#just let people talk about their ship in peace

[northwestcomixcollective]

post epilogue au bill jerry mandi schizoposting delirium whatever hte fuck Context here im quoting comic books and literature no one on tumblrs ever heard of its mostly for archive purposes and the people that care at least a little bit

i sort of picture bills homosexuality as sort of like a thing he would never admit to or act upon and especially with jerry being the only guy who's ever tried to reach out to him and be kind to him to touch him to reach out etc etc being deprived of human touch for 10 years i definitely think they're gay i picture him as a bukowski or crumb bu,t in the way they objectify and degrade women and not the sort of intellectual type and at the same time bwing q repressed homosexual virgin in his late twenties is something i really want to explore

sex isnt everythinf but seeing how important it is for them and how significative and how women are sexual objects and all i think it definitely affects his view on himselg

i think there's this underlying animalistic urge to be close and be together theyve been around eachother since they were kids they really have no one else that's been through what they've been through and even though jerry wants to let go bill is still stuck on it which is why he's so clingy to jerry he's the only thing he has left really the only person that reached out the only guy that somewhat cares i wouldnt be talking about bill clinging on like a koala ofherwise he really does """"love"""" jerry jn the sense he let him stay he touches his shoulder he gave him a change of clothes despite everything that hapoened see gif below

i definitely want there to be a scene of bill breaking down and being liek Jerry....... i like men.......... and just like crying geeking and jerry holding him close and putting his cold nose on his neck and telling him it's all finewhile holding him he caresses him blalallaa whatever for the first time in like 30 something years he feels appreciated loved and held jerry doesnt even know what he's doing holding this piece of shit garbage scum that said the most obscene garbage to his girlfriend who is in the next room ten years ago i think for jerry its also nice to hold him because his parents never really did it which is sort of shown in the pilot where he holds himself when he's excited or nervous as a self soothing method and he feels like hes giving the love he never really received as a child See picture below

in his mind bill really could change. Because he really could change he just needed the right people around him. the resentment he feels towards bill fluctuates he resents him for everything that happened at comic-con he resents him for never treating him well when they were younger he resents him for waltzing into his house drenched in snot rain and tears and taking up space in what was supposed to be a place he could be comfortable and at peace in

billjer i wanted to compare it to ralf könig's "swiss bliss" but bills friends aren't nearly as tolerant of gays as the guys friends who tell him he isnt gay and he's not like that and they dont believe it theyd straigjt up just exile him i think it's more like "maybe ... maybe not" again by ralf könig picture attached below jerry would never make a move first i think bills vulnerable situation and lack of human contact and sort of praise and appreciation he has for jerry for housing him would sort of bring him to do it i think if they ever got to kiss or make out like this styleit would be during a heated argument or while they're drunk they wouldnt be able to stop thems3lves but if it ever escalates i think jerry could easily let bill go and let him slam his head against something and just go into another room and start pacing fucking freaking out see picture below,

if anyone wants to jump me for shipping bill and mandi its3now or never SCREAM ID YOU LOVE BILL AND MANDI

although i asked dorkin and he already told me it isnt true i still want to explore mandi being the same girl that walked into joe's comic book store in "this monster, this fan" because of the character dynamics i could explore and thoughts and interpretations i dont givea fuck im schizoposting about bill blowing jerry im basically doing whatever i wajt with the already existing comic thog dont care i think they both remember the day really clearly but since bill is so so focused on jerry he barely even glances at her because she was basically violated by like. what 15 men in a comic book store including grown men taking a picture of her like thats vile bill doesnt want to think about it he doesn't want to confront her or say anything ever because the humiliation of already being in someone else's house eating their food taking up space is too much

see earlier mention of crumb

the way crumb depicts women as something divine unachievable incomprehensible and as sex objects and puts them in the strangest most violent situations where is definitely something i see bill in especially in the epilogue where he and the rest just start babbling about how the female cosplayers are too ugly fat or arent white and dont fit their standards the way they're always depicted reading smut pornography or just looking at pinups of women (sometimes in violent situations as well) and the interaction he had at joe's all formed and turned his mindset into something utterly vile negative and disgustifn

see previous mention of bukowski

in this book the narrator is always pointing out faults in women i definitely see him as bill in the sense of being so negative hateful and even when in love he still manages to criticize his potential lover it could be bill and mandi but their relationship is much more complex to me since neither of them actually love eqchpther they just carnally need one another the way he's just really pathetic drunk and all just reminds me of bill as well mandi hates bill for being a man she's attracted to him because he's so fucking pathetic and gross it's exciting bill is attracted to mandi because she's a woman he detests her for being a stupid cunt who speaks her mind and is independent theyre both secretly having an affair one is slightly homoerotic the other one is just straight up abusive bill doesnt like to talk to anyone in the house he's extremely embarrassed and ashamed not only because he's in his friends house living there with his girlfriend who he hates but because he had the balls to reach out for help especially from a guy who beat the shit out of him last time they ever saw eachother mandi tries to talk it out but bill is so unbelievably childish he doesn't speak to anyone or do anything he's just silent i love them because they beat the shit out of eachofher and bill is a sexist pig and mandi is a woman they're all having an affair with eachother if any of them find out the other one is dating everything will go down genuinely but it wont since they're all too busyv hiding something from the other

i definitely think he would crash out on her but in the most like. formal way possible because he doesnt want to get kicked out and its shown he sort of knows when it's appropriate to shut up unlike josh who just starts geeking

+ jerry & mandi sketch im not finishing to get a glimpse into what i picture them both to be. healthy happy and everything good

