biiiebs

[biiiebs]

[biiiebs]

justin didn’t know how to breathe right now—not really. not with her this close. not with adria’s body pressed against his and her mouth finding his like it never forgot the way. her kiss was slow, deliberate, but it hit him like a freight train. the kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission. the second her fingers slipped into his hair and tugged gently, it was over. whatever quiet self-control he thought he’d been holding onto snapped like thread between shaking fingers. his hands moved without conscious thought—one sliding under the soft fabric of her shirt, fingers splayed across her lower back, pressing her into him. the other curved around the back of her neck, his thumb brushing just beneath her ear in a rhythm he didn't even realize he'd missed. she felt like warmth, like ache, like every almost he’d tried to forget. her hips shifted against his, and he swore quietly into her mouth, breath catching like she’d knocked the air right out of him. every nerve ending screamed for more contact, more closeness, but he kept the touch grounded, reverent. he didn’t want to ruin this by rushing. he kissed her like he was afraid this might still be a dream, like he needed to learn her all over again just in case she disappeared by morning. And when she whispered his name—justin—his heart stuttered. he hadn’t heard her say it like that in months. soft. needy. it undid him more than he’d ever admit. she pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his, and he let his hands anchor her there, holding her steady while his own pulse thundered in his ears. justin gave a breath of a laugh, but it wasn’t sharp. it was wrecked around the edges. “you think i don’t know that?”

he didn’t answer her with words. he didn’t need to. not when her weight was still resting so easily against him, not when her breath was warm and steady near his ear, not when the promise in her voice was still echoing in his chest like something holy. instead, he dipped his head, slow, like a question he already knew the answer to. and when his lips found the curve of her neck—just beneath her jaw, where her pulse beat strongest—he kissed her. gently. slower. she tilted her head ever so slightly, just enough to give him more of her, and he took it. his mouth moved with unspoken reverence, lips brushing over the delicate space between her throat and shoulder, pausing only to breathe her in, to let himself be undone by the scent of her shampoo, the sound of her breath hitching quietly in his ear. his hands, once tentative, now moved with purpose—one settled low on her back, fingers spreading wide to hold her steady, while the other traced slow, deliberate patterns along her outer thigh, grounding himself in her warmth, her presence. every bit of her felt familiar and brand new all at once.

Adria didn’t respond with words, not at first. Her breath caught in her throat as Justin’s hands moved along her spine, slow and reverent, as though he were learning her all over again. And God, how easily her body responded to him. Every brush of his fingers made her want to press closer, to anchor herself in him like he was the only thing steady in a world she hadn’t been able to trust in months. Her lips were still tingling from his last kiss, and even though her pulse was already racing, even though she knew she was losing the fragile grip she had on logic, she leaned in again. She kissed him. Slow at first, more an exhale than a kiss. Then deeper. Her fingers slid into his hair, curling at the nape of his neck, pulling him into her like instinct. Her hips shifted against his lap, and she pressed herself flush to him. Her hands couldn’t stay still. They moved from his neck to his jaw, her thumbs brushing the line of his cheekbones, then sliding down his throat, tracing the warmth of his skin like she was trying to memorize the feel of him. “Justin,” she whispered between kisses, her voice a breathless ache. She kissed him again, slower this time, drawn out, her lips lingering over his like she couldn’t bear to let go, even for a second. “You’re impossible.”

She rested her forehead against his for a moment, her eyes closed, catching her breath. Her hands framed his face now, gentle but needing. Her thumbs traced the edge of his jaw as she opened her eyes, and there it was again, that soft, slightly stunned kind of affection she always tried to hide from him. The part of her that never stopped choosing him, even when everything else told her not to. “You make me forget every reason I ever told myself to stay away,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on his lips like they were still pulling her in. “I hate how easy this is. How easy you make it to fall right back in.” Her hands slid down to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. She lingered there for a moment, soaking in the warmth, the comfort, the danger of it. Then, almost without thinking, she leaned in again, this time to press slow, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, just below his ear. “I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured near his ear, her voice low, teasing. “We’re literally in my house.” A playful grin curved at her lips as she pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “But in all seriousness… I don’t want to go anywhere either.” She pressed her lips to his again, this time softer, like a promise. Then she sank against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her arms looping lazily around his neck. Safe, close, too close. She knew she should pull back. But instead, she stayed. Because with him, like this, she never wanted to leave.

