#- that to me i think i’d hit them. love for my brain to understand not all experiences are universal

[callixton]

i am really romance repulsed to an irrational level rn and i feel bad abt it bc my friends being romantically affectionate with each other in front of me literally is not my problem At All and yet even thinking abt it rn makes me feel so uncomfortable

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Class 1A / Other UA Students / Pro Heroes / Villains

How will the boys of Class 1A react to realising that they are in love with you?

Featuring: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hanta Sero, Fumikage Tokoyami, Mashirao Ojiro, Mezo Shoji, Rikido Sato, Koda Koji.

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he���s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

[katakaluptastrophy]

Can we talk about Magnus in Harrow the Ninth? Because there's a tendency to paint him as this constantly cheerful figure and he's not - he's just very Fifth.

He's the only person who seems even slightly upset about the whole gun-toting horror thing:

“Did the Sleeper get them?”

“Only by assumption,” said Harrowhark, while Abigail’s dolt of a husband said, “I bloody hope so.”

“Magnus,” Abigail said, a touch disapprovingly.

“Well, if the Sleeper didn’t, that’s two maniacs with an ancient weapon and a love of blowing off faces, dear,” said Magnus.

And he's got a very low opinion of Silas:

"She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’”

“Cheeky little so-and-so,” said Magnus. “If he were my son, I’d give him something to think about. I’m not surprised he’s gone to ground.”

“I would hope your son might be of different character,” said his wife, half-smiling.

“Protesilaus should have biffed him.”

“It’s strange,” said Abigail, ignoring her husband’s exhortations to biffing.

Behind the jolly Jeeves and Wooster-esque talk of biffing people, let's remember that this is Magnus - who from Gideon's POV never saw a teenager he didn't want to adopt - earnestly wishing that a grown man had hit a 16 year old kid.

And when Harrow explains that she thinks she saw him jump to his death, Magnus isn't particularly sympathetic:

“We should have made him a greater priority,” said Lady Pent.

Magnus said, “I’m not certain.”

and

“We didn’t need him,” he said bracingly.

Abigail said, “We need everyone.”

“I never thought he was quite the thing.”

This "never quite the thing" line is the same one Abigail uses when she says Ianthe shouldn't have become a Lyctor and you get the sense it has a quite specific meaning on the Fifth. You get the distinct feeling Magnus is saying "good riddance" in response to a teenager's apparent suicide.

And then of course there's Magnus' conversation with Harrow as the River bubble collapses, as Harrow debates whether she should leave her body to Gideon:

She said: “If I go back, it will finally destroy her soul.”

It was Magnus who stepped forward and looked at Harrow face-to-face. And perhaps she felt that more keenly: that he was the man who had, in Gideon’s own words a lifetime ago, been nice to her cavalier. His mouth was hard now, but his eyes were as kind as they had ever been. And kindness was a knife.

He doesn't pull any punches in laying out his understanding of the situation to Harrow:

“This whole thing happened because you wouldn’t face up to Gideon dying,” he said, which was a stab as precise as any Nonius had managed. “I don’t blame you. But where would you be, right now, if you’d said: She is dead? You’re keeping her things like a lover keeping old notes, but with her death, the stuff that made her Gideon was destroyed. That’s how Lyctorhood works, isn’t it? She died. She can’t come back, even if you keep her stuffed away in a drawer you can’t look at. You’re not waiting for her resurrection; you’ve made yourself her mausoleum.”

His wife looked at Harrow’s face and murmured, “Magnus, you’ve made your point,” but he uncharacteristically ignored her.

He's trying to get through to her in a very fraught situation, but he's certainly not pulling his punches:

“You’re a smart girl, Harrowhark. You might turn some of that brain to the toughest lesson: that of grief.”

Abigail is also trying to talk her out of things, but she's much more discursive and apologetic. Magnus is kind, but it's kindness as a knife, not a cushion.

Magnus is so often written off as just a silly, goofy character, when he's more complicated than that. He's allowed to have a very real frustration with the River bubble and with Harrow, however much he does also care for her and want to help her.

And you know what, he's a CFO stuck in a horrorscape with his delighted ghost nerd wife and a bunch of soldiers. He runs with it - he cracks one of his House ordinal jokes while physically tackling a gun-toting ghost and makes a decent go at it before getting shot. But he's very much out of his comfort zone, angry, and no longer entirely held back by propriety.

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?

[chilschuck]

Chilchuck but we are his pretty wife, and we didn't abandon him this time.

Not only that, but we are also very caring and nice, and it's practically a surprise how we are with someone like Chilchuck.

I can picture him standing with a serious face and all gloomy, and then we are next to him beaming rays of sunshine (bonus if we are also blonde and a hafling)

They are literally the "sunshine x grumpy" trope

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhhh my god. so……..i was so happy with this cute request that i kind of ran with it LOL. this is such a good concept and i can picture this so well in my brain. i wrote a domestic lil drabble that i hope is okay, as my thoughts just went insane over this. WAHHHH i hope you enjoy and that this is okay!! thank you so much for your idea, anon!! <3

— SUNSHINE: chilchuck x wife!reader.

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw and soooo fluffy. reader is also a half-foot!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 675

✦ please i need more domestic bliss with this man. he deserves to feel so loved and happy. i tried to keep this light and sweet and playful bc i think he’d be grumpy but also. give this man the love he needs and he’ll thrive please chilchuck just one chance please pleas—

“Chil?” Your voice was so soft and sweet, it’s honey-like tone melting him to his core. You had decided to surprise him with breakfast this morning, something you loved to do when you had him here with you.

If the smell didn’t rouse him, your presence certainly did. It was an understatement to say that you were his weak spot, a point within him that he tried not to dwell on too much. Especially when the sun hit you in that halo of light at just the right angle, seeping through the windows and making his eyes flutter. Waking up to you was an experience he felt he couldn’t get enough of, drunk off of your velvet words as you brushed the bangs out of his face.

“Mm?” Was his only response, leaning subconsciously into your touch with a gruff sigh. You only laughed, that twinkle in your voice causing his heart to stutter within his chest. Why must he be married to the human form of sunshine? Surely his constant grumpiness would deter you, but much to his amusement, it only made you grin.

“Do you want breakfast, love?” Gods, when you called him that, he could feel his ears burn hot. Finally fully opening his eyes, his gaze found yours, softening instantly. How he managed to find someone like you, he would never understand. Regardless, he sat up, pawing at his eyes to dust the sleep from them. “I’d rather have you.” You heard him grumble, cheeks rosy. Another one of those addicting laughs left you. He didn’t think it was amusing. “Fine, I’ll get up…”

You practically bounced in place, rocking on your feet in excitement. It wasn’t hard to see that you adored your husband, his sleep shirt wrinkled and hair messy from sleep making you bite your lip in glee. Chilchuck gave you a skeptical look, scratching the back of his head before stretching. The action reminded you that he did have a little height on you, your own size as a half-foot causing you to feel small in any context. His shirt rode up to expose the tummy there, causing you to leave your gaze locked at that spot for a moment.

“Are you really this excited for me to get out of bed?” He mused, grumpiness slowly ebbing away at the warmth completely radiating off of you. You felt yourself nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and peering up at him with that expression that always made him weak in the knees. “I’m always excited for my husband to wake up and join the living again.”

“Is that so?” Chilchuck grinned, his voice rumbling in his chest and tingling against your skin. “You want a grump like me awake at this hour?” You couldn’t help but feed into him, continuing to nod your head cheerfully. “Really? Then it would be a shame if…”

Before he finished his sentence, you felt yourself pulled down to the bed as he fell backwards, a yelp leaving you in shock. He held you in his embrace, nuzzling into your neck and yawning. “...I took you down with me. Oh well.” Obnoxiously fake snores followed his teasing reply, causing you to laugh in bewilderment.

“Chilchuck, are you serious? I had finally gotten you up! Everything that I made is gonna get cold!” Although you spoke with mock frustration, the longer you found yourself in his embrace, the more you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Huffing, you relented. “Not my fault that your breakfast is going to be freezing by the time you finally get moving.” Your own grumbling, voice muffled against his shirt, caused him to chuckle. Your head buzzed.

His playfulness this morning made you feel a little giddy, studying his face as the light filtered in. A few gray hairs were illuminated in the sea of auburn, something you found pleasure in. You had to remind yourself that you both weren’t as young as you used to be, but if you were able to continue spending this life with him, well… Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

[midnightshindig]

Holy crap I haven't seen nearly enough rex content.

Could we perhaps get some cheesy lovey fluff of having him move into our apartment? Homeboy needs a break😭

Rex Splode X Gn! Reader

(hey so you are seeing things I can’t even envision bc I’m clouded and you are big brained, this is brilliant)

Spoilers!

Let me first say he is a SHOW OFF

So when you first propose the idea of moving in with you, his only though is

”I bet I’d look so sexy carrying all those heavy ass boxes by myself”

and so he immediately agrees without a second thought

if You’ve seen Teen Titans: The Judas Contract, where Nightwing and Starfire move in together, this is basically that

Youre watching him haul heavy huge boxes up flights of stairs while Mark- a friend of yours from highschool who got you and Rex acquainted in the first place- flies furniture through the balcony window.

Rex, at first, is super pissed his attempts to impress you got undermined

But then Mark hits you in the back with a fucking couch and Rex gets to be the hero again

”Jesus- Mark! Be CAREFUL with that thing-“ he slyly pushes the couch away, poking a tongue out at Mark, who is unimpressed but smiles anyways

“you could’ve hit their beautiful face!” He cupped your face and squished it, moving your cheeks around in circular motions for emphasis

You swatted his hands away before laughing “Pfft- I’m fine, don’t listen to him Mark, I’m fine.”

Mark still apologizes profusely, taking this as if cue to leave.

This leaves you and Rex to unpack his belongings, which admittedly are few

Even fewer since you vetoed his pinup posters

he has a surprisingly sturdy postcard collection, and you learn he collects them from every place he and the team go

You end up filling an entire side of your fridge with the postcards

”Maybe we should hang them up? They could line the walls” you stand a few feet back from the fridge, folding your arms and admiring your work

”Yknow I think that’s a problem for later, actually.” Rex rested his folded hands over your shoulder, laying his head atop.

When it comes to decorating, he’s such a diva

i mean godZILLA of rearranging everything you own to be more aesthetically pleasing

hed put the couch in front of the closet if you’d let him.

surprisingly, the most intimate part is putting away his kitchen supplies.

bus utensils join yours in the drawer and his favorite mug goes right next to yours in the shelf

You realize he brought his own dish soap and learn he uses hypoallergenic dishwasher detergent

”Yeah, the scientists grafting stuff under my skin made me a little sensitive to some chemicals and stuff”

He wears elbow length plastic gloves to do the dishes, apparently

Your toothbrushes go into a cup together in the bathroom

He threw away all his towels because “Yours are softer” and you have to go buy more towels

After unpacking and arranging and fighting over closet space, it’s finally done

Your space becomes his space becomes your space

His NASCAR poster right next to the framed autographs of your favorite voice actor

He’s slowly learning how to use your kitchen, and the quirks therein

for example, your stove and oven run hot, meaning the first time he tries to make you breakfast, he burns the shit out of everything

and the whole apartment smells like burnt egg

its okay bc he takes you to breakfast at a diner so who cares

He’s shockingly clean, like, does dishes daily and vacuums and Dusts

Who DUSTS?

when you ask him about it- mid putting away dishes together- he gets really quiet

This is scary , Rex is never quiet

After a minute of thinking, he shrugs and puts a cup away from behind you, reaching past your head to get to the top shelf

“This is the first real home I’ve ever had, I want to take care of it I guess”

excuse you while you sob hysterically and hold him to your chest

Rex: ???????

He doesn’t understand just how sad what he just said is, and you smile fondly down at him

You Sigh dreamily, combing a hand through his hair

“I love you, Rex. I’m glad you moved in”

he wraps his arms around your waist, looking up at you from your stomach with a devilish, almost shit-eating grin

”I love you too, thanks for inviting me”

he’s so >:D coded

so XDc pilled

Hes so in love with you and the life you’ve built with him omg

BONUS!!

You’re getting coffee with Eve one day and tell her about Rex’s clean freak habits

She literally chokes on her chai latte and just stares at you like an alien

”Rex, Rex like superhero Rex? Our Rex?”

she pulls out her phone and you find out he’s mister “crushed beer cans and pinup posters”

“He NEVER did dishes when we lived at Teen Team HQ.” She groaned “Or when he secretly lived with me.”

The next time she sees him she chews him out

but like ultimately she’s glad he’s growing up into a good boyfriend

[the-cauldron-witch]

Howdy T'Witch! It makes me so happy that you got your blog all up and designed! Those are big days and I’m happy that it looks so good! Hopefully you think so too!