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 43

Chapter 43 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie begins to work through his internalized homophobia with Bosko, unsure what if he can go home. He doesn’t know how. Buck is trying to keep Chris’s spirits up as they wait for him to find peace with himself and find his way back. To just talk to Buck again.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: internalized homophobia, insecurity

~~~

Chapter 43: The First Step Is Admitting It

Bosko sits with Eddie as he cries for the life he wants and partially has, but that was never his to keep. It feels like he’s crying for hours. His head hurts and his eyes are aching and puffy. It’s very not charming and he’s glad he doesn’t have to go into work tomorrow, because he’s not sure how to explain the traces of tears that are bound to still be visible then.

She softly tells him that it’s okay, that he is allowed to love Buck, that he’s not failing him or anything else he’s internalized.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, because I didn’t think so either, but you’re going to be okay. You’re good too. You’re allowed to feel all the things people told you you’re not supposed to. You’re allowed to exist, Eddie. You’re allowed to be you,” she says intently as she shakes him lightly to make her sure her words sink in.

It’s the first time anyone has ever told him that so bluntly, he thinks. Buck made him feel like that, Chris too, but no one else ever did. Papi doesn’t like who he is, mom certainly doesn’t and he’s pretty sure Shannon stopped liking him the moment she got to know him better, but by then it was already too late.

Eddie has felt shame for as long as he can remember. It clings to him like a second skin and trying to believe what Bosko is saying, feels like skinning himself.

He’s a mess.

At some point, he stops crying, just retreats into himself. Bosko leads him to the couch and he curls into himself, while she makes them some tea. Mayo still hates his fucking guts (and he can’t blame her), but Butter nudges his arm until he lets him sit on his lap, cuddling into him as he mindlessly buries his hands in his fur.

Bosko comes back with two mugs, handing one to Eddie, before plopping down next to him on the couch. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, feeling a bit embarrassed about his breakdown. She must notice, because she says: “If it makes you feel any better, I cried all over Ronnie and he’s my Captain.”

Eddie shudders at the thought of ever letting Bobby see more than a glimpse of this side of him. He could have gone to the others maybe, but Chimney truly can’t keep a secret to save his life and Hen… Well, she’s nice and he trusts her. Maybe he could have gone to Hen, but she would have tried to help and he couldn’t have accepted that. Plus, she is just as nosy as Chimney is. They all are, honestly.

He loves them, but this would not have stayed personal. The only person he would have trusted is Buck and he can’t exactly go to Buck about this, now can he?

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, suddenly overcome by gratitude. “I know I’ve been a dick, so thanks for still being here.”

“Yeah, you are a bit of a dick, but I like you anyway,” Bosko says with a smile. “And Butter likes you, so you’ve been vouched for.”

“Mayo hates me, though,” Eddie points out, though he feels slightly better about it anyway.

“Mayo hates everybody,” Bosko laughs and Eddie manages to laugh too.

They drink their tea in silence, both letting the comfortable moment wash over them. After a while, Bosko breaks the silence by asking: “So, I know bits and pieces, but how did you come to marry Buck when you’ve only just realized you love him and kind of spiraled about it? Wouldn’t you have spiraled before?”

“I mean, I guess I should have, but it was never like that,” Eddie sighs. “I always swatted the thought away, because it wasn’t like that, I wasn’t like that. People who commented didn’t have the whole story anyway and I’m not homophobic, why should I care what people think even if they’re wrong, you know?”

Bosko snorts, then says: “Sorry, too soon?”

Somehow, it’s kind of comforting, so he grins: “Nah, not too soon.”

“Good, because that is hilarious, Diaz,” Bosko laughs.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at my pain,” Eddie faux-complains.

“I’m allowed, I put up with your shit,” she informs him happily. “Anyway, you never answered the first part. How did you two end up married? With a kid, no less.”

And Eddie just tells her. He’s been struggling with thinking about how the two of them came together, didn’t even want to hear about it, but now it comes pouring out. He’s let himself look his past in the eyes, openly and honestly, has let himself think about Buck and has acknowledged that he loves him. He said it out loud and there has only been kindness in return, even if it’s mixed in with Bosko laughing at him.

So, he tells her about a young teen desperate to prove something, though he never knew why. How that got a girl pregnant and how that girl always knew he didn’t love her and how he ran instead of trying to love her, because on some level he knew that too. How they divorced and how she moved on and how he was secretly glad, but also didn’t want to face it, until he was forced to face it, because she ran just like he did.

He tells her how he came face to face with Buck and for the first time, how it felt like someone believed in him, like he knew what he was doing. How Buck is his first friend, his first actual friend. One, who stayed by his side and didn’t run when it would have been easier. How he only got closer and closer, until Eddie didn’t know how to live without him.

As he talks, Bosko listens closely, nodding along and making noises to show she’s still listening.

The mood drops as he finishes off: “So, yeah, uhm, that’s how we got here. And now I fucked it up and he probably hates me and I’d be lucky if he even wants to be my coworker anymore. I’m gonna have to leave the 118 when he is good to work again. Think the 136 wants me back?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bosko says, swatting at him lightly.

“What?” Eddie exclaims. “I’m not being an idiot. Didn’t you hear what I just told you? I’ve been creepily in love with him and forcing him to stay married to me for years and now I’ve abandoned him for weeks. Of course he hates me now.”

“He didn’t want to divorce you, dumbass. The two of you literally fought because he didn’t want to divorce you and he’s picked you over and over again. Didn’t you just say he always stayed by your side and didn’t run even if it would have been easier?” she reminds him. “You’ve been going through something, figuring yourself out is fucking hard. If you tell him, he’ll get it. You two can work through this.”

“Then I have to tell him, I can never do that,” Eddie immediately says.

“Because then he’ll know you were ‘creepily in love with him and forcing him to stay married to you’?” she checks, looking mightily unimpressed.

“Yeah! Exactly.”

“Eddie, it is homophobic to say that.”

“No, it’s not,” Eddie frowns. “It’s true that it’s creepy to be close to someone when you have a crush on them and think things about them while they don’t know.”

Bosko pinches her nose and curses under her breath, before straightening herself back out and looking at Eddie again. “Okay, let me phrase it like this; was it creepy for Chimney to befriend Maddie, even though he liked her?”

“I mean, I guess not, but that’s different, he didn’t marry her.”

“Forget about the being married for a second,” Bosko groans. “You and Buck are friends, right?” He nods. “You got married as friends and you’ve only ever acted as friends, correct?” He nods again. “And you’ve never made an advance on Buck that was unwelcome, just thought about how great he was and how you wanted to kiss him and shit.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Eddie blushes heavily. “And of course not! I don’t want to do anything he doesn’t want me to.”

“Then pray tell, how it is creepy that you are friends with a guy, who wants to be your friend, by the way, and how that is any different from Chimney and Maddie?” Bosko asks.

Eddie thinks about it for a moment, then realization dawns on him: “Oh my god, it was homophobic.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Bosko repeats, this time less ‘I told you so’ about it. “Homophobia is a bitch, internalized homophobia especially. It’s gonna take a while until you can stop that.”

“Internalized homophobia?” Eddie says confused. She used the term before, but he’d been focused on other things then. Now, it registers and he has no clue what she means by it.

“Oh shit, you truly are a baby-baby gay,” Bosko says, slightly horrified. Eddie also doesn’t know what that means, so she spends some time explaining both terms to him, as well as expanding on internalized homophobia with some examples about her own life.

Eddie feels uncomfortably seen by her and it begins to settle in what it means for him, now that he has accepted he loves Buck. Now that he’s no longer running. The things he has to get used to and work through.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go home yet,” he confesses softly. “I- I can’t- I need to process all this, before I can face him.”

“Okay,” Bosko nods simply.

“Okay?” Eddie repeats, unsure if he heard right. He expected her to push back, push him to face Buck like she’s done for most of the evening.

“Yeah, okay,” she confirms. “Processing all this can be a lot and with your complicated mess of feelings and life, I’m not going to force you to live a domestic life with your crush when doing that pushed you to start punching people. You can stay on my couch until you’re ready.”

“Thank you so much,” Eddie says gratefully, so relieved she is going to let him stay.

She hold up her finger, then says: “But, only if you call him. You got to at least tell him that you’re okay and working through stuff. You don’t have to specify what, but talk to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” A phone call still feels impossible, but Buck deserves more from Eddie. He deserves to have Eddie try. For them. For their family.

He can break his own heart to let Buck go, but he can’t let himself break Chris’s. Chris deserves to have his daddy and his papi in his life. He isn’t going to fuck that up. He can be a good father. He can be… gay and a good father.

Bosko looks at the clock and says: “Though maybe not tonight. It’s already 2:00 AM. Are you not exhausted? How long have you been awake?”

“Uh, around lunch,” Eddie replies, starting to feel the exhaustion now that she mentions it.

“Bedtime it is then. Get your ass off this couch so I can put some bedding on it. Do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in? No offense, but you kind of reek.”

“That would be nice,” Eddie says sheepishly. He came her straight after that fight and never changed or showered. It is pretty disgusting.

Bosko ends up herding him into her bathroom, lending him some of her boxers and a shirt, before telling him to not use her conditioner, because it’s expensive. Eddie has never used conditioner in his life, so that’s easy enough.

While he showers, she makes up the couch into a makeshift bed. It’s not as comfortable as his own couch, but it will have to do. So he thanks her before they bid each other goodnight.

He tosses and turns the whole night, trying to figure out what to say tomorrow, until he finally falls into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, his own nerves wake him. Again, Bosko is still asleep and he is glad for that as he sneaks onto the balcony. Butter follows him, settling on his lap when he takes a seat. His purrs soothe Eddie as he gets out his phone with shaky hands, before pressing call.

“Eddie? Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you?” Buck greets him as he picks up, sounding relieved, but also like he doesn’t fully believe it’s real.

Guilt floods Eddie’s system at the words. He should have never doubted Buck’s ability to be worried about him. “I’m okay. I’m at Bosko’s place,” he answers quietly, subdued.

“Bosko’s place?” Buck repeats, a weird tinge to his voice.

“Uh, yeah, I worked with her at the 136? You met her at the shield ceremony,” Eddie reminds him.

“I know who she is,” Buck snaps, the anger he is right to feel coming through now. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s so important about going there that you couldn’t come home or even pick up your fucking phone.”

Eddie winces, he deserves that. “I’ve been running, kind of.”

“Running? From what? Should I be worried here?” Buck asks, still pissed off, but now more in the worried territory again and slightly more calm.

“Uhm, I- I don’t think so? I just-” Eddie makes a frustrated noise. This is not how he wanted this conversation to go. “I’ve been working through some things. Well, I need to work through some things, because I had been working through them, but not in a great way and-”

“Eddie, slow down,” Buck cuts him off. He’s been so relieved Eddie called, then worried, then pissed off and now he’s worried once more. Eddie isn’t the rambler, Buck is. Right now, Buck needs to know what’s happening, needs to know what the problem is, so he can fix it. So, he needs Eddie to be calm and focus. “Tell me slowly; what’s been going on,” he instructs. Over the line, he can hear Eddie take a deep breath.

Butter is purring loudly with how nice Eddie’s stressed petting is. It’s nice, makes him feel like he’s not as much of a monster as he thinks. That helps him swallows his nerves, before he confesses: “I’ve been street fighting.”

“What,” Buck chokes. Out of everything, this was pretty low on his list of possibilities, so low, it wasn’t even on there to begin with.

“It was just a friendly thing at first to cope with the stress, but, uhm, then it got out of hand and it- it got bad, Buck. I was scared to go home,” his voice is small and he’s ashamed of it, but here, alone on this balcony with only Buck to hear, he lets himself feel scared and small. He’s safe. Buck might be mad at him, but he knew the second he heard his voice that he was safe.

Indeed, Buck doesn’t disappoint, asking: “And are you okay where you are now?”

“Yeah, Bosko caught me at one of my fights, I- I realized I fucked up. She offered up her couch while I sort myself out. I’m quitting, so I, uh- I’m kind of staying here now. While I do that.”

“You’re not coming home?” Buck asks and Eddie wants to crawl into the feeling he gets when Buck says the word ‘home’ and stay there forever, but also crawl out of his own skin at the disappointment in Buck’s voice.

“Not yet, no. I’m sorry. I- I know I should have been home, I know I haven’t been, but I- I don’t know how to be home right now.” To his horror tears start to form in his eyes. His first instinct is to push them down, but then he remembers where that got him, so he lets them flow. Silently, they drip down his face.

“Do you- do you know when you’re going to be ready to be home again?” There is something fragile in Buck’s voice too.

“Uhm, no,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t. It feels like the wrong answer, it feels like he should be going home right now and embracing Buck and begging on his knees to be forgiven, to be loved, but that is exactly what he can’t do. He’s ruined enough, he can’t ruin it more by dumping this all on Buck before he figures himself out. Before he’s safe.

“Chris misses you,” Buck tells him and it doesn’t feel like a change of topic, but like an attempt to persuade him.

“Yeah, I- I heard your voicemail,” Eddie replies, voice thick. He feels horrible about not seeing Chris, about abandoning him too.

“Oh…” Buck is quiet for a moment. “Can you not see Chris or can you just not come home?” The underlying ‘can you just not see me’ hangs unspoken in the air between them. “Maybe you can pick him up for school tomorrow? Before your shift.”

Eddie is still scared about doing something to hurt either of them, but it also feels like he released some of the pressure by talking about it. Butter isn’t scared of him. He hasn’t hurt this fragile creature. He’s been gentle. Besides, he’s no longer angry, he’s just exhausted. Exhausted and confused and not ready. He’s just not ready.

However, just being not ready isn’t a good enough excuse. He’s never been ready to care for Chris and he has already failed so many times, but by god has he always tried and like hell is he going to stop trying now. So with a hoarse voice, he says: “Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Good, good. He’ll be thrilled to hear that,” Buck says and Eddie can picture the wobbly smile that’s on his face. He wishes he could make it better, but he doesn’t know how. Buck is the one who is good at fixing things, Eddie only breaks them. “Want me to wake him so you can talk to him?”

“No. Uhm, no, it’s okay. He needs his rest and I- I’ll see him tomorrow,” Eddie says. He feels like a mess, he doesn’t want Chris to see this part of him. He needs time to pull himself back together.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Buck agrees, while clearly disagreeing. “What do you want me to tell him? He needs some sort of explanation, he knows you’re not working.”

They talk a little more about the logistics of it all. It’s stilted and uncomfortable, a lot is unspoken between them. Eddie feels a longing to say more, but he can’t bring himself to do so and Buck probably knows that there is more. It’s like there is glass between them. Eddie hates feeling so distant from Buck, but he doesn’t know how to bridge it.

When he hangs up, he feels vaguely hollow. He knows he did the right thing by calling and that it worked out in the end, but a small selfish part of him wished Buck had been more angry, instead of this quiet, sad understanding that Eddie doesn’t fully grasp. It feels uncomfortable to not understand him, he’s always understood Buck. It’s one of the many things he has broken.

He has no clue how he’s going to come back, if he can even come back to this family he had, the one with Chris and Buck. But that is something for him to figure out. It feels like a new start and he doesn’t know of what yet. It’s scary, but also a little exciting.

The following two weeks continue on in this weird limbo.

Buck explains to Chris that Eddie is helping out his friend, like Buck had to help out tía Maddie, so he can’t be home as much as they want him to. Chris is clearly not very pleased with it, but he lights up when Buck tells him Eddie will be bringing him to school.

He doesn’t see Eddie when that happens, since he’s in the kitchen, while Chris goes to meet Eddie at the door. It absolutely sucks to know Eddie is so close, but not being able to see him or talk to him. Not being able to assess what’s wrong.

Eddie needs space for figure himself out. Space away from Buck. It’s tearing him up inside, but he puts on a brave face and manages. Eddie is clearly going through something, he heard that much in his voice, and it’s something Buck can’t help him with. It’s going to be something he has to get used to when this all ends, might as well start now, even if his heart tears itself apart over it.

Hen texts him asking if it all worked out and he texts her that it’s all okay, Eddie just had a flat tire and they’re good now. Neither of them feel like letting the team in on this. Buck might not have all the details, but it feels private, sensitive. He understands not wanting the 118 nosing about while having to work with them each day. Buck is even a little glad he’s not back at work yet now that this is looming over him.

