#anyways stream deep faker and blink gone

[ivanttakethis]

Same color scheme, same lighting, same tears/sweat, same club vibe…

Close enough, welcome back Deep Faker (偽顏) music video 💕

[ravenstyx]

Heartbreak Grows in the Garden Chapter 2: Between a crucifix and the Hollywood sign, we decided to get hurt. Now there’s a few things we have to burn. Set our hearts ablaze

Rated: MA for Sex. Drugs. Alcohol. Violence.

Summary: She’s a stunner and a taker, she’s amused; she’s a faker and you like it that way. (This is the story of all the hearts Cana has left in pieces. Multiple parings. Modern AU)

Also found HERE

Her name sounded like a waterfall and her hair was first bleached and then dyed to resemble one, too. The colour wasn’t complete, white mixed in with the ocean blue; water tumbled over rocks the way the tresses of her hair cascaded over her shoulders.

She’d met Juvia at the bar downstairs two nights before and all of the things Cana knew about her could be counted on one hand. 1) Juvia wore a cross and not just for pleasure or style. She believed. Honest to goodness. 2) She also claimed she hated it but couldn’t take it off. 3) Juvia loved a boy and lost that love because she loved too much. 4) Juvia had never just laid out on some shitty bed in some shitty motel room with two others, drunk as fuck while a party they were supposed to be attending raged in the room next door. Tonight she did. Tonight, she kissed a man that had, at one point, been only her best friend. Now, his cock was out and between her breasts and Cana knew she was using it as a perverse source of comfort. That was fine. If she needed a dick on her while Cana worked between her legs, then that’s what the lady would get.

Nails painted black dug into Cana's leather gloves, legs sheathed in fishnet stockings wrapped around her shoulders. The man got off Juvia’s chest and got behind Cana. She watched Juvia’s face to see if she was jealous. No. Not then. Maybe never, not for this. Juvia didn’t love this man. He spread Cana wide and inched in and he wasn’t as thick as Elfman or as attentive, really. Now that Cana had an impartial lover, she clearly saw the difference and was so, so glad for it. Elfman was long gone and here was something she didn't know. Someone she didn't care about and they didn't care about her.

He went in deep and bottomed out and it hurt more than it felt good but Cana moaned anyway, just to hear something other than her thoughts. Juvia moaned, too, and switched from holding Cana’s hands to her hair and shoved her face in closer between her legs. Cana focused more on this girl, this girl that had stumbled out of her church glassy eyed three days before Cana ever met her, this girl that used to wear dresses buttoned to her throat but now settled for things she spilled out of, this girl that used to have hair the colour of gingersnaps to go with her eyes as blue as the ocean, this girl that still had a cute spattering of freckles that covered her cheeks and her nose, this girl that had never fucked a woman but told Cana upfront that that’s exactly what she wanted.

Juvia was a special girl.

She twitched against Cana’s tongue and then she was coming and the man behind Cana was fucking her harder and Cana couldn’t feel a goddamn thing. Not pain anymore, not pleasure. All she could think was Juvia is a special girl. Juvia is a special girl.

She was a special girl. Not a nobody. A real girl.

Juvia pushed Cana away so Cana never had to run. “Fuck me, Gajeel.” That was his name. Gajeel. Days ago, he’d been the shadow to Juvia’s sun, but now she slummed in the dark with him and Cana could relate. He pulled out of Cana and Cana moved back completely, giving him space. She went for her water bottle on the counter and was glad for the way vodka burned her throat almost raw. She drank again and again to the sounds of Juvia’s high-pitched moans.

It was there, with her water bottle against her lips, that she heard a very loud and very distinct sound from the room next door. Voices, commanding entry.

She pursed her lips and capped the vodka. Gajeel still pounded into Juvia and didn’t show any signs of slowing. Cana adjusted the skater dress she wore and got on her combats. Her leather jacket came next. She looked toward the door and thought no, thanks, when feet pounded up the stairs. The balcony it was, then.

She had her keys out and the balcony door open when they started hammering on the front door. Gajeel stopped mid-thrust to look over his shoulder and Juvia was still oblivious.

"Open up!"

“Is that the fucking cops?”

“You got it, hoss.” Cana shouldn’t have taken the time to confirm his question; the seconds she wasted meant that their door was burst open. Men in black police uniforms and helmets rushed in. They weren’t just regular cops; they were part of a raid unit. Two of them backed out with a battering ram and more filled their space, guns drawn.

