#th: Just follow my lane

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 2 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. chapter two is here !!! wc. 5.4k

you could not stand drunk people. 

well, unless they were your best friends. 

after emma had dragged you out of the party, she stumbled against you, babbling on loosely about how some guy at the party was trying to flirt with her— and in less harsh words than her own, he wasn’t the most attractive. 

he had begged her for a dance and even offered to buy her as many drinks as she wanted, whatever the price— but she kept politely refusing. until he grabbed her and tried to kiss her, which definitely ended with his hand over a bruised and bloody nose, and every single curse word under the sun had come from emma’s mouth. 

oliver was nowhere to be found, but he’d checked in on the life360 that he was at some guy’s house, and that’s really all you needed to know. 

jules and naomi stubbornly filed out of the house soon after you and emma retreated to your car, the red-head fanning herself as she slumped over the front seat, “oh m’gosh…y-y/n….think i’m literally gonna fuckin’ hack right about now.” 

you let out a quiet groan as the car door opened, your two remaining friends falling into the backseat and carelessly tossing their purses into the empty passenger one. naomi held her head, while jules tried to cover her stained lips with a tattooed palm, “h-hey…we couldn’t find you…at all.” 

you couldn’t even be annoyed at them for being intoxicated, because you were the one that promised you’d attend the party, only as the designated driver. and you being you, you were always there for a friend in need, especially the people that you loved oh so dearly. so you cranked your car up, turning your queued worship music down, sliding your right arm over the passenger seat to back up, “guys, please please do not throw up in my car. i just cleaned it!” 

that statement earns painful groans from the three girls in the back, holding their stomachs as you sped off and onto the main road, carefully. you placed both hands on the wheel and tried to drive as slowly and heedful as you could, partially afraid that the night would end with vomit on your undyed seats and lipstick stains on your seat covers. but you took a deep sigh and looked in the rearview mirror, “anyone feel like they need to pull over right about now? please tell me now, i don’t really feel like cleaning throw up.”

“please….the diner on….just pull over.” jules swallows thickly, and you watch as the other two bold-haired girls nod at her statement in agreement. you swivel into a turning lane abruptly, tired eyes fixated on the sign that reads “GINA’S DINER.” it’s quick the way you pull into a spot, apologizing for how recklessly you turned into a spot— but you really needed to make sure that no one was going to ruin your clean car. 

you all file out, naomi nearly falling as they all hurriedly make their way towards the door, their heels clacking against the pavement as you locked your car and followed them in. 

a bell above you makes your appearance known, and you give the lady at the front an awkward, slightly apologetic wave. she doesn’t understand your gesture until she sees naomi, jules and emma rush towards the bathroom, stomachs clutched and faces washed with sickly expressions. 

“fun night, hm?” she asks you, southern accent so strong that you almost can’t understand what she’s saying. you just shrug at her, slipping into a front booth as you pull out your phone, eyes droopy and slightly achy. there’s a Bible notification, and you can’t help but smile, even in the midst of all this. it’s a verse from psalms, something about finding refuge in the Lord during chaos. you could definitely use that right about now. 

you tuck your phone into your lap and breathe deeply, letting the soft hum of the diner soothe your nerves. the air smells like coffee, bacon grease, and syrup, the kind of mix that shouldn’t be comforting, but is.

your friends are loud even from the distant, dingy bathroom, their laughter carrying through the thin walls as they recover from the night’s bad decisions, and it’s all masked quickly as you hear three in tune gags. 

you shake your head. 

emma’s voice cuts through the noise, something about how she could’ve totally taken that guy out even harder if she wasn’t wearing heels. jules and naomi laugh, and you imagine their glossy lips curling into wide smiles, mascara smudged and carefree.

“refuge in the Lord,” you mumble to yourself, tracing the edge of the laminated menu on the table, your finger settled on a plate of hash browns that mistakenly look like a cross, but you’re sure that it’s a sign. you smile to yourself as a waitress approaches— mid-50s, with tired eyes but a warm smile. “long night, sweetheart?” she asks, pouring water into a glass in front of you.

“you have no idea,” you reply with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. “but they’re my people, you know? i love them with all my heart.” 

the waitress smiles knowingly, nodding toward the bathroom. “i get it, honey. not many would be the driver for that crowd, y’know, but you’ve got something sweet on you. you’re a kind soul, i can tell.” 

you laugh, genuinely this time, glancing toward the bathroom door to make sure that they’re still in there, “thank you. and yeah, they’re a mess, but they’re my mess. couldn’t go through life without them.” 

she doesn’t really respond. she just places a coffee cup in front of you, even though you didn’t order it, and pats your hand sweetly,  “on the house, sweetheart. looks like you could use it.”

the warmth of the mug grounds you as you watch the bathroom door finally swing open, after what felt like absolute years. your friends spill out, looking slightly less disheveled, faces cleaned up but eyes still glinting with the remnants of the night’s mischief. they weave through the diner, collapsing into the booth with you like puzzle pieces falling into place.

“dude, holy shit,” emma groans, leaning her head back against the booth. “that bathroom was a war zone. i honestly deserve a real-life award for surviving it.”

“you deserve an award for not throwing up in my car.” you deadpan, and that earns a round of weak laughter, the waitress sharing a portion of it as she disappears into the back. you were serious, but your joke was light-hearted, and you slump your head against the cool surface of the table, letting it sooth your slight headache. 

“should we order pancakes?” naomi blurts, her lipstick hastily reapplied, and she cracks open a mirror to set it with a thick, pinky gloss, “i think we all need some pancakes.”

“and hashbrowns!” jules adds, pointing at the menu as if you’re about to argue. it was late— nearly three o’ clock in the morning, and you refused to drive these girls home and pay for a meal you knew they’d only eat half of before hauling to the bathrooms again. 

you just shake your head, sipping the coffee. it’s too bitter for your liking, but the caffeine jolts you enough to sit up a little straighter, “fine, but one of you better be paying. you guys are driving me absolute nuts.” 

emma’s hand shoots up dramatically, her movements still a little sluggish, but way better than before. “it’s all on me. it’s the least i can do after saving my own dignity from that creep earlier.”

you raise an eyebrow at her as naomi and jules snort, “pretty sure dignity doesn’t include nearly breaking someone’s nose, em. that was mean.”

“oh no, you weren’t there. he completely deserved that shit.” she says firmly, twirling her finger in the air like she’s drawing a halo over her head.

you lean back, letting their chatter wash over you like background music. emma’s wild stories, jules’s dry wit, naomi’s quiet observations— they all blend into something that feels like home. you’d never say it aloud, but moments like these are what make the late nights and exhausted mornings worth it.

still, as you glance at the phone in your lap and reread the verse from psalms, there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind. something about balance. about faith. about how these nights with your friends, full of chaos and laughter and the occasional Bible verse for grounding, somehow fit into your life.

you love them. and you love God. but sometimes, it feels like both are pulling you in opposite directions, but tonight, in this diner, they coexist. the coffee is too bitter, the pancakes will probably be disgustingly dry, and your friends are a complete mess, but for now, it’s enough for you.

before the food comes, the three girls beside you decide that they need to make sure their stomachs are empty enough to eat, so they all get up, rushing to the bathroom and leaving you with just your thoughts. you distract yourself with some game on your phone before the bell above the door jingles again, and you glance up absentmindedly, thinking it’s just another group of drunk strangers coming in for some late-night pancakes. but it’s not. it’s billie.

and she’s stumbling. horribly. 

“oh, please kill me,” you mutter under your breath, straightening in your seat. as if on cue, emma, jules, and naomi all file out the bathroom, turning to look, their chatter dying down as they notice her too. she’s wearing extremely oversized jeans and a tank top that clings to her in a way that feels like it should be illegal, her hair slightly tousled, like she’s been through a windstorm— or, more accurately, a stupidly wild party. 

she’s got a girl and two guys with her, but they venture off somewhere else to slip quarters into an old jukebox, cursing loudly when they realize that the device is way outdated. you snort. you thought that was obvious. 

“isn’t that your girl?” emma teases, leaning over the table with a sly grin. she pokes your shoulder and you immediately shove her off, your cheeks hot and angry with a blush that blossoms to the rest of your body. 

“she’s not my girl, don’t say that.” you hiss, your but your statement’s really all bark no bite, per usual. but your heart skips a beat when billie looks up and locks eyes with you, her face lighting up in a way that’s both charming and disarming.

she weaves through the tables with all the grace of a baby deer, her steps uneven but determined to get to you. she drawls, her voice low and slightly slurred, “what are you doin’ here, angel?”

“billie…” you sigh, your voice tinged with exasperation and a little disappointment. after your conversation at the party, you had assumed that she wasn’t the type of girl to get drunk and stumble around, and it hurt you a little bit to realize that you were mistaken. 

“oh, don’t ‘billie’ me,” she says, sliding into the booth beside you, much too close for comfort. the scent of tequila and her vanilla perfume hits you like a wave, and you lean back instinctively, pressing into the seat. but she mimics your actions, her shoulder pressed against yours as she slurs, badly. 

“you’re drunk.” you point out, trying to keep your voice steady, but it’s broken. your skin’s hot and furious, and you can’t quite place why— all you know is that you’re mostly disappointed. your friends’ voices grow silent as they watch your encounter with the dark haired girl, and she just shrugs her shoulders at you nonchalantly. 

“m’kay,” billie drags, looking up at you with soft, hazy eyes, and you swallow thickly, “maybe a little.” 

she admits she’s had a little too much to drink, flashing you a lopsided grin. her finger comes up to boop your nose, but she’s so intoxicated that it misses it by an inch.  “but m’not too drunk to notice how cute you look right now.”

your friends exchange looks, barely suppressing their laughter. emma actually has the audacity to nudge jules, whispering something that makes them both giggle, and you feel embarrassed. you shoot them a glare, but it’s hard to focus when billie’s gaze is fixed on you like you’re the only person in the entire diner.

“billie,” you say again, this time softer, almost pleading her to stop making you look stupid in front of your girls, “you should…you should just go sit over there.” you gesture vaguely to the empty booth across from you, but she doesn’t budge.

“nah,” she says, resting her chin in her hand as she looks at you, and you take a good look at her, your eyes involuntarily narrowing. she looks like she’s been through it— skin glossy but dull, lips chapped and dry, her voice croaked and broken. she’s slow with her movements as she sinks further into the chair, “i’m good right….right here.”

your pulse quickens, and you don’t know if it’s from annoyance, embarrassment, or something else entirely. “billie, you’re making this really weird.” you mumble, your fingers gripping the edge of the table to keep yourself from touching her. 

“weird?…h-how’s it weird?” billie leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, “i’m just complimenting you, angel. that’s not a sin, now is it?”

your stomach twists uncomfortably at the mention of sin. of course, that’s where your mind goes. because everything about this feels…complicated. billie’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin, and her eyes— bright and mischievous— make it hard to think straight. you just want her to go away, to disappear and never look back, to literally never utter a single word to you ever again. but she’s persistent, almost taunting you with her presence, and it’s like you can’t take your eyes off her no matter how hard you try. 

you hate this. you hate it a lot. you close your eyes, thinking and hoping that if you pray it hard enough, she’ll go away. like she’s an illusion, a ghost that’s just here for a distraction. but when you open your eyes, she’s still there, eyes fixated on you as she waits for an answer. 

“it’s not a sin, but…” you mutter, looking away from her gaze, eyes fighting to focus on something else, anything else, “…you’re drunk. you don’t really mean any of this.” 

“who says i don’t?” she shoots back, and for a moment, her tone isn’t teasing. it’s serious, almost challenging, and you want to just get up and walk out. but you can’t. 

your breath catches, and you’re grateful when the waitress comes back with your friends’ pancakes, breaking the tension. billie doesn’t move, though. she just keeps looking at you, like she’s waiting for you to say something.

“billie,” you try again, your voice softer now. “please. just…sit over there, okay? we can talk when you’re sober.”

she hesitates, her eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you think she might argue with you. but then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “fine.” she says, dragging herself to her feet. “but only ‘cause you asked so nicely…so, see you around…”

she winks lazily at you before sliding into the booth across the aisle, and your cheeks burn as your friends erupt into laughter the second she’s out of earshot. your head turns sharply to look at them, and you feel your eyes swell with tears. 

“oh, my goodness, y/n,” emma says, clutching her stomach, mostly because she isn’t sure if she’s gonna throw up, but also because she’s containing so much laughter, “you were soooo red. dudette, she’s totally into you!”

“please, emma. stop it. she’s not.” you protest weakly, your voice barely audible over the girls’ laughter.

but the truth is, you don’t know if that’s true. and worse, you don’t know how you feel about it.

as you sip your coffee and avoid looking in billie’s direction, your phone buzzes again with another verse. this time, it’s one about temptation. you let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, making sure your friends don’t see your tears. but they’re too busy laughing and digging into their food to pay it any mind, and you rest your head down, hoping you could just disappear. to go anywhere— to run and never look back, to hide, to forget everything that just happened in the past five minutes. 

the diner feels like it’s shrinking in on you, like the walls are closing in around you with every passing second. billie’s presence is magnetic— whether you’re looking at her or not, you can feel her. the way her arm drapes over the back of her booth, her carefree laugh echoing as she chats with the waitress, her eyes flicking toward you every now and then, and you always look away before your eyes can meet. it’s maddening.

your friends are still teasing you, of course— they won’t let anything go until it’s dragged out and so annoying that even they can’t stand it any longer. 

jules is practically doubled over with laughter, her face flushed as she wipes at her eyes. “y/n, be so fuckin’ for real right now,” she says between giggles, lightly tapping naomi on the shoulder to tune in, “you cannot tell me she wasn’t flirting with you.” 

“she’s drunk,” you speak again, your voice firm but your cheeks still hot. you wipe your eyes with your sleeve discreetly, blaming it on the air conditioning too high for your sensitive eyes. you sniffle, “it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“uh-huh,” naomi chimes in, smirking as she picks at her stack of pancakes with her fork, “right. and i’m the queen of england. both those things don’t make any sense.” 

emma, who’s been quiet up until now, leans over the table with a knowing look, like she can read something even you can’t. sometimes you despised that— you despised your friendship lasting so long that she could tell what you’re feeling before you even know yourself. she pauses, then gives you wide eyes, “hey…you like her, don’t you?”

“emma, no!” the denial is almost instant, too quick to sound convincing, even to your own ears. 

but you’re sure. 

no matter what, this is utterly wrong, for so many reasons. it’s nothing you’ve ever desired before, and it’s not right, and it’s just something that happens when you see people that are almost unearthly beautiful. man, woman— everyone has eyes, and everyone that can see knows that billie is drop dead gorgeous. but that doesn’t mean anything, it can’t. and it won’t. 

emma gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s been shot, “oh, my gosh! you like the emo girl!”

“i don’t,” you insist, groaning as you bury your face in your hands, “can we please talk about something else?”

“fine,” emma says, but the smirk on her face tells you she’s not letting this situation go anytime soon, “but we’re circling back to this later, girlfriend— just so you know.”

you glance over at billie, hoping she’s too wrapped up in her own world to notice the chaos unfolding at your table, and definitely hoping that emma doesn’t see you do it. but of course, billie catches your eye and grins, her lips curling in that way that makes your stomach turn in on itself. 

you look away almost immediately, focusing on your untouched and horrible coffee. it’s lukewarm now, but you sip it anyway, hoping the bitterness will ground you a little bit. you find yourself caught in your thoughts until naomi taps your shoulder, making sure that emma and jules are too goofed off to notice. 

“y/n,” she says softly, her tone more serious now, “are you okay?”

you nod, even though you’re not sure it’s true. you hated to lie, but it wasn’t any of her business, and you didn’t even know exactly how you were feeling. you huff, “yeah, i’m just…tired.”

that much, at least, is honest. the night feels like it’s been stretched out for days on end, and the weight of everything— your faith, your friends, billie —sits heavy on your chest. you just want to fall into your bed and stay there forever, resting until the sun rises and falls a million times. 

“we should head out soon,” you say, glancing at your phone. it’s horribly late into the night now, and you know you’ll feel this exhaustion in your bones tomorrow.

but before you can usher your friends toward the door, billie stands up from her booth and strolls over to you, and you genuinely want to push her out of the way. but it isn’t like you, it never has been— so you stand idle in your spot by the jukebox, watching billie’s movements that are still a little unsteady, but her confidence is unwavering.

“y/n,” she says, her voice softening, “you leaving without saying goodbye?”

emma snorts, and you shoot her a warning look before turning your attention back to billie, “we were…um…. just about to head out,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. whatever emotion you show, it’ll be talked about in the car, so you try to remain as stoic as humanly possible.

“hmm,” she hums, tilting her head as she studies you. “you sure you’re okay? you’ve been awfully quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine,” you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you, coming out more flustered than you intended.

“you don’t look fine,” billie says, leaning down so her face is level with yours. her proximity makes your heart race, and you’re painfully aware of how close she is— close enough that you can see the faint freckles dusting her nose, close enough that her breath fans against your cheek as you shut your eyes, exhaling slowly to keep yourself calm. she giggles, “well…you do look fine, but—“ 

“billie,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper. “you should sit down. or…go home.”

“maybe,” she says, but she doesn’t move. instead, she smiles, sweet and almost…tender. “but…. not before i tell you something.”

your breath catches, and you feel your friends’ eyes on you, the air around the table thick with anticipation.

“you’re…really something, y/n,” she says, her voice quiet but sincere, “i don’t know what it is, but…there’s just something about you. something good.”

the words hit you harder than they should, and you don’t know if it’s because she’s drunk or because she means it, or maybe even both.

“i—“ you start to say something but it’s too quiet, so you just start to rush out of the diner, embarrassment flooding your face as your friends attempt to follow you. but with the way they’re stumbling and how drunk they still are, their detour to the bathroom is definitely expected. 

as you step outside, the night air is sharp and biting, the cold shocking your heated face. you could stay in and wait, you think— but you don’t have the patience to, and you’re too embarrassed to walk back in and face whatever just happened to you. you’re starting to head to your car when you hear the door jingle opened, and you hope and pray that it’s your trio of girls, but you set your hopes a little too high. 

“y/n!” you hear billie call after you, her voice slurring slightly, but it’s the desperation in her tone that makes you really stop you in your tracks. you pause, half-turning, the diner’s fluorescent lights spilling out onto the sidewalk as billie’s figure emerges into view, her feet tripping over her own oversized clothes as she slumps against the run down, brick wall next to her. 

her jacket’s hanging loosely off one shoulder, hair messy but somehow still perfect in that careless way she always manages. she’s really out of breath, her hands on her hips as she steadies herself, and when her eyes meet yours, there’s a flicker of something calm, something sweet. caring. 

“you’re…really l-leaving?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, her voice dripping nectar as she looks at you, almost like she’s a little hurt at it. 

“yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your tone even, but it comes out shaky instead. typical.  

“i think i’ve had enough excitement for one night. i just want to go home and go to sleep.” 

billie takes a step closer, her jordan’s scuffing against the pavement. she’s hesitant before she speaks, “did i…did i say something wrong?”

the question catches you off guard, and you shake your head quickly. it wasn’t her at all, it was just how she made you feel. her words were too much for you, and the way she was acting— it made you squirm, it was bothersome, icky, awkward. you meet eyes with her from across the parking lot, and you shrug out, trying to get out of this predicament as quickly as you possibly could. 

 “no. it’s not that. i just—” you falter, crossing your arms over your chest, “i need some air.”

she nods slowly, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before she looks back up at you. “y/n, i wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. i-i just…sometimes i say things when i’ve had a little too much, but that doesn’t mean i don’t mean them.”

your heart skips a beat at her honesty, and you take a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

“billie, you’re really drunk.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, and the distance between the two of you that you created falls useless as billie steps closer, almost not hearing what you’ve said. 

“yeah, i am drunk,” she admits, a soft laugh escaping her lips, “but that doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you look away, staring at the empty parking lot as if it’ll give you the answers you’re so desperately searching for. you run your fingers through the ends of your hair, fighting to keep calm. the only reason you don’t walk away and leave is because your friends are still in the bathroom. 

can they hurry up? 

“i don’t know what you want me to say,” you admit finally, your voice cracking slightly as you let out a choked, awkward laugh. 

“i don’t want you to say anything,” billie replies, stepping closer until she’s just a few feet away. “i just…i needed you to know that. you’re cool…y/n…there’s just something about you that....”

the confession leaves you speechless, your chest tightening as you try to process her words. she’s so close now that you can smell the faint scent of whiskey on her breath, mixed with something sweet that’s uniquely her.

“please, enough.” 

“i’ll stop,” she says quickly, holding her hands up in surrender. “i swear. i just—needed to get it out, you know? but i’ll stop now. sorry.” 

before you can respond, the diner door swings open behind you, and emma stumbles out, her arm slung around naomi’s shoulder as jules trails behind them, shoving a tube of lipstick in your bag. 

“ahh, there you are!” emma says, her voice loud and cheerful despite her disheveled state, “we thought you left us.”

you force a smile, grateful for the timely distraction, “just needed some air.”

emma’s eyes flick between you and billie, and her lips curve into a knowing smirk, “well, don’t let us interrupt! we’ll be on our way.” 

