“Mmph.” 

Your vision is focusing in blanks, searching for something, fixated on the silhouette of your hand floating over Julie’s head, slowly bobbing down along your length, lips wrapped tight around your cock and her tongue sweeping the grooves along the underside; the ligaments at the knees are way past the possible bending point where you could take them, hips forward while this girl is laid flat on her stomach with the trunk open, and you’re also thinking: who in the actual fuck would be out walking this late in the night to see this form of public indecency? She stops halfway, shakes her head side-to-side, coaxing the head on both sides of her inner cheeks, humming with every intent of praise at how good your cock tastes in her mouth. 

“Fuck,” you rasp, letting your head fall slack backwards, smoothening Julie’s silky hair when she pulls back up, teeth grazing the tip that has you let out a pathetic groan. “You’re so good at that.” 

“Mmmmh.” 

The pop she makes off the head is sinister, and you’re already imagining the smile she has spread across her lips, swiping her tongue across to make them more wet than it already is. She’s giving you a hard time to think straight, and you’re still blown away with how forward she was into blowing you, not wanting to waste a minute before you and her could even make it back to the house. 

“How are you holding up?” She asks innocently, seeing the hint of her honey amber eyes dart at you while her wrist is giving a wandering tug up the length, tensing up every fiber in your lower back to keep it there. 

“Do you really want me to give you an answer?” And Julie chuckles at the flex of your thigh when she runs her fingernails over it. 

Julie then gets back right to work, enveloping your cock into that sweltering heat of her mouth, coaxing it in all the ways you’ve fantasized before - grunting and exhaling spells of air when she dives down deep, deeper, massaging the head with her slick throat - all the way before putting a ring with her thumb and index finger at the base, practically purring at the constant rhythm she’s doing on you, to get you undone. 

Your stomach does this funny little twitch, like a punch to the gut once her hand finally gets to dance along the shaft, stroking along the slick surface while her mouth services a fresh supply of wetness swirling all over. She hums in approval when you take matters into your own hands, wrapping two fingers across the bottom of your cock while she’s happily bobbing her head along the length, picking up a consistent rhythm of spit and dribbles coming out of her mouth, pushing you towards that breaking point, sliding her plump lips across the tip before swirling back in, hollowed cheeks, your eyes slightly rolling back, vision swimming, hunting for a way to stay conscious. 

And the only subjective thing you’re inclined to do, not like there’s any other option for anything else, is to just let her have it. You’ll cum for her, all over her pretty face, and have her slip your cock back into her mouth to make you cum again in a few minutes flat. She knows that it feels good for you, there’s no doubt about it; how you can see her eyes with the occasional glow of your phone going off to break light, glaring at you with every intent of swallowing you. 

“Paint my face baby.” Julie whispers. It’s not a proposition, she wants it to be set in existence, “your cock is so pent up for me, all you have to do is just let go.” 

“Christ-” 

That’s what pretty much sets you off. 

Your shaft is molten around your hand, cockhead pressed agasint Julie’s perfect lips, hips jolting in quick pulses; you also might’ve heard your kneecaps crack a bit in the dead silence, three thick threads of cum landing on the curves of her cheeks, hearing her hum in content. Her mouth opens to let the next few shots of release settle into their new warm home, head wrapped around that opening, riding out the last bits of sensation as you’re draining everything all over her face and in her mouth. The overhanging light for the trunk switches on with what remains of your spent energy, catching that smug grin when she’s resting your cock on her cheek, parting lips open with a small dribble of cum leaking from the slit still, to which she licks with her tongue on the underside while having her eyes still trained on you. She’s all blissed out, irises focusing and unfocusing - almost cross-eyed; and just like before, you’re captured around her little spell once again. 

A few seconds later and she’s wiping the damage from her face, licking it up from her fingers - fondly taking in the sweetness of your cum on her tongue while feeling out her jaw again, trying to internalize the feeling of your dick filling her slutty little mouth. She won’t forget it, and neither will you. 

“You taste good,” she mumbles after getting up on her knees, ducking slightly so that her head doesn’t hit the roof of the car, “y’know, if that wasn’t already obvious enough.” 

“Decorum, Julie.” You tell her, straightening your legs out for what felt like an eternity. “Thanks,” you follow up, “I do try my best with my own things.” 

Julie lets out a snort, wiping her lips with any lasting remains of her drool mixed with your cum, “Jackass. Always so stuck up for being an ass.” 

“You just said ass in the same sentence twice,” you comment, propping yourself on elbows to where Julie leans down across the width of your chest, towering over you. 

She leans lower while your head bumps the backseat, face nearly centimeters away from yours, hearing and feeling the needy breath against your lips when your hand skates up her waist, teasing with a fingertip before you lightly clutch her back, allowing her to fall down and kiss you. 

She’s not far away from you now, but instead right here in your arms. This is progress; good progress and maybe even better. You can barely see the hickeys along the column of her throat in the darkness - something that you’ll revisit to make her revel in the feeling of your mouth over them, a get back of sorts in trade for giving what she wants. 

“I hate how you’re such a smartass.” Juile tells you while pulling away. But hey, at least she’s saying that with a smile. 

–

The whole town gets slapped with inclement weather throughout the week. 

And yeah, you’re pretty much giving your phone screen or laptop or even the television that no one really uses around the house a dirty look when you see the consistent set of numbers with the picture of a few clouds mixed with rain at the bottom of them. Though, it doesn’t really make sense for it to rain when the weather was nice for once up till now. The percentages of rainfall were particularly high, especially around this time of year which typically means: hey man, it would be best to just stay inside, maybe catch up on some of those books you’ve been putting off for quite a while because of school. You could also use this ample time to finally get that story also, get some words in while the thoughts are fresh, or something like that. A third option would be calling Julie, since as it turns out, her parents are gone - which also means she’s home alone, and whatever you do with that piece of information is entirely up to you. So what’s it gonna be? Besides, you still need answers as to what your current dilemma is with her relationship-wise, and ignoring the fact that she feels the same way should be ringing alarms in your head as it is. 

You could curse your mom or bless her, because she gave you a favor to do by going to her house to drop a few things off. 

One worrying drive later in the wet darkness, and a well managed job to beat the unrelenting rain before it got worse, you’re at her doorstep knocking. The steady thrums of the droplets hitting the roof before the knob clicks and the hinges creak open. She lets you in with no hesitation, patting your wet hair while you’re tending your soaked jacket to the coat hanger. 

“Didn’t your mom say that it was a good idea to wait until this storm lets up?” Julie asks, walking ahead to the living room while carrying one of two bags that you brought over, contents being various snacks and clothes that you were willing to give to her since you hardly ever wore them. “Thanks for bringing my favorites for me,” she beams happily, “I haven't had these in a long while.” 

“Managed to get them a day before today,” you tell her, trailing along her pathing where the space in the house opens up more. “I thought the forecast said less than 40% of rain would come.” 

“You still believe in what they say on the news?” 

“Not all the time, but it’s good to stay informed.” 

Julie steps away into the kitchen while you plop down on the couch, leaning your head back on the cushion while the sound of plastic rustling fills your ears. Few moments later, she comes back with a sizable bowl of pretzels, placing it on the table before she goes and gets two bottles of water; which you scoff at first but appreciate the simplicity of maintaining a healthy diet. 

You and her pick up right where you left off. Talking about anything and everything that was worth it in terms of interesting topics. The television has one of those random sitcoms provided on the streaming service after trying to search for one for about five minutes or so, feeding each other occasionally while trying to hold in laughs while staring at each other. 

“How long have you had that color?” Gesturing with a head pat to yourself while Julie downs the lasting remnants of what’s in her cup. She gives you this gaze with the clack of the glass on the table, leveling her gaze with you - the low glow from the tv serving as the prominent source of light, catching the smallest sweep of her hair right at the ends, tilting her head to match yours in curiosity. 

“For about a month. And honestly,” she breathes, “I was pretty skeptical about choosing this color in the first place,” she adds, pulling her knees closer to her chest, “but I guess you could say that I was convinced to try it out.” 

You purse your lips, reaching over the the near empty bowl of crackers while Julie is holding in a laugh, offering the other half to her with an outreaching hand - to which she leans over with an open mouth, happily receiving the remains on her mouth while you’re alternating glances from the screen to her. 

“By the way, my parents actually just went out to visit my grandparents,” she adds, realizing that shere was a missing set of keys from the pot where you set yours past the front door; not to mention the two vacant spots on the shoe rack where they would usually be. “So I guess it’s just us alone here if the storm doesn’t let up.” 

And by some comedic timing, you get a text on your phone. Basically it just says from your mom to stay over at Julie’s for the night, after getting news of the road being unsafe to drive with the rain as the cause of one or two accidents already. 

(You might consider yourself lucky; but what good would that serve since you’ve already put yourself miles ahead of the competition in getting with Julie?) 

“If this is some form of good news,” you tell her, showing the message bubble from the phone screen, to which she unleashes this gummy smile, understanding by that cosmic connection you two have built together that doesn’t really need a logical explanation. “I think you’re in good company for tonight at least.” 

Julie then leans forward. No- she launches herself at you while you and her were sitting along the bottom of the couch, playing along by letting her weight collapse on top. You pay no attention to how her arms hook around your neck, but you do focus on the press of her lips to your cheek; it’s honestly worth sharing a laugh at her nestling into the groove along your neck and collarbone, patting her back to let her know that you’re also happy with staying. 

There’s this odd silence, to where she pulls away. You could also hear the faint sound of whatever sitcom was on the screen to provide a calm ambience. It’s appalling to how beautiful she looks without any makeup on, hand mindlessly clutching onto her oversized sweater to where she tenses up on impulse - almost unsure at first, only to grab your wrist soon after. 

“I’ve been wondering,” she prompts, face upright while you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, “how come you and I never made anything official between us?” 

“What do you mean?” you blindly ask. “I thought I made myself obvious enough about how I feel about you.” 

“You were,” she responds, inching her body closer towards yours. “Though, it hasn’t crossed my mind before recently, when we–”

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You’re not weirded out about it?” 

Anything that you say from this point on would only solidify your case. You’ve always wanted the idea of Juile being all to yourself, despite her being big enough for everyone else to get a wanting chance at her too. This realization came to you on a random day, probably, when you’re just going along with your day before you suddenly dropped whatever you were doing - staring off into the distance because at the end of it: you’ve fucked yourself head over heels for her from the start. 

“I wanted-” your words get caught up behind the tongue while Juile’s fingers are branching out to your shirt. 

“You sound unsure about something.” Her voice is laced with mischief, teasing. 

“-to talk about last time, and even if we do bring it up, you know- us,” you add with a raised hand with hers, “I just hope that it’s not a one time thing.” 

“It’s not.” she tells you, face pouting with scrunched brows. “You worry too much sometimes, even back in high school, you were always like that.” 

She’s not wrong, but also, she’s right for calling you out. 

“I could just leave right now if it makes you feel better.” You start to stand up from the floor, only to be stopped by Julie’s tighter grip on your hand, causing you to freeze for a moment. 

“I’m just glad,” her shoulders rise and fall with the pressure mounted on top of them finally lifted from whatever was plaguing her, “That after all this time: you still stayed for me.” 

It’s just like that other time, and you’re catching her train of thought faster than the words can come out of her mouth. This wasn’t something to think twice about - if you don’t take the second golden chance fallen at your lap, it’ll be a lasting regret filling the back of your mind once she goes back to the world that she created for herself. 

“You know.” She tells you, with that endearing grin of hers, filled with so much of everything that has you fractured from within, because she doesn't need to say anything else. “You know all too well for me anyway.” 

A hesitating shuffle of your butt across the hardwood, you’re scooching closer to her, lowering eyelids, hand trailed to the nape of Julie’s neck until you and her make ends meet. In an instant, she’s suddenly reformed into this being of wanting, need, someone who will let you have their way over them. 

She pulls away panting, you give her another kiss to the jaw. “Funny, how the tables have turned.” You tell her, twisting your head to the opposite end before she meets your lips again - this time a little more hectic, hands grasping along the fabric of your shirt, almost peeling it off at the first go. 

“C’mon now,” says Juile, hand underneath to your stomach before trailing down to the waistband of your pants, “Don’t make me change my mind like last time.” 

–

Here’s a silly thing: upon arriving, Julie suggested that it would be a good idea for you to sleep in her room (and in this case, it has happened before; way too many times to be exact, gossiping about nonsense or cramming material at the last minute the night before a big test. Another funny memory to recall.) She teases that it’s nothing for you to be worried about, and it's not like you were going anywhere else for tonight. 

Instead, you insisted on using the guest room that she has, but here’s the funny part; you and her don’t actually make it back up to her bedroom anyway. 

The harmony of a laugh she lets out when you slip your shirt off of your frame, catching her staring for a few seconds too long - biting her lip and some of her index finger, she can’t help but be in awe. A new, fit, and refined look that replaces the scrawny and nimble image that you somewhat hated for the longest time - towering over her on the cushions of the couch, helping her slide out of that oversized shirt to see a white sports bra - sweatpants soon after with a matching set. You’re nicking your head to the side in disbelief, eyes overloaded with the image straight out of your fantasies - only this time now to be all too real. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe, unable to blink while you get a hand on her hips, off to the right where there’s a small tattoo - an anchor, grazing your thumb over to see if that was also another secret she kept from you (from everyone, for that matter) - there’s also her impossibly slim waist, her luscious thighs, the definite line down the middle where her abs are at. This could be another win in your year of success, and then again, no one else but you gets to see her like this. 

“Got something to say?” Julie asks, smirking with her head slightly tilted back, up on elbows, “They do say that girls are breathtakingly beautiful wearing white.” 

A click of your tongue, not willing to argue with that take, because she’s right. It’s within the lines of superiority, giving someone the respect that they deserve. She could have it, but she also likes it when you don’t even think of giving her that kind of luxury. “My mouth has a lot more things to say than just words,” you tell her, the pair of hands sliding up to the tight elastic resting underneath her breasts. 

“Care to share what you’ll do to me?” 

You get rid of that annoying sports bra, for starters - hands filling up with the supple size of her breasts, fast to wrap around her upper back while you’re peppering the new territory with kisses all over, her head falling back even more to open up and let you ravage and mark and the tens of other things that you’ll get your chance on, eventually. 

She’s heaving with shaky breaths, not wanting your lips to leave her body the more you indulge in her perfect skin. Nails are quick to dig into your back, slightly, and it’ll just add on from there. The levels of touching, holding, kissing, and the anticipatory downright fucking you’ll give her soon enough-

“Am I on the right track for you so far?” you ask, quick to get your lips on hers while she’s shrinking into a whimpering mess into the couch. 

Julie has managed her good graces for so long now, and you’ve played the waiting game. No matter how long it took, it might be a gamble with your feelings for not being able to move on - it was possible then, but as of this moment, you already made your decision. 

“You’re the fucking worst,” she pants, a loosely planted hand that slides off when there’s the press of your thigh against her clothed pussy, feeling her legs sandwich you in between to prolong the wanting feeling. “I’ve been wanting- waiting for so long.” 

“Really now?” you say, voice filled with heat when you help her slide out of her sporty bottoms, finally cutting the last line of caution tape. A quick look down - and her cunt is there, in all of its glory - slightly glistening at the lips and primed for what’s to come. You’re surprised at how wet she is, even more surprised when she grabs your wrist to get your fingers alongside her aching slit; a small hiss of air passing through her teeth inward while you're spreading her little by little. “We’re a little ahead here aren’t we?” 

“Fuck- please,” Julie spits out, eyes scrunching shut while you press a finger in to asses, and she’s practically liquid down there. She’s acting completely different from earlier - failing terribly to keep composure - but she’s just as infectious as she always is. “You don’t think I know the amount of times you’ve yanked one out while thinking of me? Believe me, I know.” 

“I didn’t say anything about it.” you reply, thumb lightly pressing against her clit while your middle finger curls a bit inside her, feeling her hips shoot upward off the cushion. You’re also doing everything in resisting the urge in the growing bulge in your pants, to ignore how badly it’s throbbing for you to snap and get yourself acting exactly how she wants to fuck till one of you goes dumb; cock drunk or pussy drunk, it’ll end in those one or two ways. “But it’s true: I want you also.” 

Julie just mewls at your fingers, clenching around them, that forces a soft chuckle out of you. This was the first time that she’s losing her patience, and you’re going to milk the hell out of this moment for as long as you can. 

“Don’t be-” she’s rambling with an open mouth, blinking fast, “Don’t be a bitch. Everyone knows that I wanted you for so fucking long.” 

Well what do ya know? She would be the one to cut the wire and jump on the grenade between the both of you in confessing. There are very little things kept secret with her, some things you might’ve forgotten along the way, but you’ll keep this in your mind for as long as you live. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, pressing your lips together while you slide your fingers out of her, the squelching sound vile for your ears to register. Hands are quick to meet her hips, scooching closer with a pull, to where her ass meets the top of your thighs. “Yeah.” 