I say that your writing requests were open and I’d love to pick your brain on some light angst if you’re up for it! No worries if you ain’t because hey understandable. The holidays be crazyyyyyy 🤪

But maybe to something to think about if you’re bored and whatever. But I wanted to ask on how do you think the Bayverse Boys would respond to you (y/n) getting amnesia and forgetting about them completely for whatever reason for how ever long? Do you think they’d try to rejog their memory or try to love them better with the chance of a fresh start? Or something else entirely. I am curious and I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’ve got the time and energy. Thanks for existing!

Hey Anon! (It’s weird to type this and have you not actually be an anon lmao)

I am very happy I finally have my blog up and running how I like, it finally feels like a little home to me. Thank you for noticing! 🫂🫂🫂

Thank you so much for sending an ask, I’m going to have fun with this one! I’m giving them a happy ending though, cause I can’t write angst and not give my boys a good ending. (Also completely unedited and not proof read lol)

Leonardo

The worry and anxiety he feels in the pit of his stomach like he swallowed a lead weight is one thing, but the chest-clenching heartbreak when you shriek at the sight of him and had no recollection of his existence is another.

He keeps a stoic face once you’ve calmed down and while explaining who he is to you, but really this poor guy is absolutely gutted. It takes so much of him to keep a straight face.

Still a bit of a helicopter, using any subtle opportunity to jog your memory of himself. He’ll make a cup of tea for you in the exact way he did on your first date, subtly comment on your outfit when he recognizes it’s something he bought you, anything he could think of to hopefully remind you.

This man does not sleep the entire time. You aren’t sleeping in his bed, how could he anyway? Once he is sure you are fully asleep, he comes to check on you. Listen to see if you talk in your sleep, mumbling about memories or just in case a nightmare decides to haunt you.

When he can’t check on you or do really anything else, he’s meditating in order to keep his emotions in line. He’s completely destroyed, so meditating for hours on end is the only way he can keep himself in check.

Although he’s snappy, irritable, and driving everyone but you away, what Leo really needs is one of his brothers to ignore the attitude and just stand there and let him get it out. By the time he’s done he’s already apologized a hundred times, he’s just lost and broken hearted.

Out of all his brothers, Raph is probably the one that cracks him and gets him to just spit it out. They all know what’s going on and how much Leo’s hurting from it all, but he still needs to let it out. Raph can handle the attitude with ease, brushing it aside and letting Leo get himself together

After what feels like an eternity, you gain your memory back at the most random of times while you happened to be watching him practice his kata. When you start babbling memories excitedly, he picks you up in a hug and cries into you.

It doesn’t matter if anyone’s watching, he’s crying and just so grateful that you remember who he is. Weeping tears of joy and the bottled anxiety finally burst as he holds you. Bear with this poor guy, it’s been a ride for both of you really.

Raphael

This poor guy is so surprised and in shock when you don’t remember him, he thinks you’re playing some sort of prank on him at first.

“Heh- babe, c’mon…don’t joke around like dat”

Once it hits him that this isn’t a prank or joke, you genuinely do not know who he is, Raph practically shuts down.

The love of his life doesn’t remember who he is, even looks at him like he’s the monster he felt he was before meeting you. It breaks his heart so much he locks himself away for a day or two, unfortunately leaving you more confused.

When you start wanting to be near him- no, needing to be near him, is when he starts coming around. He found you pacing back and forth in front of his bedroom door like a cat waiting to enter a closed off room one night.

You couldn’t explain it, but you have this invisible pull and primal need to be near him somehow. To be close, even touching him. Although you don’t remember why, you just know you need to,

Raph starts coming out of his room and trying to act normal, but when his brothers look him in the face an see how red and raw his eyes are, the dark circles, and the heartbreak in his eyes, they know it’s just an act but wisely choose not to comment.

He catches you staring at him while he’s working out, chuckling as you bashfully try to shy away. He doesn’t tease or joke though, instead encourages you to come watch

“I miss my favorite spotting partner,” Raph admits, hoping that will help jog your memory a little. It doesn’t outright, but you do find yourself already knowing how to spot him.

After a few days of you following Raph around like a lost puppy, your memory finally comes crashing back to you when Raph slipped the boxing gloves on you for practice.

Relief. So much relief it washes over Raph like a tidal wave that nearly knocks him off his feet. He holds you and kisses you, telling you repeatedly how grateful and happy he is you have your memory and you’re here. The tears will come at night while the two of you are in bed for the night, but he holds you and everything is okay.

Donatello

Initiate full on analytical mode. He is immediately going through a thousand different scenarios and cures in his head, he almost forgets that *you forgot* who he was all together, so his babbling did nothing to calm you down.

Even with all his knowledge and abilities, it still doesn’t negate the overwhelming emotions he feels when you don’t recognize him. It hurts, makes it hard for Donnie to even breathe, but he hides it behind his science and research.

Sitting in front of his computer for days on end in between checking up on your, it becomes almost like an obsession for Donnie to get your memory back. At the risk of his own health and wellbeing, he does not stop.

From using scents he knows you enjoy, like that cologne you bought for him as a gift or your favorite body wash, tasting your favorite coffee or the tiramisu Donnie bought for the two of you on a date once.

Let’s put on that movie we watched on that one Valentine’s weekend; you were obsessed with it for weeks!

Oh, what if Donnie took you to that rooftop the two of you saw a comet in the night sky once? It was absolutely beautiful, but wasn’t nearly as beautiful as you, he confided.

Countless hours of research keep Donnie from sleeping, honestly at one point contemplating how he could just straight main-line caffeine into his blood stream to stay awake.

Without warning one night, you come into his lab and demand he sleep. Not ask, not coax, you demand Donnie to get in bad with you and get some sleep. He questions if you’ve finally gotten your memory back, but sadly no. And he’s crushed. But you still demand he lay down in bed with you.

Crawling into bed with you with awkward limbs, Donnie is surprised that you lay down exactly as you always do with him. Even without memory, it was like your body still remembered how you fit together.

Quiet tears fall as Donnie holds onto you, sleep mercifully taking him into a deep slumber. Guilt crawled its way into your stomach while trying to sleep, wishing that your memory would just return so you could stop all of this.

Waking up in the morning, you blinked with shock as you look at Donnie- looked at him like you knew him again. And you did. You had woken up with your memory by some miracle.

Kissing and hugging you with love and relief, Donnie can’t keep his hands off of you or keep the tears from smudging his glasses. It was all so hard to believe while it was happening that now it was over, it felt like the end of a tornado.

The two of you decide to sleep in a little longer, only because Donnie could barely hold his eyes open. Frankly, sleep was probably what you needed too after all this.

Michelangelo

Confused. Downright, no jokes confused. How could you not remember him so suddenly? Time just doesn’t erase like that right?

Mikey asks Donnie a million and one questions, repeating or re-wording them or giving scenarios. It drives his brother mad, but he tries to be lenient because Donnie knows how terrified his younger brother is.

He caters to you in every way; offers to get you a drink, make you something to eat, get you a pillow, it becomes a little overwhelming, but you don’t know how to tell him to stop.

When Mikey tries to kiss you and pull away, it was like you could practically hear the way his heart shatters like glass. But he hides it with a smile and flirts, telling you he won you over once, he could do it again.

This is when he starts to flirt with you like he did before the two of you started dating, but with far more strategy and knowledge. Comments about how sweet you are while making your favorite chocolate pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream

Tells you how amazing you look in that shirt or those pants, mostly because he was the one to buy them.

He’ll give you your favorite kind of gifts; favorite flowers, candy, stuffed animals, anything he can think of giving you and jog your memory. Each time it doesn’t work, he’s crushed a little bit more, but he keeps trying.

Plays movies that you and Mikey watched together, shared music playlists the two of you built together over the period of your relationship, and whatever else he could possibly think of. But it still didn’t work.

When you aren’t anywhere near to see, Mikey with let himself cry for a moment out of frustration and sadness that you don’t remember him. It hurts, but by the time you are near he has a smile back on his face.

He thought you were sleeping one night when you found him crying down one of the sewer tunnels away from the lair. The sight broke your heart, which for some reason jogged your memory. Rushing to hug and kiss him, you damn near scared Mikey out of his shell.

“Angelcakes, you remember!?” Mikey shouts, picking you up and spinning you in a massive hug. Thank the pizza Gods, he had you back!

Taglist

@silverwatergalaxy @thelaundrybitch @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos

@yorshie @truffle-reblogs @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @luckycharms1701 @tmnt-tychou @suksiskovaikkakuuseen @milykins @justalotoffanfiction

[fearcutsdeeper]

Hi, I’ve really been enjoying your Temeraire posting! I saw in the tags of one of your posts recently (I think the one about the Laurence+Rankin friendship era in book one) that you read Laurence as autistic and the idea really tickled my brain! I’m a new fan of the series and I haven’t thought of him that way before, but now that you pointed it out it makes so much sense. I was wondering if you’d be willing to elaborate a bit on that reading of his character? It’s a super interesting idea and I’d love to hear more of your thoughts if you feel like sharing!

Absolutely!!! The first time I read the books I was really flying through them and too caught up in the character arc I could feel taking shape before my eyes to really dwell on the character as he is, if that makes sense. I'm reading more slowly this time and really considering his thoughts and actions in context, and they feel... like, very relatable to me in a specific way.

(Disclaimer: this is a personal reading, not trying to claim this is an objective truth about the character or anything, etc)

One thing about the way a lot of people discuss autistic or perceived-as-autistic characters is that they'll recognize them as autistic based on straightforward expression of symptoms/traits that you might read off a list. This isn't doing it wrong or anything, and the characters in question can easily be read as autistic! But those aren't usually the characters I see myself in.

I'll pretty often start seeing a character as autistic not because they're outwardly showing symptoms, but because their behavior strikes me as learned compensation for symptoms. Data from Star Trek is very frequently seen as autistic coded not just because of his frequently expressed lack of understanding for social conventions but also because he then explicitly writes himself new subroutines to account for what he learns. A lot of autistic people (including myself) go through their lives kind of accumulating "scripts" – like, oh, I seem to have missed that X was a signal, but the person's reaction tells me that the appropriate response would have been Y. Next time I encounter X, I will do Y.

Now, Will Laurence builds his ENTIRE LIFE around the elaborate rules of British propriety and honor and duty. He tells us that he enjoys Society – "conversation, dancing, and friendly whist were his favorite pursuits". All three things listed are, in Georgian wealthy society, things with a strict and learnable structure and rules – he likes when what he's supposed to do is clearly laid out for him! He's in I think his late thirties when the series starts. I'm basically reading him as an autistic man who realized that people didn't make sense to him the way they did to other children and then spent his entire life Learning The Rules so no one would notice.

Every time he's engaging with propriety and Proper Behavior, he's thinking very consciously about it. And when someone else violates his understanding of the rules, he's internally scrambling for the proper response, because his script has been disrupted. (My personal favorite it when he'll go "the only satisfactory response would be a challenge to duel but I'm not allowed anymore")

So, he's been doing this all his life, he's learned all the rules for the life track he's put himself on (which is a highly structured one!), and then, boom, the plot hits.

The Rules of aviator society are totally different. Laurence is affronted and scrambling. I find it notable that Berkley basically plows right through Laurence's attempts at propriety and immediately starts talking to him like he would any other aviator, and it WORKS. Laurence is kind of taken aback, because his rules would interpret the way he's being spoken to as an insult, but Berkley certainly isn't acting like he means to give insult, so Laurence doesn't respond like he's received one. There's also the bit where he notes that the woman serving him has violated protocol by greeting him instead of being silent – but he returns the greeting and isn't offended.

He's mirroring like hell! (This is a common autistic trait.) He's working out what the expected behavior is and returning it as much as he can manage. And when he's with Rankin, he reverts to his society scripts, with so much relief that he ignores some warning signs.

And this makes his whole arc of disillusionment with the British Government SO interesting, because Laurence, I think anyone would agree, takes the honor that the government pays lip service to dramatically more seriously than most members of the government and Admiralty. And, until he gets the truth shoved in his face, he has enormous trouble conceiving of that. It really reads as autistic to me – like, what do you MEAN the elaborate system of morals you told me to structure my personality around is only window dressing to you? It's sure as hell not window dressing to me!

In this reading, in addition to all the other incredible things that his story is about, it's also about an autistic guy becoming increasingly uncomfortably aware that the systems of rules and parameters which he painstakingly learned and have successfully guided him through most of his life are fundamentally in conflict with each other, and eventually being forced at gunpoint to decide which of those rules really truly matter, throw out the rest, and rebuild from scratch.