“emma.” you hiss, shooting her a glare, but she just laughs and waves you off, heading toward the car with naomi and jules in tow.

you turn back to billie, who’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite read, but you don’t have the energy to figure it out. you’re so tired and upset that you just walk away, leaving billie slumped against the brick walls of the diner’s exterior, hair wildly flowing in the wind as she watches you slip into your car, cranking the engine and pulling off and away. 

you really think you could cry right now. 

jules, naomi, and emma eventually fall asleep in the back, and you fight to stay awake the last five minutes of the drive as you start to drop everyone off at their dorm rooms, or at least near them. and then it’s you and a sleeping emma, her snores syncopated with the barking of the wind outside, and you quickly park and roll your windows up, taking off your seatbelt to turn around and poke your best friend. 

“wake up.” you whisper, prodding at her bare shoulder as she stirs awake, swatting your hand like a fly. she mumbles into the cushions of your seats, “mmmhmm, like— five more minutes.”

“we’re here, emma. we have to go inside, i’m tired.” you whined, rolling your eyes. although she’s annoyed, she sits up, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm. a sleepy grin is wiped across her face as she puts her hand out to touch yours, “i am…so sorry…for dragging you everywhere across town. you’re the best, y’know that?” 

you just nod in a silent thanks, squeezing her hand before opening the door and getting out, emma copying your movements. 

the two of you step out into the cold, the wind biting at your skin as you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself. emma stumbles a little, still half-asleep, and you reach out instinctively to steady her.

“you good?” you ask, glancing at her.

“yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, waving you off. “just…y’know, trying to remember how to walk.”

you huff out a laugh, your breath visible in the chilly night air. together, you trudge toward the dorm entrance, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet.

emma fishes around in her purse for her key, muttering under her breath about how she’s going to “kill the next guy who offers her tequila.” you lean against the doorframe, watching her with tired amusement until she finally triumphs, holding up the key like a trophy.

“victory is mine!” she whispers dramatically, pushing the door open and gesturing for you to go in first.

inside, the warmth is immediate, and you let out a small sigh of relief, slipping off your shoes. emma kicks off her heels with an exaggerated groan, stumbling toward the couch. she collapses onto it, sprawling out like she’s never been more comfortable in her life.

“you coming?” she asks, peeking one eye open as you hover near the door.

“nah,” you say, shaking your head. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’m beat.”

emma gives you a thumbs up, already halfway to sleep again as you make your way toward your room.

but when you close the door behind you and sink onto your bed, exhaustion doesn’t come like you thought it would. your body aches for rest, but your mind is still spinning, replaying everything from the night.

you sit there for a while, staring at the wall, before finally pulling out your journal from the drawer beside your bed. the pages are filled with your handwriting, verses, prayers, and thoughts you’ve poured out over time. it’s a place where you’ve always felt safe, where you’ve always been honest.

you open to a blank page, hesitating for a moment before you start to write:

“God, tonight was…confusing. I don’t know how to feel about any of it. I want to do the right thing. I want to honor You. But sometimes, I feel like I’m stuck in this constant battle between who I am and who I think I’m supposed to be.

I feel so much pressure to have everything figured out, to make the right choices, to be good. But what if I don’t always know what that looks like? What if I mess up?

I don’t want to disappoint You. I don’t want to disappoint myself. But I’m scared, and I’m tired, and I just don’t know what to do.”

you pause, the pen hovering over the page, before finishing with a shaky, “Please, help me understand.”

closing the journal, you let out a long breath, the weight of your words still heavy on your chest.

you crawl under the covers, curling up on your side as the wind howls outside. the room is quiet, but your mind is so loud, filled with a mix of doubt and hope and a little bit of fear. 

and as you finally drift off to sleep, you pray for clarity, for strength, for peace. because even if you don’t have all the answers, you’re holding on to the belief that they’ll come. at some point.

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[haikyu-mp4]

I would like to listen to Better Than Words with Bokuto, please <3 😊

Now playing... Better Than Words

word count; 919 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Bokuto knows many things. He’s a college graduate, no less! However, before he even accomplished that, his mother ensured he was instilled with a couple of important values. For example, actions speak louder than words.

So when he hadn’t been able to see you for a whole week because of practice, he wanted to get you the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers he could find to show how much he appreciated you. He left the flower shop with a blinding smile on his face and a couple of elderly women cooed at him as he walked past with the flowers in hand.

Not even the rain could make his smile fall. It was a light drizzle, and he did his best to shield the flowers as he made his way to the bus stop. Picking his phone out of his pocket, he took a moment to admire the picture of you on his lock screen. Your beauty made the bouquet dull in comparison, he thought.

He wrote you a message saying he was on his way over, and just as it was sent, the bus pulled up to his stop. Unfortunately, it was quite full and he had to stand around the middle, so he desperately tried to protect the flowers from harsh squishing by the people around him. Fortunately, he was a tall, strong guy, and the flowers took minimal damage. He breathed out a short disappointed breath as he saw some ruined petals, but he still stayed positive that you would like the gesture. They were still nice flowers.

Someone else pressed the button for his stop, so he waited patiently as someone else got off before making his way out the door. Just as he was about to step off, someone accidentally bumped into his back, sending him stumbling out with a roar of surprise.

He watched almost as if in slow motion as the bouquet flew out of his hands and onto the pavement. Following his unlucky pattern, it fell right into the bike lane where a man whizzed over his precious flowers and broke at least half the stems.

Finally gaining his footing, he picked them up as quickly as possible, tears in his eyes as the bus doors closed. Several people were watching him from the windows as the bus drove off, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about the sorry excuse of a bouquet he was about to bring you.

You waited for him in your apartment, just finishing up the last part of the meal, the table set for a romantic dinner. Going a week without your boyfriend wasn’t life-threatening, but this felt like a forever kind of love and you wanted to make sure he knew you appreciated him.

There was a knock on the door and you excitedly skipped over to the door, opening it in a rush only to be met with a wet-eyed Kotaro. His hands were behind his back and he smiled as best as he could despite his disappointment in himself. “Baby, what’s wrong? I missed you so much, come here.”

You pulled him inside and wrapped your arms around him in the warmest hug. His arms did the same around you, and as he leaned his head on yours, you felt him holding something behind your back.

“I missed you too, and I wanted to buy you pretty flowers,” he answered with a sniffle. As you pulled away, he held a bouquet between you with the most gorgeous array of different flowers you had ever seen. It had all your favourites, in addition to some other pretty ones to make it fuller. It also looked tired and clearly got messed up on the way. You gasped and stroked your hands over his to take the bouquet from him. “But then everything went wrong on the way here, and I couldn’t go back and get a new one, because then the food would get cold, and, and- I just love you so much that I can’t even find the words to sum it up.”

You caressed his cheek with your free hand, chuckling softly under your breath. “You went all the way to that one shop I like, didn’t you? The only one with this particular shade of my favourite, oh how lovely!” you noted, making him nod and smile a little. “This is perfect, Kotaro, thank you. I’m glad you didn’t go back, I made your favourite for dinner.”

He perked up, sniffing the air and stroking his hand down your back as you walked into the kitchen where you would be eating. “I love you.”

You leaned up to kiss his lips before he held your chair out for you so you could sit down. “I know, you show me every day. And I love you too.”

After a lovely dinner of catching up on everything that happened the last week, you and Kotaro did the dishes together before settling down by the dinner table to preserve some memories. You had the great idea of pressing the flowers! You wouldn’t need much of the broken stems, and any ruined petals could be left out.

A couple of weeks later, he was back over at your apartment for an evening of watching the new series you were into, and he was happy to see the flowers from that day were framed and hung above your TV.

Underneath were three words in cursive writing that made his heart warm.

Better than words.

masterlist

/grand thanks to angel @cottonlemonade for this idea<3

[stuffyflowers]

follow up to the bad driving post from yesterday. explanations under cut also feel free to argue with me lol

So basically top left = characters who drive badly but not in a way that will cause a crash, top right = characters who are actually all things considered good at driving, bottom left = characters who should not be behind the wheel ever, bottom right = characters who are good drivers in theory/most of the time, but certain factors can make them become car crash material.

Dalv: In my mind, Dalv is the most cautious and safe driver ever, to the point where he loops back around to being a shit driver. You do not want to get stuck in a lane behind this guy he will not go even CLOSE to the speed limit. He will probably let you through when he has right of way. etc etc. Ig on the bright side he doesnt get into enough situations where a car crash could really occur? yay?

El Bailador: Kind of guy who drives windows down music blaring probably speeding slightly at all times but somehow has never had anything bad happen to him. he is being protected by higher powers because he is sooooooo nice and cool :)

Ace: Ridicules all his friends for being bad drivers then actually gets behind the wheel and he sucks almost as bad. Yk, given how his whole thing in the Wild East is facepalming at the five's antics while arguably being worse than a lot of them in that regard. Why are you encouraging a child to gamble. Why are you tormenting blackjack with mooch. Whats his problem

Edward: Okay I didnt really know where to put Ed.. Hes in a weird situation where,, i think his biggest problem would be finding a car thats actually suited to him. Like how he wants to play the guitar but his hands are too big to actually play any of the ones they have. After that though, I think he'd be pretty good, at least decent! He does have some anger issues to deal with (beat up blembino that one time lol) that could cause problems but hes working on it :)

Moray: Pretty self explanatory. The most normal feisty five member. Probably their designated driver 90% of the time. The only reason theyre not completely top is bc their one weakness is whilst they ARE the voice of reason, they do ultimately go along w the group most of the time even if they feel whats happening is wrong. Maybe picks up on the five's bad habits a bit? Overall still a trustworthy pick for driver i think.

Flowey: Ok.do not take this too seriously..............Ik he doesnt have feet for th pedals but consider. Its funny. He can use his vines trust me (also even if he cant physically drive i feel like he'd have a really good understanding of driving. guy who has read every book is bound to have useless knowledge on topics that arent at all relevant to him. and you cant crash the car if youre not driving i guess!!!!!!!!!! but also. funny.)

Ceroba: Similar case as Ed. Actually good at driving but holy fuck the road rage. I feel she'd be worse at responding to it than him bc she has so little self respect. very "I will kill us both😳" attitude abt tailgating and shit like that. Usually better at keeping it in when shes driving with someone else.

Martlet: Maybe she should be furthest down bc she is the only one to canonically crash a vehicle…, Idk I feel like she’d be sliiiightly better w a car where her focus has to be constantly checked, she cant get distracted while filling in questionnaires with clover if she’s driving. That being said she is still. Yeah.

Mooch: similar to mart. Just cannot see her being a good driver. Sorry girl </3

Starlo: starlo.

Axis: faceplanted right in the center bc hes a wild card to me. Would he have insufferable road rage? Would he actually be pretty chill and responsible? Can he even drive if his foot is a singular wheel? Who knows.

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Switch of Daylight: Chapter Thirteen, Volturi

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[Twelve] [Thirteen] [One]

"He's going to make the Volturi change their minds." Alice tells us after a vision.

"It's almost noon now." Bella announces, checking her watch. Alice going as fast as she can in th Porsche.

"There's Volterra." Alice points up to a village. Now pushing the car even faster than before. Everyone in the village is wearing red. The car weaving through people. "Why are they all wearing red?" Bella questions.

"San Marcos Day festival. The perfect setting. Large crowds. The Volturi won't let him get far enough to reveal himself- he's counting on that." She explains to my sister who's freaking out.

"We only have five minutes."

Alice slams on the breaks, bringing us to a halt. The police wave her back and Bella jumps out. "Where's the square?" She asks. "Follow that lane-" My sister's already running. "He'll be under the clock tower!" Alice shouts after her.

As we watch Bella we then see a figure in a black coat, tracking her. He disappears and I go to open the door but Alice stops me. "[Name], they'll kill you." She says. "I really have nothing to live for anymore, Alice. I'll be killed either way. We both know it." I tell her, it was something no one wanted to bring up.

Why would they? I'm slowly turning into a hybrid, the most powerful being to exist. Something the Volturi can't let happen. Neither can the wolves. As much as I'm fighting it, I'm getting weaker.

"Don't say that, I can protect you." Her face morphs into a sad expression I don't think  I've ever had to witness before. I take in a breath, checking where Bella's body was just at, my hand still touching the door handle. Then looking back at Alice.

"Does she make it?" I ask. "Yes." She whispers. "We need to get there before they get them." I say, she nods her head, I take my hand off the handle and sit back.

I notice her shoulders fall and she begins to drive the Porsche to park it somewhere. Once we get in a shaded area she puts her hood up, I take the stupid hat off and put on the hood of my long sleeve. I feel my body shudder, my knees almost giving out. Alice holds onto my body, helping me stay up.

"Let's go." I demand, she hums, her small body fitting underneath my arm. "I know a shortcut." She tells me, we go behind buildings and then finding alleys that lead to others so we don't have to bump into too many people. "[Name] you're getting weaker." She suddenly says, I didn't even notice how droopy I was becoming.

"I'm sorry." I straighten my poster. "You need to take some of my energy." She leans me against the wall and I let out a shakey breath, hitting my head against the brick. "No." I close my eyes.

"I'll take their energy when we get there." I try to walk, almost falling forward but she catches me once again. "Please, just enough to walk on your own." She pleads with me.

"Just enough," I repeat, focusing on what I was doing I take some of her energy and I'm able to let her go without stumbling. I glance at her and I see her eyes sunken in a little bit. "I took too much." My eyes widen.

"No- no you didn't, I can still run, let's go." She takes my hand and we begin to start running where we need to go.

We hear their voices and start getting closer, Alice lightly trips when we get toward them. We pull off our hoods.

"Come on, guys. It's a festival." We reach Edward and my sister, positioning ourselves in a protective stance in front of Bella. "We wouldn't want to make a scene." I continue.

"There won't be any scene. And we'll still win." I recognize him from when Jasper and Alice were telling me about them. His name is Felix.

"But not easily-" "Enough." Jane, a tiny woman with blonde hair cuts the conversation. We take a step back, knowing her ability. "Jane." Edward nods.

"Who is she?" I hear my sister ask Alice. "Just do as she says." Alice motions. Jane tosses Edward an overcoat, he easily slips it on. "Follow me." She orders, turning and heading up the alley.

I glare at them from behind, knowing I could easily take their energy and power but also knowing it wouldn't end good.

We follow them.

I feel the energy I once had falter, having to cover it up I bounce on my other knee a little bit. I know Edward noticed it though. He moves closer to me.

"Take mine." Is all he whispered. I glance at him, shaking my head. "Do it." He mumbles a little more sternly. He forcibly grabs my wrist and I close my eyes.

"Ok, ok." I smack him away, focusing on what I had to do again.

We get to more narrow alleys, the path ends at a wall of the brick similar to the other walls. Without breaking the pace of the walking we were doing Jane strides in forward, dropping down a hole in the street. A drain.

Alice follows, me going next. "It's alright, Alice and [Name] will catch you." I hear Edward tell Bella as we now wait at the bottom. We do exactly as said by him and then when he lands beside us he takes Bella, pulling her close to him.

Next we go into an elevator, the door clanging shut and the noise hurting my ears. I feel that warm feeling again and I tense up. I'm not even angry so I don't understand why it's happening.

The elevator opens to a nicely elegant space that has an old world look to it. We're greeted by a human receptionist. "Buon pomeriggio."

We head through the lobby, reaching double doors that open. The three ancients, Aro, Marcus and Caius sit in three seats there. Aro rises, greeting us and taking Edward's hand, shaking it.

"What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn't that wonderful?" Aro grins, announcing it to everyone in the world. Caius has a sour expression laid upon his face. Marcus could care less.

Aro doesn't let go of Edward's hand. "Her blood appeals to you so much it makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?" He questions Edward. "It's not without effort." He responds, making Aro laugh. "I can see that."

Bella looks at Edward confused so he explains, "One touch and Aro can see every thought I've ever had in my life."

"You're quite the telepath yourself, Edward. Though, you can't read Bella's thoughts. Fascinating." He releases Edward's hand and turns to Bella. "I would love to see if you are an exception to my gifts, as well."

He reaches for my sister's hand who is hesitant at first but she doesn't have a choice so he extends his hand. She finally takes it. Confusion sweeps over him.

"Interesting." He releases her hand and goes back to his chair. "I wonder if-" "No!" Edward shouts.

I look between everyone, observing everyone's emotions. Alice moves closer to me. She knows if he gets anything from us he's going to know what's going to happen to me. I've come to terms with it.

"Let's see if she's immune to all our powers, shall we Jane?" Aro ignores Edward. Jane turns to Bella but Edward springs in front of her. Jane focuses her gaze onto him which flings him across the room where he collapses. My eyes widen and I focus onto her. Taking her energy.

Alice goes to tell me to stop but it's too late. She's not able to use her ability anymore. "Jane, dear?" Aro asks her, smiling at me now. Jane's grin turned to anger.

"[Name], isn't it?" I back away from him. "Now, now." He laughs. I take deep breaths trying to calm down as I feel the warmth get hotter on my skin. I look over at Alice whose eyebrows are furrowed, not knowing what to do as Bella is helping Edward up.

Them just as worried about me. Bella and him don't know much but obviously now Edward does reading our minds.

"I've heard about you." He says, not reaching out for my hand just yet. "What about me?" I ask him, building a confidence. "You're with Alice, a prize sure enough... and Jasper, a good mix." His grin was starting to really freak me out now. "You're a recent turn, yes?"

"Nice observation." I glare at him, he giggles, nodding his head. "Don't get to hostile on me, you're warming up!" He looks back at the others. My chest begins to heave up and down rapidly. Alice was staring at me, never leaving. Edward was observing everyone.

And I hope he was listening to me because I was just praying for him to take care of my family now. "You know?" I tilt my head, trying to back up again.

"That you're in the midst of a transformation?" He smiles, "yes." He answers, I feel Alice's emotions fly off the handle, not knowing what to do. I look over at her. "It's okay." I whisper.

"You're going to kill me?" My eyes flicker from him to the ones behind him. "I could. You're in your most vulnerable stage of the transformation." He informs me, confusing me since I was told there's not much information about my kind.

"You're not the only hybrid to exist." He laughs. "Wolves are such-" He pauses. "Emotional beings."

"Are you going to kill me or not?" I fold my arms. "[Name] stop-" Bella pleads, tears were etched in her eyes, tempting to fall. "There's so many decisions to make today." He says to Caius and Marcus.

"It's remarkable! Bella confounds us all and her sister... turning into one of the most powerful beings to exist. What do we do with you two now?" He grins.

"You already know what you'll do, Aro." Marcus says, seemingly bored. "Bella knows too much; she's a liability. [Name] is a danger." Caius adds on. "That's true. Unless Edward intends to give her immortality." Aro talks about Bella first, looking at Edward.

"But that's not your intention, is it. Shame." Aro nods to Felix who moves toward Bella, I'm already held back by others. But before he can he take a few steps, Edward tackles him.

"Edward don't!" Bella screams, Alice leaps to help but more Volturi guards hold her back just like me. We both struggle to get out of their grip. And I know I can take their energy but there's only so much I can take.

Edward is fast, anticipating Felix's moves but Felix is stronger. Felix grabs Edward, throwing him in the ceiling smashing against the marble he drops down and immediately kicked. "Stop this! Please!" Bella begs to Aro who ignores her to lean forward and study Edward. I look at Jane who is itching to step him but Aro gestures her to step back.

Felix takes some hits but then lifts Edward overhead, cracking him and flinging him against a wall. Bella runs to Aro but the Volturi Guard flings her away. She hits hard against the wall.

Bella gets up and kneels in front of him. "Do it! Kill me! Just leave them alone! Leave my sister alone!" She yanks her collar back, exposing her neck to them. I feel my energy leave me and it's worse than before. The warmth beginning to burn even more.

The guards were the only thing holding me up at this point. "Enough!" Aro stops Felix, he immediately releases Edward who manages to look up. "Get away from her!" Edward moves toward but gets pinned by Janes powers causing him to writhe in agony.

"Edward, stop! I've already seen it." Alice says. "Alice stay out of it." Edward says through gritted teeth.

"Alice." I attempt to say but it's getting hard to even speak. "I know what to do." She says, Aro's intrigued, he gestures Jane to stop. She does as told. "Ah yes, the clairvoyant. I saw your gift in Edward's thoughts. What is it you've seen?" Aro questions her.

"Don't" Edward warns her.

"I'm the one who will change Bella. I'll also keep [Name] away from anyone who she could hurt. She's not a danger. I can see it." She tells him, he's surprised along with Bella.

"Please, be my guest." He gestures to her. "Not here. Their father is in law enforcement. If either one goes missing there will be questions." She tells him. "He is easily dealt with." Caius rolls his eyes.

"It will happen, Aro. See for yourself." Alice stands tall. I see Edward glance back at me, the guards are still holding me back as they think I'm a threat. A threat who can barely even stand. I see him smirk at my thoughts. I wink at him.

She thrusts her hand out to Aro who nods to the guards holding he rot release her. She gives him her hand and he closes his hand. I don't know what he saw but when he let go you could see he's in disbelief but also utterly delighted. He lets go of her.

"Mesmerizing! To see the things you've seen, that haven't even happened yet!" Aro gasps. Alice moves to Edward's side, helping him up then apologizing to him.

The guards let me go and I stumble to the floor. Not able to lift myself up anymore.

"Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal. Go make your preparations." Aro tells my sister who then hurries to Edward's side, too.

I tiredly huff, trying to lift myself up. It's getting hotter. I feel sweat actually begin to start on my forehead.

"You're letting them leave?" Caius questions. I then feel multiple people lift me up, the coolness of their hands feel good contrasted with the heat erupting my body. "Dear Caius, the girl's disappearance will be conspicuous at best. And surely you see her potential." Aro argues with one of his partners.

