#but usually i hit the brakes on it for no good reason other than that i think other people would find it annoying

[totentnz]

listen not to wank myself off but making v and johnny alike on so many levels was perhaps the best thing i have ever done for her. they mirror each other and understand each other but that mirror? also shows the ugliness!! "i would have done the same but i realise now that's fucked up" to actually see someone behave and think just like you?? but somewhat detached and from another perspective? be able to reflect? im about to combust

[faggotisaacfloofs]

the person who helped today when I fell out of my wheelchair actually did a really great job, so I want to share in case other people wonder what to do. [Note: this is not universal, this is merely a suggestion from one person, every wheelchair user's needs are different! I am a person who uses a manual chair usually pushed by someone else who is also disabled.]

Scenario: you see someone in a wheelchair fall out of their chair, and you have the ability to help.

1. Approach and ask "are you okay?"*

2. Next question if they say no, are vague, or open to continuing conversation** is, "is there anything I can do to help?" Or "what can I do?"

If they say no to help, then that's the end, just leave and go do whatever you were doing!

If they ask for help or say they are mildly injured, ask "what would you like me to do?" And wait for an answer before doing anything! If they seem dazed or confused, they might have hit their head or had another medical event*, or they might just be like that due to regular disability. Be patient.

Do not touch the person unless they say to, or they are like, unconcious in the middle of the road, ya know?? Wheelchair users usually have conditions that mean being handled improperly can severely injure us, you could cause much more damage than the fall.

Some things they might need you to do:

Bring their wheelchair closer (mine went about 5 feet away after it dumped me)

engage the brakes of the wheelchair

hold wheelchair steady if it's an unsteady surface (mud, hill, ramp, wet, etc)

offer an arm for them to hold onto to get up (them grabbing you, not you grabbing them) or move another solid item closer for them to use (i.e. a chair) [only do this if you physically have the ability to!]

If the terrain is rough (i.e. a parking lot), they *might* ask you to push their chair to a more stable area once they are back in their chair

nothing

Something else

Do what they ask, NOT what you think would be helpful. If for some reason you have to do something (i.e. you can't stop oncoming traffic and need to get them out) ASAP, tell them what you plan to do

Keep in mind they might also be D/deaf, have a communication disability, be stunned after the fall, have a head injury, not trust other people, etc. Be patient and treat them as a person with autonomy and agency! They might need to just sit on the ground for a few minutes to recover before trying to get back in their chair. They might want everyone to leave them alone. They might ask you to call someone specific. Their chair might have broken and that can be extremely distressing. All of this is like if your legs spontaneously stop working when you're out and about!

A lot of wheelchair users (NOT ALL) have ways to get into their chair on their own once the chair is close enough and brakes engaged (but it's hard from the ground!). Here's what brakes look like on a lot of manual wheelchairs, in case they ask you to lock the brakes. They're levers on each side and pushing the lever pushes a bar against the wheel to hold it still.

ID: A manual wheelchair with the brake levels circled in red and labeled "user brake levers"

*There is also the possibility of course that a person fell out of their chair due to a seizure or other medical event, so that is why it is important to ask if they are okay. If you saw them hit their head, tell them so. If they had a medical event, follow protocol for that, I'm not gonna get into it here (thought I could).

**sometimes a person will be clear after the first question i.e. "I'm all good thanks" clearly means they do not need you to ask another question, you can just leave them alone. Keep walking and don't stare. A lot of the time people will be a bit banged up but be totally fine and able to manage on their own.

TLDR: Ask the wheelchair user if they're okay, then what they need, and then do exactly that, including leaving them alone. Thanks!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: A Shoulder to Cry On

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn’t end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You admire the sparkly blue polish as streetlights flicker in passing. Lloyd's care is warm, almost too warm as he blasts the heat, and you're exhausted from the impromptu, somewhat coerced, self-care session. Your social battery is flagging, meanwhile Lloyd seems to never tire. 

You yawn up at the night sky. You can smell the spa on you. Jasmine clings to your skin. You run the filed edges of your nails up your pantleg. 

"Next time you should try tips," he says. "Most girls like them." 

"You must know a lot more girls than me," you say. 

"Huh, no, that's not-- no, I mean, girls... I get around but, ya know... down season." 

You could laugh at the unexpected reaction to your innocent statement. You've never really seen him flustered. And why should he be? Your friends. You wouldn't judge him. 

"I wasn't meaning anything," you assure softly. "Really. Guess I just never noticed my nails very much." 

"They look nice. It's a nice colour," he insists. "Damn, maybe I should gone wild. Clear coat? What was I thinking? Pink is my colour." 

You laugh and lean heavier into the seat. You don't know why you feel so meh. So drained. Maybe all the aromas got to you. 

"Everything okay, tootsie?" 

"Yeah, I'm...good," you answer as you watch through the windshield. There's still that nipping doubt. Nice car, nice shoes, nice hair... then there's you. Thrifted and repurposed and worn out. 

"Don't worry. I'll get you home and cozy. Want me to come up? Make you a hot chocolate?" 

"Please, Lolly, you've done enough," you say. 

"Ha, usually people tell me that in a much different tone," he muses as you recognise the street signs. You're close. 

"Like cashiers?" You wonder. 

"I told you, it was a bad day," he sniffs. 

"Mhmm." 

You glance towards you block. Strange. The dark blue sky seems to turn amber in that direction. As he steers down a side street, the smell of smoke overwhelms the lingering jasmine in your nose.  

You sit up as he turns the corner. No. Not that's not possible. Your mouth falls open as a blaze licks up the side of your building. You feel a similar heat creeping under your skin. 

"What-- oh my god!" You point ahead as Lloyd slows. He leans forward to see better and hits the brakes completely. He blinks up at the flames and you face them in speechless awe. Your apartment. Shoot! 

Without a thought, you hit the button on your seat belt. You flip back the lock and push the door open as Lloyd calls your name. You barrel through the snow, pumping your legs against the thick powder. How can the fire be that bad? There's snow all around. 

As you cut across the neighbouring lawn, a man in a neon suit turns and catches you. He stops you from getting any closer to your building. The firetrucks flash red light across the ivory carpet of snow. 

You hear snow crunching and Lloyd grumbling. You fight the large man in his equipment. He grunts as you writhe and reach past him. You need to get inside! 

"Hey, tootsie, you can't go in," Lloyd catches your arm from behind. "Are you mad?" 

"I have to! I have to!" Your eyes well at the thought. The fire is so high. It could already be too late. 

"Come on," he tugs on you as the fire fighter continues to block you. "Let them do their job." 

"You don't understand!" You shriek as he grabs your other arm and pulls you away from the man. "You don't-- you don't--" 

You thrash helplessly as he hooks his arms around yours, trapping you in a hug as he holds you against him. You kick your legs desperately.  

"Tootsie, nothing in their is worth your life." 

There's a sudden crack and more flames spurt out from the brick. The other residents gasp as they stand watching, just as helpless as you. Some have their pets, other have snagged a few possessions, but you got nothing. No, you lost all you had left. 

As the top of the building folds in, you wail and your legs give out. No. No. It's happening again. You're losing him. Your father! 

Your eyes spill over and you bend over Lloyd's arms to catch your tears. You sob helplessly as your life crackles in the air, ashes floating down into the snow. 

Your father's urn sits next to your bed, kept safe in your nightstand. And there's a picture of him with it. The only picture you have of him. He always hated cameras. No, not anymore. It's gone. It's gone. 

Your father's dying in front of you all over again. 

“Tootsie roll, it’s... it’s things. Okay. You’re alive. Could you imagine?” Lloyd angles you around, shifting an arm onto your shoulders as he brings his other hand to cradle your face. “If I hadn’t come, you could’ve been trapped inside.” 

You bat through the wall of tears and look at him with an ugly snivel, “it’s gone. All gone.” 

“Honey, please,” he pets your cheek. “I’m just happy you’re safe.” 

“No, no, no,” you babble dumbly and cover your face again. 

He slides his hand around your head and stands straight. He draws you into a hug and holds you to him. The smell of smoke threatens to choke you. Your head pounds as the world falls apart around you. 

You’re just happy you’re not alone. 

“It’s all gonna be fine. You can come crash at my place. Hm? How about it? Like a sleepover, huh?” He rocks you as he coos, “don’t worry, tootsie roll, I’m gonna take care of you.” 

You can barely understand what he’s saying. You can only cry as grief floods over at last. You thought those days of endless tears were gone. No, you’ve just been keeping your head above the water. Now you’re drowning in it. 

[charles-leclerc-official]

Do you think it is usually a pattern for Charles' performance level to increase as the season goes on?

From: https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2023/jul/08/formula-one-charles-leclerc-interview-ferrari-british-grand-prix

“My mentality has always been to push at the maximum and not leave anything on the table,” he says.

“When you have a trickier car to drive, as is the case for the first part of this season, mistakes happen. I know this. Whenever there is something missing I am trying to find something that is not there, I will always try to push the limit.”

I think this also checks with the whole "Carlos is outperforming Charles" narrative, it will probably only last for a few races in the beginning since Charles seems to... I don't know how to word it so please correct me, but he really digs (?) into the car at the beginning, trying to find its limits, might make an error- The point is, he seems more comfortable taking risks when dealing with a new car. Once he finds his footing and is fully comfortable with the car though, he will probably outperform Carlos.

I wasn't here in the first part of the 2023 season and I don't know much about his performances in past seasons, so please correct me if I'm wrong <3

So the general rule is that over the course of a season any driver is expected to get better in their car. This is for two reasons 1. they have more practice getting to know the car and optimal settings and 2. upgrades do improve the car so the maximum possible at the beginning of the season is very different than the maximum at the end. So to answer the first part of your question yes, but not just for Charles for every driver(at least that's what we hope to see for them)

Now the issue that can come up sometimes in Ferrari's case is that there have been times when the car wasn't developed in the right direction, or at least developed without taking Charles' driving style into account, this would result in worse results as a season progresses. Like in 2023 we saw Charles make massive improvements in results once they upgrades the floor and got the car into a manageable window for him.

2023 the car was so finicky at the beginning of the season they had to use more understeer to compensate(Really not good to have to do that to manage an issue with the car) obviously this affect Charles more than Carlos at the beginning of the season.

The reason we see this kind of inverse relationship between Charles' and Carlos'. They have opposite driving styles. Charles prefers pretty severe oversteer, and Carlos prefers understeer. This is why when we see the car do well for one it might not be great for the other. I think this difference was an issue for Ferrari under Binotto because they tried (and failed) to make a car that both could do well in, but with such different driving styles that was going to be impossible.

A reason you would see a driver do worse over a season is likely that the team did not develop upgrades in the right direction. There are other reasons but if there is a decline that is consistent and out of place compared to what they have been doing then that is a likely cause.

Right now I think that we've seen Carlos get more out of the SF-24 (during some qualifying and races) is because with the current base he is harder on tyres overall so he has been in a better window with his driving style as far as the tyre heating than Charles. Ferrari are going to sacrifice tyre deg for speed in coming upgrades so we would expect to see Charles start performing better and Carlos to maybe lose a little as far as tyres go.

I fully believe that Charles has been pushing, trying to get the max doesn't always mean you hit it perfectly. He absolutely got everything from that car in Suzuka, and also Bahrain(insane to pull of P4 with the brakes in the condition that they were) Also in China he was fighting for those positions(I will explain why we didn't see better placement in my analysis)

Hopefully that answers your question!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #128

So… I have good news and bad news!

I will start with the good news! J and I are not dead! We're not even slightly injured! Yay!

The bad news is that the plane is pretty ah… pretty banged up. It's not totaled or anything; it's definitely repairable and J has insurance for it, so it's really not the end of the world. I can't show you any pictures yet, because J asked me not to (something about legality and insurance???), but I have them. Maybe I'll post them up tomorrow.

As for what happened... to my inexperienced eyes, it looked like J was going in for a landing. We've done this like a million times before; it was going as per usual. Until it wasn't. For reasons I don't understand, the plane started veering to the left and leaving the runway, and J couldn't get it to stop doing that, also for reasons I don't understand.