Which is to say: my man is in hell. At least he has a dragon?

[queer-ragnelle]

Why do you hate the Once and Future Knight? I decided not to pick up the book because of personal preference but I’d love to hear your rant on it

Hi anon!

I’m assuming you mean The Once and Future King by TH White?

There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already been said before I’m sure. But I didn’t read the series until I had already read many other Arthurian tales and I really don’t understand the love the series gets. The negatives don’t outweigh the positives, and worse, the lasting impact of TH White’s characterization choices on subsequent retellings is a stain on the literary tradition that set us back too far to comprehend. Putting my rant below a cut because I went off and the subject matter is disgusting.

First and foremost, the bigotry is astounding. The racism, the misogyny, the ableism and every other prejudice and cruelty you can think of are staggering in their variety and magnitude. It’s vile. It’s inexcusable. I don’t read modern Arthurian retellings to be bombarded with that in every single chapter. TOAFK is not “a product of its time.” It’s a product of a deeply unhappy and hateful man. Plenty of earlier writing is vastly kinder to Palomides and Guinevere and Morgause and Mordred and Lancelot or any other character unlucky enough to be depicted by TH White. Literally the Medieval source material is more nuanced than that. Morgause get behind me.

Secondly, the anachronism is an annoying stylistic choice at best and yet another tool for bigotry at worst. Why are Mordred and Agravaine likened to Nazis? Like seriously what the hell? It’s not enough for them to be antagonists, the text has to invoke the Holocaust? It’s so extreme it rips the reader right out of the story and calls to mind the most horrific parts of history for no narrative benefit whatsoever. Baffling and bad.

Thirdly, the prose just kinda sucks. It’s rambling and TH White will pause the narrative to stand on a soap box to talk at the reader about his views. He’s anti-war. Fine. But of all characters to use as a mouthpiece—King Arthur? The warlord King Arthur? Make it make sense.

Fourth, most tragically of all, so much of what TH White did in his series is reflected in stories told to this day. Every other retelling has a cover quote comparing it to TOAFK. (It’s supposed to be a compliment!) To put it in perspective…

You ever read a retelling with evil neglectful parent and rapist Morgause/Morgan? TH White’s fault.

How about added incest between one of the Orkney bros and their mother (which sometimes results in someone other than Gaheris killing her, say, Agravaine or Mordred)? Thanks, TH White, that’s just what Arthurian Legend was missing, more incest.

Ever see disabled, crippled, bad seed Mordred? TH White started that trend.

What about Guinevere assaulting Lancelot when she learns about Elaine getting him drunk and raping him? TH White really said “Lol what if Guinevere hits Lancelot and spits in his face while he’s crying?”

And the racism! TH White walked so Thomas Berger could run (derogatory). Discussions of race are so intense and so frequent and so random like one minute the narrator has paused the plot to talk about how war is bad and now it’s slandering Native Americans? Brother this is Medieval England what is even happening right now? Oh, look, another N bomb. The antisemitism! Weren’t you just comparing Mordred to Hitler? What do you mean the Orcadian/Scottish characters are evil because of *checks notes* “the incalculable miasma which is the leading feature of the Gaelic brain?” [Queen of Air and Darkness chapter 5] Thanks TH White for stripping Lot, Morgause, Gawain, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and Mordred of all nuance, a condition from which they have, literally, never recovered. Of course there are some retellings since that write one or two of them with a crumb of nuance, but they’ll never be like they were in the Vulgate. Not all at the same time. I feel sick.

It goes on and on. I have to stop listing examples or I’ll get pissed off. But frankly, more people should be pissed off about it! I’m tired of seeing five star reviews on storygraph and goodreads accompanied by a review excusing the most bigoted garbage I have ever read in a children’s book. It’s vile and everyone should feel bad about defending it. It’s inexcusable. This wasn’t a case of good-intentioned inclusion with dated language, this was an author going out of his way to be hateful. Period.

Big names in the fantasy book community like Daniel Greene should not be awarding five stars and leaving an uncritical review.

Far too many readers acknowledge the racism and then rate it five stars anyway. Go to Hell, Spencer.

Here’s some from storygraph with, of course, praise for Marion Zimmer-Bradley’s pedophilic power fantasy Mists of Avalon, another piece of hot festering sludge everyone should stop talking about. Kill the legacy already. The real life victims have suffered enough.

There also seems to be a trend in these reviews that excuse the texts bigotry by referring to how “old” it is. Which is crazy to me for many reasons. TOAFK in its final form was published in 1958. That wasn’t that long ago. Also racism has always been racism, misogyny has always been misogyny, ableism has ways been ableism. Plenty of authors came before this and really make TH White look like a clown.

Let’s promote them. In reverse!

John Steinbeck wrote The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights in 1956 (published posthumously in the 70s, don’t go by that date). His depictions of Morgan and Guinevere are nuanced and fascinating, not to mention some original characters including an old granny who teaches Owain to be a warrior! This book also has a morally gray sun-powered Gawain without insulting his heritage, an emotional and thought-provoking Lancelot without marking his sin with a facial deformity, and a really sweet Marhalt who doesn’t often get much spotlight!

John Erskine wrote Restoring Palamede in 1932. He does exactly what the cover says, and writes a story about the Muslim knight Palomides beginning in his own country, living with his parents whom are both named, and follows him as he learns the ways of the world and finds an ally in his friend Brangaine! Tristan and Isolde are compelling here and while Tristan can still be a jerk to Palomides, it’s not the mask-off bigotry we’ve seen…elsewhere.

Howard Pyle wrote one, two, three, four books between 1903-1910. Two thumbs up from me. No notes. He drank his respect women juice, drew them with loving care, named so many previously unknown, and gave them voices. He was kind in his portrayal to Palomides and even some other knights of color from India. Morgause survives the narrative! We love to see it!!!

Henry Newbolt wrote Mordred: A Tragedy in 1895. A fascinating examination of family ties, all five Orkney brothers here AND their wives Lyonors, Lynette, and Laurel! (Minus Ragnelle bc life is unfair.) Guinevere and Lancelot are tragic and heart wrenching. Arthur struggles against his son Mordred and their destiny in a way that doesn’t outright demonize either side. It will rewire your brain.

Richard Hovey wrote his poetry between 1891-1900. A complex and interesting Guinevere and Elaine who are not enemies, Lancelot close with Galehaut during the war, destroyed by his torn loyalties between Arthur and Guinevere, Gawain who loves his friend Lancelot with all his heart, and so much more without tearing anyone down!

Oscar Fay Adams wrote his poetry between 1886-1906. Here we get a wide variety of character focus, with title-featured names from King Lot to Dagonet to Lamorak to Lionel. Each one is more fascinating and nuanced and fresh than the last, from a tour of Lot’s castle and meeting each inhabitant to Lamorak on Grail Quest learning to forgive himself from “sweet” Sagramore.

William Morris wrote his poetry between 1856-1910. All of it is on the Camelot Project but I also have this scanned book. Here we delve into Guinevere’s trial as she calls out those who have wronged her, lonely Galahad on Grail Quest relating to his father Lancelot and praising Palomides in his steadfast hunt of the Questing Beast, there’s even a poem named for Palomides himself!!!

Anonymous wrote Moriaen in the 13th century. It follows Aglovale’s illegitimate son Moriaen, who is of African descent. As he travels around Britain looking for his father, Moriaen meets many people who are afraid of his dark skin. BUT! All the Knights of the Round Table leap to his defense, even threatening townsfolk who try to demonize Moriaen for the way he looks and refuse him service. It is, essentially, an anti-racism story from the Medieval era. Not to mention healer Gawain’s care and attention given to the sick and disabled. That’s not even the moral/focus of the story so much as Moriaen’s journey, but it’s there and worth mentioning.

So here we are with a whole list of stuff to read that predates TOAFK and surpasses it. The last one is only sort of a joke. But it’s there to make a point about how inexcusable TH White’s racism really is. If Anonymous could give a black knight like Moriaen the narrative respect he’s entitled to for existing as a representation of real human beings that look like him, then TH White was capable of it too. Progress is not linear. This is not to say Medieval times were “better” than society today. But to write off any problematic story of the recent past as “a product of its time” as an excuse to make oneself feel better about liking it, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe reflect on that. And while that marinates, read something else.

[hugsandchaos]

Am I the only one who thinks that Merida and Hiccup would probably make a pretty good friend duo?

I think they might get along pretty well. I’d also love to see Runaway Hiccup getting along with Fergus. Merida asks Hiccup if he’s ever argued with his mom like she did in the past (and still does, but not as often), and he hits her with the “I never knew my mother”.

I want Hiccup standing in the snow all like “Oh, this is nice weather” while Merida is in some comically large coat all like “Did the logical side of your brain get frostbite or something?! It’s fucking freezing!”. I want them teaching each other their languages to overcome the barrier.

I want Hiccup looking at the tapestry of Merida and Elinor as a bear, then making a quick sketch of him and Toothless to show Merida. It’s a bit of a misunderstanding, but the feeling is close enough to being mutual. Like “Hey, look, I have a non-human friend too!”

Or Fergus sounding like Stoick making Hiccup randomly pause, but the way he acts is so different. Fergus is a lot nicer to him as a friend. If we follow the events of the first movie instead of Runaway Hiccup or if Hiccup lost his leg in a dragon raid after he ran away, then Fergus genuinely curious about how it happened, but knows that not everyone is okay talking about it like him and doesn’t press. He’ll gladly tell the story of how he lost his own leg, though, if you recall the dinner scene from Brave.

On that account, if they ever tell him how Mor ’Du finally died, Merida and Fergus will practically brag about how Elinor showed an entirely different side and it was the first time they’d seen her that mad protecting Merida. Seriously, she took the term “mama bear” to a literal level and used those claws. You could feel the protective rage through the screen.

Another sub-topic I’d like to bring up is that you can hear one of the clan leaders sarcastically say “Maybe it was carried off by a dragon”. I love that because it hints at the idea that the kingdom doesn’t actually believe in dragons. At least not everyone. So Hiccup’s stuck between proving that they’re real and keeping up the facade.

Also, there are lines in Brave hinting at the kingdom not getting along with Vikings. So imagine if in the early days, Merida handed him a viking hat to try to confirm if he really was one. She still doesn’t understand a word of what he’s saying, but the disgust on his face when he threw the helmet and the anger in his voice when he next spoke was enough to understand.

“I’m not one of them.”

Drunk Hiccup: I just miss my best friend right now. He’s outside, in the forest, and he’s not here! *proceeds to cry his eyes out*

Fergus: I… think you’ve had enough.

Elinor: Fergus.

Fergus, carrying a very confused, semi feral Hiccup: What? We’ve already got four kids, what’s one more?

Merida: Little brother or big brother?

Hiccup: Excuse me?

Merida: Are you my new little brother or big brother?

Hiccup: Wait, wait, wait am I being adopted??? What’s happening??