"Let us be done with this. Heidi will arrive any moment." Marcus disinterested in what just confided.

Edward is fully recovered now, taking Bella's hand while also helping Alice with getting me out of here. Demetri leads us out of the hall.

As we make our way up the corridor, we see a group of two dozen tourists, led by a beautiful vampire. We all stop to let them pass. I watch Demetri give her a flirtatious smile. "Nice fishing, Heidi, save some for me." She smiles then gives Bella and I a curious look then continues away to the room. "This way, please. Stay together..."

As the group gets into the room we hear their horrid screams, Edward and Alice rush us out of the area.

"[Name], you can't fight this much longer." Carlisle tells me as I lay on their couch. "I don't-" I huff out in pain. "I don't have a choice." I argue with him.

I've been here for a few days after we were in Italy to save Edward. My dad thinks I'm at the hospital right now with a sickness. I get brought back to the house at night after he visits me. I thankfully got to pass out for two days. Meaning I missed a valuable conversation about Bella getting turned into a vampire. But Edward told me they figured it out to push it back a little further.

Now being in the house as the transformation only gets worse the more I fight it. "It's only going to get worse." He sits on the coffee table in front of me. It's like he's reading my thoughts. Didn't think I was in front of Edward.

I'm wearing a tank top and shorts with an ice pack on my forehead to attempt to cool the heat I feel. "It's either this or kill me already." I snap at him, gritting through my teeth with the pain.

Another episode of the heat getting to me. I start crying as it burns. "[Name] just let go." Jasper shows into my view, wiping my face. "No, no, I can't!" I cry out, holding myself in pain.

"You're hurting yourself." He replaces Carlisle from where he was sitting and grips onto my hand as I squeeze it. "It's okay." I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Why are you doing this?" He questions me. "I'll be a danger." I cry, the pain subsiding now.

"You won't Alice saw it, darling." He brings my hand closer to him, I watch him tiredly. "I haven't forgiven you guys yet... A part of me... I'm still hurt." I tell him. "What if my anger is worse and it's directed towards you guys? Either I die or you die." My breathing is starting to get frantic at the thought of them being killed by my own hands.

"We're a lot stronger than you think, [Name]." Emmett comes in with a smirk, Rosalie rolling her eyes at his words. "It's not going to happen." She lightly hits him.

"I'm not doing it." I say. "I'm going to continue to fight it." I attempt to sit up but my chest feels heavy and I fall backwards. Alice comes over with a bag of blood.

"Drink." She hands it to me. "It's human." I shake my head.

"Billy said it's one of the only things that will give you some sort of relief." She shakes it again, putting it closer to my face.

"No one was killed for it, it's Bella's she donated." Carlisle tells me and I look at the bag. "It feels wrong." I look away from it, fighting the urge to drink it.

"Stop being stubborn, please [Name]." Alice pleads with me, I stay quiet, looking at both Jasper and Alice's expressions. In an annoyed manner I grab the bag.

Opening it to drink it. Once I start I feel different. I furrow my eyebrows but continue. I feel myself actually being able to sit up. I drink the rest of it and throw the bag on the table beside Jasper. "How do you feel?" Carlisle asks.

"Amazing." I grin.

"We have a few more bags, we were told wolf blood could help too. Your friends from the Rez decided to help." Carlisle tells me, opening the fridge to show a few bags.

"It stinks but as long as you're okay." Rosalie half-heartedly jokes. I know she's serious but it brings some humor.

"They willingly went to the hospital with you there?" I ask, actually curious. "They knew it was to help you. That's all that mattered." Carlisle says, closing the fridge.

I see Alice and Jasper look at each other then at everyone else. I think they got the memo. "We're going to go hunt, we'll see you guys in a bit." Esme tells us three, gently pushing Emmett and Rosalie to start walking.

Once they're out of the house I look at the two in front of me. I sit up straight and move myself so I can look at them.

"We need to have a conversation about everything, [Name]." Alice takes one of my hands as Jasper has the other. "I know." I nod.

"You need to finish this transformation." Jasper starts, I know I'd be cut off if I even tried to disagree so I stay quiet.

"We understand your fears, but your pain is too much, soon your final transformation will be longer than it should be." Alice finishes. "How do you know that?" I fold my arms. I was told that we barely knew anything about this. How do they all of a sudden know so much.

"The Volturi dealt with it. Carlisle was there. There was a member just like you. They tried to fight it due to Aro's request. The transformation lasted days. Almost two weeks." Alice tells me with anguish lingering in her face. Her eyes flicking from my hand she held to my face.

"[Name] please get your anger with us out now. Let's talk so you feel better." Jasper says to me and I close my eyes.

"Why'd you ignore my calls?" I asked.

"It was petty. I saw you with Sam. For some reason I could see everything you did with him even though he was a wolf." Alice admits to me.

"I thought you were falling for him. It hurt to watch. Every move you made changed the out come of what was happening with Sam. If you thought of us, it was against Sam. If you were to infatuated with the moment that you were in I watched you fall in love with him." She explains everything to me, I melted a little in the couch from the thought of her watching that. Knowing she was in love with me and watching me with someone else.

"I would never get with Sam." I mutter.

"But you thought about it a few times. Rightfully as we left you the way we did. It just still hurt. I'm sorry we weren't there for you when you needed us." Alice sincerely says.

"I'm sorry we told you to leave your family too. It was a selfish request." Jasper adds in. "We want you to be okay, [Name]." He kisses my hand softly.

Cliffhanger? 🫣

Onto the next movie🤪

Masterlist

A&J M.L.

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[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: in your own time

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Length: 33,632 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, After Dark, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

*Minor Spoilers* I'm proud to say that I was the third hit count on this one and I had no idea it was being posted. This is a STUNNING priest AU, and this is going to be a long rec post.

Crowley and Aziraphale are estranged childhood friends here. Aziraphale was put on track to become a priest, and could not walk away. Crowley had to leave and find his own path. Personally, I love that plotline because it gives me a connection to their 6,000 years of friendship that I like to see revisited in Human AUs. We only get brief flashbacks to their youth, but it is enough to know how much they loved each other then. They go through life content, but incomplete. Each aware that their soulmate is out there, but reconnection feels impossible. That magic is not gone yet, and an unexpected reunion was just the spark they needed.

Crowley's portrayal here is especially soft and tender. His blend of anxiety and genuine confidence is as charming as ever, but it's his understanding and acceptance that truly shine. He never blames Aziraphale for the way things have unfolded. There's no punishment for the past from him, only unwavering support and love. He's so loving and safe, praising and doting on Aziraphale with pet names. I know Aziraphale is going to be cared for now.

Aziraphale's relationship to God and the Church was such a gorgeous journey. He was put on this Earth to do good and provide comfort to his community. Just like the canon though he'll need to separate out the Institution (Heaven/The Church) from God. His moral compass is so strong, "heavy, gilded, reliable". He just needed to learn to trust that voice. And not the voice of those who have forced him to conform to their will. The narrative never villainizes Aziraphale for staying with the church. He just needed some separation and someone to catch him. To be shown that love is holy. The church is not God, he will not be destroyed for acting on his love. I won't quote the whole thing but on Crowley's side, there is a stunning description of what he finds holy and worth of worship. That I am going to reread 1 million times. This story speaks to the late bloomers, the closeted, and the repressed—the queers who have hidden and suppressed their desires to conform to please others. It's for those whose lives seem to have slipped by, filled with missed opportunities and immobilizing fear. It holds us close and tells us, "It's never too late, my love." I often get stuck on "lost time", times I've felt I've wasted in my life. So reading, "It's never too late to do whatever it was you were always meant to do, as long as you do it when you're ready. It's never too late to look into the future, to conceive of a world which makes you grin with excitement and banish all dread from your mind." well, it made me emotional okay!!

Oh and it's hot as fuck. So there's also that. Like seriously, it'll creep up on you here. It'll be some gorgeous line about the human condition or whatever, and then the filthiest most delicious line imaginable! It was like an electric shock to me. The confessional scene had me weak in the knees!!!! I can't say enough times I love this story. The first several chapters are safe in public, but you will hit a point that it is not! Proceed at your own pleasure

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

[angelic-dew]

yandere akaza headcannons !

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍫 ୧・request :: " I really liked your yan kokushibo headcannons, can I get akaza, doma and gyutaro next plss?? "

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍰 ୧・author's note; Just a reminder, I went through a "mood", as usual, when writing these so be prepared. Btw anon, sure but imma do them in parts, I just like doing my yandere! hcs individually. To get the others they'll be posted here when done. <3

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🌷 ୧・pairing; akaza x g/n reader (you/your pronouns.)

✧༉‧₊˚୨ ✖ ୧・trigger warnings; body mutilation, threats, kidnapping, isolation, mentions of jealousy, death, hatred, manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, bad grammar, delusions, over-protective behaviour and gore.

⚝. Just a reminder I don't tolerate nor do I encourage the following topics in reality; I like keeping it strictly to fiction.

꒰🍰꒱. Now this was simply nostalgic. It sent him down a far and wonderous trip down memory lane when he was a human, so weak and fragile was he; he remembered the love of his life and the spark which he felt coarse through both of their bodies back then. However, it was different this time, much stronger, much more tempting and had much more control over him.

꒰🌷꒱. You, a petite, meager, little human he could practically tear apart in minutes made him feel what he thought he'd never feel again. Just from one encounter, you did that. He couldn't shake you off though, recalling the very few moments of your meeting made his heart melt in his chest. Your adorable glances, the way your eyes glistened with utter fear but yet they were so mesmerizing! you were truly out of the ordinary.

꒰🍰꒱. It was as if the bittersweet fragrance of lust followed him around playfully every time he laid his soft, golden eyes on you; his gaze strong and never daring to shift off of your exquisite physique for even a moment for every second was priceless as he watched you ever so carefully from the depths of the dark shadows. You were just so divine!

꒰🌷꒱. He watched you, intaking your presence from afar and just from that he felt like he went to the seventh heaven. As his luminescent, enthralling pupils glowed solemnly and created a soft glow within the ebony darkness; they only focussed on the most captivating treasure though, you. The most fluorescent and alluring flower the world has ever bestowed upon.

꒰🍰꒱. However, there were others, weren't there? Akaza knew someone as angelic as you had others who wanted to steal you away from him! He was a powerful demon after all, if they only knew that upper moon three places his piercing watch on you first, they would have definitely backed off by the hook of the crook.

꒰🌷꒱. But they didn't and they were innocent in their doings! Akaza knew that they were not weary that they were attempting to steal something which wasn't of their possession, unaware of the consequences; that is. He knew to a T that this was bound to happen. But he was driven by jealousy and envy, yet another feeling he couldn't shake off. It coursed through his already boiling blood.

꒰🍰꒱. Don't get me wrong, it's not like he wanted to partake in violence; but it was to be expected and he truly wasn't timid to get rid of his rivals, or should I say obstacles? As soon as he observed said problem talking to you while he was preoccupied watching you at night, as usual; its when the envy hit it straight and direct. If only looks could kill.

꒰🌷꒱. He feels betrayed by you in some way or form. You were supposed to be his! But things happen, don't they? He'll simply put the person back in their place, nothing as angelic as you could do any wrong. Therefore, even though he knew their intentions were nothing but filthy, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

꒰🍰꒱. He was torn between a rock and a hard place though. As much as he wanted to tear them limb from him, he did feel guilty that they were leading themselves to their own demise by just interacting with his angel. How selfish Akaza.

꒰🌷꒱. Sadly, his envy does have the upper hand in the end. Upper moon three takes them away at night for hours upon end of none stop torture, and he made sure to be sloppy with them.

꒰🍰꒱. Taking his ever-sweet time to deeply tear apart their delicate flesh with his sharp, razor-like pearly whites; creating large gashes and lacerations to their once blemishless skin. The oozy, irony yet succulent taste of their crimson-red blood running along his taste buds as he relishes the flavor in delight. Akaza loved the cries of agony and terror his unfortunate issues had to face at his cold-blooded hands.

꒰🌷꒱. Mercilessly, he'd begin to tear at their limbs, toying with their ligaments until it was pulled clean off with mere force; the only thing remaining was a bloody torso. The bone of the freshly mutilated limb playing a game of messing hide and seek within the muscles and meaty flesh of the wound. How sadistic. The victim was still conscious, slowly bleeding to their death. To add salt to injury, he grinned and lunged his strong hand through their chest and tugged at the strings of the heart before crushing it to bits within his palm.

꒰🍰꒱. Now this wasn't a common thing, but it did happen from time to time. It did make those wonder who lived in your village, soft sounds of pain were heard but they were all played off as delusions.

꒰🌷꒱. Akaza didn't think to kill off your family though, he knew the value of them. But one or three relatives would end up in the missing papers at one point; sooner or later, how could he even resist?

꒰🍰꒱. At one point he gets sick of actually looking at you, yes you're majestic but he wants to feel your warm body against his. To finally feel what its like to be with someone he loves and it doesn't take him long to do this, his patience grows thin quickly ever since he started watching you from afar. So he did what he had to do.

꒰🌷꒱. He appeared to you at night and you immediately recognized the towering figure which stood in front you. The same fear welled up within your eyes as he spoke up rather boldly, telling you how he felt at last that faithful night. Confessing how you drove him insane and that he needs to feel you! To have you at his right hand! To have you all for his selfish wants.

꒰🍰꒱. He wasn't the one to take no for the answer if you rejected his request to be with you, and for a matter of fact? You didn't have a say in this, your rights have been revoked. This wasn't to be a choice, it was meant to be something you had to go through.

꒰🌷꒱. So he took you, no matter if your bargained or not, it was in vain for he wasn't foolish. Your screams and cries weren't heard either, he kept a firm hand over your mouth. So cold! However, his heart was beating more than he could ever imagine as he held you against his body, your warm touch lingering on his as a faint blush spread across his cheeks from your sweet voice entering his ears. Just inhaling your scent was by itself wonderful.

꒰🍰꒱. Akaza knew you had to be isolated, he found some abandoned cabin in the depths of a dense forest and made a home for you there. For now, this shall be where you rest with him for all your years.

© angelic-dew :: please don't re-claim or translate without permission! <3

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 17)

I swear this story—if I’m not sick every time I promise a chapter update, it’s something else. This time, my daughter went to the ER for a head injury. She’s totally okay but it was awful.

So . . . some of you astutely noticed that I told AO3 this story would end at 18 chapters.

That was true until I spent a day in the ER, and now I know there’s no way I can get Chapter 17 out in its full form tonight—but I really wanted to give you all something to read today. So, I’m cutting Chapter 17 into two pieces, which means there will be 19 total chapters of this great beast.

All this to say, we’re reaching the end of a very long, very convoluted road. I want to really thank everyone for following along, even though I went through multiple spells of not writing/posting.

Also, we’ve heard a lot from Scully these past 16 chapters . . . so I thought you all might be interested in seeing what Mulder’s up to :) :) :)

Every time his axe splits open a new log, Mulder cringes at the loud whack that reverberates through the forest. He’s officially been in hiding for eight days now here in this lakeside cabin, and he hasn’t quite gotten over the feeling that someone is watching him, waiting to swoop in and carry him off to a gruesome death.

In the growing twilight, he wipes at his brow and stares at the lake spread out before him. It’s frosty and bitterly cold and the shoreline is studded with heavy chunks of ice. Over the past week, he’s gotten decently good at making fires to keep himself warm in the unheated log cabin, and even though those fires send up smoke signals through the chimney, he’s pretty confident no one has been following him. Plus, it’s far too cold to go to bed without a fire. Scully would be so proud.

Scully.

A lancing pain sings through his chest.

He still has to shut his eyes every time he thinks about that last day in the house. He hadn’t actually expected Scully to fall asleep with him, but he couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. Neither of them would have lasted through a tearful goodbye. More likely, she would have run after him, and the Gunmen, Skinner, and Alan would have had to hold her back. It would have been violent and painful. It was nice, instead, to simply listen to her deep, peaceful breathing for several long minutes, to savor the feeling of her warm body pressed to his, to inhale her scent, to trace the line of her nose with his eyes, to commit it all to memory. And then, to softly, softly press his lips to her temple before quietly, gently extracting himself from their tangled limbs. He allowed himself only one parting glimpse at her, and then he left.  

When the memory of that moment begins to overtake him, he turns his thoughts to all the ways Scully probably wants to kill him now. If he knows anything about Scully, it’s that she was raging mad when she woke up and found him gone. Hell, she probably took it out on the Gunmen and Skinner. That would’ve been fun to see. He huffs a laugh, setting down his axe. If she ever did find him somehow, she’d probably shoot him in the shoulder again just for the hell of it.

After not saying goodbye, Mulder then spent a day and a half chugging up the coast in a discrete little Taurus the Gunmen provided. Once he was deep into northern Maine, he spent a few long hours anxiously searching for the house Frohike had assured him existed near this particular lake. Unmarked roads, misleading snow-packed paths, crumbling one-lane bridges, and steep, muddy inclines made the house nearly impossible to locate, and only by pure luck did he finally spy it just as the sun began to set. It was a good thing, he had to admit, that this cabin was so difficult to find. Out here in the blasted middle of nowhere, with thick pine forests and snow drifts six feet high and not a single other soul for miles and miles and miles, he could be undiscoverable forever.

But as safe and remote as it is, it’s not in this lakeside cabin that he plans to spend the rest of his days. No, he has to get out of the States and into friendlier fields. Every time he thinks about the next phase of his escape plan, a nervous pit settles in his stomach. Tomorrow morning, he will depart this cabin forever and drive into Canada, crossing the border with documents that Frohike himself created. Any time he starts to get anxious, it’s this part of the plan that gives him the confidence he needs to go forward. Frohike wouldn’t fail him.  

So tomorrow when the sun rises, he will leave, bidding a final farewell to all the ties that bind him to his former life. Once inside the borders of Canada, he’ll be totally on his own. No one will know where he goes next, not even Frohike. It’s for his own safety, and theirs, he reminds himself. But still . . . from tomorrow on, he will be untraceable. Even if someone wanted to find him, they wouldn’t be able to.

His heart clenches painfully at the thought of taking that final, treacherous step into total isolation. Up until this point in his journey, he has still been tethered—somewhat tenuously, through Frohike—to his old life, his old existence. But tomorrow, he’ll be lost forever. Tomorrow marks the point of no return.

He shoves away the thought as brutally as he can, forcing himself to recite the mantra that has helped him get out of bed every morning since he got here. She’s safe, she’s happy, she’s safe, she’s happy.

But, god, at what cost?

He tries not to curse himself for the things he failed to do with Scully. For pushing her away when she reached for him on the bed. For telling her no, no, they can’t take that final step together, they shouldn’t be intimate with each other . . . why the hell did he do that again? He swears out loud, angered by the memory. She was desperate for him, begging with him, her pleas like something out of his most erotic fantasies. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And he should have just had her, just that one time. Just for the memories, if nothing more. He shouldn’t have ever left her with any doubt about the way he loved her.

A bird screeches high in the trees and he startles. His eyes search the treetops before settling on a pair of magpies pestering a giant hawk. With cold, aching hands, he gathers a bundle of split logs in his arms and trudges up to the house, locking the door behind him. Because old habits die hard, he’s been sleeping on the living room couch right beside the main fireplace, and it’s here that he starts building his fire. In an hour, he’ll make yet another PB&J and try to read a book he found in the home’s voluminous bookshelves. His go-bag is stored right beside the door, and his weapon rests under a pillow on the couch. He sincerely hopes that he never has to use it again.

Many hours later, Mulder wakes to a frigid house. Cursing under his breath, he stands creakily and adds a few logs to the dying fire, tending to it as carefully as he would an infant. Darkly, he wonders what would even happen if he froze to death in this cabin. Who would find his body? And how long would it take for him to be discovered here? In what stage of decomposition would they find him? Would they ship him off to Scully for an autopsy? Would there even be a funeral?

He snorts and a flame licks up through the logs, sending a burst of heat into the room. He won’t be dying tonight. He glances at his watch in the firelight and notes wryly that it is nearing three a.m. The witching hour. Chills that have nothing to do with the cold run up his spine and he settles back onto the sofa, suddenly wide awake.

It is a near-constant battle not to think about her. He imagines that someday, far in the distant future, he will no longer think of her every minute of every hour. That maybe someday, he won’t wake up to a strange mixture of relief and regret: relief that she is safe; regret that he didn’t have enough of her.

A noise outside catches his attention and every muscle in his body freezes. The fire sparks and crackles and he strains his ears, listening intently. Prey that he is, he has become carefully attuned to every type of sight and sound and smell out here in the woods. Most noises can be attributed to nature—animals scrounging nearby, branches breaking off of trees, melting ice cracking on the lake.

But this particular sound has a different sense about it. It’s the creeping, hulking sound of something heavy moving across snow.

A car. And it’s driving very slowly, very quietly up the ridge to the house.

His brain slips instantly into FBI mode. He snatches up his gun, shucks on his jacket, and slips into his boots. Throwing the go-bag over his shoulder, he crouches low beneath the front room window, adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins he feels like he could crush steel between his hands.

How did they find him here? And how will he escape? Should he run for the car? It’s parked out front, which means any escape would necessarily involve passing by the car coming up the hill—

With unblinking eyes, he peers into the blackness outside until it finally comes into view, an unfamiliar black sedan, headlights killed, tires inching meticulously along the ground, as if the driver doesn’t want to make a sound. When the car comes to a stop at the front of the house, Mulder raises his gun, surprised to find his hand shaking.