A bunch of rapid-fire decisions were made in order to avoid colliding into buildings or into other vehicles. He tried to get the plane to go back into the sky, but it wouldn't go up; it remained on the ground. So then he aimed it towards open spaces. When it still wouldn't stop, he aimed for the treeline.

Fortunately, by the time we reached the trees, the plane had slowed down a decent amount, and the trees were young and still relatively bendy and forgiving. J also thought to get a special harness for the seatbelt to go over our shoulder and chest beforehand, and it was a really good call for him to have made; planes come equipped only with little lap belts, and if we had just stuck with that instead of getting the harness, we might have ended up being thrown forward and mashing our heads on the controls.

In the end, for us, it just felt like if you're in a car and you slam on the brakes suddenly. We were rocked and shaken, but not in any way injured. Because J saw to our safety ahead of time and was able to make good decisions even when the shit hit the fan, we lived. Stuff like this isn't normally something people get to walk away from unscathed.

It was an amazing combination of luck, prior planning, and skill on J's part that allowed us to remain unharmed. My faith in J and his ability to pilot a plane has not wavered. In fact, if anything, I trust him even more than I did before; now I am certain that if something unexpected happens, he can STILL keep us safe, because I just got done watching him do it, and the way he handled it was AMAZING. I couldn't be more proud of him!

A short while later, a bunch of police folks and some firefighters showed up, as well as some staff from the airport to make sure we were okay. It was a lot of people in our vicinity generally, and it was a lot to deal with, but I dealt with it on my own until J was able to emotionally recover enough deal with it; understandably, he was shaken far worse than I was. But we got it sorted out. Answered some questions. J filled out some insurance form. People gave us lots of kindness and reassurance along the way. The manager of the airport drove us to a nearby hotel. All things considered, everything is fine.

Of course, we're still very shaken. Both of us had a fuckton of adrenaline surge through our bodies. My hands are still shaking and my chest is tight and trembling as I write this. But we're okay, so don't worry. It's just adrenaline, and adrenaline can't hurt us by itself.

So... we're not home yet. We're at some other place because we thought it prudent to stop the plane to get gas. We're about 2 hours away from home by car. And what's more, we have to stay overnight here in order to deal with insurance stuff in the morning. Then I suppose we'll ask M or Br or both to come fetch us from here.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but whatever it is, I'm sure we'll figure it out. Even for big scary stuff like this, the solution, ultimately, is to just take things one step at a time.

On the bright side, I was able to snag you a bunch of really great pictures today! I love taking pictures of beautiful things for you, and I love showing you my world! Here, please enjoy these extra, because they were hard-won, and also because if things had turned out differently than they did, I might never have gotten a chance to share these with you, and that would have been sad, because I DID A GOOD JOB WITH THESE:

...I love my planet. I hope that if I show you enough pictures of it, maybe you could like it, too. I certainly love yours. And I love you, too, just in case you forgot. But I hope you don't forget, because part of the whole reason I write these letters is so that you can remember that you are loved by someone, somewhere, not for what you look like or for what you can do, but for who you are as a human being.

Oh, oh, oh!! And!! Today!! In the hangar before we left! J and the flight instructor practiced landing and flying and taking off for 2 or 3 hours before we headed home. So I chilled in the hangar with music by myself, and these two old men came in, and one of them spoke to me for some reason, which wasn't bad. But! I had my earphones in, so I had to ask him to pardon me and repeat himself.

Well, he was all like, "Yeah, get those things out of your ears!" in the same way that cranky old men generally like to do when people younger than them use technology. And you know? The version of me who existed prior to the letters I wrote to myself probably would have cowered and said, "I'm sorry sir."

BUT THAT'S NOT WHAT I DID TODAY!!! 🤩🤩🤩

Instead, I looked at him square in the face and said, "Excuse me, but I'm an adult human woman and you don't get to tell me what to do. Would you like to try again?" And!! Oh!! Sephiroth!!! I think he expected me to be all meek and submissive, because the shocked "Oh fuck!" look on his face was ABSOLUTELY!! PRICELESS!! And he spluttered for a bit before finally introducing himself properly! I was really glad that he tried again. But I think he was a bit too embarrassed about how rude he was before to interact with me much further than that; I'm not too sad about that, though.

...I wonder if you'd be proud of me. I mean... if you could read any of this, and if you've been able to read any of the stuff I've written so far. I wonder if you could see how much I've been learning and growing and trying to get out from under the oppressive thumb of the memories I carry. I wonder if you'd be proud. And I wonder if you'd use my growth as inspiration for your own.

I'm pretty tired, so I think I'm going to stop writing now.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[fireflykaizoku]

Law x Reader | When You Remember Me | Chapter 6

i think we don't have many chapters left, but i may be wrong

It has been a week since you got that message from Kid, and you didn’t think much of it, neither engaged into any conversation. He was in the past after all, and there was no reason to talk to him. And you thought that Law was fine with it too, since neither of you spoke about it anymore.

That evening, It felt like a lifetime until Law finally came back home from the hospital, only to see you already dressed, holding your car keys while sitting on the couch, just waiting for him to come back and try to convince him for the nth time that day.

However, your excitement was cut short when you noticed his expression. The doctor seemed a bit tense, worried even. Maybe you were able to read his expression in the past before the accident, but now it was hard to know if he was upset.

But you could tell he wasn’t his usual self for the past few days, and it was hard to understand why. Sometimes, you assumed it was from the busy routine, but something didn’t feel right.

— Hi! — you smiled, pausing your movie to look at the man. — How was your day?

— It was… — he sighed and took a seat in front of you. — It was alright. What about yours? Any updates?

You thought for a while, trying to read his tone, to understand how Law was actually feeling. Then you suddenly realized what actually happened. You got up, sitting on the floor in front of the dark haired doctor.

— It was fine, no updates, no memories… — you said quickly, ready to start the new subject. — Is this about Kid and his message that day? That’s why you’re upset? — your voice didn’t sound judgmental. Your voice sounded soft.

Before he could answer, his facial expression was more than enough. The way his gray eyes widened and looked away to hide the subtle pink shade on his cheeks, and especially the way he sounded trying to deny it.

— No, don’t be silly… — were the only words that left his mouth for a second, stuttering. — That’s not it.

You let out a soft giggle and rested your hand on Law’s thigh, making the doctor look at you.

— I have no interest in him. I have no interest in the past… — you whispered, before correcting yourself. — I mean, I do have interest in the past, but only to recover the memories that I made… And the ones I made with you. There’s nothing to worry about. I remember my relationship with him well enough to understand why he’s in the past, and by now I know you well enough to know why you’re my present. 

You got up and placed a kiss on his head. Law couldn’t lie, the way your voice sounded so sincere, so genuine, made his heart stop. It felt like a cold wave ran through his spine and he could feel the butterflies all over again.

The doctor felt silly for having such thoughts during the day, but now, he could only feel relief.

— Come on, let me take you for a ride! — you smiled, batting your eyelashes trying to convince Law to finally let you drive. — What do you say?

The man shook his head, softly smiling.

— I guess you didn’t forget how to convince me to do something you wanted. — he got up, following you towards the door.

— Maybe I unconsciously remembered that. — you laughed.

It was past the rush hour, so the streets were very quiet. Also, Law drove to a calm neighborhood to make sure you wouldn’t hit anything… Or anyone. You both switched seats, and you placed your hand on the steering wheel, while Law kept a tight grip on the hand brake, just in case.

You felt good enough to do this, and Law could tell you were ready. But what if he was wrong? A cold shiver ran through the man, and for a moment, he wanted to give up and let you try some other day. But you were so happy, so truly happy to do this.

— Okay, let’s go… — you said, more to yourself than to him, trying to prepare yourself. — Okay… I got this. I got this.

As your feet slowly let go of the clutch and the car started moving, you couldn’t help feeling thrilled and excited. You kept driving at 10km, but it gave you a sense of freedom, of being able to do things that seemed basic to others, but it meant so much to you. You felt like being even a bit independent.

— Law, I’m driving! — you exclaimed. — See? I still remember! I remember!

The doctor smiled seeing you do everything so automatically, like changing the gears so easily and not forgetting about the turn signals.

— I see, I’m proud of you. — he said without even thinking. The dark haired man wasn’t one to scream to the world about his feelings, but once in a while, he allowed himself to let you know that he loved you and how proud he was of you and your achievements. — You’re doing great, love.

You felt your cheeks getting warmer at his compliments and at the nickname, but you couldn’t be distracted right now. So you smiled, giggling inside, not only because of driving after a long time, but because of Law’s words.

Every praise, every compliment and every gesture from Law made you feel butterflies. And this was a sensation you remembered very well how good it was.

When you went back home, you had this great sense of accomplishment, and it felt like you took a huge step. It was only the beginning, though.

During that week, it became a routine: when Law was home, he took you to a quiet place so you could drive, and whenever you could, you tried to cook. Sometimes he even kept you company in the kitchen and helped whenever he had the chance. When you drove, usually both of you picked songs from previous road trips or from your shared playlist, in hopes that it’d help with the recovering process, as if it’d trigger your brain to “find the memories”.

Honestly? You didn’t see much improvement, but you were fine with it at this point. You started to see it as an opportunity to start over with Law. To recreate new memories and to be able to find a way to fall in love with him.

[pickleandthequeen]

Training #3

“Based on my experience on the beach the day before, I form a new plan.”

On the beach, Marimo was unsettled. The bay stallion tossed his mane, some more rebellious ropes of hair fighting free of his red ribbon with the help of the wind. His nostrils flared and he whinnied, and Evvy shuddered. She still hadn’t managed to get used to the unsettling sounds of the Cappail Uisce. Like a regular horse, but off, unfamiliar. The cappal looked to the ocean, his head held high, tail flagging behind him. Evvy kept an eye on his feet, the other on his face.

“Four on the floor,” she murmured. An ear flicked at her voice, and he shifted, but did not move. She wiggled her rope, and Marimo arched his neck, gnawing the air with his tigerlike teeth before letting out a great sigh and shook himself.

He looked at her and licked his lips and put his head down. Pop pop. She dug a slice of beef from the plastic pail on her hip, and handed it to him at the end of the tongs. He snapped it up with less politeness than she typically expected of him, and she gave him a dirty look.

Intentionally, she came to the beach early, the tide was still high, and there were fewer riders and fewer Cappail. They were the first on the sands this morning, the others waiting for the tide to ease out and expose more sand. This was a good test. Could the work she’d done, teaching the horse to look to her for a reward, to help him associate her with something good rather than as a potential meal, worked? How would the call of the October ocean affect him?

She slowly let the lead line out, and pointed out around her, asking him to walk around her to the left. He was better starting out tracking left. She usually tried to start him to the right, but she wanted to set him up for as much success as was reasonable.

Marimo picked up a trot and tossed his head again, mouth open and chewing the air, but he stretched his head and neck down and stuck his nose out in front of him as his trotted through the sand. She gave him a moment before asking for more, encouraging him to pick his feet up and track up. He pinned his ears but obliged and after a lap around her, she popped her lips, and wiggled the rope to ask him to halt. He slammed on the brakes and spun in towards her. Evvy didn’t like the look in his eyes, and she squared her shoulders, holding up her stick.

Marimo pinned his ears and screamed his keening, aquatic sound, but came no closer. She waited another moment before popping her lips again and handing over two chicken hearts, one after the other.

The water horse chewed his prize, his expression difficult to read. His ears swiveled in every direction, before he lifted his head, his expression stilling, ears trained on the ocean. Hairs on the back of Evvy’s neck prickled. She wanted to turn. Turn to look at the ocean. But turning would expose her back to the bay stallion. Her heart started to hammer under her ribs. She was certain Marimo could hear it. Her breath hitched. If a horse was coming out of the ocean, she was alone, trapped between predators. Against one, she stood little chance. Against two? She knew all the training in the world would not prevent her cappal’s base instincts from kicking in.

This was stupid, coming alone. She should have brought a lookout.

She stepped forward, towards her not quite half-tamed horse, holding out a hand to his shoulder before she turned to face the sea. Marimo exhaled, his breath smelling of seawater, and he dropped his head, shaking it. Together, they watched the breakers hitting the shore, and Evvy counted two sleek, barely equine heads surging through the surf. Pop pop, and she tossed Marimo a chunk of beef heart. He ignored it for a moment, his lowered head twisting sideways as he chewed the ocean air, his almost feline eyes following the wild Cappail. Then he snorted a wet snort before slowly lipping the bloody piece of beef heart up into his mouth.