So, yeah, Buck manages. He hands the phone over to Chris at night so daddy can be there for bedtime and stays in the kitchen when Eddie drops Chris off or comes to pick him up.

Meanwhile, Eddie is trying to figure himself out. To create a place for himself where he is at peace with who he is and where he stands in the world. Not fighting people is hard, but he and Bosko spar one time and it doesn’t feel out of control. It feels just nice. Like a work out would. Not like anything special.

Eddie goes to a gay club, kisses a guy and it feels great and like he wants to throw up. It’s right, but it’s wrong. He wants to do it again, feel something close to what he felt. But the guy is okay looking, yet not attractive to him. Not really. Not like Buck is…

He learns a bunch of new terms, like demisexual, which makes him feel at home. And he meets a bunch of queer people from all walks of life. Listens to stories that resonate deeply, allowing him to lose a bit of that anger and the shame. Allows him to let go of the idea that these feelings are something he has to control, something he has to beat into submission.

Beyond that, he briefly gets to meet Heather and Kelsy when they drop of Tubs and he and Bosko spend all night analyzing what their interactions were like and if they have faith in the relationship while Eddie falls in love with Tubs.

He finds peace with himself, releases the pressure that had been building inside him in different, healthier ways, until the urge to punch someone has dissipated. Until he feels safe again. Both for himself and for others.

However, finding peace with himself, doesn’t mean an answer to the Buck conundrum appears before him.

The time spend away from him only confirms what Eddie already knows; he is deeply in love with Buck and it’s not a fleeting thing. It’s not going to go away, not anytime soon at least. It lingers in every quiet moment and fills the space between his organs until it is everywhere and he doesn’t know how to be himself without it.

Bosko tells him he should just rip the band aid off and tell Buck, face the rejection or embrace the possibility that Buck might love him back. But Eddie isn’t so sure.

Having the rejection might help him move on, but it’s also too painful to even think about. If he never tells, Buck never has to know and maybe he can fix this and go back to how they used to be, learn to live with the torch he carries for Buck silently. Keep him close and never let him go.

It’s an utterly selfish thing to do and he knows it, but he wants to. He wants to keep Buck. Wants to keep his friend. His person. If he just gives himself more time, maybe he can work out a way to be forgiven. To make it right.

The idea that Buck might love him back is too ludicrous to Eddie to even consider.

As the second weekend comes closer, it becomes clear that Eddie isn’t coming home soon. Chris returns with a good grade for his project and Eddie congratulated him in the car much like Buck did when Chris got home. However, Chris doesn’t seem happy with it.

While the two of them eat dinner, Buck asks: “What’s wrong, Superman? An A might not be an A+ like you hoped, but it’s still incredible. You did really well. What got you so down?”

Chris shrugs and pushes the food on his plate around. “I thought that if I did well, daddy would come home to celebrate, but he’s working this weekend and staying with his friend.”

Buck’s heart breaks for Chris, but there isn’t much he can do. Eddie is working through something and that’s important too. Not to mention that he’s actually working, not running like before. He can’t change that for Chris, even if he wants to.

“That does suck, buddy, but we can still celebrate,” he says, trying to inject enough cheer to convince Chris. “What do you think about the two of us going to check out the pier this weekend? We can try to win some cool prizes, maybe win a big one to make daddy jealous for missing it.”

It’s not perfect, but Chris lights up at the idea. “Can we, papi?”

“Of course,” Buck smiles back. He might not be able to fix what is going on with Eddie, but he can fix this. Going to the pier together sounds like a great idea. A bit of fun, it’s just what they all need to get their minds off everything.

~~

A/N:

wave emoji, wave emoji xp

Y’all I have discovered the glee of subjecting everyone to this, people calling me evil in the comments is fueling me >:3

[avispraeda]

So I'm gonna admit, I had a moment of weakness when I saw the "brothers" line because to each their own, enjoy what you want, but that's not really my cup of tea if you catch my drift. But I sat and thought it over and came out the other side with an even greater appreciation for TreyRid.

And I've just!! Gotta ramble. For all the people I see saying we were robbed.

Trey seeing Riddle as an incredibly smart little brother highlights the importance of their bond in that moment--and just in general really. It's different from just being close friends, it's not often you reach that level of connection and start seeing another person as not just friends, but family without a deep trust and enjoyment of each other, especially from someone who does have actual blood siblings he also really cares about. It's not romantic (right now) but he loves Riddle so much that a large portion of the changes in Trey's dream are literally about wanting him to be happy.

He knew this kid for all of 3-ish months before they were separated, and yet he held on to his memories of Riddle for so long that he went around excitedly talking about him to all his dorm mates! You have not seen hide nor hair of this dude for almost a decade how are you still this devoted to him (it's partially The Trauma oops). And then if that wasn't enough, he spent the entire previous year trying and failing to reforge some kind, ANY KIND of friendship from square 1 while effectively treading water with managing the dorm. He didn't volunteer for this! He could've easily decided nah, screw this, I wanna support him as a regular student instead of vice and either quit the job or, if drastic measures felt needed, peaced out to Octavinelle or some other dorm! But he stayed, and he tried to make it work!

And now post-blot they're getting there, they're both aware they missed each other and that the distance was from repressed feelings rather than a bond broken. They're goofing around again, facing off in games and eating lunch together as a casual thing and just enjoying each other's company. They're letting their feelings show more often (ex: Riddle admitting to feeling like a burden in the Savanaclaw novel after Trey gets hurt). According to Cater they're often together, likely even before Riddle's overblot. There's still so much work they need to do, they're both still deeply traumatized (again thank you Cater lol mvp) and need time to come to terms with what happened. But even though it's only been a few months since they've been back on friendly terms, Trey still admits he holds Riddle to this high familial regard. Trey overtly loves and cares about Riddle SO damn much, and that's canon! Like this might be the most blatant it's ever been stated from Trey's end! Unless I'm being a fool and forgetting! Which I might be!

And here's the thing, they're both still young! Not even out of school yet! And feelings change over time. Sometimes those familial feelings do grow into romantic ones, and sometimes they remain familial. It's a slowburn ship, where as they continue to gradually pick apart and wipe down and stitch up those traumas, those feelings can morph into romance as they watch the other grow and heal. And that's coming from someone who loves exploring a romantic dynamic while they're still in school together heeheehoohoo.

Maybe Trey gets feelings as Riddle pulls away from his mom and matures, heals physically and mentally, the need for coddling fades. Maybe he ends up realizing that the way his heart races when he sees Riddle smile is different from when Chenya smiles, has always been different, and he wasn't able to recognize it until he worked through some of that Mrs Roseheart trauma. Maybe he already knows there's romantic potential there but also knows neither of them are ready for that sort of thing yet. Maybe it ends up being a lifelong queer platonic partnership. There's so many possibilities for their bond it's making my head spin.

I could go into the details of how Chenya being housewarden instead is a change made as a means to an end regarding both his yearning for his friend there to help in the previous year and how denying Riddle the role lets him be free from the pressure and weight of expectations, rather than overt dissatisfaction with Riddle's as a leader (thank you Ortho for that little addition). Or how Trey realizing that Riddle---the QUEEN---always gets the first tart slice was what helped him wake up on his own. But I think I've made my point.

TreyRid wasn't robbed, it was gifted an amazing foundation to build off of, maybe a few steps away from Trey just outright saying he wants to lick whipped cream out of Riddle's mouth.

[sapphicstoria]

A ship that constantly gets interrupted, & doesn’t get a closure conversation, will never be “over”, by the way. Kitty’s confession was interrupted, their first kiss was interrupted, the letter was interrupted. This is done intentionally, because Kittyuri is a slow burn romance. They’re not doing this, because Kittyuri aren’t important. Honestly, they’re one of the most important dynamics in the show. Kitty and Minho leaving together does not mean they are endgame, the endgames are not decided. But Gia Kim confirmed Yuri has feelings for Kitty, and the show runner said the love triangle is never really over. I’m tired of people constantly invalidating Kittyuri as a ship, and trying to gaslight the shippers that they’re done and we should stop talking about them. When’s the reality is, is that they’re not done and the show is pointing more towards their endgame than anything else. 🤷🏻‍♀️ people just need to focus on their ship, and let people do the same.

[thequeenofsastiel]

Thinking about this:

So what I love about this is how completely accurate it is to describe your kink orientation as a "need". Because it's not just something I would like out of a relationship. It's not a want. It's a need. I'm actively unhappy in vanilla relationships(or that one time I spent a year trying to be in a relationship with another sub *shudder*). I need to be able to submit to my partner. And honestly I just need to be able to submit in general. Not having that feels like I'm suffocating. So Louis saying that he and Armand had figured out what they NEEDED from each other, not wanted, but needed, is perfectly accurate.

Also look at the love in their eyes!!!! You'll NEVER convince me that they weren't in love in Dubai.

[luminouslotuses]

why does every femslash ship always have people who go “they look like sisters” or even insist that those characters ARE sisters (literally just pulling that info out of their ass)

like i hate to be that guy but if this goes for Every sapphic ship you encounter that may be something you need to rethink. possibly. probably . but what do i know

[icequeen-07]

why are there anti max memes in my lads tag

[5sospenguinqueen]

The Wrong Bull | Mark Webber x Interviewer! Reader

Summary: Mark was enjoying a private relationship with his favourite F1 interviewer. Until the internet started shipping you with his biggest rival

Warnings: Malaysia 2013. A lot of fabrication ie made up insta names. Swearing. Suggestive content. Indulgent blurb because who doesn’t like the idea of needy/possessive Mark. 

Requested: No

F1 Masterlist

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its_yn just posted

liked by markwebber, f1 and others

its_yn happy malaysia grand prix weekend! i’m very happy to be in the paddock this weekend bringing you the insight on how our eleven teams are doing

6,622 comments

danielricciardo can’t wait to see you. always bring me the most interesting questions

→ its_yn and you always bring me the most random answers

user1 my fave interviewer. i love the way she lovingly bullies the drivers. they’re always so engaging with her

jensonbutton now that’s a handsome man

→ its_yn thank you, i try 

→ danielricciardo but i’m the one with random answers?

user2 i’m so happy you’re in the paddock. you have the best rapport with the drivers and always have the best interviews with them

skysportsf1 when all the drivers beg for you to be there, we can’t say no

→ its_yn aw, you guys. i knew you loved me really

→ sebastianvettel of course. the prettiest interviewer we have

→ user3 oh, well then, get in there vettel

→ user4 sebastian making his move

user5 vettel winning on and off the track

user6 no way he bagged the hot sky sports presenter

user7 okay but the way she was smiling at him

→ user8 and the way he looked at her? talk about heart eyes

user9 if they need a third or a dog, i can bark

user10 ngl i thought jenson button was going to win her over

user11 okay, let’s chill a second guys. they just entered the paddock together

→ user12 we might be seeing the beginning of their relationship! how can any of us be calm. used to pray for times like these 

→ user13 yes but we don’t want to scare them off before we get confirmation

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Back resting against the wall of Mark's driver room, legs curled beneath you, you flipped through your notebooks. Going through your notes, you occasionally jotted something down, deeming it worthy of potentially mentioning during any interviews later. The sound of the lock turning had your head snapping up in time to see Mark's tall stature fill the doorframe. His eyes landed on you instantly, and he wriggled through the small gap he had created, blocking you from view of whoever was on the other side. A few short sentences later, Mark had managed to provide an adequate excuse to be alone. The door shut with a quiet click and Mark assured you it was locked.

"What are you doing here?" Mark questioned, the soft smile on his face assuring he wasn't opposed to the sight of you in his room. "Shouldn't you be out bothering more important people?"

"More important than you?" You shot back. "I've been put in charge of the post-race interviews today so I've got a bit of a break."

Mark took note of your jacket hanging on the back of his door, and your shoes at the foot of his massage table. His things surrounded by your things. And he was warmed by how comfortable you were here. In an endeavour to find some peace admit the chaos of the paddock, you took refuge in his room. The notion stoked the little fire of possessiveness within him.

"So, you're just going to hide out here until the race?"

Your pile of snacks, the circle of papers around you, and his jumper hanging from your frame told him all he needed to know. He just wanted - no, needed - to hear you say it. Especially after he'd overheard some of the drivers teasing Vettel during the Parade. About you, and the internet's speculations. And how if the German ended up on the podium, then how could the "pretty interviewer" say no to a date. So, regardless of the fact that it was his name and number splashed across your body, he still needed to hear you say it. To confirm that you were his and his alone.

"Until I'm needed, then yes," you smiled, watching as he slowly approached.

The white fireproof clinging to his muscular arms flexed as he placed them on either side of you. His race suit was wrapped around his waist precariously, looking ready to fall apart with a slight tug.

He angled his head down towards you, cheeks dimpling when he grinned. "And if I say you're needed right now?"

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to close the small gap he had left between you. "What exactly am I needed for, Mr Webber?"

His eyes darted down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Before you could register that he'd moved, his mouth was on yours, moving against you and swallowing your surprised squeak. His arms wound themselves around your midsection, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body pressed into you instantly, and you melted into his touch.

Sliding your hands into his hair, you tugged at the short strands so as to pull him off you in order to catch your breath. As he didn't need oxygen more than he needed you, Mark's lips continued moving. His lips moved across your jaw, under your ear and down to the fluttering pulse in your neck, leaving a fiery path as he moved. A whimper was pulled from you when he sucked gently, your back arching into him. Paper crinkled beneath you when he lowered you onto the bed.

"Mark," you moaned, "you don't have time."

"Shh," he whispered against your skin, crawling atop you, trapping you between his body and the massage table. It have a groan of protest but he paid it no mind.

Not when your hands slid under his fireproofs, stroking the heated skin of his abdomen before trailing lower. With one pull, the knot of his race gave way, removing the cushioning that had prevented his hard length from pressing into you. A throaty groan escaped him when you rolled your hips against him.

Mark chuckled at your sudden eagerness. "What happened to not having enough time?"

"You shouldn't be so tempting."

Knowing that you craved him as much as he did you had Mark reconnecting your lips, moving with more fervour. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. His hips jerked against you when you pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking gently. Mark's hands slid down your hips, reaching around to palm your ass and pull you flush against him. The throbbing in his underwear intensified.

Two sharp raps on the door made your eyes snap open, fear flitting across your face when the door handle rattled. Mark pressed closer to you once more; not in lust but worry that someone would see you in the dishevelled state he had created. That was a sight for his eyes only.

Another knock came before a deep voice called out for the driver. "Christian wants to see you for a pre-race chat."

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

Mark groaned before looking down at you. Lipstick smeared, cheeks flushed and blotches darkening on your neck. He wasn't sure he could go outside. The image of you like this would stay with him, making him strain against the fabric of his suit.

"Go, my love," you whispered, tying his suit back around his waist, ensuring the arms carefully concealed the problem you had created. "And try not to collide with your teammate."

Well, the mention of his biggest rival this year was one way to soften him.

"You'll still be here when I get back? Before I jump in the car?" He pleaded.

He knew the answer. Of course he did. The routine had been the same for the past two years but, as before, he needed the verbal reassurance.

"And why would I do that?" You teased, snickering when the 6'1 man in front of you started to pout.

"Because how else would I get my pre-race kiss?"

"You could away ask Vettel."

The look on Mark's face turned from faux sadness to something much darker. You yelped when his teeth sunk into your neck before he pressed a soothing kiss on the mark he'd left (yes, I laughed at that). Shooting you a wink, he dashed out the door, and you were left alone once more.