[glassartpeasants]

All The Things He Said

Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, reader got them mommy issues, Kid being a massive asshole, edited best to small brain abilities

A/N: Smaller text is the strawhats talking. Didn't have enough colors to separate them all equally. This is based off an ask but I accidentally deleted it. I feel like I kinda dropped the ball on this one but idk

~~~

It was much too quiet on the Victoria Punk. No yelling, talking, or sounds of footsteps, even. A pin dropping could sound like an explosion, with how quiet it was. The silence left a thick feeling of unease in your stomach, making you finally decide to leave your room.

Jumping out of bed, you stretch before putting on some clothes. Taking a step into the hallway, a gust of cold air hits you like a sack of bricks. It bit at your skin and left you shivering. Turning around, you grab the blanket that covered you and Kid’s shared bed. While it was huge, the fact it smelled like your lover made it worth the hassle to carry around.

Walking through the halls, the feeling of unease only grew in your stomach. The silence that covered the ship made your heart race. You were docked at an island, so everyone could be grabbing supplies or raiding, but they usually invite you.

Simply deciding to shrug it off, you walk towards Kid’s workshop to see if he is there. You haven’t seen him yet, and it was always a good morning when you got to see his cute, grumpy face. Knocking on the workshop door, you gently open it and see Kid working on his metal limb.

“There you are, baby! I was wondering where you were!” You got to put your arms around him, only for him to shrug you off. Shocked, you place your hand on his arm gently, trying to get him to pay attention to you. Only for him to throw off your hand as well.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Kid didn’t even look at you when he responded.

“Fuck off, your annoying.” Your mouth turned agape at his words. What had you done to be talked to like this?

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?” This time, Kid stops and turns to look at you. A different type of rage in his eyes.

“You fucking heard me. Go be a nuisance somewhere else!” A scowl appeared on your face hearing him. No way would you allow him to talk to you like this.

“Who do you think you are speaking to me like this? You may be my boyfriend, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to allow myself to be spoken to like this.” Crossing your arms, you only stared him down. Even when he stood up, towering over you, you still refused to back down.

“I think I’m your fucking Captain!”

“Oh so your Captain now instead of my boyfriend?”

“I’m not going to be a whore’s boyfriend.” Kid’s words made your heart stop, and your eyes widen.

“What? What did you just call me?”

“I called you a fucking whore. Are you too stupid to understand that?!”

“I understand what the damn word means! What I’m saying is, why the hell you would call me that!”

“You think I’m stupid?! I caught you all up on that man yesterday! Fukcing sucking on his damn face!” What on earth was he talking about? You were Hip all day yesterday! Both of you shopping at the plaza on the island! You even showed him an outfit you bought! Where was he getting all this false information?

“I was Hip all day yesterday! You can even ask her! Besides, what would I gain from that?! I love you! The only man I want is you, and the only crew I’d ever fight alongside with is yours!” A snarky laugh left Kid’s lips hearing your last words.

“Fight?! You don’t do shit! Me and Killer always have to save your dumbass cause your too useless to do shit yourself!” A silence fell over the two of you. You can feel your lips tremble and your words dying in your throat.

“I don’t even know why I’m with someone so useless! There are plenty of other whore’s on this island who have more talent than you!” His words felt like knives carving into your skin with every word. They were so filled with hate that you couldn’t be around him anymore. Turning around, you walk towards the door, trying to ignore his hurtful words.

“Oh yeah! Go on and walk away! That’s all your good at!” You heard him slamming the door behind you, and only then did you allow the tears to flow.

How could he say such things? He said words that he knew would hurt you. The cruelty of it was unbelievable. You knew he could be mean, but this was insane! The horrific incident made hot tears pour down fast along your cheeks. Is that how he truly felt? Did he really think you were useless this entire time you’ve been with him? Is that how everyone else on the Victoria Punk thought as well?

When you made it to your and Kid’s shared bedroom, you thought to yourself. Why would you stay with a man who could call you such words without a shred of proof and guilt?  Why be with a man who thinks you're lying no matter what you say? You already dealt with enough treatment like that before you met him. How could he let you leave all you knew behind just to leave you on with lies and false promises? Make you come with him to sail the sea, only for him to turn around and show his true colors? You knew people said he was a cruel man, but you never thought you’d see how cruel he was for yourself.

Grabbing the door handle, you knew that this wasn’t the life you were promised. Wasn’t the life you were meant for? You’ve always dreamed of leaving your island and exploring the world! But for that to happen, you had to be strong and let mean comments slide off your back if you wanted to be a pirate. But Kid was right. You were useless, so it would have never worked out in the end, regardless.

“Mom was right…dreams are for children.” With shaky hands, you begin to gather your belongings. Maybe going back home would have a better life for you planned out.

The sound of your mother yelling seemed to ring everywhere along the house as she screamed at you. Her face filled with rage as she stared at you with crazed eyes.

“I ask you to do one thing, and you can’t even do that?! How could I have had a daughter so useless that she can’t even make soup?!” Her demeaning words made you feel smaller than an atom.

“I’m sorry mommy. I couldn’t reach the pot to stir-”

“Your eight years old! When I was your age, I made my own food! My parents didn’t help me at all! How could you be so stupid!” Little hiccups escape from your mouth as you try to fight back tears.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your mother scoffed at your tears.

“God, I’m getting pissed off just looking at you. Get out of my sight.” Without another word, you start climbing up the stairs, your small hands struggling to grip the railing.

“Useless child.”

~~~

The moon was the only source of light as the crew of the Victoria Punk finally. After a full day of drunk laughter and raided goods, everyone was ready to call it a night. Yet, as soon as they boarded the Victoria, a feeling of dread filled everyone's senses.

Making the first move, Killer made his way to Kid’s workshop. Since you didn’t join the rest of the crew today, he suspected that you’d be with Kid. But to his surprise, when he opened the door, he only saw Kid working on a piece of metal.

“Oh (Y/N)’s not in here with you?” The sheer mention of your name seemed to spark hatred inside of Kid.

“No, she’s probably out fucking other men.” Killer’s eyes widen behind his mask. 

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I caught her making out with another guy yesterday! That’s what I’m talking about!”

“She should have been with Hip yesterday. Are you sure that you didn’t see someone that looked like her?”

“Same clothes she wore that day! The same way she wore her hair and the same hair color!”

“Did you see her face?”

“No, she was too busy sucking that dipshits face.” There was something not right about the situation he walked into. In all the time he’s known you, the only man you made eyes to was Kid. The only man you let hug you was Kid. Everything was only for Kid. It just didn’t make sense for you to cheat.

“Did you talk to her about it?”

“We fought, and she walked away 'cause she couldn’t handle being faced with her actions.”

“What happened after that?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. I said my peace, and I’ve been in here ever since.” Something still didn’t seem right, so Killer thought it’d be best to find you and hear your side of the story. He knew Kid was act first, think later, which was the main cause of almost all your fights. Only after Kid calms down is when he see’s rationality. Even now, he still seems so pissed. It’d be best to find you sooner than later.

“Alright.” Closing the door, Killer made his way to your and Kid’s shared room. Normally after fights, he could find you in there. Kid would sleep in his workshop, and you’d sleep in the bed is how it usually was when a fight happened.

Knocking on the door, he’s only met with silence.

“(Y/N)? You in there?” Still silence.

“(Y/N)?” Carefully opening the door, Killer’s met with a half-empty room. No sign that you ever lived there in the first place. No misplaced shirt or sock, nothing. Closing the door, he went to your original room, and once again, no sign you ever lived on the Victoria Punk. The fight must have been much bigger than he thought.

If you weren’t on the ship, then where were you?

~~~

You couldn’t eat anything, no matter how hungry you were. Everything you tried to choke down always came right back up from crying so hard. The tears felt like battery acid against your skin, and it drove you mad. How can you cry over him after what he said? Telling you things that he knew would hurt you. Maybe you were a fool for falling in love like your mother said.

“Mom? Can I ask you for advice?” Standing in front of your mother, you feel her eyes pierce her soul.

“What? Can’t you see I'm busy?” The only thing next to her was a pack of cigarettes and a shell phone. Waiting for her ‘friends’ to call her.

“Well, I fell in love with this-” Your mother's laughter interrupted you before you could finish.

“Only fools fall in love! Is that what you are (Y/N)? A fool?”

“No! That’s not true!” A scowl appeared on your mother's face as she stood up quickly.

“Of course it is! Love is a waste of time! Love is for the pathetic worms like yourself! You think anyone's gonna love you? You’ve got nothing worth wild!” Tears start to slip from your eyes as you try to ignore your mother's words.

“Stop! It’s not a waste of time! Everyone has a chance at love! That’s what grandma says…” Your mother grabbed your wrist and brought you closer to her. 

“Grandma married an abusive drunk! She doesn’t know the first thing about love! All you are is a useless little girl who’s following dumb dreams!” Ripping your hand from your mother's grip, you start walking away. 

“Being a whore is the only way a man will ‘love’ you.” Her last words made you run to your room with tears flying off your face. Her words echo in your head no matter how hard you try to ignore them. Your mirror shook when you slammed your bedroom door shut. The vibrations had you look at yourself in the mirror.

A painful itch in your mind emerged as you started to wonder if you always looked like that.

~~~

Laying in the hotel bed, you stare at the ceiling as the memory ends as soon as it starts. The memories of your childhood started playing ever since you left the Victoria Punk. You didn’t realize that you never thought about the past when you were with Kid, but now that you were lying here alone in the dark, it was all you could think about. Knowing that now only made you angry. Without Kid, you couldn’t even think a positive thought? How could you let yourself depend on him so hard? Your mother would be ashamed if she saw you.

If she wasn’t already.

She wasn’t thrilled when you ran off to be a pirate with Kid. Screaming and yelling words that you couldn’t make out. If she had a boat, she’d probably would have come after you. A sight to see truly. But now that you made plans to go home, what would she do when you showed up back at her door? 

In 2 days, you’d be making your way back down to the south blue. You were from an island and known for their spices that you could only get on the island. That and the lack of protection from the world government. Many pirates hit the shores of your island, demanding the spices that were worth so much to be eaten by sea kings the second they leave the island. One of the cons to the spices was that it was a natural sea king attracter. It was always so gratifying to see asshole pirates get eaten,

But then Kid came along.

He was brand new to the pirate scene, but by god, he was making a name for himself fast. His bounty raises every new newspaper. It was exhilarating to see such action coming from your part of the sea. Even if it wasn’t the greatest type of action.

The moment a woman started yelling about pirates, you went to see who it could be. You loved to get a closer look at life on the sea. At least the decent ones you did. But you can remember the moment you caught Kid’s eyes.

Hiding behind a tree in the woods was the perfect cover to spy on the pirates that you heard just docked. The hiding spot never failed you before, so why would it now? A gruff voice caught your attention. Looking at the source, you feel your heart skip a beat. 

There he was. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid.

His red hair seemed to shine in the sun, and it looked softer than silk. His skin was kissed with beautiful freckles. The way he carried himself among his crew made you continue to look at him in awe. You’ve never met a man so breathtaking. There was something about him. You’ve heard the stories behind him. How the devil could be beautiful. Too much in awe, you failed to hear the conversation between the captain and his first mate.

“After we raid this lame town, we’ve only got a few more islands then we’re off to Sabaody.”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“It seems we’re being watched.” Pointing to the woods, the masked man shows his captain a figure behind a tree.

“Go ahead, Killer. I’ll take care of it.” Nodding, the man leaves. Turning back to the woods, Kid uses his devil fruit powers to see if he can’t just bring the figure to him. 

The moment his gaze locked yours, you feel your face burn. His eyes were like a memorizing fire that you couldn’t look away from. Only when your ring starts vibrating is when you realize you’ve been truly caught.

“Oh no-” Pulled forward, you go crashing into the captain’s grip. His frame towered over you as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but continue to admire him.

“Care to tell me why your spying on me, woman?” Not fully registering his question and thinking out loud, you respond.

“Your even prettier up close.”After the words left your lips. You slam your free hand over your mouth and look at him with wide eyes. Admitting that you found a ruthless pirate pretty to his face might be the best way to be put 6 feet under. His silence only made you panic more.

“I m-mean, hey can I get you a drink? There’s a good bar in town!” Kid laughed at your stumbling as he brought your rings closer to his face. It wasn’t the prettiest, but it was still worth some berri’s.

“How about you give me this ring instead? Looks like I could get a good amount of berri’s for it.”

“Oh yeah, sure! Here!” Kid lets your arm down but keeps a firm grip on your wrist. Taking off the ring, you place it in his hand. His smirk made butterflies rumble in your tummy.

“Now show me that bar you were speaking of. Need some booze for the trip.

“Of course!” Your willingness to please him made him conjure up thoughts that are less than innocent. If you were so excited to please him, maybe you’d be a good fuck. Been a minute since he’s had sex. Plus, if his eyes were still working, that was a wedding ring he stole from your dainty little hand. Fucking a married woman could be an experience.

“What’s your husband gonna think when he sees that his little wife no longer has her ring?”

“I’m not married! Not yet, at least.”

“Yet?”

“My mom sold me off to marry a rich man’s son so she could stop living in poverty and pay back her debts to the bank.” Instead of the chipper tone you held only moments ago, your voice filled with sadness.

“Thought that shit was only for princesses and princes. Have you seen the bastard?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh, is he ugly? Shitty luck for you, huh?” Kid’s laughter made the situation feel a bit better. It’s shocking you become so obsessed with a man you just met. But you wouldn’t trade the feeling for anything. This simple jolt of joy was something you wished would never end.

“I can help you carry your booze to your ship! I can also get a good amount of spices that won’t attract the sea kings!” your words seemed to pique Kid’s interest. 

“Is that so? Tell me more about these spices. And leave nothing out, got it?”

“Sure thing, captain!”

The memory only made rage flood through your veins. Rage on how you could have been so desperate. How willing you were to commit a crime and please the most dangerous new-gen pirate at the time. God, you probably sounded so pathetic. If you could go back in time to tell yourself that you were acting stupid, you would.