She traced circles on his shoulder, comforted at least a little, that his skin felt warm and dry, and he smelled more like the summer sea breezes than the storm thrashed surf.

He hadn’t killed her today, on the beach, but there was tomorrow, and the day after that, and the one after that until November first, and the ocean would grow colder, and the horses more hungry.

@thescorpioracesfestival

[ardent-heretic]

Played a little Final Destination on the way home from trip. Drove home in rain most of the ride. The final 90 miles towards Albany was something else. Heavier rain throughout.

But about 60 miles away the heavens opened and dropped an end of days event on us. Most people were in the right lane slowed down. When the shit got bad I was doing about 67 MPH. Visibility was around 20 feet. And there it was.

A delicate kiss from Mrs. Hydroplane. I don’t flirt with her. I kicked over to right lane dropped speed to about 58.

But those fools who lack experience. For shame.

In a few minute window, those I had passed now passed me. 65-80 MPH I told Wifey they are going to die.

And then came the magic ingredient. A curve to the right while going on an incline. I slowed down a bit more cuz I knew something was going to happen.

As I got to the top of the hill I saw a yellow light off to the side. My guess was front quarter panel of a car in the ditch. I was right.

Instantly hit my hazards to let those who could see behind me heads up.

I drove closer and could make out the car in the ditch.

Then I saw it around the curve. Headlights right in Front of me. I hit brakes reasonably so as not to fish tail. Bounced into left lane. Passed ditch boy. Pass Lexus facing wrong way. I didn’t notice body damage so I think he spun out.

Right pst him is a car on the shoulder. And he was followed by another car on right shoulder.

I hit no debris. Hit no cars.

And gave my Wife a,”Told ya.”

The Lexus passed me going like 80. I figured he would smash but it looks like everyone avoided each other.

But I will tell you

Seeing headlights in your lane as you are coming around a mountain is a good adrenaline rush.

It was raining so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if someone hit him after I came through, swerving.

I’m always worried about hydroplaning in heavy storms because I am usually one of the faster jerks on the track. Plus this SUV is newer for me and she has a higher center of gravity than what I am used to. Haven’t driving too much highway in bad weather with her to test her limits.

Learned a lot today

[avictimofthejazz]

The Complicated Kidnapping--Amy with Face & BA

@iloveitxwhenaplanxcomestogether (Amy)

The entire drive to carry out this asinine plan of Hannibal’s has been punctuated by BA and Face sourly agreeing that Hannibal has finally, well and truly, lost it. The A-Team have enough legal woes lurking around them, without adding blatant kidnapping to the list. Face had hatched a dozen other subtler plans to contact Miss Amy Amanda Allen, but for one reason or another Hannibal vetoed all of them. Face suspects that his boss just wants the most dramatic option available. In the Colonel’s mind, that must mean kidnapping this poor reporter off the streets, and returning her to her father that way. Neither man is entirely comfortable with this plan, but any job done for one of Hannibal’s friends is something that they put a high priority on. Besides, if they have to follow through with this scheme, they both want to get it done with as soon as possible. Tracking down Miss Allen was not difficult—a call to the Courier posing as her brother earns Face information about her location. Grabbing her, though, proves to be a lot harder than either BA or he expected. They thought simply driving up beside her in the alley and yanking her into the van would work… and then she started running. As soon as BA throws the young woman into the van, Face hops in after her, and hastily closed the door. BA jumps back into his seat, and mere seconds later they are careening out of the alley and back onto the main roads. Being thrown headfirst into a van by a man who looks like he should be the lead singer for a punk rock band is hardly enough to stop Miss Allen, however. Sourly, Face wonders if it even phased her as the woman throws herself over his lap to try and yank the sliding door open. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Face goes to push her into the seat usually used by Murdock. “At the speeds BA’s pushing, if you throw yourself out the door, you’ll probably just kill yourself. A dead Miss Allen is not going to do us any good.” Face sighs as his unwilling guest’s only response is to demand where they are taking her. From the driver’s seat, BA grunts. “You ain’t a prisoner so calm down. We’re just takin’ you back to your dad.” Face nods, “And on behalf of my Colonel and your father, I apologize for this ridiculousness. Apparently meeting you at a lunch counter and explaining things to you properly was not dramatic enough for my boss.” Face tosses another one of his sincere smiles at Amy. “This really isn’t the way I like making the acquaintance of beautiful wo—ooof!” Face jerks forward and almost falls out of his seat when BA hits the brakes abruptly. “BA!”

“Sorry,” The muscle man sounds decidedly unremorseful. “Red light.” Despite the plausible explanation from his friend, Face cannot help noticing the pointed glare that BA directs at him via the rear-view mirror. If he tries flirting with their client’s daughter again, BA is going to do decidedly worse than slam on the brakes hard enough to send him flying.

Abashed for a few minutes at least, Face picks himself up and settles back into his seat. “As to where we are taking you, it’s the motel your father is staying at. He only elaborated to Hannibal, but apparently there’s something going on where he does not feel like he can just go walking back into his house and meet you in the usual manner. Hence all the dramatics and secrecy—he says it is to protect you.”

[yoiku]

Just feeling like unpacking and sorting out some thoughts on this wonderfully rainy morning (begone, roadside dust!!)

Now, I've always been the type to post new art the moment it's done. Posting stuff only on Patreon has still proven easier than I expected. Perhaps since i am still posting stuff -somewhere- it doesn't feel as weird, even though I do miss the interaction from posting on socials. But that'll be back once I have a buffer big enough to keep Patreon relevant. It's also getting easier on letting posting on social wait as time goes by, lol. Actually thought that what if I make the publish gap with the comic even bigger, like several months between Patreon/other sites. But aaaah, I really do want to get it out. It might create more of a gap with time anyway. And the best way to get new people interested in my Patreon is to have interesting stuff out there in the wild. And I'll be honest, it feels validating af to see even a few people willing to spend money to access my Patreon.

It's still conflicting sometimes, because I would really want to keep my stuff available to everyone without paywalls. Art in general is meant to be shared and should be accessible to everyone, this is something I feel on a larger scale. Things like commissioned, unique pieces are luxurious though. They are after all often personal as well. Artists don't live on grants and stipends, hell, even those are usually available for artists who have already made a name for themselves on a larger scale/are well connected. Majority I know struggle with part time jobs, unemployment, studying or are disabled, barely scraping by what they can get in terms of welfare etc. I'm no different. I'm on welfare due to health reasons + in debt, so basically I don't have any "extra" money at the end of each month left for nice things™. And if I do, it usually goes to paying a larger portion of debt away. Sometimes I spend and always regret it later, lol. But if you -never- get to treat yourself even a little, life starts to feel quite depressing. I know so many people are in the same kind of position, where it's just not possible to pay for more than 1-2 subscription services monthly, or none. So having my art behind a Patreon paywall of any kind feels bad, knowing I would likely not be able to afford it myself, lol. Will it ever be easy to combine the thought of art + money without having dreadful crapitalism thoughts creep in? Probably not.

I still want to do my best to pick up some commissions as well, I need to create some sort of hidden stash of money now that I have the cat. Because when (inevitably at some point) a trip to the vet happens, that's going to be at least a hundo no matter what. And when the last trip to the vet arrives, that's gonna be closer to 300-400 with all the cheapest options. (hopefully not anytime soon, but something i have to take into account) I am currently working on a painting comm and might have another one coming up as well, which is giving me much joy. Watercolours are a lot of work, but they're less taxing in the sense that there's only so much detail you can do compared to digital, and tradi allows the happy little accidents with the medium. So it's easier to feel like I did my best wihtout having the thought "ah... i should've kept fixing it"(without asking for more money bc I gotta do better ad infinitum) So I'm really happy peeps have shown interest in tradi comms, even though I'm not very well versed in techniques with those. Learning tho!

My head's been in a relatively good place for a good while now, all things considered. But I have to pull the brakes on myself every now and then because I know it only takes one hard hit in the old mental health for all of it going to shit in the blink of an eye. So I'm trying to tread carefully, prep and plan while keeping the bar set low enough.

Mom has moved to hospice care, which also means that getting the phonecall about her passing can also be any day now. I feel like I've made my peace with it, but even if it doesn't initially hit hard, I'm pretty sure it will bring some mental struggle later. And there will be the whole episode of handling her stuff afterwards. Thankfully there won't be any wealth to distribute, so likely all the mandatory/legal expenses will be handled by welfare. How dreadful that even in that, money is the first thing to have to worry about, huh.

At least the sun has returned from the winter jail, bright days lighten the mind.

[the-firebird69]

And yes sir more things happening and it's a funny day for me somebody went by and had fly like a butterfly or float like a butterfly sting like a bee and he's like 300 lb so my husband said felt like an anchor and sting like an anchor and the guy is still laughing

The brakes truck driver's laughing and he said it brings armored car behind him

-there's a few more things going on the bus is late so he's waiting and people get nervous and he does it's been a while and standing up and standing up past few days but there are a number of people who have warrants on them and they just sit there and look at it this is the assholes right there and he has stuff right now they're going through his stuff it's in Florida all of it and they're pulling it out and it's a lot of stuff it's a heinous amount of stuff it's here but they are at it and they were allergic to it last night by their own they said if it hits the fan at all we're doomed so they're going through it and they're disabling it some of the rearing but they said most of it's no good we'd have to look at every single part and it just takes way too much time so they're going to probably melt it all down and start over and it doesn't it's not enough time to do anything with it but that's what they're doing they're taking the teeth out of it here and it's pretty smart couple more items

-the bus is late but okay that's not an item and they are using all sorts of things to distract my husband from basic necessity work it's extremely vulgar very angry and hateful and it is the morlock and they're going to turn it up tonight they said so we need to get in there and we need to turn it up on them and I don't find any reason not to it would curtail their activities rapidly and we need to we need to get a winning truck that makes sense this is going to be very big

-is several other things happening that are unacceptable here they treat him like a popper and very mean and end up seeing ways and deleterious okay it's not helping you don't seem to care and they don't know what he can do it's been going on for years just absolutely negative treatment and they're going to behavior from the top all the way down and it's a worry because they don't have much of it right and they never do and their game is horribly horribly awful and the Mac game is horribly good and we're worried about the transition and we need a lot of help on it from our mothers and fathers who are from foreign descent or who are foreigners and everybody's descended from them and we need it now

We're going to publish and take a break I'll be back you might be an hour because he's going to keep his phone charged in case

Hera

You see his worried and the bus is only like 5 minutes late but usually it's earlier and we know where it is and it should be there on time it doesn't hurt to call we will help and there's a lot of people trying to get it there it's a rough day there's a lot of traffic in town far more than normal is a huge traffic jam this morning to get to the mall and there's a bunch of people bothering him Non-Stop and nobody stops them and it's terrible but they still have the armies and their mysteries okay they these people are losers and we don't want to have him get hurt or worse so we're moving in now

Thor Freya

We have a huge agenda and it's going to start here and we are filling in the blanks for these people they're starting their asinine threats up and we're going to curtail them and tell them to shove it and we're doing it right

Olympus

[shinescape]

note: just to let you know this is inaccurate and that it's for fun (or is it?) also princess is a gender neutral term on this blog but if it bothers you then pretend like you didn't see it. always drive safe everyone!

ATEEZ AS DRIVERS 

Seonghwa - typically a good driver, follows the road rules like a good civilian he is. But when he gets honked at (for no reason if i may add) or he sees cars speeding and taunting him, oh you better hold on to your seatbelt. Don’t bother asking if he’s okay because clearly he is not and he will drift his way until those cars are off his radar. Once he's not gripping the wheel so hard and his eyes turn back to their usual boba shapes then you can talk to him. He’d even flash that blinding smile at you as if he wasn't speeding just moment ago. “Sorry sweetheart, you were saying something?”