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user1 seb really turned on the charm with this one

→ user2 he got away with defying team orders, won the race, and decided to win the girl 

user3 they would make such a cute couple though

user4 idk how yn managed to keep her calm, interviewer face on because if 3x wdc winner sebastian vettel spoke to me like that, i’d be giggling and twirling my hair fr

user5 okay i wasn’t a fan of the sebastian/yn train earlier but this interview may have convinced me 

user6 i love how she’s trying to stay unbiased but you can see that she’s impressed with vettel’s racing today 

→ user7 i actually thought she was a bit short with him for a change

→ user8 no i agree. her energy felt off. usually she laughs when they’re flirting

user9 did anyone else see webber watching them in the background?

→ user10 vettel needs to sleep with one eye open

user11 everyone talking about sebyn but i swear she kept looking behind him at mark

→ user12 mark defo smiled at her when they made eye contact 

→ user13 bfr, she’s clearly into seb here 

f1 just posted

liked by its_yn, redbullracing and others

f1 and it’s a 1-2 for red bull! oh, sorry, was that meant to say 2-1? 

9,222 comments

redbullracing that’s our bulls

→ user1 i didn’t realise we celebrated defying team orders

→ user2 oh please. sebastian was faster. mark needs to just accept that 

its_yn well done, team red bull

→ user3 it’s okay, sis. you can say well done to the love of your life for winning 

→ user4 vettel getting a celebration better than a champagne shower later 

user5 f1 is foul for this lmao 

→ user6 love how they used the pics where mark looks the most pissed off

sebastianvettel very good race. well done, team 

→ user7 he sounds so polite like he’s not a certified track terror 

user8 i’m in love with admin today. they knew what they were doing with this caption 

jensonbutton has anyone heard from mark since the podium?

→ fernandoalonso he’s yapping my ear off until all the conferences are done

user9 poor mark. he looked ready to throttle seb when they were doing interviews

→ user10 omg was that the one where seb was flirting with yn??

→ user9 yes! webber was stood behind him looking murderous. so hot 

user11 not to be one of those but i saw yn comforting mark after the race

→ user12 before or after her flirty interview with seb? 

→ user13 not fans trying to push yn and webber based on their 3 interactions when all this seb and yn content is right there

user1 sorry but no one can convince me that she didn’t just have a celebration romp with vettel

→ user2 yes! got to celebrate his win properly haha

→ user3 when he asked if she had plans later knowing she’d end up in his driver’s room

user4 dishevelled clothes, messy hair and her red lipstick from the morning gone? did someone say driver’s room sex

user5 she really does look like she got dicked down good 

user6 it’s the fact that almost everyone from the garage has left and she still got caught, bless her

user7 no because imagine angry sex with mark webber after that race

→ user8 oof, i never saw mark that way before but his face on that podium has me feeling some kind of way 

→ user9 i love how everyone is thinking of seb and your magnificent brain thought of mark

→ user7 i’m just saying, if i had to pick between the blonde twink or the angry, tall aussie, i know who i’m going with 

user10 okay but imagine it was mark’s room she snuck out from. seb stole his win so mark stole his crush 

→ user11 revenge, hate sex 

user12 did anyone else see the two marks on her neck during the interviews earlier though? i don't think post-race was the first taste miss thing got today

user13 damn, i always thought vettel would be good but he looks like he did a number on her 

markwebber just posted

liked by redbullracing, danielricciardo and others

markwebber please can you stop "shipping" her with the wrong bull. she’s mine

7,012 comments

its_yn and has happily been yours for two wonderful years

→ user1 they’ve been together for two years?!

→ user2 excuse me, two years and they kept it from everyone?! 

fernandoalonso does this mean i lose elite status as the only one who knows?

→ jensonbutton you knew! 

→ lewishamilton of course he knew. although i feel a little blindsided 

user3 no because i was fighting in the trenches for mark and yn whilst y’all were pushing the sebyn agenda

user4 who taught him to take the most romantic photos ever

→ markwebber yn did

→ its_yn i trained him good, ladies, so back off

redbullracing members of the garage have asked that you keep any noise in the driver’s room to a minimum. please and thanks

→ user5 so she did get her back blown out after the race by angry mark

→ user6 living my dream

→ its_yn i see you. he’s not for you anymore

jensonbutton genuinely did not see this coming. ngl, i was convinced yn was with seb

→ redbullracing so did we. we got sucked into all the twitter theories. they made a convincing case

→ its_yn @/redbullracing we had to disclose our relationship to you?

→ redbullracing i know. that’s how convincing they were

→ markwebber @/christianhorner how do i file a complaint about admin

user7 the height difference between them 🥰

→ user8 the height difference between them 🥵

danielricciardo well, there go my chances 

→ markwebber you’re too young for her, mate

→ danielricciardo yes but clearly she has a thing for aussies

→ its_yn just the one ;)

user9 no wonder he was angry. seb stole his win and then poor mark had to watch him flirt with his girl

→ user10 and watch as the entire internet shipped his girlfriend of two years with that win-stealing man 

sebastianvettel oh

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requests are open. i promise your requests are on the way. i'm just slow haha

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[soursherbat]

LAMB X BISHOP MASTERPOST YEAAAA!!!

(original template link)

this genuinely took me so long but i needed to explore my ship dynamics with ramzi and his bishops! more details under the cut if you want to know more- warning this post is LONG!!!:

[edit: i was obviously rlly sleep deprived while writing this so im editing it for better readability, including using more consistent pronouns for everyone bc reading it back this post. was very hard to parse 💀]

in order, just adding notes and addendums :3c im super sleep deprived so im trying my best but i need to yap about them

ramzi's pronouns are it/he/they!

narinder;

initially a very slow burn relationship, this sheet shows them at their peak. it takes a very long time for the lamb to forgive narinder, and vice versa, but once they're over their differences they're committed.

notes;

he/they for narinder :3c he's bisexual with a preference for masc presenting people! (using he/him for this post)

prefers to be the big spoon but will allow ramzi to take that spot if it really insists on it

reaallly loves to wear the lamb's fleeces and cloaks (the only clothing of theirs that will fit him) but is too proud to directly ask for them

narinder really does not like most people- the only ones he usually socializes with are ramzi and his siblings, possibly a follower he can tolerate for a few minutes. if ramzi is talking to others while narinder is shadowing him he tends to just flick his tail and sulk quietly until his lamb gives him attention again

narinder isn't great with words, he prefers to show ramzi his love with physical affection (in private) and acts of service, while ramzi is more than willing to shower narinder with loving words and acts of devotion

ramzi refuses to confess its feelings to narinder first, full stop. narinder waits and waits, but eventually gives in and tells ramzi how he feels first- ramzi is still feeling bitter and betrayed by narinder, not appreciating them snatching it from its peaceful death to be a tool in his games. they're both incredibly conflicted, it takes a long while for them to work their differences out. its not something that can be solved with a single conversation, but eventually they come to terms with everything that's happened and make amends

ramzi wouldn't actually squash the bug- it'd prefer to just grab it and take it out of whatever space its invaded, narinder will just smack it and be done with it

im just applying the driving one if i ever make a modern au lmfao

narinder cannot cook to save his damn life after being locked up for so long- ramzi had to learn quickly being raised by ratau, i'll be real i dont think that rat knows how to cook

that prickly cat would prefer not to show his love for the lamb in public, but he might sneak a kiss while no one is looking... ramzi however doesn't care, though it does like to fluster narinder a little by flirting while others are around

these two would kill for each other, narinder is practically begging the lamb to let him do so actually- nari is described as the lamb's shadow (affectionately) by most because of how often he's seen just following it around the cult. god help you if you confess your love to the lamb while he's around- though ramzi does get pretty jealous if it sees anyone making eyes at his special kitty...

nari is 4,000 years old virgin to me lmao. ramzi has had a few relationships before narinder, it actually marries shamura before nari- they're not beating the toxic yaoi allegations any time soon they were still battling their resentment around that time

i'll touch on the spicier dynamics in a dedicated post sometime >:3c that'll apply to the rest too-

i wouldn't describe narinder as being awkward, but moreso stoic and lost really. he's also just incredibly pissed off with ramzi, feeling robbed of his rightful status as a god and feeling jealous of everything its built for itself in such a small amount of time- later on he's more flustered than nervous or awkward because that damned lamb wont stop flirting with him

gods help you if narinder even sees you making eyes at the lamb. he's incredibly possessive over his former vessel, its perceived rejection of him made something in him snap and they want to possess it, even if he knows that's not exactly plausible... he's normal, i swear (<-lying) ramzi returns some of that energy, it really does not like followers flirting with its favorite cat- i'll be the first to admit that they've got some toxic codependency going on

-

leshy;

leshy uses any pronouns! he really just don't care that much, same with his sexuality (using he/him for simplicity for this post)

these two fight over who gets to be the big spoon, since they're nearly even in height (leshy tries to argue his branches make him taller) it makes it easier for them to trade big/little spoon positions- but theyre so competitive they end up wrestling over it

leshy can't even see the clothes he's wearing, but he likes the idea of ramzi matching with him, even if he won't directly admit that

ramzi is rarely called by name when leshy is around, it's always 'lambzi', 'lamby', 'cottonball', or any other seemingly sarcastic pet name he can come up with for it- meanwhile ramzi often calls him 'wiggler' or 'wormy'

compared to leshy, ramzi is a little less outgoing. leshy loves to be the center of attention, he loves to pull pranks and cause mischief whenever he can.

ramzi's quick to let leshy know he is loved through any means, though surprisingly leshy is a bit more inconspicuous about showing his affections for his lamb through old traditions it clearly has no clue about but leshy gets a bit of joy watching its confusion (shamura tells it later-)

these two have a pretty easygoing relationship, at first leshy is upset about his lost godhood but he quickly begins to like staying with the lamb when he learns how accommodating and, frankly, extremely chaotic it is- they get along very well and have a teasing, poking and earnestly soft relationship rather early on. leshy admits his feelings first, mainly getting fed up that ramzi hasnt confessed that it obviously likes him by that point

neither of them mind bugs, leshy actually likes them quite a bit. they'd prefer to catch and release rather than smash them

the poor worm is blind of course he cant cook!! he might be able to if he really focused on building muscle memory and focusing his senses but he's honestly just too lazy to bother, heket's cooking is better anyway

leshy doesn't care if anyone is looking, he loves his lamb! he gets a little embarrassed when they know its siblings are around, but she does get a kick out of knowing he's making narinder jealous

ramzi would lay down his life for his precious chaotic grub, it knows leshy is more than capable but it can't help but worry sometimes- leshy knows ramzi can handle itself so he's pretty relaxed about everything, unless ramzi comes home particularly hurt

i like to think leshy was a bachelor in his time... why not?? he's the bishop of chaos, im sure he's started a love triangle intentionally to watch them fight over him- ramzi however is a little less experienced in romance

leshy has not an ounce of awkwardness in his body, ramzi's a little awkward when he says something particularly unhinged but otherwise they match each other's freak a little too well

leshy would never admit to ramzi that the smell of anyone else stuck to his wool makes leshy a little jealous... another reason he likes to lend his clothes to ramzi, really-

-

heket;

she/they/he for heket, she's bisexual with a preference toward women (using she/her for simplicity on this post)

heket is the big spoon, no questions asked. she loves to cradle that lamb in her arms and it is NOT one to complain about that

heket doesnt lend out her clothes very often, but she likes to see how baggy they are on ramzi- she quite likes seeing it wake up wearing her shirts...

ramzi is incredibly formal with heket, usually referring to her by name or some honorific to show its respect (something she appreciates greatly)- meanwhile heket is always referring to the lamb by anything but its name, really

heket's level of social battery depends on the day, some days she would prefer not to speak to anyone, others she's more outgoing

heket shows her affection by making sure ramzi isn't overworking itself, making sure it's eating and sleeping- she knows it can care for itself, but she just wants to protect her lamb.

there's absolutely no way heket would swallow her pride and confess her brewing feelings for ramzi, she waits very patiently for it to finally get its nerve up and admit that it wants to pursue a relationship with her- after (mostly) healing her throat, she doesn't feel so lonely in the cult once her voice returns and she begins to feel conflicted about ramzi... she wants to hate him, but it's doing everything they can to help her siblings and she can't help but respect and admire it for that, she would admit that she would never consider it if she was still a god-

heket thinks bugs are cute, she'll either catch and release them or keep them in a little container for a bit (she's never beating the weird little sister allegations to me)

ramzi's cooking definitely is not as good as heket's, if it cooks a meal the whole cult is asking when it's heket's turn next LMAO-

PDA ruins heket's cool and stoic exterior in her eyes, though she can't just say that to the lamb- she'll gladly give it a hug or a kiss when nobody's looking, though

honestly, ramzi is just protective over all of the bishops. it feels terribly for killing them repeatedly and making them suffer in purgatory, and it never wants to see them suffer again- heket knows the lamb is strong, she's seen it with her own eyes. that doesn't stop her from worrying for it a little when it leaves on a crusade, however...

heket has some relationship experience, though its been a WHILE- forneus and ramzi are her most recent romantic endeavors and she's incredibly awkward about both of them

heket is insanely awkward, she tries to maintain a cool exterior but it's so hard when that damned lamb is so cute and that sweet cat mom is so kind and shaped- whats a woman to do in her situation??

she can get a little bit jealous if her buttons are pushed on the wrong day, but other than that ramzi and heket have a pretty open relationship

-

kallamar;

any pronouns for kallamar! though he/she are most preferred, she's very lax about his gender and loves to experiment (using he/she interchangeably, lamb is referred to by it/its for simplicity)

despite being nearly a full foot and a half taller than ramzi, kallamar loves to be its little spoon! he feels so safe in his lamb's embrace, she would never leave if it was possible

none of her clothes would fit the lamb, but he does have clothing made for it often! he'll be damned if he lets ramzi walk around looking anything less than presentable, even if its naked it must be TASTEFULLY naked- (though his definition of what that means is a bit nebulous. ramzi's convinced he just wants to ogle)

they love to make up pet names for each other, 'mari' and 'kallie' are ramzi's favorites to use for its precious husband. kallamar is particularly fond of calling ramzi his puppy, often flustering it-

kallamar is a YAPPER and she will not shut up about how much he loves her lamb! ramzi doesn't mind it, but she's often talking so much that it can't properly find the words to express it back- so it gives gifts often, knowing how much its wife loves to adorn himself in jewelry and silks!

ramzi is actually a little bit intimidated by kallamar's experience in love and how pretty he is, kallamar ends up making a very dramatic love confession in front of everyone, totally flustering ramzi (though it has to admit it really loves the dedication!)

he is TERRIFIED of bugs kallamar will shriek so loudly if she finds even a small beetle anywhere near her living space- ramzi often finds itself catching the little bugs while kallie screams bloody murder in the corner

kallamar absolutely can cook but he doesn't want the responsibility of cooking entire meals for the whole cult so she intentionally cooks like shit to avoid it- ramzi catches onto that pretty quickly though

these two need to get a ROOM the confessional is NOT to be used in that way!!!

kallamar's overprotective attitude mainly comes from a place of not wanting the lamb's image to be ruined, he'll tend to its makeup and wardrobe, even helping to enforce loyalty amongst its flock to keep its image pristine- and kallamar is just an easy bullying target, ramzi is Very quick to put an end to that!

kallamar is absolutely more experienced than ramzi, though he's no less dedicated to it. it makes their relationship very calm, there's very little tension between them!

ramzi is very awkward around kallamar at first, he's pretty indignant and a bit cruel to it during the first few weeks- once ramzi begins offering him gifts and praise she warms up rather quickly, however. ramzi's disarmingly cute appearance and dirty mouth tends to make kallamar a nervous mess sometimes, though...

there's not a single ounce of jealousy between these two 🧍‍♂️ they both understand that they're dedicated to one another, and can dedicate themselves to others without compromising their bond

-

shamura;

they/it for mura! i feel that they enjoy experimenting with their clothing in relation to their gender, but they prefer neutral pronouns (using they/them for mura and he/him for ramzi for readability)

these two take turns on who gets to be the big spoon, though usually shamura claims that spot

