#'everyone lives but not everything is fine'

[grlpartdoll]

Something something

141 boys in a tiny mountain lumberjack town that has a total of 30 people in it and Price basically runs it all because he's the one that keeps the economy going (he has a lumber business and most of the people in town work for him) and Ghost is the hunter / butcher that is freakishly big and somewhat haunting looking and that you can't seem to catch ever because you see him for a split second, catching his masked face in the pub, and next think you know he's gone.

Johny is that bartender who keeps the local pub and the community warm, fed and mostly drunk. He talks too much and is known to be a lady's man, if not also a man's man, at times. Despite that, he has a sweet soul and the kindest eyes and won't hesitate to rattle off a loud "aye, s'on da house, mate! No worr'ies!".

Kyle is the boy next door, who, yes, is the town's mayor's son, but the mayor title in this time is really just a technicality. Because everyone knows deep down that the ones who run this town are the people, not a singular entity. Anyway, he's that sweet, boy next door who truly cares for everyone, and never hesitates to give a hand here and there and especially at Price's business. (His father hates it. But Kyle loves it, and he appreciates being John Price's (sort of) apprentice.)

Comes in, you. Sweet, sweet angel come from above — a pretty wounded bird — all but crashing into their town.

You pretend that everything is fine. Pretend that your crazy ex (who is a police officer) isn't actively running after you.

You come with the clothes on your back and enough stuff to fill a backpack. And somehow inherit the bookstore of the old, grumpy gossip lady that's too tired to keep it in shape anymore.

It's not surprising that your sudden appearance intrigues people, but it's really your reaction to the attention, that gets them even more interested.

You're cagey. Bitey. Hissy. You cock an eyebrow at people more than you speak to them. Raise your nose up haughtily at things, pretending as though you believe yourself too good for most things happening in town.

You walk always with a purpose, and an eye over your shoulder. You're hyper-aware and all riled up like a live wire, ready to snap at the boys as they try to catch a feel of your current situation and mood

And Johny can't help but think, as you simply scoff at him and walk away from his flirting, that he knows exactly who to call, when it comes to feral little things begging to be caught and handled properly.

[masonmontz]

heeey, hope you like it:)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff 🥹 word count: 2,7k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Jaz asked while the two of you were having afternoon coffee in a bakery in Manchester. “You've been quiet since we got here.”

“I'm all worked up, don't worry, it's nothing” your smile didn't reach your eyes and Jaz noticed, and even though you've only known each other for a short time, anyone would realize that there was something bothering you.

You and Mason had been officially dating for a little over two months, but you had met his family before that and you loved them all, it was really great spending the holidays with them in Greece.

“You can tell me, you know, don't you?” she held out her hand and you lightly squeezed her hand across the table, smiling once more and nodding. “Is it something with Mason?”

“Jaz, don’t worry, I’m fine” she rolled her eyes and you smiled, trying to push the thought that had been haunting you for a few weeks to the back of your mind, but it was inevitable.

“Okay, so let's go, I'm already missing my girls” she murmured and you smiled, remembering the photo Mason sent you minutes ago where Summer was putting makeup on him and Mila was trying to put bows in his hair. “Should we take a pie?”

“Please, lemon pie is the best ever” you almost groaned when you saw a lemon pie on the counter, so Jaz went over and asked to wrap it up. “Debbie wants us to stop by the grocery store to pick up something for dinner?”

“She texted me to say she was making lasagna. I've come to Manchester and I need to spend the day at the gym because all I do is eat.”

“She likes to spoil Mason.”

“This is ridiculous, she never makes food like this for me, only for her big baby” you couldn't help but laugh, because they were clearly jealous of the way Debbie treats Mason, and Mason loves being spoiled by them, even though the family is now full of children and he is a grown man.

“He takes advantage because he knows she does everything for him.”

“That little devil, was the same thing when he was a child.”

You and Jaz got along really well, the girls adored you too, and you were in love with Mason's nieces and nephew, but it was sad because Stacey lived far away.

You love Mason and his family so much that it hurts, especially because your family lives far away and you miss being welcomed by them, and you found comfort in your boyfriend. However, Mason never said he loved you.

Of course, everyone has their own time and maybe he isn't ready to take that step in such a new relationship, but you listen and notice how easily he says “I love you” to his family. You just wish he would tell you he loves you too.

“Hey, had fun with Jaz?” Mason asked when you arrived at his house, he hugged you and left a kiss on your lips. “I missed you, babe. My family is stealing you from me.”

“They just think I’m cooler than you” you murmured and Mason laughed. Summer ran to you and you walked away from Mason, walking behind her to the coffee table where she was coloring pictures.

“Do you want to color with me? Uncle Masey didn't want to, he said he was tired.”

“Tired, uh?” you asked and looked at Mason who just shrugged and laid down on the couch, because he hadn't done anything all day. “Summer, I'm going to take a shower and then I'll color with you, okay?”

You walked upstairs to take a shower in Mason's bedroom bathroom, and luckily you had some clothes at his place or you would have had to go to your apartment to get them. Mason walked into the room just as you entered the bathroom, you smiled as he followed you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, the same way you two do when you're talking in the bathroom.

“I just need some silence, I'll watch you take a shower” you rolled your eyes as you took off your clothes, ignoring Mason's gaze all over your body.

“Hey, the doctor texted me, I think I'm going to need to go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow” you said, remembering the message the doctor sent you this morning. You were hospitalized for days a month ago because of severe headaches, and now you are being monitored by two doctors to see if everything is okay.

“But are you feeling any pain?” Mason asked worriedly and you quickly shook your head, watching him sigh in relief.

“They want to do new exams, I'm fine. You have training tomorrow, don't you?”

“Yes, but I'll go with you to do the exams and then I'll go to Carrington.”

“No need, Mason, I can go alone.”

“Okay, but call me and text me” you smiled at him, and Mason actually looked worried about you.

Again you thought he hadn't said “I love you” to you yet, and you looked down as you washed your hair and Mason hummed a song under his breath.

“Hey, I bought you something” Mason spoke and left the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and you could see him walking past the bedroom with a gift box which he placed on the bed before heading back to the bathroom. “I think you'll like it.”

“What is it?”

“You will open it and see, be patient.”

Mason continued talking to you for ten minutes until you finished your shower, and he stayed there until you put on another set of clothes and organized the bathroom.

“Do you want me to dry your hair?” he asked and you looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, Mason was behind you and you smiled feeling love all over your chest. Mason stood up when you nodded, and he looked for the hairdryer he uses when he is really late.

You wanted to cry as you watched Mason drying your hair calmly, focused and sometimes smiling at you. Maybe he doesn't love you, but he definitely likes you, because no man would ever do that, right?

You looked at the floor, feeling your eyes fill with tears and blinked a few times to keep from crying. Mason noticed and turned off the dryer, turning you to face him.

“What’s wrong, babe? You've been quiet for a few days” you didn't want to tell him the real reason you were crying because you were ashamed of doubting his feelings.

“I’m a little bit worried” you said referring to the exam you will take tomorrow, and Mason hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Nothing will happen, you’re fine and healthy and we will spend our lives together.”

“Really? Do you want to spend your life by my side?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to?” you shrugged and smiled, but it still wasn't the answer you needed. “C’mere, let's open your present and put a smile on that face.”

You wiped away some tears and smiled at Mason as he pulled you over to the bed where he had placed the gift. It was a pink package with hearts drawn on it and you felt bad about tearing it, but you still pulled the package open to see what was inside.

“It's heavy, it must have been expensive” you muttered and Mason rolled his eyes.

“You can't guess the price because of the weight” he said and laughed. “Open, open.”

You swear you had stopped crying, but you started crying again as soon as you saw the gift Mason bought for you. Big tears fell as you held the box and cried. Mason stood up worriedly, hugging you.

“What’s wrong? You didn't like it?” You hugged him tightly, crying into his chest and letting your emotions take over.

“It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received.”

You held the box to look at the book nook of a village in Greece, the same one you visited when you were there on vacation. Every detail caught your attention and you couldn't speak as you sobbed, hugging Mason once more.

“Did you like it? I thought of you when I saw it, and you can put it on your bookshelf.”

“I loved it. Thank you, Mase.”

“Stop crying, okay? I just want to see you happy.”

“They are tears of happiness.”

“I'd rather see a smile on your lips.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Y/n, we're going to keep you under observation tonight, okay? Your exams are altered and we need to do new exams to check if everything is okay” Doctor Reid said as he entered the room, and you sighed sitting in the hospital hallway, because it would be another long night alone in that scary place.

“But am I okay?” your heart was racing and deep down you were scared. Since you were hospitalized for the first time this has been consuming you.

“No need to worry, we just need to be sure of the result to know which medicine you can take.”

“Okay” you murmured a little in relief, and a nurse arrived and took you to the room where you would spend the night. You hated the hospital, especially being alone there for a whole night with a needle in your arm.

You sent Mason a message saying that everything was fine but he didn't reply to you, so you just talked to the nurses who were giving you medicine and making the bed where you would stay.

Half an hour later Mason appeared in the hospital room with your pink bag that he probably filled with things and a black one.

“Hey, no need for all this, it's just one night” you said seeing how many things he brought, so Mason left everything on the armchair and walked towards you.

“I'm worried, are you sure you're okay, love?” he asked and left a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips. “One bag is mine.”

“Why? You don't have to stay here, you can stay with your family.”

“Only in your dreams will I leave you alone in the hospital, Y/N.”

“No, seriously, Doctor Reid said it's just for some tests, you can't leave your family alone there, they came to see you.”

“Hey, I'm going to stay here and I already told the coach that I'll be late tomorrow.”

You huffed, because there was nothing you could say to make Mason change his mind.

He just lay down next to you on the hospital bed, and kept you company for hours until he went to the hospital cafeteria to get something for you both to eat. He came back and stayed by your side the whole time, and when you fell asleep, Mason held you close to him and kissed your hair, snuggling into you and sleeping too, because where you are is where he feels good.

“Thank you for spending the night with me at the hospital” you said as soon as Mason dropped you off at your apartment, and he was already late for practice but didn't seem to care.

Luckily, the doctor said everything was fine and there was no reason to worry anymore, he just prescribed you some medicine to take when you have other headaches.

“You know I would stay by your side in the hospital for a month if necessary” he mumbled and you smiled, hugging him one last time before he ran off because he was late.

“I love you” you yelled, and Mason just blew you a kiss before closing the door.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason has been traveling with the team and you are increasingly drowning in the thoughts that he doesn't love you. You cried a few times alone at home, watching a romantic movie or seeing someone post love quotes on the internet.

You're at rock bottom.

You were so lost in your own thoughts crying while watching The Longest Ride that you didn't notice Mason entering your apartment.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked and you got scared, trying to wipe away your tears so he wouldn't see, but it was too late.

“I'm just crying because of the movie” you pointed at the screen right at the moment Luke is picking up Sophia for a date, and there was no reason to cry.

“Hey, I know you, there's been something bothering you for days and you still haven't told me what it is. I'm getting worried and so is my mum, she said you've been quiet.”

Mason pulled you from the couch and you let more tears fall, you stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

“I don't want to look like a fool.”

“You know I’d never think that of you, love” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“It's just that…” you stopped, unable to speak, but Mason encouraged you. “Do you love me?”

“What?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing, but you cried when he didn't answer.

“You never said you loved me, and it's okay if you don't feel anything-” Mason put his hand over your mouth when you sobbed, and he stopped you from continuing to speak.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're crying over this, baby” Mason held back his laughter. “Do you think I don't love you?”

You shrugged and looked at him with sad eyes.

“I said I love you several times” he murmured.

“No, you never said, actually.”

“I said yeah. I showed it. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my whole family. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my friends. I showed you I love you when I took you on a trip with my family because I know they would love you as much as I do.”

His heart was racing, and Mason continued speaking.

“I show you that I love you every day. I show you that I love you when I buy you books, when I take you out to dinner. I love you so much that I bought you a book nook from Greece for you to put among your books because it was our first trip together.”

“I showed you that I love you when I stayed by your side in the hospital for an entire night, and don't get me wrong, it wasn't to get something in return, I did it because I love you and I wouldn't leave you alone.”

“I- I” you sobbed as Mason hugged you. Now you look like a fool, because you were so focused on the words that you didn't pay attention to everything Mason does for you every day. “I’m sorry.”