“Need it,” she pleads, “Need your cock inside of me.”

You’ve managed to get your sweats off in record time, pressing her legs up to where her heels are facing the ceiling. These feelings from embers that were supposed to die out years ago, but they never did, and this dirty act serves as a testament of everything you’ll put out on the table - for her. It’ll be shown in her swollen lips, the trail of hickeys scattered across her body, down to the crimson marks from your hands holding on for too long. Consider this a long shot in a stroke of luck - because no one will know her like you do. 

And when you’re doing this steady approach of rubbing the head of your cock, against her aching cunt, waiting to be filled - you don’t even think twice about it at all. There’s this relief, washing over; almost in reverence to being dipped in holy water through the baptism ritual, feeling her walls slide all over the length of your cock. There’s also this shared ache, the mirrored rise of both your chest and shoulders. Once the ache finally subsides, you just stay inside her for a second. 

“You–” and albeit you’re at a loss of words also; Julie’s face writhes, grasping for both of your hands secured past the middle, keeping her in place. The limitless amount of things that you’ll get your way in: mouth fast to her neck? You’ll do it. Pin her against the armrest of the couch with her ass up, or maybe have her do the work in bouncing back, and she will. Managing your cock fully inside her tight hole was good to settle with for now, “This fucking cunt, Juls–” 

She sucks her stomach in, mouth now slackened, the utterances and noises that she unleashes would never hold up in an interview if they gave her the opportunity to speak her mind as she pleases. But she’s not caught up in the city and it’s stars; instead, she’s with you, on her couch, in her house, taking your- “Baby,” it’s really sweet how she keeps up with the pet name, “fuck, fuck, fuck- I can’t with your- your cock is - that’s so deep, holy fucking shit-” 

You’re pretty much slightly drunk at how well she wraps around your cock, crying without fail. The octaves rising up with every hit back in, and she’s absolutely knocked. It won’t stop with the wash of rain hitting the window panes, feeling the rising heat between you two grow gradually larger, fixated on the extremely tight vice she has over you, and you’ll take that as a gift. 

“I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” your voice drags lowly, upping the ante the more you carve your cock into her, the tight hotness becoming more and more addicting by the minute. Julie was always an advocate for showing confidence in her looks, and it shows: in her pictures, the way she flaunts around that has everyone’s jaws dropped to the floor, all angles and good sides of her - behind closed doors, you’ll make sure that no one will see this version of her. 

(And in a way, you do get it, you’ve understood the script written in your head now that you finally have the feelings fully reciprocated, and claiming this girl as yours would only be the start of it.) 

When you’ve finally pushed her over, screaming, that’s the only cue you’ll ever need to keep breaking her. 

“Please, please, please-” 

“Tell me all about it, hm?”

Julie grins with her eyes squinting barely open, gasping out some form of a declaration. 

“You’re, fuck- fuck me,” the air between you clashes with the contrast of warmth from the bodies - the coolness of the air conditioning filling the room, only for it to be backdrafted. Her flawless face is amazing to look at, leaning up for you to dip down and kiss her, hands still fast to her hips, her back arches with a slight lean back, trying to keep the motion going with every stroke and grind and touch you have over her. She’s getting close, you can feel it in the addicting clench, and you’re almost at your wit’s end. 

“Needed me for so long, hmm?” you ask, smiling against the hot surface of her porcelain features, “then cum baby, all over this dick. I know you want to.” 

She mumbles, something close to a string of ‘yeses’, and her whole body trembles. 

It’s filthy, gross, impure, sloppy, pushing deep; angling past the trench to a euphoric feeling that she’ll only demand from you. The way that your hips slap against the bottom of her thighs, grasping her hips and across the supple skin the more you fuck through her orgasm. In some way, this was your get back for what she did to you in the back of the SUV that night, needing little to no words to punctuate the lovely sounds of her hitching breaths with every stroke back into her wet, tight cunt. Her grip on your wrists goes deathly, clenching you the same way her pussy does on your cock, and she’s still stuttering - the whimpers and whines the only serviceable words she can only speak while you groan in slamming her deeper into the couch. 

There’s really no room for a margin of error, every drive back into her only gets you closer to that edge, and while she’s reduced to nothing less but a piliant puddle of mush from the head down, you unbury yourself, fist wrapped around the length of your shaft when you finally release your hot, sticky load all over the fine canvas of her midriff. Covering her - over her chest and waist, all fucked out silly and just laid out to immerse in the ropes of cum spread out across, soaking her. 

“You- you,” Julie sputters out, while you have a hand off to the left side of her head, barely supporting yourself with what little energy left in not toppling over her nimble body. “Oh my god. Oh my god?” 

You’re still riding on that high, finally letting your body go slack when you meet her lips again. She moans in content, how her tongue clashes against yours, trying to power its way through into your mouth. Pulling on the bottom of her swollen lip, just to be a tease, “Julie,” you mumble, breath grazing against her cheek, smiling. That same lip wobbles a bit, an implication that she’s still processing what just happened, aside from the shaky breaths and unfocused eyes. “Baby.” 

A lazy smile brightens up her whole image. Her eyes are fluttered shut, but her lips and the faintest tip of her ears tell a different tale entirely. It’s the same smile you fell in love with since seeing it the first time, it never gets old. 

“I love it when you say ‘baby’,” she starts with a soft tone, gentle, tender. “You have no idea how bad my head spins when you say those things to me.” 

Through the small pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the window panes and the roof tiles, you think to yourself at how this moment should never end. The present moment like now will be ingrained into your brain for as long as you’ll move on with living. “I think.” you say with a whisper, laying your body over her - kissing her cheeks, her forehead, feeling her hands slide up the well defined muscles on your back. She tries to hide away, putting her head off to the side, and you’ll get the top of her neck too. Anything for her to finally have you, it’ll be a fair transaction. “I do.” 

“Tell me more?” 

“I’m just glad you didn’t forget about the many things that I’ve already put myself out for you.” you tell her, and she nods in agreement. The interlink between you two has never been stronger than ever, and this moment will just solidify it. 

–

You’re scouring through the fridge and cupboards for something substantial to satisfy your spontaneous midnight cravings. There’s actually a load of different options; a wide variety of chips and snacks in the pantry. In terms of drinks, not much for you to work with - and a glass of water or milk would be good enough to take since it wouldn’t be much longer until you’ll eventually fall asleep. 

Unless you're Julie, who’s standing next to you in the kitchen while you’re assessing her foods (still naked along with you, by the way), licking off some of your cum off her stomach slowly, a stray finger trailing up your waist since some of it did get on you as well. 

It also doesn’t help how she’s sucking on her fingers shamelessly - hollowing her cheeks, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue that will only put your head in a downward spiral. She’s massively fucked for doing that, with those cat-like eyes she has - but dude, you’re still staring at her. 

“Can you like-” you nick your head off to the side, diverting your attention away from her to lock on the same open bag of half-full pretzels she put in the bowl when you first came in, deciding to settle with that but pulling it out onto the edge of the counter. “Do you really have to do that in front of me?” 

“Doing what?” she asks you innocently, almost stupidly. She’s wetting her bottom lip, and man is she evil for doing that continuously. “It’s not my fault that you came so much. My pussy is just that amazing for you.” 

Oh, fuck her. Seriously. 

She’s back to her chirpy, bubbly vibe with that tone in her voice, the witty remarks also came back in full force. Your brain is probably in overload mode with how she’s blinking sweetly, smiling all knowingly like she usually does. It’s a longshot that you’ll draw this up to be a one-time thing, let alone be a golden chance done by your work single-handedly. Within these walls and as long as she’s with you, everything about it just feels right in its place. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you breathe, closing the door to the fridge with a quarter-full bottle of orange juice, Julie getting ahead with two empty glasses ready on the counter. Everything that she does even if it’s the simplest of tasks is undeniably attractive for some reason; no matter if it’s her on the balls of her feet, reaching the cupboard or walking past you with the sway in her hips, one thing does settle back into your mind: she’s here, and that’s pretty much all that matters at this point. “I should give you a napkin to wipe off the stains on your abs.” 

“Or I could just keep on licking it off while you pour me a glass.” She muses, tilting her head up while you kiss the crown of her head, pulling a few lazy strands of hair to the side, “Why did it take us forever to finally do that? I mean, and here I thought that you would be a little more underwhelming with your moves in bed.” 

“You mean the couch, Juls. C’mon. Let me remind you that you’re the one who went and kissed me first.” 

“And the things that you said about dreaming to fuck me actually came true,” she laughs, lightly clinking the rim of her glass with yours before sharing a nice, homey drink together. “All of those jokes about you and the guys wanting a chance with me, well guess what, you’re the winning contestant that blew away the competition.” 

Side-eyeing her, you press your back to the fridge, she’s standing on the opposite end, legs crossed together - mirroring your posture, she’ll match whatever energy you give her, knowing that you’ll always do the same. This could be some silly pairing of toothbrush to toothpaste, and despite the difference in lifestyles, how your lines of successes came at different times, it seems that the parallel line you drew between you and her long ago finally reached a crossroads, which is a good thing, of course. 

“The girls also said the same thing,” she tells you, “about how out of everyone in our circle of friends, it was somehow going to end up with us being together.” 

You take that with a grain of salt, unsure if what she was saying was true or not. But she knows that she’s right; you took the realization first before she did - since she’s usually stubborn in some cases and won’t listen until it finally hits her, but it took her long enough. All of those rumors back in school and the whole skit of you posing with her may be a tipping point, but after putting yourself through that with her, a part in your head was always confident that she’d see what you’re seeing. 

“Maybe they saw it first before you did,” you say, pulling her by the arm and into your space, feeling her arms circle around your waist while you’re rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve always been like this.” 

“You got there first,” she replies coyly, tilting your head down for another meaningful kiss, “Blame me for being oblivious.” 

–

Turns out that Julie’s parents came back to the house first thing in the morning. Well, they’re pretty relieved that you came over and stayed the night even with the weather going absolutely crazy over the past few hours, telling you about how one of the old trees came down blocking the road and cutting off access in some areas of the town. They didn’t bother to ask about the obvious marks spread across her neck and yours, and the bite mark on your wrist was also a small concern to be worried slightly - uh, you’ll talk to the girl regarding that later. 

As for the present situation in terms of appearance while breakfast was made, you’re wearing one of her shirts that was blindly pulled from the closet before instantly passing out soon after. In all honesty, Julie liked how cute you looked with that stupid Hello Kitty graphic across your chest, but it was still a good laugh. 

“She could’ve given me one of your shirts,” you tell her dad, passing a plate with half a stack of pancakes soaked in syrup, “Though, my clothes were already drenched from the rain and all.” 

“I would’ve been fine with it,” her dad says, “Would’ve been better to get you changed out and not keep you in your own clothes for the night.” 

“He knows that I steal from your closet as it is. He’s also crazy if I was gonna have him walking around the palace in one of your shirts, dad.” Julie butts in, bumping your shoulder while her parents are drinking in the sight of their daughter getting along so well with you like it’s old times. They’ve treated you as if you were one of their own, and it goes the same way whenever Julie stays over at your place. Even as kids, staying over and waiting for the other to pick you or her up was always the usual gig. Julie’s parents saw you as someone who is very easygoing, only to be chained to their daughter till the point where separating you two was a stupid decision. You could also assume that they even talked to her about the whole relationship stuff, and they’d be supportive of it, and marriage wouldn’t even be an issue to get around with.

“Will you be busy this summer?” Julie’s mom asks, breaking all the stories from past years in the kitchen. “You finished school and everything, right?” 

“I did,” you answer, feeling Juile’s arm on your shoulder, pulling your head towards hers to wipe off a small patch of syrup stuck on your bottom lip with her finger. “Not supposed to start my new job for another few weeks or so.” 

Julie’s mom hums in excitement, “Look at you, all grown up and getting your life together in the real world. Like your parents, we’re also proud of you too. Julie especially.” 

You gawk at Julie comically, earning a side-eye from her before she playfully slaps your shoulder in retaliation. Both of her parents let out another laugh while you’re veering your face away from her hands. She puts a leg on top of yours on the seat, subconsciously palming it while feeding you another piece of pancake from your plate. “I really appreciate you guys, and I don’t think I could ever express that enough.”

“And you have already.” Julie agrees, openly kissing your cheek while you’re internally breaking down for a slight second soon after. That assumption about her parents being super supportive if you and her finally made it official - well, that was most certainly the case when the both of them nod in approval towards you and her. 

“Your parents love me, and we most definitely love you.” Julie says, and you’ve never been more reassured or comfortable about anything in your life. 

–

Everything falls into the same sense of normalcy like it was before. Some days you’re spending your time at her place, and on other days she’s over at your place. And in between those days where it’s just you and her together, it’s replaced with the sporadic rotation of hangouts with old friends and colleagues who got wind that Julie’s now a mainstay (just for the summer, in case you forgot). 

Some of your friends also tell you and Julie about their insights about the same stories, all while sharing a few bites of appetizers and circling drinks until one of you guys play the silly idea of putting all your credit cards on the table for the waiter to pick a lucky winner at random to pay for the whole meal. 

Not long after, the small party migrates from the restaurant to one of your friend’s houses, where the drinks seem to keep on coming it feels like - being a bit buzzed on the couch while your eardrums are pounding from the somewhat acceptable cover of whatever song they blindly picked from the song book. You’re a little out of it, but still conscious enough to have another sip of water as the viable substitute, words loosely slurred but still discernible to be fine with. 

That is, until Juile is heaving out on your arm, leaning over away from the couch, laughing about some funny memory that happened back in high school - it’s also worth mentioning: she’s drunk, and also a lightweight. You could also look back at the apparent irony that she wouldn’t go all out with the alcohol before entering the restaurant, but here she is - completely lost in the plot at this kickback. 

“You’re gonna throw up if you lean forward like that.” you tell her, holding her up by the shoulders to correct her posture, some hair is also in her face and you part it off to the side with the instinctual thumb rub on her cheek. 

“Did you tell everyone here that you and I finally fucked?” she slurrily spits out, causing everyone in the group within the close proximity of the couch to be in a collective state of shock, though, that’s quickly dissipated with you confirming everyone’s suspicions - despite not being fazed or fully surprised. 

(Before anyone else asks, you’re telling the group. Yes, we also made it official after God knows how long. Are you happy now?) 

–

Later, she’s back in your room for one night, maybe two. 

The whole place is riddled with waves of nostalgia, Julie’s additional presence opening up the sweet wound that never really hurted you in the first place; if anything, it makes the nocturne appearance of the moonlight breaking through your blinds and into the space where you’d want to keep things just the way they were. It’s in the trinkets and collectibles; the multitude of shirts you’ll let her steal (which she already has), a trophy that she broke on accident, and the wilted corsage for when you took her to do anti-prom activities for fun when she gave you the news about moving away from you and this town. The small recap on film running through your head is short-lived, kind of like the roll burning up when there’s nothing left - much of a story unfinished. You and her could recount all of the things that make your room yours, and you wouldn’t mind wasting time talking about the many different kinds of nonsense with her. 

“I’ve been wondering,” she tells you, “actually, more than just wondering.” 

She’s straddled across your lap, fingers dancing along the back of your head - your hands and eyes are wandering all over, from the visible window of her cropped shirt, helplessly holding onto her on her sides, the gradual curve from the rise of her ass, hiking to the spots where you’ll bruise her skin and–

“I’m sorry,” you’re left breathless and laughing a good amount when you look down at her sweatpants, “since when were you so bold with hiking up the ends of your lacy panties for me to notice?” 

Julie presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek, knitting one brow closer to the bridge of her nose, hands neatly rested across your traps while she’s snickering at you keeping your eyes stuck to her body - letting your fingers trail up and underneath her cropped shirt, realizing that she didn’t have a bra underneath to begin with. She reads into your next move when your hands stop at her sides, crossing hers over and slipping the shirt, tossing it in some corner of the room where you’ll look for it later, taking in the valley of her breasts and the nice size when you get your thumb and finger beneath them. 

“You’re getting off topic.” She says to you with a click of her tongue, calculated, knowing that there were more pressing measures to be discussed rather than have you shamelessly lusting and drooling all over her pleasantly enticing skin. “Answer the question, dickhead.” 

“Language.” you chuckle, leaning your neck up for a pitiful kiss - to which she accepts. 

It’s awfully quiet around your side of the neighborhood. The only things that break the silence in every few moments or so is the distant beep of the smoke detector downstairs; that, and probably the occasional pass by of a car down the street.  

She asks you the question bouncing around her mind, but you pay no attention since you’re leaving chaste kisses across her chest. 

“Hm?” you have the audacity to hum, causing Juile to flip some of her hair forward - a flash of her ego at best; and another thing about it, you’re so into that. “Must’ve missed the question again. Wha–” 

“You really didn’t have anything serious going on while I was away?” Julie’s implying about any kind of special connection, whilst being very indifferent in the way that she speaks. “Not even good fuck that’s worthy of swiping your v-card?” 