shamura loves to weave clothes for ramzi! they enjoy seeing his face light up when they incorporate designs ramzi has shown them that sheep often wore, wanting to keep that memory alive for him

they're pretty formal at first, but the two of them can't help but call each other by loving nicknames once they've become comfortable with each other- ramzi often calls shamura 'softie' or 'dearest'

shamura prefers to keep to themself, though they've grown rather attached to webber. they've basically adopted the little creature, that's their son...

once clarity has returned to shamura through ramzi's healing, they have a better grasp on their words- but they still struggle to word their feelings a lot of the time. they try their best, but they find it easier to give gifts or show their affections with physical intimacy when words fail them

shamura is incredibly paranoid and wary of ramzi's presence when they're first indoctrinated, until they finally break bread and reach an understanding, shamura doesn't even consider the lamb could feel anything but hatred and resentment toward them. they assume that he wants revenge, but learns that he just wants to help them- it takes a bit longer for the fear to truly leave shamura, but when they never feel that dagger in their back, they begin to soften he clearly isnt lying to them, he's helped all of their siblings become as happy as he can- and he asks nothing in return of them? it feels too good to be true, but they can't help but trust him eventually ramzi confesses first, and is initially (softly) rejected... but theyre not entirely opposed! mainly conflicted, for a while-

they both love bugs, obviously- though sometimes ramzi gets bitten while trying to show shamura the little spiders he's captured

shamura likes to cook but they prefer liquid only foods- it's not horrible, but sometimes they want more variety

shamura is a bit shy about their relationship with the lamb, they're the least experienced with this sort of thing out of all of the bishops- war and reason have no room for love and compassion, after all. they're learning, with ramzi's help

if someone even LOOKS at ramzi the wrong way, shamura is the first to come to the lamb's defense. both a form of devotion, claiming ramzi as their charge they'd guard with their life, and a form of facing their grief- they'd ended ramzi's life once, they don't want to see it hurt anymore

these two match each other's freak so well its scary- you dont wanna see what happens in the mating tent when these two are in there!!

after shamura's initial wariness and shortness with ramzi fades, they become incredibly shy and awkward- they don't know how to navigate all these new feelings, and they don't really know who to turn to for advice

shamura is very possessive of their lamb- they were the first to be wed by him, after all- not to mention i personally think them being a spider influences this quite a bit,

WOAW THATS IT!!! holy shit thats a lot of text.... anyway if u have any questions abt any of them or want more clarification feel free to send me asks i love to yap abt them all <3

oh boy im not looking forward to putting all the tags on this

[fluentmoviequoter]

For My Husband

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader (no specific characterization for Jason!)

Summary: Jason has had a lot on his mind, including your relationship. You call him your husband on a night out and suddenly everything makes sense.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, too many boat analogies? and completely justified grand theft auto

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

Picture from Pinterest/WFA Webtoon (I love him)

It burns like a searing blade carving deep into him, leaving a scar in its eternally marking wake. The ring in Jason’s pocket grows heavier, weighing on him, and burning him like the scars lining his skin. The same scars you kiss and don’t see as marks but as part of the man you love.

As Jason sits across the table across from you, he thinks about an hour ago when you invited him on a date. He argued at first, not ready to go out in public and be asked about Bruce or see something that reminds him of the time before you. But then you smiled and told him where you wanted to go, your favorite place just outside of town that seemed to attract more tourists or people stopping on their way to Blüdhaven or Metropolis, where Jason wasn’t likely to be recognized or hear someone murmur looks like the Wayne kid. So, he agreed, and now his thoughts drift back further.

Two weeks ago, Jason returned home from a mission with the Outlaws. It was hard on him; there were moments when he thought he lost everything, and the only thing that gave him the strength to fight was the image of coming home to you. Once he was home, he talked about what he could and let your comfort carry away the rest like a tide pulling his worries away to make room for you.

Jason Todd has never felt more like himself than he does in your arms and at peace in your words, your comfort. The last few days of being with you have allowed Jason to realize just how perfect you are, how perfect you are for him. And then he remembers how much he doesn’t deserve you, and the ring gets a little heavier like an anchor, making those tides pointless to do little more than rock his once steady ship.

“What are you getting?” you ask, drawing Jason back to the present.

He looks over the top of his menu, and your smile tugs at him. “The pasta looks good,” he answers. “Hey, since you asked me out does that mean you’re paying?”

You lean forward to whisper, “Which one of us has a card attached to Bruce’s bank account?”

Jason tips his head in defeat, not that he would have let you pay anyway. He’s a gentleman through and through, something you know well, and most of the reason you get the idea to order for him. When the waiter approaches, Jason gestures for you to order first, as always, and you smile at the waiter as you request your favorite meal and a side to share with Jason.

Then, you say, “And my husband will have the pasta.”

You look to him for confirmation, but Jason doesn’t reply. He repeats your words in his mind several times, wondering what you could have possibly said that he misheard as husband. When he decides that there are no other words close enough to 'husband' that fit this context, he looks to the waiter, who is smilingly knowingly with his pencil poised over the order pad.

“Did she say husband?” Jason asks him. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, you lucky man,” the waiter answers. “Was there anything else I could get you?”

Jason shakes his head as you fight a laugh to say, “That’s all, thank you.”

Repeating your words and voice in his head, Jason can’t think about anything else. You watch him, torn between amusement and love, as he gets lost in his thoughts. Jason thinks of your soft gaze, the gentleness and genuine tone in your voice when you called him my husband, and the weight of the ring shifts. It’s not something holding him down, threatening to pull you down with him when you deserve anything but him, but a proposal that he needs to make. It is his anchor, but it’s anchoring him to you. Until he tells you that and asks you to be his wife, you won’t truly understand what you mean to Jason Todd or how you saved him from himself simply by loving him. So, Jason shakes himself out of his reverie and starts an easy conversation with you. But your voice in his mind continues to remind him of how much he means to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped before,” you offer. “Calling you husband.”

“I liked it,” Jason admits with a smile.

“Well, that’s good because I like you.”

After splitting a dessert, Jason excuses himself to pay the bill and tip your waiter.

“Are you proposing?” the waiter asks as he passes Jason the receipt. “We get a lot of people who propose in the restaurant. There’s a moment of clarity right before it happens, between the nervous movements and the actual proposal, where you can see everything shift into place and make sense.”

“I’m in that moment?” Jason guesses.

“Have been since you recovered from being called her husband, I think.”

Jason nods and answers, “I am proposing tonight. Can’t wait any longer.”

“Congratulations.”

“She could say no.”

The waiter smiles as he steps back and prepares to tend to another table. “She won’t. She had the look too, the undeniable love and desire to be with you long after this date. So, congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Jason returns to your table and takes your hand, gentle and kind as he helps you up and walks side-by-side with you. You’ve seen him fight, seen his scars, and know the level of violence he has and can inflict, but there’s something different in how he touches you. How he handles you, not like you’re fragile but like you are precious and treasured. It’s one of many things that you love about Jason.

“We need to make one little stop, is that okay?” Jason asks as he opens the passenger door of a car he borrowed from Bruce’s garage.

“Of course. But if you want to take the scenic route, you can just say so.”

Jason bends forward to buckle your seatbelt for you, and when his face is inches from yours answers, “Then let’s take the scenic route.”

Jason parks the car on a hill before he turns off the engine. You’re on Bruce’s property. You know that because Wayne Manor looms in the distance, a dark shape against the nighttime fog of Gotham. Yet you don’t understand why Jason brought you here, especially when you’re almost sure he didn’t get permission to borrow the car you arrived in.

The door beside you opens, and Jason lowers his hand to help you exit. Here, you can see more stars than anywhere else in Gotham, and your eyes find the sky as Jason’s gaze remains on you.

This hill was once an escape for him, one of the only places he could get far enough away from his family to breathe but be close enough to know where they were. When he returned from the Lazarus Pit and took up the mantle of Red Hood, he spent hours standing on the crest and watching Wayne Manor in the distance, as if it would grow closer or Bruce would throw open the door to welcome him home, broken pieces in tow.

“There’s so many stars,” you murmur. “I thought we’d lost them all to the smog.”

“Not all of them,” Jason answers softly, watching the small lights reflect in your eyes. “I’ve always liked it out here.”

You lower your chin away from the sky and turn to face Jason just as he kneels to be on one knee.

“I came out here a lot as a kid, even when I came back, it was one of the only places that I felt like I could belong. Since then, I’ve found that feeling in you. You’re not just who I think I belong with, though…”

You squeeze Jason’s hand gently and step closer to him, your joined hands against your hip.

“I don’t deserve you,” Jason admits. “You’re too good for me, more than I could ever earn or come close to being worthy of.”

You shake your head, but Jason smiles as he adds, “But you’re everything I want, need – crave – and so much more. The night that we met, I knew that you were special, I knew that I wanted to be your husband. I’d lost the ability to do anything good. I couldn’t even sleep without seeing everything I’d done or thought I would do; I couldn’t dream anymore. And then I found you, and you came to me like you knew there was something in me that I couldn’t see. You are my everything, but all I want to be is yours. Will you marry me?”

Wiping the tears falling down your face with your free hand, you answer, “Yes! Yes, Jason. I am yours.”

Jason stands and pulls you into his arms in one fluid movement. His arms are strong around your waist as he lifts you gently and spins you beneath the stars. You loop your arms over his shoulders and cling to him.

“Thank you,” Jason whispers against your shoulder.

After he sets you down and moves his hands to hold your waist, you spread your hand over his heart and ask, “For what?”

Jason smiles in the starlight and answers, “For being my wife.”

You slide your hands up and hold Jason’s jaw, leaning forward to kiss him as you murmur, “Oh, I could get used to hearing that.”

[jerryseinfeldisafurry]

I have to speak my peace about Captain Curly

Warning: mouthwashing spoilers

So, I’ve noticed a lot of people saying the same points that are essentially: “Oh Curly is a piece of shit because he just let his buddy get away with assaulting Anya”

And I am here to argue against this point. So at no point does Curly deny, or tell Anya that what she went through never happened, or anything like that. Usually, when somebody “supports their friend” after said friend commits assault, they will react with disbelief, or just general distrust for the person accusing their friend. I feel like the fact that Anya continuously makes small references to the assault situation around Curly, and the fact she talks and is alone with Captain Curly so often, are indicators that she has not been met with disbelief or distrust on his end.

When a victim receives a bad reaction to telling somebody about their assault, they usually do not bring it up or talk about it with that person after that. They also would not have the same dynamic, the same relaxed mannerisms that Anya has with Curly.

Now, onto the point where people accuse Curly of enabling Jimmy, I also don’t think that’s true. They are stuck on a relatively small ship, with no way out for over a year. They can’t risk hurting or punishing Jimmy, because Curly of all people will know how reactionary and violent Jimmy can be. They can’t kill him, because that’s illegal, and Curly is unfortunately responsible for Jimmy considering he is the Captain of the ship. Aside from the fact that, with the way Pony Express is shown to treat the crew, if they harmed or killed one of their own crew members it’s entirely possible that they would not get paid at all, and all the work and time and energy (and suffering, on Anya’s part) would literally be for nothing. Then they also get tried for murder, and they would have to prove that Jimmy did something wrong, they would have to prove that Jimmy assaulted Anya. After half a year of him being dead, with no physical evidence to prove what he did except a pregnancy that they can’t prove was forced upon her.

Curly is not enabling his friend, and trying to sweep the situation under the rug, he is literally constantly trying to deescalate the situation. Curly doesn’t act like he’s just trying to make the situation disappear. When Anya expresses that she’s uncomfortable, she doesn’t even say out right that she doesn’t want to do his evaluation. Yet Curly decides to volunteer despite not really having the experience, and it also not being in his job description. After Anya tells Jimmy she’s pregnant, and she’s scared for her life, Curly goes to try and talk to Jimmy. He tries to get Jimmy to calm down, and to think rationally, he tries to keep Jimmy from acting out. and then Jimmy goes and crashes the entire fucking ship into an asteroid. Even if they wanted to imprison him, there was nowhere to put him. The only places that had locks were the cockpit and medical. We saw what happened when he was in the cock pit alone, and the last place he needs to be is the one place that Anya can really call her own.

When Curly says he’ll talk to Jimmy, that’s not him belittling the situation. He needs to stay calm and reassure Anya that he’s trying to help her. If Curly was immediately like “I’m gonna go kick his ass” or if he insisted on some sort of retaliation against Jimmy, then that would just stress Anya out more. There is no way to keep eyes on Jimmy at all times, and if he faces any punishment over Anya then she knows he will find a way to punish her for it. Aside from the fact that, I think Curly may have done whatever she asked, especially with the way he emphasized he’d do “anything” to help her when she first tells him that she’s pregnant. He informs her that he truly cares about her, her wellbeing is his responsibility.

Anya also seems to be way too forgiving for her own good. Even when she thought Curly tried to kill all of them, all she had to say was that she couldn’t believe that a person’s worst moments make them a monster. If she was willing to forgive what she thought was attempted murder, I’m sure she came up with every excuse in the book for Jimmy. I’m not saying it’s right, I’m not saying she deserved it. She didn’t. What she went through was fucking awful and horrific. But it’s in her nature to forgive people, even when they really don’t fucking deserve it. We don’t even know if she knew she was assaulted the whole time, since there’s a good chance that Jimmy manipulated her into thinking she deserved it/wanted it. It may be possible that she thought she deserved it, and was too ashamed to speak about it openly for a while, with only the feelings of disgust and shame to accompany her.

Let’s also take into consideration that Anya was not the only person Jimmy was abusive to. We saw the way he talked to Curly, especially at the birthday celebration. Jimmy was an abusive dickhead to everyone. The last time Curly tried deescalating the situation before the crash, Jimmy immediately started taking the stuff Curly told him in confidence and using it against him, to make Curly just as miserable as he was. Jimmy turned his own suffering into shared suffering because then he could tell himself that he wasn’t just trying to get away from his own actions, he was trying to HELP his friend, who was also suffering.

My point is, I think too many people are not thinking deeply enough about Curly, as well as the context on the entire situation. They are putting blame on him when he is also a victim of Jimmy. It was literally just an overall shitty situation

[itneverendshere]

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (seven)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: angst; mentions of domestic violence; unhealthy relationships;

For the first time in years, you wake up peacefully. 

No racing heart, no threats lurking behind your closed eyes.

Just... calm. The type of quiet that lets you sink into the warmth of the blankets without a single worry. You’re so cozy, so perfectly at ease, you almost forget where you are and what led you here.

For a blissful moment, all you know is stillness. But then it hits you—this isn't your bed. No footsteps are stomping down the hall, no harsh voices insulting you through your morning peace. 

You blink your eyes open, and it’s a simple little room. Not much here but a heavy old quilt over you, a plain dresser, a lamp that looks like it's been there forever. A small window where the sun is streaming in, bathing everything in a golden glow. 

It’s almost funny, you realize with a little smile. You ran as far as you could, with no real plan except to escape, and somehow, by some twist of fate, you ended up here.

And then you remember why it feels so familiar. 

It’s Rafe’s. 

Your heart flutters around like it’s waking up for the first time in a while, too. You found him—or maybe he found you. After all those years of wondering what happened to him, your first love, the boy with grease-stained hands and the brightest smile was back.

He still looked at you like he cared, that was a given after what he did for you yesterday, between taking you to the hospital and offering you a place to stay, as if the years hadn’t put a single dent in the way he used to see you.