“If you need to hear it, I'll say it. I love you. I love you so much Y/n that it hurts. I love you so much that I would spend a week eating your failed recipes just to make you happy. I would listen to Taylor Swift for the rest of my life just to show you that I love you. I love you.”

You were laughing and crying, and Mason was smiling too as he pulled you to sit next to him on the couch.

“I can tell you that I love you every day if you want, but I prefer to show you.”

“I'm such an idiot, my God. It's just that you say that you love your family all the time and you've never said it to me even the times I've said it.”

“Because they have the habit of saying I love you and that's why I do it, but I say I love you when I'm stuck to you all the time and don't want to let go.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“No, love, you know you don't.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Sorry I didn't realize you wanted to hear it.”

“No, I want you to show me.”

“Ah, you don't even know what you want” he said and kissed you.

“I know exactly what I want. You. For the rest of my life.”

[its-avalon-08]

im not giving up on you (dr3)

after the singapore gp, i was sobbing. danny, our sunshine danny might be leaving us and that broke my heart so entirely. here is to out honey badger, you made me love this sport, seeing your smile was the only light on some dark days. you made it, you lived your formula one dream and you will always be able to say that. for always making us laugh and find joy in the butterflies, we thank you daniel <3

✦ pairing - daniel ricciardo x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, losing his seat, tears, fluffy ending

The Singapore night was thick with humidity, the scent of burning rubber still clinging to the air long after the race had ended. Daniel Ricciardo walked through the now-empty paddock, the silence overwhelming. The once-vibrant energy that pulsed through the grounds was now replaced with nothing but the dull hum of the lights, casting long shadows that made the place feel eerily lonely.

Daniel had always been good at putting on a strong face. Smiling, joking, pretending everything was fine. He had perfected it over the years. But tonight, the facade had cracks — deep, painful cracks that threatened to break him entirely.

After the Singapore GP, the world knew. The news had broken: Daniel was losing his seat at V-CARB. Another seat lost. Another chapter closing. And it felt as though he had lost everything again. He couldn’t bear to face his team, his friends. Not even Max. So he stayed in the paddock long after everyone had left, sitting alone on a stack of tires, his head in his hands.

He didn’t hear the footsteps at first.

"Daniel?"

The voice was soft, familiar, and full of concern. He looked up, blinking through the blur of tears that stung his eyes. There she was — Y/N Verstappen. Max’s little sister.

She had always been around, always there, a comforting presence from the days when he and Max were teammates. She had been his friend, but it was so much more than that. They had danced around their feelings for years, never daring to speak the truth, both afraid of what it might mean.

Daniel quickly wiped his eyes, trying to pull himself together. "Hey," he said, his voice strained, cracking under the weight of his emotions. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same," Y/N replied softly, stepping closer. "It’s late."

"I couldn’t leave," he admitted, his eyes staring at the ground, unable to meet hers. "It’s just… a lot."

Y/N stood in front of him, her eyes searching his face. She could see right through him. "You don’t have to pretend with me, Daniel."

"I’m not pretending," he lied, letting out a shaky laugh. "I’m fine. It’s just another bump in the road, right? I’ll bounce back. I always do."

But even as he spoke, his voice trembled, and Y/N could hear the pain beneath his words. She sat down beside him on the tires, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him in the humid night air, but still hesitant to touch him.

"It’s okay to not be fine," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Daniel’s jaw tightened as he looked away, blinking rapidly. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He had always been the strong one, the happy-go-lucky guy who could handle anything. But tonight, the weight of everything was crushing him.

"I feel like I’m losing everything," he finally admitted, his voice breaking. "Like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I fight, it’s never enough. I’m never enough."

Y/N’s heart ached at the sight of him like this — so vulnerable, so raw. She reached out hesitantly, her hand gently resting on his arm. "Daniel… you’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than enough."

He shook his head, biting down on his lip as tears welled up in his eyes again. "I don’t know how to keep going. Everyone keeps telling me to just keep my head up, keep smiling. But I’m tired, Y/N. I’m so tired."

Her hand tightened around his arm, the warmth of her touch grounding him in that moment. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Daniel’s shoulders shook as he exhaled a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t have the strength to pretend anymore. The tears he had been holding back for so long finally fell, spilling down his cheeks as he covered his face with his hands, his body trembling with silent sobs.

Y/N felt her own tears start to fall as she watched him break down, the sight of him so utterly heartbroken making her chest ache. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Without thinking, she pulled him into her arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"I’ve got you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I’ve always got you."

Daniel buried his face in her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her waist as he clung to her, the dam of emotions finally breaking. He sobbed into her neck, all the pain, frustration, and helplessness pouring out of him. And Y/N held him, stroking his hair, whispering soothing words in his ear.

"I don’t know what to do, Y/N," Daniel choked out between sobs. "I feel like I’ve failed. Again."

"You haven’t failed," she insisted, pulling back just enough to look at him, her hands cupping his tear-streaked face. "You’ve given everything, Daniel. You’ve fought so hard. You’re one of the best drivers out there, and no seat can take that away from you. Not now, not ever."

Daniel let out a long sigh, pulling away slightly from Y/N’s embrace, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice was quieter now, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before, like he was finally allowing himself to speak the truth that had been buried deep inside for years.

"You know," he began, staring out at the empty paddock, "when I left Red Bull, I thought I was making the best decision of my life. I really did. I thought… this was it, you know? My time. I didn’t want to be second to Max — your brother’s an incredible driver, you know that. But I couldn’t sit there anymore, watching everyone around me believe I’d always be the second-best. I wanted to be number one. I wanted my own team to back me, to believe in me. And at the time, Renault seemed like that opportunity, like I could prove I could lead a team, that I could fight for championships."

He laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "God, I was so naïve. I thought leaving Red Bull would be the start of my rise, not the beginning of my fall. Renault wasn’t easy, but I stuck it out. Then McLaren came calling, and I thought that was my shot. It was McLaren, you know? One of the biggest names in Formula 1. I thought I was stepping into greatness."

He paused, his voice trembling. "And then everything fell apart. From the start, it felt wrong. Like I didn’t belong there. I tried so damn hard, Y/N. I worked my ass off, but nothing clicked. No matter what I did, how much time I put in, it never worked. Every race, every session, I felt like I was slipping further away from the driver I used to be. And it wasn’t just the car — it was everything. The pressure, the doubts, the whispers that I’d lost it, that I wasn’t the driver I once was."

He swallowed hard, the pain of those years written across his face. "They treated me like I was broken. Like I was damaged goods. And I started to believe it. Every time I got into that car, I felt like a shadow of myself. They replaced me without a second thought, like I was disposable. And I tried to be strong, you know? I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter, that I’d bounce back. But deep down, it hurt. It hurt more than anything."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching for him, but she stayed silent, letting him speak.

"And then this year," he continued, his voice cracking. "I thought coming back to V-CARB was going to be my redemption. That this was finally going to be the moment where I’d prove to everyone that I still had it. But now… now I’m losing my seat again. And it just feels like the world’s telling me I’m not wanted. That no one believes in me anymore. Every time I think I’m getting back on my feet, I just get knocked down again. It’s like no matter what I do, no one sees me. Not as I am, not for what I can be. They just see what they think I’ve become — a has-been."

Daniel’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. "I feel… I feel like I’m unwanted, Y/N. Like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I used to love this sport so much. It was everything to me. But now it feels like it’s slipping away, like I’m being pushed out, and I don’t know what to do."

He ran his hands over his face, the weight of his journey pressing down on him like a heavy burden. "I’ve given everything to this sport. Years of my life, my heart, my soul. I sacrificed everything to chase this dream. And now… I’m just scared, Y/N. I’m scared that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be enough. I’ll never get back to where I once was."

There was a long pause, the silence between them thick with emotion. Daniel’s chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing, but his eyes were red, his cheeks stained with tears.

"I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m failing. Like I’ve lost everything that mattered. And it’s killing me, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep pretending like I’m okay, when inside, I’m falling apart."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, pulling him close. "Daniel, you’ve never been a failure. Not to me. You’re the strongest person I know, and no matter what happens, no seat, no team, no damn race can take away who you are. You’ve always been enough."

And this time, Daniel didn’t pull away. He sank into her embrace, the tears falling once again, but this time, it felt different. He wasn’t alone.

His eyes searched hers, filled with so much pain, so much doubt. "What if this is it? What if this is the end for me?"

"It’s not the end," Y/N said firmly, her thumbs brushing away the tears on his cheeks. "And even if it were, you’d still be Daniel Ricciardo — the man I…"

She stopped, the words hanging in the air between them, unspoken for years.

Daniel’s breath hitched as he realized what she was about to say. "Y/N…"

She looked away, her own tears threatening to spill over. "I’ve loved you for so long, Daniel. And I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you’re hurting, and I hate that I never told you sooner because maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have to go through this alone."

Daniel was silent for a moment, his mind racing as her words sank in. He had always known. Deep down, he had always known. But hearing it, finally hearing it… it shattered something inside him.

"I’ve loved you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve loved you since… since forever, Y/N. But I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I couldn’t lose you."

She looked at him, her heart breaking at the sight of the tears in his eyes. "You could never lose me."

Daniel leaned his forehead against hers, his breath shaky as they both cried, the weight of their unspoken feelings finally crashing down on them.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I’m here," she replied, her arms wrapping around him again, holding him as if she would never let go.

They stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other, their tears mingling in the humid night air. And when the exhaustion finally overtook them, Daniel shifted, pulling Y/N down with him onto the bench beside the tires. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, their bodies fitting together perfectly as they lay there in the silence of the paddock.

Y/N rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as they both closed their eyes, the weight of the world fading away for a little while.

And in the stillness of the night, they finally found peace in each other’s arms, their unspoken love wrapped around them like a blanket, protecting them from the world outside.

the next day

The next morning, the sun filtered through the windows of the small café tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the paddock. Daniel felt lighter today. His heart still ached, the reality of his situation hadn't magically disappeared overnight, but there was something different. A quiet peace had settled inside him. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying his burdens alone.

He glanced at Y/N across the table. She was scrolling through her phone, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the table. His chest warmed at the sight of her. Y/N was always there, had always been there, but now it was different. Last night changed everything.

They hadn’t said much that morning, but they didn’t need to. She had been a constant presence at his side, making him feel like, no matter what, he’d be okay.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You ready for this?”

Daniel chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Depends. Is Max going to kill me or just be incredibly smug?"

Y/N laughed, and Daniel could swear it was his favorite sound in the world. “He’ll be a bit of both, probably. But definitely more smug. He’s been calling this for years.”

As if on cue, Max Verstappen walked into the café, spotting them immediately. He made a beeline for their table, his signature serious expression betraying just the faintest hint of amusement. He slid into the seat across from them, a wry smile on his face.

"Morning," Max said, folding his arms across his chest, eyes flicking between the two of them. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Daniel groaned playfully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Go on, get it out of your system."

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and grinned. "I knew it. I’ve known it since, what, the first year we were teammates? You two were practically inseparable. The way you used to look at each other…" He shook his head, pretending to be exasperated. "I can’t believe it took you this long."

Y/N blushed, rolling her eyes. "Alright, Max, don’t be so dramatic. It wasn’t that obvious."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Y/N, you’re my sister. You think I didn’t notice how every time Daniel was around, you’d act different? Or how he was always finding some excuse to come over when you were visiting?"

Daniel groaned again, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, okay, you were right. Is that what you want to hear?"

Max smirked, taking a long sip of his coffee. "Yes. Yes, it is." He paused, then his expression softened, his teasing giving way to something more sincere. "But seriously, I’m happy for you both. You’re good together."

Daniel felt his heart swell at that. Max wasn’t the type to dish out compliments easily, especially when it came to his sister. He knew how protective Max was of Y/N, and hearing those words meant more than he could express.

"Thanks, mate," Daniel said quietly, meeting Max’s gaze. "It means a lot."

Max gave a small nod before turning his attention to Y/N. "Just promise me one thing — if he does anything stupid, you’ll let me know so I can give him hell for it."

Y/N laughed, giving her brother a playful shove. "I’m pretty sure I can handle him, Max."

Max grinned. "I have no doubt."

The three of them fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation light, the teasing back and forth, just like old times. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was as it should be — like the weight of the past few months had lifted, even if just for a little while.