How did it come to this already? Should he run into the woods? Or stand his ground and fight?

For a long minute, nothing happens, and he wonders if he should preemptively shoot at the driver’s side window. But that would be a mistake. He would give away his position. What he’s going to do is wait for the person—or people—to exit the vehicle, and then he’ll fire—

The car door swings open smoothly, soundlessly. A person steps out, their aspect unrecognizable in the dark. They shut the car door quietly and begin to walk towards the house, scanning their surroundings furtively. He can’t make out facial features because of a dark mask pulled up over the person’s nose and mouth and a hood cinched tight over their head. Loose clothing hangs off their body and a gun dangles from their right hand.

The person is close now, just five feet away. Now four feet, now they’re climbing the stairs. Mulder swallows thickly. When that door opens, he’ll have one chance to shoot. And if there are others waiting in the car . . . he’ll have to run. His entire body tenses. He’s a coiled snake, a viper waiting to inject the venom—

There’s a quiet knock at the door.

It surprises him so much that his brain sputters.

What the hell kind of assailant announces their arrival with a pleasant knock?

Stealthily, he rises and makes his way to the door. He knows this could very well be a trap. There could be machine guns on the other side of that door, ready to blast him to bits; or a host of feds could crawl out of the sedan and swoop in the minute that door opens—

The door handle jiggles and he startles. Jesus Christ, they’re trying to get in now. He raises his weapon again. His heart is beating hummingbird-fast.

Another knock, this time louder, and another try at the door handle.

And then—

“Mulder? It’s me.”

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Finding Each Other-Chapter 2

Fandom: Superman, Batman, Shazam, and Wonder Woman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Dick Grayson, Diana Prince, Billy Batson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Kara Zor El, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Lex Luthor, Jonathan Kent, Connor Kent

Summary: Clark Kent always knew he wanted a family. He just always thought it would be traditional like his parents. Little did he know that destiny had something different in store for him.

Chapter 1

Clark flew to the Gotham City Culture Museum Friday night in record time. He barely made it on time because he wanted to make sure to get Lois a care package after her procedure was done. He wanted to make sure she was comfortable and had stuff to do since she was always one that is on the go. He got her several murder mysteries that she had been wanting to read but never had the time for, a bubble bath kit, a box of caramel chocolates, and an electric blanket. Lois looked all cozy when he left her. As he landed, he thought about what his game plan was for tonight. Clark tapped his chin as he quickly exited the alley he landed in and headed up the museum steps. 

Maybe I could hang out with Lois later tonight depending on how long this thing lasts. 

The museum was supposed to give a presentation, followed by food, and then let the guest walk through their main exhibit: City of Atlantis. According to the notes Perry gave Lois, Bruce was supposed to be making his grand debut with his son there. Clark thought it would be easy to spot a single dad with his son since usually, these late-night museum events tended to have mostly adults. However, Clark was startled when he walked in and saw numerous of the upcoming and wealthy with their families browsing around. 

Clark raised an eyebrow. 

If Bruce is really here with his kid tonight, the setup is quite clever. Since there have been no recent photos of Bruce since he was 15 and no photos of his new child, they could easily blend into the crowd without anyone knowing.

Clark sighed while rolling his eyes.

This is a reporter’s worst nightmare. There are at least 500 people here tonight. No way I am finding Wayne without him or the boy doing or saying something flashy. 

Clark shook his head and was able to go to a table and take a seat when he heard someone said, “Surprised to see you in a place like this.”

Clark froze for a second when he heard that voice. It was a voice he was hoping to never hear from again. He sighed as he turned around and saw his ex Lex Luthor standing behind him. 

Of course, my ex would be here when I am out on assignment. 

Lex and Clark used to date when they were in college. As it edged towards their graduation, they discovered that they had fundamental differences in how they wanted to spend the rest of their lives. Clark had always wanted kids. He dreamed of being even half the man his Pa was. However, Lex absolutely despised kids. He thought they were vile creatures. Clark never understood that because everyone was a kid once. Clark asked Lex once how he was able to survive childhood without interacting with any kids. He said that his parents had him home-schooled because his intellect was far superior to the kids in his age group. That should have been a red flag for Clark, but for some reason, Clark hoped that Lex was just kidding. 

However, Clark learned quickly that wasn’t the case. When they graduated, Lex just wanted Clark to follow him to Luthor Corp and work in his father’s company. Clark thought about it since they did have a print division, however, Lex wanted Clark to only work as his assistant while Lex continued to build up his own career. Clark wanted to support Lex in his career endeavors, but he didn’t feel that he should have to put his aspirations on hold for Lex to soar. However, Lex wanted Clark’s devotion only to him. Clark broke up with him after that which Lex didn’t take too well. He blackballed Clark in about every newspaper market except for one: The Daily Planet in Metropolis. The only reason why Perry White, the head of the paper, took a chance on Clark was because he hated Lex’s guts, and Lex couldn’t blackmail Perry after recently losing the libel lawsuit with the Daily Planet. Ever since then, Clark avoided him like the plague. Luckily, Clark was always hesitant about sharing his powers with Lex and he didn’t start his superhero duties until after they broke up. He can’t imagine what Lex would do if he had that information hanging over his head.

Clark sighed and said, “You know that I have always been a fan of museums”. 

Lex smirked and said, “Oh, so that is why you are here. I assume that the insignificant paper….hmmm…what’s it called?… The Daily Planet sent you here on assignment. I know you like museums but invitations to this event only went out to high-ranking families that are honestly out of your wage bracket.”

Clark was fuming internally but he schooled his face to remain passive. 

Lex just wants a rise out of me to boost his ego.

Lex came closer and tried to caress his face, but Clark recoiled back which caused Lex’s smirk to falter, but quickly came back on his face. 

“Don’t be like that love. Obviously, your career choices aren’t panning out if they are just having you go to assignments like these. I remember you saying you wanted to use your writing and interviewing skills to change the world. If they were just going to have you do this drivel, you should have just come with me to Luthor Corp. I could have found better things to do with your time.”

Clark narrowed his eyes at Lex. 

The nerve of this asshole to think my life can only be better because of him. I don’t have time to play these mind games. 

Clark took a deep breath. He could be honest about being here to cover for a friend. However, he knew that Lex wouldn’t believe any of that. He would have to do something that he wasn’t very proud of but it would be effective to get Lex off his back.

Clark smirked and asked, “Who said anything about me being on assignment? I am here for pleasure.”

Lex scoffed and asked, “You’re here for pleasure. I find that interesting. Since the paper didn’t send you and I know you aren’t rich, please pray tell how you were able to get into the event tonight?”

Clark chuckled and said, “I do have a life outside of my job, Lex. I am here with my fiancé and his kid browsing around. They went to grab seats since I was running late. Traffic from Metropolis to Gotham was brutal.”

Lex looked at Clark startled. Clark smirked. 

It never occurred to him that I could move on without him. 

The lights started flashing indicating that the presentation was about to start in a minute. 

Clark flashed a bright smile and said, “Well, it was interesting speaking with you, but I should be going. I don’t want my fiancé and his kid to worry.”

With that, Clark quickly walked away leaving a dumbfounded Lex behind. Clark hated being petty and knew that his Ma would frown on behavior like that, but the look on Lex’s face was worth it.

Read the rest on AO3

[oftenderweapons]

Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.6

A Small Town Swoons

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 6.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon has some skeletons in his closet. Plums helps him bury them in a way that makes him feel almost reborn.

Warnings: discussion of mature topics: sex, emotional abuse. A painful trip down memory lane, burnout, anxiety. Also heavy flirting, making out and loads of raunchy jokes. Mentions of depression, therapy and feeling out of chances to restart

A/N: I’m posting this in some sort of a rush while barely keeping my eyes open,it’s not edited or reviewed, I just want it out there for you to read 💜 I’ll review it in the morning and add links. Love ya 💖✨🥺

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

“Lone wolf. That's not a cute way to spend the night.” Jackson's words were just mildly teasing. He was mostly compassionate as he sat beside Namjoon at the counter of the bar. “What's given you the blues?” 

Namjoon shook his head and took a sip of beer. He had never been much of a drinker, and he regretted not being able to hold his liquor properly, because tonight really called for some hard spirits. “Nothing really.” 

“It's her, isn't it? Your Tinkerbell lady.” 

Namjoon grumbled and groaned, letting his head fall to his wrists, current laying crossed on top of the counter. 

“Hey, dude, we thought we'd lost you,” said Christopher as he approached the other two men at the bar. “Oh. I see,” he said as he made himself comfortable on Namjoon's other side. “We all have a vague idea of what happened the other day when you followed her to the bathroom,” Christopher hinted, then rubbed Namjoon's shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?” 

He shook his head, than took a large sip of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down the glass, quite loudly too. 

“I did something, but I don't know what. And today she said she needed a day off. And now I'm wondering if I did something wrong, whether it's my fault she cancelled on today, whether I made her uncomfortable and am now ruining her holiday — something she hadn't had in a very long time.”

“Namjoon—” 

“Maybe I'm not as good a friend with benefit as I thought’d been. Maybe I'm not an easy hot-girl-summer kind of thing. Maybe I suck in bed—” 

“Not unlikely,” muttered Jackson, at which both Namjoon and Christopher snapped in his direction, as if throwing daggers with their gazes. 

“Oh, come on, there's a possibility to it, you've been out of the market for a long while!” 

Christopher grabbed the tray of shots and started making his way to the table where the other guys were hanging out, while Jackson convinced Namjoon to join them. 

“Dude, we've found a way to make this party less about you!” Jackson hollered at Jaebeom, currently wearing a cute set of antlers and a sash that spelled “This dancing queen is getting married”. Very cute, and Namjoon appreciated the Mamma Mia reference. 

“Namjoon is having issues with Plum.” 

He rolled his eyes at your nickname being used by them. They always called you Tinkerbell anyways, why the sudden change? That was his own nickname for you, because of your cute, round face, and soft soft lineaments. And then also because of the taste of sun-dried plums in your mouth that time he kissed you in the pond, after that first, wondrous fuck. Maybe he hadn't satisfied you. Maybe his performance in the bathroom hadn't been as stellar. Maybe you'd already grown bored of him. 

“They're not issues,” Namjoon mumbled, vaguely grumpy. 

“Well, what are they, then? You fucked her and she's ghosting you?” Wooyoung asked bluntly. 

“Woo, no need to use that kind of language,” Christopher reprimanded. “Still, could that be the reason? She's maybe… Embarrassed about something that occurred the other day in the…” 

“You did it in the restroom!?” Mingi exclaimed. 

“A bit louder, Mingi, I think the guy in the corner over there didn't hear it clearly,” said Jaebeom with an eyeroll. 

“It was strange when we parted, yes, but… I guess there would have been other uhm… uncomfortable moments before. She would have bailed after the— uhm— the restroom. Not today? Why today? Why let so much time pass by?” 

Namjoon had always been an overthinker. He'd managed to control his tendencies through meditation and therapy, but once an overthinker, always an overthinker. Sure, you can put a damper on it, but it would be like putting a hyena in a clown costume: at the end of the day, it would still be a hyena. 

And he was struggling to find the words. He did not have the lingo for this. He did not have the nerves for this. He had not been mentally, emotionally engineered for this. 

“I know I fucked up. I'm sure I fucked up. I don't know where or how but—” 

“When I met my wife, I was a mess.” Jaebeom ran a hand through his hair and gave a weak chuckle. “I couldn't do without her. I spent weeks, months pining.” 

“It's your future wife, JB,” Jackson clarified.

“Fuck off, we're getting married, she's already my wife in my mind. One could argue she’s always been,” he snapped, a certain possessiveness taking over. “Anyways, I was saying, before this cold hearted snake interrupted—” 

“You were messing around, I made a move so you could feel the bitter bite of jealousy and realise you were wasting your time and your energies!” 

“As always, thank you for the lesson, but you didn't need to shove your tongue down her throat!” Jaebeom hissed at Jackson, then rolled his eyes. “Again, I was a mess. And I didn't know it, but she was a mess too. We only managed to fix it when we dragged our heads out of the sand and finally stated what we wanted.”

“Which, again, is something we told you to do cause you were a lowly little coward,” Christopher muttered. 

“Okay, whatever, just do what these two tell you to do,” Jaebeom said, exhausted, rubbing his face and picking up a glass shot. “Cheers to my wife, or whatever.”

“Poor woman,” Jackson whispered, which earned him a stormy look from the husband-to-be. “Anyways, what’s holding you back from going there and telling her what you want?”

“The fact that maybe I don’t even know what I want?” Namjoon but back, not without some exasperation. 

“What do you mean?” Christoper’s question was direct, firm. 

“I was… I haven’t been all that… active, lately.”

“By lately he means in the past eight years.” Everybody but Jackson turned to Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth gaping, the picture of disbelief. 

“What the fuck.” Wooyoung’s face was ashen before he shook his head lightly, “And why, for the love of holy smokes, did you punish yourself so?”

Namjoon stared at a glass shot, which Jackson noticed. He grabbed one shot for himself, one for his friend, then handed it over. 

Namjoon stared at it, but Jackson was already clinking their glasses together. “For the incredible woman who brought you back to life.”

“Life is fucking terrifying,” Namjoon whispered, anxiety bleeding out of him. But Jackson was tipping the glass over, the burning tang of tequila dribbling down his throat. 

“It really is, but you loved doing her, or you wouldn’t have done that twice.”

Namjoon’s brain promptly produced a supercut of every naked inch of your body, every curve, every movement, every flop of your hair, every gasp of your mouth, every droplet of moisture that your bodies shared in those moments. He recalled the feel of your breasts in his palms, the pressure of your behind as you ground against his groin. 

“Twice?” Mingi inquired, interested. 

“I’m not going to elaborate on that.”

Christopher respected the boundary, seeing Namjoon’s pained and tired expression. “What do you want from her?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. She’s leaving in a couple days. I mean, she’s lovely. But I’m not sure there’s enough time or space to build something more.”

“But you want more?”

“I do, eventually. But I thought it would happen with someone a bit more… Rooted. Here.” He was destroyed, Jackson could tell. Namjoon’s hair was all over the place with the way he’d tortured it with his hands. “But then she happened.”

“And it changed things, right?” Jaebeom asked. 

Namjoon stared at his feet. “The sex is so good. Just so, insanely, otherworldly, unbelievably good.”

“Let’s also say your terms of comparison were scarce,” Jackson added, teasing.

Namjoon smirked, then stared at Jackson for a long, loaded instant. “Both things can be true.” Then, he shrugged, toying with his fingers, smiling at himself. 

“He’s smitten,” Jaebeom said to no one in particular. 

“I guess I am,” he finally admitted. “Maybe it’s because the sex is good. That tends to alter your perception. I also think she’s attractive, and her energy is incredible. She’s also guarded, somehow, and delicate. It really makes me want to stand tall for her.”

“Knight in shining armour,” Wooyoung said with just a pinch of sarcasm in his tone.

“Which she doesn’t need,” Namjoon commented, puffing out his chest. “She’s just… She’s tough, but I just want her to know she doesn’t need to be when she’s around me. That’s what I like, I guess. And she’s unstoppable. She’s not the kind that would lie to you or put on an act to save her ass. She takes what she wants and she weathers the consequences of her own actions. And she’s a leader, she’s got backbone, she works great in a team, people see her, see how competent and hard-working she is, and they respect her for it.”

“Dude, you really are smitten.”

Namjoon grabbed another shot, and the other men quickly joined him. “To life-changing women,” said Jaebeom. 

Namjoon could happily toast to that. 

There… Just… there. 

So close. The lights were insulting his eyes, but his vision was clear. Oh so clear. 

The alcohol had made his eyes glossy and sensitive. And there. There, your door. 

He brought himself to climb the steps, then knock at the door. 

He wondered whether you were in bed. Maybe in the shower, maybe you were already asleep. Maybe you were… like that one time… 

His ears strained, searching for signs of you. 

He knocked again. He could call your phone, right? Did he have your number?

He could— 

The door opened before him, and you were standing there, an oversized white shirt covering your body all the way down to your knees. The fabric was thin and the chill night air was making your breasts peak. The sight of Namjoon right in front of you didn’t help at all. 

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, and surprised too. 

“Hi.” The greeting was sharp, a little rushed. “I really would like to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then nodded. 

He was upon you before you could even register him, or parse your agreement. His breath had the lightest taste of liquor, and his mouth was hot, as hot as his hands now cupping your face, gathering your face up close to his own. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He dove for you and you soared for him and you met in between, perfectly, gentle but sure at first, and then it spiraled. 

This is what Icarus must have felt as he reached for the sun, you think, because you feel like burning and flying and falling. But isn't flying something like falling without ever hitting the ground? 

That's how you feel. 

Gravity isn't working where you and Namjoon kiss. It's not working as he wraps and links and loops his limbs through yours, legs and arms and wrists and ankles like ivy. Your thighs are around his waist, and he's holding you up by your hips, then your ass. 

“I'm coming in,” he says and you nod against his lips, waiting for him to come inside you, and you grind against him. Instead he chuckled against your throat, catching the double entendre. “I meant I'm entering your apartment.” 

You purred, heat warming your cheeks, but you were not sure whether it was embarrassment or pleasure. “But you could get inside me next.” 

“There's stuff I need to tell you,” he whispered close to your ear. 

“Can you tell me while you're inside me?” 

Namjoon's laugh was bright and glorious, perfectly rough and warm, the most tasteful combination of a scratch and a caress. “Plum, you're insatiable.” 

You looked at him with surprise, and just a pinch of innocence too. “I— Am I?” 

He closed the door with his foot, still holding you up in the entryway. “It's positively surprising. And very lovely.” 

You nodded to yourself in slow understanding. “Lovely…” you mused. “I never thought I would become something like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Insatiable. Obsessed. Weak and dependent.” 

“You're absolutely not weak. And maybe it's not too bad to depend on someone every now and then.” His nose traced the column of your neck. “And it feels nice, knowing that you're a bit hung up.” 

You cant your hips just right against his, which causes you both to moan, your frown disappearing. “‘A bit hung up’ doesn't even cover half of it, trust me.” 

Your short nails bite the nape of his neck and he gasps a little, his hips giving the lightest stroke.

“I'm a bit of all of that too,” Namjoon confesses. “Insatiable. And obsessed. And… And weak.” He shakes his head, then hides his face against the slope of your neck. “I…” 

You smiled as he lost his words again, his mouth focusing on sucking at your throat. 

Your chuckle came out lightheaded and euphoric. It stopped entirely as he fixed his grip on your hips, lifting you higher up with a little bounce, and then lowering you again, against his crotch. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything but the burning need at your core. 

He nibbled at your collarbone, then whispered, “Fuck, you're so wet.” There was tension in his voice, conflict. “But I've gotta tell you all of that.” 

“We can do this, and then talk,” you suggested again, your voice coming out barely patient, and strained. Oh, and imploring too. 

He shook his head, then put you down. “Talk first, then I'll do anything you want, Plum.” 

You pouted, which almost broke his resolve, but he caressed your cheek and your frown disappeared like a spring cloud. 

“First, I just want to make sure you didn't stay in today because you were avoiding me.” His eyes betrayed a sliver of insecurity before he looked away, staring at the floor. 

You’re caught off guard by his statement, and you’re not sure how to reply. Did he really think—? “Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, hooking your pointer finger beneath his chin and bringing his eyes to yours. “No, Namjoon. Sure, I’ve been…” You searched for the right word for a couple seconds, “Confused. By some of the things I felt yesterday. But I am not avoiding you at all. I just needed to be off today, and rest. And maybe think about some stuff, but none of it had to do with you,” you stated, reassuringly and firmly, then reconsidered, a coy warmth creeping to your cheeks. “Well, maybe it had the tiniest bit something to do with you. But not in a bad way. Actually in a very good, very mature, very grown-up way.”

Namjoon almost startled at your statement, his head jerking back slightly. “Oh. Wow. Okay.” 

“Oh goodness, you thought I was avoiding you?” You asked him, a smile spreading all over your face. “Really!?” 

“No,” he said, the vowel stretching, his intonation absolutely hesitant, absolutely doubtful, and very, very embarrassed. 

You threw your arms around him, gluing your body to his. “Oh god. Joon, no.” You laid a couple kisses on his chest, then added, “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he stated. “Still, I was absolutely sure you weren’t avoiding me. So this statement is totally unnecessary and it doesn’t calm my nerves at all, because they were already one hundred percent calm.”

You roll your eyes and place your forehead and nose in a way that aligns perfectly with the valley between his pectorals. “Good, now can you calm my own? Historically, someone telling you ‘I need to tell you something’ doesn’t end in a nice way.” The nervous chuckle you emit then is a clear testament to how much he has become to you. How much you have elaborated in the last hours, corroborating your decisions. 

This is not going to be forever, you think, but I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a bit more. 

Namjoon caressed your head, kissing the crown of it. “It’s nothing big, really. Just a tiny bit of backstory that I think you should know. It sorts of explains some parts of me that could be complicated to other people. Parts I would like you to know about.”

Summertime must be approaching, or maybe the heating came on: anyways you’re feeling hotter and hotter, and you’re pretty sure it’s a flock of tropical birds that is currently storming your stomach. 

“Okay.”

”Let’s get comfy, shall we?”