[biiiebs]

karen lucille hale—boring is the last word anyone would ever use, but hey, if you ever do find a way to be boring, you’ll probably do it stylishly and with dramatic flair. i’m so glad to hear the last few years have been good for you. you deserve that peace and clarity, especially after doing the work to get to that place. and yeah, there’s something different about being able to enjoy what’s coming next instead of just surviving it. i’m really happy you’re in that place now. “dead letters”? that title alone has me hooked. definitely send me that deadline link—i wanna read all about it. you already know you’re gonna kill it. i’ve been easing back into the studio—nothing official just yet, just letting things flow, reconnecting with the music. there’s something brewing, though. you’ll be one of the first to know when it’s ready… maybe i’ll send you some early demos for feedback. sound fair?

Trust me, I, Karen Lucille Hale, can be boring at times. I know what you mean about mistakes and I know the ones I have made have helped make me a stronger person in the end. It takes a lot and I know these last three plus years have been good for me. I am excited to see what comes next and actually getting to enjoy it. Just tell me when and where, I will be there to meet the little guy who stole your heart. That is wonderful, I know when all of my nieces and nephews I feel that whenever they are around. Actually I can tell you all about it, it is a project for Netflix called Dead Letters. I will send you the Deadline link so you can read all about it. Are you working on anything right now?

[biiiebs]

the moment adria settled onto his lap, justin’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body instinctively locking into place, as if the simple act of her being here, of her choosing this again, had unlocked something he’d been holding back for far too long. he couldn’t help the way his hands roamed over her, his fingers finding the small of her back, pressing her flush against him. his palm splayed wide, feeling the soft curve of her spine, memorizing each inch of her body like he was terrified of forgetting. his other hand came up to her face, his thumb tracing the sharp line of her jaw, moving to caress the curve of her cheekbone, as if he needed to reaffirm that she was really here, that this wasn’t a dream he’d wake up from. the kiss between them deepened with slow, deliberate intention. his lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that felt like worship, like he was trying to savor every single inch of her, as if this was the last time he’d ever get to kiss her like this. he wasn’t rushed; his movements were languid, sure, as if he had all the time in the world to memorize her touch, to make her feel like she was the only thing that mattered. the heat between them was simmering, electric, making his pulse race and his skin burn with every slight brush of her body against his. his fingers tangled in her hair, threading through the strands with a tenderness that made his chest ache. he wasn’t pulling her closer desperately—no, it was more like he was trying to anchor her to him, to keep her from slipping away.

as she pulled back, her lips parted slightly, both of them breathing heavily, it wasn’t just the kiss that lingered—it was everything. his hand still rested on the small of her back, grounding her, and his thumb absently traced along her spine, moving in slow, soothing circles. her eyes were half-lidded, a soft glow of desire and vulnerability swirling in them as she looked at him. the moment stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. she opened her mouth, and the words that came out made his heart stutter in his chest. her words, layered with sincerity and teasing, cut through the haze of their moment. he knew the sting in her voice, the ache behind it, because he felt it too. she was right—he made it impossible to pretend this was just a mistake. he’d spent too many years pretending it didn’t matter. pretending she didn’t matter. “you make it impossible to forget you,” justin murmured, his voice raw, quiet, and filled with a tenderness that had been buried deep. he leaned in to kiss her again, this time slower, softer—each movement measured, as if he was afraid that if he kissed her too quickly, he might break the delicate spell they’d fallen into. his hands cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her jaw, before drifting down to trace the line of her neck, his fingers feather-light against her skin. he could feel the quickening pulse beneath his fingertips, the way her breath hitched every time their lips met. “i don’t want you to go,” he whispered, pulling her impossibly closer, his arms tightening around her. his lips trailed down her neck, barely grazing her skin, as if he needed to feel her in every part of him. the kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement an exploration, a discovery. his hands slid down her back, fingers pressing gently into her sides as he pulled her tighter, closing the small gap between them until their bodies were molded together in perfect alignment.

The second Justin’s hand slid under her shirt and his mouth found that spot just below her ear, Adria felt her entire body betray her. Every nerve ending lit up, every instinct screamed to pull him closer, to close the distance in a way that words could never hope to. She stayed still for a heartbeat longer, eyes fluttering shut, letting herself drown in the feeling, the way he touched her like she was something precious, the way he kissed her like she was something he couldn't lose again. And then she moved. Slow, deliberate, she shifted, her knees brushing the outside of his thighs as she rose just enough to slip onto his lap, straddling him. It wasn’t rushed; it wasn’t desperate. It was steady, sure, like gravity had simply taken over. Her fingers slid from the back of his neck into his hair, threading through the strands with a tenderness that made her chest ache. She settled onto him, her body aligning with his in a way that felt far too easy, far too familiar, the heat between them simmering just beneath the surface. Her forehead rested against his for a beat. Then she tilted her head just slightly and kissed him again, slow, languid, exploratory. This wasn’t about urgency. It was about memorizing him, about anchoring herself in something real after so much time lost in the in-between. Her hands skimmed down the sides of his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, tracing the curve of his jaw like she needed the reminder that he was really here.