As Max droned on about the next race and the changes to his car, Daniel glanced at Y/N, who was laughing at something Max had said. She caught his gaze, her smile softening, and in that moment, Daniel realized that no matter what happened next — no matter how uncertain the future felt — he wasn’t alone.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged. Not just in the sport or on the track, but with Y/N by his side. And whatever came next, they’d face it together.

"So," Max said suddenly, breaking through Daniel’s thoughts. "You’re both officially a thing now?"

Daniel smirked, his hand finding Y/N’s under the table. "Yeah, Max. We’re a thing."

Max raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Finally."

Y/N giggled, squeezing Daniel’s hand as they exchanged a knowing look.

Finally.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Back to Here - No Love Lost One Shot

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: One-shot request from the amazing @afroslacks! Title from Shade of Yellow by Griff

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place in Chapter 14. We once again face the horny fluff.

When you’d told Ben you were okay with him touching you in front of everyone, your exact phrasing was as long as you’re not gross. You’re absolutely positive he’d heard you as well, because he’d rolled his eyes before kissing the words out of your mouth.

But the man doesn’t listen. On purpose. You know it’s on purpose, because usually he’ll grunt and grumble but do what you tell him, and right now he’s not even pretending to remember.

What’s annoying is that you’re not even that mad about it. What’s more annoying is that he knows you’re not mad about it, because he’s not even worried about you making him stop. Ben never pushes your lines to tries try see if he can make you budge, because he knows you won’t and he’ll get in trouble. But that also means he’s impossibly good at knowing what lines aren’t real. What things you tell him to do that you say because sometimes you just say stuff. Sometimes you’re just trying to pretend that you’re not always thirsty for him, don’t always want him at your side.

And the asshole has you figured out. He knows that when you say we’re going to team dinners every night you mean it, but when you say play nice with everyone you’re talking about everyone except Butcher. Ben knows that if you tell him clean up after yourself you’re serious, because that’s the start of it. Ben cleans up once and now, months later, you somehow trust him with your life and every part of you he’ll take. He also knows if you tell him we need to get out of bed he can just hold you tighter and you’ll immediately give in with a sigh.

He knows when you say not everything, not yet it’s important that he listens. That he can take everything else he wants except that, and he does. Ben touches you everywhere you’ll let him, but waits for you to give him the clear to take more.

He knows that when you said don’t be gross you just meant don’t make me visibly horny in front of everyone. Don’t make me grind into you or pin me on top of the table. 

And he is walking that line very precariously.

“Bloody fuckin hell,” Butcher mutters, and you can feel his glare from across the table. “You twats can’t keep it in your pants for one hour? Some of us are tryin to eat.”

“They are still in their pants,” Frenchie’s words are muffled from a mouthful of pasta. “And I am eating just fine.”

“That’s cause you’re a fuckin pervert, Mate.” Butcher snaps. “I didn’t come here to see two supes neckin like teenagers. I came here because Hughie gets all bloody puppy faced when I don’t.”

“You promised-“

Butcher cuts Hughie off with a scoff. “I’m here, ain’t I? And I would appreciate it if I could fuckin eat my shitty ass spaghetti without worryin that Soldier Boy’s gonna cum all over the table!”

A chorus of groans echoes through the room, and it’s almost enough to make you push Ben away.

Almost. But he drops his mouth to your neck, pulls you closer in his side, and you decide you can find a way to live with yourself.

You’re starting to worry that he can read your mind. Because before that brief hesitation even fades, Ben sucks the skin at the base of your throat once—sloppy and wet—and pulls away. You’re grateful, half because you can bury your flushed face in his shoulder as he gives Butcher a lazy grin, and half because you were getting dangerously close to climbing on top of him.

“It’s not our fault all you pussies have blue balls.” Ben drawls, and you kick him under the table, glaring up at his stupid, smug, handsome face.

Don’t be an ass.

He rolls his eyes. They’re being fucking prudes.

Benjamin.

“You two care to have this conversation out loud?” You turn to see MM looking at you with a bored expression. He’s never really pissed about this anymore, and you think he just gave up on being disgusted. He doesn’t like it, but he’s not mad. It’s honestly more than you could ask for.

“No.”

You whack Ben’s arm. “Sorry. We’ll stop.”

Ben scoffs, and hunches over his plate. His arm over your shoulders drops down, tugging you into his side so you can only move your hands—everything past that trapped against his body—and you don’t care. He’s touching you, and he’s warm, and you can feel his annoyance but it’s nothing compared to his desire. It’s nothing compared to the affection you can feel rush through him when you give him a smile, even if he just grunts and glares at his pasta like it’s the one that cock-blocked him.

You know it’s a lie. You might not lie to Ben, but you lie a lot to your team. You lie to Hughie when you say you like certain Billy Joel songs because you don’t want him to gape at you and try to convince you otherwise. You lie to Frenchie when you say you’d love nothing more than to hear about his latest supe-killing weapon, because he gets really excited—it’s kind of adorable—and sometimes it’s actually pretty interesting. You lie to Annie when she picks you up for lunch and asks—every time without fail—what’s going on between you and Ben. You say it’s complicated, but it’s not. It’s actually really simple: You want Ben more than you’ve ever wanted anything and he wants you but not like that, just as a friend he can fuck. And that kills you a little, so you’re trapped in this limbo where Ben can almost make you moan at the dinner table—but you won’t let him just carry you back to your bed and make you scream and fall apart under him—and Annie can give her a look that tells you she knows. She knows you won’t stop doing this. There won’t be more tonight, because Butcher’s still glaring at you and Hughie’s whole face looks like a tomato, but tomorrow the exact same thing will almost certainly happen. Ben will kiss you once, innocently enough if you’d only seen it in passing, and you’ll taste him, you'll feel the want pounding in his chest, and immediately pull him closer. The absolute fucking asshole always anticipates you keeping yourself against him—he plans on it—and his arm will immediately move over your shoulders, hand reaching your jaw to angle your head where he wants it. And then he’ll go and go and go until someone coughs—Hughie or Annie—or makes a remark—Butcher or MM—and he finds whatever line you have for the day. Then he’ll pull back and you have to pretend you’re fine with it. Like your pouting is because he’s being cocky and annoying and not because you wish he would pick you up and lay you on the table. 

It’ll happen the after as well, then again after that, then every night until Butcher either shoots one of you or you figure out a way to just attach Ben to you forever. 

End Note: They really can make any situation horny. Also if you've noticed I'm re-using gifs, yeah :( I am. Please sign my petition to make Jensen Ackles just do stuff in character so we can have more gifs.

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles

[starlightazriel]

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

-

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

-

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

-

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

[redsrooftopprincess]

I love absolutely everything you've posted for Raph, and I was reading through your disability HC again, and if you have time. Could you do a small fic or headcanons of Raphael getting a massage from his beautiful to help relieve some of his pain?

I'M SO SORRY I tried to write this THREE TIMES THREE DIFFERENT WAYS and make it sweet and heartfelt....

But the boy wanted smut.

Where There's Smoke

Fem reader x Raphael

🌶️🌶️🌶️

Warnings: marijuana, smut

If you're a minor *makes a shooing motion* go'way.

The cloud you exhale hangs in the air, curling around the lamplight. You sit in the warm comfort of your apartment, sat sideways, legs draped over Raphael's lap on the loveseat. He reaches over and plucks the joint from your outstretched hand.

"mmm..." you say, smiling, as he takes a long drag. You lean your head against the back of the couch, and close your eyes with a sigh, as the indica flows through your system and washes away a truly shitty week.

When you open them, he is exhaling nearly half the joint. You laugh and wave the smoke out of your face. It look a lot to get the turtles high. Mike and Donnie were still working on a strain powerful enough to do the job, but it was slow going and more of a fun pet project than a priority.

However, you know better than to take more than one *small* hit of the boys' weed. You only had to make that mistake once.

You love nights like this. His very rare nights off, when it's just the two of you hanging out in your apartment. When you could convince him to smoke with you it was even better, because, for a few hours, his pain was a little more manageable.

You swing your legs off of him and he groans quietly when you push off of his thigh to stand up. "Shit! I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

He laughs gently, "Yeah. No, it's fine. Felt good, actually." He sighs, "Rough week."

You tilt your head to the side and look down at him for a moment before your eyes narrow the corner of your mouth turns up slowly. He knows that look. You have an idea.

He's a little more than slightly worried as he watches you dash out of the living room and down the hall into the bathroom. There is a reason you and Donnie are best friends. This could go in literally any direction. You return a few moments later with a bottle in hand.

You walk around to the front of the couch and, tug on his jeans, "Lose 'em," you say. It wasn't weird for him to get comfortable at your house. You'd patched him up enough times that seeing him in his underwear was pretty normal.

You set down the bottle of lotion on the coffee table, and walk away to grab a towel. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his forehead when the realization hits him. "(Y/N), you really don't have to do this."

You ignore him, and return, setting the towel on the table.

He sighs, sitting up, "Seriously, (Y/N) you don't have to do this -"

"Shut up." You say firmly, but not unkindly, looking up from what you're doing. His beak snaps shut. You didn't get firm with him often, so when you did, he paid attention. "You do everything for everyone else, let someone take care of you for once." The gaze you held had no room for argument, and he sighs and stands up, removing his jeans. He gives you an exasperated look during the entire process.

You can't help but steal a glance at his thighs as he sits back down. The way the muscles move beneath his scarred scales makes your mouth water.

To say you are holding a torch for the terrapin would be a lie. It's more like a barely controlled forest fire. He was beautiful in so many ways, and if it didn't make him so uncomfortable you would compliment his body more often.

You instruct him to rest one foot on the coffee table and you straddle his leg, knowing that making any kind of difference was going to require a lot more strength than was in your hands.

"Y/N..."

You reach forward and flick the middle of his forehead without looking, while you snatch the bottle off of the coffee table with your other hand.

"Ow! Hey! What the hell was that for?!" He exclaims, rubbing his head.

"I heard you the first time," you say casually, not looking up from pouring the lotion into your palm.

You rub lotion between your hands to warm it up, before pressing your hands down just above his knee and using nearly your entire weight to push along his quad.

"mmm fuck..." He groans, sinking back further in the couch, no longer interested in protesting as his eyes fall closed. You press your lips together, trying to ignore how hot that was and failing miserably.

In your intoxicated state, you may not have thought this whole thing through.

You had been growing closer. You're not sure when it happened, but touches have become softer, hugs longer. You drift to each other's side, even if you start out on opposite ends of a room. It was something both of you noticed, and neither of you acknowledged.

Your friendship has continued as if nothing has changed, but mundane moments are becoming more intimate, and intimate moments more frequent, and right now you were straddling his thigh and the soft groans and sighs you were pulling from him with every ministration were doing nothing for your composure.

Between the weed and the massage, this is the most relaxed he's felt in a while. He thinks to himself that he's going to have to do something really nice for you later.

You, however, are experiencing the exact opposite effect. The drug has made your body more sensitive, and with every brush of his leg between yours as you move along his thigh, ripples of sensation move up and out. You really hope he's too high to notice you shiver.

He shifts his weight, raising his leg, and accidentally brushing against your core. The small sound that escapes you makes both of you freeze.

That tiny sound, barely louder than a whisper had gone off like a gun shot in his head, shutting down every other one of his senses that wasn't completely honed in on you. There was no way that actually just happened, right?

He looks down at you, while you look away, face burning. There's no way he doesn't know your into him now, and now you've made things weird and awkward. You try to come up with a way to brush off what just happened, terrified of what he must think of you.

The only thing he's thinking is that whatever he has to do to get you to make that sound again, he's gonna to do it. And then he's gonna do it again.

Taking your chin in his hand, he turns you to face him as he places the other on your waist. Holding your gaze with a curious expression, your heart pounds as he pulls his leg off the table so that his foot is on the floor.

He flexes, his thigh pressing into you, and you shut your eyes, drawing a shuddering breath as you feel a flood of warmth at your core. You scent blooms upward into him and his grip around your waist tightens, while his other hand also falls to your waist. When you open your eyes, he is looking down at you with a dark smirk. That was all the validation he needed.

He pulls you up and then back against his thigh, watching your eyes fall closed and your mouth fall open. Your breathing stutters as your hips involuntarily rock against him. When he presses up harder against you, a moan is torn from your throat and you have to brace yourself on his leg.

He grabs the leg in between his own and pulls you up and it over, so that you're straddling his waist. He crashes his lips to yours, the weed making everything hazy and dream-like, and you open to him gladly, tangling his tongue with your own.