“What the fuck?” Gajeel wondered but Cana already knew.

“Drugs are next door, boys. You got the wrong room.”

Cana’s blasé attitude was wasted on them. "Put your hands on top of your head and get on the floor.” They sounded serious.

Cana tried again. "Did you not hear me? We got nothing in here."

"On the ground, hands on your head!" 

Gajeel complied, though his dick was out, Juvia, too. Cana inched toward the bannister and two guns pointed her way. “Seriously. We’re not selling anything. We’re not even using. We’re just drinking and having a good time,” she said defensively. 

The team lead nodded at one of his officers and they detached. Cana saw his intention immediately and scurried for the railing. She wasn’t nearly fast enough, too uncoordinated, maybe, or maybe she wanted to get arrested.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had her cheek pressed into the ground, not even by a cop. She went with resignation after that.

The cell reserved for intoxicated persons in Magnolia's only jail was small and dingy and reeked not only of freshly poured concrete but chemicals, too, used to cover up the scent of piss and vomit. 

Juvia sat on the bench across from Cana, staring up at the ceiling, palms skyward, tears streaming down her face. Cana watched with detachment that bordered anger. "Why are you crying?"

Juvia blinked. "We're in jail." Obviously, her tone said.

"We're in the drunk tank," Cana snapped. 

"And our girl Cana here knows there's a difference."

Cana kept her eyes trained on Juvia while Juvia eyed the officer with eyes as wide as medallions. Oh, yes, Juvia was a good girl. Cana didn't know what to feel looking at her now. She'd known that the fishnets and the nail polish and the blue lipstick and hair dye had been a front but here was proof in living colour. Juvia was just a girl in Cana's fucked up ride.

"I'm not drunk anymore," Cana said to the wall. She could tell he was trying to catch her eye but she refused to look his way. Would not, not for anything. 

"Cana..."

"You didn't find any dope on us, did you?"

"Your friend had some."

"He wasn't my friend, just some dick I found." Literally. Juvia winced. Cana kept going. "Neither of us even knew he had it and we're sober now."

"I can't let you drive like this."

"I'll take a cab," she responded. "And get my bike tomorrow." No more cruiser rides. If she showed up at Fairy Hills in another she'd lose her spot.

The silence was long and tense. Almost familiar, though, for Cana, who had what felt like a lifetime of experience with long, drawn out silences. "I'll call you a cab," he said eventually. "Wait here." His boots sounded over the concrete floor and a door at the end of the hall banged open and closed.

Juvia asked, "Do you know him?”

“Well enough.”

“Because this happens to you a lot?"

Cana responded with the silent treatment. Juvia's tears came with more frequency. She had the decency to cry silently for ten whole minutes until the cop returned with his keys freed from his belt. He opened the door and said, "Cab's out front.”

Cana got to her feet and didn't wobble despite still being in the thick of a drunk. She was a professional. Magnolia's jail was familiar enough that she navigated all on her own and her favourite police officer didn't try to lead her out.

"Stay out of trouble, ladies," he said at her back and Cana gave him the finger. He sighed, she sighed, and Juvia sniffled.

The yellow cab sat beneath the streetlight. Rain misted through the headlights. Cana grabbed for the front door, Juvia for the back but Cana held her door closed, preventing her from getting in.

"What are you doing?" Juvia looked so, so ingénue. 

Cana looked at her long and hard. "Get a different cab."

"What?"

"Go home, Juvia. Without me. Go to confession, tell your man you're sorry for being so pathetic and start over again; better this time." She could do it, Cana knew she could. 

“Cana—”

“I’m serious and not at all sorry.”

"But—"

"This isn't what you're looking for."

"Cana—"

Cana pulled open the door and got in.

"Cana! Please—"

Cana slammed the door in her face and addressed the cabdriver—a middle aged man with more grey than brown in his hair. "Coffin Ridge."

The cabby said, "He said you'd try to get back to that dump bar. I was paid to take you home, missy."

Cana didn't know what was worse, being so predictable or having him take care of her like an invalid. She fished through her wallet for a hundred-dollar bill. It was going to go toward a new exhaust but she figured this was more important. "Coffin Ridge."

The cabby took the tip like she thought and after getting dropped off, Cana drove her bike home just to spite him.