Hongjoong - sorry but he will not drive and will be at the back seat with you jk. I mean why drive when you can have someone do it for you (has a chauffeur btw). The reason he prefers not too most of the time is because that's the only time he's completely free and rather talk and gush over you. But then he would randomly knock on your door late at night and invite you to go for a drive throughout the city or stargaze in an empty parking lot. You’d stare at him most of the time as he drove with ease and hummed to the tune playing on the radio as he ran his fingers through his hair. He would notice the obvious stares and you’d compliment and his ears would blush as he denied it as always. “Doll don’t distract me. I'm driving.”

Yunho - perfect driver, the end. The type to entertain you throughout the ride no matter if the destination is fifteen minutes or three hours. He’d even pack drinks and snacks which you are in charge of feeding him as he opens his mouth like a baby bird. You won’t get sleepy even if you didn’t get a wink of sleep the night before, he’s just that entertaining. Drives at a steady mode, won’t forget to take glances over at you making sure you’re alright and is comfy in his car. But if you did fall asleep after bickering, karaoke-ing with him, Yunho would slow down a bit just to get the fleece blanket he spared at the back seat and cover you up with it. “My baby’s fast asleep…so cute.”

Yeosang: is a nervous mess. Says he’s a good driver but he’d accidentally hit the brakes too soon and apologised when he saw you jerk to the front. Even if you assured that he can drive slow and all, he just wants you to see the best side of him, always. After a few dates, he’d be very chill and would come up with a conversation with you while he drives. He likes to take things slow and that’s how he drives too but not super slow, just good enough for you to read all the signboards of the shops around town. “Jagi, I saw your favourite restaurant just now. Should we turn back?”

San - usually a pretty safe driver…until you’re in the passenger’s seat. Gets very handy and will most likely rest his free hand on your thigh or pinch your cheek when there’s a red light. You’d scold him to focus on the road instead of you which made him pouty. It doesn’t last long though, he’ll just want to hold your hand or tug you over to him and peck your cheek. Is a safe driver until his lover is right next to him and he would risk it all. Overall, he will bother you whether you like it or not just because. “Love, stop playing with your phone. I’m right here, hold my hand please.” 

Mingi - one thing about mingi is compliments. His brain malfunctioned at those. He’s usually focused while he drives but the moment you say something about his outfit that day or how he styled his hair differently than usual, he lost (nearly) all driving senses. Gets flustered and would chuckle nervously as to hide his embarrassment. But other times, he’d suddenly get cocky and would raise a brow at you with a confident smirk and add fuel to your words by pulling the sleeves of his sweater up or fixing the glasses that were dropping on his nose bridge. “If you keep saying all that princess, I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel our dinner reservation.” 

Wooyoung - he is known to be talkative in any kind of events or functions but isn’t that way when he’s driving. It is kind of weird to see him quiet and so focused on the road, not even singing along to the songs that were on from his own playlist. Not a fan of speeding but he would do it when he sees you about to doze off and laugh when the side of your head hit the window. of course he apologised and made sure you’re fine. He talks when he feels kind of sleepy or there’s a massive traffic jam ahead and that's when you have to entertain him or else he will bother the hell out of you. But if you fell asleep, he’d make sure you’re comfy and even tell you to recline if you need to as he quietly sings to the music lightly playing in the car. “Babe, it’s raining and I'm getting sleepy. Talk to me.”

Jongho - is usually good at multitasking but that mode is turned off once he’s in the driver’s seat. It gets really quiet too and the only sound is the occasional clincking sound from the signal light or the low noises from the air conditioner. A very serious driver and won’t talk unless you ask him something. Then it goes back to being quiet. However, when he’s not feeling too timid or that he notices how you’re exceptionally quiet, he’d start singing…very loudly. It won’t stop until you join in or ask him to sing another song. “We should get those bluetooth microphones honey, that way we can sing when there's traffic. ”

[highviewsmoved]

You and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It can’t get any worse, can it? (It can). It always does somehow. 

WORD COUNT: 2.6K TAGS: Meet Ugly, Romantic Comedy, Grouchy Reader, Gender-Neutral Reader, Bad Luck, First Meetings, Hit and Run (kind of).  NOTES: *dj khaled voice* another one. this is actually ridiculous, i’m sorry inui fans. no thoughts head empty type of beat. 

It has been a shit start to your day. You were running late to work, your boss yelled at you. And now your car decided it needed an oil change at the worst time of your life. 

The way you wish this day could not get any worse. When you arrive at the D&D motors spot, you walk in. No one’s at the front. Of course. 

You want to scream in frustration. You ring the bell an obnoxious amount of times before finally someone comes. The man before you looks peeved. Rightfully so. You had been making an incredible amount of noise. 

“I need an oil change,” you start with a demand. The way it comes out is bad. It’s bad. You know that. Usually a please would be more socially acceptable. You’re just angry today. And now you’re taking it out on the next poor soul in your nearest vicinity. The man before you raises a brow. 

“Is that all?” 

You huff. “Yes!” 

You tap your foot and he just tells you the payment of it costs more than you’d think. “That much? I thought there was like, I don’t know. Better pricing?” It’s just your lucky day. Foot in mouth, it is. 

You read the man’s name tag. Inui. 

He looks irate. His cold stare enough when you’re not enraged with the world to cause you to shrink back. But you just channel your rage. You glare right back, arms crossed. 

Inui, or whatever, grabs your card. He swipes it and hands it back, along with your receipt. “It’ll be thirty minutes to an hour.” 

You groan. “I’m the only one here?” 

“Unlike most people, you walked in during my lunch break.” 

“Huh? When? There’s no sign.” 

Inui points at the door. The white ‘will be back in 30’ paper flashing at you. Maybe you can’t read. 

You stubbornly stand your ground. “Well, sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize now. It’s done.” He takes your keys, looking at them for a long minute. 

“What?” You snap. 

“Is this for a car?” He asks then. 

“Yes, why?” 

Inui blinks, then he does it again. “We only work on motorbikes.” 

Huh? What. 

“Seriously? Isn’t it the same thing? Like can’t you do it to cars?” 

He’s in disbelief. “No, it’s not the same thing? Did you not check before coming in here?” 

You frown, annoyed at him. “Listen, I came here for an oil change. I thought this place has mechanics, does it not?” 

Inui twitches. “Yes, but also no. You’re not being very reasonable.” 

You look at him aghast. “How dare you? I am being reasonable! If you will not work on my vehicle, then I’m leaving.” You snag the keys back from him, exiting the building to head to your car. Today truly was unbelievable. How could this happen? You had come here mistakenly and now you felt embarrassed. It’s like buddha is smiting you from above. Everything in the world seems to go against you on this very day. 

Maybe it’s because you stepped on a crack or walked under a ladder. You broke a glass the other day. All of that must’ve been factors in why this day seems to go down the hole. 

Inui watches you go. You literally paid for an oil change. Shit. He needed to give you a refund. He notices the wallet still sitting on the counter, grabbing it on his way out to follow you. 

“Hey!” He calls out. You don’t hear him over your own muttering. You’re entirely too focused on getting the hell out of here. Inui tries to wave you down, but it ultimately fails. You back out without so much as a look behind you. 

“Hey–” the final shout lost on him when the force of your vehicle throws him back. You step on the brake, horrified. 

What’d you just hit? A deer?! 

You place the car in park to inspect the damage and you see the man from inside D&D Motors laying out on the concrete with your wallet in his hand. Oh, my god. The panic sets in. 

“Oh, my god! Oh my–I can’t believe this,” you breathe heavily. You go to see if he’s still breathing. He’s still alive, right? Right? 

“Please wake up! Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t—oh, I’m going to jail. Hey!” You squat, getting to his level. You smack his face. You can’t do CPR, this is all you can do. You feel useless. 

“Please wake up!” You pat his face again to rouse him. He seems to be unconscious. Oh, he must’ve hit his head. He’s going to bleed out. 

You try to haul him into your arms, but he’s a dead weight. You make a final pull and he groans then. 

“Fuck–” He grunts out. 

You want to thank whatever higher power may be on your side. He’s alive, at least.  “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to the hospital.” 

He says something indecipherable under his breath. You push him into your back seat, making sure he’s all the way in, and you quickly get into your car. You look this time behind you to make sure no other employee comes running out without you noticing. 

When the two of you arrive at the ER, you ‌explain your story. The way Dr. Yamasaki looks disapproving towards you is enough to make you realize the error of your ways. You’ve seen no one this disappointed in you in quite a while. 

“Make sure you pay attention next time. We wouldn’t want this to be a worse tragedy.” 

You nod, feeling grave. “Is he okay?” 

“He’ll pull through well. You need to get home. We’ve already called his emergency contact. They’ll be arriving soon.” 

You hesitate before asking. “Is it okay if I can see him? I just want to say I’m sorry.” 

Dr. Yamasaki shakes his head. “You need to go home. I think you’ve had enough excitement.” 

He tells you to exit, leaving you to go back to your car. You hope the man is okay. 

Draken comes busting into the ER. “Inui Seishu, where is he?” 

The nurse gives him a dead eyed look. Then types in the name. “He’s on the second floor–” before she can tell him anything else, Draken runs down to the elevators. 

After a moment of frantic searching, he sees the head of blonde hair from one of the door windows. 

“Inupi!” 

Inui blinks, looking ultimately very okay, minus the state of his clothes being ruffled. The nurse in front of him bows her head. “Just remember to take any medicine for muscle aches, but you should be fine.” 

She leaves the two of them there. 

Draken heads over to him, hovering in a comical manner. “What happened?” 

His partner sighs, leaning back against the hospital bed. “Too many things happened. I got backed into by a car.” 

“Who did this?” 

“Some fool who came into our shop for an oil change. You know they mistook it for a car mechanic's place?” 

Draken frowns. “The car mechanics are across from us. D&S Car Motors. How’d they get confused?” 

Inui shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not even going to pretend to understand.” 

They share a brief glance. “Well, you look fine. Are you feeling fine?” 

Inui releases a puff of air. “Kind of. Just sore. They got me pretty good. Did not expect that.” 

Draken laughs humorlessly. “You have the worst luck.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

When you had gotten home, your nervous energy was off the charts. You felt horrible. Positively dreadful. Had you gotten out much faster, you could’ve probably killed him. Even worse, he has a concussion now, thanks to you. 

You’re hoping maybe he might have some memory loss so he doesn’t remember what happened after today. 

Something needed to be done about it. You had to clear the air. At least to ask for forgiveness. You’re unsure if he’ll even take the offer. You hospitalized an innocent person because of your own actions. There are consequences to these things. You bite your lip, pacing around trying to figure out what to do. 

This’ll need to be done in person. A part of you is terrified of facing him again. What do you tell someone who you literally ran over? Sorry, I had a bad day, and I wanted to leave so I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings. I hope you can forgive me. 

No. No, that’s not how it should be. 

You mull over it for ‌longer, trying to think of something better. Also, better worded. 

You wait outside of the building. You have the fruit basket in your arms. You were here to make amends. What you did was awful. It could’ve killed him. You gulp, taking a leap of faith. You walk into D&D Motors. The man before you named Draken or so reads his nametag. When he notices you, his eyebrows raise high into his hairline. Is it that shocking for him to see you here? Does he know you? He must know now. 

Draken takes one look at the basket, knowing exactly who you are. “What brings you back? Need to run me over next?” He mocks, shaking his head. 

You wince. Is it that obvious that you’re the perpetrator? “I’ve brought a peace offering, an apology for nearly taking out your favored employee.” 

Draken stares at you, sucking his teeth in. “See if he accepts it.” He gestures absently to the employee’s only door off to the side of the register. 

You nod, bowing your head when you step into their break room. Inui, sitting there with an arm sling. You gasp. Was it that bad? 

His gaze, to put it lightly, is incredulous. “Did you come to finish the job?” 

Why are they acting like you’re a hitman ready to take them out? You bite your lip, accepting the jabs. You deserve this. Especially for acting like such an ass to a service worker. 

You had disrupted his schedule and his career now with that injury. The shame does not leave you. You bow before him. “I apologize for my actions towards you. Not expecting you to forgive me by any means. I brought a check for the hospital bill and a gift basket.” 

You don’t lift your head; you wait for his call. You can see he’s walking closer to you. He doesn’t tell you when to raise your head yet. The silence was becoming uncomfortable and unbearable. 