His hands slide up your waist, and you only separate for a moment, to help him remove your shirt, before crashing back into him like a wave. When you rock your hips against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs, his mouth is ripped from yours in a groan.

You reach for him, almost desperately, to bring his mouth back to yours, but he removes his hands from your waist and places them on your shoulders to stop you, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Wait... Sweetheart..." He's panting and trembling and it's taking all his restraint to not buck his hips into you, "If we keep going, this is gonna happen... And I need to know it's not just the weed. That this is really what you want..."

He looks at you and everything in him was screaming to just take you. You've wanted her since the day you met. She's ready. She's *more* than willing... but he's not an animal. And if it's not what you actually want it would ruin your friendship.

You look up at him in disbelief, also trembling. Sliding a hand to the back of his neck, you pull him down to you, brushing your lips against his with a whispered, "It is."

You're not sure when or how you ended up against the wall, with him grinding his thigh against your cunt, but you are not complaining. In fact, the only intelligible thought screaming through your veins at the moment is

MORE.

You grind hard against him, clenching around nothing, and in a moment it feels like you might drown in the emptiness. You whimper into his mouth. "Raph... Please..."

He doesn't need to be asked twice. He carries you to your bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours, and lays you on the bed. Detaching your legs from him he grabs the waistband of your cotton shorts and and removes them and your soaked panties in one motion

He looks at you, for just a moment, naked and trembling and wanting HIM, and he commits the sight to memory, before smirking like the devil and diving in like a man starved.

"Fuck! " you cry, arching, as he licks a stripe up your cunt, drinking your arousal like wine, savoring you on his tongue. You're already so sensitive. His tongue swirls around your clit and you shudder as pleasure ripples through your body.

He licks up your slit again and again, before pulling your thighs further apart and fucking you with his tongue. The soft feeling of his tongue curling inside you lights up your nervous system like a Christmas tree, and soon you're a trembling, whimpering mess.

You almost protest as his tongue leaves you, but it's quickly replaced by an oversized digit pushing into you slowly. His tongue returns to your clit, swirling and sucking, devouring you as the cord inside your center winds tighter.

Curling his finger up, and finding that secret spot inside of you, you feel as though you'd fall apart if he wasn't holding you together.

The cord pulls tight, and with a gasp, snaps. You come undone. With your hand on the back of his head, your moans ricocheting off the walls, you ride out your release.

You come back to consciousness as he's crawling up your body, having removed the last barrier between you. He attacks your throat, licking and scenting, giving you no time to recover, his instincts screaming for him to mark you as HIS.

His lips return to yours as he slides his own arousal against your folds, coating himself in your slick. He moans softly at your warmth and finally starts pushing into you slowly.

The way he stretches you fills you completely, and every inch feels like embers scattering through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, whimpering and shuddering as he bottoms out.

He stills for a moment, trembling, attempting to control this breathing, not wanting this to be over before it starts.

With a shuddering breath he moves so slowly, pulling all the way out before returning to sheathe himself inside of you. He gradually finds his rhythm, and you move together pushing and pulling like a bellows, feeding the scattered sparks inside you.

He slides a hand under your thigh, hitching it up to go deeper.

As his speed increases, the embers catch inside your skin and set you alight. It almost feels like you can't breath for the fire in your veins, but you are somehow able to moan his name, so you're probably okay.

Keening moans escape you, and he swallows them greedily, kissing you with everything he has and everything he's ever wanted. Kissing you as if by doing so he could convince you to stay like this forever.

You feel your release building, and by the stuttering groans and whispers of your name, you can tell his isnt far behind.

You reach up and touch his face, and he lifts his head to look at you, never slowing. You wanted him to see, to know that you were there with him, that you were his.

You gasp, and with a cry you arch into him as the fire consumes you. He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him as he follows suit, moaning your name into your shoulder as he spills himself into you.

After a moment to catch your breath, you shiver as he pulls himself from you. Lying on his side to face you, he reaches out and pulls you to him holding you, breathless, as you both come down from your high.

Foreheads touching, eyes closed, you just breath each other in, both of you in kind-of-but-not-really disbelief.

He lifts his head and looks down at you. You open your eyes to meet his, and they shine with affection and gratitude and maybe something deeper, but that was a conversion for a different day.

"So..." he says softly, "when are we gonna do the other leg?" He grins as you laugh and slap him half-heartedly on the chest.

"You're a dick."

"You love it."

.....

He's not wrong.

.....

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[hey-august]

Buggy low-key feels like the type of guy who’d constantly talk big game about how he’s gonna cream inside you, how he’s gonna make you fat with his babies and then fuck and fill you some more like he’s trying to go for quadruplets.

Only to turn pale when you tell him you actually are expecting, even if you agreed on having kids and not only talk about breeding for kink related reasons.

It makes you worry you somehow fucked up because he’s just gaping at you pale as a sheet and slack jawed…. Before he dashes to the railing to hurl his breakfast into the sea

„I’M FINE- URGH! THIS IS FINE! BLUGH!!“

When he calms down again he’s absolutely exited and elated however. Immediately breaks out the rum and barrels of beer and throws a feast (before remembering „Whoops no alcohol for you.“ and searches for any non alcoholic beverage he can get you while his crew gets smashed)

Of course he’s worried. Of course he is. Of course his mind is nagging at him but for the moment being? A kid! His kid! YOUR KID!

Yes yes yes.

Buggy even asks, "How did that happen?"

As if he forgot all the times he made sure to fill you up, getting everything deep - even scooping up anything that spilled out and pushing it back in.

You can tell that the question was asked out of mindless automation. All his braincells (however many or few) are running through countless scenarios and thoughts.

A baby. His baby. Your baby. Baby pirate. Is the ship safe? He was a kid on a ship, so it should be fine. But then the baby - his baby? - would turn out like him. Right, it's his baby. Your baby. But what if it has his nose? You two talked about this before. It's okay if the baby has his nos- HURK!

There's a party immediately after you tell him. Then a baby shower. Another party when you first feel the baby kick. He takes you on a babymoon and pampers the hell out of you. And a party when you two return.

They're not really "parties" like the wild shit Buggy usually plans. Instead, they're chill. He gets a whole variety of food (including the weird cravings you keep having), mocktails and cocktails, and everyone checks in on you or leaves you alone. Whatever you want.

Let's skip ahead to delivery day. There you are, with the person delivering the baby - ship doctor, doula, ship vet, Mohji - whoever it is. And Buggy, of course. Pacing back and forth. He'd be wringing his hands if you weren't squeezing the ever-living-fuck out of one of them with each contraction.

The baby is out! Healthy and crying to the skies already.

"Wait, there's something else..."

Buggy damn near faints. His vision is blurry. Twins? Could it be twins? Tr-triplets? How many? He tries to ignore the memory of words in his mouth - something about a clown car aaaahhhh fuck, why did he say that?!

His vision clears and he sees colors. A lot of colors. A chain of handkerchiefs emerging from between your legs.

What. The. Fuck.

The room is full of sweat and tears, bodily fluids, newborn wails, and giggling.

With a yank, the final handkerchief appears and confetti follows. For a brief moment, you are a literal confetti cannon.

Buggy looks at you, his face full of apprehension and excitement. You look back, exhausted and happy.

"Is that- Is that it?"

"Yup," you pop. "Congrats, daddy. Come say hi."

[eeb-rody]

Tfone spoilers

Okay but imagine IMAGINE you're d-16 and your (boyfriend) best friend routinely drags you both into extreme danger even when you explicitly state you want no part in it (to prove a point? For fun? Both?? It's unclear) and on one of these occasions you find out that the authority figure you trusted most mutilated you (and everyone you love) at birth in an effort to create a servile underclass and secure power. Oh and you now have guns for hands sometimes.

As soon as you express anger at this intense betrayal, the One Guy who's supposed to be on your side (the guy responsible for this whole excursion by the way) starts looking at you like you're crazy. It's fine. Not like you've given this guy leeway for every insane stunt he's pulled for the last however long. Whatever.

You're captured by some guys playing commando in a rotting fortress of some kind, they won't help you but they seem to respect strength, lucky for you your body was recently turned into a weapon. You beat the shit out of the guy in charge (he's into it???) because you're angry and he's an asshole and maybe a display of strength will get these freaks to respect you enough to hear you out. Whatever your friend was thinking about you earlier just solidified.

You get kidnapped by a big spider.

Next you're handcuffed On Your Knees in front of the worst guy on the planet. He mocks you, he tortures you, he admits to all of his crimes and laughs in your face about it. You've gotta fucking kill this guy.

The building you're in gets hit by a flying train.

Finally FINALLY you've got this shithead on the run, everyone knows what he did, they probably want him dead just as bad as you do. He's cowering, he's begging, but earlier he was carving graffiti into your chest in front of a live audience so you're not feeling particularly receptive.

And then your impulsive shithead Best Friend shows up and starts talking about building a better world and how killing this evil motherfucker sets a bad precedent. You have thus far shown your friend infinite patience even in the face of severe consequences, his actions have resulted in you being hurt and changed and hurt again and now he wants to talk about the merits of reigning yourself in???

Nuh uh, you're killing this guy, your friend will be mad at you for a while but hopefully he'll understand that you ARE making the world better by killing a dictator who stunts the growth of his own people in order to make slaves of them.

Your best friend in the world sacrifices his life to save this evil piece of shit.

That's what was most important to him in the end. You realize that apparently being morally pure was his priority, nevermind you, nevermind the crimes done against your people, nevermind his "better world". You're fucking done. If he can't just trust you on this after everything he put you through- You let him fall into a big hole.

Only that's not the end of it. After you tear the "king" in half and start blasting at his tacky art deco statues, your friend rises from the pit he just fell into. He's Jesus now I guess and he uses his god powers to kick the shit out of you. He compares you to the man who mutilated you both as children and betrayed your people. Apparently God agrees with him.

My point is, this movie is just Megatron's terrible horrible no good very bad day and I think killing sentinel prime was good and made sense to do.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐘-(𝐒𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥)-𝐉𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐪𝐢𝐮 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-(The Fox's Wedding Sequel!)

@kianasflowers Banner credit!

Mentions of Gorey descriptions! Beheading descriptions

Dear Mei,

I realized that the village I'm in needs my help, I just remembered everything. Sorry for not replying for.. a couple of years?

I hope everyone is fine and well! It's a long story how I ended like this. But, I hope I will be able to see you again.

I really want to meet all but I can't! I have to save these people so, Maybe I'll die.

My location is the Xianzhou Luofu, If you want to meet me. You can! But I don't know how I'll be by the time you come or this letter.

Maybe dead, a corpse.

Or Alive, Helping people.

I hope that man who calls himself god wouldn't win...

Hey Mei, Will you get me some new kimono and a seed of the sakura tree? If I died. Place it beside my grave.

If I live...

Present day

The days in Yaoqing were quiet but heavy, filled with both healing and the lingering shadows of your shared trauma. You and Jiaoqiu spent much of your time indoors, a small, humble home nestled in a quiet corner of the village. The walls that held you both felt both like a sanctuary and a cage, protecting you from the outside world while reminding you of the isolation brought by your injuries.

You struggled with your mobility, the pain in your neck and feet making every step a reminder of the glass shards and the torment you had endured. Walking was a challenge; sometimes, even the simplest movement felt like an insurmountable task. And Jiaoqiu—his blindness had taken away much of his independence, and though he tried to adjust, it was clear the world felt different to him now, unfamiliar and unforgiving.

Cooking had become a trial for both of you. You would attempt to stand by the stove, wincing as you leaned against the counter, trying to prepare a simple meal. But even that was difficult. Your body protested with every movement, and Jiaoqiu—once so self-sufficient—was now struggling to eat due to the severity of his internal wounds. Spicy food, which he had once enjoyed, now caused him immense discomfort, his body rejecting the heat as it tried to heal.

There were moments of despair, moments where you both felt as though the weight of your past was too much to bear. The nights were particularly hard for Jiaoqiu, plagued by vivid nightmares that left him trembling and drenched in sweat. You would wake to the sound of his ragged breaths, his body tense with the horrors that played out in his mind.

Jiaoqiu stirred in his sleep, his body tense as the nightmare took hold. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling unevenly, trapped in the throes of a memory turned twisted and nightmarish.