The kiss deepened naturally, but it was still unhurried, a slow burn they both seemed willing to sit inside for once. When she finally pulled back, her lips were parted, breathing him in, her eyes heavy-lidded but sharp, focused entirely on him. She let her fingers rest at the nape of his neck, playing absently with the ends of his hair. “I hate you sometimes,” she whispered against his mouth, her voice low, teasing, but layered with too much feeling to be anything but sincere. Her forehead rested lightly against his again, her hands tracing slow, soothing patterns over the back of his neck. “You make it impossible to pretend I won't come back to you.” Adria closed her eyes for a second, feeling the way his hands anchored her there, steady and certain in a world that had felt anything but. Then she tilted her head just enough to nuzzle the corner of his jaw with the tip of her nose, a quiet, almost unconscious gesture of affection. The rain was still tapping against the windows, the room around them dim and hazy, but inside their little cocoon, everything was vivid. Every breath, every heartbeat, every slight shift of his fingers against her skin.

[biiiebs]

yeah, reggae just hits different — good vibes, chill energy, but still enough bounce to wake you up. sometimes i switch it up with some old-school r&b if i’m feeling extra tired. gotta keep it a vibe, you know? what’s your go-to "wake myself up" music?

That's not that weird. I've had exercise suggested a few times, but I love 'tricking your brain into thinking it's party time' is by far my favorite way to say that! - Is it always reggae for you?

[biiiebs]

i accept jack as my emotional support human and also my tiny ceo. blanket energy is so last season. we’re elevating now — straight to sonnet-writing, bestie-basket-building, cat-squad-leading cinematic energy. that’s the only lane i drive in now. and yes. this collab is officially written in the stars. how could it not be when we’re basically out here writing each other 16th-century letters by carrier pigeon at this point? dear lady swift, i pen this by candlelight... also — not to expose myself even further — but yeah, folklore supremacy forever. evermore is obviously beautiful and should be respected like fine wine, but folklore? that album hit like an emotional sledgehammer wrapped in a poetry book. it’s the soundtrack to staring out windows during thunderstorms. full stop. i am the folklore blanket you left draped over a chair at a cabin in the woods. you thinking i need to get checked out for cereal/mulan soundtrack syndrome has me wheezing. listen, if belting out "let's get down to business!" over a soggy bowl of cinnamon toast crunch is wrong, i don’t wanna be right. broski is fully committed to the bit. there’s no saving me. and don’t even start — swaddling benjamin? zero weirdness. in fact, i feel like there should be a whole line of luxury cat swaddles. market that. i'd buy them for you and pretend it was my idea. also, yes, amen to breaking the internet for an actual reason instead of balancing a glass of overpriced bubbly on someone's perfectly sculpted glutes. pardon the petty, but i’m petty adjacent right now too. it's the moon or whatever. we'll blame astrology. and not to be that guy but… yeah. life without certain people™ hanging around is just... better. you don't realize how much noise they bring into your headspace until they’re gone. now it’s just me, my kid, some very dramatic spotify playlists. also, laughing because of course 90% of the bestie basket is for jack. as it should be. i’ll happily accept the leftover 10% — a couple stickers, a mini bottle of hand sanitizer, maybe a half-eaten cookie. no complaints. jack deserves the world. i’ll just be honored to get a participation trophy.

Emotional support... who? Can't you just be normal and have a blanket or something... or a baby? Jack can be your emotional support human. Writing me sonnets? Alright, now we must collab. It's in the cards. Especially since you know I'm writing sonnets all damn day long. Folklore candle sets, huh? Is this you declaring your favorite era? I must say, I'm impressed. Most people's favorite era is Evermore and I feel like Folklore has always been at the bottom, so... my Folklore heart is full. You can't even pour a bowl of cereal without hearing that Mulan song? From bestie to bestie... I think you need to get checked out, bro. Broski is full thrust in and he's belting out, "LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS TO DEFEAT THE HUNS!" Help... help is needed. Benjamin really is. My little baby boy. My only boy. I need to learn how to swaddle Benjamin. Can you teach me? You're just swaddling Jack and I'm over here swaddling my cat. I'm weird. I'm a weird person. Listen, I'm glad. Not to sound like a hater, but, I'm glad something as powerful as our collab could break the internet... and not a picture of someone balancing champagne on their ass. Sorry... feeling petty. I'm over it now. I'm glad you finally came to your senses about him, though. Don't you feel so much better without him in your presence? Oh! Like you always say, cinematic and layered. I love it. I love the vibes. Someone take a video camera and film you in black and white. Let's make this a movie. You're really curious about this bestie basket, huh? Well, knowing me, only the finest of goods. Ninety percent for Jack... and about ten percent for you. And no whining. It's his world now. He gets all the gifts.