“Okay, then explain how good the experience was when you were doing it with me.” you reply, touch of the fingertips nestling on the outer edge of her back - sliding lower, more forward when you give the faintest pull to bring her closer to you chest. “I’d love to hear all the details about it, actually.” 

“You just want me to say that you’re a good fuck for me.” 

“In more ways than one, yes.” 

Her arms make way, coiling around your neck - tauting themselves gently when you slip the lace at her hips between your fingers. Pulling them down a bit, just to test something, an attempt at best to make her open up all the neat perks and merits of what will entail later. No need to get more depth in the details, you already have most (if not all) of it memorized about her. She’s leaking out the bedroom eyes in the blackness of your small room, and it’ll reel you in whether you’re sensible to resist them or not. 

“If this feeds your ego,” she tells you, singing the sentence along her tongue and to your ears, “you’re right, and I won’t bother to argue.” 

Like you could ever complain to her or vice versa, Juile knows that her own pride will come tumbling down at the cost of you - as you’re electrifying her with every passing touch, sliding the pants and underwear off of her while giving her no chance to recover with a tit in your mouth. 

A pop off the nipple, and she’s running a hand through her hair, trying to keep herself focused, and failing. “Want me to prove myself to you again?” 

She presses her lips to yours, hard. A clash of the tongue and pull of your neck for more leverage, rut her hips across yours to test the friction - that growing heat from within her core, a singularity that many others would die to feel let alone hear the lovely sounds coming out of her mouth. 

“Please,” murmurs Julie, smiling against the bottom of your chin, the grip on her ass tweaks tighter. You’re already imagining the red marks that would defile that creamy, holy skin. 

“Try me,” she husks, “you’ve pretty much earned it.” 

–

(Julie has never been more right about you. The way she puts up all of these walls and red tape; basically begging you to rip right through them, and you do. She’s flustered and left in broken pants the first time you make her cum, screaming and trembling by the second, and you have her a sobbing mess by the third time ‘round, coming undone by your cock. When you slide out of her well-worked pussy, her eyes roll back and up - raw, undone, satisfied - a move up to licking you clean with a swipe of the underside, a kiss to the tip that keeps you hypnotized for a few seconds, and she wants you to keep this in mind. 

“Have I proven a point?” you ask her in full content, hand fastened to the headboard of your bed while you’re straddling her chest, happily wrapping her pretty lips around the head of your cock. “You looked like you enjoyed it a lot.” 

She curls her back in and out when you finally shift and collapse next to her, a lazy kiss to your neck, humming sleepily as if she gave up in keeping it hidden from the rest of the world. “I did,” she whispers ‘round the cuff of your ear, kindly admitting it along your skin. “You’re everything I wanted bundled up all into one.”) 

–

The implication still stands: Julie was never meant to stay rooted to this town. 

She altered her own destiny into becoming a well known individual (since the term ‘famous’ wasn’t too appealing to put it, according to her). She’s sharing all of these different experiences, events, the interactions with people she would have never thought of meeting in her life let alone be in the same space as them. You’re sharing a buttload of things from your end of the scope, how some things stayed the way they are, for the most part. And it’s something that crosses your mind–

“I never really said to you directly about how proud I am of you,” you tell her, happily swinging your right leg around on the swingset outside your guys' favorite cafe. “I’ve told your parents countless times whenever I would see them, but-“

She has her leg over yours, shoulder meshed with her head leaned over - in one of your hats doing its job well enough to keep her appearance concealed; a bit pointless when literally everyone around the town could recognize her with ease. 

“They told me,” she reassures, fiddling along the plastic bit of the string from your hoodie, pursing her lips out with a crease of the eyebrows. “You couldn’t keep in touch with me, but they could, and maybe I could’ve squeezed you in along with them - all you had to do was just ask.” 

Her lips quirk when she makes eye contact with you, rolling them over and right when she scrunches her nose, knowing well at how much you could put up with her antics. 

“That would’ve made things a whole lot easier, but hey,” she laughs, admitting stupidity where it stands, “What matters to me is that you finally had the chance to tell, despite everything.” 

Well, I’m proud of you. You’re saying it again, this time straight to her face and not playing as the messenger. I was with you every step of the way, and now we’ve both made it to where we want to be, and maybe more. 

You’re pulling a piece of hair over the cuff of her ear, she melts at the touch of your palm. Julie then leans in eyes pulling to a close, then the abrupt call of your name on the intercom signifies that the order was ready; letting out a short laugh while a parting slap to her thigh separates you two for just a few moments. 

One quick tip later of a few cents, and she looks up with those oversized rims of her glasses, smiling sweetly once you hand her the same latte she always orders during schedules and events. She’s sipping it instantly while you’re moving her leg up back to where it was before; nodding along at how good the drink tasted. 

She appears distant, pondering about something - zoning out to the distance while she slowly learns back against your shoulder. You’re looking out also, letting the eyes wander for anything in the cool early hours of the morning. 

“Do you resent me? For leaving you? This town, our friends, and everything behind?” she suddenly stops drinking to ask. 

Blinking, you’re trying to find something substantial for an answer. “Well…” 

“Be honest.” she says enthusiastically. “I want nothing but the truth.” 

It takes only a few moments to consider, and you’re always honest with yourself when it comes to talking to Juile. She always wanted to understand your side on certain things: opinions on important matters, what kinds of clothes look good on her and what doesn’t, even the stances on who matches with who and the possible compatibility between the two that isn’t you or her. You lick your lips, tilt the drink in your hand but just enough to not where it’ll spill. 

“I’ve already told you what I thought about everything that day,” you say, placing the drink on the bench to prevent from letting the wetness from the cup soak to your fingers. “It hasn’t changed. And it never will. Me being with you since the beginning should already say enough.” 

“Ah, you’re right,” she breathes, pouting her lips slightly because you could easily tell that she’s managed to let that slip from her mind, and you don’t blame her for that. She continues to ramble on about all of these regrets that seem to unravel and fall out - her cool breaking down once the realizations set in of the countless sacrifices she had to make. “How silly of me, overlooking that day.” 

A shake of her head only brings the disappointment to the front faster, and she keeps drinking up her latte. You catch the smallest hint of a twinkle in her eyes, the middle part of the plastic top hitting the edge of her nose once finished with the beverage. Instinctually pressing your lips to her cheek as reassurance, she smiles at that, letting you take her empty cup to toss a few steps away from the bench. 

Coming back, she’s on her phone, smiling her heart away at something that she’s proud of for sure; you can’t help at how cute she looks when she’s all geeked out - emitting more confidence that you could only dream of matching.You’ll get a chance of that with her help, or not; either way, if she’s happy, you’re happy. 

“I was out in Europe for a shoot before our break,” she lets you in on her project, “The concept is very niche for all of us, and I’m very happy we pushed forward with this. Consider it as an insider look as appreciation for the way you’ve been treating me.” 

She’s showing you a quick slideshow of Julie in an extremely wicked bikini top, a roll of green wrapped around her middle in a poor attempt of a ribbon around her body. Then there’s the short video of her on the stationary bike, and then the actual choreography. It’s leaving you in shock, so there’s really only one way of reacting. “I- holy shit. Julie, the–” 

You’re watching how exciting it is for her to show these things to you, it’s adorable. She lets you in about all of the logistics, music, overall approach to how they wanted this thing to be received. The drive, passion, how everyone played a part into making this work; you understand that level of thinking entirely. “Right? This was exactly what I was talking about.” she’s tapping along your arm, “I can easily tell which part is your favorite already.” 

“Not even gonna say it.” 

“You should because it’s me.” 

“Fucking christ,” you mutter, swiping her phone to get a closer look. She leans closer with a mischievous giggle at the thumb replaying the clips over and over again. “Hate it, someone like you should never be this hot.” 

“But I am.” she replies, placing both of her legs across yours. “That’s the fucked up thing, isn’t it.” 

“It’s also amazingly fucked up how good you are at twerking.” 

“Didn’t come from practice baby, it’s all natural.”

You’re left gaping at her, shocked even. Julie’s eye smile is the only thing you see while she's covering up her face in embarrassment, wondering if the current judgment you’re giving her will stick for the foreseeable future. 

It’ll throw you for a loop, but it’s still hot. 

“I might have to rethink my life choices from here on out.” you tell her, staring up at the ceiling with a smile while she playfully punches your shoulder out of annoyance. 

–

A beat later, you’re staring at the ceiling. 

More specifically, the ceiling in your room, barely holding it together when you look up at the sight of Julie’s backside, cock vanishing in between in that glorious canyon of her ass, bouncing up and out with the pitches in her moans go further up the gradual scale. 

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hands resting along her calves while she slams her hips down, lightly thrusting yours up to meet her in the middle. The pressure already hot around your length, murmuring some words of praise that fall toward nearly inconceivable to understand. She sits up, and you’re hypnotized by the way she raises her hair up to reveal more of her surprisingly toned back, peeking over her shoulder, while your head just plops back to the pillow behind. 

“You like that,” she murmurs, rocking her hips in a forward-backward motion along the stiff line of your cock, “oh- you love when you get to have my ass like this for you.” 

“God-,” you huff out, pathetically, vision blackening to a fine point. “Holy shit- I could never get tired of this pussy, ‘feels so damn good.” 

She falters forward, letting most of her lower body do the work, spreading her thighs out more for your hands to come to grips with. Flipping some of her hair back, while reversing her ass at the angle where you feel all of her, you’re worried if your dick will stay in one piece by the end of it. 

“Just sit there like a good boy and relax,” Julie tells you, with a firm determination above the creaks of the bedframe, “don’t even do anything.” When she grinds down, deep, to where you’re thrusting your hips upward to hit her favorite spot, she coos at how you failed to put up with her instructions. “Look at you, not even listening to what I’m saying, shame on you.” 

“Don’t really care,” you offer - an admission of guilt would be a better way of describing it, “You always get what you want anyway, so it’s my turn.” 

You could feel the smile from across her lips, happily taking the opportunity to fuck herself over your cock choking her all the way down to the hilt. The slick sounds coming away from your groin and hers is a lovey track you’ll never get tired of hearing, and she adores the sounds coming out of you as well, it’s unholy, slamming back down with the sweetest whines projecting from her mouth. 

She shimmy’s her hands up your thighs, sitting upright, letting you rest inside her warm hold for just a second while she catches her breath. Then, with a move of one leg, and the other to follow, she’s on the opposite side, caressing your head while your fingers are quick to get her hips moving again, amazed when you slide up in her, quivering thighs and a shaky breath to get you softly laughing. 

The slaps of her hips on yours get louder for a few moments; admittedly, you kinda just let yourself go because her cunt should not be this easy to spread apart. In addition to that, her mouth hovers next to your ear, mumbling words or something remotely close to a verbal sound while you’re fixated on the clench her walls have over you. 

The vision only fades out more, then the hearing also goes: 

“Pill.” she tells you. That singular word entails a thing. One thing, and probably the testaments that will come after - if you’re ready for it, but let’s face the facts: for someone like her and the industry that she’s affiliated in, no one is ever really ready, but you’ll be in on it if she’s the first on board. 

You’re not letting up your pace anytime soon, grabbing a handful of her ass, and bringing her back down to Earth. “Juls, you–” 

“I want your cum.” she simply says, “just yours.” 

It’s also not worth putting up a fight for much longer when she cums first; the gritty groan that has you sighing in tandem. She’s powering through with her lips on yours, wanting your body to completely crumble underneath her, fucking past your threshold - a kiss to the corner of your lip, in the most menacing action she could do to you, well pleased and–

“You’re so- fuck, filling me up was also one of your dreams, wasn’t it?” 

Hey, in all fairness, let her have this one on you. If it means having her breasts all over your tongue or her nails gripping the nape of your neck, you’ll be adamant in not letting her go. 

–

Your mind gets in this gray area. Things might be in a constant loop in terms of activities, or maybe you’re dialing it back from the hammering heatwave the other day. It’s not that, just the foggy morning on a lazy Sunday. 

You’re taking slow steps across the hardwood floorboards in your house, glass of water in your hand. There weren't any plans for you and Julie for today, so the second best option which was the logical one was to stay inside, despite doing that for four out of the seven days last week. There’s also this quiet appreciation you have when the ominous setting of the house is in complete darkness, with the light fog serving as the present light source when you reach back to your room upstairs. 

Upon returning, the visible spot of where you slept, and Julie adjacent to the right, still knocked out. It’s very calming, you realize, how peaceful she looks while sleeping, the gentle rise and fall of her chest underneath the sheets. The small tousle of her hair is spread out across the pillow, with her left arm and leg in the same position as it was when you were in bed with her before waking up.  

Mindful of what she mentioned about her sleep schedule being all over the place at times, you decide to admire her bare face when you’re thumbing her cheek. 

She twists a bit at the touch, the subtle stretch of her body underneath, shaking off the slumber little by little. The comforter resting along her neck shifts down, revealing the apparent lines of hickeys across the column of her neck - a favorite preference of yours that you’re carefully examining while she slowly flutters her eyelids open. 

A look up, and you’re leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Figured I’d let you sleep in for a bit longer, but it looks like you don’t want to.” 

Julie pulls a lazy smile, shifting her body slightly deeper into the cushiony confines of the bed, not wanting to move. “Do I want to know when we both passed out last night?” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“It’s also not like we’re gonna do anything today. I mean, it’s been hot for most of the week. And, we only got lucky with the rainfall around here.” She finally decides to sit up a bit, pull some of the sheets over her body for a little more coverage. Your parents are out early again seeing relatives, an advantage in this current scenario: just you and me alone? Where you’ll fuck me again and again until the screams bounce off the walls and the neighbors will come over to complain for the hundredth time-

“You’re right. We don’t have anything planned for the time being,” you tell her, another helpless kiss to give that sends your brain giddy signals because your gorgeous lover and best friend for years is making you act like a freaking kid once more - not that you’d complain about it. 

“Aside from watching that series you found, I’d rather just stay inside for today.” Julie suggests, scooching closer to you on the edge of the bed. “Cook us something for breakfast.” 

That will happen, eventually, but you’re too busy working your lips all over Julie’s face. Tip your forehead in, get a kiss to her temple, then her cheeks, a stray one next to her nose, the end of her nose, her jaw. She’s too smitten with the private displays of affection, gratefully accepting it with an arm thrown over the shoulder, lightly laughing a crinkled nose with her face brightening. 

It’s moments like these, away from the attention of others, behind closed doors, where the cameras and die-hard fans of Julie’s persona don’t typically have the golden chance to see, they’d envy to be in your place - as the one person out of everyone in her life to have this side of her. She tells you that fame itself is a weird paradox to get sucked in by, and in a way she’s absolutely right. You know from the get-go that Julie is one of the most beautiful, soft-spoken, and well respected individuals you have ever had the blessing of knowing. 

“Anyone ever told you how amazing you look?” you ask her, her squinted eyes losing all seriousness when you laugh. 

The look of adoration you have on her bare, sleepy face. It’s a sight that you don’t want others to cherish other than yourself. 

“I’d rather just stay in this room and stare at you if I could.” 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing already?” she asks, biting her lip while you’re tilting your head from right to left, mimicking her doe eyes that she rejects with a hand soon after, for now. 

You bite your lip, let out a tsk, and something snaps in your head for one second. Lips are fast to the line of her neck, hand slithering to her back, laying her back down on the bed gently. Julie tenses up for a moment, then lets her body go slack, allowing you to leave no nook or crevice untouched with the feeling of your tongue. 

“Breakfast?” she asks. 

“Not now,” you answer, kissing the pulse point right beneath her jaw, soothing with a soft bite of your teeth, “Just indulging.” 

“I see.” 

She murmurs and squeaks once you let your hands join the party. Kneading and massaging her breasts while you shift yourself down to the line of her collarbone, inhaling the leftover aroma of sex from the previous night. Her hand’s quick to the back of your head, tugging hair while you let your right hand jump down to her hip. A move of the sheets, to open things up, and your mouth shifts in between the cleavage, getting lower. 

Julie putting legs together was a futile effort, sliding along her luscious thighs while your tongue streamed down her abs. The grip of her fingers got a little tighter, closer to desperate. 

“Enjoying your fun?” 

“Very.” 

Your eyes lock on to that tattoo that hugs above the hard bone of her hip. It's a simple design: an anchor. The meaning of it is something that she never got around to explaining, feeling the ink across the pad of your thumb before smothering it in a string of kisses, to where she laughs at the silly feeling. Your hands curve up her waist, while your head is at her belly, descending down even more to where you're hovering right above the designated area you’ve set your sights on. 

A check of the clock in a quick glance, and it reads nine-thirty. There’s definitely some extra time to waste before starting the day. 

Juile lets in a sharp inhale when you get yourself comfortable, arms underneath her legs, parting them. She sees the glint in your eyes when you’ve finally started to bring the trail of kisses from her inner thigh upwards, anticipating for what’s to come. You can tell that her vision is getting hazy, a cross-eyed gaze that only pushes you to absolutely ruin her, and hold your end of the deal. 