In his dream, the air was thick with the smell of blood, the sound of clashing metal, and the sight of Hoolay standing before him, blade in hand. Jiaoqiu was bound, unable to move, his limbs frozen as he watched helplessly. You stood on the ground before Hoolay, your body bloodied, your neck exposed—ready for the final blow.

"No…" Jiaoqiu gasped, his voice hoarse, barely able to form the words. His throat tightened, his heart pounding against his ribs, desperate to stop what was about to happen.

But the scene continued, cruel and unrelenting. Hoolay's lips curled into a sneer, eyes dark and unfeeling as he raised the blade high above your head.

"Don't do it!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice breaking. But Hoolay only laughed, cold and merciless, the sound echoing in the empty space.

You turned to face Jiaoqiu, your eyes wide, filled with a strange, unsettling calm. Blood dripped from your wounds, your body trembling, but your lips twisted into a smile—a horrifying, broken smile.

"You did this," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of sorrow and accusation. "It's your fault I died, Jiaoqiu."

He shook his head, eyes wide with terror. "No… No, I didn't mean for this to happen!"

But you only laughed, a haunting, echoing sound that filled the air. "Of course, you did. You were too weak to save me. You let this happen."

Tears streamed down his face as he struggled against the invisible bonds, desperate to reach you, to stop what was happening. "I tried! I tried to save you!"

Your smile widened, grotesque and unnatural, your eyes hollow, as if all the life had been drained from them. "Too late," you hissed, your voice turning sharp, venomous. "You always fail, don't you?"

Hoolay’s blade descended swiftly, and you didn’t flinch. You just stood there, still smiling as the sharp edge came down, slicing through your neck with sickening precision. The sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking filled Jiaoqiu’s ears, louder than anything he had ever heard before.

"NOOO!" Jiaoqiu screamed, his voice raw, his throat burning as the world spun around him. He couldn't bear to watch, but he couldn’t look away.

Your head rolled from your shoulders, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Your body crumpled, lifeless, the blood pooling around you, a stark contrast to the eerie smile still lingering on your severed face.

Jiaoqiu sobbed, shaking uncontrollably, as Hoolay’s mocking laughter rang out. "Look at her," Hoolay taunted, kicking your head towards Jiaoqiu's feet. "Look at what you let happen."

Jiaoqiu was paralyzed, his mind broken, the sight of your dismembered form seared into his brain. Your head lay inches from him, eyes still open, still staring at him with that unnerving smile.

"I’ll never leave you," your voice whispered, even though your mouth didn’t move. "I’ll haunt you forever… You deserve this, Jiaoqiu. This is what you made me."

Jiaoqiu screamed again, his heart tearing apart as your words echoed endlessly in his mind. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

But in the nightmare, there was no escape. Hoolay stepped closer, blade dripping with your blood, his grin widening. "You failed her once," he sneered, "and now you’ll keep failing. Over, and over, and over again."

Jiaoqiu's hands clutched at his head, unable to bear the torment. "Please… stop…"

But the nightmare only deepened. Hoolay raised the blade once more, aiming it toward Jiaoqiu this time, his voice cold and final. "It's time for you to join her."

It’s your fault. You let her die.

In the nightmare, your voice echoed, twisted and unnatural, as you stood over him. Headless, your body loomed, holding your severed head in one hand. The blood dripped slowly, pooling beneath you, and your lips—still smiling—moved, whispering something too familiar.

“Jiaoqiu." your voice rasped. “They’ll stuff us both in the secret box… of the goldfish.”

Jiaoqiu’s heart pounded violently in his chest. The words made no sense, but the terror they filled him with was overwhelming. You stepped closer, head dangling from your fingers as if it were nothing more than a toy. The smile on your lips widened, grotesque, and your dead eyes locked onto his.

“They’ll put us together," you continued, "inside that box. You and me… forever.”

Jiaoqiu couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. His body felt frozen, paralyzed by fear. His hands trembled, desperately trying to claw himself out of the nightmare, but it was useless. You bent down, pressing your headless body against his, your cold, bloodstained hands grabbing him, holding him tight.

“We’re going together,” you hissed, your breath cold against his skin. “Inside the box… together.”

He screamed, finally breaking through the silence, but it didn’t stop. Your grip tightened, your bloody fingers digging into his skin, pulling him into the darkness.

Suddenly, the world seemed to collapse. Your body went limp, falling to the floor in a heap of broken limbs. And then, with a chilling whisper, your head rolled toward him, your mouth still moving as it spoke: “It’s a nightmare, Jiaoqiu… Wake up!”

The words jolted him, and Jiaoqiu woke with a gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body felt heavy, drenched in cold sweat, his heart still hammering against his ribs. He blinked, expecting to see the comforting glow of light in the room—expecting to see you beside him.

But there was nothing.

Only darkness.

For a moment, Jiaoqiu’s heart stopped. He blinked again, harder this time, trying to adjust his eyes to the blackness that surrounded him. But no matter how many times he tried, no light came. It hit him then, like a punch to the chest: the Tumbledust poison. The nightmare had faded, but the reality remained.

He was blind.

The room felt suffocating, the weight of the darkness pressing in on him, as if the nightmare hadn’t fully let go. Jiaoqiu's breath came quicker, panic rising in his throat. He reached out, his trembling hands searching the bed, the space beside him where you should be. But all he found was emptiness.

“Where… where are you?” he whispered, his voice shaking, as his fingers frantically felt the sheets, the pillow, the empty space. His hands moved faster, desperate to find you, to feel your warmth. But there was nothing.

Jiaoqiu’s mind raced. You were there, he thought. You were right there.

But all he could feel was the cold emptiness of the bed, the sheets crumpled beneath his fingers, his touch finding no trace of you. Fear crept up his spine, his chest tightening with every second that passed.

“Where are you?” he whispered again, louder this time, his voice tinged with desperation. His hands moved in every direction, reaching for the space around him, the nightstand, the floor, anything that could prove you were still here.

Jiaoqiu’s breathing quickened, and panic clawed at his throat as his hands frantically searched the bed. His voice trembled, his desperation rising. "Where are you?" he whispered, louder this time, his heart pounding in the oppressive silence. His mind was spinning, trapped in the darkness, unable to find you, unable to escape the terror gripping him.

Just as he was on the verge of screaming, of losing himself completely to the fear, he felt it—arms wrapping around him from behind, warm and gentle. The familiar scent of you washed over him, grounding him in the present.

“It’s okay,” you whispered softly into his ear, your voice calm and soothing. “I’m right here.”

Jiaoqiu froze, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away as your warmth enveloped him. He exhaled a shaky breath, his heart still racing but slowing, his panic easing.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur. “So I stepped out for a bit. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He was still trembling, still uncertain if this was real or another nightmare. The darkness made everything uncertain. He mumbled, barely able to form words. “Come… kiss me. So I know it’s really you.”

You shifted, moving in front of him, and your lips brushed his—soft, familiar, real. Jiaoqiu exhaled in relief, his body relaxing against you. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline, his grip tight and desperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to doubt you. I… I was so scared.”

You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. “It’s fine,” you whispered, kissing his forehead gently. “It’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe.”

You cradled Jiaoqiu, feeling his breathing slow and deepen as sleep finally claimed him, you tried to follow him into that same restful darkness. But something was wrong. Even in the silence of the night, whispers crept into your ears, soft at first, but growing louder with each passing moment. The voices of countless souls, pleading, moaning, begging for peace.

Their cries sent a chill down your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding Jiaoqiu tighter, as if his warmth could shield you from the cold weight of their voices.

"Help us… free us… give us peace…"

The words wrapped around your mind, echoing endlessly. You could feel the souls crowding around you, unseen but close, their desperation pressing in on you from all sides. Your heart raced as you gritted your teeth, willing the whispers to stop, but they only grew more insistent.

You buried your face against Jiaoqiu, your grip tightening, as though if you held on tightly enough, they wouldn’t be able to touch you. His steady breathing was the only thing anchoring you to this reality. But the voices wouldn’t stop. They wanted something. They needed something from you.

You tried to block them out, tried to convince yourself that it was all in your head. But the feeling of their presence was too strong, too real. Your hands trembled as you clung to Jiaoqiu, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

"Release us…"

Your eyes shot open, the darkness around you feeling suddenly alive, shifting and moving with the weight of the spirits. You didn’t dare look. You couldn’t. The fear was too overwhelming, too paralyzing. The souls weren’t leaving you alone. They were here—right here.

Your teeth ground together painfully as you forced your eyes shut again, but the whispers slipped into your mind like cold fingers, clawing at your thoughts. You held back a sob, trying to breathe through the terror.

Jiaoqiu stirred slightly in his sleep, but he didn’t wake, his exhaustion keeping him under. You envied him. You wanted to escape into the same peaceful darkness, but the souls wouldn’t let you. Their demands grew louder, their voices overlapping into a cacophony that threatened to drown out everything else.

You gripped Jiaoqiu so tightly now that your arms ached, your body tense and shaking. You could feel the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

But sleep would not come for you. The souls kept you trapped, their whispers pulling you deeper into fear, into the knowledge that you couldn’t help them. You couldn’t even help yourself.

And so you lay there, eyes closed, teeth clenched, shivering in the darkness, too afraid to sleep, too terrified to let go.

[spinji]

It's weird to me seeing so many people surprised over Billdip shippers that liked/made young twink Bill art are now the same ones shipping Billford and liking and making art of Bill as an old man. Literally the definition of "growing up with your tastes".

Billford is everything i wanted from Billdip but more canonized (and old), basically. I still have a lot of fondness from that time.

I do agree with the people that consider shipping Billdip in the early days as self indulgent and self insertive. I was also one of those people that was first exposed to the series around Dipper's age and I would be lying if my affinity for the pairing didn't have some element of self shipping with Bill. This is why a lot of people made this jump to a pairing that better reflects their maturity level while maintaining that enjoyment of Bill. I think that's part of the secret sauce that makes the new Billford content to compelling to long-term fans; on top of it being chillingly well written.

Where I chafe against this discussion is how dismissive the tone tends to be when bringing this up. People say they used to ship Billdip as if they're talking to a pastor about their sins in order to cover their ass and sound more desirable to the greater internet.

To me Billdip and Billford have very similar but distinct energies, one holding a lot more weight and tragedy while the other is chaotic and tense. There might be a lot in common with your new best worst thing and your old toxic ex but they're still different experiences and they're facinating dynamics in both cases.

My whole point in comparing the two is that you don't have to be scared of what you did in fandom a decade ago. If your tastes have changed, that's fine, and very normal, but a quick turn that anyone still drawn to Billdip is a disgusting predator is just cowardice. As if the crazy people will care if it's older because it's still an unhealthy and unbalanced dynamic with an immortal, immoral monster.

Do I prefer Billford to Billdip now? Yes! But I shipped them both back then and I ship them both now.

Do I prefer the Billford fandom to the Billdip fandom? Hell no. Because some of you really can't pull the stick out of your ass and realize that you are living proof that fiction doesn't directly mirror your personality. You shipped Billdip and you're fine, so quit lying and saying everyone else is a monster for doing the same.