Also, your back really hurts. Inui doesn’t speak ‌yet, but he releases a puff of air. Is he laughing? 

“Hey, look at me,” he commands. You do as you're told. At that point it made one thing apparent: his arms are out of the sling and he’s wearing a wry smile. 

Is this a joke? Did he lie about his injury? Was he expecting you this entire time? 

He talks anyway, ignoring the way you look at him in confusion. “I’m allergic to apples in this.” Inui points to the basket full of fruits. 

Your brain takes a minute to catch up. He’s not wearing his sling, and he’s denied your basket. “It is a peace offering. There’s not just apples in here.” 

Inui takes a step back, a blank expression crossing his features. He looks wary. “I can’t be in the same room with apples. They’ll break me out in hives.” 

You gape at him. Really? What are the chances? “I–should I throw this out?” You panic, not intending to cause him more harm. God, you just keep messing up. 

You look around, finally moving out of the break room to the counter where Draken is. “Here, he’s allergic.” 

Draken doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s not.” He continues scrolling through his computer, looking at different bike parts. 

You smack your forehead, going back right back in. “You dirty liar!” 

Inui doesn’t look like he’s laughing, but judging by the way his lips are twitching, he’s fighting a smile. “I was kidding.” 

You want to say more, but you release a breath, leaning against the cabinets of the break room. “I guess I ‌deserve that. For running you over.” 

“You backed into me,” he corrects. 

You squint at him. “Same difference.” 

“There is a difference. You would have been looking and saw me had it happened from the front.” 

That is true. Damn, he’s got you there. “I really am sorry. There’s no excuse for it.” 

He waves you off, sitting back down at the table. “You have impeccable timing,” he glances up at the clock. “This is about the same hour you came in last time.” 

You pull a face. “Oh, you’re on lunch break?” 

Inui nods slowly. “Yeah.” 

God. Please end it all. You walk over, sitting directly across from him. He didn’t ask you to do that, but you just feel so beat. He will not ask you why you did what you did, nor is he going to give you a refund. You kind of ‌deserve it. 

Inui almost pities you. Almost. 

“I feel so bad. I hope you didn’t get a concussion. If you’re dead, blink twice.” 

Inui’s face is impassive. “I’m not dead.” He pauses, considering his next words. “I could have a concussion, though.” 

You groan, letting your head hit against the table. “I am so sorry! I will literally come in here every day to make it up to you.” 

Inui draws back, fearful of the promise. “Please, don’t,” he implores. 

“What can I do?” 

There’s a silence that passes over between you two. Inui must be thinking of different ways to make you grovel before him or worse: could he put you in jail for vehicular manslaughter? Does it still count as manslaughter? Hit and Run maybe? But you didn’t run? All you know is you would not thrive well if you’re sued and jailed. Has he sued? What if he did already? You feel nauseous just thinking about it. 

He shifts in his seat then, a grave look in his eye. “I lost a lot of blood.” 

You pale, oh so he is dying. He could have a brain aneurysm or something. 

“I’ll need to replenish what I lost.” 

Well, it was more or less a lie. 

“A blood drive?” 

“Thanks for taking me.” 

You put the car in park, waiting outside of the hospital. “You had me drive you here to give blood. I thought you lost blood?” 

Inui responds with a simple answer. “Yes and no.” Correction, not a simple one. 

He leaves the vehicle, but then comes right back so you roll your windows down. “Did you need me to wait here?” 

“There’s no need. Here.” He hands you a card, with the title of D&D Motors and Inui Seishu’s number. You raise a quizzical brow. 

“What’s this for?” 

“In case you need to hit me again with your car,” he taps on the hood. Finally, walking away. 

You stay in the parking lot for a long time. 

UNDISCLOSED AMOUNT OF MONTHS LATER 

“So, how did you two meet?” Takemichi starts conversationally, watching you leave for the bathroom. Inui had invited him over to his and Draken’s place where they were sitting on the couch watching a racing documentary. 

Inui takes a drink of his beer. “They hit me with their car.” 

Takemichi’s eyes widened. “What? You’re joking?”

Draken chimes in. “He’s not. That’s what happened.” 

Takemichi looks positively horrified. “And you didn’t die?” 

Inui shakes his head. “No, but I thought I did. I was unconscious.” 

Takemichi looks to have more questions, many that will go unanswered when he shuts his mouth when you return. 

“What? Did I miss something?” You ask, sitting beside Inui. 

Takemichi coughs lightly, trying to look discreet. “Nah, uh, just talking.” 

“He wanted to know how we met,” Inui elaborates. 

You snort. “I backed into him with my car.”

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Reunion

Day 5--I had completely forgotten that I had written this lol. It’s more fluff as usual. Can’t wait to read everyone else’s later on!

Enjoy! :)

1.8k words

Rowan couldn't wait to get home. Today had been...exhausting, to say the least. He was a personal trainer, and with that came the territory that people would talk about their issues while working out. Which was fine, Rowan understood that letting out emotional issues when working out helped people to stay motivated. He himself had been known to rant about his issues when working out himself.

But today had been a lot. One of his regulars had put on weight over the Yulemas holidays and was beating himself up over it. Another regulars marriage was over and was dealing with that guilt.  Someone had lost a favourite aunt. Another one had to break off an engagement because it was a loveless relationship. And on and on the issues piled up.

Rowan was good at compartmentalizing, but after a while, he ignored his lunch break in order to go to the park to just...not think for a while.

Being at the park cheered him up a little, but his break was soon too over. And he was back to work, and that was when the skies decided to open up and pour down buckets of rain. Making a bad day into a shittier one.

His wipers were on the fastest setting and he was driving at a snails pace when he looked away for one second, one fucking second, when he heard a thump and a feminine voice yell out “what the fuck!”

Slamming on the brakes, Rowan came to a speedy conclusion.

He was at a pedestrian crossing and he just hit someone with his car.

He just hit someone with his car.

“Fucking hell!”

Pulling up the handbrake, Rowan got out, not sure what to say or do when he came across a golden haired woman, her eyes spitting out blue and gold fire.

Rowan blinked at her, because despite being covered in rain and sitting on her behind, hand rubbing at her hip, she looked familiar.

But now wasn't the time to thinking about that. He had to see if she was okay. “I'm so sorry,” he got out, “I have no idea what happened. I looked away for a second, that was all. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”

“My hip and my ass hurt, and I suspect that I'm going to have a wicked bruise, but I think I'm okay,” the stranger said. “You should really watch what you're doing, though.”

“I know. I'm sorry, again.”

The stranger sighed, and even that sounded familiar. “What a fucking day I'm having,” she mumbled.

“Bad day?” He probably made it worse, too. He should also really get her into his car, but she starting ranting before he could do anything about it.

“The fucking worst. I'm facing a deadline that I can't finish, because I'm having dreadful writers block. My landlord is a fucking creep who came to my place today saying that my underwear 'accidentally' got mixed in with his laundry. My cousin's dad recently came back into his life, so now he's angry all the damned time and it's leeching into me. And you just hit me with your car.”

Rowan nodded in understanding, but only could manage to say, “Yeah, your day definitely sucks.”

She glared at him, silently telling him that that wasn't really the best way to respond, but he was having a bad day, also.

Which wasn't an excuse he knew, but Gods, it wasn't really his day either.

Rowan helped her up, her hands warm despite the cold and took her to his passenger seat and pulled over to the side. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled like jasmine and lemon verbena. A calming scent.

“I'm not sure what the protocol is,” he admitted after handing her a hand towel from the glove box. “Do we call the police? Or my insurance? I should take you to the hospital, I know that much.” Even if all she said was that she hurt her behind and hip, it'd be best to ensure that she didn't fracture anything.

When she said nothing after a moment, Rowan turned, noting that the silence from the woman was a little concerning, scared to death that maybe she hit her head and was going into shock.

Her blue-gold eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” he asked again. He really should get her to the hospital.

“Are you...? This is...you couldn't be. Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn?”

Rowan blinked, his concern turning inward. “Yes, that's my name. How did you—?”

“I, uh, it's me. Aelin Ashryver Gala—”

“Galathynius?” He finished for her. She nodded.

They sat in silence as Rowan stared at her, taking in her blue-gold eyes, golden hair, the lemon verbena and jasmine smell of her. Recalling the familiar sigh. All of it.

Rowan wanted to bang his head on the steering wheel when all of it came crashing down on him. He had just hit his high school crush with his car.

Rowan, for whatever reason that he couldn't name, wanted to laugh. He never would have suspected that he would hit Aelin Galathynius with his car ten years after high school graduation.

He was fairly certain that high school him had been in love with her from the moment he saw her. Rowan had wanted to ask her out at least a dozen times, but he was an awkward seventeen year old that didn't know how to talk to women that weren't family members and never gained the courage to do so.

It was one of his biggest regrets from his teenage years.

The last time he had seen her was at the after party of their graduating day. She wore a daisy flower crown and was sparkling in a golden dress. He had never seen someone as beautiful as her—even to this day.

Unbeknownst to Rowan, Aelin had felt the same way. She was confident back then as she was now, but every time she wanted to go up to Rowan to talk to him, to get to know him, the butterflies in her stomach threatened to strangle her.

So she never did ask him out. And here she was now, ten years later, in his car. He was still the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

She was still pissed as hell though that he hit her with his car.

It had only taken a moment, a single moment, for her to realise who it was she was sitting next to. The moment that the hand towel touched her face and she breathed in the pine and snow scent of it, she was transported back to the past.

“How have you been?” Rowan asked her after long minutes. His green eyes still as pretty as the day Aelin saw them. She was sure that was what she loved about him the most all those years ago. Other than Lysandra's, Aelin had never seen such a stunning green.

Aelin snorted, her fond memories disappearing at the inane question. “You were listening when I was ranting, weren't you? My day has been shit.”

Rowan gave her a small smile, and her heart skipped a beat. He still smiled the same. She had liked that about him, too. Still did, apparently.

“No, I mean how's life been since graduation? You mentioned writers block. Are you a writer then?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I write fantasy-adventure-romance novels under the name of Celaena Sardothien.” She had liked the animosity of it all, with none of her books containing a single photograph of her.

“That's amaz—wait. You mean to tell me that you're the writer of the 'Fireheart' series?”

Aelin smiled proudly. “That's me. Have you read them?”

“I have. It's one of my favourite series.” They were his guilty pleasure, really, but it felt rude to say that out loud, as if it was shameful.

Aelin blinked, taken aback at the confession. “Really? You mean to tell me that brooding Rowan Whitethorn reads romance novels?”

Rowan frowned a little bit at that. “I don't brood. Not anymore.”

“You're brooding right now.”

Rowan grumbled. Okay, maybe he was, just a little bit, however.

“How about you, though?” Aelin asked. “How's life been?”

“Busy. And right now, it's a bit shitty. I'm sorry for hitting you with my car, truly. We should get you to a hospital, though. Just to make sure that you're okay, please,” he added, when he saw that she opened her mouth to likely protest. “I won't be able to sleep if it turns out you need a hip replacement or something and I didn't take you to get checked out.”

Aelin truly doubted she would need a hip replacement, but nodded anyway. “Okay, you can take me to the hospital. And then afterwards, I'll give you my number and you can take me out to dinner.”

Rowan blinked at that and then smiled. He had always like confidence in a person. “Okay, it's a date.”

“I've never had a date after a hospital visit.”

“Well, then, I better make it great.”

Aelin smiled, warmth filling her. The day turning out a little nicely, despite it all. “You better.”

x x x x x

As Rowan lead Aelin to the dance floor, he couldn't believe his luck. Never in a thousand years did he think that accidentally hitting Aelin with his car would lead to this.

To their first dance as husband and wife.

It had been exactly one year to the day when he saw her again after ten years. It was very much an Aelin thing to want to have their wedding anniversary to match the date.

The story had been re-told by a slightly tipsy Fenrys as part of his best man speech, about how Rowan would be the only man in the world to meet his future wife by way of a car accident. The story always made people laugh, with people saying that the universe must have wanted to get them together and was sick of them taking too long.

Because as it turned out, when Rowan and Aelin's relationship grew and they learned more about their ten years of life, they were always somehow minutes away from running into each other. From when Rowan was starting his hike in the Southern Continent, Aelin had just finished hers and was going back to her hotel—the very fact that they were staying at the same hotel, but floors apart.