[biiiebs]

man, i feel you on that. some nights it’s like my brain just refuses to shut off too — i’ll tell myself “early night” and then boom, it's 4am and i'm deep into videos about how to grow avocados or something. when it gets bad, sometimes i’ll throw on some soft music, like real chill acoustic stuff, or i’ll do some breathing exercises — just focusing on slowing everything down. reading helps too if i can put my phone away long enough. but yeah... some nights you just ride it out, watch the sunrise, and pray the coffee hits different in the morning.

some nights are better than others but insomia is something that still gets me more often than not: the plan will be to be a proper adult and pass out by eleven at least and then i'll blink and it's 3am and i'm watching tiktoks on turtle hatching. do you have any tried and true methods that always help whenever you can't sleep or do you just suffer through the hours until dawn hits and hope that you can make it through the morning? @hazestarters

[biiiebs]

jetlag is brutal. one weird trick i swear by: chug water, blast reggae music, and dance around like nobody's watching the second you land. gets the blood flowing and tricks your brain into thinking it’s party time not nap time. try it.

Has anyone found a trick for jetlag that actually works? The weirder, the better. @hazestarters

[biiiebs]

okay, hold up, let me grab my emotional support helmet because you’re coming in hot and i’m loving every second of it. layered and cinematic was just the start — keep this up and i’m gonna be out here writing you sonnets and tying them to the bestie basket you’re about to ship over. i’ll take mine with some folklore candle scents and maybe a custom cat battle armor set, thanks. honestly, bad blood part 2 with a literal army of feral, beautiful cats sounds like the revenge anthem the world didn’t know it needed. meredith would be the general, olivia the strategist, and benjamin would just be out there distracting the enemies with his pure vibes. also, no, you are not crazy for bursting into "let's get down to business to defeat the huns!" — because same. that song lives rent-free in my head at all times. i cannot even pour a bowl of cereal without hearing it. it’s the battle cry of our generation. benjamin truly is too pure. like if golden retrievers were somehow reincarnated into perfect, squishy little cats? that’s him. and yeah… i still can’t fully believe it. one minute you're worrying about tour outfits and studio sessions, the next you’re googling "how to swaddle a baby without them looking at you like you owe them rent." boss baby is 1000% real and he's got the tiniest, most powerful grip on my soul. are you kidding me? we wouldn’t just break the internet — we’d annihilate it. the swiftie and belieber crossfire would cause seismic activity. news outlets would be calling it "the great pop quake of 2025." the cat army would be our PR team. don’t worry — he who must not be named is permanently on mute. your razor scooter threat lives rent-free in my heart. someone may or may not have blasted "the tortured poets department" on a suspicious amount of late-night drives while pretending they were in an indie film about lost love and self-discovery. no shame. now tell me, what’s going in this bestie basket?

When he calls you layered and cinematic. Keep buttering me up, Bieber, and you're getting a bestie basket delivered to your door. Why, thank you. Draw the cat eye sharp enough to kill a man, right? The men who deserve it. Bad Blood part 2, but instead of an army of fine women behind me... it's the cats, claws out and hissing. Do you ever just burst out into 'let's get down to business to defeat the huns!' or is that only me? Am I the crazy one? Bops among bops on that Mulan soundtrack. Benjamin is too pure for this world, let's just put that out into the universe. He's got golden retriever energy, while the girls got pure anger and hatred energy. Queens. Can you believe a little bean of a baby is now your boss? Could you ever imagine? The cutest boss ever. Boss baby. What if we collabed? Would we break the internet? I feel like we would. Oh... Justin, best friend... we don't bring up that man. He wishes he was as cool as a scooter. I'll run into his fucking ankles with my razor scooter. Take that! Spotify wrapped guilt? What kind of Spotify wrapped guilt do you have, Justin? Been bumping too much TTPD?

[biiiebs]

One of my favorite moments of Justin with fans.