[maespri]

oh my i never really saw myself making a post like this, but i really wanna talk about morgana! more specifically… why i don’t really understand the hate he receives.

for starters, i know a lot of people dislike mona because he gets on ryuji’s case often. his squabbling with ryuji can get hurtful at times too, i know, but i feel like so many people conveniently leave out the fact that… ryuji returns fire? it’s not as though mona is constantly attacking poor ryuji who can’t defend himself; it’s a two-sided fight throughout most of the game. both of them are constantly fueling the fire. not to mention, it’s a fight that eventually ends. both individuals have great character development (i could talk about it for /ages/, but i digress) that ends with their fighting essentially ceasing entirely. they’re both dumb teenage boys, they both said dumb stuff to each other, and they both hurt each other, and all of that is recognized and left in the past.

the hatred toward mona in general is something i struggle to understand entirely. you hate this cat because he tells you to go to bed? the game would have told you to do that one way or another, because it’s a game. there have to be constraints, or you’d get terribly overpowered incredibly fast. i wholeheartedly agree that mona’s lacking in comparison to the other characters in many ways- but i’ve never hated him, and was surprised to see a lot of people did.

maybe i’m just weirdly empathetic toward fictional characters, but i really liked his storyline. mona’s been with the protagonist since day one, helping him out, staying with him, encouraging and supporting him in everything he does, navigating them through mementos and palaces and battles… and he’s never really appreciated for any of it. obviously, the other phantom thieves do the same and don’t require any extra praise, but morgana already has a complex stemming from the fact that he’s not human. inherently, he believes he’s not nearly as good as any of the others, and subsequently, that he isn’t good enough in general- and he’s so ashamed of that that he can’t even voice the concern to the protagonist pre-okumura’s palace. it made sense to me when he snapped and ran away; if you were constantly the black sheep of a group, unable to engage with anyone unless the guy you live with is always there as well, wouldn’t you yearn for autonomy too? (don’t even get me started on the haru parallels there; there’s a reason morgana snapped during the okumura arc.) if you felt expendable and there wasn’t ever an effort made to prove otherwise, purposeful or not, wouldn’t you also want to leave? to spare both yourself, and the people you’re leaving? i really liked his arc because it led to two realizations- that he was pivotal to the group, and it was fine if he ended up not being a human. (and honestly, he was pivotal to my group… who else would i use to heal everyone outside of battle…!)

anyway, his objectification of women was weird. didn’t like that. but this is a JRPG, and he’s not the only one who does strange things like that at times (why was ryuji looking at ann’s chest in the mona bus outside futaba’s palace man…). honestly, his flirting was also weird at times, but as long as it never got strangely sexual, i didn’t really mind? it’s not like it ever genuinely bothers ann either as far as i remember. it’s more just a stupid thing he does.

anyway… i dunno. i like the kitty. he’s silly, he kept me company, and he made my playthrough fun. life is so much more beautiful when you carry love in your heart rather than resentment

[hightidesandoldmen]

Listen to me

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mind control fetish, dom/sub dynamics, Bill gave Ford some weird kinks and the sooner Stan can make it work for them the sooner they can turn this Sailing Retirement into a Gargantuan Amounts Of Sex World Tour, Ford tries to dom but is a sub at heart, dubious consent, if its dubious consent on both sides is it still dub con or just a very weird moment for everyone?, hand jobs, blow jobs, though admittedly the smut at the end is purpousefully a bit of an afterthought.

Notes: I have always been curious about the concept of 'Dark Ford but Stan turns the tables on him' as a concept but i don't really see it in fic

--

Sixer had always been... a bit of a control freak. It wasn't a huge deal or anything back in the day because while Stan was rambunctious he DID know when his brother knew better and was willing to follow his brains and plans and all of that. He was perfectly content to simply punch in the direction that Stanford pointed him in.

In his more bitter moments on the road he hadn't wondered if Ford's actual anger at the science fair project thing was more for the fact that he hadn't been in control in the moment (and Stan hadn't been either but that was his own fault, Pa was right in that regard) or if Ford hadn't already been pulling away from him in the first place because He'd wanted to keep being in control of the situation-

and when his wants for 'the plan' had changed, the fact that Stan's hadn't had put him in a place where he couldn't control the situation as well. He didn't know. By that point maybe he didn't know his brother all that well at all anymore. (maybe he'd stopped knowing his brother well when he'd had to start looking away when Ford would change in their room because his throat would suddenly get dry and his heart would race, If it wouldn't have ruined everything between them Stan would have wondered if it would be a comfort to Ford to know his brother was much more of a freak than he'd ever be)

By the time he was being summoned to oregon he was well aware his brother was a different person now, it was fine, he was too. But it seemed Stanford's desire for control had never faded. It might have been the biggest screw up and mistake of Stanley's life- but if Ford was ever even the slightest bit willing to actually work WITH him it could have been avoided. It was still Stan's fault in the end though. his brother was a control freak, but that was fine- everyone had their flaws. But Ford was gentle he was always gentle.

this horror nightmare dimension on the other side of the portal- that was going to do horrible things to him and he was going to need him.

There was an odd vindictiveness to it- that for the first time, He had been in control and not Ford. He was the one that was doing something about all of this. Not his brother. If it wasn't because of his own failures, he would have called it oddly nice.

Then there came that summer, the twins, the portal working again, Bill....

and ultimately, Ford coming back.

And coming back even more of a control freak as ever. But it was okay now. They were okay now.

and Ford had smiled at him and the plan was the one Stanley had given up on but always secretly still wanted. And maybe Stan could live with being the person that just punched in the direction Ford pointed him in again.

Maybe it would be fun.

maybe being around the person Ford was now would mean that the hard thump in his chest

--

It was about two months out to sea when it happened. Stan had had a fling with a siren most recently, apparently they didn't actually mind control people, they just found out what you wanted and told you they had it until you'd go after them. He'd met a little blacksheep that wanted to talk about what SHE wanted, and Stan had been curious- but it turns out that angle was in and of itself a siren angle and he'd been dragged into the water.

Ford had been pissed beyond all beleif- he had of course warned Stan about it, freshwater sirens were mostly harmless apparently, and double apparently he'd even dated one himself in Gravity falls, but saltwater sirens were to a one maneaters. But Stan had dodged hypothermia and they sent a polaroid to the kids of him still picking kelp out of his hair to make it feel funny again.

But ford had had this weird twist to his mouth for the rest of the day, and Stan wasn't sure if it was really all THAT big of a deal because- well he'd punched out a few of the girls siren buddies, so they weren't THAT tough... but... Ford was still pretty pissed. So Stan- figured he'd better do something to make it up to his brother.

"Hey- come on Poindexter- I'm fine, and those sirens weren't nothing!" he swung an arm around Ford's shoulders and the pinch to his lip didn't fade, but his gaze did soften a touch.

and Stan figured he was PROBABLY in the clear...

"Life would just be easier if you just-... listened more Stanley..." He groaned, and Stan grinned.

"Sorry Poindexter, Im too stubborn for ya! Can't stop me unless ya tie me down!"

Ford went wierdly quiet at that.

like... WIERDLY quiet.

it should probably have been a red flag, but in that moment Stan just wondered if he was re-lancing the wound before it was ready so instead he joked again "And even then it's a 50/50 shot i'll just get back out!"

and thankfully Ford laughed again.

though Stan did feel eyes on him every so often for the rest of the day.

--

admittedly that should have been something his conman brain should have picked up on, but as it was he seemed to have blinders when it came to Ford, his brother was always surprising him.

So naturally he didn't suspect most anything at all when on a calm day still on the coast of Ireland, Ford mentioned wanting to stay 'home' rather than go to the pub in the village they were docked at.

And Stan figured he probably should hang with him as to make up for the whole 'scaring ford half to death for nearly becoming Siren chow' thing, so he stayed behind as well and while Ford was doing... whatever he was doing he'd update the sail logs. for all that it grated on Stan that they were going to have to be 'on the books' now and probably until after he croaked, if they managed to somehow end up lost at sea then the kids were SURE to recover their logs somehow and they should know if they went out figthing a kracken or running from antlantian guards or something.

"Hey Stanley-" Ford spoke up from where he was rummaging through his things, clearly looking for something. "Can you close the cabin door?"

"Huh-?" He was maybe ABOUT to complain about his knees but, eh whatever. he got up and his knees creaked ominously, but he lumbered the two steps over to the cabin door and shut it. "what's the deal, Ford? you find some contraband in there that could get us thrown out of Leprechaun territory before i can steal a pot of gold from these rubes?"

"No- I simply wanted to know if you would... like to experience something with me?" Ford pulled out a worn down looking bag full of... some irridescent shimmery looking shit-

"Did mabel send us a bag of glitter and you're about to throw it in my face?" he wondered treptidatiously, and Ford grinned, and... it looked wierdly sharp. Stan was more on guard than he perhaps should have been, (though in hindsight that possibly is what made things shake out the way they did so he was thankful for his paranoia in that moment)

"No- this is something i came across a few dimensions ago, it's a sort of pscychoactive substance that when burned releases a smoke that upon inhilation can cause a delightfully non-addicting sensation."

wait...

"Sixer are you asking me if i wanna get high with you?" ford's cheeks suddenly burned red and he coughed into his hand; and stan only took a moment to appreciate that that bashful look made his whole face soften.

"to put it crassly, i suppose, i simply have experienced such a thing before and i considered that you would appreciate such a state as well."

Then ford grinned a beseeching grin at him with that pink in his cheeks not faded yet and Stan was a weak weak man with a disgusting attraction that should not be. because he rolled his eyes and headed for his bed, because ford grinning at him like that was kind of all he needed to do whatever his twin (his TWIN he was such a sick freak that it hadn't even changed now after EVERYTHING) wanted him to.

Stan liked giving ford what he wanted- he was sure if he dug his heels in and said a firm no he'd be able to out-stubborn his brother, but he LIKED giving Ford what he wanted. So he leaned back against his pillows and threw his hands behind his head.

"Alright nerd, smoke away."

He tilted his head to watch Ford's hands fumble slightly with a box of matches that were already in his hand, and the wierd glimmery powder was already in a bowl-wow he really had already set the whole thing up before Stan had agreed, hadn't he?

that in hindsight should have been another red flag, but then the flame had gone down onto the shimmering powder- and he'd noticed that Ford had upturned the whole bag rather than portioning it out if they wanted to try this again-

but then the smoke hit the air.

it smelled... wierdly sweet- like burning Cherry wood or Apricot wood... and it WAS kind of a woodburning smell- in a weird way it sort of reminded him of the campfires they used to make when they were young.

the old neighborhood in glass shard beach had no space for a wood burning fireplace or anything, they had a squeaky radiator like everyone else who lived above their family's shop...

"Smells good-" he hummed. but when he glanced at Ford he noticed his brother seemed to already be feeling the effects, he was blinking rapidly and had lifted his hands up to cover his nose. he of course, laughed.

"You get a face full of it by lighting it off sixer?" rookie mistake, he had figured out several tricks to not get a full face of weed smoke back in the day himself, but it seemed Ford wasn't all that much of a recreational drugs person in his own portal based adventures if he made such a rookie mistake...

"No it- it smells odd..." Ford leaned back, and rather than settling onto his own bed he sat on the edge of Stan's. "oddly acrid."

"Really? smells fine to me." he gave another experimental sniff and sure enough yes, the smell of sweet woods and campfires and all of that... "What does it smell different for everyone or something? scifi nerd drugs change smell depending on the person?" he wondered, and, after a moment's pause, ford sighed.

"Yes i suppose so. It's... probably fine, as you said."

An rare concession from Ford, but a welcome one so Stan scooted to the side a bit and patted at the empty space on his bed. "come on- if you're gonna be right here when we both get high as balls on space weed then might as well get comfy."

and Ford, thankfully, listened to him and reclined next to him as they began to hotbox their cabin

For a while Stan was wondering if the damn drug would kick in yet, because he was just smelling some not unpleasent sweet woodburn smoke but he absolutely did not feel high. Not even in the way that waiting for an edible to kick in would...

though when he tilted his head to ask his brother if he'd gotten jacked by the space-dealer he'd gotten this shit from, Ford...had been effected.

His brother was turned almost entirely toward him, watching him closely, eyes dilated so far that there was only a barely visible ring of dark blue against black.

"You... doing okay Ford?" he wondered- "you want me to crack open a window?"

"No. it's fine." Ford answered, and then followed up with his own "How are you feeling?"

which- whatever. Stan Shrugged. "I mean- fine I guess. doesn't really feel like it's hitting much- you know?" Ford's brow furrowed, and he began to sit up, he looked weirdly perturbed. "What do you mean?" he wondered. and Stan, feeling weird about still reclining while Ford sat up, followed his lead and sat up himself.

"Well- i mean it smells nice, like one of those driftwood campfires we'd use to make on the beach when we were kids, but i don't feel any different. I've been high before, i know what it feels like- you know?"

"What's it supposed to feel like?" he brought up, and- for a moment Stanford looked... weirdly dodgy, looking away, pulling away from him- and okay- that wasn't a good sign. So he pulled out the boss voice. "Stanford, what's going on?"

And Ford was CONSIDERABLY higher than he was, because he folded immediately at the firm tone in his voice.

"You never listen to me. Stanley you NEVER listen to me. if you just LISTENED to me everything would be better! You almost died and everything ALWAYS goes bad when you dont just let me do the thinking im the smart one im the one that SHOULD be in control- and this is Going to - this is going to help us...!"

He pressed his hands to Stan's shoulders, and- fucking- what?