His baseless accusations were appalling even still thinking aboutit. He never even heard your side! Just assuming the worst of you was his first thought? It hurt so much to think about. You always gave him the benefit of the doubt, so why couldn’t he do the same to you?

~~~

Killer searched all around the town for you, yet he still couldn’t find you. The lack of success started to frustrate him as he walked back to the Victoria. 

It’s been a full day since you’ve disappeared. Worry that something happened to you started to settle within the other crew members. Heat and Hip offered to check out the small forested area of the island. Wire said he’d search the port more and keep an eye out in case you forgot something and came back to grab it.

The whole situation still didn’t make sense to Killer, no matter how hard he thought about it. It made no sense to anyone on the crew. He didn’t dare ask Kid any more questions since it was obvious he was still overwhelmed with rage.

No matter what Kid said he saw, there was just no way in hell you had cheated on him. From the first time Killer had seen you, he could see the lovestruck look you had in your eyes when you stared at Kid. Years later and you still look at him like that! Cheating wasn’t something you’d do. No way in hell.

Kid’s immediate reaction, while it shouldn’t have shocked Killer, did. He recalled when Kid took you on the team without even seeing how you fought or if you could even fight. He’s never seen him do anything like that before and since. Killer saw how lovesick Kid became only weeks after you joined. Kid would tell him how proud he was when you were getting better at fighting. Or how he loved being the one to protect you.

No matter what, Killer had to find you. The aftermath is something that Killer knew would lead to flames.

~~~

Using the new clothes you bought and wearing a mask, you managed to sneak into a salon to get a haircut. Changing your appearance slightly would allow you to go outside without the worry of being recognized. It also gives you a breath of fresh air. A new look for a new chapter of your life. The chapter of your time with Kid was coming to a close. It hurt as you’ve never been happier than when you were with them. But who knows, maybe you’ll be even happier somewhere else. Only time will tell.

Your and Kid’s shared laughter echoed in your ears as you both ran to the Victoria Punk. Well, he ran as he carried you on his shoulder. One hand full of raided goods and the other holding your legs. Both your hands filled with spices as you watch your mother and supposed to be future groom chase after you.

“Damnit, pirate! Give me back my wife!”

“Don’t you dare take her! She’s my key to getting out of this shitty place!” Their words sounded like babble compared to the sound of your and Kid’s laughter.

“No can do losers! I take what I want!” Hearing Kid say those final words made your heart explode. He actually wanted you! Your face felt like it was on fire as his smell overwhelmed your senses.

Something inside you told you, you were meant to be his. That even though you’ve only known him for a day, he managed to make your heart beat like never before. His voice made your legs jelly, and his sheer strength had you staring at him like he was the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. Everything about him had you in awe.

You weren’t even out to sea, but this is the happiest you’ve ever been! If simply meeting him made you feel so much joy, how could it be when you’d get to see him every day? It’d be a dream you hope you’d never wake up from.

“How does this look, miss?” The hairdresser turned you towards the mirror.

“It looks great! Do you have time for a color?”

“Actually, yes! Let me go get the color swatches.”

~~~

“No sign of her Killer. We checked everywhere.” Heat’s words only caused dread to fill Killer. Everyone’s looked top to bottom, and not even a trace of your existence has been found.

“You don’t think she’s already gone, do you?”

“Don’t say shit like that. Just…she’s here. No way she could’ve already docked a different boat.” Just then, a familiar-looking outfit caught Killer’s eye. Same hair color and length. Not wanting to lose you to the crowd, Killer runs up to you.

“(Y/N)! Where have you been?! We’ve been looking everywhere-”

“Hmm?” Killer stops in his tracks when you turn to look at him. But it wasn’t you. The person before him had a completely different face. He thought it was you! How could someone look so similar?-

“Did you see her face?”

“No, she was too busy sucking that dipshits face!”

“Oh no.” Looking down at the woman, all the pieces started coming together in his mind.

“Heat! Go grab Kid!”

“Okay?” Heat’s footsteps leave Killer’s earshot quickly. Turning his attention to the woman, he could see her nervousness.

“Listen, I know this is weird, but I need to borrow you for a second. You looked like my friend's girlfriend from behind, and he thought she cheated. I just need him to see your face. I promise I’ll pay you. All you need to do is just stay right there.” Confusion appeared on the woman’s face before a frown as she crossed her arms.

“Damn pirates. Always assuming the worst in people. I’ll do it, but I have one condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yeah, condition! I’d like to have a few words with your friend as it’s obvious he’s a fucking idiot if he can’t even talk to his girlfriend like a reasonable adult. And the pay better be nice.” The woman stood her ground as she grumbled out the last part. Killer wouldn’t blame her for not wanting to be a part of a pirate's relationship problems. While on the one hand, he knew that letting her say some choice words for Kid could end badly on her end. Maybe it’ll give him the punch in the head to realize his mistake.

“Alright, Killer, I got him.” Kid’s grumpy face and heavy footsteps didn’t go unnoticed by the woman, as he could see her body tense.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“It wasn’t (Y/N) you saw 3 days ago. It was her. She looks the same if looked at from behind.” Killer motions the girl to turn around, and she does with a huff before turning back around.

“Where were you three days ago?”

“I was out on the town with my fiance. We went shopping before going to eat at the ice cream shop over there.”

“Rough guess on time?”

“2:30pm to 3pm. Are we done with the questions now?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Killer can still see the woman standing in front of Kid with a scowl on her face. Guess she was serious about giving him a few choice words.

“(Y/N) would have been with Hip at that time three days ago.” Looking at Kid, Killer could see the gears turning in his head before his face went pale.

“We’ve searched the entire place, and there's no trace of (Y/N).”

“No one’s seen her either.”

“Well, look again, damnit!” Killer could hear the panic in Kid’s voice as he spoke. His eyes darting in every direction to try and find you. Heat and Killer’s eye exchange looks of worry seeing the state of frenzy their captain was sinking into.

“Your acting like she’d want to go back to you.” Kid’s eyes snapped to the woman who looked at him with disdain. The air turned tense as Kid’s rage felt suffocating to be near, but the woman didn’t back down.

“What the fuck did you just say?!”

“You got sand in your ears? I said that your acting like she’d even want to go back to you. Your stupid to think so.” Turning to Killer, the woman held out her hand for her payment. Without saying a word to Kid, Killer hands the woman money, and she makes her escape. Kid just stands there frozen for a few seconds before coming back to. 

“Don’t just stand there! Find her!”

~~~

“(Y/N) was it?”

“Yeah. Never thought I’d see a Strawhat here. Let alone a hopelessly lost one.”

“I’m not lost. I’m simply…enjoying the scenery?”

“Yeah, okay, swordsman.”

“Zoro.”

“Well, Zoro. What’s a strawhat doing here?”

“Beats me. What’s a Kid pirate doing here? More or less screaming and cussing out their captain in the middle of the woods while surrounded by their belongings?”

“Ex-Kid pirate. And let’s just say Eustass Kid lives up to the ‘most cruel new gen pirate’ allegations.”

You remembered the green-haired swordsman from Sabaody. He’s ten times more fit than the last time you saw him. It had you wondering what all the other Strawhats looked like.

“Who would have thought!” His laughter had your lips curving up to a small smile. It was a breath of fresh air to be smiling after 2-3 days of nonstop crying. You’ll probably be crying more today when you board the ship that’s supposed to take you home. The pain only three days in is insufferable, so you can’t imagine dealing with the pain truly alone in the middle of the sea while you're on a ship with strangers.

“They said dock C was where the Sunny is located.”

“Huh? Oh. Well, do you think you could get there yourself? I don’t remember which ship Kid’s is docked at, and I don’t want him to see me.”

“Probably. It’s over there, right?” Looking at where he was pointing, you see him pointing in the opposite direction. Sighing and letting out a silent cuss, you grab his wrist, frowning as you begin tugging him toward dock C.

“Oi woman! Where are you taking me?!”

“In the right direction of your ship! I just showed you the right way, and you were about to go in the complete opposite direction!” The sound of the wood creaking went ignored as you continued dragging the swordsman.

“God, where could that idiot be?!” A female voice hits your ears, causing you to stiffen. What if it was a crew member of Kid’s? You needed to listen again to know for sure.

“He’s always getting lost!” To your relief, the voice was entirely unfamiliar. You begin walking towards it and realize that a red-headed woman is coming your way.

“You know her?” You ask the man next to you as you point to the woman.

“Yeah, she’s our navigator. Nami!” Nami? The same Nami that used to have short hair and wore a t-shirt? That Nami? You almost didn’t recognize her!

“There you are! Jesus Zoro, can you not go one second and not get lost?!” Zoro rolled his eyes as you let go of his wrist. Now that he could get back, you can now make your way to your own boat.

“Who did you drag into helping you? She probably has a life unlike you.”

“She’s a Kid pirate-”

“Ex-Kid prate.”

“Huh? You must be new. I didn’t see you on Sabaody.”

“She’s the captain’s ex.” You look at the green-haired man before harshly hitting him.

“Oh, I remember you now! You look so much different than when I last saw you!”

“I can say the same for you. I’d love to chat more, but I can’t miss my ship back home.”

“Aw, shame! We were about to eat, you think you can join us? Least we can do for bringing back this idiot.” You were about to decline the offer as you weren’t in the mood to deal with many people, but your stomach growled loudly. Now you’d be caught lying if you said you weren’t hungry and declined. So despite your discomfort, you agreed. Free food, you supposed, especially nice when you haven’t eaten yet.

“Great! We’re not far away, so follow me!” Sighing quietly, you follow the woman without another word.

~~~

The feeling of guilt and disgust ate away at Kid as he began to tear apart the town. He should have known that you wouldn’t cheat. You’ve been with him since the beginning of his pirate life, and he thought you cheated without even listening to you.

He could still remember the look of horror and heartbreak you wore when he yelled and insulted you. He called you cruel names, and not once did you call him one back. Even through his temper, you never said a mean word. Sure, you raised your voice, but that’s nothing compared to what he did.

How could he even look you in the face? If you saw him, what would you do? Would you cry? Run away? Scream? All scenarios he knew would be negative. No way in hell you’d want to run to him after all the things he called you. Calling you the very things he promised not to call you after you told him your life before joining his crew. How could he fix a trust he worked so hard to establish, to begin with?

There were so many things he wanted to tell you. Tell you he’s sorry and that he’s an idiot. That you weren’t any of those things he said you were. He wanted to tell you that he loved you and beg for your forgiveness. That the first day he met you, he wanted you close. The way your first words to him were compliments and how you looked at him with admiring eyes.

Even when he slept during the time away from you after the fight, he was plagued by your heartbroken face. He’s never slept so shitty as he did when you were gone. His arms reached out for you only to feel the empty space next to him.

When he’d wake up, he could find dry tears stained into his face. And when he looked in the mirror, he could see the way his face was red and his eyes puffy. He caught himself calling out your name before remembering that he was alone. Whether he wanted to admit it at the time or not, the truth was he was miserable/ He couldn’t do anything in his workshop as he had no motivation as all he thought about was you and what you could have been doing.

Well, now that he knows that truth, he had to find you.

He’s been searching for what felt like hours. Destroying every building in his path just to find you. Yet no matter what building he broke down, there was no trace of you anywhere. It’s like you just disappeared. Vanished from the world and vanished from his life.

He couldn’t accept that you were gone. He wouldn’t accept it. How could he be the King of the Pirates if you weren’t there next to him? There’s no way he could deal with knowing what his actions had done and then go on to achieve something huge. You were supposed to celebrate with him.

“Kid!” Killer’s voice snapped him out of his destructive trance, making him turn to the man.

“What?! If you haven’t found (Y/N) yet, then I don’t wanna hear it!”

“There's a ship heading back to the sough blue in one hour. Me and the others believe she’s taking that ship back home.”

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Go see if she’s there, and if not, wait!” Killer sighed at his friend's words. He’s acting like you’re coming back willingly. What the woman told him earlier was right, even if Kid wouldn’t say it aloud. You’d probably rather sell yourself to the Marines than want to see Kid. But against his better judgment, he and Heat head off to the ship that could take you home.

~~~

“Shame you couldn’t stay longer! It’s nice to see and hear a new voice after dealing with Luffy every day.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It felt nice to feel something other than overwhelming sadness. Probably the most laughter that’d come out of you for quite a while. Especially if you were going home.

“Where do you plan on going next? I mean, I doubt you want to stay on an island with strangers.”

“Home. There’s a ship that’s heading to the south blue in an hour. I was gonna take it home.”

“Wow, that’s a long way.”

“Tell me about it. Not looking forward to the journey.”

“Oi Strawhat!” Both you and Nami turn your heads to see who could be yelling. Only last minute did you recognize the voice and the man running towards you. Quickly turning your head back around, you hope that your different colored hair would throw him off.

“(Y/N)! There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere!”

‘Shit. Just my fucking luck.’ You hear his footsteps stop right behind you. Even though Killer was innocent, you still wanted to ignore him.