When Rowan had missed out on book tickets to a signing of her third novel in the Fireheart series, and he had to turn around and leave the bookstore since it was a private function just as Aelin was moments away from going on.

From going to the same concerts, to the same festivals, from seemingly everything that they had in common, they had missed each other by minutes.

They silently thanked the universe, even if the way they ran into each other was less than ideal. But they wouldn't change it for the world.

Rowan kissed his wife and thanked his lucky stars.

[lunar-wandering]

Lanterns and Lies

surprise!! here we go, the sequel to Glamours and Gauze!

Word Count: 7k

Read on Ao3

-

Macaque had lied, when he said the shadow lantern was gone.

When the Lady Bone Demon had caught him, she had made a specific note of needing the lantern.

And, well, Macaque wouldn't let that happen.

So he'd shattered it, again, and during the Lady Bone Demon's momentary shock, he'd taken the opportunity to gather the broken pieces and run.

One of her minions had cut him with the cursed knife while he was running away.

That didn't matter now though, his injuries had been healed, and the Lady Bone Demon had yet to make another move. For now, sitting on the roof of the noodle shop, he was safe.

He starred down at the shattered pieces of the lantern in his hands.

With a sigh, he carefully extended his magic, putting the pieces back together again, reforming the lantern. He held it gently in his hands as he looked around the roof.

Now where was he gonna hide this-

"Macaque, I brought plums!"

Macaque startled upon hearing MK's voice, he'd been so distracted focusing on putting the lantern back together, he hadn't even heard the other climb up the ladder to the roof.

The.....lantern....

Which he told MK was gone....

In a rush to avoid MK seeing the lantern, Macaque did the first thing he thought of.

He shoved the lantern into himself, letting it mix into his own magic. Not the smartest way of storing it, it was a highly magical item, who knows how it would act while in direct contact with his magic, but it was the first thing he could think of, and this was only a temporary measure, so it should be fine.

....Probably.

"Hey bud, what's up?" Macaque asked, turning around to face MK, who was setting a small bowl of plums on the ground. "...What are the plums for?"

"You said that if I brought you some plums, you'd tell me about the time Monkey King walked into a tree." MK said, "And I fully expect you to keep your end of the bargain."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Macaque said, grabbing the bowl of plums. "Well you see, what happened was-"

-

"That had to be the stupidest shit you've ever pulled, Wukong." Macaque said, breathing heavily as he leaned against a tree. Wukong for his part, just smirked.

"I didn't see you try to stop me." He said, laughing as Macaque glared at him.

"I did try to stop you. Multiple times. But you didn't listen." He said, "You really need to stop picking a fight with every random person you meet."

"You're no fun at all." Wukong said, yawning as he stretched. Macaque rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He said, "Anyways, we should probably head back to the cave, get some rest-"

"I'm not tired." Wukong said.

"You literally yawned a few seconds ago."

"Doesn't mean I'm tired. Besides, there's still more stuff to do." Wukong said, turning and walking off further into the mountain's forest, Macaque trailing behind him. As they walked, Macaque noticed Wukong start slouching, little by little. He didn't say anything though, knowing that Wukong would only deny it if asked.

It would be better just to watch and deal with the consequences when they came.

And oh boy, did the consequences come: in the form of Wukong turning a corner and immediately walking directly into a tree. The tree snapped in half, falling to the ground, with Wukong tumbling down after it. There was a loud thump, as dust and leaves were sent flying into the air. A few nearby birds called out in concern.

"Timber." Macaque said, a smirk on his face, walking over and crouching down beside where Wukong now lay on his back with a dazed expression on his face. "So. Not tired, huh?"

"Shut up." Wukong hissed, sitting up, pulling dirt and leaves out of his fur as he did so. "The tree just. Got in my way, that's all-"

"You're expecting me to believe that a tree got up and put itself in your path?" Macaque asked, "Wukong. I'm not stupid. Let's just hurry up and go back to the cave to rest already."

"I'm fine." Wukong said, moving to stand up, but wobbling a little, tipping backwards again-

Macaque caught him, keeping him from having another close encounter with the ground.

-

"I ended up having to carry him all the way back up the mountain." Macaque said, making little images with his shadows in order to give MK a better visual of what happened. "He ended up sleeping for like, 3 days. Took him still being tired when he woke up again for me to realize he'd gotten cursed. Wasn't hard to break it afterwards, but boy did Wukong protest the whole time. Practically had to tie him to his bed."

MK scribbled in his sketch book, and Macaque, out of curiosity, moved closer, looking over MK's shoulder to see a sketch of what Macaque had just described.

"....You're drawing this?" He asked. MK nodded.

"Yeah! I've got a lifetime goal of illustrating all of Monkey King's adventures!" MK said, pausing his sketching to show Macaque a quick flip through of the rest of the book. "...You got any other stories?"

"Lots." Macaque said, leaning back. "But you're gonna have to bring more plums if you want more stories. I'm not just gonna hand this info out for free."

"Of course, of course." MK said, standing up and walking back over to the ladder, mumbling to himself as he climbed back down. "I'm going to have to permanently add plums to my shopping list...."

Macaque stayed where he was, waiting patiently until he couldn't hear MK anymore, before letting out a relieved sigh.

That had been close.... No matter what, he couldn't let the others know that he still had the lantern. Revealing that would probably cause the others to push him away, they wouldn't trust him anymore, and he really couldn't have that. Hanging around them was the most advantageous position for him to be in right now, and he wasn't about to give it up any time soon.

...He still needed a place to hide it permanently, keeping it inside of himself probably wouldn't be a good idea in the long term. With that thought in mind, he mentally reached inwards with his magic, shadows starting to surround him as he prepared to take the lantern out-

"Hey, Macaque!"

Macaque startled again, the shadows that had condensed around him vanishing as though they'd been popped like party balloons as he whirled around to see-

Mei, who giggled at his shocked expression, holding up her phone and taking a quick picture of him before pocketing it.

"Would you two stop doing that?" Macaque asked, sighing as Mei circled around him.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't hear me coming." Mei said, giggling at the expression on Macaque's face. "Seriously, with all those ears you have it's a wonder you didn't-"

"What do you want." Macaque growled, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something."

"Wouldn't I?"

That. Wasn't a question Macaque felt that he could answer. He honestly couldn't think of a reason why any of MK's friends would want to be around him, but they hadn't really been pushing him away either....

Mei seemed a little concerned with how he'd suddenly gone silent though, so it was probably best to quickly change the subject.

"Ah, anyways, I have some stuff to do, so I don't really have time for you." Macaque said, walking past Mei and over to the edge of the rooftop. Distantly, he noted a weird tingling sensation come over him, but he ignored it, figuring it wasn't important.

"Oh, now that's a lie." Mei said, a smirk on her face. "You never do anything other than lounge around up here."

"Do not." Macaque said, crossing his arms. "I do plenty, you just haven't noticed."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Macaque pondered for a moment on how best to answer-

And that was when his foot started sinking into the shadow underneath of him.

Outwardly, Macaque remained perfectly calm, not letting Mei in on the fact that anything was amiss.

Inwardly, he panicked.

That was definitely not supposed to be happening, why was it happening it shouldn't be happening why was he l o s i n g  c o n t r o l-

He was snapped out of his panic when he heard the sound of an engine starting up behind him. Subtly looking over his shoulder, he could see MK, ready to drive off, probably to deliver some noodles.

Macaque made his decision in a split second.

Turning and pulling his foot out of the shadow it'd been sinking into, Macaque jumped off the roof. Ignoring Mei's shout of "Hey, wait!", he slipped into the shadow of the tuk tuk, just before MK started to drive away.

-

Macaque hung out in the shadow of the tuk tuk for about 15 minutes before he actually bothered to wonder where exactly MK was going.

MK slowed down a bit as he turned a corner, and Macaque figured it was as good a time as any to ask.

Carefully, he materialized on the back of the tuk tuk, then, after making sure there wasn't anything around for MK to accidentally hit should he swerve, asked;

"Where are you going?"

MK's foot slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching and Macaque almost falling off from the sudden inertia. As soon as they were still, MK whirled around, staring at Macaque, shocked.

"How long have you been there?" He asked, and the expression on his face genuinely made Macaque laugh.

"Oh, not very long." Macaque said, "I was riding along in the shadow for the most part."

"...You can do that?" MK asked, "You probably save like, so much money when traveling then-"

"Bold of you to assume that I have any money at all." Macaque said, "Anyways, you didn't answer the question. Where are you going?"

"Why do you want to know?" MK asked, crossing his arms. "And why are you here anyways? Usually you just stay on the roof, what changed?"

"Nothing! What, can't I just want to go for a ride once in a while?" Macaque said-

And his hand started sinking into the shadow beside him. Swiftly, he pulled it out, rubbing it to get rid of the remaining tingles. MK watched this happen with a look of suspicion.

"...Uh-huh, sure, like I believe that." He said, tone as dry as the desert. "And anyways, I don't think you'd want to-"

And then he paused, looking as though he'd just been hit with some kind of realization.

"Actually-" MK started, "I think it would be good if you came with me."

He turned back around, taking his foot off the break and turning back onto the road, speeding up a little.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." Macaque said.

"Oh, you'll soon find out."

Macaque had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.

-

He was right. He hated this.

Staring up at a temple that quite obviously belonged to Sun Wukong, Macaque regretted every decision he had made in his life that had led up to this moment.

He regretted it even more when the monkey himself opened the front gate.

"Ah, there you are kid!" Wukong said, "I was beginning to think you'd never show up!"

"I'm only 2 minutes late..." MK muttered, and Macaque couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

Sun Wukong was not, exactly, known for being very patient after all.

"Oh, I see you brought... an audience." Wukong said, finally noticing that Macaque was, in fact, also there.

"Audience? Please, if anything I'm the lead actor." Macaque said.

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that." MK said, and Macaque would've hit him where it not for the warning glance Wukong gave him.

-

Macaque ended up being dragged to MK's training sessions with Wukong, again and again. Some days it was because MK himself forcibly brought him along, and on other days it was because Macaque was simply avoiding Mei. (He denied the accusation that he was avoiding her when asked...and then almost tripped as his foot sank deeper into the shadows. Luckily he'd managed to blame it on a stray tree root, but he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up...) 

Over the course of said days, Macaque had tried multiple times to find a better place to hide the lantern than within his own magic. (He'd long since figured out that the lantern was reacting whenever he lied, thus messing with his own magic. He had no idea why it was doing this, but the why didn't really matter so long as he could find a way to stop it.) But of course, since karma was apparently out to get him, he was interrupted by someone every single time, forcing him to keep the lantern within himself, lest the others find out about it.

Honestly though, he was shocked that Wukong hadn't noticed, considering his golden vision and all, he should've been able to see the fact that the lantern's magic was contained within Macaque.

(Macaque had nearly panicked when, on day 2 of him following MK to his training, Wukong had leaned close to him with a contemplative look on his face.

"...Why are you so close to me?" Macaque had asked, and huh, how long had that slit been in Wukong's eyebrow? Had it been there for a while and Macaque had just never noticed or-

"I'm checking to see how much of the glamor you're wearing." Was Wukong's response, as he studied him. "You're still recovering, you probably shouldn't be using magic to cover all of it."

So....Wukong was concerned about him. Macaque couldn't really imagine why, but still-

"You didn't need to get so close to me- can't you obviously see I'm wearing it?" Macaque had asked, gesturing at his own face. Wukong, surprisingly, winced at that, finally backing up a bit.

"Well, I guess you seem fine." He'd muttered, turning away, "Don't know why I was even worried."

And Macaque should've been relieved, but for some reason-

For some reason he felt like something was wrong.)

-

Macaque relaxed in the shade of a tree, watching Wukong train MK. It was almost soothing to watch the mentor and student trade hits as they sparred.

But of course, being relaxed didn't mean that Macaque didn't notice things.

Like how Wukong was a full 2 seconds slower in blocking MK's attacks than he'd been when Macaque had stolen MK's powers. Which wasn't really something that would normally raise concern- he probably just wasn't being as serious as he would be when encountering an actual threat, but.