"Stanford are you trying to fucking mind control me? is this mind control shit?"

he felt his ire rising, and Ford-... maybe had thought he was trying to push him back down but he was stoned out of his gourd clearly because he just balled his fists into Stan's shirt and leaned forward a bit too much- honestly it almost looked like he was going to kiss him-

"Not- not really- well- maybe- kind of? It's... I didn't-" he looked back to the still smoking bowl. "It's... not working right."

Stan grit his teeth, and forced down his emotional reaction- he could get pissed when Ford was sober- or maybe wait to get the full explanation and then FORCE him to get lucid by throwing him into the cold irish bay.

"What was supposed to happen. What is this stuff-" he glared at Ford and his brother almost seemed to shrink under his ire. "Tell me. The truth."

Maybe the space drug was booby trapped or something because once he made it a full command, Ford's already hazy gaze seemed just... glaze over.

like all of his brain power was completely shut off but for what he needed to do to fulfil an order.

"I got it in a black market spaceport, i was considering using it for non-lethally neutralizing Bill for a time, it's a meathod of Gambling. the smoke creates a psychic link between those whom inhale it at the same time and the weakest willied will get their willpower siphoned into the stronger willed until the weaker willed could have their very reality rewritten with ease. You were supposed to be the weaker and i could use it to mean you'd stop fighting me on stupid things. And-" Ford's face twisted, in the most resistance in all of this that he seemed capable of as he was trying to bite something back from coming out of his mouth.

which was all well and good because stan slumped onto his knees and tried to keep from screaming.

Keep calm. His brother just tried to... drug and mentally enslave him- that was... it wasn't fine but clearly it didn't fucking WORK so he couldn't be TOO mad he just needed to parse out how mad he SHOULD be when Ford snapped out of this fugue state and went back to being a control freak that was so manic about being a control freak that hed try to mind control him-

"-And i could make you love me"

His eyes snapped open and he turned back to Ford, whom, if possible looked even drowsier than before, like resisting saying that had taken so much energy that he no longer had any more to fight off whatever this fucking psychic mind control drug shit was.

"....What? Ford of course i love you- you're my brother why do you think you needed to do that shit to me to love you?"

"Not like that." Ford's voice had dropped, into a drowsy monotone, like he was speaking in his sleep. "Not like a brother-"

and Stan's blood both froze over and lit aflame at once.

"....What?"

"was- was always jealous..." ford mumbled, and Stan had to press a hand to Ford's shoulder so he wouldn't topple over back onto the floor and he bonelessly flopped onto his bed. "didnt like to see you dating girls" his eyelids were fluttering now, the stupor this whole 'willpower draining' thing was putting him under was very much leaving him too tired to care about anything. like the concious mind had fully shut down and he wasn't really talking to Ford anymore so much as his subconcious.

so that was what he meant by 'the weaker could have their reality shaped'...

which was all the details he was focusing on so he didn't have to think about the fact that ford was implying- that he was saying...

that he felt the same way...

"Wanted you to kiss me instead..." he practically moaned out. And... Stan didn't know why, but he stood up, took the smoking bowl, and walked back to place it beside where ford's head had fallen.

And he didn't know why but he leaned in and started to murmur.

he had rolled with a lot of strange crowds over his ten years of homelessness, and he'd seen things. things that were used to help the women and men of the night that he'd rolled with in Chicago disassociate enough to be able to take clients they couldn't get it up for.

they wouldn't waste drugs in a city of actors. and actors meant things like hypnotists. And he wasn't really attractive enough to be easily selected unless he was someone's type, but the pimp he'd been rolling with for a bit had noticed he had a mean hook so he was sent in to watch the girls and twinks to make sure the people he paid for the time of never put anything nasty in their heads that might take away workers.

"Keep breathing, nice and deep- in.... and out... feel that smoke coming in... feel it clouding up that busy mind, feel it making everything go slower and slower, and how nice it is to feel it going slow. You're always thinking so much Stanford, about so many things, your mind is so exhausted. It feels so good to let your thoughts slow with every deep breath in. And every time you breathe out that smoke has stuck to more and more of your will and your thoughts and when you breathe out you can feel them drifting away, and coming into me-"

"And it's so so easy to just admit to things even if you didn't let yourself think about them much when you feel so smokey and good right now, Isn't that right? You can just say things you knew deep down but were too scared to say, because Your Stan's got you. And you know your Stanley can keep you safe, isn't that right?"

Ford took a deep breath, and sighed out a euphoric "yes...." and Stan figured he probably only had a limited amount of time till this will smoke stuff faded.

and...

well if Ford thought his willpower wasn't important enough to be respected- maybe it'd be justice to understand why.

"Why did you decide to use this instead of any other way to get Stan to listen to you? Why mind control?"

"I find mind control, brainwashing, hypnosis and other types of mental dominance extremely arousing."

Oh.

OH

Well fuck...

"....Is that something you always knew or did you learn it from someone?"

"Bill showed me how wonderful it can be, he was always in control and i wanted to be in control this time." of fucking course it was that damn triangle. why did everything seem to always come back to that damn triangle...

"Do you like being out of control?"

Ford shivered and Stan could see the tent starting to form in his pants. "Yes..."

Stan hummed. "Yeah i bet you would. it's probably so exhausting being the person thats always got the plans and calling the shots. i bet its REALLY nice to just get all dumb and misty and just do what people tell ya, huh?"

"Yes..."

"Say 'Yes Stanley'." he ordered and Ford gave another full body shiver, the tent in his pants growing significantly at the order

"Yes Stanley..."

"Good Boy. Every time you're a good boy and do as you're told you say 'Yes Stanley' Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good. Now... Tell me about this Will-powder" heh "does this last until its done burning?"

"No, the person whose will is drained remains in a suggestible state unless commanded awake. the psychic link doesnt go both ways, you lose your willpower to the winner and it stays theirs unless freely given back. And even then the psychic siphon remains. the winner can always take the loser's will away again whenever they please."

"Does it... hurt?"

"No... feels... so good...."

Stanford's cock was practically straining against his pants now, and Stan could feel his own stir in sympathy.

He looked away, thumb tapping against the bed as he thought about what to do-...

"Ford when you said you... didn't love me like a brother- what DO you love me like?" He- he knew technically ford had already answered but-that was in the past that was...

that was before everything...

"I want you. Want you to-... to want me... I know its... its wrong its... its taboo... I never wanted anyone else. Not Cathy Crenshaw, not Fiddleford, not Bill... not really... i only ever wanted you and... and it scared me... Even when i hated you i only wanted you back..."

well...

shit...

He spent a bit of time thinking it over. And when the smoke stopped, and he opened a window and Ford remained sprawled out on his bed, half asleep and cock straining for freedom against his pants, Stan figured Ford got generally good information...

About the drug at least...

Fords hips gave a little unconcious twitch upward and... Stan had mercy on him and took one of his heavy hands, dropping it over the bulge and watched with minor fascination as his brother's deft fingers rubbed against the restricted erection but lacked the dexterity to free himself-

At least, not without permission....

"Just keep rubbing there, Stanford" Ford moaned and his hips gave an instinctual twitch into his palming hand.

"Yes Stanley..." it came out as another heaving moan, and... damn...

He could see why Ford wanted this- this kind of control was heady... And ford LIKED control. He just... also liked being out of control. He really liked it.

And... Stan wasn't sure what to do about it-

"One more question- How do you bring will back and take it away?"

"You just tell them to think for themselves again to give it back, but to take away again you need-" Ford moaned. "You establish a trigger for them to remember at once that you possess their willpower"

establish a trigger huh? Like a codeword or something?

Or maybe...

Stan looked over at the drawer he kept some of his bedside things in and felt around until he found some thick glass. A Cologne he had stolen from a french store that was maybe the fanciest cologne he'd ever palmed from a shopping rack. it was one of those ones with the fancy sculpted glass and it even had a little squeeze bottle to spray it!

He had decided to save it only for hot dates and possibly getting to pick strangers up, so he'd yet to use it.

Until now.

"Well lets figure out a trigger for later right now, eh?" he tilted ford's head so he was properly facing upward. "Eyes open, Ford."

"Yes Stanley."

Glazed over, dilated wide, but still that same umber brown that matched his own, Ford's eyes so barely opened, staring into nothing and clearly lost in some wonderful reverie that only existed in his own mind.

Stan tilted his head back and sprayed himself with the cologne, rubbing it in a little to make sure it would get all nice and mixed with his natural body scent. "Sit up." "Yes Stanley." as if being raised up by a wire Ford sat up properly, though his eyes remained staring perpetually forward and focused on nothing. Stan took him by the back of his head, took a moment to appreciate the coarse curls in between his fingers, and pulled Stanford in to press his face up against Stan's neck. "Take a nice deep breath in. I know that smoke didn't smell all that good to you, so try this instead. that smell, of the cologne and me all at once? thats gonna be your trigger, alright? every time you smell this you're going to remember all at once that I've got your willpower. whenever you're awake you're gonna forget it, you're gonna think it's all... manmade stage stuff. Like those magicians that hypnotize the ladies in the dresses to pass the ring around them. you're gonna think you told me about how sexy you think people taking control of your mind was, and i'm providing this wierd but fun kink for you."

"When you're awake you know nothing that happens when you're like this is being done that you don't want to happen, but when you take a breathful of this, when you smell me and smell that cologne, you remember all that once that you gave your will to me. You remember that Stanley's the one that really calls the shots, even if you forget and you convince yourself that you're in control, you know deep down that he's got you on a hook..."

"And every time it'll feel just as good to know that as it does now." He grabbed Ford's hand and ground his palm against his crotch and Ford moaned out the next "Yes Stanley"

"You're such a good boy, Stanford..." he hummed, and let Ford breathe in the scent for a little longer.

But just a little longer because his own cock was getting to aching a bit from lack of attention.

he unbuttoned his jeans and his own dick let out a delightful throb when it was freed from restriction, and when he pulled ford's hand away, and his brother let out a faint whine, he chuckled.

But he thought he was maybe done with this whole thing... For all that this was an... interesting development, he didn't want a mindless thrall- he wanted ford.

"...When i wake you up, And i change your mind on something, or give you an order, you're going to have just a moment of feeling like this again, all nice and hazy and brainless, and will-less and it'll feel so so good, that even when it fades and you'll forget it happened, you'll feel so good agreeing with whatever i was saying or doing whatever i told you that you'll decide it was your idea to do it in the first place. Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"And every time you're a good boy and obey you'll say...?"

"Yes Stanley"

"Good Boy."

"Now- last instruction-" he properly undid ford's pants and watched his brother shake as his cock was freed from its constraints. it was turning fucking purple at the tip and some part of Stan wanted to feel the weight of it in his mouth...

Maybe later...

"When you wake up you'll be awake, but your brain will be so thoroughly consumed with lust that all that braniac Sixer thought won't come back until you cum until you can't cum any longer..."

"Like- you'll KNOW this is real, but it'll just feel like you were so lost in lust and the fact that you're living out hormonal dreams you had since your teen years is the only part that's really processing in your head."

"Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good Boy."

He ran a hand through Ford's hair, and watched him lean into him, peering at Stan with those big dilated eyes, trusting and open. Because he didn't really have any other choice.

Well- it was Ford's doing to make this whole thing happen- Stan could at least make it good for the both of them.

"Wake up now, Ford. Think for yourself again." Ford blinked once, then twice. his brow furrowed, and his pupils restricted, but the hazy look in his eye didn't fade-

and then both hands came up to press against stan's; Ford not just tilting his head into the grip but practically nuzzling into it.

"Stan..." there was a pained sort of strain in Ford's voice, an almost terrified desparation...

"Stanley i- please-" Ford leaned in, and Stan pulled away from him a bit,just to see what would happen- turned out what would happen was that that sci fi survivalist shit would kick in because Ford growled and threw himself forward, pushing stan back until he was straddling him.

"Dont you run away from me-" Ford growled, and-

okay yeah he was JUST starting to see the appeal of being in control he wasn't all too keen on getting rid of it now.

"Nah, you're going to let me take the reigns on this one, Poindexter." Stan began to get back up and sure enough Ford's conviction flickered near immediately-

and to be safe he added on- "You WANT me to call the shots on this one, Stanford."

and for a moment Ford's entire demeanor changed, his eyes hazing over entirely and staring into nothing as lids sank down to half mast and he robotically answered back-

"Yes Stanley" Before shaking it off quickly, and, as if he hadn't thought of anything else but for this to be the endgoal, ford went from straddling him, to throwing himself into stan's lap.