“Have you been with the Strawhats the entire time? Actually, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have to come back. Kid knows the truth and is tearing the town apart looking for you. Literally.”

“Let him search. Let him wallow in guilt.”

“Listen, I understand your upset. You have every right to be but-”

“No buts! You know what he called me, Killer?! He called me a whore! Useless! I’m a useless whore to him! I’m not going back and living in skepticism if Kid actually loves me or not! Someone who loves someone wouldn’t say such words. So leave me alone.”

“(Y/N)-”

“You heard her! Leave her alone.” To your surprise, Nami steps in front of you. Dividing you and Killer.

“Strawhat stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you.”

“Tell me this, would you go back if you were in her shoes?”

“What?”

“Would you go back if you were in her shoes?” Killer stays silent before sighing.

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. So why should she?”

“Kid knows about the boat that’s supposed to take you home. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s beat us to it.” Killer’s voice makes your heart drop. How the hell were you gonna sneak onto the boat without Kid seeing you and causing a scene?

“That doesn’t matter anyway since she’s sailing with us now!” Your eyes blow wide at Nami’s words.

“You are?”

“I am?” Nami shoots a look at you before you understand the idea.

“I mean, yes, I am!” Crossing your arms, you look at Killer from behind Nami. You see Killer and Heat exchange looks. If Killer didn’t have his mask on, there's no doubt that he be rubbing his face.

“When the hell did you decide this?”

“Earlier today, actually!” It felt wrong to lie to him, but the idea of staying in the new world and continuing to explore started to grow on you. If Nami was actually thinking about letting you tag along with them, maybe you’d take them up on the offer. 

Instead of going home and most likely going to be married off again by your mom, you’d continue to be free. Be able to see things that child you never thought you would. 

“What should I tell Kid then? Cause we both know how he’s gonna react when he hears this.” Everyone went silent at the idea of coming up with a plan that would cause the least amount of damage to people and ships. Just then, an idea popped into your head.