Something about it was making the alarm bells that had been constantly ringing in Macaque's head louder. (Something he, obviously, didn't appreciate. Loud sounds, even mental ones, weren't very pleasant for him).

Macaque, of course, was never one to miss an opportunity to call Wukong out.

Which was why it was so surprising when MK beat him to the punch.

"Monkey King, are you okay?" MK asked, and Macaque sat up straighter, paying more attention, because oh, he wanted to hear this.

"Of course bud! Why do you ask?" Wukong said, and despite the fact that his back was to Macaque, the shadow monkey just knew that the other was lying.

"Well I don't know, you've just- seemed off, is all." MK said, shifting back and forth as he seemed to contemplate what to say. "Like, a little slower maybe? And I haven't seen you use your cloud in days, which is kinda weird, since you normally seem to use it-"

Wukong stiffened, and it was at this point that Macaque got genuinely curious, deciding that he had to see what kind of expression the other monkey was making right now. So, he slipped down into the shadows of the tree, and reappeared out of MK's shadow, startling the both of them as he slung an arm around MK's shoulder. 

"Kid's right y'know." Macaque said, putting on a smirk as he looked at the other. "Even I've noticed, and I've barely even been paying attention."

That was a lie, and he barely kept himself from wincing as he felt the tingle of magic flow through his body.

Only for nothing to seemingly happen. That was...mildly concerning, he'd felt the flow of magic, so something had definitely occurred, he just couldn't tell what.

...Well, whatever. If he couldn't notice it then it probably wasn't important.

Macaque refocused back in on the subject at hand, studying Wukong's expression. Nothing he hadn't expected, the usual nervous smile and look in his eyes that indicated he was lying where all there.

Or, well, most of it was expected.

The slight twinge of fear was new.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing wrong!" Wukong said, taking a slight step back. "I'm fine, really!"

Both MK and Macaque rolled their eyes in sync.

"If you're so fine, then explain to me why you keep waiting until MK is almost right in front of you before blocking him?" Macaque asked, MK nodding along as he spoke. "Seriously, it's like you can't see it unless it's close-"

Both Macaque and MK froze, coming to the same conclusion at the same time. Wukong, seeing the expressions on their faces, scratched his cheek nervously, avoiding their gaze.

"Oh my heavens." MK said, "You need glasses."

"I do not-"

-

Tang had been having a peaceful day at the noodle shop.

Having, being the key word.

Because suddenly, said peaceful day was interrupted as Macaque appeared out of nowhere beside him. Tang barely kept himself from startling out of his stool. (He'd started to grow used to the shadow monkey's sudden appearances, but that didn't really make them any less startling).

Macaque, for a moment, looked confused as to where he was, looking around in surprise, before taking notice of Tang and schooling his features into something unreadable.

"Oh." He said, "Uh. Hello?"

"Hello to you too, Macaque?" Tang said, a little confused, before finally taking notes of one important fact.

Macaque's eyes were fully purple.

"...Ah." Tang said, "Not Macaque."

"Hm, smart man." 'Macaque' said, leaning back, "Nope, I'm not the original. Just a shadow clone, that's all I am."

"Why are you here? Is there trouble?" Tang asked, worry seeping into his voice. The clone just shrugged.

"Dunno." 'Macaque' said, "One minute, I didn't exist, the next, I'm here."

"How can you just not know?" Tang asked, blinking in disbelief.

"He probably created me on accident." 'Macaque' said, almost as casually as though he was reading out a morning newspaper.

"That can happen??"

"Well, not normally, but in certain cases-" The clone started, then paused, eyes narrowing. "Well, actually, if that's the case, he probably doesn't know I exist right now..."

"Shouldn't you... tell him?" Tang asked, and watched as the clone contemplated it.

"Well I mean, not telling him would be kind of funny." He said, before shaking himself out of it. "No- no, you're right, I should probably tell him."

The clone proceeded to go completely silent, and Tang watched him with thinly veiled concern. After about 2 minutes of silence, with the clone making increasingly dramatic facial expressions, Tang decided to comment again.

"...Are you actually contacting him right now?" He asked, and the clone broke out of whatever state he was in to glance at him.

"Hm? Oh- yeah." He said, "Mental connection, y'know?"

"Then how come MK doesn't ever-"

"Cause he doesn't know it exists."

-

Of course. Of course the lantern had made a clone.

That certainly explained why there hadn't been any obvious reaction after the magic tingle.

Although, it was weird that the clone had ended up in the noodle shop. Why on Earth would it have formed there?

(In all honesty, it was probably because, once again, Macaque felt safe there. But he never planned to admit that fact, not even to himself, so he slid that thought back into the deepest part of his mind.)

As it was now though, Macaque sat back under the tree, head in hands, mentally communicating with the clone as MK and Wukong continued to argue about whether or not the Monkey King needed glasses.

"C'mon!" MK said, stomping his foot on the ground, "Just admit that you're nearsighted already! It's obvious!"

"I don't need glasses!" Wukong said, hopping backwards as MK tried to tackle him. "I can see just fine!"

This statement was contradicted, as MK suddenly moved backwards, distancing himself from his mentor. Macaque could see Wukong squint, something he wouldn't normally do-

And then MK moved forwards, with a speed Macaque honestly hadn't seen him use before (and wasn't that funny, that somehow this argument was actually causing MK's speed to improve) and managed to tackle Wukong to the ground.

A roll of parchment fell out of one of Wukong's pockets.

"Oh?" Macaque said, standing up, temporarily blocking his shadow clone's messages out of his mind (it was fine anyways, it seemed to have gotten distracted), he walked over, picking up the roll of parchment. "What's this?"

"Wh-Hey!" Wukong said, looking up from his position of being pinned to the ground by MK, squinting his eyes as he focused on Macaque. "Don't- give that back!"

"Well now, if you're so pressed over it then I kinda have to look, right?" Macaque said, slowly unrolling the scroll despite Wukong's protests. MK, surprisingly, kept Wukong pinned, watching with curiosity as Macaque looked over the parchment's contents. "....Huh."

"What is it?" MK asked, and Macaque turned, holding out the unrolled parchment so that MK could see it. Wukong, at this point, stopped struggling, simply laying on the ground face down.

"Tell me, Wukong, why exactly do you need a map?" Macaque asked, crouching down in front of the other. "You planning on going on vacation again or something?"

"You're going to leave me again?" MK asked, and maybe Macaque was just hearing things (rather unlikely....) but there was almost a note of panic in MK's voice.

Wukong must've picked up on the panic too, as he quickly jumped into reassurance.

"Woah, hey, I'm not- I'm not vacationing any time soon." He said, attempting to shift around a little, before sighing. "...Could you get off me now, please?"

MK scrambled to get off his mentor, Wukong slowly sitting up and stretching a little. Macaque rolled his eyes at the display, shaking the map a little to draw their attention back to it.

"Hey, I'm not letting you off that easily." He said, "Explain the map. Now."

Wukong sighed again, avoiding both Macaque and MK's eyes.

"...Fine, so maybe I.....wasn't exactly on vacation...." Wukong muttered, "I was...searching for something. A weapon."

"...To fight the Lady Bone Demon, right?" MK asked, and Wukong looked at him in shock.

"How'd you-"

"Maybe leaving your successor alone when there's a powerful demon on the loose isn't the best decision, Wukong." Macaque said, rolling up the map and putting into his own pocket, before lightly rubbing his arm, a few specific... memories running through his mind. "Seriously, be glad she still hasn't gotten everything she needs."

"What do you know about what she-" MK started, then cut himself off, looking at Macaque as though he'd been given the answer to everything. "She's the one who hurt you."

Macaque didn't respond, turning around and walking away.

"Hey wait- where are you-" Wukong started-

"I'm going back to my spot under the tree." Macaque said, "You two can sort through whatever your 'vacation' was about on your own."

-

"...Huh." The shadow clone muttered, eyes closed as he seemingly listened in on whatever was happening to the real Macaque. "That's.....interesting."

"What is?" Tang asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Nothing really important." The clone said- and started melting slightly. Tang looked on in confusion as the clone suddenly panicked, stumbling over his words. "Wait- no I mean- it, it is important, but not really something I should be the one to tell you about?"

The melting stopped, the shadow clone returning to normal as he let out a sigh of relief.

"Does that....usually happen?" Tang asked.

"No." The clone answered, but didn't elaborate. Tang figured he'd just have to ask the real Macaque about it later. "...Anyways, do you think you could help the real me out with something?"

"Depends on what said something is." Tang said, crossing his arms.

"It's nothing bad, I promise." The shadow clone said, chuckling. "But, would you happen to know where I could buy a pair of glasses?"

-

"This is dumb. I look stupid."

"Aw come on Monkey King, I think you look cool!" Mei said, MK nodding along with her. "The glasses suit you just fine!"

Wukong sighed, sitting in the noodle shop with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter.

"What's with the sudden need for glasses anyways?" Pigsy asked, sliding a bowl of peach slices over to the monkey. Subtly, he also handed a bowl of plums over to Macaque, who was sitting slightly off to the side in the shadows.

Wukong stiffened, pausing for a moment before opening his mouth to answer-

"And don't lie to me." Pigsy added, and Wukong slouched a little.

(Macaque had to admit, it was kinda fun to watch the Monkey King basically get reprimanded like a child.

The only reason he didn't comment on it was that he was sure that if he did, he'd get the exact same treatment.)

There was a moment of silence, before Wukong groaned, laying his head down on the table, and muttering something that was too quiet for the others to hear, but nearly made Macaque choke on the plum he'd been chewing on.

"What?!" He said, in pure shock, "You- you're losing your powers?!"

Almost instantly, there was pandemonium.

"What do you mean you're losing your powers!" MK practically screeched, "That can happen?!"

"I don't know, but it's the only explanation I've got!" Wukong said, throwing his hands up into the air. "I can't use my golden vision or my cloud anymore- and I don't know why!"

"How, exactly, does this relate back to you suddenly needing glasses?" Pigsy asked, completely ignoring how the others where in varying states of a mental breakdown.

"I- I usually just use my golden vision to make up for it." Wukong said, "Like, magic contacts, you know?"

"...And now you can't do that anymore." Tang said, "Because you can't use your golden vision."

"......Yeah." Wukong sighed.

"Is there...anything we can do to help?" Sandy tentatively asked.

"Well, I was planning on going out and finding.... something." Wukong said, turning to look at Macaque. "Speaking of which, you promised you'd give me the map back once I got glasses, and I'm wearing them now so-"

Macaque tsk'd, pulling the map out of his pocket and tossing it over to the other monkey, who caught it and placed it upon the counter. 

"It's not like I can go and get it now though." Wukong said, the others staring over him to look down at the map. "Since I can't use my cloud anymore..."

"I have an airship." Sandy said, and Wukong turned to look at him in confusion. "We could use that, to travel there."

"What- no. No. Absolutely not." Wukong said, jumping up onto the counter (ignoring Pigsy disapproving glare), and staring down at the others. "In case you don't remember, you guys have something called mortality. I'm not going to just bring you guys with me-"

"Like you have much of a choice." A new voice said, and Macaque barely kept himself from startling as he suddenly noticed Red Son beside him.

"How long have you been there-" Macaque hissed, but was ultimately ignored.

"You coming too, Red Boy?" Mei asked, despite Wukong's faint protests that nobody was coming with him, thank you very much-

"I have nothing better to do." Red Son said, shrugging. "My parents went on vacation a little while ago, I've just been hanging around since then."

"So, we're all going?" MK asked, glancing over at Macaque, who, realizing he was being stared at, sighed, standing up and stepping closer to them, in the light.

"Fine, whatever." He said, "If you guys want me to go, I'll come, but I'm not happy about it."

The others stared at him, with a mixture of confusion and shock.

"....What?" Macaque asked, already dreading the answer. MK slowly pointed behind him.

"Has your shadow always moved like that?" He asked, and Macaque didn't even bother to look, instead immediately slamming his back against the wall to cover it as he threw a glamor over his own shadow. He wasn't sure what it had been doing that the others saw, but he absolutely refused to let it be seen any longer.

"...Whatever it was you saw, forget about it." He said, and while most of the others simply shrugged, accepting it as just him being weird, looking away-

The look in Mei and Wukong's eyes did not promise good things.