[biiiebs]

justin didn’t move at first. he just sat there, hands tangled with hers, feeling the hum of everything unspoken vibrate between them. he could see it in her eyes—the flicker of mischief, the challenge, the raw, aching tenderness underneath. and for once, he didn’t want to run from it. he didn’t want to pretend he didn’t feel everything all at once—every bruise they’d left on each other, every soft place they’d built in between. he shifted forward, slow, deliberate, knees knocking gently against hers, his free hand lifting to brush a stray strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that made his own chest ache. his thumb skimmed the line of her cheekbone, light as a breath, and then he tipped her chin up, tilting her face toward him until there was nowhere else to go but closer. “good,” he murmured, voice low and rough, the word vibrating against her mouth. “because i’m done pretending.” and then he kissed her. not tentative this time. not hesitant. justin kissed her like a man starved. like every minute they’d spent apart had been building to this. his mouth slanted over hers with a kind of desperate precision, slow at first, savoring the shape of her lips beneath his, learning her all over again. his hand slid from her chin down to the side of her neck, fingers curling just slightly around her throat, not tight, just enough to feel the wild flutter of her pulse beneath his palm. his other hand, the one still tangled with hers, finally let go only to find the small of her back, pulling her into him, erasing the last bit of space between their bodies.

he kissed her like he was memorizing her—mapping the way she tasted, the way she sighed against him, the way her body arched instinctively closer. his hand slipped beneath the hem of her tank top, fingers spreading wide against the bare skin of her lower back, feeling the shiver that ran through her at the contact. he wanted to know every inch of her again. needed it. the kiss broke for just a second—both of them breathing hard, foreheads still touching, sharing the same air—before justin leaned in again, softer now, brushing kisses along the corner of her mouth, the line of her jaw, the sensitive spot just below her ear. his lips lingered there, pressing a slow, almost reverent kiss to her pulse point, and he felt her pulse jump against his mouth. his hand at her back traveled higher, tracing the dip of her spine beneath the thin silk of her top, while the other cupped her jaw, tilting her face to him again so he could kiss her deeper, slower, drowning in the feeling of her.

For a few long seconds after Justin pulled back, Adria just stayed there, forehead resting lightly against his, breathing him in like he was oxygen and she had been starved for it. The truth of what he’d said, that it wasn’t a mistake, sat between them, heavy but grounding. Something in her chest eased, like a string that had been pulled too tight for too long finally loosening. But she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she just felt him, his breath ghosting against her lips, the way his thumb still brushed slow, reverent strokes across the back of her hand like he didn’t know how to stop touching her now that he’d started again. And maybe she didn’t want him to.

Then, without thinking, without planning, Adria leaned in again, her hand sliding up the side of his neck, fingers threading into the hair at the nape like she needed the anchor. She kissed him, not tentative this time, not careful, but deep and deliberate, like she was trying to etch him into her mouth, into her memory, in case it all slipped away again. Her body shifted closer to his without hesitation, molded by instinct. She breathed out against him, her fingers curling tighter for a second, and then, with a teasing, breathy little sound, she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged gently before letting it go. She pulled back just enough to look at him, really look at him, her brown eyes darker, shining with a heat that hadn’t quite been there before. A slow smile curved at the corners of her mouth as she leaned in once more, pressing a softer kiss against the same spot she had bitten, soothing it. When she finally pulled back fully, she let herself fall against the couch, her head hitting the headrest as she stared up at the ceiling, a breathless little laugh slipping free.

“I hate that I’m so addicted to your lips,” she said, half in exasperation, half in awe, like she couldn’t believe the hold he still had on her. Her fingers were still tangled loosely with his, resting on the couch between them, a lifeline she wasn’t ready to let go of. The rain tapped a steady rhythm against the windows, the room dim and quiet around them, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt full, heavy with everything they hadn’t said and everything they didn’t need to say anymore. Adria tilted her head slightly to glance at him, a mischievous glint flickering behind the softness in her eyes. “You do realize,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “if we keep doing this, neither of us is going to be able to pretend it’s just a mistake anymore.” She wasn’t trying to scare him off. She wasn’t even trying to define it. It was just the truth, raw and simple and terrifying. But for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of it. Not here. Not with him.

[biiiebs]

yo, that sounds like the most cinematic thing ever — of course you would turn a sims storyline into a full-blown indie romance movie. you’re not just playing the game, you’re living it. i’m obsessed. also the beach sunrise meet-cute? elite storytelling. netflix could never. and seriously, thank you for those words. you have no idea how much it hits — and how much it helps. sometimes letting go is the most loving thing you can do. heavy water signs know that truth a little too well huh? but yeah, we’re all just figuring it out, day by day. grateful to have people like you around who just... get it. and honestly, it’s inspiring hearing you talk about unplugging a bit. like, it’s so easy to get caught up. i’m trying to get better about it too. maybe i need to move to a farm for a little forced 90s internet rehab myself.