“Have I ever told you,” you start, a teasing kiss to her folds, “how amazing your body is?” 

“I don’t think you’ve told me explicitly, but showed in other ways.” she replies, propping herself up with an elbow and a heel down to your spine. 

That’s your Julie.

You press her down, from the waist, a harsh suck on the clit, and get the first few samples of her addicting slick down your mouth. She sucks in her gut right underneath your fingers, and you hum in approval. 

Pulling away, licking your upper lip, and some of her bed hair gets in front of her face, heaving. “And by the way,” you tell her, “I”m getting you back with the whipped cream this time.” 

She nods, knowing well that it’s pointless for her to fight the foreshadowed climaxing sounds coming out of her mouth with the back of her hand. 

–

Julie brings out a side of you that only seems to really bloom fully when she’s around. It’s something that never really gets acknowledged, let alone be brought up in moments where you’re truly at your most vulnerable state - the side where all of these hardships and struggles in being a good person, blinded by perfection, all seem to wash away from the touch of her hands and lips, combined with the reassuring words of encouragement. 

That said side truly blossoms when you genuinely feel the intimacy above what the mind wants you to think. Aside from all the hand-holding, arms linked, stolen kisses while waiting at the red lights, sharing bites of the same food order, tearing away skin in little nips, the sex itself escalated a lot more than just sheer lust taking over both of you. It’s above than just the regular conventional fucking. 

So you bring it back to where you and her unpacked all of the bottled up feelings:��

On the couch, but this time at your place rather than hers. By literal unpacking, when you sink your cock inside, the relief of her walls clamping down around you, moaning out alternating expletives and your name, letting her body go limp as you increase the pace, pounding her senseless, have the raw urge to just get rough and pin her down in this spot where she’s supposed to be. You’ll want to be locked away with just her for no one else to see, to have her all to yourself; it’ll be selfish of you, but she’d agree where your head is leveled. 

“It’s not even all that special- ah-” she blurts out while you have your hands cuffed to the back of her shoulders, leaning in to place a languid kiss across the fine column of her neck. You’re fucking out all the sounds and whines out of her, bottoming out every drive in, her legs rest just above your backside ankles stacked - your mind is already frizzled out, and so is hers, pulling ever fiber inside your muscles and bones into getting her astonishingly destroyed, “it’s just- your cock is- fuck- fucking perfect.” 

She’d want you to be gentle sometimes, but when it’s rough? Oh man, you’ll let the actions speak louder than your fucking words. 

“In through your nose, Juile,” you whisper with a bump to her forehead, holding her down at the waist while your hips aim tried and true, into the hottest spot deep in her cunt where you can reach, “That’s it baby, there we go. Just be pretty for me, like this. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“Ugh,” she huffs, letting her eyelids drop finally when you’ve made her reach that euphoric sensation first, gasping when she feels a hand wrap lightly around the jaw, forcing her mouth open, a few broken sounds get let out, panting. Her back arches while you slip your other arm under, and manage to drive your cockhead even deeper - it's a new feeling of bliss that has you in disbelief. “More, please-”

She is so- so slick around your cock. A dam of an orgasm within you and her just waiting to finally break. You keep the motion going: pull your hips out, and drive back in. Pull your hips a bit further out the second time, and the snap of your thighs hitting has her crying. It’s mind numbing; you’ve lost your composure with her the first time fucking your feelings out to her, and it’ll be like this for as long as you’re together. She could ruin you like right now - in the next day, week, month; hell, for the foreseeable future. The notion in itself is already devastating to think while this girl beneath you is shuddering, as you’re pounding her ruthlessly, pulling her hips back to yours, coaxing her worked pussy well past the brink to the point where you’re hearing your own heartbeat thumping in between your ears. 

“You’re so good…” she croons, lifting her head up bareilly to kiss you, get a few nails dragging along your back, let the pain soothe the filthy fuck you’re giving her. “Please, just– like that, god, fuck me, more, more-” 

“Shh.” 

Some things in life are better left unsaid. 

“I want to be yours before I go.” she whimpers, sounding off depressingly - like she’s unwilling to cope with the fact of leaving you. Her eyes are glassy, begging almost - like this was the one fear she’s afraid to live out when the time comes. 

The sobs mix in with the slaps. She’s reduced to much less than a puddle, all worn out and exhausted, reaching out in desperation, keeping you close. You and her are so flushed, the stifling warmth could make you sick. 

“Baby,” you breathe, a fast and tender kiss to give her all the reassurance that she’ll ever need. “You’re not- I’m never letting you go. Not now, not ever.” 

By the time she’s whining and writhing and spilling out these bittersweet sobs, rocking your cock down the crevice until you’re fucking your load right down her gut. You’re hunched over, fingers digging into the two small divots below the small of her back, hips bucking, a culmination - a nod, callback, homage, whatever you’d like to call it. You’ll leave your sentiment here, along with your heart, pulsing every beat out until the strokes get slow, lethargic. 

Until you finally lay to rest with a kiss to her temple. 

You tilt your face, let the breath graze across hers. Her hands are clasped together, your thumb pulling a bit of her hair away from her cheek. She’s shaking a bit, chest heaving but calming as the seconds pass on the clock. 

“I was always yours.” This was the lasting resolve you’ve had with Julie, “from the very start.” You’re muttering while she’s knitting her eyebrows, trying to take time to recuperate, fluttering her eyes open that tears down the final wall within your chamber. 

She tries to form something within the rows of her teeth, and though it might not be recognizable to your ear canals, you press your forehead against hers again, letting that lazy smile do damage for the thousandth time since she got here. Drink in the moment while the crickets start singing their patchy tones. 

“It’s you,” she says, tiredly. “It’s always been you.” She’s softly laughing while you’re peppering her with kisses, and she’s quick to get both of her hands on opposite ends of your face, having one for herself because she’s selfish. “No one else even comes close.” 

Finally closing her eyes, you pull a soft smile, internalizing what was just said. 

–

The agenda is running blanks - you’re stuck doing the usual, daily routine that you’ve built a proper consistency with. Sometimes, it feels like you’re running a rerun of that one annoying sitcom your dad plays to serve as background noise while doing chores around the house. 

In other words, it’s been a little bit dry. 

“You never really told me,” you tell her, leaning back against the car while squinting through your sunny’s, staring up at the building in front of you. “I’ve always wondered if you’d take the chance to teach a class here in your free time.” The building, that is, Julie’s old dance studio; one of a few places that has served a pivotal purpose in your friendship and relationship with her. She tells you that you would’ve done a few things well if you had chosen to pursue the same passion as her years ago, and you laugh at that. 

“Something to consider,” she starts. Walking back towards the car while you sigh and have an eyebrow lifted. “Think they’d take me in when I’m supposed to lay low for the time being?” 

“Talk about laying low when everyone knows you’re back in town.” You shrug. 

“I might just do it.” 

“Then go for it.” 

You pass her a drink that was bought from one of her favorite spots just five minutes down the street, puts the refreshing taste down her throat before returning the cup. 

“I’ve only got a few more days,” Julie says, twisting your attention from your phone back to her. And once again, you’re reminded. You’ve known the stakes long before she even arrived here. The low burst of a bus passing by, a daunting noise you'll hear again once you drop her off at the airport when it happens. “The company wants me back to finalize a few things before the next project.” 

“Right,” you nod, remembering clearly about the short topic when she brought it up the other day. “Can’t be a show if they don’t have their star present to make it happen.” 

Julie shifts a shoulder, tilting her head and prompting you to walk with her. There wasn’t anywhere else to go in this town, and you’ve done the lot. At this point, you’re just enjoying the quality time spent well with her. 

And it gets you wondering - probably the fine line between delusion and deep thought about: What would it be like if she didn’t become famous in the first place? Would she pursue other endeavors besides doing dancing and music that she could be proud about? What if it didn’t work out back then, and she had to come back here? None of those things really matter unless she tried, and look what happened; she did try, and she made it. 

It’s after all these years of building her own life, you realize again, that even though there's that apparent gap of leaving you in the dark for all this time, she’s still the same - deep down, in this very moment where no one else sees her as this superstar, but a regular person. A person, to you, that has grown much more than what you could have ever imagined possible. The list of things in your mental checklist has filled up to the point where the paper roll in would have to be extended, maybe stapled to a stack. 

You hit the jackpot in the roulette love-life that some are very lucky to have. That longtime childhood friend-next-door neighbor turned to lover seems very make-believe and cliché if put in writing, but you’ll fill the blank journal page of that story somewhere down the line. 

(An idea, or, ideas - for the topic of that entry, start forming. Maybe it’s a good thing to set some time aside to rewrite that empty draft completely.) 

She’s here now, she’ll be gone soon; but the unchanging fact is that you’ll be her strongest supporter. An act of affection that doesn’t really need to be said out loud, and you’re cheering her on even if she’s begging to stay in this town. You love her and what she does; you’ll love her even if there’s some distance between you two. 

Love. You blurt out while zoning out to the small skyline, it’s such a funny concept to think about. Even if–

“What was that?” Julie asks, stopping in place while you’re suspended on the sidewalk. “Did you say something?” 

And, some things in life are meant to be said. 

“I love you.” The own voice in your throat sounds unnatural, like a spirit possessed you into saying it. You clear your throat, not willing to hide away from anything - especially her. “I’ve always loved you. Didn’t you know that?” 

Julie turns her body square to you, a tilt of her head, inquisitively, lightly scrunching her face at what you just confessed, admitted - determining if you just committed perjury at this very moment. All she did after a second was nod in agreement, looking you in the eyes that tell a whole lot more, “Yeah, I knew that.” 

You cringe, throwing the most gummy grin at her imaginable. She laughs, walking forward with a small hand slap to your chest. It’s silly, cute, and so sweet. This girl has weaved into your heart, threading it so tightly that everyone else outside your little bubble knows that you’re hers. A keepsake, one of many. 

“Think you can handle missing me?” she asks, hand on your cheek - and this time you’re the one leaning into her touch. “From the looks of it, you’re gonna be struggling. Like, a lot.” 

“Tsk,” and you’re rolling your eyes while she starts to walk again, “I worry, like a normal person should.” 

“What’s there for you to worry about?” Julie asks you with her hands stacked behind her back, “until then, we’ve got all the time in the world. Now c’mon!” 

She grabs you by the hand, and you’re left smiling since it’s been something to be fine with. Because at the end of it all, she’s always right. 

Best believe that you won’t forget it. 

-

// i hope you enjoyed!! wanted to pop in here to say a quick massive thank you for all the amazing support since my debut so far. it genuinely means the world to me and I appreciate you guys from the bottom of my heart. much love to everyone, stick around for more, and stay healthy <333 // 

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N – I couldn’t stop thinking about this short King after episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel came out. This is mostly a fic for me, to get me back into writing. (WILL DO A MALE AND NONBINARY ONE SOON!)

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). She’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, she’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? She helps with everything here, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your maid!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

"Why Would You Bother With Me?" - An Analysis of Kitsunami, 09/07/2024

tw: major discussions of abuse, the cycle of abuse, re-traumatizing situations, toxic and abusive relationships (non-romantic)

so like when I first read this panel my reaction was just to joke with Cori that this is a "get out of my school" moment (iykyk) but I've been thinking about it a lot recently because I... couldn't remember any specific beef Kit had with Tails?

Last we saw of them interacting one-on-one, Tails was talking Kit down from fighting, and Kit's beef with the squad later was more with Sonic than him. Tails didn't take down Surge in #56 or even affect the fight in any way, and Sonic was the one who told Kit that Surge was dead beforehand. At least that I could remember, so I went back to those comics. Indeed, in #56 he shows no animosity towards Tails specifically, nor when he talks to Surge in #55.

Then I went back to #54.

See, he does seem to blame Sonic entirely for the Surge death fakeout, and he thinks that Sonic is literally trying to kill her when he walks in. But he does have one (1) reaction to Tails, right at the end of the interaction.

In the previous issue, after Sonic and Tails saved his life, Kit immediately switched on his subservient personality and was desperate for any kind of validation from the hedgehog. We only see it for a few panels before he is told about Surge and sinks into a depressive state, but it's made very obvious.

And when he leaves to help?

Kit's conditioning under Starline means that he is excessively codependent on Surge– and if Surge isn't around, on anyone who is nice to him. The hypnotic repetition shown to us was "You live to support Surge. You'll do anything for her." Kit's sole purpose in life is to be a Support party member.

Kit's conditioning was to be the new Tails.

Starline wanted Surge and Kit to replace Sonic and Tails– that much was obvious from the get-go. But what was also obvious was his fundamental misunderstanding of Sonic and Tails's dynamic and how that negatively impacts Surge and Kit's relationship.

Starline completely misses the strong sibling bond that Sonic and Tails have. To him, Tails is just there to support Sonic, to provide the brains and tech that Sonic lacks, and so Kit needs to be there to support Surge in the same way. He sees it only as a business partnership, and not a mutual relationship built on trust, love, and shared experiences. Starline only saw other people as tools, so obviously he projected that onto Surge and Kit, hoping that they would immediately take up the closeness that Sonic and Tails did because, well, they served the same purpose to each other, right?

Except Surge and Kit don't have that relationship. These two children were forced into the same proximity and made to work together. They're coworkers at best, being told to act like a family.

Obviously their dynamic is super toxic, with Surge clearly holding a lot of power over Kit, but it's also clear that this isn't because Surge wants to beat on the kid. She was made to be Sonic, and so she has his arrogance (and possibly Shadow's, considering IS1 showed his image when Starline was talking about stealing abilities), but, as Boom!Sonic says, "Without any of the awesomeness to back it up." Okay, wrong, she's plenty awesome, the correct phrase is "Without the experience" and, most importantly, "without the altruism that makes Sonic Sonic." Surge wasn't programmed to like the people she saves, because that would conflict with Starline's goal to take over the world. So she's only made to be competitive and to want to best Sonic, anyone inbetween them be damned. This clashes with Kit's programming to not only be liked, but to be liked by Surge. Surge was also programmed to believe fully in herself in order to enhance the arrogant trait, and Kit was made to give her the help that she doesn't want.

To Surge, Kit represents everything holding her back. And she's not built to view him as a person, because Starline doesn't view him or her as people. Obviously this doesn't absolve her of her treatment of him, and later issues showing her getting more and more aware as she becomes more social is definitely going to impact the way she views him– or, if it doesn't make her reconsider Kit's personhood, it'll serve to make her more antagonistic for the viewer.

But the point is, Sonic trusts Tails because he knows and respects him as a person. It isn't just because Tails can help him, but because he knows Tails will. Surge, at this point in the comic, not only doesn't view Kit as a friend, she doesn't even care what he thinks or feels.

And despite the brainwashing, I don't think Kit is oblivious to this. He knows how bad their situation is, but he is so conditioned to accept it that he can't escape it whatsoever. In both fights with Tails, Tails talks him down easily because Kit doesn't want to hurt anyone. Kit only reacts violently when Surge is brought up, because he's meant to do anything she wants.

Like he said to Belle, he was made for Surge. And what he says directly after– "Sonic can use me, too." Kit doesn't even view himself as a person, only a tool– that's how far Starline's brainwashing went. It's clearly even affecting Surge, who realized in the latest issue, #72, how fast she and Kit fell into their abusive patterns again once Clutch took over– they were conditioned to be tools. Clutch claimed to want to help them, but really he was just using them for his own ends, just like Starline. So they went back to the familiar.

And speaking of familiar– pain is familiar to Kit, specifically pain in service to others. In his breakdown in #50, he says that Starline made him happy he'd been hurt. And in Imposter Syndrome #3 and #4, we see that him and Surge hate Starline and want to usurp him... but also are still trapped in the patterns he implanted in them. Surge still wants to kill Sonic and outperform everyone else. Kit still can't do anything but what she wants, to the point he becomes near catatonic when he believes she's dead.

Another pattern Kit is still trapped in is the idea that he has to be okay with his own suffering.

The only sense of home or family Surge and Kit have is in each other, but they fundamentally can't work together, at least as they are currently. Kit is expected to take Surge's anger, and Surge isn't expected to treat him like his own person.

And this, I think, is Kit's problem with Tails.

He was made to be Tails, and he knows this, but he can never have what Tails has. He can never live up to Tails and do what Tails can do, despite that being his entire life's purpose.

He doesn't hate Tails because he was programmed to– as he says to Surge, he only wants to destroy Sonic because she wants to. When he first encounters Tails, he refers to him as his target- a simple, unemotional term. He doesn't have the deep ingrained hatred for him that Surge does for Sonic.

Instead, he hates Tails because of what he sees in him. He sees Sonic and Tails interact, he sees how much Sonic trusts and relies on Tails, and he sees how he also loves and respects him. He sees how Tails has his own motivations and opinions, and he's experienced Tails's genuine compassion that was in part fostered by the hedgehog that raised him. In turn, Tails is loyal to Sonic, but not because he has to be– because he, in turn, loves Sonic and wants to be with him.