You’d half-expected him to just...look through you like you were a stranger. But Rafe—well, he’d always been different, hadn't he?

You let out a small, relieved sigh and curl up a little tighter under the quilt, sinking deeper into it, because today, you don’t have to run.

Back then, everything about Rafe felt like some secret only you were lucky enough to know. The scrapes on his knuckles, the stains that never really washed off his clothes, the way he’d sneak you out to the pier after dark to talk under the stars like you were the only two people on earth.

The entire world disappeared when you were with him—the line between Kook and Pogue didn’t mean a thing.

You remember his laugh, this loud carefree sound that would just bubble up, surprising even him. He’d make fun of how out of place you looked on the back of his old bike, but then he’d smile in this crooked, lovestruck way and kiss you so hard it didn’t matter. 

God, you were in so deep, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that he was yours, and you were his, and nothing else could touch that.

Your mind is a mess of memories, all those nights you used to slip out to meet him, sneaking around with this thrill in your chest, like you were getting away with something impossible. 

It all changed so fast.

One night, he was there, laughing with you in bed and calling you "princess" in that teasing way only he could get away with. The next, he was gone. You had no warning, no explanation—just this space where he used to be. Your parents finally admitted what they'd done, talking about him like he was a problem they’d finally got to fix. They had tried to break him, ship him off to some military school hours away, like he was just… trash.

But Rafe had always been too smart for them. He ran instead, left everything he knew behind, including you, before anyone could try to cage him. You didn’t understand it fully at first. You couldn’t.

Before college started, you’d waited at all your old spots, hoping he’d show up, that he’d come to you in the middle of the night, even if it meant climbing in through your bedroom window just to say goodbye.

But he never did, when the days turned into weeks, then months, you realized he’d left for good.

You never let him go, not really.

While everyone else told you to move on, you dug in. You spent so much, countless weekends sneaking off with the cash you'd save, paying people in shady corners of town, anyone who might know where he’d gone. You chased whispers and rumors and stray leads, but none of them ever led you to him. You used to lie awake at night praying he was okay, safe, wondering if he was ever thinking of you the way you still thought of him every single day.

You can’t shake the déjà vu now, lying here in his bed, realizing that somehow, by some freak chance, the universe led you back to him.

You think about yesterday, the look on his face when he saw you in his shop, like he couldn’t believe it was real either. He’d dropped everything, no hesitation. 

You call back to those years without him— you’d try to keep going, but every day was like you were carrying a dead weight no one else could see. Nights were the worst. 

You’d lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying all those stolen moments with him, pieces of a dream you were desperate not to forget. It was like trying to hold water in your hands; no matter how hard you tried, bits of him kept slipping through, fading with time, until you started to wonder if maybe you’d imagined how it felt to be that close to someone.

And God, you tried to let go, eventually.

You told yourself over and over, it was time to stop chasing after someone who’d left without a goodbye, who didn't want to be found.

You even went on dates, pretended you could replace him, like it would be so easy to “find someone else.” But no one else ever remotely compared to him.

No one else ever made you feel seen like that. 

Certainly not Frederic and it's like a stab to your heart to even think about it now.

You’d never planned to be with someone like him. He was handsome, polite when you met him; everyone around you liked him, and your parents might as well have handed you over to him in a silver platter the second he moved to town.

They’d called it “the perfect match”—his family’s money, your family’s reputation. They belived it would keep you distracted, and finally help you forget the boy they’d done everything to erase from your life.

You went along with it.

What choice did you really have? Rafe had been gone for almost three years, and you were supposed to move on, fit into this life they wanted for you. So you played along, smiled through dinner parties and gatherings, told yourself you could settle for this.

He wasn’t cruel, not in the beginning, just possessive. You’d told yourself it was almost flattering, that it meant he cared about you, wanted you to be his in some way.

Until the day he found that old picture, the one you’d kept hidden away in your wallet all those years.

That’s when everything changed and he never looked at you the same after that. Suddenly, each glance, every small thing you did, the little freedom you had was a threat to him. You weren’t allowed to go out without him or talk to anyone he didn’t approve of.

He made you feel like you were nothing but his property, something he could control and shape into whatever he wanted. He tore apart the dainty pieces of your younger self you’d managed to keep, as if any proof of the life you’d had with Rafe was something he needed to crush with his bare hands.

After a while, he didn’t even attempt to hide the anger.

The first time he hit you, you’d been shocked, unable to believe it was happening. He apologized right after, swore it would never happen again, but you knew. 

It was only the beginning.

From that day on, you lived in fear, knowing that any misstep could set him off, that each move you made was a risk. You learned to stay quiet, to keep your head down, to shrink yourself into a pet that wouldn’t provoke him.

Nothing was ever enough.

He’d pick fights out of nowhere, accuse you of things that didn’t make sense, twist everything around until you couldn’t tell what was real anymore. But you kept that picture.

Even after everything, he’d broken down every bit of strength you had, but you wouldn’t let it go. It was the only piece of Rafe you had, it didn’t matter that it was just a scrap. When Frederic was away doing business, late at night, you’d pull it out and stare at it, trace the edges of Rafe’s smile with your thumb, wishing you’d get to live something as beautiful again.

You’d almost forgotten was being okay felt like, to be somewhere you weren’t afraid to breathe too loud.

You sit up slowly, the quilt sliding off your shoulders as you stretch your arms overhead, your stomach is already growling with anticipation.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you take a micro second to breathe in the peaceful quiet around you, then, you shuffle to the kitchen, still half wondering if it’s happening, if Rafe is really back in your life after all this time. 

As you enter the kitchen, your heart does a little leap at the sight before you. There, resting on the table is a plate piled high with pancakes, golden and fluffy, topped with a pat of melting butter and a drizzle of syrup.

It looks so delicious and so… thoughtful. It’s the kind of breakfast you’d imagined when you were younger, that felt like love poured into every bite. Next to the plate, there’s a note, scribbled in Rafe’s familiar handwriting, the same jagged loops and curls that make you smile like you’re seventeen again.

You pick it up, your fingers brushing over the paper as you read, “had to run to the shop, didn’t want you to wake up hungry. eat these and don't save some for me, okay?”. You tuck the note into your pocket, almost like a talisman, and turn your attention back to the pancakes.

You settle at the table, the chair creaking beneath you, and pick up a fork. The first bite is like heaven—soft and sweet, the syrup running down your chin as you take a big mouthful.

You can’t stop the giggles, remembering those late-night snacks where you’d sneak with him, trying to be quiet so no one would hear. 

He always ended up with more syrup on him than in the bowl.

As you devour the breakfast he made, you envision how he must have stood there in the kitchen, mixing the batter and flipping.

It's fun to picture him humming to himself, the light from the window hitting his dark blonde hair just right, making him look like some sort of guardian angel. The thought sends butterflies fluttering through your body, and after years in the dark, you feel light.

After finishing the last bite you can’t help but smile at the empty plate in front of you. Rafe really outdid himself. You feel a little giddy, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the syrup or the comfort of the food. 

With a little bounce in your step, you push back the chair and head to the sink, rinsing off the plate. You look around the cozy kitchen, taking in the mismatched mugs and the old-fashioned fridge that looks like it’s seen a hundred breakfasts. It feels lived-in and warm, like a home should, despite not being full.

You can picture Rafe here, maybe making his disgusting black coffee, playing music while he reads. You’d love to share that with him, even if it sounds silly.

You wander to the window above the sink, pull back the curtain and peek out.

Outside, the engine noises and clanking tools are a little noisy but better than the yelling you’re used to. You can see him moving around, his familiar silhouette bent over the engine of a car, grease smudged across his forearms, the sun glinting off his skin.

You’re chewing your lip to death while you admire him like he's the last man on earth. Rafe is dressed in a snug white tank top that hugs his muscular frame, the fabric slightly worn and smudged with grease from a long morning in the shop, showcasing his broad shoulders and the beefy muscles of his biceps.

His arms are covered in a light sheen of oil, making him appear even more rugged and, honestly, a little bit scrumptious. He looks so effortlessly beautiful even in the middle of a workday.

His hair is tousled, falling in soft, messy waves that occasionally cover his eyes, and you find yourself wanting to reach up and push it back just so you can see his gorgeous blue eyes fully. 

This is what you’d dreamed about, all those nights, clutching that tiny picture of him to your chest. Just seeing him like this, working hard like he used to be when you’d sneak out to find him.

You feel bad though.

He’d stayed up late with you, sat with you for hours, listening as you poured everything out, even as you broke down, sobbing so hard you couldn’t breathe. He held you until you fell asleep in his lap, his arms wrapped around you. And now, here he is, working already, probably exhausted after getting barely any rest.

You move back to his bedroom, scolding yourself for wanting to go out there and warn him to take it easy, but you know him.

He wouldn’t listen. 

And maybe a part of you doesn’t want him to, either, because having him there all night, knowing he was close by, made you feel content.

Rafe never did anything halfway, did he? Even back then, he was so… him, so all-in, with that devotion that used to leave you breathless and a little woozy.

Years later, he’s still giving everything he has to make sure you’re okay, he hasn’t changed at all in the ways that matter.

You close your eyes for a moment, just to savor it, to commit this peace to memory in case you need it again someday. You’re not naïve; you know there are things to figure out, talks that need to happen, but he didn’t leave this time, didn’t slip away in the middle of the night, no hidden messages or unspoken goodbyes. 

He’s right here, where you can see him. 

You're still lost in thought, when you hear the front door open.

You sit up, smoothing out your hair and trying not to seem as flustered as you feel.

Footsteps come down the hall, until Rafe appears in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, one hand braced above his head, looking at you with this little smirk that’s shier than he’d probably ever admit.

There’s a smear of grease on his jaw, and his tank top’s even dirtier than before, he’s been deep in a car engine for hours already.

“Hey,” he says, his voice rough, that southern drawl warming you to your toes. “Just came in to, uh… check on ya. Make sure you ate and all.” He nods toward the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s not sure what to do with his hands. His eyes move to the empty plate on the table, and he lets out a tiny chuckle. “Guess ya did.”

You can’t help but smile back, a little nervous, and shy. There’s this energy between you—it feels like you’re both walking on eggshells, not quite sure how to talk to each other now that the cards are all on the table. 

“Yeah,” you nod softly, clutching the quilt closer. “They were perfect. Thank you.”

He clears his throat, color creeping up his neck as he shrugs. He looks at you like he’s trying to understand every part of you that’s been ripped apart, searching for the pieces of the girl he used to know, while still seeing the woman you’ve become.

Rafe shuffles his feet, his hand drifting to rub the back of his neck, “Sorry, I should probably clean up,” he mutters, glancing down at his hands. “Lookin’ like a damn grease monkey in here.”

You laugh, and the sound seems to surprise him, making him look up with this sheepish grin that’s just so… him. For a second, no time has passed at all, you’re both still seventeen and completely caught up in each other.

Rafe’s gaze lands on the spot where the blanket’s slipped, showing a faint bruise along your collarbone. His muscles tighten just slightly, and he exhales as he asks, “You feelin’ any better?”

You nod, but he’s already moving closer, crouching down so he’s at eye level, his expression creased with worry. He reaches out to touch you, then pulls his hand back, second-guessing himself.

“They, uh… they still hurt?” He nods toward the bruises, his eyes darting over them with a pained look, like he feels every mark himself. He starts rambling, “I got some ice packs in the freezer if you need ’em or I could go grab one of those heat pads, I dunno which one’s better, but we can try both if you need. I don’t want you just sittin’ here hurtin’.” He gestures vaguely, tracing every inch of your body with this helpless, guilty look, because if he could take them on himself, he would.

“And, uh… I mean, if you’re achin’ at all, I got some Tylenol in the cabinet—not the strongest stuff, but it might help a little. Or if you need anything else, I can just run out and grab it.” His gaze darts back to your face, and he adds quickly, “Only if you want, though! I know you’re… you’re strong and all, but don’t mean you gotta sit there and hurt, alright?”

You can't stop smiling, watching him try to take care of you in his own awkward, fumbling way. His shoulders are all hunched up, his fingers fidgeting against his jeans, and there’s that endearing tint creeping up his neck again.

“Rafe…” you cut him off, and he stops mid-ramble, his mouth half-open, looking like he just got caught saying too much.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice dropping, afraid he might’ve overstepped.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

His fingers curl around yours instantly, holding on like he needs the contact just as much as you do. It’s the smallest thing, just the press of his hand against yours, but after so long of being handled like broken porcelain, it’s overwhelming.

“Really, and I’m—I’m sorry I dumped all of that on you yesterday.”

You hadn’t planned on telling him every detail of your personal hell, but he made it so easy.

You were never the best at thinking while under that gaze, it’s wrapped in old memories and hope, and it scares you just as much as it soothes you. He’s close, the scent of his aftershave and engine grease making you feel dizzy with the memory of each kiss, whisper, every reckless promise you’d both made once upon a time.

Rafe sequeezes your hand tighter, thumb grazing your knuckles. 

"Don’t be sorry. Not for that.” It’s so like him, and it nearly breaks you right there. All that quiet loyalty, he doesn’t even know how much he’s giving, he thinks you deserve all of it without question. “You don’t have to go back, y’know. Not if you don’t want to.”

This is real, and he’s right here, asking you to let him in, to let him be the one who pulls you from the darkness. The hardest part is, you know he would.

He’d fight the whole world if he thought it would keep you safe, if it meant you could stay. It’s terrifying, to even hope that you could have this, have him. 

You cover your mouth, maybe if you squeeze hard enough, you can hold it in, but a choked sob escapes anyway, desperate, in a way that embarrasses you. Your shoulders start to shake, and the tears just keep coming, slipping down your jaw and dripping onto your sweater, his.

You try to wipe them away with the back of your hand, but they keep coming, your breaths are turning into these broken gasps that make you feel exposed.

Rafe’s moving without a word, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently pulling you into his lap like he had last night. He wraps his arms around you, careful not to hurt you, and you let yourself fold into him, leaning against his chest, the most familiar place in the world.

He tucks your head under his chin, his fingers cradling the back of your neck, and as your tears soak into his shirt, he leans down, whispering, his breath warm against your forehead.

 “I got you. ‘m right here. Ain’t lettin’ go of you.”

He doesn’t flinch; doesn’t make you feel ashamed for being so sensitive. 

Instead, he brushes his hand up and down your back, whispering quiet reassurances, giving you all the time in the world. He waits until your sobs taper off, left with only the shudders and hiccupping breaths, and even then, he just sits there quietly, letting you be. 

Then, almost like he’s talking to himself, he starts,“So… y’know, been kind of busy these past few years,” he says, glancing away like he’s embarrassed. “Kept up with a lot of late nights in the shop. Got good at fixing engines—real good, actually. Think I could probably fix just about anything, even if it’s been beat up and run-down more times than you’d think possible.”

Rafe’s fingers trace along your arm as he talks, and you know why he’s doing this. He’s looking toward the window, most likely remembering each late night he’s spent there alone.

“Didn’t make much of it at first—just me and Jerry. But folks kept comin’ in, one by one, and eventually, we hired a few guys to help out.” He pauses, swallowing, “Guess it’s sort of a thing now.”

You feel your lips tug up and he must notice because his grip on you relaxes, and he lets out this almost bashful chuckle.

“Got a dog, too,” he continues, scratching the back of his neck like he’s telling you something ridiculous. “Well, he just kinda showed up one day at the shop, but he kept stickin’ around, so I named him Ace. Big, goofy mutt—probably not as tough as he thinks, but he likes to act like he’s protecting the place.” He shakes his head, “You’d like him, I think. He’d probably love you more than he loves me the second you showed up, little traitor. He sleeps downstairs."