Well, the great thing about the sim is that you basically create your own storyline, which is the best part. I got the opportunity to act and direct, and in this particular setting, my man found me while I was watching the sunrise on the beach and he invited me to a swimming session into the ocean — we kind of clicked that way. Of course, you know I mean it. I love you both dearly, and I know you've tried, but sometimes the fight isn’t worth fighting anymore, and in that case, it’s better to let it go and I know how hard it can be. Ah, what can I say? I have way too much water in my astral chart. It’s pretty much what it is, yes, and honestly, I'm loving it. I hated the feeling of being dependent of my devices. Not gonna lie, I still spend a hell of a lot of time scrolling, but way less than I used to. A step in the right direction. And absolutely, I’ll let you know when I’m in LA.

[biiiebs]

justin didn’t speak at first. he couldn’t. not when her words hung in the air between them, soft and heavy, like the first drop of rain before the storm. her honesty, the rawness of it, hit him harder than anything she’d ever said. it made him feel exposed, laid bare in a way he wasn’t used to, but he didn’t want to hide from it. not now. not with her. he held her hand tighter, grounding himself in the truth she was giving him, in the vulnerability that felt both terrifying and beautiful. he had always thought that he was the one who needed to fix things, but as she spoke, he realized that maybe they’d both been broken, and that wasn’t something that could be undone overnight. it wasn’t something that needed fixing. it just needed time. and space. and the willingness to be imperfect, together.

when her forehead pressed against his again, it was like a weight lifted from his chest. it wasn’t a promise of forever. it wasn’t a solution to the chaos they’d built together. but it was something. it was enough. he closed his eyes, breathing her in, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to just be—right there, with her. no expectations. no trying to make sense of it. just the quiet, messy moment that felt, in some strange way, like the most honest thing they’d ever shared. when he finally opened his eyes, there was something unspoken passing between them, something deeper than words. a quiet understanding. “i’m not going anywhere either,” he whispered, his voice raw with everything unsaid. “not if you’re not. and if we have to be messy… well, i think i’m okay with that. as long as we’re here. together.” he shifted slightly, drawing her closer, as if he could pull her into the space they’d carved out for each other, where the past and future didn’t matter. where they were just two people, tangled up in each other’s imperfections. for once, it felt like enough.

he didn’t rush it. he stayed there for a breath longer, forehead against hers, eyes closed, feeling the way her presence softened the edges inside him. there was no music playing, no grand gesture, just the sound of the rain tapping the windows and their shared breathing—steady, syncopated, like a language only the two of them understood. his thumb brushed along the back of her hand, slow, reverent, like she was something sacred. and then, without fanfare, without a single word, he tilted his face forward just enough to let their lips meet. the kiss was gentle at first—careful, uncertain in the way that said i don’t want to break this. but the second she leaned into it, just the slightest movement, he deepened it. like he’d been waiting to come home and didn’t realize how badly until he was standing in the doorway. his free hand rose to cradle the side of her face, thumb grazing her cheekbone as his lips moved against hers—slow, sure, aching. when he finally pulled back, he didn’t move far. just enough to rest his forehead against hers again, his breathing a little more ragged now. “that wasn’t a mistake,” he said quietly, voice rough with the weight of meaning. “just so we’re clear.”

Adria closed her eyes the second his forehead touched hers, her breath hitching quietly in her chest like some part of her had been holding it this whole time without realizing. His words wrapped around her, not perfect, not polished, but real. And it undid her in the places she thought she had finally managed to patch up. She let them stay there for a moment, no rush, no performance, just breathing the same air, tethered by a gravity too old and too deep to break. When she finally pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt, it wasn’t cold. She just needed enough distance to see him. Really see him. Her fingers stayed tangled with his, grounding herself in the warmth of his hands as she opened her eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, her voice low, almost shy, like she wasn’t used to being this soft with him anymore. “I mean… you do,” she added with a tiny, teasing smirk. “But that’s not why I’m sitting here.” She squeezed his hand gently, grounding herself again. “I know we were messy. We were reckless with each other sometimes. But you were never something I regretted, Justin. Not once.” Her thumb traced along the side of his hand in slow, absent-minded strokes. “You made everything feel louder, messier, more alive. You made me feel alive. Like I wasn’t sleepwalking through my own life. And yeah, sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it burned so badly I thought I was going to choke on it. But even the worst moments with you... I don’t know if I’d trade them. Because at least I felt them.” She shook her head lightly, letting out a breath that was half-sigh, half-laugh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… if you were the chaos, you were also the calm after it. You were the place I kept running to when I didn’t know how to catch my breath.”