Kit only wants to be with Surge because he was forced to. Starline wanted to use Surge and Kit to stop Sonic and Eggman's cycle, but he made a whole new one instead. Kit is trapped in a cycle of pain, knows he's trapped in it, and is helpless to escape it.

Tails isn't, and Kit sees that in Tails. Subconsciously, he sees Tails and only sees how he fails to live up to his life's mission, and how he'll never have what Tails has.

After all, why would anyone bother with him? They already have Tails.

Is he a target? I like it here now.

[thepersonperson]

Gege is doing to his characters what they did to jfk there's so much character assassination happening djsjdsnsdjn

This ask was sent to me shortly after I complained about JJK 269 leaks. (Aka before JJK 270's release so be nice to them.) And while I still agree that chapter contained character assassinations, JJK 270 has given me a good reason for them. 

Since my other post related to this topic was trimmed down by Tumblr’s 30 image limit, I’m going to use this ask as an excuse to this burning question...

Why does everyone feel so out of character in JJK 268–270?

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

4) Written as of JJK 270.

5) Read the light novels.

(Another extremely 'hear me out' discussion under the cut. Click pictures for captions/citations.)

Preface

This post is banking on the framework I set up in the previous related post so please read/skim over it. (If you don't? Just hear me out!)

Short Summary of the Previous Related Post:

Yuji is projecting a massive delusion onto Megumi that gives him a happy ending. JJK 268–270 is a mesh of Yuji and Megumi’s memories and dreams that serve to rationalize all that’s happened to them in a way that allows them to forgive themselves. Sukuna’s vessel memories are probably mixed in too.

Because of this I’m assuming the following:

>The battle recollection in JJK 269 is Yuji constructing explanations from his, Megumi, and Sukuna’s memories during their battle. Neither of these 3 ever knew the plan in full. This can explain why so much of the battle recollection is wrong.

>The characters we see outside of Yuji and Megumi are constructs based on their memories of these people. They’re more like representations than the actual characters.

I don’t know if it means they’re dead or not, but that doesn’t matter. I want to explore the way the characters feel off can be explained by them being memory constructs.

In the previous post, I used "Without love it cannot be seen." from Umineko to give my best faith reading of these past 3 chapters I've hated so much. This time the tool I'll be using is:

"Flipping over the chessboard."

This refers to how one should try to see things from a different perspective.

Memory in JJK

A neat touch that has always been around in JJK is characters remembering others as they last saw them. When Gojo recalls his best students, Hakari has a very different hair style from when we meet him. His recollection of Yuta's is accurate though. When Panda recalls Yuta, the hairstyle differs from what Gojo recalls. And when he recalls Kiara, he mistakenly refers to her as a guy.

This all can be explained by considering when Gojo and Panda last saw these characters. Gojo last saw Yuta in Kenya with Miguel where he changed his hairstyle. Panda hasn't seen Yuta since he's left the country. Neither Gojo or Panda have seen Hakari and Kiara for a very long time.

Their memories reflect how they last knew them. Kiara is a whole girl now and Hakari is blond. But if Panda and Gojo never saw them again? Those memories would be true to them, even if it’s no longer accurate.

And sometimes the memories aren’t accurate. See this side by side recollection of Gojo meeting Megumi from both of their perspectives.

I believe Gojo’s memory of this event is the accurate one because he’s 19 when it happens, not under distress when he recalls it, and has the Six Eyes which act like a supercomputer. Megumi’s memory is iffy because he’s 6 when it happens, has a head injury that knocks him out when he recalls this, and doesn’t have perception enhancing abilities. And though Megumi can’t recall the memory in its truest form, what he does remember still tells us a lot about his feelings towards the event and his relationship with Gojo.

The emotions child Megumi felt at the time distort what Gojo was actually like back then. Instead of a benefactor, he’s a suspicious weirdo with a funny face. The heart behind Gojo crouching down to his level, being way too honest with him, trying to give him options, patting him on the head—it’s all missing.

With all this in mind, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume Megumi and Yuji’s impressions of other characters via memory would influence how they appear in these delusions too. Yuji’s impressions probably take the most precedence since I think his will is shaping the delusions the most.

Recalling Incomplete Information 

Yuji is very good at understanding people. He can intuit their feelings and sync up with them easily. (I go over this in greater detail in this post.) But that doesn’t mean he fully understands their hearts. He gets close enough to their core to bond with them, but the little details aren’t quite right. 

If all the characters (save Megumi) we’ve been seeing in JJK 268–270 are constructs based on Yuji’s perception of them, I think this can explain everything off about them.

What made me consider this possibility was JJK 270. There’s this pattern I keep seeing... Characters’ motivations being misunderstood and being resolved by scenarios that aren’t quite right. Every time I try to explain what exactly is wrong with them, assuming their inconsistencies align with Yuji’s perception of them solves the problem.

Amai Rin

Rin is introduced as a coward. He’s unable to fight and goes along with the whims of those stronger than him to avoid getting hurt. This is why he keeps his head low as his friend is being harassed by bullies during his Jr. High days. Still, he tries to help. Just not at a risk to himself.

When Yuji saves his friend and beats all the bullies up, he turns to Rin and assumes he was part of the bully group. This simply isn’t true. He was a bystander. That’s why it’s weird for him to apologize like he was the one who beat the guy up.

Yuji’s false impression of Rin, one where he’s a bully that feels guilt over his actions, explains this. Rin’s actual guilt comes from him being a bystander—someone who doesn’t take action for others when something is wrong. He dealt with that in the Culling Games by helping Yuji and risking his life to save Angel. And he really stepped out of his comfort zone to join the medical team for the Sukuna battle. He might be the reason Yuta survived. (Yuji doesn’t know about that though.)

And what’s this? Here Yuji outright admits he doesn’t fully understand what kind of person Rin is. All he knows is that he did some good things and is trying to become a better person. So now we’ve got this other Rin that’s apologizing for something he didn’t do for the redemption he’s already earned.

(And that’s the pattern! Rin’s motivation is misunderstood by Yuji so he’s doing something that seems out of character to us readers, but is perfectly in character for Yuji’s perception of him. When I apply it to everyone else. Everything makes sense.)

Takaba Fumihiko

What Yuji knows about Takaba is pre-Kenjaku development. Yuji knows the Takaba that speaks over others, rejects their criticisms, and insists he’s funny. That’s kind of what he’s doing to Totally Not Kenjaku. In reality, Kenjaku caused Takaba to reflect on his approach to comedy and they are nearly in perfect sync by the end of it. Kenjaku satisfied Takaba.

Yuji didn’t see that battle and he hasn’t spoken to Takaba since. So he’s constructed a happy ending where Takaba has found his partner and is working towards the show of his dreams that already happened.

I also want to note that Takaba is 100% ok with sex jokes. Kenjaku makes one and he doesn’t object to it. This is just another little detail that makes everything so slightly off.

Higuruma Hiromi

Yuji knows that Higurama wants to go back to his roots. He knows that he feels guilt over killing people.

What he doesn’t know is that Higurama’s roots are him being a defense lawyer that cherishes the flaws of humanity. He doesn't want to ever look away from the impurities that even Yuji has. That’s why I think Yuji resolves his problems with him becoming a sorcerer who saves lives.

Yuji seems to think that Higuruma is like him. He’ll make up for the lives he’s taken via sorcery by saving more. That’s something he could assume from their convo, but that’s not actually what Higuruma wants. He wants to fundamentally change Japan’s legal system for the better in his own way.

Kurusu Hana

She’s the most in character of the bunch. In fact, there’s nothing out of character about her interaction with Megumi. What she represents is Yuji misunderstanding Megumi’s desires.

Yuji understands that Megumi’s type is someone with an unwavering humanity (literally the definition of Yuji’s name) via access to his memories. But for some reason (he’s kind of dumb academically), he thinks this means Hana is perfect for him. 

I think this is because Hana meets Yuji’s definition of a good person. She’s just like Megumi. She saves others for a selfish purpose. And that means…Hana does not meet Megumi’s definition of a good person. Not once has he considered her saving others as selfless. (...But Yuji has.)

And that’s just facts. Hana is kind of unhinged. She’s extremely possessive of Megumi and saves others solely to win him over. Yuji saves others because it’s the right thing to do.

Megumi’s preferences are Yuji, not Hana. Which has led to the most awkward confession and rejection scene. That might have clued Yuji in to construct an alternative. In the memory Yuji is probably recalling, Todo does clock Megumi as someone into dudes.  …The very next scene is Yuji hitting on a dude in front of his gf in a way that causes him to blush. (Yuji has not once complimented someone’s body up to this point if I recall correctly. And he’s been around some beefy dudes.)

(Yeah Nobara me too. Second most leftfield possible bisexual confirmation I’ve read in a manga. The first will always be from Baki the Grappler.)

Is this Yuji letting Megumi know it’s ok to come onto him? Is he not initiating because Hana’s forwardness freaked Megumi out? It’s possible. 

What this suggests is that Yuji is kind of fine tuning this whole delusion to make Megumi as content as possible. It’s telling that the moment Megumi starts getting super uncomfortable the scene jumps to something else.

It happens at the beginning of the chapter too. Gojo is mentioned by Shoko in a way that causes Megumi to pause. And Bam! Change scene.

Anyways, I hope this demonstrates that Yuji working with the limited information from memories is most likely the reason for everything being so funky. It’s character assassination by accident.

Why make these happy endings when this is all for Megumi?

Two reasons as to why I think Yuji is trying to give everyone a plausible happy ending.

1) He genuinely wants them to live good lives.

2) It has to be believable for Megumi to accept them as real and forgive himself.

This line may have been about Yuji, but Megumi’s not any different. He blames himself in the exact same way Yuji blames himself.

I also think there's something to be said about Yuji crafting a dream that resembles the perfect cookie cutter Shonen ending. The guy gets with girl he has no chemistry with. All these complicated plot lines are wrapped up with a neat little bow. Everyone lives and goes on like nothing traumatic happened.

Yuji is a big fan of Shonen. Straight up his final move against Sukuna is a Hunter X Hunter reference. That's not just Gege doing a reference as a fan, Yuji himself is a fan of that manga.

I think Yuji is trying to make this fiction a reality because it's the only way he knows how to cope with his trauma.

JJK 269’s Character “Assassinations”

I promise I still hate this chapter. But I won’t deny how fun it is to pretend these are all delusions Yuji created for Megumi’s sake. I went over Kusakabe to cut him some slack in the previous post, so let’s do everyone else.

(The chapter’s formatting as one long unending nightmare makes it hard to separate this stuff out by the character. I’m just going to do groups this time.)

The 2nd Years

The most common complaint from readers outside of Kusakabe telling Yuji he should’ve died is Maki being really fudging mean to Yuta. Maki is mean, but she’s not that mean. You could assume this is her showing Yuta she cares and that her anger scales with worry but… Here’s a side by side comparison of her getting angry over Yuta risking his life in Vol 0 vs JJK 269.

Pretty big difference I think. Here is a Maki with a Yuta she thinks is about to die vs a Maki with a Yuta who is 100% ok. And the only reason she even gets mad in Vol 0 is because she had no idea Yuta did something that risky. Maki already knew Yuta was going to body hop if all else failed, so her reaction here is disproportionate, especially since he survived.

Speaking of survival, the first thing Maki, Panda, and Inumaki do when Yuta survives in Vol 0 is ask if he’s ok and thank him for saving them. This doesn’t happen in JJK 269. They're all very protective of Yuta after the events of Vol 0. We see them defend him from Gojo for being a little mean about his training. They’re all against the plan because of how much they value him. The 3 of them not checking in on Yuta immediately after the fact is wildly OOC.

The explanation I have? This version of Maki is based on Yuji and Megumi’s memories of her. (And let’s remember that Megumi claims he can’t openly respect her and the other 2nd years outside of Yuta.) When Megumi and Nobara mourn Yuji’s “death”, Maki does this to them.

Maki also intimidated Yuji pretty bad when they first met. Her, Panda, and Inumaki went along with bullying Yuji after he came back to life. It makes sense that Yuji would up Maki’s meanness. He’s not been around her long enough to know she’s not like this when it comes to people she cares about. 

I do think it is weird Maki is pre-awakening levels of mean. This could also be Yuji trying to return to the time before everything went to absolute hell. Or...because she’s Yuji’s construct, this could be him expressing his anger at Yuta for defiling Gojo’s body in a very roundabout way. From both Yuji and Megumi’s perspective, Yuta didn’t discuss this beforehand and used it as a last second plan. And that’s kind of how the conversation goes. Everyone talks about Yuta’s Yujo plan like he didn’t clear it with them first.

It’s also telling that they harp on Yuta over Miguel and Larue. Miguel said no help unless Sukuna’s domain was down. Everyone except Yuji knew that. There was never a scenario where they’d help from the start. But to Yuji who only heard they might show up? It’s a missed opportunity.

Say if you were, trying to find a reason for such a horrific defiling of a loved one’s body. Wouldn’t you try to reconstruct the crime by considering the motives and methods? That would help give you some closure, right?

I think that’s what Yuji is doing for himself and Megumi. Yuji is trying to figure out why things went the way they did through a blend of what Sukuna intuited and what makes the most sense to someone who never had full knowledge of the plan. 

And if you think about it, this is still a happy ending for them. They’re all absolved of their guilt surrounding the outcome of the battle. Even if they screwed up, they’re all still alive and able to move forward in a better world. They did the best they could, so it’s time to move on from what happened to Gojo. Thinking about that too much would break someone.

Mei Mei and Ui Ui

Mei Mei is out of character in a way that’s unique compared to everyone else. She’s still herself, but with less…yikes. It’s odd since Yuji has seen how awful Mei Mei can be and is deeply uncomfortable with how she treats Ui Ui. He’s not missing information about her motives so why have we gone from this to this?

I propose this is an extension of Yuji’s denialism. (We’ve seen how avoidant he is with Gojo’s death.) Mei Mei is grooming Ui Ui and has made it clear this is all for money. Ui Ui is being abused, but he’s so attached to his abuser that separation would break him. How do you make a happy ending out of that?

Well, you can soften those edges. Spin a tale where Mei Mei is an over-doting sister who would kill for her cute little brother. She doesn’t touch him inappropriately, she just plays with him. She loves money as much as him! No abuse here! She’s not someone who would kill a child for cash.

And in a weird way this whole Simple Domain debacle mirrors Gojo killing the higher ups. If Maki is Yuji's rage towards the Yujo plan, then this could be him trying to process his mentor slaughtering a bunch of old people in mass for his sake.

It probably helps that Yuji wasn’t there to see Mei Mei tell Ui Ui to die for her. There’s no way he knows she was paid to help kill him either.

Mei Mei doesn’t care about the well-being of other people. She’s just a hardcore capitalist who loves money and will do anything for it. But this version of her can be less terrible to Ui Ui while still getting her cash and that’s sort of ok I guess? Yuji has moved on from this and so will I.

The Megumi & Nobara Problem

The 1st years going on like nothing happened after Sukuna has made readers feel betrayed. It flies in the face of everything that’s been established for them when it comes to mourning.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 5: At the End of a Sidewalk, this is how the trio deals with grief.

Despite knowing Yuji for only 2 weeks his death screws with Megumi and Nobara pretty badly. In the manga, it looks like Nobara is more upset because she’s visibly in pain, but I think the light novels show they’re equally shaken. 

This is why the non-reaction to Gojo’s death makes no sense. Megumi has known Gojo for a decade. He’s 6 when he first meets him and 16 when he dies because Sukuna used his Cursed Technique (CT). Nobara knew Yuji for 2 weeks, and didn’t see him for another 3 months. In all that time, Gojo was her teacher. She knew him longer than Yuji. When she “dies” Gojo is on the same tier as Yuji and Megumi to her.

So why is it that in JJK 268, Nobara thinks of Gojo as a creep? Why did she toss his letter despite him being one of the people she thought of in death? 

Well… When Yuji came back from the dead via Gojo’s prank he heard Nobara say this.

Nobara is prone to saying out of pocket nonsense to people. If she thinks it, she says it. Yuji also doesn’t understand Nobara’s thought processes (Just like Amai Rin he admits it too!). Nobara tries to hide her feelings to appear tougher than she is sometimes. So I think Yuji has done to Nobara what he has done to Maki—upped the meanness and neglected the heart.

And though Nobara being a construct can explain her behavior, this still leaves us with Megumi who is definitely not one. Why is he acting like Gojo meant nothing to him?

Megumi in particular is super fragile when it comes to his feelings. This is how stressed he gets when he learns exactly why Tsumiki is in a coma.

She’s not even dead and he’s halfway to a mental breakdown. The idea that he can just look at her grave once after having a hand in her murder and move on this quickly makes no sense. Inadvertently killing his defacto guardian he’s been raised by for 10 years should be upsetting him to a similar degree. (Maki said Gojo treated him like a precious treasure!)