“But y’know, no matter how busy it got, or how many things kept changin’… didn’t really feel like home.” He pauses, his hand moving to brush away a stray tear that’s found its way down your cheek, “I thought maybe if I just kept busy enough, I’d stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Thought it’d get easier with time. But…” He trails off, like he’s confessing a secret. “Turns out it didn’t. No matter where I went, or what I did, it was always just there. Missin’ you.”

You can feel the soft rasp of his thumb against your neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey now,” he clicks his tongue, tipping your chin up with a knuckle until your eyes meet his, blue eyes looking at you with a tenderness that almost makes you bawl again. “None of that. I told you, you got nothin’ to be sorry for.” His gaze sweeps across your features, “You been through hell and back. I know that ain’t easy to walk away from, not like that.”

His thumb brushes a tear from your cheek while you ask him, “What if he… what if he finds me?” 

Rafe’s jaw tightens, and there it is—that old, familiar fire lighting up in his eyes. It’s the same look he’d get any time someone even thought about hurting you, he’d rather throw himself in front of a train than let anything happen to you. 

“He’s never gonna touch you again, okay? Not as long as I’m around.” His voice is almost a growl, fierce enough that makes you believe him. “I won’t let him, I swear it.”

You can’t even speak. Your heart feels so full of gratitude, but you manage to force out a, “Thank you, Rafe.”

He pulls the hair back from your face, “You don’t gotta thank me,” he murmurs, “All I ever wanted was for you to be okay. That’s enough for me.”

You look up at him, fingers sweeping against his skin as you ask, “Tell me more? About everything? I feel like I missed so much…”

You attempt to keep your voice from quivering, but there’s this misery in your chest, a deep longing to know the parts of him you hadn’t been there to witness. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue, and then he looks down, being reluctant.

“Yeah, uh… there was one time I went to your university,” he confesses, the words coming out hushed, he’s scared he shouldn’t be admitting this. “It was years ago, but… yeah. I went up there to see you.”

Your eyes widen, “What?” The word slips out in disbelief, and you lean in, “When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know what I was thinkin’. I just… I wanted to see you. Thought maybe I could run into you, or—” He pauses, looking down at his hands. “Maybe I was hopin’ I’d have the guts to actually talk to you. 

Your brain can’t help but conjure up, what it might’ve happened if he’d just walked across campus that day, to you. The two of you in that place.

You picture yourself, sitting on one of those worn benches under the big oak trees that dotted the quad, maybe with a book open on your lap that you weren’t really reading, because all you could think about was him. It wouldn’t have taken much—the way his heavy boots hit the ground, the scent of his cologne. Would you have jumped up and hugged him? Or would you have sat there, staring at him, wondering if you were somehow dreaming it all up?

It’s a fantasy, you know that, but deep down, you wish that had been your reality—the two of you fighting for each other instead of letting the world and distance pull you apart. It hurts like a bitch, thinking of all those lost years, all the things that could’ve been different if you’d both just been a little braver.

“Rafe…” you breath, and there’s so much tangled in that one word.

The years, the heartbreak, the distance—you don’t even know where to begin, and yet, you don’t need to. He looks at you as if he understands every unspoken word like he’s been waiting just as long.

“I didn’t see you.”

“Hey,” he coos, pulling you just a little closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “It’s my fault, I was scared.”

You smile through the fresh tears gathering and he slants his forehead against yours, brushing one away with his thumb, his face close enough that you could count each freckle if you wanted.

“It’s okay."

“I missed you, so much.”

You hadn’t just missed him—you’d missed the way he made you feel.

Brave. Free. No matter what happened, it would be okay as long as he was by your side. He smiles, a little crooked like because he’s not used to hearing it, he feels like the lucky one here.

 “You’ve always been my girl, y’know that? Ain’t nothing gonna change that. Not then, not now, not ever.”

Rafe’s slowly stitching up something inside you didn’t even know was still bleeding. You wonder if he knows that you're still shattered, that you’re not sure how to feel whole again, but you want to try, for him.

The way he talks tells you that he still can see you as the girl he fell in love with and it makes you hopeful that maybe she’s still somewhere inside you, waiting to be found.

Does he feel the same? Does he mean it, all this talk of missing you, of always coming back to you? Or is he just being kind, because he thinks you need to be treated like a wounded animal?

He’s got his own scars, things he’s carried, and he’s been hiding them just as much as you’ve been hiding yours. 

You wonder what he’s not saying, if he’s afraid of hoping for too much, like you are. Perhaps he’s holding you like this because he’s still holding on to that invisible string that’s kept you tied to him all this time. 

You close your eyes and rest your head against his shoulder, letting yourself breathe him in, feel him under your fingertips.

His lips pucker against your temple, “Don’t overthink, sweetheart. We’ll figure it out.”

But realistically speaking, how long can you run for before the monsters in your nightmares catch up to you?

[k0yaz]

tides.

Pairings: navia x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, siren au, pirate/sailor reader (whatever u want it to be lol), wlw, girls kissing obv, sesbian lex muahahaha, men can interact but uhm it might be awkward bc navia talks about how much she hates men (sorry :( ), officer the sex comes outta nowhere, who is this diva, no seriously I made navia extra sassy here, virgin reader, underwater sex idfk?, fingering, kinda vanilla, marking, breast play ig, written when I am VERY sleepy, not proofread.

A/N: I would no joke let navia- I mean who said that. this is part of @edgeray ‘s halloween event :3 🕯️

Splashes of ocean water ripped through the wavering currents in the cold dead of night, patterns of stars decorating the sky alongside the moon as the only faint light source in the clearing as she ship rocked from side to side. You stared down the ledge of the large ship, sail standing proud directly behind you as you inched closer to the edge to drown out the obnoxious hollers of your crewmates. The relentless voyage stretched out for an agonizingly extended period of time—months possibly. Before you, the endless stretch of the ocean consumed your sights altogether, becoming the only thing filling your sights as the consuming waves engulfed the previous body of water trailing behind you.

Your crewmates had never failed to remain a pain in the ass as well, constantly taunting you and disrupting your peace with an insolent remark hurled at you as their irritating laughter erupted throughout the ship. On top of the sloppy lifestyle the men on the ship had shared, it didn’t exactly help that you were one of the few women present on the ship. Or maybe you were the only one? You had lost track at this point.

Regardless, you always scoffed at the unkempt behaviors of your crewmates advancing toward you or spitting useless nonsense toward you in an attempt to mansplain something, disgust boiling up inside you. You merely attempted to drown out their presence as nothing more than white noise circling the clearing, cutting through the initially peaceful silence of the quiet waves and gentle air. Yet, it was still as if you had been cursed with remaining in a trashed wooden sail afloat in the middle of nowhere surrounded by people who would probably murder you if they had the chance to. That’s what they’d do to any crewmate who was the least bit civilized atleast.

Sighing, your eyes lowered shut, lashes briefly brushing onto your skin. You savored the cool air grazing your face, which out outstretched to gaze upward as if you had offered yourself to the unending void of a sky to come take you away. Sometimes, you pondered if it would be better for you to just escape your responsibility as a pirate. Leaving behind the life of plundering and theiving to carve a new path of what you wanted. Maybe then you atleast wouldn’t be awoken by the stinging smell of booze engulfing your room in the middle of your rest as some drunken crewmate would rummage through your belongings unprompted.

“(Name)! The hell you staring out for- for that long? You’re not tryna avoid us, yeah?”

You pursed your lips quietly, shoulders hunching up as you gripped the edge of the boat tightly, fingers dragging along the raw wood. His voice was nothing but a pestering vibration that rang in the air, only serving to gauge your annoyance further.

“Maybe I am? Leave me alone. I don’t want to join your cheap ship tavern with rum and puke.”

He rolled his eyes in response, clearing his throat as he brought a hand to his chest to surpress his own gulp of drinks bubbling up in his throat.

“Ugh. You’re no fun. But for once nah, we want everyone to come around since we saw something poking out of the water. Seemed like a huge catch for a fish maybe.”

Upon hearing his words, you couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow in mild skepticism. Perhaps those were the rushes of water thumping against the fervent currents, splashing a few pools of salty ocean water onto the edge of the ship occasionally. Curious, you made your way over to the large array of crewmates pinned up to the ledge, peering down at the ripples of water followed by strong currents grazing along the base of the ship.

A…fish? Had everyone drank too much? There weren’t much fish around this part of the sea visible to a sailor’s naked eye. They typically presided in the deep pressure of the ocean around here.

Maybe your crewmates never left behind their idiotic sense of fascination. That would be the most plausible answer as to why their eyes seemed to be tracing nothing. A disappointed groan left the crew members one by one as they detached themselves from the ledge, disappointed as they trudged back into their respective cabins at the lack of anything particularly eye catching. Morons.

“(Name)! Keep watch again for us, will you?”

You couldn’t do much to be fair, besides heave a disappointed groan and shoot your drunken crewmate a disdainful glare as he flashed you that shit eating grin, stumbling over to his room before slamming the door behind him. And so there you stood. Still in the middle of the rocking ship like an unmovable stone, weighing down on the creaking floorboards wavering beneath you as the violent thrusts of the ocean continued to slice through your ears.

It felt quite unnatural, as if something presiding in the growingly murky waters of the sea torrented the initially neutral water gently splashing along the sea. The moonlit sky reflected in the still clear ripples of the ocean, your eyes squinting as you caught the pale light shining along the edge of a curved obstacle protruding to the surface from below the naked eye. Furrowing your brows, you shielded the top of your eyes, focusing your vision on the intrusion abnormally poking out of the currents.

Mind clouded with confusion, the fog around the area only grew thicker as the clouds occasionally masked the darkened sky. Suddenly, your swirling thoughts began to subside as your tense muscles relaxed, grip on the wood ledge loosening as a serene melody hummed through the air, the effects it brought upon clearing your mind almost intoxicating. You breathed out calmly, hearing the beautiful voice of a woman float alongside the swishes of water as you felt yourself slowly leaning further and further along the ledge.

Her sweet voice only entranced you further and further, drawing you in as it grew more prominent. Longing to push past the ledge to take in her velvety voice closer to you. However you couldn’t help but feel the unnerving sting faltering your longing thoughts, trying to fight back with a drop of rationality while you pushed against the edge closer, face nearly coming into contact with the circling waves. Who could possibly singing this late? And who would there even be to sing in the middle of nowhere?

You saw the object curve out of the surface of the ocean past the clearing, now nearing your line of sight and making itself more clear in the dim moonlight rolling along the waters to illuminate the bare minimum in a close proximity. Now getting a clearer look, the object nearly resembled that of a fish’s tail, a pretty shade of light blue spanning along each subtle scale along it. What an odd color for a fish, perhaps that’s what your crewmates saw earlier, as it was the only fish that could see so far. In fact— it happened to be as big as you recalled from what the others pointed out.

Your tongue flattened against the roof of your mouth in anticipation, feeling an uneasiness churning in your stomach as the scaled ridge rippled closer and closer to the side of the boat. However instead of backing away, you found yourself peering over the ledge, hands tightened at the rim of the ship as the splintering wood grazed your calloused hands. Leaping over, you thudded down onto the boat with a soft ‘oof,’ your thoughts screaming at you internally to question if you were insane. You knew your curiosity outmatched your rationality, yet you couldn’t help but be drawn to the sea blue tail peeking out from the waves, and complimented by the moonlight.

What met your eyes next was quite a sight to behold, your jaw nearly dropping from the radiance that blinded your eye. A stunning woman arched above the surface of the water in one swift motion, head tilted back as her near cinematic entrance sent droplets of water seeming to float in the air around her in slow motion. Her starry blue eyes locked onto your form, bottom lip glistening a gorgeous tint of pink to compliment her honey blonde hair spilling down her shoulders.

Her gaze snapped up to you in less than a single second, heavy eyes opening up a bit as she raised her eyebrows in slight surprise to take in your seated form on the dock. You didn’t expect The gorgeous lady to hoist herself up from the sea, hands planted at either side of your waist as she rose herself to the edge of the ship where you sat, face dangerously close. Instinctively, you hunched your shoulders back, leaning your head back to harbor more space between your faces—yet, the woman closed the gap each time, the tip of her nose brushing against yours as you felt her soaked skin graze against yours.

Raising an eyebrow, she kept that unmoving indifferent expression, sinking herself down into the sea once more as she rested her arms along the wood. The end of her tail briefly peeked out of the ocean’s bristling surface, her cheek pressed against her resting hands as her head tilted to the side, gaze immediately snapping back to you as you swore that the corner of her lip slightly curved up in a smile.

“Huh. I expected something I could drag down again.” She finally spoke, her expression growing more and more amused upon observing your confusion. She leaned back with a sigh, pink tinted lips gleaming under the light as the reflections of the water silhouetted her form. “I surely didn’t think to encounter someone so…gorgeous. Fully expected some middle aged drunkard.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the oddly shaped fin structures in place of her ears, not even registering her words completely out of the initial shock that stung you just now. Had you just encountered a live mermaid? You thought they were just tales employed by a bunch of sailors for their own laughs.

Now looking at her upfront…the draconic fins, frail body, those deadpan eyes tracing you, all the characteristics fit that of a siren instead.

Noticing your blank gaze staring at possibly nothing, she rose her hand to hover over your cheek carefully, puffing out a quick sigh at your absentmindedness. Quickly, you rushed back to your senses, blinking to ground yourself back into reality for a moment.

“Don’t be like that, dear sailor. A pretty girl like you isn’t nameless, correct?” She hummed, a subtle smirk crossing her features as she tilted her head to come face to face with you. The way her head had angled as if it were to intersect your lips, sky blue eyes flickering to your quivering lower lip being nothing short of gesturing a kiss, her stance as her arms elevated her up to level with you being oddly…intimate.

“Are you..a siren?”

Her eye twitched, brows knitted together in mild frustration in less than the blink of an eye as her fingers dug into the wood to maintain her composure. You clasped a hand over your mouth defensively, seeming to realize far too late that perhaps you shouldn’t have asked such a question so- upfront when she was the one who inquired your name in a playful manner first.

She reached up her hand to her forehead, bridge of her nose situated between her thumb and forefinger in annoyance as she pushed out a breath to calm herself. God, the one sailor she took interest in, she wanted to fucking murder in this moment.

“Are you serious? I asked you a question, clearly interested, and that’s what you ask me?”

“Sorry..”

“Fuck it. It’s fine. Not like you’re someone trying to hunt me down only to be killed.”

She paused, eyes narrowing as she took note of the expectant look remaining on your face, clearly still wanting the answer to your abruptly dumb question earlier. Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, unamused by your clueless antics.

“Yes. I am. Happy? Name’s Navia, now if it isn’t so hard to tell me your name like I did to you?”

You flinched at her sudden aggression, tilting your head bashfully. Guess she really didn’t like the moment getting ruined.

“..(Name).”

Navia hummed softly in approval, velvety voice spurring against her throat in a gentle exhale of breath. Her hand dragged along yours, a spark flying through you upon feeling her soaked skin stick to yours so closely. Evidently so, you had piqued the sea creature’s interest quite a bit, your breathing shallowing out upon feeling a chill envelope your whole body, goosebumps blooming against your exposed skin along with the chilling winds.

“Gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. It suits someone as beautiful as you.”

You couldn’t help but allow the burning heat to creep up to your cheeks, blood rushing to your head as you felt your face grow hot from the faint red tint.

“So why aren’t you killing me, Navia?”

Tapping her chin thoughtfully for a moment, Navia flashed you a smile, pressing her chest to the edge of the dock to speak with you a bit closer.

“I dunno. Saw a sailor that wasn’t a drunk moron eating at anything that’s money, sailor happened to be a pretty girl, and everything happened from there I guess.” She answered in a lighthearted tone, nails digging into the wood of the ship to ground herself. Just so happened the sweet siren here had pretty sharp nails, pointed at the tips just at the right amount to cut open human flesh to the bone.

“So…I say..if you wanna live unlike what I think I wanna do to your crewmates..”