-

The first day on the ship, everyone was mainly focused on settling in, making sure all their stuff was where it needed to be, choosing rooms, so on and so forth.

And so, for the most part, Macaque was free from whatever Wukong and Mei were planning.

The second day on the ship, however.

The second day on the ship made Macaque wish the airship had a plank so he could jump off of it.

It had started small.

"Hey, Macaque?" Mei asked, grabbing his attention before practically shoving her phone into his face. "What do you think about this?"

Macaque could barely register the image in front of his face, but eventually parsed it out to be a picture of- a kitten??

"I hate it." He said, instinctively, and almost immediately started sinking into the shadow beneath him. Mei, being so close to him, immediately noticed, confusion flashing on her face for a brief second, before a smirk took over.

"If you say so." She said, and backed off, turning away as Macaque hurriedly pulled his feet out of the shadows before he could sink any further.

Some part of him hoped that would be the end of it.

As soon as he ran into Wukong though, he instantly knew that this wasn't over by a long shot.

"Macaque." Wukong said, leaning against the wall, and Macaque instantly noticed that his glasses were missing.

"You owe Tang 5 cents." Macaque hissed, it was well known that Tang had made the Monkey King promise to pay him whenever the monkey was caught not wearing his glasses. Macaque, of course, didn't really care, but he was looking for some way to distract Wukong from whatever he was planning to do to him.

"I'll pay him later." Wukong shrugged, and Macaque mentally cursed. "So. How'd you sleep last night?"

Macaque wasn't going to be led into the trap this obviously was.

"How did you sleep last night?" He shot back.

"I didn't." Wukong said, perfectly honest. "I did see you walking around for a bit though, so I'm curious as to whether or not you slept. You need it more than I do, remember?"

That.... was true. Macaque did need to sleep more than Wukong did, but-

"I slept just fine." Macaque lied, sighing as he felt the glamor over his ears fade away. Wukong crossed his arms, a concerned look on his face, but Macaque ignored it, choosing instead to walk into a nearby shadow to teleport to another location on the ship, throwing his glamor back on as he did so.

(He, in truth, was in the same boat as Wukong, both literally and figuratively. He hadn't slept at all, instead laying awake all night, worrying.

Wukong was losing his powers. MK was not nearly close enough to being ready. The others, outside of Red Son, might have some powers or abilities, but they are no where near close enough to being capable of beating the Lady Bone Demon.

He'd have to rely on the unknowns of this weapon Wukong was seeking out.

Macaque didn't like relying on unknowns.)

He emerged in the ships engine room-

And very nearly fell right on top of Red Son.

"Watch where you're going!" Red Son huffed, dodging out of the way and angrily brushing non existent dirt off of his jacket. "Seriously, what is with you guys and trying to knock me to the ground?"

"Maybe you just look very squishable." Macaque muttered, not really intending on giving Red Son a proper response. He actually didn't want to interact with anyone right now, especially not Red Son, so he turned, moving to leave the engine room-

"Not so fast." Red Son said, stopping Macaque in his tracks by grabbing hold of the back of his scarf. "I've got some questions for you."

Hm. That didn't bode well.

"What makes you think that I have any answers?" Macaque asked, only to be met by a deadpan look that promised-

That promised fire if he didn't co-operate.

If there was a list of things Macaque strictly didn't want, fire would be number one, at the top of the list.

"...What do you want to know?" He asked, slumping a little in defeat.

"Why you stayed." Red Son said, elaborating when Macaque only looked at him in confusion. "Your wound healed. You were perfectly free to go. And yet.... you stayed. Like you were....trying to protect something."

"Uh, yeah, myself, obviously." Macaque said, shrugging. "Hanging out around the Monkey King and his successor is the safest place to be after-"

"That's not it." Red Son said, and Macaque froze. "Sure, staying around them while you're weak makes sense, you'd need someone to protect you. But after you've recovered? Once you're strong again? Sure, I can understand you getting attached, but always staying around them is a little strange."

There was a glint, in Red Son's eye, and Macaque suddenly remembered a moment, yesterday, where Mei had dragged the fire demon off to the side to have a little conversation. He'd thought nothing about it at the time, but now-

"You say that you're protecting yourself....But at this point, somehow, you're mostly protecting them, aren't you?" Red Son asked, "Whatever it is you're hiding, you're hiding it to protect both yourself and them."

Macaque didn't answer, instead staring at the floor.

Whatever Mei and Wukong had been planning, Red Son was in on it.

And he was very clearly not as interested in taking a subtle approach.

"Your powers have been on the fritz lately." Red Son said, almost like it was an afterthought to his whole theory. "Don't think that we haven't noticed. It's different from Wukong though, in that you're not losing your powers, if anything, it's like they're getting stronger, almost as though they're being drawn from a different source-"

Macaque didn't want to stay here any longer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He lied, and didn't resist as his powers fluctuated in response, letting himself completely fall into the shadow behind him.

-

He ended up falling out of a shadow on the ceiling.

Luckily, it was in his own room, so no-one else was there to witness it.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt though.

"...That's gonna bruise later...." He muttered to himself as he slowly pushed himself off the floor and stood up.

For a moment, he just stood there, slightly dazed.

And then he started pacing.

This was not good, the others were onto him, he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer.

Not to mention the lantern, it's influence on his abilities was getting stronger the longer he left it inside himself. There was literally no telling how far it's influence would go.

(He'd already started noticing some strands of his fur turning purple. It wasn't anything that couldn't easily be covered up by a glamor, but the fact it was happening at all was incredibly concerning.)

He had to find another place to hide it. But where-

And suddenly, Macaque was struck by an idea. A rather bad idea, honestly, there was sure to be consequences from this, but it was the only idea he had right now.

-

The ship's clock struck 4 am.

Macaque slipped into MK's room, holding the faintly glowing lantern.

For a moment, he stood there, beside MK's bed, letting the lantern hover over top of him, thinking.

Maybe......maybe he shouldn't do this. He could probably find another way, something more reasonable than a hastily made, sleep deprived, decision. After all, the lantern had proven that it came with side effects, who knows how it'd affect MK?

Well. If he's actually being honest, he was hoping that the Monkey King Magic MK had would effectively cancel out the lanterns effects.

...He had no way of proving that it could do that though.

After a few more minutes of standing there, mentally debating, Macaque finally came to the decision that, yeah, this wasn't a good idea, he should just go back to his room and try to sleep for the few remaining hours of the night, come up with a better plan tomorrow-

A loud sound clanged from the engine room, and Macaque startled, barely keeping himself from squeaking as the sudden noise surprised him, squeezing his hands on instinct-

And snapping the lantern in half, the bottom piece falling and merging into MK's magic.

For a moment, Macaque just stood there in shock.

Then MK curled up, letting out a small noise of pain as little golden and purple sparks started shooting across his body, and Macaque panicked, reaching into MK's magic and hurriedly pulling out the other half of the lantern, shoving both pieces back into himself as MK started to stir.

By the time MK was sitting up, blinking his eyes open, rubbing his arms and looking around the room in confusion, Macaque was gone.

-

The next day, Wukong practically broke down Macaque's door, MK in tow.

"Mine explaining to me why there are traces of shadow magic all over MK?" He asked, before pausing as he registered the scene in front of him.

Macaque was curled up under his blankets, a pillow over his head effectively hiding him from view. The only part of the other monkey that Wukong could actually see was his tail, which was dangling over the side.

This wasn't really that weird, Wukong fully remembered that the other monkey was in no way a morning person.

...It was slightly more weird due to the fact that it was lunchtime.

"Is he...okay?" MK asked, leaning over his mentor's shoulder.

"You tell me." Wukong said, "You're the one with the golden vision right now."

Macaque's tail, which had been swinging idly, froze, and suddenly there was a mad scramble as he tried to pull all the blankets off of himself and sit up at the same time. Essentially, he ended up rather tangled, and was far too late to stop MK from using his golden vision.

-

At first there was nothing MK hadn't already expected. The bags under the eyes, the mussed up fur, the six ears and the scar. These were all things he knew that he'd find.

The purple streaks in Macaque's fur was surprising.

But not nearly as surprising as the lantern that lay intermingled with Macaque's own magic.

"What do you see, kid?" Wukong asked, and MK watched as Macaque sat up straighter, finally managing to pull the blankets off of himself.

"Nothing! He sees nothing! Right, bud?" Macaque asked, a panicked twinge in his voice, and-

MK could see the lantern flare, the magic traversing Macaque's entire body, before condensing around his arm.

Which proceeded to sink into the shadow on the bed.

"...Well." MK started, staring as Macaque pulled his hand out of the shadow and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "That's not something you see every day."

-

"So I was right then?" Red Son asked, "He's been storing the lantern within himself?"

"How'd you even know about the lantern..." Macaque muttered, from where he sat at the kitchen table, leaning back with his arms crossed. His glamor had been taken down, allowing everyone to see the purple streaks in his fur.

The lantern sat on the table in front of him.

"I have my sources." Red Son said, looking overly proud of himself. Macaque huffed, looking away.

"I thought you said the lantern was destroyed?" Mei said, using a spoon to lightly poke the lantern, almost as though it would grow legs and run away.

"Yeah, like, I saw you break it-" MK started, and then was stopped mid sentence as Macaque raised his fist, before harshly crushing the lantern, breaking it into pieces. A few of the others jumped. "What did you do that for-"

Macaque simply raised his hand, letting his magic call out, and letting the pieces slide back into their proper place. By the end of it, the lantern looked as good as new, as though it'd never been broken. MK watched the display with wide eyes.

"I did break the lantern." Macaque said, "It's just not that hard to fix."

"Regardless-" Wukong started, grabbing the lantern out of Macaque's hand, the lantern switching from it's usual purple to a soft golden glow as he did so. "You seriously should've told us that you have this. It would've saved you so much trouble."

"Would you have trusted me, if you knew I still had it?" Macaque asked, only to be met with silence. "...Yeah. Thought so."

There was a moment of silence as Macaque sat there, looking down, not meeting anyone's eyes. Then Sandy softly placed his hand on Macaque's shoulder.

"It's not that we wouldn't have trusted you." He said, gently. "We would've just taken a bit longer to come around, is all."

"Uh-huh, sure, keep telling yourself that." Macaque said, still looking at the floor, and thus missing the entirely silent conversation everyone else shared.

They all agreed they probably weren't going to get very far with this issue any time soon, by the look of things. (That didn't mean they wouldn't bring it up later, though.)

"If you thought we wouldn't trust you if we knew you had the lantern, then why didn't you just, I don't know, throw it away?" MK asked, and Macaque sighed, slouching down in his chair.

"...Lady Bone Demon wanted it." He muttered, and everyone immediately stood up ramrod straight.

"What?" Wukong hissed, staring down at the lantern in his hands as though he was seeing it in a new light. "Why- what could she possibly want with-"

"Don't know, didn't stick around long enough to find out." Macaque said, shrugging. MK and Red Son both looked horrified.

"That's how you got injured." MK muttered, "She must've captured you because she wanted the lantern...."

"The Lady Bone Demon has a cursed blade..." Red Son said, under his breath, only Macaque hearing him.

"Yeah yeah, I got captured, I got injured, whatever, it's all over with now." Macaque said, waving a hand around as though he wasn't making light of something horrifying. "Anyways, anyone else got any bright ideas on where to hide the lantern?"

"....Was that a pun." Wukong asked, "Seriously. You reveal that the Lady Bone Demon is after both you and the lantern and then you swap topics with a pun?"

"You got a problem with that?" Macaque asked, a smirk on his face. There was a moment of tense silence as the two of them stared at each other.

Wukong set the lantern back down on the table.

And then tackled Macaque out of his chair and onto the floor. Macaque let out a startled yelp as they went down, before quickly switching to clawing at the other as Wukong easily pinned him to the ground-

And then suddenly Wukong's grip weakened, and Macaque easily reversed their positions, pinning Wukong to the floor. For a moment the Monkey King looked confused, before a look of nervous realization appeared on his face.

"Uh- guys?" He said, nervously giggling as Macaque and the others stared at him in confusion. "Um. I think I just lost my super strength?"

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little ���🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.