“I’ve got an idea.”

~~~

Kid’s loud footsteps made the dock shake as he followed Killer and Heat. The two men told him that they saw you heading to dock C but lost you in the crowd. Hearing that, Kid made a mad dash towards the port to try and find you. You were still here, but he didn’t know how long you would be. He couldn’t afford to just miss you.

“This way!” Turning a sharp corner, Killer directs Kid to where they last saw you. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as adrenaline was running fast through his veins. Flashes of memories with you invade Kid’s mind as he fears that if he misses you, he’ll never be able to create more.

“Wait, I think I see her!” Killer stops suddenly as he points out to the sea. Fear clutches Kid’s heart when he sees you leaning against the railing of the Strawhats ship. Kid rushes to the dock that the boat had just sailed away from moments ago. He looks on in horror as he watches the ship slowly move away from him.

“(Y/N)!” He can see your head turn, and both your eyes lock. A look of sadness and anger crosses your face as you look at him. His breathing loud as words start to stumble from his mouth. For the first time, Kid’s vulnerability was shown to the people of the world as he called to you.

“(Y/N)! I know now! I’m sorry for saying all those fucked up things to you! Your none of those things, I promise!” You said nothing to him, but he could see the small drops of tears rolling down your face.

“I’m a dumbass! I was made and said things I didn’t mean! Get off the ship and come back! I’ll do anything!” Kid could feel his legs grow weak as the ship moved farther and farther away from him. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d never eaten that devil fruit. His only true enemy stood between him and you.

“I need you to come back! I can’t be King of the Pirates without you! I love you! I love you so fucking much that you not being next to me sounds like an eternal hell! I need you with me!” Kid could only feel his heart shatter when you stopped leaning on the railing and turned away from him, walking out of his sight. It felt as if time had stopped and the world stopped turning. 

Kid’s legs finally gave out as he fell to his knees. The world turned deathly silent as he couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat. All he could hear and feel was the tears that slid down his cheeks and the sound of his last words being the only words he could hear as he watched the ship sail away,

“Please…don’t go…”

[steddieas-shegoes]

Hello my love! ❤️

Another for you, if you’re still taking them, though of course feel free to ignore this for any reason (or even no reason) at all!

I would love to see what you can do with Steddie and James Arthur’s “Car’s Outside”. I feel like this is one Eddie would write for Steve, maybe after an argument..? 👀

I had to look this one up because I’d never heard it before and this is some emotional stuff I wasn’t prepared for but should’ve been when you said maybe after an argument 😭

Touring the country had been his dream for so long that when it became a reality, he forgot what was most important.

It happened to a lot of rockstars.

His reality check came like lightning, fast and sharp.

“I’m just trying to understand, Stevie. You wanted me to do this. You told me to go on the tours and record the albums. You supported me. What changed?”

“You did.”

That was the last thing Steve said to him over a week ago.

All he knew now was that Steve was back in Hawkins staying with Wayne and hadn’t told him much other than he wouldn’t take up too much room for long.

Wayne didn’t tell him anything except that Steve was alive and safe, but didn’t seem to be taking care of himself well.

The first two days, all Eddie felt was anger. He was full of contempt for Steve suddenly changing his mind about Eddie’s life and dreams.

But the third day was when it hit him that Steve left.

He’d avoided everyone after that, only answered the phone in case it was him calling and hanging up if it wasn’t him.

He barely got out of bed, barely ate, didn’t even go into the bedroom converted into a music room to play his guitar.

The next tour was set to start in two weeks and he didn’t think he could go, not like this, not without Steve here waiting for him.

- - - - -

Wayne called the night before he was leaving for the tour, said he needed to come to Hawkins, but wouldn’t say why.

“Are you sick or hurt?”

“No, Ed.”

“…is Steve?”

“Just get here.”

So Eddie did.

He called the guys and told them he would meet them at their first stop in New York in three days, that he had a family emergency and couldn’t travel on the bus with them.

When he got to Hawkins, he felt like turning right around and leaving.

He hadn’t been back in years; Wayne always came to see them for holidays and visits.

Nothing has changed, not even the trailer Wayne insisted on still living in, even when Eddie offered to buy him something nicer.

Steve’s car sat in the driveway next to Wayne’s truck, just like it did before they’d moved to Chicago to try to make Eddie’s dream happen.

Eddie parked next to him, the rental from the airport much cleaner and nicer than anything else around here, but not in a good way.

It clicked suddenly, that Eddie wasn’t the same. That the guy who used to drive a beat up van and live in this trailer and loved Steve so much it felt like a physical ache when he wasn’t around wasn’t here.

He walked up to the door, knocking like this wasn’t his home just five years ago.

Wayne answered, sullen face making his chest tight with worry.

“Where is he?”

“He’s asleep finally. Come on in, son. Have a seat.”

“What happened?”

Wayne sighed.

“He’s been overworking himself and not sleeping or eating, and it finally caught up to him. He’s had a migraine for three days now, longest I’ve seen. Can barely sit up to sip water but begged me not take him to the hospital.”

Eddie’s fists clenched.

“Why wouldn’t he go?”

Wayne blinked at him.

“Son, you’re not an idiot despite the way you’ve been actin’ for a while. Think about it.”

Wayne walked to the kitchen and started packing his lunchbox.

“Where are you going?”

“I got a shift to get to. Steve shouldn’t be alone.”

Eddie stayed on the couch for the next two hours, his brain shifting through thoughts that quickly turned into song lyrics.

He wrote them down, but barely focused on what he was writing. Now wasn’t really a great time to be producing something new.

He heard a groan from his old bedroom and shot up from the couch, making his way to the end of the hall and entering the room without a second thought.

Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, body hunched and eyes closed, pain a physical presence through every inch of him.

“Stevie,” Eddie choked out.

Steve’s head shot up. He winced in pain, but the tears in his eyes didn’t seem to have much to do with that as Eddie got closer.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wayne called.”

“And?”

“If you need me, I’m gonna be here.”

Steve looked away, his eyes closing as he turned his head.

“That’s not how things have been.”

It hurt, but he was right. It hadn’t been how things have been. Not for a while.

“I know. I…I don’t think sorry is enough for any of it, but I am. I’m sorry. So sorry, Stevie.”

Steve looked at him, the haze of the migraine keeping a lot of emotion off his face.

“Yeah. Okay.”

It wasn’t forgiveness, and forgiveness wasn’t deserved yet, but it was a start. And when Steve let Eddie get him water and medicine, and play with his hair, it felt like a start.

- - - - -

Eddie had to go.

If he didn’t go, he’d miss the first show of the tour.

He’d be in deep shit, and the guys would hate him, and he would never make music again.

His manager called him every four hours at Wayne’s asking when his flight would be and he always said “when things are right with Steve.”

It started to feel like that might not happen.

But something about the way Steve was slowly letting him in, allowing him to care for him more every day, gave him hope that he could get him back, get them back.

Wayne didn’t say much to him, didn’t have to. The way he watched was enough to know how Wayne felt about him, this situation.

But he didn’t go.

Steve’s migraine was gone, but he still needed Eddie, still needed to see that he was the priority.

Eddie needed to show him that he mattered more than his band, because he did. He always had and always would.

He missed the last flight that would’ve gotten him there on time.

He called the guys to let them know, to apologize, to tell them that he had to do what was best for him.

They understood, but told him their manager was livid and probably would try to replace him instead of postpone the tour.

He didn’t care at this point.

He’d gotten his taste of fame and it was bittersweet.

Steve stood in the doorway when Eddie hung up the phone, watching him with his arms crossed as Eddie covered his face in his hands.

“You’re not going?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Eddie dropped his hands and sighed.

“If I have to pick, then I pick you. I’ll always pick you.”

Steve’s brows furrowed.

“You think I want you to pick between me and your career?”

“Yes. That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

Steve shook his head.

“I left because you forgot that I was a choice at all,” Steve’s voice sounded choked. “I left because I didn’t even think you’d care if I did. You didn’t seem to care much about leaving me anymore.”

Eddie’s heart couldn’t possibly break more.

“Sweetheart, of course I care. I’m here because I can’t lose you. If it’s you or the band, then it’s you. Always.”

Steve let out a sob.

“I didn’t want you to choose me instead of your career. I wanted you to recognize that choosing your career didn’t have to mean not choosing me.”

“Oh, my love.”

Eddie pulled Steve against him, holding the back of his head against his chest, other hand running up and down his back slowly.

“You’re always my first choice. I’m sorry I forgot to show you that. I’m sorry you ever had to feel like you weren’t even an option. You’re the most important choice I’ve ever made and I’m going to keep choosing you every day. Even if it means giving up the band. None of that means shit to me if I don’t have you.”

Steve nodded against his chest.

They stayed like that for so long, Wayne came home, nodded and smiled from the doorway of the kitchen.

- - - - -

Steve came with him.

He called his manager the next day, said it was non-negotiable that Steve be with them for this tour.

The band was on his side, of course. They loved Steve and they loved Eddie and the last thing they wanted was to see either of them hurting.

The first time he performed the song he wrote while he was in limbo with Steve, he let the crowd know what was most important in his life.

“Gonna slow it down a bit for this next one. Sometimes this life has some downsides, hard to believe, right? It’s hard to maintain who you are when you’re being pulled in so many directions. But I’m lucky to have someone who keeps me grounded. Leaving them for tour wasn’t an option this time around, and I’m glad they’re here with me. I wrote this a couple weeks ago when we were having a hard time. I wasn’t being the partner they needed, and I wasn’t showing them that they’re the partner I want. I’m not loving you from afar anymore, sweetheart.”

Steve watched from his spot backstage, like he did every night.

He didn’t feel like an option anymore, he felt like the choice.

[rhiannswork]

i couldn’t wait any longer

spencer ᕁ reader

warnings ; spencer being a needy boy, semi voyeurism, mentions of burnout

your eyes were stuck to the tv as your hands ran through spencers brown locs. he enjoyed the feeling of your chest rising and lowering at a smooth pace. the rest of his body lay between your legs with a blanket over his long legs.

your phone rang, almost falling off the nightstand from the vibration. you saw it was your boss calling to check in on you. you had taken a two-week break due to burnout from work. you had cleared your throat before you had answered. “darlene! hey!” you spoke with a faux ‘i’m so glad you’re calling!’ tone.

“hey yn! i was just wondering how you’re doing?” she spoke, the grungey speech came from your end. “better! so much better actually… i appreciate you letting me take some time off.” you thanked her. you still toyed with spencers hair, unconsciously twirling it between your fingers.

that was spencers favorite thing that you did, whenever you’d lightly tug on his hair whenever you twirled it. little did you know, that he was already a little on edge from laying on your breasts.

“that’s so great to hear. i hate to be that person because your two weeks aren’t up yet and you can decline if you’d like, would you be willing to come back tomorrow?” you rolled your eyes as you held back a sigh. “of course i can darlene! may i ask, wha-” your train of thought had completely crashed.

you felt spencers lips on your neck, tugging at your skin ever so lightly. “what um… what’s wrong? everything alright there?” you shook your head, attempting to ignore reid which was clearly not working. “oh yes, of course, we just have some new people coming in who need to be trained. you’re the best trainer i know.” she chuckled. reid’s eyes connect with yours, you fell in love all over again… “hello? yn?”

“what? yes yes i understand.” you sighed with relief and satisfaction when spencer hit your sweet spot. you hand shot up through his hair, you gripped his hair by the scalp. you heard him moan as quietly as he possibly could. “i’d be willing to help.” you tried to gain some brain cells back to answer your boss.

“thank you so much, i would offer this to janis but you know how she is.” she joked. “i sure do.” you chuckled as spencer went lower and lifted your shirt up. he began placing kisses on your stomach as his fingers hovered ever-so-slightly above your waist, sending chills up your spine. he silently giggled at your misfortune, watching as you became soothed with every touch.

“she’s been working my nerve, ever since you left!” your boss continued to gossip. “really?” you have no interest in what darlene had to say. “yes! she thinks since you’re not here, she’s the queen of the office. don’t even get me started on daniel ugh!” she rambled, all you had to say was ��mhm, oh wow, really?’ you couldn’t care less.

your mind was all on spencer who was inching closer and closer to your heat. “spence.” you whispered, you shook your head but he disregarded your protest. “but we miss you, there’s no rush… it would just be nice if you could train the newbies.” she sighed, finally drawing the conversation to a conclusion.

while spencer on the other hand was just getting started. he pulled your shorts down along your panties, threw them to the side, and slowly immersed himself into you. “well, i won’t keep you any longer.” “mhm… okay… yeah i… i’ll see you.” you didn’t wait for a response as you pressed decline, tossing your phone to the side of the bed.

“doctor reid, you are in so much trouble.”

[mixtape-racha]

stupid for you | han jisung

you really shouldn't feed into your boyfriends perv-like tendancies, but how can you help it when he's just so pretty begging for you to touch him? // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.15k // warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, use of pet names, jisung and reader refer to himself as sir, jisung and reader refer to reader as mommy, light perv!jisung, somnophilia, switch!jisung, switch!reader, use of mommy, use of sir, cum talk, reader calls jisung dumb and disgusting (lovingly), slapping (once)

“please, pretty baby, please please– i’ll beg all night if you want–”

jisung is such a whiny shit when he desperately wants something. which, with how obsessed he is with your body, is more often than you’d think. and god knows he looks good doing it.

which is why you’re in your current predicament - you straddling his bare waist, his hands pinned in place above his head, his hips jutting up into you as you glare at him.

“you can beg as much as you want, sung, but its not happening. you really think you deserve to fuck me after what you pulled earlier?”

he was really pulling out all the stops, jutting his lower lip out and putting on his prettiest puppy eyes. you think you can see tears welling up too. fuck.

“but angel, i couldn’t help it! you know i’d never be bad on purpose.”

“jisung, all you know is being bad. those were brand new underwear, and you know that because you were there when i got them. but still, something in your silly little brain thought it’d be a good idea to use them to get yourself off, huh?”

your grip on his wrists tightened, and you couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched when he whimpered and shook his head frantically.

“no, mommy please, i’m–”

“i swear to god if you say sorry one more time i’m going to stuff that big mouth, got it? I don’t wanna hear another noise from you. we both know you wanted to get caught, or you wouldn’t have paraded yourself around while my panties sat here covered in your cum, would they? honestly, pup, you’re dumb and disgusting, but you’re not that stupid.”

jisung’s eyes glazed over and his cock twitched behind you at your words, and you knew deep down you couldn’t keep it up much longer. he was just too cute.

your next words sparked a world of excitement behind his eyes, and he drooled as you kissed him harshly - all teeth and spit.

“mommy’s gonna suck you dry now, baby. but if you move, or make any noise, you’re not cumming for the next week.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“fuck baby, stay still. you feel so good like that.”

you whined, sleep falling away from you fast and not understanding why your body felt like it was rocking, as if you were on a boat.

“sungie, wha–?”

oh. that’s what the rocking was. jisung’s cock was rutting gently between your thighs, and he’d somehow manhandled your sleep-shorts and panties so they were sitting by your knees.

“sung, what’s goin’ on?” you mumbled, voice croaky from sleep and lack of use.

he grunted, hips still rocking, stomach bumping your ass from the position you were in.

“jus’ looked so good there, doll. whinin’ in your sleep for me. almost like you love the way i perv on you. makes you almost as disgusting as me, huh?”

his words threw you, with the sleepiness still washing over you, your head going fuzzy.

“no. m’good girl. jus’ wanna make sungie feel good.” your brow furrowed as his hips sped up.

“so good just laying there for me ready to use. sleeping in such revealing clothes. makes it so easy for me, angel face.”

“wanna touch, sung. please~”

his groans grew louder, hot breath fanning all over your neck from where he lay behind you.

“god, yeah, baby. come touch, make your sungie feel good.”

what he wasn’t expected was for you to crawl under the duvet and wrap your warm lips around his cockhead. in fact, he could’ve came on the spot just from the way you huffed a breath of warm air through your nose, the sensation hitting his pubic bone with glee.

he threw the duvet off the bed, eyes fixed on the way you kitten-licked the tip, eyes still glazed over with tiredness. even in the dead of night, especially in the dead of night, you’d still feed into his fantasies like they were just as much your own. 

god, you were perfect.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“all laid out so pretty for me, huh? good thing the guys have left now, wouldn’t want them seeing you be such a slut, would we?”

you wanted to slap the smug look off of your boyfriend’s face, not even attempting to cover your naked body. it was all his fault anyway. the guys had all come over for a movie and games night - meaning there were seven other men in your living room - and your boyfriend thought it would be funny to rile you up under your blanket on the couch by rubbing your clit through your panties, hand delicately stuffed under your jogging bottoms.

he got you so close to an orgasm more times than you could count, then ripped his hand away, tuning into a conversation instead - ignoring all your attempts to drag him into the bathroom for a quickie to subdue the pull in your abdomen.

so, of course you pretended to have a migraine and stayed hidden in your bedroom instead, making yourself cum multiple times knowing it would piss him off more that he didn’t get to see the way your face twisted with pleasure each time. what else were you supposed to do?

“what’s the matter, baby? cat got your tongue?”

“fuck off.” you mumbled, eyes glued to the bedsheets from your position on your knees waiting for him.

“wanna repeat that, angel? and think carefully before you answer that.”

you couldn't bring yourself to look up, knowing the flash of anger that would be on his face. he hated it when you got an attitude with him. maybe thats why you enjoyed it so much.

“you’re so annoying, jisung. i almost think you want the guys to watch you fuck me at this point.”

slap. 

oh. 

slapping was a new thing in the bedroom with you and jisung, but you couldn’t deny the way you positively dripped at the burn on your cheek.

a fizz of anger waved over jisung’s face, and he gripped your chin, squishing your cheeks so your mouth opened.

“you really like winding me up, huh? you don’t get to talk about other men when you’re sitting here all pretty like that.”

god, he was absolutely throbbing in his pants, and it was so obvious where you were almost eye level with his cock. Drooling, you reached out for his waistband, looking up at him with a silent beg for permission.

“m’sorry, sir. jus’ wanna have you inside me, please!”

the way you were trembling under his touch, the tears in your eyes and drool dripping from you chin. the way you were rubbing your thighs together, jisung could almost guarantee there was a wet patch on the duvet underneath you now.

“you just wanna be stuffed with sir’s cock, huh baby? go so dumb, so fucking cockdrunk like always, yeah? well, i can’t deny you that now, can i?”

[blakbonnet]

[graphic by @ofmdlovelyletters]

AUTHOR OF THE WEEK @xoxoemynn