Her hands suddenly shifted over to your thighs draped over the edge, planting them down for support against you. By now, you had to choke back the rapid breaths catching in your throat, heart feeling it was going to beat right out of your chest as it thudded against your insides violently. Of course you couldn’t help it, you felt somewhat aroused by the sight of a gorgeous woman, who so happened to be an exotic sea creature looming over you with her palms planted onto your clothed thighs. You’d never let her outright know that though.

Navia’s cool breath suddenly fanned against your cheek, pretty pink lips alarmingly close as she grazed them along the shell of your ear. Still held up impressively by her mere arm strength pushing her up to come face to face with you. Her bare body brushed against the loose fabric of your shirt puffed out, draped over you as the neckline formed a V shape over the opening of your chest.

Her sharp fragrance of saltwater clawed at the back of your throat as you took in her scent as she leaned against you chest to chest now, the strong tonicity being substituted with a much more pleasantly mellow aroma presenting itself for you to breathe in. Your head spun as your pupils flickered in Navia’s wake, her nails still dug into your thighs temptingly as she had probably torn parts of the cloth and poked holes into your pants. Clicking her tongue, her breath hitting your ear only served to further heighten your lust blinded haze, flinching as her pointed teeth grazed along your ear as she spoke once more to complete her dangling thought.

“Come underwater with me. I promise I won’t kill you or anything. It’ll feel…nice.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I’m human, I can’t just dunk myself underwater and be expected to breathe the whole time.”

Navia merely grumbled at your naive response, biting the inside of her cheek. You only cocked your head to the side, puzzled by her random changes in demeanor in this moment.

“(Name). I get that you live with your braindead crewmates, but surely acting like some virgin will get you nowhere around me.”

“Ah..”

You pursed your lips at her remark, dozing your gaze off to the side in embarrassment. Sweat patterned along your back as the tides began to assault your ankles now, the water refreshingly warm in contrast to Navia’s hypothermic body temperature adhering droplets of water along every inch of your own. She feigned an expression of shock at your bashful hesitation, bringing her hand to her lips in a gesture that made you huddle in a bit from embarrassment.

“Don’t tell me…you haven’t-?”

You shook your head, clearing your throat to distract yourself—and her—from the fact that your face was a scorching scarlet hue from the fairly lewd topic at hand.

“Well then…if you come with me I can fix that..? What do you say, (Name)?”

Her teasing voice only spurred you further to dart your sights down to her hands now subtly parting your thighs, the beautiful gradient of her nails sharpened along her skin quickening your breathing as you choked back a whine from her evidently seductive motions. A single nod was all that was needed as her hands shot up from between your legs to snake around your neck, grasping on as she clawed at your nape all of a sudden. An involuntary gasp left you upon feeling the sting of her nails along the back of your neck, breath held between your cheeks the moment she fell back into the sea, dragging you along with her.

Sinking deeper into the rushing blue waters circling you, Navia’s arms remained locked around your neck, tail shielding your leg for additional support as you descended down into the depths of the ocean. The minute you hit a strange sort of dome in which you could breathe underwater, you in fact—couldn’t exactly breathe properly. Your legs pressed together as jolts of pleasure enveloped your body, a high rush overtaking you as you noticed Navia wasting absolutely no time as she held you down into the sand.

Rasped out mewls began to endlessly spill from your lips as your hips mindlessly bucked forward into Navia’s touch, her middle and ring finger knuckles deep in your cunt as she parted your walls to accommodate her fingers splitting you open. Ecstasy clouded your mind at her intoxicating touch, nails brushing up against that one spot within you as her freehand was clasped around your wrists to hold you down.

Every worry you had embedded in your mind, every issue that had haunted you on your journey had faded away under her touch, your lips parted as a string of noises followed through with each relentless thrust of her fingers curling your warm, velvety walls. Her movements remained somewhat gentle, yet fervent as heat clouded the two of you in the intense moment, teeth pressed against the exposed skin of your throat to muffle a moan fighting against her lips.

Perhaps her mind had also been relieved in this moment while she fucked you underwater. The constant unprovoked attacks from wandering sailors, sudden encounters with people who had never caught her eye in the moment, Navia just needed to get away from it all. And you were perfect for her. It’s as if the gods had bestowed upon her a sailor with lips as sweet as saccharine. And the minute she raised her head from your throat to glance over at your face twisted in lust, her lips found their way to crash against yours, tongue brushing along your bottom lip any chance she got in that hungry kiss she captured you with.

Sure enough, you tasted sweet just like she theorized.

Your intoxicating scent, the sweetness of your lips, your moans vibrating against her mouth while her fingers drove in and out at a steady, yet roughened pace to slam against your cunt…

It was all so fucking perfect.

Bright red hickeys bloomed in a trail of fire against your exposed skin, your gasps increasing in pitch and frequency as her thumb brushed along your exposed nipple. A near scream boiled in your throat as Navia’s own noises reverberated against your lips, your breaths growing quicker as a third finger entered the heavenly mix. You frantically reached a hand up to grip onto her bare back tightly, nails raking down her pale skin as she threw her head back to choke out a little whimper.

“N-Navi- please…m’gonna-“

—

Breathing heavily, you lay fully clothed. Back flush against the edge of the ship once more, staring at the sky aimlessly as your now soaked clothing pooled out drains of seawater onto the dock. You craned your neck over, glancing at the siren who hoisted you back up as you seemed to be completely out of breath. A smile stretched her lips at your exhausted form, innocently waving as she fluttered her fingers. Huh. Acting like she didn’t just fuck the life out of you with those.

Navia’s chin rested along the edge of the boat once more, leaning over to plant a sweet kiss against your cheek. You were too spent to move at all, yet you still smiled weakly as you lay like starfish outstretched in water on the boat. She chuckled, eyes briefly flickering to the visible marks on your neck not covered by your clothes.

“Will I be seeing you again in this part of the sea, (Name)?”

“Without a doubt. Just make sure I can move next time.”

“Not my fault you have no experience.”

“Oh come on..I promise I’ll be the one on top next time, ‘kay?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rasped out a strained laugh, smiling at Navia as she lowered herself back into the water before flashing you a quick wink.

“I’ll see you around, my sweet sailor.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the depths of the water. Leaving you on your back, all soaked and marked up as your clothes stuck to you body in a transparent fashion.

Hell, maybe you’ll bring her something next time.

A/N: PLEASE DONF HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS THIS CAME OUT SO BAD IM SO SLEEPI LEAB ME ALONEEEE WAAAAAA

okay jk yall are awesome but IM SLEEPY. GOODNIGHT.

[keepingupwithzaynmalik]

Zayn via instagram:

“Liam, I have found myself talking out loud to you, hoping you can hear me, I can’t help but think selfishly that there was so many more conversations for us to have in our lives.

I never got to thank you for supporting me through some of the most difficult times in my life. When I was missing home as a 17 yr old kid you would always be there with a positive outlook and reassuring smile and let me know you were my friend and that I was loved.

Even though you were younger than me you were always more sensible than me, you were headstrong, opinionated, and gave no fucks about telling people when they were wrong. Even though we butted heads because of this a few times, 😂 I always secretly respected you for it.

When it came to the music Liam, you were the most qualified in every sense. I knew nothing in comparison, I was a novice child with no experience and you were already a professional. I was always happy to know, no matter what happened on stage we could always rely on you to know which way to steer the ship next.

I lost a brother when you left us and can’t explain to you what I’d give to just give you a hug one last time and say goodbye to you properly and tell you that I loved and respected you dearly.

I will cherish all the memories I have with you in my heart forever, there is no words that justify or explain how I feel right now other than beyond devastated.

I hope that wherever you are right now you are good and are at peace 🙏 and you know how loved you are.

Love you bro”

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a mother-like reader, who takes care of them

genre: headcanons, gn! reader, fluffiest of fluff, angst of you squint but nothing too sad

requested: yes, tysm! (reqs are still open for anyone who wants to request♡)

feat: sanji, zoro

a/n: hope you like it♡ (if you don't, go suck something, doesn't matter what just go suck something)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Sanji

Sanji absolutely adores the way you take care of the other members. and he's hands down the quickest and boldest in terms of expressing his admiration for you.

since he's proficient in the kitchen and home-cooked (...ship-cooked?) meals are his way of showcasing his care for the crew, you two are a sort of a duo when it comes to Strawhat tlc.

he's such a sucker for your attention, and cherishes every one your tender touches. problem is, he rarely ever gets physically hurt, so he's never really experienced getting patched up by you.

he's even gone as far as to debate whether or not he should "accidentally" cut himself in the kitchen and ask you to help him, but he knows you would never believe for a second, you just know him too well.

he does feel a little jealousy when you baby Luffy, or let Usopp cling to you like a koala every time he's scared, but he understands why you don't do those things with him, he just doesn't require that specific kind of attention.

but one night, while he's staring out at the ocean with a cigarette in hand, you stand beside him with your hands on the railing, but you don't say a word.

he feels the need to get defensive, to convince you that he's okay with a flirty comment and a forced laugh, but you give him a pointed look.

you know he's not okay, you know that he's thinking about something that won't allow him to close his eyes and sleep, and somehow, you know that he needs someone to be there. not to talk, not to listen, but just to be there for him.

the night ends with him in your room, in your bed, in your arms finally being able to experience peaceful sleep.

and as he lays there (he's now completely in love with you btw), he's no longer jealous of any of his crewmates, because this is your special way of taking care of him, and he couldn't ask for more.

Zoro

oh, Zoro absolutely despises whenever you try to care for or coddle him in any way.

it's nothing against you specifically, it's just his rather stupid way of thinking. in his mind, the only people that need the kind of care that you try to give are the sickly, the old, or the weak.

he never gets sick enough to be out of commission, he isn't old by any means, and you know both of those things. so, he can only deduce that you believe that he's weak. and he hates that. which means he hates being around you.

the others try to tell him otherwise, but he refuses to hear them out. he brushes you off with a scowl when you try to tend to any of his injuries, or when he wakes up and finds himself in a different position that's better for his back or his neck than the one he originally slept in.

one day, he falls asleep on a random spot of the ship, and he wakes up a few hours later. but, somethings a little odd this time around. his neck is stiff as a board, and he woke up in the exact same position he fell asleep in.

he doesn't think anything of it, maybe you forgot to move him, or just didn't see him. but this goes on for about a week, you don't move him while he sleeps poorly, you don't ask to patch him up, and even though this is what he'd wanted for so long, he feels shitty about it.

even though he would rather fight an army of soldiers with a butter knife than admit it, a small, very very small part of him, missed your attentiveness.

it was a far cry from the treatment that he had ever recieved from anyone else, and you never let his lack of enthusiasm deter you. well, until now that is.

he felt like he was going insane, just why did his days feel incomplete without your soft touch? the thought ran through his mind as he walked to your room with his hand clutching his side.

he opened the door slowly, stepping inside a little awkwardly. you raised your brow in questioning, to which he only uncovered his wound, showing you how bloody his hand had become from it.

you went to work that instant, caring for his wound with only a softness that you could manage, that he had missed. you led him to your bed, laying him down and asking that he sleeps as much as he needs to heal quickly, and to ask you if he needed anything.

he went to bed (trying to ignore the slight increase in his heartbeat at the fact that he was in your bed, that you were accepting with open arms despite his rejection of tour previous efforts) with the corners of mouth upright, making a mental promise to never, ever refuse help from you.

[hells-wasabii]

Hi could you pretty please do velvette x reader who is Carmilla youngest daughter and how her family reacts (plus zestial pls I ship him and Carmilla so I feel like he's a step dad)❤️

A/N: I blacked out and wrote this.... but yeeees LISTEN!! I love Velvette so much, its not even funny and i had a lot of fun with this prompt! I didn't realize how much i wrote for it until it was too late, and by that point, i really couldn't stop. but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ps i honestly ship them too

Part 1 | Part 2

Character: Velvette

Type: Headcanons + Drabble (Velvette x reader who's Carmilla's youngest daughter, General with a bit of Angst and Fluff sprinkled in)

For Velvette, she actually entered into the relationship not really knowing who your parents were. You never brought it up and she never really asked. It didn't really matter to her, since, ya know, you're the one she's dating, not your mum and dad, or step-dad from what you've mentioned.

Honestly, she should've seen the similarities. They were there for sure, but let's face it, there are so many demons in hell that it was probably just a coincidence, right?

Carmilla also knew you were seeing someone as well, though she really figured that you would bring this special demon around when you were ready.

Oh, they were both wrong. So very wrong.

They found out simultaneously, of course, as cliche as it was. You were on an evening out with Velvette with no clear destination in mind, just simply enjoying the evening and each other's company when the next thing you knew you were face to face with your mother.

It... didn't go too well.

What had once been a peaceful evening nearly dissolved into a turf war all in an instant. If you hadn't been able to separate the two with a promise to talk to both separately later there was no doubt that everything in a three-block radius would be collateral.

Zestial and your sisters would find out soon thereafter, Carmilla of course telling them when they see her come home looking quite distraught.

As stated before, to Velvette, it really didn't matter. though it did sweeten the deal. It would give her plenty more opportunities for her to provoke the arms dealer, something that she already took a great deal of pleasure in.

Zestial would be skeptical of the relationship at the start but eventually comes to accept it fully. His patience won out this time. He's seen more than enough relationships like this go up in flames and he'd never want that for you. He considered you a daughter after all.

As for your sisters, both of them were simply happy that you were happy. They were more worried about how y'alls mom would react. And you can't tell me that they didn't already know, either.

Carmilla on the other hand... To her, family is everything. I mean, she killed an angel for you and your sisters. She'd do anything for her kids, and that includes keeping someone like that upstart from breaking your heart. She wholeheartedly believed that Velvette was only dating you to get one over on her. It really comes as no surprise when she goes all the way to Vee Tower to confront the youngest overlord herself.

"You need to stay away from my daughter."

The fashionista bit out a curse as a needle pricked her finger. Velvette doesn't usually startle easily, but shit, between her being completely focused on finishing and the fact that her workshop had previously been silent save for any sounds that she had been making herself, she thought that even the most stone-cold bitch would've jumped.

What good was the security for if those nitwits couldn't keep unauthorized demons out of her workshop? The influencer swore that if any blood got on the material for this dress she'd personally kill the guards and whoever-

Oh.

Of all the people she expected to see, Carmilla Carmine, the uptight weapons dealer, and apparent mum of her girlfriend, was not one of them. Or actually, scratch that. She was completely expecting this to happen sooner or later.

"Well, it sucks to suck then, wrinkles, I'm not going nowhere." The fashionista bit back, a smirk settling on her lips that quickly fell when the older woman tried to push her point.

"I know what you're trying to do and it-"

"Obviously you don't." All mischief gone from her tone, Velvette set her work to the side, careful not to crumple the fabric. She rose to her feet and began to cross the room to Carmilla, who in turn stood taller, determined not to let this miscreant make a mockery of her, her family, and most importantly her youngest daughter. "I hate to break it to you, but the only way I'll break it off is if SHE wants to."

Velvette paused, her eyes boring into Carmilla's with a conviction and passion that the arms dealer hadn't felt from the influencer before. When the younger woman spoke again, her voice was softer than before, laced with a sincerity that would leave the mother speechless.

"I love her."

Its this singular interaction that leads to a truce between the two (technically five if you include Zestial and the Vee's) Overlords. They would come to some sort of mutual understanding that if both of them were to be in your life, they'd have to play nice. At least in front of you. At Overlord meetings, well, that's a whole different story.