You agree, then lead him through the room. It’s not the first time he sees it, after all he did sleep here with you a couple nights ago, before he left at dawn for some reason, leaving you on the verge of insanity with desire and doubt both.

He sits at the edge of the bed and you stand before him, ready to climb astride him, except he shakes his head and smiles mischievously. “No way this is happening,” he teased, then slid slightly to his right, avoiding your other leg, letting you sit at his side rather than on top of him. “You’re too dangerous sitting on my lap, Plum.”

He says it in a way that makes it sound like a compliment, and you grin, eyeing him seductively. “Thank you.”

You both turn to each other, and he starts talking. “It’s been a while since I did this, you know. Being… Being intimate with someone.”

You nodded. “You mentioned something about a relationship you used to be in.”

He grabbed your hand, toying with your fingers, looking away, as if retracting within himself. “I’ve had one very long relationship. From fifteen, all the way to twenty years old circa.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “Wow.” 

“We were extremely close friends at first, then we sort of merged into the relationship until… I guess we just became too different to ever truly be one.”

You nodded encouragingly. 

“Her mom and mine were colleagues when we moved here. I was five or six.” His eyes connected to yours. “I was shy and she was very outgoing. We became friends. Or rather, she befriended me. I was one of those puffy, awkward kids, sort of a nerd too.”

He shrugged and blushed, his eyes gleaming. “In middle school she suddenly changed. She had one of those incredible glow ups. I guess puberty hit her like — I don’t know — suddenly she looked like Aphrodite’s favourite child. She was… She was like a goddess. Being attracted to her was inevitable. I liked her as a person, because she was my first friend here, and because I felt comfortable around her, and she didn’t make fun of me like other people, she didn’t act like I was weird and weak and chubby and awkward. And even though she became so beautiful, and so popular too, she was still kind to me, and treated me like a person.” Namjoon slumped, his stance turning self-protective.  

“Once we hit high school, she’d learned how to use the body genetics had gifted her. She filled it with confidence, and it rewarded her in return. Her attitude and her looks were the kind that spells trouble for a hormonal teenage boy. But despite that, I still cherished her the most as a friend, and the fact that she continued protecting me in front of popular kids making fun of me was really meaningful. I admired her for how she stood up in front of mean kids. She had the kind of influence that could make other kids respect me, or at least tolerate me.”

You held his hand fondly. “I get it.”

His eyes met yours with gratitude, and a pinch of hesitation. 

“And then I turned fifteen.”

You lick your lips, tip your head to the side and observe the smirk on his face. “In about three months, I grew taller than all the kids in my class, and though I wasn’t bulky like the football athletes, I played basketball with a friend of mine, and that kept me pretty fit, plus there was all the trekking and some climbing, and the canoeing too. I was also quite smart, and for some reason, some girls liked that. When we got back to school after summer break, I caught this girl’s eye. We were chatting, and things were getting personal and I ended up confiding in my friend, Aria.” His eyebrow quirked. “She didn’t take it well.”

You frowned, then waited for him to continue. 

“She gave me the silent treatment for three days straight. Meanwhile I was getting closer and closer to the other girl. One day I was talking to her by the lockers, and next thing I know, Aria is gripping my hand, gluing her body to my arm, and kissing my cheek. ‘Hi boyfriend,’ she said.” He shook his head. “The other girl didn’t take it well. She thought I was playing her.” He rubbed the hand across his face. “It took me years to make up for that.” He shook off the feeling, then continued, “By the end of the week, the entire school knew Aria and I were a thing. The week after that, we were making out pretty much anywhere, anytime. I guess it took us about a month before things got extremely serious, and Aria got on birth control because her mother was terrified at the thought of her getting pregnant, and teenage moms were so common back then, and she knew Aria was not really the religious type. She also had the kind of body that gets hyper sexualised because of pornography, you know. Of course any teenage boy would want to see it naked as soon as possible. And eventually do things with. Or have things done by. You get what I mean,” he concluded. 

You nodded. “Did you?” 

He laughed. “I was terrified. I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. And sure, I watched as much porn as any other dude my age, but it’s not like I was eager to reenact it in real life. It felt complicated, and loud, and dirty. So damn dirty.” He frowned and smiled at the same time. “It didn’t feel right.”

You study his face, the slight repulsion he seems to radiate from his body. 

“Then one night we were watching a movie — which actually means we were making out in my bed — and we were so damn close, and of course my body went haywire and… Let’s say she realised I was pretty interesting down there.”

You furrow your brow, trying to understand what he’s implying. “You mean…?” 

“She’d never felt me up, and that night she realised I was big.” The words didn’t come out with arrogance, but with a dry matter-of-factness. 

Your eyes widen suddenly, and he laughs a little, the sound deep and warm, and it sends tingles down your spine. “Oh.”

“That’s about what I said, too.” He smirked, blushing wildly. “Luckily I managed to hold her back that night, because I truly wasn’t ready, and I really wanted to get things right. So I bought condoms online, because I was too ashamed to buy them in person, and I kind of panicked for three days straight because I was terrified my mom or my dad would find out and get mad or make fun of me or whatever. And I did some research on… You know. The kind of stuff you have to erase from your browsing history.”

You chuckle, nodding. Hearing all of this is somehow fascinating. Knowing he was so clumsy, so embarrassed, and yet so committed to making it as safe and right and good as possible. It’s endearing somehow. Not only is he a good man now, but he was a good boy too, and it makes him shine even brighter to your eyes, this commitment to goodness.

“Still, I was not ready, emotionally. But she was impatient, and in the end I said, ‘screw it’ and I gave in. We were sixteen, we were two days into winter break, and this friend of mine has this little cottage by a small lake. He’d left me the keys to the cottage. We went there, and we had sex. I was terrified I was going to hurt her, because I’d read about first time sex being painful and all the fuss about hymens et cetera. But it went surprisingly well. I came in about fifteen seconds.”

You both laugh. “I guess I got lucky.”

He eyes you significantly. “You’ve got no idea how much.” 

“And then?” 

“And then we spend the entirety of winter break doing stuff.” He shrugs. “I could have done without, sometimes, but she was always trying to start trouble. And I wasn’t too strong about telling her no. But let’s be clear, it’s not like she was abusive or something, I was happy to have sex with her. I liked it a lot, and she had my consent, always, before doing things. But at the same time, I knew I was losing some of my connection with her. There was less talking, less quality time, less… We were having sex all the time. We didn’t watch movies, we didn’t read books, we didn’t hang out or you know, the stuff you actually share with someone. All we had was each other’s body and our own. There’s only so much a brain can feed off that. But we weathered it. And she was possessive, so it’s not like I had the chance of finding that with someone else. And the sex made me feel so lucky, knowing that I had someone who loved me so fiercely, someone so out of my league — it all made me feel like I should be grateful and I would be an idiot complaining, or looking for anything else, or trying to change the situation in any way.”

That’s when the pain starts to blossom in your chest. “So you start neglecting your emotional needs.” 

Namjoon nods slowly. “That. Precisely.” His eyes focus on your hands again, trying to avoid your face because he knows his expression might show too much now. “But we’re seventeen by this point. The sex starts to slow down, and we get some of the friendship back. I get a lot less awkward around eighteen, and my resumé is one of the brightest in my class. I’m in the debate team, and I’m in national competitions for writers. I write poetry, and short stories too; I win some prizes, I get published in a paper, then in a review.” 

“That’s impressive.” 

“I’m starting to live my dream life. I get selected in a summer programme for young writers. Aria is very proud of me. I get better at sex too, in the meanwhile.” He gives a boyish shrug. “I start planning my life with her at my side. By the time high school ends, I’ve managed to get a bit less awkward too, and Aria has fixed my haircut and my wardrobe. She gets selected by a university in California for a volleyball scholarship. It scares the shit out of me, but she accepts. She’s convinced we can make it long distance. I get into some niche writing academy on the east coast. 

It’s winter break when we see each other again.We’re all partying by the lake, me and her and some of our friends. We’re all so damn drunk, damn, I couldn’t even count the fingers of my hands. We’re all sitting by the fire when she leans against me and says, ‘You know why I’m sure we’re gonna make it?’ And I smile because I think she’s going to say something cheesy, something about the ring I bought with the money I made from the first short story I actually sold.���

You smile so bright at that, at his success, at such a huge milestone for someone who made writing his path, his vocation — and then it clicks.

Cuisine is your calling, you’ve always known, and that’s one of the first things you tell people when you introduce yourself. If he’s never mentioned writing then it means it never came true. Horror creeps in. 

“She said, ‘we’re gonna make it because I’ve fucked about twenty or so other people, but you still love me. And you’re the fucking best’.” He stops, snickers, and there’s so much self-loathing in the way he moves, the way he breathes. “I went stone cold sober in a millisecond. I asked her to repeat, to make sure I understood correctly. I laughed it off, excused myself to the bathroom, and cried my fucking eyes out. Threw up about three times or eight, then locked myself in a room. The following morning, I left before dawn, returned to my college with my mom. Returned the ring. And broke up with Aria through a text. Changed number. I detached myself from the entire world, disappeared for about a year, except for the people that truly mattered. I finished my programme in record time, mostly because Yoongi needed me back here, and well… I mostly finished school because I had to, but I never went back to writing. It’s like I’d been emptied, and to this day I’m not sure words will ever truly fill me again. I’m not sure they will ever spill from me again, or that I’ll find a way to make them flow like I used to.”

This is so wrong. You end up saying the words out loud. 

“I haven’t dated anyone since then. And I haven’t had sex with someone since the summer before I turned twenty.” 

“That’s seven years, isn’t it?” You ask, making sure you remember his age correctly. 

“It is.”

You whistle, impressed. “That’s… She really mess you up.” 

“I just changed lifestyle. No sex, no smoking, no heavy drinking. Just me, my plants, nature, my job. I love it. It fulfills me.” 

“And no writing? You don’t miss it?” 

He shrugs, and it looks like he’s trying very hard to act like he doesn’t care. But he so blatantly does care. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.” 

“I think you had it, though. And I think it will come back for you.”

He sighs. “I won’t hold my breath.”

You shake your head. 

“She’s engaged to one of my high school classmates now.” His laugh is bitter. “He proposed last Christmas. Getting married this summer.”

You hesitate around his fingers. Is he still hung up on her?

His eyes meet yours. “And I get mad because I think a part of me still thinks it was supposed to be me. And I hate that part of me. I also hate the part of me that is still hurt over what she did. The part of me that remembers all that sex, and wonders whether it was ever real.” He bites his lip, and he looks mad, truly. “All of this means, I’ve been hurt before, ____, and that messes with my head sometimes. The day I met you, I was attracted to you almost instantly, and that made me trust myself less around you, and it made me doubt you too. I was terrified at how much I wanted you, and the way my body reacted to yours. The way I dreamt of you. And knowing you wanted me too— It terrified me and electrified me at the same time. You’ve been the first woman I’ve wanted, really wanted, in years. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed hot and cold, but I don’t know what to do with myself. You’ve been nothing but transparent with me, and I know this thing with me and you can hardly go anywhere—”

You go impossibly still next to him and he notices, also in the way your fingers get rigid and seem to retract from his touch. 

“This is all to say, I really want to thank you for being so honest with me so far. And I’m sorry for any weird behaviour I’ve had. It’s just that her betrayal messed with me more than I’d like to admit. And I don’t like people getting too close, but I couldn’t help it with you, and I’m not too happy with the idea that this is temporary.”

You try to align your thoughts correctly, trying to make them make sense. “What do you mean?” 

Namjoon inches closer. “With what?” 

“You’re not okay with this being temporary?” You paraphrase. 

Namjoon grips both your hands, then gets even closer. “You’re here on holiday, we’ve known each other for days, and I’m scared that again it’s just sex pulling me to you. Just some infatuation. I mean, you can’t start having feelings for someone in days. Or maybe you can, maybe I do feel something for you, just the roughest draft of a feeling, but it’s okay if you don’t. I’ve always been pretty sensitive and impressionable, especially with emotions.” He stares at you, really does, like he’s trying to read your mind. “I don’t know whether there’s solid evidence that this could be something more than a holiday fling. I just think it’s precious that I found you, that I got to feel this with you. I’m grateful for it, were it to end, or were it to turn into something deeper, something more structured, more lasting.” 

“Namjoon,” you whisper. Silence hoovers heavily on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I… I exaggerated. I’m too much. Too fast.” He inched away from you, closing off, already hating himself for scaring you off. 

“No,” you murmur kindly, stretching to reach his face, pulling him back closer. “I want you. Want this. Letting go will hurt, but as you said, I’m grateful too for this. This will be bittersweet, but it can teach us something.” Does it make sense, wanting to let go of everything for three very excellent fucks? This must be the sex. It must be the very excellent sex. The orgasms, and the hormones, and the dopamine, and all the stress you’ve been collecting like star stickers from your working at the restaurant. Maybe the long overdue hours of sleep and fucking you need to catch up on. 

You can’t be thinking this while sober, go figure talking about it. “I’m considering making some changes in my life. Maybe this could be the beginning of something different.” 

“It feels unsafe that both of us are truly considering this.” Namjoon speaks like he’s pulling back, except his body is caving in, molding to yours. “If you don’t pull back, I’ll go all in.” 

“You know when we finished yesterday,” and then you add, cheeks hot with shame “in the restroom.”

He hums, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you refuse to resist it. “I remember some bits of it, yes.” His leg slots deliciously between yours, and you follow his lead, purring at the pressure, delicious pressure where your core throbs. 

“It felt like you were taking care of me, for a second. At the pond in the woods too. You’re so caring, and it would be so easy to let myself lean in, get attached. It terrifies me. Because this is supposed to be just a fling, right?” 

“Except we could let it mean more. Invest more in this.” Your bodies are already doing that. Your brains too, because neither of you might be showing their cards, but you both are calculating how much adjusting would need to be done in order for this to work, doing the math of meeting halfway and spending one weekend here, one weekend there, and what’s a two hours drive when you can finally start using your paid leave days, the amount of which has turned insurmountable at this point. 

“Is it worth it? Or are we just high on hormones?” You wonder, but words are starting to come difficult on you, especially with the way his hand is tracing your spine under your shirt. 

“See, that’s what I was wondering too.” Namjoon has pinned your hands above your head, and you’re on your back now, his body strong above you, his heartbeat loud, his chest glued to yours, and his thigh firm between your core, hot and pulsing and wet. “So maybe we should sweat some of these hormones off and see if we still think about this once we’re a little more… sober.”

You nod, as if stunned and hypnotised at the same time. 

“Plum, tell me what you need,” he whispered. 

“Inside. I want you inside.” You lowered your hands to his shorts, undoing the ribbon there. “I never thought I’d be a sucker for being filled to the brim. But you, you…” you shake your head, frustration all over your face. “Clenching around you, squeezing you… I could come from that alone. I wake up from dreams of what we did in the woods. We do it here. We do it in the shower. We do it by the pool. By the lake. In the woods, again, and against the wall. I think about sex with you all the time.”

Namjoon slips two fingers in his mouth as you talk, wetting them, but also using his spit to roughly, rudimentarily get rid of some bacteria. 

He slides his fingers inside you effortlessly and you gasp, then grind on him immediately. He grins like a madman at your reaction and feels himself growing harder too. 

“Does sex with me make you feel dirty, like it did with her?” You ask him, the previous conversation making its comeback on your mind.

”Oh, Plum. Sex with you is the holiest thing I’ve ever done. Sex with her felt like a sin, but this? You said sex to you was like a naked handshake. You can’t go to hell for something like that. But for this? Plum, I’d go to hell for this, and still, I’d choose this on any fucking lifetime I get.”

You slam your lips to his, and there’s nothing kind, nothing polite, nothing romantic about it. Yet, it’s the most romantic kiss you’ve ever had. It’s frantic, and desperate and needy, and his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you as best and as quick as they can. He can’t wait to be inside you either. 

“That was poetry,” you tell him. “You just spoke in poetry. We had naked handshakes. Now we get this. We get naked poetry.” He sucks at your neck and you bloom even more open for him. “I’m going to make such good love to you that you won’t help writing fucking cheesy pop ballads about it.”

He laughed against you, the sound so beautiful you swore your heart could glow golden with joy. 

“Alright, bet.”

Navi: (comìng soon)

[girltalkcollectives]

Dating Someone Who "Doesn't See Color" Until It's A Black Ariel

You know what's wild? Finding out your boyfriend has an issue with Black representation while you, his Black girlfriend, are sitting right there.

We were having a normal Tuesday night, scrolling through TikTok together when a clip from the new Little Mermaid came up. Halle Bailey was singing "Part of Your World" (absolutely killing it, by the way), and I was getting emotional because - hello - we finally got a Black Disney princess who isn't a frog for 90% of the movie.

Then my boyfriend said it: "I don't get why they had to change her. The original was perfect. It's like they're just doing this to be different."

I literally felt my body freeze. Here I am, a Black woman, sitting next to someone I'm dating, while he complains about a Black woman being cast as a fictional character.

The Layers of This Moment:

Let me break down what it feels like to hear your white boyfriend complain about a Black Ariel:

It's personal (because hello, I'm right here?)

It's hurtful (so what other "changes" bother you?)

It's revealing (oh, so this is who you are)

It's exhausting (here we go again)

The Conversation That Followed:

Me: "What do you mean 'change her'?"

Him: "You know what I mean. The original is classic. Why do they have to change everything these days?"

Me: "So a mermaid can be half-fish but can't be Black?"

Him: "That's not what I'm saying. You're making this about race."

Sir. YOU made it about race.

The Personal Hit Different:

You want to know what really got me? While he's sitting there complaining about "forced diversity," he's literally dating a Black woman. Make it make sense.

It made me question:

Does he see me as an exception?

Is he okay with Black people as long as we stay in our "lane"?

How does he talk about race when I'm not around?

Does he even understand why this matters to me?

The Uncomfortable Questions:

I started thinking about:

All the times he said he "doesn't see color"

When he dismissed conversations about representation

His "jokes" about certain movies being "too diverse"

How he never quite understood my experiences

The way he'd minimize racial discussions

When It Got Personal:

I tried explaining to him: "Do you understand that when you complain about a Black Ariel, you're basically saying people who look like me shouldn't take up these spaces? That your girlfriend, a Black woman, shouldn't be seen in these roles?"

His response? "You're being too sensitive. It's just a movie."

It's never just a movie.

What It Revealed:

If he couldn't understand why a Black Ariel matters to me:

Does he really see me?

Does he understand my experiences?

Would he stand up for me?

Does he respect my culture?

Will he ever really get it?

The Reality Check:

Dating someone who claims to love you but has an issue with people who look like you being represented is a special kind of hurt.

It's like saying: "I love you as an individual, but people like you should know their place."

Why It Mattered:

As a Black woman:

I grew up rarely seeing myself in princess movies

I never got to be Ariel in playground games

I was always told certain roles "weren't for me"

I had to fight to feel represented

I deserved better than someone who couldn't understand that

The Break Up:

When I ended things, he said I was "making everything about race."

No, baby. YOU made it about race when you couldn't handle a Black mermaid while dating a Black woman.

What I Learned:

Sometimes racism comes in "preferences"

Dating a Black person doesn't make you anti-racist

"I don't see color" actually means "I don't see you"

Your partner should understand why representation matters to you

Some differences aren't about opinion - they're about respect

To my Black girls dating non-Black people: You deserve someone who celebrates all of you, who understands why representation matters, and who would never make you feel like you need to shrink yourself or justify your existence in any space.

And to my ex: Halle Bailey ate that role up. Die mad about it.

[captainlondonman]

REVENGE

Jerry had left the office later than usual but he had to finish a presentation for Monday. It wasn’t that late but looking at his watch he realized he needed to get a move on to catch the bus. The only way was to go through a lane at the back of the pub and if he was lucky he would just make it. As he walked up the dark unlit lane 3 skinheads came out.

 ‘I needing a fucking piss mate after all that beer,’ the lead one shouted.

 Jerry had to pass them and he slowed down and kept to the other side.

 ‘What do have here, a pretty office boy. Eh mate, you a fucking pansy? Eh I’m talking to you. You gonna fucking answer?

 Meekly Jerry answered. ‘I’m just going to get my bus’

‘Just gonna get yer bus. Not now mate.’

 With that the lead skin walked over and swung a full punch into Jerry’s stomach.

 ‘Take that you little fucker.’ As Jerry doubled up so another came over and whacked him in the face throwing him backwards, his hand coming up to his nose which he felt was  broken. He reeled back and fell on to the road

 ‘Oi Oi, fucking great let’s put the boot in boys’

 The lead one struck hard in his boots making sure the first  kick was between Jerry’s legs. His balls almost exploded with pain the other two decided it was their turn and waded in kicking Jerry on both sides of his body. As Jerry lay sprawled out the lead skin put his boot on Jerry’s face.

 ‘Now lick me boots you little poof. Go on get yer tongue out and lick.’

 Jerry knew there was no alternative and started licking as the Lead stuck his boot down into his throat.

‘That’s better Boi. Do what a skin tells ya, OK. Yer a fucking waste of time.’

With that he unzipped his bleachers and took out his cock.

 ‘Right guys, we all came out for a piss, so time to spray our mate here. The Lead unleashed a great stream of piss directing at Jerry’s mouth. The other two shouted ‘Oi Oi lets cover him with our piss, soak the bastard.’

All 3 stood over Jerry letting out their stream and once finished stuffed their cocks back into their bleachers

‘Missed yer bus now mate’

‘You can fucking scrape yerself up and get outta here. Go on get the fuck out.’