When Megumi is on the verge of death he thinks of Tsumiki, Yuji, and or Gojo. It’s always at least 1 of those 3. There’s no way Gojo dying and having his corpse reanimated for reasons Megumi might feel responsible for isn’t screwing him up.

Unless…Yuji is suppressing his memory on purpose. He can’t even cope with what happened to Gojo, how is Megumi supposed to? How can either of them forgive themselves for that if they acknowledge it in full?

When Sukuna tries to tell Megumi to give up, he looks miserable. Every time Sukuna has verbally kicked Yuji while he’s down, he’s done it with a big old smile and laugh. He doesn’t hold back and goes for the throat.

Sukuna is being very nice to Megumi here when he doesn’t mention Gojo at all. The only death he blames on Megumi is Tsumiki. Everyone else? Nothing. That’s weird given that Sukuna will pass the blame of his kills onto Yuji to torment him.

Is this Sukuna a construct or is he playing nice because he respects Megumi? Who knows. Whatever happened here seems to point to Gojo’s memory being suppressed for Megumi’s sake. 

And why might Megumi accept this suppression? Why does he seem to be going along with Yuji’s delusions? The Unlimited Void brain fog. Megumi brings attention to it after he wakes up. 

If Sukuna can’t think straight after Gojo brain damage, neither is Megumi. Still Yuji has to be careful. If Megumi thinks too much, the illusion will be broken. 

What does this mean for them?

Well, the character assassination isn’t real (probably) which is a good thing! Other than that? Not a clue. We’ve got a real catbox situation here. I can’t tell who is dead anymore.

Sukuna projects delusions when someone he’s connected with is dying. Yuji projects delusions someone connects with him while he’s severely injured/concussed. Both of them are kind towards the people they’re interacting with in this space between dreams and reality. They try to give people endings that leave them satisfied.

JJK 270 ends with the hunt for a curse user who can distort perceptions of reality. This curse user is initially mistaken as a cursed spirit. That sounds like Sukuna I think.

I’m pretty confident this happy ending illusion will be shattered, that's for sure.

My Final Answer

I'm betting it all on this being a delusion. This is a kind of prediction that will either age well, very badly, or interestingly. I don't know what's in store for the final chapter...but I do have some ideas I'd like to speculate with.

"Without love it cannot be seen."

This time I'm going to use this phrase very literally. I'm going to make one final gamble on the assumption that love is the answer. So let's go back to Love itself—one of those reoccurring themes in JJK.

Love is a curse in JJK. It has the power to distort reality and transform loved ones horribly. Desperation to save a loved one from death over and over has resulted in extremely traumatic things. Yuta turned his childhood crush into monster that caused havoc for years. You can blame everything that has happened in JJK on Gojo being unable to get over the loss of his loved one, Geto.

Hana could've vanquished Sukuna on the spot, but she didn't because she loves Megumi. It's something a lot of people blame her for. If she had just killed him there, the Sukuna battle wouldn't have happened. But that's not really the truth. The only reason Sukuna even got his powerful is because Megumi refused to let Yuji die.

Megumi and Yuji going back and forth trying to save each other have been acts of love driving the plot of JJK since the beginning of this manga. If Megumi actually died on Yuji? Who knows what would happen.

...

A lot of readers have been on a very funny copium because of these last 3 chapters. Some of them joke that they are just one massive Takaba-induced hallucination. This theory has some merit to it! After all, his CT does two things:

1) It distorts reality.

2) By sheer force of will it bends people's souls to his whims.

One of the biggest complaints about the past 3 chapters has been the Merger plot ending abruptly. As of JJK 270 Tengen and Sukuna's remains have been mixed into the barrier around Japan and everything is just fine according to Gakuganji.

People wanted to see what the Merger would do, just like Kenjaku. In universe, Tengen made a prediction. They guessed that the impurity from humans would dominate and consume everything. The impurity that Higuruma wants to protect. The impurity that Higuruma sees in Yuji.

Would Sukuna activate the merger and kill Megumi to spite Yuji? Absolutely.

Would Yuji do or become anything to save Megumi's life? Absolutely.

Do whatever you want with this information.

[sterredem]

Red

F1 grid x singer!driver!reader

Face claim Taylor Swift

Warning hate(?), long, not proofread, spelling mistakes

Summary Y/n had a past in music. But it isn’t a past anymore…

Part 2

A/N it’s pretty long and there will be a part 2… I’m also in love with it so I hope y’all like it. Part 2 will be out soon.

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Yourusername Another great result. P3! We are very happy with this result and we will all try and keep this up for the upcoming races. See you next China.

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Charles_Leclerc Great job Y/n!

ScuderiaFerrarie Have a nice break y/n!

User1 P3 LETS GOOOO

User2 This is why she is my fav driver

User3 How can one be so gorgeous

User4 it’s amazing to see how accepting the grid has been with a girl on the grid

User5 yeah it’s great to see!

User6 The aesthetic is just amazing

User7 it’s amazing to see how much she has grown over the past few years. Not only in the literal sense but also mentally and in her driving

User8 ❤️♥️

User9 She and Lewis always slay with their outfits

User10 FR! It’s like their runway show atp

User11 We love to see it!

User12 🏎️🏎️

User13 do you need a dog? I can bark

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Kymillam STREET STYLE

Y/n y/l/n has arrived at the paddock in China, and as always shows of her great sense of style. #f1 #Y/nY/l/n #FormulaOne

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User1 Looking good as always

User2 the bad being the most expensive part of the outfit is so funny for no reason😭

User3 🔥🔥🔥

User4 she always looks so good

User5 if only het driving was as good as her sense of style

User6 so true. Because her sense of style could never be as good as her driving

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Yourusername P1! Another great result this week. I’ll remember this weekend all too well. Onto Miami➡️

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LewisHamilton Well done!

Fernandoalo_Oficial bravooooo👏🙌

alex_albon congrats!!!!👏💪

Charles_Leclerc

Scuderiaferrari Bravo y/n!! Very proud❤️

OllieBearman Congrats❤️

User1 LETS GOOOO!

User2 Bravooo

User3 P1! LFGGOOOOO

User4 amazing race!!

User5 wait… all too well?? As in the song that she released before she same to f1???

User6 WHAT?!?! Explain??

User5 I’ll make a twitter thread!!

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Yourusername Not the best results but hit some good points. But in the mean time I had some fun time at the beach. Also congrats to Lando for p1. Onto Imola

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PhoebeBridgers I would say it is nothing new for you

User6 ?!?!?!?⁉️⁉️⁉️

User7 still a great job Y/n!!

User8 gorgeous

User9 new music when??

User10 The livery was a great disappointment

User11 Y/N WORLD DOMINATION!!

User12 do you remember it all too well?!

User13 ♥️♥️❤️❤️

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Yourusername a great result for the team had some good points with P3. Congrats to Charles with P1! Al so I think I lost my scarf anyone see it?

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EdSheeran I have no idea where the scarf could be. But I feel like everything has changed

User1 SCARF?? AS IN ALL TOO WELL??

User2 P3 and p1 LETS GOOO

User3 The random photos😂 I’m crying

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User6 Ferrari world domination!

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Yourusername Suprise! My brand new (and first) album RED is out now!! This is a secret I have been keeping for quite a while and I am very happy to share it with you all! This is a project that is very close to me, and I have worked on this album for 3 years. A few songs may sound familiar to you but I promise, it will be beter. Also thank you very much to all the people that have helped me make this all possible. More surprises coming your way soon!❤️

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Charles_Leclerc very proud of you Y/n!

Landonorris I will hear this so many times that I will get sick of it

LewisHamilton Amazing album Y/n!

Maxverstappen1 P and Kelly won’t stop playing it. Very proud of you

Scuderiaferrari Aleays knew you loved red❤️

OscarPiastri Alreafy my favourite album

Logansargeant Album of the year

OliviaRodrigo SO PROUD!!!

PhoebeBridgers AHHH! FINALLY OUT!!

EdSheeran Amazing!

User1 WHAT?!?!

User2 SO THAT WAS ALL THE SHADY COMMENTS ANS CAPTIONS!!

User3 the last time is a banger argue with the wall

User4 All too well TEN MINITE VERSION?!?!

User5 Message in a bottle is the best EVER

User6 Ronan😭 I’m crying😭😭

User7 this is the most confusing album ever. One second I’m jumping and screen ing and the other one I’m crying on the ground

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Yourusername coming soon…

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Yourusername The first poster…

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Yourusername All Too Well the short film out now! This is one of the things that I have always dreamed of making and now it is here! Thank you so much @DylanOBrien and @Sadiesink for helping me achieve this and playing in this film. I hope you all love it as much as I do… more coming soon…

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DylanOBrien Thank you for this amazing opportunity!

SafieSink it was amazing working with you!

Charles_Leclerc a real piece of art

LewisHamilton One of the best works I have seen. Great job to you all

User8 SADIE AND DYLAN?? THE DUO WE DIDNT KNOW WE NEEDED

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User10 The acting in this is just incredible

User12 wait what do you meen more coming soon????

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[noctilu-uca]

This little freakster is apparently really really courteous and gentlemanly as said by the nrc students. He uses very highly respectable honorifics for EVERYONE even the people his own age (hes 16-ish i think) and is generally a very polite person and speaks eloquently. So very eloquently that it gets really odd since we rarely see that type of speech from someone so young in twst. As we know, halloween fanatic. BIIIGGG halloween fanatic. his hometown apparently worshiped jack skellington and saw him as the creator of halloween so basically grew up in weirdly halloween religious town. At school he was very ostracized (assuming he didnt go to school in his hometown, dont know if its NRC or RSA, best to assume its not) because the students dont share his interests and find him weird. Ended up in a book, the book his IDOL jack skellington resides in, forgotten by history, yet he aimlessly wandered the forest and never opened the holiday doors despite it being the only thing different in the forest

Theres many theories, skully might be dead, might be a ghost, OOORRR. a fae. there is many things that supoort these theories because. 1. Skully doesnt seem to have the same background knowledge as the NRC students. 2. doesnt seem to know the existence of very common things in twst, things that even the 700+ year old lilia remembers very well and can recount the change of expresison over time (magic stones). 3. He seems to think people dont know about halloween, or at the minimum gets OVERLY excited and surprised that people know of the *existence* of halloween. Theres more thingd but i cant remember them right now

But me ? What i think ? I think skully just grew up in an overly conservative town and he doesnt really *know* the outside world and its perspective because its all hes known. Of course my knowledge is limited bc this is a jp event WAAHHH but i know enough to make a decent inference

Despite being halloweens no.1 fan. Hes very odd about its expression...? He had odd rules, i dont remember them all but it was weird things like ALL BLACK. NO COLOURS. NO CANDY. NO MUSIC. NO DANCING. THIS IS SERIOUS AND SHOULD BE RESPECTED.

Anyway my point is that his expression of halloween is very serious very conservative and is almost treated like a wake or a funeral of some kind tbh. He also said that the "bad" ghosts should be beaten away despite halloween being the celebration of ALL ghosts (NRC students fought him on this one) which kinda just shows theres some moral "sin" he believes exists with halloween. Of course, expression is always subjective and hes free to do whatever he wants but he gets wayyy too upset when someone tries to go against whatever rules he places down for halloween. Way too upset. Ofc the NRC students (leona) weren't *always* nice about expressing their objections but it was still odd. He romanticizes halloween (much like how jack romanticizes christmas) yet turns it into something you would see at a weird church ? Hm.

And even with all that, he met jack !! His idol !! Wow omg !! But the thing is, when jack is planning halloween for the year skully actively dislikes his ideas. Despite idolizing him. Of course he goes along with it anyway because wow idol but, again, really odd

So my thoughts on this predicament, skully grew up in a religious, small, conservative town. And when he moved out and explored the world he was met with ostracism, and when he found an escape (the book) he dug himself into his fixation and refuses to leave the world hes built himself. He rarely talks about his outside world experiences, rarely talks about his hometown unless its in reference to his fixation. His views stay stuck with the conservative approach despite being told time and time again that it isnt the *right* way to approach. Even, indirectly, by his own idol whom he had been projecting onto. But even with people pointing out his skewed ways, he stays stuck. Refusing to redirect his approach and stay with what he has always done and always wanted to do.

Escapism and reality are very big themes im seeing, thats all.

I COULD BE SO WRONG PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT OR ADD INFO IM NOT CONFIDENT ABOUT ANYTHING I AM POSTING ABOUT THIS GUY I LEARNED THIS ALL SECOND HAND AND DIDNT LOOK BACK FOR REFERENCE THIS IS STRAIGHT HOT OFF THE NOGGIN !!!!!

[critterbitter]

HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

[leo-fie]

Progress Pride Flag Quilt Block Pattern & Tutorial

Don't you just love the flag of our people? Do you have an inner grandma that years to make stuff? Do you want to combine these two things and make a queer quilt?

Well, I've got you.

Behold the pattern! And my lack of graphic skills, so I drew it on paper!

Basically it's a bunch of rectangles, one half square triangle and a fuzzy cut circle. I don't know shit about quilting and I was able to come up with it. Why centimeter, you ask? Because I'm German and that's what I'm familiar with. Why weird measurements and not jelly rolls and layer cakes and stuff? Because I'm German and quilting is not really a thing here.

Onto the tutorial!

You'll need:

A scrap of fabric of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, brown, light blue, pink, white each

additional fabric for the border

Cutting mat, quilting ruler, roll cutter

sewing machine

thread

pins

double sided interfacing

iron and ironing board

fabric sheers

compasses

Step 1: Cut everything. Duh. We'll take care of the circle later, don't worry about that now. The half square triangle is exactly what it sounds like. A square and then you cut it diagonally. That's why I didn't give the length of the hypotenuse.

(Note: I'm making two blocks at the same time, that's why there's so much fabric. Also this is a middle of the night project, hence the lighting.)

I'm using all kinds of different fabrics, different weights and drapes, some stretchy, some transparent, so I needed to interface some of them.

Step 2: Sew the rainbow together. 0,5cm seam allowance on everything, that's exactly the edge of the foot on your machine. Double and triple check that everything is facing the right direction before sewing. The seam of yellow and green does not get sewn fully, only 21,5 cm! That's important later! Also backtack there. Don't forget to iron.

Step 3: Sew the strips to the half square triangle. For this you have to switch between the sewing machine and the ironing board constantly. Attach the shorter strip diretly to one side of the HST, iron it open. The second strip of the same colour gets attatched to the other side of the HST and the first strip. Look at the pictures closely if you're unsure how that works. Also the strips are longer than the triangle. We'll square that up later.

All strips attatched will look like this. See how the two strips meet at the tip!

Step 4: Cut the rainbow part to size. The length between yellow and green is 22cm long. The shorter seam from before plus some seam allowance. The outsides of red and purple are 44,5cm long. These two points are the beginning and end of your cutting line. You will cut a little triangle from every single colour. Do this slowly and carefully. Maybe your fabrics have stretched a bit (mine did). Don't worry, it will be ok.

Step 5: The Y seam, part one. Y seams are tricky, but there's only one for this block. So put your strips part on your rainbow part and line them up so that the tip of the strip part overhangs the seam between yellow and green by about half a centimeter. Remember that it's not about the edges of the fabric, but where the seam will be. But don't sew all the way! Leave 0,5cm at the tip!

You can also mark on your strip piece two lines 0,5cm from the edges of the black. They should form a little square at the tip. There they meet is where the actual tip on the finished block will be. So place this spot directly on the seem between yellow and green and only sew right up to it. Not beyond.

Step 6: The Y seam, part two. Now, fold both the rainbow part and the strips part in half and if you've done the last step correctly, the remaining two edges will allign. Pin and sew.

I can't explain it better than I've done here, I'm sure there are tutorias out there. Good luck!

Step 7: Square up. Iron your block to that everything is nice and straight and flat. Then use the fabric edges of the red and purple to cut the remaining ends of the strips. Use the HST to cut the white. Be careful, the long side of the triangle is on the bias and likely stretched a bit.

I already added borders here. I'm making a pillow case.

Step 8: Fuzzy cut and raw edge applique. Double sided iron on interfacing is essentially double sided tape. It has two types of glue, one gets activated by 2 seconds of heat, the other by 5 or so (depends on the product). The second side is also covered with a paper that needs to be removed before the second gluing. Read the instructions of the product you are using!

Use your compasses to draw a circle on the protective paper side of the interfacing. It's actually two circles from the same middle point, see pattern. Cut it out roughly. Then place it with the rougher side on the backside of your purple fabric and iron for 2 seconds on middle heat. If you've just ironed your fabric before and the ironing board is still hot, wait for it to cool down. Also let the fabric cool down after applying. Then cut out your circle. The interfacing will have stiffened the fabric, so that shouldn't be a problem. Then remove the protective paper, place the circle on the yellow triangle where you want it and iron for 5 seconds. Let cool.