Her eyes lifted to his again, steady and unflinching, and this time there was no teasing, no walls, just the raw, vulnerable truth she rarely let anyone see. “You’re not my excuse either. You’re the thing I didn’t know I needed until it was too late to un-need it.” Adria smiled softly then, the kind of smile that was stitched together with every fight, every late-night call, every broken piece they somehow kept trying to fit back together. “And I don’t know where we go from here.” Her voice dipped, almost breaking. “But if you’re willing to stay for a little while, just like this, quiet, messy, complicated, then I’m not going anywhere either.” She leaned in, brushing her forehead against his one more time like a promise, before letting herself finally, finally relax into him. As if maybe this time, they weren’t walking toward another ending. Maybe they were just... standing still.

[biiiebs]

justin stared at the beer like it had answers. his fingers wrapped around the bottle, cool glass grounding him the same way it had grounded her, but his eyes never left her face. the ghost of her tongue on his lip still lingered, electric and infuriating, and the way she leaned back after setting fire to the air between them made him want to laugh, or kiss her again, or both. that was the thing about adria—she didn’t play fair. she never had. but it wasn’t manipulation. it was vulnerability in disguise, a dare to see her, really see her, past the bravado and the bite. and god help him, he always did. that look in her eyes—steady, unguarded, asking him to speak a truth he’d spent months swallowing—cut through him sharper than any argument ever had.

he leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees, beer untouched, their hands still loosely intertwined like neither of them could bring themselves to break the contact. “you know you’re not the punchline,” he said finally, his voice low, steady. “you’ve never been the punchline. you’re the whole damn story.” he paused, eyes lifting to meet hers, no smirk, no performance. just truth. “i don’t come back here because i’m bored. or lonely. or because i don’t have other places i could be. i come back here because you’re the only place that ever felt like... me. even when we were bad, even when we didn’t make sense, it still felt real. more real than anything else i’ve tried to build since.” he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, that familiar edge of restlessness coiling in his chest. “and i know i’ve messed that up more times than i can count. i’ve given you every reason to stop opening that door.”

he turned slightly to face her now, pulling her hand gently into his lap, both of his wrapped around it. “but you weren’t just a distraction. you were the moment everything slowed down for me. like the world stopped spinning for a second and i could just be—with you.” he swallowed hard, a rare crack in the armor. “so yeah, maybe i act like an idiot sometimes. maybe i pretend it’s casual. safer that way. but if i’ve ever made you feel like you were anything less than the center of the storm, i’m sorry.” he leaned in then, not for the kiss—though god, he wanted to—but just enough for his forehead to rest lightly against hers. the kind of closeness that asked for nothing but presence. “you’re not an excuse.” he whispered.

The beers made a soft clinking sound as she set them down on the coffee table, her fingers lingering on the cool glass just a second longer than necessary, stalling, maybe, or grounding herself in the mundane before letting the moment tilt back into the emotional weight it always seemed to carry with him. She glanced up at him, that familiar half-lidded gaze that was equal parts curiosity and defense. He hadn't changed, not in the ways that mattered. He still had that pull, like gravity disguised in a hoodie. And she hated that part of her leaned into it every time. Without a word, she reached for his hand, fingers slipping through his, and gave a gentle tug toward the couch. The gesture was simple, but it held a certain quiet certainty, a wordless acknowledgment that no matter how many endings they scripted, they always somehow ended up here, together, on the edge of something they didn’t know how to name.

When they sat, she tucked one leg beneath her and turned slightly toward him, still holding his hand, her thumb moving in absent circles across his knuckles. That’s when the smile came, slow, sly, familiar. “Is that my only purpose in your life?” she asked softly, but with a teasing glint. “To amuse you?” Her tone danced between flirtation and challenge, but there was an ache buried somewhere under the surface, like she was daring him to answer honestly, even if she’d pretend to laugh it off. She looked down at their hands for a moment, at the way they still fit. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m either your favorite distraction or your favorite excuse,” she continued, quieter now, eyes tracing the lines of his palm. “And I’m not saying that like I’m innocent in any of this, I know what I do. I open the door. Every time.” Her gaze met his again, steady, open, painfully unguarded. She let out a breath, leaned back just a bit, the hand still in his, but the air between them a little heavier now. “So yeah, I’ll amuse you,” she said, her voice dipped in something softer now, teasing, but with that dangerous edge she wore so well. As she leaned in, the space between them all but vanished, and her gaze flicked deliberately from his eyes to his lips, then back again, slow and deliberate. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her fingers found the hem of his hoodie, playing with it absentmindedly, like muscle memory. And then, barely a breath between them, she ran the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip, slow enough to sting, light enough to haunt. “But only if you’re brave enough to admit,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper now, “that I’ve always been more than just the punchline.” She let the silence stretch for a beat long enough for him to feel it, before leaning back with maddening calm and nudging the beer toward him, like she hadn’t just lit a match and walked away.