The three turned round and went back into the pub laughing.

‘That feels better giving a bloke like him a going over.’

 Jerry in so much pain started to get up wiping the blood form his nose, just as another Skin came out.

‘Oh Christ not all over again’. Jerry thought

The skin came over and loomed above Jerry. He was broad shouldered, in boots and bleachers, so tight Jerry could make out every muscle up his legs and a MA1 green bomber jacket.

‘Give me your hand and I’ll help you up.’

He put out his thick hand and pulled Jerry up.

‘What’s yer name?’

‘Jerry’

‘Mine’s Tone’

‘Thank you.’

‘Looks like those fucking idiots did you well and good. They a bunch of morons and will do anything for a bit of aggro. We’re not all like that mate. You need cleaning up so why don’t’syou come back to mine, I’m just around the corner so no need to scare everyone on a bus.. Plus you’re rank with all that piss.’

Jerry felt so dazed and here was a skinhead who seemed normal wanting to help so he nodded and followed Tone who did live in the next street.

When they got in to his flat Tone said ‘Take yer clothes off and I’ll get them washed and I’llput out some of mine, then come in to the sitting room as I have a proposition for you.’

Jerry stayed in the shower till his body felt clean and the pain had eased a bit but his nose looked swollen and still badly bruised. Lying on the bed were only two items of clothing. A pair of bleachers and a worn Fred Perry shirt. Both Tone’s obviously as they were too big for Jerry. He looked at the bleachers and could see they needed a wash, there were yellow piss marks around the flies but there was nothing else to wear so he slipped  them on. As he pulled them up to his surprised as his cock rubbed against the denim he felt it thicken and start swelling. I’m bloody straight but why I am getting a hard on? He tried to press his cock down but the more he tried the more he got erect and as the bleachers were at least 2 sizes too big, his cock stuck out like a tent pole. He quickly put the Fred Perry on and let it hang down over his cock to hide his size.

 He walked in and saw Tone sitting with a can of beer which he handed to Jerry.

‘Take that mate I’m sure you need it’.

‘You said you had a proposition’Jerry said sitting down quick to hide his knob.

‘I know that fucking skin only too well, the one who did you over. A right bully. He needs taken down a peg or two and you can do it’.

 ‘You’ve got to be joking, he’s far too strong for me and besides as soon as he sees me he will mow me down.’

‘Not necessarily if you go through my programme. You can take him no prob. Trust me. Are you up for it? Surely you want to make him suffer as you did’.

‘Of course but are you sure it will work.’

‘You need to take the week of work and by next Friday you will be ready. So go home when your clothes are dry, tell your office and be back here first thing on Monday morning

 Jerry went home not knowing what to think but did as he was told and left a message at his office and returned on Monday first thing.

‘I knew you’d be back, mate. Good lets get started

You will be staying here until ready and you don’t need any clothes. I’ll put you in a room with no window. The door will not be locked. There’s a bed and chair and table and a screen which you have to look at all day. You can’t turn it off or change the sound OK?’

‘Sure that’s OK’

‘Good lets get started.’

Tone opened the door and Jerry saw the small space with a single bed, table and chair and a large screen against the wall.

‘Sit down and watch ALL day. If you need to piss use the pot in the corner’

 As Jerry sat down the screened flared up. And all he could see were skinhead groups together, close ups with shaven heads, guys shaving each others heads, all shouting ‘Fuck Fuck Oi Oi kill the fucking bastards.’ Jerrys ears became full of their sounds and swearing, non stop, he wanted to put his hands over his ears but the sound became hypnotic and he could feel himself starting to swear and soon he was shouting ‘Fuck ya bastards, Oi Oi’ back at the screen at all those skins, lots of close ups of shaved heads.

After a few hours, the door opened and Tone came in saying nothing and put a shaver on the table and went out

Jerry started hearing

‘Who wants fucking hair, we are skin skinheads mean fucking lot. No hair get rid of hair.

The sounds ran through Jerry’s body.

‘I don’t want my fucking hair’, he shouted, ‘I want to fucking shave it off.’

He took the shaver and let it whir

Little by little he started running it over his head watching his locks fall onto the floor until he could feel his head smooth. He let the shaver off and ran his hand over the bald head

‘That’s fucking better’ he shouted at the screen. The screen went dead and he fell back exhausted

He slept all night and when he woke up he saw at the end of the bed clothing.

On the floor were a pair of black DMs with red laces all polished. On the bed red socks, bleachers, a pair of white braces attached, a Fred Perry back T shirt with white stripes and a black bomber jacket.

The screen came on again this time showing lots of ski heads at pubs together drinking beers is their full skinhead gear then switching to guys getting into their gear, putting on their boots and carefully lacing up. The sound carried on with shouting and swearing at times louder and then subsiding and rising again. Jerry was getting turned on by the swearing and now wanted to get rid of his prissy  way of talking and just swear. All he could see were guys in skin gear. This seemed to him the only way to dress. What else do guys want to wear? This is it and I want to wear it too,

He looked at the clothes at the end of the bed whilst still watching all the guys on screen.

He took off his own clothes.

‘Who the fuck want this stuff,’ he said

He picked up the Fred Perry and put it over his head. It was a good tight fit with his nipples showing through. There was no underwear only the bleachers. They were not Tone’s as they were tight against his legs as he pulled them up and he had to squeeze his cock down one size to make sure it fitted in and felt comfortable.  It was odd but the jeans had two zips one for the front and one for his arse. Suppose I can have a good crap without taking anything off. Fucking great idea.

It felt more than that and he could feel the heat start making his dick throb. He leant over and put on the socks and then started on the boots. He had been watching picture after picture of lads putting them on and lacing them up so he knew exactly what to do and tighten them against his bleachers. Finally he stood up and put on the bomber jacket.

Turning round he looked at himself in the mirror. Christ who was this guy. No way did he look a ‘pansy’. This was someone else. He looked tough, a real man,

Shaved head in full skin gear and a throbbing cock stuffed down his leg. He liked it.In fact he fucking loved it

‘I’m a fucking skin boi’ he shouted.

On the table was an open can of beer which he picked up and took a swig as he let his hand rub over his bulge.

‘Fucking great, beer, and a stiff dick’ he said

Suddenly he felt tired and lay down on the bed , in minutes he fell asleep.

 Next morning he woke again and struggled to get his cock out to have a piss in the bowl which had been cleaned out during the night. The screen started up again.

More skins lads were shown. Arsing around, wrestling giving each other small sharp blows in fun, always swearing. The scenes started changing as some were forced to kneel and lick the stronger one’s boots whilst others put their feet on the guys head to keep it down. Shouting

F’ucking lick, clean these boots with yer tongue. Yeah Boi.’

He saw many guys being forced to lick boots. He noticed that several of the guys were clearly getting off watching it all and had started rubbing their cocks through their bleachers. Long slow rubs showing various lengths of stiff pricks.

The main guy had  big cock hard as a bat down his bleachers.

He unzipped and pulled it out. It was not only thick but long and a large hard head with precum showing clearly.

The guy shouted

‘Now boi get yer mouth round my dick and right down the back of yer throat’

‘Get it down, get it down’ the others shouted. They forced the young one’s head up to face the cock.

‘Open yer fucking mouth and take it all’ watching their leader

The young guy had no option, one of the others yanked his head back and spat in his face. The young one opened his mouth to wipe but the large cock was then forced into his mouth. The young guy started gagging but there was no sympathy. The leader wanted to be sucked off and his cock was being stuffed right down the throat

‘Well done Boi, you know how to suck so get to it’, the leader said taking hold of the young guys head and shoving it in and out. The others standing around unzipped and pulled out their erect cocks

‘Shit man watching him suck sure getting me horny’

‘Me too mate.’

All the guys were wanking watching their leader getting his blowjob.

Jerry could not believe what he was seeing. He was straight and had a girlfiend but seeing all this masculinity, tough guys getting worked up and wanking with their cocks, especially seeing the blowjob in action, had him hard. He was jealous, he wanted his cock in the guy’s mouth. Jerry sat back in the bed and unzipped his bleachers and took out his erect dick. ‘hrist I really want to cum just when all the others do.’ He started rubbing his cock as the door opened.

Tone was standing there filling the doorway, in his boots bleachers and T shirt. His fly was open and his thick long cock was out, massive and hard

‘Getting off on all I see,’ he said ‘perhaps you’d like to try the real thing skin Boi

Jerry stared at  the cock and rubbed himself.

‘You know what to do seeing all that eh?’

Jerry got off the bed and came forward to kneel in front of Tone

‘Not sure I can take all of that’

‘Don’t worry Boi I won’t shove it in. I’ll be gentle but you’re getting it all.’

Jerry spat on the head to make it easier and opened his mouth wide. He was feeling so horny seeing the screen that he wanted to be the young guy swallowing dick and giving full head. Tone took hold of Jerry’s head and slowly started to push it further and further down his cock. At first Jerry gagged but then started to breathe properly making it easier.

‘Shit that screen has made you horny Boi’

Jerry was sucking and staring at the screen as they were all jacking off.

‘If you do it right we can all cum together, you me and all the lads on the screen,’

Jerry could see that the lads were nearly there and that made him suck all the more on Tone’s pole.

‘Shit man you fucking want my cum down that throat of yours. You can hear the lads starting to groan eh. Go on work your own dick so we all cum.’

Jerry’s cock was ready to burst and he could feel Tone’s dick throbbing ready too.

As the lads all started their orgasm groan and he could see the leaders cum dripping out of the young ones mouth so Tone exploded down Jerry’s throat and his own cock shot wad after wad across onto Tones boots.

‘Fucking hell man, that’s some mouth you have there but ther’es more of my cum for you so get down and lick my boots clean.’

Jerry wanted all  cum possible and feverishly licked every drop of his own from Tone’s boots polishing them with his tongue.

As Tone stuffed his cock into his bleachers, he flicked off any remaining cum.

‘We’re getting there boy. Tomorrow is you final day in prep so relax and be ready. Don’t worry you can watch more guys wanking and I’ll make sure you see some of them fucking each other as well. Take note of that as you’ll want to be ready. Have another wank if you want.’

And with that he left and closed the door.

 The next day Jerry woke up smelling stale cum but he liked it and even the smell started making his cock rise. Next to him on the bed was a baseball bat and hanging from the ceiling a large leather punch bag. He started to look at the screen and again many rough looking yobbo skin boys appeared on the scene. This time it was different. Jerry could see the aggro on their faces, some wore knuckle dusters, many had tats on their heads and some wore hoods. There was going to be no sex that was obvious. Groups were facing one another screaming names, fuck this, fuck that, several waving baseball bats taunting. One group ran into the other waving their bats kicking out punching, spitting. At first Jerry almost felt sick at the anger and aggro on their faces but the more he watched the more he felt himself changing. He began to feel angry, he wanted to be part of the fight, he felt his face change and when he looked at himself in the mirror he hardly recognized the quiet person. This was a tough skin wanting a fight, his eyes glared, his mouth changed and he spat at the mirror.

While watching the fight he picked up the bat on his bed and started screaming hitting the punch bag

‘Fucking cunts, I’ll fucking work you over, take that you fucking bastard.’ Time and time again he hit the bag.’Oi Oi Kill Kill’

Once the fight on the screen ended he sat back and then another scene started and again it was a fight. Again he found himself worked up and using his bat hit the punch bag with all his strength. This went on aall day until when the screen stopped he fell back on the bed exhausted.

 Tone walked in wearing full skin gear and bomber jacket.

‘Its time Jerry. Pick up that bat and come with me. Time for your revenge’

The two guys walked side by side. Being just next to Tone made him not just a man and a skin, but he could feel his cock twitching. They went down the alley where Jerry had been the previous week.

‘Right mate you stay in the shadow and wait. Your time is coming. I’ll be not far away. Here take this.’ He took out of his pocket a  balaclava.

‘Suggest you put this on. It will help your anger.’

Jerry put it on and immediately felt angry and wanting to take full revenge. He stood in the shadows for about half an hour when the Skin came out the back door.

Jerry immediately felt anger and knew now that his week of preparation was for this moment. He was now a skin and ready to attack. The Skin stood facing the wall and opened his zip to pee. As he let out his stream of piss, Jerry crossed the alley raising his baseball bat.

‘Take that you fucking creep,’ as he swung the bat into the hollow of Skins back. The guy lurched forward hitting his face against the wall and Jerry again hit in the back and then into the back of his knees causing the guy to crash while still peeing all down his bleachers. He was totally winded and unable to stand up. Jerry got hold of his neck and swung him round before delivering a full blown punch into the guys face.

‘Take that,’ and again he punched breaking the Skins nose. ‘Now you know what it feels like eh? Not so fucking brave now are you’ he screamed into the Skin’s face.

The Skin did not know what was going on, unable to answer and feeling the pain all over his body. Jerry lifted him up and turned him against the wall, pushing him flat whilst keeping his arm clenched around the Skins’s throat.

‘I ain’t finished with you yet you cunt.’

He put his other hand at Skins arse.

‘Fucking great you’ve got the rear zip. Just as well  as you’re about to have my cock rammed deep inside you.’

‘No No please mate no one has ever fucked me, I do the fucking.’

‘Not this time mate and I have a good sized dick to split that arse of yours.’

Jerry pulled down the arse zip and then his own pulling out his dick. The beating had made him hard with excitement so his cock was so stiff and ready for a fuck.

He let a good size gob of spit fall onto his dick.

‘I’m being good to ya mate letting my spit on me cock.’ Still throttling the Skin he use his other hand to direct his cock against the crack.

‘Right you bastard, take this.’ He rammed his cock up the arse ,the Skin screaming

‘Shit that’s fucking painful please no.’

‘Fuck you mate the more pain you have the better. You’re about to feel my cum straight up to yer mouth.’

Jerry pushed hard and once up to the hilt started jerking in and out, the Skin struggling for breath. Jerry moved his free hand round the front and put his hand over the Skins bulge.

‘You’ve never been fucked? Then why is that cock of yours so hard. So you love being beaten and then fucked eh. As stiff as a bloody truncheon. I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a wank’ he said has his hand firmly clamped the cock and then gave it a mighty punch causing the Skin to almost stop breathing. That’ll stop you doing any fucking for a while.

By now Jerry was so worked up he was ready. Take all my cum you fucking cunt.’ And with one shove he felt wads of cum shoot into the Skin’s arse.

When he took out his cock he shoved the Skin, racked in pain against the wall.

‘You shouldn’t have done that to me last week you bastard. Thought I was a pansy eh?’

Jerry took off his balaclava so the Skin could see him.

Recognise me

‘Shit you’re the guy I beat up last week.’

‘Not the same guy now eh? You’ve made me like you and for that I’m bloody happy but it’s the last time you cross me, got it. When you next see me pass on the other side. I’m telling all your mates that you’re a fucking pansy who likes being fucked up the arse by other skins. Bet you get a few more up you now’.

The skin wiped the blood off his face and pulled up his arse zip looking down at his piss stained bleachers.

‘Show that to your mates, and by the way you’ve a small dick so better your’e fucked than do any fucking.’

As the Skin staggered back inside Tone came out of the shadows.

‘Well Boi you didn’t need my help. I said my programme would work but I didn’t think it would be as good. But watching you fuck the guy has made me fucking horny.’

He came up to Jerry and unzipped the back of his bleachers putting his hand inside and stroking Jerry’s arse.

Jerry said ‘Revenge is sweet but let’s get back to yours as my arse is ready for a mighty fuck from you. Thanks for making me a skin. I fucking love it and now this is my life.’

‘You ain’t leaving me Boi’

‘Don’t worry I with you full time now.’

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 7/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Greetings from band camp! But that won't stop me from updating my @cssns story! Hope everyone is having a great week! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl​​​​ !) rated M | 5.1k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Dorian hadn’t been seen since his encounter with Regina the previous morning, but Killian knew better than to let his guard down. Every time the bell rang in the library, Killian was alert, ready for the worst (even if logically he knew his twin wouldn’t announce his presence—though, they did share an affinity for melodrama…). And he’d put on his sword belt for the first time in ages, for both comfort and protection. 

He was reshelving a few books when the bell chimed again. He paused to listen, but was mildly surprised when Leroy’s voice rang out in the otherwise quiet library—and sounded more than grumpy. “What the hell, pirate?” 

Confused, Killian shoved the book in his hand on the shelf and quickly made his way to the lobby. “Watch the volume, mate,” he chastised. “What’s the problem?”

Leroy was glaring at him and huffing. “Don’t pretend you don’t know; I saw you! Taking a joyride on my boat this morning, using all my gas, and then you just left it adrift. It almost ran into the shipping lane!”

“Why would I take your dinghy when my ship is right there?” Killian countered. “It was probably my good-for-nothing brother.”

“Then why was he dressed like you? And I saw your hook!” 

He rolled his eyes; of course Dorian would find a new way to make trouble for him. “Well it wasn’t me! I’ve been here all day, and my wife can provide my alibi prior to that—in detail, if you’d like,” Killian threw back, biting back a smirk at the memory of what they’d gotten up to in bed that morning. 

“No thank you,” he responded, stepping back with his hands up. “Just—keep that asshole in check, okay?”

“He’s not my responsibility.”

“Whatever,” Leroy grumbled, and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

Killian was irked by the encounter. Not so much at Dorian’s antics, annoying though they were (and would probably need his attention at some point)—but he was somewhat perturbed by the fact that Leroy was so quick to assume it had been him. There was definitely a time he may have done that, but now? After everything in the past few years? Did the dwarf truly still think so little of him?

He shook his head; Leroy didn’t have much faith in anyone. It was just a stupid misunderstanding; perhaps he’d go down to the docks and see if he could use his powers, meager as they were, to tow the boat back into harbor. But it was nothing to be truly upset over, not on his end.

The day went on without further event and the encounter was nearly out of his mind when he ran into another dwarf outside the sheriff station. Sneezy was coming from the opposite direction and reached the door before he did, but then paused and faced him. 

“Uh, Captain,” he started, then characteristically sneezed. He went on after wiping his nose on his ever-present handkerchief. “I was about to report what happened earlier, but I’d be happy to settle now, if you want—if you’d rather Emma not know.”

“Know what?”

“About the rum you stole,” he said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t exactly hide it.”

Killian scoffed; he’d never been impressed by the rum selection at the pharmacy, nor was he desperate enough to shoplift subpar liquor. “I’ve been at the library all day, mate; you should hit up my lookalike for the cash. Or go ahead and report it; may as well add to his rap sheet.”

The dwarf tilted his head, confused. “But—your hook—and clothes—”

“—Are easy to replicate with magic like his,” Killian sighed. “Really, mate? I thought you knew me better.”

Sneezy at least looked a bit like his brother Bashful at that, then uttered a quick apology before nearly running back in the direction from which he’d come.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, again frustrated.

It didn’t stop there, though—on the entire walk from the station to Granny’s with Emma, he was on the receiving end of glares, muttering, and people keeping their distance. Granted, that was typical treatment from the gaggle of fairies they passed, given their history. 

But even mild-mannered Gepetto, upon his exit from the diner, turned suddenly angry at the sight of Killian and wasted no time getting in his face and yelling in his native tongue. Killian was skilled at languages but not well-studied in that one, save for a few curse words—all of which he heard in the tirade. 

The carpenter didn’t give Killian a chance to reply before storming off, leaving him fatigued and Emma confused. “What the hell was his problem?” she griped. 

“No clue—but I’m willing to bet it was my brother; that’s been happening all afternoon.”

“Ugh, that dick,” she cursed. “But can’t people tell the difference by now?”

“You’d think,” he sighed, knowing that didn’t mean a damn thing if a glamour spell was involved. 

“Sounds like he needs to be punched in his pretty nose to make sure it’s more obvious,” she suggested, stepping into Killian’s space and tapping his own nose.

“You think my nose is pretty?” he flirted back. 

“All of you is. Way more than him,” she assured him, then dragged him into the restaurant. 

He obviously knew he was innocent of the various misdemeanors he’d been accused of, and he was certainly no stranger to being a suspect. But that hurt feeling from earlier crept back up in him as he fielded side-eyed stares from his seat across from an oblivious Emma while they ate. 

Hadn’t he earned this town’s trust? Weren’t they well past any questioning of his actions? Yes, his history was rocky—but he’d literally died for the residents of Storybrooke. 

And it was no secret he had a doppelgänger running around. So the fact they were so quick to turn on him was far more painful than he’d like to admit.

“Babe? Your glass—are you okay?” Emma’s concerned voice pulled him from his morose thoughts, and he realized a whirlpool was threatening to spin out of his glass of water. 

“Sorry,” he answered quickly, and focused on calming the tiny maelstrom. “Just—thinking about everything,” he said, simplifying the truth. 

“I know.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Good thing you’ve got another magic lesson in the morning, huh?”

He groaned in response; she giggled. 

“Come on; let’s get you home. You’ll need your rest,” she said suggestively as she got to her feet, taking him with her, hinting that they would spend time not resting as well. 

The lascivious smirk Granny gave him as Emma paid their tab was less out of place than his other interactions today, but was at least positive. So he did still have some friends, it seemed. 

And as he and Emma finally collapsed in each other’s arms later, sweaty and sated, as long as she was still on his side, who else did he require?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Though Dorian was no stranger to using a glamour spell, and had certainly used far more dramatic disguises in his life, this one was perhaps the most initially uncomfortable—mainly in how little changed. 