"Please-" he whimpered, bringing his hips as close as he could without actually touching Stan's cock with his own.

"Stan Please- i can't- i- i need- I need you..."

it was then that Stan took pity on his poor will-less brother. Stan chuckled and wrapped one hand around ford's sharp hip bone and pulled him as close as he could get, and with the other, he reached between them both and grabbed hold of their cocks, Ford's was leaking so much precum he didn't have to worry about lube.

"Good boy-" He cooed and Ford moaned, jerking his hips harshly into Stan's hand.

they were a couple of old men, they could probably only go a surprise round once, so when Ford moaned his name a few more times, and came so hard some of the drops splattered on the wall behind the both of them, Stan figured his brother would be tapping out quickly thereafter-

only for Ford to surprise him greatly when it was clear both that Stan was not spent himself, nor was he particularly sated.

a six fingered hand wrapping around his dick was one that only existed in his wildest horniest fantasies, but that face, both similar to his and so different, slowly going down- down- down, until that wet hotness of a mouth encoumpassed him, was so out of his imagination that he couldn't really believe it was happening.

Burying hands in that curly hair and thrusting into a willing, delighted mouth until cub dribbled out of his mouth was a fantasy that had never even been considered enough to be entertained. and yet there it was.

and by the time he was dragging ford up to give him the first proper kiss between them his brother was grinding a second erection onto his knee.

That one... he let ford stay like that. grinding against his knee like an animal, it let him watch his brother's face without splitting his attention anywhere.

the mad lustful joy on Ford's face defeated any leftover concern he might have had.

Ford's mind didn't clear until he came again, but by then he was so tired that when Stan tucked him into his bunk and whispered some instructions for tomorrow-

There had been nothing to do but hazily mumble out 'Yes Stanley' and let the feeling of being a good boy carry him into sleep.

and Stan...

Stan had some ideas.

After all, Ford had gotten himself and Stan into this, it was only fair that Stan make sure his brother got all the enjoyment he could possibly get out of it.

[mayapapaya33]

I'm rewatching Exu: Calamity and I think they made a mistake with the name. The real title should be Exu: Actually, Vasselheim has good reasons for how it operates, even if they're dicks about it sometimes. Maybe it was too long, so they went with the snappier CALAMITY! Instead lol.

The end of the Calamity was only 840 something years ago. With Elves and dragons running around, some of them are definitely old enough where, if they didn't live during the Age of Arcanum themselves, their parents or grandparents would have and they would have been told a thousand stories of the fuck heads in flying cities who destroyed the world and were super annoying and dangerous long before they did that. Many more would be born during the latter part of the Calamity or raised by people who survived the Calamity who passes on those stories. Depending on the race we are talking anywhere from direct witnesses (Like the Bright Queen and Ludinus) to like 2-5 generations removed. Even humans with our short lifespans, it's really not THAT long, especially if you've got a bunch of old ass elves around teaching history class from a first person pov for like 500 years lol.

Intellectually people know that Critical Role, the world of Exandria is a post apocalypse story. Exandria is a scarred landscape that is just beginning to bounce back from the brink. But because it is recovering, it's easy to forget sometimes that it IS POST APOCALYPTIC. So people looking at Vasselheim in the modern day are like, 'bro, you really need to chill, everything's fine.' And Vasselheim is like... 'Chill? I do not understand the meaning of this word. And everything is fine... for now. We will be a bastion of civilization when the end times come once more. Fare thee well traveler.'

Then everyone rolls their eyes and moves on with their day. But if you really think about Vasselheim's isolationism and strength and distain for arcane magic in historical context, you can't really blame them. Are they over the top about their dislike of arcane magic? Sure. Is it quite possibly the most understandable over reaction in the history of over reactions? Also yes! They haven't made it illegal, they are just going to keep an eye on you, so you don't pull a Vespin Chloras and doom the planet to another few centuries of choked skies and sundered landscapes, that's all. Vespin was IN Vasselheim! Of COURSE they have strong feelings about it. The (Almost) End of the World began in Vasselheim due to arcane magic. If they had been stricter, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all!

And it really does paint their actions in Campaign 1 in a different light as well. Their isolationism can come across as shortsighted and selfish, until you view it from their point of view. Which is that they are constantly under threat, they know for a fact that Asmodeus wants their city destroyed, they are a bastion for the Prime Deities in a world filled with many heathens (lol that's where the dickishness comes in) and the Betrayer Gods would take any sign of weakness in their defenses and attack with glee. Hearing it in C1 it sounds like an excuse not to help against the Chroma Conclave, but it is literally just the truth from what I can tell. In BOTH Calamity and Downfall they have mentioned destroying Vasselheim being on the Betrayer God's to do list lol. If I was on a Betrayer God's to do list specifically, by name, I too would be somewhat paranoid and would not really want to disarm any portion of the city to go do something else. No matter how important the something else might be.

Vasselheim was basically like; Look, I'm very sorry to hear about your Dragon problem, that sucks, truly, but if we go out all willy nilly and leave this city undefended, it'll be fucked when we get back. When you have a real plan, come back and get us and we'll join you for the big fight. Until then, it's up to you, here you can have Kima as well, she's been desperate to get out of here anyway, and here's some supplies. We have larger concerns than one continent being attacked by four ancient Dragons. We are the seed bank for civilization for when shit inevitably hits the fan. We are the doomsday bunker for the Apocalypse, four Ancient Dragons are terrible, but they are not the Apocalypse. And they are right. Looking at it all in context, The Chroma Conclave are small potatoes. Horrific, monstrous, life destroying, but compared to the threat Vasselheim is preparing for, nothing.

They are the doomsday preppers of Exandria, except the threat is real and they are only letting their collective trauma and ptsd inform their decisions a little bit. They are actually fairly rational all things considered. This city withstood the entire Calamity. The stewards of the city must feel an enormous weight and responsibility to keep it safe going into the future. Imagine the pressure. Are you going to be the one to fuck it all up, after thousands of years? Sounds like a nightmare to me. The level of devotion and conviction required to keep something like that going is incredible.

[keirstarmerhateblog]

Overall, saying everyone should be looking for, if not in, work is ludicrous

As a country we're in the shitter, a lot of workplaces don't even want to hire someone who's God's gift to them, the only workplaces that almost always hire have high turn over because they're vile to work at

Money wise, the system is so skewed that being in work often makes people more poor, especially if they're on hours that don't pay enough to live on but still strip away any welfare

Godforbid they bring the work program back where you had to work full time for the dole or get sanctioned, lots of places loved that 15yrs back as it was free employees

The rich do everything they can that in their money's best interest and its fine, but a poor person does the same and its wrong, you're cheating, you're not contributing

The irony they always talk about "contributing to society" then condemn socialism in the next breath

Maybe if these assholes lead by example, and starmer did a few years work in tesco on the shop floor, tills, and stacking shelves, then he might have a fraction of an opinion to listen to

[covingtons]

transcript under the cut

[HARRISON]: I still can’t believe my babygirl is already off to university

[HARRISON]: You’re going to thrive here Addie, I just know it

[HARRISON]: I want you to have the time of your life here

[HARRISON]: But don’t forget you are still going to be queen someday

[HARRISON]: That means any stupid antics you get up to will follow you forever

[HARRISON]: There are eyes on you at all times

[ADELINE]: I know, Papa. I’m going to be careful, I promise

[HARRISON]: I know you will, but I’m still your father. I’m allowed to worry

[HARRISON]: Things weren’t as public back in my uni days. We didn’t have social media turning everyone into mini paparazzi machines making our lives-

[ADELINE]: Papa, I know!

[HARRISON]: Alright, alright. I’ve made sure all of your things are all set up in your dorm [ADELINE]: Oh, okay!

[ADELINE]: I think the other girls are already inside…

[HARRISON]: Are you ready? [ADELINE]: I think so… Why am I so nervous?

[HARRISON]: Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to do amazing ma belle princesse, but this is where I leave you

[ADELINE]: I love you, Papa

[HARRISON]: I love you more sweet girl

[yuseirra]

Kamiki(+Ai) Mini-analysis

I feel the best part of this work comes from the psychological aspects, it's intriguing how real and complex it can get. It's honestly what's drew me in this time around, and I really hope they revert back to exploring things in relation to it after some dire events get resolved somehow.

Today I wrote a small anaysis of Kamiki's character since he tends to be a bit confusing at first glance: I can be wrong, of course, but I'm confident with my analysis regarding the emotional aspect of things. I felt it would be nice to bring up!

Honestly, I don’t think Kamiki is such a difficult character to understand regarding his mentality. His self-esteem is severely low, so he internalizes all the negative criticism and accusations thrown at him without resistance, accepting them as they are. In fact, he adds to it by blaming himself even more. Sometimes, he even goes out of his way to act in ways that invite misunderstandings. Since he’s already trapped in a state of self-loathing, the fact that he doesn’t bother to make excuses is just an extension of that.

He has an incredibly low opinion of himself. That's because he was constantly mistreated and never been properly loved all his life till Ai came along. At the same time, it’s not like he dislikes people… Ai, on the other hand, seemed to have some defensive feelings toward others, maybe even a little distaste for people (which, in a way, can act as a shield to protect oneself). But Kamiki? When someone comes to him, he’s just happy to have a shred of affection and, like a puppy, he eagerly follows along, giving everything he has. He’s been starved for love. Him trusting people so eagerly and easily—that’s where it comes from. His trust in Ryosuke and Nino is also rooted in this. Kamiki seems to genuinely like people. When he receives kindness, it makes him purely happy… he wants to believe in their good intent and think 'oh, they like it, so it's fine, right? It's a good thing if others are happy' But again and again, he’s taken advantage of and abandoned. And, at some point, he realized—even though it seemed like people cared about him, this wasn’t right. They just used him up and it wasn't real affection that he'd received. The real problem is with those who used him. If they had been decent people, this wouldn’t have happened… But when these things happen, instead of blaming others, he always turns the arrow on himself. His already low self-esteem sinks even lower, and he blames himself and hates himself even more. Ai, on the other hand, had enough of a backbone to protect herself by holding onto some anger toward others. So, even though she couldn’t quite love herself, she could still carry some pride and confidence, enough to live life on her own terms. But Kamiki? When something goes wrong, he blames himself. He tries to rationalize these sorts of situations by believing that it’s because he’s not good enough, or because he’s unworthy, that everyone leaves him. That’s also one of the reason why he lacks aggression—he always sees the fault within himself. Look at the flower bouquet incident. He probably wasn’t at fault at all, but because he bought the flowers, he lied at first and said it was his doing. The fact that it was a lie implies that the rest of what he said was likely the unfiltered truth. If he were truly guilty, the story would have ended in chapter 154, but it didn’t—there was more to it after that.

I’ve mentioned before that you have to dig deeper to understand the real intent behind his words. In chapter 153, he said he killed Ai.

In chapter 154, he changed his story, saying he only manipulated Ryosuke to scare her, but he never intended to kill her.

Then, in chapter 160, the tone softens again—he says he really just wanted to give her the bouquet. And this is the real truth.

What’s happening here is that he hates himself so much that he piles more blame on himself, amplifying his responsibility for what happened. He feels like the person he loved died because of him, and that’s why he can’t forgive himself… But the more he talks about Ai, the more sincere he becomes, gradually revealing his true feelings.

When it comes to attachment styles, Ai had some avoidant tendencies,

While Kamiki shows a lot of traits typical of anxious attachment.

Yet despite this, the two of them clearly got along well. I keep coming back to this, and there’s hardly any room to argue otherwise. The fact that Ai could think so highly of him is honestly so remarkable…

For someone with avoidant tendencies to say, 'I want to live with this person forever,' that means the other person was truly perfect and lovable in their eyes. That’s an incredibly strong bond. I wish people would recognize this... believe in that idea for once, They really did find a huge liking to each other, and that family Ai imagined WAS really possible. They would have built a nice and happy one. It wasn't a messed-up relationship they had. They are tragic because they could have been perfect.

Even though both of them had their own struggles, they were good people at heart, and they surely could have supported each other to live well together. The real problems came from the outside.

I wrote this up as I attempted to draw a piece earlier(going to complete it and post it today!) these are sort of the things that pass through my head when I draw things sometimes

I need to understand the psychology of these characters to at least some degree in order to portray them, I may not be perfect with these, but I really try!