[biiiebs]

island living? okay, say less — consider it downloaded. i definitely owe you one (or like ten). a mermaid wedding is so on brand for the chaos we manifest daily. you really know me too well — if there’s a dramatic skin with a storyline, i’m sold. the brinas have spoken and we will not be silenced. this raid is gonna be legendary. and thank you for saying that. really means a lot. it’s been a journey, not always easy, but we’re both showing up for jake every day, and that’s the anchor in everything. love that you get it — always felt like you just get people deeper than most do. yo, the late 90s internet vibes? i can literally hear the dial-up tone. but that’s part of the charm, right? slows life down a bit. still, if you’re coming to L.A., let’s definitely sync up — i’ll clear time. we need proper hangs, not just pixels and patchy audio.

The pack is The Sims 4: Island Living, you're welcome, you owe me one. And of course, you couldn't resist the Brina skin—I know you’d never say no to chaos. I’m telling you, we’re officially a cult now, and I’m 100% down for a raid. Yeah, I’ve heard that. You guys okay? I know you both have Jake as a top priority, and that’s really the only thing that matters. Not being successful in a marriage doesn’t mean you can’t be successful co-parents, and I know you guys have what it takes. We absolutely need to catch up. But you know, I’ve been living in what feels like the late 90s because my connection can be so bad on the farm. But yes, FaceTime sounds good—or I should be in L.A. soon for a business trip.

[biiiebs]

come on—boring? never in a million years. you’re one of the most real and resilient people i know. and listen, we’ve all made our mistakes. what matters is how we rise after the fall, and you’ve done that with so much grace and strength. getting sober, choosing growth—that’s huge. and yeah, man… i can’t wait for you to meet the little guy too. he’s got this peaceful energy, like he already knows he’s surrounded by love. wait—produce and star? that doesn’t sound boring at all! can you tell me more about it or is it still under wraps?

I do not know about that, I have tried my best and I know I have made some big mistakes in my earlier years especially before getting sober. I am just glad someone think I have. Like I said it means a lot coming from you. I know it is and everyone I know who has helped me over the journey really cannot be thanked enough, if you ask me. I saw some pictures you posted of him on social media, I cannot wait to meet the little guy. We all need to do that from time to time, I am glad you are getting to do it, you deserve it! Other than getting ready to produce and star in a new project, nothing really, I am a bore!

[biiiebs]

i did not call you a disney villain. i said villain origin story, which is way more layered and cinematic. you’d get the best costume, a tragic backstory, and at least two fire solos. you’re not the evil queen — you’re the misunderstood anti-hero with a killer eyeliner wing and an army of feline rebels. big difference. (also, if you’re mulan, then i fully support that. she was the blueprint. sneaky, loyal, brave, and can hit a dude mid-note.) and now i can’t stop picturing meredith leading a catnip revolution with olivia as her silent muscle. benjamin just vibing in the corner like, “i didn’t sign up for this.” thank you for the jack love. it’s wild, you know? you spend your whole life doing everything on your terms, and then suddenly someone tiny shows up and you’re like, “oh. you’re the boss now.” wouldn’t trade it for anything though. and yeah, it’s wild we’re even having this convo. peaceful pop friendship? us? who would've thought. not the tabloids. not twitter. not even scooter (too soon?). coffee sounds kind of amazing. or bubble tea. because yes — trendy. and yes — tapioca balls supremacy. you said it, not me. maybe the world would be better if men were filled with chewy goodness and sweetness instead of... whatever it is we’re filled with most days. ego? confusion? spotify wrapped guilt? anyway, i’m in.

Did you... just... call me a Disney villain? They're burning the witches even if you aren't one, bitch (lovingly). I wanna be Mulan. Underrated as hell and can throw a sucker punch. I already wandered around with leaves in my hair during my Folklore and Evermore eras... while Meredith led a revolution in my house. The revolution of 'give me more cat nip mother'. She's a junkie, I swear. Listen, I totally get it. Being a new dad and all, it's hard. Now Jack's needs come before your own and it should be that way. You're welcome. I try to be nice, sometimes. True. At least we got that commonality going for us... no matter how sad it is. We should get coffee sometime, friend. Or... if you don't drink coffee... bubble tea. Because we're trendy and I love big balls made of tapioca. Maybe men would be more likable if that was the case.