As it was, he and Killian were nearly mirror images to start with—what with their scars on opposing cheeks and the fact that they parted their hair on different sides. So to see such minor differences in his reflection was a somewhat out-of-body experience—this was close to what people actually saw when they looked at him. 

He allowed his minor existential crisis to persist for a minute before finishing the transformation; at least his brother had decent style, if a bit different than his own. (How could he stand these tight jeans?) The false hook over his left hand was awkward, but necessary. 

Anyways. It was time to see if he could pull this off; after all, he was far too wise not to do foolish things now and then. He headed down to the diner (after peeking around a corner to make sure neither Killian nor Emma were already there—though the fact that he’d slept in probably prevented that) and slipped onto a stool at the counter. 

This time, when Granny greeted him, it was much warmer. “Early lunch?”

“Aye; the usual, my dear,” he tested. “And I just couldn’t wait to see you,” he added with a wink. 

Granny blushed and chuckled, then shuffled off to the kitchen. Good; she was receptive to his flirting. If he was bold enough about it, surely that would stir up some ill will towards his brother; just what kind of man brashly flirted with a woman who wasn’t his wife? And there was a reasonable audience, even if mid-morning was somewhat slow. 

So hopefully someone noticed when he grabbed the bottle of whiskey sitting behind the counter and snuck it into his lap. 

A few minutes later, the older lady was back, sliding over a plate of fish and chips; predictable of his brother. “Fresh caught, extra vinegar on the chips—just how you like it.”

“Oh, you spoil me,” he replied, holding back a gag at the smell of the vinegar. He leaned across the counter, continuing, “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, you know where to find me,” then suggestively licking his lips. 

To his shock, she just laughed and patted his cheek. “You know you couldn’t handle me, sweetheart.” And went back to her business. 

Hm. Well, that wasn’t quite the response he expected. But he at least passed for Killian; that was a good sign. (Unfortunately, he had to sell it by actually eating this meal; thank the gods for the whiskey to wash it down.)

He headed down to the marina next, finding the easiest boat he could hotwire (which, with his magic, was all of them) and took a bit of a joyride, then poofed ashore when that got boring. 

After a trip through the pharmacy, where he got a five-finger discount on some mid-range rum, he relieved himself in the shrubs outside a convent, knocked over the displays outside the florist, pretended to need the services of the carpenter but just dumped wood stain over his wares, and dragged the tip of his hook along some parked cars. 

Briefly, he took a smoking break outside the elementary school and let the half-burnt cigarette fall into a bush outside a classroom, setting it alight. He was enjoying watching the slowly growing fire when the room’s window flew open and a petite woman with short, dark hair attacked it with a fire extinguisher. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she snapped at him.

“No,” he answered succinctly, and transported away, hopefully leaving a scorch mark on the lawn, too.

He’d noticed a friendship between his brother and the librarian—the gorgeous woman who had seemingly questionable taste in men. He’d be shocked if the two of them had kept things purely platonic, despite their respective well-known relationships. And if they hadn’t…well, it was time for him to explore that, even if for his own enjoyment. 

The bell on the library rang as he entered. “You here, love?” he called out, suddenly realizing he’d never caught the lass’s name. 

“Right where you left me,” she shouted; shit, he forgot his brother worked here. That was a close call. He followed the sound of her voice to the next room, where he found her desperately trying to reach something on the top shelf. “Perfect timing; can you lend me a hand? Pun intended.”

“Ha,” he answered awkwardly, not sure if he should be acting offended or not. “But of course.”

He didn’t hesitate to grab the volumes she asked for, but rather than just hand them over, he took the opportunity to move into her space. “Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, trying to take a step back, but she didn’t get far before bumping into a cart. 

“That’s all my assistance is worth? ‘Thanks’?”

“Killian, you know I appreciate you—”

“So let me appreciate you, darling,” he said on a breath, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me you’ve never felt something…more…between us.” Subtly, he raised the blinds in the room so any passers by might see his attempted pursuit of someone who clearly wasn’t his brother’s wife. 

She looked up at him, lips parted, and he was aware of her heightened heart rate. She narrowed her gaze briefly. “No, I haven’t—Dorian.”

“Who’s Dorian?” he lied. 

Her knee found his crotch swiftly and strongly; she might be short and slight, but she was the perfect height to do optimum damage to his manhood. He stumbled back, dropping the books and holding his groin, groaning, with stars beginning to cloud his vision. 

“I can’t believe I almost fell for that,” she yelled. “You really thought I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“Ah, but you almost did,” he countered, even though his voice was incredibly strained. 

He could see her blushing even through his squinted view. “Never,” she insisted, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. “I won’t do that, and I won’t help you.”

He scoffed as his breath started to come back. “What use are you to me? Just a silly librarian; even if you are married to the Dark One.”

She smirked. “I’m used to people underestimating me. I suggest you don’t again. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that painting of yours, would you?”

“My painting?” He wasn’t surprised she knew of it—this was a library, obviously, if even the book he’d inspired was largely fabrication—but he’d left it behind in another realm, hoping the distance (and that particular realm’s timelessness) would prevent its aging, or at least slow it. 

But then—he felt it. A faint heartbeat in his ear, just a millisecond behind his own but the same tempo: the heart of his True Love, continuing to carry a rhythm for him even though it was shattered and locked in canvas. It seemed to be coming from above them; he glanced up, trying to locate it, but didn’t get very far before his gaze was forced away rather painfully.

Belle had slapped him—again, stronger than he expected, but he’d been hit so many times that it hardly stung. “Get the hell out of here, and leave us alone.”

“Alright, alright,” he replied, and immediately poofed away—right into the attic of the library. The drumbeat of the heart was even louder up here, and he was easily able to follow it—while stepping lightly enough to not make a sound—to one end of the cluttered storage room. 

And there it was: his iconic portrait. It…wasn’t pretty. Not that it had been when he’d stashed it in the Land of Untold Stories, but it had definitely continued to deteriorate, though thankfully less than it probably should have. There was part of his soul that certainly felt like the withered, grayed, gnarled mess of a man in the image before him, but only a small one.

Actually, it was a good thing the portrait had made its way here; perhaps, when he achieved his plan, he’d also be able to sever his tie to this in favor of the dagger. He’d leave it here for now—but he’d be back for it later.

He had at least one more stop to make. So he transported again to an alley by the sheriff station, knocked over a mailbox, and casually headed inside. While it would be fun to see how far he could take things with Emma, he had no doubt she’d be able to see through this disguise even quicker than the librarian had. But the other deputy, the blond one—he might be slower on the uptake.

“Hey, Hook,” the man said, barely glancing up from the paperwork he was filling out. “Emma’s doing rounds.”

“Aye; I’m aware,” he said, sauntering closer. “I was here to see you, anyway.”

“Yeah?” The man—David, judging by the name plate on the desk—looked up at him. “What’s up?”

Dorian wasted no time in taking a seat right in front of him on the desk, cupping his (rather handsome) face, and quickly finding his lips.

The ensuing chain of reactions was honestly hilarious: the other man stilled at first, then leaned into it, but then seemed to realize who he was kissing and pushed away, jumping to his feet.

“What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping off his mouth on the back of his hand.

Dorian hopped off the desk and moved closer to David. “I was always curious; you mean you weren’t?”

“No!” he shouted. “Not like—just, no!”

“Was I that bad?” Dorian flirted, tilting his head. 

“No, you were—not my son-in-law,” David sighed, realizing who he was talking to.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Dorian replied. “And you’re only a halfway decent kisser.”

“My wife thinks I’m just fine,” David threw back, somewhat offended. “And if you’re trying to turn people against Killian, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“You almost bought it.”

“Please; Killian only has eyes for Emma. Not that you’d know anything about True Love, I bet.”

Dorian glowered. “You don’t know anything about me, pal. Maybe get off your high horse with your generalizations.”

David stepped closer and put his hands on his hips; Dorian couldn’t help but feel like he was about to get a lecture. “I don’t know everything about you, but I’ve known enough people like you. I actually had a twin, too.”

“Oh? More than one of you? Must have been terribly dull.”

“Actually, you’d probably have gotten along with him famously; he was a selfish cad, too.”

“And where’s this fellow now?”

“Oh, he’s dead,” David went on. “From what I heard, he got a little too cocky, a little sloppy, and it came back to bite him. Or, well, stab him through the chest.”

“Ouch,” Dorian deadpanned. “And your point is?”

“Maybe you should ease up on making enemies. Because you don’t know which one is going to finally take you out.”

“And what—make friends instead?”

David shrugged. “Can’t hurt. Though I also can’t say you have good odds of finding many here, after all the drama you’ve stirred up so far.”

“No thanks.”

“Hey,” David said, softer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve spent a long time chasing one thing, and it seems like you have nothing else to live for. But I watched your brother change his path; it’s not too late for you.”

Dorian gingerly pushed David’s hand off, like it was something disgusting. “Look, I know you hero types, and I know you mean well and want what’s best for me, or whatever. But I also know this: you have to want to change. Clearly my brother did. Me, though? I find good advice rather annoying. So save your breath.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I will, thanks.” And he transported back to his pilfered room at Granny’s.

His conversation with David was already forgotten; the deputy had probably hoped his words would linger and Dorian would reconsider his entire life. But no—he knew what he wanted.

And now, he just had to wait to see what fallout his (mis)adventures today wrought.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Late 1880s

Dorian stepped out of the portal onto a dirty cobblestone alley. Once the gateway closed behind him, he placed his second bean in his inner coat pocket for safekeeping, and sealed it with magic—which thankfully worked; he wasn’t sure what to expect as far as being able to normally access his powers in this so-called Land without Magic, but was glad to see they were so far unhindered.

Of course, the irony of this realm carrying that name was that he had come here seeking magic out. It wasn’t fully devoid, he could tell, but he’d heard that it was far-flung, infrequent, and hidden from the general populace.

Which was probably why it was so dark in this backstreet; what kind of uncivilized society hadn’t figured out proper outdoor lighting yet? He could see some primitive lanterns at the end of the way, on what looked to be a main street, but could smell the fuel in them from here.

As such, he conjured a fireball in his hand to get his bearings. He’d arrived in the corner of an alley that went between and behind buildings—great, grimy brick monstrosities. Some parchment sat atop abandoned crates along one side; he inspected closer, reading The Daily Telegraph across the top of the page, followed by a picture of a man identified as the Prince of Wales, which he had to assume was a meaningful title as no proper name was given.

He further studied the fashion of the man, then glanced down at his own clothes, which were decidedly not of this realm from what he could see. That was easy to fix, though, and with a wave of his hand, he was wearing a garment that closely resembled what he saw in the image: a coat with long-ish tails, slacks, and a waistcoat. He didn’t hate it, but the vest wasn’t quite his style. 

Anyways. That settled, he reached into a different pocket (he’d made sure the contents of those stayed the same regardless of what his jacket looked like) and pulled out a slip of paper with a name written on it: Basil Hallward. From what he’d been told, this man could help him find the magic he needed to get him one step closer to the Dark One’s powers.

(That Rumpelstiltskin bastard had placed so many protection spells over the Dark Castle, it was bordering on ridiculous. Didn’t he know it was once Dorian’s home? But no—the demon wouldn’t even grace him with a meeting to grant him access to his old quarters. Granted, he’d have been an idiot to, but one could hope. But perhaps here, in this land that seemed to reject magic, he’d find that which could break through those spells and reclaim his birthright.)

He glanced down both alleys in front of him. The one towards the street was empty—just brick walls and boarded-up windows—but going the other way, he could see a light glimmering outside an inconspicuous door. 

And if he wasn’t mistaken, the light in the lantern was not fueled by whatever oil illuminated the streets; no, this one was quite similar to the ball of fire in his hand. The portal had placed him in the right spot.

Before he headed to the door, he placed the slip of paper in his own flare, letting it fall to ashes on the stone pavement. Then he extinguished it with a shake of his hand and headed over.

Upon closer inspection, the lamp was indeed his variety of fire magic, though there seemed to be an object at the center of it that kept it burning. Clever, he thought; it meant less mental effort to keep it lit (not that he had to exert much anymore for such simple spells). 

The door itself was painted roughly to match the exterior wall—or it had been, once upon a time, and now was faded and flaking, but he could still make out where “B. Hallward” was written in yellowing letters.

He knocked, firmly and insistently, and then waited. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d get an immediate answer, or even to think he’d be seen tonight, but there was also no sense waiting.

He listened close to the door for a minute or so, but if there was anything to hear, it was unnoticeable. Then he paced a bit, keenly aware of the sounds of his unfamiliar shoes tapping on the stones.

But after nearly 10 minutes, he had to concede that either Mr. Hallward was out for the evening, or didn’t wish to be disturbed. Well, surely a town of this size had a red-light district; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in such an establishment (usually willingly). 

He began to walk towards the sounds of society, at the far end of this alley, when he paused; he thought he heard the turn of a deadbolt. He turned back to look at the door; it was still shut, but the color of the flame in the lantern had changed to blue. Curious.

He moved closer to it, and to his surprise, a small window appeared from nowhere. There was no glass inside it, but he could see nothing but blackness behind it. “Yes?” a voice called out from the void.

“Basil Hallward?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” the voice replied.

“Someone who has traveled a great distance to seek you out.”

The voice cursed, probably realizing he’d revealed his identity without meaning to. “What for?” he finally came back with.

“A bit of magic,” he answered, then called forth his own fire again.

The window disappeared and the door swung open. “Come in,” the other man called out; Dorian didn’t hesitate to oblige.

Whatever he was expecting—this wasn’t it. Despite whatever spell lay on the entryway—and he could feel it as he stepped through—it was actually fairly light inside, with more enchanted lamps around the open space, which revealed the absolute clutter everywhere. And, to the back of the room, what appeared to be a painter’s studio. 

“You’re an artist?” he exclaimed, minorly disgusted. 

“That I am, sir,” the other man replied, and Dorian finally got a look at him: he seemed young—younger than him, at least—and the narrow mustache above his lip did nothing to make him appear older. He pushed his dark, curly hair out of his equally dark eyes. “What of it?”

“I came here looking for magic,” Dorian spat. “Not to sit for my portrait.”

“A pity; you’d make an excellent subject, with that profile. But I do both, actually.”

“Both?” He raised an eyebrow, skeptic.

“Aye; let me show you.” Basil beckoned Dorian towards his work bench; he hesitantly followed. The man picked up a vial of what Dorian assumed was pigment off the cluttered surface. He uncorked it and held it out. “Do you recognize it?”

Dorian narrowed his gaze and peered inside. It was just a black powder, but he recognized the smell. “Adder’s fork?”

“Good eye,” Basil commended. “And this?” he asked, holding out a small dish with a bluish powder. 

“Mermaid scale,” Dorian identified. “I don’t understand.”

“Magic works differently in this realm,” Basil explained. “No one here is born with it inherently, but what makes its way here usually requires a conduit—some physical tether. Me, I learned how to embed it in my paint, using these ingredients.”

“And then what?”

“Whatever you want,” Basil answered. “Within reason, of course.” He showed off a portrait of an expectant mother, explaining that the woman and her husband had been trying to have children for several years when he painted her; “Now, she has three children and another on the way.” Another painting displayed a vagabond sitting on a street curb. “His wife discovered he was cheating on her; now he’s destitute and she kept his wealth.”

“So you grant wishes?”

“In a sense. A fertility spell was embedded in this portrait, a curse of ill-luck in the other.”

Dorian glanced back at the work space and saw a good number of potion books—many of them he knew—across a bookshelf above it. “Ahhh,” he sighed in understanding. “Then you likely don’t have what I’m after.”

“Which is?”

“A way to break into a heavily fortified castle?”

Basil shook his head. “Afraid not. But if you have something of its occupant’s, we could probably find a way to cast them out, or at least make them horridly uncomfortable.”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Hope you didn’t come far, then.”

“Only a few realms away.”

Basil whistled low. “Then I at least owe you a drink. What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey?”

He nodded and led him over to a sitting area, where they proceeded to chat over (some damn fine) liquor. Basil was curious about the magical realms—he had some acquaintances who passed through the other worlds who supplied him with his materials, but had never been himself. Dorian wondered how he’d fallen into this line of work, then. 

“The man I apprenticed with taught me; passed on all he knew.” Well, that sounded familiar. 

As such, they got on famously, to the point that Basil offered Dorian use of a spare bedroom in his home for as long as he was staying in this realm. 

What the hell, Dorian thought. The Dark One wasn’t going anywhere—he could enjoy himself for a bit. (It wasn’t like he ever needed an excuse to do so.)

For the next few weeks, Basil showed him about this curious town—London, it was called, and far larger than he realized—and introduced him to many interesting people (and vices; opium was a delight, though he saw enough of the strung-out folks addicted to it to use in moderation).

They went to countless parties, gatherings, concerts, sporting events. At one such dinner, he met a writer named Oscar who seemed to be infatuated with him; he couldn’t say he disliked the attention. The man became a regular fixture in their outings as well (and maybe a few private nights). 

Dorian did oblige Basil to pose for a portrait eventually; far be it for him to deny the world his beauty. “And what enchantment will you weave into this one?” he asked, peering over his friend’s shoulder; Basil had finished painting his face and form, but nothing else yet. 

“None,” Basil replied simply. “You have enough magic on your own. 

(There may also have been a few nights he spent in Basil’s room, as well. He was hardly a choosy lover, so long as someone caught his interest.)

He smirked cockily at the praise and admired his face and form on the canvas. Basil was truly a gifted artist and, in his personal opinion, had perfectly captured Dorian’s handsomeness, strength, and form, down to the color of his eyes. 

However, later that night as he readied for bed, he caught a glimpse of something new in his reflection in the looking glass: was that…a wrinkle?

He pulled at the flesh around his eyes, watching as it stretched and returned. Indeed, there was a fine line—a few, even—in that delicate skin. 

He was 30 years old; he knew it was inevitable he began to look it (even if he dare say he looked better than most men his age). But it was a sudden, stark reminder: the being he was chasing was immortal; he, however, was not. 

(There was probably some sage advice somewhere about avoiding vice to extend his longevity, but…where was the fun in that?)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic​ @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @killianmesmalls​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[just-jae]

About Vivsiepop's Beelzabub

Lots of drama over Bee's design. My Thoughts:

Beelzabub's design isn't forein. She's a canine character, like the Hellhounds she rules over. She wears knicked tanktop and shorts- Just like Loona and Tex's everyday clothes. She even talks like Loona, which is the best way I can describe at the moment is City-youth culture.

About her colors-- the pink and blue aren't her true colors, those are for the "Cotton Candy" song she sings-- she's wearing cotton candy colors. When bathed in yellow. and when transformed, her clothes turn red and black, her glowy hair turns completely gold. Even her little tuft turns gold.

This Matches with the general colorscheme of the other hellhounds except for the Yellow/gold.

So her design matches other characters.

As for Bee's bug theme:

She's got six, thin, long limbs. Fly wings you can hear flapping around, antenae lashes and ears, and stripes. Which is all a call to the bug theme of Biblical Beelzabub, who may not have been specifically seen as a bee, but at least was a flying bug. Even so, there's no rule saying you HAVE adhere to previous depictions of an entity in a fictional work. You don't, and shouldn't have to know anything about the bible to track who a given character is. Biblical lore can help predict what a character's about, but the show's own writing is what makes and defines the character in that show (Something I get to later).

When it comes to character design basics, Bee's still pretty in-lane, being introduced with an easy-to-recognize silhouette.

When it comes to animation practicality, Bee's base design (clothes, patterns) doesn't seem much harder to animate than these guys.

Even then, Bee's animation is very high quality in this episode, like the animation in the "Truth Seekers" episode or some parts of "The Harvest Moon Festival". They were adding extra details to the animation for fun, not because her design required it. The Honey was globbier than it needed to be, her body movements more fluid and detailed than they needed to be. It was for fun.

They could have definitely animated Bee's honeymane simpler than this, if it were that much of a strain on the animators, and still retained the same design. Plus, there are shortcuts to pulling this off, like animating the basic outline first and having another layer behind it that doesn't follow the outline, but instead is cropped by it. They do this with Stolas' sparkly cape in "Ozzie's".

(Obv, Bee's honey was more hands on, but you can see a similar method used if you watch how the globules move.) They can also animate the lava effect by itself and drag that animation to stay inside the outline, which they seem to do for the lava belly.

Even then. The whole point of this episode was to celebrate the show's success and progress. They did all this out of joy and to have fun. The only thing I'd say could have been concretely "better" only really applies if you approach this as a serious, plot-significant episode (Which it isn't), and that's the writing of the Bee's introduction scene (which was a song that was more to celebrate the show and Spotlight Kesha than providing important context on the characters/setting/themes.)

Other than that, most of the criticism about Bee's design is preference (subjective), expectation (subjective), or an overreaction to furries (Ironically plenty of fans of this show apparently find furries disgusting or lame and saw Bee's design and went "A canine Sin? The Furries are taking over!") (Subjective).

Acting like this is Viv being lazy, uninspired, or unreasonable, is just-- unfair, and unwarranted negativity. People are really acting like this is their work, and not Viv's. Viv didn't do anything technically wrong with Bee's design. It's one thing to not dig it (I personally still haven't warmed up to Ozzy's, and prolly never will, but I warmed up to Bee's a lot faster- especially after seeing her personality) it's another to try to shit on the creator or act like their designs are "wrong" because of expectations or personal taste, ESPECIALLY for an episode that isn't plot relevant and was made to celebrate real-world things like Viv's success in producing her own show and being able to work with Kesha.