I've loved featuring some of the most incredible artists in the fandom for the AOTWs, and thanks to Connie's (@spirker) big brain, this week is dedicated to some of the most beloved fandom authors. I hope everyone will go and check out their fics, maybe discover some new works or give extra love to older beloved fics. There will be 3 authors featured this weekend, please give it up 🥁 for the first one: Emy who we all love.

When I think of an author whose writing feels like a warm, lovingly prepared bowl of soup by someone who wants you to eat and eat well: I think of Em's fics. It's impossible to imagine this fandom without her - not just her words but everything she is and does for her friends. I also strongarmed her into answering a few questions for me (kidding, she was very gracious, I kept harassing her to send the answers over 😌 I have no shame):

What's your writing process like? Do you start with the beginning or the end? Do you write in order or as the scenes come to you?

First comes the idea, which usually presents itself as “haha, wouldn’t it be funny/weird/wild if XYZ… wait a minute. I think I might be serious about that.” Once I’m pretty confident I’m actually going to write the story, I make a channel for it in the private Discord I created to keep myself organized. I’ll start jotting ideas down — doesn’t have to be in any particular order, just tone, beats I want to hit, any particular detail that’s pushing its way to the surface that’s demanding the story be told, and also grab any links, images, music, whatever, and stash them away for inspo later. I almost always have to create an outline for myself, even if it’s just a few bullet points, because otherwise I tend to just sit there spinning my wheels. If it’s a longer story, I’ll create a pretty fleshed out outline, and may also supplement it with an emotions matrix to keep track of the characters’ evolving mindset throughout the story. Tragically, I’m very much someone who needs to write in order. I’ve tried skipping around before, but inevitably I start feeling the tension of “well, how can I possibly write Scene 10 if I don’t know exactly what happened in Scene 5?” But if there are some scenes that feel more vivid to me in the brainstorming phase, I may write a few sentences just so I don’t lose that energy.

One Ed/Stede headcanon that's very dear to you and you love to explore it when you write.

I don’t know if I have one specific one. I generally treat them as my all you can eat buffet and like to play with different ones all the time, depending on my mood. But I’d say my “tell,” if you will, is taking some kind of ridiculous concept (being horny for clocks, running a sleepaway camp for singles, tooth fairies) and sussing out the Big Emotions, which often do circle around learning to be vulnerable in front of the one you love.

Whose voice is easier to write - Ed or Stede? Why?

When I first started writing OFMD fic after S1, I would have said Ed. There was something about that vulnerability and raw heartbreak that I found really accessible, perhaps because I was finally coming out of the fog of my own recent traumatic breakup. But as I spent more time writing and in the characters’ heads, I realized it’s actually Stede. I see a lot of myself in him, and have discovered getting his voice right is a rather cyclical process: the more I understand him, the more I understand myself, and the more I understand myself, the more I understand him.

Your personal favourite thing you've written that you'd like more people to read

I’m going to cheat and list two. The first is The Merry Strays of Lighthouse Sanctuary, which is my heart story. It’s not the first thing I wrote for this fandom, but it feels like it. I wanted to write a fic with a setting that felt to all the characters the way so many of us felt about the show itself — a place of hope, where everyone is loved and accepted and celebrated for exactly who they are. The second, which is definitely a harder sell due to the subject matter, is All Of These Lines Across My Face, which is the most personal thing I’ve ever written that I think has taken on a new, more meta meaning since the cancellation. Love is eternal; it changes everything it touches for the better. Ed and Stede’s world was forever changed because they loved each other; our world was forever changed because we loved OFMD.

What is the one word that you think you use a lot?

Exquisite. But it’s NOT MY FAULT. They ARE exquisite!!! What am I supposed to do, just call them pretty? They are EXQUISITE!

Do you have a beta reader? Have they made you a better writer?

YES! My beloved Hugo (@monksofthescrew/offsammich), who I’ve been working with since Merry Strays. I used to say I’d only use a beta if there was something I was particularly worried about in the story, but honestly Hugo makes everything I write SO much better that I don’t consider a story complete until her eyes are on it. Brainstorming the initial idea, helping me get unstuck in writing, pushing me to look at a scene from a different perspective, fixing all my verb tenses… truly could not do it without her.

Why OFMD?🥹

I found OFMD at a very transitional point in my life, when I finally started to feel healed from a few big traumatic events but didn’t know what to do now that I’d emerged from the fog. I experienced some panic that I had wasted too much time and the world had moved on without me while I was still struggling. OFMD showed me that it’s never too late, that you can always have a second (or third, or 300th) chance, that you deserve to be loved for exactly who you are, and, most importantly, that there’s always hope. It was like someone gently took my hand and said “I don’t care what your brain/society is telling you, there is a beautiful future in store for you, and you deserve all that it brings you.” These days it’s rare to find something with a message like that, that’s equal parts fierce and earnest. It’s something beautiful and precious, and I’ll be holding onto it forever. ❤️

Please head over to @ofmdlovelyletters and send your love for Emy and all your favourite authors (and authors of the week 😈 watch that blog for some special letters coming your way)

[grapejuicestyless]

No One Wants To Die In The End.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: United through grief, Harry and Y/n have to navigate the same fates they witnessed as young children as understanding adults. After all, no one wants to die in the end, we can only hope death comes easy for us.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

I hear my mother ask in a hushed tone, the nurse who came to send my grandma away giving her a tight lipped smile.

I sit on the bed pretending not to be able to hear them, pretending the sound of my grandma choking on her own saliva is normal and the staggering of her breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while I tell her all about what I learned in fourth grade.

She doesn’t remember me, not much anyway. Ever since the illness started taking pieces of her brain, I’ve been stuck in time. She only knows my name now, and my mom warned me on the way here today not to cry if she couldn’t even remember that. It was her illness forgetting, not my beloved grandma.

Mom says she loved me with all my heart, and that once the illness passes through her, she’ll remember me again fondly. I’ll get to tell her all about my life and growing up and she’ll understand what I’m talking about. She won’t give me the blank stare she does now while I hold her hand, and her skin won’t be so frail.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.” The nurse says, and though my mom doesn’t cry, I can see her skin hugging her throat constricting it and the soft fluttering of her wet eyelashes.

My mom pulled me away soon after, telling me to say goodbye. This time felt different though, even at age nine I knew that. So I told my grandma I’d be back, even if I wasn’t sure just because it always made her smile, and I promised to keep dancing around in my pajamas before breakfast like she loved.

That day at school, the one after I left my grandma with hundreds of promises to live freely and trust with my heart, I found my mother sat out on the front steps by our old white porch with her head in my hands.

“Hi mama. Can I go to Megans?” I had asked her cheerfully, excited about seeing my best friend, my neighbor and my sister.

Mom had this sad look in her eyes, one that told me to come close without her having to say it. And as I stood between her bent knees and felt her hands on my hips, I saw her shake her head.

“Y/n/n, grandma didn’t make it, baby.” She declared softly, and at the time I didn’t know how to process it, the idea of someone being gone forever. As mom told me how she had only left for a minute to go home and shower and came back to my grandma unresponsive in her sleep, I didn’t think about the fact that my grandma’s laugh would fade with the years, but rather how sad it was that she had to go alone. I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

I didn’t tell mom this, my feelings on the death of grandma, the death of her mom, so I did what I knew how to do best, and I ran, begging softer this time to be able to go across the street just until dinner.

When I got there, I was greeted by Megan, and she looked sad. That’s how most people in my life seemed to look these past few hours, ever since the way my grandma breathed changed.

She pulled me into a hug and cried on my shoulder, promising to be there for me always, that it would get better. At the time I didn’t get it, why my best friend as a child would feel so much grief for a woman she barely knew, how she could feel so much more than I did, but grief hits differently in every person, I wished that someday I’d be able to process it openly instead of suppressing it somewhere I’d never find it. I wished that someday I’d learn how to cry.

Grandma didn’t get a funeral, they stuffed her ashes into a pretty vase with golden birds and her favorite flowers and held the wake early in the morning. Most of her friends I’d never met. It was a small service, a slow one. I spent most of my time playing hide and seek with my cousins and stealing the mints the funeral home left out for guests while my mother cried shaking each guests hand.

“How should we send out the letters?” My mom whispered to my father quietly, like it was something she didn’t want her children to know about.

“What’s the difference? Word spreads fast about people like him.”

People like him, that’s how my dad worded it. People like him, veterans who fought in a war they couldn’t even remember by the end of their lives and refused to replace the old wood paneling on their living room walls from the eighties.

My grandpa was the definition of people like him, he had lived enough lives to grow in white hairs by fourteen years old. Fighting alongside Elvis in the war and dancing with his dying wife in the afternoon.

I never met grandma, my dad said cancer took her before I was born, he says that’s why my name is the way it is, she picked it. But, I did meet grandpa.

He had white hair and a soft stomach from all the Swedish meatballs he made in his spare time. War does funny things like that to a man, make someone so against cooking love the simplicity of it, the safety of food consuming him.

I never really liked his Swedish meatballs, I didn’t like how he made them without sauce, when I was ten my world revolved around marinara sauce.

When I was twelve years old, I remember missing the softness of my grandpas stomach when he hugged me and the lingering smell of Swedish meatballs in his kitchen at dinner time. Which was weird because I never liked it before, but maybe my nose had changed while grandpa was changing in his own ways.

Cancer seemed to run in the family, something that was so small nobody ever suspected it was invading their bodies until the doctors became frantic to get it out.

My grandpa has bright white hair before his treatment, and small silver glasses perches on his swollen nose while he sat in his old brown chair and watched his grandkids school plays through the CD’s my parents would send him.

What a lonely life to live as he got older. The death of his wife and the absence of his grandchildren as they became less and less interested in family time and more focused on running outside freely with their friends.

I was so sidetracked I didn’t even know when grandpa died right away. Not until my father sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch where I laid with my mother rubbing his back slowly, a heavy look on his wrinkled face.

“Grandpa passed last night, Harry. He loved you very much.”

I didn’t cry as my father spoke, simply nodding before walking to my room to toy with my baseball cards and gameboy. I didn’t cry thinking about his passing, which confused me because I was twelve. I understood what death meant and how there was no one who had the power to reverse it, but I felt incapable of crying.

I went to school the next morning like my parents hadn’t told me the news, and my history teacher pulled me out into the hall during second period. He looked sad for me, his hands on my shoulders as he told me he would give me all the time I needed, not to try snd jump back into normalcy during such a tough time.

It made me feel embarrassed, which felt weird considering the context. I felt fine, completely indifferent to something I should have been breaking down over. But I guess grief is weird like that, and I wish I had the strength to be weak.

Grandpa had a big funeral, open casket with formal attire. He didn’t look like grandpa with all that makeup on him. I wanted to open his eyelids to see the colors in his eyes one last time. But that’s unacceptable to do, so I simply kneeled by the casket and prayed for him.

A big black limo took us from the boiling hot church to the graveyard where uniformed men loaded their guns and fired at the sky in honor of my grandpa. The smoke smelled like the low tide at the beach, and some people I’d never seen before sobbed a few rows behind me.

A lot of people showed up for grandpa, veterans from around the country and school friends from when he still had all his youth. Looking around at the crowd, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

“When did you find out?” Harry asked softly, his large hand capturing mine in a paw-like grip over my knuckles.

I swallowed, wondering when I suspected it in comparison to when I finally got the guts to ask someone for help.

“I’ve known for a while, probably since I was nine. It runs in the family, you know? All these health issues that eat away at our brains?” I laughed, but neither of us found it funny, not when I ran my fingers through my hair to calm down and chunks cane out between my knuckles.

“I just thought I’d be gifted more time, thought biology would be kinder to my bones.”

Harry looks at me with a broken stare, one that hits me in the heart. We both tear up, but neither of us cry. We are our parents, we are the spitting image of them sitting us down to break the news. But at least they went peacefully, right? I know no peace, but still I don’t cry for myself, I feel too pathetic to even try.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, looking bitterly at the youthful green eyes in front of me, how his curly hair seems even more vibrant than nearly a decade ago. He ages backwards and I am already one foot out of the door.

Harry shakes his head.

“You did everything right.” He tells me, fingers pulling the hair from my hands to hide it behind his back.

“Then why do I feel like I have?”

“Nobody wants to die in the end, Y/n/n. It’s a game of chance, each day we live we gamble on how long we have left. Some people search for that end and others stumble on it accidentally, it’s just the chances.”

When he puts it like that, it makes me feel even worse, knowing how quickly I’ll be gone. How I’ve failed my future children I’ll never get to have, my husband who would have loved me I’m sure, and my poor old dog who waits by the food bowl only to find it empty each day I’m gone.

“I don’t like these chances.” I laugh with tears in my eyes, hands holding onto his as our forehead touch, my best friend holding me like no one ever has, not even Megan, who had long grownup into a woman I barely knew, a friend who drifted from me when we were thirteen and cried to her mother about how she missed me when she was sixteen.

Megan held me when my grandma died that day when I was nine, and I was confused as to why she was so sad, but with Harry holding me now, I understand it all better.

“I’m only twenty nine, Harry. At least my grandmothers dementia took away the intense pain of remembering what she was leaving behind.”

“And she lived not knowing who her daughter was for the rest of her life. She must have been so alone.”

I look down at my lap, my palms still pressed against his.

“I’d never forget you, even if my memory starts to go. I’ll never forget you because you’re too important to forget.” Harry smiles when I say that, pulling his hands away from mine to tap his chest quietly.

“And I’d never forget you, even when I’m old and crazy. I’ll keep photos of us on my walls and talk to them when I get bored.” He promised me, the dull light from the sun making the once lavish room feel less like a clean living room and more like a cold hospital.

As the months pass, my hair has been traded for one of Harry’s favorite hats. My shirts switched out for backless gowns with blue dots on the paper like material. My arms are not decorated with the same ink as Harry, but wires and tubes that come from the table beside my hospital bed.

I am twenty nine, but I must look about sixty now with how tired I am from simply trying to steal back the life that was ripped from me unfairly.

And as I fight to keep up with the beeping of the monitors hooked up beside me, I feel my throat rejecting my saliva and my sick coughs stuck behind my teeth.

I heat the same cracking sounds that my grandmother made when I was nine, and I feel relaxed knowing now that it doesn’t hurt to breathe this way, not right now anyway.

And in the silence I can hear an echo of my mother’s words from outside my door, her feminine voice exchanged for the deep one I’d grown rather fond of.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

Harry asks in a hushed tone, the nurse different but her answer just the same.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.”

It’s happening again, the spirit leaving my bones to join everyone I’ve ever loved before, my father and my grandma. My mother and my old cousins. I only wished I didn’t have to leave Harry behind, I wished I could dance with him in our college dorms just one more time like we used to, and set fire to the box mac and cheese just one last time.

I remember everything about Harry, the nurse warning that my image of him might waver as my blood begins to slow under the skin. She tells him not to worry when my skin gets cold, it’s natural for people to cool down as their heart gives out.

Harry comes in and holds my hand, pretending the sound of my breathing doesn’t bother him and the sound of me choking on my own saliva is normal and the staggering of my breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while he swears to every single higher power he can think of that I’ll be okay.

And I believe him.

Because while he holds my hand in death, he’s fulfilled the one wish I prayed so hard for a a kid. The one selfish wish I made for myself in a time of need.

When I was nine, standing between my mothers legs with my nails between my teeth I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

And here Harry was nearly two decades later, holding my hand and promising serenity in the afterlife.

What he doesn’t know is that I am one of the lucky ones. Even after my heart has stopped, I am given one last gift as an apology for such a short life. I am given an extra second of my brain living on, the soft cries of “I love you’s” from Harry the last thing I hear as my dying gasp is cut short from my death rattle breathing.

I have a small service, Harry and some college friends standing in line shaking the hands of the few guests who walk by to look at my body. My nephews and nieces play hide and seek with each other until the ceremony was over, mints stuffed deep in their pockets as they filed out of the funeral home like nothing had happened.

Being famous is weird, especially after a loved one has passed.

We send out prayers to the families of those affected, the media says, but how has the death of this person affected Harry? How has Y/n’s slipping away crushed him beyond belief? Will he dedicate his next album to her?

They don’t care about Y/n, they only care about how she makes a good headline for their companies, and it makes me sick to think about. How they profit off of my grief while I try to stop memorizing the sound of her broken sigh as she went.

I wonder if I was enough for her during her final days. If my touch was enough to cure her for just a brief second.

It’s no wonder I turned to move-on pills. Ones that lift me up and break me down further until I am face up on the bathroom floor we once shared, my eyes wide as I choke on my breathing and count how many times the lights multiply as I look up to the sky.

It’s not a shock that the headlines are out by the end of the day, the sirens enough to alert all of Hollywood of my dying dreams and my perfect execution.

My family stands in a line while they put my casket into the hearse, makeup on my face like they put on my grandpa, I can barely recognize myself as I watch the funeral service from another space.

And as they bury me under the ground, the media announces their grief and well wishes to all that attended and the millions watching from their televisions.

As a kid, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

But now that it’s happening, I only care for one thing, I only asked for one thing in the letter I left behind. Lay me beside my best friend, so I can keep holding her hand through death, and we can laugh in the afterlife like we did when we were healthy, happy, and together.