And you're done! The applique at this point is only secured with the interfacing, but it should hold fairly well. The quilting will secure it further.

And that's it. BTW, did you know that this design was made by Valentino Vecchietti for Intersex Equality Rights UK in 2021? Now you do. Happy quilting!

[hwnglx]

for jk im curious to know what he means by the way ppl maybe assume he is a player or do they assume other things? I seen ppl assume he could be a cheater in relationships but thats not the case he is loyal asf imho, do u think its down to his people pleasing habits? he reminds me much of bangchan where ppl have said in readings he likes to be of use to ppl and to be able to help them where he can offer it. idk if its the same for jk

but fr when jk meets his fs shit is going to go down so maybe she can help jk even out his mindset towards all the stuff he has achieved which is more than the average korean so u think he would be quite proud to have helped put korea / kpop and in general hes done so much so I hope he is able to somehow feel accomplished. I do get what he means by it seems so superficial but ehh ppl have pushed for fame and fortune since decades ago and it either makes or breaks a person depending on their views of their experiences

well.. so much, if not the entirety of kpop idols' image is manufactured. since these people basically make a living by selling an image to the public, it's something that has to be calculated. your image has to be as appealing to people as possible, so what do you do? you only show off your best, and bury the rest. as an idol, you basically sell yourself as a fantasy, someone who appears to be perfect, but in reality is just as flawed as we all.

in jungkook's case, he's just tired of fame. it's like, the validation and admiration was nice at first, but after a while it just feels vacant and empty, and not real. these people love the manufactured you, they love the role you play in front of cameras. not the real and raw and weird you, with all your flaws and mistakes. and for a while, jk didn't know himself outside of being an idol, because that's all he did since he was a teen. so he was at this stage of “who even am i, when not being bts’ jk?” and easily fell into the impression that, his “normal” self is so insignificant and lacking in comparison. just unlovable. like people wouldn't love him if they knew of his more “unlikable” traits. everyone projects this fantasy onto him, but many don't wanna know his real soul. in his ideal type reading, i remember he had this intense craving for genuine love. not love for the idea of him, but for the real him.

you mentioned bangchan, while they do have similarities in their people-pleasing habits and desires to serve them, jk's energy is honestly much more pure to me personally.

bangchan is “i need you to like me, not just because i'm a person who needs validation, but also because it benefits me and my bag” (i don't blame him that's how shit works lol)

jungkook is “i need you to like me because i need affection and love and i feel empty otherwise”

in fact, jk's energy actually reminds me a lot of felix in this regard. they're surprisingly similar. (they do have similar charts)

[anemoiashifts]

how to stop shifting misinformation from holding you back.

let’s look at early shiftok, (because that’s the most common example & where people’s brain goes when they think of this concept) & the advice that was shared. on tiktok, shifting was a new concept. a lot of people were hearing about it & trying to figure it out for themselves. we all need to remember shifting is a deeply personal journey & what works for one person, may not work for another. applying this to the example of “you need to clean your room before you shift”: not everyone needs to clean their room before they shift but some people feel better going into their shifting attempts with a clean room. because of that persons better performance & possible success through doing something that helped them, sharing it with the intention to help others may cross someone’s mind. some things are needed to be done for some to succeed in the heads of many. some people fell they need to make their bed first thing in the morning to have a productive day. for example, i feel like i have to shower before i try & shift, more specifically at night. i also fall into the category of needing to clean my bedroom since i physically feel lighter & less stressed when my space is neat. i know i don’t have to do those things, but i believe that impacts my performance ability & if somebody asked me for my personal shifting tips / routine id share those things.

also there is some logic behind some of the “misinformation” that went around:

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ speaking positive words to your water before you drink it has been shown to form pretty, symmetrical, snowflakes. considering our bodies are made up of 60-70% water, i suppose it could follow the same logic as “be kind & speak nicely to yourself” thus improving your self confidence which plays on our ability to do something.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ cleaning your bedroom / work space before preforming a task has been shown to improve productivity.

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ i can’t remember where ive heard this so take it with a grain of salt but i remember reading laying on your back has been said to improve the success / performance of astral projection, while laying on your side may help you become lucid easier when sleeping.

so when you understand (some) of the misinformation was people finding a brand new concept & trying to understand it, then trying to help others understand it based on what helps them, it starts to make sense for the time.

im not saying you need to do any of these things. im not saying they’ll 100% help you. what I’m saying is everyone is different. people share shifting tips all the time on here & not every piece of advice will resonate with you & we don’t gather pitchforks to crucify those. the reason why misinformation is lingering in the minds of people is because it’s much harder to unlearn wrong information & later go back & try to correct it.

this may be unpopular, but i don’t really believe in misinformation. there will be pieces of information that help people & there will be some that may set people back. if a painting technique doesn’t help you, it’s not wrong, it’s just something that doesn’t strengthen you as an artist. others will go onto share that technique while you just disregard it & do it your own way. the shifting community is largely based on theory. even if someone thinks shifting is astral projection, if that’s how they understand it better & it makes them shift easier, then that belief isn’t harming anyone & is helping them. there is so much we don’t know & since there is no definite step by step guide or rule book, we get to make our own rules in the form of routine or lack of. it’s something personal & if someone restorations with the thought i have to do “xyz” to succeed in my shifting journey that’s fine. sharing that information shouldn’t harm you & make you feel like you need to follow their every movement to succeed. success is measured so differently amongst people within the shifting community or not. a mini shift could be a marker of someone’s success & it could also be the very thing that demotivates another.

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N - As promised, one for male-presenting folks. This is also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448742/chapters/135282199

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). He’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, he’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? He helps with everything here, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your cleaner!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[h00nerz]

spots on!

FORTY-TWO / a little bit

prev | masterlist | next

warnings: none i don’t think

word count: 1.9k

YOU THOUGHT YOUR HEART WAS GOING TO BEAT OUT OF YOUR CHEST. It had been over a week since the last time he had appeared outside your window, and honestly, you weren’t expecting it to happen again. But, you caught his glowing green eyes staring at you through the glass, and you knew it was him.

With trembling fingers, you slowly pulled open your sliding door. There was a soft breeze outside, creeping into your small apartment now that there was no barrier to keep it out. It felt nice, especially because your skin was burning hot under his gaze.

“Yeonjun.” You spoke his name quietly, watching him with wide eyes. You were still having a time believing that the man in the cat themed suit was actually Yeonjun, but now that you were staring right at him while he was in action, it was starting to make more sense.

“Ladybug.” He replied, and though he was barely visible in the darkness, his pearly white teeth were illuminated when a cheeky smile crept onto his lips. “Is it okay if I come in?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” It’s always okay. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had missed him appearing on your balcony in the late hours of the night.

You took a step to the side so he could come in, and it was then you remembered how much of a disaster your apartment was. For the last week, you’d been working on a big project for one of your design classes, which resulted in every inch of your space being covered in fabric, sketches, scissors, etc.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s such a mess in here.” You quickly apologized, darting over to the couch to pick up some things and make room for him to sit.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually…” He cleared his throat as he watched you, and even though his mask made it difficult to read his expression, you could tell he was nervous. “I was thinking… We could go out. There was something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh.” You dropped an armful of fabric, nodding. “Y-Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Should I…?” You gestured down to yourself, hoping he would catch your drift without you having to come out and say it.

He hummed in a questioning tone, but then it dawned on him. “Oh! Yeah. Unless you want me to carry you.” He spoke flirtatiously. “Just kidding! Joking!” He seemed to immediately regret it, then turned around to face away from you.

You rolled your eyes. There was no reason to turn around, since it wasn’t like you had to undress to transform, but you found his attempt at manners endearing nonetheless.

Transforming in front of other people was new for you—especially in front of Chat Noir. The only time you’d ever done it was in front of Sieun once, when you’d been in a rush to get transformed and go handle an Akuma. This felt entirely different than that—it felt more… Intimate? That seemed like the right word.

With a deep breath, you called out the key words, (“spots on!”), and within a few seconds, you had been metamorphosed into your superhero alter-ego, Ladybug.

You cleared your throat, and Yeonjun—Chat Noir—turned around to face you. He stared at you for a moment, then let out a nervous laugh. “You know, now that I know you’re Ladybug, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” He said, his bright eyes taking your polka dotted figure.

Heat spread across your face. “Yeah. I can’t believe I didn’t see it either.” You said, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck. “Umm, shall we go?”

He nodded, and the two of you disappeared out your window.

Ever since you were first granted the power of the Ladybug Miraculous, and first met Chat Noir, you had found yourself soaring above the cityscapes hundreds of times. But, even though you’d done it more times than you could count, tonight felt like it was the first time all over again.

When you risked a glance over at him, you didn’t really see Chat Noir anymore. But, you didn’t really see Yeonjun, either. You saw somebody completely new, that you couldn’t wait to get to know. And he was beautiful, especially with the moonlight illuminating his features and the wind combing through his dark hair. Beautiful.

A warmth spread through your chest when you looked over at him. A different kind of warmth from when you used to look at him—both as Yeonjun and as Chat Noir. It was a brand new kind of feeling, and as much as new usually scared you, you knew deep down this was a good kind of new.

You followed him across the city, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and using your yo-yo to swing through the air, until finally, he came to a stop on an unfamiliar rooftop.

“Ta-da!” He announced, turning to face you and giving you jazz hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, am I supposed to know what this place is?” You asked cautiously, glancing around to try and find any indicators of where you were.

He deflated, his hands falling to his leather-clad sides with a thwap! “Are you serious? You really have no idea?” He frowned.

You shook your head. “Nope. No clue.”

He sighed. “Okay. Before I tell you, let me explain.” He took a step towards you, and judging by the shakiness in his breath, he was growing nervous. “When we were at the launch party… I know you were there to talk to some designers, but our dumb friends kind of ruined it… So, I, um, showed my dad your portfolio, and he showed it to some of his friends…”

Your heart soared. “Yeonjun, you didn’t—“

“And a designer he’s close with, Bae Irene, was really interested in your work, and you’ll probably get a call from her tomorrow, but she wants you to go intern at her studio for the summer.”

“Oh my god! This is—This is the Bae Designs building!” You suddenly realized, turning to get a good view of the city streets below you, and Yeonjun laughed.

“Yeah, I thought you’d know, since you’re a fashion student and all…”

You couldn’t believe this. Irene had always been one of your fashion heroes growing up, but she was also one of the most famous designers in the whole city, so you never dreamed of working with her. But, thanks to Yeonjun, your hard work had paid off, and she wanted to work with you!

“Yeonjun, this is…!” You couldn’t find the words as you turned back to face him, your heart racing a million miles a second.

He smiled sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I was worried you might hate me, after everything that happened… I wanted to make it up to you, and Y/N…” He stepped forward again, and this time he was close enough to take your hands into his.

“You were never just a game to me. I was never playing you. Everything I ever said to you was true. You’re incredible. Smart, hardworking, funny, beautiful… Whether you’re Ladybug, or Y/N, I think you’re amazing.”

You were so overwhelmed with the hundreds of different emotions coursing through your bloodstream, you were thankful you were wearing a mask to hide the tears slipping out of your eyes.

“You thought I would hate you?” You laughed, then sniffled. “You could have a million different secret identities, but I would never hate you, Yeonjun.” You told him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“You’re the funniest, sweetest, most attractive person I’ve ever met. And the fact you did all of this for me just proves that I was right in feeling that way.”

His own arms were now wrapped around your waist as you poured your heart out to him, a nervous, breathy laugh escaping his lips.

“I know this might sound crazy, and I might be ruining everything and scaring you away by saying this, but…”

You stepped on your tip-toes, so your gaze was level with his. He was staring at you with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted as he anticipated what you were going to say.

“I think I might be a little bit in love with you, Yeonjun.” You whispered.

“Really?” He asked breathlessly.

You nodded.

“Well, that sucks. Because I think I might be a lot in love with you.” He whispered back to you, and leaned toward to bump his nose against yours.

You giggled. “You’re such a nerd.” You told him.

“I know. But this nerd is all yours.”

The two of you moved in unison as you finally crashed your lips into each other.

All the tension that had been building between the two of you for years finally exploded into a red-hot, fiery ball of passion that had you overwhelmed with emotion. You found yourself clawing at his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you, like he might run away and leave you forever if you let him go for even a second.

You knew you were on a rooftop out in the open, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped a picture and sent it to the Ladyblog, but you didn’t care. In that moment, even though you were donning your superhero suits, you weren’t Ladybug and Chat Noir.

You were just Yeonjun and Y/N. Two stupid people that spent way too long finding your way to each other. Two stupid people that could have been together a long time ago if you had just opened your eyes and paid more attention.

But, even though lots of tears were shed, and there were so many messes that could have been avoided, you wouldn’t change anything about the way the two of you had gotten together. You wouldn’t change anything about your story with him.

After what felt like an eternity of passionately making out on that rooftop, you finally pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his as you took a moment to catch your breath.

“Can we go back to my place? So I can finally kiss you out of these stupid costumes?” You asked between breaths, laughing at your own stupid question.

He chuckled as well, then went back in for one more soft, feathery kiss. “We can do whatever you want, Y/N. I’ll follow you wherever you want to go.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love my cheesiness!”

“I don’t, I really don’t. It’s the only thing holding me back from being a lot in love with you.” You grinned as his face was lit up with fake hurt.

“Rude, Y/N! I don’t know how comfortable I am going home with someone who’s so mean to me.” He pouted as you finally broke free from his embrace.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ll just go home by myself. Maybe I’ll call Mark.” You teased while you started to stretch out your limbs.

He gasped loudly. “Hey, no! I’m joking! Let’s go, right now! I’ll even carry you!” He exclaimed, rushing over to your side.

You giggled, and leaned over to kiss him one more time. “You’re so cute, Yeonjun. Anyways, last one there is a rotten egg!” You shouted, and before he had time to protest, you were zipping away.

“Oh, you’re so on, M’Lady!” He yelled after you, and the two of you chased after each other into the night.

Yeah. You wouldn’t change anything about how the two of you got there.

authors note: hahahaha heyyyy~~ it only took a million years but here it is!!! i love these 2 and i’m so sad this smau is almost over but i’m also glad so you guys don’t have to keep suffering waiting for an update hahaha. only 3-4 chapters left it’ll probably finish just in time for freefall dropping next week !!

tag list: (closed) @therealhyunjingf @jakeshands @impureperhaps @mazeinthemoon @tyunlatte @loveliii @exohclipse @17szn @txtbrainrot @bubblytaetae @serafilms @iirene304 @snowfalltxt @choistick @lost-leopard-beanie @taekwondoes @captivq @aestheticsluut @surshica @suburbiataehyung @cecedrake2217 @omiomipepperoni @ttyunz @stellz581 @cher-bears @tyunner @eggomi @rikismiel @vianna99 @certainyouthpeanut @cookiehaos @90sni-ki @http-gyu @iad0ru @viagumi @reverbtunes @fatoompie @ka143 @sserafimez @hoonjjun @ahnneyong @cutiespaghetti @wonioml @emohazuzworld @taylvvrr @cowsmicwu

[20dollarlolita]

(It's been entirely too long since we've started a tutorial with a very blurry picture, which is a 20dollarlolita tradition. Am I about to fall over and only staying upright because of a death grip on this trim? Stay tuned to find out)

Let's make a skirt.

There's a lot of lolita fashion that doesn't fit most people. It's me. I'm most people. I'm going to wear it anyway, so I'm going to resize that to fit me.

The hardest part of resizing a lolita skirt (or skirt part of a dress) is that you almost never can get the fabric that the skirt was made out of. Lolita prints are usually pretty limited run. While some dresses will let you redistribute the fabric to have a slightly less full skirt, that's usually a major reconstruction that ends up drifting a bit away from the lolita shape.

x

A ruffled bustle bustle, however, is pretty common. Bustles like this are pretty common in lolita fashion and add an additional detail. In addition, you can make the waist of the skirt several inches bigger without a problem, and without compromising skirt fullness. If you ever want to undo the alteration, seaming the skirt back up is not very difficult. It's not a fully seamlessly reversible alteration, but there's far worse things you could do to the garment (ask me about my AP dress with mesh pits).

The problem is that bustles like this take quite a bit of energy and fabric, especially if you want to have details like lace trim. It's one of the more time-consuming alterations to do.

Or you can make one bustle/ruffle underskirt, one time, and wear it with all your skirt and dress modifications. You can splurge and get some nice trim and get some nice fabric, because you only need to buy it once. You can also wear it as a standalone skirt. (Just remember to never, ever steam it before taking pictures. You wouldn't want to look competent)

I put off making one of these for a very long time, because I'd made the process much more complicated in my head than it turned out needing to be. Once I was building this and realized I needed to simplify the fuck down, this became a really easy project.