Chill the fuck out, and kudo's to the team.

End thoughts.

[stardustmorozov]

At The Speed Of Love || S4E10

A/N: I have been watching too much "Drive To Survive" I am so sorry A/N: Shoutout to @becauseicantthinkwritings for enabling me enough to finish this thing

Summary: An imagining of an episode of Netflix's Drive To Survive about Noa's stuggles with Hammer Racing

Pairing: Billy Russo x Noa Barceló (OC) x Darklina

Wordcount: 2102

Drive To Survive Season 4 Episode 10

The Last Straw

The episode opens with a series of clips with misfortunes Noa had with her car while racing for Hammer Racing.

The first clip appears, showing Noa's car going slowly by the side of the track while the commentator shockedly narrates the event in front of them.

"And what is THIS? After leading over half the race, the motor of Barceló's Hammer seems to have given up! A fantastic weekend for Hammer, has ended in disaster."

A second commentator chimes in. "This is the third time it has happend this season and we're only just half way! What has happend to the two time world champion and her team?"

Cut to a different clip. She is lining up for an overtake in the rain until suddenly the rear of her car suddenly slips from under her, catapulting the car into the gravel and the tirewall, totalling the car.

"Noa are you okay?" her engineer cekcs in with her, anxiety dripping off of his voice even through the crackling microphone.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she says dejectedly as she undoes her steer and gets out of the car, "Just... where the hell did that come from?"

"We don't know, but we are looking into it."

The clip quickly fades into another, this time with an onboard camera as Noa gives the team back in the pit some worrying news.

"Guys? The brake is gone, I can't slow down."

"Copy. Try and cool them before you turn into the next corner."

"I have no brake to cool. They're gone, my brake is gone."

"Copy that. Put it on the side of the track, or if you can make it, pull into the pit lane."

"Okay. I'll try for the pit lane."

The clip cuts to a view of her car as it pulls around the pit lane corner. The voice of the commentator almost drowning out the sound of th motors of the other cars speeding by.

"And there comes Barceló, swerving into the pitlane, trying to slow the car down as much as possible. It seems that neither Hammer drivers can catch a break in misfortunes this season. What a shame."

Hard cut to black which fades into a portrait shot of a Formula One journalist, his name fading in to his left. It reads: Andrei Morgan.

"Everyone knows Hammer has had an incredibly difficult season. When you consider that they have won two championships and one of the best, new and young talents in their car it is almost incredible how far they have fallen over the course of a single stop. Combine that with the fact that almost no one expected her to sign for another season with Hammer, given how critical she's been of them since the start of the season when she won her second world title."

Cut to the title card of the series which shows the pit stop of a blue and white car, recognised as one of the Stark drivers. The title of the series appears when the car drives away from the team.

From the title card it transitions into a post-race debrief.

"So Noa, you noticed nothing in your breaking prior to that turn?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing. And looking back, there are no other things I could attribute to the cause either."

"Okay. Elliot, you had a steering issue, any idea what could have caused it from your side of the wheel?"

Cut to the camera following Noa and Elliot from behind, outside the paddock as Elliot comments on the shitty weekend they've had while they make their way to the pop up office and the shot quick fades into a portrait shot of Andrei Morgan.

"It is no secret that, when Noa first signed with Hammer, Sergio Debiar fully intended on having her as a second driver. Which she did well. Unfortunatley for Debiar, Marcus Puckett signed with Nemostones for 2019 and Elliot Maker took his place. Debiar was fully intending on keeping the team dynamic as it was but suddenly there was this very clear shift as Noa started outperforming her teammate weekend after weekend and all but forcing Debiar to put her on the winning strategy.

In a sense things only got worse when she won her first world title because he got a team that worked like a miracle, but not in the way he wanted it and this was only amplified when she won her second world title the season after."

A black screen card appears with the title of the episode. It reads: The Last Straw. Cut to an overview shot of a city with white text overlaying the shot, defining it as Milan in Italy and immediately after cuts to a black screen card with white text reading: Friday, Training.

The view changes to an onboard camera in the car of Elliot Maker. He is performing relatively well for his abilty and the car he's been given and feeling out some of the things that changed about the car in comparison to last weekend.

"Car is performing well, understeer is a bit much though," Elliot's voice crackles over the microphone as he turns through a set of corners and chicanes.

"Understood."

The camera follows an overhead view of Noa's car, which is faster than that of her teammate, though she comments on the same issue with the understeer and a few others Elliot did not catch.

"Well done. You were fourth fastest on the track today. You did a great job."

"Thanks man."

A black screen card pops onto the screen. Saturday. Qualifying.

The camera cuts between different views of Noa's qualifying lap as the commentator remarks her times.

"And Barceló has a purple first sector! Getting off to a good start with the Hammer car this session, and she colors sector two purple as well. Can she beat the Stark of Sam Wilson? Green in sector three makes that a no, qualifying her to start on the second row tomorrow next to Peter Parker, who is coming in... fourth place! Meaning he will start on Barcelo's right. Tomorrow, here in Algarve"

Cut to a portrait shot of Andrei Morgan.

"After this season Noa Barceló will be out of a contract with Hammer. Everyone knows she is not going to stay and Sergio Debiar knows it as well. So why then, is he clinging to the hope that she will sign another contract with them?"

A hard cut to a portrait side view of Sergio Debiar as the interviewer asks him why he thinks Noa will sign on for another season or two with Hammer Racing.

"There is a strong correlation between Noa's success as a driver and Hammer's ability to produce a car that was capable of winning a world championship. Twice in a row even, so I don't see why she would leave when we have proven that we are capable of producing a car that is able to win races and most importantly, championships."

Cut back to Andrei Morgan. "Noa Barceló is an extremely accomplished driver, who not just holds titles in Formula One now, but also in Formula Three and Two. She holds a total of six titles across all three leagues, half of which she won as a rookie. Then there is the fact that when she raced for Roket Mercury Motorsports she lost both her father and godfather in the span of barely a week. Not even forty-eight hours later, she was in a race car and qualifying for the Monza Grand Prix and came dead last. On the day of the race she managed to claw her way through the grid and win the race. To lose two people so close to you and then to be able to get in a car and win a grand prix is...astounding far above a level I am able to put words to. If there is anyone who is mentally strong enough to be in Formula One, it is Noa Barceló.

Then again there is far more to racing than just having a fast car. Debiar knows this as team principal of Hammer, yet he seems to denounce it when it comes to Noa. She's driven four seasons for them so far. At some point you gotta recognise that the driver you wanted in the second position is better than you expected and let them play a fair game."

Cut to a post race interview with Noa Barceló, Zoya Nazyalensky, and Sam Wilson.

"Question for Noa. Now that you have gotten a podium again, how would you feel about signing for another season with Hammer?"

"Honestly? Everyone knows I am out of a contract after this year and I have to say, I kinda look forward to opening a new chapter in my life in terms of racing. Like, at some point or another you have to stop doing what is old and familiar and take the leap to do new things."

Cut to a back view of Noa and her best friend Alba Rivera in a car, discussing different opportunities with two teams in particular. Anvil Motorsports and Lucendi Volcra Racing. The two speak spanish among another.

"What do you think of the rookie?" Alba asks her, turning a corner in an unidentified city.

"Well... they're good. So that makes them dangerous."

"They're a rookie, what could there be for you to be afraid of them?"

Noa scoffs. "Did you really forget about Gostinni already? I thought you had a better memory than that."

"Ah. Yeah you scared me shitless when you two crashed each other in Baku."

"Precisely."

"What about the other one then? Anvil."

"I'd mostly like to know which of their drivers I would be replacing. Because, depending on that, I could end up as the second driver or not."

"Honestly, you replacing either of them would put you up for first driver immediately I think. Look, they're both good drivers in their own right, but even in a Hammer car you can overtake them on a good day."

"Provided I get close through the traffic. Heh."

Cut to Noa preparing to go scuba diving with her friend Alba. An english narration of Noa's voice plays over the footage.

"In a way... I think I have always known I would be done with Hammer sooner or later. When I signed for my second contract with them after my first world title, I already knew I would not want to renew it once 2020 would come around; and with the race results I've had thus far, it seems to have been a wise decision. I have to take a leap forward an thrust myself into the unknown," she says as the footage shows her jumping off a boat, into the water, "Staying with Hammer for this long... It has felt like I have been fighting with one arm tied behind my back. And no, I am not going to lie, I have done a more than excelent job at fighting for podiums and for the world title this year with the car I have been given, but I would also like to know what it is to fight with both my hands free.

I have the luxury of being able to choose between multiple teams, and in a way, that also makes it incredibly scary. Will I choose the right team? What if I make the wrong prediction about the team dynamic? They're all questions that are going through my head as I try to figure out what is best."

The shot shows Noa and Alba swimming back to the surface, but cuts to black before either of them can reach it. The black screen displays a small paragraph of text, reading: On the 7th of December, 2020, Noa Barceló announced to the rest of the world that she would not be renewing her contract with Hammer. The screen card fades into a studio interview with Noa in her Hammer attire as she smiles at the interviewer and it is the happiest we've seen her all season.

"Do I look at you or do I look at the camera," she says with a toothy smile as she takes a sip of water.

"At me," the voice of the interviewer sounds off screen.

"Okay."

"So please tell me your name, your profession and which team you will be joining next year."

"My name is Noa Barceló, I am a Formula One driver and I will be joining Anvil Motorsports for next season."

She smiles brightly when she finishes speaking and the screen cuts to the credits of the episode.

Taglist: @ramadiiiisme @becauseicantthinkwritings @idaofinfinity @mysticaltwoface @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @dreamlandcreations @marvelmusing

[brckentales]

hey there! this is a multimuse rp blog, that features characters from various fandoms —— ranging from dc, marvel, a song of ice and fire, disney, and more —— with more to come later!

crossover friendly & encouraged. the writer is 18+, and i ask anyone who follows to be an adult as well, as this blog will feature mature and possibly dead dove themes, including heavy adult content, so please bare that in mind.

i'm also completely open to writing on discord, if that's your preference! my pms are very much open whenever, for plotting or chatting or whatever.

also, this pinned post and everything else is mostly temporary. i'll be working on making everything look nicer as i go along!

under the cut, i’ll include a few things, including my muse list, some muses / characters i’m looking for to write opposite with, and a few other details for rp!

my messages are always open, feel free to dm!

WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR

i'm open to most kinda plots and pairings, open to any themes and ideas, we can discuss whatever tbh. i don't have any real limits here.

WHO I PLAY

there’s a more detailed muse list below, but honestly? i can play most any male character tbh, whatever fits the plot or pairing we go for! i can do canons, crossovers, or ocs —— it's all a yes from me! feel free to suggest someone who might not be on the list.

MUSE LIST

again, i’m pretty flexible and can write some characters outside of this, whether canon or oc, so feel free to suggest anything, this is more just for inspiration, tbh.

DC

Heroes / Anti-heroes: Batman / Bruce Wayne, Nightwing / Dick Grayson, Red Robin / Tim Drake, Robin / Damian Wayne, Signal / Duke Thomas, Batman Beyond / Terry McGinnis, Green Lantern / Kyle Rayner, The Flash / Wally West, Impulse / Bart Allen, Green Arrow / Oliver Queen, Green Arrow / Connor Hawke, Arsenal / Roy Harper, Aquaman / Arthur Curry, Aqualad / Kaldurah'm, Superboy / Conner Kent, Superman / Jon Kent, Cyborg / Victor Stone, Booster Gold, Hawkman / Carter Hall, Swamp Thing, Jimmy Olsen

Villains: Deathstroke / Slade Wilson, Deadshot / Floyd Lawton, Black Adam, Vandal Savage, Scarecrow, Flashpoint Batman / Thomas Wayne, Bane, Reverse-Flash / Eobard Thawne, Black Manta, Lobo, The Penguin / Oswald Cobblepot, Joker

MARVEL

Heroes / Anti-heroes: Daredevil / Matt Murdock, Punisher / Frank Castle, Spider-Man / Miles Morales, Spider-Man 2099 / Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man Noir, Cyclops / Scott Summers, Wolverine, Archangel / Warren Worthington, Human Torch / Johnny Storm, Deadpool / Wade Wilson, Luke Cage, Winter Soldier / Bucky Barnes, Nick Fury

Villains: Magneto / Erik Lensherr, Green Goblin / Norman Osborn, Green Goblin / Harry Osborn, Doctor Doom / Victor von Doom, Bullseye, Kingpin / Wilson Fisk

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

Game of Thrones era: Jaime Lannister, Joffrey Baratheon

House of the Dragon era: Aemond Targaryen, Jacaerys Velaryon, Gwayne Hightower

BEN 10

Ben Tennyson, Kevin Levin, Albedo

AVATAR

Zuko, Mako, Sokka, Ozai

DISNEY

Peter Pan, Kuzco, Phineas Flyn, Olaf, Claude Frollo, Captain Hook, Dash Parr, Alfredo Linguini, Horst (Ratatouille)

MISC. ANIMATION

Numbuh Four (KND), Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo), Roger Rabbit, Daffy Duck, Wirt (Over the Garden Wall), Alejandro (Total Drama)

VIDEO GAMES

Genji (Overwatch), Javier Escuella (Red Dead Redemption)

WHO I’M LOOKING FOR

now here's the main gist of of what i'm looking for! if you can play any of the following characters, i would absolutely love it!

DC

Cheshire / Jade Nguyen, Artemis Crock (from Young Justice), Yara Flor, Lois Lane, Donna Troy, Wonder Woman, Talia al Ghul, Black Canary / Dinah Lance, Zatanna, Ravager / Rose Wilson, Huntress / Helena Bertinelli, Jessica Cruz / Green Lantern, Poison Ivy, Star Sapphire / Carol Ferris, Punchline, Supergirl, Spoiler, Lian Harper, Catwoman / Selina Kyle (Comics or Zoe Kravitz), Barbara Gordon / Batgirl, Dawn Granger (Titans TV), Starfire, Lilith Clay, Hawkgirl, Lady Shiva, Mera, Sofia Falcone (Reevesverse), some Arrowverse girls (Iris West, Sara Lance, Thea Queen, Laurel Lance)

MARVEL

Elektra Natchios, Psylocke, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Rogue, Kate Bishop, Lorna Dane, Susan Storm, Felicia Hardy, Gwen Stacy / Spider-Gwen, Magik / Illyana Rasputin, Kitty Pryde, Laura Kinney, Black Widow / Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch, Carol Danvers (MCU), Mary Jane Watson, Sersi (MCU), Hope van Dyne (MCU), Claire Temple (MCU), Agatha Harkness (MCU), Gamora, Mantis, Luna Snow, Dagger

OVERWATCH

Ashe or Kiriko

FINAL FANTASY 7

Tifa Lockhart, Aerith Gainsborough, Jessie Rasberry

RED DEAD REDEMPTION

Abigail Roberts, Sadie Adler, Mary-Beth Gaskill

STAR WARS

Leia or Rey

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE (GAME OF THRONES / HOUSE OF THE DRAGON)

Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, Melisandre, Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Visenya I Targaryen, Alys Rivers

AVATAR

Azula, Suki

DISNEY

Kim Possible or Shego, Colette (Ratatouille), Cinderella (Disney), Jasmine, Tinker Bell, Elsa, Rapunzel

DISNEY / NICK SITCOMS

Teddy Duncan (Good Luck, Charlie), Alex Russo (Wizards), Carly Shay (iCarly), Tori / Trina / Jade (Victorious), Sharpay Evans / Gabriella Montez (High School Musical)

TOTAL DRAMA

Heather, Gwen, Courtney

LIFE IS STRANGE

Max Caulfield, Chloe Price, Juliet Watson, Dana Ward, Kate Marsh, Loretta Rice

BEN 10

Gwen Tennyson (Alien Force version or older only), Ester, Charmcaster

ARCANE

Caitlyn Kiramman, Jinx

ANIME

Lust (Fullmetal Alchemist) / Kagome, Kikyo, Sango (Inuyasha)

MISC. ANIMATION / GAMING

Daphne Blake (Scooby-Doo), Ellie Williams (The Last of Us), Lara Croft (Tomb Raider), Jessica Rabbit (Who Framed Roger Rabbit?)

MISC. LIVE ACTION

Starlight / Annie January (The Boys), Betty Cooper (Riverdale), Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher show)

CELEBRITIES

Margot Robbie, Megan Fox, Gemma Chan, Madison Beer, Anne Hathaway, Anya Chalotra, Victoria Pedretti, Jessica Chastain, Emeraude Taubia, Jenna Dewan, Candice Patton, Sydney Sweeney, Alice Eve, Caity Lotz, Kim Kardashian, Kylie Jenner, Olivia Wilde, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens, Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa, Conor Leslie, Minka Kelly, Alejandra Guilmant, Kennedy Walsh, Olivia Rodrigo, Hailey Bieber, Doja Cat, Hailee Steinfeld, Dakota Johnson, Corinna Kopf, Florence Pugh, Lili Reinhart, Ariana Grande, Scarlet Johansson, Bridget Mendler, Madelyn Cline, Sabrina Carpenter, Anya Taylor-Joy, Jenna Ortega, Olivia Cooke, Zoe Kravitz, Rachel Brosnahan, Milly Alcock

[smoothbydangelo]

injury reserve, drive it like it's stolen (2017)

i can't place where i first heard injury reserve. i remember that i found them through their self-titled album in the summer of 2019. knowing 14 y/o me, my guess is i heard of them through a fantano review. at that point in summer 2019 i was obsessed with clipping. they were the first experimental hip hop group i listened to and their sound blew my mind (shoutout my best friend cam, he showed me clipping. in eighth grade). i wanted to find more music like clipping. so when i first listened to injury reserve (the album) i was stoked. they had something about them that made me an instant fan. i still come back to that album every so often and fall back in love with it.

injury reserve dominated my summer 2019 and followed me into my freshman year of high school. i started delving into their back catalogue that year and loved floss, live from the dentist office, and drive it like it's stolen, though their self-titled remained my favorite. floss and live from the dentist office became staples in my rotation that year.

when i heard about groggs's passing in 2020 my heart was broken. over the past year they had quickly became one of my favorite active groups and to find out that someone as young and full of life as groggs was no longer with us hit me pretty hard. i stopped listening to their music until late 2020 because it just became too sad.

when they announced by the time i get to phoenix i didn't know how to feel. part of me was so happy to hear new music from a group who's entire discography had excited me. another part of me was unsure of if i would even want to hear new music and be reminded of grogg's passing. i listened to "superman that" and realized i wasn't going to be able to make it through this new album. even as i'm writing this, i haven't heard any other songs from it. i don't know if i ever will.

injury reserve has been on my mind a lot recently because i met this guy in college who loves music. his name is anthony. he's a nice dude. knows way more about music than i probably ever will. a week or so ago we had a conversation about injury reserve which took me down this exact memory lane. through that chat i realized that i hadn't heard drive it like it's stolen in forever. i listened to it a couple times when i first got into them in 2019, but i couldn't remember a single song off of it except "see you sweat," which i didn't remember being too fond of.

i listened to the album in full this morning while i was writing an essay. i got sidetracked pretty quickly because this album is incredible. it doesn't compare to my memory of it at all. i think the minimalist production made this album seem bland to me when i was expecting something as explosive as their self-titled when i first heard it. parker's production never fails to catch my ears. i'm listening to "boom (x3)" right now and the piano sample is gorgeous and perfectly juxtaposed to the bombastic drums and verses.

if i had to use one word to describe this album it would be "understated." the choruses are simple and far from eye-catching. more than any of their other albums, drive it like you stole it really just feels like two guys rapping. parker's production is great but it takes a backseat to ritchie's and groggs's verses.

nothing highlights this better than "north pole." this song is a million things. it's really sad. it's mature. it might be my favorite song on the album. it's probably the best beat on the album. ritchie's verse makes me cry. especially the last three lines where he talks about his loved ones who have passed watching over him write and perform his songs.

after "north pole" comes "colors," which also might be my favorite song on the album. now it's groggs's verse that makes me cry. especially when he says that life isn't supposed to be perfect, it's supposed to be lived. jesus man what a loss. i just know that guy had so much more to say.

this album places more focus on lyricism than any other project from injury reserve. i think that's really brave. parts of this album make me feel like i'm at an open mic hearing someone read their poetry to a room of a dozen people. i think part of that feeling can be attributed to its brevity. it's only seven songs at 20 minutes.

i don't think this is a perfect album. "see you sweat" still isn't one of my favorite injury reserve songs. it kinda feels out of place on this record. it's not awful or anything, just kinda feels like a floss leftover.

overall though, i think drive it like it's stolen is incredible. these guys have something to say on this album. i hope that putting so much of their pain into their music was cathartic for them. maybe this is wishful thinking but i found an underlying optimism in this album, like ritchie and groggs knew that their past fuck-ups didn't define them. that pain is temporary. that progress isn't linear and "perfect" is unattainable.

i hope that parker and ritchie are doing well. i know that they started something called "bye storm" recently but i haven't looked into it. i think i might though. rediscovering injury reserve has made me think about a lot. i wasn't in the right headspace to listen to by the time i get to phoenix when they released it. but a lot has changed since then. i'm doing a lot better. i live three hours away from where i grew up. i have a different area code and new friends and hobbies. maybe i should check by the time i get to phoenix out. i'll think about it.