Materials: I decided to make the ruffles on my skirt out of eyelet lawn, which is a cotton fabric that has an all-over embroidery. I got this for about $10 a yard on ebay. I don't have a very accurate judgement of how much I used on the skirt. I bought 4 yards and used probably 3.5, but I also wasted a bunch of fabric on an extra tier that I had to chop off. I wanted a fabric with more detail than broadcloth, but that wasn't exclusively going to work with OTT styling.

I got 30 yards of 1/2" Venise lace off cheeptrims.com for $9. I really recommend putting lace on your ruffles if you can. It really adds to the detail level, and you only need to buy it once. You already have to hem all of this so you might as well hem it with lace.

You will also want some fabric for the slip layer (for want of a better term) to attach the ruffles to. My ruffles were a little bit sheer, so I wanted an opaque base fabric for modesty. Depending on the look you're going for, you can also use this layer to add some subtle detailing or changes to the finished look. If you're only wearing it with over-the-top looks, using a base fabric with shine or glitter can stop your ultrabustle from looking too plain. If you're wanting your ruffles to lay flatter, getting a soft fabric with a lot of drape will make the ruffles droopier. I just used some weird cotton plainweave that I got at Green Store for 75% off due to a bolt-long defect.

I used 1" elastic in the waistband here, because this skirt can get a little bit heavy, and then you often have another skirt on top of it adding to the weight.

The other thing that I used that made this much easier was a ruffling attachment for my serger. You don't need to use a serger, but a ruffling or gathering attachment that allows you to ruffle a flat strip of fabric and sew it onto another piece of (not to-be-ruffled) fabric will speed things up considerably. I know a lot of people buy a ruffler or a gathering foot when they start sewing lolita, and then are disappointed when they don't use it very much. There's a very limited number of lolita applications for these attachments, and I'm happy to tell you that this is one of them. If you don't have one, you don't need to go buy one. You can just do the two-step process of gathering the fabric and then sewing it on. But if you wanted an excuse to go buy one, well, you have one.

The Plan:

So I'd previously made a lot of math and calculations for how each tier was going to gather into the previous one, and then realized during the build phase that actually was way too complicated.

What we need is a rectangle with ruffles on it gathered into a waistband. Yes, a rectangle. I know, I was stunned too, but the final result worked the best.

I wanted the tops of the ruffles to be hidden in seams. If you just sew ruffled strips onto a single piece of fabric, it's very difficult to hide all the raw edges and to make sure you're not spreading loose threads all over the place. We're going to make ruffled strips, and sew them to each other. This covers up the raw edges very nicely.

This also will allow you to slightly gather the second and top tiers to each other, if you want to make this skirt in an a-line instead of a bell/cupcake shape.

The Math:

If you know what skirts you're planning on wearing your ultrabustle with, it can help to measure them and get a good guideline.

Generally, you want your ultrabustle to be a number somewhere within these guidelines.

~~Close to the same length of the skirt you're wearing it with or ~~4"ish longer than the skirt you're wearing it with. (This depends on if you want the bottom ruffle to stick out. If you're Tallita and all the skirts and dresses you're resizing are also too short, you might want this to double as a ruffled underskirt) and ~~An acceptable length to wear as a skirt all on its own.

My first run at this ultrabustle was WAY too long, and after chopping off the entire top tier, it ended up being either 1" shorter or 1" longer than the skirts I'm planning on wearing it with, which is a great number for me.

As for the total fullness of the skirt, you have to remember that the ruffles will add visual volume to the skirt. This means that you don't actually need the hemline of your skirt to be super full. All that matters is that your petticoat can comfortably squeeze in there. For this, I measured the hemline of the smallest dress that I had that still fit my petticoat, and used that. It turned out to be about 80" around.

So, what sizes do we cut this at? It's math time.

Here's a worksheet if you want. You're going to need to know how long you want the finished skirt, how wide you want the hem of the slip (not the ruffle) of the skirt, how many ruffle layers you want, and your waist measurement.

The slip needs to be shorter than the ruffles, so it doesn't show. So total slip length is your skirt length minus 2.5". Divide that by the number of ruffle layers that you have, and you'll have how long to cut each of those. This is slip tier short side.

Each ruffle layer needs to be longer than each slip layer, so that the slip doesn't show. You want each ruffle to overlap the previous one. So, take your slip tier short side and add 2-3" (or more, if you want). This is your ruffle short side.

Your finished slip diameter is your slip tier long side. That one's easy.

If you're a math and planning person, you can determine your ruffle long side measurement. You'll want to take a piece of your fabric, cut to the ruffle short side measurement and also about 45+ inches wide, and a piece of your slip fabric. Run them both through your gathering attachment so that your ruffle fabric is sewn onto your slip fabric. If you like how that looks, you can then measure the finished length of the ruffled fabric and use that to calculate how much fabric you'll need for the ruffles. There's four places where people mess this up. First of all, if you're using your gathering attachment to sew and gather at the same time (which is the point of that attachment), you want to do all your test runs gathering it onto a fabric. The amount of fabric that goes into a machine ruffle changes depending on if it's onto fabric or just gathering. Second, you want to use your finished fabric, at your finished ruffle length. Different fabrics will ruffle different amounts, and different ruffle widths will look different even at the same gathering amount. Third mistake people make is to not gather a long enough strip. The longer a strip you gather, the more accurately you can measure how much fabric is actually going into your ruffle. And the fourth is to take that measure as an accurate one, and not plan for needing extra fabric. The upside of the gathering attachment is that it will save you so much time. The downside is that you can't be as accurate with knowing how much fabric you'll use. Remember, you can always turn the leftovers into a matching accessory. Even if you're going to go yolo like I did and not do the math about how many ruffles you need, you will still want to run a check that you like how your ruffling attachment looks. You don't need to measure super accurately, but try to get a feel for how much fabric is going into each ruffle. For example, if your ruffler takes a strip and makes it 1/3 it's flat size, then you'll need more fabric than if your ruffler makes it 1/2 it's flat size. If you're really on a budget, you can just cut your ruffles at 2.5x your slip long dimension and precisely gather by hand. My time's worth something to me and so it wasn't worth it to do that just to save a yard of $10 fabric.

The last part is just to check that your ruffle long dimension (or it's rough approximation) is still at least 2.75x your waist measure (3.25 is better). If you don't have that, your skirt likely won't look full enough for a lolita silhouette. If that's the case, just add to your skirt dimension until it is.

Actually making it:

Before you forget, cut out a piece for your waistband. You can decide if this looks better in your ruffle fabric or your slip fabric (I used slip). This piece should be 3ish" longer than the distance around the fullest part of your booty. You need this to be longer than your booty distance so that you can get it on your body. If you're using 1" elastic, you want this piece to be a minimum of 3" wide.

I've found that the easiest way to do this is to start out by making the whole skirt as a single, very long strip. So, I take my slip tiers and cut them all out, and sew them into a long strip.

On my specific fabric, I decided that I wanted the pattern on the eyelet to go lengthwise. So, instead of cutting the fabric across the grain (short side, selvedge to selvedge) like I normally would, I cut down the 4 yard length of the fabric. This meant a lot less seaming. Since I didn't really know how much fabric I was going to use (you know that test I described to check how much fabric you're going to use? Yeah, guess who didn't do that), I just cut them one 4-yard strip at a time. I'd ruffle one all the way, stop, and cut the next one. This did actually save me quite a bit of fabric versus cutting them all at once. I had to go back and sew the sides of the ruffle together once the skirt was done. It was a small price to pay for the convenience I experienced.

I knew what size I wanted the finished ruffle length to be, but I cut my ruffles about 2.5" longer than that. I wanted a little bit of wiggle room once the skirt was done, so that I could do the length adjustment once the whole skirt was assembled.

And then, it's just a matter of letting the ruffler do its work. My serger ruffler works by you putting the item to-be-ruffled on the bottom, and the item to attach the ruffle to on the top, and then just hitting go. Some other rufflers work by putting the to-be-ruffled at the top, so you can see it as you go. Like all sewing machine attachments, if you're not sure, just go on youtube and search "HOW SINGER GATHERING FOOT DO THING NOT LOOK LIKE SHIT?" and someone's probably made a video of it.

So, once you've run all your ruffle through your machine, you should have a nice single strip of slip fabric with a ruffle on top of it. Now, some gathering attachments don't actually sew super strong seams, because you have to adjust tension or stitch length pretty severely to get it to ruffle like you want. The other advantage of putting the ruffles in a seam instead of just topstitching them onto a piece of fabric is that it doesn't matter how strong your ruffle attachment is, as long as it's strong enough to hold until you can put the ruffle in the seam. The seam provides the strength.

Once you have your single long ruffle, cut off a section that's the diameter of your bottom tier.

Now you just need to sew them together (and finish your inside edges). I like to start at the bottom tier and go up.

For each tier, you're sewing the bottom of the slip layer to the top (ruffle and slip) of the tier below. Just pull the ruffle of the higher tier out of the way, put right sides together, and sew.

If you aren't using a serger, you can zigzag over your edges and then trim them down, use an overcasting stitch from your sewing machine, or topstitch some seam binding over the seams. The extra line of stitching on the slip layers in front won't be visible. One of the other nice things about building this in the way we have is that, when you finish the edges of your inside seams, you're putting three layers together and finishing it as one. This is actually a lot less then 1/3 of the work of finishing them separately, because you'd have to finish the ruffle as a flat piece, which would take way more time. Have I convinced you on the greatness of this technique yet?

Continue cutting pieces off your ruffle layer and stacking them until you have as many layers as you decided you were going to have.

Once you have your layers all stacked up on each other, it's time to sew the skirt back seam. I find that it looks best to hold the ruffles out of the way, sew the slip together, and then go back and sew all the ruffle pieces. Basically now is a good time to just check for any ugly spots and to touch them up.

There's like 50 ways to attach a waistband to a skirt. For this one I used this method (what a blast from the 20dollarlolita past we have there. Also please note that the cost of ruffler feet seems to have gone up from $15 to $60-$100 in the past 10 years and despite working in a sewing machine store, I'm not totally sure why).

Once you've got the whole skirt assembled, it's time for the finishing.

The first thing that I did was put it on and try to judge how short I wanted my top ruffle. I'd cut all my ruffles extra long in the short dimension, so that I could shorten them when they were on the skirt. I picked a length that worked, marked it out, and chopped at that point. I then did this for the other two layers. I found that I wanted my bottom ruffle to be a little bit longer than my top ones, and cutting it long allowed me to make that choice.

I then started just zigagging on my lace. If you don't have a serger, you can use the lace as a hem finish, which also saves you an additional step. The lace really added a lot to this, and since I only need to make this once to wear with a lot of different garments, it was an economical use of nice lace.

I started putting the lace on the top layer first. This is because, if I ran out of lace, having a different (wider) lace on the bottom layer wouldn't look strange. As previously mentioned, I did zero measuring of how long my ruffles are, and had no idea if 27 yards would be enough lace. Don't be like me. Do some tests. Or be like me and choose the life of treachery. Anyway, stick lace on this thing, please. You worked hard and your skirts deserve it.

The only other thing that I did was to cut the slip layer down by about 3" on the very bottom. I did this because I made a mistake, but I like how it looks.

You can take this system of ataching ruffles in rectangles or even a trapezoid and stick it in the back of a skirt (or skirt on a dress). I did that here because I knew that I wanted a pink bustle, not a white one.

I'll do a tutorial for the actual skirt resizing sometime after I actually resize a skirt with this. Here, all I did was slice the back, hem those edges, and then button on some waist ties from another dress. This let me easily add several inches to the back of this skirt, without needing to re-distribute pleats, and without sacrificing the fullness of the shape.

This will all sit a little bit better once I've pressed the skirt, as well. Steaming the top layer of this while the garment is on me/a dress form/a hanger will decrease the poof in the top layer a little bit, and honestly, we could benefit from that in this case.

Anyway, if you have this, you have a very fast way to enlarge existing garments.

So, while this has thankfully very much decreased in the past years, there's still some people with weird opinions on MoDiFyInG bUrAnDo, so let's have a talk. Lolita clothing is not community owned. If someone who was never going to sell a dress to you modifies it, that doesn't take it away from you. This is a mentality that we tend to have in lolita more than other fashion just because of our high resell scene, but it wasn't ever going to be your dress and so you don't need to have an opinion about what happens to a thing you were never going to personally own. Things have value more than money, and value is often changed rather than destroyed. AP's Halloween Treats OP has no value to me when sold for $500 on Lacemarket. I don't spend that much money on lolita, ever. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP that I can un-alter has value to me if the price is good. But a questionably-altered AP's Halloween Treats OP has very little value to someone who likes the price, but can't undo the alterations. When someone resizes a dress or skirt, true, sometimes the people who are the size it was originally made can't wear it anymore. You've decreased the value to them, but you've made it more valuable to people who are the size that you've made the garment become. This skirt had no value to me when it's waist measure is 7.5" too small, but now I can wear it, so it has functional value to me. A lot of people who say that modifying the dress ruins it are either ignoring that also the stress of putting a dress not sized large enough for your body can damage it and not look as great while doing so, or else they have a much worse take. People who say that modifying clothes ruins the garment, but also say that wearing a garment that's too small ruins the garment, what they're actually saying is that wearing that garment is a privilege that should not be extended to larger sized people, and if they say that then they can just, you know, go fuck themselves. We don't need that in the community. Everyone deserves to wear lolita, and some people have to work harder to achieve it, and that's not fair, but everyone deserves it.

So yeah, kiddos! Build a skirt! Go cut up some clothes! Wear the skirts you've always wanted to wear! You can do anything!

And to answer the question we opened this with, yes, I was absolutely falling over.

[zonedelicious]

In the X-Men fandom this scene is constantly brought up to call the character Noriko racist, call the entire book racist, and even call the fans and writers racist. And as a Muslim fan of Academy X I am very confused at this harsh reaction because to me it is obvious the story is siding with Sooraya.

For starters X-Men can be very VERY racist and islamophobic. I've recently been reading Claremont's New Mutants and it's painful how racist that book is to Arabs. I wanted to stop reading because of the racism.

But I do not get this reaction from Academy X, which is my favourite X-Men book.

I think a lot of people don't know what kind of book Academy X is. Academy X is a book about delinquents. The main characters are a bunch of asshole kids. The appeal to me is seeing these shitty kids grow and become better people. Yes they make mistakes that's the point. They're stupid kids.

Noriko is one of these kids. She was homeless at a young age because of the poor relationship with her family and because of this she's afraid of ever showing any vulnerability. Choosing to rather lash out at others. It's a realistic coping mechanism.

The scene with Sooraya shows this as Noriko is projecting her own trauma onto a poor girl who only wanted to be nice to her. Yes it's shitty but that's the point. We're seeing how their personalities and viewpoints clash, and how Sooraya is challenging Noriko's beliefs.

I do not see how anyone can read this as the book being racist when the scene even shows Sooraya sad. Something like this never happens when an X-Men book is actually islamophobic. Yet people never react as harshly to actually racist X-Men books as they do to this.

It's actually very similar to a scene at the start of Ms Marvel, where Zoe is racist to Nakia. We can clearly see both scenes are suppose to make you feel uncomfortable and make you side with the Muslim girl. And both Zoe and Noriko are humanized despite being bullies.

We even get a conclusion. Some say this isn't enough, but remember that Noriko refuses to show emotions, so the fact she's willing to go against her instincts here is interesting. It's more interesting to me than simply having a generic anti racism speech.

Again Sooraya is entirely humanized here. The comic is understanding of her struggle. I do disagree with the way she's drawn at times, but the writing makes her a character I could relate to. And reading this conclusion only makes me more interested in both characters.

Sadly neither character ever got a proper character arc after the comic ended. But to me that just makes me wish there were more comics of this group where we do see Sooraya and Noriko become close friends like Nakia and Zoe. It makes me think of writing my own story with them.

I love this book and what it means for Sooraya. I love seeing Sooraya's relationship with the Hellions, Jay and Laura. This is still her definitive comic, so why are we dismissing it entirely because of one scene that exists to make us relate to her?

It's very strange that this one scene, that to me is well made and relatable, is being used as a way to hate the characters, the comic, and everyone who likes it. Most hate isn't even coming from Muslims so is it just performative outrage and misunderstanding?

Or maybe this scene hits at home for some people? With the conversation being very realistic and grounded, people may see themselves in Noriko. Maybe they had a similar reaction towards a Muslim girl and are remembering it.

Noriko's stance isn't even that different from ex Muslim feminists who say similar things. The issue is how she is projecting onto Sooraya. And maybe that's what makes people uncomfortable. The complexity this conversation has in the real world.

Whatever it may be, Noriko still clearly grows after this arc. We do see her become a great leader who stands up for her friends. And even if she has issues to deal with, she was slowly becoming a better person.

In conclusion I love this book because it's relatable in how it portrays its characters. I like Sooraya being a Muslim character who's also a protagonist and a big part of the story. I hope more people give this book a chance and see the charm of it that I see.

Anyway time to go listen to anime music and imagine my OCs hanging out with the Academy X kids (need to draw that one day).